{
"tiddlers": {
"$:/Acknowledgements": {
"title": "$:/Acknowledgements",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"text": "TiddlyWiki incorporates code from these fine OpenSource projects:\n\n* [[The Stanford Javascript Crypto Library|http://bitwiseshiftleft.github.io/sjcl/]]\n* [[The Jasmine JavaScript Test Framework|http://pivotal.github.io/jasmine/]]\n* [[Normalize.css by Nicolas Gallagher|http://necolas.github.io/normalize.css/]]\n\nAnd media from these projects:\n\n* World flag icons from [[Wikipedia|http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:SVG_flags_by_country]]\n"
},
"$:/core/copyright.txt": {
"title": "$:/core/copyright.txt",
"type": "text/plain",
"text": "TiddlyWiki created by Jeremy Ruston, (jeremy [at] jermolene [dot] com)\n\nCopyright © Jeremy Ruston 2004-2007\nCopyright © UnaMesa Association 2007-2016\n\nRedistribution and use in source and binary forms, with or without modification,\nare permitted provided that the following conditions are met:\n\nRedistributions of source code must retain the above copyright notice, this\nlist of conditions and the following disclaimer.\n\nRedistributions in binary form must reproduce the above copyright notice, this\nlist of conditions and the following disclaimer in the documentation and/or other\nmaterials provided with the distribution.\n\nNeither the name of the UnaMesa Association nor the names of its contributors may be\nused to endorse or promote products derived from this software without specific\nprior written permission.\n\nTHIS SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED BY THE COPYRIGHT HOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS 'AS IS' AND ANY\nEXPRESS OR IMPLIED WARRANTIES, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, THE IMPLIED WARRANTIES\nOF MERCHANTABILITY AND FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE ARE DISCLAIMED. IN NO EVENT\nSHALL THE COPYRIGHT OWNER OR CONTRIBUTORS BE LIABLE FOR ANY DIRECT, INDIRECT,\nINCIDENTAL, SPECIAL, EXEMPLARY, OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES (INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED\nTO, PROCUREMENT OF SUBSTITUTE GOODS OR SERVICES; LOSS OF USE, DATA, OR PROFITS; OR\nBUSINESS INTERRUPTION) HOWEVER CAUSED AND ON ANY THEORY OF LIABILITY, WHETHER IN\nCONTRACT, STRICT LIABILITY, OR TORT (INCLUDING NEGLIGENCE OR OTHERWISE) ARISING IN\nANY WAY OUT OF THE USE OF THIS SOFTWARE, EVEN IF ADVISED OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH\nDAMAGE.\n"
},
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"tags": "$:/tags/Image",
"title": "$:/core/images/up-arrow",
"text": "<svg class=\"tc-image-up-arrow tc-image-button\" width=\"22pt\" height=\"22pt\" viewBox=\"0 0 128 128\">\n<path transform=\"rotate(-135, 63.8945, 64.1752)\" d=\"m109.07576,109.35336c-1.43248,1.43361 -3.41136,2.32182 -5.59717,2.32182l-79.16816,0c-4.36519,0 -7.91592,-3.5444 -7.91592,-7.91666c0,-4.36337 3.54408,-7.91667 7.91592,-7.91667l71.25075,0l0,-71.25074c0,-4.3652 3.54442,-7.91592 7.91667,-7.91592c4.36336,0 7.91667,3.54408 7.91667,7.91592l0,79.16815c0,2.1825 -0.88602,4.16136 -2.3185,5.59467l-0.00027,-0.00056l0.00001,-0.00001z\" />\n</svg>\n \n"
},
"$:/core/images/video": {
"title": "$:/core/images/video",
"tags": "$:/tags/Image",
"text": "<svg class=\"tc-image-video tc-image-button\" width=\"22pt\" height=\"22pt\" viewBox=\"0 0 128 128\">\n <g fill-rule=\"evenodd\">\n <path d=\"M64,12 C29.0909091,12 8.72727273,14.9166667 5.81818182,17.8333333 C2.90909091,20.75 1.93784382e-15,41.1666667 0,64.5 C1.93784382e-15,87.8333333 2.90909091,108.25 5.81818182,111.166667 C8.72727273,114.083333 29.0909091,117 64,117 C98.9090909,117 119.272727,114.083333 122.181818,111.166667 C125.090909,108.25 128,87.8333333 128,64.5 C128,41.1666667 125.090909,20.75 122.181818,17.8333333 C119.272727,14.9166667 98.9090909,12 64,12 Z M54.9161194,44.6182253 C51.102648,42.0759111 48.0112186,43.7391738 48.0112186,48.3159447 L48.0112186,79.6840553 C48.0112186,84.2685636 51.109784,85.9193316 54.9161194,83.3817747 L77.0838806,68.6032672 C80.897352,66.0609529 80.890216,61.9342897 77.0838806,59.3967328 L54.9161194,44.6182253 Z\"></path>\n </g>\n</svg>"
},
"$:/core/images/warning": {
"title": "$:/core/images/warning",
"tags": "$:/tags/Image",
"text": "<svg class=\"tc-image-warning tc-image-button\" width=\"22pt\" height=\"22pt\" viewBox=\"0 0 128 128\">\n <g fill-rule=\"evenodd\">\n <path d=\"M57.0717968,11 C60.1509982,5.66666667 67.8490018,5.66666667 70.9282032,11 L126.353829,107 C129.433031,112.333333 125.584029,119 119.425626,119 L8.57437416,119 C2.41597129,119 -1.43303051,112.333333 1.64617093,107 L57.0717968,11 Z M64,37 C59.581722,37 56,40.5820489 56,44.9935776 L56,73.0064224 C56,77.4211534 59.5907123,81 64,81 C68.418278,81 72,77.4179511 72,73.0064224 L72,44.9935776 C72,40.5788466 68.4092877,37 64,37 Z M64,104 C68.418278,104 72,100.418278 72,96 C72,91.581722 68.418278,88 64,88 C59.581722,88 56,91.581722 56,96 C56,100.418278 59.581722,104 64,104 Z\"></path>\n </g>\n</svg>"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Caption",
"text": "advanced search"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Hint",
"text": "Advanced search"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Caption",
"text": "cancel"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Hint",
"text": "Discard changes to this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Caption",
"text": "clone"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Hint",
"text": "Clone this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Close/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Close/Caption",
"text": "close"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Close/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Close/Hint",
"text": "Close this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Caption",
"text": "close all"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Hint",
"text": "Close all tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Caption",
"text": "close others"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Hint",
"text": "Close other tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Caption",
"text": "control panel"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Hint",
"text": "Open control panel"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Caption",
"text": "delete"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Hint",
"text": "Delete this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Caption",
"text": "edit"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Hint",
"text": "Edit this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/Caption",
"text": "encryption"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/Hint",
"text": "Set or clear a password for saving this wiki"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/ClearPassword/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/ClearPassword/Caption",
"text": "clear password"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/ClearPassword/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/ClearPassword/Hint",
"text": "Clear the password and save this wiki without encryption"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/SetPassword/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/SetPassword/Caption",
"text": "set password"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/SetPassword/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/SetPassword/Hint",
"text": "Set a password for saving this wiki with encryption"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ExportPage/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ExportPage/Caption",
"text": "export all"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ExportPage/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ExportPage/Hint",
"text": "Export all tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddler/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddler/Caption",
"text": "export tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddler/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddler/Hint",
"text": "Export tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddlers/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddlers/Caption",
"text": "export tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddlers/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddlers/Hint",
"text": "Export tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Caption",
"text": "fold tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Hint",
"text": "Fold the body of this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Fold/FoldBar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Fold/FoldBar/Caption",
"text": "fold-bar"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Fold/FoldBar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Fold/FoldBar/Hint",
"text": "Optional bars to fold and unfold tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Caption",
"text": "unfold tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Hint",
"text": "Unfold the body of this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Caption",
"text": "fold other tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Hint",
"text": "Fold the bodies of other opened tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Caption",
"text": "fold all tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Hint",
"text": "Fold the bodies of all opened tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Caption",
"text": "unfold all tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Hint",
"text": "Unfold the bodies of all opened tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Caption",
"text": "full-screen"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Hint",
"text": "Enter or leave full-screen mode"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Help/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Help/Caption",
"text": "help"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Help/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Help/Hint",
"text": "Show help panel"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Import/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Import/Caption",
"text": "import"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Import/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Import/Hint",
"text": "Import many types of file including text, image, TiddlyWiki or JSON"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Info/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Info/Caption",
"text": "info"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Info/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Info/Hint",
"text": "Show information for this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Home/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Home/Caption",
"text": "home"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Home/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Home/Hint",
"text": "Open the default tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Language/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Language/Caption",
"text": "language"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Language/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Language/Hint",
"text": "Choose the user interface language"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption",
"text": "more"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/More/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/More/Hint",
"text": "More actions"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Caption",
"text": "new here"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Hint",
"text": "Create a new tiddler tagged with this one"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Caption",
"text": "new journal"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Hint",
"text": "Create a new journal tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Caption",
"text": "new journal here"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Hint",
"text": "Create a new journal tiddler tagged with this one"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Caption",
"text": "new image"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Hint",
"text": "Create a new image tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewMarkdown/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewMarkdown/Caption",
"text": "new Markdown tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewMarkdown/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewMarkdown/Hint",
"text": "Create a new Markdown tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Caption",
"text": "new tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Hint",
"text": "Create a new tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Caption",
"text": "open in new window"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Hint",
"text": "Open tiddler in new window"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Caption",
"text": "palette"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Hint",
"text": "Choose the colour palette"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Caption",
"text": "permalink"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Hint",
"text": "Set browser address bar to a direct link to this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Caption",
"text": "permaview"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Hint",
"text": "Set browser address bar to a direct link to all the tiddlers in this story"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Caption",
"text": "refresh"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Hint",
"text": "Perform a full refresh of the wiki"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Save/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Save/Caption",
"text": "ok"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Save/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Save/Hint",
"text": "Confirm changes to this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Caption",
"text": "save changes"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Hint",
"text": "Save changes"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Caption",
"text": "storyview"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Hint",
"text": "Choose the story visualisation"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/HideSideBar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/HideSideBar/Caption",
"text": "hide sidebar"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/HideSideBar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/HideSideBar/Hint",
"text": "Hide sidebar"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ShowSideBar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ShowSideBar/Caption",
"text": "show sidebar"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ShowSideBar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ShowSideBar/Hint",
"text": "Show sidebar"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Caption",
"text": "tag manager"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Hint",
"text": "Open tag manager"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Caption",
"text": "theme"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Hint",
"text": "Choose the display theme"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Bold/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Bold/Caption",
"text": "bold"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Bold/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Bold/Hint",
"text": "Apply bold formatting to selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Clear/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Clear/Caption",
"text": "clear"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Clear/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Clear/Hint",
"text": "Clear image to solid colour"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Caption",
"text": "editor height"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Caption/Auto": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Caption/Auto",
"text": "Automatically adjust height to fit content"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Caption/Fixed": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Caption/Fixed",
"text": "Fixed height:"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Hint",
"text": "Choose the height of the text editor"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption",
"text": "excise"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Excise": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Excise",
"text": "Perform excision"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/MacroName": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/MacroName",
"text": "Macro name:"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/NewTitle": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/NewTitle",
"text": "Title of new tiddler:"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace",
"text": "Replace excised text with:"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace/Macro": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace/Macro",
"text": "macro"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace/Link": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace/Link",
"text": "link"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace/Transclusion": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Replace/Transclusion",
"text": "transclusion"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Tag": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/Tag",
"text": "Tag new tiddler with the title of this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/TiddlerExists": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption/TiddlerExists",
"text": "Warning: tiddler already exists"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Hint",
"text": "Excise the selected text into a new tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading1/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading1/Caption",
"text": "heading 1"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading1/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading1/Hint",
"text": "Apply heading level 1 formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading2/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading2/Caption",
"text": "heading 2"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading2/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading2/Hint",
"text": "Apply heading level 2 formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading3/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading3/Caption",
"text": "heading 3"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading3/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading3/Hint",
"text": "Apply heading level 3 formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading4/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading4/Caption",
"text": "heading 4"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading4/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading4/Hint",
"text": "Apply heading level 4 formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading5/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading5/Caption",
"text": "heading 5"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading5/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading5/Hint",
"text": "Apply heading level 5 formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading6/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading6/Caption",
"text": "heading 6"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Heading6/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Heading6/Hint",
"text": "Apply heading level 6 formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Italic/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Italic/Caption",
"text": "italic"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Italic/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Italic/Hint",
"text": "Apply italic formatting to selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/LineWidth/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/LineWidth/Caption",
"text": "line width"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/LineWidth/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/LineWidth/Hint",
"text": "Set line width for painting"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Link/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Link/Caption",
"text": "link"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Link/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Link/Hint",
"text": "Create wikitext link"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ListBullet/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ListBullet/Caption",
"text": "bulleted list"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ListBullet/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ListBullet/Hint",
"text": "Apply bulleted list formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ListNumber/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ListNumber/Caption",
"text": "numbered list"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/ListNumber/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/ListNumber/Hint",
"text": "Apply numbered list formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/MonoBlock/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/MonoBlock/Caption",
"text": "monospaced block"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/MonoBlock/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/MonoBlock/Hint",
"text": "Apply monospaced block formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/MonoLine/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/MonoLine/Caption",
"text": "monospaced"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/MonoLine/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/MonoLine/Hint",
"text": "Apply monospaced character formatting to selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Opacity/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Opacity/Caption",
"text": "opacity"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Opacity/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Opacity/Hint",
"text": "Set painting opacity"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Paint/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Paint/Caption",
"text": "paint colour"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Paint/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Paint/Hint",
"text": "Set painting colour"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Caption",
"text": "picture"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Hint",
"text": "Insert picture"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Preview/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Preview/Caption",
"text": "preview"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Preview/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Preview/Hint",
"text": "Show preview pane"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/PreviewType/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/PreviewType/Caption",
"text": "preview type"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/PreviewType/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/PreviewType/Hint",
"text": "Choose preview type"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Quote/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Quote/Caption",
"text": "quote"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Quote/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Quote/Hint",
"text": "Apply quoted text formatting to lines containing selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption",
"text": "image size"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption/Height": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption/Height",
"text": "Height:"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption/Resize": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption/Resize",
"text": "Resize image"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption/Width": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption/Width",
"text": "Width:"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Size/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Size/Hint",
"text": "Set image size"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Caption",
"text": "stamp"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Caption/New": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Caption/New",
"text": "Add your own"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Hint",
"text": "Insert a preconfigured snippet of text"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/New/Title": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/New/Title",
"text": "Name as shown in menu"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/New/Text": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/New/Text",
"text": "Text of snippet. (Remember to add a descriptive title in the caption field)."
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Strikethrough/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Strikethrough/Caption",
"text": "strikethrough"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Strikethrough/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Strikethrough/Hint",
"text": "Apply strikethrough formatting to selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Subscript/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Subscript/Caption",
"text": "subscript"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Subscript/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Subscript/Hint",
"text": "Apply subscript formatting to selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Superscript/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Superscript/Caption",
"text": "superscript"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Superscript/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Superscript/Hint",
"text": "Apply superscript formatting to selection"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Underline/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Underline/Caption",
"text": "underline"
},
"$:/language/Buttons/Underline/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Buttons/Underline/Hint",
"text": "Apply underline formatting to selection"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Advanced/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Advanced/Caption",
"text": "Advanced"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Advanced/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Advanced/Hint",
"text": "Internal information about this TiddlyWiki"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Appearance/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Appearance/Caption",
"text": "Appearance"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Appearance/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Appearance/Hint",
"text": "Ways to customise the appearance of your TiddlyWiki."
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/AnimDuration/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/AnimDuration/Prompt",
"text": "Animation duration:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Caption",
"text": "Basics"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/DefaultTiddlers/BottomHint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/DefaultTiddlers/BottomHint",
"text": "Use [[double square brackets]] for titles with spaces. Or you can choose to <$button set=\"$:/DefaultTiddlers\" setTo=\"[list[$:/StoryList]]\">retain story ordering</$button>"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/DefaultTiddlers/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/DefaultTiddlers/Prompt",
"text": "Default tiddlers:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/DefaultTiddlers/TopHint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/DefaultTiddlers/TopHint",
"text": "Choose which tiddlers are displayed at startup:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Language/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Language/Prompt",
"text": "Hello! Current language:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/NewJournal/Title/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/NewJournal/Title/Prompt",
"text": "Title of new journal tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/NewJournal/Tags/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/NewJournal/Tags/Prompt",
"text": "Tags for new journal tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/OverriddenShadowTiddlers/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/OverriddenShadowTiddlers/Prompt",
"text": "Number of overridden shadow tiddlers:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/ShadowTiddlers/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/ShadowTiddlers/Prompt",
"text": "Number of shadow tiddlers:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Subtitle/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Subtitle/Prompt",
"text": "Subtitle:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/SystemTiddlers/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/SystemTiddlers/Prompt",
"text": "Number of system tiddlers:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Tags/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Tags/Prompt",
"text": "Number of tags:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Tiddlers/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Tiddlers/Prompt",
"text": "Number of tiddlers:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Title/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Title/Prompt",
"text": "Title of this ~TiddlyWiki:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Username/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Username/Prompt",
"text": "Username for signing edits:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Version/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Version/Prompt",
"text": "~TiddlyWiki version:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Caption",
"text": "Editor Types"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Editor/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Editor/Caption",
"text": "Editor"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Hint",
"text": "These tiddlers determine which editor is used to edit specific tiddler types."
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Type/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Type/Caption",
"text": "Type"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Info/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Info/Caption",
"text": "Info"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Info/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Info/Hint",
"text": "Information about this TiddlyWiki"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Add/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Add/Prompt",
"text": "Type shortcut here"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Add/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Add/Caption",
"text": "add shortcut"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Caption",
"text": "Keyboard Shortcuts"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Hint",
"text": "Manage keyboard shortcut assignments"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/NoShortcuts/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/NoShortcuts/Caption",
"text": "No keyboard shortcuts assigned"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Remove/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Remove/Hint",
"text": "remove keyboard shortcut"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/All": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/All",
"text": "All platforms"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/Mac": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/Mac",
"text": "Macintosh platform only"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/NonMac": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/NonMac",
"text": "Non-Macintosh platforms only"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/Linux": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/Linux",
"text": "Linux platform only"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/NonLinux": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/NonLinux",
"text": "Non-Linux platforms only"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/Windows": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/Windows",
"text": "Windows platform only"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/NonWindows": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Platform/NonWindows",
"text": "Non-Windows platforms only"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/LoadedModules/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/LoadedModules/Caption",
"text": "Loaded Modules"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/LoadedModules/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/LoadedModules/Hint",
"text": "These are the currently loaded tiddler modules linked to their source tiddlers. Any italicised modules lack a source tiddler, typically because they were setup during the boot process."
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Caption",
"text": "Palette"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Clone/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Clone/Caption",
"text": "clone"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Clone/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Clone/Prompt",
"text": "It is recommended that you clone this shadow palette before editing it"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Prompt/Modified": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Prompt/Modified",
"text": "This shadow palette has been modified"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Prompt",
"text": "Editing"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Reset/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/Reset/Caption",
"text": "reset"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/HideEditor/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/HideEditor/Caption",
"text": "hide editor"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Prompt",
"text": "Current palette:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/ShowEditor/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/ShowEditor/Caption",
"text": "show editor"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Caption",
"text": "Parsing"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Hint",
"text": "Here you can globally disable individual wiki parser rules. Take care as disabling some parser rules can prevent ~TiddlyWiki functioning correctly (you can restore normal operation with [[safe mode|http://tiddlywiki.com/#SafeMode]] )"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Block/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Block/Caption",
"text": "Block Parse Rules"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Inline/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Inline/Caption",
"text": "Inline Parse Rules"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Pragma/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Pragma/Caption",
"text": "Pragma Parse Rules"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Caption",
"text": "Get more plugins"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Hint",
"text": "Install plugins from the official library"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/AlreadyInstalled/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/AlreadyInstalled/Hint",
"text": "This plugin is already installed at version <$text text=<<installedVersion>>/>"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Caption",
"text": "Plugins"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disable/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disable/Caption",
"text": "disable"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disable/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disable/Hint",
"text": "Disable this plugin when reloading page"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disabled/Status": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disabled/Status",
"text": "(disabled)"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Empty/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Empty/Hint",
"text": "None"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Enable/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Enable/Caption",
"text": "enable"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Enable/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Enable/Hint",
"text": "Enable this plugin when reloading page"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Install/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Install/Caption",
"text": "install"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Hint",
"text": "Currently installed plugins:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Languages/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Languages/Caption",
"text": "Languages"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Languages/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Languages/Hint",
"text": "Language pack plugins"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/NoInfoFound/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/NoInfoFound/Hint",
"text": "No ''\"<$text text=<<currentTab>>/>\"'' found"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/NoInformation/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/NoInformation/Hint",
"text": "No information provided"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/NotInstalled/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/NotInstalled/Hint",
"text": "This plugin is not currently installed"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/OpenPluginLibrary": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/OpenPluginLibrary",
"text": "open plugin library"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Plugins/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Plugins/Caption",
"text": "Plugins"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Plugins/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Plugins/Hint",
"text": "Plugins"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Reinstall/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Reinstall/Caption",
"text": "reinstall"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Themes/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Themes/Caption",
"text": "Themes"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Themes/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Themes/Hint",
"text": "Theme plugins"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/Caption",
"text": "Saving"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/Heading",
"text": "Saving"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Advanced/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Advanced/Heading",
"text": "Advanced Settings"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/BackupDir": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/BackupDir",
"text": "Backup Directory"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Backups": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Backups",
"text": "Backups"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Description",
"text": "These settings are only used when saving to http://tiddlyspot.com or a compatible remote server"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Filename": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Filename",
"text": "Upload Filename"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Heading",
"text": "~TiddlySpot"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Hint",
"text": "//The server URL defaults to `http://<wikiname>.tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi` and can be changed to use a custom server address, e.g. `http://example.com/store.php`.//"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Password": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/Password",
"text": "Password"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/ServerURL": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/ServerURL",
"text": "Server URL"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/UploadDir": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/UploadDir",
"text": "Upload Directory"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/UserName": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/TiddlySpot/UserName",
"text": "Wiki Name"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Caption",
"text": "Autosave"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Disabled/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Disabled/Description",
"text": "Do not save changes automatically"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Enabled/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Enabled/Description",
"text": "Save changes automatically"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Hint",
"text": "Automatically save changes during editing"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/Caption",
"text": "Camel Case Wiki Links"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/Hint",
"text": "You can globally disable automatic linking of ~CamelCase phrases. Requires reload to take effect"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/Description",
"text": "Enable automatic ~CamelCase linking"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/Caption",
"text": "Settings"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/Caption",
"text": "Editor Toolbar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/Hint",
"text": "Enable or disable the editor toolbar:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/Description",
"text": "Show editor toolbar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/Hint",
"text": "These settings let you customise the behaviour of TiddlyWiki."
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Caption",
"text": "Navigation Address Bar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Hint",
"text": "Behaviour of the browser address bar when navigating to a tiddler:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/No/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/No/Description",
"text": "Do not update the address bar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Permalink/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Permalink/Description",
"text": "Include the target tiddler"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Permaview/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Permaview/Description",
"text": "Include the target tiddler and the current story sequence"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/Caption",
"text": "Navigation History"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/Hint",
"text": "Update browser history when navigating to a tiddler:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/No/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/No/Description",
"text": "Do not update history"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/Yes/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/Yes/Description",
"text": "Update history"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/Caption",
"text": "Performance Instrumentation"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/Hint",
"text": "Displays performance statistics in the browser developer console. Requires reload to take effect"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/Description",
"text": "Enable performance instrumentation"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Caption",
"text": "Toolbar Button Style"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Hint",
"text": "Choose the style for toolbar buttons:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Borderless": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Borderless",
"text": "Borderless"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Boxed": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Boxed",
"text": "Boxed"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Rounded": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Rounded",
"text": "Rounded"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Caption",
"text": "Toolbar Buttons"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Hint",
"text": "Default toolbar button appearance:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Icons/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Icons/Description",
"text": "Include icon"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Text/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Text/Description",
"text": "Include text"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab/Caption",
"text": "Default Sidebar Tab"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab/Hint",
"text": "Specify which sidebar tab is displayed by default"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/Caption",
"text": "Tiddler Opening Behaviour"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/InsideRiver/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/InsideRiver/Hint",
"text": "Navigation from //within// the story river"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OutsideRiver/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OutsideRiver/Hint",
"text": "Navigation from //outside// the story river"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenAbove": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenAbove",
"text": "Open above the current tiddler"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenBelow": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenBelow",
"text": "Open below the current tiddler"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenAtTop": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenAtTop",
"text": "Open at the top of the story river"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenAtBottom": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/OpenAtBottom",
"text": "Open at the bottom of the story river"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/Caption",
"text": "Tiddler Titles"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/Hint",
"text": "Optionally display tiddler titles as links"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/No/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/No/Description",
"text": "Do not display tiddler titles as links"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/Yes/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/Yes/Description",
"text": "Display tiddler titles as links"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/Caption",
"text": "Wiki Links"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/Hint",
"text": "Choose whether to link to tiddlers that do not exist yet"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/Description": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/Description",
"text": "Enable links to missing tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/StoryView/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/StoryView/Caption",
"text": "Story View"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/StoryView/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/StoryView/Prompt",
"text": "Current view:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Theme/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Theme/Caption",
"text": "Theme"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Theme/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Theme/Prompt",
"text": "Current theme:"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields/Caption",
"text": "Tiddler Fields"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields/Hint",
"text": "This is the full set of TiddlerFields in use in this wiki (including system tiddlers but excluding shadow tiddlers)."
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/Caption",
"text": "Toolbars"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar/Caption",
"text": "Edit Toolbar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar/Hint",
"text": "Choose which buttons are displayed for tiddlers in edit mode"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/Hint",
"text": "Select which toolbar buttons are displayed"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls/Caption",
"text": "Page Toolbar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls/Hint",
"text": "Choose which buttons are displayed on the main page toolbar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar/Caption",
"text": "Editor Toolbar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar/Hint",
"text": "Choose which buttons are displayed in the editor toolbar. Note that some buttons will only appear when editing tiddlers of a certain type"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar/Caption",
"text": "View Toolbar"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar/Hint",
"text": "Choose which buttons are displayed for tiddlers in view mode"
},
"$:/language/ControlPanel/Tools/Download/Full/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ControlPanel/Tools/Download/Full/Caption",
"text": "Download full wiki"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/1": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/1",
"text": "st"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/2": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/2",
"text": "nd"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/3": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/3",
"text": "rd"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/4": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/4",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/5": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/5",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/6": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/6",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/7": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/7",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/8": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/8",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/9": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/9",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/10": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/10",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/11": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/11",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/12": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/12",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/13": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/13",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/14": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/14",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/15": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/15",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/16": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/16",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/17": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/17",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/18": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/18",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/19": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/19",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/20": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/20",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/21": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/21",
"text": "st"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/22": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/22",
"text": "nd"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/23": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/23",
"text": "rd"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/24": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/24",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/25": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/25",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/26": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/26",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/27": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/27",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/28": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/28",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/29": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/29",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/30": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/30",
"text": "th"
},
"$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/31": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/DaySuffix/31",
"text": "st"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Day/0": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Day/0",
"text": "Sunday"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Day/1": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Day/1",
"text": "Monday"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Day/2": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Day/2",
"text": "Tuesday"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Day/3": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Day/3",
"text": "Wednesday"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Day/4": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Day/4",
"text": "Thursday"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Day/5": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Day/5",
"text": "Friday"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Day/6": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Day/6",
"text": "Saturday"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/1": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/1",
"text": "January"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/2": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/2",
"text": "February"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/3": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/3",
"text": "March"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/4": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/4",
"text": "April"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/5": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/5",
"text": "May"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/6": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/6",
"text": "June"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/7": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/7",
"text": "July"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/8": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/8",
"text": "August"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/9": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/9",
"text": "September"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/10": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/10",
"text": "October"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/11": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/11",
"text": "November"
},
"$:/language/Date/Long/Month/12": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Long/Month/12",
"text": "December"
},
"$:/language/Date/Period/am": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Period/am",
"text": "am"
},
"$:/language/Date/Period/pm": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Period/pm",
"text": "pm"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Day/0": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Day/0",
"text": "Sun"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Day/1": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Day/1",
"text": "Mon"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Day/2": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Day/2",
"text": "Tue"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Day/3": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Day/3",
"text": "Wed"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Day/4": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Day/4",
"text": "Thu"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Day/5": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Day/5",
"text": "Fri"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Day/6": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Day/6",
"text": "Sat"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/1": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/1",
"text": "Jan"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/2": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/2",
"text": "Feb"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/3": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/3",
"text": "Mar"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/4": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/4",
"text": "Apr"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/5": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/5",
"text": "May"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/6": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/6",
"text": "Jun"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/7": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/7",
"text": "Jul"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/8": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/8",
"text": "Aug"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/9": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/9",
"text": "Sep"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/10": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/10",
"text": "Oct"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/11": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/11",
"text": "Nov"
},
"$:/language/Date/Short/Month/12": {
"title": "$:/language/Date/Short/Month/12",
"text": "Dec"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Days": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Days",
"text": "<<period>> days from now"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Hours": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Hours",
"text": "<<period>> hours from now"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Minutes": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Minutes",
"text": "<<period>> minutes from now"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Months": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Months",
"text": "<<period>> months from now"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Second": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Second",
"text": "1 second from now"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Seconds": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Seconds",
"text": "<<period>> seconds from now"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Years": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Future/Years",
"text": "<<period>> years from now"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Days": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Days",
"text": "<<period>> days ago"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Hours": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Hours",
"text": "<<period>> hours ago"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Minutes": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Minutes",
"text": "<<period>> minutes ago"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Months": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Months",
"text": "<<period>> months ago"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Second": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Second",
"text": "1 second ago"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Seconds": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Seconds",
"text": "<<period>> seconds ago"
},
"$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Years": {
"title": "$:/language/RelativeDate/Past/Years",
"text": "<<period>> years ago"
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/animation": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/animation",
"text": "Animations that may be used with the RevealWidget."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/command": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/command",
"text": "Commands that can be executed under Node.js."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/config": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/config",
"text": "Data to be inserted into `$tw.config`."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/filteroperator": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/filteroperator",
"text": "Individual filter operator methods."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/global": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/global",
"text": "Global data to be inserted into `$tw`."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/isfilteroperator": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/isfilteroperator",
"text": "Operands for the ''is'' filter operator."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/macro": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/macro",
"text": "JavaScript macro definitions."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/parser": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/parser",
"text": "Parsers for different content types."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/saver": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/saver",
"text": "Savers handle different methods for saving files from the browser."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/startup": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/startup",
"text": "Startup functions."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/storyview": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/storyview",
"text": "Story views customise the animation and behaviour of list widgets."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/tiddlerdeserializer": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/tiddlerdeserializer",
"text": "Converts different content types into tiddlers."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/tiddlerfield": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/tiddlerfield",
"text": "Defines the behaviour of an individual tiddler field."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/tiddlermethod": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/tiddlermethod",
"text": "Adds methods to the `$tw.Tiddler` prototype."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/upgrader": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/upgrader",
"text": "Applies upgrade processing to tiddlers during an upgrade/import."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/utils": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/utils",
"text": "Adds methods to `$tw.utils`."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/utils-node": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/utils-node",
"text": "Adds Node.js-specific methods to `$tw.utils`."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/widget": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/widget",
"text": "Widgets encapsulate DOM rendering and refreshing."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/wikimethod": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/wikimethod",
"text": "Adds methods to `$tw.Wiki`."
},
"$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/wikirule": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/wikirule",
"text": "Individual parser rules for the main WikiText parser."
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-background",
"text": "Alert background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-border",
"text": "Alert border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-highlight": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-highlight",
"text": "Alert highlight"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-muted-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/alert-muted-foreground",
"text": "Alert muted foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/background",
"text": "General background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/blockquote-bar": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/blockquote-bar",
"text": "Blockquote bar"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/button-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/button-background",
"text": "Default button background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/button-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/button-border",
"text": "Default button border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/button-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/button-foreground",
"text": "Default button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dirty-indicator": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dirty-indicator",
"text": "Unsaved changes indicator"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/code-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/code-background",
"text": "Code background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/code-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/code-border",
"text": "Code border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/code-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/code-foreground",
"text": "Code foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/download-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/download-background",
"text": "Download button background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/download-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/download-foreground",
"text": "Download button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dragger-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dragger-background",
"text": "Dragger background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dragger-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dragger-foreground",
"text": "Dragger foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-background",
"text": "Dropdown background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-border",
"text": "Dropdown border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-tab-background-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-tab-background-selected",
"text": "Dropdown tab background for selected tabs"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-tab-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropdown-tab-background",
"text": "Dropdown tab background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropzone-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/dropzone-background",
"text": "Dropzone background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-background-hover": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-background-hover",
"text": "External link background hover"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-background-visited": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-background-visited",
"text": "External link background visited"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-background",
"text": "External link background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-foreground-hover": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-foreground-hover",
"text": "External link foreground hover"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-foreground-visited": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-foreground-visited",
"text": "External link foreground visited"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/external-link-foreground",
"text": "External link foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/foreground",
"text": "General foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/message-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/message-background",
"text": "Message box background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/message-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/message-border",
"text": "Message box border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/message-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/message-foreground",
"text": "Message box foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-backdrop": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-backdrop",
"text": "Modal backdrop"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-background",
"text": "Modal background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-border",
"text": "Modal border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-footer-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-footer-background",
"text": "Modal footer background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-footer-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-footer-border",
"text": "Modal footer border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-header-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/modal-header-border",
"text": "Modal header border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/muted-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/muted-foreground",
"text": "General muted foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/notification-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/notification-background",
"text": "Notification background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/notification-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/notification-border",
"text": "Notification border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/page-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/page-background",
"text": "Page background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/pre-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/pre-background",
"text": "Preformatted code background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/pre-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/pre-border",
"text": "Preformatted code border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/primary": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/primary",
"text": "General primary"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-button-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-button-foreground",
"text": "Sidebar button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-controls-foreground-hover": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-controls-foreground-hover",
"text": "Sidebar controls foreground hover"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-controls-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-controls-foreground",
"text": "Sidebar controls foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-foreground-shadow": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-foreground-shadow",
"text": "Sidebar foreground shadow"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-foreground",
"text": "Sidebar foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-muted-foreground-hover": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-muted-foreground-hover",
"text": "Sidebar muted foreground hover"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-muted-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-muted-foreground",
"text": "Sidebar muted foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-background-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-background-selected",
"text": "Sidebar tab background for selected tabs"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-background",
"text": "Sidebar tab background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-border-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-border-selected",
"text": "Sidebar tab border for selected tabs"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-border",
"text": "Sidebar tab border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-divider": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-divider",
"text": "Sidebar tab divider"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-foreground-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-foreground-selected",
"text": "Sidebar tab foreground for selected tabs"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tab-foreground",
"text": "Sidebar tab foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover",
"text": "Sidebar tiddler link foreground hover"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tiddler-link-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/sidebar-tiddler-link-foreground",
"text": "Sidebar tiddler link foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/site-title-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/site-title-foreground",
"text": "Site title foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/static-alert-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/static-alert-foreground",
"text": "Static alert foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-background-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-background-selected",
"text": "Tab background for selected tabs"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-background",
"text": "Tab background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-border-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-border-selected",
"text": "Tab border for selected tabs"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-border",
"text": "Tab border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-divider": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-divider",
"text": "Tab divider"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-foreground-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-foreground-selected",
"text": "Tab foreground for selected tabs"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tab-foreground",
"text": "Tab foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/table-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/table-border",
"text": "Table border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/table-footer-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/table-footer-background",
"text": "Table footer background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/table-header-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/table-header-background",
"text": "Table header background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tag-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tag-background",
"text": "Tag background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tag-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tag-foreground",
"text": "Tag foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-background",
"text": "Tiddler background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-border",
"text": "Tiddler border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-controls-foreground-hover": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-controls-foreground-hover",
"text": "Tiddler controls foreground hover"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-controls-foreground-selected": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-controls-foreground-selected",
"text": "Tiddler controls foreground for selected controls"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-controls-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-controls-foreground",
"text": "Tiddler controls foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-background",
"text": "Tiddler editor background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-border-image": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-border-image",
"text": "Tiddler editor border image"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-border",
"text": "Tiddler editor border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-fields-even": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-fields-even",
"text": "Tiddler editor background for even fields"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-fields-odd": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-editor-fields-odd",
"text": "Tiddler editor background for odd fields"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-info-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-info-background",
"text": "Tiddler info panel background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-info-border": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-info-border",
"text": "Tiddler info panel border"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-info-tab-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-info-tab-background",
"text": "Tiddler info panel tab background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-link-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-link-background",
"text": "Tiddler link background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-link-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-link-foreground",
"text": "Tiddler link foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-subtitle-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-subtitle-foreground",
"text": "Tiddler subtitle foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-title-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/tiddler-title-foreground",
"text": "Tiddler title foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-new-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-new-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'new tiddler' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-options-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-options-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'options' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-save-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-save-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'save' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-info-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-info-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'info' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-edit-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-edit-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'edit' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-close-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-close-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'close' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-delete-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-delete-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'delete' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-cancel-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-cancel-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'cancel' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-done-button": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/toolbar-done-button",
"text": "Toolbar 'done' button foreground"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/untagged-background": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/untagged-background",
"text": "Untagged pill background"
},
"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/very-muted-foreground": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/very-muted-foreground",
"text": "Very muted foreground"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/External/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/External/Hint",
"text": "This is an external tiddler stored outside of the main TiddlyWiki file. You can edit the tags and fields but cannot directly edit the content itself"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/Placeholder": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/Placeholder",
"text": "Type the text for this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/Preview/Type/Output": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/Preview/Type/Output",
"text": "output"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Remove/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Remove/Caption",
"text": "remove field"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Remove/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Remove/Hint",
"text": "Remove field"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Button": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Button",
"text": "add"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Name/Placeholder": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Name/Placeholder",
"text": "field name"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Prompt",
"text": "Add a new field:"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Value/Placeholder": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Value/Placeholder",
"text": "field value"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Dropdown/System": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Dropdown/System",
"text": "System fields"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Dropdown/User": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Dropdown/User",
"text": "User fields"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Shadow/Warning": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Shadow/Warning",
"text": "This is a shadow tiddler. Any changes you make will override the default version from the plugin <<pluginLink>>"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Shadow/OverriddenWarning": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Shadow/OverriddenWarning",
"text": "This is a modified shadow tiddler. You can revert to the default version in the plugin <<pluginLink>> by deleting this tiddler"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Add/Button": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Add/Button",
"text": "add"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Add/Placeholder": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Add/Placeholder",
"text": "tag name"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Dropdown/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Dropdown/Caption",
"text": "tag list"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Dropdown/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Dropdown/Hint",
"text": "Show tag list"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Title/BadCharacterWarning": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Title/BadCharacterWarning",
"text": "Warning: avoid using any of the characters <<bad-chars>> in tiddler titles"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Dropdown/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Dropdown/Caption",
"text": "content type list"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Dropdown/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Dropdown/Hint",
"text": "Show content type list"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Delete/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Delete/Caption",
"text": "delete content type"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Delete/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Delete/Hint",
"text": "Delete content type"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Placeholder": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Placeholder",
"text": "content type"
},
"$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Prompt",
"text": "Type:"
},
"$:/language/Exporters/StaticRiver": {
"title": "$:/language/Exporters/StaticRiver",
"text": "Static HTML"
},
"$:/language/Exporters/JsonFile": {
"title": "$:/language/Exporters/JsonFile",
"text": "JSON file"
},
"$:/language/Exporters/CsvFile": {
"title": "$:/language/Exporters/CsvFile",
"text": "CSV file"
},
"$:/language/Exporters/TidFile": {
"title": "$:/language/Exporters/TidFile",
"text": "\".tid\" file"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/_canonical_uri": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/_canonical_uri",
"text": "The full URI of an external image tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/bag": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/bag",
"text": "The name of the bag from which a tiddler came"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/caption",
"text": "The text to be displayed on a tab or button"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/color": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/color",
"text": "The CSS color value associated with a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/component": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/component",
"text": "The name of the component responsible for an [[alert tiddler|AlertMechanism]]"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/current-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/current-tiddler",
"text": "Used to cache the top tiddler in a [[history list|HistoryMechanism]]"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/created": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/created",
"text": "The date a tiddler was created"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/creator": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/creator",
"text": "The name of the person who created a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/dependents": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/dependents",
"text": "For a plugin, lists the dependent plugin titles"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/description": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/description",
"text": "The descriptive text for a plugin, or a modal dialogue"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/draft.of": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/draft.of",
"text": "For draft tiddlers, contains the title of the tiddler of which this is a draft"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/draft.title": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/draft.title",
"text": "For draft tiddlers, contains the proposed new title of the tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/footer": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/footer",
"text": "The footer text for a wizard"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/hack-to-give-us-something-to-compare-against": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/hack-to-give-us-something-to-compare-against",
"text": "A temporary storage field used in [[$:/core/templates/static.content]]"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/icon": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/icon",
"text": "The title of the tiddler containing the icon associated with a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/library": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/library",
"text": "If set to \"yes\" indicates that a tiddler should be saved as a JavaScript library"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/list": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/list",
"text": "An ordered list of tiddler titles associated with a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/list-before": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/list-before",
"text": "If set, the title of a tiddler before which this tiddler should be added to the ordered list of tiddler titles, or at the start of the list if this field is present but empty"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/list-after": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/list-after",
"text": "If set, the title of the tiddler after which this tiddler should be added to the ordered list of tiddler titles"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/modified": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/modified",
"text": "The date and time at which a tiddler was last modified"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/modifier": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/modifier",
"text": "The tiddler title associated with the person who last modified a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/name": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/name",
"text": "The human readable name associated with a plugin tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/plugin-priority": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/plugin-priority",
"text": "A numerical value indicating the priority of a plugin tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/plugin-type": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/plugin-type",
"text": "The type of plugin in a plugin tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/revision": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/revision",
"text": "The revision of the tiddler held at the server"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/released": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/released",
"text": "Date of a TiddlyWiki release"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/source": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/source",
"text": "The source URL associated with a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/subtitle": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/subtitle",
"text": "The subtitle text for a wizard"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/tags": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/tags",
"text": "A list of tags associated with a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/text": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/text",
"text": "The body text of a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/title": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/title",
"text": "The unique name of a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/type": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/type",
"text": "The content type of a tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Fields/version": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Fields/version",
"text": "Version information for a plugin"
},
"$:/language/Filters/AllTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/AllTiddlers",
"text": "All tiddlers except system tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/RecentSystemTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/RecentSystemTiddlers",
"text": "Recently modified tiddlers, including system tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/RecentTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/RecentTiddlers",
"text": "Recently modified tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/AllTags": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/AllTags",
"text": "All tags except system tags"
},
"$:/language/Filters/Missing": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/Missing",
"text": "Missing tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/Drafts": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/Drafts",
"text": "Draft tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/Orphans": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/Orphans",
"text": "Orphan tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/SystemTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/SystemTiddlers",
"text": "System tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/ShadowTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/ShadowTiddlers",
"text": "Shadow tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/OverriddenShadowTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/OverriddenShadowTiddlers",
"text": "Overridden shadow tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Filters/SystemTags": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/SystemTags",
"text": "System tags"
},
"$:/language/Filters/TypedTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Filters/TypedTiddlers",
"text": "Non wiki-text tiddlers"
},
"GettingStarted": {
"title": "GettingStarted",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/\nWelcome to ~TiddlyWiki and the ~TiddlyWiki community\n\nBefore you start storing important information in ~TiddlyWiki it is important to make sure that you can reliably save changes. See http://tiddlywiki.com/#GettingStarted for details\n\n!! Set up this ~TiddlyWiki\n\n<div class=\"tc-control-panel\">\n\n|<$link to=\"$:/SiteTitle\"><<lingo Title/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/SiteTitle\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/SiteSubtitle\"><<lingo Subtitle/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/SiteSubtitle\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/DefaultTiddlers\"><<lingo DefaultTiddlers/Prompt>></$link> |<<lingo DefaultTiddlers/TopHint>><br> <$edit tag=\"textarea\" tiddler=\"$:/DefaultTiddlers\"/><br>//<<lingo DefaultTiddlers/BottomHint>>// |\n</div>\n\nSee the [[control panel|$:/ControlPanel]] for more options.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/build": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/build",
"description": "Automatically run configured commands",
"text": "Build the specified build targets for the current wiki. If no build targets are specified then all available targets will be built.\n\n```\n--build <target> [<target> ...]\n```\n\nBuild targets are defined in the `tiddlywiki.info` file of a wiki folder.\n\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/clearpassword": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/clearpassword",
"description": "Clear a password for subsequent crypto operations",
"text": "Clear the password for subsequent crypto operations\n\n```\n--clearpassword\n```\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/default": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/default",
"text": "\\define commandTitle()\n$:/language/Help/$(command)$\n\\end\n```\nusage: tiddlywiki [<wikifolder>] [--<command> [<args>...]...]\n```\n\nAvailable commands:\n\n<ul>\n<$list filter=\"[commands[]sort[title]]\" variable=\"command\">\n<li><$link to=<<commandTitle>>><$macrocall $name=\"command\" $type=\"text/plain\" $output=\"text/plain\"/></$link>: <$transclude tiddler=<<commandTitle>> field=\"description\"/></li>\n</$list>\n</ul>\n\nTo get detailed help on a command:\n\n```\ntiddlywiki --help <command>\n```\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/editions": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/editions",
"description": "Lists the available editions of TiddlyWiki",
"text": "Lists the names and descriptions of the available editions. You can create a new wiki of a specified edition with the `--init` command.\n\n```\n--editions\n```\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/help": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/help",
"description": "Display help for TiddlyWiki commands",
"text": "Displays help text for a command:\n\n```\n--help [<command>]\n```\n\nIf the command name is omitted then a list of available commands is displayed.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/init": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/init",
"description": "Initialise a new wiki folder",
"text": "Initialise an empty [[WikiFolder|WikiFolders]] with a copy of the specified edition.\n\n```\n--init <edition> [<edition> ...]\n```\n\nFor example:\n\n```\ntiddlywiki ./MyWikiFolder --init empty\n```\n\nNote:\n\n* The wiki folder directory will be created if necessary\n* The \"edition\" defaults to ''empty''\n* The init command will fail if the wiki folder is not empty\n* The init command removes any `includeWikis` definitions in the edition's `tiddlywiki.info` file\n* When multiple editions are specified, editions initialised later will overwrite any files shared with earlier editions (so, the final `tiddlywiki.info` file will be copied from the last edition)\n* `--editions` returns a list of available editions\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/load": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/load",
"description": "Load tiddlers from a file",
"text": "Load tiddlers from 2.x.x TiddlyWiki files (`.html`), `.tiddler`, `.tid`, `.json` or other files\n\n```\n--load <filepath>\n```\n\nTo load tiddlers from an encrypted TiddlyWiki file you should first specify the password with the PasswordCommand. For example:\n\n```\ntiddlywiki ./MyWiki --password pa55w0rd --load my_encrypted_wiki.html\n```\n\nNote that TiddlyWiki will not load an older version of an already loaded plugin.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/makelibrary": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/makelibrary",
"description": "Construct library plugin required by upgrade process",
"text": "Constructs the `$:/UpgradeLibrary` tiddler for the upgrade process.\n\nThe upgrade library is formatted as an ordinary plugin tiddler with the plugin type `library`. It contains a copy of each of the plugins, themes and language packs available within the TiddlyWiki5 repository.\n\nThis command is intended for internal use; it is only relevant to users constructing a custom upgrade procedure.\n\n```\n--makelibrary <title>\n```\n\nThe title argument defaults to `$:/UpgradeLibrary`.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/notfound": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/notfound",
"text": "No such help item"
},
"$:/language/Help/output": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/output",
"description": "Set the base output directory for subsequent commands",
"text": "Sets the base output directory for subsequent commands. The default output directory is the `output` subdirectory of the edition directory.\n\n```\n--output <pathname>\n```\n\nIf the specified pathname is relative then it is resolved relative to the current working directory. For example `--output .` sets the output directory to the current working directory.\n\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/password": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/password",
"description": "Set a password for subsequent crypto operations",
"text": "Set a password for subsequent crypto operations\n\n```\n--password <password>\n```\n\n''Note'': This should not be used for serving TiddlyWiki with password protection. Instead, see the password option under the [[ServerCommand]].\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/rendertiddler": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/rendertiddler",
"description": "Render an individual tiddler as a specified ContentType",
"text": "Render an individual tiddler as a specified ContentType, defaulting to `text/html` and save it to the specified filename. Optionally a template can be specified, in which case the template tiddler is rendered with the \"currentTiddler\" variable set to the tiddler that is being rendered (the first parameter value).\n\n```\n--rendertiddler <title> <filename> [<type>] [<template>]\n```\n\nBy default, the filename is resolved relative to the `output` subdirectory of the edition directory. The `--output` command can be used to direct output to a different directory.\n\nAny missing directories in the path to the filename are automatically created.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/rendertiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/rendertiddlers",
"description": "Render tiddlers matching a filter to a specified ContentType",
"text": "Render a set of tiddlers matching a filter to separate files of a specified ContentType (defaults to `text/html`) and extension (defaults to `.html`).\n\n```\n--rendertiddlers <filter> <template> <pathname> [<type>] [<extension>] [\"noclean\"]\n```\n\nFor example:\n\n```\n--rendertiddlers [!is[system]] $:/core/templates/static.tiddler.html ./static text/plain\n```\n\nBy default, the pathname is resolved relative to the `output` subdirectory of the edition directory. The `--output` command can be used to direct output to a different directory.\n\nAny files in the target directory are deleted unless the ''noclean'' flag is specified. The target directory is recursively created if it is missing.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/savetiddler": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/savetiddler",
"description": "Saves a raw tiddler to a file",
"text": "Saves an individual tiddler in its raw text or binary format to the specified filename.\n\n```\n--savetiddler <title> <filename>\n```\n\nBy default, the filename is resolved relative to the `output` subdirectory of the edition directory. The `--output` command can be used to direct output to a different directory.\n\nAny missing directories in the path to the filename are automatically created.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/savetiddlers": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/savetiddlers",
"description": "Saves a group of raw tiddlers to a directory",
"text": "Saves a group of tiddlers in their raw text or binary format to the specified directory.\n\n```\n--savetiddlers <filter> <pathname> [\"noclean\"]\n```\n\nBy default, the pathname is resolved relative to the `output` subdirectory of the edition directory. The `--output` command can be used to direct output to a different directory.\n\nThe output directory is cleared of existing files before saving the specified files. The deletion can be disabled by specifying the ''noclean'' flag.\n\nAny missing directories in the pathname are automatically created.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/server": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/server",
"description": "Provides an HTTP server interface to TiddlyWiki",
"text": "The server built in to TiddlyWiki5 is very simple. Although compatible with TiddlyWeb it doesn't support many of the features needed for robust Internet-facing usage.\n\nAt the root, it serves a rendering of a specified tiddler. Away from the root, it serves individual tiddlers encoded in JSON, and supports the basic HTTP operations for `GET`, `PUT` and `DELETE`.\n\n```\n--server <port> <roottiddler> <rendertype> <servetype> <username> <password> <host> <pathprefix>\n```\n\nThe parameters are:\n\n* ''port'' - port number to serve from (defaults to \"8080\")\n* ''roottiddler'' - the tiddler to serve at the root (defaults to \"$:/core/save/all\")\n* ''rendertype'' - the content type to which the root tiddler should be rendered (defaults to \"text/plain\")\n* ''servetype'' - the content type with which the root tiddler should be served (defaults to \"text/html\")\n* ''username'' - the default username for signing edits\n* ''password'' - optional password for basic authentication\n* ''host'' - optional hostname to serve from (defaults to \"127.0.0.1\" aka \"localhost\")\n* ''pathprefix'' - optional prefix for paths\n\nIf the password parameter is specified then the browser will prompt the user for the username and password. Note that the password is transmitted in plain text so this implementation isn't suitable for general use.\n\nFor example:\n\n```\n--server 8080 $:/core/save/all text/plain text/html MyUserName passw0rd\n```\n\nThe username and password can be specified as empty strings if you need to set the hostname or pathprefix and don't want to require a password:\n\n```\n--server 8080 $:/core/save/all text/plain text/html \"\" \"\" 192.168.0.245\n```\n\nTo run multiple TiddlyWiki servers at the same time you'll need to put each one on a different port.\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/setfield": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/setfield",
"description": "Prepares external tiddlers for use",
"text": "//Note that this command is experimental and may change or be replaced before being finalised//\n\nSets the specified field of a group of tiddlers to the result of wikifying a template tiddler with the `currentTiddler` variable set to the tiddler.\n\n```\n--setfield <filter> <fieldname> <templatetitle> <rendertype>\n```\n\nThe parameters are:\n\n* ''filter'' - filter identifying the tiddlers to be affected\n* ''fieldname'' - the field to modify (defaults to \"text\")\n* ''templatetitle'' - the tiddler to wikify into the specified field. If blank or missing then the specified field is deleted\n* ''rendertype'' - the text type to render (defaults to \"text/plain\"; \"text/html\" can be used to include HTML tags)\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/unpackplugin": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/unpackplugin",
"description": "Unpack the payload tiddlers from a plugin",
"text": "Extract the payload tiddlers from a plugin, creating them as ordinary tiddlers:\n\n```\n--unpackplugin <title>\n```\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/verbose": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/verbose",
"description": "Triggers verbose output mode",
"text": "Triggers verbose output, useful for debugging\n\n```\n--verbose\n```\n"
},
"$:/language/Help/version": {
"title": "$:/language/Help/version",
"description": "Displays the version number of TiddlyWiki",
"text": "Displays the version number of TiddlyWiki.\n\n```\n--version\n```\n"
},
"$:/language/Import/Imported/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Imported/Hint",
"text": "The following tiddlers were imported:"
},
"$:/language/Import/Listing/Cancel/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Listing/Cancel/Caption",
"text": "Cancel"
},
"$:/language/Import/Listing/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Listing/Hint",
"text": "These tiddlers are ready to import:"
},
"$:/language/Import/Listing/Import/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Listing/Import/Caption",
"text": "Import"
},
"$:/language/Import/Listing/Select/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Listing/Select/Caption",
"text": "Select"
},
"$:/language/Import/Listing/Status/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Listing/Status/Caption",
"text": "Status"
},
"$:/language/Import/Listing/Title/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Listing/Title/Caption",
"text": "Title"
},
"$:/language/Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Suppressed/Incompatible": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Suppressed/Incompatible",
"text": "Blocked incompatible or obsolete plugin"
},
"$:/language/Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Suppressed/Version": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Suppressed/Version",
"text": "Blocked plugin (due to incoming <<incoming>> being older than existing <<existing>>)"
},
"$:/language/Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Upgraded": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Upgraded",
"text": "Upgraded plugin from <<incoming>> to <<upgraded>>"
},
"$:/language/Import/Upgrader/State/Suppressed": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Upgrader/State/Suppressed",
"text": "Blocked temporary state tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Import/Upgrader/System/Suppressed": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Upgrader/System/Suppressed",
"text": "Blocked system tiddler"
},
"$:/language/Import/Upgrader/ThemeTweaks/Created": {
"title": "$:/language/Import/Upgrader/ThemeTweaks/Created",
"text": "Migrated theme tweak from <$text text=<<from>>/>"
},
"$:/language/AboveStory/ClassicPlugin/Warning": {
"title": "$:/language/AboveStory/ClassicPlugin/Warning",
"text": "It looks like you are trying to load a plugin designed for ~TiddlyWiki Classic. Please note that [[these plugins do not work with TiddlyWiki version 5.x.x|http://tiddlywiki.com/#TiddlyWikiClassic]]. ~TiddlyWiki Classic plugins detected:"
},
"$:/language/BinaryWarning/Prompt": {
"title": "$:/language/BinaryWarning/Prompt",
"text": "This tiddler contains binary data"
},
"$:/language/ClassicWarning/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ClassicWarning/Hint",
"text": "This tiddler is written in TiddlyWiki Classic wiki text format, which is not fully compatible with TiddlyWiki version 5. See http://tiddlywiki.com/static/Upgrading.html for more details."
},
"$:/language/ClassicWarning/Upgrade/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/ClassicWarning/Upgrade/Caption",
"text": "upgrade"
},
"$:/language/CloseAll/Button": {
"title": "$:/language/CloseAll/Button",
"text": "close all"
},
"$:/language/ColourPicker/Recent": {
"title": "$:/language/ColourPicker/Recent",
"text": "Recent:"
},
"$:/language/ConfirmCancelTiddler": {
"title": "$:/language/ConfirmCancelTiddler",
"text": "Do you wish to discard changes to the tiddler \"<$text text=<<title>>/>\"?"
},
"$:/language/ConfirmDeleteTiddler": {
"title": "$:/language/ConfirmDeleteTiddler",
"text": "Do you wish to delete the tiddler \"<$text text=<<title>>/>\"?"
},
"$:/language/ConfirmOverwriteTiddler": {
"title": "$:/language/ConfirmOverwriteTiddler",
"text": "Do you wish to overwrite the tiddler \"<$text text=<<title>>/>\"?"
},
"$:/language/ConfirmEditShadowTiddler": {
"title": "$:/language/ConfirmEditShadowTiddler",
"text": "You are about to edit a ShadowTiddler. Any changes will override the default system making future upgrades non-trivial. Are you sure you want to edit \"<$text text=<<title>>/>\"?"
},
"$:/language/Count": {
"title": "$:/language/Count",
"text": "count"
},
"$:/language/DefaultNewTiddlerTitle": {
"title": "$:/language/DefaultNewTiddlerTitle",
"text": "New Tiddler"
},
"$:/language/DropMessage": {
"title": "$:/language/DropMessage",
"text": "Drop here (or use the 'Escape' key to cancel)"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/Cancel": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/Cancel",
"text": "Cancel"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/ConfirmClearPassword": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/ConfirmClearPassword",
"text": "Do you wish to clear the password? This will remove the encryption applied when saving this wiki"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/PromptSetPassword": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/PromptSetPassword",
"text": "Set a new password for this TiddlyWiki"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/Username": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/Username",
"text": "Username"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/Password": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/Password",
"text": "Password"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/RepeatPassword": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/RepeatPassword",
"text": "Repeat password"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/PasswordNoMatch": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/PasswordNoMatch",
"text": "Passwords do not match"
},
"$:/language/Encryption/SetPassword": {
"title": "$:/language/Encryption/SetPassword",
"text": "Set password"
},
"$:/language/Error/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/Caption",
"text": "Error"
},
"$:/language/Error/Filter": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/Filter",
"text": "Filter error"
},
"$:/language/Error/FilterSyntax": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/FilterSyntax",
"text": "Syntax error in filter expression"
},
"$:/language/Error/IsFilterOperator": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/IsFilterOperator",
"text": "Filter Error: Unknown operand for the 'is' filter operator"
},
"$:/language/Error/LoadingPluginLibrary": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/LoadingPluginLibrary",
"text": "Error loading plugin library"
},
"$:/language/Error/RecursiveTransclusion": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/RecursiveTransclusion",
"text": "Recursive transclusion error in transclude widget"
},
"$:/language/Error/RetrievingSkinny": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/RetrievingSkinny",
"text": "Error retrieving skinny tiddler list"
},
"$:/language/Error/SavingToTWEdit": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/SavingToTWEdit",
"text": "Error saving to TWEdit"
},
"$:/language/Error/WhileSaving": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/WhileSaving",
"text": "Error while saving"
},
"$:/language/Error/XMLHttpRequest": {
"title": "$:/language/Error/XMLHttpRequest",
"text": "XMLHttpRequest error code"
},
"$:/language/InternalJavaScriptError/Title": {
"title": "$:/language/InternalJavaScriptError/Title",
"text": "Internal JavaScript Error"
},
"$:/language/InternalJavaScriptError/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/InternalJavaScriptError/Hint",
"text": "Well, this is embarrassing. It is recommended that you restart TiddlyWiki by refreshing your browser"
},
"$:/language/InvalidFieldName": {
"title": "$:/language/InvalidFieldName",
"text": "Illegal characters in field name \"<$text text=<<fieldName>>/>\". Fields can only contain lowercase letters, digits and the characters underscore (`_`), hyphen (`-`) and period (`.`)"
},
"$:/language/LazyLoadingWarning": {
"title": "$:/language/LazyLoadingWarning",
"text": "<p>Loading external text from ''<$text text={{!!_canonical_uri}}/>''</p><p>If this message doesn't disappear you may be using a browser that doesn't support external text in this configuration. See http://tiddlywiki.com/#ExternalText</p>"
},
"$:/language/LoginToTiddlySpace": {
"title": "$:/language/LoginToTiddlySpace",
"text": "Login to TiddlySpace"
},
"$:/language/MissingTiddler/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/MissingTiddler/Hint",
"text": "Missing tiddler \"<$text text=<<currentTiddler>>/>\" - click {{$:/core/images/edit-button}} to create"
},
"$:/language/No": {
"title": "$:/language/No",
"text": "No"
},
"$:/language/OfficialPluginLibrary": {
"title": "$:/language/OfficialPluginLibrary",
"text": "Official ~TiddlyWiki Plugin Library"
},
"$:/language/OfficialPluginLibrary/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/OfficialPluginLibrary/Hint",
"text": "The official ~TiddlyWiki plugin library at tiddlywiki.com. Plugins, themes and language packs are maintained by the core team."
},
"$:/language/PluginReloadWarning": {
"title": "$:/language/PluginReloadWarning",
"text": "Please save {{$:/core/ui/Buttons/save-wiki}} and reload {{$:/core/ui/Buttons/refresh}} to allow changes to plugins to take effect"
},
"$:/language/RecentChanges/DateFormat": {
"title": "$:/language/RecentChanges/DateFormat",
"text": "DDth MMM YYYY"
},
"$:/language/SystemTiddler/Tooltip": {
"title": "$:/language/SystemTiddler/Tooltip",
"text": "This is a system tiddler"
},
"$:/language/TagManager/Colour/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/TagManager/Colour/Heading",
"text": "Colour"
},
"$:/language/TagManager/Count/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/TagManager/Count/Heading",
"text": "Count"
},
"$:/language/TagManager/Icon/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/TagManager/Icon/Heading",
"text": "Icon"
},
"$:/language/TagManager/Info/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/TagManager/Info/Heading",
"text": "Info"
},
"$:/language/TagManager/Tag/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/TagManager/Tag/Heading",
"text": "Tag"
},
"$:/language/Tiddler/DateFormat": {
"title": "$:/language/Tiddler/DateFormat",
"text": "DDth MMM YYYY at hh12:0mmam"
},
"$:/language/UnsavedChangesWarning": {
"title": "$:/language/UnsavedChangesWarning",
"text": "You have unsaved changes in TiddlyWiki"
},
"$:/language/Yes": {
"title": "$:/language/Yes",
"text": "Yes"
},
"$:/language/Modals/Download": {
"title": "$:/language/Modals/Download",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"subtitle": "Download changes",
"footer": "<$button message=\"tm-close-tiddler\">Close</$button>",
"help": "http://tiddlywiki.com/static/DownloadingChanges.html",
"text": "Your browser only supports manual saving.\n\nTo save your modified wiki, right click on the download link below and select \"Download file\" or \"Save file\", and then choose the folder and filename.\n\n//You can marginally speed things up by clicking the link with the control key (Windows) or the options/alt key (Mac OS X). You will not be prompted for the folder or filename, but your browser is likely to give it an unrecognisable name -- you may need to rename the file to include an `.html` extension before you can do anything useful with it.//\n\nOn smartphones that do not allow files to be downloaded you can instead bookmark the link, and then sync your bookmarks to a desktop computer from where the wiki can be saved normally.\n"
},
"$:/language/Modals/SaveInstructions": {
"title": "$:/language/Modals/SaveInstructions",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"subtitle": "Save your work",
"footer": "<$button message=\"tm-close-tiddler\">Close</$button>",
"help": "http://tiddlywiki.com/static/SavingChanges.html",
"text": "Your changes to this wiki need to be saved as a ~TiddlyWiki HTML file.\n\n!!! Desktop browsers\n\n# Select ''Save As'' from the ''File'' menu\n# Choose a filename and location\n#* Some browsers also require you to explicitly specify the file saving format as ''Webpage, HTML only'' or similar\n# Close this tab\n\n!!! Smartphone browsers\n\n# Create a bookmark to this page\n#* If you've got iCloud or Google Sync set up then the bookmark will automatically sync to your desktop where you can open it and save it as above\n# Close this tab\n\n//If you open the bookmark again in Mobile Safari you will see this message again. If you want to go ahead and use the file, just click the ''close'' button below//\n"
},
"$:/config/NewJournal/Title": {
"title": "$:/config/NewJournal/Title",
"text": "DDth MMM YYYY"
},
"$:/config/NewJournal/Tags": {
"title": "$:/config/NewJournal/Tags",
"text": "Journal"
},
"$:/language/Notifications/Save/Done": {
"title": "$:/language/Notifications/Save/Done",
"text": "Saved wiki"
},
"$:/language/Notifications/Save/Starting": {
"title": "$:/language/Notifications/Save/Starting",
"text": "Starting to save wiki"
},
"$:/language/Search/DefaultResults/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/DefaultResults/Caption",
"text": "List"
},
"$:/language/Search/Filter/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Filter/Caption",
"text": "Filter"
},
"$:/language/Search/Filter/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Filter/Hint",
"text": "Search via a [[filter expression|http://tiddlywiki.com/static/Filters.html]]"
},
"$:/language/Search/Filter/Matches": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Filter/Matches",
"text": "//<small><<resultCount>> matches</small>//"
},
"$:/language/Search/Matches": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Matches",
"text": "//<small><<resultCount>> matches</small>//"
},
"$:/language/Search/Matches/All": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Matches/All",
"text": "All matches:"
},
"$:/language/Search/Matches/Title": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Matches/Title",
"text": "Title matches:"
},
"$:/language/Search/Search": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Search",
"text": "Search"
},
"$:/language/Search/Shadows/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Shadows/Caption",
"text": "Shadows"
},
"$:/language/Search/Shadows/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Shadows/Hint",
"text": "Search for shadow tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Search/Shadows/Matches": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Shadows/Matches",
"text": "//<small><<resultCount>> matches</small>//"
},
"$:/language/Search/Standard/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Standard/Caption",
"text": "Standard"
},
"$:/language/Search/Standard/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Standard/Hint",
"text": "Search for standard tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Search/Standard/Matches": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/Standard/Matches",
"text": "//<small><<resultCount>> matches</small>//"
},
"$:/language/Search/System/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/System/Caption",
"text": "System"
},
"$:/language/Search/System/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/System/Hint",
"text": "Search for system tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/Search/System/Matches": {
"title": "$:/language/Search/System/Matches",
"text": "//<small><<resultCount>> matches</small>//"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/All/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/All/Caption",
"text": "All"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Contents/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Contents/Caption",
"text": "Contents"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Drafts/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Drafts/Caption",
"text": "Drafts"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Missing/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Missing/Caption",
"text": "Missing"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/More/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/More/Caption",
"text": "More"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Open/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Open/Caption",
"text": "Open"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Orphans/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Orphans/Caption",
"text": "Orphans"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Recent/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Recent/Caption",
"text": "Recent"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Shadows/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Shadows/Caption",
"text": "Shadows"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/System/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/System/Caption",
"text": "System"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Tags/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Tags/Caption",
"text": "Tags"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Tags/Untagged/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Tags/Untagged/Caption",
"text": "untagged"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Tools/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Tools/Caption",
"text": "Tools"
},
"$:/language/SideBar/Types/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/SideBar/Types/Caption",
"text": "Types"
},
"$:/SiteSubtitle": {
"title": "$:/SiteSubtitle",
"text": "a non-linear personal web notebook"
},
"$:/SiteTitle": {
"title": "$:/SiteTitle",
"text": "My ~TiddlyWiki"
},
"$:/language/Snippets/ListByTag": {
"title": "$:/language/Snippets/ListByTag",
"tags": "$:/tags/TextEditor/Snippet",
"caption": "List of tiddlers by tag",
"text": "<<list-links \"[tag[task]sort[title]]\">>\n"
},
"$:/language/Snippets/MacroDefinition": {
"title": "$:/language/Snippets/MacroDefinition",
"tags": "$:/tags/TextEditor/Snippet",
"caption": "Macro definition",
"text": "\\define macroName(param1:\"default value\",param2)\nText of the macro\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/language/Snippets/Table4x3": {
"title": "$:/language/Snippets/Table4x3",
"tags": "$:/tags/TextEditor/Snippet",
"caption": "Table with 4 columns by 3 rows",
"text": "|! |!Alpha |!Beta |!Gamma |!Delta |\n|!One | | | | |\n|!Two | | | | |\n|!Three | | | | |\n"
},
"$:/language/Snippets/TableOfContents": {
"title": "$:/language/Snippets/TableOfContents",
"tags": "$:/tags/TextEditor/Snippet",
"caption": "Table of Contents",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-table-of-contents\">\n\n<<toc-selective-expandable 'TableOfContents'>>\n\n</div>"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/ThemeTweaks": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/ThemeTweaks",
"text": "Theme Tweaks"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/ThemeTweaks/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/ThemeTweaks/Hint",
"text": "You can tweak certain aspects of the ''Vanilla'' theme."
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options",
"text": "Options"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/SidebarLayout": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/SidebarLayout",
"text": "Sidebar layout"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/SidebarLayout/Fixed-Fluid": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/SidebarLayout/Fixed-Fluid",
"text": "Fixed story, fluid sidebar"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/SidebarLayout/Fluid-Fixed": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/SidebarLayout/Fluid-Fixed",
"text": "Fluid story, fixed sidebar"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/StickyTitles": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/StickyTitles",
"text": "Sticky titles"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/StickyTitles/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/StickyTitles/Hint",
"text": "Causes tiddler titles to \"stick\" to the top of the browser window. Caution: Does not work at all with Chrome, and causes some layout issues in Firefox"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/CodeWrapping": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Options/CodeWrapping",
"text": "Wrap long lines in code blocks"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings",
"text": "Settings"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/FontFamily": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/FontFamily",
"text": "Font family"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/CodeFontFamily": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/CodeFontFamily",
"text": "Code font family"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImage": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImage",
"text": "Page background image"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment",
"text": "Page background image attachment"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment/Scroll": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment/Scroll",
"text": "Scroll with tiddlers"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment/Fixed": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment/Fixed",
"text": "Fixed to window"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize",
"text": "Page background image size"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Auto": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Auto",
"text": "Auto"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Cover": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Cover",
"text": "Cover"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Contain": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Contain",
"text": "Contain"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics",
"text": "Sizes"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/FontSize": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/FontSize",
"text": "Font size"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/LineHeight": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/LineHeight",
"text": "Line height"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/BodyFontSize": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/BodyFontSize",
"text": "Font size for tiddler body"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/BodyLineHeight": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/BodyLineHeight",
"text": "Line height for tiddler body"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryLeft": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryLeft",
"text": "Story left position"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryLeft/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryLeft/Hint",
"text": "how far the left margin of the story river<br>(tiddler area) is from the left of the page"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryTop": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryTop",
"text": "Story top position"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryTop/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryTop/Hint",
"text": "how far the top margin of the story river<br>is from the top of the page"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryRight": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryRight",
"text": "Story right"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryRight/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryRight/Hint",
"text": "how far the left margin of the sidebar <br>is from the left of the page"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryWidth": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryWidth",
"text": "Story width"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryWidth/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/StoryWidth/Hint",
"text": "the overall width of the story river"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/TiddlerWidth": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/TiddlerWidth",
"text": "Tiddler width"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/TiddlerWidth/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/TiddlerWidth/Hint",
"text": "within the story river"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarBreakpoint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarBreakpoint",
"text": "Sidebar breakpoint"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarBreakpoint/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarBreakpoint/Hint",
"text": "the minimum page width at which the story<br>river and sidebar will appear side by side"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarWidth": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarWidth",
"text": "Sidebar width"
},
"$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarWidth/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/ThemeTweaks/Metrics/SidebarWidth/Hint",
"text": "the width of the sidebar in fluid-fixed layout"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/Caption",
"text": "Advanced"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo/Empty/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo/Empty/Hint",
"text": "none"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo/Heading",
"text": "Plugin Details"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo/Hint",
"text": "This plugin contains the following shadow tiddlers:"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/Heading": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/Heading",
"text": "Shadow Status"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/NotShadow/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/NotShadow/Hint",
"text": "The tiddler <$link to=<<infoTiddler>>><$text text=<<infoTiddler>>/></$link> is not a shadow tiddler"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/Shadow/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/Shadow/Hint",
"text": "The tiddler <$link to=<<infoTiddler>>><$text text=<<infoTiddler>>/></$link> is a shadow tiddler"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/Shadow/Source": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/Shadow/Source",
"text": "It is defined in the plugin <$link to=<<pluginTiddler>>><$text text=<<pluginTiddler>>/></$link>"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/OverriddenShadow/Hint": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/OverriddenShadow/Hint",
"text": "It is overridden by an ordinary tiddler"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Fields/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Fields/Caption",
"text": "Fields"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/List/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/List/Caption",
"text": "List"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/List/Empty": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/List/Empty",
"text": "This tiddler does not have a list"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Listed/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Listed/Caption",
"text": "Listed"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Listed/Empty": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Listed/Empty",
"text": "This tiddler is not listed by any others"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/References/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/References/Caption",
"text": "References"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/References/Empty": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/References/Empty",
"text": "No tiddlers link to this one"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tagging/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tagging/Caption",
"text": "Tagging"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tagging/Empty": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tagging/Empty",
"text": "No tiddlers are tagged with this one"
},
"$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tools/Caption": {
"title": "$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tools/Caption",
"text": "Tools"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/application/javascript": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/application/javascript",
"description": "JavaScript code",
"name": "application/javascript",
"group": "Developer"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/application/json": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/application/json",
"description": "JSON data",
"name": "application/json",
"group": "Developer"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/application/x-tiddler-dictionary": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"description": "Data dictionary",
"name": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"group": "Developer"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/image/gif": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/image/gif",
"description": "GIF image",
"name": "image/gif",
"group": "Image"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/image/jpeg": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/image/jpeg",
"description": "JPEG image",
"name": "image/jpeg",
"group": "Image"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/image/png": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/image/png",
"description": "PNG image",
"name": "image/png",
"group": "Image"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/image/svg+xml": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/image/svg+xml",
"description": "Structured Vector Graphics image",
"name": "image/svg+xml",
"group": "Image"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/image/x-icon": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/image/x-icon",
"description": "ICO format icon file",
"name": "image/x-icon",
"group": "Image"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/text/css": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/text/css",
"description": "Static stylesheet",
"name": "text/css",
"group": "Developer"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/text/html": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/text/html",
"description": "HTML markup",
"name": "text/html",
"group": "Text"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/text/plain": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/text/plain",
"description": "Plain text",
"name": "text/plain",
"group": "Text"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/text/vnd.tiddlywiki": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"description": "TiddlyWiki 5",
"name": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"group": "Text"
},
"$:/language/Docs/Types/text/x-tiddlywiki": {
"title": "$:/language/Docs/Types/text/x-tiddlywiki",
"description": "TiddlyWiki Classic",
"name": "text/x-tiddlywiki",
"group": "Text"
},
"$:/languages/en-GB/icon": {
"title": "$:/languages/en-GB/icon",
"type": "image/svg+xml",
"text": "<svg xmlns=\"http://www.w3.org/2000/svg\" viewBox=\"0 0 60 30\" width=\"1200\" height=\"600\">\n<clipPath id=\"t\">\n\t<path d=\"M30,15 h30 v15 z v15 h-30 z h-30 v-15 z v-15 h30 z\"/>\n</clipPath>\n<path d=\"M0,0 v30 h60 v-30 z\" fill=\"#00247d\"/>\n<path d=\"M0,0 L60,30 M60,0 L0,30\" stroke=\"#fff\" stroke-width=\"6\"/>\n<path d=\"M0,0 L60,30 M60,0 L0,30\" clip-path=\"url(#t)\" stroke=\"#cf142b\" stroke-width=\"4\"/>\n<path d=\"M30,0 v30 M0,15 h60\" stroke=\"#fff\" stroke-width=\"10\"/>\n<path d=\"M30,0 v30 M0,15 h60\" stroke=\"#cf142b\" stroke-width=\"6\"/>\n</svg>\n"
},
"$:/languages/en-GB": {
"title": "$:/languages/en-GB",
"name": "en-GB",
"description": "English (British)",
"author": "JeremyRuston",
"core-version": ">=5.0.0\"",
"text": "Stub pseudo-plugin for the default language"
},
"$:/core/modules/commander.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commander.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nThe $tw.Commander class is a command interpreter\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nParse a sequence of commands\n\tcommandTokens: an array of command string tokens\n\twiki: reference to the wiki store object\n\tstreams: {output:, error:}, each of which has a write(string) method\n\tcallback: a callback invoked as callback(err) where err is null if there was no error\n*/\nvar Commander = function(commandTokens,callback,wiki,streams) {\n\tvar path = require(\"path\");\n\tthis.commandTokens = commandTokens;\n\tthis.nextToken = 0;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n\tthis.wiki = wiki;\n\tthis.streams = streams;\n\tthis.outputPath = path.resolve($tw.boot.wikiPath,$tw.config.wikiOutputSubDir);\n};\n\n/*\nAdd a string of tokens to the command queue\n*/\nCommander.prototype.addCommandTokens = function(commandTokens) {\n\tvar params = commandTokens.slice(0);\n\tparams.unshift(0);\n\tparams.unshift(this.nextToken);\n\tArray.prototype.splice.apply(this.commandTokens,params);\n};\n\n/*\nExecute the sequence of commands and invoke a callback on completion\n*/\nCommander.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.executeNextCommand();\n};\n\n/*\nExecute the next command in the sequence\n*/\nCommander.prototype.executeNextCommand = function() {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Invoke the callback if there are no more commands\n\tif(this.nextToken >= this.commandTokens.length) {\n\t\tthis.callback(null);\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Get and check the command token\n\t\tvar commandName = this.commandTokens[this.nextToken++];\n\t\tif(commandName.substr(0,2) !== \"--\") {\n\t\t\tthis.callback(\"Missing command: \" + commandName);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tcommandName = commandName.substr(2); // Trim off the --\n\t\t\t// Accumulate the parameters to the command\n\t\t\tvar params = [];\n\t\t\twhile(this.nextToken < this.commandTokens.length && \n\t\t\t\tthis.commandTokens[this.nextToken].substr(0,2) !== \"--\") {\n\t\t\t\tparams.push(this.commandTokens[this.nextToken++]);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Get the command info\n\t\t\tvar command = $tw.commands[commandName],\n\t\t\t\tc,err;\n\t\t\tif(!command) {\n\t\t\t\tthis.callback(\"Unknown command: \" + commandName);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tif(this.verbose) {\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.streams.output.write(\"Executing command: \" + commandName + \" \" + params.join(\" \") + \"\\n\");\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(command.info.synchronous) {\n\t\t\t\t\t// Synchronous command\n\t\t\t\t\tc = new command.Command(params,this);\n\t\t\t\t\terr = c.execute();\n\t\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tthis.callback(err);\n\t\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tthis.executeNextCommand();\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t// Asynchronous command\n\t\t\t\t\tc = new command.Command(params,this,function(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tself.callback(err);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tself.executeNextCommand();\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\t\terr = c.execute();\n\t\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tthis.callback(err);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nCommander.initCommands = function(moduleType) {\n\tmoduleType = moduleType || \"command\";\n\t$tw.commands = {};\n\t$tw.modules.forEachModuleOfType(moduleType,function(title,module) {\n\t\tvar c = $tw.commands[module.info.name] = {};\n\t\t// Add the methods defined by the module\n\t\tfor(var f in module) {\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(module,f)) {\n\t\t\t\tc[f] = module[f];\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\nexports.Commander = Commander;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commander.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/build.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/build.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to build a build target\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"build\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get the build targets defined in the wiki\n\tvar buildTargets = $tw.boot.wikiInfo.build;\n\tif(!buildTargets) {\n\t\treturn \"No build targets defined\";\n\t}\n\t// Loop through each of the specified targets\n\tvar targets;\n\tif(this.params.length > 0) {\n\t\ttargets = this.params;\n\t} else {\n\t\ttargets = Object.keys(buildTargets);\n\t}\n\tfor(var targetIndex=0; targetIndex<targets.length; targetIndex++) {\n\t\tvar target = targets[targetIndex],\n\t\t\tcommands = buildTargets[target];\n\t\tif(!commands) {\n\t\t\treturn \"Build target '\" + target + \"' not found\";\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Add the commands to the queue\n\t\tthis.commander.addCommandTokens(commands);\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/build.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/clearpassword.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/clearpassword.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nClear password for crypto operations\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"clearpassword\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t$tw.crypto.setPassword(null);\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/clearpassword.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/editions.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/editions.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to list the available editions\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"editions\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Output the list\n\tthis.commander.streams.output.write(\"Available editions:\\n\\n\");\n\tvar editionInfo = $tw.utils.getEditionInfo();\n\t$tw.utils.each(editionInfo,function(info,name) {\n\t\tself.commander.streams.output.write(\" \" + name + \": \" + info.description + \"\\n\");\n\t});\n\tthis.commander.streams.output.write(\"\\n\");\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/editions.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/help.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/help.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nHelp command\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jshint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"help\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tvar subhelp = this.params[0] || \"default\",\n\t\thelpBase = \"$:/language/Help/\",\n\t\ttext;\n\tif(!this.commander.wiki.getTiddler(helpBase + subhelp)) {\n\t\tsubhelp = \"notfound\";\n\t}\n\t// Wikify the help as formatted text (ie block elements generate newlines)\n\ttext = this.commander.wiki.renderTiddler(\"text/plain-formatted\",helpBase + subhelp);\n\t// Remove any leading linebreaks\n\ttext = text.replace(/^(\\r?\\n)*/g,\"\");\n\tthis.commander.streams.output.write(text);\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/help.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/init.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/init.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to initialise an empty wiki folder\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"init\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tvar fs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\");\n\t// Check that we don't already have a valid wiki folder\n\tif($tw.boot.wikiTiddlersPath || ($tw.utils.isDirectory($tw.boot.wikiPath) && !$tw.utils.isDirectoryEmpty($tw.boot.wikiPath))) {\n\t\treturn \"Wiki folder is not empty\";\n\t}\n\t// Loop through each of the specified editions\n\tvar editions = this.params.length > 0 ? this.params : [\"empty\"];\n\tfor(var editionIndex=0; editionIndex<editions.length; editionIndex++) {\n\t\tvar editionName = editions[editionIndex];\n\t\t// Check the edition exists\n\t\tvar editionPath = $tw.findLibraryItem(editionName,$tw.getLibraryItemSearchPaths($tw.config.editionsPath,$tw.config.editionsEnvVar));\n\t\tif(!$tw.utils.isDirectory(editionPath)) {\n\t\t\treturn \"Edition '\" + editionName + \"' not found\";\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Copy the edition content\n\t\tvar err = $tw.utils.copyDirectory(editionPath,$tw.boot.wikiPath);\n\t\tif(!err) {\n\t\t\tthis.commander.streams.output.write(\"Copied edition '\" + editionName + \"' to \" + $tw.boot.wikiPath + \"\\n\");\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn err;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Tweak the tiddlywiki.info to remove any included wikis\n\tvar packagePath = $tw.boot.wikiPath + \"/tiddlywiki.info\",\n\t\tpackageJson = JSON.parse(fs.readFileSync(packagePath));\n\tdelete packageJson.includeWikis;\n\tfs.writeFileSync(packagePath,JSON.stringify(packageJson,null,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces));\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/init.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/load.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/load.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to load tiddlers from a file\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"load\",\n\tsynchronous: false\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\");\n\tif(this.params.length < 1) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing filename\";\n\t}\n\tvar ext = path.extname(self.params[0]);\n\tfs.readFile(this.params[0],$tw.utils.getTypeEncoding(ext),function(err,data) {\n\t\tif (err) {\n\t\t\tself.callback(err);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tvar fields = {title: self.params[0]},\n\t\t\t\ttype = path.extname(self.params[0]);\n\t\t\tvar tiddlers = self.commander.wiki.deserializeTiddlers(type,data,fields);\n\t\t\tif(!tiddlers) {\n\t\t\t\tself.callback(\"No tiddlers found in file \\\"\" + self.params[0] + \"\\\"\");\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tfor(var t=0; t<tiddlers.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.commander.wiki.importTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddlers[t]));\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tself.callback(null);\t\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/load.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/makelibrary.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/makelibrary.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to pack all of the plugins in the library into a plugin tiddler of type \"library\"\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"makelibrary\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar UPGRADE_LIBRARY_TITLE = \"$:/UpgradeLibrary\";\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tvar wiki = this.commander.wiki,\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\"),\n\t\tupgradeLibraryTitle = this.params[0] || UPGRADE_LIBRARY_TITLE,\n\t\ttiddlers = {};\n\t// Collect up the library plugins\n\tvar collectPlugins = function(folder) {\n\t\t\tvar pluginFolders = fs.readdirSync(folder);\n\t\t\tfor(var p=0; p<pluginFolders.length; p++) {\n\t\t\t\tif(!$tw.boot.excludeRegExp.test(pluginFolders[p])) {\n\t\t\t\t\tpluginFields = $tw.loadPluginFolder(path.resolve(folder,\"./\" + pluginFolders[p]));\n\t\t\t\t\tif(pluginFields && pluginFields.title) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttiddlers[pluginFields.title] = pluginFields;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},\n\t\tcollectPublisherPlugins = function(folder) {\n\t\t\tvar publisherFolders = fs.readdirSync(folder);\n\t\t\tfor(var t=0; t<publisherFolders.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\tif(!$tw.boot.excludeRegExp.test(publisherFolders[t])) {\n\t\t\t\t\tcollectPlugins(path.resolve(folder,\"./\" + publisherFolders[t]));\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\tcollectPublisherPlugins(path.resolve($tw.boot.corePath,$tw.config.pluginsPath));\n\tcollectPublisherPlugins(path.resolve($tw.boot.corePath,$tw.config.themesPath));\n\tcollectPlugins(path.resolve($tw.boot.corePath,$tw.config.languagesPath));\n\t// Save the upgrade library tiddler\n\tvar pluginFields = {\n\t\ttitle: upgradeLibraryTitle,\n\t\ttype: \"application/json\",\n\t\t\"plugin-type\": \"library\",\n\t\t\"text\": JSON.stringify({tiddlers: tiddlers},null,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces)\n\t};\n\twiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(pluginFields));\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/makelibrary.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/output.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/output.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to set the default output location (defaults to current working directory)\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"output\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tvar fs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\");\n\tif(this.params.length < 1) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing output path\";\n\t}\n\tthis.commander.outputPath = path.resolve(process.cwd(),this.params[0]);\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/output.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/password.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/password.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nSave password for crypto operations\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"password\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 1) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing password\";\n\t}\n\t$tw.crypto.setPassword(this.params[0]);\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/password.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/rendertiddler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/rendertiddler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to render a tiddler and save it to a file\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"rendertiddler\",\n\tsynchronous: false\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 2) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing filename\";\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\"),\n\t\ttitle = this.params[0],\n\t\tfilename = path.resolve(this.commander.outputPath,this.params[1]),\n\t\ttype = this.params[2] || \"text/html\",\n\t\ttemplate = this.params[3],\n\t\tvariables = {};\n\t$tw.utils.createFileDirectories(filename);\n\tif(template) {\n\t\tvariables.currentTiddler = title;\n\t\ttitle = template;\n\t}\n\tfs.writeFile(filename,this.commander.wiki.renderTiddler(type,title,{variables: variables}),\"utf8\",function(err) {\n\t\tself.callback(err);\n\t});\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/rendertiddler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/rendertiddlers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/rendertiddlers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to render several tiddlers to a folder of files\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"rendertiddlers\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 2) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing filename\";\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\"),\n\t\twiki = this.commander.wiki,\n\t\tfilter = this.params[0],\n\t\ttemplate = this.params[1],\n\t\toutputPath = this.commander.outputPath,\n\t\tpathname = path.resolve(outputPath,this.params[2]),\t\t\n\t\ttype = this.params[3] || \"text/html\",\n\t\textension = this.params[4] || \".html\",\n\t\tdeleteDirectory = (this.params[5] || \"\").toLowerCase() !== \"noclean\",\n\t\ttiddlers = wiki.filterTiddlers(filter);\n\tif(deleteDirectory) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.deleteDirectory(pathname);\n\t}\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(title) {\n\t\tvar parser = wiki.parseTiddler(template),\n\t\t\twidgetNode = wiki.makeWidget(parser,{variables: {currentTiddler: title}}),\n\t\t\tcontainer = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\twidgetNode.render(container,null);\n\t\tvar text = type === \"text/html\" ? container.innerHTML : container.textContent,\n\t\t\texportPath = null;\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop($tw.macros,\"tv-get-export-path\")) {\n\t\t\tvar macroPath = $tw.macros[\"tv-get-export-path\"].run.apply(self,[title]);\n\t\t\tif(macroPath) {\n\t\t\t\texportPath = path.resolve(outputPath,macroPath + extension);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tvar finalPath = exportPath || path.resolve(pathname,encodeURIComponent(title) + extension);\n\t\t$tw.utils.createFileDirectories(finalPath);\n\t\tfs.writeFileSync(finalPath,text,\"utf8\");\n\t});\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/rendertiddlers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/savelibrarytiddlers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/savelibrarytiddlers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to save the subtiddlers of a bundle tiddler as a series of JSON files\n\n--savelibrarytiddlers <tiddler> <pathname> <skinnylisting>\n\nThe tiddler identifies the bundle tiddler that contains the subtiddlers.\n\nThe pathname specifies the pathname to the folder in which the JSON files should be saved. The filename is the URL encoded title of the subtiddler.\n\nThe skinnylisting specifies the title of the tiddler to which a JSON catalogue of the subtiddlers will be saved. The JSON file contains the same data as the bundle tiddler but with the `text` field removed.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"savelibrarytiddlers\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 2) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing filename\";\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\"),\n\t\tcontainerTitle = this.params[0],\n\t\tfilter = this.params[1],\n\t\tbasepath = this.params[2],\n\t\tskinnyListTitle = this.params[3];\n\t// Get the container tiddler as data\n\tvar containerData = self.commander.wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(containerTitle,undefined);\n\tif(!containerData) {\n\t\treturn \"'\" + containerTitle + \"' is not a tiddler bundle\";\n\t}\n\t// Filter the list of plugins\n\tvar pluginList = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each(containerData.tiddlers,function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tpluginList.push(title);\n\t});\n\tvar filteredPluginList;\n\tif(filter) {\n\t\tfilteredPluginList = self.commander.wiki.filterTiddlers(filter,null,self.commander.wiki.makeTiddlerIterator(pluginList));\n\t} else {\n\t\tfilteredPluginList = pluginList;\n\t}\n\t// Iterate through the plugins\n\tvar skinnyList = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each(filteredPluginList,function(title) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = containerData.tiddlers[title];\n\t\t// Save each JSON file and collect the skinny data\n\t\tvar pathname = path.resolve(self.commander.outputPath,basepath + encodeURIComponent(title) + \".json\");\n\t\t$tw.utils.createFileDirectories(pathname);\n\t\tfs.writeFileSync(pathname,JSON.stringify(tiddler,null,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces),\"utf8\");\n\t\t// Collect the skinny list data\n\t\tvar pluginTiddlers = JSON.parse(tiddler.text),\n\t\t\treadmeContent = (pluginTiddlers.tiddlers[title + \"/readme\"] || {}).text,\n\t\t\ticonTiddler = pluginTiddlers.tiddlers[title + \"/icon\"] || {},\n\t\t\ticonType = iconTiddler.type,\n\t\t\ticonText = iconTiddler.text,\n\t\t\ticonContent;\n\t\tif(iconType && iconText) {\n\t\t\ticonContent = $tw.utils.makeDataUri(iconText,iconType);\n\t\t}\n\t\tskinnyList.push($tw.utils.extend({},tiddler,{text: undefined, readme: readmeContent, icon: iconContent}));\n\t});\n\t// Save the catalogue tiddler\n\tif(skinnyListTitle) {\n\t\tself.commander.wiki.setTiddlerData(skinnyListTitle,skinnyList);\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/savelibrarytiddlers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/savetiddler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/savetiddler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to save the content of a tiddler to a file\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"savetiddler\",\n\tsynchronous: false\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 2) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing filename\";\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\"),\n\t\ttitle = this.params[0],\n\t\tfilename = path.resolve(this.commander.outputPath,this.params[1]),\n\t\ttiddler = this.commander.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\tvar type = tiddler.fields.type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",\n\t\t\tcontentTypeInfo = $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[type] || {encoding: \"utf8\"};\n\t\t$tw.utils.createFileDirectories(filename);\n\t\tfs.writeFile(filename,tiddler.fields.text,contentTypeInfo.encoding,function(err) {\n\t\t\tself.callback(err);\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn \"Missing tiddler: \" + title;\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/savetiddler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/savetiddlers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/savetiddlers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to save several tiddlers to a folder of files\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"savetiddlers\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 1) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing filename\";\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\"),\n\t\twiki = this.commander.wiki,\n\t\tfilter = this.params[0],\n\t\tpathname = path.resolve(this.commander.outputPath,this.params[1]),\n\t\tdeleteDirectory = (this.params[2] || \"\").toLowerCase() !== \"noclean\",\n\t\ttiddlers = wiki.filterTiddlers(filter);\n\tif(deleteDirectory) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.deleteDirectory(pathname);\n\t}\n\t$tw.utils.createDirectory(pathname);\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(title) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = self.commander.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\t\ttype = tiddler.fields.type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",\n\t\t\tcontentTypeInfo = $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[type] || {encoding: \"utf8\"},\n\t\t\tfilename = path.resolve(pathname,encodeURIComponent(title));\n\t\tfs.writeFileSync(filename,tiddler.fields.text,contentTypeInfo.encoding);\n\t});\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/savetiddlers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/server.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/server.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nServe tiddlers over http\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nif($tw.node) {\n\tvar util = require(\"util\"),\n\t\tfs = require(\"fs\"),\n\t\turl = require(\"url\"),\n\t\tpath = require(\"path\"),\n\t\thttp = require(\"http\");\n}\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"server\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\n/*\nA simple HTTP server with regexp-based routes\n*/\nfunction SimpleServer(options) {\n\tthis.routes = options.routes || [];\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki;\n\tthis.variables = options.variables || {};\n}\n\nSimpleServer.prototype.set = function(obj) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(obj,function(value,name) {\n\t\tself.variables[name] = value;\n\t});\n};\n\nSimpleServer.prototype.get = function(name) {\n\treturn this.variables[name];\n};\n\nSimpleServer.prototype.addRoute = function(route) {\n\tthis.routes.push(route);\n};\n\nSimpleServer.prototype.findMatchingRoute = function(request,state) {\n\tvar pathprefix = this.get(\"pathprefix\") || \"\";\n\tfor(var t=0; t<this.routes.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar potentialRoute = this.routes[t],\n\t\t\tpathRegExp = potentialRoute.path,\n\t\t\tpathname = state.urlInfo.pathname,\n\t\t\tmatch;\n\t\tif(pathprefix) {\n\t\t\tif(pathname.substr(0,pathprefix.length) === pathprefix) {\n\t\t\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(pathprefix.length);\n\t\t\t\tmatch = potentialRoute.path.exec(pathname);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tmatch = false;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tmatch = potentialRoute.path.exec(pathname);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(match && request.method === potentialRoute.method) {\n\t\t\tstate.params = [];\n\t\t\tfor(var p=1; p<match.length; p++) {\n\t\t\t\tstate.params.push(match[p]);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn potentialRoute;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nSimpleServer.prototype.checkCredentials = function(request,incomingUsername,incomingPassword) {\n\tvar header = request.headers.authorization || \"\",\n\t\ttoken = header.split(/\\s+/).pop() || \"\",\n\t\tauth = $tw.utils.base64Decode(token),\n\t\tparts = auth.split(/:/),\n\t\tusername = parts[0],\n\t\tpassword = parts[1];\n\tif(incomingUsername === username && incomingPassword === password) {\n\t\treturn \"ALLOWED\";\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn \"DENIED\";\n\t}\n};\n\nSimpleServer.prototype.listen = function(port,host) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\thttp.createServer(function(request,response) {\n\t\t// Compose the state object\n\t\tvar state = {};\n\t\tstate.wiki = self.wiki;\n\t\tstate.server = self;\n\t\tstate.urlInfo = url.parse(request.url);\n\t\t// Find the route that matches this path\n\t\tvar route = self.findMatchingRoute(request,state);\n\t\t// Check for the username and password if we've got one\n\t\tvar username = self.get(\"username\"),\n\t\t\tpassword = self.get(\"password\");\n\t\tif(username && password) {\n\t\t\t// Check they match\n\t\t\tif(self.checkCredentials(request,username,password) !== \"ALLOWED\") {\n\t\t\t\tvar servername = state.wiki.getTiddlerText(\"$:/SiteTitle\") || \"TiddlyWiki5\";\n\t\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(401,\"Authentication required\",{\n\t\t\t\t\t\"WWW-Authenticate\": 'Basic realm=\"Please provide your username and password to login to ' + servername + '\"'\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\tresponse.end();\n\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Return a 404 if we didn't find a route\n\t\tif(!route) {\n\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(404);\n\t\t\tresponse.end();\n\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Set the encoding for the incoming request\n\t\t// TODO: Presumably this would need tweaking if we supported PUTting binary tiddlers\n\t\trequest.setEncoding(\"utf8\");\n\t\t// Dispatch the appropriate method\n\t\tswitch(request.method) {\n\t\t\tcase \"GET\": // Intentional fall-through\n\t\t\tcase \"DELETE\":\n\t\t\t\troute.handler(request,response,state);\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"PUT\":\n\t\t\t\tvar data = \"\";\n\t\t\t\trequest.on(\"data\",function(chunk) {\n\t\t\t\t\tdata += chunk.toString();\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\trequest.on(\"end\",function() {\n\t\t\t\t\tstate.data = data;\n\t\t\t\t\troute.handler(request,response,state);\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t}).listen(port,host);\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n\t// Set up server\n\tthis.server = new SimpleServer({\n\t\twiki: this.commander.wiki\n\t});\n\t// Add route handlers\n\tthis.server.addRoute({\n\t\tmethod: \"PUT\",\n\t\tpath: /^\\/recipes\\/default\\/tiddlers\\/(.+)$/,\n\t\thandler: function(request,response,state) {\n\t\t\tvar title = decodeURIComponent(state.params[0]),\n\t\t\t\tfields = JSON.parse(state.data);\n\t\t\t// Pull up any subfields in the `fields` object\n\t\t\tif(fields.fields) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(fields.fields,function(field,name) {\n\t\t\t\t\tfields[name] = field;\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\tdelete fields.fields;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Remove any revision field\n\t\t\tif(fields.revision) {\n\t\t\t\tdelete fields.revision;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tstate.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(state.wiki.getCreationFields(),fields,{title: title},state.wiki.getModificationFields()));\n\t\t\tvar changeCount = state.wiki.getChangeCount(title).toString();\n\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(204, \"OK\",{\n\t\t\t\tEtag: \"\\\"default/\" + encodeURIComponent(title) + \"/\" + changeCount + \":\\\"\",\n\t\t\t\t\"Content-Type\": \"text/plain\"\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tresponse.end();\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tthis.server.addRoute({\n\t\tmethod: \"DELETE\",\n\t\tpath: /^\\/bags\\/default\\/tiddlers\\/(.+)$/,\n\t\thandler: function(request,response,state) {\n\t\t\tvar title = decodeURIComponent(state.params[0]);\n\t\t\tstate.wiki.deleteTiddler(title);\n\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(204, \"OK\", {\n\t\t\t\t\"Content-Type\": \"text/plain\"\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tresponse.end();\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tthis.server.addRoute({\n\t\tmethod: \"GET\",\n\t\tpath: /^\\/$/,\n\t\thandler: function(request,response,state) {\n\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(200, {\"Content-Type\": state.server.get(\"serveType\")});\n\t\t\tvar text = state.wiki.renderTiddler(state.server.get(\"renderType\"),state.server.get(\"rootTiddler\"));\n\t\t\tresponse.end(text,\"utf8\");\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tthis.server.addRoute({\n\t\tmethod: \"GET\",\n\t\tpath: /^\\/status$/,\n\t\thandler: function(request,response,state) {\n\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(200, {\"Content-Type\": \"application/json\"});\n\t\t\tvar text = JSON.stringify({\n\t\t\t\tusername: state.server.get(\"username\"),\n\t\t\t\tspace: {\n\t\t\t\t\trecipe: \"default\"\n\t\t\t\t},\n\t\t\t\ttiddlywiki_version: $tw.version\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tresponse.end(text,\"utf8\");\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tthis.server.addRoute({\n\t\tmethod: \"GET\",\n\t\tpath: /^\\/favicon.ico$/,\n\t\thandler: function(request,response,state) {\n\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(200, {\"Content-Type\": \"image/x-icon\"});\n\t\t\tvar buffer = state.wiki.getTiddlerText(\"$:/favicon.ico\",\"\");\n\t\t\tresponse.end(buffer,\"base64\");\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tthis.server.addRoute({\n\t\tmethod: \"GET\",\n\t\tpath: /^\\/recipes\\/default\\/tiddlers.json$/,\n\t\thandler: function(request,response,state) {\n\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(200, {\"Content-Type\": \"application/json\"});\n\t\t\tvar tiddlers = [];\n\t\t\tstate.wiki.forEachTiddler({sortField: \"title\"},function(title,tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\tvar tiddlerFields = {};\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddler.fields,function(field,name) {\n\t\t\t\t\tif(name !== \"text\") {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields[name] = tiddler.getFieldString(name);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.revision = state.wiki.getChangeCount(title);\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.type = tiddlerFields.type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\";\n\t\t\t\ttiddlers.push(tiddlerFields);\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tvar text = JSON.stringify(tiddlers);\n\t\t\tresponse.end(text,\"utf8\");\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tthis.server.addRoute({\n\t\tmethod: \"GET\",\n\t\tpath: /^\\/recipes\\/default\\/tiddlers\\/(.+)$/,\n\t\thandler: function(request,response,state) {\n\t\t\tvar title = decodeURIComponent(state.params[0]),\n\t\t\t\ttiddler = state.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields = {},\n\t\t\t\tknownFields = [\n\t\t\t\t\t\"bag\", \"created\", \"creator\", \"modified\", \"modifier\", \"permissions\", \"recipe\", \"revision\", \"tags\", \"text\", \"title\", \"type\", \"uri\"\n\t\t\t\t];\n\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddler.fields,function(field,name) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar value = tiddler.getFieldString(name);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(knownFields.indexOf(name) !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields[name] = value;\n\t\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.fields = tiddlerFields.fields || {};\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.fields[name] = value;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.revision = state.wiki.getChangeCount(title);\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.type = tiddlerFields.type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\";\n\t\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(200, {\"Content-Type\": \"application/json\"});\n\t\t\t\tresponse.end(JSON.stringify(tiddlerFields),\"utf8\");\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tresponse.writeHead(404);\n\t\t\t\tresponse.end();\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(!$tw.boot.wikiTiddlersPath) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.warning(\"Warning: Wiki folder '\" + $tw.boot.wikiPath + \"' does not exist or is missing a tiddlywiki.info file\");\n\t}\n\tvar port = this.params[0] || \"8080\",\n\t\trootTiddler = this.params[1] || \"$:/core/save/all\",\n\t\trenderType = this.params[2] || \"text/plain\",\n\t\tserveType = this.params[3] || \"text/html\",\n\t\tusername = this.params[4],\n\t\tpassword = this.params[5],\n\t\thost = this.params[6] || \"127.0.0.1\",\n\t\tpathprefix = this.params[7];\n\tthis.server.set({\n\t\trootTiddler: rootTiddler,\n\t\trenderType: renderType,\n\t\tserveType: serveType,\n\t\tusername: username,\n\t\tpassword: password,\n\t\tpathprefix: pathprefix\n\t});\n\tthis.server.listen(port,host);\n\tconsole.log(\"Serving on \" + host + \":\" + port);\n\tconsole.log(\"(press ctrl-C to exit)\");\n\t// Warn if required plugins are missing\n\tif(!$tw.wiki.getTiddler(\"$:/plugins/tiddlywiki/tiddlyweb\") || !$tw.wiki.getTiddler(\"$:/plugins/tiddlywiki/filesystem\")) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.warning(\"Warning: Plugins required for client-server operation (\\\"tiddlywiki/filesystem\\\" and \\\"tiddlywiki/tiddlyweb\\\") are missing from tiddlywiki.info file\");\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/server.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/setfield.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/setfield.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to modify selected tiddlers to set a field to the text of a template tiddler that has been wikified with the selected tiddler as the current tiddler.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"setfield\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 4) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing parameters\";\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\twiki = this.commander.wiki,\n\t\tfilter = this.params[0],\n\t\tfieldname = this.params[1] || \"text\",\n\t\ttemplatetitle = this.params[2],\n\t\trendertype = this.params[3] || \"text/plain\",\n\t\ttiddlers = wiki.filterTiddlers(filter);\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(title) {\n\t\tvar parser = wiki.parseTiddler(templatetitle),\n\t\t\tnewFields = {},\n\t\t\ttiddler = wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\tif(parser) {\n\t\t\tvar widgetNode = wiki.makeWidget(parser,{variables: {currentTiddler: title}});\n\t\t\tvar container = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\t\twidgetNode.render(container,null);\n\t\t\tnewFields[fieldname] = rendertype === \"text/html\" ? container.innerHTML : container.textContent;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tnewFields[fieldname] = undefined;\n\t\t}\n\t\twiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,newFields));\n\t});\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/setfield.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/unpackplugin.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/unpackplugin.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nCommand to extract the shadow tiddlers from within a plugin\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"unpackplugin\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander,callback) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n\tthis.callback = callback;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tif(this.params.length < 1) {\n\t\treturn \"Missing plugin name\";\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\ttitle = this.params[0],\n\t\tpluginData = this.commander.wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(title);\n\tif(!pluginData) {\n\t\treturn \"Plugin '\" + title + \"' not found\";\n\t}\n\t$tw.utils.each(pluginData.tiddlers,function(tiddler) {\n\t\tself.commander.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler));\n\t});\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/unpackplugin.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/verbose.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/verbose.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nVerbose command\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"verbose\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.commander.verbose = true;\n\t// Output the boot message log\n\tthis.commander.streams.output.write(\"Boot log:\\n \" + $tw.boot.logMessages.join(\"\\n \") + \"\\n\");\n\treturn null; // No error\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/verbose.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/commands/version.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/commands/version.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: command\n\nVersion command\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.info = {\n\tname: \"version\",\n\tsynchronous: true\n};\n\nvar Command = function(params,commander) {\n\tthis.params = params;\n\tthis.commander = commander;\n};\n\nCommand.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.commander.streams.output.write($tw.version + \"\\n\");\n\treturn null; // No error\n};\n\nexports.Command = Command;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/commands/version.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "command"
},
"$:/core/modules/config.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/config.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: config\n\nCore configuration constants\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.preferences = {};\n\nexports.preferences.notificationDuration = 3 * 1000;\nexports.preferences.jsonSpaces = 4;\n\nexports.textPrimitives = {\n\tupperLetter: \"[A-Z\\u00c0-\\u00d6\\u00d8-\\u00de\\u0150\\u0170]\",\n\tlowerLetter: \"[a-z\\u00df-\\u00f6\\u00f8-\\u00ff\\u0151\\u0171]\",\n\tanyLetter: \"[A-Za-z0-9\\u00c0-\\u00d6\\u00d8-\\u00de\\u00df-\\u00f6\\u00f8-\\u00ff\\u0150\\u0170\\u0151\\u0171]\",\n\tblockPrefixLetters:\t\"[A-Za-z0-9-_\\u00c0-\\u00d6\\u00d8-\\u00de\\u00df-\\u00f6\\u00f8-\\u00ff\\u0150\\u0170\\u0151\\u0171]\"\n};\n\nexports.textPrimitives.unWikiLink = \"~\";\nexports.textPrimitives.wikiLink = exports.textPrimitives.upperLetter + \"+\" +\n\texports.textPrimitives.lowerLetter + \"+\" +\n\texports.textPrimitives.upperLetter +\n\texports.textPrimitives.anyLetter + \"*\";\n\nexports.htmlEntities = {quot:34, amp:38, apos:39, lt:60, gt:62, nbsp:160, iexcl:161, cent:162, pound:163, curren:164, yen:165, brvbar:166, sect:167, uml:168, copy:169, ordf:170, laquo:171, not:172, shy:173, reg:174, macr:175, deg:176, plusmn:177, sup2:178, sup3:179, acute:180, micro:181, para:182, middot:183, cedil:184, sup1:185, ordm:186, raquo:187, frac14:188, frac12:189, frac34:190, iquest:191, Agrave:192, Aacute:193, Acirc:194, Atilde:195, Auml:196, Aring:197, AElig:198, Ccedil:199, Egrave:200, Eacute:201, Ecirc:202, Euml:203, Igrave:204, Iacute:205, Icirc:206, Iuml:207, ETH:208, Ntilde:209, Ograve:210, Oacute:211, Ocirc:212, Otilde:213, Ouml:214, times:215, Oslash:216, Ugrave:217, Uacute:218, Ucirc:219, Uuml:220, Yacute:221, THORN:222, szlig:223, agrave:224, aacute:225, acirc:226, atilde:227, auml:228, aring:229, aelig:230, ccedil:231, egrave:232, eacute:233, ecirc:234, euml:235, igrave:236, iacute:237, icirc:238, iuml:239, eth:240, ntilde:241, ograve:242, oacute:243, ocirc:244, otilde:245, ouml:246, divide:247, oslash:248, ugrave:249, uacute:250, ucirc:251, uuml:252, yacute:253, thorn:254, yuml:255, OElig:338, oelig:339, Scaron:352, scaron:353, Yuml:376, fnof:402, circ:710, tilde:732, Alpha:913, Beta:914, Gamma:915, Delta:916, Epsilon:917, Zeta:918, Eta:919, Theta:920, Iota:921, Kappa:922, Lambda:923, Mu:924, Nu:925, Xi:926, Omicron:927, Pi:928, Rho:929, Sigma:931, Tau:932, Upsilon:933, Phi:934, Chi:935, Psi:936, Omega:937, alpha:945, beta:946, gamma:947, delta:948, epsilon:949, zeta:950, eta:951, theta:952, iota:953, kappa:954, lambda:955, mu:956, nu:957, xi:958, omicron:959, pi:960, rho:961, sigmaf:962, sigma:963, tau:964, upsilon:965, phi:966, chi:967, psi:968, omega:969, thetasym:977, upsih:978, piv:982, ensp:8194, emsp:8195, thinsp:8201, zwnj:8204, zwj:8205, lrm:8206, rlm:8207, ndash:8211, mdash:8212, lsquo:8216, rsquo:8217, sbquo:8218, ldquo:8220, rdquo:8221, bdquo:8222, dagger:8224, Dagger:8225, bull:8226, hellip:8230, permil:8240, prime:8242, Prime:8243, lsaquo:8249, rsaquo:8250, oline:8254, frasl:8260, euro:8364, image:8465, weierp:8472, real:8476, trade:8482, alefsym:8501, larr:8592, uarr:8593, rarr:8594, darr:8595, harr:8596, crarr:8629, lArr:8656, uArr:8657, rArr:8658, dArr:8659, hArr:8660, forall:8704, part:8706, exist:8707, empty:8709, nabla:8711, isin:8712, notin:8713, ni:8715, prod:8719, sum:8721, minus:8722, lowast:8727, radic:8730, prop:8733, infin:8734, ang:8736, and:8743, or:8744, cap:8745, cup:8746, int:8747, there4:8756, sim:8764, cong:8773, asymp:8776, ne:8800, equiv:8801, le:8804, ge:8805, sub:8834, sup:8835, nsub:8836, sube:8838, supe:8839, oplus:8853, otimes:8855, perp:8869, sdot:8901, lceil:8968, rceil:8969, lfloor:8970, rfloor:8971, lang:9001, rang:9002, loz:9674, spades:9824, clubs:9827, hearts:9829, diams:9830 };\n\nexports.htmlVoidElements = \"area,base,br,col,command,embed,hr,img,input,keygen,link,meta,param,source,track,wbr\".split(\",\");\n\nexports.htmlBlockElements = \"address,article,aside,audio,blockquote,canvas,dd,div,dl,fieldset,figcaption,figure,footer,form,h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6,header,hgroup,hr,li,noscript,ol,output,p,pre,section,table,tfoot,ul,video\".split(\",\");\n\nexports.htmlUnsafeElements = \"script\".split(\",\");\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/config.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "config"
},
"$:/core/modules/deserializers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/deserializers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: tiddlerdeserializer\n\nFunctions to deserialise tiddlers from a block of text\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nUtility function to parse an old-style tiddler DIV in a *.tid file. It looks like this:\n\n<div title=\"Title\" creator=\"JoeBloggs\" modifier=\"JoeBloggs\" created=\"201102111106\" modified=\"201102111310\" tags=\"myTag [[my long tag]]\">\n<pre>The text of the tiddler (without the expected HTML encoding).\n</pre>\n</div>\n\nNote that the field attributes are HTML encoded, but that the body of the <PRE> tag is not encoded.\n\nWhen these tiddler DIVs are encountered within a TiddlyWiki HTML file then the body is encoded in the usual way.\n*/\nvar parseTiddlerDiv = function(text /* [,fields] */) {\n\t// Slot together the default results\n\tvar result = {};\n\tif(arguments.length > 1) {\n\t\tfor(var f=1; f<arguments.length; f++) {\n\t\t\tvar fields = arguments[f];\n\t\t\tfor(var t in fields) {\n\t\t\t\tresult[t] = fields[t];\t\t\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Parse the DIV body\n\tvar startRegExp = /^\\s*<div\\s+([^>]*)>(\\s*<pre>)?/gi,\n\t\tendRegExp,\n\t\tmatch = startRegExp.exec(text);\n\tif(match) {\n\t\t// Old-style DIVs don't have the <pre> tag\n\t\tif(match[2]) {\n\t\t\tendRegExp = /<\\/pre>\\s*<\\/div>\\s*$/gi;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tendRegExp = /<\\/div>\\s*$/gi;\n\t\t}\n\t\tvar endMatch = endRegExp.exec(text);\n\t\tif(endMatch) {\n\t\t\t// Extract the text\n\t\t\tresult.text = text.substring(match.index + match[0].length,endMatch.index);\n\t\t\t// Process the attributes\n\t\t\tvar attrRegExp = /\\s*([^=\\s]+)\\s*=\\s*(?:\"([^\"]*)\"|'([^']*)')/gi,\n\t\t\t\tattrMatch;\n\t\t\tdo {\n\t\t\t\tattrMatch = attrRegExp.exec(match[1]);\n\t\t\t\tif(attrMatch) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar name = attrMatch[1];\n\t\t\t\t\tvar value = attrMatch[2] !== undefined ? attrMatch[2] : attrMatch[3];\n\t\t\t\t\tresult[name] = value;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t} while(attrMatch);\n\t\t\treturn result;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn undefined;\n};\n\nexports[\"application/x-tiddler-html-div\"] = function(text,fields) {\n\treturn [parseTiddlerDiv(text,fields)];\n};\n\nexports[\"application/json\"] = function(text,fields) {\n\tvar incoming = JSON.parse(text),\n\t\tresults = [];\n\tif($tw.utils.isArray(incoming)) {\n\t\tfor(var t=0; t<incoming.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tvar incomingFields = incoming[t],\n\t\t\t\tfields = {};\n\t\t\tfor(var f in incomingFields) {\n\t\t\t\tif(typeof incomingFields[f] === \"string\") {\n\t\t\t\t\tfields[f] = incomingFields[f];\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tresults.push(fields);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n/*\nParse an HTML file into tiddlers. There are three possibilities:\n# A TiddlyWiki classic HTML file containing `text/x-tiddlywiki` tiddlers\n# A TiddlyWiki5 HTML file containing `text/vnd.tiddlywiki` tiddlers\n# An ordinary HTML file\n*/\nexports[\"text/html\"] = function(text,fields) {\n\t// Check if we've got a store area\n\tvar storeAreaMarkerRegExp = /<div id=[\"']?storeArea['\"]?( style=[\"']?display:none;[\"']?)?>/gi,\n\t\tmatch = storeAreaMarkerRegExp.exec(text);\n\tif(match) {\n\t\t// If so, it's either a classic TiddlyWiki file or an unencrypted TW5 file\n\t\t// First read the normal tiddlers\n\t\tvar results = deserializeTiddlyWikiFile(text,storeAreaMarkerRegExp.lastIndex,!!match[1],fields);\n\t\t// Then any system tiddlers\n\t\tvar systemAreaMarkerRegExp = /<div id=[\"']?systemArea['\"]?( style=[\"']?display:none;[\"']?)?>/gi,\n\t\t\tsysMatch = systemAreaMarkerRegExp.exec(text);\n\t\tif(sysMatch) {\n\t\t\tresults.push.apply(results,deserializeTiddlyWikiFile(text,systemAreaMarkerRegExp.lastIndex,!!sysMatch[1],fields));\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn results;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Check whether we've got an encrypted file\n\t\tvar encryptedStoreArea = $tw.utils.extractEncryptedStoreArea(text);\n\t\tif(encryptedStoreArea) {\n\t\t\t// If so, attempt to decrypt it using the current password\n\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.decryptStoreArea(encryptedStoreArea);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// It's not a TiddlyWiki so we'll return the entire HTML file as a tiddler\n\t\t\treturn deserializeHtmlFile(text,fields);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nfunction deserializeHtmlFile(text,fields) {\n\tvar result = {};\n\t$tw.utils.each(fields,function(value,name) {\n\t\tresult[name] = value;\n\t});\n\tresult.text = text;\n\tresult.type = \"text/html\";\n\treturn [result];\n}\n\nfunction deserializeTiddlyWikiFile(text,storeAreaEnd,isTiddlyWiki5,fields) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tendOfDivRegExp = /(<\\/div>\\s*)/gi,\n\t\tstartPos = storeAreaEnd,\n\t\tdefaultType = isTiddlyWiki5 ? undefined : \"text/x-tiddlywiki\";\n\tendOfDivRegExp.lastIndex = startPos;\n\tvar match = endOfDivRegExp.exec(text);\n\twhile(match) {\n\t\tvar endPos = endOfDivRegExp.lastIndex,\n\t\t\ttiddlerFields = parseTiddlerDiv(text.substring(startPos,endPos),fields,{type: defaultType});\n\t\tif(!tiddlerFields) {\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlerFields,function(value,name) {\n\t\t\tif(typeof value === \"string\") {\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields[name] = $tw.utils.htmlDecode(value);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\tif(tiddlerFields.text !== null) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(tiddlerFields);\n\t\t}\n\t\tstartPos = endPos;\n\t\tmatch = endOfDivRegExp.exec(text);\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n}\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/deserializers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "tiddlerdeserializer"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/engines/framed.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/engines/framed.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: library\n\nText editor engine based on a simple input or textarea within an iframe. This is done so that the selection is preserved even when clicking away from the textarea\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true,browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar HEIGHT_VALUE_TITLE = \"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Height\";\n\nfunction FramedEngine(options) {\n\t// Save our options\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tthis.widget = options.widget;\n\tthis.value = options.value;\n\tthis.parentNode = options.parentNode;\n\tthis.nextSibling = options.nextSibling;\n\t// Create our hidden dummy text area for reading styles\n\tthis.dummyTextArea = this.widget.document.createElement(\"textarea\");\n\tif(this.widget.editClass) {\n\t\tthis.dummyTextArea.className = this.widget.editClass;\n\t}\n\tthis.dummyTextArea.setAttribute(\"hidden\",\"true\");\n\tthis.parentNode.insertBefore(this.dummyTextArea,this.nextSibling);\n\tthis.widget.domNodes.push(this.dummyTextArea);\n\t// Create the iframe\n\tthis.iframeNode = this.widget.document.createElement(\"iframe\");\n\tthis.parentNode.insertBefore(this.iframeNode,this.nextSibling);\n\tthis.iframeDoc = this.iframeNode.contentWindow.document;\n\t// (Firefox requires us to put some empty content in the iframe)\n\tthis.iframeDoc.open();\n\tthis.iframeDoc.write(\"\");\n\tthis.iframeDoc.close();\n\t// Style the iframe\n\tthis.iframeNode.className = this.dummyTextArea.className;\n\tthis.iframeNode.style.border = \"none\";\n\tthis.iframeNode.style.padding = \"0\";\n\tthis.iframeNode.style.resize = \"none\";\n\tthis.iframeDoc.body.style.margin = \"0\";\n\tthis.iframeDoc.body.style.padding = \"0\";\n\tthis.widget.domNodes.push(this.iframeNode);\n\t// Construct the textarea or input node\n\tvar tag = this.widget.editTag;\n\tif($tw.config.htmlUnsafeElements.indexOf(tag) !== -1) {\n\t\ttag = \"input\";\n\t}\n\tthis.domNode = this.iframeDoc.createElement(tag);\n\t// Set the text\n\tif(this.widget.editTag === \"textarea\") {\n\t\tthis.domNode.appendChild(this.iframeDoc.createTextNode(this.value));\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.domNode.value = this.value;\n\t}\n\t// Set the attributes\n\tif(this.widget.editType) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"type\",this.widget.editType);\n\t}\n\tif(this.widget.editPlaceholder) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"placeholder\",this.widget.editPlaceholder);\n\t}\n\tif(this.widget.editSize) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"size\",this.widget.editSize);\n\t}\n\tif(this.widget.editRows) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"rows\",this.widget.editRows);\n\t}\n\t// Copy the styles from the dummy textarea\n\tthis.copyStyles();\n\t// Add event listeners\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(this.domNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"input\",handlerObject: this,handlerMethod: \"handleInputEvent\"},\n\t\t{name: \"keydown\",handlerObject: this.widget,handlerMethod: \"handleKeydownEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Insert the element into the DOM\n\tthis.iframeDoc.body.appendChild(this.domNode);\n}\n\n/*\nCopy styles from the dummy text area to the textarea in the iframe\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.copyStyles = function() {\n\t// Copy all styles\n\t$tw.utils.copyStyles(this.dummyTextArea,this.domNode);\n\t// Override the ones that should not be set the same as the dummy textarea\n\tthis.domNode.style.display = \"block\";\n\tthis.domNode.style.width = \"100%\";\n\tthis.domNode.style.margin = \"0\";\n\t// In Chrome setting -webkit-text-fill-color overrides the placeholder text colour\n\tthis.domNode.style[\"-webkit-text-fill-color\"] = \"currentcolor\";\n};\n\n/*\nSet the text of the engine if it doesn't currently have focus\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.setText = function(text,type) {\n\tif(!this.domNode.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom) {\n\t\tif(this.domNode.ownerDocument.activeElement !== this.domNode) {\n\t\t\tthis.domNode.value = text;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Fix the height if needed\n\t\tthis.fixHeight();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGet the text of the engine\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.getText = function() {\n\treturn this.domNode.value;\n};\n\n/*\nFix the height of textarea to fit content\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.fixHeight = function() {\n\t// Make sure styles are updated\n\tthis.copyStyles();\n\t// Adjust height\n\tif(this.widget.editTag === \"textarea\") {\n\t\tif(this.widget.editAutoHeight) {\n\t\t\tif(this.domNode && !this.domNode.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom) {\n\t\t\t\tvar newHeight = $tw.utils.resizeTextAreaToFit(this.domNode,this.widget.editMinHeight);\n\t\t\t\tthis.iframeNode.style.height = (newHeight + 14) + \"px\"; // +14 for the border on the textarea\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tvar fixedHeight = parseInt(this.widget.wiki.getTiddlerText(HEIGHT_VALUE_TITLE,\"400px\"),10);\n\t\t\tfixedHeight = Math.max(fixedHeight,20);\n\t\t\tthis.domNode.style.height = fixedHeight + \"px\";\n\t\t\tthis.iframeNode.style.height = (fixedHeight + 14) + \"px\";\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nFocus the engine node\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.focus = function() {\n\tif(this.domNode.focus && this.domNode.select) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.focus();\n\t\tthis.domNode.select();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a dom \"input\" event which occurs when the text has changed\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.handleInputEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.widget.saveChanges(this.getText());\n\tthis.fixHeight();\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate a blank structure representing a text operation\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.createTextOperation = function() {\n\tvar operation = {\n\t\ttext: this.domNode.value,\n\t\tselStart: this.domNode.selectionStart,\n\t\tselEnd: this.domNode.selectionEnd,\n\t\tcutStart: null,\n\t\tcutEnd: null,\n\t\treplacement: null,\n\t\tnewSelStart: null,\n\t\tnewSelEnd: null\n\t};\n\toperation.selection = operation.text.substring(operation.selStart,operation.selEnd);\n\treturn operation;\n};\n\n/*\nExecute a text operation\n*/\nFramedEngine.prototype.executeTextOperation = function(operation) {\n\t// Perform the required changes to the text area and the underlying tiddler\n\tvar newText = operation.text;\n\tif(operation.replacement !== null) {\n\t\tnewText = operation.text.substring(0,operation.cutStart) + operation.replacement + operation.text.substring(operation.cutEnd);\n\t\t// Attempt to use a execCommand to modify the value of the control\n\t\tif(this.iframeDoc.queryCommandSupported(\"insertText\") && this.iframeDoc.queryCommandSupported(\"delete\") && !$tw.browser.isFirefox) {\n\t\t\tthis.domNode.focus();\n\t\t\tthis.domNode.setSelectionRange(operation.cutStart,operation.cutEnd);\n\t\t\tif(operation.replacement === \"\") {\n\t\t\t\tthis.iframeDoc.execCommand(\"delete\",false,\"\");\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tthis.iframeDoc.execCommand(\"insertText\",false,operation.replacement);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tthis.domNode.value = newText;\n\t\t}\n\t\tthis.domNode.focus();\n\t\tthis.domNode.setSelectionRange(operation.newSelStart,operation.newSelEnd);\n\t}\n\tthis.domNode.focus();\n\treturn newText;\n};\n\nexports.FramedEngine = FramedEngine;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/engines/framed.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "library"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/engines/simple.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/engines/simple.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: library\n\nText editor engine based on a simple input or textarea tag\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar HEIGHT_VALUE_TITLE = \"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Height\";\n\nfunction SimpleEngine(options) {\n\t// Save our options\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tthis.widget = options.widget;\n\tthis.value = options.value;\n\tthis.parentNode = options.parentNode;\n\tthis.nextSibling = options.nextSibling;\n\t// Construct the textarea or input node\n\tvar tag = this.widget.editTag;\n\tif($tw.config.htmlUnsafeElements.indexOf(tag) !== -1) {\n\t\ttag = \"input\";\n\t}\n\tthis.domNode = this.widget.document.createElement(tag);\n\t// Set the text\n\tif(this.widget.editTag === \"textarea\") {\n\t\tthis.domNode.appendChild(this.widget.document.createTextNode(this.value));\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.domNode.value = this.value;\n\t}\n\t// Set the attributes\n\tif(this.widget.editType) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"type\",this.widget.editType);\n\t}\n\tif(this.widget.editPlaceholder) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"placeholder\",this.widget.editPlaceholder);\n\t}\n\tif(this.widget.editSize) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"size\",this.widget.editSize);\n\t}\n\tif(this.widget.editRows) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.setAttribute(\"rows\",this.widget.editRows);\n\t}\n\tif(this.widget.editClass) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.className = this.widget.editClass;\n\t}\n\t// Add an input event handler\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(this.domNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"focus\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleFocusEvent\"},\n\t\t{name: \"input\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleInputEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Insert the element into the DOM\n\tthis.parentNode.insertBefore(this.domNode,this.nextSibling);\n\tthis.widget.domNodes.push(this.domNode);\n}\n\n/*\nSet the text of the engine if it doesn't currently have focus\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.setText = function(text,type) {\n\tif(!this.domNode.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom) {\n\t\tif(this.domNode.ownerDocument.activeElement !== this.domNode) {\n\t\t\tthis.domNode.value = text;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Fix the height if needed\n\t\tthis.fixHeight();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGet the text of the engine\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.getText = function() {\n\treturn this.domNode.value;\n};\n\n/*\nFix the height of textarea to fit content\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.fixHeight = function() {\n\tif(this.widget.editTag === \"textarea\") {\n\t\tif(this.widget.editAutoHeight) {\n\t\t\tif(this.domNode && !this.domNode.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.resizeTextAreaToFit(this.domNode,this.widget.editMinHeight);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tvar fixedHeight = parseInt(this.widget.wiki.getTiddlerText(HEIGHT_VALUE_TITLE,\"400px\"),10);\n\t\t\tfixedHeight = Math.max(fixedHeight,20);\n\t\t\tthis.domNode.style.height = fixedHeight + \"px\";\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nFocus the engine node\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.focus = function() {\n\tif(this.domNode.focus && this.domNode.select) {\n\t\tthis.domNode.focus();\n\t\tthis.domNode.select();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a dom \"input\" event which occurs when the text has changed\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.handleInputEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.widget.saveChanges(this.getText());\n\tthis.fixHeight();\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a dom \"focus\" event\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.handleFocusEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(this.widget.editFocusPopup) {\n\t\t$tw.popup.triggerPopup({\n\t\t\tdomNode: this.domNode,\n\t\t\ttitle: this.widget.editFocusPopup,\n\t\t\twiki: this.widget.wiki,\n\t\t\tforce: true\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate a blank structure representing a text operation\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.createTextOperation = function() {\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nExecute a text operation\n*/\nSimpleEngine.prototype.executeTextOperation = function(operation) {\n};\n\nexports.SimpleEngine = SimpleEngine;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/engines/simple.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "library"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/factory.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/factory.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: library\n\nFactory for constructing text editor widgets with specified engines for the toolbar and non-toolbar cases\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar DEFAULT_MIN_TEXT_AREA_HEIGHT = \"100px\"; // Minimum height of textareas in pixels\n\n// Configuration tiddlers\nvar HEIGHT_MODE_TITLE = \"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Mode\";\nvar ENABLE_TOOLBAR_TITLE = \"$:/config/TextEditor/EnableToolbar\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nfunction editTextWidgetFactory(toolbarEngine,nonToolbarEngine) {\n\n\tvar EditTextWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\t\t// Initialise the editor operations if they've not been done already\n\t\tif(!this.editorOperations) {\n\t\t\tEditTextWidget.prototype.editorOperations = {};\n\t\t\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"texteditoroperation\",this.editorOperations);\n\t\t}\n\t\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tInherit from the base widget class\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n\t/*\n\tRender this widget into the DOM\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\t\t// Save the parent dom node\n\t\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t\t// Compute our attributes\n\t\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\t\t// Execute our logic\n\t\tthis.execute();\n\t\t// Create the wrapper for the toolbar and render its content\n\t\tif(this.editShowToolbar) {\n\t\t\tthis.toolbarNode = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\t\tthis.toolbarNode.className = \"tc-editor-toolbar\";\n\t\t\tparent.insertBefore(this.toolbarNode,nextSibling);\n\t\t\tthis.renderChildren(this.toolbarNode,null);\n\t\t\tthis.domNodes.push(this.toolbarNode);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Create our element\n\t\tvar editInfo = this.getEditInfo(),\n\t\t\tEngine = this.editShowToolbar ? toolbarEngine : nonToolbarEngine;\n\t\tthis.engine = new Engine({\n\t\t\t\twidget: this,\n\t\t\t\tvalue: editInfo.value,\n\t\t\t\ttype: editInfo.type,\n\t\t\t\tparentNode: parent,\n\t\t\t\tnextSibling: nextSibling\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t// Call the postRender hook\n\t\tif(this.postRender) {\n\t\t\tthis.postRender();\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Fix height\n\t\tthis.engine.fixHeight();\n\t\t// Focus if required\n\t\tif(this.editFocus === \"true\" || this.editFocus === \"yes\") {\n\t\t\tthis.engine.focus();\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Add widget message listeners\n\t\tthis.addEventListeners([\n\t\t\t{type: \"tm-edit-text-operation\", handler: \"handleEditTextOperationMessage\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tGet the tiddler being edited and current value\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.getEditInfo = function() {\n\t\t// Get the edit value\n\t\tvar self = this,\n\t\t\tvalue,\n\t\t\ttype = \"text/plain\",\n\t\t\tupdate;\n\t\tif(this.editIndex) {\n\t\t\tvalue = this.wiki.extractTiddlerDataItem(this.editTitle,this.editIndex,this.editDefault);\n\t\t\tupdate = function(value) {\n\t\t\t\tvar data = self.wiki.getTiddlerData(self.editTitle,{});\n\t\t\t\tif(data[self.editIndex] !== value) {\n\t\t\t\t\tdata[self.editIndex] = value;\n\t\t\t\t\tself.wiki.setTiddlerData(self.editTitle,data);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Get the current tiddler and the field name\n\t\t\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.editTitle);\n\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t// If we've got a tiddler, the value to display is the field string value\n\t\t\t\tvalue = tiddler.getFieldString(this.editField);\n\t\t\t\tif(this.editField === \"text\") {\n\t\t\t\t\ttype = tiddler.fields.type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\";\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Otherwise, we need to construct a default value for the editor\n\t\t\t\tswitch(this.editField) {\n\t\t\t\t\tcase \"text\":\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue = \"Type the text for the tiddler '\" + this.editTitle + \"'\";\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttype = \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\";\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t\tcase \"title\":\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue = this.editTitle;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t\tdefault:\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue = \"\";\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(this.editDefault !== undefined) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvalue = this.editDefault;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tupdate = function(value) {\n\t\t\t\tvar tiddler = self.wiki.getTiddler(self.editTitle),\n\t\t\t\t\tupdateFields = {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttitle: self.editTitle\n\t\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\tupdateFields[self.editField] = value;\n\t\t\t\tself.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(self.wiki.getCreationFields(),tiddler,updateFields,self.wiki.getModificationFields()));\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(this.editType) {\n\t\t\ttype = this.editType;\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn {value: value || \"\", type: type, update: update};\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tHandle an edit text operation message from the toolbar\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.handleEditTextOperationMessage = function(event) {\n\t\t// Prepare information about the operation\n\t\tvar operation = this.engine.createTextOperation();\n\t\t// Invoke the handler for the selected operation\n\t\tvar handler = this.editorOperations[event.param];\n\t\tif(handler) {\n\t\t\thandler.call(this,event,operation);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Execute the operation via the engine\n\t\tvar newText = this.engine.executeTextOperation(operation);\n\t\t// Fix the tiddler height and save changes\n\t\tthis.engine.fixHeight();\n\t\tthis.saveChanges(newText);\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tCompute the internal state of the widget\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t\t// Get our parameters\n\t\tthis.editTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\t\tthis.editField = this.getAttribute(\"field\",\"text\");\n\t\tthis.editIndex = this.getAttribute(\"index\");\n\t\tthis.editDefault = this.getAttribute(\"default\");\n\t\tthis.editClass = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\t\tthis.editPlaceholder = this.getAttribute(\"placeholder\");\n\t\tthis.editSize = this.getAttribute(\"size\");\n\t\tthis.editRows = this.getAttribute(\"rows\");\n\t\tthis.editAutoHeight = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(HEIGHT_MODE_TITLE,\"auto\");\n\t\tthis.editAutoHeight = this.getAttribute(\"autoHeight\",this.editAutoHeight === \"auto\" ? \"yes\" : \"no\") === \"yes\";\n\t\tthis.editMinHeight = this.getAttribute(\"minHeight\",DEFAULT_MIN_TEXT_AREA_HEIGHT);\n\t\tthis.editFocusPopup = this.getAttribute(\"focusPopup\");\n\t\tthis.editFocus = this.getAttribute(\"focus\");\n\t\t// Get the default editor element tag and type\n\t\tvar tag,type;\n\t\tif(this.editField === \"text\") {\n\t\t\ttag = \"textarea\";\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\ttag = \"input\";\n\t\t\tvar fieldModule = $tw.Tiddler.fieldModules[this.editField];\n\t\t\tif(fieldModule && fieldModule.editTag) {\n\t\t\t\ttag = fieldModule.editTag;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(fieldModule && fieldModule.editType) {\n\t\t\t\ttype = fieldModule.editType;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\ttype = type || \"text\";\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Get the rest of our parameters\n\t\tthis.editTag = this.getAttribute(\"tag\",tag);\n\t\tthis.editType = this.getAttribute(\"type\",type);\n\t\t// Make the child widgets\n\t\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n\t\t// Determine whether to show the toolbar\n\t\tthis.editShowToolbar = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(ENABLE_TOOLBAR_TITLE,\"yes\");\n\t\tthis.editShowToolbar = (this.editShowToolbar === \"yes\") && !!(this.children && this.children.length > 0);\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\t\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\t\t// Completely rerender if any of our attributes have changed\n\t\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.field || changedAttributes.index || changedAttributes[\"default\"] || changedAttributes[\"class\"] || changedAttributes.placeholder || changedAttributes.size || changedAttributes.autoHeight || changedAttributes.minHeight || changedAttributes.focusPopup || changedAttributes.rows || changedTiddlers[HEIGHT_MODE_TITLE] || changedTiddlers[ENABLE_TOOLBAR_TITLE]) {\n\t\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t} else if(changedTiddlers[this.editTitle]) {\n\t\t\tvar editInfo = this.getEditInfo();\n\t\t\tthis.updateEditor(editInfo.value,editInfo.type);\n\t\t}\n\t\tthis.engine.fixHeight();\n\t\tif(this.editShowToolbar) {\n\t\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\t\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tUpdate the editor with new text. This method is separate from updateEditorDomNode()\n\tso that subclasses can override updateEditor() and still use updateEditorDomNode()\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.updateEditor = function(text,type) {\n\t\tthis.updateEditorDomNode(text,type);\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tUpdate the editor dom node with new text\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.updateEditorDomNode = function(text,type) {\n\t\tthis.engine.setText(text,type);\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tSave changes back to the tiddler store\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.saveChanges = function(text) {\n\t\tvar editInfo = this.getEditInfo();\n\t\tif(text !== editInfo.value) {\n\t\t\teditInfo.update(text);\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tHandle a dom \"keydown\" event, which we'll bubble up to our container for the keyboard widgets benefit\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.handleKeydownEvent = function(event) {\n\t\t// Check for a keyboard shortcut\n\t\tif(this.toolbarNode) {\n\t\t\tvar shortcutElements = this.toolbarNode.querySelectorAll(\"[data-tw-keyboard-shortcut]\");\n\t\t\tfor(var index=0; index<shortcutElements.length; index++) {\n\t\t\t\tvar el = shortcutElements[index],\n\t\t\t\t\tshortcutData = el.getAttribute(\"data-tw-keyboard-shortcut\"),\n\t\t\t\t\tkeyInfoArray = $tw.keyboardManager.parseKeyDescriptors(shortcutData,{\n\t\t\t\t\t\twiki: this.wiki\n\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\tif($tw.keyboardManager.checkKeyDescriptors(event,keyInfoArray)) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar clickEvent = this.document.createEvent(\"Events\");\n\t\t\t\t clickEvent.initEvent(\"click\",true,false);\n\t\t\t\t el.dispatchEvent(clickEvent);\n\t\t\t\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\t\t\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\t\t\t\treturn true;\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Propogate the event to the container\n\t\tif(this.propogateKeydownEvent(event)) {\n\t\t\t// Ignore the keydown if it was already handled\n\t\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Otherwise, process the keydown normally\n\t\treturn false;\n\t};\n\n\t/*\n\tPropogate keydown events to our container for the keyboard widgets benefit\n\t*/\n\tEditTextWidget.prototype.propogateKeydownEvent = function(event) {\n\t\tvar newEvent = this.document.createEventObject ? this.document.createEventObject() : this.document.createEvent(\"Events\");\n\t\tif(newEvent.initEvent) {\n\t\t\tnewEvent.initEvent(\"keydown\", true, true);\n\t\t}\n\t\tnewEvent.keyCode = event.keyCode;\n\t\tnewEvent.which = event.which;\n\t\tnewEvent.metaKey = event.metaKey;\n\t\tnewEvent.ctrlKey = event.ctrlKey;\n\t\tnewEvent.altKey = event.altKey;\n\t\tnewEvent.shiftKey = event.shiftKey;\n\t\treturn !this.parentDomNode.dispatchEvent(newEvent);\n\t};\n\n\treturn EditTextWidget;\n\n}\n\nexports.editTextWidgetFactory = editTextWidgetFactory;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/factory.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "library"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/bitmap/clear.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/bitmap/clear.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: bitmapeditoroperation\n\nBitmap editor operation to clear the image\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"clear\"] = function(event) {\n\tvar ctx = this.canvasDomNode.getContext(\"2d\");\n\tctx.globalAlpha = 1;\n\tctx.fillStyle = event.paramObject.colour || \"white\";\n\tctx.fillRect(0,0,this.canvasDomNode.width,this.canvasDomNode.height);\n\t// Save changes\n\tthis.strokeEnd();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/bitmap/clear.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "bitmapeditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/bitmap/resize.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/bitmap/resize.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: bitmapeditoroperation\n\nBitmap editor operation to resize the image\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"resize\"] = function(event) {\n\t// Get the new width\n\tvar newWidth = parseInt(event.paramObject.width || this.canvasDomNode.width,10),\n\t\tnewHeight = parseInt(event.paramObject.height || this.canvasDomNode.height,10);\n\t// Update if necessary\n\tif(newWidth > 0 && newHeight > 0 && !(newWidth === this.currCanvas.width && newHeight === this.currCanvas.height)) {\n\t\tthis.changeCanvasSize(newWidth,newHeight);\n\t}\n\t// Update the input controls\n\tthis.refreshToolbar();\n\t// Save the image into the tiddler\n\tthis.saveChanges();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/bitmap/resize.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "bitmapeditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/excise.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/excise.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: texteditoroperation\n\nText editor operation to excise the selection to a new tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"excise\"] = function(event,operation) {\n\tvar editTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.editTitle),\n\t\teditTiddlerTitle = this.editTitle;\n\tif(editTiddler && editTiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"]) {\n\t\teditTiddlerTitle = editTiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"];\n\t}\n\tvar excisionTitle = event.paramObject.title || this.wiki.generateNewTitle(\"New Excision\");\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(\n\t\tthis.wiki.getCreationFields(),\n\t\tthis.wiki.getModificationFields(),\n\t\t{\n\t\t\ttitle: excisionTitle,\n\t\t\ttext: operation.selection,\n\t\t\ttags: event.paramObject.tagnew === \"yes\" ? [editTiddlerTitle] : []\n\t\t}\n\t));\n\toperation.replacement = excisionTitle;\n\tswitch(event.paramObject.type || \"transclude\") {\n\t\tcase \"transclude\":\n\t\t\toperation.replacement = \"{{\" + operation.replacement+ \"}}\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"link\":\n\t\t\toperation.replacement = \"[[\" + operation.replacement+ \"]]\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"macro\":\n\t\t\toperation.replacement = \"<<\" + (event.paramObject.macro || \"translink\") + \" \\\"\\\"\\\"\" + operation.replacement + \"\\\"\\\"\\\">>\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t}\n\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart;\n\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd;\n\toperation.newSelStart = operation.selStart;\n\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.selStart + operation.replacement.length;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/excise.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "texteditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/make-link.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/make-link.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: texteditoroperation\n\nText editor operation to make a link\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"make-link\"] = function(event,operation) {\n\tif(operation.selection) {\n\t\toperation.replacement = \"[[\" + operation.selection + \"|\" + event.paramObject.text + \"]]\";\n\t\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart;\n\t\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd;\n\t} else {\n\t\toperation.replacement = \"[[\" + event.paramObject.text + \"]]\";\n\t\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart;\n\t\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd;\n\t}\n\toperation.newSelStart = operation.selStart + operation.replacement.length;\n\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.newSelStart;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/make-link.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "texteditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/prefix-lines.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/prefix-lines.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: texteditoroperation\n\nText editor operation to add a prefix to the selected lines\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"prefix-lines\"] = function(event,operation) {\n\t// Cut just past the preceding line break, or the start of the text\n\toperation.cutStart = $tw.utils.findPrecedingLineBreak(operation.text,operation.selStart);\n\t// Cut to just past the following line break, or to the end of the text\n\toperation.cutEnd = $tw.utils.findFollowingLineBreak(operation.text,operation.selEnd);\n\t// Compose the required prefix\n\tvar prefix = $tw.utils.repeat(event.paramObject.character,event.paramObject.count);\n\t// Process each line\n\tvar lines = operation.text.substring(operation.cutStart,operation.cutEnd).split(/\\r?\\n/mg);\n\t$tw.utils.each(lines,function(line,index) {\n\t\t// Remove and count any existing prefix characters\n\t\tvar count = 0;\n\t\twhile(line.charAt(0) === event.paramObject.character) {\n\t\t\tline = line.substring(1);\n\t\t\tcount++;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Remove any whitespace\n\t\twhile(line.charAt(0) === \" \") {\n\t\t\tline = line.substring(1);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// We're done if we removed the exact required prefix, otherwise add it\n\t\tif(count !== event.paramObject.count) {\n\t\t\t// Apply the prefix\n\t\t\tline = prefix + \" \" + line;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Save the modified line\n\t\tlines[index] = line;\n\t});\n\t// Stitch the replacement text together and set the selection\n\toperation.replacement = lines.join(\"\\n\");\n\tif(lines.length === 1) {\n\t\toperation.newSelStart = operation.cutStart + operation.replacement.length;\n\t\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.newSelStart;\n\t} else {\n\t\toperation.newSelStart = operation.cutStart;\n\t\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.newSelStart + operation.replacement.length;\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/prefix-lines.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "texteditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/replace-all.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/replace-all.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: texteditoroperation\n\nText editor operation to replace the entire text\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"replace-all\"] = function(event,operation) {\n\toperation.cutStart = 0;\n\toperation.cutEnd = operation.text.length;\n\toperation.replacement = event.paramObject.text;\n\toperation.newSelStart = 0;\n\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.replacement.length;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/replace-all.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "texteditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/replace-selection.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/replace-selection.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: texteditoroperation\n\nText editor operation to replace the selection\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"replace-selection\"] = function(event,operation) {\n\toperation.replacement = event.paramObject.text;\n\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart;\n\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd;\n\toperation.newSelStart = operation.selStart;\n\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.selStart + operation.replacement.length;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/replace-selection.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "texteditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/wrap-lines.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/wrap-lines.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: texteditoroperation\n\nText editor operation to wrap the selected lines with a prefix and suffix\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"wrap-lines\"] = function(event,operation) {\n\t// Cut just past the preceding line break, or the start of the text\n\toperation.cutStart = $tw.utils.findPrecedingLineBreak(operation.text,operation.selStart);\n\t// Cut to just past the following line break, or to the end of the text\n\toperation.cutEnd = $tw.utils.findFollowingLineBreak(operation.text,operation.selEnd);\n\t// Add the prefix and suffix\n\toperation.replacement = event.paramObject.prefix + \"\\n\" +\n\t\t\t\toperation.text.substring(operation.cutStart,operation.cutEnd) + \"\\n\" +\n\t\t\t\tevent.paramObject.suffix + \"\\n\";\n\toperation.newSelStart = operation.cutStart + event.paramObject.prefix.length + 1;\n\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.newSelStart + (operation.cutEnd - operation.cutStart);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/wrap-lines.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "texteditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/wrap-selection.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/wrap-selection.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: texteditoroperation\n\nText editor operation to wrap the selection with the specified prefix and suffix\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports[\"wrap-selection\"] = function(event,operation) {\n\tif(operation.selStart === operation.selEnd) {\n\t\t// No selection; check if we're within the prefix/suffix\n\t\tif(operation.text.substring(operation.selStart - event.paramObject.prefix.length,operation.selStart + event.paramObject.suffix.length) === event.paramObject.prefix + event.paramObject.suffix) {\n\t\t\t// Remove the prefix and suffix unless they comprise the entire text\n\t\t\tif(operation.selStart > event.paramObject.prefix.length || (operation.selEnd + event.paramObject.suffix.length) < operation.text.length ) {\n\t\t\t\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart - event.paramObject.prefix.length;\n\t\t\t\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd + event.paramObject.suffix.length;\n\t\t\t\toperation.replacement = \"\";\n\t\t\t\toperation.newSelStart = operation.cutStart;\n\t\t\t\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.newSelStart;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Wrap the cursor instead\n\t\t\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart;\n\t\t\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd;\n\t\t\toperation.replacement = event.paramObject.prefix + event.paramObject.suffix;\n\t\t\toperation.newSelStart = operation.selStart + event.paramObject.prefix.length;\n\t\t\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.newSelStart;\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(operation.text.substring(operation.selStart,operation.selStart + event.paramObject.prefix.length) === event.paramObject.prefix && operation.text.substring(operation.selEnd - event.paramObject.suffix.length,operation.selEnd) === event.paramObject.suffix) {\n\t\t// Prefix and suffix are already present, so remove them\n\t\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart;\n\t\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd;\n\t\toperation.replacement = operation.selection.substring(event.paramObject.prefix.length,operation.selection.length - event.paramObject.suffix.length);\n\t\toperation.newSelStart = operation.selStart;\n\t\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.selStart + operation.replacement.length;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Add the prefix and suffix\n\t\toperation.cutStart = operation.selStart;\n\t\toperation.cutEnd = operation.selEnd;\n\t\toperation.replacement = event.paramObject.prefix + operation.selection + event.paramObject.suffix;\n\t\toperation.newSelStart = operation.selStart;\n\t\toperation.newSelEnd = operation.selStart + operation.replacement.length;\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/editor/operations/text/wrap-selection.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "texteditoroperation"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/addprefix.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/addprefix.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for adding a prefix to each title in the list. This is\nespecially useful in contexts where only a filter expression is allowed\nand macro substitution isn't available.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.addprefix = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(operator.operand + title);\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/addprefix.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/addsuffix.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/addsuffix.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for adding a suffix to each title in the list. This is\nespecially useful in contexts where only a filter expression is allowed\nand macro substitution isn't available.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.addsuffix = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title + operator.operand);\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/addsuffix.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/after.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/after.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning the tiddler from the current list that is after the tiddler named in the operand.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.after = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\tvar index = results.indexOf(operator.operand);\n\tif(index === -1 || index > (results.length - 2)) {\n\t\treturn [];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [results[index + 1]];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/after.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/all/current.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/all/current.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: allfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [all[current]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.current = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar currTiddlerTitle = options.widget && options.widget.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\");\n\tif(currTiddlerTitle) {\n\t\treturn [currTiddlerTitle];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/all/current.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "allfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/all/missing.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/all/missing.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: allfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [all[missing]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.missing = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\treturn options.wiki.getMissingTitles();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/all/missing.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "allfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/all/orphans.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/all/orphans.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: allfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [all[orphans]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.orphans = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\treturn options.wiki.getOrphanTitles();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/all/orphans.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "allfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/all/shadows.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/all/shadows.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: allfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [all[shadows]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.shadows = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\treturn options.wiki.allShadowTitles();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/all/shadows.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "allfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/all/tiddlers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/all/tiddlers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: allfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [all[tiddlers]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.tiddlers = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\treturn options.wiki.allTitles();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/all/tiddlers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "allfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/all.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/all.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for selecting tiddlers\n\n[all[shadows+tiddlers]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar allFilterOperators;\n\nfunction getAllFilterOperators() {\n\tif(!allFilterOperators) {\n\t\tallFilterOperators = {};\n\t\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"allfilteroperator\",allFilterOperators);\n\t}\n\treturn allFilterOperators;\n}\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.all = function(source,operator,options) {\n\t// Get our suboperators\n\tvar allFilterOperators = getAllFilterOperators();\n\t// Cycle through the suboperators accumulating their results\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tsubops = operator.operand.split(\"+\");\n\t// Check for common optimisations\n\tif(subops.length === 1 && subops[0] === \"\") {\n\t\treturn source;\n\t} else if(subops.length === 1 && subops[0] === \"tiddlers\") {\n\t\treturn options.wiki.each;\n\t} else if(subops.length === 1 && subops[0] === \"shadows\") {\n\t\treturn options.wiki.eachShadow;\n\t} else if(subops.length === 2 && subops[0] === \"tiddlers\" && subops[1] === \"shadows\") {\n\t\treturn options.wiki.eachTiddlerPlusShadows;\n\t} else if(subops.length === 2 && subops[0] === \"shadows\" && subops[1] === \"tiddlers\") {\n\t\treturn options.wiki.eachShadowPlusTiddlers;\n\t}\n\t// Do it the hard way\n\tfor(var t=0; t<subops.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar subop = allFilterOperators[subops[t]];\n\t\tif(subop) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,subop(source,operator.prefix,options));\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/all.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/backlinks.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/backlinks.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning all the backlinks from a tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.backlinks = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,options.wiki.getTiddlerBacklinks(title));\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/backlinks.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/before.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/before.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning the tiddler from the current list that is before the tiddler named in the operand.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.before = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\tvar index = results.indexOf(operator.operand);\n\tif(index <= 0) {\n\t\treturn [];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [results[index - 1]];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/before.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/commands.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/commands.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the names of the commands available in this wiki\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.commands = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each($tw.commands,function(commandInfo,name) {\n\t\tresults.push(name);\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/commands.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/days.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/days.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator that selects tiddlers with a specified date field within a specified date interval.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.days = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tfieldName = operator.suffix || \"modified\",\n\t\tdayInterval = (parseInt(operator.operand,10)||0),\n\t\tdayIntervalSign = $tw.utils.sign(dayInterval),\n\t\ttargetTimeStamp = (new Date()).setHours(0,0,0,0) + 1000*60*60*24*dayInterval,\n\t\tisWithinDays = function(dateField) {\n\t\t\tvar sign = $tw.utils.sign(targetTimeStamp - (new Date(dateField)).setHours(0,0,0,0));\n\t\t\treturn sign === 0 || sign === dayIntervalSign;\n\t\t};\n\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\ttargetTimeStamp = targetTimeStamp - 1000*60*60*24*dayIntervalSign;\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields[fieldName]) {\n\t\t\t\tif(!isWithinDays($tw.utils.parseDate(tiddler.fields[fieldName]))) {\n\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields[fieldName]) {\n\t\t\t\tif(isWithinDays($tw.utils.parseDate(tiddler.fields[fieldName]))) {\n\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/days.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/each.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/each.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator that selects one tiddler for each unique value of the specified field.\nWith suffix \"list\", selects all tiddlers that are values in a specified list field.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.each = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results =[] ,\n\t\tvalue,values = {},\n\t\tfield = operator.operand || \"title\";\n\tif(operator.suffix !== \"list-item\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\tvalue = (field === \"title\") ? title : tiddler.getFieldString(field);\n\t\t\t\tif(!$tw.utils.hop(values,value)) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvalues[value] = true;\n\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(\n\t\t\t\t\toptions.wiki.getTiddlerList(title,field),\n\t\t\t\t\tfunction(value) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif(!$tw.utils.hop(values,value)) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tvalues[value] = true;\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(value);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/each.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/eachday.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/eachday.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator that selects one tiddler for each unique day covered by the specified date field\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.eachday = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tvalues = [],\n\t\tfieldName = operator.operand || \"modified\";\n\t// Function to convert a date/time to a date integer\n\tvar toDate = function(value) {\n\t\tvalue = (new Date(value)).setHours(0,0,0,0);\n\t\treturn value+0;\n\t};\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields[fieldName]) {\n\t\t\tvar value = toDate($tw.utils.parseDate(tiddler.fields[fieldName]));\n\t\t\tif(values.indexOf(value) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tvalues.push(value);\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/eachday.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/editiondescription.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/editiondescription.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the descriptions of the specified edition names\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.editiondescription = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\teditionInfo = $tw.utils.getEditionInfo();\n\tif(editionInfo) {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(editionInfo,title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(editionInfo[title].description || \"\");\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/editiondescription.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/editions.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/editions.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the names of the available editions in this wiki\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.editions = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\teditionInfo = $tw.utils.getEditionInfo();\n\tif(editionInfo) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(editionInfo,function(info,name) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(name);\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/editions.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/field.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/field.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for comparing fields for equality\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.field = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tfieldname = (operator.suffix || operator.operator || \"title\").toLowerCase();\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tif(operator.regexp) {\n\t\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar text = tiddler.getFieldString(fieldname);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(text !== null && !operator.regexp.exec(text)) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar text = tiddler.getFieldString(fieldname);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(text !== null && text !== operator.operand) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(operator.regexp) {\n\t\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar text = tiddler.getFieldString(fieldname);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(text !== null && !!operator.regexp.exec(text)) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar text = tiddler.getFieldString(fieldname);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(text !== null && text === operator.operand) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/field.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/fields.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/fields.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the names of the fields on the selected tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.fields = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\tfor(var fieldName in tiddler.fields) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,fieldName);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/fields.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/get.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/get.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for replacing tiddler titles by the value of the field specified in the operand.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.get = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\tvar value = tiddler.getFieldString(operator.operand);\n\t\t\tif(value) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(value);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/get.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/getindex.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/getindex.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nreturns the value at a given index of datatiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.getindex = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar data,title,results = [];\n\tif(operator.operand){\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\ttitle = tiddler ? tiddler.fields.title : title;\n\t\t\tdata = options.wiki.extractTiddlerDataItem(tiddler,operator.operand);\n\t\t\tif(data) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(data);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/getindex.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/has.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/has.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for checking if a tiddler has the specified field\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.has = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!tiddler || (tiddler && (!$tw.utils.hop(tiddler.fields,operator.operand) || tiddler.fields[operator.operand] === \"\"))) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && $tw.utils.hop(tiddler.fields,operator.operand) && !(tiddler.fields[operator.operand] === \"\" || tiddler.fields[operator.operand].length === 0)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/has.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/haschanged.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/haschanged.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returns tiddlers from the list that have a non-zero changecount.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.haschanged = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(options.wiki.getChangeCount(title) === 0) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(options.wiki.getChangeCount(title) > 0) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/haschanged.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/indexes.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/indexes.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the indexes of a data tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.indexes = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar data = options.wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(title);\n\t\tif(data) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,Object.keys(data));\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/indexes.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/current.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/current.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[current]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.current = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tcurrTiddlerTitle = options.widget && options.widget.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\");\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(title !== currTiddlerTitle) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(title === currTiddlerTitle) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/current.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/image.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/image.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[image]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.image = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!options.wiki.isImageTiddler(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(options.wiki.isImageTiddler(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/image.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/missing.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/missing.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[missing]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.missing = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(options.wiki.tiddlerExists(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!options.wiki.tiddlerExists(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/missing.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/orphan.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/orphan.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[orphan]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.orphan = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\torphanTitles = options.wiki.getOrphanTitles();\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(orphanTitles.indexOf(title) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(orphanTitles.indexOf(title) !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/orphan.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/shadow.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/shadow.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[shadow]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.shadow = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!options.wiki.isShadowTiddler(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(options.wiki.isShadowTiddler(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/shadow.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/system.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/system.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[system]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.system = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!options.wiki.isSystemTiddler(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(options.wiki.isSystemTiddler(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/system.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/tag.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/tag.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[tag]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.tag = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\ttagMap = options.wiki.getTagMap();\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!$tw.utils.hop(tagMap,title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(tagMap,title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/tag.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is/tiddler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is/tiddler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: isfilteroperator\n\nFilter function for [is[tiddler]]\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.tiddler = function(source,prefix,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!options.wiki.tiddlerExists(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(options.wiki.tiddlerExists(title)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is/tiddler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "isfilteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/is.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/is.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for checking tiddler properties\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar isFilterOperators;\n\nfunction getIsFilterOperators() {\n\tif(!isFilterOperators) {\n\t\tisFilterOperators = {};\n\t\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"isfilteroperator\",isFilterOperators);\n\t}\n\treturn isFilterOperators;\n}\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.is = function(source,operator,options) {\n\t// Dispatch to the correct isfilteroperator\n\tvar isFilterOperators = getIsFilterOperators();\n\tvar isFilterOperator = isFilterOperators[operator.operand];\n\tif(isFilterOperator) {\n\t\treturn isFilterOperator(source,operator.prefix,options);\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [$tw.language.getString(\"Error/IsFilterOperator\")];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/is.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/limit.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/limit.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for chopping the results to a specified maximum number of entries\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.limit = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\t// Convert to an array\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\t// Slice the array if necessary\n\tvar limit = Math.min(results.length,parseInt(operator.operand,10));\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tresults = results.slice(-limit);\n\t} else {\n\t\tresults = results.slice(0,limit);\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/limit.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/links.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/links.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning all the links from a tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.links = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,options.wiki.getTiddlerLinks(title));\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/links.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/list.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/list.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning the tiddlers whose title is listed in the operand tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.list = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\ttr = $tw.utils.parseTextReference(operator.operand),\n\t\tcurrTiddlerTitle = options.widget && options.widget.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"),\n\t\tlist = options.wiki.getTiddlerList(tr.title || currTiddlerTitle,tr.field,tr.index);\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(list.indexOf(title) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tresults = list;\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/list.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/listed.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/listed.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning all tiddlers that have the selected tiddlers in a list\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.listed = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar field = operator.operand || \"list\",\n\t\tresults = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,options.wiki.findListingsOfTiddler(title,field));\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/listed.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/listops.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/listops.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operators for manipulating the current selection list\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nReverse list\n*/\nexports.reverse = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.unshift(title);\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n/*\nFirst entry/entries in list\n*/\nexports.first = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar count = parseInt(operator.operand) || 1,\n\t\tresults = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\treturn results.slice(0,count);\n};\n\n/*\nLast entry/entries in list\n*/\nexports.last = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar count = parseInt(operator.operand) || 1,\n\t\tresults = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\treturn results.slice(-count);\n};\n\n/*\nAll but the first entry/entries of the list\n*/\nexports.rest = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar count = parseInt(operator.operand) || 1,\n\t\tresults = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\treturn results.slice(count);\n};\nexports.butfirst = exports.rest;\nexports.bf = exports.rest;\n\n/*\nAll but the last entry/entries of the list\n*/\nexports.butlast = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar count = parseInt(operator.operand) || 1,\n\t\tresults = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\treturn results.slice(0,-count);\n};\nexports.bl = exports.butlast;\n\n/*\nThe nth member of the list\n*/\nexports.nth = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar count = parseInt(operator.operand) || 1,\n\t\tresults = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\treturn results.slice(count - 1,count);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/listops.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/modules.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/modules.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the titles of the modules of a given type in this wiki\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.modules = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each($tw.modules.types[title],function(moduleInfo,moduleName) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(moduleName);\n\t\t});\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/modules.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/moduletypes.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/moduletypes.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the names of the module types in this wiki\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.moduletypes = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each($tw.modules.types,function(moduleInfo,type) {\n\t\tresults.push(type);\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/moduletypes.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/next.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/next.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning the tiddler whose title occurs next in the list supplied in the operand tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.next = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tlist = options.wiki.getTiddlerList(operator.operand);\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar match = list.indexOf(title);\n\t\t// increment match and then test if result is in range\n\t\tmatch++;\n\t\tif(match > 0 && match < list.length) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(list[match]);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/next.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/plugintiddlers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/plugintiddlers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the titles of the shadow tiddlers within a plugin\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.plugintiddlers = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar pluginInfo = options.wiki.getPluginInfo(title) || options.wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(title,{tiddlers:[]});\n\t\tif(pluginInfo && pluginInfo.tiddlers) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(pluginInfo.tiddlers,function(fields,title) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/plugintiddlers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/prefix.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/prefix.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for checking if a title starts with a prefix\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.prefix = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(title.substr(0,operator.operand.length) !== operator.operand) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(title.substr(0,operator.operand.length) === operator.operand) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/prefix.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/previous.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/previous.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning the tiddler whose title occurs immediately prior in the list supplied in the operand tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.previous = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tlist = options.wiki.getTiddlerList(operator.operand);\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar match = list.indexOf(title);\n\t\t// increment match and then test if result is in range\n\t\tmatch--;\n\t\tif(match >= 0) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(list[match]);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/previous.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/regexp.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/regexp.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for regexp matching\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.regexp = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tfieldname = (operator.suffix || \"title\").toLowerCase(),\n\t\tregexpString, regexp, flags = \"\", match,\n\t\tgetFieldString = function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\treturn tiddler.getFieldString(fieldname);\n\t\t\t} else if(fieldname === \"title\") {\n\t\t\t\treturn title;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\treturn null;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\t// Process flags and construct regexp\n\tregexpString = operator.operand;\n\tmatch = /^\\(\\?([gim]+)\\)/.exec(regexpString);\n\tif(match) {\n\t\tflags = match[1];\n\t\tregexpString = regexpString.substr(match[0].length);\n\t} else {\n\t\tmatch = /\\(\\?([gim]+)\\)$/.exec(regexpString);\n\t\tif(match) {\n\t\t\tflags = match[1];\n\t\t\tregexpString = regexpString.substr(0,regexpString.length - match[0].length);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\ttry {\n\t\tregexp = new RegExp(regexpString,flags);\n\t} catch(e) {\n\t\treturn [\"\" + e];\n\t}\n\t// Process the incoming tiddlers\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tvar text = getFieldString(tiddler,title);\n\t\t\tif(text !== null) {\n\t\t\t\tif(!regexp.exec(text)) {\n\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tvar text = getFieldString(tiddler,title);\n\t\t\tif(text !== null) {\n\t\t\t\tif(!!regexp.exec(text)) {\n\t\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/regexp.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/removeprefix.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/removeprefix.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for removing a prefix from each title in the list. Titles that do not start with the prefix are removed.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.removeprefix = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(title.substr(0,operator.operand.length) === operator.operand) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(title.substr(operator.operand.length));\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/removeprefix.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/removesuffix.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/removesuffix.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for removing a suffix from each title in the list. Titles that do not end with the suffix are removed.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.removesuffix = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(title.substr(-operator.operand.length) === operator.operand) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(title.substr(0,title.length - operator.operand.length));\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/removesuffix.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/sameday.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/sameday.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator that selects tiddlers with a modified date field on the same day as the provided value.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.sameday = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tfieldName = operator.suffix || \"modified\",\n\t\ttargetDate = (new Date($tw.utils.parseDate(operator.operand))).setHours(0,0,0,0);\n\t// Function to convert a date/time to a date integer\n\tvar isSameDay = function(dateField) {\n\t\t\treturn (new Date(dateField)).setHours(0,0,0,0) === targetDate;\n\t\t};\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields[fieldName]) {\n\t\t\tif(isSameDay($tw.utils.parseDate(tiddler.fields[fieldName]))) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/sameday.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/search.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/search.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for searching for the text in the operand tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.search = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar invert = operator.prefix === \"!\";\n\tif(operator.suffix) {\n\t\treturn options.wiki.search(operator.operand,{\n\t\t\tsource: source,\n\t\t\tinvert: invert,\n\t\t\tfield: operator.suffix\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn options.wiki.search(operator.operand,{\n\t\t\tsource: source,\n\t\t\tinvert: invert\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/search.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/shadowsource.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/shadowsource.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the source plugins for shadow tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.shadowsource = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar source = options.wiki.getShadowSource(title);\n\t\tif(source) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,source);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/shadowsource.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/sort.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/sort.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for sorting\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.sort = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = prepare_results(source);\n\toptions.wiki.sortTiddlers(results,operator.operand || \"title\",operator.prefix === \"!\",false,false);\n\treturn results;\n};\n\nexports.nsort = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = prepare_results(source);\n\toptions.wiki.sortTiddlers(results,operator.operand || \"title\",operator.prefix === \"!\",false,true);\n\treturn results;\n};\n\nexports.sortcs = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = prepare_results(source);\n\toptions.wiki.sortTiddlers(results,operator.operand || \"title\",operator.prefix === \"!\",true,false);\n\treturn results;\n};\n\nexports.nsortcs = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = prepare_results(source);\n\toptions.wiki.sortTiddlers(results,operator.operand || \"title\",operator.prefix === \"!\",true,true);\n\treturn results;\n};\n\nvar prepare_results = function (source) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/sort.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/splitbefore.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/splitbefore.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator that splits each result on the first occurance of the specified separator and returns the unique values.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.splitbefore = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar parts = title.split(operator.operand);\n\t\tif(parts.length === 1) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,parts[0]);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,parts[0] + operator.operand);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/splitbefore.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/storyviews.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/storyviews.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the names of the story views in this wiki\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.storyviews = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tstoryviews = {};\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"storyview\",storyviews);\n\t$tw.utils.each(storyviews,function(info,name) {\n\t\tresults.push(name);\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/storyviews.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/suffix.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/suffix.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for checking if a title ends with a suffix\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.suffix = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(title.substr(-operator.operand.length) !== operator.operand) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(title.substr(-operator.operand.length) === operator.operand) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/suffix.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/tag.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/tag.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for checking for the presence of a tag\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.tag = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && !tiddler.hasTag(operator.operand)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.hasTag(operator.operand)) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\tresults = options.wiki.sortByList(results,operator.operand);\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/tag.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/tagging.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/tagging.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning all tiddlers that are tagged with the selected tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.tagging = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,options.wiki.getTiddlersWithTag(title));\n\t});\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/tagging.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/tags.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/tags.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning all the tags of the selected tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.tags = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar tags = {};\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar t, length;\n\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields.tags) {\n\t\t\tfor(t=0, length=tiddler.fields.tags.length; t<length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\ttags[tiddler.fields.tags[t]] = true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn Object.keys(tags);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/tags.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/title.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/title.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for comparing title fields for equality\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.title = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields.title !== operator.operand) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tresults.push(operator.operand);\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/title.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/untagged.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/untagged.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator returning all the selected tiddlers that are untagged\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.untagged = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\tif(operator.prefix === \"!\") {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && $tw.utils.isArray(tiddler.fields.tags) && tiddler.fields.tags.length > 0) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!tiddler || !tiddler.hasField(\"tags\") || ($tw.utils.isArray(tiddler.fields.tags) && tiddler.fields.tags.length === 0)) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/untagged.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/wikiparserrules.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/wikiparserrules.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nFilter operator for returning the names of the wiki parser rules in this wiki\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nExport our filter function\n*/\nexports.wikiparserrules = function(source,operator,options) {\n\tvar results = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each($tw.modules.types.wikirule,function(mod) {\n\t\tvar exp = mod.exports;\n\t\tif(exp.types[operator.operand]) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(exp.name);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tresults.sort();\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/wikiparserrules.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters/x-listops.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters/x-listops.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: filteroperator\n\nExtended filter operators to manipulate the current list.\n\n\\*/\n(function () {\n\n /*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n /*global $tw: false */\n \"use strict\";\n\n /*\n Fetch titles from the current list\n */\n var prepare_results = function (source) {\n var results = [];\n source(function (tiddler, title) {\n results.push(title);\n });\n return results;\n };\n\n /*\n Moves a number of items from the tail of the current list before the item named in the operand\n */\n exports.putbefore = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n index = results.indexOf(operator.operand),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || 1;\n return (index === -1) ?\n results.slice(0, -1) :\n results.slice(0, index).concat(results.slice(-count)).concat(results.slice(index, -count));\n };\n\n /*\n Moves a number of items from the tail of the current list after the item named in the operand\n */\n exports.putafter = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n index = results.indexOf(operator.operand),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || 1;\n return (index === -1) ?\n results.slice(0, -1) :\n results.slice(0, index + 1).concat(results.slice(-count)).concat(results.slice(index + 1, -count));\n };\n\n /*\n Replaces the item named in the operand with a number of items from the tail of the current list\n */\n exports.replace = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n index = results.indexOf(operator.operand),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || 1;\n return (index === -1) ?\n results.slice(0, -count) :\n results.slice(0, index).concat(results.slice(-count)).concat(results.slice(index + 1, -count));\n };\n\n /*\n Moves a number of items from the tail of the current list to the head of the list\n */\n exports.putfirst = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || 1;\n return results.slice(-count).concat(results.slice(0, -count));\n };\n\n /*\n Moves a number of items from the head of the current list to the tail of the list\n */\n exports.putlast = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || 1;\n return results.slice(count).concat(results.slice(0, count));\n };\n\n /*\n Moves the item named in the operand a number of places forward or backward in the list\n */\n exports.move = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n index = results.indexOf(operator.operand),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || 1,\n marker = results.splice(index, 1);\n return results.slice(0, index + count).concat(marker).concat(results.slice(index + count));\n };\n\n /*\n Returns the items from the current list that are after the item named in the operand\n */\n exports.allafter = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n index = results.indexOf(operator.operand);\n return (index === -1 || index > (results.length - 2)) ? [] :\n (operator.suffix) ? results.slice(index) :\n results.slice(index + 1);\n };\n\n /*\n Returns the items from the current list that are before the item named in the operand\n */\n exports.allbefore = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source),\n index = results.indexOf(operator.operand);\n return (index <= 0) ? [] :\n (operator.suffix) ? results.slice(0, index + 1) :\n results.slice(0, index);\n };\n\n /*\n Appends the items listed in the operand array to the tail of the current list\n */\n exports.append = function (source, operator) {\n var append = $tw.utils.parseStringArray(operator.operand, \"true\"),\n results = prepare_results(source),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || append.length;\n return (append.length === 0) ? results :\n (operator.prefix) ? results.concat(append.slice(-count)) :\n results.concat(append.slice(0, count));\n };\n\n /*\n Prepends the items listed in the operand array to the head of the current list\n */\n exports.prepend = function (source, operator) {\n var prepend = $tw.utils.parseStringArray(operator.operand, \"true\"),\n results = prepare_results(source),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || prepend.length;\n return (prepend.length === 0) ? results :\n (operator.prefix) ? prepend.slice(-count).concat(results) :\n prepend.slice(0, count).concat(results);\n };\n\n /*\n Returns all items from the current list except the items listed in the operand array\n */\n exports.remove = function (source, operator) {\n var array = $tw.utils.parseStringArray(operator.operand, \"true\"),\n results = prepare_results(source),\n count = parseInt(operator.suffix) || array.length,\n p,\n len,\n index;\n len = array.length - 1;\n for (p = 0; p < count; ++p) {\n if (operator.prefix) {\n index = results.indexOf(array[len - p]);\n } else {\n index = results.indexOf(array[p]);\n }\n if (index !== -1) {\n results.splice(index, 1);\n }\n }\n return results;\n };\n\n /*\n Returns all items from the current list sorted in the order of the items in the operand array\n */\n exports.sortby = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source);\n if (!results || results.length < 2) {\n return results;\n }\n var lookup = $tw.utils.parseStringArray(operator.operand, \"true\");\n results.sort(function (a, b) {\n return lookup.indexOf(a) - lookup.indexOf(b);\n });\n return results;\n };\n\n /*\n Removes all duplicate items from the current list\n */\n exports.unique = function (source, operator) {\n var results = prepare_results(source);\n var set = results.reduce(function (a, b) {\n if (a.indexOf(b) < 0) {\n a.push(b);\n }\n return a;\n }, []);\n return set;\n };\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters/x-listops.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "filteroperator"
},
"$:/core/modules/filters.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/filters.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikimethod\n\nAdds tiddler filtering methods to the $tw.Wiki object.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nParses an operation (i.e. a run) within a filter string\n\toperators: Array of array of operator nodes into which results should be inserted\n\tfilterString: filter string\n\tp: start position within the string\nReturns the new start position, after the parsed operation\n*/\nfunction parseFilterOperation(operators,filterString,p) {\n\tvar operator, operand, bracketPos, curlyBracketPos;\n\t// Skip the starting square bracket\n\tif(filterString.charAt(p++) !== \"[\") {\n\t\tthrow \"Missing [ in filter expression\";\n\t}\n\t// Process each operator in turn\n\tdo {\n\t\toperator = {};\n\t\t// Check for an operator prefix\n\t\tif(filterString.charAt(p) === \"!\") {\n\t\t\toperator.prefix = filterString.charAt(p++);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Get the operator name\n\t\tvar nextBracketPos = filterString.substring(p).search(/[\\[\\{<\\/]/);\n\t\tif(nextBracketPos === -1) {\n\t\t\tthrow \"Missing [ in filter expression\";\n\t\t}\n\t\tnextBracketPos += p;\n\t\tvar bracket = filterString.charAt(nextBracketPos);\n\t\toperator.operator = filterString.substring(p,nextBracketPos);\n\t\t\n\t\t// Any suffix?\n\t\tvar colon = operator.operator.indexOf(':');\n\t\tif(colon > -1) {\n\t\t\toperator.suffix = operator.operator.substring(colon + 1);\n\t\t\toperator.operator = operator.operator.substring(0,colon) || \"field\";\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Empty operator means: title\n\t\telse if(operator.operator === \"\") {\n\t\t\toperator.operator = \"title\";\n\t\t}\n\n\t\tp = nextBracketPos + 1;\n\t\tswitch (bracket) {\n\t\t\tcase \"{\": // Curly brackets\n\t\t\t\toperator.indirect = true;\n\t\t\t\tnextBracketPos = filterString.indexOf(\"}\",p);\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"[\": // Square brackets\n\t\t\t\tnextBracketPos = filterString.indexOf(\"]\",p);\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"<\": // Angle brackets\n\t\t\t\toperator.variable = true;\n\t\t\t\tnextBracketPos = filterString.indexOf(\">\",p);\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"/\": // regexp brackets\n\t\t\t\tvar rex = /^((?:[^\\\\\\/]*|\\\\.)*)\\/(?:\\(([mygi]+)\\))?/g,\n\t\t\t\t\trexMatch = rex.exec(filterString.substring(p));\n\t\t\t\tif(rexMatch) {\n\t\t\t\t\toperator.regexp = new RegExp(rexMatch[1], rexMatch[2]);\n// DEPRECATION WARNING\nconsole.log(\"WARNING: Filter\",operator.operator,\"has a deprecated regexp operand\",operator.regexp);\n\t\t\t\t\tnextBracketPos = p + rex.lastIndex - 1;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\telse {\n\t\t\t\t\tthrow \"Unterminated regular expression in filter expression\";\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t\t\n\t\tif(nextBracketPos === -1) {\n\t\t\tthrow \"Missing closing bracket in filter expression\";\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(!operator.regexp) {\n\t\t\toperator.operand = filterString.substring(p,nextBracketPos);\n\t\t}\n\t\tp = nextBracketPos + 1;\n\t\t\t\n\t\t// Push this operator\n\t\toperators.push(operator);\n\t} while(filterString.charAt(p) !== \"]\");\n\t// Skip the ending square bracket\n\tif(filterString.charAt(p++) !== \"]\") {\n\t\tthrow \"Missing ] in filter expression\";\n\t}\n\t// Return the parsing position\n\treturn p;\n}\n\n/*\nParse a filter string\n*/\nexports.parseFilter = function(filterString) {\n\tfilterString = filterString || \"\";\n\tvar results = [], // Array of arrays of operator nodes {operator:,operand:}\n\t\tp = 0, // Current position in the filter string\n\t\tmatch;\n\tvar whitespaceRegExp = /(\\s+)/mg,\n\t\toperandRegExp = /((?:\\+|\\-)?)(?:(\\[)|(?:\"([^\"]*)\")|(?:'([^']*)')|([^\\s\\[\\]]+))/mg;\n\twhile(p < filterString.length) {\n\t\t// Skip any whitespace\n\t\twhitespaceRegExp.lastIndex = p;\n\t\tmatch = whitespaceRegExp.exec(filterString);\n\t\tif(match && match.index === p) {\n\t\t\tp = p + match[0].length;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Match the start of the operation\n\t\tif(p < filterString.length) {\n\t\t\toperandRegExp.lastIndex = p;\n\t\t\tmatch = operandRegExp.exec(filterString);\n\t\t\tif(!match || match.index !== p) {\n\t\t\t\tthrow $tw.language.getString(\"Error/FilterSyntax\");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tvar operation = {\n\t\t\t\tprefix: \"\",\n\t\t\t\toperators: []\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t\tif(match[1]) {\n\t\t\t\toperation.prefix = match[1];\n\t\t\t\tp++;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(match[2]) { // Opening square bracket\n\t\t\t\tp = parseFilterOperation(operation.operators,filterString,p);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tp = match.index + match[0].length;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(match[3] || match[4] || match[5]) { // Double quoted string, single quoted string or unquoted title\n\t\t\t\toperation.operators.push(\n\t\t\t\t\t{operator: \"title\", operand: match[3] || match[4] || match[5]}\n\t\t\t\t);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tresults.push(operation);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\nexports.getFilterOperators = function() {\n\tif(!this.filterOperators) {\n\t\t$tw.Wiki.prototype.filterOperators = {};\n\t\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"filteroperator\",this.filterOperators);\n\t}\n\treturn this.filterOperators;\n};\n\nexports.filterTiddlers = function(filterString,widget,source) {\n\tvar fn = this.compileFilter(filterString);\n\treturn fn.call(this,source,widget);\n};\n\n/*\nCompile a filter into a function with the signature fn(source,widget) where:\nsource: an iterator function for the source tiddlers, called source(iterator), where iterator is called as iterator(tiddler,title)\nwidget: an optional widget node for retrieving the current tiddler etc.\n*/\nexports.compileFilter = function(filterString) {\n\tvar filterParseTree;\n\ttry {\n\t\tfilterParseTree = this.parseFilter(filterString);\n\t} catch(e) {\n\t\treturn function(source,widget) {\n\t\t\treturn [$tw.language.getString(\"Error/Filter\") + \": \" + e];\n\t\t};\n\t}\n\t// Get the hashmap of filter operator functions\n\tvar filterOperators = this.getFilterOperators();\n\t// Assemble array of functions, one for each operation\n\tvar operationFunctions = [];\n\t// Step through the operations\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(filterParseTree,function(operation) {\n\t\t// Create a function for the chain of operators in the operation\n\t\tvar operationSubFunction = function(source,widget) {\n\t\t\tvar accumulator = source,\n\t\t\t\tresults = [],\n\t\t\t\tcurrTiddlerTitle = widget && widget.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\");\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(operation.operators,function(operator) {\n\t\t\t\tvar operand = operator.operand,\n\t\t\t\t\toperatorFunction;\n\t\t\t\tif(!operator.operator) {\n\t\t\t\t\toperatorFunction = filterOperators.title;\n\t\t\t\t} else if(!filterOperators[operator.operator]) {\n\t\t\t\t\toperatorFunction = filterOperators.field;\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\toperatorFunction = filterOperators[operator.operator];\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(operator.indirect) {\n\t\t\t\t\toperand = self.getTextReference(operator.operand,\"\",currTiddlerTitle);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(operator.variable) {\n\t\t\t\t\toperand = widget.getVariable(operator.operand,{defaultValue: \"\"});\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Invoke the appropriate filteroperator module\n\t\t\t\tresults = operatorFunction(accumulator,{\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\toperator: operator.operator,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\toperand: operand,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tprefix: operator.prefix,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tsuffix: operator.suffix,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tregexp: operator.regexp\n\t\t\t\t\t\t},{\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\twiki: self,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\twidget: widget\n\t\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\tif($tw.utils.isArray(results)) {\n\t\t\t\t\taccumulator = self.makeTiddlerIterator(results);\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\taccumulator = results;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.isArray(results)) {\n\t\t\t\treturn results;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tvar resultArray = [];\n\t\t\t\tresults(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\t\t\tresultArray.push(title);\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\treturn resultArray;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\t\t// Wrap the operator functions in a wrapper function that depends on the prefix\n\t\toperationFunctions.push((function() {\n\t\t\tswitch(operation.prefix || \"\") {\n\t\t\t\tcase \"\": // No prefix means that the operation is unioned into the result\n\t\t\t\t\treturn function(results,source,widget) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,operationSubFunction(source,widget));\n\t\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\tcase \"-\": // The results of this operation are removed from the main result\n\t\t\t\t\treturn function(results,source,widget) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.removeArrayEntries(results,operationSubFunction(source,widget));\n\t\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\tcase \"+\": // This operation is applied to the main results so far\n\t\t\t\t\treturn function(results,source,widget) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t// This replaces all the elements of the array, but keeps the actual array so that references to it are preserved\n\t\t\t\t\t\tsource = self.makeTiddlerIterator(results);\n\t\t\t\t\t\tresults.splice(0,results.length);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(results,operationSubFunction(source,widget));\n\t\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t})());\n\t});\n\t// Return a function that applies the operations to a source iterator of tiddler titles\n\treturn $tw.perf.measure(\"filter\",function filterFunction(source,widget) {\n\t\tif(!source) {\n\t\t\tsource = self.each;\n\t\t} else if(typeof source === \"object\") { // Array or hashmap\n\t\t\tsource = self.makeTiddlerIterator(source);\n\t\t}\n\t\tvar results = [];\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(operationFunctions,function(operationFunction) {\n\t\t\toperationFunction(results,source,widget);\n\t\t});\n\t\treturn results;\n\t});\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/filters.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikimethod"
},
"$:/core/modules/info/platform.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/info/platform.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: info\n\nInitialise basic platform $:/info/ tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.getInfoTiddlerFields = function() {\n\tvar mapBoolean = function(value) {return value ? \"yes\" : \"no\";},\n\t\tinfoTiddlerFields = [];\n\t// Basics\n\tinfoTiddlerFields.push({title: \"$:/info/browser\", text: mapBoolean(!!$tw.browser)});\n\tinfoTiddlerFields.push({title: \"$:/info/node\", text: mapBoolean(!!$tw.node)});\n\treturn infoTiddlerFields;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/info/platform.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "info"
},
"$:/core/modules/keyboard.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/keyboard.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nKeyboard handling utilities\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar namedKeys = {\n\t\"cancel\": 3,\n\t\"help\": 6,\n\t\"backspace\": 8,\n\t\"tab\": 9,\n\t\"clear\": 12,\n\t\"return\": 13,\n\t\"enter\": 13,\n\t\"pause\": 19,\n\t\"escape\": 27,\n\t\"space\": 32,\n\t\"page_up\": 33,\n\t\"page_down\": 34,\n\t\"end\": 35,\n\t\"home\": 36,\n\t\"left\": 37,\n\t\"up\": 38,\n\t\"right\": 39,\n\t\"down\": 40,\n\t\"printscreen\": 44,\n\t\"insert\": 45,\n\t\"delete\": 46,\n\t\"0\": 48,\n\t\"1\": 49,\n\t\"2\": 50,\n\t\"3\": 51,\n\t\"4\": 52,\n\t\"5\": 53,\n\t\"6\": 54,\n\t\"7\": 55,\n\t\"8\": 56,\n\t\"9\": 57,\n\t\"firefoxsemicolon\": 59,\n\t\"firefoxequals\": 61,\n\t\"a\": 65,\n\t\"b\": 66,\n\t\"c\": 67,\n\t\"d\": 68,\n\t\"e\": 69,\n\t\"f\": 70,\n\t\"g\": 71,\n\t\"h\": 72,\n\t\"i\": 73,\n\t\"j\": 74,\n\t\"k\": 75,\n\t\"l\": 76,\n\t\"m\": 77,\n\t\"n\": 78,\n\t\"o\": 79,\n\t\"p\": 80,\n\t\"q\": 81,\n\t\"r\": 82,\n\t\"s\": 83,\n\t\"t\": 84,\n\t\"u\": 85,\n\t\"v\": 86,\n\t\"w\": 87,\n\t\"x\": 88,\n\t\"y\": 89,\n\t\"z\": 90,\n\t\"numpad0\": 96,\n\t\"numpad1\": 97,\n\t\"numpad2\": 98,\n\t\"numpad3\": 99,\n\t\"numpad4\": 100,\n\t\"numpad5\": 101,\n\t\"numpad6\": 102,\n\t\"numpad7\": 103,\n\t\"numpad8\": 104,\n\t\"numpad9\": 105,\n\t\"multiply\": 106,\n\t\"add\": 107,\n\t\"separator\": 108,\n\t\"subtract\": 109,\n\t\"decimal\": 110,\n\t\"divide\": 111,\n\t\"f1\": 112,\n\t\"f2\": 113,\n\t\"f3\": 114,\n\t\"f4\": 115,\n\t\"f5\": 116,\n\t\"f6\": 117,\n\t\"f7\": 118,\n\t\"f8\": 119,\n\t\"f9\": 120,\n\t\"f10\": 121,\n\t\"f11\": 122,\n\t\"f12\": 123,\n\t\"f13\": 124,\n\t\"f14\": 125,\n\t\"f15\": 126,\n\t\"f16\": 127,\n\t\"f17\": 128,\n\t\"f18\": 129,\n\t\"f19\": 130,\n\t\"f20\": 131,\n\t\"f21\": 132,\n\t\"f22\": 133,\n\t\"f23\": 134,\n\t\"f24\": 135,\n\t\"firefoxminus\": 173,\n\t\"semicolon\": 186,\n\t\"equals\": 187,\n\t\"comma\": 188,\n\t\"dash\": 189,\n\t\"period\": 190,\n\t\"slash\": 191,\n\t\"backquote\": 192,\n\t\"openbracket\": 219,\n\t\"backslash\": 220,\n\t\"closebracket\": 221,\n\t\"quote\": 222\n};\n\nfunction KeyboardManager(options) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\toptions = options || \"\";\n\t// Save the named key hashmap\n\tthis.namedKeys = namedKeys;\n\t// Create a reverse mapping of code to keyname\n\tthis.keyNames = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each(namedKeys,function(keyCode,name) {\n\t\tself.keyNames[keyCode] = name.substr(0,1).toUpperCase() + name.substr(1);\n\t});\n\t// Save the platform-specific name of the \"meta\" key\n\tthis.metaKeyName = $tw.platform.isMac ? \"cmd-\" : \"win-\";\n}\n\n/*\nReturn an array of keycodes for the modifier keys ctrl, shift, alt, meta\n*/\nKeyboardManager.prototype.getModifierKeys = function() {\n\treturn [\n\t\t16, // Shift\n\t\t17, // Ctrl\n\t\t18, // Alt\n\t\t20, // CAPS LOCK\n\t\t91, // Meta (left)\n\t\t93, // Meta (right)\n\t\t224 // Meta (Firefox)\n\t]\n};\n\n/*\nParses a key descriptor into the structure:\n{\n\tkeyCode: numeric keycode\n\tshiftKey: boolean\n\taltKey: boolean\n\tctrlKey: boolean\n\tmetaKey: boolean\n}\nKey descriptors have the following format:\n\tctrl+enter\n\tctrl+shift+alt+A\n*/\nKeyboardManager.prototype.parseKeyDescriptor = function(keyDescriptor) {\n\tvar components = keyDescriptor.split(/\\+|\\-/),\n\t\tinfo = {\n\t\t\tkeyCode: 0,\n\t\t\tshiftKey: false,\n\t\t\taltKey: false,\n\t\t\tctrlKey: false,\n\t\t\tmetaKey: false\n\t\t};\n\tfor(var t=0; t<components.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar s = components[t].toLowerCase(),\n\t\t\tc = s.charCodeAt(0);\n\t\t// Look for modifier keys\n\t\tif(s === \"ctrl\") {\n\t\t\tinfo.ctrlKey = true;\n\t\t} else if(s === \"shift\") {\n\t\t\tinfo.shiftKey = true;\n\t\t} else if(s === \"alt\") {\n\t\t\tinfo.altKey = true;\n\t\t} else if(s === \"meta\" || s === \"cmd\" || s === \"win\") {\n\t\t\tinfo.metaKey = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Replace named keys with their code\n\t\tif(this.namedKeys[s]) {\n\t\t\tinfo.keyCode = this.namedKeys[s];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tif(info.keyCode) {\n\t\treturn info;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nParse a list of key descriptors into an array of keyInfo objects. The key descriptors can be passed as an array of strings or a space separated string\n*/\nKeyboardManager.prototype.parseKeyDescriptors = function(keyDescriptors,options) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\toptions = options || {};\n\toptions.stack = options.stack || [];\n\tvar wiki = options.wiki || $tw.wiki;\n\tif(typeof keyDescriptors === \"string\" && keyDescriptors === \"\") {\n\t\treturn [];\n\t}\n\tif(!$tw.utils.isArray(keyDescriptors)) {\n\t\tkeyDescriptors = keyDescriptors.split(\" \");\n\t}\n\tvar result = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each(keyDescriptors,function(keyDescriptor) {\n\t\t// Look for a named shortcut\n\t\tif(keyDescriptor.substr(0,2) === \"((\" && keyDescriptor.substr(-2,2) === \"))\") {\n\t\t\tif(options.stack.indexOf(keyDescriptor) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\toptions.stack.push(keyDescriptor);\n\t\t\t\tvar name = keyDescriptor.substring(2,keyDescriptor.length - 2),\n\t\t\t\t\tlookupName = function(configName) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvar keyDescriptors = wiki.getTiddlerText(\"$:/config/\" + configName + \"/\" + name);\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif(keyDescriptors) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tresult.push.apply(result,self.parseKeyDescriptors(keyDescriptors,options));\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\tlookupName(\"shortcuts\");\n\t\t\t\tlookupName($tw.platform.isMac ? \"shortcuts-mac\" : \"shortcuts-not-mac\");\n\t\t\t\tlookupName($tw.platform.isWindows ? \"shortcuts-windows\" : \"shortcuts-not-windows\");\n\t\t\t\tlookupName($tw.platform.isLinux ? \"shortcuts-linux\" : \"shortcuts-not-linux\");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tresult.push(self.parseKeyDescriptor(keyDescriptor));\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn result;\n};\n\nKeyboardManager.prototype.getPrintableShortcuts = function(keyInfoArray) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tresult = [];\n\t$tw.utils.each(keyInfoArray,function(keyInfo) {\n\t\tif(keyInfo) {\n\t\t\tresult.push((keyInfo.ctrlKey ? \"ctrl-\" : \"\") + \n\t\t\t\t (keyInfo.shiftKey ? \"shift-\" : \"\") + \n\t\t\t\t (keyInfo.altKey ? \"alt-\" : \"\") + \n\t\t\t\t (keyInfo.metaKey ? self.metaKeyName : \"\") + \n\t\t\t\t (self.keyNames[keyInfo.keyCode]));\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn result;\n}\n\nKeyboardManager.prototype.checkKeyDescriptor = function(event,keyInfo) {\n\treturn keyInfo &&\n\t\t\tevent.keyCode === keyInfo.keyCode && \n\t\t\tevent.shiftKey === keyInfo.shiftKey && \n\t\t\tevent.altKey === keyInfo.altKey && \n\t\t\tevent.ctrlKey === keyInfo.ctrlKey && \n\t\t\tevent.metaKey === keyInfo.metaKey;\n};\n\nKeyboardManager.prototype.checkKeyDescriptors = function(event,keyInfoArray) {\n\tfor(var t=0; t<keyInfoArray.length; t++) {\n\t\tif(this.checkKeyDescriptor(event,keyInfoArray[t])) {\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nexports.KeyboardManager = KeyboardManager;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/keyboard.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/language.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/language.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nThe $tw.Language() manages translateable strings\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of the language manager. Options include:\nwiki: wiki from which to retrieve translation tiddlers\n*/\nfunction Language(options) {\n\toptions = options || \"\";\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki || $tw.wiki;\n}\n\n/*\nReturn a wikified translateable string. The title is automatically prefixed with \"$:/language/\"\nOptions include:\nvariables: optional hashmap of variables to supply to the language wikification\n*/\nLanguage.prototype.getString = function(title,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\ttitle = \"$:/language/\" + title;\n\treturn this.wiki.renderTiddler(\"text/plain\",title,{variables: options.variables});\n};\n\n/*\nReturn a raw, unwikified translateable string. The title is automatically prefixed with \"$:/language/\"\n*/\nLanguage.prototype.getRawString = function(title) {\n\ttitle = \"$:/language/\" + title;\n\treturn this.wiki.getTiddlerText(title);\n};\n\nexports.Language = Language;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/language.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/changecount.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/changecount.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to return the changecount for the current tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"changecount\";\n\nexports.params = [];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function() {\n\treturn this.wiki.getChangeCount(this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\")) + \"\";\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/changecount.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/contrastcolour.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/contrastcolour.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to choose which of two colours has the highest contrast with a base colour\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"contrastcolour\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"target\"},\n\t{name: \"fallbackTarget\"},\n\t{name: \"colourA\"},\n\t{name: \"colourB\"}\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(target,fallbackTarget,colourA,colourB) {\n\tvar rgbTarget = $tw.utils.parseCSSColor(target) || $tw.utils.parseCSSColor(fallbackTarget);\n\tif(!rgbTarget) {\n\t\treturn colourA;\n\t}\n\tvar rgbColourA = $tw.utils.parseCSSColor(colourA),\n\t\trgbColourB = $tw.utils.parseCSSColor(colourB);\n\tif(rgbColourA && !rgbColourB) {\n\t\treturn rgbColourA;\n\t}\n\tif(rgbColourB && !rgbColourA) {\n\t\treturn rgbColourB;\n\t}\n\tif(!rgbColourA && !rgbColourB) {\n\t\t// If neither colour is readable, return a crude inverse of the target\n\t\treturn [255 - rgbTarget[0],255 - rgbTarget[1],255 - rgbTarget[2],rgbTarget[3]];\n\t}\n\t// Colour brightness formula derived from http://www.w3.org/WAI/ER/WD-AERT/#color-contrast\n\tvar brightnessTarget = rgbTarget[0] * 0.299 + rgbTarget[1] * 0.587 + rgbTarget[2] * 0.114,\n\t\tbrightnessA = rgbColourA[0] * 0.299 + rgbColourA[1] * 0.587 + rgbColourA[2] * 0.114,\n\t\tbrightnessB = rgbColourB[0] * 0.299 + rgbColourB[1] * 0.587 + rgbColourB[2] * 0.114;\n\treturn Math.abs(brightnessTarget - brightnessA) > Math.abs(brightnessTarget - brightnessB) ? colourA : colourB;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/contrastcolour.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/csvtiddlers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/csvtiddlers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to output tiddlers matching a filter to CSV\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"csvtiddlers\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"filter\"},\n\t{name: \"format\"},\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(filter,format) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\ttiddlers = this.wiki.filterTiddlers(filter),\n\t\ttiddler,\n\t\tfields = [],\n\t\tt,f;\n\t// Collect all the fields\n\tfor(t=0;t<tiddlers.length; t++) {\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(tiddlers[t]);\n\t\tfor(f in tiddler.fields) {\n\t\t\tif(fields.indexOf(f) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tfields.push(f);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Sort the fields and bring the standard ones to the front\n\tfields.sort();\n\t\"title text modified modifier created creator\".split(\" \").reverse().forEach(function(value,index) {\n\t\tvar p = fields.indexOf(value);\n\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\tfields.splice(p,1);\n\t\t\tfields.unshift(value)\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Output the column headings\n\tvar output = [], row = [];\n\tfields.forEach(function(value) {\n\t\trow.push(quoteAndEscape(value))\n\t});\n\toutput.push(row.join(\",\"));\n\t// Output each tiddler\n\tfor(var t=0;t<tiddlers.length; t++) {\n\t\trow = [];\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(tiddlers[t]);\n\t\t\tfor(f=0; f<fields.length; f++) {\n\t\t\t\trow.push(quoteAndEscape(tiddler ? tiddler.getFieldString(fields[f]) || \"\" : \"\"));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\toutput.push(row.join(\",\"));\n\t}\n\treturn output.join(\"\\n\");\n};\n\nfunction quoteAndEscape(value) {\n\treturn \"\\\"\" + value.replace(/\"/mg,\"\\\"\\\"\") + \"\\\"\";\n}\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/csvtiddlers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/displayshortcuts.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/displayshortcuts.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to display a list of keyboard shortcuts in human readable form. Notably, it resolves named shortcuts like `((bold))` to the underlying keystrokes.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"displayshortcuts\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"shortcuts\"},\n\t{name: \"prefix\"},\n\t{name: \"separator\"},\n\t{name: \"suffix\"}\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(shortcuts,prefix,separator,suffix) {\n\tvar shortcutArray = $tw.keyboardManager.getPrintableShortcuts($tw.keyboardManager.parseKeyDescriptors(shortcuts,{\n\t\twiki: this.wiki\n\t}));\n\tif(shortcutArray.length > 0) {\n\t\tshortcutArray.sort(function(a,b) {\n\t\t return a.toLowerCase().localeCompare(b.toLowerCase());\n\t\t})\n\t\treturn prefix + shortcutArray.join(separator) + suffix;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn \"\";\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/displayshortcuts.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/dumpvariables.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/dumpvariables.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to dump all active variable values\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"dumpvariables\";\n\nexports.params = [\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function() {\n\tvar output = [\"|!Variable |!Value |\"],\n\t\tvariables = [], variable;\n\tfor(variable in this.variables) {\n\t\tvariables.push(variable);\n\t}\n\tvariables.sort();\n\tfor(var index=0; index<variables.length; index++) {\n\t\tvar variable = variables[index];\n\t\toutput.push(\"|\" + variable + \" |<input size=50 value=<<\" + variable + \">>/> |\")\n\t}\n\treturn output.join(\"\\n\");\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/dumpvariables.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/jsontiddlers.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/jsontiddlers.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to output tiddlers matching a filter to JSON\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"jsontiddlers\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"filter\"}\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(filter) {\n\tvar tiddlers = this.wiki.filterTiddlers(filter),\n\t\tdata = [];\n\tfor(var t=0;t<tiddlers.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(tiddlers[t]);\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\tvar fields = new Object();\n\t\t\tfor(var field in tiddler.fields) {\n\t\t\t\tfields[field] = tiddler.getFieldString(field);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tdata.push(fields);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn JSON.stringify(data,null,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/jsontiddlers.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/makedatauri.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/makedatauri.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to convert a string of text to a data URI\n\n<<makedatauri text:\"Text to be converted\" type:\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\">>\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"makedatauri\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"text\"},\n\t{name: \"type\"}\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(text,type) {\n\treturn $tw.utils.makeDataUri(text,type);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/makedatauri.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/now.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/now.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to return a formatted version of the current time\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"now\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"format\"}\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(format) {\n\treturn $tw.utils.formatDateString(new Date(),format || \"0hh:0mm, DDth MMM YYYY\");\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/now.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/qualify.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/qualify.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to qualify a state tiddler title according\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"qualify\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"title\"}\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(title) {\n\treturn title + \"-\" + this.getStateQualifier();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/qualify.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/resolvepath.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/resolvepath.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nResolves a relative path for an absolute rootpath.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"resolvepath\";\n\nexports.params = [\n\t{name: \"source\"},\n\t{name: \"root\"}\n];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function(source, root) {\n\treturn $tw.utils.resolvePath(source, root);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/resolvepath.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/macros/version.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/macros/version.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: macro\n\nMacro to return the TiddlyWiki core version number\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInformation about this macro\n*/\n\nexports.name = \"version\";\n\nexports.params = [];\n\n/*\nRun the macro\n*/\nexports.run = function() {\n\treturn $tw.version;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/macros/version.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "macro"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/audioparser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/audioparser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: parser\n\nThe audio parser parses an audio tiddler into an embeddable HTML element\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar AudioParser = function(type,text,options) {\n\tvar element = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"audio\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\tcontrols: {type: \"string\", value: \"controls\"}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},\n\t\tsrc;\n\tif(options._canonical_uri) {\n\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: options._canonical_uri};\n\t} else if(text) {\n\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: \"data:\" + type + \";base64,\" + text};\n\t}\n\tthis.tree = [element];\n};\n\nexports[\"audio/ogg\"] = AudioParser;\nexports[\"audio/mpeg\"] = AudioParser;\nexports[\"audio/mp3\"] = AudioParser;\nexports[\"audio/mp4\"] = AudioParser;\n\n})();\n\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/audioparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "parser"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/csvparser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/csvparser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: parser\n\nThe CSV text parser processes CSV files into a table wrapped in a scrollable widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar CsvParser = function(type,text,options) {\n\t// Table framework\n\tthis.tree = [{\n\t\t\"type\": \"scrollable\", \"children\": [{\n\t\t\t\"type\": \"element\", \"tag\": \"table\", \"children\": [{\n\t\t\t\t\"type\": \"element\", \"tag\": \"tbody\", \"children\": []\n\t\t\t}], \"attributes\": {\n\t\t\t\t\"class\": {\"type\": \"string\", \"value\": \"tc-csv-table\"}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}]\n\t}];\n\t// Split the text into lines\n\tvar lines = text.split(/\\r?\\n/mg),\n\t\ttag = \"th\";\n\tfor(var line=0; line<lines.length; line++) {\n\t\tvar lineText = lines[line];\n\t\tif(lineText) {\n\t\t\tvar row = {\n\t\t\t\t\t\"type\": \"element\", \"tag\": \"tr\", \"children\": []\n\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\tvar columns = lineText.split(\",\");\n\t\t\tfor(var column=0; column<columns.length; column++) {\n\t\t\t\trow.children.push({\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\"type\": \"element\", \"tag\": tag, \"children\": [{\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"type\": \"text\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"text\": columns[column]\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}]\n\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\ttag = \"td\";\n\t\t\tthis.tree[0].children[0].children[0].children.push(row);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nexports[\"text/csv\"] = CsvParser;\n\n})();\n\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/csvparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "parser"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/htmlparser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/htmlparser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: parser\n\nThe HTML parser displays text as raw HTML\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar HtmlParser = function(type,text,options) {\n\tvar src;\n\tif(options._canonical_uri) {\n\t\tsrc = options._canonical_uri;\n\t} else if(text) {\n\t\tsrc = \"data:text/html;charset=utf-8,\" + encodeURIComponent(text);\n\t}\n\tthis.tree = [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"iframe\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\tsrc: {type: \"string\", value: src},\n\t\t\tsandbox: {type: \"string\", value: \"\"}\n\t\t}\n\t}];\n};\n\nexports[\"text/html\"] = HtmlParser;\n\n})();\n\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/htmlparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "parser"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/imageparser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/imageparser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: parser\n\nThe image parser parses an image into an embeddable HTML element\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar ImageParser = function(type,text,options) {\n\tvar element = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"img\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {}\n\t\t},\n\t\tsrc;\n\tif(options._canonical_uri) {\n\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: options._canonical_uri};\n\t\tif(type === \"application/pdf\" || type === \".pdf\") {\n\t\t\telement.tag = \"embed\";\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(text) {\n\t\tif(type === \"application/pdf\" || type === \".pdf\") {\n\t\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: \"data:application/pdf;base64,\" + text};\n\t\t\telement.tag = \"embed\";\n\t\t} else if(type === \"image/svg+xml\" || type === \".svg\") {\n\t\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: \"data:image/svg+xml,\" + encodeURIComponent(text)};\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: \"data:\" + type + \";base64,\" + text};\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tthis.tree = [element];\n};\n\nexports[\"image/svg+xml\"] = ImageParser;\nexports[\"image/jpg\"] = ImageParser;\nexports[\"image/jpeg\"] = ImageParser;\nexports[\"image/png\"] = ImageParser;\nexports[\"image/gif\"] = ImageParser;\nexports[\"application/pdf\"] = ImageParser;\nexports[\"image/x-icon\"] = ImageParser;\n\n})();\n\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/imageparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "parser"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/parseutils.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/parseutils.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nUtility functions concerned with parsing text into tokens.\n\nMost functions have the following pattern:\n\n* The parameters are:\n** `source`: the source string being parsed\n** `pos`: the current parse position within the string\n** Any further parameters are used to identify the token that is being parsed\n* The return value is:\n** null if the token was not found at the specified position\n** an object representing the token with the following standard fields:\n*** `type`: string indicating the type of the token\n*** `start`: start position of the token in the source string\n*** `end`: end position of the token in the source string\n*** Any further fields required to describe the token\n\nThe exception is `skipWhiteSpace`, which just returns the position after the whitespace.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nLook for a whitespace token. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"whitespace\", start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseWhiteSpace = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar p = pos,c;\n\twhile(true) {\n\t\tc = source.charAt(p);\n\t\tif((c === \" \") || (c === \"\\f\") || (c === \"\\n\") || (c === \"\\r\") || (c === \"\\t\") || (c === \"\\v\") || (c === \"\\u00a0\")) { // Ignores some obscure unicode spaces\n\t\t\tp++;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tif(p === pos) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn {\n\t\t\ttype: \"whitespace\",\n\t\t\tstart: pos,\n\t\t\tend: p\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nConvenience wrapper for parseWhiteSpace. Returns the position after the whitespace\n*/\nexports.skipWhiteSpace = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar c;\n\twhile(true) {\n\t\tc = source.charAt(pos);\n\t\tif((c === \" \") || (c === \"\\f\") || (c === \"\\n\") || (c === \"\\r\") || (c === \"\\t\") || (c === \"\\v\") || (c === \"\\u00a0\")) { // Ignores some obscure unicode spaces\n\t\t\tpos++;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn pos;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nLook for a given string token. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"token\", value:, start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseTokenString = function(source,pos,token) {\n\tvar match = source.indexOf(token,pos) === pos;\n\tif(match) {\n\t\treturn {\n\t\t\ttype: \"token\",\n\t\t\tvalue: token,\n\t\t\tstart: pos,\n\t\t\tend: pos + token.length\n\t\t};\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nLook for a token matching a regex. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"regexp\", match:, start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseTokenRegExp = function(source,pos,reToken) {\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"regexp\",\n\t\tstart: pos\n\t};\n\treToken.lastIndex = pos;\n\tnode.match = reToken.exec(source);\n\tif(node.match && node.match.index === pos) {\n\t\tnode.end = pos + node.match[0].length;\n\t\treturn node;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nLook for a string literal. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"string\", value:, start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseStringLiteral = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"string\",\n\t\tstart: pos\n\t};\n\tvar reString = /(?:\"\"\"([\\s\\S]*?)\"\"\"|\"([^\"]*)\")|(?:'([^']*)')/g;\n\treString.lastIndex = pos;\n\tvar match = reString.exec(source);\n\tif(match && match.index === pos) {\n\t\tnode.value = match[1] !== undefined ? match[1] :(\n\t\t\tmatch[2] !== undefined ? match[2] : match[3] \n\t\t\t\t\t);\n\t\tnode.end = pos + match[0].length;\n\t\treturn node;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nLook for a macro invocation parameter. Returns null if not found, or {type: \"macro-parameter\", name:, value:, start:, end:}\n*/\nexports.parseMacroParameter = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"macro-parameter\",\n\t\tstart: pos\n\t};\n\t// Define our regexp\n\tvar reMacroParameter = /(?:([A-Za-z0-9\\-_]+)\\s*:)?(?:\\s*(?:\"\"\"([\\s\\S]*?)\"\"\"|\"([^\"]*)\"|'([^']*)'|\\[\\[([^\\]]*)\\]\\]|([^\\s>\"'=]+)))/g;\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for the parameter\n\tvar token = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,reMacroParameter);\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Get the parameter details\n\tnode.value = token.match[2] !== undefined ? token.match[2] : (\n\t\t\t\t\ttoken.match[3] !== undefined ? token.match[3] : (\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttoken.match[4] !== undefined ? token.match[4] : (\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttoken.match[5] !== undefined ? token.match[5] : (\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttoken.match[6] !== undefined ? token.match[6] : (\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"\"\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t)\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t)\n\t\t\t\t\t\t)\n\t\t\t\t\t)\n\t\t\t\t);\n\tif(token.match[1]) {\n\t\tnode.name = token.match[1];\n\t}\n\t// Update the end position\n\tnode.end = pos;\n\treturn node;\n};\n\n/*\nLook for a macro invocation. Returns null if not found, or {type: \"macrocall\", name:, parameters:, start:, end:}\n*/\nexports.parseMacroInvocation = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"macrocall\",\n\t\tstart: pos,\n\t\tparams: []\n\t};\n\t// Define our regexps\n\tvar reMacroName = /([^\\s>\"'=]+)/g;\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for a double less than sign\n\tvar token = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\"<<\");\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Get the macro name\n\tvar name = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,reMacroName);\n\tif(!name) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tnode.name = name.match[1];\n\tpos = name.end;\n\t// Process parameters\n\tvar parameter = $tw.utils.parseMacroParameter(source,pos);\n\twhile(parameter) {\n\t\tnode.params.push(parameter);\n\t\tpos = parameter.end;\n\t\t// Get the next parameter\n\t\tparameter = $tw.utils.parseMacroParameter(source,pos);\n\t}\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for a double greater than sign\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\">>\");\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Update the end position\n\tnode.end = pos;\n\treturn node;\n};\n\n/*\nLook for an HTML attribute definition. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"attribute\", name:, valueType: \"string|indirect|macro\", value:, start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseAttribute = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar node = {\n\t\tstart: pos\n\t};\n\t// Define our regexps\n\tvar reAttributeName = /([^\\/\\s>\"'=]+)/g,\n\t\treUnquotedAttribute = /([^\\/\\s<>\"'=]+)/g,\n\t\treIndirectValue = /\\{\\{([^\\}]+)\\}\\}/g;\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Get the attribute name\n\tvar name = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,reAttributeName);\n\tif(!name) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tnode.name = name.match[1];\n\tpos = name.end;\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for an equals sign\n\tvar token = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\"=\");\n\tif(token) {\n\t\tpos = token.end;\n\t\t// Skip whitespace\n\t\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t\t// Look for a string literal\n\t\tvar stringLiteral = $tw.utils.parseStringLiteral(source,pos);\n\t\tif(stringLiteral) {\n\t\t\tpos = stringLiteral.end;\n\t\t\tnode.type = \"string\";\n\t\t\tnode.value = stringLiteral.value;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Look for an indirect value\n\t\t\tvar indirectValue = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,reIndirectValue);\n\t\t\tif(indirectValue) {\n\t\t\t\tpos = indirectValue.end;\n\t\t\t\tnode.type = \"indirect\";\n\t\t\t\tnode.textReference = indirectValue.match[1];\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Look for a unquoted value\n\t\t\t\tvar unquotedValue = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,reUnquotedAttribute);\n\t\t\t\tif(unquotedValue) {\n\t\t\t\t\tpos = unquotedValue.end;\n\t\t\t\t\tnode.type = \"string\";\n\t\t\t\t\tnode.value = unquotedValue.match[1];\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t// Look for a macro invocation value\n\t\t\t\t\tvar macroInvocation = $tw.utils.parseMacroInvocation(source,pos);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(macroInvocation) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tpos = macroInvocation.end;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tnode.type = \"macro\";\n\t\t\t\t\t\tnode.value = macroInvocation;\n\t\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tnode.type = \"string\";\n\t\t\t\t\t\tnode.value = \"true\";\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tnode.type = \"string\";\n\t\tnode.value = \"true\";\n\t}\n\t// Update the end position\n\tnode.end = pos;\n\treturn node;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/parseutils.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/textparser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/textparser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: parser\n\nThe plain text parser processes blocks of source text into a degenerate parse tree consisting of a single text node\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar TextParser = function(type,text,options) {\n\tthis.tree = [{\n\t\ttype: \"codeblock\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\tcode: {type: \"string\", value: text},\n\t\t\tlanguage: {type: \"string\", value: type}\n\t\t}\n\t}];\n};\n\nexports[\"text/plain\"] = TextParser;\nexports[\"text/x-tiddlywiki\"] = TextParser;\nexports[\"application/javascript\"] = TextParser;\nexports[\"application/json\"] = TextParser;\nexports[\"text/css\"] = TextParser;\nexports[\"application/x-tiddler-dictionary\"] = TextParser;\n\n})();\n\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/textparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "parser"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/videoparser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/videoparser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: parser\n\nThe video parser parses a video tiddler into an embeddable HTML element\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar AudioParser = function(type,text,options) {\n\tvar element = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"video\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\tcontrols: {type: \"string\", value: \"controls\"}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},\n\t\tsrc;\n\tif(options._canonical_uri) {\n\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: options._canonical_uri};\n\t} else if(text) {\n\t\telement.attributes.src = {type: \"string\", value: \"data:\" + type + \";base64,\" + text};\n\t}\n\tthis.tree = [element];\n};\n\nexports[\"video/mp4\"] = AudioParser;\n\n})();\n\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/videoparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "parser"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/codeblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/codeblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text rule for code blocks. For example:\n\n```\n\t```\n\tThis text will not be //wikified//\n\t```\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"codeblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match and get language if defined\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /```([\\w-]*)\\r?\\n/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar reEnd = /(\\r?\\n```$)/mg;\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\n\t// Look for the end of the block\n\treEnd.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\tvar match = reEnd.exec(this.parser.source),\n\t\ttext;\n\t// Process the block\n\tif(match) {\n\t\ttext = this.parser.source.substring(this.parser.pos,match.index);\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = match.index + match[0].length;\n\t} else {\n\t\ttext = this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos);\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = this.parser.sourceLength;\n\t}\n\t// Return the $codeblock widget\n\treturn [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"codeblock\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\t\tcode: {type: \"string\", value: text},\n\t\t\t\t\tlanguage: {type: \"string\", value: this.match[1]}\n\t\t\t}\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/codeblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/codeinline.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/codeinline.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for code runs. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is a `code run`.\n\tThis is another ``code run``\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"codeinline\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /(``?)/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\tvar reEnd = new RegExp(this.match[1], \"mg\");\n\t// Look for the end marker\n\treEnd.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\tvar match = reEnd.exec(this.parser.source),\n\t\ttext;\n\t// Process the text\n\tif(match) {\n\t\ttext = this.parser.source.substring(this.parser.pos,match.index);\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = match.index + match[0].length;\n\t} else {\n\t\ttext = this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos);\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = this.parser.sourceLength;\n\t}\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"code\",\n\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"text\",\n\t\t\ttext: text\n\t\t}]\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/codeinline.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/commentblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/commentblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text block rule for HTML comments. For example:\n\n```\n<!-- This is a comment -->\n```\n\nNote that the syntax for comments is simplified to an opening \"<!--\" sequence and a closing \"-->\" sequence -- HTML itself implements a more complex format (see http://ostermiller.org/findhtmlcomment.html)\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"commentblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /<!--/mg;\n\tthis.endMatchRegExp = /-->/mg;\n};\n\nexports.findNextMatch = function(startPos) {\n\tthis.matchRegExp.lastIndex = startPos;\n\tthis.match = this.matchRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\tif(this.match) {\n\t\tthis.endMatchRegExp.lastIndex = startPos + this.match[0].length;\n\t\tthis.endMatch = this.endMatchRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t\tif(this.endMatch) {\n\t\t\treturn this.match.index;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn undefined;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.endMatchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Don't return any elements\n\treturn [];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/commentblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/commentinline.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/commentinline.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for HTML comments. For example:\n\n```\n<!-- This is a comment -->\n```\n\nNote that the syntax for comments is simplified to an opening \"<!--\" sequence and a closing \"-->\" sequence -- HTML itself implements a more complex format (see http://ostermiller.org/findhtmlcomment.html)\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"commentinline\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /<!--/mg;\n\tthis.endMatchRegExp = /-->/mg;\n};\n\nexports.findNextMatch = function(startPos) {\n\tthis.matchRegExp.lastIndex = startPos;\n\tthis.match = this.matchRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\tif(this.match) {\n\t\tthis.endMatchRegExp.lastIndex = startPos + this.match[0].length;\n\t\tthis.endMatch = this.endMatchRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t\tif(this.endMatch) {\n\t\t\treturn this.match.index;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn undefined;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.endMatchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Don't return any elements\n\treturn [];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/commentinline.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/dash.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/dash.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for dashes. For example:\n\n```\nThis is an en-dash: --\n\nThis is an em-dash: ---\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"dash\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /-{2,3}(?!-)/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\tvar dash = this.match[0].length === 2 ? \"–\" : \"—\";\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"entity\",\n\t\tentity: dash\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/dash.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/bold.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/bold.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for emphasis - bold. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is ''bold'' text\n```\n\nThis wikiparser can be modified using the rules eg:\n\n```\n\\rules except bold \n\\rules only bold \n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"bold\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /''/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\n\t// Parse the run including the terminator\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/''/mg,{eatTerminator: true});\n\n\t// Return the classed span\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"strong\",\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/bold.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/italic.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/italic.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for emphasis - italic. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is //italic// text\n```\n\nThis wikiparser can be modified using the rules eg:\n\n```\n\\rules except italic\n\\rules only italic\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"italic\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\/\\//mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\n\t// Parse the run including the terminator\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/\\/\\//mg,{eatTerminator: true});\n\n\t// Return the classed span\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"em\",\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/italic.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/strikethrough.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/strikethrough.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for emphasis - strikethrough. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is ~~strikethrough~~ text\n```\n\nThis wikiparser can be modified using the rules eg:\n\n```\n\\rules except strikethrough \n\\rules only strikethrough \n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"strikethrough\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /~~/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\n\t// Parse the run including the terminator\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/~~/mg,{eatTerminator: true});\n\n\t// Return the classed span\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"strike\",\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/strikethrough.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/subscript.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/subscript.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for emphasis - subscript. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is ,,subscript,, text\n```\n\nThis wikiparser can be modified using the rules eg:\n\n```\n\\rules except subscript \n\\rules only subscript \n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"subscript\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /,,/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\n\t// Parse the run including the terminator\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/,,/mg,{eatTerminator: true});\n\n\t// Return the classed span\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"sub\",\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/subscript.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/superscript.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/superscript.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for emphasis - superscript. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is ^^superscript^^ text\n```\n\nThis wikiparser can be modified using the rules eg:\n\n```\n\\rules except superscript \n\\rules only superscript \n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"superscript\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\^\\^/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\n\t// Parse the run including the terminator\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/\\^\\^/mg,{eatTerminator: true});\n\n\t// Return the classed span\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"sup\",\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/superscript.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/underscore.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/underscore.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for emphasis - underscore. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is __underscore__ text\n```\n\nThis wikiparser can be modified using the rules eg:\n\n```\n\\rules except underscore \n\\rules only underscore\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"underscore\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /__/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\n\t// Parse the run including the terminator\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/__/mg,{eatTerminator: true});\n\n\t// Return the classed span\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"u\",\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/emphasis/underscore.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/entity.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/entity.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for HTML entities. For example:\n\n```\n\tThis is a copyright symbol: ©\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"entity\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /(&#?[a-zA-Z0-9]{2,8};)/mg;\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Get all the details of the match\n\tvar entityString = this.match[1];\n\t// Move past the macro call\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Return the entity\n\treturn [{type: \"entity\", entity: this.match[0]}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/entity.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/extlink.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/extlink.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for external links. For example:\n\n```\nAn external link: http://www.tiddlywiki.com/\n\nA suppressed external link: ~http://www.tiddlyspace.com/\n```\n\nExternal links can be suppressed by preceding them with `~`.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"extlink\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /~?(?:file|http|https|mailto|ftp|irc|news|data|skype):[^\\s<>{}\\[\\]`|\"\\\\^]+(?:\\/|\\b)/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Create the link unless it is suppressed\n\tif(this.match[0].substr(0,1) === \"~\") {\n\t\treturn [{type: \"text\", text: this.match[0].substr(1)}];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"a\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\thref: {type: \"string\", value: this.match[0]},\n\t\t\t\t\"class\": {type: \"string\", value: \"tc-tiddlylink-external\"},\n\t\t\t\ttarget: {type: \"string\", value: \"_blank\"},\n\t\t\t\trel: {type: \"string\", value: \"noopener noreferrer\"}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\t\ttype: \"text\", text: this.match[0]\n\t\t\t}]\n\t\t}];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/extlink.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/filteredtranscludeblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/filteredtranscludeblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text rule for block-level filtered transclusion. For example:\n\n```\n{{{ [tag[docs]] }}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] |tooltip}}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] ||TemplateTitle}}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] |tooltip||TemplateTitle}}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] }}width:40;height:50;}.class.class\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"filteredtranscludeblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\{\\{\\{([^\\|]+?)(?:\\|([^\\|\\{\\}]+))?(?:\\|\\|([^\\|\\{\\}]+))?\\}\\}([^\\}]*)\\}(?:\\.(\\S+))?(?:\\r?\\n|$)/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Get the match details\n\tvar filter = this.match[1],\n\t\ttooltip = this.match[2],\n\t\ttemplate = $tw.utils.trim(this.match[3]),\n\t\tstyle = this.match[4],\n\t\tclasses = this.match[5];\n\t// Return the list widget\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"list\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\tfilter: {type: \"string\", value: filter}\n\t\t},\n\t\tisBlock: true\n\t};\n\tif(tooltip) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.tooltip = {type: \"string\", value: tooltip};\n\t}\n\tif(template) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.template = {type: \"string\", value: template};\n\t}\n\tif(style) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.style = {type: \"string\", value: style};\n\t}\n\tif(classes) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.itemClass = {type: \"string\", value: classes.split(\".\").join(\" \")};\n\t}\n\treturn [node];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/filteredtranscludeblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/filteredtranscludeinline.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/filteredtranscludeinline.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text rule for inline filtered transclusion. For example:\n\n```\n{{{ [tag[docs]] }}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] |tooltip}}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] ||TemplateTitle}}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] |tooltip||TemplateTitle}}}\n{{{ [tag[docs]] }}width:40;height:50;}.class.class\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"filteredtranscludeinline\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\{\\{\\{([^\\|]+?)(?:\\|([^\\|\\{\\}]+))?(?:\\|\\|([^\\|\\{\\}]+))?\\}\\}([^\\}]*)\\}(?:\\.(\\S+))?/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Get the match details\n\tvar filter = this.match[1],\n\t\ttooltip = this.match[2],\n\t\ttemplate = $tw.utils.trim(this.match[3]),\n\t\tstyle = this.match[4],\n\t\tclasses = this.match[5];\n\t// Return the list widget\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"list\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\tfilter: {type: \"string\", value: filter}\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\tif(tooltip) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.tooltip = {type: \"string\", value: tooltip};\n\t}\n\tif(template) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.template = {type: \"string\", value: template};\n\t}\n\tif(style) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.style = {type: \"string\", value: style};\n\t}\n\tif(classes) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.itemClass = {type: \"string\", value: classes.split(\".\").join(\" \")};\n\t}\n\treturn [node];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/filteredtranscludeinline.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/hardlinebreaks.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/hardlinebreaks.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for marking areas with hard line breaks. For example:\n\n```\n\"\"\"\nThis is some text\nThat is set like\nIt is a Poem\nWhen it is\nClearly\nNot\n\"\"\"\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"hardlinebreaks\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\"\"\"(?:\\r?\\n)?/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar reEnd = /(\"\"\")|(\\r?\\n)/mg,\n\t\ttree = [],\n\t\tmatch;\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\tdo {\n\t\t// Parse the run up to the terminator\n\t\ttree.push.apply(tree,this.parser.parseInlineRun(reEnd,{eatTerminator: false}));\n\t\t// Redo the terminator match\n\t\treEnd.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\t\tmatch = reEnd.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t\tif(match) {\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = reEnd.lastIndex;\n\t\t\t// Add a line break if the terminator was a line break\n\t\t\tif(match[2]) {\n\t\t\t\ttree.push({type: \"element\", tag: \"br\"});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t} while(match && !match[1]);\n\t// Return the nodes\n\treturn tree;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/hardlinebreaks.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/heading.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/heading.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text block rule for headings\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"heading\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /(!{1,6})/mg;\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Get all the details of the match\n\tvar headingLevel = this.match[1].length;\n\t// Move past the !s\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Parse any classes, whitespace and then the heading itself\n\tvar classes = this.parser.parseClasses();\n\tthis.parser.skipWhitespace({treatNewlinesAsNonWhitespace: true});\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/(\\r?\\n)/mg);\n\t// Return the heading\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"h\" + headingLevel, \n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\"class\": {type: \"string\", value: classes.join(\" \")}\n\t\t},\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/heading.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/horizrule.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/horizrule.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text block rule for rules. For example:\n\n```\n---\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"horizrule\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /-{3,}\\r?(?:\\n|$)/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\treturn [{type: \"element\", tag: \"hr\"}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/horizrule.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/html.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/html.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki rule for HTML elements and widgets. For example:\n\n{{{\n<aside>\nThis is an HTML5 aside element\n</aside>\n\n<$slider target=\"MyTiddler\">\nThis is a widget invocation\n</$slider>\n\n}}}\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"html\";\nexports.types = {inline: true, block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n};\n\nexports.findNextMatch = function(startPos) {\n\t// Find the next tag\n\tthis.nextTag = this.findNextTag(this.parser.source,startPos,{\n\t\trequireLineBreak: this.is.block\n\t});\n\treturn this.nextTag ? this.nextTag.start : undefined;\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Retrieve the most recent match so that recursive calls don't overwrite it\n\tvar tag = this.nextTag;\n\tthis.nextTag = null;\n\t// Advance the parser position to past the tag\n\tthis.parser.pos = tag.end;\n\t// Check for an immediately following double linebreak\n\tvar hasLineBreak = !tag.isSelfClosing && !!$tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(this.parser.source,this.parser.pos,/([^\\S\\n\\r]*\\r?\\n(?:[^\\S\\n\\r]*\\r?\\n|$))/g);\n\t// Set whether we're in block mode\n\ttag.isBlock = this.is.block || hasLineBreak;\n\t// Parse the body if we need to\n\tif(!tag.isSelfClosing && $tw.config.htmlVoidElements.indexOf(tag.tag) === -1) {\n\t\t\tvar reEndString = \"</\" + $tw.utils.escapeRegExp(tag.tag) + \">\",\n\t\t\t\treEnd = new RegExp(\"(\" + reEndString + \")\",\"mg\");\n\t\tif(hasLineBreak) {\n\t\t\ttag.children = this.parser.parseBlocks(reEndString);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\ttag.children = this.parser.parseInlineRun(reEnd);\n\t\t}\n\t\treEnd.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\t\tvar endMatch = reEnd.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t\tif(endMatch && endMatch.index === this.parser.pos) {\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = endMatch.index + endMatch[0].length;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Return the tag\n\treturn [tag];\n};\n\n/*\nLook for an HTML tag. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"element\", name:, attributes: [], isSelfClosing:, start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseTag = function(source,pos,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar token,\n\t\tnode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\tstart: pos,\n\t\t\tattributes: {}\n\t\t};\n\t// Define our regexps\n\tvar reTagName = /([a-zA-Z0-9\\-\\$]+)/g;\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for a less than sign\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\"<\");\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Get the tag name\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,reTagName);\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tnode.tag = token.match[1];\n\tif(node.tag.charAt(0) === \"$\") {\n\t\tnode.type = node.tag.substr(1);\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Process attributes\n\tvar attribute = $tw.utils.parseAttribute(source,pos);\n\twhile(attribute) {\n\t\tnode.attributes[attribute.name] = attribute;\n\t\tpos = attribute.end;\n\t\t// Get the next attribute\n\t\tattribute = $tw.utils.parseAttribute(source,pos);\n\t}\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for a closing slash\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\"/\");\n\tif(token) {\n\t\tpos = token.end;\n\t\tnode.isSelfClosing = true;\n\t}\n\t// Look for a greater than sign\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\">\");\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Check for a required line break\n\tif(options.requireLineBreak) {\n\t\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,/([^\\S\\n\\r]*\\r?\\n(?:[^\\S\\n\\r]*\\r?\\n|$))/g);\n\t\tif(!token) {\n\t\t\treturn null;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Update the end position\n\tnode.end = pos;\n\treturn node;\n};\n\nexports.findNextTag = function(source,pos,options) {\n\t// A regexp for finding candidate HTML tags\n\tvar reLookahead = /<([a-zA-Z\\-\\$]+)/g;\n\t// Find the next candidate\n\treLookahead.lastIndex = pos;\n\tvar match = reLookahead.exec(source);\n\twhile(match) {\n\t\t// Try to parse the candidate as a tag\n\t\tvar tag = this.parseTag(source,match.index,options);\n\t\t// Return success\n\t\tif(tag && this.isLegalTag(tag)) {\n\t\t\treturn tag;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Look for the next match\n\t\treLookahead.lastIndex = match.index + 1;\n\t\tmatch = reLookahead.exec(source);\n\t}\n\t// Failed\n\treturn null;\n};\n\nexports.isLegalTag = function(tag) {\n\t// Widgets are always OK\n\tif(tag.type !== \"element\") {\n\t\treturn true;\n\t// If it's an HTML tag that starts with a dash then it's not legal\n\t} else if(tag.tag.charAt(0) === \"-\") {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Otherwise it's OK\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/html.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/image.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/image.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for embedding images. For example:\n\n```\n[img[http://tiddlywiki.com/fractalveg.jpg]]\n[img width=23 height=24 [http://tiddlywiki.com/fractalveg.jpg]]\n[img width={{!!width}} height={{!!height}} [http://tiddlywiki.com/fractalveg.jpg]]\n[img[Description of image|http://tiddlywiki.com/fractalveg.jpg]]\n[img[TiddlerTitle]]\n[img[Description of image|TiddlerTitle]]\n```\n\nGenerates the `<$image>` widget.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"image\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n};\n\nexports.findNextMatch = function(startPos) {\n\t// Find the next tag\n\tthis.nextImage = this.findNextImage(this.parser.source,startPos);\n\treturn this.nextImage ? this.nextImage.start : undefined;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.nextImage.end;\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"image\",\n\t\tattributes: this.nextImage.attributes\n\t};\n\treturn [node];\n};\n\n/*\nFind the next image from the current position\n*/\nexports.findNextImage = function(source,pos) {\n\t// A regexp for finding candidate HTML tags\n\tvar reLookahead = /(\\[img)/g;\n\t// Find the next candidate\n\treLookahead.lastIndex = pos;\n\tvar match = reLookahead.exec(source);\n\twhile(match) {\n\t\t// Try to parse the candidate as a tag\n\t\tvar tag = this.parseImage(source,match.index);\n\t\t// Return success\n\t\tif(tag) {\n\t\t\treturn tag;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Look for the next match\n\t\treLookahead.lastIndex = match.index + 1;\n\t\tmatch = reLookahead.exec(source);\n\t}\n\t// Failed\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nLook for an image at the specified position. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"image\", attributes: [], isSelfClosing:, start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseImage = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar token,\n\t\tnode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"image\",\n\t\t\tstart: pos,\n\t\t\tattributes: {}\n\t\t};\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for the `[img`\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\"[img\");\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Process attributes\n\tif(source.charAt(pos) !== \"[\") {\n\t\tvar attribute = $tw.utils.parseAttribute(source,pos);\n\t\twhile(attribute) {\n\t\t\tnode.attributes[attribute.name] = attribute;\n\t\t\tpos = attribute.end;\n\t\t\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t\t\tif(source.charAt(pos) !== \"[\") {\n\t\t\t\t// Get the next attribute\n\t\t\t\tattribute = $tw.utils.parseAttribute(source,pos);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tattribute = null;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for the `[` after the attributes\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\"[\");\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Get the source up to the terminating `]]`\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenRegExp(source,pos,/(?:([^|\\]]*?)\\|)?([^\\]]+?)\\]\\]/g);\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\tif(token.match[1]) {\n\t\tnode.attributes.tooltip = {type: \"string\", value: token.match[1].trim()};\n\t}\n\tnode.attributes.source = {type: \"string\", value: (token.match[2] || \"\").trim()};\n\t// Update the end position\n\tnode.end = pos;\n\treturn node;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/image.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/list.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/list.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text block rule for lists. For example:\n\n```\n* This is an unordered list\n* It has two items\n\n# This is a numbered list\n## With a subitem\n# And a third item\n\n; This is a term that is being defined\n: This is the definition of that term\n```\n\nNote that lists can be nested arbitrarily:\n\n```\n#** One\n#* Two\n#** Three\n#**** Four\n#**# Five\n#**## Six\n## Seven\n### Eight\n## Nine\n```\n\nA CSS class can be applied to a list item as follows:\n\n```\n* List item one\n*.active List item two has the class `active`\n* List item three\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"list\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /([\\*#;:>]+)/mg;\n};\n\nvar listTypes = {\n\t\"*\": {listTag: \"ul\", itemTag: \"li\"},\n\t\"#\": {listTag: \"ol\", itemTag: \"li\"},\n\t\";\": {listTag: \"dl\", itemTag: \"dt\"},\n\t\":\": {listTag: \"dl\", itemTag: \"dd\"},\n\t\">\": {listTag: \"blockquote\", itemTag: \"p\"}\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Array of parse tree nodes for the previous row of the list\n\tvar listStack = [];\n\t// Cycle through the items in the list\n\twhile(true) {\n\t\t// Match the list marker\n\t\tvar reMatch = /([\\*#;:>]+)/mg;\n\t\treMatch.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\t\tvar match = reMatch.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t\tif(!match || match.index !== this.parser.pos) {\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Check whether the list type of the top level matches\n\t\tvar listInfo = listTypes[match[0].charAt(0)];\n\t\tif(listStack.length > 0 && listStack[0].tag !== listInfo.listTag) {\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Move past the list marker\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = match.index + match[0].length;\n\t\t// Walk through the list markers for the current row\n\t\tfor(var t=0; t<match[0].length; t++) {\n\t\t\tlistInfo = listTypes[match[0].charAt(t)];\n\t\t\t// Remove any stacked up element if we can't re-use it because the list type doesn't match\n\t\t\tif(listStack.length > t && listStack[t].tag !== listInfo.listTag) {\n\t\t\t\tlistStack.splice(t,listStack.length - t);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Construct the list element or reuse the previous one at this level\n\t\t\tif(listStack.length <= t) {\n\t\t\t\tvar listElement = {type: \"element\", tag: listInfo.listTag, children: [\n\t\t\t\t\t{type: \"element\", tag: listInfo.itemTag, children: []}\n\t\t\t\t]};\n\t\t\t\t// Link this list element into the last child item of the parent list item\n\t\t\t\tif(t) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar prevListItem = listStack[t-1].children[listStack[t-1].children.length-1];\n\t\t\t\t\tprevListItem.children.push(listElement);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Save this element in the stack\n\t\t\t\tlistStack[t] = listElement;\n\t\t\t} else if(t === (match[0].length - 1)) {\n\t\t\t\tlistStack[t].children.push({type: \"element\", tag: listInfo.itemTag, children: []});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(listStack.length > match[0].length) {\n\t\t\tlistStack.splice(match[0].length,listStack.length - match[0].length);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Process the body of the list item into the last list item\n\t\tvar lastListChildren = listStack[listStack.length-1].children,\n\t\t\tlastListItem = lastListChildren[lastListChildren.length-1],\n\t\t\tclasses = this.parser.parseClasses();\n\t\tthis.parser.skipWhitespace({treatNewlinesAsNonWhitespace: true});\n\t\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/(\\r?\\n)/mg);\n\t\tlastListItem.children.push.apply(lastListItem.children,tree);\n\t\tif(classes.length > 0) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.addClassToParseTreeNode(lastListItem,classes.join(\" \"));\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Consume any whitespace following the list item\n\t\tthis.parser.skipWhitespace();\n\t}\n\t// Return the root element of the list\n\treturn [listStack[0]];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/list.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrocallblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrocallblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki rule for block macro calls\n\n```\n<<name value value2>>\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"macrocallblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /<<([^>\\s]+)(?:\\s*)((?:[^>]|(?:>(?!>)))*?)>>(?:\\r?\\n|$)/mg;\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Get all the details of the match\n\tvar macroName = this.match[1],\n\t\tparamString = this.match[2];\n\t// Move past the macro call\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\tvar params = [],\n\t\treParam = /\\s*(?:([A-Za-z0-9\\-_]+)\\s*:)?(?:\\s*(?:\"\"\"([\\s\\S]*?)\"\"\"|\"([^\"]*)\"|'([^']*)'|\\[\\[([^\\]]*)\\]\\]|([^\"'\\s]+)))/mg,\n\t\tparamMatch = reParam.exec(paramString);\n\twhile(paramMatch) {\n\t\t// Process this parameter\n\t\tvar paramInfo = {\n\t\t\tvalue: paramMatch[2] || paramMatch[3] || paramMatch[4] || paramMatch[5] || paramMatch[6]\n\t\t};\n\t\tif(paramMatch[1]) {\n\t\t\tparamInfo.name = paramMatch[1];\n\t\t}\n\t\tparams.push(paramInfo);\n\t\t// Find the next match\n\t\tparamMatch = reParam.exec(paramString);\n\t}\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"macrocall\",\n\t\tname: macroName,\n\t\tparams: params,\n\t\tisBlock: true\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrocallblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrocallinline.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrocallinline.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki rule for macro calls\n\n```\n<<name value value2>>\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"macrocallinline\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /<<([^\\s>]+)\\s*([\\s\\S]*?)>>/mg;\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Get all the details of the match\n\tvar macroName = this.match[1],\n\t\tparamString = this.match[2];\n\t// Move past the macro call\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\tvar params = [],\n\t\treParam = /\\s*(?:([A-Za-z0-9\\-_]+)\\s*:)?(?:\\s*(?:\"\"\"([\\s\\S]*?)\"\"\"|\"([^\"]*)\"|'([^']*)'|\\[\\[([^\\]]*)\\]\\]|([^\"'\\s]+)))/mg,\n\t\tparamMatch = reParam.exec(paramString);\n\twhile(paramMatch) {\n\t\t// Process this parameter\n\t\tvar paramInfo = {\n\t\t\tvalue: paramMatch[2] || paramMatch[3] || paramMatch[4] || paramMatch[5]|| paramMatch[6]\n\t\t};\n\t\tif(paramMatch[1]) {\n\t\t\tparamInfo.name = paramMatch[1];\n\t\t}\n\t\tparams.push(paramInfo);\n\t\t// Find the next match\n\t\tparamMatch = reParam.exec(paramString);\n\t}\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"macrocall\",\n\t\tname: macroName,\n\t\tparams: params\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrocallinline.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrodef.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrodef.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki pragma rule for macro definitions\n\n```\n\\define name(param:defaultvalue,param2:defaultvalue)\ndefinition text, including $param$ markers\n\\end\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"macrodef\";\nexports.types = {pragma: true};\n\n/*\nInstantiate parse rule\n*/\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /^\\\\define\\s+([^(\\s]+)\\(\\s*([^)]*)\\)(\\s*\\r?\\n)?/mg;\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the macro name and parameters\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Parse the parameters\n\tvar paramString = this.match[2],\n\t\tparams = [];\n\tif(paramString !== \"\") {\n\t\tvar reParam = /\\s*([A-Za-z0-9\\-_]+)(?:\\s*:\\s*(?:\"\"\"([\\s\\S]*?)\"\"\"|\"([^\"]*)\"|'([^']*)'|\\[\\[([^\\]]*)\\]\\]|([^\"'\\s]+)))?/mg,\n\t\t\tparamMatch = reParam.exec(paramString);\n\t\twhile(paramMatch) {\n\t\t\t// Save the parameter details\n\t\t\tvar paramInfo = {name: paramMatch[1]},\n\t\t\t\tdefaultValue = paramMatch[2] || paramMatch[3] || paramMatch[4] || paramMatch[5] || paramMatch[6];\n\t\t\tif(defaultValue) {\n\t\t\t\tparamInfo[\"default\"] = defaultValue;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tparams.push(paramInfo);\n\t\t\t// Look for the next parameter\n\t\t\tparamMatch = reParam.exec(paramString);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Is this a multiline definition?\n\tvar reEnd;\n\tif(this.match[3]) {\n\t\t// If so, the end of the body is marked with \\end\n\t\treEnd = /(\\r?\\n\\\\end[^\\S\\n\\r]*(?:$|\\r?\\n))/mg;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Otherwise, the end of the definition is marked by the end of the line\n\t\treEnd = /(\\r?\\n)/mg;\n\t\t// Move past any whitespace\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(this.parser.source,this.parser.pos);\n\t}\n\t// Find the end of the definition\n\treEnd.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\tvar text,\n\t\tendMatch = reEnd.exec(this.parser.source);\n\tif(endMatch) {\n\t\ttext = this.parser.source.substring(this.parser.pos,endMatch.index);\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = endMatch.index + endMatch[0].length;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// We didn't find the end of the definition, so we'll make it blank\n\t\ttext = \"\";\n\t}\n\t// Save the macro definition\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"set\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\tname: {type: \"string\", value: this.match[1]},\n\t\t\tvalue: {type: \"string\", value: text}\n\t\t},\n\t\tchildren: [],\n\t\tparams: params\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/macrodef.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/prettyextlink.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/prettyextlink.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for external links. For example:\n\n```\n[ext[http://tiddlywiki.com/fractalveg.jpg]]\n[ext[Tooltip|http://tiddlywiki.com/fractalveg.jpg]]\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"prettyextlink\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n};\n\nexports.findNextMatch = function(startPos) {\n\t// Find the next tag\n\tthis.nextLink = this.findNextLink(this.parser.source,startPos);\n\treturn this.nextLink ? this.nextLink.start : undefined;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.nextLink.end;\n\treturn [this.nextLink];\n};\n\n/*\nFind the next link from the current position\n*/\nexports.findNextLink = function(source,pos) {\n\t// A regexp for finding candidate links\n\tvar reLookahead = /(\\[ext\\[)/g;\n\t// Find the next candidate\n\treLookahead.lastIndex = pos;\n\tvar match = reLookahead.exec(source);\n\twhile(match) {\n\t\t// Try to parse the candidate as a link\n\t\tvar link = this.parseLink(source,match.index);\n\t\t// Return success\n\t\tif(link) {\n\t\t\treturn link;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Look for the next match\n\t\treLookahead.lastIndex = match.index + 1;\n\t\tmatch = reLookahead.exec(source);\n\t}\n\t// Failed\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nLook for an link at the specified position. Returns null if not found, otherwise returns {type: \"element\", tag: \"a\", attributes: [], isSelfClosing:, start:, end:,}\n*/\nexports.parseLink = function(source,pos) {\n\tvar token,\n\t\ttextNode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"text\"\n\t\t},\n\t\tnode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"a\",\n\t\t\tstart: pos,\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\t\"class\": {type: \"string\", value: \"tc-tiddlylink-external\"},\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: [textNode]\n\t\t};\n\t// Skip whitespace\n\tpos = $tw.utils.skipWhiteSpace(source,pos);\n\t// Look for the `[ext[`\n\ttoken = $tw.utils.parseTokenString(source,pos,\"[ext[\");\n\tif(!token) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\tpos = token.end;\n\t// Look ahead for the terminating `]]`\n\tvar closePos = source.indexOf(\"]]\",pos);\n\tif(closePos === -1) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\t// Look for a `|` separating the tooltip\n\tvar splitPos = source.indexOf(\"|\",pos);\n\tif(splitPos === -1 || splitPos > closePos) {\n\t\tsplitPos = null;\n\t}\n\t// Pull out the tooltip and URL\n\tvar tooltip, URL;\n\tif(splitPos) {\n\t\tURL = source.substring(splitPos + 1,closePos).trim();\n\t\ttextNode.text = source.substring(pos,splitPos).trim();\n\t} else {\n\t\tURL = source.substring(pos,closePos).trim();\n\t\ttextNode.text = URL;\n\t}\n\tnode.attributes.href = {type: \"string\", value: URL};\n\tnode.attributes.target = {type: \"string\", value: \"_blank\"};\n\tnode.attributes.rel = {type: \"string\", value: \"noopener noreferrer\"};\n\t// Update the end position\n\tnode.end = closePos + 2;\n\treturn node;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/prettyextlink.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/prettylink.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/prettylink.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for pretty links. For example:\n\n```\n[[Introduction]]\n\n[[Link description|TiddlerTitle]]\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"prettylink\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\[\\[(.*?)(?:\\|(.*?))?\\]\\]/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Process the link\n\tvar text = this.match[1],\n\t\tlink = this.match[2] || text;\n\tif($tw.utils.isLinkExternal(link)) {\n\t\treturn [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"a\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\thref: {type: \"string\", value: link},\n\t\t\t\t\"class\": {type: \"string\", value: \"tc-tiddlylink-external\"},\n\t\t\t\ttarget: {type: \"string\", value: \"_blank\"},\n\t\t\t\trel: {type: \"string\", value: \"noopener noreferrer\"}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\t\ttype: \"text\", text: text\n\t\t\t}]\n\t\t}];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"link\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\tto: {type: \"string\", value: link}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\t\ttype: \"text\", text: text\n\t\t\t}]\n\t\t}];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/prettylink.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/quoteblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/quoteblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text rule for quote blocks. For example:\n\n```\n\t<<<.optionalClass(es) optional cited from\n\ta quote\n\t<<<\n\t\n\t<<<.optionalClass(es)\n\ta quote\n\t<<< optional cited from\n```\n\nQuotes can be quoted by putting more <s\n\n```\n\t<<<\n\tQuote Level 1\n\t\n\t<<<<\n\tQuoteLevel 2\n\t<<<<\n\t\n\t<<<\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"quoteblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /(<<<+)/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar classes = [\"tc-quote\"];\n\t// Get all the details of the match\n\tvar reEndString = \"^\" + this.match[1] + \"(?!<)\";\n\t// Move past the <s\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t\n\t// Parse any classes, whitespace and then the optional cite itself\n\tclasses.push.apply(classes, this.parser.parseClasses());\n\tthis.parser.skipWhitespace({treatNewlinesAsNonWhitespace: true});\n\tvar cite = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/(\\r?\\n)/mg);\n\t// before handling the cite, parse the body of the quote\n\tvar tree= this.parser.parseBlocks(reEndString);\n\t// If we got a cite, put it before the text\n\tif(cite.length > 0) {\n\t\ttree.unshift({\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"cite\",\n\t\t\tchildren: cite\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Parse any optional cite\n\tthis.parser.skipWhitespace({treatNewlinesAsNonWhitespace: true});\n\tcite = this.parser.parseInlineRun(/(\\r?\\n)/mg);\n\t// If we got a cite, push it\n\tif(cite.length > 0) {\n\t\ttree.push({\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"cite\",\n\t\t\tchildren: cite\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Return the blockquote element\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"blockquote\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\tclass: { type: \"string\", value: classes.join(\" \") },\n\t\t},\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/quoteblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/rules.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/rules.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki pragma rule for rules specifications\n\n```\n\\rules except ruleone ruletwo rulethree\n\\rules only ruleone ruletwo rulethree\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"rules\";\nexports.types = {pragma: true};\n\n/*\nInstantiate parse rule\n*/\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /^\\\\rules[^\\S\\n]/mg;\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the pragma invocation\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Parse whitespace delimited tokens terminated by a line break\n\tvar reMatch = /[^\\S\\n]*(\\S+)|(\\r?\\n)/mg,\n\t\ttokens = [];\n\treMatch.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\tvar match = reMatch.exec(this.parser.source);\n\twhile(match && match.index === this.parser.pos) {\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = reMatch.lastIndex;\n\t\t// Exit if we've got the line break\n\t\tif(match[2]) {\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Process the token\n\t\tif(match[1]) {\n\t\t\ttokens.push(match[1]);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Match the next token\n\t\tmatch = reMatch.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t}\n\t// Process the tokens\n\tif(tokens.length > 0) {\n\t\tthis.parser.amendRules(tokens[0],tokens.slice(1));\n\t}\n\t// No parse tree nodes to return\n\treturn [];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/rules.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/styleblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/styleblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text block rule for assigning styles and classes to paragraphs and other blocks. For example:\n\n```\n@@.myClass\n@@background-color:red;\nThis paragraph will have the CSS class `myClass`.\n\n* The `<ul>` around this list will also have the class `myClass`\n* List item 2\n\n@@\n```\n\nNote that classes and styles can be mixed subject to the rule that styles must precede classes. For example\n\n```\n@@.myFirstClass.mySecondClass\n@@width:100px;.myThirdClass\nThis is a paragraph\n@@\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"styleblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /@@((?:[^\\.\\r\\n\\s:]+:[^\\r\\n;]+;)+)?(?:\\.([^\\r\\n\\s]+))?\\r?\\n/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar reEndString = \"^@@(?:\\\\r?\\\\n)?\";\n\tvar classes = [], styles = [];\n\tdo {\n\t\t// Get the class and style\n\t\tif(this.match[1]) {\n\t\t\tstyles.push(this.match[1]);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(this.match[2]) {\n\t\t\tclasses.push(this.match[2].split(\".\").join(\" \"));\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Move past the match\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t\t// Look for another line of classes and styles\n\t\tthis.match = this.matchRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t} while(this.match && this.match.index === this.parser.pos);\n\t// Parse the body\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseBlocks(reEndString);\n\tfor(var t=0; t<tree.length; t++) {\n\t\tif(classes.length > 0) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.addClassToParseTreeNode(tree[t],classes.join(\" \"));\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(styles.length > 0) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(tree[t],\"style\",styles.join(\"\"));\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn tree;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/styleblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/styleinline.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/styleinline.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for assigning styles and classes to inline runs. For example:\n\n```\n@@.myClass This is some text with a class@@\n@@background-color:red;This is some text with a background colour@@\n@@width:100px;.myClass This is some text with a class and a width@@\n```\n\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"styleinline\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /@@((?:[^\\.\\r\\n\\s:]+:[^\\r\\n;]+;)+)?(\\.(?:[^\\r\\n\\s]+)\\s+)?/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar reEnd = /@@/g;\n\t// Get the styles and class\n\tvar stylesString = this.match[1],\n\t\tclassString = this.match[2] ? this.match[2].split(\".\").join(\" \") : undefined;\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Parse the run up to the terminator\n\tvar tree = this.parser.parseInlineRun(reEnd,{eatTerminator: true});\n\t// Return the classed span\n\tvar node = {\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"span\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\"class\": {type: \"string\", value: \"tc-inline-style\"}\n\t\t},\n\t\tchildren: tree\n\t};\n\tif(classString) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addClassToParseTreeNode(node,classString);\n\t}\n\tif(stylesString) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(node,\"style\",stylesString);\n\t}\n\treturn [node];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/styleinline.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/syslink.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/syslink.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for system tiddler links.\nCan be suppressed preceding them with `~`.\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"syslink\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /~?\\$:\\/[a-zA-Z0-9/.\\-_]+/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar match = this.match[0];\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Create the link unless it is suppressed\n\tif(match.substr(0,1) === \"~\") {\n\t\treturn [{type: \"text\", text: match.substr(1)}];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"link\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\tto: {type: \"string\", value: match}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\t\ttype: \"text\",\n\t\t\t\ttext: match\n\t\t\t}]\n\t\t}];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/syslink.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/table.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/table.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text block rule for tables.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"table\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /^\\|(?:[^\\n]*)\\|(?:[fhck]?)\\r?(?:\\n|$)/mg;\n};\n\nvar processRow = function(prevColumns) {\n\tvar cellRegExp = /(?:\\|([^\\n\\|]*)\\|)|(\\|[fhck]?\\r?(?:\\n|$))/mg,\n\t\tcellTermRegExp = /((?:\\x20*)\\|)/mg,\n\t\ttree = [],\n\t\tcol = 0,\n\t\tcolSpanCount = 1,\n\t\tprevCell,\n\t\tvAlign;\n\t// Match a single cell\n\tcellRegExp.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\tvar cellMatch = cellRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\twhile(cellMatch && cellMatch.index === this.parser.pos) {\n\t\tif(cellMatch[1] === \"~\") {\n\t\t\t// Rowspan\n\t\t\tvar last = prevColumns[col];\n\t\t\tif(last) {\n\t\t\t\tlast.rowSpanCount++;\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(last.element,\"rowspan\",last.rowSpanCount);\n\t\t\t\tvAlign = $tw.utils.getAttributeValueFromParseTreeNode(last.element,\"valign\",\"center\");\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(last.element,\"valign\",vAlign);\n\t\t\t\tif(colSpanCount > 1) {\n\t\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(last.element,\"colspan\",colSpanCount);\n\t\t\t\t\tcolSpanCount = 1;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Move to just before the `|` terminating the cell\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = cellRegExp.lastIndex - 1;\n\t\t} else if(cellMatch[1] === \">\") {\n\t\t\t// Colspan\n\t\t\tcolSpanCount++;\n\t\t\t// Move to just before the `|` terminating the cell\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = cellRegExp.lastIndex - 1;\n\t\t} else if(cellMatch[1] === \"<\" && prevCell) {\n\t\t\tcolSpanCount = 1 + $tw.utils.getAttributeValueFromParseTreeNode(prevCell,\"colspan\",1);\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(prevCell,\"colspan\",colSpanCount);\n\t\t\tcolSpanCount = 1;\n\t\t\t// Move to just before the `|` terminating the cell\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = cellRegExp.lastIndex - 1;\n\t\t} else if(cellMatch[2]) {\n\t\t\t// End of row\n\t\t\tif(prevCell && colSpanCount > 1) {\n\t\t\t\tif(prevCell.attributes && prevCell.attributes && prevCell.attributes.colspan) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcolSpanCount += prevCell.attributes.colspan.value;\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tcolSpanCount -= 1;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(prevCell,\"colspan\",colSpanCount);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = cellRegExp.lastIndex - 1;\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// For ordinary cells, step beyond the opening `|`\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos++;\n\t\t\t// Look for a space at the start of the cell\n\t\t\tvar spaceLeft = false;\n\t\t\tvAlign = null;\n\t\t\tif(this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos).search(/^\\^([^\\^]|\\^\\^)/) === 0) {\n\t\t\t\tvAlign = \"top\";\n\t\t\t} else if(this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos).search(/^,([^,]|,,)/) === 0) {\n\t\t\t\tvAlign = \"bottom\";\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(vAlign) {\n\t\t\t\tthis.parser.pos++;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tvar chr = this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos,1);\n\t\t\twhile(chr === \" \") {\n\t\t\t\tspaceLeft = true;\n\t\t\t\tthis.parser.pos++;\n\t\t\t\tchr = this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos,1);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Check whether this is a heading cell\n\t\t\tvar cell;\n\t\t\tif(chr === \"!\") {\n\t\t\t\tthis.parser.pos++;\n\t\t\t\tcell = {type: \"element\", tag: \"th\", children: []};\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tcell = {type: \"element\", tag: \"td\", children: []};\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\ttree.push(cell);\n\t\t\t// Record information about this cell\n\t\t\tprevCell = cell;\n\t\t\tprevColumns[col] = {rowSpanCount:1,element:cell};\n\t\t\t// Check for a colspan\n\t\t\tif(colSpanCount > 1) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(cell,\"colspan\",colSpanCount);\n\t\t\t\tcolSpanCount = 1;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Parse the cell\n\t\t\tcell.children = this.parser.parseInlineRun(cellTermRegExp,{eatTerminator: true});\n\t\t\t// Set the alignment for the cell\n\t\t\tif(vAlign) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(cell,\"valign\",vAlign);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos - 2,1) === \" \") { // spaceRight\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(cell,\"align\",spaceLeft ? \"center\" : \"left\");\n\t\t\t} else if(spaceLeft) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(cell,\"align\",\"right\");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Move back to the closing `|`\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos--;\n\t\t}\n\t\tcol++;\n\t\tcellRegExp.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\t\tcellMatch = cellRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t}\n\treturn tree;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar rowContainerTypes = {\"c\":\"caption\", \"h\":\"thead\", \"\":\"tbody\", \"f\":\"tfoot\"},\n\t\ttable = {type: \"element\", tag: \"table\", children: []},\n\t\trowRegExp = /^\\|([^\\n]*)\\|([fhck]?)\\r?(?:\\n|$)/mg,\n\t\trowTermRegExp = /(\\|(?:[fhck]?)\\r?(?:\\n|$))/mg,\n\t\tprevColumns = [],\n\t\tcurrRowType,\n\t\trowContainer,\n\t\trowCount = 0;\n\t// Match the row\n\trowRegExp.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\tvar rowMatch = rowRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\twhile(rowMatch && rowMatch.index === this.parser.pos) {\n\t\tvar rowType = rowMatch[2];\n\t\t// Check if it is a class assignment\n\t\tif(rowType === \"k\") {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.addClassToParseTreeNode(table,rowMatch[1]);\n\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = rowMatch.index + rowMatch[0].length;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Otherwise, create a new row if this one is of a different type\n\t\t\tif(rowType !== currRowType) {\n\t\t\t\trowContainer = {type: \"element\", tag: rowContainerTypes[rowType], children: []};\n\t\t\t\ttable.children.push(rowContainer);\n\t\t\t\tcurrRowType = rowType;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Is this a caption row?\n\t\t\tif(currRowType === \"c\") {\n\t\t\t\t// If so, move past the opening `|` of the row\n\t\t\t\tthis.parser.pos++;\n\t\t\t\t// Move the caption to the first row if it isn't already\n\t\t\t\tif(table.children.length !== 1) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttable.children.pop(); // Take rowContainer out of the children array\n\t\t\t\t\ttable.children.splice(0,0,rowContainer); // Insert it at the bottom\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Set the alignment - TODO: figure out why TW did this\n//\t\t\t\trowContainer.attributes.align = rowCount === 0 ? \"top\" : \"bottom\";\n\t\t\t\t// Parse the caption\n\t\t\t\trowContainer.children = this.parser.parseInlineRun(rowTermRegExp,{eatTerminator: true});\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Create the row\n\t\t\t\tvar theRow = {type: \"element\", tag: \"tr\", children: []};\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.addClassToParseTreeNode(theRow,rowCount%2 ? \"oddRow\" : \"evenRow\");\n\t\t\t\trowContainer.children.push(theRow);\n\t\t\t\t// Process the row\n\t\t\t\ttheRow.children = processRow.call(this,prevColumns);\n\t\t\t\tthis.parser.pos = rowMatch.index + rowMatch[0].length;\n\t\t\t\t// Increment the row count\n\t\t\t\trowCount++;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\trowMatch = rowRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t}\n\treturn [table];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/table.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/transcludeblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/transcludeblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text rule for block-level transclusion. For example:\n\n```\n{{MyTiddler}}\n{{MyTiddler||TemplateTitle}}\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"transcludeblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\{\\{([^\\{\\}\\|]*)(?:\\|\\|([^\\|\\{\\}]+))?\\}\\}(?:\\r?\\n|$)/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Get the match details\n\tvar template = $tw.utils.trim(this.match[2]),\n\t\ttextRef = $tw.utils.trim(this.match[1]);\n\t// Prepare the transclude widget\n\tvar transcludeNode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"transclude\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {},\n\t\t\tisBlock: true\n\t\t};\n\t// Prepare the tiddler widget\n\tvar tr, targetTitle, targetField, targetIndex, tiddlerNode;\n\tif(textRef) {\n\t\ttr = $tw.utils.parseTextReference(textRef);\n\t\ttargetTitle = tr.title;\n\t\ttargetField = tr.field;\n\t\ttargetIndex = tr.index;\n\t\ttiddlerNode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"tiddler\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\ttiddler: {type: \"string\", value: targetTitle}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tisBlock: true,\n\t\t\tchildren: [transcludeNode]\n\t\t};\n\t}\n\tif(template) {\n\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.tiddler = {type: \"string\", value: template};\n\t\tif(textRef) {\n\t\t\treturn [tiddlerNode];\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn [transcludeNode];\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(textRef) {\n\t\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.tiddler = {type: \"string\", value: targetTitle};\n\t\t\tif(targetField) {\n\t\t\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.field = {type: \"string\", value: targetField};\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(targetIndex) {\n\t\t\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.index = {type: \"string\", value: targetIndex};\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn [tiddlerNode];\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn [transcludeNode];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/transcludeblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/transcludeinline.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/transcludeinline.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text rule for inline-level transclusion. For example:\n\n```\n{{MyTiddler}}\n{{MyTiddler||TemplateTitle}}\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"transcludeinline\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\{\\{([^\\{\\}\\|]*)(?:\\|\\|([^\\|\\{\\}]+))?\\}\\}/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Get the match details\n\tvar template = $tw.utils.trim(this.match[2]),\n\t\ttextRef = $tw.utils.trim(this.match[1]);\n\t// Prepare the transclude widget\n\tvar transcludeNode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"transclude\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {}\n\t\t};\n\t// Prepare the tiddler widget\n\tvar tr, targetTitle, targetField, targetIndex, tiddlerNode;\n\tif(textRef) {\n\t\ttr = $tw.utils.parseTextReference(textRef);\n\t\ttargetTitle = tr.title;\n\t\ttargetField = tr.field;\n\t\ttargetIndex = tr.index;\n\t\ttiddlerNode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"tiddler\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\ttiddler: {type: \"string\", value: targetTitle}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: [transcludeNode]\n\t\t};\n\t}\n\tif(template) {\n\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.tiddler = {type: \"string\", value: template};\n\t\tif(textRef) {\n\t\t\treturn [tiddlerNode];\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn [transcludeNode];\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(textRef) {\n\t\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.tiddler = {type: \"string\", value: targetTitle};\n\t\t\tif(targetField) {\n\t\t\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.field = {type: \"string\", value: targetField};\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(targetIndex) {\n\t\t\t\ttranscludeNode.attributes.index = {type: \"string\", value: targetIndex};\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn [tiddlerNode];\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn [transcludeNode];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/transcludeinline.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/typedblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/typedblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text rule for typed blocks. For example:\n\n```\n$$$.js\nThis will be rendered as JavaScript\n$$$\n\n$$$.svg\n<svg xmlns=\"http://www.w3.org/2000/svg\" width=\"150\" height=\"100\">\n <circle cx=\"100\" cy=\"50\" r=\"40\" stroke=\"black\" stroke-width=\"2\" fill=\"red\" />\n</svg>\n$$$\n\n$$$text/vnd.tiddlywiki>text/html\nThis will be rendered as an //HTML representation// of WikiText\n$$$\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nexports.name = \"typedblock\";\nexports.types = {block: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = /\\$\\$\\$([^ >\\r\\n]*)(?: *> *([^ \\r\\n]+))?\\r?\\n/mg;\n};\n\nexports.parse = function() {\n\tvar reEnd = /\\r?\\n\\$\\$\\$\\r?(?:\\n|$)/mg;\n\t// Save the type\n\tvar parseType = this.match[1],\n\t\trenderType = this.match[2];\n\t// Move past the match\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// Look for the end of the block\n\treEnd.lastIndex = this.parser.pos;\n\tvar match = reEnd.exec(this.parser.source),\n\t\ttext;\n\t// Process the block\n\tif(match) {\n\t\ttext = this.parser.source.substring(this.parser.pos,match.index);\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = match.index + match[0].length;\n\t} else {\n\t\ttext = this.parser.source.substr(this.parser.pos);\n\t\tthis.parser.pos = this.parser.sourceLength;\n\t}\n\t// Parse the block according to the specified type\n\tvar parser = this.parser.wiki.parseText(parseType,text,{defaultType: \"text/plain\"});\n\t// If there's no render type, just return the parse tree\n\tif(!renderType) {\n\t\treturn parser.tree;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Otherwise, render to the rendertype and return in a <PRE> tag\n\t\tvar widgetNode = this.parser.wiki.makeWidget(parser),\n\t\t\tcontainer = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\twidgetNode.render(container,null);\n\t\ttext = renderType === \"text/html\" ? container.innerHTML : container.textContent;\n\t\treturn [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"pre\",\n\t\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\t\ttype: \"text\",\n\t\t\t\ttext: text\n\t\t\t}]\n\t\t}];\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/typedblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/wikilink.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/wikilink.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikirule\n\nWiki text inline rule for wiki links. For example:\n\n```\nAWikiLink\nAnotherLink\n~SuppressedLink\n```\n\nPrecede a camel case word with `~` to prevent it from being recognised as a link.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.name = \"wikilink\";\nexports.types = {inline: true};\n\nexports.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n\t// Regexp to match\n\tthis.matchRegExp = new RegExp($tw.config.textPrimitives.unWikiLink + \"?\" + $tw.config.textPrimitives.wikiLink,\"mg\");\n};\n\n/*\nParse the most recent match\n*/\nexports.parse = function() {\n\t// Get the details of the match\n\tvar linkText = this.match[0];\n\t// Move past the macro call\n\tthis.parser.pos = this.matchRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t// If the link starts with the unwikilink character then just output it as plain text\n\tif(linkText.substr(0,1) === $tw.config.textPrimitives.unWikiLink) {\n\t\treturn [{type: \"text\", text: linkText.substr(1)}];\n\t}\n\t// If the link has been preceded with a blocked letter then don't treat it as a link\n\tif(this.match.index > 0) {\n\t\tvar preRegExp = new RegExp($tw.config.textPrimitives.blockPrefixLetters,\"mg\");\n\t\tpreRegExp.lastIndex = this.match.index-1;\n\t\tvar preMatch = preRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\t\tif(preMatch && preMatch.index === this.match.index-1) {\n\t\t\treturn [{type: \"text\", text: linkText}];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn [{\n\t\ttype: \"link\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\tto: {type: \"string\", value: linkText}\n\t\t},\n\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"text\",\n\t\t\ttext: linkText\n\t\t}]\n\t}];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/wikilink.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikirule"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/wikiparser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/wikiparser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: parser\n\nThe wiki text parser processes blocks of source text into a parse tree.\n\nThe parse tree is made up of nested arrays of these JavaScript objects:\n\n\t{type: \"element\", tag: <string>, attributes: {}, children: []} - an HTML element\n\t{type: \"text\", text: <string>} - a text node\n\t{type: \"entity\", value: <string>} - an entity\n\t{type: \"raw\", html: <string>} - raw HTML\n\nAttributes are stored as hashmaps of the following objects:\n\n\t{type: \"string\", value: <string>} - literal string\n\t{type: \"indirect\", textReference: <textReference>} - indirect through a text reference\n\t{type: \"macro\", macro: <TBD>} - indirect through a macro invocation\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar WikiParser = function(type,text,options) {\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki;\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Check for an externally linked tiddler\n\tif($tw.browser && (text || \"\") === \"\" && options._canonical_uri) {\n\t\tthis.loadRemoteTiddler(options._canonical_uri);\n\t\ttext = $tw.language.getRawString(\"LazyLoadingWarning\");\n\t}\n\t// Initialise the classes if we don't have them already\n\tif(!this.pragmaRuleClasses) {\n\t\tWikiParser.prototype.pragmaRuleClasses = $tw.modules.createClassesFromModules(\"wikirule\",\"pragma\",$tw.WikiRuleBase);\n\t\tthis.setupRules(WikiParser.prototype.pragmaRuleClasses,\"$:/config/WikiParserRules/Pragmas/\");\n\t}\n\tif(!this.blockRuleClasses) {\n\t\tWikiParser.prototype.blockRuleClasses = $tw.modules.createClassesFromModules(\"wikirule\",\"block\",$tw.WikiRuleBase);\n\t\tthis.setupRules(WikiParser.prototype.blockRuleClasses,\"$:/config/WikiParserRules/Block/\");\n\t}\n\tif(!this.inlineRuleClasses) {\n\t\tWikiParser.prototype.inlineRuleClasses = $tw.modules.createClassesFromModules(\"wikirule\",\"inline\",$tw.WikiRuleBase);\n\t\tthis.setupRules(WikiParser.prototype.inlineRuleClasses,\"$:/config/WikiParserRules/Inline/\");\n\t}\n\t// Save the parse text\n\tthis.type = type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\";\n\tthis.source = text || \"\";\n\tthis.sourceLength = this.source.length;\n\t// Set current parse position\n\tthis.pos = 0;\n\t// Instantiate the pragma parse rules\n\tthis.pragmaRules = this.instantiateRules(this.pragmaRuleClasses,\"pragma\",0);\n\t// Instantiate the parser block and inline rules\n\tthis.blockRules = this.instantiateRules(this.blockRuleClasses,\"block\",0);\n\tthis.inlineRules = this.instantiateRules(this.inlineRuleClasses,\"inline\",0);\n\t// Parse any pragmas\n\tthis.tree = [];\n\tvar topBranch = this.parsePragmas();\n\t// Parse the text into inline runs or blocks\n\tif(options.parseAsInline) {\n\t\ttopBranch.push.apply(topBranch,this.parseInlineRun());\n\t} else {\n\t\ttopBranch.push.apply(topBranch,this.parseBlocks());\n\t}\n\t// Return the parse tree\n};\n\n/*\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.loadRemoteTiddler = function(url) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.utils.httpRequest({\n\t\turl: url,\n\t\ttype: \"GET\",\n\t\tcallback: function(err,data) {\n\t\t\tif(!err) {\n\t\t\t\tvar tiddlers = self.wiki.deserializeTiddlers(\".tid\",data,self.wiki.getCreationFields());\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddler[\"_canonical_uri\"] = url;\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\tif(tiddlers) {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.wiki.addTiddlers(tiddlers);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.setupRules = function(proto,configPrefix) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(!$tw.safemode) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(proto,function(object,name) {\n\t\t\tif(self.wiki.getTiddlerText(configPrefix + name,\"enable\") !== \"enable\") {\n\t\t\t\tdelete proto[name];\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nInstantiate an array of parse rules\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.instantiateRules = function(classes,type,startPos) {\n\tvar rulesInfo = [],\n\t\tself = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(classes,function(RuleClass) {\n\t\t// Instantiate the rule\n\t\tvar rule = new RuleClass(self);\n\t\trule.is = {};\n\t\trule.is[type] = true;\n\t\trule.init(self);\n\t\tvar matchIndex = rule.findNextMatch(startPos);\n\t\tif(matchIndex !== undefined) {\n\t\t\trulesInfo.push({\n\t\t\t\trule: rule,\n\t\t\t\tmatchIndex: matchIndex\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn rulesInfo;\n};\n\n/*\nSkip any whitespace at the current position. Options are:\n\ttreatNewlinesAsNonWhitespace: true if newlines are NOT to be treated as whitespace\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.skipWhitespace = function(options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar whitespaceRegExp = options.treatNewlinesAsNonWhitespace ? /([^\\S\\n]+)/mg : /(\\s+)/mg;\n\twhitespaceRegExp.lastIndex = this.pos;\n\tvar whitespaceMatch = whitespaceRegExp.exec(this.source);\n\tif(whitespaceMatch && whitespaceMatch.index === this.pos) {\n\t\tthis.pos = whitespaceRegExp.lastIndex;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGet the next match out of an array of parse rule instances\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.findNextMatch = function(rules,startPos) {\n\t// Find the best matching rule by finding the closest match position\n\tvar matchingRule,\n\t\tmatchingRulePos = this.sourceLength;\n\t// Step through each rule\n\tfor(var t=0; t<rules.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar ruleInfo = rules[t];\n\t\t// Ask the rule to get the next match if we've moved past the current one\n\t\tif(ruleInfo.matchIndex !== undefined && ruleInfo.matchIndex < startPos) {\n\t\t\truleInfo.matchIndex = ruleInfo.rule.findNextMatch(startPos);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Adopt this match if it's closer than the current best match\n\t\tif(ruleInfo.matchIndex !== undefined && ruleInfo.matchIndex <= matchingRulePos) {\n\t\t\tmatchingRule = ruleInfo;\n\t\t\tmatchingRulePos = ruleInfo.matchIndex;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn matchingRule;\n};\n\n/*\nParse any pragmas at the beginning of a block of parse text\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.parsePragmas = function() {\n\tvar currentTreeBranch = this.tree;\n\twhile(true) {\n\t\t// Skip whitespace\n\t\tthis.skipWhitespace();\n\t\t// Check for the end of the text\n\t\tif(this.pos >= this.sourceLength) {\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Check if we've arrived at a pragma rule match\n\t\tvar nextMatch = this.findNextMatch(this.pragmaRules,this.pos);\n\t\t// If not, just exit\n\t\tif(!nextMatch || nextMatch.matchIndex !== this.pos) {\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Process the pragma rule\n\t\tvar subTree = nextMatch.rule.parse();\n\t\tif(subTree.length > 0) {\n\t\t\t// Quick hack; we only cope with a single parse tree node being returned, which is true at the moment\n\t\t\tcurrentTreeBranch.push.apply(currentTreeBranch,subTree);\n\t\t\tsubTree[0].children = [];\n\t\t\tcurrentTreeBranch = subTree[0].children;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn currentTreeBranch;\n};\n\n/*\nParse a block from the current position\n\tterminatorRegExpString: optional regular expression string that identifies the end of plain paragraphs. Must not include capturing parenthesis\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.parseBlock = function(terminatorRegExpString) {\n\tvar terminatorRegExp = terminatorRegExpString ? new RegExp(\"(\" + terminatorRegExpString + \"|\\\\r?\\\\n\\\\r?\\\\n)\",\"mg\") : /(\\r?\\n\\r?\\n)/mg;\n\tthis.skipWhitespace();\n\tif(this.pos >= this.sourceLength) {\n\t\treturn [];\n\t}\n\t// Look for a block rule that applies at the current position\n\tvar nextMatch = this.findNextMatch(this.blockRules,this.pos);\n\tif(nextMatch && nextMatch.matchIndex === this.pos) {\n\t\treturn nextMatch.rule.parse();\n\t}\n\t// Treat it as a paragraph if we didn't find a block rule\n\treturn [{type: \"element\", tag: \"p\", children: this.parseInlineRun(terminatorRegExp)}];\n};\n\n/*\nParse a series of blocks of text until a terminating regexp is encountered or the end of the text\n\tterminatorRegExpString: terminating regular expression\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.parseBlocks = function(terminatorRegExpString) {\n\tif(terminatorRegExpString) {\n\t\treturn this.parseBlocksTerminated(terminatorRegExpString);\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.parseBlocksUnterminated();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nParse a block from the current position to the end of the text\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.parseBlocksUnterminated = function() {\n\tvar tree = [];\n\twhile(this.pos < this.sourceLength) {\n\t\ttree.push.apply(tree,this.parseBlock());\n\t}\n\treturn tree;\n};\n\n/*\nParse blocks of text until a terminating regexp is encountered\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.parseBlocksTerminated = function(terminatorRegExpString) {\n\tvar terminatorRegExp = new RegExp(\"(\" + terminatorRegExpString + \")\",\"mg\"),\n\t\ttree = [];\n\t// Skip any whitespace\n\tthis.skipWhitespace();\n\t// Check if we've got the end marker\n\tterminatorRegExp.lastIndex = this.pos;\n\tvar match = terminatorRegExp.exec(this.source);\n\t// Parse the text into blocks\n\twhile(this.pos < this.sourceLength && !(match && match.index === this.pos)) {\n\t\tvar blocks = this.parseBlock(terminatorRegExpString);\n\t\ttree.push.apply(tree,blocks);\n\t\t// Skip any whitespace\n\t\tthis.skipWhitespace();\n\t\t// Check if we've got the end marker\n\t\tterminatorRegExp.lastIndex = this.pos;\n\t\tmatch = terminatorRegExp.exec(this.source);\n\t}\n\tif(match && match.index === this.pos) {\n\t\tthis.pos = match.index + match[0].length;\n\t}\n\treturn tree;\n};\n\n/*\nParse a run of text at the current position\n\tterminatorRegExp: a regexp at which to stop the run\n\toptions: see below\nOptions available:\n\teatTerminator: move the parse position past any encountered terminator (default false)\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.parseInlineRun = function(terminatorRegExp,options) {\n\tif(terminatorRegExp) {\n\t\treturn this.parseInlineRunTerminated(terminatorRegExp,options);\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.parseInlineRunUnterminated(options);\n\t}\n};\n\nWikiParser.prototype.parseInlineRunUnterminated = function(options) {\n\tvar tree = [];\n\t// Find the next occurrence of an inline rule\n\tvar nextMatch = this.findNextMatch(this.inlineRules,this.pos);\n\t// Loop around the matches until we've reached the end of the text\n\twhile(this.pos < this.sourceLength && nextMatch) {\n\t\t// Process the text preceding the run rule\n\t\tif(nextMatch.matchIndex > this.pos) {\n\t\t\ttree.push({type: \"text\", text: this.source.substring(this.pos,nextMatch.matchIndex)});\n\t\t\tthis.pos = nextMatch.matchIndex;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Process the run rule\n\t\ttree.push.apply(tree,nextMatch.rule.parse());\n\t\t// Look for the next run rule\n\t\tnextMatch = this.findNextMatch(this.inlineRules,this.pos);\n\t}\n\t// Process the remaining text\n\tif(this.pos < this.sourceLength) {\n\t\ttree.push({type: \"text\", text: this.source.substr(this.pos)});\n\t}\n\tthis.pos = this.sourceLength;\n\treturn tree;\n};\n\nWikiParser.prototype.parseInlineRunTerminated = function(terminatorRegExp,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar tree = [];\n\t// Find the next occurrence of the terminator\n\tterminatorRegExp.lastIndex = this.pos;\n\tvar terminatorMatch = terminatorRegExp.exec(this.source);\n\t// Find the next occurrence of a inlinerule\n\tvar inlineRuleMatch = this.findNextMatch(this.inlineRules,this.pos);\n\t// Loop around until we've reached the end of the text\n\twhile(this.pos < this.sourceLength && (terminatorMatch || inlineRuleMatch)) {\n\t\t// Return if we've found the terminator, and it precedes any inline rule match\n\t\tif(terminatorMatch) {\n\t\t\tif(!inlineRuleMatch || inlineRuleMatch.matchIndex >= terminatorMatch.index) {\n\t\t\t\tif(terminatorMatch.index > this.pos) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttree.push({type: \"text\", text: this.source.substring(this.pos,terminatorMatch.index)});\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tthis.pos = terminatorMatch.index;\n\t\t\t\tif(options.eatTerminator) {\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.pos += terminatorMatch[0].length;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\treturn tree;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Process any inline rule, along with the text preceding it\n\t\tif(inlineRuleMatch) {\n\t\t\t// Preceding text\n\t\t\tif(inlineRuleMatch.matchIndex > this.pos) {\n\t\t\t\ttree.push({type: \"text\", text: this.source.substring(this.pos,inlineRuleMatch.matchIndex)});\n\t\t\t\tthis.pos = inlineRuleMatch.matchIndex;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Process the inline rule\n\t\t\ttree.push.apply(tree,inlineRuleMatch.rule.parse());\n\t\t\t// Look for the next inline rule\n\t\t\tinlineRuleMatch = this.findNextMatch(this.inlineRules,this.pos);\n\t\t\t// Look for the next terminator match\n\t\t\tterminatorRegExp.lastIndex = this.pos;\n\t\t\tterminatorMatch = terminatorRegExp.exec(this.source);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Process the remaining text\n\tif(this.pos < this.sourceLength) {\n\t\ttree.push({type: \"text\", text: this.source.substr(this.pos)});\n\t}\n\tthis.pos = this.sourceLength;\n\treturn tree;\n};\n\n/*\nParse zero or more class specifiers `.classname`\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.parseClasses = function() {\n\tvar classRegExp = /\\.([^\\s\\.]+)/mg,\n\t\tclassNames = [];\n\tclassRegExp.lastIndex = this.pos;\n\tvar match = classRegExp.exec(this.source);\n\twhile(match && match.index === this.pos) {\n\t\tthis.pos = match.index + match[0].length;\n\t\tclassNames.push(match[1]);\n\t\tmatch = classRegExp.exec(this.source);\n\t}\n\treturn classNames;\n};\n\n/*\nAmend the rules used by this instance of the parser\n\ttype: `only` keeps just the named rules, `except` keeps all but the named rules\n\tnames: array of rule names\n*/\nWikiParser.prototype.amendRules = function(type,names) {\n\tnames = names || [];\n\t// Define the filter function\n\tvar keepFilter;\n\tif(type === \"only\") {\n\t\tkeepFilter = function(name) {\n\t\t\treturn names.indexOf(name) !== -1;\n\t\t};\n\t} else if(type === \"except\") {\n\t\tkeepFilter = function(name) {\n\t\t\treturn names.indexOf(name) === -1;\n\t\t};\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Define a function to process each of our rule arrays\n\tvar processRuleArray = function(ruleArray) {\n\t\tfor(var t=ruleArray.length-1; t>=0; t--) {\n\t\t\tif(!keepFilter(ruleArray[t].rule.name)) {\n\t\t\t\truleArray.splice(t,1);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\t// Process each rule array\n\tprocessRuleArray(this.pragmaRules);\n\tprocessRuleArray(this.blockRules);\n\tprocessRuleArray(this.inlineRules);\n};\n\nexports[\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\"] = WikiParser;\n\n})();\n\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/wikiparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "parser"
},
"$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/wikirulebase.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/wikirulebase.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nBase class for wiki parser rules\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nThis constructor is always overridden with a blank constructor, and so shouldn't be used\n*/\nvar WikiRuleBase = function() {\n};\n\n/*\nTo be overridden by individual rules\n*/\nWikiRuleBase.prototype.init = function(parser) {\n\tthis.parser = parser;\n};\n\n/*\nDefault implementation of findNextMatch uses RegExp matching\n*/\nWikiRuleBase.prototype.findNextMatch = function(startPos) {\n\tthis.matchRegExp.lastIndex = startPos;\n\tthis.match = this.matchRegExp.exec(this.parser.source);\n\treturn this.match ? this.match.index : undefined;\n};\n\nexports.WikiRuleBase = WikiRuleBase;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/parsers/wikiparser/rules/wikirulebase.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/pluginswitcher.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/pluginswitcher.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nManages switching plugins for themes and languages.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\noptions:\nwiki: wiki store to be used\npluginType: type of plugin to be switched\ncontrollerTitle: title of tiddler used to control switching of this resource\ndefaultPlugins: array of default plugins to be used if nominated plugin isn't found\n*/\nfunction PluginSwitcher(options) {\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki;\n\tthis.pluginType = options.pluginType;\n\tthis.controllerTitle = options.controllerTitle;\n\tthis.defaultPlugins = options.defaultPlugins || [];\n\t// Switch to the current plugin\n\tthis.switchPlugins();\n\t// Listen for changes to the selected plugin\n\tvar self = this;\n\tthis.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",function(changes) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(changes,self.controllerTitle)) {\n\t\t\tself.switchPlugins();\n\t\t}\n\t});\n}\n\nPluginSwitcher.prototype.switchPlugins = function() {\n\t// Get the name of the current theme\n\tvar selectedPluginTitle = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.controllerTitle);\n\t// If it doesn't exist, then fallback to one of the default themes\n\tvar index = 0;\n\twhile(!this.wiki.getTiddler(selectedPluginTitle) && index < this.defaultPlugins.length) {\n\t\tselectedPluginTitle = this.defaultPlugins[index++];\n\t}\n\t// Accumulate the titles of the plugins that we need to load\n\tvar plugins = [],\n\t\tself = this,\n\t\taccumulatePlugin = function(title) {\n\t\t\tvar tiddler = self.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.isPlugin() && plugins.indexOf(title) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tplugins.push(title);\n\t\t\t\tvar pluginInfo = JSON.parse(self.wiki.getTiddlerText(title)),\n\t\t\t\t\tdependents = $tw.utils.parseStringArray(tiddler.fields.dependents || \"\");\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(dependents,function(title) {\n\t\t\t\t\taccumulatePlugin(title);\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\taccumulatePlugin(selectedPluginTitle);\n\t// Unregister any existing theme tiddlers\n\tvar unregisteredTiddlers = $tw.wiki.unregisterPluginTiddlers(this.pluginType);\n\t// Register any new theme tiddlers\n\tvar registeredTiddlers = $tw.wiki.registerPluginTiddlers(this.pluginType,plugins);\n\t// Unpack the current theme tiddlers\n\t$tw.wiki.unpackPluginTiddlers();\n};\n\nexports.PluginSwitcher = PluginSwitcher;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/pluginswitcher.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/saver-handler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/saver-handler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nThe saver handler tracks changes to the store and handles saving the entire wiki via saver modules.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInstantiate the saver handler with the following options:\nwiki: wiki to be synced\ndirtyTracking: true if dirty tracking should be performed\n*/\nfunction SaverHandler(options) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki;\n\tthis.dirtyTracking = options.dirtyTracking;\n\tthis.pendingAutoSave = false;\n\t// Make a logger\n\tthis.logger = new $tw.utils.Logger(\"saver-handler\");\n\t// Initialise our savers\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\tthis.initSavers();\n\t}\n\t// Only do dirty tracking if required\n\tif($tw.browser && this.dirtyTracking) {\n\t\t// Compile the dirty tiddler filter\n\t\tthis.filterFn = this.wiki.compileFilter(this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.titleSyncFilter));\n\t\t// Count of changes that have not yet been saved\n\t\tthis.numChanges = 0;\n\t\t// Listen out for changes to tiddlers\n\t\tthis.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",function(changes) {\n\t\t\t// Filter the changes so that we only count changes to tiddlers that we care about\n\t\t\tvar filteredChanges = self.filterFn.call(self.wiki,function(callback) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(changes,function(change,title) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar tiddler = self.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\t\t\tcallback(tiddler,title);\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t// Adjust the number of changes\n\t\t\tself.numChanges += filteredChanges.length;\n\t\t\tself.updateDirtyStatus();\n\t\t\t// Do any autosave if one is pending and there's no more change events\n\t\t\tif(self.pendingAutoSave && self.wiki.getSizeOfTiddlerEventQueue() === 0) {\n\t\t\t\t// Check if we're dirty\n\t\t\t\tif(self.numChanges > 0) {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.saveWiki({\n\t\t\t\t\t\tmethod: \"autosave\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\tdownloadType: \"text/plain\"\n\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tself.pendingAutoSave = false;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\t// Listen for the autosave event\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-auto-save-wiki\",function(event) {\n\t\t\t// Do the autosave unless there are outstanding tiddler change events\n\t\t\tif(self.wiki.getSizeOfTiddlerEventQueue() === 0) {\n\t\t\t\t// Check if we're dirty\n\t\t\t\tif(self.numChanges > 0) {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.saveWiki({\n\t\t\t\t\t\tmethod: \"autosave\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\tdownloadType: \"text/plain\"\n\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Otherwise put ourselves in the \"pending autosave\" state and wait for the change event before we do the autosave\n\t\t\t\tself.pendingAutoSave = true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\t// Set up our beforeunload handler\n\t\t$tw.addUnloadTask(function(event) {\n\t\t\tvar confirmationMessage;\n\t\t\tif(self.isDirty()) {\n\t\t\t\tconfirmationMessage = $tw.language.getString(\"UnsavedChangesWarning\");\n\t\t\t\tevent.returnValue = confirmationMessage; // Gecko\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn confirmationMessage;\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Install the save action handlers\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-save-wiki\",function(event) {\n\t\t\tself.saveWiki({\n\t\t\t\ttemplate: event.param,\n\t\t\t\tdownloadType: \"text/plain\",\n\t\t\t\tvariables: event.paramObject\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t});\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-download-file\",function(event) {\n\t\t\tself.saveWiki({\n\t\t\t\tmethod: \"download\",\n\t\t\t\ttemplate: event.param,\n\t\t\t\tdownloadType: \"text/plain\",\n\t\t\t\tvariables: event.paramObject\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t});\n\t}\n}\n\nSaverHandler.prototype.titleSyncFilter = \"$:/config/SaverFilter\";\nSaverHandler.prototype.titleAutoSave = \"$:/config/AutoSave\";\nSaverHandler.prototype.titleSavedNotification = \"$:/language/Notifications/Save/Done\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver modules and set them up\n*/\nSaverHandler.prototype.initSavers = function(moduleType) {\n\tmoduleType = moduleType || \"saver\";\n\t// Instantiate the available savers\n\tthis.savers = [];\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.modules.forEachModuleOfType(moduleType,function(title,module) {\n\t\tif(module.canSave(self)) {\n\t\t\tself.savers.push(module.create(self.wiki));\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Sort the savers into priority order\n\tthis.savers.sort(function(a,b) {\n\t\tif(a.info.priority < b.info.priority) {\n\t\t\treturn -1;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tif(a.info.priority > b.info.priority) {\n\t\t\t\treturn +1;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\treturn 0;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nSave the wiki contents. Options are:\n\tmethod: \"save\", \"autosave\" or \"download\"\n\ttemplate: the tiddler containing the template to save\n\tdownloadType: the content type for the saved file\n*/\nSaverHandler.prototype.saveWiki = function(options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tmethod = options.method || \"save\",\n\t\tvariables = options.variables || {},\n\t\ttemplate = options.template || \"$:/core/save/all\",\n\t\tdownloadType = options.downloadType || \"text/plain\",\n\t\ttext = this.wiki.renderTiddler(downloadType,template,options),\n\t\tcallback = function(err) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\talert($tw.language.getString(\"Error/WhileSaving\") + \":\\n\\n\" + err);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Clear the task queue if we're saving (rather than downloading)\n\t\t\t\tif(method !== \"download\") {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.numChanges = 0;\n\t\t\t\t\tself.updateDirtyStatus();\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t$tw.notifier.display(self.titleSavedNotification);\n\t\t\t\tif(options.callback) {\n\t\t\t\t\toptions.callback();\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\t// Ignore autosave if disabled\n\tif(method === \"autosave\" && this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.titleAutoSave,\"yes\") !== \"yes\") {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Call the highest priority saver that supports this method\n\tfor(var t=this.savers.length-1; t>=0; t--) {\n\t\tvar saver = this.savers[t];\n\t\tif(saver.info.capabilities.indexOf(method) !== -1 && saver.save(text,method,callback,{variables: {filename: variables.filename}})) {\n\t\t\tthis.logger.log(\"Saving wiki with method\",method,\"through saver\",saver.info.name);\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n/*\nChecks whether the wiki is dirty (ie the window shouldn't be closed)\n*/\nSaverHandler.prototype.isDirty = function() {\n\treturn this.numChanges > 0;\n};\n\n/*\nUpdate the document body with the class \"tc-dirty\" if the wiki has unsaved/unsynced changes\n*/\nSaverHandler.prototype.updateDirtyStatus = function() {\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.toggleClass(document.body,\"tc-dirty\",this.isDirty());\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.SaverHandler = SaverHandler;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/saver-handler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/andtidwiki.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/andtidwiki.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via the AndTidWiki Android app\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false, netscape: false, Components: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar AndTidWiki = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nAndTidWiki.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\t// Get the pathname of this document\n\tvar pathname = decodeURIComponent(document.location.toString().split(\"#\")[0]);\n\t// Strip the file://\n\tif(pathname.indexOf(\"file://\") === 0) {\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(7);\n\t}\n\t// Strip any query or location part\n\tvar p = pathname.indexOf(\"?\");\n\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(0,p);\n\t}\n\tp = pathname.indexOf(\"#\");\n\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(0,p);\n\t}\n\t// Save the file\n\twindow.twi.saveFile(pathname,text);\n\t// Call the callback\n\tcallback(null);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nAndTidWiki.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"andtidwiki\",\n\tpriority: 1600,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"autosave\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn !!window.twi && !!window.twi.saveFile;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new AndTidWiki(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/andtidwiki.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/download.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/download.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via HTML5's download APIs\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver module and set it up\n*/\nvar DownloadSaver = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nDownloadSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\t// Get the current filename\n\tvar filename = options.variables.filename;\n\tif(!filename) {\n\t\tvar p = document.location.pathname.lastIndexOf(\"/\");\n\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\tfilename = document.location.pathname.substr(p+1);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tif(!filename) {\n\t\tfilename = \"tiddlywiki.html\";\n\t}\n\t// Set up the link\n\tvar link = document.createElement(\"a\");\n\tlink.setAttribute(\"target\",\"_blank\");\n\tlink.setAttribute(\"rel\",\"noopener noreferrer\");\n\tif(Blob !== undefined) {\n\t\tvar blob = new Blob([text], {type: \"text/html\"});\n\t\tlink.setAttribute(\"href\", URL.createObjectURL(blob));\n\t} else {\n\t\tlink.setAttribute(\"href\",\"data:text/html,\" + encodeURIComponent(text));\n\t}\n\tlink.setAttribute(\"download\",filename);\n\tdocument.body.appendChild(link);\n\tlink.click();\n\tdocument.body.removeChild(link);\n\t// Callback that we succeeded\n\tcallback(null);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nDownloadSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"download\",\n\tpriority: 100,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"download\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn document.createElement(\"a\").download !== undefined;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new DownloadSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/download.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/fsosaver.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/fsosaver.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via MS FileSystemObject ActiveXObject\n\nNote: Since TiddlyWiki's markup contains the MOTW, the FileSystemObject normally won't be available. \nHowever, if the wiki is loaded as an .HTA file (Windows HTML Applications) then the FSO can be used.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver module and set it up\n*/\nvar FSOSaver = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nFSOSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\t// Get the pathname of this document\n\tvar pathname = unescape(document.location.pathname);\n\t// Test for a Windows path of the form /x:\\blah...\n\tif(/^\\/[A-Z]\\:\\\\[^\\\\]+/i.test(pathname)) {\t// ie: ^/[a-z]:/[^/]+\n\t\t// Remove the leading slash\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(1);\n\t} else if(document.location.hostname !== \"\" && /^\\/\\\\[^\\\\]+\\\\[^\\\\]+/i.test(pathname)) {\t// test for \\\\server\\share\\blah... - ^/[^/]+/[^/]+\n\t\t// Remove the leading slash\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(1);\n\t\t// reconstruct UNC path\n\t\tpathname = \"\\\\\\\\\" + document.location.hostname + pathname;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Save the file (as UTF-16)\n\tvar fso = new ActiveXObject(\"Scripting.FileSystemObject\");\n\tvar file = fso.OpenTextFile(pathname,2,-1,-1);\n\tfile.Write(text);\n\tfile.Close();\n\t// Callback that we succeeded\n\tcallback(null);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nFSOSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"FSOSaver\",\n\tpriority: 120,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"autosave\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\ttry {\n\t\treturn (window.location.protocol === \"file:\") && !!(new ActiveXObject(\"Scripting.FileSystemObject\"));\n\t} catch(e) { return false; }\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new FSOSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/fsosaver.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/manualdownload.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/manualdownload.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via HTML5's download APIs\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Title of the tiddler containing the download message\nvar downloadInstructionsTitle = \"$:/language/Modals/Download\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver module and set it up\n*/\nvar ManualDownloadSaver = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nManualDownloadSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\t$tw.modal.display(downloadInstructionsTitle,{\n\t\tdownloadLink: \"data:text/html,\" + encodeURIComponent(text)\n\t});\n\t// Callback that we succeeded\n\tcallback(null);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nManualDownloadSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"manualdownload\",\n\tpriority: 0,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"download\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new ManualDownloadSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/manualdownload.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/msdownload.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/msdownload.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via window.navigator.msSaveBlob()\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver module and set it up\n*/\nvar MsDownloadSaver = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nMsDownloadSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\t// Get the current filename\n\tvar filename = \"tiddlywiki.html\",\n\t\tp = document.location.pathname.lastIndexOf(\"/\");\n\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\tfilename = document.location.pathname.substr(p+1);\n\t}\n\t// Set up the link\n\tvar blob = new Blob([text], {type: \"text/html\"});\n\twindow.navigator.msSaveBlob(blob,filename);\n\t// Callback that we succeeded\n\tcallback(null);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nMsDownloadSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"msdownload\",\n\tpriority: 110,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"download\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn !!window.navigator.msSaveBlob;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new MsDownloadSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/msdownload.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/put.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/put.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nSaves wiki by performing a PUT request to the server\n\nWorks with any server which accepts a PUT request\nto the current URL, such as a WebDAV server.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver module and set it up\n*/\nvar PutSaver = function(wiki) {\n\tthis.wiki = wiki;\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Async server probe. Until probe finishes, save will fail fast\n\t// See also https://github.com/Jermolene/TiddlyWiki5/issues/2276\n\tvar req = new XMLHttpRequest();\n\treq.open(\"OPTIONS\",encodeURI(document.location.protocol + \"//\" + document.location.hostname + \":\" + document.location.port + document.location.pathname));\n\treq.onload = function() {\n\t\t// Check DAV header http://www.webdav.org/specs/rfc2518.html#rfc.section.9.1\n\t\tself.serverAcceptsPuts = (this.status === 200 && !!this.getResponseHeader('dav'));\n\t};\n\treq.send();\n};\n\nPutSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\tif (!this.serverAcceptsPuts) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\tvar req = new XMLHttpRequest();\n\t// TODO: store/check ETags if supported by server, to protect against overwrites\n\t// Prompt: Do you want to save over this? Y/N\n\t// Merging would be ideal, and may be possible using future generic merge flow\n\treq.onload = function() {\n\t\tif (this.status === 200 || this.status === 201) {\n\t\t\tcallback(null); // success\n\t\t}\n\t\telse {\n\t\t\tcallback(this.responseText); // fail\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\treq.open(\"PUT\", encodeURI(window.location.href));\n\treq.setRequestHeader(\"Content-Type\", \"text/html;charset=UTF-8\");\n\treq.send(text);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nPutSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"put\",\n\tpriority: 2000,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"autosave\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn /^https?:/.test(location.protocol);\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new PutSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/put.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/tiddlyfox.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/tiddlyfox.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via the TiddlyFox file extension\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false, netscape: false, Components: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar TiddlyFoxSaver = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nTiddlyFoxSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\tvar messageBox = document.getElementById(\"tiddlyfox-message-box\");\n\tif(messageBox) {\n\t\t// Get the pathname of this document\n\t\tvar pathname = document.location.toString().split(\"#\")[0];\n\t\t// Replace file://localhost/ with file:///\n\t\tif(pathname.indexOf(\"file://localhost/\") === 0) {\n\t\t\tpathname = \"file://\" + pathname.substr(16);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Windows path file:///x:/blah/blah --> x:\\blah\\blah\n\t\tif(/^file\\:\\/\\/\\/[A-Z]\\:\\//i.test(pathname)) {\n\t\t\t// Remove the leading slash and convert slashes to backslashes\n\t\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(8).replace(/\\//g,\"\\\\\");\n\t\t// Firefox Windows network path file://///server/share/blah/blah --> //server/share/blah/blah\n\t\t} else if(pathname.indexOf(\"file://///\") === 0) {\n\t\t\tpathname = \"\\\\\\\\\" + unescape(pathname.substr(10)).replace(/\\//g,\"\\\\\");\n\t\t// Mac/Unix local path file:///path/path --> /path/path\n\t\t} else if(pathname.indexOf(\"file:///\") === 0) {\n\t\t\tpathname = unescape(pathname.substr(7));\n\t\t// Mac/Unix local path file:/path/path --> /path/path\n\t\t} else if(pathname.indexOf(\"file:/\") === 0) {\n\t\t\tpathname = unescape(pathname.substr(5));\n\t\t// Otherwise Windows networth path file://server/share/path/path --> \\\\server\\share\\path\\path\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tpathname = \"\\\\\\\\\" + unescape(pathname.substr(7)).replace(new RegExp(\"/\",\"g\"),\"\\\\\");\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Create the message element and put it in the message box\n\t\tvar message = document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\tmessage.setAttribute(\"data-tiddlyfox-path\",decodeURIComponent(pathname));\n\t\tmessage.setAttribute(\"data-tiddlyfox-content\",text);\n\t\tmessageBox.appendChild(message);\n\t\t// Add an event handler for when the file has been saved\n\t\tmessage.addEventListener(\"tiddlyfox-have-saved-file\",function(event) {\n\t\t\tcallback(null);\n\t\t}, false);\n\t\t// Create and dispatch the custom event to the extension\n\t\tvar event = document.createEvent(\"Events\");\n\t\tevent.initEvent(\"tiddlyfox-save-file\",true,false);\n\t\tmessage.dispatchEvent(event);\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nTiddlyFoxSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"tiddlyfox\",\n\tpriority: 1500,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"autosave\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn (window.location.protocol === \"file:\");\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new TiddlyFoxSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/tiddlyfox.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/tiddlyie.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/tiddlyie.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via Internet Explorer BHO extenion (TiddlyIE)\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver module and set it up\n*/\nvar TiddlyIESaver = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nTiddlyIESaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\t// Check existence of TiddlyIE BHO extension (note: only works after document is complete)\n\tif(typeof(window.TiddlyIE) != \"undefined\") {\n\t\t// Get the pathname of this document\n\t\tvar pathname = unescape(document.location.pathname);\n\t\t// Test for a Windows path of the form /x:/blah...\n\t\tif(/^\\/[A-Z]\\:\\/[^\\/]+/i.test(pathname)) {\t// ie: ^/[a-z]:/[^/]+ (is this better?: ^/[a-z]:/[^/]+(/[^/]+)*\\.[^/]+ )\n\t\t\t// Remove the leading slash\n\t\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(1);\n\t\t\t// Convert slashes to backslashes\n\t\t\tpathname = pathname.replace(/\\//g,\"\\\\\");\n\t\t} else if(document.hostname !== \"\" && /^\\/[^\\/]+\\/[^\\/]+/i.test(pathname)) {\t// test for \\\\server\\share\\blah... - ^/[^/]+/[^/]+\n\t\t\t// Convert slashes to backslashes\n\t\t\tpathname = pathname.replace(/\\//g,\"\\\\\");\n\t\t\t// reconstruct UNC path\n\t\t\tpathname = \"\\\\\\\\\" + document.location.hostname + pathname;\n\t\t} else return false;\n\t\t// Prompt the user to save the file\n\t\twindow.TiddlyIE.save(pathname, text);\n\t\t// Callback that we succeeded\n\t\tcallback(null);\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nTiddlyIESaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"tiddlyiesaver\",\n\tpriority: 1500,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn (window.location.protocol === \"file:\");\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new TiddlyIESaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/tiddlyie.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/twedit.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/twedit.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via the TWEdit iOS app\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false, netscape: false, Components: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar TWEditSaver = function(wiki) {\n};\n\nTWEditSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\t// Bail if we're not running under TWEdit\n\tif(typeof DeviceInfo !== \"object\") {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Get the pathname of this document\n\tvar pathname = decodeURIComponent(document.location.pathname);\n\t// Strip any query or location part\n\tvar p = pathname.indexOf(\"?\");\n\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(0,p);\n\t}\n\tp = pathname.indexOf(\"#\");\n\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(0,p);\n\t}\n\t// Remove the leading \"/Documents\" from path\n\tvar prefix = \"/Documents\";\n\tif(pathname.indexOf(prefix) === 0) {\n\t\tpathname = pathname.substr(prefix.length);\n\t}\n\t// Error handler\n\tvar errorHandler = function(event) {\n\t\t// Error\n\t\tcallback($tw.language.getString(\"Error/SavingToTWEdit\") + \": \" + event.target.error.code);\n\t};\n\t// Get the file system\n\twindow.requestFileSystem(LocalFileSystem.PERSISTENT,0,function(fileSystem) {\n\t\t// Now we've got the filesystem, get the fileEntry\n\t\tfileSystem.root.getFile(pathname, {create: true}, function(fileEntry) {\n\t\t\t// Now we've got the fileEntry, create the writer\n\t\t\tfileEntry.createWriter(function(writer) {\n\t\t\t\twriter.onerror = errorHandler;\n\t\t\t\twriter.onwrite = function() {\n\t\t\t\t\tcallback(null);\n\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\twriter.position = 0;\n\t\t\t\twriter.write(text);\n\t\t\t},errorHandler);\n\t\t}, errorHandler);\n\t}, errorHandler);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nTWEditSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"twedit\",\n\tpriority: 1600,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"autosave\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new TWEditSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n/////////////////////////// Hack\n// HACK: This ensures that TWEdit recognises us as a TiddlyWiki document\nif($tw.browser) {\n\twindow.version = {title: \"TiddlyWiki\"};\n}\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/twedit.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/savers/upload.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/savers/upload.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: saver\n\nHandles saving changes via upload to a server.\n\nDesigned to be compatible with BidiX's UploadPlugin at http://tiddlywiki.bidix.info/#UploadPlugin\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nSelect the appropriate saver module and set it up\n*/\nvar UploadSaver = function(wiki) {\n\tthis.wiki = wiki;\n};\n\nUploadSaver.prototype.save = function(text,method,callback) {\n\t// Get the various parameters we need\n\tvar backupDir = this.wiki.getTextReference(\"$:/UploadBackupDir\") || \".\",\n\t\tusername = this.wiki.getTextReference(\"$:/UploadName\"),\n\t\tpassword = $tw.utils.getPassword(\"upload\"),\n\t\tuploadDir = this.wiki.getTextReference(\"$:/UploadDir\") || \".\",\n\t\tuploadFilename = this.wiki.getTextReference(\"$:/UploadFilename\") || \"index.html\",\n\t\turl = this.wiki.getTextReference(\"$:/UploadURL\");\n\t// Bail out if we don't have the bits we need\n\tif(!username || username.toString().trim() === \"\" || !password || password.toString().trim() === \"\") {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Construct the url if not provided\n\tif(!url) {\n\t\turl = \"http://\" + username + \".tiddlyspot.com/store.cgi\";\n\t}\n\t// Assemble the header\n\tvar boundary = \"---------------------------\" + \"AaB03x\";\t\n\tvar uploadFormName = \"UploadPlugin\";\n\tvar head = [];\n\thead.push(\"--\" + boundary + \"\\r\\nContent-disposition: form-data; name=\\\"UploadPlugin\\\"\\r\\n\");\n\thead.push(\"backupDir=\" + backupDir + \";user=\" + username + \";password=\" + password + \";uploaddir=\" + uploadDir + \";;\"); \n\thead.push(\"\\r\\n\" + \"--\" + boundary);\n\thead.push(\"Content-disposition: form-data; name=\\\"userfile\\\"; filename=\\\"\" + uploadFilename + \"\\\"\");\n\thead.push(\"Content-Type: text/html;charset=UTF-8\");\n\thead.push(\"Content-Length: \" + text.length + \"\\r\\n\");\n\thead.push(\"\");\n\t// Assemble the tail and the data itself\n\tvar tail = \"\\r\\n--\" + boundary + \"--\\r\\n\",\n\t\tdata = head.join(\"\\r\\n\") + text + tail;\n\t// Do the HTTP post\n\tvar http = new XMLHttpRequest();\n\thttp.open(\"POST\",url,true,username,password);\n\thttp.setRequestHeader(\"Content-Type\",\"multipart/form-data; charset=UTF-8; boundary=\" + boundary);\n\thttp.onreadystatechange = function() {\n\t\tif(http.readyState == 4 && http.status == 200) {\n\t\t\tif(http.responseText.substr(0,4) === \"0 - \") {\n\t\t\t\tcallback(null);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tcallback(http.responseText);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\ttry {\n\t\thttp.send(data);\n\t} catch(ex) {\n\t\treturn callback($tw.language.getString(\"Error/Caption\") + \":\" + ex);\n\t}\n\t$tw.notifier.display(\"$:/language/Notifications/Save/Starting\");\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nInformation about this saver\n*/\nUploadSaver.prototype.info = {\n\tname: \"upload\",\n\tpriority: 2000,\n\tcapabilities: [\"save\", \"autosave\"]\n};\n\n/*\nStatic method that returns true if this saver is capable of working\n*/\nexports.canSave = function(wiki) {\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an instance of this saver\n*/\nexports.create = function(wiki) {\n\treturn new UploadSaver(wiki);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/savers/upload.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "saver"
},
"$:/core/modules/browser-messaging.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/browser-messaging.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nBrowser message handling\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"browser-messaging\";\nexports.platforms = [\"browser\"];\nexports.after = [\"startup\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\n/*\nLoad a specified url as an iframe and call the callback when it is loaded. If the url is already loaded then the existing iframe instance is used\n*/\nfunction loadIFrame(url,callback) {\n\t// Check if iframe already exists\n\tvar iframeInfo = $tw.browserMessaging.iframeInfoMap[url];\n\tif(iframeInfo) {\n\t\t// We've already got the iframe\n\t\tcallback(null,iframeInfo);\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Create the iframe and save it in the list\n\t\tvar iframe = document.createElement(\"iframe\"),\n\t\t\tiframeInfo = {\n\t\t\t\turl: url,\n\t\t\t\tstatus: \"loading\",\n\t\t\t\tdomNode: iframe\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t$tw.browserMessaging.iframeInfoMap[url] = iframeInfo;\n\t\tsaveIFrameInfoTiddler(iframeInfo);\n\t\t// Add the iframe to the DOM and hide it\n\t\tiframe.style.display = \"none\";\n\t\tdocument.body.appendChild(iframe);\n\t\t// Set up onload\n\t\tiframe.onload = function() {\n\t\t\tiframeInfo.status = \"loaded\";\n\t\t\tsaveIFrameInfoTiddler(iframeInfo);\n\t\t\tcallback(null,iframeInfo);\n\t\t};\n\t\tiframe.onerror = function() {\n\t\t\tcallback(\"Cannot load iframe\");\n\t\t};\n\t\ttry {\n\t\t\tiframe.src = url;\n\t\t} catch(ex) {\n\t\t\tcallback(ex);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n}\n\nfunction saveIFrameInfoTiddler(iframeInfo) {\n\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler($tw.wiki.getCreationFields(),{\n\t\ttitle: \"$:/temp/ServerConnection/\" + iframeInfo.url,\n\t\ttext: iframeInfo.status,\n\t\ttags: [\"$:/tags/ServerConnection\"],\n\t\turl: iframeInfo.url\n\t},$tw.wiki.getModificationFields()));\n}\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Initialise the store of iframes we've created\n\t$tw.browserMessaging = {\n\t\tiframeInfoMap: {} // Hashmap by URL of {url:,status:\"loading/loaded\",domNode:}\n\t};\n\t// Listen for widget messages to control loading the plugin library\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-load-plugin-library\",function(event) {\n\t\tvar paramObject = event.paramObject || {},\n\t\t\turl = paramObject.url;\n\t\tif(url) {\n\t\t\tloadIFrame(url,function(err,iframeInfo) {\n\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\talert($tw.language.getString(\"Error/LoadingPluginLibrary\") + \": \" + url);\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tiframeInfo.domNode.contentWindow.postMessage({\n\t\t\t\t\t\tverb: \"GET\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\turl: \"recipes/library/tiddlers.json\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcookies: {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"save-info\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tinfoTitlePrefix: paramObject.infoTitlePrefix || \"$:/temp/RemoteAssetInfo/\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\turl: url\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t},\"*\");\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-load-plugin-from-library\",function(event) {\n\t\tvar paramObject = event.paramObject || {},\n\t\t\turl = paramObject.url,\n\t\t\ttitle = paramObject.title;\n\t\tif(url && title) {\n\t\t\tloadIFrame(url,function(err,iframeInfo) {\n\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\talert($tw.language.getString(\"Error/LoadingPluginLibrary\") + \": \" + url);\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tiframeInfo.domNode.contentWindow.postMessage({\n\t\t\t\t\t\tverb: \"GET\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\turl: \"recipes/library/tiddlers/\" + encodeURIComponent(title) + \".json\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcookies: {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"save-tiddler\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\turl: url\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t},\"*\");\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Listen for window messages from other windows\n\twindow.addEventListener(\"message\",function listener(event){\n\t\tconsole.log(\"browser-messaging: \",document.location.toString())\n\t\tconsole.log(\"browser-messaging: Received message from\",event.origin);\n\t\tconsole.log(\"browser-messaging: Message content\",event.data);\n\t\tswitch(event.data.verb) {\n\t\t\tcase \"GET-RESPONSE\":\n\t\t\t\tif(event.data.status.charAt(0) === \"2\") {\n\t\t\t\t\tif(event.data.cookies) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif(event.data.cookies.type === \"save-info\") {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tvar tiddlers = JSON.parse(event.data.body);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler($tw.wiki.getCreationFields(),tiddler,{\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttitle: event.data.cookies.infoTitlePrefix + event.data.cookies.url + \"/\" + tiddler.title,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"original-title\": tiddler.title,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttext: \"\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"original-type\": tiddler.type,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"plugin-type\": undefined,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"original-plugin-type\": tiddler[\"plugin-type\"],\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"module-type\": undefined,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"original-module-type\": tiddler[\"module-type\"],\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttags: [\"$:/tags/RemoteAssetInfo\"],\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"original-tags\": $tw.utils.stringifyList(tiddler.tags || []),\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"server-url\": event.data.cookies.url\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t},$tw.wiki.getModificationFields()));\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\t\t\t} else if(event.data.cookies.type === \"save-tiddler\") {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tvar tiddler = JSON.parse(event.data.body);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler));\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t},false);\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/browser-messaging.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/commands.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/commands.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nCommand processing\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"commands\";\nexports.platforms = [\"node\"];\nexports.after = [\"story\"];\nexports.synchronous = false;\n\nexports.startup = function(callback) {\n\t// On the server, start a commander with the command line arguments\n\tvar commander = new $tw.Commander(\n\t\t$tw.boot.argv,\n\t\tfunction(err) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.error(\"Error: \" + err);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tcallback();\n\t\t},\n\t\t$tw.wiki,\n\t\t{output: process.stdout, error: process.stderr}\n\t);\n\tcommander.execute();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/commands.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/favicon.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/favicon.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nFavicon handling\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"favicon\";\nexports.platforms = [\"browser\"];\nexports.after = [\"startup\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\t\t\n// Favicon tiddler\nvar FAVICON_TITLE = \"$:/favicon.ico\";\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Set up the favicon\n\tsetFavicon();\n\t// Reset the favicon when the tiddler changes\n\t$tw.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",function(changes) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(changes,FAVICON_TITLE)) {\n\t\t\tsetFavicon();\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\nfunction setFavicon() {\n\tvar tiddler = $tw.wiki.getTiddler(FAVICON_TITLE);\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\tvar faviconLink = document.getElementById(\"faviconLink\");\n\t\tfaviconLink.setAttribute(\"href\",\"data:\" + tiddler.fields.type + \";base64,\" + tiddler.fields.text);\n\t}\n}\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/favicon.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/info.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/info.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nInitialise $:/info tiddlers via $:/temp/info-plugin pseudo-plugin\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"info\";\nexports.before = [\"startup\"];\nexports.after = [\"load-modules\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Collect up the info tiddlers\n\tvar infoTiddlerFields = {};\n\t// Give each info module a chance to fill in as many info tiddlers as they want\n\t$tw.modules.forEachModuleOfType(\"info\",function(title,moduleExports) {\n\t\tif(moduleExports && moduleExports.getInfoTiddlerFields) {\n\t\t\tvar tiddlerFieldsArray = moduleExports.getInfoTiddlerFields(infoTiddlerFields);\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlerFieldsArray,function(fields) {\n\t\t\t\tif(fields) {\n\t\t\t\t\tinfoTiddlerFields[fields.title] = fields;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Bake the info tiddlers into a plugin\n\tvar fields = {\n\t\ttitle: \"$:/temp/info-plugin\",\n\t\ttype: \"application/json\",\n\t\t\"plugin-type\": \"info\",\n\t\ttext: JSON.stringify({tiddlers: infoTiddlerFields},null,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces)\n\t};\n\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(fields));\n\t$tw.wiki.readPluginInfo();\n\t$tw.wiki.registerPluginTiddlers(\"info\");\n\t$tw.wiki.unpackPluginTiddlers();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/info.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/load-modules.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/load-modules.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nLoad core modules\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"load-modules\";\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Load modules\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"utils\",$tw.utils);\n\tif($tw.node) {\n\t\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"utils-node\",$tw.utils);\n\t}\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"global\",$tw);\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"config\",$tw.config);\n\t$tw.Tiddler.fieldModules = $tw.modules.getModulesByTypeAsHashmap(\"tiddlerfield\");\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"tiddlermethod\",$tw.Tiddler.prototype);\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"wikimethod\",$tw.Wiki.prototype);\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"tiddlerdeserializer\",$tw.Wiki.tiddlerDeserializerModules);\n\t$tw.macros = $tw.modules.getModulesByTypeAsHashmap(\"macro\");\n\t$tw.wiki.initParsers();\n\t$tw.Commander.initCommands();\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/load-modules.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/password.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/password.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nPassword handling\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"password\";\nexports.platforms = [\"browser\"];\nexports.after = [\"startup\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-set-password\",function(event) {\n\t\t$tw.passwordPrompt.createPrompt({\n\t\t\tserviceName: $tw.language.getString(\"Encryption/PromptSetPassword\"),\n\t\t\tnoUserName: true,\n\t\t\tsubmitText: $tw.language.getString(\"Encryption/SetPassword\"),\n\t\t\tcanCancel: true,\n\t\t\trepeatPassword: true,\n\t\t\tcallback: function(data) {\n\t\t\t\tif(data) {\n\t\t\t\t\t$tw.crypto.setPassword(data.password);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\treturn true; // Get rid of the password prompt\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t});\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-clear-password\",function(event) {\n\t\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t\tif(!confirm($tw.language.getString(\"Encryption/ConfirmClearPassword\"))) {\n\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t$tw.crypto.setPassword(null);\n\t});\n\t// Ensure that $:/isEncrypted is maintained properly\n\t$tw.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",function(changes) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(changes,\"$:/isEncrypted\")) {\n\t\t\t$tw.crypto.updateCryptoStateTiddler();\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/password.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/render.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/render.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nTitle, stylesheet and page rendering\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"render\";\nexports.platforms = [\"browser\"];\nexports.after = [\"story\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\n// Default story and history lists\nvar PAGE_TITLE_TITLE = \"$:/core/wiki/title\";\nvar PAGE_STYLESHEET_TITLE = \"$:/core/ui/PageStylesheet\";\nvar PAGE_TEMPLATE_TITLE = \"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate\";\n\n// Time (in ms) that we defer refreshing changes to draft tiddlers\nvar DRAFT_TIDDLER_TIMEOUT_TITLE = \"$:/config/Drafts/TypingTimeout\";\nvar DRAFT_TIDDLER_TIMEOUT = 400;\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Set up the title\n\t$tw.titleWidgetNode = $tw.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(PAGE_TITLE_TITLE,{document: $tw.fakeDocument, parseAsInline: true});\n\t$tw.titleContainer = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"div\");\n\t$tw.titleWidgetNode.render($tw.titleContainer,null);\n\tdocument.title = $tw.titleContainer.textContent;\n\t$tw.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",function(changes) {\n\t\tif($tw.titleWidgetNode.refresh(changes,$tw.titleContainer,null)) {\n\t\t\tdocument.title = $tw.titleContainer.textContent;\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Set up the styles\n\t$tw.styleWidgetNode = $tw.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(PAGE_STYLESHEET_TITLE,{document: $tw.fakeDocument});\n\t$tw.styleContainer = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"style\");\n\t$tw.styleWidgetNode.render($tw.styleContainer,null);\n\t$tw.styleElement = document.createElement(\"style\");\n\t$tw.styleElement.innerHTML = $tw.styleContainer.textContent;\n\tdocument.head.insertBefore($tw.styleElement,document.head.firstChild);\n\t$tw.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",$tw.perf.report(\"styleRefresh\",function(changes) {\n\t\tif($tw.styleWidgetNode.refresh(changes,$tw.styleContainer,null)) {\n\t\t\t$tw.styleElement.innerHTML = $tw.styleContainer.textContent;\n\t\t}\n\t}));\n\t// Display the $:/core/ui/PageTemplate tiddler to kick off the display\n\t$tw.perf.report(\"mainRender\",function() {\n\t\t$tw.pageWidgetNode = $tw.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(PAGE_TEMPLATE_TITLE,{document: document, parentWidget: $tw.rootWidget});\n\t\t$tw.pageContainer = document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\t$tw.utils.addClass($tw.pageContainer,\"tc-page-container-wrapper\");\n\t\tdocument.body.insertBefore($tw.pageContainer,document.body.firstChild);\n\t\t$tw.pageWidgetNode.render($tw.pageContainer,null);\n\t})();\n\t// Prepare refresh mechanism\n\tvar deferredChanges = Object.create(null),\n\t\ttimerId;\n\tfunction refresh() {\n\t\t// Process the refresh\n\t\t$tw.pageWidgetNode.refresh(deferredChanges);\n\t\tdeferredChanges = Object.create(null);\n\t}\n\t// Add the change event handler\n\t$tw.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",$tw.perf.report(\"mainRefresh\",function(changes) {\n\t\t// Check if only drafts have changed\n\t\tvar onlyDraftsHaveChanged = true;\n\t\tfor(var title in changes) {\n\t\t\tvar tiddler = $tw.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\tif(!tiddler || !tiddler.hasField(\"draft.of\")) {\n\t\t\t\tonlyDraftsHaveChanged = false;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Defer the change if only drafts have changed\n\t\tif(timerId) {\n\t\t\tclearTimeout(timerId);\n\t\t}\n\t\ttimerId = null;\n\t\tif(onlyDraftsHaveChanged) {\n\t\t\tvar timeout = parseInt($tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(DRAFT_TIDDLER_TIMEOUT_TITLE,\"\"),10);\n\t\t\tif(isNaN(timeout)) {\n\t\t\t\ttimeout = DRAFT_TIDDLER_TIMEOUT;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\ttimerId = setTimeout(refresh,timeout);\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.extend(deferredChanges,changes);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.extend(deferredChanges,changes);\n\t\t\trefresh();\n\t\t}\n\t}));\n\t// Fix up the link between the root widget and the page container\n\t$tw.rootWidget.domNodes = [$tw.pageContainer];\n\t$tw.rootWidget.children = [$tw.pageWidgetNode];\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/render.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/rootwidget.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/rootwidget.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nSetup the root widget and the core root widget handlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"rootwidget\";\nexports.platforms = [\"browser\"];\nexports.after = [\"startup\"];\nexports.before = [\"story\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Install the modal message mechanism\n\t$tw.modal = new $tw.utils.Modal($tw.wiki);\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-modal\",function(event) {\n\t\t$tw.modal.display(event.param,{variables: event.paramObject});\n\t});\n\t// Install the notification mechanism\n\t$tw.notifier = new $tw.utils.Notifier($tw.wiki);\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-notify\",function(event) {\n\t\t$tw.notifier.display(event.param,{variables: event.paramObject});\n\t});\n\t// Install the scroller\n\t$tw.pageScroller = new $tw.utils.PageScroller();\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-scroll\",function(event) {\n\t\t$tw.pageScroller.handleEvent(event);\n\t});\n\tvar fullscreen = $tw.utils.getFullScreenApis();\n\tif(fullscreen) {\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-full-screen\",function(event) {\n\t\t\tif(document[fullscreen._fullscreenElement]) {\n\t\t\t\tdocument[fullscreen._exitFullscreen]();\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tdocument.documentElement[fullscreen._requestFullscreen](Element.ALLOW_KEYBOARD_INPUT);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// If we're being viewed on a data: URI then give instructions for how to save\n\tif(document.location.protocol === \"data:\") {\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.dispatchEvent({\n\t\t\ttype: \"tm-modal\",\n\t\t\tparam: \"$:/language/Modals/SaveInstructions\"\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/rootwidget.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nMiscellaneous startup logic for both the client and server.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"startup\";\nexports.after = [\"load-modules\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\n// Set to `true` to enable performance instrumentation\nvar PERFORMANCE_INSTRUMENTATION_CONFIG_TITLE = \"$:/config/Performance/Instrumentation\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\tvar modules,n,m,f;\n\t// Minimal browser detection\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t$tw.browser.isIE = (/msie|trident/i.test(navigator.userAgent));\n\t\t$tw.browser.isFirefox = !!document.mozFullScreenEnabled;\n\t}\n\t// Platform detection\n\t$tw.platform = {};\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t$tw.platform.isMac = /Mac/.test(navigator.platform);\n\t\t$tw.platform.isWindows = /win/i.test(navigator.platform);\n\t\t$tw.platform.isLinux = /Linux/i.test(navigator.appVersion);\n\t} else {\n\t\tswitch(require(\"os\").platform()) {\n\t\t\tcase \"darwin\":\n\t\t\t\t$tw.platform.isMac = true;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"win32\":\n\t\t\t\t$tw.platform.isWindows = true;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"freebsd\":\n\t\t\t\t$tw.platform.isLinux = true;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"linux\":\n\t\t\t\t$tw.platform.isLinux = true;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Initialise version\n\t$tw.version = $tw.utils.extractVersionInfo();\n\t// Set up the performance framework\n\t$tw.perf = new $tw.Performance($tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(PERFORMANCE_INSTRUMENTATION_CONFIG_TITLE,\"no\") === \"yes\");\n\t// Kick off the language manager and switcher\n\t$tw.language = new $tw.Language();\n\t$tw.languageSwitcher = new $tw.PluginSwitcher({\n\t\twiki: $tw.wiki,\n\t\tpluginType: \"language\",\n\t\tcontrollerTitle: \"$:/language\",\n\t\tdefaultPlugins: [\n\t\t\t\"$:/languages/en-US\"\n\t\t]\n\t});\n\t// Kick off the theme manager\n\t$tw.themeManager = new $tw.PluginSwitcher({\n\t\twiki: $tw.wiki,\n\t\tpluginType: \"theme\",\n\t\tcontrollerTitle: \"$:/theme\",\n\t\tdefaultPlugins: [\n\t\t\t\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/snowwhite\",\n\t\t\t\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla\"\n\t\t]\n\t});\n\t// Kick off the keyboard manager\n\t$tw.keyboardManager = new $tw.KeyboardManager();\n\t// Clear outstanding tiddler store change events to avoid an unnecessary refresh cycle at startup\n\t$tw.wiki.clearTiddlerEventQueue();\n\t// Create a root widget for attaching event handlers. By using it as the parentWidget for another widget tree, one can reuse the event handlers\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget = new widget.widget({\n\t\t\ttype: \"widget\",\n\t\t\tchildren: []\n\t\t},{\n\t\t\twiki: $tw.wiki,\n\t\t\tdocument: document\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Find a working syncadaptor\n\t$tw.syncadaptor = undefined;\n\t$tw.modules.forEachModuleOfType(\"syncadaptor\",function(title,module) {\n\t\tif(!$tw.syncadaptor && module.adaptorClass) {\n\t\t\t$tw.syncadaptor = new module.adaptorClass({wiki: $tw.wiki});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Set up the syncer object if we've got a syncadaptor\n\tif($tw.syncadaptor) {\n\t\t$tw.syncer = new $tw.Syncer({wiki: $tw.wiki, syncadaptor: $tw.syncadaptor});\n\t} \n\t// Setup the saver handler\n\t$tw.saverHandler = new $tw.SaverHandler({wiki: $tw.wiki, dirtyTracking: !$tw.syncadaptor});\n\t// Host-specific startup\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t// Install the popup manager\n\t\t$tw.popup = new $tw.utils.Popup();\n\t\t// Install the animator\n\t\t$tw.anim = new $tw.utils.Animator();\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/story.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/story.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nLoad core modules\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"story\";\nexports.after = [\"startup\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\n// Default story and history lists\nvar DEFAULT_STORY_TITLE = \"$:/StoryList\";\nvar DEFAULT_HISTORY_TITLE = \"$:/HistoryList\";\n\n// Default tiddlers\nvar DEFAULT_TIDDLERS_TITLE = \"$:/DefaultTiddlers\";\n\n// Config\nvar CONFIG_UPDATE_ADDRESS_BAR = \"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateAddressBar\"; // Can be \"no\", \"permalink\", \"permaview\"\nvar CONFIG_UPDATE_HISTORY = \"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateHistory\"; // Can be \"yes\" or \"no\"\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Open startup tiddlers\n\topenStartupTiddlers();\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t// Set up location hash update\n\t\t$tw.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",function(changes) {\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(changes,DEFAULT_STORY_TITLE) || $tw.utils.hop(changes,DEFAULT_HISTORY_TITLE)) {\n\t\t\t\tupdateLocationHash({\n\t\t\t\t\tupdateAddressBar: $tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(CONFIG_UPDATE_ADDRESS_BAR,\"permaview\").trim(),\n\t\t\t\t\tupdateHistory: $tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(CONFIG_UPDATE_HISTORY,\"no\").trim()\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\t// Listen for changes to the browser location hash\n\t\twindow.addEventListener(\"hashchange\",function() {\n\t\t\tvar hash = $tw.utils.getLocationHash();\n\t\t\tif(hash !== $tw.locationHash) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.locationHash = hash;\n\t\t\t\topenStartupTiddlers({defaultToCurrentStory: true});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},false);\n\t\t// Listen for the tm-browser-refresh message\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-browser-refresh\",function(event) {\n\t\t\twindow.location.reload(true);\n\t\t});\n\t\t// Listen for the tm-home message\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-home\",function(event) {\n\t\t\twindow.location.hash = \"\";\n\t\t\tvar storyFilter = $tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(DEFAULT_TIDDLERS_TITLE),\n\t\t\t\tstoryList = $tw.wiki.filterTiddlers(storyFilter);\n\t\t\t//invoke any hooks that might change the default story list\n\t\t\tstoryList = $tw.hooks.invokeHook(\"th-opening-default-tiddlers-list\",storyList);\n\t\t\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler({title: DEFAULT_STORY_TITLE, text: \"\", list: storyList},$tw.wiki.getModificationFields());\n\t\t\tif(storyList[0]) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.wiki.addToHistory(storyList[0]);\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\t// Listen for the tm-permalink message\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-permalink\",function(event) {\n\t\t\tupdateLocationHash({\n\t\t\t\tupdateAddressBar: \"permalink\",\n\t\t\t\tupdateHistory: $tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(CONFIG_UPDATE_HISTORY,\"no\").trim(),\n\t\t\t\ttargetTiddler: event.param || event.tiddlerTitle\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t});\n\t\t// Listen for the tm-permaview message\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-permaview\",function(event) {\n\t\t\tupdateLocationHash({\n\t\t\t\tupdateAddressBar: \"permaview\",\n\t\t\t\tupdateHistory: $tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(CONFIG_UPDATE_HISTORY,\"no\").trim(),\n\t\t\t\ttargetTiddler: event.param || event.tiddlerTitle\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nProcess the location hash to open the specified tiddlers. Options:\ndefaultToCurrentStory: If true, the current story is retained as the default, instead of opening the default tiddlers\n*/\nfunction openStartupTiddlers(options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\t// Work out the target tiddler and the story filter. \"null\" means \"unspecified\"\n\tvar target = null,\n\t\tstoryFilter = null;\n\tif($tw.locationHash.length > 1) {\n\t\tvar hash = $tw.locationHash.substr(1),\n\t\t\tsplit = hash.indexOf(\":\");\n\t\tif(split === -1) {\n\t\t\ttarget = decodeURIComponent(hash.trim());\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\ttarget = decodeURIComponent(hash.substr(0,split).trim());\n\t\t\tstoryFilter = decodeURIComponent(hash.substr(split + 1).trim());\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// If the story wasn't specified use the current tiddlers or a blank story\n\tif(storyFilter === null) {\n\t\tif(options.defaultToCurrentStory) {\n\t\t\tvar currStoryList = $tw.wiki.getTiddlerList(DEFAULT_STORY_TITLE);\n\t\t\tstoryFilter = $tw.utils.stringifyList(currStoryList);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tif(target && target !== \"\") {\n\t\t\t\tstoryFilter = \"\";\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tstoryFilter = $tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(DEFAULT_TIDDLERS_TITLE);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Process the story filter to get the story list\n\tvar storyList = $tw.wiki.filterTiddlers(storyFilter);\n\t// Invoke any hooks that want to change the default story list\n\tstoryList = $tw.hooks.invokeHook(\"th-opening-default-tiddlers-list\",storyList);\n\t// If the target tiddler isn't included then splice it in at the top\n\tif(target && storyList.indexOf(target) === -1) {\n\t\tstoryList.unshift(target);\n\t}\n\t// Save the story list\n\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler({title: DEFAULT_STORY_TITLE, text: \"\", list: storyList},$tw.wiki.getModificationFields());\n\t// If a target tiddler was specified add it to the history stack\n\tif(target && target !== \"\") {\n\t\t// The target tiddler doesn't need double square brackets, but we'll silently remove them if they're present\n\t\tif(target.indexOf(\"[[\") === 0 && target.substr(-2) === \"]]\") {\n\t\t\ttarget = target.substr(2,target.length - 4);\n\t\t}\n\t\t$tw.wiki.addToHistory(target);\n\t} else if(storyList.length > 0) {\n\t\t$tw.wiki.addToHistory(storyList[0]);\n\t}\n}\n\n/*\noptions: See below\noptions.updateAddressBar: \"permalink\", \"permaview\" or \"no\" (defaults to \"permaview\")\noptions.updateHistory: \"yes\" or \"no\" (defaults to \"no\")\noptions.targetTiddler: optional title of target tiddler for permalink\n*/\nfunction updateLocationHash(options) {\n\tif(options.updateAddressBar !== \"no\") {\n\t\t// Get the story and the history stack\n\t\tvar storyList = $tw.wiki.getTiddlerList(DEFAULT_STORY_TITLE),\n\t\t\thistoryList = $tw.wiki.getTiddlerData(DEFAULT_HISTORY_TITLE,[]),\n\t\t\ttargetTiddler = \"\";\n\t\tif(options.targetTiddler) {\n\t\t\ttargetTiddler = options.targetTiddler;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// The target tiddler is the one at the top of the stack\n\t\t\tif(historyList.length > 0) {\n\t\t\t\ttargetTiddler = historyList[historyList.length-1].title;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Blank the target tiddler if it isn't present in the story\n\t\t\tif(storyList.indexOf(targetTiddler) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\ttargetTiddler = \"\";\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Assemble the location hash\n\t\tif(options.updateAddressBar === \"permalink\") {\n\t\t\t$tw.locationHash = \"#\" + encodeURIComponent(targetTiddler);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t$tw.locationHash = \"#\" + encodeURIComponent(targetTiddler) + \":\" + encodeURIComponent($tw.utils.stringifyList(storyList));\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Only change the location hash if we must, thus avoiding unnecessary onhashchange events\n\t\tif($tw.utils.getLocationHash() !== $tw.locationHash) {\n\t\t\tif(options.updateHistory === \"yes\") {\n\t\t\t\t// Assign the location hash so that history is updated\n\t\t\t\twindow.location.hash = $tw.locationHash;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// We use replace so that browser history isn't affected\n\t\t\t\twindow.location.replace(window.location.toString().split(\"#\")[0] + $tw.locationHash);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n}\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/story.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/startup/windows.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/startup/windows.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: startup\n\nSetup root widget handlers for the messages concerned with opening external browser windows\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Export name and synchronous status\nexports.name = \"windows\";\nexports.platforms = [\"browser\"];\nexports.after = [\"startup\"];\nexports.synchronous = true;\n\n// Global to keep track of open windows (hashmap by title)\nvar windows = {};\n\nexports.startup = function() {\n\t// Handle open window message\n\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-open-window\",function(event) {\n\t\t// Get the parameters\n\t\tvar refreshHandler,\n\t\t\ttitle = event.param || event.tiddlerTitle,\n\t\t\tparamObject = event.paramObject || {},\n\t\t\ttemplate = paramObject.template || \"$:/core/templates/single.tiddler.window\",\n\t\t\twidth = paramObject.width || \"700\",\n\t\t\theight = paramObject.height || \"600\",\n\t\t\tvariables = $tw.utils.extend({},paramObject,{currentTiddler: title});\n\t\t// Open the window\n\t\tvar srcWindow = window.open(\"\",\"external-\" + title,\"scrollbars,width=\" + width + \",height=\" + height),\n\t\t\tsrcDocument = srcWindow.document;\n\t\twindows[title] = srcWindow;\n\t\t// Check for reopening the same window\n\t\tif(srcWindow.haveInitialisedWindow) {\n\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Initialise the document\n\t\tsrcDocument.write(\"<html><head></head><body class='tc-body tc-single-tiddler-window'></body></html>\");\n\t\tsrcDocument.close();\n\t\tsrcDocument.title = title;\n\t\tsrcWindow.addEventListener(\"beforeunload\",function(event) {\n\t\t\tdelete windows[title];\n\t\t\t$tw.wiki.removeEventListener(\"change\",refreshHandler);\n\t\t},false);\n\t\t// Set up the styles\n\t\tvar styleWidgetNode = $tw.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(\"$:/core/ui/PageStylesheet\",{document: $tw.fakeDocument, variables: variables}),\n\t\t\tstyleContainer = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"style\");\n\t\tstyleWidgetNode.render(styleContainer,null);\n\t\tvar styleElement = srcDocument.createElement(\"style\");\n\t\tstyleElement.innerHTML = styleContainer.textContent;\n\t\tsrcDocument.head.insertBefore(styleElement,srcDocument.head.firstChild);\n\t\t// Render the text of the tiddler\n\t\tvar parser = $tw.wiki.parseTiddler(template),\n\t\t\twidgetNode = $tw.wiki.makeWidget(parser,{document: srcDocument, parentWidget: $tw.rootWidget, variables: variables});\n\t\twidgetNode.render(srcDocument.body,srcDocument.body.firstChild);\n\t\t// Function to handle refreshes\n\t\trefreshHandler = function(changes) {\n\t\t\tif(styleWidgetNode.refresh(changes,styleContainer,null)) {\n\t\t\t\tstyleElement.innerHTML = styleContainer.textContent;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\twidgetNode.refresh(changes);\n\t\t};\n\t\t$tw.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",refreshHandler);\n\t\tsrcWindow.haveInitialisedWindow = true;\n\t});\n\t// Close open windows when unloading main window\n\t$tw.addUnloadTask(function() {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(windows,function(win) {\n\t\t\twin.close();\n\t\t});\n\t});\n\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/startup/windows.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "startup"
},
"$:/core/modules/story.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/story.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nLightweight object for managing interactions with the story and history lists.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nConstruct Story object with options:\nwiki: reference to wiki object to use to resolve tiddler titles\nstoryTitle: title of story list tiddler\nhistoryTitle: title of history list tiddler\n*/\nfunction Story(options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki || $tw.wiki;\n\tthis.storyTitle = options.storyTitle || \"$:/StoryList\";\n\tthis.historyTitle = options.historyTitle || \"$:/HistoryList\";\n};\n\nStory.prototype.navigateTiddler = function(navigateTo,navigateFromTitle,navigateFromClientRect) {\n\tthis.addToStory(navigateTo,navigateFromTitle);\n\tthis.addToHistory(navigateTo,navigateFromClientRect);\n};\n\nStory.prototype.getStoryList = function() {\n\treturn this.wiki.getTiddlerList(this.storyTitle) || [];\n};\n\nStory.prototype.addToStory = function(navigateTo,navigateFromTitle,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar storyList = this.getStoryList();\n\t// See if the tiddler is already there\n\tvar slot = storyList.indexOf(navigateTo);\n\t// Quit if it already exists in the story river\n\tif(slot >= 0) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// First we try to find the position of the story element we navigated from\n\tvar fromIndex = storyList.indexOf(navigateFromTitle);\n\tif(fromIndex >= 0) {\n\t\t// The tiddler is added from inside the river\n\t\t// Determine where to insert the tiddler; Fallback is \"below\"\n\t\tswitch(options.openLinkFromInsideRiver) {\n\t\t\tcase \"top\":\n\t\t\t\tslot = 0;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"bottom\":\n\t\t\t\tslot = storyList.length;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"above\":\n\t\t\t\tslot = fromIndex;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"below\": // Intentional fall-through\n\t\t\tdefault:\n\t\t\t\tslot = fromIndex + 1;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\t// The tiddler is opened from outside the river. Determine where to insert the tiddler; default is \"top\"\n\t\tif(options.openLinkFromOutsideRiver === \"bottom\") {\n\t\t\t// Insert at bottom\n\t\t\tslot = storyList.length;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Insert at top\n\t\t\tslot = 0;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Add the tiddler\n\tstoryList.splice(slot,0,navigateTo);\n\t// Save the story\n\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n};\n\nStory.prototype.saveStoryList = function(storyList) {\n\tvar storyTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.storyTitle);\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(\n\t\tthis.wiki.getCreationFields(),\n\t\t{title: this.storyTitle},\n\t\tstoryTiddler,\n\t\t{list: storyList},\n\t\tthis.wiki.getModificationFields()\n\t));\n};\n\nStory.prototype.addToHistory = function(navigateTo,navigateFromClientRect) {\n\tvar titles = $tw.utils.isArray(navigateTo) ? navigateTo : [navigateTo];\n\t// Add a new record to the top of the history stack\n\tvar historyList = this.wiki.getTiddlerData(this.historyTitle,[]);\n\t$tw.utils.each(titles,function(title) {\n\t\thistoryList.push({title: title, fromPageRect: navigateFromClientRect});\n\t});\n\tthis.wiki.setTiddlerData(this.historyTitle,historyList,{\"current-tiddler\": titles[titles.length-1]});\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storyCloseTiddler = function(targetTitle) {\n// TBD\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storyCloseAllTiddlers = function() {\n// TBD\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storyCloseOtherTiddlers = function(targetTitle) {\n// TBD\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storyEditTiddler = function(targetTitle) {\n// TBD\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storyDeleteTiddler = function(targetTitle) {\n// TBD\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storySaveTiddler = function(targetTitle) {\n// TBD\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storyCancelTiddler = function(targetTitle) {\n// TBD\n};\n\nStory.prototype.storyNewTiddler = function(targetTitle) {\n// TBD\n};\n\nexports.Story = Story;\n\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/story.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/storyviews/classic.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/storyviews/classic.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: storyview\n\nViews the story as a linear sequence\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar easing = \"cubic-bezier(0.645, 0.045, 0.355, 1)\"; // From http://easings.net/#easeInOutCubic\n\nvar ClassicStoryView = function(listWidget) {\n\tthis.listWidget = listWidget;\n};\n\nClassicStoryView.prototype.navigateTo = function(historyInfo) {\n\tvar listElementIndex = this.listWidget.findListItem(0,historyInfo.title);\n\tif(listElementIndex === undefined) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\tvar listItemWidget = this.listWidget.children[listElementIndex],\n\t\ttargetElement = listItemWidget.findFirstDomNode();\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Scroll the node into view\n\tthis.listWidget.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-scroll\", target: targetElement});\n};\n\nClassicStoryView.prototype.insert = function(widget) {\n\tvar targetElement = widget.findFirstDomNode(),\n\t\tduration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration();\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Get the current height of the tiddler\n\tvar computedStyle = window.getComputedStyle(targetElement),\n\t\tcurrMarginBottom = parseInt(computedStyle.marginBottom,10),\n\t\tcurrMarginTop = parseInt(computedStyle.marginTop,10),\n\t\tcurrHeight = targetElement.offsetHeight + currMarginTop;\n\t// Reset the margin once the transition is over\n\tsetTimeout(function() {\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t\t{marginBottom: \"\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t},duration);\n\t// Set up the initial position of the element\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t{marginBottom: (-currHeight) + \"px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0.0\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(targetElement);\n\t// Transition to the final position\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: \"opacity \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing + \", \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"margin-bottom \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing},\n\t\t{marginBottom: currMarginBottom + \"px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"1.0\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\nClassicStoryView.prototype.remove = function(widget) {\n\tvar targetElement = widget.findFirstDomNode(),\n\t\tduration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration(),\n\t\tremoveElement = function() {\n\t\t\twidget.removeChildDomNodes();\n\t\t};\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\tremoveElement();\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Get the current height of the tiddler\n\tvar currWidth = targetElement.offsetWidth,\n\t\tcomputedStyle = window.getComputedStyle(targetElement),\n\t\tcurrMarginBottom = parseInt(computedStyle.marginBottom,10),\n\t\tcurrMarginTop = parseInt(computedStyle.marginTop,10),\n\t\tcurrHeight = targetElement.offsetHeight + currMarginTop;\n\t// Remove the dom nodes of the widget at the end of the transition\n\tsetTimeout(removeElement,duration);\n\t// Animate the closure\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateX(0px)\"},\n\t\t{marginBottom: currMarginBottom + \"px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"1.0\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(targetElement);\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing + \", \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"opacity \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing + \", \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"margin-bottom \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateX(-\" + currWidth + \"px)\"},\n\t\t{marginBottom: (-currHeight) + \"px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0.0\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\nexports.classic = ClassicStoryView;\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/storyviews/classic.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "storyview"
},
"$:/core/modules/storyviews/pop.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/storyviews/pop.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: storyview\n\nAnimates list insertions and removals\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar PopStoryView = function(listWidget) {\n\tthis.listWidget = listWidget;\n};\n\nPopStoryView.prototype.navigateTo = function(historyInfo) {\n\tvar listElementIndex = this.listWidget.findListItem(0,historyInfo.title);\n\tif(listElementIndex === undefined) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\tvar listItemWidget = this.listWidget.children[listElementIndex],\n\t\ttargetElement = listItemWidget.findFirstDomNode();\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Scroll the node into view\n\tthis.listWidget.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-scroll\", target: targetElement});\n};\n\nPopStoryView.prototype.insert = function(widget) {\n\tvar targetElement = widget.findFirstDomNode(),\n\t\tduration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration();\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Reset once the transition is over\n\tsetTimeout(function() {\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t\t{transform: \"none\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t},duration);\n\t// Set up the initial position of the element\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"scale(2)\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0.0\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(targetElement);\n\t// Transition to the final position\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"opacity \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"scale(1)\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"1.0\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\nPopStoryView.prototype.remove = function(widget) {\n\tvar targetElement = widget.findFirstDomNode(),\n\t\tduration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration(),\n\t\tremoveElement = function() {\n\t\t\tif(targetElement.parentNode) {\n\t\t\t\twidget.removeChildDomNodes();\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\tremoveElement();\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Remove the element at the end of the transition\n\tsetTimeout(removeElement,duration);\n\t// Animate the closure\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"scale(1)\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"1.0\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(targetElement);\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"opacity \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"scale(0.1)\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0.0\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\nexports.pop = PopStoryView;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/storyviews/pop.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "storyview"
},
"$:/core/modules/storyviews/zoomin.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/storyviews/zoomin.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: storyview\n\nZooms between individual tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar easing = \"cubic-bezier(0.645, 0.045, 0.355, 1)\"; // From http://easings.net/#easeInOutCubic\n\nvar ZoominListView = function(listWidget) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tthis.listWidget = listWidget;\n\t// Get the index of the tiddler that is at the top of the history\n\tvar history = this.listWidget.wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(this.listWidget.historyTitle,[]),\n\t\ttargetTiddler;\n\tif(history.length > 0) {\n\t\ttargetTiddler = history[history.length-1].title;\n\t}\n\t// Make all the tiddlers position absolute, and hide all but the top (or first) one\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.listWidget.children,function(itemWidget,index) {\n\t\tvar domNode = itemWidget.findFirstDomNode();\n\t\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\t\tif(!(domNode instanceof Element)) {\n\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif((targetTiddler && targetTiddler !== itemWidget.parseTreeNode.itemTitle) || (!targetTiddler && index)) {\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.display = \"none\";\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tself.currentTiddlerDomNode = domNode;\n\t\t}\n\t\t$tw.utils.addClass(domNode,\"tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler\");\n\t});\n};\n\nZoominListView.prototype.navigateTo = function(historyInfo) {\n\tvar duration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration(),\n\t\tlistElementIndex = this.listWidget.findListItem(0,historyInfo.title);\n\tif(listElementIndex === undefined) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\tvar listItemWidget = this.listWidget.children[listElementIndex],\n\t\ttargetElement = listItemWidget.findFirstDomNode();\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Make the new tiddler be position absolute and visible so that we can measure it\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(targetElement,\"tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler\");\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{display: \"block\"},\n\t\t{transformOrigin: \"0 0\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(1)\"},\n\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0.0\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Get the position of the source node, or use the centre of the window as the source position\n\tvar sourceBounds = historyInfo.fromPageRect || {\n\t\t\tleft: window.innerWidth/2 - 2,\n\t\t\ttop: window.innerHeight/2 - 2,\n\t\t\twidth: window.innerWidth/8,\n\t\t\theight: window.innerHeight/8\n\t\t};\n\t// Try to find the title node in the target tiddler\n\tvar titleDomNode = findTitleDomNode(listItemWidget) || listItemWidget.findFirstDomNode(),\n\t\tzoomBounds = titleDomNode.getBoundingClientRect();\n\t// Compute the transform for the target tiddler to make the title lie over the source rectange\n\tvar targetBounds = targetElement.getBoundingClientRect(),\n\t\tscale = sourceBounds.width / zoomBounds.width,\n\t\tx = sourceBounds.left - targetBounds.left - (zoomBounds.left - targetBounds.left) * scale,\n\t\ty = sourceBounds.top - targetBounds.top - (zoomBounds.top - targetBounds.top) * scale;\n\t// Transform the target tiddler to its starting position\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transform: \"translateX(\" + x + \"px) translateY(\" + y + \"px) scale(\" + scale + \")\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Force layout\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(targetElement);\n\t// Apply the ending transitions with a timeout to ensure that the previously applied transformations are applied first\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tprevCurrentTiddler = this.currentTiddlerDomNode;\n\tthis.currentTiddlerDomNode = targetElement;\n\t// Transform the target tiddler to its natural size\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing + \", opacity \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing},\n\t\t{opacity: \"1.0\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(1)\"},\n\t\t{zIndex: \"500\"},\n\t]);\n\t// Transform the previous tiddler out of the way and then hide it\n\tif(prevCurrentTiddler && prevCurrentTiddler !== targetElement) {\n\t\tscale = zoomBounds.width / sourceBounds.width;\n\t\tx = zoomBounds.left - targetBounds.left - (sourceBounds.left - targetBounds.left) * scale;\n\t\ty = zoomBounds.top - targetBounds.top - (sourceBounds.top - targetBounds.top) * scale;\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(prevCurrentTiddler,[\n\t\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing + \", opacity \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing},\n\t\t\t{opacity: \"0.0\"},\n\t\t\t{transformOrigin: \"0 0\"},\n\t\t\t{transform: \"translateX(\" + x + \"px) translateY(\" + y + \"px) scale(\" + scale + \")\"},\n\t\t\t{zIndex: \"0\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t\t// Hide the tiddler when the transition has finished\n\t\tsetTimeout(function() {\n\t\t\tif(self.currentTiddlerDomNode !== prevCurrentTiddler) {\n\t\t\t\tprevCurrentTiddler.style.display = \"none\";\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},duration);\n\t}\n\t// Scroll the target into view\n//\t$tw.pageScroller.scrollIntoView(targetElement);\n};\n\n/*\nFind the first child DOM node of a widget that has the class \"tc-title\"\n*/\nfunction findTitleDomNode(widget,targetClass) {\n\ttargetClass = targetClass || \"tc-title\";\n\tvar domNode = widget.findFirstDomNode();\n\tif(domNode && domNode.querySelector) {\n\t\treturn domNode.querySelector(\".\" + targetClass);\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n}\n\nZoominListView.prototype.insert = function(widget) {\n\tvar targetElement = widget.findFirstDomNode();\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Make the newly inserted node position absolute and hidden\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(targetElement,\"tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler\");\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{display: \"none\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\nZoominListView.prototype.remove = function(widget) {\n\tvar targetElement = widget.findFirstDomNode(),\n\t\tduration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration(),\n\t\tremoveElement = function() {\n\t\t\twidget.removeChildDomNodes();\n\t\t};\n\t// Abandon if the list entry isn't a DOM element (it might be a text node)\n\tif(!(targetElement instanceof Element)) {\n\t\tremoveElement();\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Abandon if hidden\n\tif(targetElement.style.display != \"block\" ) {\n\t\tremoveElement();\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Set up the tiddler that is being closed\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(targetElement,\"tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler\");\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{display: \"block\"},\n\t\t{transformOrigin: \"50% 50%\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(1)\"},\n\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t{zIndex: \"0\"}\n\t]);\n\t// We'll move back to the previous or next element in the story\n\tvar toWidget = widget.previousSibling();\n\tif(!toWidget) {\n\t\ttoWidget = widget.nextSibling();\n\t}\n\tvar toWidgetDomNode = toWidget && toWidget.findFirstDomNode();\n\t// Set up the tiddler we're moving back in\n\tif(toWidgetDomNode) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addClass(toWidgetDomNode,\"tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler\");\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(toWidgetDomNode,[\n\t\t\t{display: \"block\"},\n\t\t\t{transformOrigin: \"50% 50%\"},\n\t\t\t{transform: \"translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(10)\"},\n\t\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing + \", opacity \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing},\n\t\t\t{opacity: \"0\"},\n\t\t\t{zIndex: \"500\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t\tthis.currentTiddlerDomNode = toWidgetDomNode;\n\t}\n\t// Animate them both\n\t// Force layout\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(this.listWidget.parentDomNode);\n\t// First, the tiddler we're closing\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(targetElement,[\n\t\t{transformOrigin: \"50% 50%\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(0.1)\"},\n\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing + \", opacity \" + duration + \"ms \" + easing},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0\"},\n\t\t{zIndex: \"0\"}\n\t]);\n\tsetTimeout(removeElement,duration);\n\t// Now the tiddler we're going back to\n\tif(toWidgetDomNode) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(toWidgetDomNode,[\n\t\t\t{transform: \"translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(1)\"},\n\t\t\t{opacity: \"1\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t}\n\treturn true; // Indicate that we'll delete the DOM node\n};\n\nexports.zoomin = ZoominListView;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/storyviews/zoomin.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "storyview"
},
"$:/core/modules/syncer.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/syncer.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nThe syncer tracks changes to the store. If a syncadaptor is used then individual tiddlers are synchronised through it. If there is no syncadaptor then the entire wiki is saved via saver modules.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nInstantiate the syncer with the following options:\nsyncadaptor: reference to syncadaptor to be used\nwiki: wiki to be synced\n*/\nfunction Syncer(options) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki;\n\tthis.syncadaptor = options.syncadaptor;\n\t// Make a logger\n\tthis.logger = new $tw.utils.Logger(\"syncer\" + ($tw.browser ? \"-browser\" : \"\") + ($tw.node ? \"-server\" : \"\"));\n\t// Compile the dirty tiddler filter\n\tthis.filterFn = this.wiki.compileFilter(this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.titleSyncFilter));\n\t// Record information for known tiddlers\n\tthis.readTiddlerInfo();\n\t// Tasks are {type: \"load\"/\"save\"/\"delete\", title:, queueTime:, lastModificationTime:}\n\tthis.taskQueue = {}; // Hashmap of tasks yet to be performed\n\tthis.taskInProgress = {}; // Hash of tasks in progress\n\tthis.taskTimerId = null; // Timer for task dispatch\n\tthis.pollTimerId = null; // Timer for polling server\n\t// Listen out for changes to tiddlers\n\tthis.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",function(changes) {\n\t\tself.syncToServer(changes);\n\t});\n\t// Browser event handlers\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t// Set up our beforeunload handler\n\t\t$tw.addUnloadTask(function(event) {\n\t\t\tvar confirmationMessage;\n\t\t\tif(self.isDirty()) {\n\t\t\t\tconfirmationMessage = $tw.language.getString(\"UnsavedChangesWarning\");\n\t\t\t\tevent.returnValue = confirmationMessage; // Gecko\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn confirmationMessage;\n\t\t});\n\t\t// Listen out for login/logout/refresh events in the browser\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-login\",function() {\n\t\t\tself.handleLoginEvent();\n\t\t});\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-logout\",function() {\n\t\t\tself.handleLogoutEvent();\n\t\t});\n\t\t$tw.rootWidget.addEventListener(\"tm-server-refresh\",function() {\n\t\t\tself.handleRefreshEvent();\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Listen out for lazyLoad events\n\tthis.wiki.addEventListener(\"lazyLoad\",function(title) {\n\t\tself.handleLazyLoadEvent(title);\n\t});\n\t// Get the login status\n\tthis.getStatus(function(err,isLoggedIn) {\n\t\t// Do a sync from the server\n\t\tself.syncFromServer();\n\t});\n}\n\n/*\nConstants\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.titleIsLoggedIn = \"$:/status/IsLoggedIn\";\nSyncer.prototype.titleUserName = \"$:/status/UserName\";\nSyncer.prototype.titleSyncFilter = \"$:/config/SyncFilter\";\nSyncer.prototype.titleSavedNotification = \"$:/language/Notifications/Save/Done\";\nSyncer.prototype.taskTimerInterval = 1 * 1000; // Interval for sync timer\nSyncer.prototype.throttleInterval = 1 * 1000; // Defer saving tiddlers if they've changed in the last 1s...\nSyncer.prototype.fallbackInterval = 10 * 1000; // Unless the task is older than 10s\nSyncer.prototype.pollTimerInterval = 60 * 1000; // Interval for polling for changes from the adaptor\n\n\n/*\nRead (or re-read) the latest tiddler info from the store\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.readTiddlerInfo = function() {\n\t// Hashmap by title of {revision:,changeCount:,adaptorInfo:}\n\tthis.tiddlerInfo = {};\n\t// Record information for known tiddlers\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\ttiddlers = this.filterFn.call(this.wiki);\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(title) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = self.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\tself.tiddlerInfo[title] = {\n\t\t\trevision: tiddler.fields.revision,\n\t\t\tadaptorInfo: self.syncadaptor && self.syncadaptor.getTiddlerInfo(tiddler),\n\t\t\tchangeCount: self.wiki.getChangeCount(title),\n\t\t\thasBeenLazyLoaded: false\n\t\t};\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nCreate an tiddlerInfo structure if it doesn't already exist\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.createTiddlerInfo = function(title) {\n\tif(!$tw.utils.hop(this.tiddlerInfo,title)) {\n\t\tthis.tiddlerInfo[title] = {\n\t\t\trevision: null,\n\t\t\tadaptorInfo: {},\n\t\t\tchangeCount: -1,\n\t\t\thasBeenLazyLoaded: false\n\t\t};\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nChecks whether the wiki is dirty (ie the window shouldn't be closed)\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.isDirty = function() {\n\treturn (this.numTasksInQueue() > 0) || (this.numTasksInProgress() > 0);\n};\n\n/*\nUpdate the document body with the class \"tc-dirty\" if the wiki has unsaved/unsynced changes\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.updateDirtyStatus = function() {\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.toggleClass(document.body,\"tc-dirty\",this.isDirty());\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSave an incoming tiddler in the store, and updates the associated tiddlerInfo\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.storeTiddler = function(tiddlerFields) {\n\t// Save the tiddler\n\tvar tiddler = new $tw.Tiddler(this.wiki.getTiddler(tiddlerFields.title),tiddlerFields);\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(tiddler);\n\t// Save the tiddler revision and changeCount details\n\tthis.tiddlerInfo[tiddlerFields.title] = {\n\t\trevision: tiddlerFields.revision,\n\t\tadaptorInfo: this.syncadaptor.getTiddlerInfo(tiddler),\n\t\tchangeCount: this.wiki.getChangeCount(tiddlerFields.title),\n\t\thasBeenLazyLoaded: true\n\t};\n};\n\nSyncer.prototype.getStatus = function(callback) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Check if the adaptor supports getStatus()\n\tif(this.syncadaptor && this.syncadaptor.getStatus) {\n\t\t// Mark us as not logged in\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler({title: this.titleIsLoggedIn,text: \"no\"});\n\t\t// Get login status\n\t\tthis.syncadaptor.getStatus(function(err,isLoggedIn,username) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\tself.logger.alert(err);\n\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Set the various status tiddlers\n\t\t\tself.wiki.addTiddler({title: self.titleIsLoggedIn,text: isLoggedIn ? \"yes\" : \"no\"});\n\t\t\tif(isLoggedIn) {\n\t\t\t\tself.wiki.addTiddler({title: self.titleUserName,text: username || \"\"});\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tself.wiki.deleteTiddler(self.titleUserName);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Invoke the callback\n\t\t\tif(callback) {\n\t\t\t\tcallback(err,isLoggedIn,username);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tcallback(null,true,\"UNAUTHENTICATED\");\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSynchronise from the server by reading the skinny tiddler list and queuing up loads for any tiddlers that we don't already have up to date\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.syncFromServer = function() {\n\tif(this.syncadaptor && this.syncadaptor.getSkinnyTiddlers) {\n\t\tthis.logger.log(\"Retrieving skinny tiddler list\");\n\t\tvar self = this;\n\t\tif(this.pollTimerId) {\n\t\t\tclearTimeout(this.pollTimerId);\n\t\t\tthis.pollTimerId = null;\n\t\t}\n\t\tthis.syncadaptor.getSkinnyTiddlers(function(err,tiddlers) {\n\t\t\t// Trigger the next sync\n\t\t\tself.pollTimerId = setTimeout(function() {\n\t\t\t\tself.pollTimerId = null;\n\t\t\t\tself.syncFromServer.call(self);\n\t\t\t},self.pollTimerInterval);\n\t\t\t// Check for errors\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\tself.logger.alert($tw.language.getString(\"Error/RetrievingSkinny\") + \":\",err);\n\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Process each incoming tiddler\n\t\t\tfor(var t=0; t<tiddlers.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\t// Get the incoming tiddler fields, and the existing tiddler\n\t\t\t\tvar tiddlerFields = tiddlers[t],\n\t\t\t\t\tincomingRevision = tiddlerFields.revision + \"\",\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddler = self.wiki.getTiddler(tiddlerFields.title),\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddlerInfo = self.tiddlerInfo[tiddlerFields.title],\n\t\t\t\t\tcurrRevision = tiddlerInfo ? tiddlerInfo.revision : null;\n\t\t\t\t// Ignore the incoming tiddler if it's the same as the revision we've already got\n\t\t\t\tif(currRevision !== incomingRevision) {\n\t\t\t\t\t// Do a full load if we've already got a fat version of the tiddler\n\t\t\t\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields.text !== undefined) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t// Do a full load of this tiddler\n\t\t\t\t\t\tself.enqueueSyncTask({\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"load\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttitle: tiddlerFields.title\n\t\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t// Load the skinny version of the tiddler\n\t\t\t\t\t\tself.storeTiddler(tiddlerFields);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSynchronise a set of changes to the server\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.syncToServer = function(changes) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tnow = Date.now(),\n\t\tfilteredChanges = this.filterFn.call(this.wiki,function(callback) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(changes,function(change,title) {\n\t\t\t\tvar tiddler = self.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\t\tcallback(tiddler,title);\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t});\n\t$tw.utils.each(changes,function(change,title,object) {\n\t\t// Process the change if it is a deletion of a tiddler we're already syncing, or is on the filtered change list\n\t\tif((change.deleted && $tw.utils.hop(self.tiddlerInfo,title)) || filteredChanges.indexOf(title) !== -1) {\n\t\t\t// Queue a task to sync this tiddler\n\t\t\tself.enqueueSyncTask({\n\t\t\t\ttype: change.deleted ? \"delete\" : \"save\",\n\t\t\t\ttitle: title\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nLazily load a skinny tiddler if we can\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.handleLazyLoadEvent = function(title) {\n\t// Don't lazy load the same tiddler twice\n\tvar info = this.tiddlerInfo[title];\n\tif(!info || !info.hasBeenLazyLoaded) {\n\t\tthis.createTiddlerInfo(title);\n\t\tthis.tiddlerInfo[title].hasBeenLazyLoaded = true;\n\t\t// Queue up a sync task to load this tiddler\n\t\tthis.enqueueSyncTask({\n\t\t\ttype: \"load\",\n\t\t\ttitle: title\n\t\t});\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nDispay a password prompt and allow the user to login\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.handleLoginEvent = function() {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tthis.getStatus(function(err,isLoggedIn,username) {\n\t\tif(!isLoggedIn) {\n\t\t\t$tw.passwordPrompt.createPrompt({\n\t\t\t\tserviceName: $tw.language.getString(\"LoginToTiddlySpace\"),\n\t\t\t\tcallback: function(data) {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.login(data.username,data.password,function(err,isLoggedIn) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tself.syncFromServer();\n\t\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\t\treturn true; // Get rid of the password prompt\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nAttempt to login to TiddlyWeb.\n\tusername: username\n\tpassword: password\n\tcallback: invoked with arguments (err,isLoggedIn)\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.login = function(username,password,callback) {\n\tthis.logger.log(\"Attempting to login as\",username);\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(this.syncadaptor.login) {\n\t\tthis.syncadaptor.login(username,password,function(err) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\treturn callback(err);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tself.getStatus(function(err,isLoggedIn,username) {\n\t\t\t\tif(callback) {\n\t\t\t\t\tcallback(null,isLoggedIn);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tcallback(null,true);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nAttempt to log out of TiddlyWeb\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.handleLogoutEvent = function() {\n\tthis.logger.log(\"Attempting to logout\");\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(this.syncadaptor.logout) {\n\t\tthis.syncadaptor.logout(function(err) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\tself.logger.alert(err);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tself.getStatus();\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nImmediately refresh from the server\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.handleRefreshEvent = function() {\n\tthis.syncFromServer();\n};\n\n/*\nQueue up a sync task. If there is already a pending task for the tiddler, just update the last modification time\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.enqueueSyncTask = function(task) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tnow = Date.now();\n\t// Set the timestamps on this task\n\ttask.queueTime = now;\n\ttask.lastModificationTime = now;\n\t// Fill in some tiddlerInfo if the tiddler is one we haven't seen before\n\tthis.createTiddlerInfo(task.title);\n\t// Bail if this is a save and the tiddler is already at the changeCount that the server has\n\tif(task.type === \"save\" && this.wiki.getChangeCount(task.title) <= this.tiddlerInfo[task.title].changeCount) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Check if this tiddler is already in the queue\n\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.taskQueue,task.title)) {\n\t\t// this.logger.log(\"Re-queueing up sync task with type:\",task.type,\"title:\",task.title);\n\t\tvar existingTask = this.taskQueue[task.title];\n\t\t// If so, just update the last modification time\n\t\texistingTask.lastModificationTime = task.lastModificationTime;\n\t\t// If the new task is a save then we upgrade the existing task to a save. Thus a pending load is turned into a save if the tiddler changes locally in the meantime. But a pending save is not modified to become a load\n\t\tif(task.type === \"save\" || task.type === \"delete\") {\n\t\t\texistingTask.type = task.type;\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\t// this.logger.log(\"Queuing up sync task with type:\",task.type,\"title:\",task.title);\n\t\t// If it is not in the queue, insert it\n\t\tthis.taskQueue[task.title] = task;\n\t\tthis.updateDirtyStatus();\n\t}\n\t// Process the queue\n\t$tw.utils.nextTick(function() {self.processTaskQueue.call(self);});\n};\n\n/*\nReturn the number of tasks in progress\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.numTasksInProgress = function() {\n\treturn $tw.utils.count(this.taskInProgress);\n};\n\n/*\nReturn the number of tasks in the queue\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.numTasksInQueue = function() {\n\treturn $tw.utils.count(this.taskQueue);\n};\n\n/*\nTrigger a timeout if one isn't already outstanding\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.triggerTimeout = function() {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(!this.taskTimerId) {\n\t\tthis.taskTimerId = setTimeout(function() {\n\t\t\tself.taskTimerId = null;\n\t\t\tself.processTaskQueue.call(self);\n\t\t},self.taskTimerInterval);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nProcess the task queue, performing the next task if appropriate\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.processTaskQueue = function() {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Only process a task if the sync adaptor is fully initialised and we're not already performing a task. If we are already performing a task then we'll dispatch the next one when it completes\n\tif(this.syncadaptor.isReady() && this.numTasksInProgress() === 0) {\n\t\t// Choose the next task to perform\n\t\tvar task = this.chooseNextTask();\n\t\t// Perform the task if we had one\n\t\tif(task) {\n\t\t\t// Remove the task from the queue and add it to the in progress list\n\t\t\tdelete this.taskQueue[task.title];\n\t\t\tthis.taskInProgress[task.title] = task;\n\t\t\tthis.updateDirtyStatus();\n\t\t\t// Dispatch the task\n\t\t\tthis.dispatchTask(task,function(err) {\n\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.logger.alert(\"Sync error while processing '\" + task.title + \"':\\n\" + err);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Mark that this task is no longer in progress\n\t\t\t\tdelete self.taskInProgress[task.title];\n\t\t\t\tself.updateDirtyStatus();\n\t\t\t\t// Process the next task\n\t\t\t\tself.processTaskQueue.call(self);\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Make sure we've set a time if there wasn't a task to perform, but we've still got tasks in the queue\n\t\t\tif(this.numTasksInQueue() > 0) {\n\t\t\t\tthis.triggerTimeout();\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nChoose the next applicable task\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.chooseNextTask = function() {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tcandidateTask = null,\n\t\tnow = Date.now();\n\t// Select the best candidate task\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.taskQueue,function(task,title) {\n\t\t// Exclude the task if there's one of the same name in progress\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(self.taskInProgress,title)) {\n\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Exclude the task if it is a save and the tiddler has been modified recently, but not hit the fallback time\n\t\tif(task.type === \"save\" && (now - task.lastModificationTime) < self.throttleInterval &&\n\t\t\t(now - task.queueTime) < self.fallbackInterval) {\n\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Exclude the task if it is newer than the current best candidate\n\t\tif(candidateTask && candidateTask.queueTime < task.queueTime) {\n\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Now this is our best candidate\n\t\tcandidateTask = task;\n\t});\n\treturn candidateTask;\n};\n\n/*\nDispatch a task and invoke the callback\n*/\nSyncer.prototype.dispatchTask = function(task,callback) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(task.type === \"save\") {\n\t\tvar changeCount = this.wiki.getChangeCount(task.title),\n\t\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(task.title);\n\t\tthis.logger.log(\"Dispatching 'save' task:\",task.title);\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\tthis.syncadaptor.saveTiddler(tiddler,function(err,adaptorInfo,revision) {\n\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\treturn callback(err);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Adjust the info stored about this tiddler\n\t\t\t\tself.tiddlerInfo[task.title] = {\n\t\t\t\t\tchangeCount: changeCount,\n\t\t\t\t\tadaptorInfo: adaptorInfo,\n\t\t\t\t\trevision: revision\n\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\t// Invoke the callback\n\t\t\t\tcallback(null);\n\t\t\t},{\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerInfo: self.tiddlerInfo[task.title]\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tthis.logger.log(\" Not Dispatching 'save' task:\",task.title,\"tiddler does not exist\");\n\t\t\treturn callback(null);\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(task.type === \"load\") {\n\t\t// Load the tiddler\n\t\tthis.logger.log(\"Dispatching 'load' task:\",task.title);\n\t\tthis.syncadaptor.loadTiddler(task.title,function(err,tiddlerFields) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\treturn callback(err);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Store the tiddler\n\t\t\tif(tiddlerFields) {\n\t\t\t\tself.storeTiddler(tiddlerFields);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Invoke the callback\n\t\t\tcallback(null);\n\t\t});\n\t} else if(task.type === \"delete\") {\n\t\t// Delete the tiddler\n\t\tthis.logger.log(\"Dispatching 'delete' task:\",task.title);\n\t\tthis.syncadaptor.deleteTiddler(task.title,function(err) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\treturn callback(err);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tdelete self.tiddlerInfo[task.title];\n\t\t\t// Invoke the callback\n\t\t\tcallback(null);\n\t\t},{\n\t\t\ttiddlerInfo: self.tiddlerInfo[task.title]\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.Syncer = Syncer;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/syncer.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/tiddler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/tiddler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: tiddlermethod\n\nExtension methods for the $tw.Tiddler object (constructor and methods required at boot time are in boot/boot.js)\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.hasTag = function(tag) {\n\treturn this.fields.tags && this.fields.tags.indexOf(tag) !== -1;\n};\n\nexports.isPlugin = function() {\n\treturn this.fields.type === \"application/json\" && this.hasField(\"plugin-type\");\n};\n\nexports.isDraft = function() {\n\treturn this.hasField(\"draft.of\");\n};\n\nexports.getFieldString = function(field) {\n\tvar value = this.fields[field];\n\t// Check for a missing field\n\tif(value === undefined || value === null) {\n\t\treturn \"\";\n\t}\n\t// Parse the field with the associated module (if any)\n\tvar fieldModule = $tw.Tiddler.fieldModules[field];\n\tif(fieldModule && fieldModule.stringify) {\n\t\treturn fieldModule.stringify.call(this,value);\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn value.toString();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGet all the fields as a name:value block. Options:\n\texclude: an array of field names to exclude\n*/\nexports.getFieldStringBlock = function(options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar exclude = options.exclude || [];\n\tvar fields = [];\n\tfor(var field in this.fields) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.fields,field)) {\n\t\t\tif(exclude.indexOf(field) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tfields.push(field + \": \" + this.getFieldString(field));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn fields.join(\"\\n\");\n};\n\n/*\nCompare two tiddlers for equality\ntiddler: the tiddler to compare\nexcludeFields: array of field names to exclude from the comparison\n*/\nexports.isEqual = function(tiddler,excludeFields) {\n\tif(!(tiddler instanceof $tw.Tiddler)) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\texcludeFields = excludeFields || [];\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tdifferences = []; // Fields that have differences\n\t// Add to the differences array\n\tfunction addDifference(fieldName) {\n\t\t// Check for this field being excluded\n\t\tif(excludeFields.indexOf(fieldName) === -1) {\n\t\t\t// Save the field as a difference\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(differences,fieldName);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Returns true if the two values of this field are equal\n\tfunction isFieldValueEqual(fieldName) {\n\t\tvar valueA = self.fields[fieldName],\n\t\t\tvalueB = tiddler.fields[fieldName];\n\t\t// Check for identical string values\n\t\tif(typeof(valueA) === \"string\" && typeof(valueB) === \"string\" && valueA === valueB) {\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Check for identical array values\n\t\tif($tw.utils.isArray(valueA) && $tw.utils.isArray(valueB) && $tw.utils.isArrayEqual(valueA,valueB)) {\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Otherwise the fields must be different\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Compare our fields\n\tfor(var fieldName in this.fields) {\n\t\tif(!isFieldValueEqual(fieldName)) {\n\t\t\taddDifference(fieldName);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// There's a difference for every field in the other tiddler that we don't have\n\tfor(fieldName in tiddler.fields) {\n\t\tif(!(fieldName in this.fields)) {\n\t\t\taddDifference(fieldName);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Return whether there were any differences\n\treturn differences.length === 0;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/tiddler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "tiddlermethod"
},
"$:/core/modules/upgraders/plugins.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/upgraders/plugins.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: upgrader\n\nUpgrader module that checks that plugins are newer than any already installed version\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar UPGRADE_LIBRARY_TITLE = \"$:/UpgradeLibrary\";\n\nvar BLOCKED_PLUGINS = {\n\t\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/stickytitles\": {\n\t\tversions: [\"*\"]\n\t},\n\t\"$:/plugins/tiddlywiki/fullscreen\": {\n\t\tversions: [\"*\"]\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.upgrade = function(wiki,titles,tiddlers) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tmessages = {},\n\t\tupgradeLibrary,\n\t\tgetLibraryTiddler = function(title) {\n\t\t\tif(!upgradeLibrary) {\n\t\t\t\tupgradeLibrary = wiki.getTiddlerData(UPGRADE_LIBRARY_TITLE,{});\n\t\t\t\tupgradeLibrary.tiddlers = upgradeLibrary.tiddlers || {};\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn upgradeLibrary.tiddlers[title];\n\t\t};\n\n\t// Go through all the incoming tiddlers\n\t$tw.utils.each(titles,function(title) {\n\t\tvar incomingTiddler = tiddlers[title];\n\t\t// Check if we're dealing with a plugin\n\t\tif(incomingTiddler && incomingTiddler[\"plugin-type\"] && incomingTiddler.version) {\n\t\t\t// Upgrade the incoming plugin if it is in the upgrade library\n\t\t\tvar libraryTiddler = getLibraryTiddler(title);\n\t\t\tif(libraryTiddler && libraryTiddler[\"plugin-type\"] && libraryTiddler.version) {\n\t\t\t\ttiddlers[title] = libraryTiddler;\n\t\t\t\tmessages[title] = $tw.language.getString(\"Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Upgraded\",{variables: {incoming: incomingTiddler.version, upgraded: libraryTiddler.version}});\n\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Suppress the incoming plugin if it is older than the currently installed one\n\t\t\tvar existingTiddler = wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\tif(existingTiddler && existingTiddler.hasField(\"plugin-type\") && existingTiddler.hasField(\"version\")) {\n\t\t\t\t// Reject the incoming plugin by blanking all its fields\n\t\t\t\tif($tw.utils.checkVersions(existingTiddler.fields.version,incomingTiddler.version)) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddlers[title] = Object.create(null);\n\t\t\t\t\tmessages[title] = $tw.language.getString(\"Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Suppressed/Version\",{variables: {incoming: incomingTiddler.version, existing: existingTiddler.fields.version}});\n\t\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(incomingTiddler && incomingTiddler[\"plugin-type\"]) {\n\t\t\t// Check whether the plugin is on the blocked list\n\t\t\tvar blockInfo = BLOCKED_PLUGINS[title];\n\t\t\tif(blockInfo) {\n\t\t\t\tif(blockInfo.versions.indexOf(\"*\") !== -1 || (incomingTiddler.version && blockInfo.versions.indexOf(incomingTiddler.version) !== -1)) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddlers[title] = Object.create(null);\n\t\t\t\t\tmessages[title] = $tw.language.getString(\"Import/Upgrader/Plugins/Suppressed/Incompatible\");\n\t\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn messages;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/upgraders/plugins.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "upgrader"
},
"$:/core/modules/upgraders/system.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/upgraders/system.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: upgrader\n\nUpgrader module that suppresses certain system tiddlers that shouldn't be imported\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar DONT_IMPORT_LIST = [\"$:/StoryList\",\"$:/HistoryList\"],\n\tDONT_IMPORT_PREFIX_LIST = [\"$:/temp/\",\"$:/state/\"];\n\nexports.upgrade = function(wiki,titles,tiddlers) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tmessages = {};\n\t// Check for tiddlers on our list\n\t$tw.utils.each(titles,function(title) {\n\t\tif(DONT_IMPORT_LIST.indexOf(title) !== -1) {\n\t\t\ttiddlers[title] = Object.create(null);\n\t\t\tmessages[title] = $tw.language.getString(\"Import/Upgrader/System/Suppressed\");\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tfor(var t=0; t<DONT_IMPORT_PREFIX_LIST.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\tvar prefix = DONT_IMPORT_PREFIX_LIST[t];\n\t\t\t\tif(title.substr(0,prefix.length) === prefix) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddlers[title] = Object.create(null);\n\t\t\t\t\tmessages[title] = $tw.language.getString(\"Import/Upgrader/State/Suppressed\");\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn messages;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/upgraders/system.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "upgrader"
},
"$:/core/modules/upgraders/themetweaks.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/upgraders/themetweaks.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: upgrader\n\nUpgrader module that handles the change in theme tweak storage introduced in 5.0.14-beta.\n\nPreviously, theme tweaks were stored in two data tiddlers:\n\n* $:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics\n* $:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings\n\nNow, each tweak is stored in its own separate tiddler.\n\nThis upgrader copies any values from the old format to the new. The old data tiddlers are not deleted in case they have been used to store additional indexes.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar MAPPINGS = {\n\t\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics\": {\n\t\t\"fontsize\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/fontsize\",\n\t\t\"lineheight\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/lineheight\",\n\t\t\"storyleft\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft\",\n\t\t\"storytop\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop\",\n\t\t\"storyright\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyright\",\n\t\t\"storywidth\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storywidth\",\n\t\t\"tiddlerwidth\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/tiddlerwidth\"\n\t},\n\t\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings\": {\n\t\t\"fontfamily\": \"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/fontfamily\"\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.upgrade = function(wiki,titles,tiddlers) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tmessages = {};\n\t// Check for tiddlers on our list\n\t$tw.utils.each(titles,function(title) {\n\t\tvar mapping = MAPPINGS[title];\n\t\tif(mapping) {\n\t\t\tvar tiddler = new $tw.Tiddler(tiddlers[title]),\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerData = wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(tiddler,{});\n\t\t\tfor(var index in mapping) {\n\t\t\t\tvar mappedTitle = mapping[index];\n\t\t\t\tif(!tiddlers[mappedTitle] || tiddlers[mappedTitle].title !== mappedTitle) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddlers[mappedTitle] = {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttitle: mappedTitle,\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttext: tiddlerData[index]\n\t\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\t\tmessages[mappedTitle] = $tw.language.getString(\"Import/Upgrader/ThemeTweaks/Created\",{variables: {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tfrom: title + \"##\" + index\n\t\t\t\t\t}});\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn messages;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/upgraders/themetweaks.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "upgrader"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/crypto.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/crypto.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nUtility functions related to crypto.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nLook for an encrypted store area in the text of a TiddlyWiki file\n*/\nexports.extractEncryptedStoreArea = function(text) {\n\tvar encryptedStoreAreaStartMarker = \"<pre id=\\\"encryptedStoreArea\\\" type=\\\"text/plain\\\" style=\\\"display:none;\\\">\",\n\t\tencryptedStoreAreaStart = text.indexOf(encryptedStoreAreaStartMarker);\n\tif(encryptedStoreAreaStart !== -1) {\n\t\tvar encryptedStoreAreaEnd = text.indexOf(\"</pre>\",encryptedStoreAreaStart);\n\t\tif(encryptedStoreAreaEnd !== -1) {\n\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.htmlDecode(text.substring(encryptedStoreAreaStart + encryptedStoreAreaStartMarker.length,encryptedStoreAreaEnd-1));\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nAttempt to extract the tiddlers from an encrypted store area using the current password. If the password is not provided then the password in the password store will be used\n*/\nexports.decryptStoreArea = function(encryptedStoreArea,password) {\n\tvar decryptedText = $tw.crypto.decrypt(encryptedStoreArea,password);\n\tif(decryptedText) {\n\t\tvar json = JSON.parse(decryptedText),\n\t\t\ttiddlers = [];\n\t\tfor(var title in json) {\n\t\t\tif(title !== \"$:/isEncrypted\") {\n\t\t\t\ttiddlers.push(json[title]);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn tiddlers;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n};\n\n\n/*\nAttempt to extract the tiddlers from an encrypted store area using the current password. If that fails, the user is prompted for a password.\nencryptedStoreArea: text of the TiddlyWiki encrypted store area\ncallback: function(tiddlers) called with the array of decrypted tiddlers\n\nThe following configuration settings are supported:\n\n$tw.config.usePasswordVault: causes any password entered by the user to also be put into the system password vault\n*/\nexports.decryptStoreAreaInteractive = function(encryptedStoreArea,callback,options) {\n\t// Try to decrypt with the current password\n\tvar tiddlers = $tw.utils.decryptStoreArea(encryptedStoreArea);\n\tif(tiddlers) {\n\t\tcallback(tiddlers);\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Prompt for a new password and keep trying\n\t\t$tw.passwordPrompt.createPrompt({\n\t\t\tserviceName: \"Enter a password to decrypt the imported TiddlyWiki\",\n\t\t\tnoUserName: true,\n\t\t\tcanCancel: true,\n\t\t\tsubmitText: \"Decrypt\",\n\t\t\tcallback: function(data) {\n\t\t\t\t// Exit if the user cancelled\n\t\t\t\tif(!data) {\n\t\t\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Attempt to decrypt the tiddlers\n\t\t\t\tvar tiddlers = $tw.utils.decryptStoreArea(encryptedStoreArea,data.password);\n\t\t\t\tif(tiddlers) {\n\t\t\t\t\tif($tw.config.usePasswordVault) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t$tw.crypto.setPassword(data.password);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\tcallback(tiddlers);\n\t\t\t\t\t// Exit and remove the password prompt\n\t\t\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t// We didn't decrypt everything, so continue to prompt for password\n\t\t\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/crypto.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/animations/slide.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/animations/slide.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: animation\n\nA simple slide animation that varies the height of the element\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nfunction slideOpen(domNode,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar duration = options.duration || $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration();\n\t// Get the current height of the domNode\n\tvar computedStyle = window.getComputedStyle(domNode),\n\t\tcurrMarginBottom = parseInt(computedStyle.marginBottom,10),\n\t\tcurrMarginTop = parseInt(computedStyle.marginTop,10),\n\t\tcurrPaddingBottom = parseInt(computedStyle.paddingBottom,10),\n\t\tcurrPaddingTop = parseInt(computedStyle.paddingTop,10),\n\t\tcurrHeight = domNode.offsetHeight;\n\t// Reset the margin once the transition is over\n\tsetTimeout(function() {\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(domNode,[\n\t\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t\t{marginBottom: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{marginTop: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{paddingBottom: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{paddingTop: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{height: \"auto\"},\n\t\t\t{opacity: \"\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t\tif(options.callback) {\n\t\t\toptions.callback();\n\t\t}\n\t},duration);\n\t// Set up the initial position of the element\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(domNode,[\n\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t{marginTop: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{marginBottom: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{paddingTop: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{paddingBottom: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{height: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(domNode);\n\t// Transition to the final position\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(domNode,[\n\t\t{transition: \"margin-top \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"margin-bottom \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"padding-top \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"padding-bottom \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"height \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"opacity \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out\"},\n\t\t{marginBottom: currMarginBottom + \"px\"},\n\t\t{marginTop: currMarginTop + \"px\"},\n\t\t{paddingBottom: currPaddingBottom + \"px\"},\n\t\t{paddingTop: currPaddingTop + \"px\"},\n\t\t{height: currHeight + \"px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"1\"}\n\t]);\n}\n\nfunction slideClosed(domNode,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar duration = options.duration || $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration(),\n\t\tcurrHeight = domNode.offsetHeight;\n\t// Clear the properties we've set when the animation is over\n\tsetTimeout(function() {\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(domNode,[\n\t\t\t{transition: \"none\"},\n\t\t\t{marginBottom: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{marginTop: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{paddingBottom: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{paddingTop: \"\"},\n\t\t\t{height: \"auto\"},\n\t\t\t{opacity: \"\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t\tif(options.callback) {\n\t\t\toptions.callback();\n\t\t}\n\t},duration);\n\t// Set up the initial position of the element\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(domNode,[\n\t\t{height: currHeight + \"px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"1\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(domNode);\n\t// Transition to the final position\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(domNode,[\n\t\t{transition: \"margin-top \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"margin-bottom \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"padding-top \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"padding-bottom \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"height \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out, \" +\n\t\t\t\t\t\"opacity \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out\"},\n\t\t{marginTop: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{marginBottom: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{paddingTop: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{paddingBottom: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{height: \"0px\"},\n\t\t{opacity: \"0\"}\n\t]);\n}\n\nexports.slide = {\n\topen: slideOpen,\n\tclose: slideClosed\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/animations/slide.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "animation"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/animator.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/animator.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nOrchestrates animations and transitions\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nfunction Animator() {\n\t// Get the registered animation modules\n\tthis.animations = {};\n\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"animation\",this.animations);\n}\n\nAnimator.prototype.perform = function(type,domNode,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\t// Find an animation that can handle this type\n\tvar chosenAnimation;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.animations,function(animation,name) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(animation,type)) {\n\t\t\tchosenAnimation = animation[type];\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tif(!chosenAnimation) {\n\t\tchosenAnimation = function(domNode,options) {\n\t\t\tif(options.callback) {\n\t\t\t\toptions.callback();\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\t}\n\t// Call the animation\n\tchosenAnimation(domNode,options);\n};\n\nexports.Animator = Animator;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/animator.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/browser.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/browser.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nBrowser feature detection\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nSet style properties of an element\n\telement: dom node\n\tstyles: ordered array of {name: value} pairs\n*/\nexports.setStyle = function(element,styles) {\n\tif(element.nodeType === 1) { // Element.ELEMENT_NODE\n\t\tfor(var t=0; t<styles.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tfor(var styleName in styles[t]) {\n\t\t\t\telement.style[$tw.utils.convertStyleNameToPropertyName(styleName)] = styles[t][styleName];\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nConverts a standard CSS property name into the local browser-specific equivalent. For example:\n\t\"background-color\" --> \"backgroundColor\"\n\t\"transition\" --> \"webkitTransition\"\n*/\n\nvar styleNameCache = {}; // We'll cache the style name conversions\n\nexports.convertStyleNameToPropertyName = function(styleName) {\n\t// Return from the cache if we can\n\tif(styleNameCache[styleName]) {\n\t\treturn styleNameCache[styleName];\n\t}\n\t// Convert it by first removing any hyphens\n\tvar propertyName = $tw.utils.unHyphenateCss(styleName);\n\t// Then check if it needs a prefix\n\tif($tw.browser && document.body.style[propertyName] === undefined) {\n\t\tvar prefixes = [\"O\",\"MS\",\"Moz\",\"webkit\"];\n\t\tfor(var t=0; t<prefixes.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tvar prefixedName = prefixes[t] + propertyName.substr(0,1).toUpperCase() + propertyName.substr(1);\n\t\t\tif(document.body.style[prefixedName] !== undefined) {\n\t\t\t\tpropertyName = prefixedName;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Put it in the cache too\n\tstyleNameCache[styleName] = propertyName;\n\treturn propertyName;\n};\n\n/*\nConverts a JS format CSS property name back into the dashed form used in CSS declarations. For example:\n\t\"backgroundColor\" --> \"background-color\"\n\t\"webkitTransform\" --> \"-webkit-transform\"\n*/\nexports.convertPropertyNameToStyleName = function(propertyName) {\n\t// Rehyphenate the name\n\tvar styleName = $tw.utils.hyphenateCss(propertyName);\n\t// If there's a webkit prefix, add a dash (other browsers have uppercase prefixes, and so get the dash automatically)\n\tif(styleName.indexOf(\"webkit\") === 0) {\n\t\tstyleName = \"-\" + styleName;\n\t} else if(styleName.indexOf(\"-m-s\") === 0) {\n\t\tstyleName = \"-ms\" + styleName.substr(4);\n\t}\n\treturn styleName;\n};\n\n/*\nRound trip a stylename to a property name and back again. For example:\n\t\"transform\" --> \"webkitTransform\" --> \"-webkit-transform\"\n*/\nexports.roundTripPropertyName = function(propertyName) {\n\treturn $tw.utils.convertPropertyNameToStyleName($tw.utils.convertStyleNameToPropertyName(propertyName));\n};\n\n/*\nConverts a standard event name into the local browser specific equivalent. For example:\n\t\"animationEnd\" --> \"webkitAnimationEnd\"\n*/\n\nvar eventNameCache = {}; // We'll cache the conversions\n\nvar eventNameMappings = {\n\t\"transitionEnd\": {\n\t\tcorrespondingCssProperty: \"transition\",\n\t\tmappings: {\n\t\t\ttransition: \"transitionend\",\n\t\t\tOTransition: \"oTransitionEnd\",\n\t\t\tMSTransition: \"msTransitionEnd\",\n\t\t\tMozTransition: \"transitionend\",\n\t\t\twebkitTransition: \"webkitTransitionEnd\"\n\t\t}\n\t},\n\t\"animationEnd\": {\n\t\tcorrespondingCssProperty: \"animation\",\n\t\tmappings: {\n\t\t\tanimation: \"animationend\",\n\t\t\tOAnimation: \"oAnimationEnd\",\n\t\t\tMSAnimation: \"msAnimationEnd\",\n\t\t\tMozAnimation: \"animationend\",\n\t\t\twebkitAnimation: \"webkitAnimationEnd\"\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.convertEventName = function(eventName) {\n\tif(eventNameCache[eventName]) {\n\t\treturn eventNameCache[eventName];\n\t}\n\tvar newEventName = eventName,\n\t\tmappings = eventNameMappings[eventName];\n\tif(mappings) {\n\t\tvar convertedProperty = $tw.utils.convertStyleNameToPropertyName(mappings.correspondingCssProperty);\n\t\tif(mappings.mappings[convertedProperty]) {\n\t\t\tnewEventName = mappings.mappings[convertedProperty];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Put it in the cache too\n\teventNameCache[eventName] = newEventName;\n\treturn newEventName;\n};\n\n/*\nReturn the names of the fullscreen APIs\n*/\nexports.getFullScreenApis = function() {\n\tvar d = document,\n\t\tdb = d.body,\n\t\tresult = {\n\t\t\"_requestFullscreen\": db.webkitRequestFullscreen !== undefined ? \"webkitRequestFullscreen\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tdb.mozRequestFullScreen !== undefined ? \"mozRequestFullScreen\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tdb.msRequestFullscreen !== undefined ? \"msRequestFullscreen\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tdb.requestFullscreen !== undefined ? \"requestFullscreen\" : \"\",\n\t\t\"_exitFullscreen\": d.webkitExitFullscreen !== undefined ? \"webkitExitFullscreen\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.mozCancelFullScreen !== undefined ? \"mozCancelFullScreen\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.msExitFullscreen !== undefined ? \"msExitFullscreen\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.exitFullscreen !== undefined ? \"exitFullscreen\" : \"\",\n\t\t\"_fullscreenElement\": d.webkitFullscreenElement !== undefined ? \"webkitFullscreenElement\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.mozFullScreenElement !== undefined ? \"mozFullScreenElement\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.msFullscreenElement !== undefined ? \"msFullscreenElement\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.fullscreenElement !== undefined ? \"fullscreenElement\" : \"\",\n\t\t\"_fullscreenChange\": d.webkitFullscreenElement !== undefined ? \"webkitfullscreenchange\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.mozFullScreenElement !== undefined ? \"mozfullscreenchange\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.msFullscreenElement !== undefined ? \"MSFullscreenChange\" :\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\td.fullscreenElement !== undefined ? \"fullscreenchange\" : \"\"\n\t};\n\tif(!result._requestFullscreen || !result._exitFullscreen || !result._fullscreenElement || !result._fullscreenChange) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn result;\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/browser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/csscolorparser.js": {
"text": "// (c) Dean McNamee <dean@gmail.com>, 2012.\n//\n// https://github.com/deanm/css-color-parser-js\n//\n// Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy\n// of this software and associated documentation files (the \"Software\"), to\n// deal in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the\n// rights to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or\n// sell copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is\n// furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:\n//\n// The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in\n// all copies or substantial portions of the Software.\n//\n// THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED \"AS IS\", WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR\n// IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY,\n// FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE\n// AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER\n// LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING\n// FROM, OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS\n// IN THE SOFTWARE.\n\n// http://www.w3.org/TR/css3-color/\nvar kCSSColorTable = {\n \"transparent\": [0,0,0,0], \"aliceblue\": [240,248,255,1],\n \"antiquewhite\": [250,235,215,1], \"aqua\": [0,255,255,1],\n \"aquamarine\": [127,255,212,1], \"azure\": [240,255,255,1],\n \"beige\": [245,245,220,1], \"bisque\": [255,228,196,1],\n \"black\": [0,0,0,1], \"blanchedalmond\": [255,235,205,1],\n \"blue\": [0,0,255,1], \"blueviolet\": [138,43,226,1],\n \"brown\": [165,42,42,1], \"burlywood\": [222,184,135,1],\n \"cadetblue\": [95,158,160,1], \"chartreuse\": [127,255,0,1],\n \"chocolate\": [210,105,30,1], \"coral\": [255,127,80,1],\n \"cornflowerblue\": [100,149,237,1], \"cornsilk\": [255,248,220,1],\n \"crimson\": [220,20,60,1], \"cyan\": [0,255,255,1],\n \"darkblue\": [0,0,139,1], \"darkcyan\": [0,139,139,1],\n \"darkgoldenrod\": [184,134,11,1], \"darkgray\": [169,169,169,1],\n \"darkgreen\": [0,100,0,1], \"darkgrey\": [169,169,169,1],\n \"darkkhaki\": [189,183,107,1], \"darkmagenta\": [139,0,139,1],\n \"darkolivegreen\": [85,107,47,1], \"darkorange\": [255,140,0,1],\n \"darkorchid\": [153,50,204,1], \"darkred\": [139,0,0,1],\n \"darksalmon\": [233,150,122,1], \"darkseagreen\": [143,188,143,1],\n \"darkslateblue\": [72,61,139,1], \"darkslategray\": [47,79,79,1],\n \"darkslategrey\": [47,79,79,1], \"darkturquoise\": [0,206,209,1],\n \"darkviolet\": [148,0,211,1], \"deeppink\": [255,20,147,1],\n \"deepskyblue\": [0,191,255,1], \"dimgray\": [105,105,105,1],\n \"dimgrey\": [105,105,105,1], \"dodgerblue\": [30,144,255,1],\n \"firebrick\": [178,34,34,1], \"floralwhite\": [255,250,240,1],\n \"forestgreen\": [34,139,34,1], \"fuchsia\": [255,0,255,1],\n \"gainsboro\": [220,220,220,1], \"ghostwhite\": [248,248,255,1],\n \"gold\": [255,215,0,1], \"goldenrod\": [218,165,32,1],\n \"gray\": [128,128,128,1], \"green\": [0,128,0,1],\n \"greenyellow\": [173,255,47,1], \"grey\": [128,128,128,1],\n \"honeydew\": [240,255,240,1], \"hotpink\": [255,105,180,1],\n \"indianred\": [205,92,92,1], \"indigo\": [75,0,130,1],\n \"ivory\": [255,255,240,1], \"khaki\": [240,230,140,1],\n \"lavender\": [230,230,250,1], \"lavenderblush\": [255,240,245,1],\n \"lawngreen\": [124,252,0,1], \"lemonchiffon\": [255,250,205,1],\n \"lightblue\": [173,216,230,1], \"lightcoral\": [240,128,128,1],\n \"lightcyan\": [224,255,255,1], \"lightgoldenrodyellow\": [250,250,210,1],\n \"lightgray\": [211,211,211,1], \"lightgreen\": [144,238,144,1],\n \"lightgrey\": [211,211,211,1], \"lightpink\": [255,182,193,1],\n \"lightsalmon\": [255,160,122,1], \"lightseagreen\": [32,178,170,1],\n \"lightskyblue\": [135,206,250,1], \"lightslategray\": [119,136,153,1],\n \"lightslategrey\": [119,136,153,1], \"lightsteelblue\": [176,196,222,1],\n \"lightyellow\": [255,255,224,1], \"lime\": [0,255,0,1],\n \"limegreen\": [50,205,50,1], \"linen\": [250,240,230,1],\n \"magenta\": [255,0,255,1], \"maroon\": [128,0,0,1],\n \"mediumaquamarine\": [102,205,170,1], \"mediumblue\": [0,0,205,1],\n \"mediumorchid\": [186,85,211,1], \"mediumpurple\": [147,112,219,1],\n \"mediumseagreen\": [60,179,113,1], \"mediumslateblue\": [123,104,238,1],\n \"mediumspringgreen\": [0,250,154,1], \"mediumturquoise\": [72,209,204,1],\n \"mediumvioletred\": [199,21,133,1], \"midnightblue\": [25,25,112,1],\n \"mintcream\": [245,255,250,1], \"mistyrose\": [255,228,225,1],\n \"moccasin\": [255,228,181,1], \"navajowhite\": [255,222,173,1],\n \"navy\": [0,0,128,1], \"oldlace\": [253,245,230,1],\n \"olive\": [128,128,0,1], \"olivedrab\": [107,142,35,1],\n \"orange\": [255,165,0,1], \"orangered\": [255,69,0,1],\n \"orchid\": [218,112,214,1], \"palegoldenrod\": [238,232,170,1],\n \"palegreen\": [152,251,152,1], \"paleturquoise\": [175,238,238,1],\n \"palevioletred\": [219,112,147,1], \"papayawhip\": [255,239,213,1],\n \"peachpuff\": [255,218,185,1], \"peru\": [205,133,63,1],\n \"pink\": [255,192,203,1], \"plum\": [221,160,221,1],\n \"powderblue\": [176,224,230,1], \"purple\": [128,0,128,1],\n \"red\": [255,0,0,1], \"rosybrown\": [188,143,143,1],\n \"royalblue\": [65,105,225,1], \"saddlebrown\": [139,69,19,1],\n \"salmon\": [250,128,114,1], \"sandybrown\": [244,164,96,1],\n \"seagreen\": [46,139,87,1], \"seashell\": [255,245,238,1],\n \"sienna\": [160,82,45,1], \"silver\": [192,192,192,1],\n \"skyblue\": [135,206,235,1], \"slateblue\": [106,90,205,1],\n \"slategray\": [112,128,144,1], \"slategrey\": [112,128,144,1],\n \"snow\": [255,250,250,1], \"springgreen\": [0,255,127,1],\n \"steelblue\": [70,130,180,1], \"tan\": [210,180,140,1],\n \"teal\": [0,128,128,1], \"thistle\": [216,191,216,1],\n \"tomato\": [255,99,71,1], \"turquoise\": [64,224,208,1],\n \"violet\": [238,130,238,1], \"wheat\": [245,222,179,1],\n \"white\": [255,255,255,1], \"whitesmoke\": [245,245,245,1],\n \"yellow\": [255,255,0,1], \"yellowgreen\": [154,205,50,1]}\n\nfunction clamp_css_byte(i) { // Clamp to integer 0 .. 255.\n i = Math.round(i); // Seems to be what Chrome does (vs truncation).\n return i < 0 ? 0 : i > 255 ? 255 : i;\n}\n\nfunction clamp_css_float(f) { // Clamp to float 0.0 .. 1.0.\n return f < 0 ? 0 : f > 1 ? 1 : f;\n}\n\nfunction parse_css_int(str) { // int or percentage.\n if (str[str.length - 1] === '%')\n return clamp_css_byte(parseFloat(str) / 100 * 255);\n return clamp_css_byte(parseInt(str));\n}\n\nfunction parse_css_float(str) { // float or percentage.\n if (str[str.length - 1] === '%')\n return clamp_css_float(parseFloat(str) / 100);\n return clamp_css_float(parseFloat(str));\n}\n\nfunction css_hue_to_rgb(m1, m2, h) {\n if (h < 0) h += 1;\n else if (h > 1) h -= 1;\n\n if (h * 6 < 1) return m1 + (m2 - m1) * h * 6;\n if (h * 2 < 1) return m2;\n if (h * 3 < 2) return m1 + (m2 - m1) * (2/3 - h) * 6;\n return m1;\n}\n\nfunction parseCSSColor(css_str) {\n // Remove all whitespace, not compliant, but should just be more accepting.\n var str = css_str.replace(/ /g, '').toLowerCase();\n\n // Color keywords (and transparent) lookup.\n if (str in kCSSColorTable) return kCSSColorTable[str].slice(); // dup.\n\n // #abc and #abc123 syntax.\n if (str[0] === '#') {\n if (str.length === 4) {\n var iv = parseInt(str.substr(1), 16); // TODO(deanm): Stricter parsing.\n if (!(iv >= 0 && iv <= 0xfff)) return null; // Covers NaN.\n return [((iv & 0xf00) >> 4) | ((iv & 0xf00) >> 8),\n (iv & 0xf0) | ((iv & 0xf0) >> 4),\n (iv & 0xf) | ((iv & 0xf) << 4),\n 1];\n } else if (str.length === 7) {\n var iv = parseInt(str.substr(1), 16); // TODO(deanm): Stricter parsing.\n if (!(iv >= 0 && iv <= 0xffffff)) return null; // Covers NaN.\n return [(iv & 0xff0000) >> 16,\n (iv & 0xff00) >> 8,\n iv & 0xff,\n 1];\n }\n\n return null;\n }\n\n var op = str.indexOf('('), ep = str.indexOf(')');\n if (op !== -1 && ep + 1 === str.length) {\n var fname = str.substr(0, op);\n var params = str.substr(op+1, ep-(op+1)).split(',');\n var alpha = 1; // To allow case fallthrough.\n switch (fname) {\n case 'rgba':\n if (params.length !== 4) return null;\n alpha = parse_css_float(params.pop());\n // Fall through.\n case 'rgb':\n if (params.length !== 3) return null;\n return [parse_css_int(params[0]),\n parse_css_int(params[1]),\n parse_css_int(params[2]),\n alpha];\n case 'hsla':\n if (params.length !== 4) return null;\n alpha = parse_css_float(params.pop());\n // Fall through.\n case 'hsl':\n if (params.length !== 3) return null;\n var h = (((parseFloat(params[0]) % 360) + 360) % 360) / 360; // 0 .. 1\n // NOTE(deanm): According to the CSS spec s/l should only be\n // percentages, but we don't bother and let float or percentage.\n var s = parse_css_float(params[1]);\n var l = parse_css_float(params[2]);\n var m2 = l <= 0.5 ? l * (s + 1) : l + s - l * s;\n var m1 = l * 2 - m2;\n return [clamp_css_byte(css_hue_to_rgb(m1, m2, h+1/3) * 255),\n clamp_css_byte(css_hue_to_rgb(m1, m2, h) * 255),\n clamp_css_byte(css_hue_to_rgb(m1, m2, h-1/3) * 255),\n alpha];\n default:\n return null;\n }\n }\n\n return null;\n}\n\ntry { exports.parseCSSColor = parseCSSColor } catch(e) { }\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/csscolorparser.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nVarious static DOM-related utility functions.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nDetermines whether element 'a' contains element 'b'\nCode thanks to John Resig, http://ejohn.org/blog/comparing-document-position/\n*/\nexports.domContains = function(a,b) {\n\treturn a.contains ?\n\t\ta !== b && a.contains(b) :\n\t\t!!(a.compareDocumentPosition(b) & 16);\n};\n\nexports.removeChildren = function(node) {\n\twhile(node.hasChildNodes()) {\n\t\tnode.removeChild(node.firstChild);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.hasClass = function(el,className) {\n\treturn el && el.className && el.className.toString().split(\" \").indexOf(className) !== -1;\n};\n\nexports.addClass = function(el,className) {\n\tvar c = el.className.split(\" \");\n\tif(c.indexOf(className) === -1) {\n\t\tc.push(className);\n\t}\n\tel.className = c.join(\" \");\n};\n\nexports.removeClass = function(el,className) {\n\tvar c = el.className.split(\" \"),\n\t\tp = c.indexOf(className);\n\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\tc.splice(p,1);\n\t\tel.className = c.join(\" \");\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.toggleClass = function(el,className,status) {\n\tif(status === undefined) {\n\t\tstatus = !exports.hasClass(el,className);\n\t}\n\tif(status) {\n\t\texports.addClass(el,className);\n\t} else {\n\t\texports.removeClass(el,className);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGet the first parent element that has scrollbars or use the body as fallback.\n*/\nexports.getScrollContainer = function(el) {\n\tvar doc = el.ownerDocument;\n\twhile(el.parentNode) {\t\n\t\tel = el.parentNode;\n\t\tif(el.scrollTop) {\n\t\t\treturn el;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn doc.body;\n};\n\n/*\nGet the scroll position of the viewport\nReturns:\n\t{\n\t\tx: horizontal scroll position in pixels,\n\t\ty: vertical scroll position in pixels\n\t}\n*/\nexports.getScrollPosition = function() {\n\tif(\"scrollX\" in window) {\n\t\treturn {x: window.scrollX, y: window.scrollY};\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn {x: document.documentElement.scrollLeft, y: document.documentElement.scrollTop};\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nAdjust the height of a textarea to fit its content, preserving scroll position, and return the height\n*/\nexports.resizeTextAreaToFit = function(domNode,minHeight) {\n\t// Get the scroll container and register the current scroll position\n\tvar container = $tw.utils.getScrollContainer(domNode),\n\t\tscrollTop = container.scrollTop;\n // Measure the specified minimum height\n\tdomNode.style.height = minHeight;\n\tvar measuredHeight = domNode.offsetHeight;\n\t// Set its height to auto so that it snaps to the correct height\n\tdomNode.style.height = \"auto\";\n\t// Calculate the revised height\n\tvar newHeight = Math.max(domNode.scrollHeight + domNode.offsetHeight - domNode.clientHeight,measuredHeight);\n\t// Only try to change the height if it has changed\n\tif(newHeight !== domNode.offsetHeight) {\n\t\tdomNode.style.height = newHeight + \"px\";\n\t\t// Make sure that the dimensions of the textarea are recalculated\n\t\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(domNode);\n\t\t// Set the container to the position we registered at the beginning\n\t\tcontainer.scrollTop = scrollTop;\n\t}\n\treturn newHeight;\n};\n\n/*\nGets the bounding rectangle of an element in absolute page coordinates\n*/\nexports.getBoundingPageRect = function(element) {\n\tvar scrollPos = $tw.utils.getScrollPosition(),\n\t\tclientRect = element.getBoundingClientRect();\n\treturn {\n\t\tleft: clientRect.left + scrollPos.x,\n\t\twidth: clientRect.width,\n\t\tright: clientRect.right + scrollPos.x,\n\t\ttop: clientRect.top + scrollPos.y,\n\t\theight: clientRect.height,\n\t\tbottom: clientRect.bottom + scrollPos.y\n\t};\n};\n\n/*\nSaves a named password in the browser\n*/\nexports.savePassword = function(name,password) {\n\ttry {\n\t\tif(window.localStorage) {\n\t\t\tlocalStorage.setItem(\"tw5-password-\" + name,password);\n\t\t}\n\t} catch(e) {\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nRetrieve a named password from the browser\n*/\nexports.getPassword = function(name) {\n\ttry {\n\t\treturn window.localStorage ? localStorage.getItem(\"tw5-password-\" + name) : \"\";\n\t} catch(e) {\n\t\treturn \"\";\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nForce layout of a dom node and its descendents\n*/\nexports.forceLayout = function(element) {\n\tvar dummy = element.offsetWidth;\n};\n\n/*\nPulse an element for debugging purposes\n*/\nexports.pulseElement = function(element) {\n\t// Event handler to remove the class at the end\n\telement.addEventListener($tw.browser.animationEnd,function handler(event) {\n\t\telement.removeEventListener($tw.browser.animationEnd,handler,false);\n\t\t$tw.utils.removeClass(element,\"pulse\");\n\t},false);\n\t// Apply the pulse class\n\t$tw.utils.removeClass(element,\"pulse\");\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(element);\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(element,\"pulse\");\n};\n\n/*\nAttach specified event handlers to a DOM node\ndomNode: where to attach the event handlers\nevents: array of event handlers to be added (see below)\nEach entry in the events array is an object with these properties:\nhandlerFunction: optional event handler function\nhandlerObject: optional event handler object\nhandlerMethod: optionally specifies object handler method name (defaults to `handleEvent`)\n*/\nexports.addEventListeners = function(domNode,events) {\n\t$tw.utils.each(events,function(eventInfo) {\n\t\tvar handler;\n\t\tif(eventInfo.handlerFunction) {\n\t\t\thandler = eventInfo.handlerFunction;\n\t\t} else if(eventInfo.handlerObject) {\n\t\t\tif(eventInfo.handlerMethod) {\n\t\t\t\thandler = function(event) {\n\t\t\t\t\teventInfo.handlerObject[eventInfo.handlerMethod].call(eventInfo.handlerObject,event);\n\t\t\t\t};\t\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\thandler = eventInfo.handlerObject;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tdomNode.addEventListener(eventInfo.name,handler,false);\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nGet the computed styles applied to an element as an array of strings of individual CSS properties\n*/\nexports.getComputedStyles = function(domNode) {\n\tvar textAreaStyles = window.getComputedStyle(domNode,null),\n\t\tstyleDefs = [],\n\t\tname;\n\tfor(var t=0; t<textAreaStyles.length; t++) {\n\t\tname = textAreaStyles[t];\n\t\tstyleDefs.push(name + \": \" + textAreaStyles.getPropertyValue(name) + \";\");\n\t}\n\treturn styleDefs;\n};\n\n/*\nApply a set of styles passed as an array of strings of individual CSS properties\n*/\nexports.setStyles = function(domNode,styleDefs) {\n\tdomNode.style.cssText = styleDefs.join(\"\");\n};\n\n/*\nCopy the computed styles from a source element to a destination element\n*/\nexports.copyStyles = function(srcDomNode,dstDomNode) {\n\t$tw.utils.setStyles(dstDomNode,$tw.utils.getComputedStyles(srcDomNode));\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/http.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/http.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nBrowser HTTP support\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nA quick and dirty HTTP function; to be refactored later. Options are:\n\turl: URL to retrieve\n\ttype: GET, PUT, POST etc\n\tcallback: function invoked with (err,data)\n*/\nexports.httpRequest = function(options) {\n\tvar type = options.type || \"GET\",\n\t\theaders = options.headers || {accept: \"application/json\"},\n\t\trequest = new XMLHttpRequest(),\n\t\tdata = \"\",\n\t\tf,results;\n\t// Massage the data hashmap into a string\n\tif(options.data) {\n\t\tif(typeof options.data === \"string\") { // Already a string\n\t\t\tdata = options.data;\n\t\t} else { // A hashmap of strings\n\t\t\tresults = [];\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(options.data,function(dataItem,dataItemTitle) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.push(dataItemTitle + \"=\" + encodeURIComponent(dataItem));\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tdata = results.join(\"&\");\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Set up the state change handler\n\trequest.onreadystatechange = function() {\n\t\tif(this.readyState === 4) {\n\t\t\tif(this.status === 200 || this.status === 201 || this.status === 204) {\n\t\t\t\t// Success!\n\t\t\t\toptions.callback(null,this.responseText,this);\n\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t// Something went wrong\n\t\toptions.callback($tw.language.getString(\"Error/XMLHttpRequest\") + \": \" + this.status);\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\t// Make the request\n\trequest.open(type,options.url,true);\n\tif(headers) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(headers,function(header,headerTitle,object) {\n\t\t\trequest.setRequestHeader(headerTitle,header);\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\tif(data && !$tw.utils.hop(headers,\"Content-type\")) {\n\t\trequest.setRequestHeader(\"Content-type\",\"application/x-www-form-urlencoded; charset=UTF-8\");\n\t}\n\ttry {\n\t\trequest.send(data);\n\t} catch(e) {\n\t\toptions.callback(e);\n\t}\n\treturn request;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/http.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/keyboard.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/keyboard.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nKeyboard utilities; now deprecated. Instead, use $tw.keyboardManager\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n[\"parseKeyDescriptor\",\"checkKeyDescriptor\"].forEach(function(method) {\n\texports[method] = function() {\n\t\tif($tw.keyboardManager) {\n\t\t\treturn $tw.keyboardManager[method].apply($tw.keyboardManager,Array.prototype.slice.call(arguments,0));\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn null\n\t\t}\n\t};\n});\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/keyboard.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/modal.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/modal.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nModal message mechanism\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nvar Modal = function(wiki) {\n\tthis.wiki = wiki;\n\tthis.modalCount = 0;\n};\n\n/*\nDisplay a modal dialogue\n\ttitle: Title of tiddler to display\n\toptions: see below\nOptions include:\n\tdownloadLink: Text of a big download link to include\n*/\nModal.prototype.display = function(title,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\trefreshHandler,\n\t\tduration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration(),\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t// Don't do anything if the tiddler doesn't exist\n\tif(!tiddler) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Create the variables\n\tvar variables = $tw.utils.extend({currentTiddler: title},options.variables);\n\t// Create the wrapper divs\n\tvar wrapper = document.createElement(\"div\"),\n\t\tmodalBackdrop = document.createElement(\"div\"),\n\t\tmodalWrapper = document.createElement(\"div\"),\n\t\tmodalHeader = document.createElement(\"div\"),\n\t\theaderTitle = document.createElement(\"h3\"),\n\t\tmodalBody = document.createElement(\"div\"),\n\t\tmodalLink = document.createElement(\"a\"),\n\t\tmodalFooter = document.createElement(\"div\"),\n\t\tmodalFooterHelp = document.createElement(\"span\"),\n\t\tmodalFooterButtons = document.createElement(\"span\");\n\t// Up the modal count and adjust the body class\n\tthis.modalCount++;\n\tthis.adjustPageClass();\n\t// Add classes\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(wrapper,\"tc-modal-wrapper\");\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(modalBackdrop,\"tc-modal-backdrop\");\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(modalWrapper,\"tc-modal\");\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(modalHeader,\"tc-modal-header\");\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(modalBody,\"tc-modal-body\");\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(modalFooter,\"tc-modal-footer\");\n\t// Join them together\n\twrapper.appendChild(modalBackdrop);\n\twrapper.appendChild(modalWrapper);\n\tmodalHeader.appendChild(headerTitle);\n\tmodalWrapper.appendChild(modalHeader);\n\tmodalWrapper.appendChild(modalBody);\n\tmodalFooter.appendChild(modalFooterHelp);\n\tmodalFooter.appendChild(modalFooterButtons);\n\tmodalWrapper.appendChild(modalFooter);\n\t// Render the title of the message\n\tvar headerWidgetNode = this.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(title,{\n\t\tfield: \"subtitle\",\n\t\tmode: \"inline\",\n\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"text\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\ttext: {\n\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"string\",\n\t\t\t\t\tvalue: title\n\t\t}}}],\n\t\tparentWidget: $tw.rootWidget,\n\t\tdocument: document,\n\t\tvariables: variables\n\t});\n\theaderWidgetNode.render(headerTitle,null);\n\t// Render the body of the message\n\tvar bodyWidgetNode = this.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(title,{\n\t\tparentWidget: $tw.rootWidget,\n\t\tdocument: document,\n\t\tvariables: variables\n\t});\n\tbodyWidgetNode.render(modalBody,null);\n\t// Setup the link if present\n\tif(options.downloadLink) {\n\t\tmodalLink.href = options.downloadLink;\n\t\tmodalLink.appendChild(document.createTextNode(\"Right-click to save changes\"));\n\t\tmodalBody.appendChild(modalLink);\n\t}\n\t// Render the footer of the message\n\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields && tiddler.fields.help) {\n\t\tvar link = document.createElement(\"a\");\n\t\tlink.setAttribute(\"href\",tiddler.fields.help);\n\t\tlink.setAttribute(\"target\",\"_blank\");\n\t\tlink.setAttribute(\"rel\",\"noopener noreferrer\");\n\t\tlink.appendChild(document.createTextNode(\"Help\"));\n\t\tmodalFooterHelp.appendChild(link);\n\t\tmodalFooterHelp.style.float = \"left\";\n\t}\n\tvar footerWidgetNode = this.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(title,{\n\t\tfield: \"footer\",\n\t\tmode: \"inline\",\n\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"button\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\tmessage: {\n\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"string\",\n\t\t\t\t\tvalue: \"tm-close-tiddler\"\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\t\ttype: \"text\",\n\t\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\t\ttext: {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"string\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue: $tw.language.getString(\"Buttons/Close/Caption\")\n\t\t\t}}}\n\t\t]}],\n\t\tparentWidget: $tw.rootWidget,\n\t\tdocument: document,\n\t\tvariables: variables\n\t});\n\tfooterWidgetNode.render(modalFooterButtons,null);\n\t// Set up the refresh handler\n\trefreshHandler = function(changes) {\n\t\theaderWidgetNode.refresh(changes,modalHeader,null);\n\t\tbodyWidgetNode.refresh(changes,modalBody,null);\n\t\tfooterWidgetNode.refresh(changes,modalFooterButtons,null);\n\t};\n\tthis.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",refreshHandler);\n\t// Add the close event handler\n\tvar closeHandler = function(event) {\n\t\t// Remove our refresh handler\n\t\tself.wiki.removeEventListener(\"change\",refreshHandler);\n\t\t// Decrease the modal count and adjust the body class\n\t\tself.modalCount--;\n\t\tself.adjustPageClass();\n\t\t// Force layout and animate the modal message away\n\t\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(modalBackdrop);\n\t\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(modalWrapper);\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalBackdrop,[\n\t\t\t{opacity: \"0\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalWrapper,[\n\t\t\t{transform: \"translateY(\" + window.innerHeight + \"px)\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t\t// Set up an event for the transition end\n\t\twindow.setTimeout(function() {\n\t\t\tif(wrapper.parentNode) {\n\t\t\t\t// Remove the modal message from the DOM\n\t\t\t\tdocument.body.removeChild(wrapper);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},duration);\n\t\t// Don't let anyone else handle the tm-close-tiddler message\n\t\treturn false;\n\t};\n\theaderWidgetNode.addEventListener(\"tm-close-tiddler\",closeHandler,false);\n\tbodyWidgetNode.addEventListener(\"tm-close-tiddler\",closeHandler,false);\n\tfooterWidgetNode.addEventListener(\"tm-close-tiddler\",closeHandler,false);\n\t// Set the initial styles for the message\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalBackdrop,[\n\t\t{opacity: \"0\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalWrapper,[\n\t\t{transformOrigin: \"0% 0%\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateY(\" + (-window.innerHeight) + \"px)\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Put the message into the document\n\tdocument.body.appendChild(wrapper);\n\t// Set up animation for the styles\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalBackdrop,[\n\t\t{transition: \"opacity \" + duration + \"ms ease-out\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalWrapper,[\n\t\t{transition: $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Force layout\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(modalBackdrop);\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(modalWrapper);\n\t// Set final animated styles\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalBackdrop,[\n\t\t{opacity: \"0.7\"}\n\t]);\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(modalWrapper,[\n\t\t{transform: \"translateY(0px)\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\nModal.prototype.adjustPageClass = function() {\n\tif($tw.pageContainer) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.toggleClass($tw.pageContainer,\"tc-modal-displayed\",this.modalCount > 0);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.Modal = Modal;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/modal.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/notifier.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/notifier.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nNotifier mechanism\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nvar Notifier = function(wiki) {\n\tthis.wiki = wiki;\n};\n\n/*\nDisplay a notification\n\ttitle: Title of tiddler containing the notification text\n\toptions: see below\nOptions include:\n*/\nNotifier.prototype.display = function(title,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\t// Create the wrapper divs\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tnotification = document.createElement(\"div\"),\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\tduration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration(),\n\t\trefreshHandler;\n\t// Don't do anything if the tiddler doesn't exist\n\tif(!tiddler) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// Add classes\n\t$tw.utils.addClass(notification,\"tc-notification\");\n\t// Create the variables\n\tvar variables = $tw.utils.extend({currentTiddler: title},options.variables);\n\t// Render the body of the notification\n\tvar widgetNode = this.wiki.makeTranscludeWidget(title,{parentWidget: $tw.rootWidget, document: document, variables: variables});\n\twidgetNode.render(notification,null);\n\trefreshHandler = function(changes) {\n\t\twidgetNode.refresh(changes,notification,null);\n\t};\n\tthis.wiki.addEventListener(\"change\",refreshHandler);\n\t// Set the initial styles for the notification\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(notification,[\n\t\t{opacity: \"0\"},\n\t\t{transformOrigin: \"0% 0%\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateY(\" + (-window.innerHeight) + \"px)\"},\n\t\t{transition: \"opacity \" + duration + \"ms ease-out, \" + $tw.utils.roundTripPropertyName(\"transform\") + \" \" + duration + \"ms ease-in-out\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Add the notification to the DOM\n\tdocument.body.appendChild(notification);\n\t// Force layout\n\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(notification);\n\t// Set final animated styles\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(notification,[\n\t\t{opacity: \"1.0\"},\n\t\t{transform: \"translateY(0px)\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Set a timer to remove the notification\n\twindow.setTimeout(function() {\n\t\t// Remove our change event handler\n\t\tself.wiki.removeEventListener(\"change\",refreshHandler);\n\t\t// Force layout and animate the notification away\n\t\t$tw.utils.forceLayout(notification);\n\t\t$tw.utils.setStyle(notification,[\n\t\t\t{opacity: \"0.0\"},\n\t\t\t{transform: \"translateX(\" + (notification.offsetWidth) + \"px)\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t\t// Remove the modal message from the DOM once the transition ends\n\t\tsetTimeout(function() {\n\t\t\tif(notification.parentNode) {\n\t\t\t\tdocument.body.removeChild(notification);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},duration);\n\t},$tw.config.preferences.notificationDuration);\n};\n\nexports.Notifier = Notifier;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/notifier.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/popup.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/popup.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nModule that creates a $tw.utils.Popup object prototype that manages popups in the browser\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nCreates a Popup object with these options:\n\trootElement: the DOM element to which the popup zapper should be attached\n*/\nvar Popup = function(options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tthis.rootElement = options.rootElement || document.documentElement;\n\tthis.popups = []; // Array of {title:,wiki:,domNode:} objects\n};\n\n/*\nTrigger a popup open or closed. Parameters are in a hashmap:\n\ttitle: title of the tiddler where the popup details are stored\n\tdomNode: dom node to which the popup will be positioned\n\twiki: wiki\n\tforce: if specified, forces the popup state to true or false (instead of toggling it)\n*/\nPopup.prototype.triggerPopup = function(options) {\n\t// Check if this popup is already active\n\tvar index = this.findPopup(options.title);\n\t// Compute the new state\n\tvar state = index === -1;\n\tif(options.force !== undefined) {\n\t\tstate = options.force;\n\t}\n\t// Show or cancel the popup according to the new state\n\tif(state) {\n\t\tthis.show(options);\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.cancel(index);\n\t}\n};\n\nPopup.prototype.findPopup = function(title) {\n\tvar index = -1;\n\tfor(var t=0; t<this.popups.length; t++) {\n\t\tif(this.popups[t].title === title) {\n\t\t\tindex = t;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn index;\n};\n\nPopup.prototype.handleEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(event.type === \"click\") {\n\t\t// Find out what was clicked on\n\t\tvar info = this.popupInfo(event.target),\n\t\t\tcancelLevel = info.popupLevel - 1;\n\t\t// Don't remove the level that was clicked on if we clicked on a handle\n\t\tif(info.isHandle) {\n\t\t\tcancelLevel++;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Cancel\n\t\tthis.cancel(cancelLevel);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nFind the popup level containing a DOM node. Returns:\npopupLevel: count of the number of nested popups containing the specified element\nisHandle: true if the specified element is within a popup handle\n*/\nPopup.prototype.popupInfo = function(domNode) {\n\tvar isHandle = false,\n\t\tpopupCount = 0,\n\t\tnode = domNode;\n\t// First check ancestors to see if we're within a popup handle\n\twhile(node) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hasClass(node,\"tc-popup-handle\")) {\n\t\t\tisHandle = true;\n\t\t\tpopupCount++;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hasClass(node,\"tc-popup-keep\")) {\n\t\t\tisHandle = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tnode = node.parentNode;\n\t}\n\t// Then count the number of ancestor popups\n\tnode = domNode;\n\twhile(node) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hasClass(node,\"tc-popup\")) {\n\t\t\tpopupCount++;\n\t\t}\n\t\tnode = node.parentNode;\n\t}\n\tvar info = {\n\t\tpopupLevel: popupCount,\n\t\tisHandle: isHandle\n\t};\n\treturn info;\n};\n\n/*\nDisplay a popup by adding it to the stack\n*/\nPopup.prototype.show = function(options) {\n\t// Find out what was clicked on\n\tvar info = this.popupInfo(options.domNode);\n\t// Cancel any higher level popups\n\tthis.cancel(info.popupLevel);\n\t// Store the popup details if not already there\n\tif(this.findPopup(options.title) === -1) {\n\t\tthis.popups.push({\n\t\t\ttitle: options.title,\n\t\t\twiki: options.wiki,\n\t\t\tdomNode: options.domNode\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Set the state tiddler\n\toptions.wiki.setTextReference(options.title,\n\t\t\t\"(\" + options.domNode.offsetLeft + \",\" + options.domNode.offsetTop + \",\" + \n\t\t\t\toptions.domNode.offsetWidth + \",\" + options.domNode.offsetHeight + \")\");\n\t// Add the click handler if we have any popups\n\tif(this.popups.length > 0) {\n\t\tthis.rootElement.addEventListener(\"click\",this,true);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCancel all popups at or above a specified level or DOM node\nlevel: popup level to cancel (0 cancels all popups)\n*/\nPopup.prototype.cancel = function(level) {\n\tvar numPopups = this.popups.length;\n\tlevel = Math.max(0,Math.min(level,numPopups));\n\tfor(var t=level; t<numPopups; t++) {\n\t\tvar popup = this.popups.pop();\n\t\tif(popup.title) {\n\t\t\tpopup.wiki.deleteTiddler(popup.title);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tif(this.popups.length === 0) {\n\t\tthis.rootElement.removeEventListener(\"click\",this,false);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nReturns true if the specified title and text identifies an active popup\n*/\nPopup.prototype.readPopupState = function(text) {\n\tvar popupLocationRegExp = /^\\((-?[0-9\\.E]+),(-?[0-9\\.E]+),(-?[0-9\\.E]+),(-?[0-9\\.E]+)\\)$/;\n\treturn popupLocationRegExp.test(text);\n};\n\nexports.Popup = Popup;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/popup.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/dom/scroller.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/dom/scroller.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nModule that creates a $tw.utils.Scroller object prototype that manages scrolling in the browser\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nEvent handler for when the `tm-scroll` event hits the document body\n*/\nvar PageScroller = function() {\n\tthis.idRequestFrame = null;\n\tthis.requestAnimationFrame = window.requestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\twindow.webkitRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\twindow.mozRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\tfunction(callback) {\n\t\t\treturn window.setTimeout(callback, 1000/60);\n\t\t};\n\tthis.cancelAnimationFrame = window.cancelAnimationFrame ||\n\t\twindow.webkitCancelAnimationFrame ||\n\t\twindow.webkitCancelRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\twindow.mozCancelAnimationFrame ||\n\t\twindow.mozCancelRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\tfunction(id) {\n\t\t\twindow.clearTimeout(id);\n\t\t};\n};\n\nPageScroller.prototype.cancelScroll = function() {\n\tif(this.idRequestFrame) {\n\t\tthis.cancelAnimationFrame.call(window,this.idRequestFrame);\n\t\tthis.idRequestFrame = null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nHandle an event\n*/\nPageScroller.prototype.handleEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(event.type === \"tm-scroll\") {\n\t\treturn this.scrollIntoView(event.target);\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a scroll event hitting the page document\n*/\nPageScroller.prototype.scrollIntoView = function(element) {\n\tvar duration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration();\n\t// Now get ready to scroll the body\n\tthis.cancelScroll();\n\tthis.startTime = Date.now();\n\tvar scrollPosition = $tw.utils.getScrollPosition();\n\t// Get the client bounds of the element and adjust by the scroll position\n\tvar clientBounds = element.getBoundingClientRect(),\n\t\tbounds = {\n\t\t\tleft: clientBounds.left + scrollPosition.x,\n\t\t\ttop: clientBounds.top + scrollPosition.y,\n\t\t\twidth: clientBounds.width,\n\t\t\theight: clientBounds.height\n\t\t};\n\t// We'll consider the horizontal and vertical scroll directions separately via this function\n\t// targetPos/targetSize - position and size of the target element\n\t// currentPos/currentSize - position and size of the current scroll viewport\n\t// returns: new position of the scroll viewport\n\tvar getEndPos = function(targetPos,targetSize,currentPos,currentSize) {\n\t\t\tvar newPos = currentPos;\n\t\t\t// If the target is above/left of the current view, then scroll to it's top/left\n\t\t\tif(targetPos <= currentPos) {\n\t\t\t\tnewPos = targetPos;\n\t\t\t// If the target is smaller than the window and the scroll position is too far up, then scroll till the target is at the bottom of the window\n\t\t\t} else if(targetSize < currentSize && currentPos < (targetPos + targetSize - currentSize)) {\n\t\t\t\tnewPos = targetPos + targetSize - currentSize;\n\t\t\t// If the target is big, then just scroll to the top\n\t\t\t} else if(currentPos < targetPos) {\n\t\t\t\tnewPos = targetPos;\n\t\t\t// Otherwise, stay where we are\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tnewPos = currentPos;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// If we are scrolling within 50 pixels of the top/left then snap to zero\n\t\t\tif(newPos < 50) {\n\t\t\t\tnewPos = 0;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn newPos;\n\t\t},\n\t\tendX = getEndPos(bounds.left,bounds.width,scrollPosition.x,window.innerWidth),\n\t\tendY = getEndPos(bounds.top,bounds.height,scrollPosition.y,window.innerHeight);\n\t// Only scroll if the position has changed\n\tif(endX !== scrollPosition.x || endY !== scrollPosition.y) {\n\t\tvar self = this,\n\t\t\tdrawFrame;\n\t\tdrawFrame = function () {\n\t\t\tvar t;\n\t\t\tif(duration <= 0) {\n\t\t\t\tt = 1;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tt = ((Date.now()) - self.startTime) / duration;\t\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(t >= 1) {\n\t\t\t\tself.cancelScroll();\n\t\t\t\tt = 1;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tt = $tw.utils.slowInSlowOut(t);\n\t\t\twindow.scrollTo(scrollPosition.x + (endX - scrollPosition.x) * t,scrollPosition.y + (endY - scrollPosition.y) * t);\n\t\t\tif(t < 1) {\n\t\t\t\tself.idRequestFrame = self.requestAnimationFrame.call(window,drawFrame);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\t\tdrawFrame();\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.PageScroller = PageScroller;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/dom/scroller.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/edition-info.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/edition-info.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils-node\n\nInformation about the available editions\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar fs = require(\"fs\"),\n\tpath = require(\"path\");\n\nvar editionInfo;\n\nexports.getEditionInfo = function() {\n\tif(!editionInfo) {\n\t\t// Enumerate the edition paths\n\t\tvar editionPaths = $tw.getLibraryItemSearchPaths($tw.config.editionsPath,$tw.config.editionsEnvVar);\n\t\teditionInfo = {};\n\t\tfor(var editionIndex=0; editionIndex<editionPaths.length; editionIndex++) {\n\t\t\tvar editionPath = editionPaths[editionIndex];\n\t\t\t// Enumerate the folders\n\t\t\tvar entries = fs.readdirSync(editionPath);\n\t\t\tfor(var entryIndex=0; entryIndex<entries.length; entryIndex++) {\n\t\t\t\tvar entry = entries[entryIndex];\n\t\t\t\t// Check if directories have a valid tiddlywiki.info\n\t\t\t\tif(!editionInfo[entry] && $tw.utils.isDirectory(path.resolve(editionPath,entry))) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar info;\n\t\t\t\t\ttry {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tinfo = JSON.parse(fs.readFileSync(path.resolve(editionPath,entry,\"tiddlywiki.info\"),\"utf8\"));\n\t\t\t\t\t} catch(ex) {\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\tif(info) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\teditionInfo[entry] = info;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn editionInfo;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/edition-info.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils-node"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/fakedom.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/fakedom.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nA barebones implementation of DOM interfaces needed by the rendering mechanism.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Sequence number used to enable us to track objects for testing\nvar sequenceNumber = null;\n\nvar bumpSequenceNumber = function(object) {\n\tif(sequenceNumber !== null) {\n\t\tobject.sequenceNumber = sequenceNumber++;\n\t}\n};\n\nvar TW_TextNode = function(text) {\n\tbumpSequenceNumber(this);\n\tthis.textContent = text;\n};\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_TextNode.prototype, \"nodeType\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn 3;\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_TextNode.prototype, \"formattedTextContent\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn this.textContent.replace(/(\\r?\\n)/g,\"\");\n\t}\n});\n\nvar TW_Element = function(tag,namespace) {\n\tbumpSequenceNumber(this);\n\tthis.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom = true;\n\tthis.tag = tag;\n\tthis.attributes = {};\n\tthis.isRaw = false;\n\tthis.children = [];\n\tthis.style = {};\n\tthis.namespaceURI = namespace || \"http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml\";\n};\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"nodeType\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn 1;\n\t}\n});\n\nTW_Element.prototype.getAttribute = function(name) {\n\tif(this.isRaw) {\n\t\tthrow \"Cannot getAttribute on a raw TW_Element\";\n\t}\n\treturn this.attributes[name];\n};\n\nTW_Element.prototype.setAttribute = function(name,value) {\n\tif(this.isRaw) {\n\t\tthrow \"Cannot setAttribute on a raw TW_Element\";\n\t}\n\tthis.attributes[name] = value;\n};\n\nTW_Element.prototype.setAttributeNS = function(namespace,name,value) {\n\tthis.setAttribute(name,value);\n};\n\nTW_Element.prototype.removeAttribute = function(name) {\n\tif(this.isRaw) {\n\t\tthrow \"Cannot removeAttribute on a raw TW_Element\";\n\t}\n\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.attributes,name)) {\n\t\tdelete this.attributes[name];\n\t}\n};\n\nTW_Element.prototype.appendChild = function(node) {\n\tthis.children.push(node);\n\tnode.parentNode = this;\n};\n\nTW_Element.prototype.insertBefore = function(node,nextSibling) {\n\tif(nextSibling) {\n\t\tvar p = this.children.indexOf(nextSibling);\n\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\tthis.children.splice(p,0,node);\n\t\t\tnode.parentNode = this;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tthis.appendChild(node);\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.appendChild(node);\n\t}\n};\n\nTW_Element.prototype.removeChild = function(node) {\n\tvar p = this.children.indexOf(node);\n\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\tthis.children.splice(p,1);\n\t}\n};\n\nTW_Element.prototype.hasChildNodes = function() {\n\treturn !!this.children.length;\n};\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"childNodes\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn this.children;\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"firstChild\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn this.children[0];\n\t}\n});\n\nTW_Element.prototype.addEventListener = function(type,listener,useCapture) {\n\t// Do nothing\n};\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"tagName\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn this.tag || \"\";\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"className\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn this.attributes[\"class\"] || \"\";\n\t},\n\tset: function(value) {\n\t\tthis.attributes[\"class\"] = value;\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"value\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\treturn this.attributes.value || \"\";\n\t},\n\tset: function(value) {\n\t\tthis.attributes.value = value;\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"outerHTML\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\tvar output = [],attr,a,v;\n\t\toutput.push(\"<\",this.tag);\n\t\tif(this.attributes) {\n\t\t\tattr = [];\n\t\t\tfor(a in this.attributes) {\n\t\t\t\tattr.push(a);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tattr.sort();\n\t\t\tfor(a=0; a<attr.length; a++) {\n\t\t\t\tv = this.attributes[attr[a]];\n\t\t\t\tif(v !== undefined) {\n\t\t\t\t\toutput.push(\" \",attr[a],\"=\\\"\",$tw.utils.htmlEncode(v),\"\\\"\");\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(this.style) {\n\t\t\tvar style = [];\n\t\t\tfor(var s in this.style) {\n\t\t\t\tstyle.push(s + \":\" + this.style[s] + \";\");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(style.length > 0) {\n\t\t\t\toutput.push(\" style=\\\"\",style.join(\"\"),\"\\\"\")\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\toutput.push(\">\");\n\t\tif($tw.config.htmlVoidElements.indexOf(this.tag) === -1) {\n\t\t\toutput.push(this.innerHTML);\n\t\t\toutput.push(\"</\",this.tag,\">\");\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn output.join(\"\");\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"innerHTML\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\tif(this.isRaw) {\n\t\t\treturn this.rawHTML;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tvar b = [];\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(node) {\n\t\t\t\tif(node instanceof TW_Element) {\n\t\t\t\t\tb.push(node.outerHTML);\n\t\t\t\t} else if(node instanceof TW_TextNode) {\n\t\t\t\t\tb.push($tw.utils.htmlEncode(node.textContent));\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\treturn b.join(\"\");\n\t\t}\n\t},\n\tset: function(value) {\n\t\tthis.isRaw = true;\n\t\tthis.rawHTML = value;\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"textContent\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\tif(this.isRaw) {\n\t\t\tthrow \"Cannot get textContent on a raw TW_Element\";\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tvar b = [];\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(node) {\n\t\t\t\tb.push(node.textContent);\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\treturn b.join(\"\");\n\t\t}\n\t},\n\tset: function(value) {\n\t\tthis.children = [new TW_TextNode(value)];\n\t}\n});\n\nObject.defineProperty(TW_Element.prototype, \"formattedTextContent\", {\n\tget: function() {\n\t\tif(this.isRaw) {\n\t\t\tthrow \"Cannot get formattedTextContent on a raw TW_Element\";\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tvar b = [],\n\t\t\t\tisBlock = $tw.config.htmlBlockElements.indexOf(this.tag) !== -1;\n\t\t\tif(isBlock) {\n\t\t\t\tb.push(\"\\n\");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(this.tag === \"li\") {\n\t\t\t\tb.push(\"* \");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(node) {\n\t\t\t\tb.push(node.formattedTextContent);\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tif(isBlock) {\n\t\t\t\tb.push(\"\\n\");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn b.join(\"\");\n\t\t}\n\t}\n});\n\nvar document = {\n\tsetSequenceNumber: function(value) {\n\t\tsequenceNumber = value;\n\t},\n\tcreateElementNS: function(namespace,tag) {\n\t\treturn new TW_Element(tag,namespace);\n\t},\n\tcreateElement: function(tag) {\n\t\treturn new TW_Element(tag);\n\t},\n\tcreateTextNode: function(text) {\n\t\treturn new TW_TextNode(text);\n\t},\n\tcompatMode: \"CSS1Compat\", // For KaTeX to know that we're not a browser in quirks mode\n\tisTiddlyWikiFakeDom: true\n};\n\nexports.fakeDocument = document;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/fakedom.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/filesystem.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/filesystem.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils-node\n\nFile system utilities\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar fs = require(\"fs\"),\n\tpath = require(\"path\");\n\n/*\nRecursively (and synchronously) copy a directory and all its content\n*/\nexports.copyDirectory = function(srcPath,dstPath) {\n\t// Remove any trailing path separators\n\tsrcPath = $tw.utils.removeTrailingSeparator(srcPath);\n\tdstPath = $tw.utils.removeTrailingSeparator(dstPath);\n\t// Create the destination directory\n\tvar err = $tw.utils.createDirectory(dstPath);\n\tif(err) {\n\t\treturn err;\n\t}\n\t// Function to copy a folder full of files\n\tvar copy = function(srcPath,dstPath) {\n\t\tvar srcStats = fs.lstatSync(srcPath),\n\t\t\tdstExists = fs.existsSync(dstPath);\n\t\tif(srcStats.isFile()) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.copyFile(srcPath,dstPath);\n\t\t} else if(srcStats.isDirectory()) {\n\t\t\tvar items = fs.readdirSync(srcPath);\n\t\t\tfor(var t=0; t<items.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\tvar item = items[t],\n\t\t\t\t\terr = copy(srcPath + path.sep + item,dstPath + path.sep + item);\n\t\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\t\treturn err;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\tcopy(srcPath,dstPath);\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nCopy a file\n*/\nvar FILE_BUFFER_LENGTH = 64 * 1024,\n\tfileBuffer;\n\nexports.copyFile = function(srcPath,dstPath) {\n\t// Create buffer if required\n\tif(!fileBuffer) {\n\t\tfileBuffer = new Buffer(FILE_BUFFER_LENGTH);\n\t}\n\t// Create any directories in the destination\n\t$tw.utils.createDirectory(path.dirname(dstPath));\n\t// Copy the file\n\tvar srcFile = fs.openSync(srcPath,\"r\"),\n\t\tdstFile = fs.openSync(dstPath,\"w\"),\n\t\tbytesRead = 1,\n\t\tpos = 0;\n\twhile (bytesRead > 0) {\n\t\tbytesRead = fs.readSync(srcFile,fileBuffer,0,FILE_BUFFER_LENGTH,pos);\n\t\tfs.writeSync(dstFile,fileBuffer,0,bytesRead);\n\t\tpos += bytesRead;\n\t}\n\tfs.closeSync(srcFile);\n\tfs.closeSync(dstFile);\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nRemove trailing path separator\n*/\nexports.removeTrailingSeparator = function(dirPath) {\n\tvar len = dirPath.length;\n\tif(dirPath.charAt(len-1) === path.sep) {\n\t\tdirPath = dirPath.substr(0,len-1);\n\t}\n\treturn dirPath;\n};\n\n/*\nRecursively create a directory\n*/\nexports.createDirectory = function(dirPath) {\n\tif(dirPath.substr(dirPath.length-1,1) !== path.sep) {\n\t\tdirPath = dirPath + path.sep;\n\t}\n\tvar pos = 1;\n\tpos = dirPath.indexOf(path.sep,pos);\n\twhile(pos !== -1) {\n\t\tvar subDirPath = dirPath.substr(0,pos);\n\t\tif(!$tw.utils.isDirectory(subDirPath)) {\n\t\t\ttry {\n\t\t\t\tfs.mkdirSync(subDirPath);\n\t\t\t} catch(e) {\n\t\t\t\treturn \"Error creating directory '\" + subDirPath + \"'\";\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tpos = dirPath.indexOf(path.sep,pos + 1);\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nRecursively create directories needed to contain a specified file\n*/\nexports.createFileDirectories = function(filePath) {\n\treturn $tw.utils.createDirectory(path.dirname(filePath));\n};\n\n/*\nRecursively delete a directory\n*/\nexports.deleteDirectory = function(dirPath) {\n\tif(fs.existsSync(dirPath)) {\n\t\tvar entries = fs.readdirSync(dirPath);\n\t\tfor(var entryIndex=0; entryIndex<entries.length; entryIndex++) {\n\t\t\tvar currPath = dirPath + path.sep + entries[entryIndex];\n\t\t\tif(fs.lstatSync(currPath).isDirectory()) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.deleteDirectory(currPath);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tfs.unlinkSync(currPath);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\tfs.rmdirSync(dirPath);\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nCheck if a path identifies a directory\n*/\nexports.isDirectory = function(dirPath) {\n\treturn fs.existsSync(dirPath) && fs.statSync(dirPath).isDirectory();\n};\n\n/*\nCheck if a path identifies a directory that is empty\n*/\nexports.isDirectoryEmpty = function(dirPath) {\n\tif(!$tw.utils.isDirectory(dirPath)) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\tvar files = fs.readdirSync(dirPath),\n\t\tempty = true;\n\t$tw.utils.each(files,function(file,index) {\n\t\tif(file.charAt(0) !== \".\") {\n\t\t\tempty = false;\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn empty;\n};\n\n/*\nRecursively delete a tree of empty directories\n*/\nexports.deleteEmptyDirs = function(dirpath,callback) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tfs.readdir(dirpath,function(err,files) {\n\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\treturn callback(err);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(files.length > 0) {\n\t\t\treturn callback(null);\n\t\t}\n\t\tfs.rmdir(dirpath,function(err) {\n\t\t\tif(err) {\n\t\t\t\treturn callback(err);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tself.deleteEmptyDirs(path.dirname(dirpath),callback);\n\t\t});\n\t});\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/filesystem.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils-node"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/logger.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/logger.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nA basic logging implementation\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar ALERT_TAG = \"$:/tags/Alert\";\n\n/*\nMake a new logger\n*/\nfunction Logger(componentName) {\n\tthis.componentName = componentName || \"\";\n}\n\n/*\nLog a message\n*/\nLogger.prototype.log = function(/* args */) {\n\tif(console !== undefined && console.log !== undefined) {\n\t\treturn Function.apply.call(console.log, console, [this.componentName + \":\"].concat(Array.prototype.slice.call(arguments,0)));\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nAlert a message\n*/\nLogger.prototype.alert = function(/* args */) {\n\t// Prepare the text of the alert\n\tvar text = Array.prototype.join.call(arguments,\" \");\n\t// Create alert tiddlers in the browser\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t// Check if there is an existing alert with the same text and the same component\n\t\tvar existingAlerts = $tw.wiki.getTiddlersWithTag(ALERT_TAG),\n\t\t\talertFields,\n\t\t\texistingCount,\n\t\t\tself = this;\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(existingAlerts,function(title) {\n\t\t\tvar tiddler = $tw.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\tif(tiddler.fields.text === text && tiddler.fields.component === self.componentName && tiddler.fields.modified && (!alertFields || tiddler.fields.modified < alertFields.modified)) {\n\t\t\t\t\talertFields = $tw.utils.extend({},tiddler.fields);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\tif(alertFields) {\n\t\t\texistingCount = alertFields.count || 1;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\talertFields = {\n\t\t\t\ttitle: $tw.wiki.generateNewTitle(\"$:/temp/alerts/alert\",{prefix: \"\"}),\n\t\t\t\ttext: text,\n\t\t\t\ttags: [ALERT_TAG],\n\t\t\t\tcomponent: this.componentName\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t\texistingCount = 0;\n\t\t}\n\t\talertFields.modified = new Date();\n\t\tif(++existingCount > 1) {\n\t\t\talertFields.count = existingCount;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\talertFields.count = undefined;\n\t\t}\n\t\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(alertFields));\n\t\t// Log the alert as well\n\t\tthis.log.apply(this,Array.prototype.slice.call(arguments,0));\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Print an orange message to the console if not in the browser\n\t\tconsole.error(\"\\x1b[1;33m\" + text + \"\\x1b[0m\");\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.Logger = Logger;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/logger.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/parsetree.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/parsetree.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nParse tree utility functions.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nexports.addAttributeToParseTreeNode = function(node,name,value) {\n\tnode.attributes = node.attributes || {};\n\tnode.attributes[name] = {type: \"string\", value: value};\n};\n\nexports.getAttributeValueFromParseTreeNode = function(node,name,defaultValue) {\n\tif(node.attributes && node.attributes[name] && node.attributes[name].value !== undefined) {\n\t\treturn node.attributes[name].value;\n\t}\n\treturn defaultValue;\n};\n\nexports.addClassToParseTreeNode = function(node,classString) {\n\tvar classes = [];\n\tnode.attributes = node.attributes || {};\n\tnode.attributes[\"class\"] = node.attributes[\"class\"] || {type: \"string\", value: \"\"};\n\tif(node.attributes[\"class\"].type === \"string\") {\n\t\tif(node.attributes[\"class\"].value !== \"\") {\n\t\t\tclasses = node.attributes[\"class\"].value.split(\" \");\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(classString !== \"\") {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(classes,classString.split(\" \"));\n\t\t}\n\t\tnode.attributes[\"class\"].value = classes.join(\" \");\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.addStyleToParseTreeNode = function(node,name,value) {\n\t\tnode.attributes = node.attributes || {};\n\t\tnode.attributes.style = node.attributes.style || {type: \"string\", value: \"\"};\n\t\tif(node.attributes.style.type === \"string\") {\n\t\t\tnode.attributes.style.value += name + \":\" + value + \";\";\n\t\t}\n};\n\nexports.findParseTreeNode = function(nodeArray,search) {\n\tfor(var t=0; t<nodeArray.length; t++) {\n\t\tif(nodeArray[t].type === search.type && nodeArray[t].tag === search.tag) {\n\t\t\treturn nodeArray[t];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn undefined;\n};\n\n/*\nHelper to get the text of a parse tree node or array of nodes\n*/\nexports.getParseTreeText = function getParseTreeText(tree) {\n\tvar output = [];\n\tif($tw.utils.isArray(tree)) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(tree,function(node) {\n\t\t\toutput.push(getParseTreeText(node));\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(tree.type === \"text\") {\n\t\t\toutput.push(tree.text);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(tree.children) {\n\t\t\treturn getParseTreeText(tree.children);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn output.join(\"\");\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/parsetree.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/performance.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/performance.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: global\n\nPerformance measurement.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nfunction Performance(enabled) {\n\tthis.enabled = !!enabled;\n\tthis.measures = {}; // Hashmap of current values of measurements\n\tthis.logger = new $tw.utils.Logger(\"performance\");\n}\n\n/*\nWrap performance reporting around a top level function\n*/\nPerformance.prototype.report = function(name,fn) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(this.enabled) {\n\t\treturn function() {\n\t\t\tself.measures = {};\n\t\t\tvar startTime = $tw.utils.timer(),\n\t\t\t\tresult = fn.apply(this,arguments);\n\t\t\tself.logger.log(name + \": \" + $tw.utils.timer(startTime).toFixed(2) + \"ms\");\n\t\t\tfor(var m in self.measures) {\n\t\t\t\tself.logger.log(\"+\" + m + \": \" + self.measures[m].toFixed(2) + \"ms\");\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn result;\n\t\t};\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn fn;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nWrap performance measurements around a subfunction\n*/\nPerformance.prototype.measure = function(name,fn) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(this.enabled) {\n\t\treturn function() {\n\t\t\tvar startTime = $tw.utils.timer(),\n\t\t\t\tresult = fn.apply(this,arguments),\n\t\t\t\tvalue = self.measures[name] || 0;\n\t\t\tself.measures[name] = value + $tw.utils.timer(startTime);\n\t\t\treturn result;\n\t\t};\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn fn;\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.Performance = Performance;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/performance.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "global"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/pluginmaker.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/pluginmaker.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nA quick and dirty way to pack up plugins within the browser.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nRepack a plugin, and then delete any non-shadow payload tiddlers\n*/\nexports.repackPlugin = function(title,additionalTiddlers,excludeTiddlers) {\n\tadditionalTiddlers = additionalTiddlers || [];\n\texcludeTiddlers = excludeTiddlers || [];\n\t// Get the plugin tiddler\n\tvar pluginTiddler = $tw.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\tif(!pluginTiddler) {\n\t\tthrow \"No such tiddler as \" + title;\n\t}\n\t// Extract the JSON\n\tvar jsonPluginTiddler;\n\ttry {\n\t\tjsonPluginTiddler = JSON.parse(pluginTiddler.fields.text);\n\t} catch(e) {\n\t\tthrow \"Cannot parse plugin tiddler \" + title + \"\\n\" + $tw.language.getString(\"Error/Caption\") + \": \" + e;\n\t}\n\t// Get the list of tiddlers\n\tvar tiddlers = Object.keys(jsonPluginTiddler.tiddlers);\n\t// Add the additional tiddlers\n\t$tw.utils.pushTop(tiddlers,additionalTiddlers);\n\t// Remove any excluded tiddlers\n\tfor(var t=tiddlers.length-1; t>=0; t--) {\n\t\tif(excludeTiddlers.indexOf(tiddlers[t]) !== -1) {\n\t\t\ttiddlers.splice(t,1);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Pack up the tiddlers into a block of JSON\n\tvar plugins = {};\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(title) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = $tw.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\t\tfields = {};\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddler.fields,function (value,name) {\n\t\t\tfields[name] = tiddler.getFieldString(name);\n\t\t});\n\t\tplugins[title] = fields;\n\t});\n\t// Retrieve and bump the version number\n\tvar pluginVersion = $tw.utils.parseVersion(pluginTiddler.getFieldString(\"version\") || \"0.0.0\") || {\n\t\t\tmajor: \"0\",\n\t\t\tminor: \"0\",\n\t\t\tpatch: \"0\"\n\t\t};\n\tpluginVersion.patch++;\n\tvar version = pluginVersion.major + \".\" + pluginVersion.minor + \".\" + pluginVersion.patch;\n\tif(pluginVersion.prerelease) {\n\t\tversion += \"-\" + pluginVersion.prerelease;\n\t}\n\tif(pluginVersion.build) {\n\t\tversion += \"+\" + pluginVersion.build;\n\t}\n\t// Save the tiddler\n\t$tw.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(pluginTiddler,{text: JSON.stringify({tiddlers: plugins},null,4), version: version}));\n\t// Delete any non-shadow constituent tiddlers\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(title) {\n\t\tif($tw.wiki.tiddlerExists(title)) {\n\t\t\t$tw.wiki.deleteTiddler(title);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Trigger an autosave\n\t$tw.rootWidget.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-auto-save-wiki\"});\n\t// Return a heartwarming confirmation\n\treturn \"Plugin \" + title + \" successfully saved\";\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/pluginmaker.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/utils/utils.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/utils/utils.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: utils\n\nVarious static utility functions.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nDisplay a warning, in colour if we're on a terminal\n*/\nexports.warning = function(text) {\n\tconsole.log($tw.node ? \"\\x1b[1;33m\" + text + \"\\x1b[0m\" : text);\n};\n\n/*\nRepeats a string\n*/\nexports.repeat = function(str,count) {\n\tvar result = \"\";\n\tfor(var t=0;t<count;t++) {\n\t\tresult += str;\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\n/*\nTrim whitespace from the start and end of a string\nThanks to Steven Levithan, http://blog.stevenlevithan.com/archives/faster-trim-javascript\n*/\nexports.trim = function(str) {\n\tif(typeof str === \"string\") {\n\t\treturn str.replace(/^\\s\\s*/, '').replace(/\\s\\s*$/, '');\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn str;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nFind the line break preceding a given position in a string\nReturns position immediately after that line break, or the start of the string\n*/\nexports.findPrecedingLineBreak = function(text,pos) {\n\tvar result = text.lastIndexOf(\"\\n\",pos - 1);\n\tif(result === -1) {\n\t\tresult = 0;\n\t} else {\n\t\tresult++;\n\t\tif(text.charAt(result) === \"\\r\") {\n\t\t\tresult++;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\n/*\nFind the line break following a given position in a string\n*/\nexports.findFollowingLineBreak = function(text,pos) {\n\t// Cut to just past the following line break, or to the end of the text\n\tvar result = text.indexOf(\"\\n\",pos);\n\tif(result === -1) {\n\t\tresult = text.length;\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(text.charAt(result) === \"\\r\") {\n\t\t\tresult++;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\n/*\nReturn the number of keys in an object\n*/\nexports.count = function(object) {\n\treturn Object.keys(object || {}).length;\n};\n\n/*\nCheck if an array is equal by value and by reference.\n*/\nexports.isArrayEqual = function(array1,array2) {\n\tif(array1 === array2) {\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\tarray1 = array1 || [];\n\tarray2 = array2 || [];\n\tif(array1.length !== array2.length) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\treturn array1.every(function(value,index) {\n\t\treturn value === array2[index];\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nPush entries onto an array, removing them first if they already exist in the array\n\tarray: array to modify (assumed to be free of duplicates)\n\tvalue: a single value to push or an array of values to push\n*/\nexports.pushTop = function(array,value) {\n\tvar t,p;\n\tif($tw.utils.isArray(value)) {\n\t\t// Remove any array entries that are duplicated in the new values\n\t\tif(value.length !== 0) {\n\t\t\tif(array.length !== 0) {\n\t\t\t\tif(value.length < array.length) {\n\t\t\t\t\tfor(t=0; t<value.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tp = array.indexOf(value[t]);\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tarray.splice(p,1);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tfor(t=array.length-1; t>=0; t--) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tp = value.indexOf(array[t]);\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tarray.splice(t,1);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Push the values on top of the main array\n\t\t\tarray.push.apply(array,value);\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tp = array.indexOf(value);\n\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\tarray.splice(p,1);\n\t\t}\n\t\tarray.push(value);\n\t}\n\treturn array;\n};\n\n/*\nRemove entries from an array\n\tarray: array to modify\n\tvalue: a single value to remove, or an array of values to remove\n*/\nexports.removeArrayEntries = function(array,value) {\n\tvar t,p;\n\tif($tw.utils.isArray(value)) {\n\t\tfor(t=0; t<value.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tp = array.indexOf(value[t]);\n\t\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\tarray.splice(p,1);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tp = array.indexOf(value);\n\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\tarray.splice(p,1);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCheck whether any members of a hashmap are present in another hashmap\n*/\nexports.checkDependencies = function(dependencies,changes) {\n\tvar hit = false;\n\t$tw.utils.each(changes,function(change,title) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(dependencies,title)) {\n\t\t\thit = true;\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn hit;\n};\n\nexports.extend = function(object /* [, src] */) {\n\t$tw.utils.each(Array.prototype.slice.call(arguments, 1), function(source) {\n\t\tif(source) {\n\t\t\tfor(var property in source) {\n\t\t\t\tobject[property] = source[property];\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn object;\n};\n\nexports.deepCopy = function(object) {\n\tvar result,t;\n\tif($tw.utils.isArray(object)) {\n\t\t// Copy arrays\n\t\tresult = object.slice(0);\n\t} else if(typeof object === \"object\") {\n\t\tresult = {};\n\t\tfor(t in object) {\n\t\t\tif(object[t] !== undefined) {\n\t\t\t\tresult[t] = $tw.utils.deepCopy(object[t]);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tresult = object;\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\nexports.extendDeepCopy = function(object,extendedProperties) {\n\tvar result = $tw.utils.deepCopy(object),t;\n\tfor(t in extendedProperties) {\n\t\tif(extendedProperties[t] !== undefined) {\n\t\t\tresult[t] = $tw.utils.deepCopy(extendedProperties[t]);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\nexports.deepFreeze = function deepFreeze(object) {\n\tvar property, key;\n\tObject.freeze(object);\n\tfor(key in object) {\n\t\tproperty = object[key];\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(object,key) && (typeof property === \"object\") && !Object.isFrozen(property)) {\n\t\t\tdeepFreeze(property);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.slowInSlowOut = function(t) {\n\treturn (1 - ((Math.cos(t * Math.PI) + 1) / 2));\n};\n\nexports.formatDateString = function(date,template) {\n\tvar result = \"\",\n\t\tt = template,\n\t\tmatches = [\n\t\t\t[/^0hh12/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad($tw.utils.getHours12(date));\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^wYYYY/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.getYearForWeekNo(date);\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^hh12/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.getHours12(date);\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^DDth/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn date.getDate() + $tw.utils.getDaySuffix(date);\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^YYYY/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn date.getFullYear();\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^0hh/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad(date.getHours());\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^0mm/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad(date.getMinutes());\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^0ss/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad(date.getSeconds());\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^0DD/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad(date.getDate());\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^0MM/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad(date.getMonth()+1);\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^0WW/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad($tw.utils.getWeek(date));\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^ddd/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.language.getString(\"Date/Short/Day/\" + date.getDay());\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^mmm/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.language.getString(\"Date/Short/Month/\" + (date.getMonth() + 1));\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^DDD/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.language.getString(\"Date/Long/Day/\" + date.getDay());\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^MMM/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.language.getString(\"Date/Long/Month/\" + (date.getMonth() + 1));\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^TZD/, function() {\n\t\t\t\tvar tz = date.getTimezoneOffset(),\n\t\t\t\tatz = Math.abs(tz);\n\t\t\t\treturn (tz < 0 ? '+' : '-') + $tw.utils.pad(Math.floor(atz / 60)) + ':' + $tw.utils.pad(atz % 60);\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^wYY/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad($tw.utils.getYearForWeekNo(date) - 2000);\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^[ap]m/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.getAmPm(date).toLowerCase();\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^hh/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn date.getHours();\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^mm/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn date.getMinutes();\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^ss/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn date.getSeconds();\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^[AP]M/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.getAmPm(date).toUpperCase();\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^DD/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn date.getDate();\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^MM/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn date.getMonth() + 1;\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^WW/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.getWeek(date);\n\t\t\t}],\n\t\t\t[/^YY/, function() {\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.pad(date.getFullYear() - 2000);\n\t\t\t}]\n\t\t];\n\twhile(t.length){\n\t\tvar matchString = \"\";\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(matches, function(m) {\n\t\t\tvar match = m[0].exec(t);\n\t\t\tif(match) {\n\t\t\t\tmatchString = m[1].call();\n\t\t\t\tt = t.substr(match[0].length);\n\t\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\tif(matchString) {\n\t\t\tresult += matchString;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tresult += t.charAt(0);\n\t\t\tt = t.substr(1);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tresult = result.replace(/\\\\(.)/g,\"$1\");\n\treturn result;\n};\n\nexports.getAmPm = function(date) {\n\treturn $tw.language.getString(\"Date/Period/\" + (date.getHours() >= 12 ? \"pm\" : \"am\"));\n};\n\nexports.getDaySuffix = function(date) {\n\treturn $tw.language.getString(\"Date/DaySuffix/\" + date.getDate());\n};\n\nexports.getWeek = function(date) {\n\tvar dt = new Date(date.getTime());\n\tvar d = dt.getDay();\n\tif(d === 0) {\n\t\td = 7; // JavaScript Sun=0, ISO Sun=7\n\t}\n\tdt.setTime(dt.getTime() + (4 - d) * 86400000);// shift day to Thurs of same week to calculate weekNo\n\tvar n = Math.floor((dt.getTime()-new Date(dt.getFullYear(),0,1) + 3600000) / 86400000);\n\treturn Math.floor(n / 7) + 1;\n};\n\nexports.getYearForWeekNo = function(date) {\n\tvar dt = new Date(date.getTime());\n\tvar d = dt.getDay();\n\tif(d === 0) {\n\t\td = 7; // JavaScript Sun=0, ISO Sun=7\n\t}\n\tdt.setTime(dt.getTime() + (4 - d) * 86400000);// shift day to Thurs of same week\n\treturn dt.getFullYear();\n};\n\nexports.getHours12 = function(date) {\n\tvar h = date.getHours();\n\treturn h > 12 ? h-12 : ( h > 0 ? h : 12 );\n};\n\n/*\nConvert a date delta in milliseconds into a string representation of \"23 seconds ago\", \"27 minutes ago\" etc.\n\tdelta: delta in milliseconds\nReturns an object with these members:\n\tdescription: string describing the delta period\n\tupdatePeriod: time in millisecond until the string will be inaccurate\n*/\nexports.getRelativeDate = function(delta) {\n\tvar futurep = false;\n\tif(delta < 0) {\n\t\tdelta = -1 * delta;\n\t\tfuturep = true;\n\t}\n\tvar units = [\n\t\t{name: \"Years\", duration: 365 * 24 * 60 * 60 * 1000},\n\t\t{name: \"Months\", duration: (365/12) * 24 * 60 * 60 * 1000},\n\t\t{name: \"Days\", duration: 24 * 60 * 60 * 1000},\n\t\t{name: \"Hours\", duration: 60 * 60 * 1000},\n\t\t{name: \"Minutes\", duration: 60 * 1000},\n\t\t{name: \"Seconds\", duration: 1000}\n\t];\n\tfor(var t=0; t<units.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar result = Math.floor(delta / units[t].duration);\n\t\tif(result >= 2) {\n\t\t\treturn {\n\t\t\t\tdelta: delta,\n\t\t\t\tdescription: $tw.language.getString(\n\t\t\t\t\t\"RelativeDate/\" + (futurep ? \"Future\" : \"Past\") + \"/\" + units[t].name,\n\t\t\t\t\t{variables:\n\t\t\t\t\t\t{period: result.toString()}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t),\n\t\t\t\tupdatePeriod: units[t].duration\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn {\n\t\tdelta: delta,\n\t\tdescription: $tw.language.getString(\n\t\t\t\"RelativeDate/\" + (futurep ? \"Future\" : \"Past\") + \"/Second\",\n\t\t\t{variables:\n\t\t\t\t{period: \"1\"}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t),\n\t\tupdatePeriod: 1000\n\t};\n};\n\n// Convert & to \"&\", < to \"<\", > to \">\", \" to \""\"\nexports.htmlEncode = function(s) {\n\tif(s) {\n\t\treturn s.toString().replace(/&/mg,\"&\").replace(/</mg,\"<\").replace(/>/mg,\">\").replace(/\\\"/mg,\""\");\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn \"\";\n\t}\n};\n\n// Converts all HTML entities to their character equivalents\nexports.entityDecode = function(s) {\n\tvar converter = String.fromCodePoint || String.fromCharCode,\n\t\te = s.substr(1,s.length-2); // Strip the & and the ;\n\tif(e.charAt(0) === \"#\") {\n\t\tif(e.charAt(1) === \"x\" || e.charAt(1) === \"X\") {\n\t\t\treturn converter(parseInt(e.substr(2),16));\t\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn converter(parseInt(e.substr(1),10));\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar c = $tw.config.htmlEntities[e];\n\t\tif(c) {\n\t\t\treturn converter(c);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn s; // Couldn't convert it as an entity, just return it raw\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.unescapeLineBreaks = function(s) {\n\treturn s.replace(/\\\\n/mg,\"\\n\").replace(/\\\\b/mg,\" \").replace(/\\\\s/mg,\"\\\\\").replace(/\\r/mg,\"\");\n};\n\n/*\n * Returns an escape sequence for given character. Uses \\x for characters <=\n * 0xFF to save space, \\u for the rest.\n *\n * The code needs to be in sync with th code template in the compilation\n * function for \"action\" nodes.\n */\n// Copied from peg.js, thanks to David Majda\nexports.escape = function(ch) {\n\tvar charCode = ch.charCodeAt(0);\n\tif(charCode <= 0xFF) {\n\t\treturn '\\\\x' + $tw.utils.pad(charCode.toString(16).toUpperCase());\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn '\\\\u' + $tw.utils.pad(charCode.toString(16).toUpperCase(),4);\n\t}\n};\n\n// Turns a string into a legal JavaScript string\n// Copied from peg.js, thanks to David Majda\nexports.stringify = function(s) {\n\t/*\n\t* ECMA-262, 5th ed., 7.8.4: All characters may appear literally in a string\n\t* literal except for the closing quote character, backslash, carriage return,\n\t* line separator, paragraph separator, and line feed. Any character may\n\t* appear in the form of an escape sequence.\n\t*\n\t* For portability, we also escape all non-ASCII characters.\n\t*/\n\treturn (s || \"\")\n\t\t.replace(/\\\\/g, '\\\\\\\\') // backslash\n\t\t.replace(/\"/g, '\\\\\"') // double quote character\n\t\t.replace(/'/g, \"\\\\'\") // single quote character\n\t\t.replace(/\\r/g, '\\\\r') // carriage return\n\t\t.replace(/\\n/g, '\\\\n') // line feed\n\t\t.replace(/[\\x80-\\uFFFF]/g, exports.escape); // non-ASCII characters\n};\n\n/*\nEscape the RegExp special characters with a preceding backslash\n*/\nexports.escapeRegExp = function(s) {\n return s.replace(/[\\-\\/\\\\\\^\\$\\*\\+\\?\\.\\(\\)\\|\\[\\]\\{\\}]/g, '\\\\$&');\n};\n\n// Checks whether a link target is external, i.e. not a tiddler title\nexports.isLinkExternal = function(to) {\n\tvar externalRegExp = /^(?:file|http|https|mailto|ftp|irc|news|data|skype):[^\\s<>{}\\[\\]`|\"\\\\^]+(?:\\/|\\b)/i;\n\treturn externalRegExp.test(to);\n};\n\nexports.nextTick = function(fn) {\n/*global window: false */\n\tif(typeof process === \"undefined\") {\n\t\t// Apparently it would be faster to use postMessage - http://dbaron.org/log/20100309-faster-timeouts\n\t\twindow.setTimeout(fn,4);\n\t} else {\n\t\tprocess.nextTick(fn);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nConvert a hyphenated CSS property name into a camel case one\n*/\nexports.unHyphenateCss = function(propName) {\n\treturn propName.replace(/-([a-z])/gi, function(match0,match1) {\n\t\treturn match1.toUpperCase();\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nConvert a camelcase CSS property name into a dashed one (\"backgroundColor\" --> \"background-color\")\n*/\nexports.hyphenateCss = function(propName) {\n\treturn propName.replace(/([A-Z])/g, function(match0,match1) {\n\t\treturn \"-\" + match1.toLowerCase();\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nParse a text reference of one of these forms:\n* title\n* !!field\n* title!!field\n* title##index\n* etc\nReturns an object with the following fields, all optional:\n* title: tiddler title\n* field: tiddler field name\n* index: JSON property index\n*/\nexports.parseTextReference = function(textRef) {\n\t// Separate out the title, field name and/or JSON indices\n\tvar reTextRef = /(?:(.*?)!!(.+))|(?:(.*?)##(.+))|(.*)/mg,\n\t\tmatch = reTextRef.exec(textRef),\n\t\tresult = {};\n\tif(match && reTextRef.lastIndex === textRef.length) {\n\t\t// Return the parts\n\t\tif(match[1]) {\n\t\t\tresult.title = match[1];\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(match[2]) {\n\t\t\tresult.field = match[2];\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(match[3]) {\n\t\t\tresult.title = match[3];\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(match[4]) {\n\t\t\tresult.index = match[4];\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(match[5]) {\n\t\t\tresult.title = match[5];\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\t// If we couldn't parse it\n\t\tresult.title = textRef\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\n/*\nChecks whether a string is a valid fieldname\n*/\nexports.isValidFieldName = function(name) {\n\tif(!name || typeof name !== \"string\") {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\tname = name.toLowerCase().trim();\n\tvar fieldValidatorRegEx = /^[a-z0-9\\-\\._]+$/mg;\n\treturn fieldValidatorRegEx.test(name);\n};\n\n/*\nExtract the version number from the meta tag or from the boot file\n*/\n\n// Browser version\nexports.extractVersionInfo = function() {\n\tif($tw.packageInfo) {\n\t\treturn $tw.packageInfo.version;\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar metatags = document.getElementsByTagName(\"meta\");\n\t\tfor(var t=0; t<metatags.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tvar m = metatags[t];\n\t\t\tif(m.name === \"tiddlywiki-version\") {\n\t\t\t\treturn m.content;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nGet the animation duration in ms\n*/\nexports.getAnimationDuration = function() {\n\treturn parseInt($tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(\"$:/config/AnimationDuration\",\"400\"),10);\n};\n\n/*\nHash a string to a number\nDerived from http://stackoverflow.com/a/15710692\n*/\nexports.hashString = function(str) {\n\treturn str.split(\"\").reduce(function(a,b) {\n\t\ta = ((a << 5) - a) + b.charCodeAt(0);\n\t\treturn a & a;\n\t},0);\n};\n\n/*\nDecode a base64 string\n*/\nexports.base64Decode = function(string64) {\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\t// TODO\n\t\tthrow \"$tw.utils.base64Decode() doesn't work in the browser\";\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn (new Buffer(string64,\"base64\")).toString();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nConvert a hashmap into a tiddler dictionary format sequence of name:value pairs\n*/\nexports.makeTiddlerDictionary = function(data) {\n\tvar output = [];\n\tfor(var name in data) {\n\t\toutput.push(name + \": \" + data[name]);\n\t}\n\treturn output.join(\"\\n\");\n};\n\n/*\nHigh resolution microsecond timer for profiling\n*/\nexports.timer = function(base) {\n\tvar m;\n\tif($tw.node) {\n\t\tvar r = process.hrtime();\t\t\n\t\tm = r[0] * 1e3 + (r[1] / 1e6);\n\t} else if(window.performance) {\n\t\tm = performance.now();\n\t} else {\n\t\tm = Date.now();\n\t}\n\tif(typeof base !== \"undefined\") {\n\t\tm = m - base;\n\t}\n\treturn m;\n};\n\n/*\nConvert text and content type to a data URI\n*/\nexports.makeDataUri = function(text,type) {\n\ttype = type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\";\n\tvar typeInfo = $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[type] || $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[\"text/plain\"],\n\t\tisBase64 = typeInfo.encoding === \"base64\",\n\t\tparts = [];\n\tparts.push(\"data:\");\n\tparts.push(type);\n\tparts.push(isBase64 ? \";base64\" : \"\");\n\tparts.push(\",\");\n\tparts.push(isBase64 ? text : encodeURIComponent(text));\n\treturn parts.join(\"\");\n};\n\n/*\nUseful for finding out the fully escaped CSS selector equivalent to a given tag. For example:\n\n$tw.utils.tagToCssSelector(\"$:/tags/Stylesheet\") --> tc-tagged-\\%24\\%3A\\%2Ftags\\%2FStylesheet\n*/\nexports.tagToCssSelector = function(tagName) {\n\treturn \"tc-tagged-\" + encodeURIComponent(tagName).replace(/[!\"#$%&'()*+,\\-./:;<=>?@[\\\\\\]^`{\\|}~,]/mg,function(c) {\n\t\treturn \"\\\\\" + c;\n\t});\n};\n\n\n/*\nIE does not have sign function\n*/\nexports.sign = Math.sign || function(x) {\n\tx = +x; // convert to a number\n\tif (x === 0 || isNaN(x)) {\n\t\treturn x;\n\t}\n\treturn x > 0 ? 1 : -1;\n};\n\n/*\nIE does not have an endsWith function\n*/\nexports.strEndsWith = function(str,ending,position) {\n\tif(str.endsWith) {\n\t\treturn str.endsWith(ending,position);\n\t} else {\n\t\tif (typeof position !== 'number' || !isFinite(position) || Math.floor(position) !== position || position > str.length) {\n\t\t\tposition = str.length;\n\t\t}\n\t\tposition -= str.length;\n\t\tvar lastIndex = str.indexOf(ending, position);\n\t\treturn lastIndex !== -1 && lastIndex === position;\n\t}\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/utils/utils.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "utils"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/action-deletefield.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/action-deletefield.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nAction widget to delete fields of a tiddler.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar DeleteFieldWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nDeleteFieldWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nDeleteFieldWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nDeleteFieldWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.actionTiddler = this.getAttribute(\"$tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.actionField = this.getAttribute(\"$field\");\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh the widget by ensuring our attributes are up to date\n*/\nDeleteFieldWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes[\"$tiddler\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the action associated with this widget\n*/\nDeleteFieldWidget.prototype.invokeAction = function(triggeringWidget,event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(self.actionTiddler),\n\t\tremoveFields = {};\n\tif(this.actionField) {\n\t\tremoveFields[this.actionField] = undefined;\n\t}\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.attributes,function(attribute,name) {\n\t\t\tif(name.charAt(0) !== \"$\" && name !== \"title\") {\n\t\t\t\tremoveFields[name] = undefined;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(this.wiki.getModificationFields(),tiddler,removeFields,this.wiki.getCreationFields()));\n\t}\n\treturn true; // Action was invoked\n};\n\nexports[\"action-deletefield\"] = DeleteFieldWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/action-deletefield.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/action-deletetiddler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/action-deletetiddler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nAction widget to delete a tiddler.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar DeleteTiddlerWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nDeleteTiddlerWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nDeleteTiddlerWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nDeleteTiddlerWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.actionFilter = this.getAttribute(\"$filter\");\n\tthis.actionTiddler = this.getAttribute(\"$tiddler\");\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh the widget by ensuring our attributes are up to date\n*/\nDeleteTiddlerWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes[\"$filter\"] || changedAttributes[\"$tiddler\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the action associated with this widget\n*/\nDeleteTiddlerWidget.prototype.invokeAction = function(triggeringWidget,event) {\n\tvar tiddlers = [];\n\tif(this.actionFilter) {\n\t\ttiddlers = this.wiki.filterTiddlers(this.actionFilter,this);\n\t}\n\tif(this.actionTiddler) {\n\t\ttiddlers.push(this.actionTiddler);\n\t}\n\tfor(var t=0; t<tiddlers.length; t++) {\n\t\tthis.wiki.deleteTiddler(tiddlers[t]);\n\t}\n\treturn true; // Action was invoked\n};\n\nexports[\"action-deletetiddler\"] = DeleteTiddlerWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/action-deletetiddler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/action-listops.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/action-listops.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nAction widget to apply list operations to any tiddler field (defaults to the 'list' field of the current tiddler)\n\n\\*/\n(function() {\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\nvar ActionListopsWidget = function(parseTreeNode, options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode, options);\n};\n/**\n * Inherit from the base widget class\n */\nActionListopsWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n/**\n * Render this widget into the DOM\n */\nActionListopsWidget.prototype.render = function(parent, nextSibling) {\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n};\n/**\n * Compute the internal state of the widget\n */\nActionListopsWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.target = this.getAttribute(\"$tiddler\", this.getVariable(\n\t\t\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.filter = this.getAttribute(\"$filter\");\n\tthis.subfilter = this.getAttribute(\"$subfilter\");\n\tthis.listField = this.getAttribute(\"$field\", \"list\");\n\tthis.listIndex = this.getAttribute(\"$index\");\n\tthis.filtertags = this.getAttribute(\"$tags\");\n};\n/**\n * \tRefresh the widget by ensuring our attributes are up to date\n */\nActionListopsWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.$tiddler || changedAttributes.$filter ||\n\t\tchangedAttributes.$subfilter || changedAttributes.$field ||\n\t\tchangedAttributes.$index || changedAttributes.$tags) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n/**\n * \tInvoke the action associated with this widget\n */\nActionListopsWidget.prototype.invokeAction = function(triggeringWidget,\n\tevent) {\n\t//Apply the specified filters to the lists\n\tvar field = this.listField,\n\t\tindex,\n\t\ttype = \"!!\",\n\t\tlist = this.listField;\n\tif(this.listIndex) {\n\t\tfield = undefined;\n\t\tindex = this.listIndex;\n\t\ttype = \"##\";\n\t\tlist = this.listIndex;\n\t}\n\tif(this.filter) {\n\t\tthis.wiki.setText(this.target, field, index, $tw.utils.stringifyList(\n\t\t\tthis.wiki\n\t\t\t.filterTiddlers(this.filter, this)));\n\t}\n\tif(this.subfilter) {\n\t\tvar subfilter = \"[list[\" + this.target + type + list + \"]] \" + this.subfilter;\n\t\tthis.wiki.setText(this.target, field, index, $tw.utils.stringifyList(\n\t\t\tthis.wiki\n\t\t\t.filterTiddlers(subfilter, this)));\n\t}\n\tif(this.filtertags) {\n\t\tvar tagfilter = \"[list[\" + this.target + \"!!tags]] \" + this.filtertags;\n\t\tthis.wiki.setText(this.target, \"tags\", undefined, $tw.utils.stringifyList(\n\t\t\tthis.wiki.filterTiddlers(tagfilter, this)));\n\t}\n\treturn true; // Action was invoked\n};\n\nexports[\"action-listops\"] = ActionListopsWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/action-listops.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/action-navigate.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/action-navigate.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nAction widget to navigate to a tiddler\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar NavigateWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nNavigateWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nNavigateWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nNavigateWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.actionTo = this.getAttribute(\"$to\");\n\tthis.actionScroll = this.getAttribute(\"$scroll\");\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh the widget by ensuring our attributes are up to date\n*/\nNavigateWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes[\"$to\"] || changedAttributes[\"$scroll\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the action associated with this widget\n*/\nNavigateWidget.prototype.invokeAction = function(triggeringWidget,event) {\n\tvar bounds = triggeringWidget && triggeringWidget.getBoundingClientRect && triggeringWidget.getBoundingClientRect(),\n\t\tsuppressNavigation = event.metaKey || event.ctrlKey || (event.button === 1);\n\tif(this.actionScroll === \"yes\") {\n\t\tsuppressNavigation = false;\n\t} else if(this.actionScroll === \"no\") {\n\t\tsuppressNavigation = true;\n\t}\n\tthis.dispatchEvent({\n\t\ttype: \"tm-navigate\",\n\t\tnavigateTo: this.actionTo === undefined ? this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\") : this.actionTo,\n\t\tnavigateFromTitle: this.getVariable(\"storyTiddler\"),\n\t\tnavigateFromNode: triggeringWidget,\n\t\tnavigateFromClientRect: bounds && { top: bounds.top, left: bounds.left, width: bounds.width, right: bounds.right, bottom: bounds.bottom, height: bounds.height\n\t\t},\n\t\tnavigateSuppressNavigation: suppressNavigation\n\t});\n\treturn true; // Action was invoked\n};\n\nexports[\"action-navigate\"] = NavigateWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/action-navigate.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/action-sendmessage.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/action-sendmessage.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nAction widget to send a message\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar SendMessageWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nSendMessageWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nSendMessageWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nSendMessageWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.actionMessage = this.getAttribute(\"$message\");\n\tthis.actionParam = this.getAttribute(\"$param\");\n\tthis.actionName = this.getAttribute(\"$name\");\n\tthis.actionValue = this.getAttribute(\"$value\",\"\");\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh the widget by ensuring our attributes are up to date\n*/\nSendMessageWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(Object.keys(changedAttributes).length) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the action associated with this widget\n*/\nSendMessageWidget.prototype.invokeAction = function(triggeringWidget,event) {\n\t// Get the string parameter\n\tvar param = this.actionParam;\n\t// Assemble the attributes as a hashmap\n\tvar paramObject = Object.create(null);\n\tvar count = 0;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.attributes,function(attribute,name) {\n\t\tif(name.charAt(0) !== \"$\") {\n\t\t\tparamObject[name] = attribute;\n\t\t\tcount++;\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Add name/value pair if present\n\tif(this.actionName) {\n\t\tparamObject[this.actionName] = this.actionValue;\n\t}\n\t// Dispatch the message\n\tthis.dispatchEvent({\n\t\ttype: this.actionMessage,\n\t\tparam: param,\n\t\tparamObject: paramObject,\n\t\ttiddlerTitle: this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"),\n\t\tnavigateFromTitle: this.getVariable(\"storyTiddler\")\n\t});\n\treturn true; // Action was invoked\n};\n\nexports[\"action-sendmessage\"] = SendMessageWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/action-sendmessage.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/action-setfield.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/action-setfield.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nAction widget to set a single field or index on a tiddler.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar SetFieldWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nSetFieldWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nSetFieldWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nSetFieldWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.actionTiddler = this.getAttribute(\"$tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.actionField = this.getAttribute(\"$field\");\n\tthis.actionIndex = this.getAttribute(\"$index\");\n\tthis.actionValue = this.getAttribute(\"$value\");\n\tthis.actionTimestamp = this.getAttribute(\"$timestamp\",\"yes\") === \"yes\";\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh the widget by ensuring our attributes are up to date\n*/\nSetFieldWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes[\"$tiddler\"] || changedAttributes[\"$field\"] || changedAttributes[\"$index\"] || changedAttributes[\"$value\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the action associated with this widget\n*/\nSetFieldWidget.prototype.invokeAction = function(triggeringWidget,event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\toptions = {};\n\toptions.suppressTimestamp = !this.actionTimestamp;\n\tif((typeof this.actionField == \"string\") || (typeof this.actionIndex == \"string\") || (typeof this.actionValue == \"string\")) {\n\t\tthis.wiki.setText(this.actionTiddler,this.actionField,this.actionIndex,this.actionValue,options);\n\t}\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.attributes,function(attribute,name) {\n\t\tif(name.charAt(0) !== \"$\") {\n\t\t\tself.wiki.setText(self.actionTiddler,name,undefined,attribute,options);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn true; // Action was invoked\n};\n\nexports[\"action-setfield\"] = SetFieldWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/action-setfield.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/browse.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/browse.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nBrowse widget for browsing for files to import\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar BrowseWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nBrowseWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nBrowseWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Remember parent\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute attributes and execute state\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create element\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(\"input\");\n\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"type\",\"file\");\n\tif(this.browseMultiple) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"multiple\",\"multiple\");\n\t}\n\tif(this.tooltip) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"title\",this.tooltip);\n\t}\n\t// Nw.js supports \"nwsaveas\" to force a \"save as\" dialogue that allows a new or existing file to be selected\n\tif(this.nwsaveas) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"nwsaveas\",this.nwsaveas);\n\t}\n\t// Nw.js supports \"webkitdirectory\" to allow a directory to be selected\n\tif(this.webkitdirectory) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"webkitdirectory\",this.webkitdirectory);\n\t}\n\t// Add a click event handler\n\tdomNode.addEventListener(\"change\",function (event) {\n\t\tif(self.message) {\n\t\t\tself.dispatchEvent({type: self.message, param: self.param, files: event.target.files});\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tself.wiki.readFiles(event.target.files,function(tiddlerFieldsArray) {\n\t\t\t\tself.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-import-tiddlers\", param: JSON.stringify(tiddlerFieldsArray)});\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn false;\n\t},false);\n\t// Insert element\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nBrowseWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.browseMultiple = this.getAttribute(\"multiple\");\n\tthis.message = this.getAttribute(\"message\");\n\tthis.param = this.getAttribute(\"param\");\n\tthis.tooltip = this.getAttribute(\"tooltip\");\n\tthis.nwsaveas = this.getAttribute(\"nwsaveas\");\n\tthis.webkitdirectory = this.getAttribute(\"webkitdirectory\");\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nBrowseWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nexports.browse = BrowseWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/browse.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/button.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/button.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nButton widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar ButtonWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nButtonWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nButtonWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Remember parent\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute attributes and execute state\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create element\n\tvar tag = \"button\";\n\tif(this.buttonTag && $tw.config.htmlUnsafeElements.indexOf(this.buttonTag) === -1) {\n\t\ttag = this.buttonTag;\n\t}\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(tag);\n\t// Assign classes\n\tvar classes = this[\"class\"].split(\" \") || [],\n\t\tisPoppedUp = this.popup && this.isPoppedUp();\n\tif(this.selectedClass) {\n\t\tif(this.set && this.setTo && this.isSelected()) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(classes,this.selectedClass.split(\" \"));\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(isPoppedUp) {\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(classes,this.selectedClass.split(\" \"));\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tif(isPoppedUp) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(classes,\"tc-popup-handle\");\n\t}\n\tdomNode.className = classes.join(\" \");\n\t// Assign other attributes\n\tif(this.style) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"style\",this.style);\n\t}\n\tif(this.tooltip) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"title\",this.tooltip);\n\t}\n\tif(this[\"aria-label\"]) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"aria-label\",this[\"aria-label\"]);\n\t}\n\t// Add a click event handler\n\tdomNode.addEventListener(\"click\",function (event) {\n\t\tvar handled = false;\n\t\tif(self.invokeActions(this,event)) {\n\t\t\thandled = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(self.to) {\n\t\t\tself.navigateTo(event);\n\t\t\thandled = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(self.message) {\n\t\t\tself.dispatchMessage(event);\n\t\t\thandled = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(self.popup) {\n\t\t\tself.triggerPopup(event);\n\t\t\thandled = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(self.set) {\n\t\t\tself.setTiddler();\n\t\t\thandled = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(self.actions) {\n\t\t\tself.invokeActionString(self.actions,self,event);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(handled) {\n\t\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn handled;\n\t},false);\n\t// Insert element\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\n/*\nWe don't allow actions to propagate because we trigger actions ourselves\n*/\nButtonWidget.prototype.allowActionPropagation = function() {\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nButtonWidget.prototype.getBoundingClientRect = function() {\n\treturn this.domNodes[0].getBoundingClientRect();\n};\n\nButtonWidget.prototype.isSelected = function() {\n return this.wiki.getTextReference(this.set,this.defaultSetValue,this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\")) === this.setTo;\n};\n\nButtonWidget.prototype.isPoppedUp = function() {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.popup);\n\tvar result = tiddler && tiddler.fields.text ? $tw.popup.readPopupState(tiddler.fields.text) : false;\n\treturn result;\n};\n\nButtonWidget.prototype.navigateTo = function(event) {\n\tvar bounds = this.getBoundingClientRect();\n\tthis.dispatchEvent({\n\t\ttype: \"tm-navigate\",\n\t\tnavigateTo: this.to,\n\t\tnavigateFromTitle: this.getVariable(\"storyTiddler\"),\n\t\tnavigateFromNode: this,\n\t\tnavigateFromClientRect: { top: bounds.top, left: bounds.left, width: bounds.width, right: bounds.right, bottom: bounds.bottom, height: bounds.height\n\t\t},\n\t\tnavigateSuppressNavigation: event.metaKey || event.ctrlKey || (event.button === 1)\n\t});\n};\n\nButtonWidget.prototype.dispatchMessage = function(event) {\n\tthis.dispatchEvent({type: this.message, param: this.param, tiddlerTitle: this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\")});\n};\n\nButtonWidget.prototype.triggerPopup = function(event) {\n\t$tw.popup.triggerPopup({\n\t\tdomNode: this.domNodes[0],\n\t\ttitle: this.popup,\n\t\twiki: this.wiki\n\t});\n};\n\nButtonWidget.prototype.setTiddler = function() {\n\tthis.wiki.setTextReference(this.set,this.setTo,this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nButtonWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get attributes\n\tthis.actions = this.getAttribute(\"actions\");\n\tthis.to = this.getAttribute(\"to\");\n\tthis.message = this.getAttribute(\"message\");\n\tthis.param = this.getAttribute(\"param\");\n\tthis.set = this.getAttribute(\"set\");\n\tthis.setTo = this.getAttribute(\"setTo\");\n\tthis.popup = this.getAttribute(\"popup\");\n\tthis.hover = this.getAttribute(\"hover\");\n\tthis[\"class\"] = this.getAttribute(\"class\",\"\");\n\tthis[\"aria-label\"] = this.getAttribute(\"aria-label\");\n\tthis.tooltip = this.getAttribute(\"tooltip\");\n\tthis.style = this.getAttribute(\"style\");\n\tthis.selectedClass = this.getAttribute(\"selectedClass\");\n\tthis.defaultSetValue = this.getAttribute(\"default\",\"\");\n\tthis.buttonTag = this.getAttribute(\"tag\");\n\t// Make child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nButtonWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.to || changedAttributes.message || changedAttributes.param || changedAttributes.set || changedAttributes.setTo || changedAttributes.popup || changedAttributes.hover || changedAttributes[\"class\"] || changedAttributes.selectedClass || changedAttributes.style || (this.set && changedTiddlers[this.set]) || (this.popup && changedTiddlers[this.popup])) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports.button = ButtonWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/button.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/checkbox.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/checkbox.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nCheckbox widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar CheckboxWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nCheckboxWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nCheckboxWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\t// Save the parent dom node\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute our attributes\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\t// Execute our logic\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create our elements\n\tthis.labelDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"label\");\n\tthis.labelDomNode.setAttribute(\"class\",this.checkboxClass);\n\tthis.inputDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"input\");\n\tthis.inputDomNode.setAttribute(\"type\",\"checkbox\");\n\tif(this.getValue()) {\n\t\tthis.inputDomNode.setAttribute(\"checked\",\"true\");\n\t}\n\tthis.labelDomNode.appendChild(this.inputDomNode);\n\tthis.spanDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"span\");\n\tthis.labelDomNode.appendChild(this.spanDomNode);\n\t// Add a click event handler\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(this.inputDomNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"change\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleChangeEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Insert the label into the DOM and render any children\n\tparent.insertBefore(this.labelDomNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(this.spanDomNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(this.labelDomNode);\n};\n\nCheckboxWidget.prototype.getValue = function() {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.checkboxTitle);\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\tif(this.checkboxTag) {\n\t\t\tif(this.checkboxInvertTag) {\n\t\t\t\treturn !tiddler.hasTag(this.checkboxTag);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\treturn tiddler.hasTag(this.checkboxTag);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(this.checkboxField) {\n\t\t\tvar value = tiddler.fields[this.checkboxField] || this.checkboxDefault || \"\";\n\t\t\tif(value === this.checkboxChecked) {\n\t\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(value === this.checkboxUnchecked) {\n\t\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(this.checkboxTag) {\n\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(this.checkboxField) {\n\t\t\tif(this.checkboxDefault === this.checkboxChecked) {\n\t\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(this.checkboxDefault === this.checkboxUnchecked) {\n\t\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nCheckboxWidget.prototype.handleChangeEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar checked = this.inputDomNode.checked,\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.checkboxTitle),\n\t\tfallbackFields = {text: \"\"},\n\t\tnewFields = {title: this.checkboxTitle},\n\t\thasChanged = false,\n\t\ttagCheck = false,\n\t\thasTag = tiddler && tiddler.hasTag(this.checkboxTag);\n\tif(this.checkboxTag && this.checkboxInvertTag === \"yes\") {\n\t\ttagCheck = hasTag === checked;\n\t} else {\n\t\ttagCheck = hasTag !== checked;\n\t}\n\t// Set the tag if specified\n\tif(this.checkboxTag && (!tiddler || tagCheck)) {\n\t\tnewFields.tags = tiddler ? (tiddler.fields.tags || []).slice(0) : [];\n\t\tvar pos = newFields.tags.indexOf(this.checkboxTag);\n\t\tif(pos !== -1) {\n\t\t\tnewFields.tags.splice(pos,1);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(this.checkboxInvertTag === \"yes\" && !checked) {\n\t\t\tnewFields.tags.push(this.checkboxTag);\n\t\t} else if(this.checkboxInvertTag !== \"yes\" && checked) {\n\t\t\tnewFields.tags.push(this.checkboxTag);\n\t\t}\n\t\thasChanged = true;\n\t}\n\t// Set the field if specified\n\tif(this.checkboxField) {\n\t\tvar value = checked ? this.checkboxChecked : this.checkboxUnchecked;\n\t\tif(!tiddler || tiddler.fields[this.checkboxField] !== value) {\n\t\t\tnewFields[this.checkboxField] = value;\n\t\t\thasChanged = true;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tif(hasChanged) {\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(this.wiki.getCreationFields(),fallbackFields,tiddler,newFields,this.wiki.getModificationFields()));\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nCheckboxWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get the parameters from the attributes\n\tthis.checkboxTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.checkboxTag = this.getAttribute(\"tag\");\n\tthis.checkboxField = this.getAttribute(\"field\");\n\tthis.checkboxChecked = this.getAttribute(\"checked\");\n\tthis.checkboxUnchecked = this.getAttribute(\"unchecked\");\n\tthis.checkboxDefault = this.getAttribute(\"default\");\n\tthis.checkboxClass = this.getAttribute(\"class\",\"\");\n\tthis.checkboxInvertTag = this.getAttribute(\"invertTag\",\"\");\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nCheckboxWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.tag || changedAttributes.invertTag || changedAttributes.field || changedAttributes.checked || changedAttributes.unchecked || changedAttributes[\"default\"] || changedAttributes[\"class\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar refreshed = false;\n\t\tif(changedTiddlers[this.checkboxTitle]) {\n\t\t\tthis.inputDomNode.checked = this.getValue();\n\t\t\trefreshed = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers) || refreshed;\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.checkbox = CheckboxWidget;\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/checkbox.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/codeblock.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/codeblock.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nCode block node widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar CodeBlockWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nCodeBlockWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nCodeBlockWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar codeNode = this.document.createElement(\"code\"),\n\t\tdomNode = this.document.createElement(\"pre\");\n\tcodeNode.appendChild(this.document.createTextNode(this.getAttribute(\"code\")));\n\tdomNode.appendChild(codeNode);\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n\tif(this.postRender) {\n\t\tthis.postRender();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nCodeBlockWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.language = this.getAttribute(\"language\");\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nCodeBlockWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nexports.codeblock = CodeBlockWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/codeblock.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/count.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/count.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nCount widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar CountWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nCountWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nCountWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar textNode = this.document.createTextNode(this.currentCount);\n\tparent.insertBefore(textNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(textNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nCountWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get parameters from our attributes\n\tthis.filter = this.getAttribute(\"filter\");\n\t// Execute the filter\n\tif(this.filter) {\n\t\tthis.currentCount = this.wiki.filterTiddlers(this.filter,this).length;\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.currentCount = undefined;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nCountWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\t// Re-execute the filter to get the count\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tvar oldCount = this.currentCount;\n\tthis.execute();\n\tif(this.currentCount !== oldCount) {\n\t\t// Regenerate and rerender the widget and replace the existing DOM node\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\n};\n\nexports.count = CountWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/count.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/dropzone.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/dropzone.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nDropzone widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar DropZoneWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nDropZoneWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Remember parent\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute attributes and execute state\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create element\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\tdomNode.className = \"tc-dropzone\";\n\t// Add event handlers\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(domNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"dragenter\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleDragEnterEvent\"},\n\t\t{name: \"dragover\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleDragOverEvent\"},\n\t\t{name: \"dragleave\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleDragLeaveEvent\"},\n\t\t{name: \"drop\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleDropEvent\"},\n\t\t{name: \"paste\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handlePasteEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\tdomNode.addEventListener(\"click\",function (event) {\n\t},false);\n\t// Insert element\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.enterDrag = function() {\n\t// Check for this window being the source of the drag\n\tif($tw.dragInProgress) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// We count enter/leave events\n\tthis.dragEnterCount = (this.dragEnterCount || 0) + 1;\n\t// If we're entering for the first time we need to apply highlighting\n\tif(this.dragEnterCount === 1) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addClass(this.domNodes[0],\"tc-dragover\");\n\t}\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.leaveDrag = function() {\n\t// Reduce the enter count\n\tthis.dragEnterCount = (this.dragEnterCount || 0) - 1;\n\t// Remove highlighting if we're leaving externally\n\tif(this.dragEnterCount <= 0) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.removeClass(this.domNodes[0],\"tc-dragover\");\n\t}\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.handleDragEnterEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.enterDrag();\n\t// Tell the browser that we're ready to handle the drop\n\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t// Tell the browser not to ripple the drag up to any parent drop handlers\n\tevent.stopPropagation();\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.handleDragOverEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Check for being over a TEXTAREA or INPUT\n\tif([\"TEXTAREA\",\"INPUT\"].indexOf(event.target.tagName) !== -1) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Check for this window being the source of the drag\n\tif($tw.dragInProgress) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Tell the browser that we're still interested in the drop\n\tevent.preventDefault();\n\tevent.dataTransfer.dropEffect = \"copy\"; // Explicitly show this is a copy\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.handleDragLeaveEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.leaveDrag();\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.handleDropEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.leaveDrag();\n\t// Check for being over a TEXTAREA or INPUT\n\tif([\"TEXTAREA\",\"INPUT\"].indexOf(event.target.tagName) !== -1) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Check for this window being the source of the drag\n\tif($tw.dragInProgress) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tdataTransfer = event.dataTransfer;\n\t// Reset the enter count\n\tthis.dragEnterCount = 0;\n\t// Remove highlighting\n\t$tw.utils.removeClass(this.domNodes[0],\"tc-dragover\");\n\t// Import any files in the drop\n\tvar numFiles = this.wiki.readFiles(dataTransfer.files,function(tiddlerFieldsArray) {\n\t\tself.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-import-tiddlers\", param: JSON.stringify(tiddlerFieldsArray)});\n\t});\n\t// Try to import the various data types we understand\n\tif(numFiles === 0) {\n\t\tthis.importData(dataTransfer);\n\t}\n\t// Tell the browser that we handled the drop\n\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t// Stop the drop ripple up to any parent handlers\n\tevent.stopPropagation();\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.importData = function(dataTransfer) {\n\t// Try each provided data type in turn\n\tfor(var t=0; t<this.importDataTypes.length; t++) {\n\t\tif(!$tw.browser.isIE || this.importDataTypes[t].IECompatible) {\n\t\t\t// Get the data\n\t\t\tvar dataType = this.importDataTypes[t];\n\t\t\t\tvar data = dataTransfer.getData(dataType.type);\n\t\t\t// Import the tiddlers in the data\n\t\t\tif(data !== \"\" && data !== null) {\n\t\t\t\tif($tw.log.IMPORT) {\n\t\t\t\t\tconsole.log(\"Importing data type '\" + dataType.type + \"', data: '\" + data + \"'\")\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tvar tiddlerFields = dataType.convertToFields(data);\n\t\t\t\tif(!tiddlerFields.title) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.title = this.wiki.generateNewTitle(\"Untitled\");\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tthis.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-import-tiddlers\", param: JSON.stringify([tiddlerFields])});\n\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.importDataTypes = [\n\t{type: \"text/vnd.tiddler\", IECompatible: false, convertToFields: function(data) {\n\t\treturn JSON.parse(data);\n\t}},\n\t{type: \"URL\", IECompatible: true, convertToFields: function(data) {\n\t\t// Check for tiddler data URI\n\t\tvar match = decodeURIComponent(data).match(/^data\\:text\\/vnd\\.tiddler,(.*)/i);\n\t\tif(match) {\n\t\t\treturn JSON.parse(match[1]);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn { // As URL string\n\t\t\t\ttext: data\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t}\n\t}},\n\t{type: \"text/x-moz-url\", IECompatible: false, convertToFields: function(data) {\n\t\t// Check for tiddler data URI\n\t\tvar match = decodeURIComponent(data).match(/^data\\:text\\/vnd\\.tiddler,(.*)/i);\n\t\tif(match) {\n\t\t\treturn JSON.parse(match[1]);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn { // As URL string\n\t\t\t\ttext: data\n\t\t\t};\n\t\t}\n\t}},\n\t{type: \"text/html\", IECompatible: false, convertToFields: function(data) {\n\t\treturn {\n\t\t\ttext: data\n\t\t};\n\t}},\n\t{type: \"text/plain\", IECompatible: false, convertToFields: function(data) {\n\t\treturn {\n\t\t\ttext: data\n\t\t};\n\t}},\n\t{type: \"Text\", IECompatible: true, convertToFields: function(data) {\n\t\treturn {\n\t\t\ttext: data\n\t\t};\n\t}},\n\t{type: \"text/uri-list\", IECompatible: false, convertToFields: function(data) {\n\t\treturn {\n\t\t\ttext: data\n\t\t};\n\t}}\n];\n\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.handlePasteEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Let the browser handle it if we're in a textarea or input box\n\tif([\"TEXTAREA\",\"INPUT\"].indexOf(event.target.tagName) == -1) {\n\t\tvar self = this,\n\t\t\titems = event.clipboardData.items;\n\t\t// Enumerate the clipboard items\n\t\tfor(var t = 0; t<items.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tvar item = items[t];\n\t\t\tif(item.kind === \"file\") {\n\t\t\t\t// Import any files\n\t\t\t\tthis.wiki.readFile(item.getAsFile(),function(tiddlerFieldsArray) {\n\t\t\t\t\tself.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-import-tiddlers\", param: JSON.stringify(tiddlerFieldsArray)});\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t} else if(item.kind === \"string\") {\n\t\t\t\t// Create tiddlers from string items\n\t\t\t\tvar type = item.type;\n\t\t\t\titem.getAsString(function(str) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar tiddlerFields = {\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttitle: self.wiki.generateNewTitle(\"Untitled\"),\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttext: str,\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttype: type\n\t\t\t\t\t};\n\t\t\t\t\tif($tw.log.IMPORT) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tconsole.log(\"Importing string '\" + str + \"', type: '\" + type + \"'\");\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\tself.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-import-tiddlers\", param: JSON.stringify([tiddlerFields])});\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Tell the browser that we've handled the paste\n\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Make child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nDropZoneWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports.dropzone = DropZoneWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/dropzone.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-binary.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/edit-binary.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nEdit-binary widget; placeholder for editing binary tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar BINARY_WARNING_MESSAGE = \"$:/core/ui/BinaryWarning\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar EditBinaryWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nEditBinaryWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nEditBinaryWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Save the parent dom node\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute our attributes\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\t// Execute our logic\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nEditBinaryWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets([{\n\t\ttype: \"transclude\",\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\ttiddler: {type: \"string\", value: BINARY_WARNING_MESSAGE}\n\t\t}\n\t}]);\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh by refreshing our child widget\n*/\nEditBinaryWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports[\"edit-binary\"] = EditBinaryWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-binary.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-bitmap.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/edit-bitmap.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nEdit-bitmap widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n// Default image sizes\nvar DEFAULT_IMAGE_WIDTH = 600,\n\tDEFAULT_IMAGE_HEIGHT = 370;\n\n// Configuration tiddlers\nvar LINE_WIDTH_TITLE = \"$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidth\",\n\tLINE_COLOUR_TITLE = \"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Colour\",\n\tLINE_OPACITY_TITLE = \"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacity\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar EditBitmapWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\t// Initialise the editor operations if they've not been done already\n\tif(!this.editorOperations) {\n\t\tEditBitmapWidget.prototype.editorOperations = {};\n\t\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"bitmapeditoroperation\",this.editorOperations);\n\t}\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Save the parent dom node\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute our attributes\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\t// Execute our logic\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create the wrapper for the toolbar and render its content\n\tthis.toolbarNode = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\tthis.toolbarNode.className = \"tc-editor-toolbar\";\n\tparent.insertBefore(this.toolbarNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(this.toolbarNode);\n\t// Create the on-screen canvas\n\tthis.canvasDomNode = $tw.utils.domMaker(\"canvas\",{\n\t\tdocument: this.document,\n\t\t\"class\":\"tc-edit-bitmapeditor\",\n\t\teventListeners: [{\n\t\t\tname: \"touchstart\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleTouchStartEvent\"\n\t\t},{\n\t\t\tname: \"touchmove\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleTouchMoveEvent\"\n\t\t},{\n\t\t\tname: \"touchend\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleTouchEndEvent\"\n\t\t},{\n\t\t\tname: \"mousedown\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleMouseDownEvent\"\n\t\t},{\n\t\t\tname: \"mousemove\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleMouseMoveEvent\"\n\t\t},{\n\t\t\tname: \"mouseup\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleMouseUpEvent\"\n\t\t}]\n\t});\n\t// Set the width and height variables\n\tthis.setVariable(\"tv-bitmap-editor-width\",this.canvasDomNode.width + \"px\");\n\tthis.setVariable(\"tv-bitmap-editor-height\",this.canvasDomNode.height + \"px\");\n\t// Render toolbar child widgets\n\tthis.renderChildren(this.toolbarNode,null);\n\t// // Insert the elements into the DOM\n\tparent.insertBefore(this.canvasDomNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(this.canvasDomNode);\n\t// Load the image into the canvas\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\tthis.loadCanvas();\n\t}\n\t// Add widget message listeners\n\tthis.addEventListeners([\n\t\t{type: \"tm-edit-bitmap-operation\", handler: \"handleEditBitmapOperationMessage\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\n/*\nHandle an edit bitmap operation message from the toolbar\n*/\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.handleEditBitmapOperationMessage = function(event) {\n\t// Invoke the handler\n\tvar handler = this.editorOperations[event.param];\n\tif(handler) {\n\t\thandler.call(this,event);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.editTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nJust refresh the toolbar\n*/\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nSet the bitmap size variables and refresh the toolbar\n*/\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.refreshToolbar = function() {\n\t// Set the width and height variables\n\tthis.setVariable(\"tv-bitmap-editor-width\",this.canvasDomNode.width + \"px\");\n\tthis.setVariable(\"tv-bitmap-editor-height\",this.canvasDomNode.height + \"px\");\n\t// Refresh each of our child widgets\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(childWidget) {\n\t\tchildWidget.refreshSelf();\n\t});\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.loadCanvas = function() {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.editTitle),\n\t\tcurrImage = new Image();\n\t// Set up event handlers for loading the image\n\tvar self = this;\n\tcurrImage.onload = function() {\n\t\t// Copy the image to the on-screen canvas\n\t\tself.initCanvas(self.canvasDomNode,currImage.width,currImage.height,currImage);\n\t\t// And also copy the current bitmap to the off-screen canvas\n\t\tself.currCanvas = self.document.createElement(\"canvas\");\n\t\tself.initCanvas(self.currCanvas,currImage.width,currImage.height,currImage);\n\t\t// Set the width and height input boxes\n\t\tself.refreshToolbar();\n\t};\n\tcurrImage.onerror = function() {\n\t\t// Set the on-screen canvas size and clear it\n\t\tself.initCanvas(self.canvasDomNode,DEFAULT_IMAGE_WIDTH,DEFAULT_IMAGE_HEIGHT);\n\t\t// Set the off-screen canvas size and clear it\n\t\tself.currCanvas = self.document.createElement(\"canvas\");\n\t\tself.initCanvas(self.currCanvas,DEFAULT_IMAGE_WIDTH,DEFAULT_IMAGE_HEIGHT);\n\t\t// Set the width and height input boxes\n\t\tself.refreshToolbar();\n\t};\n\t// Get the current bitmap into an image object\n\tcurrImage.src = \"data:\" + tiddler.fields.type + \";base64,\" + tiddler.fields.text;\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.initCanvas = function(canvas,width,height,image) {\n\tcanvas.width = width;\n\tcanvas.height = height;\n\tvar ctx = canvas.getContext(\"2d\");\n\tif(image) {\n\t\tctx.drawImage(image,0,0);\n\t} else {\n\t\tctx.fillStyle = \"#fff\";\n\t\tctx.fillRect(0,0,canvas.width,canvas.height);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\n** Change the size of the canvas, preserving the current image\n*/\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.changeCanvasSize = function(newWidth,newHeight) {\n\t// Create and size a new canvas\n\tvar newCanvas = this.document.createElement(\"canvas\");\n\tthis.initCanvas(newCanvas,newWidth,newHeight);\n\t// Copy the old image\n\tvar ctx = newCanvas.getContext(\"2d\");\n\tctx.drawImage(this.currCanvas,0,0);\n\t// Set the new canvas as the current one\n\tthis.currCanvas = newCanvas;\n\t// Set the size of the onscreen canvas\n\tthis.canvasDomNode.width = newWidth;\n\tthis.canvasDomNode.height = newHeight;\n\t// Paint the onscreen canvas with the offscreen canvas\n\tctx = this.canvasDomNode.getContext(\"2d\");\n\tctx.drawImage(this.currCanvas,0,0);\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.handleTouchStartEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.brushDown = true;\n\tthis.strokeStart(event.touches[0].clientX,event.touches[0].clientY);\n\tevent.preventDefault();\n\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.handleTouchMoveEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(this.brushDown) {\n\t\tthis.strokeMove(event.touches[0].clientX,event.touches[0].clientY);\n\t}\n\tevent.preventDefault();\n\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.handleTouchEndEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(this.brushDown) {\n\t\tthis.brushDown = false;\n\t\tthis.strokeEnd();\n\t}\n\tevent.preventDefault();\n\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.handleMouseDownEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.strokeStart(event.clientX,event.clientY);\n\tthis.brushDown = true;\n\tevent.preventDefault();\n\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.handleMouseMoveEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(this.brushDown) {\n\t\tthis.strokeMove(event.clientX,event.clientY);\n\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.handleMouseUpEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(this.brushDown) {\n\t\tthis.brushDown = false;\n\t\tthis.strokeEnd();\n\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.adjustCoordinates = function(x,y) {\n\tvar canvasRect = this.canvasDomNode.getBoundingClientRect(),\n\t\tscale = this.canvasDomNode.width/canvasRect.width;\n\treturn {x: (x - canvasRect.left) * scale, y: (y - canvasRect.top) * scale};\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.strokeStart = function(x,y) {\n\t// Start off a new stroke\n\tthis.stroke = [this.adjustCoordinates(x,y)];\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.strokeMove = function(x,y) {\n\tvar ctx = this.canvasDomNode.getContext(\"2d\"),\n\t\tt;\n\t// Add the new position to the end of the stroke\n\tthis.stroke.push(this.adjustCoordinates(x,y));\n\t// Redraw the previous image\n\tctx.drawImage(this.currCanvas,0,0);\n\t// Render the stroke\n\tctx.globalAlpha = parseFloat(this.wiki.getTiddlerText(LINE_OPACITY_TITLE,\"1.0\"));\n\tctx.strokeStyle = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(LINE_COLOUR_TITLE,\"#ff0\");\n\tctx.lineWidth = parseFloat(this.wiki.getTiddlerText(LINE_WIDTH_TITLE,\"3\"));\n\tctx.lineCap = \"round\";\n\tctx.lineJoin = \"round\";\n\tctx.beginPath();\n\tctx.moveTo(this.stroke[0].x,this.stroke[0].y);\n\tfor(t=1; t<this.stroke.length-1; t++) {\n\t\tvar s1 = this.stroke[t],\n\t\t\ts2 = this.stroke[t-1],\n\t\t\ttx = (s1.x + s2.x)/2,\n\t\t\tty = (s1.y + s2.y)/2;\n\t\tctx.quadraticCurveTo(s2.x,s2.y,tx,ty);\n\t}\n\tctx.stroke();\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.strokeEnd = function() {\n\t// Copy the bitmap to the off-screen canvas\n\tvar ctx = this.currCanvas.getContext(\"2d\");\n\tctx.drawImage(this.canvasDomNode,0,0);\n\t// Save the image into the tiddler\n\tthis.saveChanges();\n};\n\nEditBitmapWidget.prototype.saveChanges = function() {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.editTitle);\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t// data URIs look like \"data:<type>;base64,<text>\"\n\t\tvar dataURL = this.canvasDomNode.toDataURL(tiddler.fields.type),\n\t\t\tposColon = dataURL.indexOf(\":\"),\n\t\t\tposSemiColon = dataURL.indexOf(\";\"),\n\t\t\tposComma = dataURL.indexOf(\",\"),\n\t\t\ttype = dataURL.substring(posColon+1,posSemiColon),\n\t\t\ttext = dataURL.substring(posComma+1);\n\t\tvar update = {type: type, text: text};\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(this.wiki.getModificationFields(),tiddler,update,this.wiki.getCreationFields()));\n\t}\n};\n\nexports[\"edit-bitmap\"] = EditBitmapWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-bitmap.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-shortcut.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/edit-shortcut.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nWidget to display an editable keyboard shortcut\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar EditShortcutWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nEditShortcutWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nEditShortcutWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.inputNode = this.document.createElement(\"input\");\n\t// Assign classes\n\tif(this.shortcutClass) {\n\t\tthis.inputNode.className = this.shortcutClass;\t\t\n\t}\n\t// Assign other attributes\n\tif(this.shortcutStyle) {\n\t\tthis.inputNode.setAttribute(\"style\",this.shortcutStyle);\n\t}\n\tif(this.shortcutTooltip) {\n\t\tthis.inputNode.setAttribute(\"title\",this.shortcutTooltip);\n\t}\n\tif(this.shortcutPlaceholder) {\n\t\tthis.inputNode.setAttribute(\"placeholder\",this.shortcutPlaceholder);\n\t}\n\tif(this.shortcutAriaLabel) {\n\t\tthis.inputNode.setAttribute(\"aria-label\",this.shortcutAriaLabel);\n\t}\n\t// Assign the current shortcut\n\tthis.updateInputNode();\n\t// Add event handlers\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(this.inputNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"keydown\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleKeydownEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Link into the DOM\n\tparent.insertBefore(this.inputNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(this.inputNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nEditShortcutWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.shortcutTiddler = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\");\n\tthis.shortcutField = this.getAttribute(\"field\");\n\tthis.shortcutIndex = this.getAttribute(\"index\");\n\tthis.shortcutPlaceholder = this.getAttribute(\"placeholder\");\n\tthis.shortcutDefault = this.getAttribute(\"default\",\"\");\n\tthis.shortcutClass = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\tthis.shortcutStyle = this.getAttribute(\"style\");\n\tthis.shortcutTooltip = this.getAttribute(\"tooltip\");\n\tthis.shortcutAriaLabel = this.getAttribute(\"aria-label\");\n};\n\n/*\nUpdate the value of the input node\n*/\nEditShortcutWidget.prototype.updateInputNode = function() {\n\tif(this.shortcutField) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.shortcutTiddler);\n\t\tif(tiddler && $tw.utils.hop(tiddler.fields,this.shortcutField)) {\n\t\t\tthis.inputNode.value = tiddler.getFieldString(this.shortcutField);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tthis.inputNode.value = this.shortcutDefault;\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(this.shortcutIndex) {\n\t\tthis.inputNode.value = this.wiki.extractTiddlerDataItem(this.shortcutTiddler,this.shortcutIndex,this.shortcutDefault);\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.inputNode.value = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.shortcutTiddler,this.shortcutDefault);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a dom \"keydown\" event\n*/\nEditShortcutWidget.prototype.handleKeydownEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Ignore shift, ctrl, meta, alt\n\tif(event.keyCode && $tw.keyboardManager.getModifierKeys().indexOf(event.keyCode) === -1) {\n\t\t// Get the shortcut text representation\n\t\tvar value = $tw.keyboardManager.getPrintableShortcuts([{\n\t\t\tctrlKey: event.ctrlKey,\n\t\t\tshiftKey: event.shiftKey,\n\t\t\taltKey: event.altKey,\n\t\t\tmetaKey: event.metaKey,\n\t\t\tkeyCode: event.keyCode\n\t\t}]);\n\t\tif(value.length > 0) {\n\t\t\tthis.wiki.setText(this.shortcutTiddler,this.shortcutField,this.shortcutIndex,value[0]);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Ignore the keydown if it was already handled\n\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\treturn true;\t\t\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget needed re-rendering\n*/\nEditShortcutWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.field || changedAttributes.index || changedAttributes.placeholder || changedAttributes[\"default\"] || changedAttributes[\"class\"] || changedAttributes.style || changedAttributes.tooltip || changedAttributes[\"aria-label\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else if(changedTiddlers[this.shortcutTiddler]) {\n\t\tthis.updateInputNode();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports[\"edit-shortcut\"] = EditShortcutWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-shortcut.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-text.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/edit-text.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nEdit-text widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar editTextWidgetFactory = require(\"$:/core/modules/editor/factory.js\").editTextWidgetFactory,\n\tFramedEngine = require(\"$:/core/modules/editor/engines/framed.js\").FramedEngine,\n\tSimpleEngine = require(\"$:/core/modules/editor/engines/simple.js\").SimpleEngine;\n\nexports[\"edit-text\"] = editTextWidgetFactory(FramedEngine,SimpleEngine);\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/edit-text.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/edit.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/edit.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nEdit widget is a meta-widget chooses the appropriate actual editting widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar EditWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nEditWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nEditWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n// Mappings from content type to editor type are stored in tiddlers with this prefix\nvar EDITOR_MAPPING_PREFIX = \"$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/\";\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nEditWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.editTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.editField = this.getAttribute(\"field\",\"text\");\n\tthis.editIndex = this.getAttribute(\"index\");\n\tthis.editClass = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\tthis.editPlaceholder = this.getAttribute(\"placeholder\");\n\t// Choose the appropriate edit widget\n\tthis.editorType = this.getEditorType();\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets([{\n\t\ttype: \"edit-\" + this.editorType,\n\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\ttiddler: {type: \"string\", value: this.editTitle},\n\t\t\tfield: {type: \"string\", value: this.editField},\n\t\t\tindex: {type: \"string\", value: this.editIndex},\n\t\t\t\"class\": {type: \"string\", value: this.editClass},\n\t\t\t\"placeholder\": {type: \"string\", value: this.editPlaceholder}\n\t\t},\n\t\tchildren: this.parseTreeNode.children\n\t}]);\n};\n\nEditWidget.prototype.getEditorType = function() {\n\t// Get the content type of the thing we're editing\n\tvar type;\n\tif(this.editField === \"text\") {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.editTitle);\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\ttype = tiddler.fields.type;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\ttype = type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\";\n\tvar editorType = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(EDITOR_MAPPING_PREFIX + type);\n\tif(!editorType) {\n\t\tvar typeInfo = $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[type];\n\t\tif(typeInfo && typeInfo.encoding === \"base64\") {\n\t\t\teditorType = \"binary\";\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\teditorType = \"text\";\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn editorType;\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nEditWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\t// Refresh if an attribute has changed, or the type associated with the target tiddler has changed\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.field || changedAttributes.index || (changedTiddlers[this.editTitle] && this.getEditorType() !== this.editorType)) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.edit = EditWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/edit.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/element.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/element.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nElement widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar ElementWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nElementWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nElementWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Neuter blacklisted elements\n\tvar tag = this.parseTreeNode.tag;\n\tif($tw.config.htmlUnsafeElements.indexOf(tag) !== -1) {\n\t\ttag = \"safe-\" + tag;\n\t}\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElementNS(this.namespace,tag);\n\tthis.assignAttributes(domNode,{excludeEventAttributes: true});\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nElementWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Select the namespace for the tag\n\tvar tagNamespaces = {\n\t\t\tsvg: \"http://www.w3.org/2000/svg\",\n\t\t\tmath: \"http://www.w3.org/1998/Math/MathML\",\n\t\t\tbody: \"http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml\"\n\t\t};\n\tthis.namespace = tagNamespaces[this.parseTreeNode.tag];\n\tif(this.namespace) {\n\t\tthis.setVariable(\"namespace\",this.namespace);\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.namespace = this.getVariable(\"namespace\",{defaultValue: \"http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml\"});\n\t}\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nElementWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes(),\n\t\thasChangedAttributes = $tw.utils.count(changedAttributes) > 0;\n\tif(hasChangedAttributes) {\n\t\t// Update our attributes\n\t\tthis.assignAttributes(this.domNodes[0],{excludeEventAttributes: true});\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers) || hasChangedAttributes;\n};\n\nexports.element = ElementWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/element.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/encrypt.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/encrypt.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nEncrypt widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar EncryptWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nEncryptWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nEncryptWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar textNode = this.document.createTextNode(this.encryptedText);\n\tparent.insertBefore(textNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(textNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nEncryptWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get parameters from our attributes\n\tthis.filter = this.getAttribute(\"filter\",\"[!is[system]]\");\n\t// Encrypt the filtered tiddlers\n\tvar tiddlers = this.wiki.filterTiddlers(this.filter),\n\t\tjson = {},\n\t\tself = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(title) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = self.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\t\tjsonTiddler = {};\n\t\tfor(var f in tiddler.fields) {\n\t\t\tjsonTiddler[f] = tiddler.getFieldString(f);\n\t\t}\n\t\tjson[title] = jsonTiddler;\n\t});\n\tthis.encryptedText = $tw.utils.htmlEncode($tw.crypto.encrypt(JSON.stringify(json)));\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nEncryptWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\t// We don't need to worry about refreshing because the encrypt widget isn't for interactive use\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nexports.encrypt = EncryptWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/encrypt.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/entity.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/entity.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nHTML entity widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar EntityWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nEntityWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nEntityWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar entityString = this.getAttribute(\"entity\",this.parseTreeNode.entity || \"\"),\n\t\ttextNode = this.document.createTextNode($tw.utils.entityDecode(entityString));\n\tparent.insertBefore(textNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(textNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nEntityWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nEntityWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.entity) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.entity = EntityWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/entity.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/fieldmangler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/fieldmangler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nField mangler widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar FieldManglerWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n\tthis.addEventListeners([\n\t\t{type: \"tm-remove-field\", handler: \"handleRemoveFieldEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-add-field\", handler: \"handleAddFieldEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-remove-tag\", handler: \"handleRemoveTagEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-add-tag\", handler: \"handleAddTagEvent\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.mangleTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype.handleRemoveFieldEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.mangleTitle),\n\t\tdeletion = {};\n\tdeletion[event.param] = undefined;\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,deletion));\n\treturn true;\n};\n\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype.handleAddFieldEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.mangleTitle),\n\t\taddition = this.wiki.getModificationFields(),\n\t\thadInvalidFieldName = false,\n\t\taddField = function(name,value) {\n\t\t\tvar trimmedName = name.toLowerCase().trim();\n\t\t\tif(!$tw.utils.isValidFieldName(trimmedName)) {\n\t\t\t\tif(!hadInvalidFieldName) {\n\t\t\t\t\talert($tw.language.getString(\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\"InvalidFieldName\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\t{variables:\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t{fieldName: trimmedName}\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t));\n\t\t\t\t\thadInvalidFieldName = true;\n\t\t\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tif(!value && tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvalue = tiddler.fields[trimmedName];\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\taddition[trimmedName] = value || \"\";\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn;\n\t\t};\n\taddition.title = this.mangleTitle;\n\tif(typeof event.param === \"string\") {\n\t\taddField(event.param,\"\");\n\t}\n\tif(typeof event.paramObject === \"object\") {\n\t\tfor(var name in event.paramObject) {\n\t\t\taddField(name,event.paramObject[name]);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,addition));\n\treturn true;\n};\n\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype.handleRemoveTagEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.mangleTitle);\n\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields.tags) {\n\t\tvar p = tiddler.fields.tags.indexOf(event.param);\n\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\tvar modification = this.wiki.getModificationFields();\n\t\t\tmodification.tags = (tiddler.fields.tags || []).slice(0);\n\t\t\tmodification.tags.splice(p,1);\n\t\t\tif(modification.tags.length === 0) {\n\t\t\t\tmodification.tags = undefined;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,modification));\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\nFieldManglerWidget.prototype.handleAddTagEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.mangleTitle);\n\tif(tiddler && typeof event.param === \"string\") {\n\t\tvar tag = event.param.trim();\n\t\tif(tag !== \"\") {\n\t\t\tvar modification = this.wiki.getModificationFields();\n\t\t\tmodification.tags = (tiddler.fields.tags || []).slice(0);\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(modification.tags,tag);\n\t\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,modification));\t\t\t\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(typeof event.param === \"string\" && event.param.trim() !== \"\" && this.mangleTitle.trim() !== \"\") {\n\t\tvar tag = [];\n\t\ttag.push(event.param.trim());\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler({title: this.mangleTitle, tags: tag});\t\t\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\nexports.fieldmangler = FieldManglerWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/fieldmangler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/fields.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/fields.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nFields widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar FieldsWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nFieldsWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nFieldsWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar textNode = this.document.createTextNode(this.text);\n\tparent.insertBefore(textNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(textNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nFieldsWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get parameters from our attributes\n\tthis.tiddlerTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.template = this.getAttribute(\"template\");\n\tthis.exclude = this.getAttribute(\"exclude\");\n\tthis.stripTitlePrefix = this.getAttribute(\"stripTitlePrefix\",\"no\") === \"yes\";\n\t// Get the value to display\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.tiddlerTitle);\n\t// Get the exclusion list\n\tvar exclude;\n\tif(this.exclude) {\n\t\texclude = this.exclude.split(\" \");\n\t} else {\n\t\texclude = [\"text\"]; \n\t}\n\t// Compose the template\n\tvar text = [];\n\tif(this.template && tiddler) {\n\t\tvar fields = [];\n\t\tfor(var fieldName in tiddler.fields) {\n\t\t\tif(exclude.indexOf(fieldName) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tfields.push(fieldName);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tfields.sort();\n\t\tfor(var f=0; f<fields.length; f++) {\n\t\t\tfieldName = fields[f];\n\t\t\tif(exclude.indexOf(fieldName) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tvar row = this.template,\n\t\t\t\t\tvalue = tiddler.getFieldString(fieldName);\n\t\t\t\tif(this.stripTitlePrefix && fieldName === \"title\") {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar reStrip = /^\\{[^\\}]+\\}(.+)/mg,\n\t\t\t\t\t\treMatch = reStrip.exec(value);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(reMatch) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue = reMatch[1];\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\trow = row.replace(\"$name$\",fieldName);\n\t\t\t\trow = row.replace(\"$value$\",value);\n\t\t\t\trow = row.replace(\"$encoded_value$\",$tw.utils.htmlEncode(value));\n\t\t\t\ttext.push(row);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tthis.text = text.join(\"\");\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nFieldsWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.template || changedAttributes.exclude || changedAttributes.stripTitlePrefix || changedTiddlers[this.tiddlerTitle]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.fields = FieldsWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/fields.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/image.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/image.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nThe image widget displays an image referenced with an external URI or with a local tiddler title.\n\n```\n<$image src=\"TiddlerTitle\" width=\"320\" height=\"400\" class=\"classnames\">\n```\n\nThe image source can be the title of an existing tiddler or the URL of an external image.\n\nExternal images always generate an HTML `<img>` tag.\n\nTiddlers that have a _canonical_uri field generate an HTML `<img>` tag with the src attribute containing the URI.\n\nTiddlers that contain image data generate an HTML `<img>` tag with the src attribute containing a base64 representation of the image.\n\nTiddlers that contain wikitext could be rendered to a DIV of the usual size of a tiddler, and then transformed to the size requested.\n\nThe width and height attributes are interpreted as a number of pixels, and do not need to include the \"px\" suffix.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar ImageWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nImageWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nImageWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create element\n\t// Determine what type of image it is\n\tvar tag = \"img\", src = \"\",\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.imageSource);\n\tif(!tiddler) {\n\t\t// The source isn't the title of a tiddler, so we'll assume it's a URL\n\t\tsrc = this.getVariable(\"tv-get-export-image-link\",{params: [{name: \"src\",value: this.imageSource}],defaultValue: this.imageSource});\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Check if it is an image tiddler\n\t\tif(this.wiki.isImageTiddler(this.imageSource)) {\n\t\t\tvar type = tiddler.fields.type,\n\t\t\t\ttext = tiddler.fields.text,\n\t\t\t\t_canonical_uri = tiddler.fields._canonical_uri;\n\t\t\t// If the tiddler has body text then it doesn't need to be lazily loaded\n\t\t\tif(text) {\n\t\t\t\t// Render the appropriate element for the image type\n\t\t\t\tswitch(type) {\n\t\t\t\t\tcase \"application/pdf\":\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttag = \"embed\";\n\t\t\t\t\t\tsrc = \"data:application/pdf;base64,\" + text;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t\tcase \"image/svg+xml\":\n\t\t\t\t\t\tsrc = \"data:image/svg+xml,\" + encodeURIComponent(text);\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t\tdefault:\n\t\t\t\t\t\tsrc = \"data:\" + type + \";base64,\" + text;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t} else if(_canonical_uri) {\n\t\t\t\tswitch(type) {\n\t\t\t\t\tcase \"application/pdf\":\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttag = \"embed\";\n\t\t\t\t\t\tsrc = _canonical_uri;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t\tcase \"image/svg+xml\":\n\t\t\t\t\t\tsrc = _canonical_uri;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t\tdefault:\n\t\t\t\t\t\tsrc = _canonical_uri;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\t}\t\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Just trigger loading of the tiddler\n\t\t\t\tthis.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.imageSource);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Create the element and assign the attributes\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(tag);\n\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"src\",src);\n\tif(this.imageClass) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"class\",this.imageClass);\t\t\n\t}\n\tif(this.imageWidth) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"width\",this.imageWidth);\n\t}\n\tif(this.imageHeight) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"height\",this.imageHeight);\n\t}\n\tif(this.imageTooltip) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"title\",this.imageTooltip);\t\t\n\t}\n\tif(this.imageAlt) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"alt\",this.imageAlt);\t\t\n\t}\n\t// Insert element\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nImageWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.imageSource = this.getAttribute(\"source\");\n\tthis.imageWidth = this.getAttribute(\"width\");\n\tthis.imageHeight = this.getAttribute(\"height\");\n\tthis.imageClass = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\tthis.imageTooltip = this.getAttribute(\"tooltip\");\n\tthis.imageAlt = this.getAttribute(\"alt\");\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nImageWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.source || changedAttributes.width || changedAttributes.height || changedAttributes[\"class\"] || changedAttributes.tooltip || changedTiddlers[this.imageSource]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.image = ImageWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/image.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/importvariables.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/importvariables.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nImport variable definitions from other tiddlers\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar ImportVariablesWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nImportVariablesWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nImportVariablesWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nImportVariablesWidget.prototype.execute = function(tiddlerList) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.filter = this.getAttribute(\"filter\");\n\t// Compute the filter\n\tthis.tiddlerList = tiddlerList || this.wiki.filterTiddlers(this.filter,this);\n\t// Accumulate the <$set> widgets from each tiddler\n\tvar widgetStackStart,widgetStackEnd;\n\tfunction addWidgetNode(widgetNode) {\n\t\tif(widgetNode) {\n\t\t\tif(!widgetStackStart && !widgetStackEnd) {\n\t\t\t\twidgetStackStart = widgetNode;\n\t\t\t\twidgetStackEnd = widgetNode;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\twidgetStackEnd.children = [widgetNode];\n\t\t\t\twidgetStackEnd = widgetNode;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.tiddlerList,function(title) {\n\t\tvar parser = self.wiki.parseTiddler(title);\n\t\tif(parser) {\n\t\t\tvar parseTreeNode = parser.tree[0];\n\t\t\twhile(parseTreeNode && parseTreeNode.type === \"set\") {\n\t\t\t\taddWidgetNode({\n\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"set\",\n\t\t\t\t\tattributes: parseTreeNode.attributes,\n\t\t\t\t\tparams: parseTreeNode.params\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\tparseTreeNode = parseTreeNode.children[0];\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} \n\t});\n\t// Add our own children to the end of the pile\n\tvar parseTreeNodes;\n\tif(widgetStackStart && widgetStackEnd) {\n\t\tparseTreeNodes = [widgetStackStart];\n\t\twidgetStackEnd.children = this.parseTreeNode.children;\n\t} else {\n\t\tparseTreeNodes = this.parseTreeNode.children;\n\t}\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets(parseTreeNodes);\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nImportVariablesWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\t// Recompute our attributes and the filter list\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes(),\n\t\ttiddlerList = this.wiki.filterTiddlers(this.getAttribute(\"filter\"),this);\n\t// Refresh if the filter has changed, or the list of tiddlers has changed, or any of the tiddlers in the list has changed\n\tfunction haveListedTiddlersChanged() {\n\t\tvar changed = false;\n\t\ttiddlerList.forEach(function(title) {\n\t\t\tif(changedTiddlers[title]) {\n\t\t\t\tchanged = true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\treturn changed;\n\t}\n\tif(changedAttributes.filter || !$tw.utils.isArrayEqual(this.tiddlerList,tiddlerList) || haveListedTiddlersChanged()) {\n\t\t// Compute the filter\n\t\tthis.removeChildDomNodes();\n\t\tthis.execute(tiddlerList);\n\t\tthis.renderChildren(this.parentDomNode,this.findNextSiblingDomNode());\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.importvariables = ImportVariablesWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/importvariables.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/keyboard.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/keyboard.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nKeyboard shortcut widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar KeyboardWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nKeyboardWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nKeyboardWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Remember parent\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute attributes and execute state\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create element\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t// Assign classes\n\tvar classes = (this[\"class\"] || \"\").split(\" \");\n\tclasses.push(\"tc-keyboard\");\n\tdomNode.className = classes.join(\" \");\n\t// Add a keyboard event handler\n\tdomNode.addEventListener(\"keydown\",function (event) {\n\t\tif($tw.keyboardManager.checkKeyDescriptors(event,self.keyInfoArray)) {\n\t\t\tself.invokeActions(self,event);\n\t\t\tif(self.actions) {\n\t\t\t\tself.invokeActionString(self.actions,self,event);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tself.dispatchMessage(event);\n\t\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn false;\n\t},false);\n\t// Insert element\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\nKeyboardWidget.prototype.dispatchMessage = function(event) {\n\tthis.dispatchEvent({type: this.message, param: this.param, tiddlerTitle: this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\")});\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nKeyboardWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get attributes\n\tthis.actions = this.getAttribute(\"actions\");\n\tthis.message = this.getAttribute(\"message\");\n\tthis.param = this.getAttribute(\"param\");\n\tthis.key = this.getAttribute(\"key\");\n\tthis.keyInfoArray = $tw.keyboardManager.parseKeyDescriptors(this.key);\n\tthis[\"class\"] = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\t// Make child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nKeyboardWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.message || changedAttributes.param || changedAttributes.key || changedAttributes[\"class\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports.keyboard = KeyboardWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/keyboard.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/link.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/link.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nLink widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\nvar MISSING_LINK_CONFIG_TITLE = \"$:/config/MissingLinks\";\n\nvar LinkWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nLinkWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nLinkWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\t// Save the parent dom node\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute our attributes\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\t// Execute our logic\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Get the value of the tv-wikilinks configuration macro\n\tvar wikiLinksMacro = this.getVariable(\"tv-wikilinks\"),\n\t\tuseWikiLinks = wikiLinksMacro ? (wikiLinksMacro.trim() !== \"no\") : true,\n\t\tmissingLinksEnabled = !(this.hideMissingLinks && this.isMissing && !this.isShadow);\n\t// Render the link if required\n\tif(useWikiLinks && missingLinksEnabled) {\n\t\tthis.renderLink(parent,nextSibling);\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Just insert the link text\n\t\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(\"span\");\n\t\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\t\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\t\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nLinkWidget.prototype.renderLink = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Sanitise the specified tag\n\tvar tag = this.linkTag;\n\tif($tw.config.htmlUnsafeElements.indexOf(tag) !== -1) {\n\t\ttag = \"a\";\n\t}\n\t// Create our element\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(tag);\n\t// Assign classes\n\tvar classes = [];\n\tif(this.linkClasses) {\n\t\tclasses.push(this.linkClasses);\n\t}\n\tclasses.push(\"tc-tiddlylink\");\n\tif(this.isShadow) {\n\t\tclasses.push(\"tc-tiddlylink-shadow\");\n\t}\n\tif(this.isMissing && !this.isShadow) {\n\t\tclasses.push(\"tc-tiddlylink-missing\");\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(!this.isMissing) {\n\t\t\tclasses.push(\"tc-tiddlylink-resolves\");\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"class\",classes.join(\" \"));\n\t// Set an href\n\tvar wikiLinkTemplateMacro = this.getVariable(\"tv-wikilink-template\"),\n\t\twikiLinkTemplate = wikiLinkTemplateMacro ? wikiLinkTemplateMacro.trim() : \"#$uri_encoded$\",\n\t\twikiLinkText = wikiLinkTemplate.replace(\"$uri_encoded$\",encodeURIComponent(this.to));\n\twikiLinkText = wikiLinkText.replace(\"$uri_doubleencoded$\",encodeURIComponent(encodeURIComponent(this.to)));\n\twikiLinkText = this.getVariable(\"tv-get-export-link\",{params: [{name: \"to\",value: this.to}],defaultValue: wikiLinkText});\n\tif(tag === \"a\") {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"href\",wikiLinkText);\n\t}\n\tif(this.tabIndex) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"tabindex\",this.tabIndex);\n\t}\n\t// Set the tooltip\n\t// HACK: Performance issues with re-parsing the tooltip prevent us defaulting the tooltip to \"<$transclude field='tooltip'><$transclude field='title'/></$transclude>\"\n\tvar tooltipWikiText = this.tooltip || this.getVariable(\"tv-wikilink-tooltip\");\n\tif(tooltipWikiText) {\n\t\tvar tooltipText = this.wiki.renderText(\"text/plain\",\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",tooltipWikiText,{\n\t\t\t\tparseAsInline: true,\n\t\t\t\tvariables: {\n\t\t\t\t\tcurrentTiddler: this.to\n\t\t\t\t},\n\t\t\t\tparentWidget: this\n\t\t\t});\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"title\",tooltipText);\n\t}\n\tif(this[\"aria-label\"]) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"aria-label\",this[\"aria-label\"]);\n\t}\n\t// Add a click event handler\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(domNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"click\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleClickEvent\"},\n\t]);\n\tif(this.draggable === \"yes\") {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(domNode,[\n\t\t\t{name: \"dragstart\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleDragStartEvent\"},\n\t\t\t{name: \"dragend\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleDragEndEvent\"}\n\t\t]);\n\t}\n\t// Insert the link into the DOM and render any children\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\nLinkWidget.prototype.handleClickEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Send the click on its way as a navigate event\n\tvar bounds = this.domNodes[0].getBoundingClientRect();\n\tthis.dispatchEvent({\n\t\ttype: \"tm-navigate\",\n\t\tnavigateTo: this.to,\n\t\tnavigateFromTitle: this.getVariable(\"storyTiddler\"),\n\t\tnavigateFromNode: this,\n\t\tnavigateFromClientRect: { top: bounds.top, left: bounds.left, width: bounds.width, right: bounds.right, bottom: bounds.bottom, height: bounds.height\n\t\t},\n\t\tnavigateSuppressNavigation: event.metaKey || event.ctrlKey || (event.button === 1)\n\t});\n\tif(this.domNodes[0].hasAttribute(\"href\")) {\n\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t}\n\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nLinkWidget.prototype.handleDragStartEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(event.target === this.domNodes[0]) {\n\t\tif(this.to) {\n\t\t\t$tw.dragInProgress = true;\n\t\t\t// Set the dragging class on the element being dragged\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.addClass(event.target,\"tc-tiddlylink-dragging\");\n\t\t\t// Create the drag image elements\n\t\t\tthis.dragImage = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\t\tthis.dragImage.className = \"tc-tiddler-dragger\";\n\t\t\tvar inner = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\t\tinner.className = \"tc-tiddler-dragger-inner\";\n\t\t\tinner.appendChild(this.document.createTextNode(this.to));\n\t\t\tthis.dragImage.appendChild(inner);\n\t\t\tthis.document.body.appendChild(this.dragImage);\n\t\t\t// Astoundingly, we need to cover the dragger up: http://www.kryogenix.org/code/browser/custom-drag-image.html\n\t\t\tvar cover = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t\t\tcover.className = \"tc-tiddler-dragger-cover\";\n\t\t\tcover.style.left = (inner.offsetLeft - 16) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tcover.style.top = (inner.offsetTop - 16) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tcover.style.width = (inner.offsetWidth + 32) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tcover.style.height = (inner.offsetHeight + 32) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tthis.dragImage.appendChild(cover);\n\t\t\t// Set the data transfer properties\n\t\t\tvar dataTransfer = event.dataTransfer;\n\t\t\t// First the image\n\t\t\tdataTransfer.effectAllowed = \"copy\";\n\t\t\tif(dataTransfer.setDragImage) {\n\t\t\t\tdataTransfer.setDragImage(this.dragImage.firstChild,-16,-16);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// Then the data\n\t\t\tdataTransfer.clearData();\n\t\t\tvar jsonData = this.wiki.getTiddlerAsJson(this.to),\n\t\t\t\ttextData = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.to,\"\"),\n\t\t\t\ttitle = (new RegExp(\"^\" + $tw.config.textPrimitives.wikiLink + \"$\",\"mg\")).exec(this.to) ? this.to : \"[[\" + this.to + \"]]\";\n\t\t\t// IE doesn't like these content types\n\t\t\tif(!$tw.browser.isIE) {\n\t\t\t\tdataTransfer.setData(\"text/vnd.tiddler\",jsonData);\n\t\t\t\tdataTransfer.setData(\"text/plain\",title);\n\t\t\t\tdataTransfer.setData(\"text/x-moz-url\",\"data:text/vnd.tiddler,\" + encodeURIComponent(jsonData));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tdataTransfer.setData(\"URL\",\"data:text/vnd.tiddler,\" + encodeURIComponent(jsonData));\n\t\t\tdataTransfer.setData(\"Text\",title);\n\t\t\tevent.stopPropagation();\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tevent.preventDefault();\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nLinkWidget.prototype.handleDragEndEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(event.target === this.domNodes[0]) {\n\t\t$tw.dragInProgress = false;\n\t\t// Remove the dragging class on the element being dragged\n\t\t$tw.utils.removeClass(event.target,\"tc-tiddlylink-dragging\");\n\t\t// Delete the drag image element\n\t\tif(this.dragImage) {\n\t\t\tthis.dragImage.parentNode.removeChild(this.dragImage);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nLinkWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Pick up our attributes\n\tthis.to = this.getAttribute(\"to\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.tooltip = this.getAttribute(\"tooltip\");\n\tthis[\"aria-label\"] = this.getAttribute(\"aria-label\");\n\tthis.linkClasses = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\tthis.tabIndex = this.getAttribute(\"tabindex\");\n\tthis.draggable = this.getAttribute(\"draggable\",\"yes\");\n\tthis.linkTag = this.getAttribute(\"tag\",\"a\");\n\t// Determine the link characteristics\n\tthis.isMissing = !this.wiki.tiddlerExists(this.to);\n\tthis.isShadow = this.wiki.isShadowTiddler(this.to);\n\tthis.hideMissingLinks = ($tw.wiki.getTiddlerText(MISSING_LINK_CONFIG_TITLE,\"yes\") === \"no\");\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nLinkWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.to || changedTiddlers[this.to] || changedAttributes[\"aria-label\"] || changedAttributes.tooltip || changedTiddlers[MISSING_LINK_CONFIG_TITLE]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports.link = LinkWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/link.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/linkcatcher.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/linkcatcher.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nLinkcatcher widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar LinkCatcherWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n\tthis.addEventListeners([\n\t\t{type: \"tm-navigate\", handler: \"handleNavigateEvent\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nLinkCatcherWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nLinkCatcherWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nLinkCatcherWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.catchTo = this.getAttribute(\"to\");\n\tthis.catchMessage = this.getAttribute(\"message\");\n\tthis.catchSet = this.getAttribute(\"set\");\n\tthis.catchSetTo = this.getAttribute(\"setTo\");\n\tthis.catchActions = this.getAttribute(\"actions\");\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nLinkCatcherWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.to || changedAttributes.message || changedAttributes.set || changedAttributes.setTo) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a tm-navigate event\n*/\nLinkCatcherWidget.prototype.handleNavigateEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(this.catchTo) {\n\t\tthis.wiki.setTextReference(this.catchTo,event.navigateTo,this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\t}\n\tif(this.catchMessage && this.parentWidget) {\n\t\tthis.parentWidget.dispatchEvent({\n\t\t\ttype: this.catchMessage,\n\t\t\tparam: event.navigateTo,\n\t\t\tnavigateTo: event.navigateTo\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\tif(this.catchSet) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.catchSet);\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,{title: this.catchSet, text: this.catchSetTo}));\n\t}\n\tif(this.catchActions) {\n\t\tthis.invokeActionString(this.catchActions,this);\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nexports.linkcatcher = LinkCatcherWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/linkcatcher.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/list.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/list.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nList and list item widgets\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\n/*\nThe list widget creates list element sub-widgets that reach back into the list widget for their configuration\n*/\n\nvar ListWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\t// Initialise the storyviews if they've not been done already\n\tif(!this.storyViews) {\n\t\tListWidget.prototype.storyViews = {};\n\t\t$tw.modules.applyMethods(\"storyview\",this.storyViews);\n\t}\n\t// Main initialisation inherited from widget.js\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nListWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n\t// Construct the storyview\n\tvar StoryView = this.storyViews[this.storyViewName];\n\tif(StoryView && !this.document.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom) {\n\t\tthis.storyview = new StoryView(this);\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.storyview = null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our attributes\n\tthis.template = this.getAttribute(\"template\");\n\tthis.editTemplate = this.getAttribute(\"editTemplate\");\n\tthis.variableName = this.getAttribute(\"variable\",\"currentTiddler\");\n\tthis.storyViewName = this.getAttribute(\"storyview\");\n\tthis.historyTitle = this.getAttribute(\"history\");\n\t// Compose the list elements\n\tthis.list = this.getTiddlerList();\n\tvar members = [],\n\t\tself = this;\n\t// Check for an empty list\n\tif(this.list.length === 0) {\n\t\tmembers = this.getEmptyMessage();\n\t} else {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.list,function(title,index) {\n\t\t\tmembers.push(self.makeItemTemplate(title));\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets(members);\n\t// Clear the last history\n\tthis.history = [];\n};\n\nListWidget.prototype.getTiddlerList = function() {\n\tvar defaultFilter = \"[!is[system]sort[title]]\";\n\treturn this.wiki.filterTiddlers(this.getAttribute(\"filter\",defaultFilter),this);\n};\n\nListWidget.prototype.getEmptyMessage = function() {\n\tvar emptyMessage = this.getAttribute(\"emptyMessage\",\"\"),\n\t\tparser = this.wiki.parseText(\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",emptyMessage,{parseAsInline: true});\n\tif(parser) {\n\t\treturn parser.tree;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn [];\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompose the template for a list item\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.makeItemTemplate = function(title) {\n\t// Check if the tiddler is a draft\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\tisDraft = tiddler && tiddler.hasField(\"draft.of\"),\n\t\ttemplate = this.template,\n\t\ttemplateTree;\n\tif(isDraft && this.editTemplate) {\n\t\ttemplate = this.editTemplate;\n\t}\n\t// Compose the transclusion of the template\n\tif(template) {\n\t\ttemplateTree = [{type: \"transclude\", attributes: {tiddler: {type: \"string\", value: template}}}];\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(this.parseTreeNode.children && this.parseTreeNode.children.length > 0) {\n\t\t\ttemplateTree = this.parseTreeNode.children;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Default template is a link to the title\n\t\t\ttemplateTree = [{type: \"element\", tag: this.parseTreeNode.isBlock ? \"div\" : \"span\", children: [{type: \"link\", attributes: {to: {type: \"string\", value: title}}, children: [\n\t\t\t\t\t{type: \"text\", text: title}\n\t\t\t]}]}];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Return the list item\n\treturn {type: \"listitem\", itemTitle: title, variableName: this.variableName, children: templateTree};\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes(),\n\t\tresult;\n\t// Call the storyview\n\tif(this.storyview && this.storyview.refreshStart) {\n\t\tthis.storyview.refreshStart(changedTiddlers,changedAttributes);\n\t}\n\t// Completely refresh if any of our attributes have changed\n\tif(changedAttributes.filter || changedAttributes.template || changedAttributes.editTemplate || changedAttributes.emptyMessage || changedAttributes.storyview || changedAttributes.history) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\tresult = true;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Handle any changes to the list\n\t\tresult = this.handleListChanges(changedTiddlers);\n\t\t// Handle any changes to the history stack\n\t\tif(this.historyTitle && changedTiddlers[this.historyTitle]) {\n\t\t\tthis.handleHistoryChanges();\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Call the storyview\n\tif(this.storyview && this.storyview.refreshEnd) {\n\t\tthis.storyview.refreshEnd(changedTiddlers,changedAttributes);\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\n/*\nHandle any changes to the history list\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.handleHistoryChanges = function() {\n\t// Get the history data\n\tvar newHistory = this.wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(this.historyTitle,[]);\n\t// Ignore any entries of the history that match the previous history\n\tvar entry = 0;\n\twhile(entry < newHistory.length && entry < this.history.length && newHistory[entry].title === this.history[entry].title) {\n\t\tentry++;\n\t}\n\t// Navigate forwards to each of the new tiddlers\n\twhile(entry < newHistory.length) {\n\t\tif(this.storyview && this.storyview.navigateTo) {\n\t\t\tthis.storyview.navigateTo(newHistory[entry]);\n\t\t}\n\t\tentry++;\n\t}\n\t// Update the history\n\tthis.history = newHistory;\n};\n\n/*\nProcess any changes to the list\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.handleListChanges = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\t// Get the new list\n\tvar prevList = this.list;\n\tthis.list = this.getTiddlerList();\n\t// Check for an empty list\n\tif(this.list.length === 0) {\n\t\t// Check if it was empty before\n\t\tif(prevList.length === 0) {\n\t\t\t// If so, just refresh the empty message\n\t\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Replace the previous content with the empty message\n\t\t\tfor(t=this.children.length-1; t>=0; t--) {\n\t\t\t\tthis.removeListItem(t);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tvar nextSibling = this.findNextSiblingDomNode();\n\t\t\tthis.makeChildWidgets(this.getEmptyMessage());\n\t\t\tthis.renderChildren(this.parentDomNode,nextSibling);\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\t// If the list was empty then we need to remove the empty message\n\t\tif(prevList.length === 0) {\n\t\t\tthis.removeChildDomNodes();\n\t\t\tthis.children = [];\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Cycle through the list, inserting and removing list items as needed\n\t\tvar hasRefreshed = false;\n\t\tfor(var t=0; t<this.list.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tvar index = this.findListItem(t,this.list[t]);\n\t\t\tif(index === undefined) {\n\t\t\t\t// The list item must be inserted\n\t\t\t\tthis.insertListItem(t,this.list[t]);\n\t\t\t\thasRefreshed = true;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// There are intervening list items that must be removed\n\t\t\t\tfor(var n=index-1; n>=t; n--) {\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.removeListItem(n);\n\t\t\t\t\thasRefreshed = true;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Refresh the item we're reusing\n\t\t\t\tvar refreshed = this.children[t].refresh(changedTiddlers);\n\t\t\t\thasRefreshed = hasRefreshed || refreshed;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Remove any left over items\n\t\tfor(t=this.children.length-1; t>=this.list.length; t--) {\n\t\t\tthis.removeListItem(t);\n\t\t\thasRefreshed = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn hasRefreshed;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nFind the list item with a given title, starting from a specified position\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.findListItem = function(startIndex,title) {\n\twhile(startIndex < this.children.length) {\n\t\tif(this.children[startIndex].parseTreeNode.itemTitle === title) {\n\t\t\treturn startIndex;\n\t\t}\n\t\tstartIndex++;\n\t}\n\treturn undefined;\n};\n\n/*\nInsert a new list item at the specified index\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.insertListItem = function(index,title) {\n\t// Create, insert and render the new child widgets\n\tvar widget = this.makeChildWidget(this.makeItemTemplate(title));\n\twidget.parentDomNode = this.parentDomNode; // Hack to enable findNextSiblingDomNode() to work\n\tthis.children.splice(index,0,widget);\n\tvar nextSibling = widget.findNextSiblingDomNode();\n\twidget.render(this.parentDomNode,nextSibling);\n\t// Animate the insertion if required\n\tif(this.storyview && this.storyview.insert) {\n\t\tthis.storyview.insert(widget);\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nRemove the specified list item\n*/\nListWidget.prototype.removeListItem = function(index) {\n\tvar widget = this.children[index];\n\t// Animate the removal if required\n\tif(this.storyview && this.storyview.remove) {\n\t\tthis.storyview.remove(widget);\n\t} else {\n\t\twidget.removeChildDomNodes();\n\t}\n\t// Remove the child widget\n\tthis.children.splice(index,1);\n};\n\nexports.list = ListWidget;\n\nvar ListItemWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nListItemWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nListItemWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nListItemWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Set the current list item title\n\tthis.setVariable(this.parseTreeNode.variableName,this.parseTreeNode.itemTitle);\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nListItemWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports.listitem = ListItemWidget;\n\n})();",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/list.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/macrocall.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/macrocall.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nMacrocall widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar MacroCallWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nMacroCallWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nMacroCallWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nMacroCallWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get the parse type if specified\n\tthis.parseType = this.getAttribute(\"$type\",\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\");\n\tthis.renderOutput = this.getAttribute(\"$output\",\"text/html\");\n\t// Merge together the parameters specified in the parse tree with the specified attributes\n\tvar params = this.parseTreeNode.params ? this.parseTreeNode.params.slice(0) : [];\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.attributes,function(attribute,name) {\n\t\tif(name.charAt(0) !== \"$\") {\n\t\t\tparams.push({name: name, value: attribute});\t\t\t\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Get the macro value\n\tvar text = this.getVariable(this.parseTreeNode.name || this.getAttribute(\"$name\"),{params: params}),\n\t\tparseTreeNodes;\n\t// Are we rendering to HTML?\n\tif(this.renderOutput === \"text/html\") {\n\t\t// If so we'll return the parsed macro\n\t\tvar parser = this.wiki.parseText(this.parseType,text,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t{parseAsInline: !this.parseTreeNode.isBlock});\n\t\tparseTreeNodes = parser ? parser.tree : [];\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Otherwise, we'll render the text\n\t\tvar plainText = this.wiki.renderText(\"text/plain\",this.parseType,text,{parentWidget: this});\n\t\tparseTreeNodes = [{type: \"text\", text: plainText}];\n\t}\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets(parseTreeNodes);\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nMacroCallWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif($tw.utils.count(changedAttributes) > 0) {\n\t\t// Rerender ourselves\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.macrocall = MacroCallWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/macrocall.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/navigator.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/navigator.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nNavigator widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar IMPORT_TITLE = \"$:/Import\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar NavigatorWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n\tthis.addEventListeners([\n\t\t{type: \"tm-navigate\", handler: \"handleNavigateEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-edit-tiddler\", handler: \"handleEditTiddlerEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-delete-tiddler\", handler: \"handleDeleteTiddlerEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-save-tiddler\", handler: \"handleSaveTiddlerEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-cancel-tiddler\", handler: \"handleCancelTiddlerEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-close-tiddler\", handler: \"handleCloseTiddlerEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-close-all-tiddlers\", handler: \"handleCloseAllTiddlersEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-close-other-tiddlers\", handler: \"handleCloseOtherTiddlersEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-new-tiddler\", handler: \"handleNewTiddlerEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-import-tiddlers\", handler: \"handleImportTiddlersEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-perform-import\", handler: \"handlePerformImportEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-fold-tiddler\", handler: \"handleFoldTiddlerEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-fold-other-tiddlers\", handler: \"handleFoldOtherTiddlersEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-fold-all-tiddlers\", handler: \"handleFoldAllTiddlersEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-unfold-all-tiddlers\", handler: \"handleUnfoldAllTiddlersEvent\"},\n\t\t{type: \"tm-rename-tiddler\", handler: \"handleRenameTiddlerEvent\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.storyTitle = this.getAttribute(\"story\");\n\tthis.historyTitle = this.getAttribute(\"history\");\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.story || changedAttributes.history) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.getStoryList = function() {\n\treturn this.storyTitle ? this.wiki.getTiddlerList(this.storyTitle) : null;\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.saveStoryList = function(storyList) {\n\tvar storyTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.storyTitle);\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(\n\t\t{title: this.storyTitle},\n\t\tstoryTiddler,\n\t\t{list: storyList}\n\t));\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.removeTitleFromStory = function(storyList,title) {\n\tvar p = storyList.indexOf(title);\n\twhile(p !== -1) {\n\t\tstoryList.splice(p,1);\n\t\tp = storyList.indexOf(title);\n\t}\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.replaceFirstTitleInStory = function(storyList,oldTitle,newTitle) {\n\tvar pos = storyList.indexOf(oldTitle);\n\tif(pos !== -1) {\n\t\tstoryList[pos] = newTitle;\n\t\tdo {\n\t\t\tpos = storyList.indexOf(oldTitle,pos + 1);\n\t\t\tif(pos !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\tstoryList.splice(pos,1);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} while(pos !== -1);\n\t} else {\n\t\tstoryList.splice(0,0,newTitle);\n\t}\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.addToStory = function(title,fromTitle) {\n\tvar storyList = this.getStoryList();\n\t// Quit if we cannot get hold of the story list\n\tif(!storyList) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// See if the tiddler is already there\n\tvar slot = storyList.indexOf(title);\n\t// Quit if it already exists in the story river\n\tif(slot >= 0) {\n\t\treturn;\n\t}\n\t// First we try to find the position of the story element we navigated from\n\tvar fromIndex = storyList.indexOf(fromTitle);\n\tif(fromIndex >= 0) {\n\t\t// The tiddler is added from inside the river\n\t\t// Determine where to insert the tiddler; Fallback is \"below\"\n\t\tswitch(this.getAttribute(\"openLinkFromInsideRiver\",\"below\")) {\n\t\t\tcase \"top\":\n\t\t\t\tslot = 0;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"bottom\":\n\t\t\t\tslot = storyList.length;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"above\":\n\t\t\t\tslot = fromIndex;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\tcase \"below\": // Intentional fall-through\n\t\t\tdefault:\n\t\t\t\tslot = fromIndex + 1;\n\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\t// The tiddler is opened from outside the river. Determine where to insert the tiddler; default is \"top\"\n\t\tif(this.getAttribute(\"openLinkFromOutsideRiver\",\"top\") === \"bottom\") {\n\t\t\t// Insert at bottom\n\t\t\tslot = storyList.length;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Insert at top\n\t\t\tslot = 0;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Add the tiddler\n\tstoryList.splice(slot,0,title);\n\t// Save the story\n\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n};\n\n/*\nAdd a new record to the top of the history stack\ntitle: a title string or an array of title strings\nfromPageRect: page coordinates of the origin of the navigation\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.addToHistory = function(title,fromPageRect) {\n\tthis.wiki.addToHistory(title,fromPageRect,this.historyTitle);\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a tm-navigate event\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleNavigateEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(event.navigateTo) {\n\t\tthis.addToStory(event.navigateTo,event.navigateFromTitle);\n\t\tif(!event.navigateSuppressNavigation) {\n\t\t\tthis.addToHistory(event.navigateTo,event.navigateFromClientRect);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// Close a specified tiddler\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleCloseTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar title = event.param || event.tiddlerTitle,\n\t\tstoryList = this.getStoryList();\n\t// Look for tiddlers with this title to close\n\tthis.removeTitleFromStory(storyList,title);\n\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// Close all tiddlers\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleCloseAllTiddlersEvent = function(event) {\n\tthis.saveStoryList([]);\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// Close other tiddlers\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleCloseOtherTiddlersEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar title = event.param || event.tiddlerTitle;\n\tthis.saveStoryList([title]);\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// Place a tiddler in edit mode\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleEditTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tfunction isUnmodifiedShadow(title) {\n\t\treturn self.wiki.isShadowTiddler(title) && !self.wiki.tiddlerExists(title);\n\t}\n\tfunction confirmEditShadow(title) {\n\t\treturn confirm($tw.language.getString(\n\t\t\t\"ConfirmEditShadowTiddler\",\n\t\t\t{variables:\n\t\t\t\t{title: title}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t));\n\t}\n\tvar title = event.param || event.tiddlerTitle;\n\tif(isUnmodifiedShadow(title) && !confirmEditShadow(title)) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Replace the specified tiddler with a draft in edit mode\n\tvar draftTiddler = this.makeDraftTiddler(title);\n\t// Update the story and history if required\n\tif(!event.paramObject || event.paramObject.suppressNavigation !== \"yes\") {\n\t\tvar draftTitle = draftTiddler.fields.title,\n\t\t\tstoryList = this.getStoryList();\n\t\tthis.removeTitleFromStory(storyList,draftTitle);\n\t\tthis.replaceFirstTitleInStory(storyList,title,draftTitle);\n\t\tthis.addToHistory(draftTitle,event.navigateFromClientRect);\n\t\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n};\n\n// Delete a tiddler\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleDeleteTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Get the tiddler we're deleting\n\tvar title = event.param || event.tiddlerTitle,\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\tstoryList = this.getStoryList(),\n\t\toriginalTitle = tiddler ? tiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"] : \"\",\n\t\tconfirmationTitle;\n\tif(!tiddler) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Check if the tiddler we're deleting is in draft mode\n\tif(originalTitle) {\n\t\t// If so, we'll prompt for confirmation referencing the original tiddler\n\t\tconfirmationTitle = originalTitle;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// If not a draft, then prompt for confirmation referencing the specified tiddler\n\t\tconfirmationTitle = title;\n\t}\n\t// Seek confirmation\n\tif((this.wiki.getTiddler(originalTitle) || (tiddler.fields.text || \"\") !== \"\") && !confirm($tw.language.getString(\n\t\t\t\t\"ConfirmDeleteTiddler\",\n\t\t\t\t{variables:\n\t\t\t\t\t{title: confirmationTitle}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t))) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\t// Delete the original tiddler\n\tif(originalTitle) {\n\t\tthis.wiki.deleteTiddler(originalTitle);\n\t\tthis.removeTitleFromStory(storyList,originalTitle);\n\t}\n\t// Delete this tiddler\n\tthis.wiki.deleteTiddler(title);\n\t// Remove the closed tiddler from the story\n\tthis.removeTitleFromStory(storyList,title);\n\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n\t// Trigger an autosave\n\t$tw.rootWidget.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-auto-save-wiki\"});\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate/reuse the draft tiddler for a given title\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.makeDraftTiddler = function(targetTitle) {\n\t// See if there is already a draft tiddler for this tiddler\n\tvar draftTitle = this.wiki.findDraft(targetTitle);\n\tif(draftTitle) {\n\t\treturn this.wiki.getTiddler(draftTitle);\n\t}\n\t// Get the current value of the tiddler we're editing\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(targetTitle);\n\t// Save the initial value of the draft tiddler\n\tdraftTitle = this.generateDraftTitle(targetTitle);\n\tvar draftTiddler = new $tw.Tiddler(\n\t\t\ttiddler,\n\t\t\t{\n\t\t\t\ttitle: draftTitle,\n\t\t\t\t\"draft.title\": targetTitle,\n\t\t\t\t\"draft.of\": targetTitle\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tthis.wiki.getModificationFields()\n\t\t);\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(draftTiddler);\n\treturn draftTiddler;\n};\n\n/*\nGenerate a title for the draft of a given tiddler\n*/\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.generateDraftTitle = function(title) {\n\tvar c = 0,\n\t\tdraftTitle;\n\tdo {\n\t\tdraftTitle = \"Draft \" + (c ? (c + 1) + \" \" : \"\") + \"of '\" + title + \"'\";\n\t\tc++;\n\t} while(this.wiki.tiddlerExists(draftTitle));\n\treturn draftTitle;\n};\n\n// Take a tiddler out of edit mode, saving the changes\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleSaveTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar title = event.param || event.tiddlerTitle,\n\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(title),\n\t\tstoryList = this.getStoryList();\n\t// Replace the original tiddler with the draft\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\tvar draftTitle = (tiddler.fields[\"draft.title\"] || \"\").trim(),\n\t\t\tdraftOf = (tiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"] || \"\").trim();\n\t\tif(draftTitle) {\n\t\t\tvar isRename = draftOf !== draftTitle,\n\t\t\t\tisConfirmed = true;\n\t\t\tif(isRename && this.wiki.tiddlerExists(draftTitle)) {\n\t\t\t\tisConfirmed = confirm($tw.language.getString(\n\t\t\t\t\t\"ConfirmOverwriteTiddler\",\n\t\t\t\t\t{variables:\n\t\t\t\t\t\t{title: draftTitle}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(isConfirmed) {\n\t\t\t\t// Create the new tiddler and pass it through the th-saving-tiddler hook\n\t\t\t\tvar newTiddler = new $tw.Tiddler(this.wiki.getCreationFields(),tiddler,{\n\t\t\t\t\ttitle: draftTitle,\n\t\t\t\t\t\"draft.title\": undefined,\n\t\t\t\t\t\"draft.of\": undefined\n\t\t\t\t},this.wiki.getModificationFields());\n\t\t\t\tnewTiddler = $tw.hooks.invokeHook(\"th-saving-tiddler\",newTiddler);\n\t\t\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(newTiddler);\n\t\t\t\t// Remove the draft tiddler\n\t\t\t\tthis.wiki.deleteTiddler(title);\n\t\t\t\t// Remove the original tiddler if we're renaming it\n\t\t\t\tif(isRename) {\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.wiki.deleteTiddler(draftOf);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(!event.paramObject || event.paramObject.suppressNavigation !== \"yes\") {\n\t\t\t\t\t// Replace the draft in the story with the original\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.replaceFirstTitleInStory(storyList,title,draftTitle);\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.addToHistory(draftTitle,event.navigateFromClientRect);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(draftTitle !== this.storyTitle) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// Trigger an autosave\n\t\t\t\t$tw.rootWidget.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-auto-save-wiki\"});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// Take a tiddler out of edit mode without saving the changes\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleCancelTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Flip the specified tiddler from draft back to the original\n\tvar draftTitle = event.param || event.tiddlerTitle,\n\t\tdraftTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(draftTitle),\n\t\toriginalTitle = draftTiddler && draftTiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"];\n\tif(draftTiddler && originalTitle) {\n\t\t// Ask for confirmation if the tiddler text has changed\n\t\tvar isConfirmed = true,\n\t\t\toriginalTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(originalTitle),\n\t\t\tstoryList = this.getStoryList();\n\t\tif(this.wiki.isDraftModified(draftTitle)) {\n\t\t\tisConfirmed = confirm($tw.language.getString(\n\t\t\t\t\"ConfirmCancelTiddler\",\n\t\t\t\t{variables:\n\t\t\t\t\t{title: draftTitle}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t));\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Remove the draft tiddler\n\t\tif(isConfirmed) {\n\t\t\tthis.wiki.deleteTiddler(draftTitle);\n\t\t\tif(!event.paramObject || event.paramObject.suppressNavigation !== \"yes\") {\n\t\t\t\tif(originalTiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.replaceFirstTitleInStory(storyList,draftTitle,originalTitle);\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.addToHistory(originalTitle,event.navigateFromClientRect);\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tthis.removeTitleFromStory(storyList,draftTitle);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// Create a new draft tiddler\n// event.param can either be the title of a template tiddler, or a hashmap of fields.\n//\n// The title of the newly created tiddler follows these rules:\n// * If a hashmap was used and a title field was specified, use that title\n// * If a hashmap was used without a title field, use a default title, if necessary making it unique with a numeric suffix\n// * If a template tiddler was used, use the title of the template, if necessary making it unique with a numeric suffix\n//\n// If a draft of the target tiddler already exists then it is reused\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleNewTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Get the story details\n\tvar storyList = this.getStoryList(),\n\t\ttemplateTiddler, additionalFields, title, draftTitle, existingTiddler;\n\t// Get the template tiddler (if any)\n\tif(typeof event.param === \"string\") {\n\t\t// Get the template tiddler\n\t\ttemplateTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(event.param);\n\t\t// Generate a new title\n\t\ttitle = this.wiki.generateNewTitle(event.param || $tw.language.getString(\"DefaultNewTiddlerTitle\"));\n\t}\n\t// Get the specified additional fields\n\tif(typeof event.paramObject === \"object\") {\n\t\tadditionalFields = event.paramObject;\n\t}\n\tif(typeof event.param === \"object\") { // Backwards compatibility with 5.1.3\n\t\tadditionalFields = event.param;\n\t}\n\tif(additionalFields && additionalFields.title) {\n\t\ttitle = additionalFields.title;\n\t}\n\t// Generate a title if we don't have one\n\ttitle = title || this.wiki.generateNewTitle($tw.language.getString(\"DefaultNewTiddlerTitle\"));\n\t// Find any existing draft for this tiddler\n\tdraftTitle = this.wiki.findDraft(title);\n\t// Pull in any existing tiddler\n\tif(draftTitle) {\n\t\texistingTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(draftTitle);\n\t} else {\n\t\tdraftTitle = this.generateDraftTitle(title);\n\t\texistingTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(title);\n\t}\n\t// Merge the tags\n\tvar mergedTags = [];\n\tif(existingTiddler && existingTiddler.fields.tags) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.pushTop(mergedTags,existingTiddler.fields.tags)\n\t}\n\tif(additionalFields && additionalFields.tags) {\n\t\t// Merge tags\n\t\tmergedTags = $tw.utils.pushTop(mergedTags,$tw.utils.parseStringArray(additionalFields.tags));\n\t}\n\tif(templateTiddler && templateTiddler.fields.tags) {\n\t\t// Merge tags\n\t\tmergedTags = $tw.utils.pushTop(mergedTags,templateTiddler.fields.tags);\n\t}\n\t// Save the draft tiddler\n\tvar draftTiddler = new $tw.Tiddler({\n\t\t\ttext: \"\",\n\t\t\t\"draft.title\": title\n\t\t},\n\t\ttemplateTiddler,\n\t\texistingTiddler,\n\t\tadditionalFields,\n\t\tthis.wiki.getCreationFields(),\n\t\t{\n\t\t\ttitle: draftTitle,\n\t\t\t\"draft.of\": title,\n\t\t\ttags: mergedTags\n\t\t},this.wiki.getModificationFields());\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(draftTiddler);\n\t// Update the story to insert the new draft at the top and remove any existing tiddler\n\tif(storyList.indexOf(draftTitle) === -1) {\n\t\tvar slot = storyList.indexOf(event.navigateFromTitle);\n\t\tstoryList.splice(slot + 1,0,draftTitle);\n\t}\n\tif(storyList.indexOf(title) !== -1) {\n\t\tstoryList.splice(storyList.indexOf(title),1);\t\t\n\t}\n\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n\t// Add a new record to the top of the history stack\n\tthis.addToHistory(draftTitle);\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// Import JSON tiddlers into a pending import tiddler\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleImportTiddlersEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Get the tiddlers\n\tvar tiddlers = [];\n\ttry {\n\t\ttiddlers = JSON.parse(event.param);\t\n\t} catch(e) {\n\t}\n\t// Get the current $:/Import tiddler\n\tvar importTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(IMPORT_TITLE),\n\t\timportData = this.wiki.getTiddlerData(IMPORT_TITLE,{}),\n\t\tnewFields = new Object({\n\t\t\ttitle: IMPORT_TITLE,\n\t\t\ttype: \"application/json\",\n\t\t\t\"plugin-type\": \"import\",\n\t\t\t\"status\": \"pending\"\n\t\t}),\n\t\tincomingTiddlers = [];\n\t// Process each tiddler\n\timportData.tiddlers = importData.tiddlers || {};\n\t$tw.utils.each(tiddlers,function(tiddlerFields) {\n\t\tvar title = tiddlerFields.title;\n\t\tif(title) {\n\t\t\tincomingTiddlers.push(title);\n\t\t\timportData.tiddlers[title] = tiddlerFields;\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Give the active upgrader modules a chance to process the incoming tiddlers\n\tvar messages = this.wiki.invokeUpgraders(incomingTiddlers,importData.tiddlers);\n\t$tw.utils.each(messages,function(message,title) {\n\t\tnewFields[\"message-\" + title] = message;\n\t});\n\t// Deselect any suppressed tiddlers\n\t$tw.utils.each(importData.tiddlers,function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.count(tiddler) === 0) {\n\t\t\tnewFields[\"selection-\" + title] = \"unchecked\";\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Save the $:/Import tiddler\n\tnewFields.text = JSON.stringify(importData,null,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces);\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(importTiddler,newFields));\n\t// Update the story and history details\n\tif(this.getVariable(\"tv-auto-open-on-import\") !== \"no\") {\n\t\tvar storyList = this.getStoryList(),\n\t\t\thistory = [];\n\t\t// Add it to the story\n\t\tif(storyList.indexOf(IMPORT_TITLE) === -1) {\n\t\t\tstoryList.unshift(IMPORT_TITLE);\n\t\t}\n\t\t// And to history\n\t\thistory.push(IMPORT_TITLE);\n\t\t// Save the updated story and history\n\t\tthis.saveStoryList(storyList);\n\t\tthis.addToHistory(history);\t\t\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n// \nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handlePerformImportEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\timportTiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(event.param),\n\t\timportData = this.wiki.getTiddlerDataCached(event.param,{tiddlers: {}}),\n\t\timportReport = [];\n\t// Add the tiddlers to the store\n\timportReport.push($tw.language.getString(\"Import/Imported/Hint\") + \"\\n\");\n\t$tw.utils.each(importData.tiddlers,function(tiddlerFields) {\n\t\tvar title = tiddlerFields.title;\n\t\tif(title && importTiddler && importTiddler.fields[\"selection-\" + title] !== \"unchecked\") {\n\t\t\tself.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddlerFields));\n\t\t\timportReport.push(\"# [[\" + tiddlerFields.title + \"]]\");\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Replace the $:/Import tiddler with an import report\n\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler({\n\t\ttitle: event.param,\n\t\ttext: importReport.join(\"\\n\"),\n\t\t\"status\": \"complete\"\n\t}));\n\t// Navigate to the $:/Import tiddler\n\tthis.addToHistory([event.param]);\n\t// Trigger an autosave\n\t$tw.rootWidget.dispatchEvent({type: \"tm-auto-save-wiki\"});\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleFoldTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tparamObject = event.paramObject || {};\n\tif(paramObject.foldedState) {\n\t\tvar foldedState = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(paramObject.foldedState,\"show\") === \"show\" ? \"hide\" : \"show\";\n\t\tthis.wiki.setText(paramObject.foldedState,\"text\",null,foldedState);\n\t}\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleFoldOtherTiddlersEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tparamObject = event.paramObject || {},\n\t\tprefix = paramObject.foldedStatePrefix;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.getStoryList(),function(title) {\n\t\tself.wiki.setText(prefix + title,\"text\",null,event.param === title ? \"show\" : \"hide\");\n\t});\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleFoldAllTiddlersEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tparamObject = event.paramObject || {},\n\t\tprefix = paramObject.foldedStatePrefix;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.getStoryList(),function(title) {\n\t\tself.wiki.setText(prefix + title,\"text\",null,\"hide\");\n\t});\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleUnfoldAllTiddlersEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tparamObject = event.paramObject || {},\n\t\tprefix = paramObject.foldedStatePrefix;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.getStoryList(),function(title) {\n\t\tself.wiki.setText(prefix + title,\"text\",null,\"show\");\n\t});\n};\n\nNavigatorWidget.prototype.handleRenameTiddlerEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tparamObject = event.paramObject || {},\n\t\tfrom = paramObject.from || event.tiddlerTitle,\n\t\tto = paramObject.to;\n\t$tw.wiki.renameTiddler(from,to);\n};\n\nexports.navigator = NavigatorWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/navigator.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/password.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/password.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nPassword widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar PasswordWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nPasswordWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nPasswordWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\t// Save the parent dom node\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute our attributes\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\t// Execute our logic\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Get the current password\n\tvar password = $tw.browser ? $tw.utils.getPassword(this.passwordName) || \"\" : \"\";\n\t// Create our element\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(\"input\");\n\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"type\",\"password\");\n\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"value\",password);\n\t// Add a click event handler\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(domNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"change\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleChangeEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Insert the label into the DOM and render any children\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\nPasswordWidget.prototype.handleChangeEvent = function(event) {\n\tvar password = this.domNodes[0].value;\n\treturn $tw.utils.savePassword(this.passwordName,password);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nPasswordWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get the parameters from the attributes\n\tthis.passwordName = this.getAttribute(\"name\",\"\");\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nPasswordWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.name) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.password = PasswordWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/password.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/radio.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/radio.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nRadio widget\n\nWill set a field to the selected value:\n\n```\n\t<$radio field=\"myfield\" value=\"check 1\">one</$radio>\n\t<$radio field=\"myfield\" value=\"check 2\">two</$radio>\n\t<$radio field=\"myfield\" value=\"check 3\">three</$radio>\n```\n\n|Parameter |Description |h\n|tiddler |Name of the tiddler in which the field should be set. Defaults to current tiddler |\n|field |The name of the field to be set |\n|value |The value to set |\n|class |Optional class name(s) |\n\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar RadioWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nRadioWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nRadioWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\t// Save the parent dom node\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute our attributes\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\t// Execute our logic\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create our elements\n\tthis.labelDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"label\");\n\tthis.labelDomNode.setAttribute(\"class\",this.radioClass);\n\tthis.inputDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"input\");\n\tthis.inputDomNode.setAttribute(\"type\",\"radio\");\n\tif(this.getValue() == this.radioValue) {\n\t\tthis.inputDomNode.setAttribute(\"checked\",\"true\");\n\t}\n\tthis.labelDomNode.appendChild(this.inputDomNode);\n\tthis.spanDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"span\");\n\tthis.labelDomNode.appendChild(this.spanDomNode);\n\t// Add a click event handler\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(this.inputDomNode,[\n\t\t{name: \"change\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleChangeEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\t// Insert the label into the DOM and render any children\n\tparent.insertBefore(this.labelDomNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(this.spanDomNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(this.labelDomNode);\n};\n\nRadioWidget.prototype.getValue = function() {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.radioTitle);\n\treturn tiddler && tiddler.getFieldString(this.radioField);\n};\n\nRadioWidget.prototype.setValue = function() {\n\tif(this.radioField) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.radioTitle),\n\t\t\taddition = {};\n\t\taddition[this.radioField] = this.radioValue;\n\t\tthis.wiki.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(this.wiki.getCreationFields(),{title: this.radioTitle},tiddler,addition,this.wiki.getModificationFields()));\n\t}\n};\n\nRadioWidget.prototype.handleChangeEvent = function(event) {\n\tif(this.inputDomNode.checked) {\n\t\tthis.setValue();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nRadioWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get the parameters from the attributes\n\tthis.radioTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.radioField = this.getAttribute(\"field\",\"text\");\n\tthis.radioValue = this.getAttribute(\"value\");\n\tthis.radioClass = this.getAttribute(\"class\",\"\");\n\tif(this.radioClass !== \"\") {\n\t\tthis.radioClass += \" \";\n\t}\n\tthis.radioClass += \"tc-radio\";\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nRadioWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.field || changedAttributes.value || changedAttributes[\"class\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar refreshed = false;\n\t\tif(changedTiddlers[this.radioTitle]) {\n\t\t\tthis.inputDomNode.checked = this.getValue() === this.radioValue;\n\t\t\trefreshed = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers) || refreshed;\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.radio = RadioWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/radio.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/raw.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/raw.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nRaw widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar RawWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nRawWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nRawWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar div = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\tdiv.innerHTML=this.parseTreeNode.html;\n\tparent.insertBefore(div,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(div);\t\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nRawWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nRawWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn false;\n};\n\nexports.raw = RawWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/raw.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/reveal.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/reveal.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nReveal widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar RevealWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nRevealWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nRevealWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar tag = this.parseTreeNode.isBlock ? \"div\" : \"span\";\n\tif(this.revealTag && $tw.config.htmlUnsafeElements.indexOf(this.revealTag) === -1) {\n\t\ttag = this.revealTag;\n\t}\n\tvar domNode = this.document.createElement(tag);\n\tvar classes = this[\"class\"].split(\" \") || [];\n\tclasses.push(\"tc-reveal\");\n\tdomNode.className = classes.join(\" \");\n\tif(this.style) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"style\",this.style);\n\t}\n\tparent.insertBefore(domNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\tif(!domNode.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom && this.type === \"popup\" && this.isOpen) {\n\t\tthis.positionPopup(domNode);\n\t\t$tw.utils.addClass(domNode,\"tc-popup\"); // Make sure that clicks don't dismiss popups within the revealed content\n\t}\n\tif(!this.isOpen) {\n\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"hidden\",\"true\");\n\t}\n\tthis.domNodes.push(domNode);\n};\n\nRevealWidget.prototype.positionPopup = function(domNode) {\n\tdomNode.style.position = \"absolute\";\n\tdomNode.style.zIndex = \"1000\";\n\tswitch(this.position) {\n\t\tcase \"left\":\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.left = (this.popup.left - domNode.offsetWidth) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.top = this.popup.top + \"px\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"above\":\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.left = this.popup.left + \"px\";\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.top = (this.popup.top - domNode.offsetHeight) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"aboveright\":\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.left = (this.popup.left + this.popup.width) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.top = (this.popup.top + this.popup.height - domNode.offsetHeight) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"right\":\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.left = (this.popup.left + this.popup.width) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.top = this.popup.top + \"px\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"belowleft\":\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.left = (this.popup.left + this.popup.width - domNode.offsetWidth) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.top = (this.popup.top + this.popup.height) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tdefault: // Below\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.left = this.popup.left + \"px\";\n\t\t\tdomNode.style.top = (this.popup.top + this.popup.height) + \"px\";\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nRevealWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.state = this.getAttribute(\"state\");\n\tthis.revealTag = this.getAttribute(\"tag\");\n\tthis.type = this.getAttribute(\"type\");\n\tthis.text = this.getAttribute(\"text\");\n\tthis.position = this.getAttribute(\"position\");\n\tthis[\"class\"] = this.getAttribute(\"class\",\"\");\n\tthis.style = this.getAttribute(\"style\",\"\");\n\tthis[\"default\"] = this.getAttribute(\"default\",\"\");\n\tthis.animate = this.getAttribute(\"animate\",\"no\");\n\tthis.retain = this.getAttribute(\"retain\",\"no\");\n\tthis.openAnimation = this.animate === \"no\" ? undefined : \"open\";\n\tthis.closeAnimation = this.animate === \"no\" ? undefined : \"close\";\n\t// Compute the title of the state tiddler and read it\n\tthis.stateTitle = this.state;\n\tthis.readState();\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tvar childNodes = this.isOpen ? this.parseTreeNode.children : [];\n\tthis.hasChildNodes = this.isOpen;\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets(childNodes);\n};\n\n/*\nRead the state tiddler\n*/\nRevealWidget.prototype.readState = function() {\n\t// Read the information from the state tiddler\n\tvar state = this.stateTitle ? this.wiki.getTextReference(this.stateTitle,this[\"default\"],this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\")) : this[\"default\"];\n\tswitch(this.type) {\n\t\tcase \"popup\":\n\t\t\tthis.readPopupState(state);\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"match\":\n\t\t\tthis.readMatchState(state);\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"nomatch\":\n\t\t\tthis.readMatchState(state);\n\t\t\tthis.isOpen = !this.isOpen;\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t}\n};\n\nRevealWidget.prototype.readMatchState = function(state) {\n\tthis.isOpen = state === this.text;\n};\n\nRevealWidget.prototype.readPopupState = function(state) {\n\tvar popupLocationRegExp = /^\\((-?[0-9\\.E]+),(-?[0-9\\.E]+),(-?[0-9\\.E]+),(-?[0-9\\.E]+)\\)$/,\n\t\tmatch = popupLocationRegExp.exec(state);\n\t// Check if the state matches the location regexp\n\tif(match) {\n\t\t// If so, we're open\n\t\tthis.isOpen = true;\n\t\t// Get the location\n\t\tthis.popup = {\n\t\t\tleft: parseFloat(match[1]),\n\t\t\ttop: parseFloat(match[2]),\n\t\t\twidth: parseFloat(match[3]),\n\t\t\theight: parseFloat(match[4])\n\t\t};\n\t} else {\n\t\t// If not, we're closed\n\t\tthis.isOpen = false;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nRevealWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.state || changedAttributes.type || changedAttributes.text || changedAttributes.position || changedAttributes[\"default\"] || changedAttributes.animate) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar refreshed = false,\n\t\t\tcurrentlyOpen = this.isOpen;\n\t\tthis.readState();\n\t\tif(this.isOpen !== currentlyOpen) {\n\t\t\tif(this.retain === \"yes\") {\n\t\t\t\tthis.updateState();\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\t\t\trefreshed = true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers) || refreshed;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCalled by refresh() to dynamically show or hide the content\n*/\nRevealWidget.prototype.updateState = function() {\n\t// Read the current state\n\tthis.readState();\n\t// Construct the child nodes if needed\n\tvar domNode = this.domNodes[0];\n\tif(this.isOpen && !this.hasChildNodes) {\n\t\tthis.hasChildNodes = true;\n\t\tthis.makeChildWidgets(this.parseTreeNode.children);\n\t\tthis.renderChildren(domNode,null);\n\t}\n\t// Animate our DOM node\n\tif(!domNode.isTiddlyWikiFakeDom && this.type === \"popup\" && this.isOpen) {\n\t\tthis.positionPopup(domNode);\n\t\t$tw.utils.addClass(domNode,\"tc-popup\"); // Make sure that clicks don't dismiss popups within the revealed content\n\n\t}\n\tif(this.isOpen) {\n\t\tdomNode.removeAttribute(\"hidden\");\n $tw.anim.perform(this.openAnimation,domNode);\n\t} else {\n\t\t$tw.anim.perform(this.closeAnimation,domNode,{callback: function() {\n\t\t\tdomNode.setAttribute(\"hidden\",\"true\");\n }});\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.reveal = RevealWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/reveal.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/scrollable.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/scrollable.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nScrollable widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar ScrollableWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n\tthis.scaleFactor = 1;\n\tthis.addEventListeners([\n\t\t{type: \"tm-scroll\", handler: \"handleScrollEvent\"}\n\t]);\n\tif($tw.browser) {\n\t\tthis.requestAnimationFrame = window.requestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\twindow.webkitRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\twindow.mozRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\tfunction(callback) {\n\t\t\t\treturn window.setTimeout(callback, 1000/60);\n\t\t\t};\n\t\tthis.cancelAnimationFrame = window.cancelAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\twindow.webkitCancelAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\twindow.webkitCancelRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\twindow.mozCancelAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\twindow.mozCancelRequestAnimationFrame ||\n\t\t\tfunction(id) {\n\t\t\t\twindow.clearTimeout(id);\n\t\t\t};\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nScrollableWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\nScrollableWidget.prototype.cancelScroll = function() {\n\tif(this.idRequestFrame) {\n\t\tthis.cancelAnimationFrame.call(window,this.idRequestFrame);\n\t\tthis.idRequestFrame = null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a scroll event\n*/\nScrollableWidget.prototype.handleScrollEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Pass the scroll event through if our offsetsize is larger than our scrollsize\n\tif(this.outerDomNode.scrollWidth <= this.outerDomNode.offsetWidth && this.outerDomNode.scrollHeight <= this.outerDomNode.offsetHeight && this.fallthrough === \"yes\") {\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\tthis.scrollIntoView(event.target);\n\treturn false; // Handled event\n};\n\n/*\nScroll an element into view\n*/\nScrollableWidget.prototype.scrollIntoView = function(element) {\n\tvar duration = $tw.utils.getAnimationDuration();\n\tthis.cancelScroll();\n\tthis.startTime = Date.now();\n\tvar scrollPosition = {\n\t\tx: this.outerDomNode.scrollLeft,\n\t\ty: this.outerDomNode.scrollTop\n\t};\n\t// Get the client bounds of the element and adjust by the scroll position\n\tvar scrollableBounds = this.outerDomNode.getBoundingClientRect(),\n\t\tclientTargetBounds = element.getBoundingClientRect(),\n\t\tbounds = {\n\t\t\tleft: clientTargetBounds.left + scrollPosition.x - scrollableBounds.left,\n\t\t\ttop: clientTargetBounds.top + scrollPosition.y - scrollableBounds.top,\n\t\t\twidth: clientTargetBounds.width,\n\t\t\theight: clientTargetBounds.height\n\t\t};\n\t// We'll consider the horizontal and vertical scroll directions separately via this function\n\tvar getEndPos = function(targetPos,targetSize,currentPos,currentSize) {\n\t\t\t// If the target is already visible then stay where we are\n\t\t\tif(targetPos >= currentPos && (targetPos + targetSize) <= (currentPos + currentSize)) {\n\t\t\t\treturn currentPos;\n\t\t\t// If the target is above/left of the current view, then scroll to its top/left\n\t\t\t} else if(targetPos <= currentPos) {\n\t\t\t\treturn targetPos;\n\t\t\t// If the target is smaller than the window and the scroll position is too far up, then scroll till the target is at the bottom of the window\n\t\t\t} else if(targetSize < currentSize && currentPos < (targetPos + targetSize - currentSize)) {\n\t\t\t\treturn targetPos + targetSize - currentSize;\n\t\t\t// If the target is big, then just scroll to the top\n\t\t\t} else if(currentPos < targetPos) {\n\t\t\t\treturn targetPos;\n\t\t\t// Otherwise, stay where we are\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\treturn currentPos;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},\n\t\tendX = getEndPos(bounds.left,bounds.width,scrollPosition.x,this.outerDomNode.offsetWidth),\n\t\tendY = getEndPos(bounds.top,bounds.height,scrollPosition.y,this.outerDomNode.offsetHeight);\n\t// Only scroll if necessary\n\tif(endX !== scrollPosition.x || endY !== scrollPosition.y) {\n\t\tvar self = this,\n\t\t\tdrawFrame;\n\t\tdrawFrame = function () {\n\t\t\tvar t;\n\t\t\tif(duration <= 0) {\n\t\t\t\tt = 1;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tt = ((Date.now()) - self.startTime) / duration;\t\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(t >= 1) {\n\t\t\t\tself.cancelScroll();\n\t\t\t\tt = 1;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tt = $tw.utils.slowInSlowOut(t);\n\t\t\tself.outerDomNode.scrollLeft = scrollPosition.x + (endX - scrollPosition.x) * t;\n\t\t\tself.outerDomNode.scrollTop = scrollPosition.y + (endY - scrollPosition.y) * t;\n\t\t\tif(t < 1) {\n\t\t\t\tself.idRequestFrame = self.requestAnimationFrame.call(window,drawFrame);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t};\n\t\tdrawFrame();\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nScrollableWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// Remember parent\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\t// Compute attributes and execute state\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\t// Create elements\n\tthis.outerDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\t$tw.utils.setStyle(this.outerDomNode,[\n\t\t{overflowY: \"auto\"},\n\t\t{overflowX: \"auto\"},\n\t\t{webkitOverflowScrolling: \"touch\"}\n\t]);\n\tthis.innerDomNode = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\tthis.outerDomNode.appendChild(this.innerDomNode);\n\t// Assign classes\n\tthis.outerDomNode.className = this[\"class\"] || \"\";\n\t// Insert element\n\tparent.insertBefore(this.outerDomNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.renderChildren(this.innerDomNode,null);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(this.outerDomNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nScrollableWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get attributes\n\tthis.fallthrough = this.getAttribute(\"fallthrough\",\"yes\");\n\tthis[\"class\"] = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\t// Make child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nScrollableWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes[\"class\"]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports.scrollable = ScrollableWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/scrollable.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/select.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/select.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nSelect widget:\n\n```\n<$select tiddler=\"MyTiddler\" field=\"text\">\n<$list filter=\"[tag[chapter]]\">\n<option value=<<currentTiddler>>>\n<$view field=\"description\"/>\n</option>\n</$list>\n</$select>\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar SelectWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nSelectWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nSelectWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n\tthis.setSelectValue();\n\t$tw.utils.addEventListeners(this.getSelectDomNode(),[\n\t\t{name: \"change\", handlerObject: this, handlerMethod: \"handleChangeEvent\"}\n\t]);\n};\n\n/*\nHandle a change event\n*/\nSelectWidget.prototype.handleChangeEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Get the new value and assign it to the tiddler\n\tif(this.selectMultiple == false) {\n\t\tvar value = this.getSelectDomNode().value;\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar value = this.getSelectValues()\n\t\t\t\tvalue = $tw.utils.stringifyList(value);\n\t}\n\tthis.wiki.setText(this.selectTitle,this.selectField,this.selectIndex,value);\n\t// Trigger actions\n\tif(this.selectActions) {\n\t\tthis.invokeActionString(this.selectActions,this,event);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nIf necessary, set the value of the select element to the current value\n*/\nSelectWidget.prototype.setSelectValue = function() {\n\tvar value = this.selectDefault;\n\t// Get the value\n\tif(this.selectIndex) {\n\t\tvalue = this.wiki.extractTiddlerDataItem(this.selectTitle,this.selectIndex);\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.selectTitle);\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\tif(this.selectField === \"text\") {\n\t\t\t\t// Calling getTiddlerText() triggers lazy loading of skinny tiddlers\n\t\t\t\tvalue = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.selectTitle);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(tiddler.fields,this.selectField)) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvalue = tiddler.getFieldString(this.selectField);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tif(this.selectField === \"title\") {\n\t\t\t\tvalue = this.selectTitle;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Assign it to the select element if it's different than the current value\n\tif (this.selectMultiple) {\n\t\tvalue = value === undefined ? \"\" : value;\n\t\tvar select = this.getSelectDomNode();\n\t\tvar values = Array.isArray(value) ? value : $tw.utils.parseStringArray(value);\n\t\tfor(var i=0; i < select.children.length; i++){\n\t\t\tif(values.indexOf(select.children[i].value) != -1) {\n\t\t\t\tselect.children[i].selected = true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar domNode = this.getSelectDomNode();\n\t\tif(domNode.value !== value) {\n\t\t\tdomNode.value = value;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGet the DOM node of the select element\n*/\nSelectWidget.prototype.getSelectDomNode = function() {\n\treturn this.children[0].domNodes[0];\n};\n\n// Return an array of the selected opion values\n// select is an HTML select element\nSelectWidget.prototype.getSelectValues = function() {\n\tvar select, result, options, opt;\n\tselect = this.getSelectDomNode();\n\tresult = [];\n\toptions = select && select.options;\n\tfor (var i=0; i<options.length; i++) {\n\t\topt = options[i];\n\t\tif (opt.selected) {\n\t\t\tresult.push(opt.value || opt.text);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n}\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nSelectWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.selectActions = this.getAttribute(\"actions\");\n\tthis.selectTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.selectField = this.getAttribute(\"field\",\"text\");\n\tthis.selectIndex = this.getAttribute(\"index\");\n\tthis.selectClass = this.getAttribute(\"class\");\n\tthis.selectDefault = this.getAttribute(\"default\");\n\tthis.selectMultiple = this.getAttribute(\"multiple\", false);\n\tthis.selectSize = this.getAttribute(\"size\");\n\t// Make the child widgets\n\tvar selectNode = {\n\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\ttag: \"select\",\n\t\tchildren: this.parseTreeNode.children\n\t};\n\tif(this.selectClass) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(selectNode,\"class\",this.selectClass);\n\t}\n\tif(this.selectMultiple) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(selectNode,\"multiple\",\"multiple\");\n\t}\n\tif(this.selectSize) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.addAttributeToParseTreeNode(selectNode,\"size\",this.selectSize);\n\t}\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets([selectNode]);\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nSelectWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\t// If we're using a different tiddler/field/index then completely refresh ourselves\n\tif(changedAttributes.selectTitle || changedAttributes.selectField || changedAttributes.selectIndex) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t// If the target tiddler value has changed, just update setting and refresh the children\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar childrenRefreshed = this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n\t\tif(changedTiddlers[this.selectTitle] || childrenRefreshed) {\n\t\t\tthis.setSelectValue();\n\t\t} \n\t\treturn childrenRefreshed;\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.select = SelectWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/select.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/set.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/set.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nSet variable widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar SetWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nSetWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nSetWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nSetWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.setName = this.getAttribute(\"name\",\"currentTiddler\");\n\tthis.setFilter = this.getAttribute(\"filter\");\n\tthis.setValue = this.getAttribute(\"value\");\n\tthis.setEmptyValue = this.getAttribute(\"emptyValue\");\n\t// Set context variable\n\tthis.setVariable(this.setName,this.getValue(),this.parseTreeNode.params);\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nGet the value to be assigned\n*/\nSetWidget.prototype.getValue = function() {\n\tvar value = this.setValue;\n\tif(this.setFilter) {\n\t\tvar results = this.wiki.filterTiddlers(this.setFilter,this);\n\t\tif(!this.setValue) {\n\t\t\tvalue = $tw.utils.stringifyList(results);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(results.length === 0 && this.setEmptyValue !== undefined) {\n\t\t\tvalue = this.setEmptyValue;\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(!value && this.setEmptyValue) {\n\t\tvalue = this.setEmptyValue;\n\t}\n\treturn value;\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nSetWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.name || changedAttributes.filter || changedAttributes.value || changedAttributes.emptyValue ||\n\t (this.setFilter && this.getValue() != this.variables[this.setName].value)) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.setvariable = SetWidget;\nexports.set = SetWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/set.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/text.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/text.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nText node widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar TextNodeWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nTextNodeWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nTextNodeWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tvar text = this.getAttribute(\"text\",this.parseTreeNode.text || \"\");\n\ttext = text.replace(/\\r/mg,\"\");\n\tvar textNode = this.document.createTextNode(text);\n\tparent.insertBefore(textNode,nextSibling);\n\tthis.domNodes.push(textNode);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nTextNodeWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Nothing to do for a text node\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nTextNodeWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.text) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.text = TextNodeWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/text.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/tiddler.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/tiddler.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nTiddler widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar TiddlerWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nTiddlerWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nTiddlerWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nTiddlerWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.tiddlerState = this.computeTiddlerState();\n\tthis.setVariable(\"currentTiddler\",this.tiddlerState.currentTiddler);\n\tthis.setVariable(\"missingTiddlerClass\",this.tiddlerState.missingTiddlerClass);\n\tthis.setVariable(\"shadowTiddlerClass\",this.tiddlerState.shadowTiddlerClass);\n\tthis.setVariable(\"systemTiddlerClass\",this.tiddlerState.systemTiddlerClass);\n\tthis.setVariable(\"tiddlerTagClasses\",this.tiddlerState.tiddlerTagClasses);\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the tiddler state flags\n*/\nTiddlerWidget.prototype.computeTiddlerState = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.tiddlerTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\t// Compute the state\n\tvar state = {\n\t\tcurrentTiddler: this.tiddlerTitle || \"\",\n\t\tmissingTiddlerClass: (this.wiki.tiddlerExists(this.tiddlerTitle) || this.wiki.isShadowTiddler(this.tiddlerTitle)) ? \"tc-tiddler-exists\" : \"tc-tiddler-missing\",\n\t\tshadowTiddlerClass: this.wiki.isShadowTiddler(this.tiddlerTitle) ? \"tc-tiddler-shadow\" : \"\",\n\t\tsystemTiddlerClass: this.wiki.isSystemTiddler(this.tiddlerTitle) ? \"tc-tiddler-system\" : \"\",\n\t\ttiddlerTagClasses: this.getTagClasses()\n\t};\n\t// Compute a simple hash to make it easier to detect changes\n\tstate.hash = state.currentTiddler + state.missingTiddlerClass + state.shadowTiddlerClass + state.systemTiddlerClass + state.tiddlerTagClasses;\n\treturn state;\n};\n\n/*\nCreate a string of CSS classes derived from the tags of the current tiddler\n*/\nTiddlerWidget.prototype.getTagClasses = function() {\n\tvar tiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.tiddlerTitle);\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\tvar tags = [];\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddler.fields.tags,function(tag) {\n\t\t\ttags.push(\"tc-tagged-\" + encodeURIComponent(tag));\n\t\t});\n\t\treturn tags.join(\" \");\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn \"\";\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nTiddlerWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes(),\n\t\tnewTiddlerState = this.computeTiddlerState();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || newTiddlerState.hash !== this.tiddlerState.hash) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.tiddler = TiddlerWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/tiddler.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/transclude.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/transclude.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nTransclude widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar TranscludeWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nTranscludeWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nTranscludeWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nTranscludeWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.transcludeTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.transcludeSubTiddler = this.getAttribute(\"subtiddler\");\n\tthis.transcludeField = this.getAttribute(\"field\");\n\tthis.transcludeIndex = this.getAttribute(\"index\");\n\tthis.transcludeMode = this.getAttribute(\"mode\");\n\t// Parse the text reference\n\tvar parseAsInline = !this.parseTreeNode.isBlock;\n\tif(this.transcludeMode === \"inline\") {\n\t\tparseAsInline = true;\n\t} else if(this.transcludeMode === \"block\") {\n\t\tparseAsInline = false;\n\t}\n\tvar parser = this.wiki.parseTextReference(\n\t\t\t\t\t\tthis.transcludeTitle,\n\t\t\t\t\t\tthis.transcludeField,\n\t\t\t\t\t\tthis.transcludeIndex,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t{\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tparseAsInline: parseAsInline,\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tsubTiddler: this.transcludeSubTiddler\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}),\n\t\tparseTreeNodes = parser ? parser.tree : this.parseTreeNode.children;\n\t// Set context variables for recursion detection\n\tvar recursionMarker = this.makeRecursionMarker();\n\tthis.setVariable(\"transclusion\",recursionMarker);\n\t// Check for recursion\n\tif(parser) {\n\t\tif(this.parentWidget && this.parentWidget.hasVariable(\"transclusion\",recursionMarker)) {\n\t\t\tparseTreeNodes = [{type: \"element\", tag: \"span\", attributes: {\n\t\t\t\t\"class\": {type: \"string\", value: \"tc-error\"}\n\t\t\t}, children: [\n\t\t\t\t{type: \"text\", text: $tw.language.getString(\"Error/RecursiveTransclusion\")}\n\t\t\t]}];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets(parseTreeNodes);\n};\n\n/*\nCompose a string comprising the title, field and/or index to identify this transclusion for recursion detection\n*/\nTranscludeWidget.prototype.makeRecursionMarker = function() {\n\tvar output = [];\n\toutput.push(\"{\");\n\toutput.push(this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\",{defaultValue: \"\"}));\n\toutput.push(\"|\");\n\toutput.push(this.transcludeTitle || \"\");\n\toutput.push(\"|\");\n\toutput.push(this.transcludeField || \"\");\n\toutput.push(\"|\");\n\toutput.push(this.transcludeIndex || \"\");\n\toutput.push(\"|\");\n\toutput.push(this.transcludeSubTiddler || \"\");\n\toutput.push(\"}\");\n\treturn output.join(\"\");\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nTranscludeWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.field || changedAttributes.index || changedTiddlers[this.transcludeTitle]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\t\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.transclude = TranscludeWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/transclude.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/vars.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/vars.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nThis widget allows multiple variables to be set in one go:\n\n```\n\\define helloworld() Hello world!\n<$vars greeting=\"Hi\" me={{!!title}} sentence=<<helloworld>>>\n <<greeting>>! I am <<me>> and I say: <<sentence>>\n</$vars>\n```\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar VarsWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\t// Call the constructor\n\tWidget.call(this);\n\t// Initialise\t\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nVarsWidget.prototype = Object.create(Widget.prototype);\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nVarsWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nVarsWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Parse variables\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.attributes,function(val,key) {\n\t\tif(key.charAt(0) !== \"$\") {\n\t\t\tself.setVariable(key,val);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh the widget by ensuring our attributes are up to date\n*/\nVarsWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(Object.keys(changedAttributes).length) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t}\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports[\"vars\"] = VarsWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/vars.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/view.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/view.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nView widget\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar ViewWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nViewWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nViewWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tif(this.text) {\n\t\tvar textNode = this.document.createTextNode(this.text);\n\t\tparent.insertBefore(textNode,nextSibling);\n\t\tthis.domNodes.push(textNode);\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n\t\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nViewWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get parameters from our attributes\n\tthis.viewTitle = this.getAttribute(\"tiddler\",this.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\tthis.viewSubtiddler = this.getAttribute(\"subtiddler\");\n\tthis.viewField = this.getAttribute(\"field\",\"text\");\n\tthis.viewIndex = this.getAttribute(\"index\");\n\tthis.viewFormat = this.getAttribute(\"format\",\"text\");\n\tthis.viewTemplate = this.getAttribute(\"template\",\"\");\n\tswitch(this.viewFormat) {\n\t\tcase \"htmlwikified\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsHtmlWikified();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"plainwikified\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsPlainWikified();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"htmlencodedplainwikified\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsHtmlEncodedPlainWikified();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"htmlencoded\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsHtmlEncoded();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"urlencoded\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsUrlEncoded();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"doubleurlencoded\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsDoubleUrlEncoded();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"date\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsDate(this.viewTemplate);\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"relativedate\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsRelativeDate();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"stripcomments\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsStrippedComments();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"jsencoded\":\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsJsEncoded();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tdefault: // \"text\"\n\t\t\tthis.text = this.getValueAsText();\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nThe various formatter functions are baked into this widget for the moment. Eventually they will be replaced by macro functions\n*/\n\n/*\nRetrieve the value of the widget. Options are:\nasString: Optionally return the value as a string\n*/\nViewWidget.prototype.getValue = function(options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar value = options.asString ? \"\" : undefined;\n\tif(this.viewIndex) {\n\t\tvalue = this.wiki.extractTiddlerDataItem(this.viewTitle,this.viewIndex);\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar tiddler;\n\t\tif(this.viewSubtiddler) {\n\t\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getSubTiddler(this.viewTitle,this.viewSubtiddler);\t\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\ttiddler = this.wiki.getTiddler(this.viewTitle);\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\tif(this.viewField === \"text\" && !this.viewSubtiddler) {\n\t\t\t\t// Calling getTiddlerText() triggers lazy loading of skinny tiddlers\n\t\t\t\tvalue = this.wiki.getTiddlerText(this.viewTitle);\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(tiddler.fields,this.viewField)) {\n\t\t\t\t\tif(options.asString) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue = tiddler.getFieldString(this.viewField);\n\t\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue = tiddler.fields[this.viewField];\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tif(this.viewField === \"title\") {\n\t\t\t\tvalue = this.viewTitle;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn value;\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsText = function() {\n\treturn this.getValue({asString: true});\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsHtmlWikified = function() {\n\treturn this.wiki.renderText(\"text/html\",\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",this.getValueAsText(),{parentWidget: this});\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsPlainWikified = function() {\n\treturn this.wiki.renderText(\"text/plain\",\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",this.getValueAsText(),{parentWidget: this});\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsHtmlEncodedPlainWikified = function() {\n\treturn $tw.utils.htmlEncode(this.wiki.renderText(\"text/plain\",\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",this.getValueAsText(),{parentWidget: this}));\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsHtmlEncoded = function() {\n\treturn $tw.utils.htmlEncode(this.getValueAsText());\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsUrlEncoded = function() {\n\treturn encodeURIComponent(this.getValueAsText());\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsDoubleUrlEncoded = function() {\n\treturn encodeURIComponent(encodeURIComponent(this.getValueAsText()));\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsDate = function(format) {\n\tformat = format || \"YYYY MM DD 0hh:0mm\";\n\tvar value = $tw.utils.parseDate(this.getValue());\n\tif(value && $tw.utils.isDate(value) && value.toString() !== \"Invalid Date\") {\n\t\treturn $tw.utils.formatDateString(value,format);\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn \"\";\n\t}\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsRelativeDate = function(format) {\n\tvar value = $tw.utils.parseDate(this.getValue());\n\tif(value && $tw.utils.isDate(value) && value.toString() !== \"Invalid Date\") {\n\t\treturn $tw.utils.getRelativeDate((new Date()) - (new Date(value))).description;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn \"\";\n\t}\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsStrippedComments = function() {\n\tvar lines = this.getValueAsText().split(\"\\n\"),\n\t\tout = [];\n\tfor(var line=0; line<lines.length; line++) {\n\t\tvar text = lines[line];\n\t\tif(!/^\\s*\\/\\/#/.test(text)) {\n\t\t\tout.push(text);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn out.join(\"\\n\");\n};\n\nViewWidget.prototype.getValueAsJsEncoded = function() {\n\treturn $tw.utils.stringify(this.getValueAsText());\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nViewWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\tif(changedAttributes.tiddler || changedAttributes.field || changedAttributes.index || changedAttributes.template || changedAttributes.format || changedTiddlers[this.viewTitle]) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn false;\t\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.view = ViewWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/view.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nWidget base class\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nCreate a widget object for a parse tree node\n\tparseTreeNode: reference to the parse tree node to be rendered\n\toptions: see below\nOptions include:\n\twiki: mandatory reference to wiki associated with this render tree\n\tparentWidget: optional reference to a parent renderer node for the context chain\n\tdocument: optional document object to use instead of global document\n*/\nvar Widget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tif(arguments.length > 0) {\n\t\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nInitialise widget properties. These steps are pulled out of the constructor so that we can reuse them in subclasses\n*/\nWidget.prototype.initialise = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\t// Save widget info\n\tthis.parseTreeNode = parseTreeNode;\n\tthis.wiki = options.wiki;\n\tthis.parentWidget = options.parentWidget;\n\tthis.variablesConstructor = function() {};\n\tthis.variablesConstructor.prototype = this.parentWidget ? this.parentWidget.variables : {};\n\tthis.variables = new this.variablesConstructor();\n\tthis.document = options.document;\n\tthis.attributes = {};\n\tthis.children = [];\n\tthis.domNodes = [];\n\tthis.eventListeners = {};\n\t// Hashmap of the widget classes\n\tif(!this.widgetClasses) {\n\t\tWidget.prototype.widgetClasses = $tw.modules.applyMethods(\"widget\");\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nSet the value of a context variable\nname: name of the variable\nvalue: value of the variable\nparams: array of {name:, default:} for each parameter\n*/\nWidget.prototype.setVariable = function(name,value,params) {\n\tthis.variables[name] = {value: value, params: params};\n};\n\n/*\nGet the prevailing value of a context variable\nname: name of variable\noptions: see below\nOptions include\nparams: array of {name:, value:} for each parameter\ndefaultValue: default value if the variable is not defined\n*/\nWidget.prototype.getVariable = function(name,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar actualParams = options.params || [],\n\t\tparentWidget = this.parentWidget;\n\t// Check for the variable defined in the parent widget (or an ancestor in the prototype chain)\n\tif(parentWidget && name in parentWidget.variables) {\n\t\tvar variable = parentWidget.variables[name],\n\t\t\tvalue = variable.value;\n\t\t// Substitute any parameters specified in the definition\n\t\tvalue = this.substituteVariableParameters(value,variable.params,actualParams);\n\t\tvalue = this.substituteVariableReferences(value);\n\t\treturn value;\n\t}\n\t// If the variable doesn't exist in the parent widget then look for a macro module\n\treturn this.evaluateMacroModule(name,actualParams,options.defaultValue);\n};\n\nWidget.prototype.substituteVariableParameters = function(text,formalParams,actualParams) {\n\tif(formalParams) {\n\t\tvar nextAnonParameter = 0, // Next candidate anonymous parameter in macro call\n\t\t\tparamInfo, paramValue;\n\t\t// Step through each of the parameters in the macro definition\n\t\tfor(var p=0; p<formalParams.length; p++) {\n\t\t\t// Check if we've got a macro call parameter with the same name\n\t\t\tparamInfo = formalParams[p];\n\t\t\tparamValue = undefined;\n\t\t\tfor(var m=0; m<actualParams.length; m++) {\n\t\t\t\tif(actualParams[m].name === paramInfo.name) {\n\t\t\t\t\tparamValue = actualParams[m].value;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// If not, use the next available anonymous macro call parameter\n\t\t\twhile(nextAnonParameter < actualParams.length && actualParams[nextAnonParameter].name) {\n\t\t\t\tnextAnonParameter++;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(paramValue === undefined && nextAnonParameter < actualParams.length) {\n\t\t\t\tparamValue = actualParams[nextAnonParameter++].value;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t// If we've still not got a value, use the default, if any\n\t\t\tparamValue = paramValue || paramInfo[\"default\"] || \"\";\n\t\t\t// Replace any instances of this parameter\n\t\t\ttext = text.replace(new RegExp(\"\\\\$\" + $tw.utils.escapeRegExp(paramInfo.name) + \"\\\\$\",\"mg\"),paramValue);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn text;\n};\n\nWidget.prototype.substituteVariableReferences = function(text) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\treturn (text || \"\").replace(/\\$\\(([^\\)\\$]+)\\)\\$/g,function(match,p1,offset,string) {\n\t\treturn self.getVariable(p1,{defaultValue: \"\"});\n\t});\n};\n\nWidget.prototype.evaluateMacroModule = function(name,actualParams,defaultValue) {\n\tif($tw.utils.hop($tw.macros,name)) {\n\t\tvar macro = $tw.macros[name],\n\t\t\targs = [];\n\t\tif(macro.params.length > 0) {\n\t\t\tvar nextAnonParameter = 0, // Next candidate anonymous parameter in macro call\n\t\t\t\tparamInfo, paramValue;\n\t\t\t// Step through each of the parameters in the macro definition\n\t\t\tfor(var p=0; p<macro.params.length; p++) {\n\t\t\t\t// Check if we've got a macro call parameter with the same name\n\t\t\t\tparamInfo = macro.params[p];\n\t\t\t\tparamValue = undefined;\n\t\t\t\tfor(var m=0; m<actualParams.length; m++) {\n\t\t\t\t\tif(actualParams[m].name === paramInfo.name) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tparamValue = actualParams[m].value;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// If not, use the next available anonymous macro call parameter\n\t\t\t\twhile(nextAnonParameter < actualParams.length && actualParams[nextAnonParameter].name) {\n\t\t\t\t\tnextAnonParameter++;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(paramValue === undefined && nextAnonParameter < actualParams.length) {\n\t\t\t\t\tparamValue = actualParams[nextAnonParameter++].value;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t// If we've still not got a value, use the default, if any\n\t\t\t\tparamValue = paramValue || paramInfo[\"default\"] || \"\";\n\t\t\t\t// Save the parameter\n\t\t\t\targs.push(paramValue);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\telse for(var i=0; i<actualParams.length; ++i) {\n\t\t\targs.push(actualParams[i].value);\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn (macro.run.apply(this,args) || \"\").toString();\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn defaultValue;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCheck whether a given context variable value exists in the parent chain\n*/\nWidget.prototype.hasVariable = function(name,value) {\n\tvar node = this;\n\twhile(node) {\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(node.variables,name) && node.variables[name].value === value) {\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tnode = node.parentWidget;\n\t}\n\treturn false;\n};\n\n/*\nConstruct a qualifying string based on a hash of concatenating the values of a given variable in the parent chain\n*/\nWidget.prototype.getStateQualifier = function(name) {\n\tthis.qualifiers = this.qualifiers || Object.create(null);\n\tname = name || \"transclusion\";\n\tif(this.qualifiers[name]) {\n\t\treturn this.qualifiers[name];\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar output = [],\n\t\t\tnode = this;\n\t\twhile(node && node.parentWidget) {\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(node.parentWidget.variables,name)) {\n\t\t\t\toutput.push(node.getVariable(name));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tnode = node.parentWidget;\n\t\t}\n\t\tvar value = $tw.utils.hashString(output.join(\"\"));\n\t\tthis.qualifiers[name] = value;\n\t\treturn value;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the current values of the attributes of the widget. Returns a hashmap of the names of the attributes that have changed\n*/\nWidget.prototype.computeAttributes = function() {\n\tvar changedAttributes = {},\n\t\tself = this,\n\t\tvalue;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.parseTreeNode.attributes,function(attribute,name) {\n\t\tif(attribute.type === \"indirect\") {\n\t\t\tvalue = self.wiki.getTextReference(attribute.textReference,\"\",self.getVariable(\"currentTiddler\"));\n\t\t} else if(attribute.type === \"macro\") {\n\t\t\tvalue = self.getVariable(attribute.value.name,{params: attribute.value.params});\n\t\t} else { // String attribute\n\t\t\tvalue = attribute.value;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Check whether the attribute has changed\n\t\tif(self.attributes[name] !== value) {\n\t\t\tself.attributes[name] = value;\n\t\t\tchangedAttributes[name] = true;\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn changedAttributes;\n};\n\n/*\nCheck for the presence of an attribute\n*/\nWidget.prototype.hasAttribute = function(name) {\n\treturn $tw.utils.hop(this.attributes,name);\n};\n\n/*\nGet the value of an attribute\n*/\nWidget.prototype.getAttribute = function(name,defaultText) {\n\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.attributes,name)) {\n\t\treturn this.attributes[name];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn defaultText;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nAssign the computed attributes of the widget to a domNode\noptions include:\nexcludeEventAttributes: ignores attributes whose name begins with \"on\"\n*/\nWidget.prototype.assignAttributes = function(domNode,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.attributes,function(v,a) {\n\t\t// Check exclusions\n\t\tif(options.excludeEventAttributes && a.substr(0,2) === \"on\") {\n\t\t\tv = undefined;\n\t\t}\n\t\tif(v !== undefined) {\n\t\t\tvar b = a.split(\":\");\n\t\t\t// Setting certain attributes can cause a DOM error (eg xmlns on the svg element)\n\t\t\ttry {\n\t\t\t\tif (b.length == 2 && b[0] == \"xlink\"){\n\t\t\t\t\tdomNode.setAttributeNS(\"http://www.w3.org/1999/xlink\",b[1],v);\n\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\tdomNode.setAttributeNS(null,a,v);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t} catch(e) {\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nMake child widgets correspondng to specified parseTreeNodes\n*/\nWidget.prototype.makeChildWidgets = function(parseTreeNodes) {\n\tthis.children = [];\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(parseTreeNodes || (this.parseTreeNode && this.parseTreeNode.children),function(childNode) {\n\t\tself.children.push(self.makeChildWidget(childNode));\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nConstruct the widget object for a parse tree node\n*/\nWidget.prototype.makeChildWidget = function(parseTreeNode) {\n\tvar WidgetClass = this.widgetClasses[parseTreeNode.type];\n\tif(!WidgetClass) {\n\t\tWidgetClass = this.widgetClasses.text;\n\t\tparseTreeNode = {type: \"text\", text: \"Undefined widget '\" + parseTreeNode.type + \"'\"};\n\t}\n\treturn new WidgetClass(parseTreeNode,{\n\t\twiki: this.wiki,\n\t\tvariables: {},\n\t\tparentWidget: this,\n\t\tdocument: this.document\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nGet the next sibling of this widget\n*/\nWidget.prototype.nextSibling = function() {\n\tif(this.parentWidget) {\n\t\tvar index = this.parentWidget.children.indexOf(this);\n\t\tif(index !== -1 && index < this.parentWidget.children.length-1) {\n\t\t\treturn this.parentWidget.children[index+1];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nGet the previous sibling of this widget\n*/\nWidget.prototype.previousSibling = function() {\n\tif(this.parentWidget) {\n\t\tvar index = this.parentWidget.children.indexOf(this);\n\t\tif(index !== -1 && index > 0) {\n\t\t\treturn this.parentWidget.children[index-1];\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nRender the children of this widget into the DOM\n*/\nWidget.prototype.renderChildren = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(childWidget) {\n\t\tchildWidget.render(parent,nextSibling);\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nAdd a list of event listeners from an array [{type:,handler:},...]\n*/\nWidget.prototype.addEventListeners = function(listeners) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.utils.each(listeners,function(listenerInfo) {\n\t\tself.addEventListener(listenerInfo.type,listenerInfo.handler);\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nAdd an event listener\n*/\nWidget.prototype.addEventListener = function(type,handler) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(typeof handler === \"string\") { // The handler is a method name on this widget\n\t\tthis.eventListeners[type] = function(event) {\n\t\t\treturn self[handler].call(self,event);\n\t\t};\n\t} else { // The handler is a function\n\t\tthis.eventListeners[type] = function(event) {\n\t\t\treturn handler.call(self,event);\n\t\t};\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nDispatch an event to a widget. If the widget doesn't handle the event then it is also dispatched to the parent widget\n*/\nWidget.prototype.dispatchEvent = function(event) {\n\t// Dispatch the event if this widget handles it\n\tvar listener = this.eventListeners[event.type];\n\tif(listener) {\n\t\t// Don't propagate the event if the listener returned false\n\t\tif(!listener(event)) {\n\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Dispatch the event to the parent widget\n\tif(this.parentWidget) {\n\t\treturn this.parentWidget.dispatchEvent(event);\n\t}\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nRebuild a previously rendered widget\n*/\nWidget.prototype.refreshSelf = function() {\n\tvar nextSibling = this.findNextSiblingDomNode();\n\tthis.removeChildDomNodes();\n\tthis.render(this.parentDomNode,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nRefresh all the children of a widget\n*/\nWidget.prototype.refreshChildren = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\trefreshed = false;\n\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(childWidget) {\n\t\trefreshed = childWidget.refresh(changedTiddlers) || refreshed;\n\t});\n\treturn refreshed;\n};\n\n/*\nFind the next sibling in the DOM to this widget. This is done by scanning the widget tree through all next siblings and their descendents that share the same parent DOM node\n*/\nWidget.prototype.findNextSiblingDomNode = function(startIndex) {\n\t// Refer to this widget by its index within its parents children\n\tvar parent = this.parentWidget,\n\t\tindex = startIndex !== undefined ? startIndex : parent.children.indexOf(this);\nif(index === -1) {\n\tthrow \"node not found in parents children\";\n}\n\t// Look for a DOM node in the later siblings\n\twhile(++index < parent.children.length) {\n\t\tvar domNode = parent.children[index].findFirstDomNode();\n\t\tif(domNode) {\n\t\t\treturn domNode;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Go back and look for later siblings of our parent if it has the same parent dom node\n\tvar grandParent = parent.parentWidget;\n\tif(grandParent && parent.parentDomNode === this.parentDomNode) {\n\t\tindex = grandParent.children.indexOf(parent);\n\t\tif(index !== -1) {\n\t\t\treturn parent.findNextSiblingDomNode(index);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nFind the first DOM node generated by a widget or its children\n*/\nWidget.prototype.findFirstDomNode = function() {\n\t// Return the first dom node of this widget, if we've got one\n\tif(this.domNodes.length > 0) {\n\t\treturn this.domNodes[0];\n\t}\n\t// Otherwise, recursively call our children\n\tfor(var t=0; t<this.children.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar domNode = this.children[t].findFirstDomNode();\n\t\tif(domNode) {\n\t\t\treturn domNode;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nRemove any DOM nodes created by this widget or its children\n*/\nWidget.prototype.removeChildDomNodes = function() {\n\t// If this widget has directly created DOM nodes, delete them and exit. This assumes that any child widgets are contained within the created DOM nodes, which would normally be the case\n\tif(this.domNodes.length > 0) {\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.domNodes,function(domNode) {\n\t\t\tdomNode.parentNode.removeChild(domNode);\n\t\t});\n\t\tthis.domNodes = [];\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Otherwise, ask the child widgets to delete their DOM nodes\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(childWidget) {\n\t\t\tchildWidget.removeChildDomNodes();\n\t\t});\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the action widgets that are descendents of the current widget.\n*/\nWidget.prototype.invokeActions = function(triggeringWidget,event) {\n\tvar handled = false;\n\t// For each child widget\n\tfor(var t=0; t<this.children.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar child = this.children[t];\n\t\t// Invoke the child if it is an action widget\n\t\tif(child.invokeAction && child.invokeAction(triggeringWidget,event)) {\n\t\t\thandled = true;\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Propagate through through the child if it permits it\n\t\tif(child.allowActionPropagation() && child.invokeActions(triggeringWidget,event)) {\n\t\t\thandled = true;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn handled;\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the action widgets defined in a string\n*/\nWidget.prototype.invokeActionString = function(actions,triggeringWidget,event) {\n\tactions = actions || \"\";\n\tvar parser = this.wiki.parseText(\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",actions,{\n\t\t\tparentWidget: this,\n\t\t\tdocument: this.document\n\t\t}),\n\t\twidgetNode = this.wiki.makeWidget(parser,{\n\t\t\tparentWidget: this,\n\t\t\tdocument: this.document\n\t\t});\n\tvar container = this.document.createElement(\"div\");\n\twidgetNode.render(container,null);\n\treturn widgetNode.invokeActions(this,event);\n};\n\nWidget.prototype.allowActionPropagation = function() {\n\treturn true;\n};\n\nexports.widget = Widget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/widgets/wikify.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/widgets/wikify.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: widget\n\nWidget to wikify text into a variable\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar Widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\").widget;\n\nvar WikifyWidget = function(parseTreeNode,options) {\n\tthis.initialise(parseTreeNode,options);\n};\n\n/*\nInherit from the base widget class\n*/\nWikifyWidget.prototype = new Widget();\n\n/*\nRender this widget into the DOM\n*/\nWikifyWidget.prototype.render = function(parent,nextSibling) {\n\tthis.parentDomNode = parent;\n\tthis.computeAttributes();\n\tthis.execute();\n\tthis.renderChildren(parent,nextSibling);\n};\n\n/*\nCompute the internal state of the widget\n*/\nWikifyWidget.prototype.execute = function() {\n\t// Get our parameters\n\tthis.wikifyName = this.getAttribute(\"name\");\n\tthis.wikifyText = this.getAttribute(\"text\");\n\tthis.wikifyType = this.getAttribute(\"type\");\n\tthis.wikifyMode = this.getAttribute(\"mode\",\"block\");\n\tthis.wikifyOutput = this.getAttribute(\"output\",\"text\");\n\t// Create the parse tree\n\tthis.wikifyParser = this.wiki.parseText(this.wikifyType,this.wikifyText,{\n\t\t\tparseAsInline: this.wikifyMode === \"inline\"\n\t\t});\n\t// Create the widget tree \n\tthis.wikifyWidgetNode = this.wiki.makeWidget(this.wikifyParser,{\n\t\t\tdocument: $tw.fakeDocument,\n\t\t\tparentWidget: this\n\t\t});\n\t// Render the widget tree to the container\n\tthis.wikifyContainer = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"div\");\n\tthis.wikifyWidgetNode.render(this.wikifyContainer,null);\n\tthis.wikifyResult = this.getResult();\n\t// Set context variable\n\tthis.setVariable(this.wikifyName,this.wikifyResult);\n\t// Construct the child widgets\n\tthis.makeChildWidgets();\n};\n\n/*\nReturn the result string\n*/\nWikifyWidget.prototype.getResult = function() {\n\tvar result;\n\tswitch(this.wikifyOutput) {\n\t\tcase \"text\":\n\t\t\tresult = this.wikifyContainer.textContent;\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"html\":\n\t\t\tresult = this.wikifyContainer.innerHTML;\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"parsetree\":\n\t\t\tresult = JSON.stringify(this.wikifyParser.tree,0,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces);\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\tcase \"widgettree\":\n\t\t\tresult = JSON.stringify(this.getWidgetTree(),0,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces);\n\t\t\tbreak;\n\t}\n\treturn result;\n};\n\n/*\nReturn a string of the widget tree\n*/\nWikifyWidget.prototype.getWidgetTree = function() {\n\tvar copyNode = function(widgetNode,resultNode) {\n\t\t\tvar type = widgetNode.parseTreeNode.type;\n\t\t\tresultNode.type = type;\n\t\t\tswitch(type) {\n\t\t\t\tcase \"element\":\n\t\t\t\t\tresultNode.tag = widgetNode.parseTreeNode.tag;\n\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\n\t\t\t\tcase \"text\":\n\t\t\t\t\tresultNode.text = widgetNode.parseTreeNode.text;\n\t\t\t\t\tbreak;\t\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(Object.keys(widgetNode.attributes || {}).length > 0) {\n\t\t\t\tresultNode.attributes = {};\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(widgetNode.attributes,function(attr,attrName) {\n\t\t\t\t\tresultNode.attributes[attrName] = widgetNode.getAttribute(attrName);\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(Object.keys(widgetNode.children || {}).length > 0) {\n\t\t\t\tresultNode.children = [];\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(widgetNode.children,function(widgetChildNode) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar node = {};\n\t\t\t\t\tresultNode.children.push(node);\n\t\t\t\t\tcopyNode(widgetChildNode,node);\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t},\n\t\tresults = {};\n\tcopyNode(this.wikifyWidgetNode,results);\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n/*\nSelectively refreshes the widget if needed. Returns true if the widget or any of its children needed re-rendering\n*/\nWikifyWidget.prototype.refresh = function(changedTiddlers) {\n\tvar changedAttributes = this.computeAttributes();\n\t// Refresh ourselves entirely if any of our attributes have changed\n\tif(changedAttributes.name || changedAttributes.text || changedAttributes.type || changedAttributes.mode || changedAttributes.output) {\n\t\tthis.refreshSelf();\n\t\treturn true;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Refresh the widget tree\n\t\tif(this.wikifyWidgetNode.refresh(changedTiddlers)) {\n\t\t\t// Check if there was any change\n\t\t\tvar result = this.getResult();\n\t\t\tif(result !== this.wikifyResult) {\n\t\t\t\t// If so, save the change\n\t\t\t\tthis.wikifyResult = result;\n\t\t\t\tthis.setVariable(this.wikifyName,this.wikifyResult);\n\t\t\t\t// Refresh each of our child widgets\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(this.children,function(childWidget) {\n\t\t\t\t\tchildWidget.refreshSelf();\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Just refresh the children\n\t\treturn this.refreshChildren(changedTiddlers);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.wikify = WikifyWidget;\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/widgets/wikify.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "widget"
},
"$:/core/modules/wiki-bulkops.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/wiki-bulkops.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikimethod\n\nBulk tiddler operations such as rename.\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\n/*\nRename a tiddler, and relink any tags or lists that reference it.\n*/\nexports.renameTiddler = function(fromTitle,toTitle) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tfromTitle = (fromTitle || \"\").trim();\n\ttoTitle = (toTitle || \"\").trim();\n\tif(fromTitle && toTitle && fromTitle !== toTitle) {\n\t\t// Rename the tiddler itself\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(fromTitle);\n\t\tthis.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,{title: toTitle},this.getModificationFields()));\n\t\tthis.deleteTiddler(fromTitle);\n\t\t// Rename any tags or lists that reference it\n\t\tthis.each(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tvar tags = (tiddler.fields.tags || []).slice(0),\n\t\t\t\tlist = (tiddler.fields.list || []).slice(0),\n\t\t\t\tisModified = false;\n\t\t\t// Rename tags\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(tags,function (title,index) {\n\t\t\t\tif(title === fromTitle) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttags[index] = toTitle;\n\t\t\t\t\tisModified = true;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t// Rename lists\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.each(list,function (title,index) {\n\t\t\t\tif(title === fromTitle) {\n\t\t\t\t\tlist[index] = toTitle;\n\t\t\t\t\tisModified = true;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t});\n\t\t\tif(isModified) {\n\t\t\t\tself.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,{tags: tags, list: list},self.getModificationFields()));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n}\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/wiki-bulkops.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikimethod"
},
"$:/core/modules/wiki.js": {
"text": "/*\\\ntitle: $:/core/modules/wiki.js\ntype: application/javascript\nmodule-type: wikimethod\n\nExtension methods for the $tw.Wiki object\n\nAdds the following properties to the wiki object:\n\n* `eventListeners` is a hashmap by type of arrays of listener functions\n* `changedTiddlers` is a hashmap describing changes to named tiddlers since wiki change events were last dispatched. Each entry is a hashmap containing two fields:\n\tmodified: true/false\n\tdeleted: true/false\n* `changeCount` is a hashmap by tiddler title containing a numerical index that starts at zero and is incremented each time a tiddler is created changed or deleted\n* `caches` is a hashmap by tiddler title containing a further hashmap of named cache objects. Caches are automatically cleared when a tiddler is modified or deleted\n* `globalCache` is a hashmap by cache name of cache objects that are cleared whenever any tiddler change occurs\n\n\\*/\n(function(){\n\n/*jslint node: true, browser: true */\n/*global $tw: false */\n\"use strict\";\n\nvar widget = require(\"$:/core/modules/widgets/widget.js\");\n\nvar USER_NAME_TITLE = \"$:/status/UserName\";\n\n/*\nGet the value of a text reference. Text references can have any of these forms:\n\t<tiddlertitle>\n\t<tiddlertitle>!!<fieldname>\n\t!!<fieldname> - specifies a field of the current tiddlers\n\t<tiddlertitle>##<index>\n*/\nexports.getTextReference = function(textRef,defaultText,currTiddlerTitle) {\n\tvar tr = $tw.utils.parseTextReference(textRef),\n\t\ttitle = tr.title || currTiddlerTitle;\n\tif(tr.field) {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\t\tif(tr.field === \"title\") { // Special case so we can return the title of a non-existent tiddler\n\t\t\treturn title;\n\t\t} else if(tiddler && $tw.utils.hop(tiddler.fields,tr.field)) {\n\t\t\treturn tiddler.getFieldString(tr.field);\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn defaultText;\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(tr.index) {\n\t\treturn this.extractTiddlerDataItem(title,tr.index,defaultText);\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn this.getTiddlerText(title,defaultText);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.setTextReference = function(textRef,value,currTiddlerTitle) {\n\tvar tr = $tw.utils.parseTextReference(textRef),\n\t\ttitle = tr.title || currTiddlerTitle;\n\tthis.setText(title,tr.field,tr.index,value);\n};\n\nexports.setText = function(title,field,index,value,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar creationFields = options.suppressTimestamp ? {} : this.getCreationFields(),\n\t\tmodificationFields = options.suppressTimestamp ? {} : this.getModificationFields();\n\t// Check if it is a reference to a tiddler field\n\tif(index) {\n\t\tvar data = this.getTiddlerData(title,Object.create(null));\n\t\tif(value !== undefined) {\n\t\t\tdata[index] = value;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tdelete data[index];\n\t\t}\n\t\tthis.setTiddlerData(title,data,modificationFields);\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(title),\n\t\t\tfields = {title: title};\n\t\tfields[field || \"text\"] = value;\n\t\tthis.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(creationFields,tiddler,fields,modificationFields));\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.deleteTextReference = function(textRef,currTiddlerTitle) {\n\tvar tr = $tw.utils.parseTextReference(textRef),\n\t\ttitle,tiddler,fields;\n\t// Check if it is a reference to a tiddler\n\tif(tr.title && !tr.field) {\n\t\tthis.deleteTiddler(tr.title);\n\t// Else check for a field reference\n\t} else if(tr.field) {\n\t\ttitle = tr.title || currTiddlerTitle;\n\t\ttiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\t\tif(tiddler && $tw.utils.hop(tiddler.fields,tr.field)) {\n\t\t\tfields = Object.create(null);\n\t\t\tfields[tr.field] = undefined;\n\t\t\tthis.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(tiddler,fields,this.getModificationFields()));\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.addEventListener = function(type,listener) {\n\tthis.eventListeners = this.eventListeners || {};\n\tthis.eventListeners[type] = this.eventListeners[type] || [];\n\tthis.eventListeners[type].push(listener);\t\n};\n\nexports.removeEventListener = function(type,listener) {\n\tvar listeners = this.eventListeners[type];\n\tif(listeners) {\n\t\tvar p = listeners.indexOf(listener);\n\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\tlisteners.splice(p,1);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.dispatchEvent = function(type /*, args */) {\n\tvar args = Array.prototype.slice.call(arguments,1),\n\t\tlisteners = this.eventListeners[type];\n\tif(listeners) {\n\t\tfor(var p=0; p<listeners.length; p++) {\n\t\t\tvar listener = listeners[p];\n\t\t\tlistener.apply(listener,args);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nCauses a tiddler to be marked as changed, incrementing the change count, and triggers event handlers.\nThis method should be called after the changes it describes have been made to the wiki.tiddlers[] array.\n\ttitle: Title of tiddler\n\tisDeleted: defaults to false (meaning the tiddler has been created or modified),\n\t\ttrue if the tiddler has been deleted\n*/\nexports.enqueueTiddlerEvent = function(title,isDeleted) {\n\t// Record the touch in the list of changed tiddlers\n\tthis.changedTiddlers = this.changedTiddlers || Object.create(null);\n\tthis.changedTiddlers[title] = this.changedTiddlers[title] || Object.create(null);\n\tthis.changedTiddlers[title][isDeleted ? \"deleted\" : \"modified\"] = true;\n\t// Increment the change count\n\tthis.changeCount = this.changeCount || Object.create(null);\n\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.changeCount,title)) {\n\t\tthis.changeCount[title]++;\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.changeCount[title] = 1;\n\t}\n\t// Trigger events\n\tthis.eventListeners = this.eventListeners || {};\n\tif(!this.eventsTriggered) {\n\t\tvar self = this;\n\t\t$tw.utils.nextTick(function() {\n\t\t\tvar changes = self.changedTiddlers;\n\t\t\tself.changedTiddlers = Object.create(null);\n\t\t\tself.eventsTriggered = false;\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.count(changes) > 0) {\n\t\t\t\tself.dispatchEvent(\"change\",changes);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\tthis.eventsTriggered = true;\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.getSizeOfTiddlerEventQueue = function() {\n\treturn $tw.utils.count(this.changedTiddlers);\n};\n\nexports.clearTiddlerEventQueue = function() {\n\tthis.changedTiddlers = Object.create(null);\n\tthis.changeCount = Object.create(null);\n};\n\nexports.getChangeCount = function(title) {\n\tthis.changeCount = this.changeCount || Object.create(null);\n\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.changeCount,title)) {\n\t\treturn this.changeCount[title];\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn 0;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGenerate an unused title from the specified base\n*/\nexports.generateNewTitle = function(baseTitle,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar c = 0,\n\t\ttitle = baseTitle;\n\twhile(this.tiddlerExists(title) || this.isShadowTiddler(title) || this.findDraft(title)) {\n\t\ttitle = baseTitle + \n\t\t\t(options.prefix || \" \") + \n\t\t\t(++c);\n\t}\n\treturn title;\n};\n\nexports.isSystemTiddler = function(title) {\n\treturn title && title.indexOf(\"$:/\") === 0;\n};\n\nexports.isTemporaryTiddler = function(title) {\n\treturn title && title.indexOf(\"$:/temp/\") === 0;\n};\n\nexports.isImageTiddler = function(title) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\tif(tiddler) {\t\t\n\t\tvar contentTypeInfo = $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[tiddler.fields.type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\"];\n\t\treturn !!contentTypeInfo && contentTypeInfo.flags.indexOf(\"image\") !== -1;\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nLike addTiddler() except it will silently reject any plugin tiddlers that are older than the currently loaded version. Returns true if the tiddler was imported\n*/\nexports.importTiddler = function(tiddler) {\n\tvar existingTiddler = this.getTiddler(tiddler.fields.title);\n\t// Check if we're dealing with a plugin\n\tif(tiddler && tiddler.hasField(\"plugin-type\") && tiddler.hasField(\"version\") && existingTiddler && existingTiddler.hasField(\"plugin-type\") && existingTiddler.hasField(\"version\")) {\n\t\t// Reject the incoming plugin if it is older\n\t\tif(!$tw.utils.checkVersions(tiddler.fields.version,existingTiddler.fields.version)) {\n\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Fall through to adding the tiddler\n\tthis.addTiddler(tiddler);\n\treturn true;\n};\n\n/*\nReturn a hashmap of the fields that should be set when a tiddler is created\n*/\nexports.getCreationFields = function() {\n\tvar fields = {\n\t\t\tcreated: new Date()\n\t\t},\n\t\tcreator = this.getTiddlerText(USER_NAME_TITLE);\n\tif(creator) {\n\t\tfields.creator = creator;\n\t}\n\treturn fields;\n};\n\n/*\nReturn a hashmap of the fields that should be set when a tiddler is modified\n*/\nexports.getModificationFields = function() {\n\tvar fields = Object.create(null),\n\t\tmodifier = this.getTiddlerText(USER_NAME_TITLE);\n\tfields.modified = new Date();\n\tif(modifier) {\n\t\tfields.modifier = modifier;\n\t}\n\treturn fields;\n};\n\n/*\nReturn a sorted array of tiddler titles. Options include:\nsortField: field to sort by\nexcludeTag: tag to exclude\nincludeSystem: whether to include system tiddlers (defaults to false)\n*/\nexports.getTiddlers = function(options) {\n\toptions = options || Object.create(null);\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tsortField = options.sortField || \"title\",\n\t\ttiddlers = [], t, titles = [];\n\tthis.each(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(options.includeSystem || !self.isSystemTiddler(title)) {\n\t\t\tif(!options.excludeTag || !tiddler.hasTag(options.excludeTag)) {\n\t\t\t\ttiddlers.push(tiddler);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\ttiddlers.sort(function(a,b) {\n\t\tvar aa = a.fields[sortField].toLowerCase() || \"\",\n\t\t\tbb = b.fields[sortField].toLowerCase() || \"\";\n\t\tif(aa < bb) {\n\t\t\treturn -1;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tif(aa > bb) {\n\t\t\t\treturn 1;\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\treturn 0;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\tfor(t=0; t<tiddlers.length; t++) {\n\t\ttitles.push(tiddlers[t].fields.title);\n\t}\n\treturn titles;\n};\n\nexports.countTiddlers = function(excludeTag) {\n\tvar tiddlers = this.getTiddlers({excludeTag: excludeTag});\n\treturn $tw.utils.count(tiddlers);\n};\n\n/*\nReturns a function iterator(callback) that iterates through the specified titles, and invokes the callback with callback(tiddler,title)\n*/\nexports.makeTiddlerIterator = function(titles) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(!$tw.utils.isArray(titles)) {\n\t\ttitles = Object.keys(titles);\n\t} else {\n\t\ttitles = titles.slice(0);\n\t}\n\treturn function(callback) {\n\t\ttitles.forEach(function(title) {\n\t\t\tcallback(self.getTiddler(title),title);\n\t\t});\n\t};\n};\n\n/*\nSort an array of tiddler titles by a specified field\n\ttitles: array of titles (sorted in place)\n\tsortField: name of field to sort by\n\tisDescending: true if the sort should be descending\n\tisCaseSensitive: true if the sort should consider upper and lower case letters to be different\n*/\nexports.sortTiddlers = function(titles,sortField,isDescending,isCaseSensitive,isNumeric) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\ttitles.sort(function(a,b) {\n\t\tvar x,y,\n\t\t\tcompareNumbers = function(x,y) {\n\t\t\t\tvar result = \n\t\t\t\t\tisNaN(x) && !isNaN(y) ? (isDescending ? -1 : 1) :\n\t\t\t\t\t!isNaN(x) && isNaN(y) ? (isDescending ? 1 : -1) :\n\t\t\t\t\t (isDescending ? y - x : x - y);\n\t\t\t\treturn result;\n\t\t\t};\n\t\tif(sortField !== \"title\") {\n\t\t\tvar tiddlerA = self.getTiddler(a),\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerB = self.getTiddler(b);\n\t\t\tif(tiddlerA) {\n\t\t\t\ta = tiddlerA.fields[sortField] || \"\";\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\ta = \"\";\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(tiddlerB) {\n\t\t\t\tb = tiddlerB.fields[sortField] || \"\";\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\tb = \"\";\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\tx = Number(a);\n\t\ty = Number(b);\n\t\tif(isNumeric && (!isNaN(x) || !isNaN(y))) {\n\t\t\treturn compareNumbers(x,y);\n\t\t} else if($tw.utils.isDate(a) && $tw.utils.isDate(b)) {\n\t\t\treturn isDescending ? b - a : a - b;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\ta = String(a);\n\t\t\tb = String(b);\n\t\t\tif(!isCaseSensitive) {\n\t\t\t\ta = a.toLowerCase();\n\t\t\t\tb = b.toLowerCase();\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn isDescending ? b.localeCompare(a) : a.localeCompare(b);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nFor every tiddler invoke a callback(title,tiddler) with `this` set to the wiki object. Options include:\nsortField: field to sort by\nexcludeTag: tag to exclude\nincludeSystem: whether to include system tiddlers (defaults to false)\n*/\nexports.forEachTiddler = function(/* [options,]callback */) {\n\tvar arg = 0,\n\t\toptions = arguments.length >= 2 ? arguments[arg++] : {},\n\t\tcallback = arguments[arg++],\n\t\ttitles = this.getTiddlers(options),\n\t\tt, tiddler;\n\tfor(t=0; t<titles.length; t++) {\n\t\ttiddler = this.getTiddler(titles[t]);\n\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\tcallback.call(this,tiddler.fields.title,tiddler);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nReturn an array of tiddler titles that are directly linked from the specified tiddler\n*/\nexports.getTiddlerLinks = function(title) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\t// We'll cache the links so they only get computed if the tiddler changes\n\treturn this.getCacheForTiddler(title,\"links\",function() {\n\t\t// Parse the tiddler\n\t\tvar parser = self.parseTiddler(title);\n\t\t// Count up the links\n\t\tvar links = [],\n\t\t\tcheckParseTree = function(parseTree) {\n\t\t\t\tfor(var t=0; t<parseTree.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\t\tvar parseTreeNode = parseTree[t];\n\t\t\t\t\tif(parseTreeNode.type === \"link\" && parseTreeNode.attributes.to && parseTreeNode.attributes.to.type === \"string\") {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvar value = parseTreeNode.attributes.to.value;\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif(links.indexOf(value) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tlinks.push(value);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\tif(parseTreeNode.children) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tcheckParseTree(parseTreeNode.children);\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t};\n\t\tif(parser) {\n\t\t\tcheckParseTree(parser.tree);\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn links;\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nReturn an array of tiddler titles that link to the specified tiddler\n*/\nexports.getTiddlerBacklinks = function(targetTitle) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tbacklinks = [];\n\tthis.forEachTiddler(function(title,tiddler) {\n\t\tvar links = self.getTiddlerLinks(title);\n\t\tif(links.indexOf(targetTitle) !== -1) {\n\t\t\tbacklinks.push(title);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn backlinks;\n};\n\n/*\nReturn a hashmap of tiddler titles that are referenced but not defined. Each value is the number of times the missing tiddler is referenced\n*/\nexports.getMissingTitles = function() {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tmissing = [];\n// We should cache the missing tiddler list, even if we recreate it every time any tiddler is modified\n\tthis.forEachTiddler(function(title,tiddler) {\n\t\tvar links = self.getTiddlerLinks(title);\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(links,function(link) {\n\t\t\tif((!self.tiddlerExists(link) && !self.isShadowTiddler(link)) && missing.indexOf(link) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\tmissing.push(link);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t});\n\treturn missing;\n};\n\nexports.getOrphanTitles = function() {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\torphans = this.getTiddlers();\n\tthis.forEachTiddler(function(title,tiddler) {\n\t\tvar links = self.getTiddlerLinks(title);\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(links,function(link) {\n\t\t\tvar p = orphans.indexOf(link);\n\t\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\torphans.splice(p,1);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t});\n\treturn orphans; // Todo\n};\n\n/*\nRetrieves a list of the tiddler titles that are tagged with a given tag\n*/\nexports.getTiddlersWithTag = function(tag) {\n\tvar self = this;\n\treturn this.getGlobalCache(\"taglist-\" + tag,function() {\n\t\tvar tagmap = self.getTagMap();\n\t\treturn self.sortByList(tagmap[tag],tag);\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nGet a hashmap by tag of arrays of tiddler titles\n*/\nexports.getTagMap = function() {\n\tvar self = this;\n\treturn this.getGlobalCache(\"tagmap\",function() {\n\t\tvar tags = Object.create(null),\n\t\t\tstoreTags = function(tagArray,title) {\n\t\t\t\tif(tagArray) {\n\t\t\t\t\tfor(var index=0; index<tagArray.length; index++) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvar tag = tagArray[index];\n\t\t\t\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(tags,tag)) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttags[tag].push(title);\n\t\t\t\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\ttags[tag] = [title];\n\t\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\ttitle, tiddler;\n\t\t// Collect up all the tags\n\t\tself.eachShadow(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tif(!self.tiddlerExists(title)) {\n\t\t\t\ttiddler = self.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\t\tstoreTags(tiddler.fields.tags,title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t\tself.each(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\t\tstoreTags(tiddler.fields.tags,title);\n\t\t});\n\t\treturn tags;\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nLookup a given tiddler and return a list of all the tiddlers that include it in the specified list field\n*/\nexports.findListingsOfTiddler = function(targetTitle,fieldName) {\n\tfieldName = fieldName || \"list\";\n\tvar titles = [];\n\tthis.each(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tvar list = $tw.utils.parseStringArray(tiddler.fields[fieldName]);\n\t\tif(list && list.indexOf(targetTitle) !== -1) {\n\t\t\ttitles.push(title);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn titles;\n};\n\n/*\nSorts an array of tiddler titles according to an ordered list\n*/\nexports.sortByList = function(array,listTitle) {\n\tvar list = this.getTiddlerList(listTitle);\n\tif(!array || array.length === 0) {\n\t\treturn [];\n\t} else {\n\t\tvar titles = [], t, title;\n\t\t// First place any entries that are present in the list\n\t\tfor(t=0; t<list.length; t++) {\n\t\t\ttitle = list[t];\n\t\t\tif(array.indexOf(title) !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\ttitles.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Then place any remaining entries\n\t\tfor(t=0; t<array.length; t++) {\n\t\t\ttitle = array[t];\n\t\t\tif(list.indexOf(title) === -1) {\n\t\t\t\ttitles.push(title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\t// Finally obey the list-before and list-after fields of each tiddler in turn\n\t\tvar sortedTitles = titles.slice(0);\n\t\tfor(t=0; t<sortedTitles.length; t++) {\n\t\t\ttitle = sortedTitles[t];\n\t\t\tvar currPos = titles.indexOf(title),\n\t\t\t\tnewPos = -1,\n\t\t\t\ttiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\t\t\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\t\t\tvar beforeTitle = tiddler.fields[\"list-before\"],\n\t\t\t\t\tafterTitle = tiddler.fields[\"list-after\"];\n\t\t\t\tif(beforeTitle === \"\") {\n\t\t\t\t\tnewPos = 0;\n\t\t\t\t} else if(beforeTitle) {\n\t\t\t\t\tnewPos = titles.indexOf(beforeTitle);\n\t\t\t\t} else if(afterTitle) {\n\t\t\t\t\tnewPos = titles.indexOf(afterTitle);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(newPos >= 0) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\t++newPos;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(newPos === -1) {\n\t\t\t\t\tnewPos = currPos;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tif(newPos !== currPos) {\n\t\t\t\t\ttitles.splice(currPos,1);\n\t\t\t\t\tif(newPos >= currPos) {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tnewPos--;\n\t\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\t\ttitles.splice(newPos,0,title);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t}\n\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn titles;\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.getSubTiddler = function(title,subTiddlerTitle) {\n\tvar bundleInfo = this.getPluginInfo(title) || this.getTiddlerDataCached(title);\n\tif(bundleInfo && bundleInfo.tiddlers) {\n\t\tvar subTiddler = bundleInfo.tiddlers[subTiddlerTitle];\n\t\tif(subTiddler) {\n\t\t\treturn new $tw.Tiddler(subTiddler);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn null;\n};\n\n/*\nRetrieve a tiddler as a JSON string of the fields\n*/\nexports.getTiddlerAsJson = function(title) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\tvar fields = Object.create(null);\n\t\t$tw.utils.each(tiddler.fields,function(value,name) {\n\t\t\tfields[name] = tiddler.getFieldString(name);\n\t\t});\n\t\treturn JSON.stringify(fields);\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn JSON.stringify({title: title});\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nGet the content of a tiddler as a JavaScript object. How this is done depends on the type of the tiddler:\n\napplication/json: the tiddler JSON is parsed into an object\napplication/x-tiddler-dictionary: the tiddler is parsed as sequence of name:value pairs\n\nOther types currently just return null.\n\ntitleOrTiddler: string tiddler title or a tiddler object\ndefaultData: default data to be returned if the tiddler is missing or doesn't contain data\n\nNote that the same value is returned for repeated calls for the same tiddler data. The value is frozen to prevent modification; otherwise modifications would be visible to all callers\n*/\nexports.getTiddlerDataCached = function(titleOrTiddler,defaultData) {\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\ttiddler = titleOrTiddler;\n\tif(!(tiddler instanceof $tw.Tiddler)) {\n\t\ttiddler = this.getTiddler(tiddler);\t\n\t}\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\treturn this.getCacheForTiddler(tiddler.fields.title,\"data\",function() {\n\t\t\t// Return the frozen value\n\t\t\tvar value = self.getTiddlerData(tiddler.fields.title,defaultData);\n\t\t\t$tw.utils.deepFreeze(value);\n\t\t\treturn value;\n\t\t});\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn defaultData;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nAlternative, uncached version of getTiddlerDataCached(). The return value can be mutated freely and reused\n*/\nexports.getTiddlerData = function(titleOrTiddler,defaultData) {\n\tvar tiddler = titleOrTiddler,\n\t\tdata;\n\tif(!(tiddler instanceof $tw.Tiddler)) {\n\t\ttiddler = this.getTiddler(tiddler);\t\n\t}\n\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields.text) {\n\t\tswitch(tiddler.fields.type) {\n\t\t\tcase \"application/json\":\n\t\t\t\t// JSON tiddler\n\t\t\t\ttry {\n\t\t\t\t\tdata = JSON.parse(tiddler.fields.text);\n\t\t\t\t} catch(ex) {\n\t\t\t\t\treturn defaultData;\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\treturn data;\n\t\t\tcase \"application/x-tiddler-dictionary\":\n\t\t\t\treturn $tw.utils.parseFields(tiddler.fields.text);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn defaultData;\n};\n\n/*\nExtract an indexed field from within a data tiddler\n*/\nexports.extractTiddlerDataItem = function(titleOrTiddler,index,defaultText) {\n\tvar data = this.getTiddlerData(titleOrTiddler,Object.create(null)),\n\t\ttext;\n\tif(data && $tw.utils.hop(data,index)) {\n\t\ttext = data[index];\n\t}\n\tif(typeof text === \"string\" || typeof text === \"number\") {\n\t\treturn text.toString();\n\t} else {\n\t\treturn defaultText;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nSet a tiddlers content to a JavaScript object. Currently this is done by setting the tiddler's type to \"application/json\" and setting the text to the JSON text of the data.\ntitle: title of tiddler\ndata: object that can be serialised to JSON\nfields: optional hashmap of additional tiddler fields to be set\n*/\nexports.setTiddlerData = function(title,data,fields) {\n\tvar existingTiddler = this.getTiddler(title),\n\t\tnewFields = {\n\t\t\ttitle: title\n\t};\n\tif(existingTiddler && existingTiddler.fields.type === \"application/x-tiddler-dictionary\") {\n\t\tnewFields.text = $tw.utils.makeTiddlerDictionary(data);\n\t} else {\n\t\tnewFields.type = \"application/json\";\n\t\tnewFields.text = JSON.stringify(data,null,$tw.config.preferences.jsonSpaces);\n\t}\n\tthis.addTiddler(new $tw.Tiddler(this.getCreationFields(),existingTiddler,fields,newFields,this.getModificationFields()));\n};\n\n/*\nReturn the content of a tiddler as an array containing each line\n*/\nexports.getTiddlerList = function(title,field,index) {\n\tif(index) {\n\t\treturn $tw.utils.parseStringArray(this.extractTiddlerDataItem(title,index,\"\"));\n\t}\n\tfield = field || \"list\";\n\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\tif(tiddler) {\n\t\treturn ($tw.utils.parseStringArray(tiddler.fields[field]) || []).slice(0);\n\t}\n\treturn [];\n};\n\n// Return a named global cache object. Global cache objects are cleared whenever a tiddler change occurs\nexports.getGlobalCache = function(cacheName,initializer) {\n\tthis.globalCache = this.globalCache || Object.create(null);\n\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.globalCache,cacheName)) {\n\t\treturn this.globalCache[cacheName];\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.globalCache[cacheName] = initializer();\n\t\treturn this.globalCache[cacheName];\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.clearGlobalCache = function() {\n\tthis.globalCache = Object.create(null);\n};\n\n// Return the named cache object for a tiddler. If the cache doesn't exist then the initializer function is invoked to create it\nexports.getCacheForTiddler = function(title,cacheName,initializer) {\n\tthis.caches = this.caches || Object.create(null);\n\tvar caches = this.caches[title];\n\tif(caches && caches[cacheName]) {\n\t\treturn caches[cacheName];\n\t} else {\n\t\tif(!caches) {\n\t\t\tcaches = Object.create(null);\n\t\t\tthis.caches[title] = caches;\n\t\t}\n\t\tcaches[cacheName] = initializer();\n\t\treturn caches[cacheName];\n\t}\n};\n\n// Clear all caches associated with a particular tiddler, or, if the title is null, clear all the caches for all the tiddlers\nexports.clearCache = function(title) {\n\tif(title) {\n\t\tthis.caches = this.caches || Object.create(null);\n\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(this.caches,title)) {\n\t\t\tdelete this.caches[title];\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tthis.caches = Object.create(null);\n\t}\n};\n\nexports.initParsers = function(moduleType) {\n\t// Install the parser modules\n\t$tw.Wiki.parsers = {};\n\tvar self = this;\n\t$tw.modules.forEachModuleOfType(\"parser\",function(title,module) {\n\t\tfor(var f in module) {\n\t\t\tif($tw.utils.hop(module,f)) {\n\t\t\t\t$tw.Wiki.parsers[f] = module[f]; // Store the parser class\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nParse a block of text of a specified MIME type\n\ttype: content type of text to be parsed\n\ttext: text\n\toptions: see below\nOptions include:\n\tparseAsInline: if true, the text of the tiddler will be parsed as an inline run\n\t_canonical_uri: optional string of the canonical URI of this content\n*/\nexports.parseText = function(type,text,options) {\n\ttext = text || \"\";\n\toptions = options || {};\n\t// Select a parser\n\tvar Parser = $tw.Wiki.parsers[type];\n\tif(!Parser && $tw.utils.getFileExtensionInfo(type)) {\n\t\tParser = $tw.Wiki.parsers[$tw.utils.getFileExtensionInfo(type).type];\n\t}\n\tif(!Parser) {\n\t\tParser = $tw.Wiki.parsers[options.defaultType || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\"];\n\t}\n\tif(!Parser) {\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n\t// Return the parser instance\n\treturn new Parser(type,text,{\n\t\tparseAsInline: options.parseAsInline,\n\t\twiki: this,\n\t\t_canonical_uri: options._canonical_uri\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nParse a tiddler according to its MIME type\n*/\nexports.parseTiddler = function(title,options) {\n\toptions = $tw.utils.extend({},options);\n\tvar cacheType = options.parseAsInline ? \"inlineParseTree\" : \"blockParseTree\",\n\t\ttiddler = this.getTiddler(title),\n\t\tself = this;\n\treturn tiddler ? this.getCacheForTiddler(title,cacheType,function() {\n\t\t\tif(tiddler.hasField(\"_canonical_uri\")) {\n\t\t\t\toptions._canonical_uri = tiddler.fields._canonical_uri;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\treturn self.parseText(tiddler.fields.type,tiddler.fields.text,options);\n\t\t}) : null;\n};\n\nexports.parseTextReference = function(title,field,index,options) {\n\tvar tiddler,text;\n\tif(options.subTiddler) {\n\t\ttiddler = this.getSubTiddler(title,options.subTiddler);\n\t} else {\n\t\ttiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\t\tif(field === \"text\" || (!field && !index)) {\n\t\t\tthis.getTiddlerText(title); // Force the tiddler to be lazily loaded\n\t\t\treturn this.parseTiddler(title,options);\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\tif(field === \"text\" || (!field && !index)) {\n\t\tif(tiddler && tiddler.fields) {\n\t\t\treturn this.parseText(tiddler.fields.type || \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",tiddler.fields.text,options);\t\t\t\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\treturn null;\n\t\t}\n\t} else if(field) {\n\t\tif(field === \"title\") {\n\t\t\ttext = title;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tif(!tiddler || !tiddler.hasField(field)) {\n\t\t\t\treturn null;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\ttext = tiddler.fields[field];\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn this.parseText(\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",text.toString(),options);\n\t} else if(index) {\n\t\tthis.getTiddlerText(title); // Force the tiddler to be lazily loaded\n\t\ttext = this.extractTiddlerDataItem(tiddler,index,undefined);\n\t\tif(text === undefined) {\n\t\t\treturn null;\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn this.parseText(\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\",text,options);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nMake a widget tree for a parse tree\nparser: parser object\noptions: see below\nOptions include:\ndocument: optional document to use\nvariables: hashmap of variables to set\nparentWidget: optional parent widget for the root node\n*/\nexports.makeWidget = function(parser,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar widgetNode = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"widget\",\n\t\t\tchildren: []\n\t\t},\n\t\tcurrWidgetNode = widgetNode;\n\t// Create set variable widgets for each variable\n\t$tw.utils.each(options.variables,function(value,name) {\n\t\tvar setVariableWidget = {\n\t\t\ttype: \"set\",\n\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\tname: {type: \"string\", value: name},\n\t\t\t\tvalue: {type: \"string\", value: value}\n\t\t\t},\n\t\t\tchildren: []\n\t\t};\n\t\tcurrWidgetNode.children = [setVariableWidget];\n\t\tcurrWidgetNode = setVariableWidget;\n\t});\n\t// Add in the supplied parse tree nodes\n\tcurrWidgetNode.children = parser ? parser.tree : [];\n\t// Create the widget\n\treturn new widget.widget(widgetNode,{\n\t\twiki: this,\n\t\tdocument: options.document || $tw.fakeDocument,\n\t\tparentWidget: options.parentWidget\n\t});\n};\n\n/*\nMake a widget tree for transclusion\ntitle: target tiddler title\noptions: as for wiki.makeWidget() plus:\noptions.field: optional field to transclude (defaults to \"text\")\noptions.mode: transclusion mode \"inline\" or \"block\"\noptions.children: optional array of children for the transclude widget\n*/\nexports.makeTranscludeWidget = function(title,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar parseTree = {tree: [{\n\t\t\ttype: \"element\",\n\t\t\ttag: \"div\",\n\t\t\tchildren: [{\n\t\t\t\ttype: \"transclude\",\n\t\t\t\tattributes: {\n\t\t\t\t\ttiddler: {\n\t\t\t\t\t\tname: \"tiddler\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\ttype: \"string\",\n\t\t\t\t\t\tvalue: title}},\n\t\t\t\tisBlock: !options.parseAsInline}]}\n\t]};\n\tif(options.field) {\n\t\tparseTree.tree[0].children[0].attributes.field = {type: \"string\", value: options.field};\n\t}\n\tif(options.mode) {\n\t\tparseTree.tree[0].children[0].attributes.mode = {type: \"string\", value: options.mode};\n\t}\n\tif(options.children) {\n\t\tparseTree.tree[0].children[0].children = options.children;\n\t}\n\treturn $tw.wiki.makeWidget(parseTree,options);\n};\n\n/*\nParse text in a specified format and render it into another format\n\toutputType: content type for the output\n\ttextType: content type of the input text\n\ttext: input text\n\toptions: see below\nOptions include:\nvariables: hashmap of variables to set\nparentWidget: optional parent widget for the root node\n*/\nexports.renderText = function(outputType,textType,text,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar parser = this.parseText(textType,text,options),\n\t\twidgetNode = this.makeWidget(parser,options);\n\tvar container = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"div\");\n\twidgetNode.render(container,null);\n\treturn outputType === \"text/html\" ? container.innerHTML : container.textContent;\n};\n\n/*\nParse text from a tiddler and render it into another format\n\toutputType: content type for the output\n\ttitle: title of the tiddler to be rendered\n\toptions: see below\nOptions include:\nvariables: hashmap of variables to set\nparentWidget: optional parent widget for the root node\n*/\nexports.renderTiddler = function(outputType,title,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar parser = this.parseTiddler(title,options),\n\t\twidgetNode = this.makeWidget(parser,options);\n\tvar container = $tw.fakeDocument.createElement(\"div\");\n\twidgetNode.render(container,null);\n\treturn outputType === \"text/html\" ? container.innerHTML : (outputType === \"text/plain-formatted\" ? container.formattedTextContent : container.textContent);\n};\n\n/*\nReturn an array of tiddler titles that match a search string\n\ttext: The text string to search for\n\toptions: see below\nOptions available:\n\tsource: an iterator function for the source tiddlers, called source(iterator), where iterator is called as iterator(tiddler,title)\n\texclude: An array of tiddler titles to exclude from the search\n\tinvert: If true returns tiddlers that do not contain the specified string\n\tcaseSensitive: If true forces a case sensitive search\n\tliteral: If true, searches for literal string, rather than separate search terms\n\tfield: If specified, restricts the search to the specified field\n*/\nexports.search = function(text,options) {\n\toptions = options || {};\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\tt,\n\t\tinvert = !!options.invert;\n\t// Convert the search string into a regexp for each term\n\tvar terms, searchTermsRegExps,\n\t\tflags = options.caseSensitive ? \"\" : \"i\";\n\tif(options.literal) {\n\t\tif(text.length === 0) {\n\t\t\tsearchTermsRegExps = null;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tsearchTermsRegExps = [new RegExp(\"(\" + $tw.utils.escapeRegExp(text) + \")\",flags)];\n\t\t}\n\t} else {\n\t\tterms = text.split(/ +/);\n\t\tif(terms.length === 1 && terms[0] === \"\") {\n\t\t\tsearchTermsRegExps = null;\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\tsearchTermsRegExps = [];\n\t\t\tfor(t=0; t<terms.length; t++) {\n\t\t\t\tsearchTermsRegExps.push(new RegExp(\"(\" + $tw.utils.escapeRegExp(terms[t]) + \")\",flags));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Function to check a given tiddler for the search term\n\tvar searchTiddler = function(title) {\n\t\tif(!searchTermsRegExps) {\n\t\t\treturn true;\n\t\t}\n\t\tvar tiddler = self.getTiddler(title);\n\t\tif(!tiddler) {\n\t\t\ttiddler = new $tw.Tiddler({title: title, text: \"\", type: \"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\"});\n\t\t}\n\t\tvar contentTypeInfo = $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[tiddler.fields.type] || $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\"],\n\t\t\tmatch;\n\t\tfor(var t=0; t<searchTermsRegExps.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tmatch = false;\n\t\t\tif(options.field) {\n\t\t\t\tmatch = searchTermsRegExps[t].test(tiddler.getFieldString(options.field));\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Search title, tags and body\n\t\t\t\tif(contentTypeInfo.encoding === \"utf8\") {\n\t\t\t\t\tmatch = match || searchTermsRegExps[t].test(tiddler.fields.text);\n\t\t\t\t}\n\t\t\t\tvar tags = tiddler.fields.tags ? tiddler.fields.tags.join(\"\\0\") : \"\";\n\t\t\t\tmatch = match || searchTermsRegExps[t].test(tags) || searchTermsRegExps[t].test(tiddler.fields.title);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t\tif(!match) {\n\t\t\t\treturn false;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t\treturn true;\n\t};\n\t// Loop through all the tiddlers doing the search\n\tvar results = [],\n\t\tsource = options.source || this.each;\n\tsource(function(tiddler,title) {\n\t\tif(searchTiddler(title) !== options.invert) {\n\t\t\tresults.push(title);\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\t// Remove any of the results we have to exclude\n\tif(options.exclude) {\n\t\tfor(t=0; t<options.exclude.length; t++) {\n\t\t\tvar p = results.indexOf(options.exclude[t]);\n\t\t\tif(p !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\tresults.splice(p,1);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\treturn results;\n};\n\n/*\nTrigger a load for a tiddler if it is skinny. Returns the text, or undefined if the tiddler is missing, null if the tiddler is being lazily loaded.\n*/\nexports.getTiddlerText = function(title,defaultText) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\t// Return undefined if the tiddler isn't found\n\tif(!tiddler) {\n\t\treturn defaultText;\n\t}\n\tif(tiddler.fields.text !== undefined) {\n\t\t// Just return the text if we've got it\n\t\treturn tiddler.fields.text;\n\t} else {\n\t\t// Tell any listeners about the need to lazily load this tiddler\n\t\tthis.dispatchEvent(\"lazyLoad\",title);\n\t\t// Indicate that the text is being loaded\n\t\treturn null;\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nRead an array of browser File objects, invoking callback(tiddlerFieldsArray) once they're all read\n*/\nexports.readFiles = function(files,callback) {\n\tvar result = [],\n\t\toutstanding = files.length;\n\tfor(var f=0; f<files.length; f++) {\n\t\tthis.readFile(files[f],function(tiddlerFieldsArray) {\n\t\t\tresult.push.apply(result,tiddlerFieldsArray);\n\t\t\tif(--outstanding === 0) {\n\t\t\t\tcallback(result);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\treturn files.length;\n};\n\n/*\nRead a browser File object, invoking callback(tiddlerFieldsArray) with an array of tiddler fields objects\n*/\nexports.readFile = function(file,callback) {\n\t// Get the type, falling back to the filename extension\n\tvar self = this,\n\t\ttype = file.type;\n\tif(type === \"\" || !type) {\n\t\tvar dotPos = file.name.lastIndexOf(\".\");\n\t\tif(dotPos !== -1) {\n\t\t\tvar fileExtensionInfo = $tw.utils.getFileExtensionInfo(file.name.substr(dotPos));\n\t\t\tif(fileExtensionInfo) {\n\t\t\t\ttype = fileExtensionInfo.type;\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t}\n\t// Figure out if we're reading a binary file\n\tvar contentTypeInfo = $tw.config.contentTypeInfo[type],\n\t\tisBinary = contentTypeInfo ? contentTypeInfo.encoding === \"base64\" : false;\n\t// Log some debugging information\n\tif($tw.log.IMPORT) {\n\t\tconsole.log(\"Importing file '\" + file.name + \"', type: '\" + type + \"', isBinary: \" + isBinary);\n\t}\n\t// Create the FileReader\n\tvar reader = new FileReader();\n\t// Onload\n\treader.onload = function(event) {\n\t\t// Deserialise the file contents\n\t\tvar text = event.target.result,\n\t\t\ttiddlerFields = {title: file.name || \"Untitled\", type: type};\n\t\t// Are we binary?\n\t\tif(isBinary) {\n\t\t\t// The base64 section starts after the first comma in the data URI\n\t\t\tvar commaPos = text.indexOf(\",\");\n\t\t\tif(commaPos !== -1) {\n\t\t\t\ttiddlerFields.text = text.substr(commaPos+1);\n\t\t\t\tcallback([tiddlerFields]);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t// Check whether this is an encrypted TiddlyWiki file\n\t\t\tvar encryptedJson = $tw.utils.extractEncryptedStoreArea(text);\n\t\t\tif(encryptedJson) {\n\t\t\t\t// If so, attempt to decrypt it with the current password\n\t\t\t\t$tw.utils.decryptStoreAreaInteractive(encryptedJson,function(tiddlers) {\n\t\t\t\t\tcallback(tiddlers);\n\t\t\t\t});\n\t\t\t} else {\n\t\t\t\t// Otherwise, just try to deserialise any tiddlers in the file\n\t\t\t\tcallback(self.deserializeTiddlers(type,text,tiddlerFields));\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t}\n\t};\n\t// Kick off the read\n\tif(isBinary) {\n\t\treader.readAsDataURL(file);\n\t} else {\n\t\treader.readAsText(file);\n\t}\n};\n\n/*\nFind any existing draft of a specified tiddler\n*/\nexports.findDraft = function(targetTitle) {\n\tvar draftTitle = undefined;\n\tthis.forEachTiddler({includeSystem: true},function(title,tiddler) {\n\t\tif(tiddler.fields[\"draft.title\"] && tiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"] === targetTitle) {\n\t\t\tdraftTitle = title;\n\t\t}\n\t});\n\treturn draftTitle;\n}\n\n/*\nCheck whether the specified draft tiddler has been modified.\nIf the original tiddler doesn't exist, create a vanilla tiddler variable,\nto check if additional fields have been added.\n*/\nexports.isDraftModified = function(title) {\n\tvar tiddler = this.getTiddler(title);\n\tif(!tiddler.isDraft()) {\n\t\treturn false;\n\t}\n\tvar ignoredFields = [\"created\", \"modified\", \"title\", \"draft.title\", \"draft.of\"],\n\t\torigTiddler = this.getTiddler(tiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"]) || new $tw.Tiddler({text:\"\", tags:[]}),\n\t\ttitleModified = tiddler.fields[\"draft.title\"] !== tiddler.fields[\"draft.of\"];\n\treturn titleModified || !tiddler.isEqual(origTiddler,ignoredFields);\n};\n\n/*\nAdd a new record to the top of the history stack\ntitle: a title string or an array of title strings\nfromPageRect: page coordinates of the origin of the navigation\nhistoryTitle: title of history tiddler (defaults to $:/HistoryList)\n*/\nexports.addToHistory = function(title,fromPageRect,historyTitle) {\n\tvar story = new $tw.Story({wiki: this, historyTitle: historyTitle});\n\tstory.addToHistory(title,fromPageRect);\n};\n\n/*\nInvoke the available upgrader modules\ntitles: array of tiddler titles to be processed\ntiddlers: hashmap by title of tiddler fields of pending import tiddlers. These can be modified by the upgraders. An entry with no fields indicates a tiddler that was pending import has been suppressed. When entries are added to the pending import the tiddlers hashmap may have entries that are not present in the titles array\nReturns a hashmap of messages keyed by tiddler title.\n*/\nexports.invokeUpgraders = function(titles,tiddlers) {\n\t// Collect up the available upgrader modules\n\tvar self = this;\n\tif(!this.upgraderModules) {\n\t\tthis.upgraderModules = [];\n\t\t$tw.modules.forEachModuleOfType(\"upgrader\",function(title,module) {\n\t\t\tif(module.upgrade) {\n\t\t\t\tself.upgraderModules.push(module);\n\t\t\t}\n\t\t});\n\t}\n\t// Invoke each upgrader in turn\n\tvar messages = {};\n\tfor(var t=0; t<this.upgraderModules.length; t++) {\n\t\tvar upgrader = this.upgraderModules[t],\n\t\t\tupgraderMessages = upgrader.upgrade(this,titles,tiddlers);\n\t\t$tw.utils.extend(messages,upgraderMessages);\n\t}\n\treturn messages;\n};\n\n})();\n",
"title": "$:/core/modules/wiki.js",
"type": "application/javascript",
"module-type": "wikimethod"
},
"$:/palettes/Blanca": {
"title": "$:/palettes/Blanca",
"name": "Blanca",
"description": "A clean white palette to let you focus",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #ffe476\nalert-border: #b99e2f\nalert-highlight: #881122\nalert-muted-foreground: #b99e2f\nbackground: #ffffff\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background:\nbutton-foreground:\nbutton-border:\ncode-background: #f7f7f9\ncode-border: #e1e1e8\ncode-foreground: #dd1144\ndirty-indicator: #ff0000\ndownload-background: #66cccc\ndownload-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: #fff\ndropdown-tab-background: #ececec\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #0000aa\nexternal-link-foreground: #0000ee\nforeground: #333333\nmessage-background: #ecf2ff\nmessage-border: #cfd6e6\nmessage-foreground: #547599\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: #999999\nmodal-footer-background: #f5f5f5\nmodal-footer-border: #dddddd\nmodal-header-border: #eeeeee\nmuted-foreground: #999999\nnotification-background: #ffffdd\nnotification-border: #999999\npage-background: #ffffff\npre-background: #f5f5f5\npre-border: #cccccc\nprimary: #7897f3\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: #000000\nsidebar-controls-foreground: #ccc\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(255,255,255, 0.8)\nsidebar-foreground: #acacac\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: #c0c0c0\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: #ffffff\nsidebar-tab-background: <<colour tab-background>>\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\nsidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\nsidebar-tab-divider: <<colour tab-divider>>\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected: \nsidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: #7897f3\nsite-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: #ffffff\ntab-background: #eeeeee\ntab-border-selected: #cccccc\ntab-border: #cccccc\ntab-divider: #d8d8d8\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground>>\ntab-foreground: #666666\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #ffeedd\ntag-foreground: #000\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: #eee\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #888888\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #444444\ntiddler-controls-foreground: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-editor-border-image: #ffffff\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: #e0e8e0\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: #f0f4f0\ntiddler-info-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-info-border: #dddddd\ntiddler-info-tab-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: #c0c0c0\ntiddler-title-foreground: #ff9900\ntoolbar-new-button:\ntoolbar-options-button:\ntoolbar-save-button:\ntoolbar-info-button:\ntoolbar-edit-button:\ntoolbar-close-button:\ntoolbar-delete-button:\ntoolbar-cancel-button:\ntoolbar-done-button:\nuntagged-background: #999999\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/Blue": {
"title": "$:/palettes/Blue",
"name": "Blue",
"description": "A blue theme",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #ffe476\nalert-border: #b99e2f\nalert-highlight: #881122\nalert-muted-foreground: #b99e2f\nbackground: #fff\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background:\nbutton-foreground:\nbutton-border:\ncode-background: #f7f7f9\ncode-border: #e1e1e8\ncode-foreground: #dd1144\ndirty-indicator: #ff0000\ndownload-background: #34c734\ndownload-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: #fff\ndropdown-tab-background: #ececec\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #0000aa\nexternal-link-foreground: #0000ee\nforeground: #333353\nmessage-background: #ecf2ff\nmessage-border: #cfd6e6\nmessage-foreground: #547599\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: #999999\nmodal-footer-background: #f5f5f5\nmodal-footer-border: #dddddd\nmodal-header-border: #eeeeee\nmuted-foreground: #999999\nnotification-background: #ffffdd\nnotification-border: #999999\npage-background: #ddddff\npre-background: #f5f5f5\npre-border: #cccccc\nprimary: #5778d8\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: #000000\nsidebar-controls-foreground: #ffffff\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(255,255,255, 0.8)\nsidebar-foreground: #acacac\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: #c0c0c0\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: <<colour page-background>>\nsidebar-tab-background: <<colour tab-background>>\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\nsidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\nsidebar-tab-divider: <<colour tab-divider>>\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected: \nsidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: #5959c0\nsite-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: <<colour background>>\ntab-background: #ccccdd\ntab-border-selected: #ccccdd\ntab-border: #cccccc\ntab-divider: #d8d8d8\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground>>\ntab-foreground: #666666\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #eeeeff\ntag-foreground: #000\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #666666\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #444444\ntiddler-controls-foreground: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-editor-border-image: #ffffff\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: #e0e8e0\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: #f0f4f0\ntiddler-info-background: #ffffff\ntiddler-info-border: #dddddd\ntiddler-info-tab-background: #ffffff\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: #c0c0c0\ntiddler-title-foreground: #5959c0\ntoolbar-new-button: #5eb95e\ntoolbar-options-button: rgb(128, 88, 165)\ntoolbar-save-button: #0e90d2\ntoolbar-info-button: #0e90d2\ntoolbar-edit-button: rgb(243, 123, 29)\ntoolbar-close-button: #dd514c\ntoolbar-delete-button: #dd514c\ntoolbar-cancel-button: rgb(243, 123, 29)\ntoolbar-done-button: #5eb95e\nuntagged-background: #999999\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/Muted": {
"title": "$:/palettes/Muted",
"name": "Muted",
"description": "Bright tiddlers on a muted background",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #ffe476\nalert-border: #b99e2f\nalert-highlight: #881122\nalert-muted-foreground: #b99e2f\nbackground: #ffffff\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background:\nbutton-foreground:\nbutton-border:\ncode-background: #f7f7f9\ncode-border: #e1e1e8\ncode-foreground: #dd1144\ndirty-indicator: #ff0000\ndownload-background: #34c734\ndownload-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: #fff\ndropdown-tab-background: #ececec\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #0000aa\nexternal-link-foreground: #0000ee\nforeground: #333333\nmessage-background: #ecf2ff\nmessage-border: #cfd6e6\nmessage-foreground: #547599\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: #999999\nmodal-footer-background: #f5f5f5\nmodal-footer-border: #dddddd\nmodal-header-border: #eeeeee\nmuted-foreground: #bbb\nnotification-background: #ffffdd\nnotification-border: #999999\npage-background: #6f6f70\npre-background: #f5f5f5\npre-border: #cccccc\nprimary: #29a6ee\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: #000000\nsidebar-controls-foreground: #c2c1c2\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(255,255,255,0)\nsidebar-foreground: #d3d2d4\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: #c0c0c0\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: #6f6f70\nsidebar-tab-background: #666667\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: #999\nsidebar-tab-border: #515151\nsidebar-tab-divider: #999\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected: \nsidebar-tab-foreground: #999\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: #d1d0d2\nsite-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: #ffffff\ntab-background: #d8d8d8\ntab-border-selected: #d8d8d8\ntab-border: #cccccc\ntab-divider: #d8d8d8\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground>>\ntab-foreground: #666666\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #d5ad34\ntag-foreground: #ffffff\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #888888\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #444444\ntiddler-controls-foreground: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-editor-border-image: #ffffff\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: #e0e8e0\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: #f0f4f0\ntiddler-info-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-info-border: #dddddd\ntiddler-info-tab-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: #c0c0c0\ntiddler-title-foreground: #182955\ntoolbar-new-button: \ntoolbar-options-button: \ntoolbar-save-button: \ntoolbar-info-button: \ntoolbar-edit-button: \ntoolbar-close-button: \ntoolbar-delete-button: \ntoolbar-cancel-button: \ntoolbar-done-button: \nuntagged-background: #999999\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/ContrastLight": {
"title": "$:/palettes/ContrastLight",
"name": "Contrast (Light)",
"description": "High contrast and unambiguous (light version)",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #f00\nalert-border: <<colour background>>\nalert-highlight: <<colour foreground>>\nalert-muted-foreground: #800\nbackground: #fff\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background: <<colour background>>\nbutton-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nbutton-border: <<colour foreground>>\ncode-background: <<colour background>>\ncode-border: <<colour foreground>>\ncode-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ndirty-indicator: #f00\ndownload-background: #080\ndownload-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: <<colour foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #00a\nexternal-link-foreground: #00e\nforeground: #000\nmessage-background: <<colour foreground>>\nmessage-border: <<colour background>>\nmessage-foreground: <<colour background>>\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-footer-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-footer-border: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-header-border: <<colour foreground>>\nmuted-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nnotification-background: <<colour background>>\nnotification-border: <<colour foreground>>\npage-background: <<colour background>>\npre-background: <<colour background>>\npre-border: <<colour foreground>>\nprimary: #00f\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: <<colour background>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(0,0,0, 0)\nsidebar-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: <<colour background>>\nsidebar-tab-background: <<colour tab-background>>\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\nsidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\nsidebar-tab-divider: <<colour tab-divider>>\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\nsite-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: <<colour background>>\ntab-background: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-border-selected: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-border: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-divider: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-foreground: <<colour background>>\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #000\ntag-foreground: #fff\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #ddd\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #fdd\ntiddler-controls-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-editor-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-editor-border-image: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-info-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-info-border: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-info-tab-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-title-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ntoolbar-new-button: \ntoolbar-options-button: \ntoolbar-save-button: \ntoolbar-info-button: \ntoolbar-edit-button: \ntoolbar-close-button: \ntoolbar-delete-button: \ntoolbar-cancel-button: \ntoolbar-done-button: \nuntagged-background: <<colour foreground>>\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/ContrastDark": {
"title": "$:/palettes/ContrastDark",
"name": "Contrast (Dark)",
"description": "High contrast and unambiguous (dark version)",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #f00\nalert-border: <<colour background>>\nalert-highlight: <<colour foreground>>\nalert-muted-foreground: #800\nbackground: #000\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background: <<colour background>>\nbutton-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nbutton-border: <<colour foreground>>\ncode-background: <<colour background>>\ncode-border: <<colour foreground>>\ncode-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ndirty-indicator: #f00\ndownload-background: #080\ndownload-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: <<colour foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #00a\nexternal-link-foreground: #00e\nforeground: #fff\nmessage-background: <<colour foreground>>\nmessage-border: <<colour background>>\nmessage-foreground: <<colour background>>\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-footer-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-footer-border: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-header-border: <<colour foreground>>\nmuted-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nnotification-background: <<colour background>>\nnotification-border: <<colour foreground>>\npage-background: <<colour background>>\npre-background: <<colour background>>\npre-border: <<colour foreground>>\nprimary: #00f\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: <<colour background>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(0,0,0, 0)\nsidebar-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: <<colour background>>\nsidebar-tab-background: <<colour tab-background>>\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\nsidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\nsidebar-tab-divider: <<colour tab-divider>>\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\nsite-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: <<colour background>>\ntab-background: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-border-selected: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-border: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-divider: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour foreground>>\ntab-foreground: <<colour background>>\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #fff\ntag-foreground: #000\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #ddd\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #fdd\ntiddler-controls-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-editor-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-editor-border-image: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-info-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-info-border: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-info-tab-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ntiddler-title-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\ntoolbar-new-button: \ntoolbar-options-button: \ntoolbar-save-button: \ntoolbar-info-button: \ntoolbar-edit-button: \ntoolbar-close-button: \ntoolbar-delete-button: \ntoolbar-cancel-button: \ntoolbar-done-button: \nuntagged-background: <<colour foreground>>\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/DarkPhotos": {
"created": "20150402111612188",
"description": "Good with dark photo backgrounds",
"modified": "20150402112344080",
"name": "DarkPhotos",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"title": "$:/palettes/DarkPhotos",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #ffe476\nalert-border: #b99e2f\nalert-highlight: #881122\nalert-muted-foreground: #b99e2f\nbackground: #ffffff\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background: \nbutton-foreground: \nbutton-border: \ncode-background: #f7f7f9\ncode-border: #e1e1e8\ncode-foreground: #dd1144\ndirty-indicator: #ff0000\ndownload-background: #34c734\ndownload-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: #fff\ndropdown-tab-background: #ececec\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #0000aa\nexternal-link-foreground: #0000ee\nforeground: #333333\nmessage-background: #ecf2ff\nmessage-border: #cfd6e6\nmessage-foreground: #547599\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: #999999\nmodal-footer-background: #f5f5f5\nmodal-footer-border: #dddddd\nmodal-header-border: #eeeeee\nmuted-foreground: #ddd\nnotification-background: #ffffdd\nnotification-border: #999999\npage-background: #336438\npre-background: #f5f5f5\npre-border: #cccccc\nprimary: #5778d8\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: #ccf\nsidebar-controls-foreground: #fff\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(0,0,0, 0.5)\nsidebar-foreground: #fff\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: #eee\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: rgba(255,255,255, 0.8)\nsidebar-tab-background: rgba(255,255,255, 0.4)\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\nsidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\nsidebar-tab-divider: rgba(255,255,255, 0.2)\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected: \nsidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: #aaf\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: #ddf\nsite-title-foreground: #fff\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: #ffffff\ntab-background: #d8d8d8\ntab-border-selected: #d8d8d8\ntab-border: #cccccc\ntab-divider: #d8d8d8\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground>>\ntab-foreground: #666666\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #ec6\ntag-foreground: #ffffff\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #888888\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #444444\ntiddler-controls-foreground: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-editor-border-image: #ffffff\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: #e0e8e0\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: #f0f4f0\ntiddler-info-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-info-border: #dddddd\ntiddler-info-tab-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: #c0c0c0\ntiddler-title-foreground: #182955\ntoolbar-new-button: \ntoolbar-options-button: \ntoolbar-save-button: \ntoolbar-info-button: \ntoolbar-edit-button: \ntoolbar-close-button: \ntoolbar-delete-button: \ntoolbar-cancel-button: \ntoolbar-done-button: \nuntagged-background: #999999\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/Rocker": {
"title": "$:/palettes/Rocker",
"name": "Rocker",
"description": "A dark theme",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #ffe476\nalert-border: #b99e2f\nalert-highlight: #881122\nalert-muted-foreground: #b99e2f\nbackground: #ffffff\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background:\nbutton-foreground:\nbutton-border:\ncode-background: #f7f7f9\ncode-border: #e1e1e8\ncode-foreground: #dd1144\ndirty-indicator: #ff0000\ndownload-background: #34c734\ndownload-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: #fff\ndropdown-tab-background: #ececec\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #0000aa\nexternal-link-foreground: #0000ee\nforeground: #333333\nmessage-background: #ecf2ff\nmessage-border: #cfd6e6\nmessage-foreground: #547599\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: #999999\nmodal-footer-background: #f5f5f5\nmodal-footer-border: #dddddd\nmodal-header-border: #eeeeee\nmuted-foreground: #999999\nnotification-background: #ffffdd\nnotification-border: #999999\npage-background: #000\npre-background: #f5f5f5\npre-border: #cccccc\nprimary: #cc0000\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: #000000\nsidebar-controls-foreground: #ffffff\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(255,255,255, 0.0)\nsidebar-foreground: #acacac\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: #c0c0c0\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: #000\nsidebar-tab-background: <<colour tab-background>>\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\nsidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\nsidebar-tab-divider: <<colour tab-divider>>\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected: \nsidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: #ffbb99\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: #cc0000\nsite-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: #ffffff\ntab-background: #d8d8d8\ntab-border-selected: #d8d8d8\ntab-border: #cccccc\ntab-divider: #d8d8d8\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground>>\ntab-foreground: #666666\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #ffbb99\ntag-foreground: #000\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #888888\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #444444\ntiddler-controls-foreground: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-editor-border-image: #ffffff\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: #e0e8e0\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: #f0f4f0\ntiddler-info-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-info-border: #dddddd\ntiddler-info-tab-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: #c0c0c0\ntiddler-title-foreground: #cc0000\ntoolbar-new-button:\ntoolbar-options-button:\ntoolbar-save-button:\ntoolbar-info-button:\ntoolbar-edit-button:\ntoolbar-close-button:\ntoolbar-delete-button:\ntoolbar-cancel-button:\ntoolbar-done-button:\nuntagged-background: #999999\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/SolarFlare": {
"title": "$:/palettes/SolarFlare",
"name": "Solar Flare",
"description": "Warm, relaxing earth colours",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": ": Background Tones\n\nbase03: #002b36\nbase02: #073642\n\n: Content Tones\n\nbase01: #586e75\nbase00: #657b83\nbase0: #839496\nbase1: #93a1a1\n\n: Background Tones\n\nbase2: #eee8d5\nbase3: #fdf6e3\n\n: Accent Colors\n\nyellow: #b58900\norange: #cb4b16\nred: #dc322f\nmagenta: #d33682\nviolet: #6c71c4\nblue: #268bd2\ncyan: #2aa198\ngreen: #859900\n\n: Additional Tones (RA)\n\nbase10: #c0c4bb\nviolet-muted: #7c81b0\nblue-muted: #4e7baa\n\nyellow-hot: #ffcc44\norange-hot: #eb6d20\nred-hot: #ff2222\nblue-hot: #2298ee\ngreen-hot: #98ee22\n\n: Palette\n\n: Do not use colour macro for background and foreground\nbackground: #fdf6e3\n download-foreground: <<colour background>>\n dragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\n dropdown-background: <<colour background>>\n modal-background: <<colour background>>\n sidebar-foreground-shadow: <<colour background>>\n tiddler-background: <<colour background>>\n tiddler-border: <<colour background>>\n tiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\n tab-background-selected: <<colour background>>\n dropdown-tab-background-selected: <<colour tab-background-selected>>\nforeground: #657b83\n dragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\n tab-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\n tab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground>>\n sidebar-tab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground-selected>>\n sidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\n sidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\n sidebar-controls-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\n sidebar-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\n: base03\n: base02\n: base01\n alert-muted-foreground: <<colour base01>>\n: base00\n code-foreground: <<colour base00>>\n message-foreground: <<colour base00>>\n tag-foreground: <<colour base00>>\n: base0\n sidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: <<colour base0>>\n: base1\n muted-foreground: <<colour base1>>\n blockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\n dropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\n sidebar-muted-foreground: <<colour muted-foreground>>\n tiddler-title-foreground: <<colour muted-foreground>>\n site-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\n: base2\n modal-footer-background: <<colour base2>>\n page-background: <<colour base2>>\n modal-backdrop: <<colour page-background>>\n notification-background: <<colour page-background>>\n code-background: <<colour page-background>>\n code-border: <<colour code-background>>\n pre-background: <<colour page-background>>\n pre-border: <<colour pre-background>>\n sidebar-tab-background-selected: <<colour page-background>>\n table-header-background: <<colour base2>>\n tag-background: <<colour base2>>\n tiddler-editor-background: <<colour base2>>\n tiddler-info-background: <<colour base2>>\n tiddler-info-tab-background: <<colour base2>>\n tab-background: <<colour base2>>\n dropdown-tab-background: <<colour tab-background>>\n: base3\n alert-background: <<colour base3>>\n message-background: <<colour base3>>\n: yellow\n: orange\n: red\n: magenta\n alert-highlight: <<colour magenta>>\n: violet\n external-link-foreground: <<colour violet>>\n: blue\n: cyan\n: green\n: base10\n tiddler-controls-foreground: <<colour base10>>\n: violet-muted\n external-link-foreground-visited: <<colour violet-muted>>\n: blue-muted\n primary: <<colour blue-muted>>\n download-background: <<colour primary>>\n tiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\n\nalert-border: #b99e2f\ndirty-indicator: #ff0000\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nmessage-border: #cfd6e6\nmodal-border: #999999\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover:\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover:\nsidebar-tab-background: #ded8c5\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover:\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-border: #cccccc\n modal-footer-border: <<colour tab-border>>\n modal-header-border: <<colour tab-border>>\n notification-border: <<colour tab-border>>\n sidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\n tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border>>\n sidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\ntab-divider: #d8d8d8\n sidebar-tab-divider: <<colour tab-divider>>\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #888888\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #444444\ntiddler-editor-border-image: #ffffff\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: #e0e8e0\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: #f0f4f0\ntiddler-info-border: #dddddd\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: #c0c0c0\ntoolbar-new-button:\ntoolbar-options-button:\ntoolbar-save-button:\ntoolbar-info-button:\ntoolbar-edit-button:\ntoolbar-close-button:\ntoolbar-delete-button:\ntoolbar-cancel-button:\ntoolbar-done-button:\nuntagged-background: #999999\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/palettes/Vanilla": {
"title": "$:/palettes/Vanilla",
"name": "Vanilla",
"description": "Pale and unobtrusive",
"tags": "$:/tags/Palette",
"type": "application/x-tiddler-dictionary",
"text": "alert-background: #ffe476\nalert-border: #b99e2f\nalert-highlight: #881122\nalert-muted-foreground: #b99e2f\nbackground: #ffffff\nblockquote-bar: <<colour muted-foreground>>\nbutton-background:\nbutton-foreground:\nbutton-border:\ncode-background: #f7f7f9\ncode-border: #e1e1e8\ncode-foreground: #dd1144\ndirty-indicator: #ff0000\ndownload-background: #34c734\ndownload-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndragger-background: <<colour foreground>>\ndragger-foreground: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-background: <<colour background>>\ndropdown-border: <<colour muted-foreground>>\ndropdown-tab-background-selected: #fff\ndropdown-tab-background: #ececec\ndropzone-background: rgba(0,200,0,0.7)\nexternal-link-background-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-background-visited: inherit\nexternal-link-background: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-hover: inherit\nexternal-link-foreground-visited: #0000aa\nexternal-link-foreground: #0000ee\nforeground: #333333\nmessage-background: #ecf2ff\nmessage-border: #cfd6e6\nmessage-foreground: #547599\nmodal-backdrop: <<colour foreground>>\nmodal-background: <<colour background>>\nmodal-border: #999999\nmodal-footer-background: #f5f5f5\nmodal-footer-border: #dddddd\nmodal-header-border: #eeeeee\nmuted-foreground: #bbb\nnotification-background: #ffffdd\nnotification-border: #999999\npage-background: #f4f4f4\npre-background: #f5f5f5\npre-border: #cccccc\nprimary: #5778d8\nsidebar-button-foreground: <<colour foreground>>\nsidebar-controls-foreground-hover: #000000\nsidebar-controls-foreground: #aaaaaa\nsidebar-foreground-shadow: rgba(255,255,255, 0.8)\nsidebar-foreground: #acacac\nsidebar-muted-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-muted-foreground: #c0c0c0\nsidebar-tab-background-selected: #f4f4f4\nsidebar-tab-background: #e0e0e0\nsidebar-tab-border-selected: <<colour tab-border-selected>>\nsidebar-tab-border: <<colour tab-border>>\nsidebar-tab-divider: #e4e4e4\nsidebar-tab-foreground-selected:\nsidebar-tab-foreground: <<colour tab-foreground>>\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover: #444444\nsidebar-tiddler-link-foreground: #999999\nsite-title-foreground: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>\nstatic-alert-foreground: #aaaaaa\ntab-background-selected: #ffffff\ntab-background: #d8d8d8\ntab-border-selected: #d8d8d8\ntab-border: #cccccc\ntab-divider: #d8d8d8\ntab-foreground-selected: <<colour tab-foreground>>\ntab-foreground: #666666\ntable-border: #dddddd\ntable-footer-background: #a8a8a8\ntable-header-background: #f0f0f0\ntag-background: #ec6\ntag-foreground: #ffffff\ntiddler-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-border: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-controls-foreground-hover: #888888\ntiddler-controls-foreground-selected: #444444\ntiddler-controls-foreground: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-editor-border-image: #ffffff\ntiddler-editor-border: #cccccc\ntiddler-editor-fields-even: #e0e8e0\ntiddler-editor-fields-odd: #f0f4f0\ntiddler-info-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-info-border: #dddddd\ntiddler-info-tab-background: #f8f8f8\ntiddler-link-background: <<colour background>>\ntiddler-link-foreground: <<colour primary>>\ntiddler-subtitle-foreground: #c0c0c0\ntiddler-title-foreground: #182955\ntoolbar-new-button:\ntoolbar-options-button:\ntoolbar-save-button:\ntoolbar-info-button:\ntoolbar-edit-button:\ntoolbar-close-button:\ntoolbar-delete-button:\ntoolbar-cancel-button:\ntoolbar-done-button:\nuntagged-background: #999999\nvery-muted-foreground: #888888\n"
},
"$:/core/readme": {
"title": "$:/core/readme",
"text": "This plugin contains TiddlyWiki's core components, comprising:\n\n* JavaScript code modules\n* Icons\n* Templates needed to create TiddlyWiki's user interface\n* British English (''en-GB'') translations of the localisable strings used by the core\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/MOTW.html": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/MOTW.html",
"text": "\\rules only filteredtranscludeinline transcludeinline entity\n<!-- The following comment is called a MOTW comment and is necessary for the TiddlyIE Internet Explorer extension -->\n<!-- saved from url=(0021)http://tiddlywiki.com --> "
},
"$:/core/templates/alltiddlers.template.html": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/alltiddlers.template.html",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki-html",
"text": "<!-- This template is provided for backwards compatibility with older versions of TiddlyWiki -->\n\n<$set name=\"exportFilter\" value=\"[!is[system]sort[title]]\">\n\n{{$:/core/templates/exporters/StaticRiver}}\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/canonical-uri-external-image": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/canonical-uri-external-image",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used to assign the ''_canonical_uri'' field to external images.\n\nChange the `./images/` part to a different base URI. The URI can be relative or absolute.\n\n-->\n./images/<$view field=\"title\" format=\"doubleurlencoded\"/>"
},
"$:/core/templates/canonical-uri-external-text": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/canonical-uri-external-text",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used to assign the ''_canonical_uri'' field to external text files.\n\nChange the `./text/` part to a different base URI. The URI can be relative or absolute.\n\n-->\n./text/<$view field=\"title\" format=\"doubleurlencoded\"/>.tid"
},
"$:/core/templates/css-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/css-tiddler",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving CSS tiddlers as a style tag with data attributes representing the tiddler fields.\n\n-->`<style`<$fields template=' data-tiddler-$name$=\"$encoded_value$\"'></$fields>` type=\"text/css\">`<$view field=\"text\" format=\"text\" />`</style>`"
},
"$:/core/templates/exporters/CsvFile": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/exporters/CsvFile",
"tags": "$:/tags/Exporter",
"description": "{{$:/language/Exporters/CsvFile}}",
"extension": ".csv",
"text": "\\define renderContent()\n<$text text=<<csvtiddlers filter:\"\"\"$(exportFilter)$\"\"\" format:\"quoted-comma-sep\">>/>\n\\end\n<<renderContent>>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/exporters/JsonFile": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/exporters/JsonFile",
"tags": "$:/tags/Exporter",
"description": "{{$:/language/Exporters/JsonFile}}",
"extension": ".json",
"text": "\\define renderContent()\n<$text text=<<jsontiddlers filter:\"\"\"$(exportFilter)$\"\"\">>/>\n\\end\n<<renderContent>>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/exporters/StaticRiver": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/exporters/StaticRiver",
"tags": "$:/tags/Exporter",
"description": "{{$:/language/Exporters/StaticRiver}}",
"extension": ".html",
"text": "\\define tv-wikilink-template() #$uri_encoded$\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-icons() no\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-text() no\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-class() tc-btn-invisible\n\\rules only filteredtranscludeinline transcludeinline\n<!doctype html>\n<html>\n<head>\n<meta http-equiv=\"Content-Type\" content=\"text/html;charset=utf-8\" />\n<meta name=\"generator\" content=\"TiddlyWiki\" />\n<meta name=\"tiddlywiki-version\" content=\"{{$:/core/templates/version}}\" />\n<meta name=\"format-detection\" content=\"telephone=no\">\n<link id=\"faviconLink\" rel=\"shortcut icon\" href=\"favicon.ico\">\n<title>{{$:/core/wiki/title}}</title>\n<div id=\"styleArea\">\n{{$:/boot/boot.css||$:/core/templates/css-tiddler}}\n</div>\n<style type=\"text/css\">\n{{$:/core/ui/PageStylesheet||$:/core/templates/wikified-tiddler}}\n</style>\n</head>\n<body class=\"tc-body\">\n{{$:/StaticBanner||$:/core/templates/html-tiddler}}\n<section class=\"tc-story-river\">\n{{$:/core/templates/exporters/StaticRiver/Content||$:/core/templates/html-tiddler}}\n</section>\n</body>\n</html>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/exporters/StaticRiver/Content": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/exporters/StaticRiver/Content",
"text": "\\define renderContent()\n{{{ $(exportFilter)$ ||$:/core/templates/static-tiddler}}}\n\\end\n<$importvariables filter=\"[[$:/core/ui/PageMacros]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Macro]!has[draft.of]]\">\n<<renderContent>>\n</$importvariables>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/exporters/TidFile": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/exporters/TidFile",
"tags": "$:/tags/Exporter",
"description": "{{$:/language/Exporters/TidFile}}",
"extension": ".tid",
"text": "\\define renderContent()\n{{{ $(exportFilter)$ +[limit[1]] ||$:/core/templates/tid-tiddler}}}\n\\end\n<$importvariables filter=\"[[$:/core/ui/PageMacros]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Macro]!has[draft.of]]\"><<renderContent>></$importvariables>"
},
"$:/core/templates/html-div-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/html-div-tiddler",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving tiddlers as an HTML DIV tag with attributes representing the tiddler fields.\n\n-->`<div`<$fields template=' $name$=\"$encoded_value$\"'></$fields>`>\n<pre>`<$view field=\"text\" format=\"htmlencoded\" />`</pre>\n</div>`\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/html-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/html-tiddler",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving tiddlers as raw HTML\n\n--><$view field=\"text\" format=\"htmlwikified\" />"
},
"$:/core/templates/javascript-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/javascript-tiddler",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving JavaScript tiddlers as a script tag with data attributes representing the tiddler fields.\n\n-->`<script`<$fields template=' data-tiddler-$name$=\"$encoded_value$\"'></$fields>` type=\"text/javascript\">`<$view field=\"text\" format=\"text\" />`</script>`"
},
"$:/core/templates/module-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/module-tiddler",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving JavaScript tiddlers as a script tag with data attributes representing the tiddler fields. The body of the tiddler is wrapped in a call to the `$tw.modules.define` function in order to define the body of the tiddler as a module\n\n-->`<script`<$fields template=' data-tiddler-$name$=\"$encoded_value$\"'></$fields>` type=\"text/javascript\" data-module=\"yes\">$tw.modules.define(\"`<$view field=\"title\" format=\"jsencoded\" />`\",\"`<$view field=\"module-type\" format=\"jsencoded\" />`\",function(module,exports,require) {`<$view field=\"text\" format=\"text\" />`});\n</script>`"
},
"$:/core/templates/plain-text-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/plain-text-tiddler",
"text": "<$view field=\"text\" format=\"text\" />"
},
"$:/core/templates/raw-static-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/raw-static-tiddler",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving tiddlers as static HTML\n\n--><$view field=\"text\" format=\"plainwikified\" />"
},
"$:/core/save/all": {
"title": "$:/core/save/all",
"text": "\\define saveTiddlerFilter()\n[is[tiddler]] -[prefix[$:/state/popup/]] -[[$:/HistoryList]] -[[$:/boot/boot.css]] -[type[application/javascript]library[yes]] -[[$:/boot/boot.js]] -[[$:/boot/bootprefix.js]] +[sort[title]] $(publishFilter)$\n\\end\n{{$:/core/templates/tiddlywiki5.html}}\n"
},
"$:/core/save/empty": {
"title": "$:/core/save/empty",
"text": "\\define saveTiddlerFilter()\n[is[system]] -[prefix[$:/state/popup/]] -[[$:/boot/boot.css]] -[type[application/javascript]library[yes]] -[[$:/boot/boot.js]] -[[$:/boot/bootprefix.js]] +[sort[title]]\n\\end\n{{$:/core/templates/tiddlywiki5.html}}\n"
},
"$:/core/save/lazy-all": {
"title": "$:/core/save/lazy-all",
"text": "\\define saveTiddlerFilter()\n[is[system]] -[prefix[$:/state/popup/]] -[[$:/HistoryList]] -[[$:/boot/boot.css]] -[type[application/javascript]library[yes]] -[[$:/boot/boot.js]] -[[$:/boot/bootprefix.js]] +[sort[title]] \n\\end\n{{$:/core/templates/tiddlywiki5.html}}\n"
},
"$:/core/save/lazy-images": {
"title": "$:/core/save/lazy-images",
"text": "\\define saveTiddlerFilter()\n[is[tiddler]] -[prefix[$:/state/popup/]] -[[$:/HistoryList]] -[[$:/boot/boot.css]] -[type[application/javascript]library[yes]] -[[$:/boot/boot.js]] -[[$:/boot/bootprefix.js]] -[!is[system]is[image]] +[sort[title]] \n\\end\n{{$:/core/templates/tiddlywiki5.html}}\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/single.tiddler.window": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/single.tiddler.window",
"text": "<$set name=\"themeTitle\" value={{$:/view}}>\n\n<$set name=\"tempCurrentTiddler\" value=<<currentTiddler>>>\n\n<$set name=\"currentTiddler\" value={{$:/language}}>\n\n<$set name=\"languageTitle\" value={{!!name}}>\n\n<$set name=\"currentTiddler\" value=<<tempCurrentTiddler>>>\n\n<$importvariables filter=\"[[$:/core/ui/PageMacros]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Macro]!has[draft.of]]\">\n\n<$navigator story=\"$:/StoryList\" history=\"$:/HistoryList\">\n\n<$transclude mode=\"block\"/>\n\n</$navigator>\n\n</$importvariables>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/split-recipe": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/split-recipe",
"text": "<$list filter=\"[!is[system]]\">\ntiddler: <$view field=\"title\" format=\"urlencoded\"/>.tid\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/static-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/static-tiddler",
"text": "<a name=<<currentTiddler>>>\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate\"/>\n</a>"
},
"$:/core/templates/static.area": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/static.area",
"text": "<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/isEncrypted\" text=\"yes\">\n{{{ [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/RawStaticContent]!has[draft.of]] ||$:/core/templates/raw-static-tiddler}}}\n{{$:/core/templates/static.content||$:/core/templates/html-tiddler}}\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/isEncrypted\" text=\"yes\">\nThis file contains an encrypted ~TiddlyWiki. Enable ~JavaScript and enter the decryption password when prompted.\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/static.content": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/static.content",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"text": "<!-- For Google, and people without JavaScript-->\nThis [[TiddlyWiki|http://tiddlywiki.com]] contains the following tiddlers:\n\n<ul>\n<$list filter=<<saveTiddlerFilter>>>\n<li><$view field=\"title\" format=\"text\"></$view></li>\n</$list>\n</ul>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/static.template.css": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/static.template.css",
"text": "{{$:/boot/boot.css||$:/core/templates/plain-text-tiddler}}\n\n{{$:/core/ui/PageStylesheet||$:/core/templates/wikified-tiddler}}\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/static.template.html": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/static.template.html",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki-html",
"text": "\\define tv-wikilink-template() static/$uri_doubleencoded$.html\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-icons() no\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-text() no\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-class() tc-btn-invisible\n\\rules only filteredtranscludeinline transcludeinline\n<!doctype html>\n<html>\n<head>\n<meta http-equiv=\"Content-Type\" content=\"text/html;charset=utf-8\" />\n<meta name=\"generator\" content=\"TiddlyWiki\" />\n<meta name=\"tiddlywiki-version\" content=\"{{$:/core/templates/version}}\" />\n<meta name=\"viewport\" content=\"width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0\" />\n<meta name=\"apple-mobile-web-app-capable\" content=\"yes\" />\n<meta name=\"apple-mobile-web-app-status-bar-style\" content=\"black-translucent\" />\n<meta name=\"mobile-web-app-capable\" content=\"yes\"/>\n<meta name=\"format-detection\" content=\"telephone=no\">\n<link id=\"faviconLink\" rel=\"shortcut icon\" href=\"favicon.ico\">\n<title>{{$:/core/wiki/title}}</title>\n<div id=\"styleArea\">\n{{$:/boot/boot.css||$:/core/templates/css-tiddler}}\n</div>\n<style type=\"text/css\">\n{{$:/core/ui/PageStylesheet||$:/core/templates/wikified-tiddler}}\n</style>\n</head>\n<body class=\"tc-body\">\n{{$:/StaticBanner||$:/core/templates/html-tiddler}}\n{{$:/core/ui/PageTemplate||$:/core/templates/html-tiddler}}\n</body>\n</html>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/static.tiddler.html": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/static.tiddler.html",
"text": "\\define tv-wikilink-template() $uri_doubleencoded$.html\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-icons() no\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-text() no\n\\define tv-config-toolbar-class() tc-btn-invisible\n`<!doctype html>\n<html>\n<head>\n<meta http-equiv=\"Content-Type\" content=\"text/html;charset=utf-8\" />\n<meta name=\"generator\" content=\"TiddlyWiki\" />\n<meta name=\"tiddlywiki-version\" content=\"`{{$:/core/templates/version}}`\" />\n<meta name=\"viewport\" content=\"width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0\" />\n<meta name=\"apple-mobile-web-app-capable\" content=\"yes\" />\n<meta name=\"apple-mobile-web-app-status-bar-style\" content=\"black-translucent\" />\n<meta name=\"mobile-web-app-capable\" content=\"yes\"/>\n<meta name=\"format-detection\" content=\"telephone=no\">\n<link id=\"faviconLink\" rel=\"shortcut icon\" href=\"favicon.ico\">\n<link rel=\"stylesheet\" href=\"static.css\">\n<title>`<$view field=\"caption\"><$view field=\"title\"/></$view>: {{$:/core/wiki/title}}`</title>\n</head>\n<body class=\"tc-body\">\n`{{$:/StaticBanner||$:/core/templates/html-tiddler}}`\n<section class=\"tc-story-river\">\n`<$importvariables filter=\"[[$:/core/ui/PageMacros]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Macro]!has[draft.of]]\">\n<$view tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate\" format=\"htmlwikified\"/>\n</$importvariables>`\n</section>\n</body>\n</html>\n`"
},
"$:/core/templates/store.area.template.html": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/store.area.template.html",
"text": "<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/isEncrypted\" text=\"yes\">\n`<div id=\"storeArea\" style=\"display:none;\">`\n<$list filter=<<saveTiddlerFilter>> template=\"$:/core/templates/html-div-tiddler\"/>\n`</div>`\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/isEncrypted\" text=\"yes\">\n`<!--~~ Encrypted tiddlers ~~-->`\n`<pre id=\"encryptedStoreArea\" type=\"text/plain\" style=\"display:none;\">`\n<$encrypt filter=<<saveTiddlerFilter>>/>\n`</pre>`\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/templates/tid-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/tid-tiddler",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving tiddlers in TiddlyWeb *.tid format\n\n--><$fields exclude='text bag' template='$name$: $value$\n'></$fields>`\n`<$view field=\"text\" format=\"text\" />"
},
"$:/core/templates/tiddler-metadata": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/tiddler-metadata",
"text": "<!--\n\nThis template is used for saving tiddler metadata *.meta files\n\n--><$fields exclude='text bag' template='$name$: $value$\n'></$fields>"
},
"$:/core/templates/tiddlywiki5.html": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/tiddlywiki5.html",
"text": "\\rules only filteredtranscludeinline transcludeinline\n<!doctype html>\n{{$:/core/templates/MOTW.html}}<html>\n<head>\n<meta http-equiv=\"X-UA-Compatible\" content=\"IE=edge\" />\t\t<!-- Force IE standards mode for Intranet and HTA - should be the first meta -->\n<meta http-equiv=\"Content-Type\" content=\"text/html;charset=utf-8\" />\n<meta name=\"application-name\" content=\"TiddlyWiki\" />\n<meta name=\"generator\" content=\"TiddlyWiki\" />\n<meta name=\"tiddlywiki-version\" content=\"{{$:/core/templates/version}}\" />\n<meta name=\"viewport\" content=\"width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0\" />\n<meta name=\"apple-mobile-web-app-capable\" content=\"yes\" />\n<meta name=\"apple-mobile-web-app-status-bar-style\" content=\"black-translucent\" />\n<meta name=\"mobile-web-app-capable\" content=\"yes\"/>\n<meta name=\"format-detection\" content=\"telephone=no\" />\n<meta name=\"copyright\" content=\"{{$:/core/copyright.txt}}\" />\n<link id=\"faviconLink\" rel=\"shortcut icon\" href=\"favicon.ico\">\n<title>{{$:/core/wiki/title}}</title>\n<!--~~ This is a Tiddlywiki file. The points of interest in the file are marked with this pattern ~~-->\n\n<!--~~ Raw markup ~~-->\n{{{ [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/core/wiki/rawmarkup]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/RawMarkup]] ||$:/core/templates/plain-text-tiddler}}}\n</head>\n<body class=\"tc-body\">\n<!--~~ Static styles ~~-->\n<div id=\"styleArea\">\n{{$:/boot/boot.css||$:/core/templates/css-tiddler}}\n</div>\n<!--~~ Static content for Google and browsers without JavaScript ~~-->\n<noscript>\n<div id=\"splashArea\">\n{{$:/core/templates/static.area}}\n</div>\n</noscript>\n<!--~~ Ordinary tiddlers ~~-->\n{{$:/core/templates/store.area.template.html}}\n<!--~~ Library modules ~~-->\n<div id=\"libraryModules\" style=\"display:none;\">\n{{{ [is[system]type[application/javascript]library[yes]] ||$:/core/templates/javascript-tiddler}}}\n</div>\n<!--~~ Boot kernel prologue ~~-->\n<div id=\"bootKernelPrefix\" style=\"display:none;\">\n{{ $:/boot/bootprefix.js ||$:/core/templates/javascript-tiddler}}\n</div>\n<!--~~ Boot kernel ~~-->\n<div id=\"bootKernel\" style=\"display:none;\">\n{{ $:/boot/boot.js ||$:/core/templates/javascript-tiddler}}\n</div>\n</body>\n</html>\n"
},
"$:/core/templates/version": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/version",
"text": "<<version>>"
},
"$:/core/templates/wikified-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/templates/wikified-tiddler",
"text": "<$transclude />"
},
"$:/core/ui/AboveStory/tw2-plugin-check": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AboveStory/tw2-plugin-check",
"tags": "$:/tags/AboveStory",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/AboveStory/ClassicPlugin/\n<$list filter=\"[all[system+tiddlers]tag[systemConfig]limit[1]]\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-message-box\">\n\n<<lingo Warning>>\n\n<ul>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[system+tiddlers]tag[systemConfig]limit[1]]\">\n\n<li>\n\n<$link><$view field=\"title\"/></$link>\n\n</li>\n\n</$list>\n\n</ul>\n\n</div>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Search/Filter/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Search/\n<<lingo Filter/Hint>>\n\n<div class=\"tc-search tc-advanced-search\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"search\" tag=\"input\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/AdvancedSearch/FilterButton]!has[draft.of]]\"><$transclude/></$list>\n</div>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$set name=\"resultCount\" value=\"\"\"<$count filter={{$:/temp/advancedsearch}}/>\"\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-search-results\">\n<<lingo Filter/Matches>>\n<$list filter={{$:/temp/advancedsearch}} template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n</div>\n</$set>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/clear": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/clear",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch/FilterButton",
"text": "<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" $field=\"text\" $value=\"\"/>\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/delete": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/delete",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch/FilterButton",
"text": "<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/filterDeleteDropdown\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/delete-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/filterDeleteDropdown\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"belowleft\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown tc-edit-type-dropdown\">\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item-plain\">\n<$set name=\"resultCount\" value=\"\"\"<$count filter={{$:/temp/advancedsearch}}/>\"\"\">\nAre you sure you wish to delete <<resultCount>> tiddler(s)?\n</$set>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item-plain\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn\">\n<$action-deletetiddler $filter={{$:/temp/advancedsearch}}/>\nDelete these tiddlers\n</$button>\n</div>\n</div>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/dropdown",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch/FilterButton",
"text": "<span class=\"tc-popup-keep\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/filterDropdown\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</span>\n\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/filterDropdown\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"belowleft\" animate=\"yes\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown tc-edit-type-dropdown\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Filter]]\"><$link to={{!!filter}}><$transclude field=\"description\"/></$link>\n</$list>\n</div>\n</div>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/export": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/export",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch/FilterButton",
"text": "<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"exportButton\" exportFilter={{$:/temp/advancedsearch}} lingoBase=\"$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddlers/\"/>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Shadows": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Shadows",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Search/Shadows/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Search/\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\">\n\n<<lingo Shadows/Hint>>\n\n<div class=\"tc-search\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"search\" tag=\"input\"/>\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" $field=\"text\" $value=\"\"/>\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n\n</$linkcatcher>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n\n<$set name=\"resultCount\" value=\"\"\"<$count filter=\"[all[shadows]search{$:/temp/advancedsearch}] -[[$:/temp/advancedsearch]]\"/>\"\"\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-search-results\">\n\n<<lingo Shadows/Matches>>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows]search{$:/temp/advancedsearch}sort[title]limit[250]] -[[$:/temp/advancedsearch]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n\n</div>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"match\" text=\"\">\n\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Standard": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Standard",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Search/Standard/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Search/\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\">\n\n<<lingo Standard/Hint>>\n\n<div class=\"tc-search\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"search\" tag=\"input\"/>\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" $field=\"text\" $value=\"\"/>\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n\n</$linkcatcher>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$set name=\"searchTiddler\" value=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SearchResults]!has[draft.of]butfirst[]limit[1]]\" emptyMessage=\"\"\"\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SearchResults]!has[draft.of]]\">\n<$transclude/>\n</$list>\n\"\"\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"tabs\" tabsList=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SearchResults]!has[draft.of]]\" default={{$:/config/SearchResults/Default}}/>\n</$list>\n</$set>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/System": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/System",
"tags": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Search/System/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Search/\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\">\n\n<<lingo System/Hint>>\n\n<div class=\"tc-search\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"search\" tag=\"input\"/>\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" $field=\"text\" $value=\"\"/>\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n\n</$linkcatcher>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n\n<$set name=\"resultCount\" value=\"\"\"<$count filter=\"[is[system]search{$:/temp/advancedsearch}] -[[$:/temp/advancedsearch]]\"/>\"\"\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-search-results\">\n\n<<lingo System/Matches>>\n\n<$list filter=\"[is[system]search{$:/temp/advancedsearch}sort[title]limit[250]] -[[$:/temp/advancedsearch]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n\n</div>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" type=\"match\" text=\"\">\n\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/AdvancedSearch": {
"title": "$:/AdvancedSearch",
"icon": "$:/core/images/advanced-search-button",
"color": "#bbb",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-advanced-search\">\n<<tabs \"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/AdvancedSearch]!has[draft.of]]\" \"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/System\">>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/AlertTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/AlertTemplate",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-alert\">\n<div class=\"tc-alert-toolbar\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\"><$action-deletetiddler $tiddler=<<currentTiddler>>/>{{$:/core/images/delete-button}}</$button>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-alert-subtitle\">\n<$view field=\"component\"/> - <$view field=\"modified\" format=\"date\" template=\"0hh:0mm:0ss DD MM YYYY\"/> <$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"!!count\" text=\"\"><span class=\"tc-alert-highlight\">({{$:/language/Count}}: <$view field=\"count\"/>)</span></$reveal>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-alert-body\">\n\n<$transclude/>\n\n</div>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/BinaryWarning": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/BinaryWarning",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/BinaryWarning/\n<div class=\"tc-binary-warning\">\n\n<<lingo Prompt>>\n\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Components/tag-link": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Components/tag-link",
"text": "<$link>\n<$set name=\"backgroundColor\" value={{!!color}}>\n<span style=<<tag-styles>> class=\"tc-tag-label\">\n<$view field=\"title\" format=\"text\"/>\n</span>\n</$set>\n</$link>"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Advanced": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Advanced",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Info",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Advanced/Caption}}",
"text": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Advanced/Hint}}\n\n<div class=\"tc-control-panel\">\n<<tabs \"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ControlPanel/Advanced]!has[draft.of]]\" \"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields\">>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Appearance": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Appearance",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Appearance/Caption}}",
"text": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Appearance/Hint}}\n\n<div class=\"tc-control-panel\">\n<<tabs \"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ControlPanel/Appearance]!has[draft.of]]\" \"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Theme\">>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Basics": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Basics",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Info",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/\n\n\\define show-filter-count(filter)\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" $value=\"\"\"$filter$\"\"\"/>\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/state/tab--1498284803\" $value=\"$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter\"/>\n<$action-navigate $to=\"$:/AdvancedSearch\"/>\n''<$count filter=\"\"\"$filter$\"\"\"/>''\n{{$:/core/images/advanced-search-button}}\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n|<<lingo Version/Prompt>> |''<<version>>'' |\n|<$link to=\"$:/SiteTitle\"><<lingo Title/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/SiteTitle\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/SiteSubtitle\"><<lingo Subtitle/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/SiteSubtitle\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/status/UserName\"><<lingo Username/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/status/UserName\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/config/AnimationDuration\"><<lingo AnimDuration/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/config/AnimationDuration\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/DefaultTiddlers\"><<lingo DefaultTiddlers/Prompt>></$link> |<<lingo DefaultTiddlers/TopHint>><br> <$edit tag=\"textarea\" tiddler=\"$:/DefaultTiddlers\" class=\"tc-edit-texteditor\"/><br>//<<lingo DefaultTiddlers/BottomHint>>// |\n|<$link to=\"$:/config/NewJournal/Title\"><<lingo NewJournal/Title/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/config/NewJournal/Title\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/config/NewJournal/Tags\"><<lingo NewJournal/Tags/Prompt>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/config/NewJournal/Tags\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<<lingo Language/Prompt>> |{{$:/snippets/minilanguageswitcher}} |\n|<<lingo Tiddlers/Prompt>> |<<show-filter-count \"[!is[system]sort[title]]\">> |\n|<<lingo Tags/Prompt>> |<<show-filter-count \"[tags[]sort[title]]\">> |\n|<<lingo SystemTiddlers/Prompt>> |<<show-filter-count \"[is[system]sort[title]]\">> |\n|<<lingo ShadowTiddlers/Prompt>> |<<show-filter-count \"[all[shadows]sort[title]]\">> |\n|<<lingo OverriddenShadowTiddlers/Prompt>> |<<show-filter-count \"[is[tiddler]is[shadow]sort[title]]\">> |\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/EditorTypes": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/EditorTypes",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Advanced",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/EditorTypes/\n\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<table>\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<th><<lingo Type/Caption>></th>\n<th><<lingo Editor/Caption>></th>\n</tr>\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]prefix[$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/]sort[title]]\">\n<tr>\n<td>\n<$link>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]removeprefix[$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/]]\">\n<$text text={{!!title}}/>\n</$list>\n</$link>\n</td>\n<td>\n<$view field=\"text\"/>\n</td>\n</tr>\n</$list>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Info": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Info",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Info/Caption}}",
"text": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Info/Hint}}\n\n<div class=\"tc-control-panel\">\n<<tabs \"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ControlPanel/Info]!has[draft.of]]\" \"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Basics\">>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/\n\n\\define new-shortcut(title)\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item-plain\">\n<$edit-shortcut tiddler=\"$title$\" placeholder={{$:/language/ControlPanel/KeyboardShortcuts/Add/Prompt}} style=\"width:auto;\"/> <$button>\n<<lingo Add/Caption>>\n<$action-listops\n\t$tiddler=\"$(shortcutTitle)$\"\n\t$field=\"text\"\n\t$subfilter=\"[{$title$}]\"\n/>\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=\"$title$\"\n/>\n</$button>\n</div>\n\\end\n\n\\define shortcut-list-item(caption)\n<td>\n</td>\n<td style=\"text-align:right;font-size:0.7em;\">\n<<lingo Platform/$caption$>>\n</td>\n<td>\n<div style=\"position:relative;\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/dropdown/$(shortcutTitle)$\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/edit-button}}\n</$button>\n<$macrocall $name=\"displayshortcuts\" $output=\"text/html\" shortcuts={{$(shortcutTitle)$}} prefix=\"<kbd>\" separator=\"</kbd> <kbd>\" suffix=\"</kbd>\"/>\n\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/dropdown/$(shortcutTitle)$\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown tc-edit-type-dropdown tc-popup-keep\">\n<$list filter=\"[list[$(shortcutTitle)$!!text]sort[title]]\" variable=\"shortcut\" emptyMessage=\"\"\"\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item-plain\">\n//<<lingo NoShortcuts/Caption>>//\n</div>\n\"\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item-plain\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\" tooltip=<<lingo Remove/Hint>>>\n<$action-listops\n\t$tiddler=\"$(shortcutTitle)$\"\n\t$field=\"text\"\n\t$subfilter=\"+[remove<shortcut>]\"\n/>\n×\n</$button>\n<kbd>\n<$macrocall $name=\"displayshortcuts\" $output=\"text/html\" shortcuts=<<shortcut>>/>\n</kbd>\n</div>\n</$list>\n<hr/>\n<$macrocall $name=\"new-shortcut\" title=<<qualify \"$:/state/new-shortcut/$(shortcutTitle)$\">>/>\n</div>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n</td>\n\\end\n\n\\define shortcut-list(caption,prefix)\n<tr>\n<$list filter=\"[all[tiddlers+shadows][$prefix$$(shortcutName)$]]\" variable=\"shortcutTitle\">\n<<shortcut-list-item \"$caption$\">>\n</$list>\n</tr>\n\\end\n\n\\define shortcut-editor()\n<<shortcut-list \"All\" \"$:/config/shortcuts/\">>\n<<shortcut-list \"Mac\" \"$:/config/shortcuts-mac/\">>\n<<shortcut-list \"NonMac\" \"$:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/\">>\n<<shortcut-list \"Linux\" \"$:/config/shortcuts-linux/\">>\n<<shortcut-list \"NonLinux\" \"$:/config/shortcuts-not-linux/\">>\n<<shortcut-list \"Windows\" \"$:/config/shortcuts-windows/\">>\n<<shortcut-list \"NonWindows\" \"$:/config/shortcuts-not-windows/\">>\n\\end\n\n\\define shortcut-preview()\n<$macrocall $name=\"displayshortcuts\" $output=\"text/html\" shortcuts={{$(shortcutPrefix)$$(shortcutName)$}} prefix=\"<kbd>\" separator=\"</kbd> <kbd>\" suffix=\"</kbd>\"/>\n\\end\n\n\\define shortcut-item-inner()\n<tr>\n<td>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<dropdownStateTitle>> text=\"open\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdownStateTitle>>\n\t$value=\"open\"\n/>\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<dropdownStateTitle>> text=\"open\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdownStateTitle>>\n\t$value=\"close\"\n/>\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n''<$text text=<<shortcutName>>/>''\n</td>\n<td>\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/$(shortcutName)$\"/>\n</td>\n<td>\n<$list filter=\"$:/config/shortcuts/ $:/config/shortcuts-mac/ $:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/ $:/config/shortcuts-linux/ $:/config/shortcuts-not-linux/ $:/config/shortcuts-windows/ $:/config/shortcuts-not-windows/\" variable=\"shortcutPrefix\">\n<<shortcut-preview>>\n</$list>\n</td>\n</tr>\n<$set name=\"dropdownState\" value={{$(dropdownStateTitle)$}}>\n<$list filter=\"[<dropdownState>prefix[open]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n<<shortcut-editor>>\n</$list>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define shortcut-item()\n<$set name=\"dropdownStateTitle\" value=<<qualify \"$:/state/dropdown/keyboardshortcut/$(shortcutName)$\">>>\n<<shortcut-item-inner>>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n<table>\n<tbody>\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]removeprefix[$:/config/ShortcutInfo/]]\" variable=\"shortcutName\">\n<<shortcut-item>>\n</$list>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/LoadedModules": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/LoadedModules",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Advanced",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/LoadedModules/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/\n<<lingo LoadedModules/Hint>>\n\n{{$:/snippets/modules}}\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Modals/AddPlugins": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Modals/AddPlugins",
"subtitle": "{{$:/core/images/download-button}} {{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define install-plugin-button()\n<$button>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-load-plugin-from-library\" url={{!!url}} title={{$(assetInfo)$!!original-title}}/>\n<$list filter=\"[<assetInfo>get[original-title]get[version]]\" variable=\"installedVersion\" emptyMessage=\"\"\"{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Install/Caption}}\"\"\">\n{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Reinstall/Caption}}\n</$list>\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n\\define popup-state-macro()\n$:/state/add-plugin-info/$(connectionTiddler)$/$(assetInfo)$\n\\end\n\n\\define display-plugin-info(type)\n<$set name=\"popup-state\" value=<<popup-state-macro>>>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info\">\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-chunk tc-small-icon\">\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<popup-state>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" set=<<popup-state>> setTo=\"yes\">\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<popup-state>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" set=<<popup-state>> setTo=\"no\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-chunk\">\n<$list filter=\"[<assetInfo>has[icon]]\" emptyMessage=\"\"\"<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/images/plugin-generic-$type$\"/>\"\"\">\n<img src={{$(assetInfo)$!!icon}}/>\n</$list>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-chunk\">\n<h1><$view tiddler=<<assetInfo>> field=\"description\"/></h1>\n<h2><$view tiddler=<<assetInfo>> field=\"original-title\"/></h2>\n<div><em><$view tiddler=<<assetInfo>> field=\"version\"/></em></div>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-chunk\">\n<<install-plugin-button>>\n</div>\n</div>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" text=\"yes\" state=<<popup-state>>>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-dropdown\">\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-dropdown-message\">\n<$list filter=\"[<assetInfo>get[original-title]get[version]]\" variable=\"installedVersion\" emptyMessage=\"\"\"{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/NotInstalled/Hint}}\"\"\">\n<em>\n{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/AlreadyInstalled/Hint}}\n</em>\n</$list>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-dropdown-body\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<assetInfo>> field=\"readme\" mode=\"block\"/>\n</div>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define load-plugin-library-button()\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-big-green\">\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-load-plugin-library\" url={{!!url}} infoTitlePrefix=\"$:/temp/RemoteAssetInfo/\"/>\n{{$:/core/images/chevron-right}} {{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/OpenPluginLibrary}}\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n\\define display-server-assets(type)\n{{$:/language/Search/Search}}: <$edit-text tiddler=\"\"\"$:/temp/RemoteAssetSearch/$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\" default=\"\" type=\"search\" tag=\"input\"/>\n<$reveal state=\"\"\"$:/temp/RemoteAssetSearch/$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"\"\"$:/temp/RemoteAssetSearch/$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\" $field=\"text\" $value=\"\"/>\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-library-listing\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[tiddlers+shadows]tag[$:/tags/RemoteAssetInfo]server-url{!!url}original-plugin-type[$type$]search{$:/temp/RemoteAssetSearch/$(currentTiddler)$}sort[description]]\" variable=\"assetInfo\">\n<<display-plugin-info \"$type$\">>\n</$list>\n</div>\n\\end\n\n\\define display-server-connection()\n<$list filter=\"[all[tiddlers+shadows]tag[$:/tags/ServerConnection]suffix{!!url}]\" variable=\"connectionTiddler\" emptyMessage=<<load-plugin-library-button>>>\n\n<<tabs \"[[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Plugins]] [[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Themes]] [[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Languages]]\" \"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Plugins\">>\n\n</$list>\n\\end\n\n\\define plugin-library-listing()\n<$list filter=\"[all[tiddlers+shadows]tag[$:/tags/PluginLibrary]]\">\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-library\">\n\n!! <$link><$transclude field=\"caption\"><$view field=\"title\"/></$transclude></$link>\n\n//<$view field=\"url\"/>//\n\n<$transclude/>\n\n<<display-server-connection>>\n</div>\n</$list>\n\\end\n\n<$importvariables filter=\"[[$:/core/ui/PageMacros]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Macro]!has[draft.of]]\">\n\n<div>\n<<plugin-library-listing>>\n</div>\n\n</$importvariables>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Palette": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Palette",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Appearance",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/\n\n{{$:/snippets/paletteswitcher}}\n\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/state/ShowPaletteEditor\" text=\"yes\">\n\n<$button set=\"$:/state/ShowPaletteEditor\" setTo=\"yes\"><<lingo ShowEditor/Caption>></$button>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/state/ShowPaletteEditor\" text=\"yes\">\n\n<$button set=\"$:/state/ShowPaletteEditor\" setTo=\"no\"><<lingo HideEditor/Caption>></$button>\n{{$:/snippets/paletteeditor}}\n\n</$reveal>\n\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Parsing": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Parsing",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Advanced",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Parsing/\n\n\\define parsing-inner(typeCap)\n<li>\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"\"\"$:/config/WikiParserRules/$typeCap$/$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\" field=\"text\" checked=\"enable\" unchecked=\"disable\" default=\"enable\"> ''<$text text=<<currentTiddler>>/>'': </$checkbox>\n</li>\n\\end\n\n\\define parsing-outer(typeLower,typeCap)\n<ul>\n<$list filter=\"[wikiparserrules[$typeLower$]]\">\n<<parsing-inner typeCap:\"$typeCap$\">>\n</$list>\n</ul>\n\\end\n\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n! <<lingo Pragma/Caption>>\n\n<<parsing-outer typeLower:\"pragma\" typeCap:\"Pragma\">>\n\n! <<lingo Inline/Caption>>\n\n<<parsing-outer typeLower:\"inline\" typeCap:\"Inline\">>\n\n! <<lingo Block/Caption>>\n\n<<parsing-outer typeLower:\"block\" typeCap:\"Block\">>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Languages": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Languages",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Languages/Caption}} (<$count filter=\"[all[tiddlers+shadows]tag[$:/tags/RemoteAssetInfo]server-url{!!url}original-plugin-type[language]]\"/>)",
"text": "<<display-server-assets language>>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Plugins": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Plugins",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Plugins/Caption}} (<$count filter=\"[all[tiddlers+shadows]tag[$:/tags/RemoteAssetInfo]server-url{!!url}original-plugin-type[plugin]]\"/>)",
"text": "<<display-server-assets plugin>>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Themes": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Themes",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Themes/Caption}} (<$count filter=\"[all[tiddlers+shadows]tag[$:/tags/RemoteAssetInfo]server-url{!!url}original-plugin-type[theme]]\"/>)",
"text": "<<display-server-assets theme>>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/AddPlugins": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/AddPlugins",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/\n\n<$button message=\"tm-modal\" param=\"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Modals/AddPlugins\" tooltip={{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add/Hint}} class=\"tc-btn-big-green\" style=\"background:blue;\">\n{{$:/core/images/download-button}} <<lingo Add/Caption>>\n</$button>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Languages": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Languages",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Languages/Caption}} (<$count filter=\"[!has[draft.of]plugin-type[language]]\"/>)",
"text": "<<plugin-table language>>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Plugins": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Plugins",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Plugins/Caption}} (<$count filter=\"[!has[draft.of]plugin-type[plugin]]\"/>)",
"text": "<<plugin-table plugin>>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Themes": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Themes",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Themes/Caption}} (<$count filter=\"[!has[draft.of]plugin-type[theme]]\"/>)",
"text": "<<plugin-table theme>>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/\n\n\\define popup-state-macro()\n$(qualified-state)$-$(currentTiddler)$\n\\end\n\n\\define tabs-state-macro()\n$(popup-state)$-$(pluginInfoType)$\n\\end\n\n\\define plugin-icon-title()\n$(currentTiddler)$/icon\n\\end\n\n\\define plugin-disable-title()\n$:/config/Plugins/Disabled/$(currentTiddler)$\n\\end\n\n\\define plugin-table-body(type,disabledMessage)\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-chunk tc-small-icon\">\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<popup-state>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" set=<<popup-state>> setTo=\"yes\">\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<popup-state>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" set=<<popup-state>> setTo=\"no\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-chunk\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<currentTiddler>> subtiddler=<<plugin-icon-title>>>\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/images/plugin-generic-$type$\"/>\n</$transclude>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-chunk\">\n<h1>\n''<$view field=\"description\"><$view field=\"title\"/></$view>'' $disabledMessage$\n</h1>\n<h2>\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n</h2>\n<h2>\n<div><em><$view field=\"version\"/></em></div>\n</h2>\n</div>\n\\end\n\n\\define plugin-table(type)\n<$set name=\"qualified-state\" value=<<qualify \"$:/state/plugin-info\">>>\n<$list filter=\"[!has[draft.of]plugin-type[$type$]sort[description]]\" emptyMessage=<<lingo \"Empty/Hint\">>>\n<$set name=\"popup-state\" value=<<popup-state-macro>>>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<plugin-disable-title>> text=\"yes\">\n<$link to={{!!title}} class=\"tc-plugin-info\">\n<<plugin-table-body type:\"$type$\">>\n</$link>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<plugin-disable-title>> text=\"yes\">\n<$link to={{!!title}} class=\"tc-plugin-info tc-plugin-info-disabled\">\n<<plugin-table-body type:\"$type$\" disabledMessage:\"<$macrocall $name='lingo' title='Disabled/Status'/>\">>\n</$link>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" text=\"yes\" state=<<popup-state>>>\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-dropdown\">\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-info-dropdown-body\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]] -[[$:/core]]\">\n<div style=\"float:right;\">\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<plugin-disable-title>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button set=<<plugin-disable-title>> setTo=\"yes\" tooltip={{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disable/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Disable/Caption}}>\n<<lingo Disable/Caption>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<plugin-disable-title>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button set=<<plugin-disable-title>> setTo=\"no\" tooltip={{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Enable/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugins/Enable/Caption}}>\n<<lingo Enable/Caption>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n</$list>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" state=\"!!list\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"tabs\" state=<<tabs-state-macro>> tabsList={{!!list}} default=\"readme\" template=\"$:/core/ui/PluginInfo\"/>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" text=\"\" state=\"!!list\">\n<<lingo NoInformation/Hint>>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</$set>\n</$list>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n{{$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/AddPlugins}}\n\n<<lingo Installed/Hint>>\n\n<<tabs \"[[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Plugins]] [[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Themes]] [[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Languages]]\" \"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed/Plugins\">>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Saving": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Saving",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Saving/\n\\define backupURL()\nhttp://$(userName)$.tiddlyspot.com/backup/\n\\end\n\\define backupLink()\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/UploadName\" text=\"\">\n<$set name=\"userName\" value={{$:/UploadName}}>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/UploadURL\" text=\"\">\n<<backupURL>>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/UploadURL\" text=\"\">\n<$macrocall $name=resolvePath source={{$:/UploadBackupDir}} root={{$:/UploadURL}}>>\n</$reveal>\n</$set>\n</$reveal>\n\\end\n! <<lingo TiddlySpot/Heading>>\n\n<<lingo TiddlySpot/Description>>\n\n|<<lingo TiddlySpot/UserName>> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/UploadName\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<<lingo TiddlySpot/Password>> |<$password name=\"upload\"/> |\n|<<lingo TiddlySpot/Backups>> |<<backupLink>> |\n\n''<<lingo TiddlySpot/Advanced/Heading>>''\n\n|<<lingo TiddlySpot/ServerURL>> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/UploadURL\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<<lingo TiddlySpot/Filename>> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/UploadFilename\" default=\"index.html\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<<lingo TiddlySpot/UploadDir>> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/UploadDir\" default=\".\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<<lingo TiddlySpot/BackupDir>> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/UploadBackupDir\" default=\".\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n\n<<lingo TiddlySpot/Hint>>"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/AutoSave/\n\n<$link to=\"$:/config/AutoSave\"><<lingo Hint>></$link>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/AutoSave\" value=\"yes\"> <<lingo Enabled/Description>> </$radio>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/AutoSave\" value=\"no\"> <<lingo Disabled/Description>> </$radio>\n"
},
"$:/core/buttonstyles/Borderless": {
"title": "$:/core/buttonstyles/Borderless",
"tags": "$:/tags/ToolbarButtonStyle",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Borderless}}",
"text": "tc-btn-invisible"
},
"$:/core/buttonstyles/Boxed": {
"title": "$:/core/buttonstyles/Boxed",
"tags": "$:/tags/ToolbarButtonStyle",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Boxed}}",
"text": "tc-btn-boxed"
},
"$:/core/buttonstyles/Rounded": {
"title": "$:/core/buttonstyles/Rounded",
"tags": "$:/tags/ToolbarButtonStyle",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Styles/Rounded}}",
"text": "tc-btn-rounded"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/CamelCase/\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"$:/config/WikiParserRules/Inline/wikilink\" field=\"text\" checked=\"enable\" unchecked=\"disable\" default=\"enable\"> <$link to=\"$:/config/WikiParserRules/Inline/wikilink\"><<lingo Description>></$link> </$checkbox>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab": {
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab/Caption}}",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/DefaultSidebarTab/\n\n<$link to=\"$:/config/DefaultSidebarTab\"><<lingo Hint>></$link>\n\n<$select tiddler=\"$:/config/DefaultSidebarTab\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SideBar]!has[draft.of]]\">\n<option value=<<currentTiddler>>><$transclude field=\"caption\"><$text text=<<currentTiddler>>/></$transclude></option>\n</$list>\n</$select>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/EditorToolbar/\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"$:/config/TextEditor/EnableToolbar\" field=\"text\" checked=\"yes\" unchecked=\"no\" default=\"yes\"> <$link to=\"$:/config/TextEditor/EnableToolbar\"><<lingo Description>></$link> </$checkbox>\n\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/LinkToBehaviour/\n\n<$link to=\"$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromInsideRiver\"><<lingo \"InsideRiver/Hint\">></$link>\n\n<$select tiddler=\"$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromInsideRiver\">\n <option value=\"above\"><<lingo \"OpenAbove\">></option>\n <option value=\"below\"><<lingo \"OpenBelow\">></option>\n <option value=\"top\"><<lingo \"OpenAtTop\">></option>\n <option value=\"bottom\"><<lingo \"OpenAtBottom\">></option>\n</$select>\n\n<$link to=\"$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromOutsideRiver\"><<lingo \"OutsideRiver/Hint\">></$link>\n\n<$select tiddler=\"$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromOutsideRiver\">\n <option value=\"top\"><<lingo \"OpenAtTop\">></option>\n <option value=\"bottom\"><<lingo \"OpenAtBottom\">></option>\n</$select>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/MissingLinks/\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"$:/config/MissingLinks\" field=\"text\" checked=\"yes\" unchecked=\"no\" default=\"yes\"> <$link to=\"$:/config/MissingLinks\"><<lingo Description>></$link> </$checkbox>\n\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationAddressBar/\n\n<$link to=\"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateAddressBar\"><<lingo Hint>></$link>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateAddressBar\" value=\"permaview\"> <<lingo Permaview/Description>> </$radio>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateAddressBar\" value=\"permalink\"> <<lingo Permalink/Description>> </$radio>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateAddressBar\" value=\"no\"> <<lingo No/Description>> </$radio>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/NavigationHistory/\n<$link to=\"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateHistory\"><<lingo Hint>></$link>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateHistory\" value=\"yes\"> <<lingo Yes/Description>> </$radio>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateHistory\" value=\"no\"> <<lingo No/Description>> </$radio>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/PerformanceInstrumentation/\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"$:/config/Performance/Instrumentation\" field=\"text\" checked=\"yes\" unchecked=\"no\" default=\"no\"> <$link to=\"$:/config/Performance/Instrumentation\"><<lingo Description>></$link> </$checkbox>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/TitleLinks/\n<$link to=\"$:/config/Tiddlers/TitleLinks\"><<lingo Hint>></$link>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/Tiddlers/TitleLinks\" value=\"yes\"> <<lingo Yes/Description>> </$radio>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/Tiddlers/TitleLinks\" value=\"no\"> <<lingo No/Description>> </$radio>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtonStyle/\n<$link to=\"$:/config/Toolbar/ButtonClass\"><<lingo \"Hint\">></$link>\n\n<$select tiddler=\"$:/config/Toolbar/ButtonClass\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ToolbarButtonStyle]]\">\n<option value={{!!text}}>{{!!caption}}</option>\n</$list>\n</$select>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/ToolbarButtons/\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"$:/config/Toolbar/Icons\" field=\"text\" checked=\"yes\" unchecked=\"no\" default=\"yes\"> <$link to=\"$:/config/Toolbar/Icons\"><<lingo Icons/Description>></$link> </$checkbox>\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"$:/config/Toolbar/Text\" field=\"text\" checked=\"yes\" unchecked=\"no\" default=\"no\"> <$link to=\"$:/config/Toolbar/Text\"><<lingo Text/Description>></$link> </$checkbox>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Settings/\n\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ControlPanel/Settings]]\">\n\n<div style=\"border-top:1px solid #eee;\">\n\n!! <$link><$transclude field=\"caption\"/></$link>\n\n<$transclude/>\n\n</div>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/StoryView": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/StoryView",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Appearance",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/StoryView/Caption}}",
"text": "{{$:/snippets/viewswitcher}}\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Theme": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Theme",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Appearance",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Theme/Caption}}",
"text": "{{$:/snippets/themeswitcher}}\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Advanced",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/TiddlerFields/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/\n\n<<lingo TiddlerFields/Hint>>\n\n{{$:/snippets/allfields}}"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Toolbars",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/EditToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n\n{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditToolbar/Hint}}\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditToolbar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=<<config-title>> field=\"text\" checked=\"show\" unchecked=\"hide\" default=\"show\"/> <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"caption\"/> <i class=\"tc-muted\">-- <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"description\"/></i>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Toolbars",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n\n\\define toolbar-button()\n<$checkbox tiddler=<<config-title>> field=\"text\" checked=\"show\" unchecked=\"hide\" default=\"show\"> <$transclude tiddler={{$(listItem)$!!icon}}/> <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"caption\"/> -- <i class=\"tc-muted\"><$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"description\"/></i></$checkbox>\n\\end\n\n{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/EditorToolbar/Hint}}\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditorToolbar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<<toolbar-button>>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Toolbars",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n\n{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/PageControls/Hint}}\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/PageControls]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=<<config-title>> field=\"text\" checked=\"show\" unchecked=\"hide\" default=\"show\"/> <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"caption\"/> <i class=\"tc-muted\">-- <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"description\"/></i>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Toolbars",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n\n{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar/Hint}}\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ViewToolbar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=<<config-title>> field=\"text\" checked=\"show\" unchecked=\"hide\" default=\"show\"/> <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"caption\"/> <i class=\"tc-muted\">-- <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"description\"/></i>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Appearance",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/Caption}}",
"text": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Toolbars/Hint}}\n\n<div class=\"tc-control-panel\">\n<<tabs \"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ControlPanel/Toolbars]!has[draft.of]]\" \"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Toolbars/ViewToolbar\" \"$:/state/tabs/controlpanel/toolbars\" \"tc-vertical\">>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/ControlPanel": {
"title": "$:/ControlPanel",
"icon": "$:/core/images/options-button",
"color": "#bbb",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-control-panel\">\n<<tabs \"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ControlPanel]!has[draft.of]]\" \"$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Info\">>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/DefaultSearchResultList": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/DefaultSearchResultList",
"tags": "$:/tags/SearchResults",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Search/DefaultResults/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define searchResultList()\n//<small>{{$:/language/Search/Matches/Title}}</small>//\n\n<$list filter=\"[!is[system]search:title{$(searchTiddler)$}sort[title]limit[250]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n\n//<small>{{$:/language/Search/Matches/All}}</small>//\n\n<$list filter=\"[!is[system]search{$(searchTiddler)$}sort[title]limit[250]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n\n\\end\n<<searchResultList>>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/preview/output": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/preview/output",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditPreview",
"caption": "{{$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/Preview/Type/Output}}",
"text": "<$set name=\"tv-tiddler-preview\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$transclude />\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/editor": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/editor",
"text": "<$edit\n\n field=\"text\"\n class=\"tc-edit-texteditor\"\n placeholder={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Body/Placeholder}}\n\n><$set\n\n name=\"targetTiddler\"\n value=<<currentTiddler>>\n\n><$list\n\n filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditorToolbar]!has[draft.of]]\"\n\n><$reveal\n\n type=\"nomatch\"\n state=<<config-visibility-title>>\n text=\"hide\"\n class=\"tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-wrapper\"\n\n><$transclude\n\n tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/toolbar/button\"\n mode=\"inline\"\n\n/></$reveal></$list></$set></$edit>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/toolbar/button": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/toolbar/button",
"text": "\\define toolbar-button-icon()\n<$list\n\n filter=\"[all[current]!has[custom-icon]]\"\n variable=\"no-custom-icon\"\n\n><$transclude\n\n tiddler={{!!icon}}\n\n/></$list>\n\\end\n\n\\define toolbar-button-tooltip()\n{{!!description}}<$macrocall $name=\"displayshortcuts\" $output=\"text/plain\" shortcuts={{!!shortcuts}} prefix=\"` - [\" separator=\"] [\" suffix=\"]`\"/>\n\\end\n\n\\define toolbar-button()\n<$list\n\n filter={{!!condition}}\n variable=\"list-condition\"\n\n><$wikify\n\n name=\"tooltip-text\"\n text=<<toolbar-button-tooltip>>\n mode=\"inline\"\n output=\"text\"\n\n><$list\n\n filter=\"[all[current]!has[dropdown]]\"\n variable=\"no-dropdown\"\n\n><$button\n\n class=\"tc-btn-invisible $(buttonClasses)$\"\n tooltip=<<tooltip-text>>\n\n><span\n\n data-tw-keyboard-shortcut={{!!shortcuts}}\n\n/><<toolbar-button-icon>><$transclude\n\n tiddler=<<currentTiddler>>\n field=\"text\"\n\n/></$button></$list><$list\n\n filter=\"[all[current]has[dropdown]]\"\n variable=\"dropdown\"\n\n><$set\n\n name=\"dropdown-state\"\n value=<<qualify \"$:/state/EditorToolbarDropdown\">>\n\n><$button\n\n popup=<<dropdown-state>>\n class=\"tc-popup-keep tc-btn-invisible $(buttonClasses)$\"\n selectedClass=\"tc-selected\"\n tooltip=<<tooltip-text>>\n\n><span\n\n data-tw-keyboard-shortcut={{!!shortcuts}}\n\n/><<toolbar-button-icon>><$transclude\n\n tiddler=<<currentTiddler>>\n field=\"text\"\n\n/></$button><$reveal\n\n state=<<dropdown-state>>\n type=\"popup\"\n position=\"below\"\n animate=\"yes\"\n tag=\"span\"\n\n><div\n\n class=\"tc-drop-down tc-popup-keep\"\n\n><$transclude\n\n tiddler={{!!dropdown}}\n mode=\"block\"\n\n/></div></$reveal></$set></$list></$wikify></$list>\n\\end\n\n\\define toolbar-button-outer()\n<$set\n\n name=\"buttonClasses\"\n value={{!!button-classes}}\n\n><<toolbar-button>></$set>\n\\end\n\n<<toolbar-button-outer>>"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/EditTemplate/Body/\n\\define config-visibility-title()\n$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(currentTiddler)$\n\\end\n<$list filter=\"[is[current]has[_canonical_uri]]\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-message-box\">\n\n<<lingo External/Hint>>\n\n<a href={{!!_canonical_uri}}><$text text={{!!_canonical_uri}}/></a>\n\n<$edit-text field=\"_canonical_uri\" class=\"tc-edit-fields\"></$edit-text>\n\n</div>\n\n</$list>\n\n<$list filter=\"[is[current]!has[_canonical_uri]]\">\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/showeditpreview\" type=\"match\" text=\"yes\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-tiddler-preview\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/editor\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n<div class=\"tc-tiddler-preview-preview\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler={{$:/state/editpreviewtype}} mode=\"inline\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/preview/output\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$transclude>\n\n</div>\n\n</div>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/showeditpreview\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"yes\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/editor\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/controls": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/controls",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define config-title()\n$:/config/EditToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n<div class=\"tc-tiddler-title tc-tiddler-edit-title\">\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n<span class=\"tc-tiddler-controls tc-titlebar\"><$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditToolbar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\"><$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<config-title>> text=\"hide\"><$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/></$reveal></$list></span>\n<div style=\"clear: both;\"></div>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/fields": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/fields",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/EditTemplate/\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/$(currentField)$\n\\end\n\n\\define config-filter()\n[[hide]] -[title{$(config-title)$}]\n\\end\n\n\\define new-field-inner()\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" default=<<name>>>\n<$button>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-add-field\" $name=<<name>> $value=<<value>>/>\n<$action-deletetiddler $tiddler=\"$:/temp/newfieldname\"/>\n<$action-deletetiddler $tiddler=\"$:/temp/newfieldvalue\"/>\n<<lingo Fields/Add/Button>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" text=\"\" default=<<name>>>\n<$button>\n<<lingo Fields/Add/Button>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n\\end\n\n\\define new-field()\n<$set name=\"name\" value={{$:/temp/newfieldname}}>\n<$set name=\"value\" value={{$:/temp/newfieldvalue}}>\n<<new-field-inner>>\n</$set>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n<div class=\"tc-edit-fields\">\n<table class=\"tc-edit-fields\">\n<tbody>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]fields[]] +[sort[title]]\" variable=\"currentField\">\n<$list filter=<<config-filter>> variable=\"temp\">\n<tr class=\"tc-edit-field\">\n<td class=\"tc-edit-field-name\">\n<$text text=<<currentField>>/>:</td>\n<td class=\"tc-edit-field-value\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=<<currentTiddler>> field=<<currentField>> placeholder={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Value/Placeholder}}/>\n</td>\n<td class=\"tc-edit-field-remove\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\" tooltip={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Remove/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Remove/Caption}}>\n<$action-deletefield $field=<<currentField>>/>\n{{$:/core/images/delete-button}}\n</$button>\n</td>\n</tr>\n</$list>\n</$list>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n</div>\n\n<$fieldmangler>\n<div class=\"tc-edit-field-add\">\n<em class=\"tc-edit\">\n<<lingo Fields/Add/Prompt>>\n</em>\n<span class=\"tc-edit-field-add-name\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/newfieldname\" tag=\"input\" default=\"\" placeholder={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Name/Placeholder}} focusPopup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/field-dropdown\">> class=\"tc-edit-texteditor tc-popup-handle\"/>\n</span>\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/field-dropdown\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" tooltip={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Dropdown/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Field/Dropdown/Caption}}>{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}</$button>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/field-dropdown\">> type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" default=\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown tc-edit-type-dropdown\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/temp/newfieldname\">\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item\">\n<<lingo Fields/Add/Dropdown/User>>\n</div>\n<$list filter=\"[!is[shadow]!is[system]fields[]sort[]] -created -creator -draft.of -draft.title -modified -modifier -tags -text -title -type\" variable=\"currentField\">\n<$link to=<<currentField>>>\n<<currentField>>\n</$link>\n</$list>\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item\">\n<<lingo Fields/Add/Dropdown/System>>\n</div>\n<$list filter=\"[fields[]sort[]] -[!is[shadow]!is[system]fields[]]\" variable=\"currentField\">\n<$link to=<<currentField>>>\n<<currentField>>\n</$link>\n</$list>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n<span class=\"tc-edit-field-add-value\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/newfieldvalue\" tag=\"input\" default=\"\" placeholder={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Fields/Add/Value/Placeholder}} class=\"tc-edit-texteditor\"/>\n</span>\n<span class=\"tc-edit-field-add-button\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"new-field\"/>\n</span>\n</div>\n</$fieldmangler>\n\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/shadow": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/shadow",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/EditTemplate/Shadow/\n\\define pluginLinkBody()\n<$link to=\"\"\"$(pluginTitle)$\"\"\">\n<$text text=\"\"\"$(pluginTitle)$\"\"\"/>\n</$link>\n\\end\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]get[draft.of]is[shadow]!is[tiddler]]\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]shadowsource[]]\" variable=\"pluginTitle\">\n\n<$set name=\"pluginLink\" value=<<pluginLinkBody>>>\n<div class=\"tc-message-box\">\n\n<<lingo Warning>>\n\n</div>\n</$set>\n</$list>\n\n</$list>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]get[draft.of]is[shadow]is[tiddler]]\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]shadowsource[]]\" variable=\"pluginTitle\">\n\n<$set name=\"pluginLink\" value=<<pluginLinkBody>>>\n<div class=\"tc-message-box\">\n\n<<lingo OverriddenWarning>>\n\n</div>\n</$set>\n</$list>\n\n</$list>"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/tags": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/tags",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/EditTemplate/\n\\define tag-styles()\nbackground-color:$(backgroundColor)$;\nfill:$(foregroundColor)$;\ncolor:$(foregroundColor)$;\n\\end\n\\define tag-body-inner(colour,fallbackTarget,colourA,colourB)\n<$vars foregroundColor=<<contrastcolour target:\"\"\"$colour$\"\"\" fallbackTarget:\"\"\"$fallbackTarget$\"\"\" colourA:\"\"\"$colourA$\"\"\" colourB:\"\"\"$colourB$\"\"\">> backgroundColor=\"\"\"$colour$\"\"\">\n<span style=<<tag-styles>> class=\"tc-tag-label\">\n<$view field=\"title\" format=\"text\" />\n<$button message=\"tm-remove-tag\" param={{!!title}} class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-remove-tag-button\">×</$button>\n</span>\n</$vars>\n\\end\n\\define tag-body(colour,palette)\n<$macrocall $name=\"tag-body-inner\" colour=\"\"\"$colour$\"\"\" fallbackTarget={{$palette$##tag-background}} colourA={{$palette$##foreground}} colourB={{$palette$##background}}/>\n\\end\n<div class=\"tc-edit-tags\">\n<$fieldmangler>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]tags[]sort[title]]\" storyview=\"pop\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"tag-body\" colour={{!!color}} palette={{$:/palette}}/>\n</$list>\n\n<div class=\"tc-edit-add-tag\">\n<span class=\"tc-add-tag-name\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/NewTagName\" tag=\"input\" default=\"\" placeholder={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Add/Placeholder}} focusPopup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tags-auto-complete\">> class=\"tc-edit-texteditor tc-popup-handle\"/>\n</span> <$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tags-auto-complete\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" tooltip={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Dropdown/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Tags/Dropdown/Caption}}>{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}</$button> <span class=\"tc-add-tag-button\">\n<$button message=\"tm-add-tag\" param={{$:/temp/NewTagName}} set=\"$:/temp/NewTagName\" setTo=\"\" class=\"\">\n<<lingo Tags/Add/Button>>\n</$button>\n</span>\n</div>\n\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown-wrapper\">\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tags-auto-complete\">> type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" default=\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown\">\n<$linkcatcher set=\"$:/temp/NewTagName\" setTo=\"\" message=\"tm-add-tag\">\n<$list filter=\"[tags[]!is[system]search:title{$:/temp/NewTagName}sort[]]\">\n{{||$:/core/ui/Components/tag-link}}\n</$list>\n<hr>\n<$list filter=\"[tags[]is[system]search:title{$:/temp/NewTagName}sort[]]\">\n{{||$:/core/ui/Components/tag-link}}\n</$list>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n</$fieldmangler>\n</div>"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/title": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/title",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "<$vars pattern=\"\"\"[\\|\\[\\]{}]\"\"\" bad-chars=\"\"\"`| [ ] { }`\"\"\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[is[current]regexp:draft.title<pattern>]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-message-box\">\n\n{{$:/language/EditTemplate/Title/BadCharacterWarning}}\n\n</div>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$vars>\n\n<$edit-text field=\"draft.title\" class=\"tc-titlebar tc-edit-texteditor\" focus=\"true\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/type": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/type",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/EditTemplate/\n<div class=\"tc-type-selector\"><$fieldmangler>\n<em class=\"tc-edit\"><<lingo Type/Prompt>></em> <$edit-text field=\"type\" tag=\"input\" default=\"\" placeholder={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Placeholder}} focusPopup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/type-dropdown\">> class=\"tc-edit-typeeditor tc-popup-handle\"/> <$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/type-dropdown\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" tooltip={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Dropdown/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Dropdown/Caption}}>{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}</$button> <$button message=\"tm-remove-field\" param=\"type\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-icon\" tooltip={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Delete/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/EditTemplate/Type/Delete/Caption}}>{{$:/core/images/delete-button}}</$button>\n</$fieldmangler></div>\n\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown-wrapper\">\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/type-dropdown\">> type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" default=\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-block-dropdown tc-edit-type-dropdown\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"!!type\">\n<$list filter='[all[shadows+tiddlers]prefix[$:/language/Docs/Types/]each[group]sort[group]]'>\n<div class=\"tc-dropdown-item\">\n<$text text={{!!group}}/>\n</div>\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]prefix[$:/language/Docs/Types/]group{!!group}] +[sort[description]]\"><$link to={{!!name}}><$view field=\"description\"/> (<$view field=\"name\"/>)</$link>\n</$list>\n</$list>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</div>"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define frame-classes()\ntc-tiddler-frame tc-tiddler-edit-frame $(missingTiddlerClass)$ $(shadowTiddlerClass)$ $(systemTiddlerClass)$\n\\end\n<div class=<<frame-classes>>>\n<$set name=\"storyTiddler\" value=<<currentTiddler>>>\n<$keyboard key=\"((cancel-edit-tiddler))\" message=\"tm-cancel-tiddler\">\n<$keyboard key=\"((save-tiddler))\" message=\"tm-save-tiddler\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditTemplate]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/>\n</$list>\n</$keyboard>\n</$keyboard>\n</$set>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/cancel": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/cancel",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/cancel-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-cancel-tiddler\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/cancel-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/delete": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/delete",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditToolbar $:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/delete-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-delete-tiddler\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/delete-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Delete/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/save": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/save",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/done-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Save/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Save/Hint}}",
"text": "<$fieldmangler><$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Save/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Save/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-add-tag\" $param={{$:/temp/NewTagName}}/>\n<$action-deletetiddler $tiddler=\"$:/temp/NewTagName\"/>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-add-field\" $name={{$:/temp/newfieldname}} $value={{$:/temp/newfieldvalue}}/>\n<$action-deletetiddler $tiddler=\"$:/temp/newfieldname\"/>\n<$action-deletetiddler $tiddler=\"$:/temp/newfieldvalue\"/>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-save-tiddler\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/done-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Save/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</$fieldmangler>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/bold": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/bold",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/bold",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Bold/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Bold/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((bold))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-selection\"\n\tprefix=\"''\"\n\tsuffix=\"''\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/clear-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/clear-dropdown",
"text": "''{{$:/language/Buttons/Clear/Hint}}''\n\n<div class=\"tc-colour-chooser\">\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"colour-picker\" actions=\"\"\"\n\n<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-bitmap-operation\"\n\t$param=\"clear\"\n\tcolour=<<colour-picker-value>>\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n\"\"\"/>\n\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/clear": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/clear",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/erase",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Clear/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Clear/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>is[image]]",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/clear-dropdown",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/editor-height-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/editor-height-dropdown",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/\n''<<lingo Hint>>''\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Mode\" value=\"auto\"> {{$:/core/images/auto-height}} <<lingo Caption/Auto>></$radio>\n\n<$radio tiddler=\"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Mode\" value=\"fixed\"> {{$:/core/images/fixed-height}} <<lingo Caption/Fixed>> <$edit-text tag=\"input\" tiddler=\"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Height\" default=\"100px\"/></$radio>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/editor-height": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/editor-height",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/fixed-height",
"custom-icon": "yes",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/EditorHeight/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!is[image]]",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/editor-height-dropdown",
"text": "<$reveal tag=\"span\" state=\"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Mode\" type=\"match\" text=\"fixed\">\n{{$:/core/images/fixed-height}}\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal tag=\"span\" state=\"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Mode\" type=\"match\" text=\"auto\">\n{{$:/core/images/auto-height}}\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/excise-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/excise-dropdown",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Buttons/Excise/\n\n\\define body(config-title)\n''<<lingo Hint>>''\n\n<<lingo Caption/NewTitle>> <$edit-text tag=\"input\" tiddler=\"$config-title$/new-title\" default=\"\" focus=\"true\"/>\n\n<$set name=\"new-title\" value={{$config-title$/new-title}}>\n<$list filter=\"\"\"[<new-title>is[tiddler]]\"\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-error\">\n<<lingo Caption/TiddlerExists>>\n</div>\n</$list>\n</$set>\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/tagnew\"\"\" field=\"text\" checked=\"yes\" unchecked=\"no\" default=\"false\"> <<lingo Caption/Tag>></$checkbox>\n\n<<lingo Caption/Replace>> <$select tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/type\"\"\" default=\"transclude\">\n<option value=\"link\"><<lingo Caption/Replace/Link>></option>\n<option value=\"transclude\"><<lingo Caption/Replace/Transclusion>></option>\n<option value=\"macro\"><<lingo Caption/Replace/Macro>></option>\n</$select>\n\n<$reveal state=\"\"\"$config-title$/type\"\"\" type=\"match\" text=\"macro\">\n<<lingo Caption/MacroName>> <$edit-text tag=\"input\" tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/macro-title\"\"\" default=\"translink\"/>\n</$reveal>\n\n<$button>\n<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"excise\"\n\ttitle={{$config-title$/new-title}}\n\ttype={{$config-title$/type}}\n\tmacro={{$config-title$/macro-title}}\n\ttagnew={{$config-title$/tagnew}}\n/>\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<qualify \"$:/state/Excise/NewTitle\">>\n/>\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n<<lingo Caption/Excise>>\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"body\" config-title=<<qualify \"$:/state/Excise/\">>/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/excise": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/excise",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/excise",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!is[image]]",
"shortcuts": "((excise))",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/excise-dropdown",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-1": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-1",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/heading-1",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading1/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading1/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"button-classes": "tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-start-group",
"shortcuts": "((heading-1))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"!\"\n\tcount=\"1\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-2": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-2",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/heading-2",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading2/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading2/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((heading-2))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"!\"\n\tcount=\"2\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-3": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-3",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/heading-3",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading3/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading3/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((heading-3))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"!\"\n\tcount=\"3\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-4": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-4",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/heading-4",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading4/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading4/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((heading-4))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"!\"\n\tcount=\"4\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-5": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-5",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/heading-5",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading5/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading5/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((heading-5))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"!\"\n\tcount=\"5\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-6": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-6",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/heading-6",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading6/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading6/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((heading-6))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"!\"\n\tcount=\"6\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/italic": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/italic",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/italic",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Italic/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Italic/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((italic))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-selection\"\n\tprefix=\"//\"\n\tsuffix=\"//\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/line-width-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/line-width-dropdown",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Buttons/LineWidth/\n\n\\define toolbar-line-width-inner()\n<$button tag=\"a\" tooltip=\"\"\"$(line-width)$\"\"\">\n\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=\"$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidth\"\n\t$value=\"$(line-width)$\"\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n<div style=\"display: inline-block; margin: 4px calc(80px - $(line-width)$); background-color: #000; width: calc(100px + $(line-width)$ * 2); height: $(line-width)$; border-radius: 120px; vertical-align: middle;\"/>\n\n<span style=\"margin-left: 8px;\">\n\n<$text text=\"\"\"$(line-width)$\"\"\"/>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidth\" type=\"match\" text=\"\"\"$(line-width)$\"\"\" tag=\"span\">\n\n<$entity entity=\" \"/>\n\n<$entity entity=\"✓\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</span>\n\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n''<<lingo Hint>>''\n\n<$list filter={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidths}} variable=\"line-width\">\n\n<<toolbar-line-width-inner>>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/line-width": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/line-width",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/line-width",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/LineWidth/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/LineWidth/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>is[image]]",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/line-width-dropdown",
"text": "<$text text={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidth}}/>"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/link-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/link-dropdown",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Buttons/Link/\n\n\\define link-actions()\n<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"make-link\"\n\ttext={{$(linkTiddler)$}}\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<searchTiddler>>\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<linkTiddler>>\n/>\n\\end\n\n\\define body(config-title)\n''<<lingo Hint>>''\n\n<$vars searchTiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/search\"\"\" linkTiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/link\"\"\">\n\n<$edit-text tiddler=<<searchTiddler>> type=\"search\" tag=\"input\" focus=\"true\" placeholder={{$:/language/Search/Search}} default=\"\"/>\n<$reveal tag=\"span\" state=<<searchTiddler>> type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\" style=\"width: auto; display: inline-block; background-colour: inherit;\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=<<searchTiddler>> text=\"\" />\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n\n<$reveal tag=\"div\" state=<<searchTiddler>> type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n\n<$linkcatcher actions=<<link-actions>> to=<<linkTiddler>>>\n\n{{$:/core/ui/SearchResults}}\n\n</$linkcatcher>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$vars>\n\n\\end\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"body\" config-title=<<qualify \"$:/state/Link/\">>/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/link": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/link",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/link",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Link/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Link/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"button-classes": "tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-start-group",
"shortcuts": "((link))",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/link-dropdown",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/list-bullet": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/list-bullet",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/list-bullet",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ListBullet/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ListBullet/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((list-bullet))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"*\"\n\tcount=\"1\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/list-number": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/list-number",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/list-number",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ListNumber/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ListNumber/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((list-number))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"prefix-lines\"\n\tcharacter=\"#\"\n\tcount=\"1\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/mono-block": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/mono-block",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/mono-block",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/MonoBlock/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/MonoBlock/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"button-classes": "tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-start-group",
"shortcuts": "((mono-block))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-lines\"\n\tprefix=\"\n```\"\n\tsuffix=\"```\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/mono-line": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/mono-line",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/mono-line",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/MonoLine/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/MonoLine/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((mono-line))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-selection\"\n\tprefix=\"`\"\n\tsuffix=\"`\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/more-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/more-dropdown",
"text": "\\define config-title()\n$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(toolbarItem)$\n\\end\n\n\\define conditional-button()\n<$list filter={{$(toolbarItem)$!!condition}} variable=\"condition\">\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/toolbar/button\" mode=\"inline\"/> <$transclude tiddler=<<toolbarItem>> field=\"description\"/>\n</$list>\n\\end\n\n<div class=\"tc-text-editor-toolbar-more\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditorToolbar]!has[draft.of]] -[[$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/more]]\">\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<config-visibility-title>> text=\"hide\" tag=\"div\">\n<<conditional-button>>\n</$reveal>\n</$list>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/more": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/more",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/down-arrow",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/More/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>]",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/more-dropdown",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/opacity-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/opacity-dropdown",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Buttons/Opacity/\n\n\\define toolbar-opacity-inner()\n<$button tag=\"a\" tooltip=\"\"\"$(opacity)$\"\"\">\n\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=\"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacity\"\n\t$value=\"$(opacity)$\"\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n<div style=\"display: inline-block; vertical-align: middle; background-color: $(current-paint-colour)$; opacity: $(opacity)$; width: 1em; height: 1em; border-radius: 50%;\"/>\n\n<span style=\"margin-left: 8px;\">\n\n<$text text=\"\"\"$(opacity)$\"\"\"/>\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacity\" type=\"match\" text=\"\"\"$(opacity)$\"\"\" tag=\"span\">\n\n<$entity entity=\" \"/>\n\n<$entity entity=\"✓\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</span>\n\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n\\define toolbar-opacity()\n''<<lingo Hint>>''\n\n<$list filter={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacities}} variable=\"opacity\">\n\n<<toolbar-opacity-inner>>\n\n</$list>\n\\end\n\n<$set name=\"current-paint-colour\" value={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/Colour}}>\n\n<$set name=\"current-opacity\" value={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacity}}>\n\n<<toolbar-opacity>>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/opacity": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/opacity",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/opacity",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Opacity/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Opacity/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>is[image]]",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/opacity-dropdown",
"text": "<$text text={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacity}}/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/paint-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/paint-dropdown",
"text": "''{{$:/language/Buttons/Paint/Hint}}''\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"colour-picker\" actions=\"\"\"\n\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=\"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Colour\"\n\t$value=<<colour-picker-value>>\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n\"\"\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/paint": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/paint",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/paint",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Paint/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Paint/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>is[image]]",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/paint-dropdown",
"text": "\\define toolbar-paint()\n<div style=\"display: inline-block; vertical-align: middle; background-color: $(colour-picker-value)$; width: 1em; height: 1em; border-radius: 50%;\"/>\n\\end\n<$set name=\"colour-picker-value\" value={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/Colour}}>\n<<toolbar-paint>>\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/picture-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/picture-dropdown",
"text": "\\define replacement-text()\n[img[$(imageTitle)$]]\n\\end\n\n''{{$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Hint}}''\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"image-picker\" actions=\"\"\"\n\n<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"replace-selection\"\n\ttext=<<replacement-text>>\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n\"\"\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/picture": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/picture",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/picture",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((picture))",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/picture-dropdown",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview-type-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview-type-dropdown",
"text": "\\define preview-type-button()\n<$button tag=\"a\">\n\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/state/editpreviewtype\" $value=\"$(previewType)$\"/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<previewType>> field=\"caption\" mode=\"inline\">\n\n<$view tiddler=<<previewType>> field=\"title\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$transclude> \n\n<$reveal tag=\"span\" state=\"$:/state/editpreviewtype\" type=\"match\" text=<<previewType>> default=\"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body/preview/output\">\n\n<$entity entity=\" \"/>\n\n<$entity entity=\"✓\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditPreview]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"previewType\">\n\n<<preview-type-button>>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview-type": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview-type",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/chevron-down",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/PreviewType/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/PreviewType/Hint}}",
"condition": "[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/EditPreview]!has[draft.of]butfirst[]limit[1]]",
"button-classes": "tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-adjunct",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview-type-dropdown"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/preview-open",
"custom-icon": "yes",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Preview/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Preview/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>]",
"button-classes": "tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-start-group",
"shortcuts": "((preview))",
"text": "<$reveal state=\"$:/state/showeditpreview\" type=\"match\" text=\"yes\" tag=\"span\">\n{{$:/core/images/preview-open}}\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/state/showeditpreview\" $value=\"no\"/>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/showeditpreview\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"yes\" tag=\"span\">\n{{$:/core/images/preview-closed}}\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/state/showeditpreview\" $value=\"yes\"/>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/quote": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/quote",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/quote",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Quote/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Quote/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((quote))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-lines\"\n\tprefix=\"\n<<<\"\n\tsuffix=\"<<<\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/size-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/size-dropdown",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Buttons/Size/\n\n\\define toolbar-button-size-preset(config-title)\n<$set name=\"width\" filter=\"$(sizePair)$ +[first[]]\">\n\n<$set name=\"height\" filter=\"$(sizePair)$ +[last[]]\">\n\n<$button tag=\"a\">\n\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/new-width\"\"\"\n\t$value=<<width>>\n/>\n\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/new-height\"\"\"\n\t$value=<<height>>\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/presets-popup\"\"\"\n/>\n\n<$text text=<<width>>/> × <$text text=<<height>>/>\n\n</$button>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define toolbar-button-size(config-title)\n''{{$:/language/Buttons/Size/Hint}}''\n\n<<lingo Caption/Width>> <$edit-text tag=\"input\" tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/new-width\"\"\" default=<<tv-bitmap-editor-width>> focus=\"true\" size=\"8\"/> <<lingo Caption/Height>> <$edit-text tag=\"input\" tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/new-height\"\"\" default=<<tv-bitmap-editor-height>> size=\"8\"/> <$button popup=\"\"\"$config-title$/presets-popup\"\"\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-popup-keep\" style=\"width: auto; display: inline-block; background-colour: inherit;\" selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$button>\n\n<$reveal tag=\"span\" state=\"\"\"$config-title$/presets-popup\"\"\" type=\"popup\" position=\"belowleft\" animate=\"yes\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down tc-popup-keep\">\n\n<$list filter={{$:/config/BitmapEditor/ImageSizes}} variable=\"sizePair\">\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"toolbar-button-size-preset\" config-title=\"$config-title$\"/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</div>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n<$button>\n<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-bitmap-operation\"\n\t$param=\"resize\"\n\twidth={{$config-title$/new-width}}\n\theight={{$config-title$/new-height}}\n/>\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/new-width\"\"\"\n/>\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=\"\"\"$config-title$/new-height\"\"\"\n/>\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n<<lingo Caption/Resize>>\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"toolbar-button-size\" config-title=<<qualify \"$:/state/Size/\">>/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/size": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/size",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/size",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Size/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Size/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>is[image]]",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/size-dropdown",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/stamp-dropdown": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/stamp-dropdown",
"text": "\\define toolbar-button-stamp-inner()\n<$button tag=\"a\">\n\n<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"replace-selection\"\n\ttext={{$(snippetTitle)$}}\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n<$view tiddler=<<snippetTitle>> field=\"caption\" mode=\"inline\">\n\n<$view tiddler=<<snippetTitle>> field=\"title\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$view>\n\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/TextEditor/Snippet]!has[draft.of]sort[caption]]\" variable=\"snippetTitle\">\n\n<<toolbar-button-stamp-inner>>\n\n</$list>\n\n----\n\n<$button tag=\"a\">\n\n<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-new-tiddler\"\n\ttags=\"$:/tags/TextEditor/Snippet\"\n\tcaption={{$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/New/Title}}\n\ttext={{$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/New/Text}}\n/>\n\n<$action-deletetiddler\n\t$tiddler=<<dropdown-state>>\n/>\n\n<em>\n\n<$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Caption/New}}/>\n\n</em>\n\n</$button>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/stamp": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/stamp",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/stamp",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!is[image]]",
"shortcuts": "((stamp))",
"dropdown": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/stamp-dropdown",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/strikethrough": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/strikethrough",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/strikethrough",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Strikethrough/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Strikethrough/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((strikethrough))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-selection\"\n\tprefix=\"~~\"\n\tsuffix=\"~~\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/subscript": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/subscript",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/subscript",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Subscript/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Subscript/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((subscript))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-selection\"\n\tprefix=\",,\"\n\tsuffix=\",,\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/superscript": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/superscript",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/superscript",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Superscript/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Superscript/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((superscript))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-selection\"\n\tprefix=\"^^\"\n\tsuffix=\"^^\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/underline": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/underline",
"tags": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"icon": "$:/core/images/underline",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Underline/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Underline/Hint}}",
"condition": "[<targetTiddler>!has[type]] [<targetTiddler>type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"shortcuts": "((underline))",
"text": "<$action-sendmessage\n\t$message=\"tm-edit-text-operation\"\n\t$param=\"wrap-selection\"\n\tprefix=\"__\"\n\tsuffix=\"__\"\n/>\n"
},
"$:/core/Filters/AllTags": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/AllTags",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[tags[]!is[system]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/AllTags}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/AllTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/AllTiddlers",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[!is[system]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/AllTiddlers}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/Drafts": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/Drafts",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[has[draft.of]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/Drafts}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/Missing": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/Missing",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[all[missing]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/Missing}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/Orphans": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/Orphans",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[all[orphans]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/Orphans}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/OverriddenShadowTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/OverriddenShadowTiddlers",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[is[shadow]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/OverriddenShadowTiddlers}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/RecentSystemTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/RecentSystemTiddlers",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[has[modified]!sort[modified]limit[50]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/RecentSystemTiddlers}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/RecentTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/RecentTiddlers",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[!is[system]has[modified]!sort[modified]limit[50]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/RecentTiddlers}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/ShadowTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/ShadowTiddlers",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[all[shadows]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/ShadowTiddlers}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/SystemTags": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/SystemTags",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[all[shadows+tiddlers]tags[]is[system]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/SystemTags}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/SystemTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/SystemTiddlers",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[is[system]sort[title]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/SystemTiddlers}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/Filters/TypedTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/core/Filters/TypedTiddlers",
"tags": "$:/tags/Filter",
"filter": "[!is[system]has[type]each[type]sort[type]] -[type[text/vnd.tiddlywiki]]",
"description": "{{$:/language/Filters/TypedTiddlers}}",
"text": ""
},
"$:/core/ui/ImportListing": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ImportListing",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Import/\n\\define messageField()\nmessage-$(payloadTiddler)$\n\\end\n\\define selectionField()\nselection-$(payloadTiddler)$\n\\end\n\\define previewPopupState()\n$(currentTiddler)$!!popup-$(payloadTiddler)$\n\\end\n<table>\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<th>\n<<lingo Listing/Select/Caption>>\n</th>\n<th>\n<<lingo Listing/Title/Caption>>\n</th>\n<th>\n<<lingo Listing/Status/Caption>>\n</th>\n</tr>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]plugintiddlers[]sort[title]]\" variable=\"payloadTiddler\">\n<tr>\n<td>\n<$checkbox field=<<selectionField>> checked=\"checked\" unchecked=\"unchecked\" default=\"checked\"/>\n</td>\n<td>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<previewPopupState>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" set=<<previewPopupState>> setTo=\"yes\">\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}} <$text text=<<payloadTiddler>>/>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<previewPopupState>> text=\"yes\">\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" set=<<previewPopupState>> setTo=\"no\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}} <$text text=<<payloadTiddler>>/>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</td>\n<td>\n<$view field=<<messageField>>/>\n</td>\n</tr>\n<tr>\n<td colspan=\"3\">\n<$reveal type=\"match\" text=\"yes\" state=<<previewPopupState>>>\n<$transclude subtiddler=<<payloadTiddler>> mode=\"block\"/>\n</$reveal>\n</td>\n</tr>\n</$list>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-menu-list-item\">\n<$link to={{!!title}}>\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n</$link>\n</div>"
},
"$:/core/ui/MissingTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MissingTemplate",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-tiddler-missing\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/missing\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-missing-tiddler-label\">\n<$view field=\"title\" format=\"text\" />\n</$button>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/missing\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n<hr>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]backlinks[]sort[title]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/All": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/All",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/All/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/AllTiddlers!!filter}} template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Drafts": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Drafts",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Drafts/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/Drafts!!filter}} template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Missing": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Missing",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Missing/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/Missing!!filter}} template=\"$:/core/ui/MissingTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Orphans": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Orphans",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Orphans/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/Orphans!!filter}} template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Recent": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Recent",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Recent/Caption}}",
"text": "<$macrocall $name=\"timeline\" format={{$:/language/RecentChanges/DateFormat}}/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Shadows": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Shadows",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Shadows/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/ShadowTiddlers!!filter}} template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/System": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/System",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/System/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/SystemTiddlers!!filter}} template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Tags": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Tags",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Tags/Caption}}",
"text": "<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-class\" value=\"\">\n\n{{$:/core/ui/Buttons/tag-manager}}\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/AllTags!!filter}}>\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/TagTemplate\"/>\n\n</$list>\n\n<hr class=\"tc-untagged-separator\">\n\n{{$:/core/ui/UntaggedTemplate}}\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Types": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Types",
"tags": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Types/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter={{$:/core/Filters/TypedTiddlers!!filter}}>\n<div class=\"tc-menu-list-item\">\n<$view field=\"type\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[type{!!type}!is[system]sort[title]]\">\n<div class=\"tc-menu-list-subitem\">\n<$link to={{!!title}}><$view field=\"title\"/></$link>\n</div>\n</$list>\n</div>\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/advanced-search": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/advanced-search",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/advanced-search-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define control-panel-button(class)\n<$button to=\"$:/AdvancedSearch\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Caption}} class=\"\"\"$(tv-config-toolbar-class)$ $class$\"\"\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/advanced-search-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n<$list filter=\"[list[$:/StoryList]] +[field:title[$:/AdvancedSearch]]\" emptyMessage=<<control-panel-button>>>\n<<control-panel-button \"tc-selected\">>\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-all": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-all",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/close-all-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-close-all-tiddlers\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/close-all-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/CloseAll/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/control-panel": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/control-panel",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/options-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define control-panel-button(class)\n<$button to=\"$:/ControlPanel\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Caption}} class=\"\"\"$(tv-config-toolbar-class)$ $class$\"\"\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/options-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/ControlPanel/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n<$list filter=\"[list[$:/StoryList]] +[field:title[$:/ControlPanel]]\" emptyMessage=<<control-panel-button>>>\n<<control-panel-button \"tc-selected\">>\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/encryption": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/encryption",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/locked-padlock}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/Hint}}",
"text": "<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/isEncrypted\" text=\"yes\">\n<$button message=\"tm-clear-password\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/ClearPassword/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/ClearPassword/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/locked-padlock}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/ClearPassword/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/isEncrypted\" text=\"yes\">\n<$button message=\"tm-set-password\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/SetPassword/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/SetPassword/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/unlocked-padlock}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Encryption/SetPassword/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-page": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-page",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/export-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/ExportPage/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ExportPage/Hint}}",
"text": "<$macrocall $name=\"exportButton\" exportFilter=\"[!is[system]sort[title]]\" lingoBase=\"$:/language/Buttons/ExportPage/\"/>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-all": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-all",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/fold-all-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-fold-all-tiddlers\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> foldedStatePrefix=\"$:/state/folded/\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n{{$:/core/images/fold-all-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/FoldAll/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/full-screen": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/full-screen",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/full-screen-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-full-screen\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/full-screen-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/FullScreen/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/home": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/home",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/home-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Home/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Home/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-home\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Home/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Home/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/home-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Home/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/import": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/import",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/import-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Import/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Import/Hint}}",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-file-input-wrapper\">\n<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Import/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Import/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/import-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Import/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n<$browse tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Import/Hint}}/>\n</div>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/language": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/language",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/globe}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Language/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Language/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define flag-title()\n$(languagePluginTitle)$/icon\n\\end\n<span class=\"tc-popup-keep\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/language\">> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Language/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Language/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-image-button\">\n<$set name=\"languagePluginTitle\" value={{$:/language}}>\n<$image source=<<flag-title>>/>\n</$set>\n</span>\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Language/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</span>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/language\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down tc-drop-down-language-chooser\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/language\">\n<$list filter=\"[[$:/languages/en-GB]] [plugin-type[language]sort[description]]\">\n<$link>\n<span class=\"tc-drop-down-bullet\">\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/language\" text=<<currentTiddler>>>\n•\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/language\" text=<<currentTiddler>>>\n \n</$reveal>\n</span>\n<span class=\"tc-image-button\">\n<$set name=\"languagePluginTitle\" value=<<currentTiddler>>>\n<$transclude subtiddler=<<flag-title>>>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]field:title[$:/languages/en-GB]]\">\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/languages/en-GB/icon\"/>\n</$list>\n</$transclude>\n</$set>\n</span>\n<$view field=\"description\">\n<$view field=\"name\">\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n</$view>\n</$view>\n</$link>\n</$list>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</div>\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-page-actions": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-page-actions",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}} {{$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/More/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define config-title()\n$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/more\">> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/More/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button><$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/more\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-class\" value=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/PageControls]!has[draft.of]] -[[$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-page-actions]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<config-title>> text=\"hide\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</div>\n\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-image": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-image",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/new-image-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-new-tiddler\" type=\"image/jpeg\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/new-image-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/NewImage/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/new-journal-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define journalButton()\n<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-new-tiddler\" title=<<now \"$(journalTitleTemplate)$\">> tags=\"$(journalTags)$\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/new-journal-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournal/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n\\end\n<$set name=\"journalTitleTemplate\" value={{$:/config/NewJournal/Title}}>\n<$set name=\"journalTags\" value={{$:/config/NewJournal/Tags}}>\n<<journalButton>>\n</$set></$set>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-tiddler",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/new-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-new-tiddler\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/new-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/NewTiddler/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/palette": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/palette",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/palette}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Hint}}",
"text": "<span class=\"tc-popup-keep\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/palette\">> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/palette}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Palette/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</span>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/palette\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\" style=\"font-size:0.7em;\">\n{{$:/snippets/paletteswitcher}}\n</div>\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/refresh": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/refresh",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/refresh-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-browser-refresh\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/refresh-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Refresh/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/save-wiki": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/save-wiki",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/save-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-save-wiki\" param={{$:/config/SaveWikiButton/Template}} tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<span class=\"tc-dirty-indicator\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/save-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/SaveWiki/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</span>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/storyview": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/storyview",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/storyview-classic}} {{$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define icon()\n$:/core/images/storyview-$(storyview)$\n\\end\n<span class=\"tc-popup-keep\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/storyview\">> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n<$set name=\"storyview\" value={{$:/view}}>\n<$transclude tiddler=<<icon>>/>\n</$set>\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/StoryView/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</span>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/storyview\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/view\">\n<$list filter=\"[storyviews[]]\" variable=\"storyview\">\n<$link to=<<storyview>>>\n<span class=\"tc-drop-down-bullet\">\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/view\" text=<<storyview>>>\n•\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/view\" text=<<storyview>>>\n \n</$reveal>\n</span>\n<$transclude tiddler=<<icon>>/>\n<$text text=<<storyview>>/></$link>\n</$list>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</div>\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/tag-manager": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/tag-manager",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/tag-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define control-panel-button(class)\n<$button to=\"$:/TagManager\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Caption}} class=\"\"\"$(tv-config-toolbar-class)$ $class$\"\"\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/tag-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/TagManager/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n<$list filter=\"[list[$:/StoryList]] +[field:title[$:/TagManager]]\" emptyMessage=<<control-panel-button>>>\n<<control-panel-button \"tc-selected\">>\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/theme": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/theme",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/theme-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Hint}}",
"text": "<span class=\"tc-popup-keep\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/theme\">> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/theme-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Theme/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</span>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/theme\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/theme\">\n<$list filter=\"[plugin-type[theme]sort[title]]\" variable=\"themeTitle\">\n<$link to=<<themeTitle>>>\n<span class=\"tc-drop-down-bullet\">\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=\"$:/theme\" text=<<themeTitle>>>\n•\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/theme\" text=<<themeTitle>>>\n \n</$reveal>\n</span>\n<$view tiddler=<<themeTitle>> field=\"name\"/>\n</$link>\n</$list>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</div>\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/unfold-all": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/unfold-all",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/unfold-all-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-unfold-all-tiddlers\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> foldedStatePrefix=\"$:/state/folded/\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n{{$:/core/images/unfold-all-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/UnfoldAll/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/pagecontrols": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/pagecontrols",
"text": "\\define config-title()\n$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n<div class=\"tc-page-controls\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/PageControls]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<config-title>> text=\"hide\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> mode=\"inline\"/>\n</$reveal>\n</$list>\n</div>\n\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageStylesheet": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageStylesheet",
"text": "<$importvariables filter=\"[[$:/core/ui/PageMacros]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Macro]!has[draft.of]]\">\n\n<$set name=\"currentTiddler\" value={{$:/language}}>\n\n<$set name=\"languageTitle\" value={{!!name}}>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Stylesheet]!has[draft.of]]\">\n<$transclude mode=\"block\"/>\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$importvariables>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/alerts": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/alerts",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageTemplate",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-alerts\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Alert]!has[draft.of]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/AlertTemplate\" storyview=\"pop\"/>\n\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/pluginreloadwarning": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/pluginreloadwarning",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/\n\n<$list filter=\"[has[plugin-type]haschanged[]!plugin-type[import]limit[1]]\">\n\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/temp/HidePluginWarning\" text=\"yes\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-plugin-reload-warning\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-class\" value=\"\">\n\n<<lingo PluginReloadWarning>> <$button set=\"$:/temp/HidePluginWarning\" setTo=\"yes\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">{{$:/core/images/close-button}}</$button>\n\n</$set>\n\n</div>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/sidebar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/sidebar",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageTemplate",
"text": "<$scrollable fallthrough=\"no\" class=\"tc-sidebar-scrollable\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-sidebar-header\">\n\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/sidebar\" type=\"match\" text=\"yes\" default=\"yes\" retain=\"yes\" animate=\"yes\">\n\n<h1 class=\"tc-site-title\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/SiteTitle\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</h1>\n\n<div class=\"tc-site-subtitle\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/SiteSubtitle\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</div>\n\n{{||$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/pagecontrols}}\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/SideBarLists\" mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</div>\n\n</$scrollable>"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/story": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/story",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageTemplate",
"text": "<section class=\"tc-story-river\">\n\n<section class=\"story-backdrop\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/AboveStory]!has[draft.of]]\">\n\n<$transclude/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</section>\n\n<$list filter=\"[list[$:/StoryList]]\" history=\"$:/HistoryList\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate\" editTemplate=\"$:/core/ui/EditTemplate\" storyview={{$:/view}} emptyMessage={{$:/config/EmptyStoryMessage}}/>\n\n<section class=\"story-frontdrop\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/BelowStory]!has[draft.of]]\">\n\n<$transclude/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</section>\n\n</section>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/topleftbar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/topleftbar",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageTemplate",
"text": "<span class=\"tc-topbar tc-topbar-left\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/TopLeftBar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</span>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/toprightbar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/toprightbar",
"tags": "$:/tags/PageTemplate",
"text": "<span class=\"tc-topbar tc-topbar-right\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/TopRightBar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</span>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PageTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PageTemplate",
"text": "\\define containerClasses()\ntc-page-container tc-page-view-$(themeTitle)$ tc-language-$(languageTitle)$\n\\end\n\n<$importvariables filter=\"[[$:/core/ui/PageMacros]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Macro]!has[draft.of]]\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value={{$:/config/Toolbar/Icons}}>\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value={{$:/config/Toolbar/Text}}>\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-class\" value={{$:/config/Toolbar/ButtonClass}}>\n\n<$set name=\"themeTitle\" value={{$:/view}}>\n\n<$set name=\"currentTiddler\" value={{$:/language}}>\n\n<$set name=\"languageTitle\" value={{!!name}}>\n\n<$set name=\"currentTiddler\" value=\"\">\n\n<div class=<<containerClasses>>>\n\n<$navigator story=\"$:/StoryList\" history=\"$:/HistoryList\" openLinkFromInsideRiver={{$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromInsideRiver}} openLinkFromOutsideRiver={{$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromOutsideRiver}}>\n\n<$dropzone>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/PageTemplate]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$dropzone>\n\n</$navigator>\n\n</div>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$importvariables>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/PluginInfo": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/PluginInfo",
"text": "\\define localised-info-tiddler-title()\n$(currentTiddler)$/$(languageTitle)$/$(currentTab)$\n\\end\n\\define info-tiddler-title()\n$(currentTiddler)$/$(currentTab)$\n\\end\n<$transclude tiddler=<<localised-info-tiddler-title>> mode=\"block\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<currentTiddler>> subtiddler=<<localised-info-tiddler-title>> mode=\"block\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<currentTiddler>> subtiddler=<<info-tiddler-title>> mode=\"block\">\n{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Plugin/NoInfoFound/Hint}}\n</$transclude>\n</$transclude>\n</$transclude>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/SearchResults": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/SearchResults",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-search-results\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SearchResults]!has[draft.of]butfirst[]limit[1]]\" emptyMessage=\"\"\"\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SearchResults]!has[draft.of]]\">\n<$transclude mode=\"block\"/>\n</$list>\n\"\"\">\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"tabs\" tabsList=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SearchResults]!has[draft.of]]\" default={{$:/config/SearchResults/Default}}/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/SideBar/More": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/SideBar/More",
"tags": "$:/tags/SideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/More/Caption}}",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-more-sidebar\">\n<<tabs \"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/MoreSideBar]!has[draft.of]]\" \"$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Tags\" \"$:/state/tab/moresidebar\" \"tc-vertical\">>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/SideBar/Open": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/SideBar/Open",
"tags": "$:/tags/SideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Open/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/CloseAll/\n<$list filter=\"[list[$:/StoryList]]\" history=\"$:/HistoryList\" storyview=\"pop\">\n\n<$button message=\"tm-close-tiddler\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Close/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Close/Caption}} class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-mini\">×</$button> <$link to={{!!title}}><$view field=\"title\"/></$link>\n\n</$list>\n\n<$button message=\"tm-close-all-tiddlers\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-mini\"><<lingo Button>></$button>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/SideBar/Recent": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/SideBar/Recent",
"tags": "$:/tags/SideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Recent/Caption}}",
"text": "<$macrocall $name=\"timeline\" format={{$:/language/RecentChanges/DateFormat}}/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/SideBar/Tools": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/SideBar/Tools",
"tags": "$:/tags/SideBar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/SideBar/Tools/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n\n<<lingo Basics/Version/Prompt>> <<version>>\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-class\" value=\"\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/PageControls]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<div style=\"position:relative;\">\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=<<config-title>> field=\"text\" checked=\"show\" unchecked=\"hide\" default=\"show\"/> <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/> <i class=\"tc-muted\"><$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"description\"/></i>\n\n</div>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/SideBarLists": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/SideBarLists",
"text": "<div class=\"tc-sidebar-lists\">\n\n<$set name=\"searchTiddler\" value=\"$:/temp/search\">\n<div class=\"tc-search\">\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/temp/search\" type=\"search\" tag=\"input\" focus={{$:/config/Search/AutoFocus}} focusPopup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/search-dropdown\">> class=\"tc-popup-handle\"/>\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/search\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Caption}} class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/advancedsearch\" text={{$:/temp/search}}/>\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/search\" text=\"\"/>\n<$action-navigate $to=\"$:/AdvancedSearch\"/>\n{{$:/core/images/advanced-search-button}}\n</$button>\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-setfield $tiddler=\"$:/temp/search\" text=\"\" />\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$button>\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/search-dropdown\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$set name=\"resultCount\" value=\"\"\"<$count filter=\"[!is[system]search{$(searchTiddler)$}]\"/>\"\"\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}} {{$:/language/Search/Matches}}\n</$set>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal state=\"$:/temp/search\" type=\"match\" text=\"\">\n<$button to=\"$:/AdvancedSearch\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/AdvancedSearch/Caption}} class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/advanced-search-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n\n<$reveal tag=\"div\" class=\"tc-block-dropdown-wrapper\" state=\"$:/temp/search\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n\n<$reveal tag=\"div\" class=\"tc-block-dropdown tc-search-drop-down tc-popup-handle\" state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/search-dropdown\">> type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" default=\"\">\n\n{{$:/core/ui/SearchResults}}\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$set>\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"tabs\" tabsList=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/SideBar]!has[draft.of]]\" default={{$:/config/DefaultSidebarTab}} state=\"$:/state/tab/sidebar\" />\n\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/TagManager": {
"title": "$:/TagManager",
"icon": "$:/core/images/tag-button",
"color": "#bbb",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TagManager/\n\\define iconEditorTab(type)\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]is[image]] [all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Image]] -[type[application/pdf]] +[sort[title]] +[$type$is[system]]\">\n<$link to={{!!title}}>\n<$transclude/> <$view field=\"title\"/>\n</$link>\n</$list>\n\\end\n\\define iconEditor(title)\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down-wrapper\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/icon/$title$\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\">{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}</$button>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/icon/$title$\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"belowleft\" text=\"\" default=\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$title$!!icon\">\n<<iconEditorTab type:\"!\">>\n<hr/>\n<<iconEditorTab type:\"\">>\n</$linkcatcher>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n\\end\n\\define qualifyTitle(title)\n$title$$(currentTiddler)$\n\\end\n\\define toggleButton(state)\n<$reveal state=\"$state$\" type=\"match\" text=\"closed\" default=\"closed\">\n<$button set=\"$state$\" setTo=\"open\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n{{$:/core/images/info-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal state=\"$state$\" type=\"match\" text=\"open\" default=\"closed\">\n<$button set=\"$state$\" setTo=\"closed\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\" selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n{{$:/core/images/info-button}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n\\end\n<table class=\"tc-tag-manager-table\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<th><<lingo Colour/Heading>></th>\n<th class=\"tc-tag-manager-tag\"><<lingo Tag/Heading>></th>\n<th><<lingo Count/Heading>></th>\n<th><<lingo Icon/Heading>></th>\n<th><<lingo Info/Heading>></th>\n</tr>\n<$list filter=\"[tags[]!is[system]sort[title]]\">\n<tr>\n<td><$edit-text field=\"color\" tag=\"input\" type=\"color\"/></td>\n<td><$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/TagTemplate\"/></td>\n<td><$count filter=\"[all[current]tagging[]]\"/></td>\n<td>\n<$macrocall $name=\"iconEditor\" title={{!!title}}/>\n</td>\n<td>\n<$macrocall $name=\"toggleButton\" state=<<qualifyTitle \"$:/state/tag-manager/\">> /> \n</td>\n</tr>\n<tr>\n<td></td>\n<td colspan=\"4\">\n<$reveal state=<<qualifyTitle \"$:/state/tag-manager/\">> type=\"match\" text=\"open\" default=\"\">\n<table>\n<tbody>\n<tr><td><<lingo Colour/Heading>></td><td><$edit-text field=\"color\" tag=\"input\" type=\"text\" size=\"9\"/></td></tr>\n<tr><td><<lingo Icon/Heading>></td><td><$edit-text field=\"icon\" tag=\"input\" size=\"45\"/></td></tr>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n</$reveal>\n</td>\n</tr>\n</$list>\n<tr>\n<td></td>\n<td>\n{{$:/core/ui/UntaggedTemplate}}\n</td>\n<td>\n<small class=\"tc-menu-list-count\"><$count filter=\"[untagged[]!is[system]] -[tags[]]\"/></small>\n</td>\n<td></td>\n<td></td>\n</tr>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TagTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TagTemplate",
"text": "\\define tag-styles()\nbackground-color:$(backgroundColor)$;\nfill:$(foregroundColor)$;\ncolor:$(foregroundColor)$;\n\\end\n\n\\define tag-body-inner(colour,fallbackTarget,colourA,colourB)\n<$vars foregroundColor=<<contrastcolour target:\"\"\"$colour$\"\"\" fallbackTarget:\"\"\"$fallbackTarget$\"\"\" colourA:\"\"\"$colourA$\"\"\" colourB:\"\"\"$colourB$\"\"\">> backgroundColor=\"\"\"$colour$\"\"\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tag\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-tag-label\" style=<<tag-styles>>>\n<$transclude tiddler={{!!icon}}/> <$view field=\"title\" format=\"text\" />\n</$button>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tag\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\" class=\"tc-drop-down\"><$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/TagDropdown]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\"> \n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/> \n</$list> \n<hr>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]tagging[]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n</$reveal>\n</$vars>\n\\end\n\n\\define tag-body(colour,palette)\n<span class=\"tc-tag-list-item\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"tag-body-inner\" colour=\"\"\"$colour$\"\"\" fallbackTarget={{$palette$##tag-background}} colourA={{$palette$##foreground}} colourB={{$palette$##background}}/>\n</span>\n\\end\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"tag-body\" colour={{!!color}} palette={{$:/palette}}/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerFieldTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerFieldTemplate",
"text": "<tr class=\"tc-view-field\">\n<td class=\"tc-view-field-name\">\n<$text text=<<listItem>>/>\n</td>\n<td class=\"tc-view-field-value\">\n<$view field=<<listItem>>/>\n</td>\n</tr>"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerFields": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerFields",
"text": "<table class=\"tc-view-field-table\">\n<tbody>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]fields[]sort[title]] -text\" template=\"$:/core/ui/TiddlerFieldTemplate\" variable=\"listItem\"/>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo/Advanced",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo/\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]has[plugin-type]]\">\n\n! <<lingo Heading>>\n\n<<lingo Hint>>\n<ul>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]plugintiddlers[]sort[title]]\" emptyMessage=<<lingo Empty/Hint>>>\n<li>\n<$link to={{!!title}}>\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n</$link>\n</li>\n</$list>\n</ul>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo/Advanced",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo/\n<$set name=\"infoTiddler\" value=<<currentTiddler>>>\n\n''<<lingo Heading>>''\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]!is[shadow]]\">\n\n<<lingo NotShadow/Hint>>\n\n</$list>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]is[shadow]]\">\n\n<<lingo Shadow/Hint>>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]shadowsource[]]\">\n\n<$set name=\"pluginTiddler\" value=<<currentTiddler>>>\n<<lingo Shadow/Source>>\n</$set>\n\n</$list>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]is[shadow]is[tiddler]]\">\n\n<<lingo OverriddenShadow/Hint>>\n\n</$list>\n\n\n</$list>\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"caption": "{{$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/Caption}}",
"text": "<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/TiddlerInfo/Advanced]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Fields": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Fields",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"caption": "{{$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Fields/Caption}}",
"text": "<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/TiddlerFields\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/List": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/List",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"caption": "{{$:/language/TiddlerInfo/List/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n<$list filter=\"[list{!!title}]\" emptyMessage=<<lingo List/Empty>> template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Listed": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Listed",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"caption": "{{$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Listed/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]listed[]!is[system]]\" emptyMessage=<<lingo Listed/Empty>> template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/References": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/References",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"caption": "{{$:/language/TiddlerInfo/References/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]backlinks[]sort[title]]\" emptyMessage=<<lingo References/Empty>> template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\">\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Tagging": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Tagging",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"caption": "{{$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tagging/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]tagging[]]\" emptyMessage=<<lingo Tagging/Empty>> template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Tools": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Tools",
"tags": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"caption": "{{$:/language/TiddlerInfo/Tools/Caption}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/TiddlerInfo/\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-class\" value=\"\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ViewToolbar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$checkbox tiddler=<<config-title>> field=\"text\" checked=\"show\" unchecked=\"hide\" default=\"show\"/> <$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/> <i class=\"tc-muted\"><$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> field=\"description\"/></i>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo",
"text": "<$macrocall $name=\"tabs\" tabsList=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/TiddlerInfo]!has[draft.of]]\" default={{$:/config/TiddlerInfo/Default}}/>"
},
"$:/core/ui/TopBar/menu": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/TopBar/menu",
"tags": "$:/tags/TopRightBar",
"text": "<$reveal state=\"$:/state/sidebar\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"no\">\n<$button set=\"$:/state/sidebar\" setTo=\"no\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/HideSideBar/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/HideSideBar/Caption}} class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">{{$:/core/images/chevron-right}}</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/sidebar\" type=\"match\" text=\"no\">\n<$button set=\"$:/state/sidebar\" setTo=\"yes\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/ShowSideBar/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/ShowSideBar/Caption}} class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">{{$:/core/images/chevron-left}}</$button>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/UntaggedTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/UntaggedTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/SideBar/\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tag\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-untagged-label tc-tag-label\">\n<<lingo Tags/Untagged/Caption>>\n</$button>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tag\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n<$list filter=\"[untagged[]!is[system]] -[tags[]] +[sort[title]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/ListItemTemplate\"/>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/body": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/body",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"text": "<$reveal tag=\"div\" class=\"tc-tiddler-body\" type=\"nomatch\" state=<<folded-state>> text=\"hide\" retain=\"yes\" animate=\"yes\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]!has[plugin-type]!field:hide-body[yes]]\">\n\n<$transclude>\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/language/MissingTiddler/Hint\"/>\n\n</$transclude>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/classic": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/classic",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate $:/tags/EditTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ClassicWarning/\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]type[text/x-tiddlywiki]]\">\n<div class=\"tc-message-box\">\n\n<<lingo Hint>>\n\n<$button set=\"!!type\" setTo=\"text/vnd.tiddlywiki\"><<lingo Upgrade/Caption>></$button>\n\n</div>\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/import": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/import",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/Import/\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]field:plugin-type[import]]\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-import\">\n\n<<lingo Listing/Hint>>\n\n<$button message=\"tm-delete-tiddler\" param=<<currentTiddler>>><<lingo Listing/Cancel/Caption>></$button>\n<$button message=\"tm-perform-import\" param=<<currentTiddler>>><<lingo Listing/Import/Caption>></$button>\n\n{{||$:/core/ui/ImportListing}}\n\n<$button message=\"tm-delete-tiddler\" param=<<currentTiddler>>><<lingo Listing/Cancel/Caption>></$button>\n<$button message=\"tm-perform-import\" param=<<currentTiddler>>><<lingo Listing/Import/Caption>></$button>\n\n</div>\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/plugin": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/plugin",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"text": "<$list filter=\"[all[current]has[plugin-type]] -[all[current]field:plugin-type[import]]\">\n\n{{||$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo}}\n\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/subtitle": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/subtitle",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"text": "<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<folded-state>> text=\"hide\" tag=\"div\" retain=\"yes\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-subtitle\">\n<$link to={{!!modifier}}>\n<$view field=\"modifier\"/>\n</$link> <$view field=\"modified\" format=\"date\" template={{$:/language/Tiddler/DateFormat}}/>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/tags": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/tags",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"text": "<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<folded-state>> text=\"hide\" tag=\"div\" retain=\"yes\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-tags-wrapper\"><$list filter=\"[all[current]tags[]sort[title]]\" template=\"$:/core/ui/TagTemplate\" storyview=\"pop\"/></div>\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/title": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/title",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"text": "\\define title-styles()\nfill:$(foregroundColor)$;\n\\end\n\\define config-title()\n$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n<div class=\"tc-tiddler-title\">\n<div class=\"tc-titlebar\">\n<span class=\"tc-tiddler-controls\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ViewToolbar]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\"><$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<config-title>> text=\"hide\"><$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/></$reveal></$list>\n</span>\n<$set name=\"tv-wikilinks\" value={{$:/config/Tiddlers/TitleLinks}}>\n<$link>\n<$set name=\"foregroundColor\" value={{!!color}}>\n<span class=\"tc-tiddler-title-icon\" style=<<title-styles>>>\n<$transclude tiddler={{!!icon}}/>\n</span>\n</$set>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]removeprefix[$:/]]\">\n<h2 class=\"tc-title\" title={{$:/language/SystemTiddler/Tooltip}}>\n<span class=\"tc-system-title-prefix\">$:/</span><$text text=<<currentTiddler>>/>\n</h2>\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]!prefix[$:/]]\">\n<h2 class=\"tc-title\">\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n</h2>\n</$list>\n</$link>\n</$set>\n</div>\n\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" default=\"\" state=<<tiddlerInfoState>> class=\"tc-tiddler-info tc-popup-handle\" animate=\"yes\" retain=\"yes\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n</div>"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/unfold": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/unfold",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"text": "<$reveal tag=\"div\" type=\"nomatch\" state=\"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-bar\" text=\"hide\">\n<$reveal tag=\"div\" type=\"nomatch\" state=<<folded-state>> text=\"hide\" default=\"show\" retain=\"yes\" animate=\"yes\">\n<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Caption}} class=\"tc-fold-banner\">\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-fold-tiddler\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> foldedState=<<folded-state>>/>\n{{$:/core/images/chevron-up}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal tag=\"div\" type=\"nomatch\" state=<<folded-state>> text=\"show\" default=\"show\" retain=\"yes\" animate=\"yes\">\n<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Caption}} class=\"tc-unfold-banner\">\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-fold-tiddler\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> foldedState=<<folded-state>>/>\n{{$:/core/images/chevron-down}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</$reveal>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate",
"text": "\\define frame-classes()\ntc-tiddler-frame tc-tiddler-view-frame $(missingTiddlerClass)$ $(shadowTiddlerClass)$ $(systemTiddlerClass)$ $(tiddlerTagClasses)$\n\\end\n\\define folded-state()\n$:/state/folded/$(currentTiddler)$\n\\end\n<$set name=\"storyTiddler\" value=<<currentTiddler>>><$set name=\"tiddlerInfoState\" value=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/tiddler-info\">>><$tiddler tiddler=<<currentTiddler>>><div class=<<frame-classes>>><$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ViewTemplate]!has[draft.of]]\" variable=\"listItem\"><$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>>/></$list>\n</div>\n</$tiddler></$set></$set>\n"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/clone": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/clone",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/clone-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-new-tiddler\" param=<<currentTiddler>> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/clone-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Clone/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-others": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-others",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/close-others-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-close-other-tiddlers\" param=<<currentTiddler>> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/close-others-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/CloseOthers/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/close": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/close",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/close-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Close/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Close/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-close-tiddler\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Close/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Close/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/close-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Close/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/edit": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/edit",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/edit-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-edit-tiddler\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/edit-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Edit/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-tiddler",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/export-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddler/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddler/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define makeExportFilter()\n[[$(currentTiddler)$]]\n\\end\n<$macrocall $name=\"exportButton\" exportFilter=<<makeExportFilter>> lingoBase=\"$:/language/Buttons/ExportTiddler/\" baseFilename=<<currentTiddler>>/>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-bar": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-bar",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/FoldBar/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/FoldBar/Hint}}",
"text": "<!-- This dummy toolbar button is here to allow visibility of the fold-bar to be controlled as if it were a toolbar button -->"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-others": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-others",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/fold-others-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-fold-other-tiddlers\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> foldedStatePrefix=\"$:/state/folded/\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n{{$:/core/images/fold-others-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/FoldOthers/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/fold-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Hint}}",
"text": "<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<folded-state>> text=\"hide\" default=\"show\"><$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-fold-tiddler\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> foldedState=<<folded-state>>/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n{{$:/core/images/fold-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\">\n<$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Fold/Caption}}/>\n</span>\n</$list>\n</$button></$reveal><$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<folded-state>> text=\"hide\" default=\"show\"><$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-fold-tiddler\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> foldedState=<<folded-state>>/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n{{$:/core/images/unfold-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\">\n<$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Unfold/Caption}}/>\n</span>\n</$list>\n</$button></$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/info": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/info",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/info-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Info/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Info/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button popup=<<tiddlerInfoState>> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Info/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Info/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/info-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Info/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-tiddler-actions": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-tiddler-actions",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}} {{$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/More/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define config-title()\n$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$(listItem)$\n\\end\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/more\">> tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/More/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/More/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button><$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/more\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-icons\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-text\" value=\"yes\">\n\n<$set name=\"tv-config-toolbar-class\" value=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/ViewToolbar]!has[draft.of]] -[[$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-tiddler-actions]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<config-title>> text=\"hide\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<listItem>> mode=\"inline\"/>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$list>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</$set>\n\n</div>\n\n</$reveal>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-here": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-here",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/new-here-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define newHereButtonTags()\n[[$(currentTiddler)$]]\n\\end\n\\define newHereButton()\n<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-new-tiddler\" tags=<<newHereButtonTags>>/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/new-here-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/NewHere/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n\\end\n<<newHereButton>>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal-here": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal-here",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/new-journal-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Hint}}",
"text": "\\define journalButtonTags()\n[[$(currentTiddlerTag)$]] $(journalTags)$\n\\end\n\\define journalButton()\n<$button tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-new-tiddler\" title=<<now \"$(journalTitleTemplate)$\">> tags=<<journalButtonTags>>/>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/new-journal-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/NewJournalHere/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n\\end\n<$set name=\"journalTitleTemplate\" value={{$:/config/NewJournal/Title}}>\n<$set name=\"journalTags\" value={{$:/config/NewJournal/Tags}}>\n<$set name=\"currentTiddlerTag\" value=<<currentTiddler>>>\n<<journalButton>>\n</$set></$set></$set>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/open-window": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/open-window",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/open-window}} {{$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-open-window\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/open-window}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/OpenWindow/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/permalink": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/permalink",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/permalink-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-permalink\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/permalink-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Permalink/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview": {
"title": "$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview",
"tags": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar $:/tags/PageControls",
"caption": "{{$:/core/images/permaview-button}} {{$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Caption}}",
"description": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Hint}}",
"text": "<$button message=\"tm-permaview\" tooltip={{$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Hint}} aria-label={{$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/permaview-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$:/language/Buttons/Permaview/Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>"
},
"$:/DefaultTiddlers": {
"title": "$:/DefaultTiddlers",
"text": "GettingStarted\n"
},
"$:/temp/advancedsearch": {
"title": "$:/temp/advancedsearch",
"text": ""
},
"$:/snippets/allfields": {
"title": "$:/snippets/allfields",
"text": "\\define renderfield(title)\n<tr class=\"tc-view-field\"><td class=\"tc-view-field-name\">''$title$'':</td><td class=\"tc-view-field-value\">//{{$:/language/Docs/Fields/$title$}}//</td></tr>\n\\end\n<table class=\"tc-view-field-table\"><tbody><$list filter=\"[fields[]sort[title]]\" variable=\"listItem\"><$macrocall $name=\"renderfield\" title=<<listItem>>/></$list>\n</tbody></table>\n"
},
"$:/config/AnimationDuration": {
"title": "$:/config/AnimationDuration",
"text": "400"
},
"$:/config/AutoSave": {
"title": "$:/config/AutoSave",
"text": "yes"
},
"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Colour": {
"title": "$:/config/BitmapEditor/Colour",
"text": "#444"
},
"$:/config/BitmapEditor/ImageSizes": {
"title": "$:/config/BitmapEditor/ImageSizes",
"text": "[[62px 100px]] [[100px 62px]] [[124px 200px]] [[200px 124px]] [[248px 400px]] [[371px 600px]] [[400px 248px]] [[556px 900px]] [[600px 371px]] [[742px 1200px]] [[900px 556px]] [[1200px 742px]]"
},
"$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidth": {
"title": "$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidth",
"text": "3px"
},
"$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidths": {
"title": "$:/config/BitmapEditor/LineWidths",
"text": "0.25px 0.5px 1px 2px 3px 4px 6px 8px 10px 16px 20px 28px 40px 56px 80px"
},
"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacities": {
"title": "$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacities",
"text": "0.01 0.025 0.05 0.075 0.1 0.15 0.2 0.3 0.4 0.5 0.6 0.7 0.8 0.9 1.0"
},
"$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacity": {
"title": "$:/config/BitmapEditor/Opacity",
"text": "1.0"
},
"$:/config/DefaultSidebarTab": {
"title": "$:/config/DefaultSidebarTab",
"text": "$:/core/ui/SideBar/Open"
},
"$:/config/Drafts/TypingTimeout": {
"title": "$:/config/Drafts/TypingTimeout",
"text": "400"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/title": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/title",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/tags": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/tags",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/text": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/text",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/creator": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/creator",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/created": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/created",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/modified": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/modified",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/modifier": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/modifier",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/type": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/type",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/draft.title": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/draft.title",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/draft.of": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/draft.of",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/revision": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/revision",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/bag": {
"title": "$:/config/EditTemplateFields/Visibility/bag",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-4": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-4",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-5": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-5",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-6": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-6",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/gif": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/gif",
"text": "bitmap"
},
"$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/jpeg": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/jpeg",
"text": "bitmap"
},
"$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/jpg": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/jpg",
"text": "bitmap"
},
"$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/png": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/png",
"text": "bitmap"
},
"$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/x-icon": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/image/x-icon",
"text": "bitmap"
},
"$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/text/vnd.tiddlywiki": {
"title": "$:/config/EditorTypeMappings/text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"text": "text"
},
"$:/config/MissingLinks": {
"title": "$:/config/MissingLinks",
"text": "yes"
},
"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateAddressBar": {
"title": "$:/config/Navigation/UpdateAddressBar",
"text": "no"
},
"$:/config/Navigation/UpdateHistory": {
"title": "$:/config/Navigation/UpdateHistory",
"text": "no"
},
"$:/config/OfficialPluginLibrary": {
"title": "$:/config/OfficialPluginLibrary",
"tags": "$:/tags/PluginLibrary",
"url": "http://tiddlywiki.com/library/v5.1.13/index.html",
"caption": "{{$:/language/OfficialPluginLibrary}}",
"text": "{{$:/language/OfficialPluginLibrary/Hint}}\n"
},
"$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromInsideRiver": {
"title": "$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromInsideRiver",
"text": "below"
},
"$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromOutsideRiver": {
"title": "$:/config/Navigation/openLinkFromOutsideRiver",
"text": "top"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/advanced-search": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/advanced-search",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-all": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-all",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/encryption": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/encryption",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-page": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-page",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-all": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-all",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/full-screen": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/full-screen",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/home": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/home",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/refresh": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/refresh",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/import": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/import",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/language": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/language",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/tag-manager": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/tag-manager",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-page-actions": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-page-actions",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-image": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-image",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/palette": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/palette",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/storyview": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/storyview",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/theme": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/theme",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/unfold-all": {
"title": "$:/config/PageControlButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/unfold-all",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/Performance/Instrumentation": {
"title": "$:/config/Performance/Instrumentation",
"text": "no"
},
"$:/config/SaveWikiButton/Template": {
"title": "$:/config/SaveWikiButton/Template",
"text": "$:/core/save/all"
},
"$:/config/SaverFilter": {
"title": "$:/config/SaverFilter",
"text": "[all[]] -[[$:/HistoryList]] -[[$:/StoryList]] -[[$:/Import]] -[[$:/isEncrypted]] -[[$:/UploadName]] -[prefix[$:/state/]] -[prefix[$:/temp/]]"
},
"$:/config/Search/AutoFocus": {
"title": "$:/config/Search/AutoFocus",
"text": "true"
},
"$:/config/SearchResults/Default": {
"title": "$:/config/SearchResults/Default",
"text": "$:/core/ui/DefaultSearchResultList"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/bold": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/bold",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Bold/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/cancel-edit-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/cancel-edit-tiddler",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Cancel/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/excise": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/excise",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Excise/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-1": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-1",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading1/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-2": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-2",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading2/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-3": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-3",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading3/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-4": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-4",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading4/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-5": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-5",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading5/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-6": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/heading-6",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Heading6/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/italic": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/italic",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Italic/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/link": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/link",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Link/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/list-bullet": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/list-bullet",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ListBullet/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/list-number": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/list-number",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/ListNumber/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/mono-block": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/mono-block",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/MonoBlock/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/mono-line": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/mono-line",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/MonoLine/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/picture": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/picture",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Picture/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/preview": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/preview",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Preview/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/quote": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/quote",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Quote/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/save-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/save-tiddler",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Save/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/stamp": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/stamp",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Stamp/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/strikethrough": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/strikethrough",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Strikethrough/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/subscript": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/subscript",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Subscript/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/superscript": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/superscript",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Superscript/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/ShortcutInfo/underline": {
"title": "$:/config/ShortcutInfo/underline",
"text": "{{$:/language/Buttons/Underline/Hint}}"
},
"$:/config/SyncFilter": {
"title": "$:/config/SyncFilter",
"text": "[is[tiddler]] -[[$:/HistoryList]] -[[$:/Import]] -[[$:/isEncrypted]] -[prefix[$:/status/]] -[prefix[$:/state/]] -[prefix[$:/temp/]]"
},
"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Height": {
"title": "$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Height",
"text": "400px"
},
"$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Mode": {
"title": "$:/config/TextEditor/EditorHeight/Mode",
"text": "auto"
},
"$:/config/TiddlerInfo/Default": {
"title": "$:/config/TiddlerInfo/Default",
"text": "$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Fields"
},
"$:/config/Tiddlers/TitleLinks": {
"title": "$:/config/Tiddlers/TitleLinks",
"text": "no"
},
"$:/config/Toolbar/ButtonClass": {
"title": "$:/config/Toolbar/ButtonClass",
"text": "tc-btn-invisible"
},
"$:/config/Toolbar/Icons": {
"title": "$:/config/Toolbar/Icons",
"text": "yes"
},
"$:/config/Toolbar/Text": {
"title": "$:/config/Toolbar/Text",
"text": "no"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/clone": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/clone",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-others": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-others",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-tiddler",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/info": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/info",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-tiddler-actions": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-tiddler-actions",
"text": "show"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-here": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-here",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal-here": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal-here",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/open-window": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/open-window",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/permalink": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/permalink",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/delete": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/delete",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-bar": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-bar",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-others": {
"title": "$:/config/ViewToolbarButtons/Visibility/$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-others",
"text": "hide"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts-mac/bold": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts-mac/bold",
"text": "meta-B"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts-mac/italic": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts-mac/italic",
"text": "meta-I"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts-mac/underline": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts-mac/underline",
"text": "meta-U"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/bold": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/bold",
"text": "ctrl-B"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/italic": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/italic",
"text": "ctrl-I"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/underline": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts-not-mac/underline",
"text": "ctrl-U"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/cancel-edit-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/cancel-edit-tiddler",
"text": "escape"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/excise": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/excise",
"text": "ctrl-E"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/heading-1": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/heading-1",
"text": "ctrl-1"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/heading-2": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/heading-2",
"text": "ctrl-2"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/heading-3": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/heading-3",
"text": "ctrl-3"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/heading-4": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/heading-4",
"text": "ctrl-4"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/heading-5": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/heading-5",
"text": "ctrl-5"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/heading-6": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/heading-6",
"text": "ctrl-6"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/link": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/link",
"text": "ctrl-L"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/list-bullet": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/list-bullet",
"text": "ctrl-shift-L"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/list-number": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/list-number",
"text": "ctrl-shift-N"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/mono-block": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/mono-block",
"text": "ctrl-shift-M"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/mono-line": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/mono-line",
"text": "ctrl-M"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/picture": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/picture",
"text": "ctrl-shift-I"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/preview": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/preview",
"text": "alt-P"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/quote": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/quote",
"text": "ctrl-Q"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/save-tiddler": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/save-tiddler",
"text": "ctrl+enter"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/stamp": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/stamp",
"text": "ctrl-S"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/strikethrough": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/strikethrough",
"text": "ctrl-T"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/subscript": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/subscript",
"text": "ctrl-shift-B"
},
"$:/config/shortcuts/superscript": {
"title": "$:/config/shortcuts/superscript",
"text": "ctrl-shift-P"
},
"$:/config/WikiParserRules/Inline/wikilink": {
"title": "$:/config/WikiParserRules/Inline/wikilink",
"text": "enable"
},
"$:/snippets/currpalettepreview": {
"title": "$:/snippets/currpalettepreview",
"text": "\\define swatchStyle()\nbackground-color: $(swatchColour)$;\n\\end\n\\define swatch(colour)\n<$set name=\"swatchColour\" value={{##$colour$}}>\n<div class=\"tc-swatch\" style=<<swatchStyle>>/>\n</$set>\n\\end\n<div class=\"tc-swatches-horiz\">\n<<swatch foreground>>\n<<swatch background>>\n<<swatch muted-foreground>>\n<<swatch primary>>\n<<swatch page-background>>\n<<swatch tab-background>>\n<<swatch tiddler-info-background>>\n</div>\n"
},
"$:/snippets/download-wiki-button": {
"title": "$:/snippets/download-wiki-button",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Tools/Download/\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-big-green\">\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-download-file\" $param=\"$:/core/save/all\" filename=\"index.html\"/>\n<<lingo Full/Caption>> {{$:/core/images/save-button}}\n</$button>"
},
"$:/language": {
"title": "$:/language",
"text": "$:/languages/en-GB"
},
"$:/snippets/languageswitcher": {
"title": "$:/snippets/languageswitcher",
"text": "{{$:/language/ControlPanel/Basics/Language/Prompt}} <$select tiddler=\"$:/language\">\n<$list filter=\"[[$:/languages/en-GB]] [plugin-type[language]sort[description]]\">\n<option value=<<currentTiddler>>><$view field=\"description\"><$view field=\"name\"><$view field=\"title\"/></$view></$view></option>\n</$list>\n</$select>"
},
"$:/core/macros/CSS": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/CSS",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define colour(name)\n<$transclude tiddler={{$:/palette}} index=\"$name$\"><$transclude tiddler=\"$:/palettes/Vanilla\" index=\"$name$\"/></$transclude>\n\\end\n\n\\define color(name)\n<<colour $name$>>\n\\end\n\n\\define box-shadow(shadow)\n``\n -webkit-box-shadow: $shadow$;\n -moz-box-shadow: $shadow$;\n box-shadow: $shadow$;\n``\n\\end\n\n\\define filter(filter)\n``\n -webkit-filter: $filter$;\n -moz-filter: $filter$;\n filter: $filter$;\n``\n\\end\n\n\\define transition(transition)\n``\n -webkit-transition: $transition$;\n -moz-transition: $transition$;\n transition: $transition$;\n``\n\\end\n\n\\define transform-origin(origin)\n``\n -webkit-transform-origin: $origin$;\n -moz-transform-origin: $origin$;\n transform-origin: $origin$;\n``\n\\end\n\n\\define background-linear-gradient(gradient)\n``\nbackground-image: linear-gradient($gradient$);\nbackground-image: -o-linear-gradient($gradient$);\nbackground-image: -moz-linear-gradient($gradient$);\nbackground-image: -webkit-linear-gradient($gradient$);\nbackground-image: -ms-linear-gradient($gradient$);\n``\n\\end\n\n\\define datauri(title)\n<$macrocall $name=\"makedatauri\" type={{$title$!!type}} text={{$title$}}/>\n\\end\n\n\\define if-sidebar(text)\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/sidebar\" type=\"match\" text=\"yes\" default=\"yes\">$text$</$reveal>\n\\end\n\n\\define if-no-sidebar(text)\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/sidebar\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"yes\" default=\"yes\">$text$</$reveal>\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/colour-picker": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/colour-picker",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define colour-picker-update-recent()\n<$action-listops\n\t$tiddler=\"$:/config/ColourPicker/Recent\"\n\t$subfilter=\"$(colour-picker-value)$ [list[$:/config/ColourPicker/Recent]remove[$(colour-picker-value)$]] +[limit[8]]\"\n/>\n\\end\n\n\\define colour-picker-inner(actions)\n<$button tag=\"a\" tooltip=\"\"\"$(colour-picker-value)$\"\"\">\n\n$(colour-picker-update-recent)$\n\n$actions$\n\n<div style=\"background-color: $(colour-picker-value)$; width: 100%; height: 100%; border-radius: 50%;\"/>\n\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n\\define colour-picker-recent-inner(actions)\n<$set name=\"colour-picker-value\" value=\"$(recentColour)$\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"colour-picker-inner\" actions=\"\"\"$actions$\"\"\"/>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define colour-picker-recent(actions)\n{{$:/language/ColourPicker/Recent}} <$list filter=\"[list[$:/config/ColourPicker/Recent]]\" variable=\"recentColour\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"colour-picker-recent-inner\" actions=\"\"\"$actions$\"\"\"/></$list>\n\\end\n\n\\define colour-picker(actions)\n<div class=\"tc-colour-chooser\">\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"colour-picker-recent\" actions=\"\"\"$actions$\"\"\"/>\n\n---\n\n<$list filter=\"LightPink Pink Crimson LavenderBlush PaleVioletRed HotPink DeepPink MediumVioletRed Orchid Thistle Plum Violet Magenta Fuchsia DarkMagenta Purple MediumOrchid DarkViolet DarkOrchid Indigo BlueViolet MediumPurple MediumSlateBlue SlateBlue DarkSlateBlue Lavender GhostWhite Blue MediumBlue MidnightBlue DarkBlue Navy RoyalBlue CornflowerBlue LightSteelBlue LightSlateGrey SlateGrey DodgerBlue AliceBlue SteelBlue LightSkyBlue SkyBlue DeepSkyBlue LightBlue PowderBlue CadetBlue Azure LightCyan PaleTurquoise Cyan Aqua DarkTurquoise DarkSlateGrey DarkCyan Teal MediumTurquoise LightSeaGreen Turquoise Aquamarine MediumAquamarine MediumSpringGreen MintCream SpringGreen MediumSeaGreen SeaGreen Honeydew LightGreen PaleGreen DarkSeaGreen LimeGreen Lime ForestGreen Green DarkGreen Chartreuse LawnGreen GreenYellow DarkOliveGreen YellowGreen OliveDrab Beige LightGoldenrodYellow Ivory LightYellow Yellow Olive DarkKhaki LemonChiffon PaleGoldenrod Khaki Gold Cornsilk Goldenrod DarkGoldenrod FloralWhite OldLace Wheat Moccasin Orange PapayaWhip BlanchedAlmond NavajoWhite AntiqueWhite Tan BurlyWood Bisque DarkOrange Linen Peru PeachPuff SandyBrown Chocolate SaddleBrown Seashell Sienna LightSalmon Coral OrangeRed DarkSalmon Tomato MistyRose Salmon Snow LightCoral RosyBrown IndianRed Red Brown FireBrick DarkRed Maroon White WhiteSmoke Gainsboro LightGrey Silver DarkGrey Grey DimGrey Black\" variable=\"colour-picker-value\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"colour-picker-inner\" actions=\"\"\"$actions$\"\"\"/>\n</$list>\n\n---\n\n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/config/ColourPicker/New\" tag=\"input\" default=\"\" placeholder=\"\"/> \n<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/config/ColourPicker/New\" type=\"color\" tag=\"input\"/>\n<$set name=\"colour-picker-value\" value={{$:/config/ColourPicker/New}}>\n<$macrocall $name=\"colour-picker-inner\" actions=\"\"\"$actions$\"\"\"/>\n</$set>\n\n</div>\n\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/export": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/export",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define exportButtonFilename(baseFilename)\n$baseFilename$$(extension)$\n\\end\n\n\\define exportButton(exportFilter:\"[!is[system]sort[title]]\",lingoBase,baseFilename:\"tiddlers\")\n<span class=\"tc-popup-keep\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/export\">> tooltip={{$lingoBase$Hint}} aria-label={{$lingoBase$Caption}} class=<<tv-config-toolbar-class>> selectedClass=\"tc-selected\">\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-icons>prefix[yes]]\">\n{{$:/core/images/export-button}}\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<tv-config-toolbar-text>prefix[yes]]\">\n<span class=\"tc-btn-text\"><$text text={{$lingoBase$Caption}}/></span>\n</$list>\n</$button>\n</span>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/export\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"below\" animate=\"yes\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Exporter]]\">\n<$set name=\"extension\" value={{!!extension}}>\n<$button class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n<$action-sendmessage $message=\"tm-download-file\" $param=<<currentTiddler>> exportFilter=\"\"\"$exportFilter$\"\"\" filename=<<exportButtonFilename \"\"\"$baseFilename$\"\"\">>/>\n<$action-deletetiddler $tiddler=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/export\">>/>\n<$transclude field=\"description\"/>\n</$button>\n</$set>\n</$list>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/image-picker": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/image-picker",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define image-picker-inner(actions)\n<$button tag=\"a\" tooltip=\"\"\"$(imageTitle)$\"\"\">\n\n$actions$\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<imageTitle>>/>\n\n</$button>\n\\end\n\n\\define image-picker(actions,subfilter:\"\")\n<div class=\"tc-image-chooser\">\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]is[image]$subfilter$!has[draft.of]] -[type[application/pdf]] +[sort[title]]\" variable=\"imageTitle\">\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"image-picker-inner\" actions=\"\"\"$actions$\"\"\"/>\n\n</$list>\n\n</div>\n\n\\end\n\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/lingo": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/lingo",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define lingo-base()\n$:/language/\n\\end\n\n\\define lingo(title)\n{{$(lingo-base)$$title$}}\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/list": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/list",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define list-links(filter,type:\"ul\",subtype:\"li\",class:\"\")\n<$type$ class=\"$class$\">\n<$list filter=\"$filter$\">\n<$subtype$>\n<$link to={{!!title}}>\n<$transclude field=\"caption\">\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n</$transclude>\n</$link>\n</$subtype$>\n</$list>\n</$type$>\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/tabs": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/tabs",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define tabs(tabsList,default,state:\"$:/state/tab\",class,template)\n<div class=\"tc-tab-set $class$\">\n<div class=\"tc-tab-buttons $class$\">\n<$list filter=\"$tabsList$\" variable=\"currentTab\"><$set name=\"save-currentTiddler\" value=<<currentTiddler>>><$tiddler tiddler=<<currentTab>>><$button set=<<qualify \"$state$\">> setTo=<<currentTab>> default=\"$default$\" selectedClass=\"tc-tab-selected\" tooltip={{!!tooltip}}>\n<$tiddler tiddler=<<save-currentTiddler>>>\n<$set name=\"tv-wikilinks\" value=\"no\">\n<$transclude tiddler=<<currentTab>> field=\"caption\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"currentTab\" $type=\"text/plain\" $output=\"text/plain\"/>\n</$transclude>\n</$set></$tiddler></$button></$tiddler></$set></$list>\n</div>\n<div class=\"tc-tab-divider $class$\"/>\n<div class=\"tc-tab-content $class$\">\n<$list filter=\"$tabsList$\" variable=\"currentTab\">\n\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<qualify \"$state$\">> text=<<currentTab>> default=\"$default$\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$template$\" mode=\"block\">\n\n<$transclude tiddler=<<currentTab>> mode=\"block\"/>\n\n</$transclude>\n\n</$reveal>\n\n</$list>\n</div>\n</div>\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/tag": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/tag",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define tag(tag)\n{{$tag$||$:/core/ui/TagTemplate}}\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/thumbnails": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/thumbnails",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define thumbnail(link,icon,color,background-color,image,caption,width:\"280\",height:\"157\")\n<$link to=\"\"\"$link$\"\"\"><div class=\"tc-thumbnail-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"tc-thumbnail-image\" style=\"width:$width$px;height:$height$px;\"><$reveal type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\" default=\"\"\"$image$\"\"\" tag=\"div\" style=\"width:$width$px;height:$height$px;\">\n[img[$image$]]\n</$reveal><$reveal type=\"match\" text=\"\" default=\"\"\"$image$\"\"\" tag=\"div\" class=\"tc-thumbnail-background\" style=\"width:$width$px;height:$height$px;background-color:$background-color$;\"></$reveal></div><div class=\"tc-thumbnail-icon\" style=\"fill:$color$;color:$color$;\">\n$icon$\n</div><div class=\"tc-thumbnail-caption\">\n$caption$\n</div>\n</div></$link>\n\\end\n\n\\define thumbnail-right(link,icon,color,background-color,image,caption,width:\"280\",height:\"157\")\n<div class=\"tc-thumbnail-right-wrapper\"><<thumbnail \"\"\"$link$\"\"\" \"\"\"$icon$\"\"\" \"\"\"$color$\"\"\" \"\"\"$background-color$\"\"\" \"\"\"$image$\"\"\" \"\"\"$caption$\"\"\" \"\"\"$width$\"\"\" \"\"\"$height$\"\"\">></div>\n\\end\n\n\\define list-thumbnails(filter,width:\"280\",height:\"157\")\n<$list filter=\"\"\"$filter$\"\"\"><$macrocall $name=\"thumbnail\" link={{!!link}} icon={{!!icon}} color={{!!color}} background-color={{!!background-color}} image={{!!image}} caption={{!!caption}} width=\"\"\"$width$\"\"\" height=\"\"\"$height$\"\"\"/></$list>\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/timeline": {
"created": "20141212105914482",
"modified": "20141212110330815",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"title": "$:/core/macros/timeline",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"text": "\\define timeline-title()\n<!-- Override this macro with a global macro \n of the same name if you need to change \n how titles are displayed on the timeline \n -->\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n\\end\n\\define timeline(limit:\"100\",format:\"DDth MMM YYYY\",subfilter:\"\",dateField:\"modified\")\n<div class=\"tc-timeline\">\n<$list filter=\"[!is[system]$subfilter$has[$dateField$]!sort[$dateField$]limit[$limit$]eachday[$dateField$]]\">\n<div class=\"tc-menu-list-item\">\n<$view field=\"$dateField$\" format=\"date\" template=\"$format$\"/>\n<$list filter=\"[sameday:$dateField${!!$dateField$}!is[system]$subfilter$!sort[$dateField$]]\">\n<div class=\"tc-menu-list-subitem\">\n<$link to={{!!title}}>\n<<timeline-title>>\n</$link>\n</div>\n</$list>\n</div>\n</$list>\n</div>\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/toc": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/toc",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define toc-caption()\n<$set name=\"tv-wikilinks\" value=\"no\">\n<$transclude field=\"caption\">\n<$view field=\"title\"/>\n</$transclude>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-body(rootTag,tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<ol class=\"tc-toc\">\n<$list filter=\"\"\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$tag$]!has[draft.of]$sort$]\"\"\">\n<$set name=\"toc-item-class\" filter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\" value=\"toc-item-selected\" emptyValue=\"toc-item\">\n<li class=<<toc-item-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]toc-link[no]]\" emptyMessage=\"<$link><$view field='caption'><$view field='title'/></$view></$link>\">\n<<toc-caption>>\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"\"\"[all[current]] -[[$rootTag$]]\"\"\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"toc-body\" rootTag=\"\"\"$rootTag$\"\"\" tag=<<currentTiddler>> sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\"/>\n</$list>\n</li>\n</$set>\n</$list>\n</ol>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc(tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<<toc-body rootTag:\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" tag:\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" sort:\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter:\"\"\"itemClassFilter\"\"\">>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-linked-expandable-body(tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<$set name=\"toc-state\" value=<<qualify \"\"\"$:/state/toc/$tag$-$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\">>>\n<$set name=\"toc-item-class\" filter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\" value=\"toc-item-selected\" emptyValue=\"toc-item\">\n<li class=<<toc-item-class>>>\n<$link>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"open\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"close\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<<toc-caption>>\n</$link>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"toc-expandable\" tag=<<currentTiddler>> sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\"/>\n</$reveal>\n</li>\n</$set>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-unlinked-expandable-body(tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<$set name=\"toc-state\" value=<<qualify \"\"\"$:/state/toc/$tag$-$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\">>>\n<$set name=\"toc-item-class\" filter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\" value=\"toc-item-selected\" emptyValue=\"toc-item\">\n<li class=<<toc-item-class>>>\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"open\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}}\n<<toc-caption>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"close\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n<<toc-caption>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"toc-expandable\" tag=<<currentTiddler>> sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\"/>\n</$reveal>\n</li>\n</$set>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-expandable-empty-message()\n<<toc-linked-expandable-body tag:\"\"\"$(tag)$\"\"\" sort:\"\"\"$(sort)$\"\"\" itemClassFilter:\"\"\"$(itemClassFilter)$\"\"\">>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-expandable(tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<$vars tag=\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\">\n<ol class=\"tc-toc toc-expandable\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$tag$]!has[draft.of]$sort$]\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]toc-link[no]]\" emptyMessage=<<toc-expandable-empty-message>>>\n<<toc-unlinked-expandable-body tag:\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" sort:\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter:\"\"\"itemClassFilter\"\"\">>\n</$list>\n</$list>\n</ol>\n</$vars>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-linked-selective-expandable-body(tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<$set name=\"toc-state\" value=<<qualify \"\"\"$:/state/toc/$tag$-$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\">>>\n<$set name=\"toc-item-class\" filter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\" value=\"toc-item-selected\" emptyValue=\"toc-item\">\n<li class=<<toc-item-class>>>\n<$link>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]tagging[]limit[1]]\" variable=\"ignore\" emptyMessage=\"<$button class='tc-btn-invisible'>{{$:/core/images/blank}}</$button>\">\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"open\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"close\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</$list>\n<<toc-caption>>\n</$link>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"toc-selective-expandable\" tag=<<currentTiddler>> sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\"/>\n</$reveal>\n</li>\n</$set>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-unlinked-selective-expandable-body(tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<$set name=\"toc-state\" value=<<qualify \"\"\"$:/state/toc/$tag$-$(currentTiddler)$\"\"\">>>\n<$set name=\"toc-item-class\" filter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\" value=\"toc-item-selected\" emptyValue=\"toc-item\">\n<li class=<<toc-item-class>>>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]tagging[]limit[1]]\" variable=\"ignore\" emptyMessage=\"<$button class='tc-btn-invisible'>{{$:/core/images/blank}}</$button> <$view field='caption'><$view field='title'/></$view>\">\n<$reveal type=\"nomatch\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"open\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/right-arrow}}\n<<toc-caption>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$button set=<<toc-state>> setTo=\"close\" class=\"tc-btn-invisible\">\n{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}\n<<toc-caption>>\n</$button>\n</$reveal>\n</$list>\n<$reveal type=\"match\" state=<<toc-state>> text=\"open\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"\"\"toc-selective-expandable\"\"\" tag=<<currentTiddler>> sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\"/>\n</$reveal>\n</li>\n</$set>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-selective-expandable-empty-message()\n<<toc-linked-selective-expandable-body tag:\"\"\"$(tag)$\"\"\" sort:\"\"\"$(sort)$\"\"\" itemClassFilter:\"\"\"$(itemClassFilter)$\"\"\">>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-selective-expandable(tag,sort:\"\",itemClassFilter)\n<$vars tag=\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\">\n<ol class=\"tc-toc toc-selective-expandable\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$tag$]!has[draft.of]$sort$]\">\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]toc-link[no]]\" variable=\"ignore\" emptyMessage=<<toc-selective-expandable-empty-message>>>\n<<toc-unlinked-selective-expandable-body tag:\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" sort:\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter:\"\"\"$itemClassFilter$\"\"\">>\n</$list>\n</$list>\n</ol>\n</$vars>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-tabbed-selected-item-filter(selectedTiddler)\n[all[current]field:title{$selectedTiddler$}]\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-tabbed-external-nav(tag,sort:\"\",selectedTiddler:\"$:/temp/toc/selectedTiddler\",unselectedText,missingText,template:\"\")\n<$tiddler tiddler={{$selectedTiddler$}}>\n<div class=\"tc-tabbed-table-of-contents\">\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$selectedTiddler$\">\n<div class=\"tc-table-of-contents\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"toc-selective-expandable\" tag=\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" itemClassFilter=<<toc-tabbed-selected-item-filter selectedTiddler:\"\"\"$selectedTiddler$\"\"\">>/>\n</div>\n</$linkcatcher>\n<div class=\"tc-tabbed-table-of-contents-content\">\n<$reveal state=\"\"\"$selectedTiddler$\"\"\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"\">\n<$transclude mode=\"block\" tiddler=\"$template$\">\n<h1><<toc-caption>></h1>\n<$transclude mode=\"block\">$missingText$</$transclude>\n</$transclude>\n</$reveal>\n<$reveal state=\"\"\"$selectedTiddler$\"\"\" type=\"match\" text=\"\">\n$unselectedText$\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n</div>\n</$tiddler>\n\\end\n\n\\define toc-tabbed-internal-nav(tag,sort:\"\",selectedTiddler:\"$:/temp/toc/selectedTiddler\",unselectedText,missingText,template:\"\")\n<$linkcatcher to=\"\"\"$selectedTiddler$\"\"\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"toc-tabbed-external-nav\" tag=\"\"\"$tag$\"\"\" sort=\"\"\"$sort$\"\"\" selectedTiddler=\"\"\"$selectedTiddler$\"\"\" unselectedText=\"\"\"$unselectedText$\"\"\" missingText=\"\"\"$missingText$\"\"\" template=\"\"\"$template$\"\"\"/>\n</$linkcatcher>\n\\end\n\n"
},
"$:/core/macros/translink": {
"title": "$:/core/macros/translink",
"tags": "$:/tags/Macro",
"text": "\\define translink(title,mode:\"block\")\n<div style=\"border:1px solid #ccc; padding: 0.5em; background: black; foreground; white;\">\n<$link to=\"\"\"$title$\"\"\">\n<$text text=\"\"\"$title$\"\"\"/>\n</$link>\n<div style=\"border:1px solid #ccc; padding: 0.5em; background: white; foreground; black;\">\n<$transclude tiddler=\"\"\"$title$\"\"\" mode=\"$mode$\">\n\"<$text text=\"\"\"$title$\"\"\"/>\" is missing\n</$transclude>\n</div>\n</div>\n\\end\n"
},
"$:/snippets/minilanguageswitcher": {
"title": "$:/snippets/minilanguageswitcher",
"text": "<$select tiddler=\"$:/language\">\n<$list filter=\"[[$:/languages/en-GB]] [plugin-type[language]sort[title]]\">\n<option value=<<currentTiddler>>><$view field=\"description\"><$view field=\"name\"><$view field=\"title\"/></$view></$view></option>\n</$list>\n</$select>"
},
"$:/snippets/minithemeswitcher": {
"title": "$:/snippets/minithemeswitcher",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Theme/\n<<lingo Prompt>> <$select tiddler=\"$:/theme\">\n<$list filter=\"[plugin-type[theme]sort[title]]\">\n<option value=<<currentTiddler>>><$view field=\"name\"><$view field=\"title\"/></$view></option>\n</$list>\n</$select>"
},
"$:/snippets/modules": {
"title": "$:/snippets/modules",
"text": "\\define describeModuleType(type)\n{{$:/language/Docs/ModuleTypes/$type$}}\n\\end\n<$list filter=\"[moduletypes[]]\">\n\n!! <$macrocall $name=\"currentTiddler\" $type=\"text/plain\" $output=\"text/plain\"/>\n\n<$macrocall $name=\"describeModuleType\" type=<<currentTiddler>>/>\n\n<ul><$list filter=\"[all[current]modules[]]\"><li><$link><<currentTiddler>></$link>\n</li>\n</$list>\n</ul>\n</$list>\n"
},
"$:/palette": {
"title": "$:/palette",
"text": "$:/palettes/Vanilla"
},
"$:/snippets/paletteeditor": {
"title": "$:/snippets/paletteeditor",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/Editor/\n\\define describePaletteColour(colour)\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/language/Docs/PaletteColours/$colour$\"><$text text=\"$colour$\"/></$transclude>\n\\end\n<$set name=\"currentTiddler\" value={{$:/palette}}>\n\n<<lingo Prompt>> <$link to={{$:/palette}}><$macrocall $name=\"currentTiddler\" $output=\"text/plain\"/></$link>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]is[shadow]is[tiddler]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n<<lingo Prompt/Modified>>\n<$button message=\"tm-delete-tiddler\" param={{$:/palette}}><<lingo Reset/Caption>></$button>\n</$list>\n\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]is[shadow]!is[tiddler]]\" variable=\"listItem\">\n<<lingo Clone/Prompt>>\n</$list>\n\n<$button message=\"tm-new-tiddler\" param={{$:/palette}}><<lingo Clone/Caption>></$button>\n\n<table>\n<tbody>\n<$list filter=\"[all[current]indexes[]]\" variable=\"colourName\">\n<tr>\n<td>\n''<$macrocall $name=\"describePaletteColour\" colour=<<colourName>>/>''<br/>\n<$macrocall $name=\"colourName\" $output=\"text/plain\"/>\n</td>\n<td>\n<$edit-text index=<<colourName>> tag=\"input\"/>\n<br>\n<$edit-text index=<<colourName>> type=\"color\" tag=\"input\"/>\n</td>\n</tr>\n</$list>\n</tbody>\n</table>\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/snippets/palettepreview": {
"title": "$:/snippets/palettepreview",
"text": "<$set name=\"currentTiddler\" value={{$:/palette}}>\n<$transclude tiddler=\"$:/snippets/currpalettepreview\"/>\n</$set>\n"
},
"$:/snippets/paletteswitcher": {
"title": "$:/snippets/paletteswitcher",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Palette/\n<div class=\"tc-prompt\">\n<<lingo Prompt>> <$view tiddler={{$:/palette}} field=\"name\"/>\n</div>\n\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/palette\">\n<div class=\"tc-chooser\"><$list filter=\"[all[shadows+tiddlers]tag[$:/tags/Palette]sort[description]]\"><div class=\"tc-chooser-item\"><$link to={{!!title}}><div><$reveal state=\"$:/palette\" type=\"match\" text={{!!title}}>•</$reveal><$reveal state=\"$:/palette\" type=\"nomatch\" text={{!!title}}> </$reveal> ''<$view field=\"name\" format=\"text\"/>'' - <$view field=\"description\" format=\"text\"/></div><$transclude tiddler=\"$:/snippets/currpalettepreview\"/></$link></div>\n</$list>\n</div>\n</$linkcatcher>"
},
"$:/temp/search": {
"title": "$:/temp/search",
"text": ""
},
"$:/tags/AdvancedSearch": {
"title": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Standard]] [[$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/System]] [[$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Shadows]] [[$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter]]"
},
"$:/tags/AdvancedSearch/FilterButton": {
"title": "$:/tags/AdvancedSearch/FilterButton",
"list": "$:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/dropdown $:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/clear $:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/export $:/core/ui/AdvancedSearch/Filter/FilterButtons/delete"
},
"$:/tags/ControlPanel": {
"title": "$:/tags/ControlPanel",
"list": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Info $:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Appearance $:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Settings $:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Saving $:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins $:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Tools $:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Internals"
},
"$:/tags/ControlPanel/Info": {
"title": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Info",
"list": "$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Basics $:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Advanced"
},
"$:/tags/ControlPanel/Plugins": {
"title": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Plugins",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Installed]] [[$:/core/ui/ControlPanel/Plugins/Add]]"
},
"$:/tags/EditTemplate": {
"title": "$:/tags/EditTemplate",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/controls]] [[$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/title]] [[$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/tags]] [[$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/shadow]] [[$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/classic]] [[$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/body]] [[$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/type]] [[$:/core/ui/EditTemplate/fields]]"
},
"$:/tags/EditToolbar": {
"title": "$:/tags/EditToolbar",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/Buttons/delete]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/cancel]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/save]]"
},
"$:/tags/EditorToolbar": {
"title": "$:/tags/EditorToolbar",
"list": "$:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/paint $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/opacity $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/line-width $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/clear $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/bold $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/italic $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/strikethrough $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/underline $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/superscript $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/subscript $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/mono-line $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/mono-block $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/quote $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/list-bullet $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/list-number $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-1 $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-2 $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-3 $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-4 $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-5 $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/heading-6 $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/link $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/excise $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/picture $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/stamp $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/size $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/editor-height $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/more $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview $:/core/ui/EditorToolbar/preview-type"
},
"$:/tags/MoreSideBar": {
"title": "$:/tags/MoreSideBar",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/All]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Recent]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Tags]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Missing]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Drafts]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Orphans]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Types]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/System]] [[$:/core/ui/MoreSideBar/Shadows]]",
"text": ""
},
"$:/tags/PageControls": {
"title": "$:/tags/PageControls",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/Buttons/home]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-all]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-all]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/unfold-all]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-tiddler]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-image]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/import]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-page]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/control-panel]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/advanced-search]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/tag-manager]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/language]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/palette]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/theme]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/storyview]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/encryption]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/full-screen]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/save-wiki]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/refresh]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-page-actions]]"
},
"$:/tags/PageTemplate": {
"title": "$:/tags/PageTemplate",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/topleftbar]] [[$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/toprightbar]] [[$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/sidebar]] [[$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/story]] [[$:/core/ui/PageTemplate/alerts]]",
"text": ""
},
"$:/tags/SideBar": {
"title": "$:/tags/SideBar",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/SideBar/Open]] [[$:/core/ui/SideBar/Recent]] [[$:/core/ui/SideBar/Tools]] [[$:/core/ui/SideBar/More]]",
"text": ""
},
"$:/tags/TiddlerInfo": {
"title": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Tools]] [[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/References]] [[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Tagging]] [[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/List]] [[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Listed]] [[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Fields]]",
"text": ""
},
"$:/tags/TiddlerInfo/Advanced": {
"title": "$:/tags/TiddlerInfo/Advanced",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/ShadowInfo]] [[$:/core/ui/TiddlerInfo/Advanced/PluginInfo]]"
},
"$:/tags/ViewTemplate": {
"title": "$:/tags/ViewTemplate",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/title]] [[$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/unfold]] [[$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/subtitle]] [[$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/tags]] [[$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/classic]] [[$:/core/ui/ViewTemplate/body]]"
},
"$:/tags/ViewToolbar": {
"title": "$:/tags/ViewToolbar",
"list": "[[$:/core/ui/Buttons/more-tiddler-actions]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/info]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-here]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/new-journal-here]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/clone]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/export-tiddler]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/edit]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/delete]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/permalink]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/permaview]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/open-window]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/close-others]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/close]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold-others]] [[$:/core/ui/Buttons/fold]]"
},
"$:/snippets/themeswitcher": {
"title": "$:/snippets/themeswitcher",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/Theme/\n<<lingo Prompt>> <$view tiddler={{$:/theme}} field=\"name\"/>\n\n<$linkcatcher to=\"$:/theme\">\n<$list filter=\"[plugin-type[theme]sort[title]]\"><div><$reveal state=\"$:/theme\" type=\"match\" text={{!!title}}>•</$reveal><$reveal state=\"$:/theme\" type=\"nomatch\" text={{!!title}}> </$reveal> <$link to={{!!title}}>''<$view field=\"name\" format=\"text\"/>'' <$view field=\"description\" format=\"text\"/></$link></div>\n</$list>\n</$linkcatcher>"
},
"$:/core/wiki/title": {
"title": "$:/core/wiki/title",
"type": "text/vnd.tiddlywiki",
"text": "{{$:/SiteTitle}} --- {{$:/SiteSubtitle}}"
},
"$:/view": {
"title": "$:/view",
"text": "classic"
},
"$:/snippets/viewswitcher": {
"title": "$:/snippets/viewswitcher",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ControlPanel/StoryView/\n<<lingo Prompt>> <$select tiddler=\"$:/view\">\n<$list filter=\"[storyviews[]]\">\n<option><$view field=\"title\"/></option>\n</$list>\n</$select>"
}
}
}
The following tiddlers were imported:
# [[Help]]
Personal wiki of Homer's Odyssey
$:/core/ui/SideBar/Recent
{
"tiddlers": {
"$:/info/browser": {
"title": "$:/info/browser",
"text": "yes"
},
"$:/info/node": {
"title": "$:/info/node",
"text": "no"
}
}
}
{
"tiddlers": {
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/snowwhite/base": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/snowwhite/base",
"tags": "[[$:/tags/Stylesheet]]",
"text": "\\rules only filteredtranscludeinline transcludeinline macrodef macrocallinline\n\n.tc-sidebar-header {\n\ttext-shadow: 0 1px 0 <<colour sidebar-foreground-shadow>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-info {\n\t<<box-shadow \"inset 1px 2px 3px rgba(0,0,0,0.1)\">>\n}\n\n@media screen {\n\t.tc-tiddler-frame {\n\t\t<<box-shadow \"1px 1px 5px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3)\">>\n\t}\n}\n\n@media (max-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\t.tc-tiddler-frame {\n\t\t<<box-shadow none>>\n\t}\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls button svg, .tc-tiddler-controls button svg, .tc-topbar button svg {\n\t<<transition \"fill 150ms ease-in-out\">>\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button.tc-selected,\n.tc-page-controls button.tc-selected {\n\t<<filter \"drop-shadow(0px -1px 2px rgba(0,0,0,0.25))\">>\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame input.tc-edit-texteditor {\n\t<<box-shadow \"inset 0 1px 8px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-edit-tags {\n\t<<box-shadow \"inset 0 1px 8px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame .tc-edit-tags input.tc-edit-texteditor {\n\t<<box-shadow \"none\">>\n\tborder: none;\n\toutline: none;\n}\n\ncanvas.tc-edit-bitmapeditor {\n\t<<box-shadow \"2px 2px 5px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.5)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down {\n\tborder-radius: 4px;\n\t<<box-shadow \"2px 2px 10px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.5)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-block-dropdown {\n\tborder-radius: 4px;\n\t<<box-shadow \"2px 2px 10px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.5)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-modal {\n\tborder-radius: 6px;\n\t<<box-shadow \"0 3px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.3)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-modal-footer {\n\tborder-radius: 0 0 6px 6px;\n\t<<box-shadow \"inset 0 1px 0 #fff\">>;\n}\n\n\n.tc-alert {\n\tborder-radius: 6px;\n\t<<box-shadow \"0 3px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.6)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-notification {\n\tborder-radius: 6px;\n\t<<box-shadow \"0 3px 7px rgba(0,0,0,0.3)\">>\n\ttext-shadow: 0 1px 0 rgba(255,255,255, 0.8);\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists .tc-tab-set .tc-tab-divider {\n\tborder-top: none;\n\theight: 1px;\n\t<<background-linear-gradient \"left, rgba(0,0,0,0.15) 0%, rgba(0,0,0,0.0) 100%\">>\n}\n\n.tc-more-sidebar .tc-tab-buttons button {\n\t<<background-linear-gradient \"left, rgba(0,0,0,0.01) 0%, rgba(0,0,0,0.1) 100%\">>\n}\n\n.tc-more-sidebar .tc-tab-buttons button.tc-tab-selected {\n\t<<background-linear-gradient \"left, rgba(0,0,0,0.05) 0%, rgba(255,255,255,0.05) 100%\">>\n}\n\n.tc-message-box img {\n\t<<box-shadow \"1px 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,0.5)\">>\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info {\n\t<<box-shadow \"1px 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,0.5)\">>\n}\n"
}
}
}
{
"tiddlers": {
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/themetweaks": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/themetweaks",
"tags": "$:/tags/ControlPanel/Appearance",
"caption": "{{$:/language/ThemeTweaks/ThemeTweaks}}",
"text": "\\define lingo-base() $:/language/ThemeTweaks/\n\n\\define replacement-text()\n[img[$(imageTitle)$]]\n\\end\n\n\\define backgroundimage-dropdown()\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down-wrapper\">\n<$button popup=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/themetweaks/backgroundimage\">> class=\"tc-btn-invisible tc-btn-dropdown\">{{$:/core/images/down-arrow}}</$button>\n<$reveal state=<<qualify \"$:/state/popup/themetweaks/backgroundimage\">> type=\"popup\" position=\"belowleft\" text=\"\" default=\"\">\n<div class=\"tc-drop-down\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"image-picker\" actions=\"\"\"\n\n<$action-setfield\n\t$tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimage\"\n\t$value=<<imageTitle>>\n/>\n\n\"\"\"/>\n</div>\n</$reveal>\n</div>\n\\end\n\n\\define backgroundimageattachment-dropdown()\n<$select tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimageattachment\" default=\"scroll\">\n<option value=\"scroll\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment/Scroll>></option>\n<option value=\"fixed\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment/Fixed>></option>\n</$select>\n\\end\n\n\\define backgroundimagesize-dropdown()\n<$select tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize\" default=\"scroll\">\n<option value=\"auto\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Auto>></option>\n<option value=\"cover\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Cover>></option>\n<option value=\"contain\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImageSize/Contain>></option>\n</$select>\n\\end\n\n<<lingo ThemeTweaks/Hint>>\n\n! <<lingo Options>>\n\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/sidebarlayout\"><<lingo Options/SidebarLayout>></$link> |<$select tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/sidebarlayout\"><option value=\"fixed-fluid\"><<lingo Options/SidebarLayout/Fixed-Fluid>></option><option value=\"fluid-fixed\"><<lingo Options/SidebarLayout/Fluid-Fixed>></option></$select> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/stickytitles\"><<lingo Options/StickyTitles>></$link><br>//<<lingo Options/StickyTitles/Hint>>// |<$select tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/stickytitles\"><option value=\"no\">{{$:/language/No}}</option><option value=\"yes\">{{$:/language/Yes}}</option></$select> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/codewrapping\"><<lingo Options/CodeWrapping>></$link> |<$select tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/codewrapping\"><option value=\"pre\">{{$:/language/No}}</option><option value=\"pre-wrap\">{{$:/language/Yes}}</option></$select> |\n\n! <<lingo Settings>>\n\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/fontfamily\"><<lingo Settings/FontFamily>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/fontfamily\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> | |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/codefontfamily\"><<lingo Settings/CodeFontFamily>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/codefontfamily\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> | |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimage\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImage>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimage\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |<<backgroundimage-dropdown>> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimageattachment\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImageAttachment>></$link> |<<backgroundimageattachment-dropdown>> | |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize\"><<lingo Settings/BackgroundImageSize>></$link> |<<backgroundimagesize-dropdown>> | |\n\n! <<lingo Metrics>>\n\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/fontsize\"><<lingo Metrics/FontSize>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/fontsize\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/lineheight\"><<lingo Metrics/LineHeight>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/lineheight\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodyfontsize\"><<lingo Metrics/BodyFontSize>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodyfontsize\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodylineheight\"><<lingo Metrics/BodyLineHeight>></$link> |<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodylineheight\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft\"><<lingo Metrics/StoryLeft>></$link><br>//<<lingo Metrics/StoryLeft/Hint>>// |^<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop\"><<lingo Metrics/StoryTop>></$link><br>//<<lingo Metrics/StoryTop/Hint>>// |^<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyright\"><<lingo Metrics/StoryRight>></$link><br>//<<lingo Metrics/StoryRight/Hint>>// |^<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyright\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storywidth\"><<lingo Metrics/StoryWidth>></$link><br>//<<lingo Metrics/StoryWidth/Hint>>// |^<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storywidth\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/tiddlerwidth\"><<lingo Metrics/TiddlerWidth>></$link><br>//<<lingo Metrics/TiddlerWidth/Hint>>//<br> |^<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/tiddlerwidth\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint\"><<lingo Metrics/SidebarBreakpoint>></$link><br>//<<lingo Metrics/SidebarBreakpoint/Hint>>// |^<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n|<$link to=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarwidth\"><<lingo Metrics/SidebarWidth>></$link><br>//<<lingo Metrics/SidebarWidth/Hint>>// |^<$edit-text tiddler=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarwidth\" default=\"\" tag=\"input\"/> |\n"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/base": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/base",
"tags": "[[$:/tags/Stylesheet]]",
"text": "\\define custom-background-datauri()\n<$set name=\"background\" value={{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimage}}>\n<$list filter=\"[<background>is[image]]\">\n`background: url(`\n<$list filter=\"[<background>!has[_canonical_uri]]\">\n<$macrocall $name=\"datauri\" title={{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimage}}/>\n</$list>\n<$list filter=\"[<background>has[_canonical_uri]]\">\n<$view tiddler={{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimage}} field=\"_canonical_uri\"/>\n</$list>\n`) center center;`\n`background-attachment: `{{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimageattachment}}`;\n-webkit-background-size:` {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize}}`;\n-moz-background-size:` {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize}}`;\n-o-background-size:` {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize}}`;\nbackground-size:` {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize}}`;`\n</$list>\n</$set>\n\\end\n\n\\define if-fluid-fixed(text,hiddenSidebarText)\n<$reveal state=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/sidebarlayout\" type=\"match\" text=\"fluid-fixed\">\n$text$\n<$reveal state=\"$:/state/sidebar\" type=\"nomatch\" text=\"yes\" default=\"yes\">\n$hiddenSidebarText$\n</$reveal>\n</$reveal>\n\\end\n\n\\rules only filteredtranscludeinline transcludeinline macrodef macrocallinline macrocallblock\n\n/*\n** Start with the normalize CSS reset, and then belay some of its effects\n*/\n\n{{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/reset}}\n\n*, input[type=\"search\"] {\n\tbox-sizing: border-box;\n\t-moz-box-sizing: border-box;\n\t-webkit-box-sizing: border-box;\n}\n\nhtml button {\n\tline-height: 1.2;\n\tcolor: <<colour button-foreground>>;\n\tbackground: <<colour button-background>>;\n\tborder-color: <<colour button-border>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Basic element styles\n*/\n\nhtml {\n\tfont-family: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/fontfamily}};\n\ttext-rendering: optimizeLegibility; /* Enables kerning and ligatures etc. */\n\t-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;\n\t-moz-osx-font-smoothing: grayscale;\n}\n\nhtml:-webkit-full-screen {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour page-background>>;\n}\n\nbody.tc-body {\n\tfont-size: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/fontsize}};\n\tline-height: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/lineheight}};\n\tcolor: <<colour foreground>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour page-background>>;\n\tfill: <<colour foreground>>;\n\tword-wrap: break-word;\n\t<<custom-background-datauri>>\n}\n\nh1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {\n\tline-height: 1.2;\n\tfont-weight: 300;\n}\n\npre {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tpadding: 14px;\n\tmargin-top: 1em;\n\tmargin-bottom: 1em;\n\tword-break: normal;\n\tword-wrap: break-word;\n\twhite-space: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/codewrapping}};\n\tbackground-color: <<colour pre-background>>;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour pre-border>>;\n\tpadding: 0 3px 2px;\n\tborder-radius: 3px;\n\tfont-family: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/codefontfamily}};\n}\n\ncode {\n\tcolor: <<colour code-foreground>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour code-background>>;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour code-border>>;\n\twhite-space: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/codewrapping}};\n\tpadding: 0 3px 2px;\n\tborder-radius: 3px;\n\tfont-family: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/codefontfamily}};\n}\n\nblockquote {\n\tborder-left: 5px solid <<colour blockquote-bar>>;\n\tmargin-left: 25px;\n\tpadding-left: 10px;\n}\n\ndl dt {\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n\tmargin-top: 6px;\n}\n\ntextarea,\ninput[type=text],\ninput[type=search],\ninput[type=\"\"],\ninput:not([type]) {\n\tcolor: <<colour foreground>>;\n\tbackground: <<colour background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-muted {\n\tcolor: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\nsvg.tc-image-button {\n\tpadding: 0px 1px 1px 0px;\n}\n\nkbd {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tpadding: 3px 5px;\n\tfont-size: 0.8em;\n\tline-height: 1.2;\n\tcolor: <<colour foreground>>;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour background>>;\n\tborder: solid 1px <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tborder-bottom-color: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tborder-radius: 3px;\n\tbox-shadow: inset 0 -1px 0 <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n/*\nMarkdown likes putting code elements inside pre elements\n*/\npre > code {\n\tpadding: 0;\n\tborder: none;\n\tbackground-color: inherit;\n\tcolor: inherit;\n}\n\ntable {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour table-border>>;\n\twidth: auto;\n\tmax-width: 100%;\n\tcaption-side: bottom;\n\tmargin-top: 1em;\n\tmargin-bottom: 1em;\n}\n\ntable th, table td {\n\tpadding: 0 7px 0 7px;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour table-border>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour table-border>>;\n}\n\ntable thead tr td, table th {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour table-header-background>>;\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n}\n\ntable tfoot tr td {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour table-footer-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-csv-table {\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame img,\n.tc-tiddler-frame svg,\n.tc-tiddler-frame canvas,\n.tc-tiddler-frame embed,\n.tc-tiddler-frame iframe {\n\tmax-width: 100%;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-body > embed,\n.tc-tiddler-body > iframe {\n\twidth: 100%;\n\theight: 600px;\n}\n\n/*\n** Links\n*/\n\nbutton.tc-tiddlylink,\na.tc-tiddlylink {\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n\tfont-weight: normal;\n\tcolor: <<colour tiddler-link-foreground>>;\n\t-webkit-user-select: inherit; /* Otherwise the draggable attribute makes links impossible to select */\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists a.tc-tiddlylink {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-tiddler-link-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists a.tc-tiddlylink:hover {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-tiddler-link-foreground-hover>>;\n}\n\nbutton.tc-tiddlylink:hover,\na.tc-tiddlylink:hover {\n\ttext-decoration: underline;\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink-resolves {\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink-shadow {\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink-shadow.tc-tiddlylink-resolves {\n\tfont-weight: normal;\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink-missing {\n\tfont-style: italic;\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink-external {\n\ttext-decoration: underline;\n\tcolor: <<colour external-link-foreground>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour external-link-background>>;\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink-external:visited {\n\tcolor: <<colour external-link-foreground-visited>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour external-link-background-visited>>;\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink-external:hover {\n\tcolor: <<colour external-link-foreground-hover>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour external-link-background-hover>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Drag and drop styles\n*/\n\n.tc-tiddler-dragger {\n\tposition: relative;\n\tz-index: -10000;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-dragger-inner {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tpadding: 8px 20px;\n\tfont-size: 16.9px;\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n\tline-height: 20px;\n\tcolor: <<colour dragger-foreground>>;\n\ttext-shadow: 0 1px 0 rgba(0, 0, 0, 1);\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n\tvertical-align: baseline;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour dragger-background>>;\n\tborder-radius: 20px;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-dragger-cover {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour page-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-dropzone {\n\tposition: relative;\n}\n\n.tc-dropzone.tc-dragover:before {\n\tz-index: 10000;\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tposition: fixed;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tright: 0;\n\tbackground: <<colour dropzone-background>>;\n\ttext-align: center;\n\tcontent: \"<<lingo DropMessage>>\";\n}\n\n/*\n** Plugin reload warning\n*/\n\n.tc-plugin-reload-warning {\n\tz-index: 1000;\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tposition: fixed;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tright: 0;\n\tbackground: <<colour alert-background>>;\n\ttext-align: center;\n}\n\n/*\n** Buttons\n*/\n\nbutton svg, button img, label svg, label img {\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-invisible {\n\tpadding: 0;\n\tmargin: 0;\n\tbackground: none;\n\tborder: none;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-boxed {\n\tfont-size: 0.6em;\n\tpadding: 0.2em;\n\tmargin: 1px;\n\tbackground: none;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground>>;\n\tborder-radius: 0.25em;\n}\n\nhtml body.tc-body .tc-btn-boxed svg {\n\tfont-size: 1.6666em;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-boxed:hover {\n\tbackground: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour background>>;\n}\n\nhtml body.tc-body .tc-btn-boxed:hover svg {\n\tfill: <<colour background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-rounded {\n\tfont-size: 0.5em;\n\tline-height: 2;\n\tpadding: 0em 0.3em 0.2em 0.4em;\n\tmargin: 1px;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tbackground: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour background>>;\n\tborder-radius: 2em;\n}\n\nhtml body.tc-body .tc-btn-rounded svg {\n\tfont-size: 1.6666em;\n\tfill: <<colour background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-rounded:hover {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tbackground: <<colour background>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\nhtml body.tc-body .tc-btn-rounded:hover svg {\n\tfill: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-icon svg {\n\theight: 1em;\n\twidth: 1em;\n\tfill: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-text {\n\tpadding: 0;\n\tmargin: 0;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-big-green {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tpadding: 8px;\n\tmargin: 4px 8px 4px 8px;\n\tbackground: <<colour download-background>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour download-foreground>>;\n\tfill: <<colour download-foreground>>;\n\tborder: none;\n\tfont-size: 1.2em;\n\tline-height: 1.4em;\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-big-green svg,\n.tc-btn-big-green img {\n\theight: 2em;\n\twidth: 2em;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n\tfill: <<colour download-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists input {\n\tcolor: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists button {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-button-foreground>>;\n\tfill: <<colour sidebar-button-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists button.tc-btn-mini {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists button.tc-btn-mini:hover {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-muted-foreground-hover>>;\n}\n\nbutton svg.tc-image-button, button .tc-image-button img {\n\theight: 1em;\n\twidth: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-unfold-banner {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tpadding: 0;\n\tmargin: 0;\n\tbackground: none;\n\tborder: none;\n\twidth: 100%;\n\twidth: calc(100% + 2px);\n\tmargin-left: -43px;\n\ttext-align: center;\n\tborder-top: 2px solid <<colour tiddler-info-background>>;\n\tmargin-top: 4px;\n}\n\n.tc-unfold-banner:hover {\n\tbackground: <<colour tiddler-info-background>>;\n\tborder-top: 2px solid <<colour tiddler-info-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-unfold-banner svg, .tc-fold-banner svg {\n\theight: 0.75em;\n\tfill: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-unfold-banner:hover svg, .tc-fold-banner:hover svg {\n\tfill: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground-hover>>;\n}\n\n.tc-fold-banner {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tpadding: 0;\n\tmargin: 0;\n\tbackground: none;\n\tborder: none;\n\twidth: 23px;\n\ttext-align: center;\n\tmargin-left: -35px;\n\ttop: 6px;\n\tbottom: 6px;\n}\n\n.tc-fold-banner:hover {\n\tbackground: <<colour tiddler-info-background>>;\n}\n\n@media (max-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\n\t.tc-unfold-banner {\n\t\tposition: static;\n\t\twidth: calc(100% + 59px);\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-fold-banner {\n\t\twidth: 16px;\n\t\tmargin-left: -16px;\n\t\tfont-size: 0.75em;\n\t}\n\n}\n\n/*\n** Tags and missing tiddlers\n*/\n\n.tc-tag-list-item {\n\tposition: relative;\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tmargin-right: 7px;\n}\n\n.tc-tags-wrapper {\n\tmargin: 4px 0 14px 0;\n}\n\n.tc-missing-tiddler-label {\n\tfont-style: italic;\n\tfont-weight: normal;\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tfont-size: 11.844px;\n\tline-height: 14px;\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n\tvertical-align: baseline;\n}\n\nbutton.tc-tag-label, span.tc-tag-label {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tpadding: 0.16em 0.7em;\n\tfont-size: 0.9em;\n\tfont-weight: 300;\n\tline-height: 1.2em;\n\tcolor: <<colour tag-foreground>>;\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n\tvertical-align: baseline;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tag-background>>;\n\tborder-radius: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-untagged-separator {\n\twidth: 10em;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tmargin-left: 0;\n\tborder: 0;\n\theight: 1px;\n\tbackground: <<colour tab-divider>>;\n}\n\nbutton.tc-untagged-label {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour untagged-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tag-label svg, .tc-tag-label img {\n\theight: 1em;\n\twidth: 1em;\n\tfill: <<colour tag-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tag-manager-table .tc-tag-label {\n\twhite-space: normal;\n}\n\n.tc-tag-manager-tag {\n\twidth: 100%;\n}\n\n/*\n** Page layout\n*/\n\n.tc-topbar {\n\tposition: fixed;\n\tz-index: 1200;\n}\n\n.tc-topbar-left {\n\tleft: 29px;\n\ttop: 5px;\n}\n\n.tc-topbar-right {\n\ttop: 5px;\n\tright: 29px;\n}\n\n.tc-topbar button {\n\tpadding: 8px;\n}\n\n.tc-topbar svg {\n\tfill: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-topbar button:hover svg {\n\tfill: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-header {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-foreground>>;\n\tfill: <<colour sidebar-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-header .tc-title a.tc-tiddlylink-resolves {\n\tfont-weight: 300;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-header .tc-sidebar-lists p {\n\tmargin-top: 3px;\n\tmargin-bottom: 3px;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-header .tc-missing-tiddler-label {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-advanced-search input {\n\twidth: 60%;\n}\n\n.tc-search a svg {\n\twidth: 1.2em;\n\theight: 1.2em;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls {\n\tmargin-top: 14px;\n\tfont-size: 1.5em;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls button {\n\tmargin-right: 0.5em;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls a.tc-tiddlylink:hover {\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls img {\n\twidth: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls svg {\n\tfill: <<colour sidebar-controls-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls button:hover svg, .tc-page-controls a:hover svg {\n\tfill: <<colour sidebar-controls-foreground-hover>>;\n}\n\n.tc-menu-list-item {\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n}\n\n.tc-menu-list-count {\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n}\n\n.tc-menu-list-subitem {\n\tpadding-left: 7px;\n}\n\n.tc-story-river {\n\tposition: relative;\n}\n\n@media (max-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\n\t.tc-sidebar-header {\n\t\tpadding: 14px;\n\t\tmin-height: 32px;\n\t\tmargin-top: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop}};\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-story-river {\n\t\tposition: relative;\n\t\tpadding: 0;\n\t}\n}\n\n@media (min-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\n\t.tc-message-box {\n\t\tmargin: 21px -21px 21px -21px;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-sidebar-scrollable {\n\t\tposition: fixed;\n\t\ttop: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop}};\n\t\tleft: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyright}};\n\t\tbottom: 0;\n\t\tright: 0;\n\t\toverflow-y: auto;\n\t\toverflow-x: auto;\n\t\t-webkit-overflow-scrolling: touch;\n\t\tmargin: 0 0 0 -42px;\n\t\tpadding: 71px 0 28px 42px;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-story-river {\n\t\tposition: relative;\n\t\tleft: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft}};\n\t\ttop: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop}};\n\t\twidth: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storywidth}};\n\t\tpadding: 42px 42px 42px 42px;\n\t}\n\n<<if-no-sidebar \"\n\n\t.tc-story-river {\n\t\twidth: calc(100% - {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft}});\n\t}\n\n\">>\n\n}\n\n@media print {\n\n\tbody.tc-body {\n\t\tbackground-color: transparent;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-sidebar-header, .tc-topbar {\n\t\tdisplay: none;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-story-river {\n\t\tmargin: 0;\n\t\tpadding: 0;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-story-river .tc-tiddler-frame {\n\t\tmargin: 0;\n\t\tborder: none;\n\t\tpadding: 0;\n\t}\n}\n\n/*\n** Tiddler styles\n*/\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame {\n\tposition: relative;\n\tmargin-bottom: 28px;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-background>>;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-border>>;\n}\n\n{{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/sticky}}\n\n.tc-tiddler-info {\n\tpadding: 14px 42px 14px 42px;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-info-background>>;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-info-border>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-info-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-info p {\n\tmargin-top: 3px;\n\tmargin-bottom: 3px;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-info .tc-tab-buttons button.tc-tab-selected {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-info-tab-background>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-info-tab-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-view-field-table {\n\twidth: 100%;\n}\n\n.tc-view-field-name {\n\twidth: 1%; /* Makes this column be as narrow as possible */\n\ttext-align: right;\n\tfont-style: italic;\n\tfont-weight: 200;\n}\n\n.tc-view-field-value {\n}\n\n@media (max-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\t.tc-tiddler-frame {\n\t\tpadding: 14px 14px 14px 14px;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-tiddler-info {\n\t\tmargin: 0 -14px 0 -14px;\n\t}\n}\n\n@media (min-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\t.tc-tiddler-frame {\n\t\tpadding: 28px 42px 42px 42px;\n\t\twidth: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/tiddlerwidth}};\n\t\tborder-radius: 2px;\n\t}\n\n<<if-no-sidebar \"\n\n\t.tc-tiddler-frame {\n\t\twidth: 100%;\n\t}\n\n\">>\n\n\t.tc-tiddler-info {\n\t\tmargin: 0 -42px 0 -42px;\n\t}\n}\n\n.tc-site-title,\n.tc-titlebar {\n\tfont-weight: 300;\n\tfont-size: 2.35em;\n\tline-height: 1.2em;\n\tcolor: <<colour tiddler-title-foreground>>;\n\tmargin: 0;\n}\n\n.tc-site-title {\n\tcolor: <<colour site-title-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-title-icon {\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n}\n\n.tc-system-title-prefix {\n\tcolor: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-titlebar h2 {\n\tfont-size: 1em;\n\tdisplay: inline;\n}\n\n.tc-titlebar img {\n\theight: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-subtitle {\n\tfont-size: 0.9em;\n\tcolor: <<colour tiddler-subtitle-foreground>>;\n\tfont-weight: 300;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-missing .tc-title {\n font-style: italic;\n font-weight: normal;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame .tc-tiddler-controls {\n\tfloat: right;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls .tc-drop-down {\n\tfont-size: 0.6em;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls .tc-drop-down .tc-drop-down {\n\tfont-size: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls > span > button {\n\tvertical-align: baseline;\n\tmargin-left:5px;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button svg, .tc-tiddler-controls button img,\n.tc-search button svg, .tc-search a svg {\n\theight: 0.75em;\n\tfill: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button.tc-selected svg,\n.tc-page-controls button.tc-selected svg {\n\tfill: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground-selected>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button.tc-btn-invisible:hover svg,\n.tc-search button:hover svg, .tc-search a:hover svg {\n\tfill: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground-hover>>;\n}\n\n@media print {\n\t.tc-tiddler-controls {\n\t\tdisplay: none;\n\t}\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-help { /* Help prompts within tiddler template */\n\tcolor: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tmargin-top: 14px;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-help a.tc-tiddlylink {\n\tcolor: <<colour very-muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame .tc-edit-texteditor {\n\twidth: 100%;\n\tmargin: 4px 0 4px 0;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame input.tc-edit-texteditor,\n.tc-tiddler-frame textarea.tc-edit-texteditor,\n.tc-tiddler-frame iframe.tc-edit-texteditor {\n\tpadding: 3px 3px 3px 3px;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-editor-border>>;\n\tline-height: 1.3em;\n\t-webkit-appearance: none;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame .tc-binary-warning {\n\twidth: 100%;\n\theight: 5em;\n\ttext-align: center;\n\tpadding: 3em 3em 6em 3em;\n\tbackground: <<colour alert-background>>;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour alert-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame input.tc-edit-texteditor {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-editor-background>>;\n}\n\ncanvas.tc-edit-bitmapeditor {\n\tborder: 6px solid <<colour tiddler-editor-border-image>>;\n\tcursor: crosshair;\n\t-moz-user-select: none;\n\t-webkit-user-select: none;\n\t-ms-user-select: none;\n\tmargin-top: 6px;\n\tmargin-bottom: 6px;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-bitmapeditor-width {\n\tdisplay: block;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-bitmapeditor-height {\n\tdisplay: block;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-body {\n\tclear: both;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame .tc-tiddler-body {\n\tfont-size: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodyfontsize}};\n\tline-height: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodylineheight}};\n}\n\n.tc-titlebar, .tc-tiddler-edit-title {\n\toverflow: hidden; /* https://github.com/Jermolene/TiddlyWiki5/issues/282 */\n}\n\nhtml body.tc-body.tc-single-tiddler-window {\n\tmargin: 1em;\n\tbackground: <<colour tiddler-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-single-tiddler-window img,\n.tc-single-tiddler-window svg,\n.tc-single-tiddler-window canvas,\n.tc-single-tiddler-window embed,\n.tc-single-tiddler-window iframe {\n\tmax-width: 100%;\n}\n\n/*\n** Editor\n*/\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar {\n\tmargin-top: 8px;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar button {\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground>>;\n\tfill: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground-selected>>;\n\tborder-radius: 4px;\n\tpadding: 3px;\n\tmargin: 2px 0 2px 4px;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar button.tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-adjunct {\n\tmargin-left: 1px;\n\twidth: 1em;\n\tborder-radius: 8px;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar button.tc-text-editor-toolbar-item-start-group {\n\tmargin-left: 11px;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar button.tc-selected {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour primary>>;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar button svg {\n\twidth: 1.6em;\n\theight: 1.2em;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar button:hover {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-controls-foreground-selected>>;\n\tfill: <<colour background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar .tc-text-editor-toolbar-more {\n\twhite-space: normal;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar .tc-text-editor-toolbar-more button {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tpadding: 3px;\n\twidth: auto;\n}\n\n.tc-editor-toolbar .tc-search-results {\n\tpadding: 0;\n}\n\n/*\n** Adjustments for fluid-fixed mode\n*/\n\n@media (min-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\n<<if-fluid-fixed text:\"\"\"\n\n\t.tc-story-river {\n\t\tpadding-right: 0;\n\t\tposition: relative;\n\t\twidth: auto;\n\t\tleft: 0;\n\t\tmargin-left: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft}};\n\t\tmargin-right: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarwidth}};\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-tiddler-frame {\n\t\twidth: 100%;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-sidebar-scrollable {\n\t\tleft: auto;\n\t\tbottom: 0;\n\t\tright: 0;\n\t\twidth: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarwidth}};\n\t}\n\n\tbody.tc-body .tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler {\n\t\twidth: 100%;\n\t\twidth: calc(100% - 42px);\n\t}\n\n\"\"\" hiddenSidebarText:\"\"\"\n\n\t.tc-story-river {\n\t\tpadding-right: 3em;\n\t\tmargin-right: 0;\n\t}\n\n\tbody.tc-body .tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler {\n\t\twidth: 100%;\n\t\twidth: calc(100% - 84px);\n\t}\n\n\"\"\">>\n\n}\n\n/*\n** Toolbar buttons\n*/\n\n.tc-page-controls svg.tc-image-new-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-new-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls svg.tc-image-options-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-options-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-page-controls svg.tc-image-save-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-save-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button svg.tc-image-info-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-info-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button svg.tc-image-edit-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-edit-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button svg.tc-image-close-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-close-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button svg.tc-image-delete-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-delete-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button svg.tc-image-cancel-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-cancel-button>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-controls button svg.tc-image-done-button {\n fill: <<colour toolbar-done-button>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Tiddler edit mode\n*/\n\n.tc-tiddler-edit-frame em.tc-edit {\n\tcolor: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tfont-style: normal;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-type-dropdown a.tc-tiddlylink-missing {\n\tfont-style: normal;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-tags {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-editor-border>>;\n\tpadding: 4px 8px 4px 8px;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-add-tag {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-add-tag .tc-add-tag-name input {\n\twidth: 50%;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-tags .tc-tag-label {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-tags-list {\n\tmargin: 14px 0 14px 0;\n}\n\n.tc-remove-tag-button {\n\tpadding-left: 4px;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-preview {\n\toverflow: auto;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-preview-preview {\n\tfloat: right;\n\twidth: 49%;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour tiddler-editor-border>>;\n\tmargin: 4px 3px 3px 3px;\n\tpadding: 3px 3px 3px 3px;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame .tc-tiddler-preview .tc-edit-texteditor {\n\twidth: 49%;\n}\n\n.tc-tiddler-frame .tc-tiddler-preview canvas.tc-edit-bitmapeditor {\n\tmax-width: 49%;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-fields {\n\twidth: 100%;\n}\n\n\n.tc-edit-fields table, .tc-edit-fields tr, .tc-edit-fields td {\n\tborder: none;\n\tpadding: 4px;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-fields > tbody > .tc-edit-field:nth-child(odd) {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-editor-fields-odd>>;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-fields > tbody > .tc-edit-field:nth-child(even) {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-editor-fields-even>>;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-field-name {\n\ttext-align: right;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-field-value input {\n\twidth: 100%;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-field-remove {\n}\n\n.tc-edit-field-remove svg {\n\theight: 1em;\n\twidth: 1em;\n\tfill: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-field-add-name {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\twidth: 15%;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-field-add-value {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\twidth: 40%;\n}\n\n.tc-edit-field-add-button {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\twidth: 10%;\n}\n\n/*\n** Storyview Classes\n*/\n\n.tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tdisplay: block;\n\twidth: 100%;\n}\n\n@media (min-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\n\t.tc-storyview-zoomin-tiddler {\n\t\twidth: calc(100% - 84px);\n\t}\n\n}\n\n/*\n** Dropdowns\n*/\n\n.tc-btn-dropdown {\n\ttext-align: left;\n}\n\n.tc-btn-dropdown svg, .tc-btn-dropdown img {\n\theight: 1em;\n\twidth: 1em;\n\tfill: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down-wrapper {\n\tposition: relative;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down {\n\tmin-width: 380px;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour dropdown-border>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour dropdown-background>>;\n\tpadding: 7px 0 7px 0;\n\tmargin: 4px 0 0 0;\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n\ttext-shadow: none;\n\tline-height: 1.4;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-drop-down {\n\tmargin-left: 14px;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down button svg, .tc-drop-down a svg {\n\tfill: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down button.tc-btn-invisible:hover svg {\n\tfill: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down p {\n\tpadding: 0 14px 0 14px;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down svg {\n\twidth: 1em;\n\theight: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down img {\n\twidth: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down-language-chooser img {\n\twidth: 2em;\n\tvertical-align: baseline;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down a, .tc-drop-down button {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tpadding: 0 14px 0 14px;\n\twidth: 100%;\n\ttext-align: left;\n\tcolor: <<colour foreground>>;\n\tline-height: 1.4;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-tab-set .tc-tab-buttons button {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n width: auto;\n margin-bottom: 0px;\n border-bottom-left-radius: 0;\n border-bottom-right-radius: 0;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-prompt {\n\tpadding: 0 14px;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-chooser {\n\tborder: none;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-chooser .tc-swatches-horiz {\n\tfont-size: 0.4em;\n\tpadding-left: 1.2em;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-file-input-wrapper {\n\twidth: 100%;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-file-input-wrapper button {\n\tcolor: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down a:hover, .tc-drop-down button:hover, .tc-drop-down .tc-file-input-wrapper:hover button {\n\tcolor: <<colour tiddler-link-background>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-link-foreground>>;\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-tab-buttons button {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour dropdown-tab-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-tab-buttons button.tc-tab-selected {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour dropdown-tab-background-selected>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour dropdown-tab-background-selected>>;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down-bullet {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\twidth: 0.5em;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-tab-contents a {\n\tpadding: 0 0.5em 0 0.5em;\n}\n\n.tc-block-dropdown-wrapper {\n\tposition: relative;\n}\n\n.tc-block-dropdown {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tmin-width: 220px;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour dropdown-border>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour dropdown-background>>;\n\tpadding: 7px 0;\n\tmargin: 4px 0 0 0;\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n\tz-index: 1000;\n\ttext-shadow: none;\n}\n\n.tc-block-dropdown.tc-search-drop-down {\n\tmargin-left: -12px;\n}\n\n.tc-block-dropdown a {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tpadding: 4px 14px 4px 14px;\n}\n\n.tc-block-dropdown.tc-search-drop-down a {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tpadding: 0px 10px 0px 10px;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-dropdown-item-plain,\n.tc-block-dropdown .tc-dropdown-item-plain {\n\tpadding: 4px 14px 4px 7px;\n}\n\n.tc-drop-down .tc-dropdown-item,\n.tc-block-dropdown .tc-dropdown-item {\n\tpadding: 4px 14px 4px 7px;\n\tcolor: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-block-dropdown a:hover {\n\tcolor: <<colour tiddler-link-background>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-link-foreground>>;\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n}\n\n.tc-search-results {\n\tpadding: 0 7px 0 7px;\n}\n\n.tc-image-chooser, .tc-colour-chooser {\n\twhite-space: normal;\n}\n\n.tc-image-chooser a,\n.tc-colour-chooser a {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tvertical-align: top;\n\ttext-align: center;\n\tposition: relative;\n}\n\n.tc-image-chooser a {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tpadding: 2px;\n\tmargin: 2px;\n\twidth: 4em;\n\theight: 4em;\n}\n\n.tc-colour-chooser a {\n\tpadding: 3px;\n\twidth: 2em;\n\theight: 2em;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n}\n\n.tc-image-chooser a:hover,\n.tc-colour-chooser a:hover {\n\tbackground: <<colour primary>>;\n\tpadding: 0px;\n\tborder: 3px solid <<colour primary>>;\n}\n\n.tc-image-chooser a svg,\n.tc-image-chooser a img {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\twidth: auto;\n\theight: auto;\n\tmax-width: 3.5em;\n\tmax-height: 3.5em;\n\tposition: absolute;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tbottom: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tright: 0;\n\tmargin: auto;\n}\n\n/*\n** Modals\n*/\n\n.tc-modal-wrapper {\n\tposition: fixed;\n\toverflow: auto;\n\toverflow-y: scroll;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tright: 0;\n\tbottom: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tz-index: 900;\n}\n\n.tc-modal-backdrop {\n\tposition: fixed;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tright: 0;\n\tbottom: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tz-index: 1000;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour modal-backdrop>>;\n}\n\n.tc-modal {\n\tz-index: 1100;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour modal-background>>;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour modal-border>>;\n}\n\n@media (max-width: 55em) {\n\t.tc-modal {\n\t\tposition: fixed;\n\t\ttop: 1em;\n\t\tleft: 1em;\n\t\tright: 1em;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-modal-body {\n\t\toverflow-y: auto;\n\t\tmax-height: 400px;\n\t\tmax-height: 60vh;\n\t}\n}\n\n@media (min-width: 55em) {\n\t.tc-modal {\n\t\tposition: fixed;\n\t\ttop: 2em;\n\t\tleft: 25%;\n\t\twidth: 50%;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-modal-body {\n\t\toverflow-y: auto;\n\t\tmax-height: 400px;\n\t\tmax-height: 60vh;\n\t}\n}\n\n.tc-modal-header {\n\tpadding: 9px 15px;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour modal-header-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-modal-header h3 {\n\tmargin: 0;\n\tline-height: 30px;\n}\n\n.tc-modal-header img, .tc-modal-header svg {\n\twidth: 1em;\n\theight: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-modal-body {\n\tpadding: 15px;\n}\n\n.tc-modal-footer {\n\tpadding: 14px 15px 15px;\n\tmargin-bottom: 0;\n\ttext-align: right;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour modal-footer-background>>;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour modal-footer-border>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Notifications\n*/\n\n.tc-notification {\n\tposition: fixed;\n\ttop: 14px;\n\tright: 42px;\n\tz-index: 1300;\n\tmax-width: 280px;\n\tpadding: 0 14px 0 14px;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour notification-background>>;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour notification-border>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Tabs\n*/\n\n.tc-tab-set.tc-vertical {\n\tdisplay: -webkit-flex;\n\tdisplay: flex;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-buttons {\n\tfont-size: 0.85em;\n\tpadding-top: 1em;\n\tmargin-bottom: -2px;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-buttons.tc-vertical {\n\tz-index: 100;\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tpadding-top: 14px;\n\tvertical-align: top;\n\ttext-align: right;\n\tmargin-bottom: inherit;\n\tmargin-right: -1px;\n\tmax-width: 33%;\n\t-webkit-flex: 0 0 auto;\n\tflex: 0 0 auto;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-buttons button.tc-tab-selected {\n\tcolor: <<colour tab-foreground-selected>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tab-background-selected>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-border-selected>>;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tab-border-selected>>;\n\tborder-right: 1px solid <<colour tab-border-selected>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-buttons button {\n\tcolor: <<colour tab-foreground>>;\n\tpadding: 3px 5px 3px 5px;\n\tmargin-right: 0.3em;\n\tfont-weight: 300;\n\tborder: none;\n\tbackground: inherit;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tab-background>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-right: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-top-left-radius: 2px;\n\tborder-top-right-radius: 2px;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-buttons.tc-vertical button {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\twidth: 100%;\n\tmargin-top: 3px;\n\tmargin-right: 0;\n\ttext-align: right;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tab-background>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-right: none;\n\tborder-top-left-radius: 2px;\n\tborder-bottom-left-radius: 2px;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-buttons.tc-vertical button.tc-tab-selected {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tab-background-selected>>;\n\tborder-right: 1px solid <<colour tab-background-selected>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-divider {\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tab-divider>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-divider.tc-vertical {\n\tdisplay: none;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-content {\n\tmargin-top: 14px;\n}\n\n.tc-tab-content.tc-vertical {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tvertical-align: top;\n\tpadding-top: 0;\n\tpadding-left: 14px;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\t-webkit-flex: 1 0 70%;\n\tflex: 1 0 70%;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists .tc-tab-buttons {\n\tmargin-bottom: -1px;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists .tc-tab-buttons button.tc-tab-selected {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour sidebar-tab-background-selected>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-tab-foreground-selected>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour sidebar-tab-border-selected>>;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour sidebar-tab-border-selected>>;\n\tborder-right: 1px solid <<colour sidebar-tab-border-selected>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists .tc-tab-buttons button {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour sidebar-tab-background>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-tab-foreground>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour sidebar-tab-border>>;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour sidebar-tab-border>>;\n\tborder-right: 1px solid <<colour sidebar-tab-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists .tc-tab-divider {\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour sidebar-tab-divider>>;\n}\n\n.tc-more-sidebar .tc-tab-buttons button {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\twidth: 100%;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour sidebar-tab-background>>;\n\tborder-top: none;\n\tborder-left: none;\n\tborder-bottom: none;\n\tborder-right: 1px solid #ccc;\n\tmargin-bottom: inherit;\n}\n\n.tc-more-sidebar .tc-tab-buttons button.tc-tab-selected {\n\tbackground-color: <<colour sidebar-tab-background-selected>>;\n\tborder: none;\n}\n\n/*\n** Alerts\n*/\n\n.tc-alerts {\n\tposition: fixed;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tmax-width: 500px;\n\tz-index: 20000;\n}\n\n.tc-alert {\n\tposition: relative;\n\tmargin: 28px;\n\tpadding: 14px 14px 14px 14px;\n\tborder: 2px solid <<colour alert-border>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour alert-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-alert-toolbar {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\ttop: 14px;\n\tright: 14px;\n}\n\n.tc-alert-toolbar svg {\n\tfill: <<colour alert-muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-alert-subtitle {\n\tcolor: <<colour alert-muted-foreground>>;\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n}\n\n.tc-alert-highlight {\n\tcolor: <<colour alert-highlight>>;\n}\n\n@media (min-width: {{$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint}}) {\n\n\t.tc-static-alert {\n\t\tposition: relative;\n\t}\n\n\t.tc-static-alert-inner {\n\t\tposition: absolute;\n\t\tz-index: 100;\n\t}\n\n}\n\n.tc-static-alert-inner {\n\tpadding: 0 2px 2px 42px;\n\tcolor: <<colour static-alert-foreground>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Control panel\n*/\n\n.tc-control-panel td {\n\tpadding: 4px;\n}\n\n.tc-control-panel table, .tc-control-panel table input, .tc-control-panel table textarea {\n\twidth: 100%;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tbackground-colour: <<colour background>>;\n\tmargin: 0.5em 0 0.5em 0;\n\tpadding: 4px;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-disabled {\n\tbackground: -webkit-repeating-linear-gradient(45deg, #ff0, #ff0 10px, #eee 10px, #eee 20px);\n\tbackground: repeating-linear-gradient(45deg, #ff0, #ff0 10px, #eee 10px, #eee 20px);\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-disabled:hover {\n\tbackground: -webkit-repeating-linear-gradient(45deg, #aa0, #aa0 10px, #888 10px, #888 20px);\n\tbackground: repeating-linear-gradient(45deg, #aa0, #aa0 10px, #888 10px, #888 20px);\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink.tc-plugin-info:hover {\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour primary>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour background>>;\n\tfill: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\na.tc-tiddlylink.tc-plugin-info:hover .tc-plugin-info > .tc-plugin-info-chunk > svg {\n\tfill: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-chunk {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-chunk h1 {\n\tfont-size: 1em;\n\tmargin: 2px 0 2px 0;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-chunk h2 {\n\tfont-size: 0.8em;\n\tmargin: 2px 0 2px 0;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-chunk div {\n\tfont-size: 0.7em;\n\tmargin: 2px 0 2px 0;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info:hover > .tc-plugin-info-chunk > img, .tc-plugin-info:hover > .tc-plugin-info-chunk > svg {\n\twidth: 2em;\n\theight: 2em;\n\tfill: <<colour foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info > .tc-plugin-info-chunk > img, .tc-plugin-info > .tc-plugin-info-chunk > svg {\n\twidth: 2em;\n\theight: 2em;\n\tfill: <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info.tc-small-icon > .tc-plugin-info-chunk > img, .tc-plugin-info.tc-small-icon > .tc-plugin-info-chunk > svg {\n\twidth: 1em;\n\theight: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-dropdown {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tmargin-top: -8px;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-dropdown-message {\n\tbackground: <<colour message-background>>;\n\tpadding: 0.5em 1em 0.5em 1em;\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n\tfont-size: 0.8em;\n}\n\n.tc-plugin-info-dropdown-body {\n\tpadding: 1em 1em 1em 1em;\n}\n\n/*\n** Message boxes\n*/\n\n.tc-message-box {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour message-border>>;\n\tbackground: <<colour message-background>>;\n\tpadding: 0px 21px 0px 21px;\n\tfont-size: 12px;\n\tline-height: 18px;\n\tcolor: <<colour message-foreground>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Pictures\n*/\n\n.tc-bordered-image {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour muted-foreground>>;\n\tpadding: 5px;\n\tmargin: 5px;\n}\n\n/*\n** Floats\n*/\n\n.tc-float-right {\n\tfloat: right;\n}\n\n/*\n** Chooser\n*/\n\n.tc-chooser {\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour table-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-chooser-item {\n\tborder: 8px;\n\tpadding: 2px 4px;\n}\n\n.tc-chooser-item a.tc-tiddlylink {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n\tcolor: <<colour tiddler-link-foreground>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-link-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-chooser-item a.tc-tiddlylink:hover {\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n\tcolor: <<colour tiddler-link-background>>;\n\tbackground-color: <<colour tiddler-link-foreground>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** Palette swatches\n*/\n\n.tc-swatches-horiz {\n}\n\n.tc-swatches-horiz .tc-swatch {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n}\n\n.tc-swatch {\n\twidth: 2em;\n\theight: 2em;\n\tmargin: 0.4em;\n\tborder: 1px solid #888;\n}\n\n/*\n** Table of contents\n*/\n\n.tc-sidebar-lists .tc-table-of-contents {\n\twhite-space: nowrap;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents button {\n\tcolor: <<colour sidebar-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents svg {\n\twidth: 0.7em;\n\theight: 0.7em;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n\tfill: <<colour sidebar-foreground>>;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents ol {\n\tlist-style-type: none;\n\tpadding-left: 0;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents ol ol {\n\tpadding-left: 1em;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents li {\n\tfont-size: 1.0em;\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents li a {\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents li li {\n\tfont-size: 0.95em;\n\tfont-weight: normal;\n\tline-height: 1.4;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents li li a {\n\tfont-weight: normal;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents li li li {\n\tfont-size: 0.95em;\n\tfont-weight: 200;\n\tline-height: 1.5;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents li li li a {\n\tfont-weight: bold;\n}\n\n.tc-table-of-contents li li li li {\n\tfont-size: 0.95em;\n\tfont-weight: 200;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents {\n\tdisplay: -webkit-flex;\n\tdisplay: flex;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-table-of-contents {\n\tz-index: 100;\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tpadding-left: 1em;\n\tmax-width: 50%;\n\t-webkit-flex: 0 0 auto;\n\tflex: 0 0 auto;\n\tbackground: <<colour tab-background>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-table-of-contents .toc-item > a,\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-table-of-contents .toc-item-selected > a {\n\tdisplay: block;\n\tpadding: 0.12em 1em 0.12em 0.25em;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-table-of-contents .toc-item > a {\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tab-background>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-background>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour tab-background>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-table-of-contents .toc-item > a:hover {\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tbackground: <<colour tab-border>>;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-table-of-contents .toc-item-selected > a {\n\tborder-top: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-left: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tborder-bottom: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\tbackground: <<colour background>>;\n\tmargin-right: -1px;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-table-of-contents .toc-item-selected > a:hover {\n\ttext-decoration: none;\n}\n\n.tc-tabbed-table-of-contents .tc-tabbed-table-of-contents-content {\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tvertical-align: top;\n\tpadding-left: 1.5em;\n\tpadding-right: 1.5em;\n\tborder: 1px solid <<colour tab-border>>;\n\t-webkit-flex: 1 0 50%;\n\tflex: 1 0 50%;\n}\n\n/*\n** Dirty indicator\n*/\n\nbody.tc-dirty span.tc-dirty-indicator, body.tc-dirty span.tc-dirty-indicator svg {\n\tfill: <<colour dirty-indicator>>;\n\tcolor: <<colour dirty-indicator>>;\n}\n\n/*\n** File inputs\n*/\n\n.tc-file-input-wrapper {\n\tposition: relative;\n\toverflow: hidden;\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tvertical-align: middle;\n}\n\n.tc-file-input-wrapper input[type=file] {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tright: 0;\n\tbottom: 0;\n\tfont-size: 999px;\n\tmax-width: 100%;\n\tmax-height: 100%;\n\tfilter: alpha(opacity=0);\n\topacity: 0;\n\toutline: none;\n\tbackground: white;\n\tcursor: pointer;\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n}\n\n/*\n** Thumbnail macros\n*/\n\n.tc-thumbnail-wrapper {\n\tposition: relative;\n\tdisplay: inline-block;\n\tmargin: 6px;\n\tvertical-align: top;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-right-wrapper {\n\tfloat:right;\n\tmargin: 0.5em 0 0.5em 0.5em;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-image {\n\ttext-align: center;\n\toverflow: hidden;\n\tborder-radius: 3px;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-image svg,\n.tc-thumbnail-image img {\n\tfilter: alpha(opacity=1);\n\topacity: 1;\n\tmin-width: 100%;\n\tmin-height: 100%;\n\tmax-width: 100%;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-wrapper:hover .tc-thumbnail-image svg,\n.tc-thumbnail-wrapper:hover .tc-thumbnail-image img {\n\tfilter: alpha(opacity=0.8);\n\topacity: 0.8;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-background {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tborder-radius: 3px;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-icon svg,\n.tc-thumbnail-icon img {\n\twidth: 3em;\n\theight: 3em;\n\t<<filter \"drop-shadow(2px 2px 4px rgba(0,0,0,0.3))\">>\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-wrapper:hover .tc-thumbnail-icon svg,\n.tc-thumbnail-wrapper:hover .tc-thumbnail-icon img {\n\tfill: #fff;\n\t<<filter \"drop-shadow(3px 3px 4px rgba(0,0,0,0.6))\">>\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-icon {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\ttop: 0;\n\tleft: 0;\n\tright: 0;\n\tbottom: 0;\n\tdisplay: -webkit-flex;\n\t-webkit-align-items: center;\n\t-webkit-justify-content: center;\n\tdisplay: flex;\n\talign-items: center;\n\tjustify-content: center;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-caption {\n\tposition: absolute;\n\tbackground-color: #777;\n\tcolor: #fff;\n\ttext-align: center;\n\tbottom: 0;\n\twidth: 100%;\n\tfilter: alpha(opacity=0.9);\n\topacity: 0.9;\n\tline-height: 1.4;\n\tborder-bottom-left-radius: 3px;\n\tborder-bottom-right-radius: 3px;\n}\n\n.tc-thumbnail-wrapper:hover .tc-thumbnail-caption {\n\tfilter: alpha(opacity=1);\n\topacity: 1;\n}\n\n/*\n** Errors\n*/\n\n.tc-error {\n\tbackground: #f00;\n\tcolor: #fff;\n}\n"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodyfontsize": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodyfontsize",
"text": "15px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodylineheight": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/bodylineheight",
"text": "22px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/fontsize": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/fontsize",
"text": "14px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/lineheight": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/lineheight",
"text": "20px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyleft",
"text": "0px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storytop",
"text": "0px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyright": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storyright",
"text": "770px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storywidth": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/storywidth",
"text": "770px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/tiddlerwidth": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/tiddlerwidth",
"text": "686px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarbreakpoint",
"text": "960px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarwidth": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/metrics/sidebarwidth",
"text": "350px"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/stickytitles": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/stickytitles",
"text": "no"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/sidebarlayout": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/sidebarlayout",
"text": "fixed-fluid"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/codewrapping": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/codewrapping",
"text": "pre-wrap"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/reset": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/reset",
"type": "text/plain",
"text": "/*! normalize.css v3.0.0 | MIT License | git.io/normalize */\n\n/**\n * 1. Set default font family to sans-serif.\n * 2. Prevent iOS text size adjust after orientation change, without disabling\n * user zoom.\n */\n\nhtml {\n font-family: sans-serif; /* 1 */\n -ms-text-size-adjust: 100%; /* 2 */\n -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; /* 2 */\n}\n\n/**\n * Remove default margin.\n */\n\nbody {\n margin: 0;\n}\n\n/* HTML5 display definitions\n ========================================================================== */\n\n/**\n * Correct `block` display not defined in IE 8/9.\n */\n\narticle,\naside,\ndetails,\nfigcaption,\nfigure,\nfooter,\nheader,\nhgroup,\nmain,\nnav,\nsection,\nsummary {\n display: block;\n}\n\n/**\n * 1. Correct `inline-block` display not defined in IE 8/9.\n * 2. Normalize vertical alignment of `progress` in Chrome, Firefox, and Opera.\n */\n\naudio,\ncanvas,\nprogress,\nvideo {\n display: inline-block; /* 1 */\n vertical-align: baseline; /* 2 */\n}\n\n/**\n * Prevent modern browsers from displaying `audio` without controls.\n * Remove excess height in iOS 5 devices.\n */\n\naudio:not([controls]) {\n display: none;\n height: 0;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address `[hidden]` styling not present in IE 8/9.\n * Hide the `template` element in IE, Safari, and Firefox < 22.\n */\n\n[hidden],\ntemplate {\n display: none;\n}\n\n/* Links\n ========================================================================== */\n\n/**\n * Remove the gray background color from active links in IE 10.\n */\n\na {\n background: transparent;\n}\n\n/**\n * Improve readability when focused and also mouse hovered in all browsers.\n */\n\na:active,\na:hover {\n outline: 0;\n}\n\n/* Text-level semantics\n ========================================================================== */\n\n/**\n * Address styling not present in IE 8/9, Safari 5, and Chrome.\n */\n\nabbr[title] {\n border-bottom: 1px dotted;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address style set to `bolder` in Firefox 4+, Safari 5, and Chrome.\n */\n\nb,\nstrong {\n font-weight: bold;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address styling not present in Safari 5 and Chrome.\n */\n\ndfn {\n font-style: italic;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address variable `h1` font-size and margin within `section` and `article`\n * contexts in Firefox 4+, Safari 5, and Chrome.\n */\n\nh1 {\n font-size: 2em;\n margin: 0.67em 0;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address styling not present in IE 8/9.\n */\n\nmark {\n background: #ff0;\n color: #000;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address inconsistent and variable font size in all browsers.\n */\n\nsmall {\n font-size: 80%;\n}\n\n/**\n * Prevent `sub` and `sup` affecting `line-height` in all browsers.\n */\n\nsub,\nsup {\n font-size: 75%;\n line-height: 0;\n position: relative;\n vertical-align: baseline;\n}\n\nsup {\n top: -0.5em;\n}\n\nsub {\n bottom: -0.25em;\n}\n\n/* Embedded content\n ========================================================================== */\n\n/**\n * Remove border when inside `a` element in IE 8/9.\n */\n\nimg {\n border: 0;\n}\n\n/**\n * Correct overflow displayed oddly in IE 9.\n */\n\nsvg:not(:root) {\n overflow: hidden;\n}\n\n/* Grouping content\n ========================================================================== */\n\n/**\n * Address margin not present in IE 8/9 and Safari 5.\n */\n\nfigure {\n margin: 1em 40px;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address differences between Firefox and other browsers.\n */\n\nhr {\n -moz-box-sizing: content-box;\n box-sizing: content-box;\n height: 0;\n}\n\n/**\n * Contain overflow in all browsers.\n */\n\npre {\n overflow: auto;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address odd `em`-unit font size rendering in all browsers.\n */\n\ncode,\nkbd,\npre,\nsamp {\n font-family: monospace, monospace;\n font-size: 1em;\n}\n\n/* Forms\n ========================================================================== */\n\n/**\n * Known limitation: by default, Chrome and Safari on OS X allow very limited\n * styling of `select`, unless a `border` property is set.\n */\n\n/**\n * 1. Correct color not being inherited.\n * Known issue: affects color of disabled elements.\n * 2. Correct font properties not being inherited.\n * 3. Address margins set differently in Firefox 4+, Safari 5, and Chrome.\n */\n\nbutton,\ninput,\noptgroup,\nselect,\ntextarea {\n color: inherit; /* 1 */\n font: inherit; /* 2 */\n margin: 0; /* 3 */\n}\n\n/**\n * Address `overflow` set to `hidden` in IE 8/9/10.\n */\n\nbutton {\n overflow: visible;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address inconsistent `text-transform` inheritance for `button` and `select`.\n * All other form control elements do not inherit `text-transform` values.\n * Correct `button` style inheritance in Firefox, IE 8+, and Opera\n * Correct `select` style inheritance in Firefox.\n */\n\nbutton,\nselect {\n text-transform: none;\n}\n\n/**\n * 1. Avoid the WebKit bug in Android 4.0.* where (2) destroys native `audio`\n * and `video` controls.\n * 2. Correct inability to style clickable `input` types in iOS.\n * 3. Improve usability and consistency of cursor style between image-type\n * `input` and others.\n */\n\nbutton,\nhtml input[type=\"button\"], /* 1 */\ninput[type=\"reset\"],\ninput[type=\"submit\"] {\n -webkit-appearance: button; /* 2 */\n cursor: pointer; /* 3 */\n}\n\n/**\n * Re-set default cursor for disabled elements.\n */\n\nbutton[disabled],\nhtml input[disabled] {\n cursor: default;\n}\n\n/**\n * Remove inner padding and border in Firefox 4+.\n */\n\nbutton::-moz-focus-inner,\ninput::-moz-focus-inner {\n border: 0;\n padding: 0;\n}\n\n/**\n * Address Firefox 4+ setting `line-height` on `input` using `!important` in\n * the UA stylesheet.\n */\n\ninput {\n line-height: normal;\n}\n\n/**\n * It's recommended that you don't attempt to style these elements.\n * Firefox's implementation doesn't respect box-sizing, padding, or width.\n *\n * 1. Address box sizing set to `content-box` in IE 8/9/10.\n * 2. Remove excess padding in IE 8/9/10.\n */\n\ninput[type=\"checkbox\"],\ninput[type=\"radio\"] {\n box-sizing: border-box; /* 1 */\n padding: 0; /* 2 */\n}\n\n/**\n * Fix the cursor style for Chrome's increment/decrement buttons. For certain\n * `font-size` values of the `input`, it causes the cursor style of the\n * decrement button to change from `default` to `text`.\n */\n\ninput[type=\"number\"]::-webkit-inner-spin-button,\ninput[type=\"number\"]::-webkit-outer-spin-button {\n height: auto;\n}\n\n/**\n * 1. Address `appearance` set to `searchfield` in Safari 5 and Chrome.\n * 2. Address `box-sizing` set to `border-box` in Safari 5 and Chrome\n * (include `-moz` to future-proof).\n */\n\ninput[type=\"search\"] {\n -webkit-appearance: textfield; /* 1 */\n -moz-box-sizing: content-box;\n -webkit-box-sizing: content-box; /* 2 */\n box-sizing: content-box;\n}\n\n/**\n * Remove inner padding and search cancel button in Safari and Chrome on OS X.\n * Safari (but not Chrome) clips the cancel button when the search input has\n * padding (and `textfield` appearance).\n */\n\ninput[type=\"search\"]::-webkit-search-cancel-button,\ninput[type=\"search\"]::-webkit-search-decoration {\n -webkit-appearance: none;\n}\n\n/**\n * Define consistent border, margin, and padding.\n */\n\nfieldset {\n border: 1px solid #c0c0c0;\n margin: 0 2px;\n padding: 0.35em 0.625em 0.75em;\n}\n\n/**\n * 1. Correct `color` not being inherited in IE 8/9.\n * 2. Remove padding so people aren't caught out if they zero out fieldsets.\n */\n\nlegend {\n border: 0; /* 1 */\n padding: 0; /* 2 */\n}\n\n/**\n * Remove default vertical scrollbar in IE 8/9.\n */\n\ntextarea {\n overflow: auto;\n}\n\n/**\n * Don't inherit the `font-weight` (applied by a rule above).\n * NOTE: the default cannot safely be changed in Chrome and Safari on OS X.\n */\n\noptgroup {\n font-weight: bold;\n}\n\n/* Tables\n ========================================================================== */\n\n/**\n * Remove most spacing between table cells.\n */\n\ntable {\n border-collapse: collapse;\n border-spacing: 0;\n}\n\ntd,\nth {\n padding: 0;\n}\n"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/fontfamily": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/fontfamily",
"text": "\"Helvetica Neue\", Helvetica, Arial, \"Lucida Grande\", \"DejaVu Sans\", sans-serif"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/codefontfamily": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/codefontfamily",
"text": "Monaco, Consolas, \"Lucida Console\", \"DejaVu Sans Mono\", monospace"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimageattachment": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimageattachment",
"text": "fixed"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/settings/backgroundimagesize",
"text": "auto"
},
"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/sticky": {
"title": "$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/sticky",
"text": "<$reveal state=\"$:/themes/tiddlywiki/vanilla/options/stickytitles\" type=\"match\" text=\"yes\">\n``\n.tc-tiddler-title {\n\tposition: -webkit-sticky;\n\tposition: -moz-sticky;\n\tposition: -o-sticky;\n\tposition: -ms-sticky;\n\tposition: sticky;\n\ttop: 0px;\n\tbackground: ``<<colour tiddler-background>>``;\n\tz-index: 500;\n}\n``\n</$reveal>\n"
}
}
}
//In a Council of the Gods, Poseidon absent, Pallas procureth an order for the restitution of Odysseus; and appearing to his son Telemachus, in human shape, adviseth him to complain of the Wooers before the Council of the people, and then go to Pylos and Sparta to inquire about his father.//
Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need, who wandered far and wide, after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy, and many were the men whose towns he saw and whose mind he learnt, yea, and many the woes he suffered in his heart upon the deep, striving to win his own life and the return of his company. Nay, but even so he saved not his company, though he desired it sore. For through the blindness of their own hearts they perished, fools, who devoured the oxen of Helios Hyperion: but the god took from them their day of returning. Of these things, goddess, daughter of Zeus, whencesoever thou hast heard thereof, declare thou even unto us.
Now all the rest, as many as fled from sheer destruction, were at home, and had escaped both war and sea, but Odysseus only, craving for his wife and for his homeward path, the lady nymph Calypso held, that fair goddess, in her hollow caves, longing to have him for her lord. But when now the year had come in the courses of the seasons, wherein the gods had ordained that he should return home to Ithaca, not even there was he quit of labours, not even among his own; but all the gods had pity on him save Poseidon, who raged continually against godlike Odysseus, till he came to his own country. Howbeit Poseidon had now departed for the distant Ethiopians, the Ethiopians that are sundered in twain, the uttermost of men, abiding some where Hyperion sinks and some where he rises. There he looked to receive his hecatomb of bulls and rams, there he made merry sitting at the feast, but the other gods were gathered in the halls of Olympian Zeus. Then among them the father of gods and men began to speak, for he bethought him in his heart of noble Aegisthus, whom the son of Agamemnon, far-famed Orestes, slew. Thinking upon him he spake out among the Immortals:
‘Lo you now, how vainly mortal men do blame the gods! For of us they say comes evil, whereas they even of themselves, through the blindness of their own hearts, have sorrows beyond that which is ordained. Even as of late Aegisthus, beyond that which was ordained, took to him the wedded wife of the son of Atreus, and killed her lord on his return, and that with sheer doom before his eyes, since we had warned him by the embassy of Hermes the keen-sighted, the slayer of Argos, that he should neither kill the man, nor woo his wife. For the son of Atreus shall be avenged at the hand of Orestes, so soon as he shall come to man’s estate and long for his own country. So spake Hermes, yet he prevailed not on the heart of Aegisthus, for all his good will; but now hath he paid one price for all.’
And the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him, saying: ‘O father, our father Cronides, throned in the highest; that man assuredly lies in a death that is his due; so perish likewise all who work such deeds! But my heart is rent for wise Odysseus, that hapless one, who far from his friends this long while suffereth affliction in a seagirt isle, where is the navel of the sea, a woodland isle, and therein a goddess hath her habitation, the daughter of the wizard Atlas, who knows the depths of every sea, and himself upholds the tall pillars which keep earth and sky asunder. His daughter it is that holds the hapless man in sorrow: and ever with soft and guileful tales she is wooing him to forgetfulness of Ithaca. But Odysseus yearning to see if it were but the smoke leap upwards from his own land, hath a desire to die. As for thee, thine heart regardeth it not at all, Olympian! What! did not Odysseus by the ships of the Argives make thee free offering of sacrifice in the wide Trojan land? Wherefore wast thou then so wroth with him, O Zeus?’
And Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered her, and said, ‘My child, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Yea, how should I forget divine Odysseus, who in understanding is beyond mortals and beyond all men hath done sacrifice to the deathless gods, who keep the wide heaven? Nay, but it is Poseidon, the girdler of the earth, that hath been wroth continually with quenchless anger for the Cyclops’ sake whom he blinded of his eye, even godlike Polyphemus whose power is mightiest amongst all the Cyclopes. His mother was the nymph Thoosa, daughter of Phorcys, lord of the unharvested sea, and in the hollow caves she lay with Poseidon. From that day forth Poseidon the earth-shaker doth not indeed slay Odysseus, but driveth him wandering from his own country. But come, let us here one and all take good counsel as touching his returning, that he may be got home; so shall Poseidon let go his displeasure, for he will in no wise be able to strive alone against all, in despite of all the deathless gods.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him, and said: ‘O father, our father Cronides, throned in the highest, if indeed this thing is now well pleasing to the blessed gods, that wise Odysseus should return to his own home, let us then speed Hermes the Messenger, the slayer of Argos, to the island of Ogygia. There with all speed let him declare to the lady of the braided tresses our unerring counsel, even the return of the patient Odysseus, that so he may come to his home. But as for me I will go to Ithaca that I may rouse his son yet the more, planting might in his heart, to call an assembly of the long-haired Achaeans and speak out to all the wooers who slaughter continually the sheep of his thronging flocks, and his kine with trailing feet and shambling gait. And I will guide him to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to seek tidings of his dear father’s return, if peradventure he may hear thereof and that so he may be had in good report among men.’
She spake and bound beneath her feet her lovely golden sandals that wax not old, and bare her alike over the wet sea and over the limitless land, swift as the breath of the wind. And she seized her doughty spear, shod with sharp bronze, weighty and huge and strong, wherewith she quells the ranks of heroes with whomsoever she is wroth, the daughter of the mighty sire. Then from the heights of Olympus she came glancing down, and she stood in the land of Ithaca, at the entry of the gate of Odysseus, on the threshold of the courtyard, holding in her hand the spear of bronze, in the semblance of a stranger, Mentes the captain of the Taphians. And there she found the lordly wooers: now they were taking their pleasure at draughts in front of the doors, sitting on hides of oxen, which themselves had slain. And of the henchmen and the ready squires, some were mixing for them wine and water in bowls, and some again were washing the tables with porous sponges and were setting them forth, and others were carving flesh in plenty.
And godlike Telemachus was far the first to descry her, for he was sitting with a heavy heart among the wooers dreaming on his good father, if haply he might come somewhence, and make a scattering of the wooers there throughout the palace, and himself get honour and bear rule among his own possessions. Thinking thereupon, as he sat among wooers, he saw Athene — and he went straight to the outer porch, for he thought it blame in his heart that a stranger should stand long at the gates: and halting nigh her he clasped her right hand and took from her the spear of bronze, and uttered his voice and spake unto her winged words:
‘Hail, stranger, with us thou shalt be kindly entreated, and thereafter, when thou hast tasted meat, thou shalt tell us that whereof thou hast need.’
Therewith he led the way, and Pallas Athene followed. And when they were now within the lofty house, he set her spear that he bore against a tall pillar, within the polished spear-stand, where stood many spears besides, even those of Odysseus of the hardy heart; and he led the goddess and seated her on a goodly carven chair, and spread a linen cloth thereunder, and beneath was a footstool for the feet. For himself he placed an inlaid seat hard by, apart from the company of the wooers, lest the stranger should be disquieted by the noise and should have a loathing for the meal, being come among overweening men, and also that he might ask him about his father that was gone from his home.
Then a handmaid bare water for the washing of hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal, and drew to their side a polished table. And a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by them, and laid on the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her. And a carver lifted and placed by them platters of divers kinds of flesh, and nigh them he set golden bowls, and a henchman walked to and fro pouring out to them the wine.
Then in came the lordly wooers; and they sat them down in rows on chairs, and on high seats, and henchmen poured water on their hands, and maidservants piled wheaten bread by them in baskets, and pages crowned the bowls with drink; and they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer spread before them. Now when the wooers had put from them the desire of meat and drink, they minded them of other things, even of the song and dance: for these are the crown of the feast. And a henchman placed a beauteous lyre in the hands of Phemius, who was minstrel to the wooers despite his will. Yea and as he touched the lyre he lifted up his voice in sweet songs. [[1|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 1]]
But Telemachus spake unto grey-eyed Athene, holding his head close to her that those others might not hear: ‘Dear stranger, wilt thou of a truth be wroth at the word that I shall say? Yonder men verily care for such things as these, the lyre and song, lightly, as they that devour the livelihood of another without atonement, of that man whose white bones, it may be, lie wasting in the rain upon the mainland, or the billow rolls them in the brine. Were but these men to see him returned to Ithaca, they all would pray rather for greater speed of foot than for gain of gold and raiment. But now he hath perished, even so, an evil doom, and for us is no comfort, no, not though any of earthly men should say that he will come again. Gone is the day of his returning! But come declare me this, and tell me all plainly: Who art thou of the sons of men, and whence? Where is thy city, where are they that begat thee? Say, on what manner of ship didst thou come, and how did sailors bring thee to Ithaca, and who did they avow themselves to be, for in nowise do I deem that thou camest hither by land. And herein tell me true, that I may know for a surety whether thou art a newcomer, or whether thou art a guest of the house, seeing that many were the strangers that came to our home, for that HE too had voyaged much among men.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: ‘Yea now, I will plainly tell thee all. I avow me to be Mentes, son of wise Anchialus, and I bear rule among the Taphians, lovers of the oar. And now am I come to shore, as thou seest, with ship and crew, sailing over the wine-dark sea, unto men of strange speech, even to Temesa, [[2|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 2]] in quest of copper, and my cargo is shining iron. And there my ship is lying toward the upland, away from the city, in the harbour of Rheithron beneath wooded Neion: and we declare ourselves to be friends one of the other, and of houses friendly, from of old. Nay, if thou wouldest be assured, go ask the old man, the hero Laertes, who they say no more comes to the city, but far away toward the upland suffers affliction, with an ancient woman for his handmaid, who sets by him meat and drink, whensoever weariness takes hold of his limbs, as he creeps along the knoll of his vineyard plot. And now am I come; for verily they said that HE, thy father, was among his people; but lo, the gods withhold him from his way. For goodly Odysseus hath not yet perished on the earth; but still, methinks, he lives and is kept on the wide deep in a seagirt isle, and hard men constrain him, wild folk that hold him, it may be, sore against his will. But now of a truth will I utter my word of prophecy, as the Immortals bring it into my heart and as I deem it will be accomplished, though no soothsayer am I, nor skilled in the signs of birds. Henceforth indeed for no long while shall he be far from his own dear country, not though bonds of iron bind him; he will advise him of a way to return, for he is a man of many devices. But come, declare me this, and tell me all plainly, whether indeed, so tall as thou art, thou art sprung from the loins of Odysseus. Thy head surely and they beauteous eyes are wondrous like to his, since full many a time have we held converse together ere he embarked for Troy, whither the others, aye the bravest of the Argives, went in hollow ships. From that day forth neither have I seen Odysseus, nor he me.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: ‘Yea, sir, now will I plainly tell thee all. My mother verily saith that I am his; for myself I know not, for never man yet knew of himself his own descent. O that I had been the son of some blessed man, whom old age overtook among his own possessions! But now of him that is the most hapless of mortal men, his son they say that I am, since thou dost question me hereof.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake unto him, and said: ‘Surely no nameless lineage have the gods ordained for thee in days to come, since Penelope bore thee so goodly a man. But come, declare me this, and tell it all plainly. What feast, nay, what rout is this? What hast thou to do therewith? Is it a clan drinking, or a wedding feast, for here we have no banquet where each man brings his share? In such wise, flown with insolence, do they seem to me to revel wantonly through the house: and well might any man be wroth to see so many deeds of shame, whatso wise man came among them.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: ‘Sir, forasmuch as thou questionest me of these things and inquirest thereof, our house was once like to have been rich and honourable, while yet that man was among his people. But now the gods willed it otherwise, in evil purpose, who have made him pass utterly out of sight as no man ever before. Truly I would not even for his death make so great sorrow, had he fallen among his fellows in the land of the Trojans, or in the arms of his friends when he had wound up the clew of war. Then would the whole Achaean host have builded him a barrow, and even for his son would he have won great glory in the after days. But now the spirits of the storm have swept him away inglorious. He is gone, lost to sight and hearsay, but for me hath he left anguish and lamentation; nor henceforth is it for him alone that I mourn and weep, since the gods have wrought for me other sore distress. For all the noblest that are princes in the isles, in Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus, and as many as lord it in rocky Ithaca, all these woo my mother and waste my house. But as for her she neither refuseth the hated bridal, nor hath the heart to make an end: so they devour and minish my house, and ere long will they make havoc likewise of myself.’
Then in heavy displeasure spake unto him Pallas Athene: ‘God help thee! thou art surely sore in need of Odysseus that is afar, to stretch forth his hands upon the shameless wooers. If he could but come now and stand at the entering in of the gate, with helmet and shield and lances twain, as mighty a man as when first I marked him in our house drinking and making merry what time he came up out of Ephyra from Ilus son of Mermerus! For even thither had Odysseus gone on his swift ship to seek a deadly drug, that he might have wherewithal to smear his bronze-shod arrows: but Ilus would in nowise give it to him, for he had in awe the everliving gods. But my father gave it him, for he bare him wondrous love. O that Odysseus might in such strength consort with the wooers: so should they all have swift fate and bitter wedlock! Howbeit these things surely lie on the knees of the gods, whether he shall return or not, and take vengeance in his halls. But I charge thee to take counsel how thou mayest thrust forth the wooers from the hall. Come now, mark and take heed unto my words. On the morrow call the Achaean lords to the assembly, and declare thy saying to all, and take the gods to witness. As for the wooers bid them scatter them each one to his own, and for thy mother, if her heart is moved to marriage, let her go back to the hall of that mighty man her father, and her kinsfolk will furnish a wedding feast, and array the gifts of wooing exceeding many, all that should go back with a daughter dearly beloved. And to thyself I will give a word of wise counsel, if perchance thou wilt hearken. Fit out a ship, the best thou hast, with twenty oarsmen, and go to inquire concerning thy father that is long afar, if perchance any man shall tell thee aught, or if thou mayest hear the voice from Zeus, which chiefly brings tidings to men. Get thee first to Pylos and inquire of goodly Nestor, and from thence to Sparta to Menelaus of the fair hair, for he came home the last of the mail-coated Achaeans. If thou shalt hear news of the life and the returning of thy father, then verily thou mayest endure the wasting for yet a year. But if thou shalt hear that he is dead and gone, return then to thine own dear country and pile his mound, and over it pay burial rites, full many as is due, and give thy mother to a husband. But when thou hast done this and made an end, thereafter take counsel in thy mind and heart, how thou mayest slay the wooers in thy halls, whether by guile or openly; for thou shouldest not carry childish thoughts, being no longer of years thereto. Or hast thou not heard what renown the goodly Orestes gat him among all men in that he slew the slayer of his father, guileful Aegisthus, who killed his famous sire? And thou, too, my friend, for I see that thou art very comely and tall, be valiant, that even men unborn may praise thee. But I will now go down to the swift ship and to my men, who methinks chafe much at tarrying for me; and do thou thyself take heed and give ear unto my words.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘Sir, verily thou speakest these things out of a friendly heart, as a father to his son, and never will I forget them. But now I pray thee abide here, though eager to be gone, to the end that after thou hast bathed and had all thy heart’s desire, thou mayest wend to the ship joyful in spirit, with a costly gift and very goodly, to be an heirloom of my giving, such as dear friends give to friends.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: ‘Hold me now no longer, that am eager for the way. But whatsoever gift thine heart shall bid thee give me, when I am on my way back let it be mine to carry home: bear from thy stores a gift right goodly, and it shall bring thee the worth thereof in return.’
So spake she and departed, the grey-eyed Athene, and like an eagle of the sea she flew away, but in his spirit she planted might and courage, and put him in mind of his father yet more than heretofore. And he marked the thing and was amazed, for he deemed that it was a god; and anon he went among the wooers, a godlike man.
Now the renowned minstrel was singing to the wooers, and they sat listening in silence; and his song was of the pitiful return of the Achaeans, that Pallas Athene laid on them as they came forth from Troy. And from her upper chamber the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, caught the glorious strain, and she went down the high stairs from her chamber, not alone, for two of her handmaids bare her company. Now when the fair lady had come unto the wooers, she stood by the pillar of the well-builded roof holding up her glistening tire before her face; and a faithful maiden stood on either side her. Then she fell a weeping, and spake unto the divine minstrel:
‘Phemius, since thou knowest many other charms for mortals, deeds of men and gods, which bards rehearse, some one of these do thou sing as thou sittest by them, and let them drink their wine in silence; but cease from this pitiful strain, that ever wastes my heart within my breast, since to me above all women hath come a sorrow comfortless. So dear a head do I long for in constant memory, namely, that man whose fame is noised abroad from Hellas to mid Argos.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her, and said: ‘O my mother, why then dost thou grudge the sweet minstrel to gladden us as his spirit moves him? It is not minstrels who are in fault, but Zeus, methinks, is in fault, who gives to men, that live by bread, to each one as he will. As for him it is no blame if he sings the ill-faring of the Danaans; for men always prize that song the most, which rings newest in their ears. But let thy heart and mind endure to listen, for not Odysseus only lost in Troy the day of his returning, but many another likewise perished. Howbeit go to thy chamber and mind thine own housewiferies, the loom and distaff, and bid thy handmaids ply their tasks. But speech shall be for men, for all, but for me in chief; for mine is the lordship in the house.’
Then in amaze she went back to her chamber, for she laid up the wise saying of her son in her heart. She ascended to her upper chamber with the women her handmaids, and then was bewailing Odysseus, her dear lord, till grey-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.
Now the wooers clamoured throughout the shadowy halls, and each one uttered a prayer to be her bedfellow. And wise Telemachus first spake among them:
‘Wooers of my mother, men despiteful out of measure, let us feast now and make merry and let there be no brawling; for, lo, it is a good thing to list to a minstrel such as him, like to the gods in voice. But in the morning let us all go to the assembly and sit us down, that I may declare my saying outright, to wit that ye leave these halls: and busy yourselves with other feasts, eating your own substance, going in turn from house to house. But if ye deem this a likelier and a better thing, that one man’s goods should perish without atonement, then waste ye as ye will; and I will call upon the everlasting gods, if haply Zeus may grant that acts of recompense be made: so should ye hereafter perish within the halls without atonement.’
So spake he, and all that heard him bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus, in that he spake boldly.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: ‘Telemachus, in very truth the gods themselves instruct thee to be proud of speech and boldly to harangue. Never may Cronion make thee king in seagirt Ithaca, which thing is of inheritance thy right!’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Antinous, wilt thou indeed be wroth at the word that I shall say? Yea, at the hand of Zeus would I be fain to take even this thing upon me. Sayest thou that this is the worst hap that can befal a man? Nay, verily, it is no ill thing to be a king: the house of such an one quickly waxeth rich and himself is held in greater honour. Howsoever there are many other kings of the Achaeans in seagirt Ithaca, kings young and old; someone of them shall surely have this kingship since goodly Odysseus is dead. But as for me, I will be lord of our own house and thralls, that goodly Odysseus gat me with his spear.’
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him, saying: ‘Telemachus, on the knees of the gods it surely lies, what man is to be king over the Achaeans in seagirt Ithaca. But mayest thou keep thine own possessions and be lord in thine own house! Never may that man come, who shall wrest from thee thy substance violently in thine own despite while Ithaca yet stands. But I would ask thee, friend, concerning the stranger — whence he is, and of what land he avows him to be? Where are his kin and his native fields? Doth he bear some tidings of thy father on his road, or cometh he thus to speed some matter of his own? In such wise did he start up, and lo, he was gone, nor tarried he that we should know him; — and yet he seemed no mean man to look upon.’ [[3|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 3]]
Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Eurymachus, surely the day of my father’s returning hath gone by. Therefore no more do I put faith in tidings, whencesoever they may come, neither have I regard unto any divination, whereof my mother may inquire at the lips of a diviner, when she hath bidden him to the hall. But as for that man, he is a friend of my house from Taphos, and he avows him to be Mentes, son of wise Anchialus, and he hath lordship among the Taphians, lovers of the oar.’
So spake Telemachus, but in his heart he knew the deathless goddess. Now the wooers turned them to the dance and the delightsome song, and made merry, and waited till evening should come on. And as they made merry, dusk evening came upon them. Then they went each one to his own house to lie down to rest.
But Telemachus, where his chamber was builded high up in the fair court, in a place with wide prospect, thither betook him to his bed, pondering many thoughts in his mind; and with him went trusty Eurycleia, and bare for him torches burning. She was the daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor, and Laertes bought her on a time with his wealth, while as yet she was in her first youth, and gave for her the worth of twenty oxen. And he honoured her even as he honoured his dear wife in the halls, but he never lay with her, for he shunned the wrath of his lady. She went with Telemachus and bare for him the burning torches: and of all the women of the household she loved him most, and she had nursed him when a little one. Then he opened the doors of the well-builded chamber and sat him on the bed and took off his soft doublet, and put it in the wise old woman’s hands. So she folded the doublet and smoothed it, and hung it on a pin by the jointed bedstead, and went forth on her way from the room, and pulled to the door with the silver handle, and drew home the bar with the thong. There, all night through, wrapped in a fleece of wool, he meditated in his heart upon the journey that Athene had showed him.
//Odysseus, his entertainment by Aeolus, of whom he received a fair wind for the present, and all the rest of the winds tied up in a bag; which his men untying, flew out, and carried him back to Aeolus, who refused to receive him. His adventure at Laestrygonia with Antiphates, where of twelve ships he lost eleven, men and all. How he went thence to the Isle of Aea, where half of his men were turned by Circe into swine, and how he went himself, and by the help of Hermes recovered them and stayed with Circe a year.//
‘Then we came to the isle Aeolian, where dwelt Aeolus, son of Hippotas, dear too the deathless gods, in a floating island, and all about it is a wall of bronze unbroken, and the cliff runs up sheer from the sea. His twelve children to abide there in his halls, six daughters and six lusty sons; and, behold, he gave his daughters to his sons to wife. And they feast evermore by their dear father and their kind mother, and dainties innumerable lie ready to their hands. And the house is full of the savour of feasting, and the noise thereof rings round, yea in the courtyard, by day, and in the night they sleep each one by his chaste wife in coverlets and on jointed bedsteads. So then we came to their city and their goodly dwelling, and the king entreated me kindly for a whole month, and sought out each thing, Ilios and the ships of the Argives, and the return of the Achaeans. So I told him all the tale in order duly. But when I in turn took the word and asked of my journey, and bade him send me on my way, he too denied me not, but furnished an escort. He gave me a wallet, made of the hide of an ox of nine seasons old, which he let flay, and therein he bound the ways of all the noisy winds; for him the son of Cronos made keeper of the winds, either to lull or to rouse what blasts he will. And he made it fast in the hold of the ship with a shining silver thong, that not the faintest breath might escape. Then he sent forth the blast of the West Wind to blow for me, to bear our ships and ourselves upon our way; but this he was never to bring to pass, for we were undone through our own heedlessness.
‘For nine whole days we sailed by night and day continually, and now on the tenth day my native land came in sight, and already we were so near that we beheld the folk tending the beacon fires. Then over me there came sweet slumber in my weariness, for all the time I was holding the sheet, nor gave it to any of my company, that so we might come quicker to our own country. Meanwhile my company held converse together, and said that I was bringing home for myself gold and silver, gifts from Aeolus the high-hearted son of Hippotas. And thus would they speak looking each man to his neighbour:
‘“Lo now, how beloved he is and highly esteemed among all men, to the city and land of whomsoever he may come. Many are the goodly treasures he taketh with him out of the spoil from Troy, while we who have fulfilled like journeying with him return homeward bringing with us but empty hands. And now Aeolus hath given unto him these things freely in his love. Nay come, let us quickly see what they are, even what wealth of gold and silver is in the wallet.”
‘So they spake, and the evil counsel of my company prevailed. They loosed the wallet, and all the winds brake forth. And the violent blast seized my men, and bare them towards the high seas weeping, away from their own country; but as for me, I awoke and communed with my great heart, whether I should cast myself from the ship and perish in the deep, or endure in silence and abide yet among the living. Howbeit I hardened my heart to endure, and muffling my head I lay still in the ship. But the vessels were driven by the evil storm-wind back to the isle Aeolian, and my company made moan.
‘There we stepped ashore and drew water, and my company presently took their midday meal by the swift ships. Now when we had tasted bread and wine, I took with me a herald and one of my company, and went to the famous dwelling of Aeolus: and I found him feasting with his wife and children. So we went in and sat by the pillars of the door on the threshold, and they all marvelled and asked us:
‘“How hast thou come hither, Odysseus? What evil god assailed thee? Surely we sent thee on thy way with all diligence, that thou mightest get thee to thine own country and thy home, and whithersoever thou wouldest.”
‘Even so they said, but I spake among them heavy at heart: “My evil company hath been my bane, and sleep thereto remorseless. Come, my friends, do ye heal the harm, for yours is the power.”
‘So I spake, beseeching them in soft words, but they held their peace. And the father answered, saying: “Get thee forth from the island straightway, thou that art the most reprobate of living men. Far be it from me to help or to further that man whom the blessed gods abhor! Get thee forth, for lo, thy coming marks thee hated by the deathless gods.”
‘Therewith he sent me forth from the house making heavy moan. Thence we sailed onwards stricken at heart. And the spirit of the men was spent beneath the grievous rowing by reason of our vain endeavour, for there was no more any sign of a wafting wind. So for the space of six days we sailed by night and day continually, and on the seventh we came to the steep stronghold of Lamos, Telepylos of the Laestrygons, where herdsman hails herdsman as he drives in his flock, and the other who drives forth answers the call. There might a sleepless man have earned a double wage, the one as neat-herd, the other shepherding white flocks: so near are the outgoings of the night and of the day. Thither when he had come to the fair haven, whereabout on both sides goes one steep cliff unbroken and jutting headlands over against each other stretch forth at the mouth of the harbour, and strait is the entrance; thereinto all the others steered their curved ships. Now the vessels were bound within the hollow harbour each hard by other, for no wave ever swelled within it, great or small, but there was a bright calm all around. But I alone moored my dark ship without the harbour, at the uttermost point thereof, and made fast the hawser to a rock. And I went up a craggy hill, a place of out-look, and stood thereon: thence there was no sign of the labour of men or oxen, only we saw the smoke curling upward from the land. Then I sent forth certain of my company to go and search out what manner of men they were who here live upon the earth by bread, choosing out two of my company and sending a third with them as herald. Now when they had gone ashore, they went along a level road whereby wains were wont to draw down wood from the high hills to the town. And without the town they fell in with a damsel drawing water, the noble daughter of Laestrygonian Antiphates. She had come down to the clear-flowing spring Artacia, for thence it was custom to draw water to the town. So they stood by her and spake unto her, and asked who was king of that land, and who they were he ruled over. Then at once she showed them the high-roofed hall of her father. Now when they had entered the renowned house, they found his wife therein: she was huge of bulk as a mountain peak and was loathly in their sight. Straightway she called the renowned Antiphates, her lord, from the assembly-place, and he contrived a pitiful destruction for my men. Forthwith he clutched up one of my company and made ready his midday meal, but the other twain sprang up and came in flight to the ships. Then he raised the war cry through the town, and the valiant Laestrygons at the sound thereof, flocked together from every side, a host past number, not like men but like the Giants. They cast at us from the cliffs with great rocks, each of them a man’s burden, and anon there arose from the fleet an evil din of men dying and ships shattered withal. And like folk spearing fishes they bare home their hideous meal. While as yet they were slaying my friends within the deep harbour, I drew my sharp sword from my thigh, and with it cut the hawsers of my dark-prowed ship. Quickly then I called to my company, and bade them dash in with the oars, that we might clean escape this evil plight. And all with one accord they tossed the sea water with the oar-blade, in dread of death, and to my delight my barque flew forth to the high seas away from the beetling rocks, but those other ships were lost there, one and all.
‘Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart, yet glad as men saved from death, albeit we had lost our dear companions. And we came to the isle Aeaean, where dwelt Circe of the braided tresses, an awful goddess of mortal speech, own sister to the wizard Aeetes. Both were begotten of Helios, who gives light to all men, and their mother was Perse, daughter of Oceanus. There on the shore we put in with our ship into the sheltering haven silently, and some god was our guide. Then we stept ashore, and for two days and two nights lay there, consuming our own hearts for weariness and pain. But when now the fair-tressed Dawn had brought the full light of the third day, then did I seize my spear and my sharp sword, and quickly departing from the ship I went up unto a place of wide prospect, if haply I might see any sign of the labour of men and hear the sound of their speech. So I went up a craggy hill, a place of out-look, and I saw the smoke rising from the broad-wayed earth in the halls of Circe, through the thick coppice and the woodland. Then I mused in my mind and heart whether I should go and make discovery, for that I had seen the smoke and flame. And as I thought thereon this seemed to me the better counsel, to go first to the swift ship and to the sea-banks, and give my company their midday meal, and then send them to make search. But as I came and drew nigh to the curved ship, some god even then took pity on me in my loneliness, and sent a tall antlered stag across my very path. He was coming down from his pasture in the woodland to the river to drink, for verily the might of the sun was sore upon him. And as he came up from out of the stream, I smote him on the spine in the middle of the back, and the brazen shaft went clean through him, and with a moan he fell in the dust, and his life passed from him. Then I set my foot on him and drew forth the brazen shaft from the wound, and laid it hard by upon the ground and let it lie. Next I broke withies and willow twigs, and wove me a rope a fathom in length, well twisted from end to end, and bound together the feet of the huge beast, and went to the black ship bearing him across my neck, and leaning on a spear, for it was in no wise possible to carry him on my shoulder with the one hand, for he was a mighty quarry. And I threw him down before the ship and roused my company with soft words, standing by each man in turn:
‘“Friends, for all our sorrows we shall not yet a while go down to the house of Hades, ere the coming of the day of destiny; go to then, while as yet there is meat and drink in the swift ship, let us take thought thereof, that we be not famished for hunger.”
‘Even so I spake, and they speedily hearkened to my words. They unmuffled their heads, and there on the shore of the unharvested sea gazed at the stag, for he was a mighty quarry. But after they had delighted their eyes with the sight of him, they washed their hands and got ready the glorious feast. So for that time we sat the livelong day till the going down of the sun, feasting on abundant flesh and sweet wine. But when the sun sank and darkness had come on, then we laid us to rest upon the sea beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, I called a gathering of my men and spake in the ears of them all:
‘“Hear my works, my fellows, despite your evil case. My friends, lo, now we know not where is the place of darkness or of dawning, nor where the Sun, that gives light to men, goes beneath the earth, nor where he rises; therefore let us advise us speedily if any counsel yet may be: as for me, I deem there is none. For I went up a craggy hill, a place of out-look, and saw the island crowned about with the circle of the endless sea, the isle itself lying low; and in the midst thereof mine eyes beheld the smoke through the thick coppice and the woodland.”
‘Even so I spake, but their spirit within them was broken, as they remembered the deeds of Antiphates the Laestrygonian, and all the evil violence of the haughty Cyclops, the man-eater. So they wept aloud shedding big tears. Howbeit no avail came of their weeping.
‘Then I numbered my goodly-greaved company in two bands, and appointed a leader for each, and I myself took the command of the one part, and godlike Eurylochus of the other. And anon we shook the lots in a brazen-fitted helmet, and out leapt the lot of proud Eurylochus. So he went on his way, and with him two and twenty of my fellowship all weeping; and we were left behind making lament. In the forest glades they found the halls of Circe builded, of polished stone, in a place with wide prospect. And all around the palace mountain-bred wolves and lions were roaming, whom she herself had bewitched with evil drugs that she gave them. Yet the beasts did not set on my men, but lo, they ramped about them and fawned on them, wagging their long tails. And as when dogs fawn about their lord when he comes from the feast, for he always brings them the fragments that soothe their mood, even so the strong-clawed wolves and the lions fawned around them; but they were affrighted when they saw the strange and terrible creatures. So they stood at the outer gate of the fair-tressed goddess, and within they heard Circe singing in a sweet voice, as she fared to and fro before the great web imperishable, such as is the handiwork of goddesses, fine of woof and full of grace and splendour. Then Polites, a leader of men, the dearest to me and the trustiest of all my company, first spake to them:
‘“Friends, forasmuch as there is one within that fares to and fro before a mighty web singing a sweet song, so that all the floor of the hall makes echo, a goddess she is or a woman; come quickly and cry aloud to her.”
‘He spake the word and they cried aloud and called to her. And straightway she came forth and opened the shining doors and bade them in, and all went with her in their heedlessness. But Eurylochus tarried behind, for he guessed that there was some treason. So she led them in and set them upon chairs and high seats, and made them a mess of cheese and barley-meal and yellow honey with Pramnian wine, and mixed harmful drugs with the food to make them utterly forget their own country. Now when she had given them the cup and they had drunk it off, presently she smote them with a wand, and in the styes of the swine she penned them. So they had the head and voice, the bristles and the shape of swine, but their mind abode even as of old. Thus were they penned there weeping, and Circe flung them acorns and mast and fruit of the cornel tree to eat, whereon wallowing swine do always batten.
‘Now Eurylochus came back to the swift black ship to bring tidings of his fellows, and of their unseemly doom. Not a word could he utter, for all his desire, so deeply smitten was he to the heart with grief, and his eyes were filled with tears and his soul was fain of lamentation. But when we all had pressed him with our questions in amazement, even then he told the fate of the remnant of our company.
‘“We went, as thou didst command, through the coppice, noble Odysseus: we found within the forest glades the fair halls, builded of polished stone, in a place with wide prospect. And there was one that fared before a mighty web and sang a clear song, a goddess she was or a woman, and they cried aloud and called to her. And straightway she came forth, and opened the shining doors and bade them in, and they all went with her in their heedlessness. But I tarried behind, for I guessed that there was some treason. Then they vanished away one and all, nor did any of them appear again, though I sat long time watching.”
‘So spake he, whereon I cast about my shoulder my silver-studded sword, a great blade of bronze, and slung my bow about me and bade him lead me again by the way that he came. But he caught me with both hands, and by my knees he besought me, and bewailing him spake to me winged words:
‘“Lead me not thither against my will, oh fosterling of Zeus, but leave me here! For well I know thou shalt thyself return no more, nor bring any one of all thy fellowship; nay, let us flee the swifter with those that be here, for even yet may we escape the evil day.”
‘On this wise he spake, but I answered him, saying: “Eurylochus, abide for thy part here in this place, eating and drinking by the black hollow ship: but I will go forth, for a strong constraint is laid on me.”
‘With that I went up from the ship and the sea-shore. But lo, when in my faring through the sacred glades I was now drawing near to the great hall of the enchantress Circe, then did Hermes, of the golden wand, meet me as I approached the house, in the likeness of a young man with the first down on his lip, the time when youth is most gracious. So he clasped my hand and spake and hailed me:
‘“Ah, hapless man, whither away again, all alone through the wolds, thou that knowest not this country? And thy company yonder in the hall of Circe are penned in the guise of swine, in their deep lairs abiding. Is it in hope to free them that thou art come hither? Nay, methinks, thou thyself shalt never return but remain there with the others. Come then, I will redeem thee from thy distress, and bring deliverance. Lo, take this herb of virtue, and go to the dwelling of Circe, that it may keep from thy head the evil day. And I will tell thee all the magic sleight of Circe. She will mix thee a potion and cast drugs into the mess; but not even so shall she be able to enchant thee; so helpful is this charmed herb that I shall give thee, and I will tell thee all. When it shall be that Circe smites thee with her long wand, even then draw thou thy sharp sword from thy thigh, and spring on her, as one eager to slay her. And she will shrink away and be instant with thee to lie with her. Thenceforth disdain not thou the bed of the goddess, that she may deliver thy company and kindly entertain thee. But command her to swear a mighty oath by the blessed gods, that she will plan nought else of mischief to thine own hurt, lest she make thee a dastard and unmanned, when she hath thee naked.”
‘Therewith the slayer of Argos gave me the plant that he had plucked from the ground, and he showed me the growth thereof. It was black at the root, but the flower was like to milk. Moly the gods call it, but it is hard for mortal men to dig; howbeit with the gods all things are possible.
‘Then Hermes departed toward high Olympus, up through the woodland isle, but as for me I held on my way to the house of Circe, and my heart was darkly troubled as I went. So I halted in the portals of the fair-tressed goddess; there I stood and called aloud and the goddess heard my voice, who presently came forth and opened the shining doors and bade me in, and I went with her heavy at heart. So she led me in and set me on a chair with studs of silver, a goodly carven chair, and beneath was a footstool for the feet. And she made me a potion in a golden cup, that I might drink, and she also put a charm therein, in the evil counsel of her heart.
‘Now when she had given it and I had drunk it off and was not bewitched, she smote me with her wand and spake and hailed me:
‘“Go thy way now to the stye, couch thee there with the rest of thy company.”
‘So spake she, but I drew my sharp sword from my thigh and sprang upon Circe, as one eager to slay her. But with a great cry she slipped under, and clasped my knees, and bewailing herself spake to me winged words:
‘“Who art thou of the sons of men, and whence? Where is thy city? Where are they that begat thee? I marvel to see how thou hast drunk of this charm, and wast nowise subdued. Nay, for there lives no man else that is proof against this charm, whoso hath drunk thereof, and once it hath passed his lips. But thou hast, methinks, a mind within thee that may not be enchanted. Verily thou art Odysseus, ready at need, whom he of the golden wand, the slayer of Argos, full often told me was to come hither, on his way from Troy with his swift black ship. Nay come, put thy sword into the sheath, and thereafter let us go up into my bed, that meeting in love and sleep we may trust each the other.”
‘So spake she, but I answered her, saying: “Nay, Circe, how canst thou bid me be gentle to thee, who hast turned my company into swine within thy halls, and holding me here with a guileful heart requirest me to pass within thy chamber and go up into thy bed, that so thou mayest make me a dastard and unmanned when thou hast me naked? Nay, never will I consent to go up into thy bed, except thou wilt deign, goddess, to swear a mighty oath, that thou wilt plan nought else of mischief to mine own hurt.”
‘So I spake, and she straightway swore the oath not to harm me, as I bade her. But when she had sworn and had done that oath, then at last I went up into the beautiful bed of Circe.
‘Now all this while her handmaids busied them in the halls, four maidens that are her serving women in the house. They are born of the wells and of the woods and of the holy rivers, that flow forward into the salt sea. Of these one cast upon the chairs goodly coverlets of purple above, and spread a linen cloth thereunder. And lo, another drew up silver tables to the chairs, and thereon set for them golden baskets. And a third mixed sweet honey-hearted wine in a silver bowl, and set out cups of gold. And a fourth bare water, and kindled a great fire beneath the mighty cauldron. So the water waxed warm; but when it boiled in the bright brazen vessel, she set me in a bath and bathed me with water from out a great cauldron, pouring it over head and shoulders, when she had mixed it to a pleasant warmth, till from my limbs she took away the consuming weariness. Now after she had bathed me and anointed me well with olive oil, and cast about me a fair mantle and a doublet, she led me into the halls and set me on a chair with studs of silver, a goodly carven chair, and beneath was a footstool for the feet. And a handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal; and to my side she drew a polished table, and a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by me, and laid on the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her. And she bade me eat, but my soul found no pleasure therein. I sat with other thoughts, and my heart had a boding of ill.
‘Now when Circe saw that I sat thus, and that I put not forth my hands to the meat, and that I was mightily afflicted, she drew near to me and spake to me winged words:
‘“Wherefore thus, Odysseus, dost thou sit there like a speechless man, consuming thine own soul, and dost not touch meat nor drink? Dost thou indeed deem there is some further guile? Nay, thou hast no cause to fear, for already I have sworn thee a strong oath not to harm thee.”
‘So spake she, but I answered her, saying: “Oh, Circe, what righteous man would have the heart to taste meat and drink ere he had redeemed his company, and beheld them face to face? But if in good faith thou biddest me eat and drink, then let them go free, that mine eyes may behold my dear companions.”
‘So I spake, and Circe passed out through the hall with the wand in her hand, and opened the doors of the stye, and drave them forth in the shape of swine of nine seasons old. There they stood before her, and she went through their midst, and anointed each one of them with another charm. And lo, from their limbs the bristles dropped away, wherewith the venom had erewhile clothed them, that lady Circe gave them. And they became men again, younger than before they were, and goodlier far, and taller to behold. And they all knew me again and each one took my hands, and wistful was the lament that sank into their souls, and the roof around rang wondrously. And even the goddess herself was moved with compassion.
‘Then standing nigh me the fair goddess spake unto me: “Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, depart now to thy swift ship and the sea-banks. And first of all, draw ye up the ship ashore, and bestow the goods in the caves and all the gear. And thyself return again, and bring with thee thy dear companions.”
‘So spake she, and my lordly spirit consented thereto. So I went on my way to the swift ship and the sea-banks, and there I found my dear company on the swift ship lamenting piteously, shedding big tears. And as when calves of the homestead gather round the droves of kine that have returned to the yard, when they have had their fill of pasture, and all with one accord frisk before them, and the folds may no more contain them, but with a ceaseless lowing they skip about their dams, so flocked they all about me weeping, when their eyes beheld me. Yea, and to their spirit it was as though they had got to their dear country, and the very city of rugged Ithaca, where they were born and reared.
‘Then making lament they spake to me winged words: “O fosterling of Zeus, we were none otherwise glad at thy returning, than if we had come to Ithaca, our own country. Nay come, of our other companions tell us the tale of their ruin.”
‘So spake they, but I answered them with soft words: “Behold, let us first of all draw up the ship ashore, and bestow our goods in the caves and all our gear. And do ye bestir you, one and all, to go with me, that ye may see your fellows in the sacred dwelling of Circe, eating and drinking, for they have continual store.”
‘So spake I, and at once they hearkened to my words, but Eurylochus alone would have holden all my companions, and uttering his voice he spake to them winged words:
‘“Wretched men that we are! whither are we going? Why are your hearts so set on sorrow that ye should go down to the hall of Circe, who will surely change us all to swine, or wolves, or lions, to guard her great house perforce, according to the deeds that the Cyclops wrought, when certain of our company went to his inmost fold, and with them went Odysseus, ever hardy, for through the blindness of his heart did they too perish?”
‘So spake he, but I mused in my heart whether to draw my long hanger from my stout thigh, and therewith smite off his head and bring it to the dust, albeit he was very near of kin to me; but the men of my company stayed me on every side with soothing words:
‘“Prince of the seed of Zeus, as for this man, we will suffer him, if thou wilt have it so, to abide here by the ship and guard the ship; but as for us, be our guide to the sacred house of Circe.”
‘So they spake and went up from the ship and the sea. Nay, nor yet was Eurylochus left by the hollow ship, but he went with us, for he feared my terrible rebuke.
‘Meanwhile Circe bathed the rest of my company in her halls with all care, and anointed them well with olive oil; and cast thick mantles and doublets about them. And we found them all feasting nobly in the halls. And when they saw and knew each other face to face, they wept and mourned, and the house rang around. Then she stood near me, that fair goddess, and spake saying:
‘“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, no more now wake this plenteous weeping: myself I know of all the pains ye endured upon the teeming deep, and the great despite done you by unkindly men upon the land. Nay come, eat ye meat and drink wine, till your spirit shall return to you again, as it was when first ye left your own country of rugged Ithaca; but now are ye wasted and wanting heart, mindful evermore of your sore wandering, nor has your heart ever been merry, for very grievous hath been your trial.”
‘So spake she, and our lordly spirit consented thereto. So there we sat day by day for the full circle of a year, feasting on abundant flesh and sweet wine. But when now a year had gone, and the seasons returned as the months waned, and the long days came in their course, then did my dear company call me forth, and say:
‘“Good sir, now is it high time to mind thee of thy native land, if it is ordained that thou shalt be saved, and come to thy lofty house and thine own country.”
‘So spake they and my lordly spirit consented thereto. So for that time we sat the livelong day till the going down of the sun, feasting on abundant flesh and sweet wine. But when the sun sank and darkness came on, they laid them to rest throughout the shadowy halls.
‘But when I had gone up into the fair bed of Circe, I besought her by her knees, and the goddess heard my speech, and uttering my voice I spake to her winged words: “Circe, fulfil for me the promise which thou madest me to send me on my homeward way. Now is my spirit eager to be gone, and the spirit of my company, that wear away my heart as they mourn around me, when haply thou art gone from us.”
‘So spake I, and the fair goddess answered me anon: “Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, tarry ye now no longer in my house against your will; but first must ye perform another journey, and reach the dwelling of Hades and of dread Persephone to seek to the spirit of Theban Teiresias, the blind soothsayer, whose wits abide steadfast. To him Persephone hath given judgment, even in death, that he alone should have understanding; but the other souls sweep shadow-like around.”
‘Thus spake she, but as for me, my heart was broken, and I wept as I sat upon the bed, and my soul had no more care to live and to see the sunlight. But when I had my fill of weeping and grovelling, then at the last I answered and spake unto her saying: “And who, Circe, will guide us on this way? for no man ever yet sailed to hell in a black ship.”
‘So spake I, and the fair goddess answered me anon: “Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, nay, trouble not thyself for want of a guide, by thy ship abiding, but set up the mast and spread abroad the white sails and sit thee down; and the breeze of the North Wind will bear thy vessel on her way. But when thou hast now sailed in thy ship across the stream Oceanus, where is a waste shore and the groves of Persephone, even tall poplar trees and willows that shed their fruit before the season, there beach thy ship by deep eddying Oceanus, but go thyself to the dank house of Hades. Thereby into Acheron flows Pyriphlegethon, and Cocytus, a branch of the water of the Styx, and there is a rock, and the meeting of the two roaring waters. So, hero, draw nigh thereto, as I command thee, and dig a trench as it were a cubit in length and breadth, and about it pour a drink-offering to all the dead, first with mead and thereafter with sweet wine, and for the third time with water, and sprinkle white meal thereon; and entreat with many prayers the strengthless heads of the dead, and promise that on thy return to Ithaca thou wilt offer in thy halls a barren heifer, the best thou hast, and will fill the pyre with treasure, and wilt sacrifice apart, to Teiresias alone, a black ram without spot, the fairest of your flock. But when thou hast with prayers made supplication to the lordly races of the dead, then offer up a ram and a black ewe, bending their heads towards Erebus and thyself turn thy back, with thy face set for the shore of the river. Then will many spirits come to thee of the dead that be departed. Thereafter thou shalt call to thy company and command them to flay the sheep which even now lie slain by the pitiless sword, and to consume them with fire, and to make prayer to the gods, to mighty Hades and to dread Persephone. And thyself draw the sharp sword from thy thigh and sit there, suffering not the strengthless heads of the dead to draw nigh to the blood, ere thou hast word of Teiresias. Then the seer will come to thee quickly, leader of the people; he will surely declare to thee the way and the measure of thy path, and as touching thy returning, how thou mayst go over the teeming deep.”
‘So spake she, and anon came the golden throned Dawn. Then she put on me a mantle and a doublet for raiment, and the nymph clad herself in a great shining robe, light of woof and gracious, and about her waist she cast a fair golden girdle, and put a veil upon her head. But I passed through the halls and roused my men with smooth words, standing by each one in turn:
‘“Sleep ye now no more nor breathe sweet slumber; but let us go on our way, for surely she hath shown me all, the lady Circe.”
‘So spake I, and their lordly soul consented thereto. Yet even thence I led not my company safe away. There was one, Elpenor, the youngest of us all, not very valiant in war neither steadfast in mind. He was lying apart from the rest of my men on the housetop of Circe’s sacred dwelling, very fain of the cool air, as one heavy with wine. Now when he heard the noise of the voices and of the feet of my fellows as they moved to and fro, he leaped up of a sudden and minded him not to descend again by the way of the tall ladder, but fell right down from the roof, and his neck was broken from the bones of the spine, and his spirit went down to the house of Hades.
‘Then I spake among my men as they went on their way, saying: “Ye deem now, I see, that ye are going to your own dear country; but Circe hath showed us another way, even to the dwelling of Hades and of dread Persephone, to seek to the spirit of Theban Teiresias.”
‘Even so I spake, but their heart within them was broken, and they sat them down even where they were, and made lament and tore their hair. Howbeit no help came of their weeping.
‘But as we were now wending sorrowful to the swift ship and the sea-banks, shedding big tears, Circe meanwhile had gone her ways and made fast a ram and a black ewe by the dark ship, lightly passing us by: who may behold a god against his will, whether going to or fro?’
//Odysseus, his descent into hell, and discourses with the ghosts of the deceased heroes.//
‘Now when we had gone down to the ship and to the sea, first of all we drew the ship unto the fair salt water and placed the mast and sails in the black ship, and took those sheep and put them therein, and ourselves too climbed on board, sorrowing, and shedding big tears. And in the wake of our dark-prowed ship she sent a favouring wind that filled the sails, a kindly escort — even Circe of the braided tresses, a dread goddess of human speech. And we set in order all the gear throughout the ship and sat us down; and the wind and the helmsman guided our barque. And all day long her sails were stretched in her seafaring; and the sun sank and all the ways were darkened.
‘She came to the limits of the world, to the deep-flowing Oceanus. There is the land and the city of the Cimmerians, shrouded in mist and cloud, and never does the shining sun look down on them with his rays, neither when he climbs up the starry heavens, nor when again he turns earthward from the firmament, but deadly night is outspread over miserable mortals. Thither we came and ran the ship ashore and took out the sheep; but for our part we held on our way along the stream of Oceanus, till we came to the place which Circe had declared to us.
‘There Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, but I drew my sharp sword from my thigh, and dug a pit, as it were a cubit in length and breadth, and about it poured a drink-offering to all the dead, first with mead and thereafter with sweet wine, and for the third time with water. And I sprinkled white meal thereon, and entreated with many prayers the strengthless heads of the dead, and promised that on my return to Ithaca I would offer in my halls a barren heifer, the best I had, and fill the pyre with treasure, and apart unto Teiresias alone sacrifice a black ram without spot, the fairest of my flock. But when I had besought the tribes of the dead with vows and prayers, I took the sheep and cut their throats over the trench, and the dark blood flowed forth, and lo, the spirits of the dead that be departed gathered them from out of Erebus. Brides and youths unwed, and old men of many and evil days, and tender maidens with grief yet fresh at heart; and many there were, wounded with bronze-shod spears, men slain in fight with their bloody mail about them. And these many ghosts flocked together from every side about the trench with a wondrous cry, and pale fear gat hold on me. Then did I speak to my company and command them to flay the sheep that lay slain by the pitiless sword, and to consume them with fire, and to make prayer to the gods, to mighty Hades and to dread Persephone, and myself I drew the sharp sword from my thigh and sat there, suffering not the strengthless heads of the dead to draw nigh to the blood, ere I had word of Teiresias.
‘And first came the soul of Elpenor, my companion, that had not yet been buried beneath the wide-wayed earth; for we left the corpse behind us in the hall of Circe, unwept and unburied, seeing that another task was instant on us. At the sight of him I wept and had compassion on him, and uttering my voice spake to him winged words: “Elpenor, how hast thou come beneath the darkness and the shadow? Thou hast come fleeter on foot than I in my black ship.”
‘So spake I, and with a moan he answered me, saying: “Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, an evil doom of some god was my bane and wine out of measure. When I laid me down on the house-top of Circe I minded me not to descend again by the way of the tall ladder, but fell right down from the roof, and my neck was broken off from the bones of the spine, and my spirit went down to the house of Hades. And now I pray thee in the name of those whom we left, who are no more with us, thy wife, and thy sire who cherished thee when as yet thou wert a little one, and Telemachus, whom thou didst leave in thy halls alone; forasmuch as I know that on thy way hence from out the dwelling of Hades, thou wilt stay thy well-wrought ship at the isle Aeaean, even then, my lord, I charge thee to think on me. Leave me not unwept and unburied as thou goest hence, nor turn thy back upon me, lest haply I bring on thee the anger of the gods. Nay, burn me there with mine armour, all that is mine, and pile me a barrow on the shore of the grey sea, the grave of a luckless man, that even men unborn may hear my story. Fulfil me this and plant upon the barrow mine oar, wherewith I rowed in the days of my life, while yet I was among my fellows.”
‘Even so he spake, and I answered him saying: “All this, luckless man, will I perform for thee and do.”
‘Even so we twain were sitting holding sad discourse, I on the one side, stretching forth my sword over the blood, while on the other side the ghost of my friend told all his tale.
‘Anon came up the soul of my mother dead, Anticleia, the daughter of Autolycus the great-hearted, whom I left alive when I departed for sacred Ilios. At the sight of her I wept, and was moved with compassion, yet even so, for all my sore grief, I suffered her not to draw nigh to the blood, ere I had word of Teiresias.
‘Anon came the soul of Theban Teiresias, with a golden sceptre in his hand, and he knew me and spake unto me: “Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, what seekest thou NOW, wretched man, wherefore hast thou left the sunlight and come hither to behold the dead and a land desolate of joy? Nay, hold off from the ditch and draw back thy sharp sword, that I may drink of the blood and tell thee sooth.”
‘So spake he and I put up my silver-studded sword into the sheath, and when he had drunk the dark blood, even then did the noble seer speak unto me, saying: “Thou art asking of thy sweet returning, great Odysseus, but that will the god make hard for thee; for methinks thou shalt not pass unheeded by the Shaker of the Earth, who hath laid up wrath in his heart against thee, for rage at the blinding of his dear son. Yet even so, through many troubles, ye may come home, if thou wilt restrain thy spirit and the spirit of thy men so soon as thou shalt bring thy well-wrought ship nigh to the isle Thrinacia, fleeing the sea of violet blue, when ye find the herds of Helios grazing and his brave flocks, of Helios who overseeth all and overheareth all things. If thou doest these no hurt, being heedful of thy return, so may ye yet reach Ithaca, albeit in evil case. But if thou hurtest them, I foreshow ruin for thy ship and for thy men, and even though thou shalt thyself escape, late shalt thou return in evil plight, with the loss of all thy company, on board the ship of strangers, and thou shalt find sorrows in thy house, even proud men that devour thy living, while they woo thy godlike wife and offer the gifts of wooing. Yet I tell thee, on thy coming thou shalt avenge their violence. But when thou hast slain the wooers in thy halls, whether by guile, or openly with the edge of the sword, thereafter go thy way, taking with thee a shapen oar, till thou shalt come to such men as know not the sea, neither eat meat savoured with salt; yea, nor have they knowledge of ships of purple cheek, nor shapen oars which serve for wings to ships. And I will give thee a most manifest token, which cannot escape thee. In the day when another wayfarer shall meet thee and say that thou hast a winnowing fan on thy stout shoulder, even then make fast thy shapen oar in the earth and do goodly sacrifice to the lord Poseidon, even with a ram and a bull and a boar, the mate of swine, and depart for home and offer holy hecatombs to the deathless gods that keep the wide heaven, to each in order due. And from the sea shall thine own death come, the gentlest death that may be, which shall end thee foredone with smooth old age, and the folk shall dwell happily around thee. This that I say is sooth.”
‘So spake he, and I answered him, saying: “Teiresias, all these threads, methinks, the gods themselves have spun. But come, declare me this and plainly tell me all. I see here the spirit of my mother dead; lo, she sits in silence near the blood, nor deigns to look her son in the face nor speak to him! Tell me, prince, how may she know me again that I am he?”
‘So spake I, and anon he answered me, and said: “I will tell thee an easy saying, and will put it in thy heart. Whomsoever of the dead that be departed thou shalt suffer to draw nigh to the blood, he shall tell thee sooth; but if thou shalt grudge any, that one shall go to his own place again.” Therewith the spirit of the prince Teiresias went back within the house of Hades, when he had told all his oracles. But I abode there steadfastly, till my mother drew nigh and drank the dark blood; and at once she knew me, and bewailing herself spake to me winged words:
‘“Dear child, how didst thou come beneath the darkness and the shadow, thou that art a living man? Grievous is the sight of these things to the living, for between us and you are great rivers and dreadful streams; first, Oceanus, which can no wise be crossed on foot, but only if one have a well wrought ship. Art thou but now come hither with thy ship and thy company in thy long wanderings from Troy? and hast thou not yet reached Ithaca, nor seen thy wife in thy halls?”
‘Even so she spake, and I answered her, and said: “O my mother, necessity was on me to come down to the house of Hades to seek to the spirit of Theban Teiresias. For not yet have I drawn near to the Achaean shore, nor yet have I set foot on mine own country, but have been wandering evermore in affliction, from the day that first I went with goodly Agamemnon to Ilios of the fair steeds, to do battle with the Trojans. But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all. What doom overcame thee of death that lays men at their length? Was it a slow disease, or did Artemis the archer slay thee with the visitation of her gentle shafts? And tell me of my father and my son, that I left behind me; doth my honour yet abide with them, or hath another already taken it, while they say that I shall come home no more? And tell me of my wedded wife, of her counsel and her purpose, doth she abide with her son and keep all secure, or hath she already wedded the best of the Achaeans?”
‘Even so I spake, and anon my lady mother answered me: “Yea verily, she abideth with steadfast spirit in thy halls; and wearily for her the nights wane always and the days in shedding of tears. But the fair honour that is thine no man hath yet taken; but Telemachus sits at peace on his demesne, and feasts at equal banquets, whereof it is meet that a judge partake, for all men bid him to their house. And thy father abides there in the field, and goes not down to the town, nor lies he on bedding or rugs or shining blankets, but all the winter he sleeps, where sleep the thralls in the house, in the ashes by the fire, and is clad in sorry raiment. But when the summer comes and the rich harvest-tide, his beds of fallen leaves are strewn lowly all about the knoll of his vineyard plot. There he lies sorrowing and nurses his mighty grief, for long desire of thy return, and old age withal comes heavy upon him. Yea and even so did I too perish and meet my doom. It was not the archer goddess of the keen sight, who slew me in my halls with the visitation of her gentle shafts, nor did any sickness come upon me, such as chiefly with a sad wasting draws the spirit from the limbs; nay, it was my sore longing for thee, and for thy counsels, great Odysseus, and for thy loving-kindness, that reft me of sweet life.”
‘So spake she, and I mused in my heart and would fain have embraced the spirit of my mother dead. Thrice I sprang towards her, and was minded to embrace her; thrice she flitted from my hands as a shadow or even as a dream, and sharp grief arose ever at my heart. And uttering my voice I spake to her winged words:
‘“Mother mine, wherefore dost thou not abide me who am eager to clasp thee, that even in Hades we twain may cast our arms each about the other, and have our fill of chill lament? Is this but a phantom that the high goddess Persephone hath sent me, to the end that I may groan for more exceeding sorrow?”
‘So spake I, and my lady mother answered me anon: “Ah me, my child, of all men most ill-fated, Persephone, the daughter of Zeus, doth in no wise deceive thee, but even on this wise it is with mortals when they die. For the sinews no more bind together the flesh and the bones, but the great force of burning fire abolishes these, so soon as the life hath left the white bones, and the spirit like a dream flies forth and hovers near. But haste with all thine heart toward the sunlight, and mark all this, that even hereafter thou mayest tell it to thy wife.”
‘Thus we twain held discourse together; and lo, the women came up, for the high goddess Persephone sent them forth, all they that had been the wives and daughters of mighty men. And they gathered and flocked about the black blood, and I took counsel how I might question them each one. And this was the counsel that showed best in my sight. I drew my long hanger from my stalwart thigh, and suffered them not all at one time to drink of the dark blood. So they drew nigh one by one, and each declared her lineage, and I made question of all.
‘Then verily did I first see Tyro, sprung of a noble sire, who said that she was the child of noble Salmoneus, and declared herself the wife of Cretheus, son of Aeolus. She loved a river, the divine Enipeus, far the fairest of the floods that run upon the earth, and she would resort to the fair streams of Enipeus. And it came to pass that the girdler of the world, the Earth-shaker, put on the shape of the god, and lay by the lady at the mouths of the whirling stream. Then the dark wave stood around them like a hill-side bowed, and hid the god and the mortal woman. And he undid her maiden girdle, and shed a slumber over her. Now when the god had done the work of love, he clasped her hand and spake and hailed her:
‘“Woman, be glad in our love, and when the year comes round thou shalt give birth to glorious children — for not weak are the embraces of the gods — and do thou keep and cherish them. And now go home and hold thy peace, and tell it not: but behold, I am Poseidon, shaker of the earth.”
‘Therewith he plunged beneath the heaving deep. And she conceived and bare Pelias and Neleus, who both grew to be mighty men, servants of Zeus. Pelias dwelt in wide Iolcos, and was rich in flocks; and that other abode in sandy Pylos. And the queen of women bare yet other sons to Cretheus, even Aeson and Pheres and Amythaon, whose joy was in chariots.
‘And after her I saw Antiope, daughter of Asopus, and her boast was that she had slept even in the arms of Zeus, and she bare two sons, Amphion and Zethus, who founded first the place of seven-gated Thebes, and they made of it a fenced city, for they might not dwell in spacious Thebes unfenced, for all their valiancy.
‘Next to her I saw Alcmene, wife of Amphitryon, who lay in the arms of mighty Zeus, and bare Heracles of the lion-heart, steadfast in the fight. And I saw Megara, daughter of Creon, haughty of heart, whom the strong and tireless son of Amphitryon had to wife.
‘And I saw the mother of Oedipodes, fair Epicaste, who wrought a dread deed unwittingly, being wedded to her own son, and he that had slain his own father wedded her, and straightway the gods made these things known to men. Yet he abode in pain in pleasant Thebes, ruling the Cadmaeans, by reason of the deadly counsels of the gods. But she went down to the house of Hades, the mighty warder; yea, she tied a noose from the high beam aloft, being fast holden in sorrow; while for him she left pains behind full many, even all that the Avengers of a mother bring to pass.
‘And I saw lovely Chloris, whom Neleus wedded on a time for her beauty, and brought gifts of wooing past number. She was the youngest daughter of Amphion, son of Iasus, who once ruled mightily in Minyan Orchomenus. And she was queen of Pylos, and bare glorious children to her lord, Nestor and Chromius, and princely Periclymenus, and stately Pero too, the wonder of all men. All that dwelt around were her wooers; but Neleus would not give her, save to him who should drive off from Phylace the kine of mighty Iphicles, with shambling gait and broad of brow, hard cattle to drive. And none but the noble seer [[18|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 18]] took in hand to drive them; but a grievous fate from the gods fettered him, even hard bonds and the herdsmen of the wild. But when at length the months and days were being fulfilled, as the year returned upon his course, and the seasons came round, then did mighty Iphicles set him free, when he had spoken out all the oracles; and herein was the counsel of Zeus being accomplished.
‘And I saw Lede, the famous bed-fellow of Tyndareus, who bare to Tyndareus two sons, hardy of heart, Castor tamer of steeds, and Polydeuces the boxer. These twain yet live, but the quickening earth is over them; and even in the nether world they have honour at the hand of Zeus. And they possess their life in turn, living one day and dying the next, and they have gotten worship even as the gods.
‘And after her I beheld Iphimedeia, bed-fellow of Aloeus, who said that she had lain with Poseidon, and she bare children twain, but short of life were they, godlike Otus and far-famed Ephialtes. Now these were the tallest men that earth, the graingiver, ever reared, and far the goodliest after the renowned Orion. At nine seasons old they were of breadth nine cubits, and nine fathoms in height. They it was who threatened to raise even against the immortals in Olympus the din of stormy war. They strove to pile Ossa on Olympus, and on Ossa Pelion with the trembling forest leaves, that there might be a pathway to the sky. Yea, and they would have accomplished it, had they reached the full measure of manhood. But the son of Zeus, whom Leto of the fair locks bare, destroyed the twain, ere the down had bloomed beneath their temples, and darkened their chins with the blossom of youth.
‘And Phaedra and Procris I saw, and fair Ariadne, the daughter of wizard Minos, whom Theseus on a time was bearing from Crete to the hill of sacred Athens, yet had he no joy of her; for Artemis slew her ere that in sea-girt Dia, by reason of the witness of Dionysus.
‘And Maera and Clymene I saw, and hateful Eriphyle, who took fine gold for the price of her dear lord’s life. But I cannot tell or name all the wives and daughters of the heroes that I saw; ere that, the immortal night would wane. Nay, it is even now time to sleep, whether I go to the swift ship to my company or abide here: and for my convoy you and the gods will care.’
So spake he, and dead silence fell on all, and they were spell-bound throughout the shadowy halls. Then Arete of the white arms first spake among them: ‘Phaeacians, what think you of this man for comeliness and stature, and within for wisdom of heart? Moreover he is my guest, though every one of you hath his share in this honour. Wherefore haste not to send him hence, and stint not these your gifts for one that stands in such sore need of them; for ye have much treasure stored in your halls by the grace of the gods.’
Then too spake among them the old man, lord Echeneus, that was an elder among the Phaeacians: ‘Friends, behold, the speech of our wise queen is not wide of the mark, nor far from our deeming, so hearken ye thereto. But on Alcinous here both word and work depend.’
Then Alcinous made answer, and spake unto him: ‘Yea, the word that she hath spoken shall hold, if indeed I am yet to live and bear rule among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar. Howbeit let the stranger, for all his craving to return, nevertheless endure to abide until the morrow, till I make up the full measure of the gift; and men shall care for his convoy, all men, but I in chief, for mine is the lordship in the land.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: My lord Alcinous, most notable of all the people, if ye bade me tarry here even for a year, and would speed my convoy and give me splendid gifts, even that I would choose; and better would it be for me to come with a fuller hand to mine own dear country, so should I get more love and worship in the eyes of all men, whoso should see me after I was returned to Ithaca.’
And Alcinous answered him, saying: ‘Odysseus, in no wise do we deem thee, we that look on thee, to be a knave or a cheat, even as the dark earth rears many such broadcast, fashioning lies whence none can even see his way therein. But beauty crowns thy words, and wisdom is within thee; and thy tale, as when a minstrel sings, thou hast told with skill, the weary woes of all the Argives and of thine own self. But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all. Didst thou see any of thy godlike company who went up at the same time with thee to Ilios and there met their doom? Behold, the night is of great length, unspeakable, and the time for sleep in the hall is not yet; tell me therefore of those wondrous deeds. I could abide even till the bright dawn, so long as thou couldst endure to rehearse me these woes of thine in the hall.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: ‘My lord Alcinous, most notable of all the people, there is a time for many words and there is a time for sleep. But if thou art eager still to listen, I would not for my part grudge to tell thee of other things more pitiful still, even the woes of my comrades, those that perished afterward, for they had escaped with their lives from the dread war-cry of the Trojans, but perished in returning by the will of an evil woman.
‘Now when holy Persephone had scattered this way and that the spirits of the women folk, thereafter came the soul of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, sorrowing; and round him others were gathered, the ghosts of them who had died with him in the house of Aegisthus and met their doom. And he knew me straightway when he had drunk the dark blood, yea, and he wept aloud, and shed big tears as he stretched forth his hands in his longing to reach me. But it might not be, for he had now no steadfast strength nor power at all in moving, such as was aforetime in his supple limbs.
‘At the sight of him I wept and was moved with compassion, and uttering my voice, spake to him winged words: “Most renowned son of Atreus, Agamemnon, king of men, say what doom overcame thee of death that lays men at their length? Did Poseidon smite thee in thy ships, raising the dolorous blast of contrary winds, or did unfriendly men do thee hurt upon the land, whilst thou wert cutting off their oxen and fair flocks of sheep, or fighting to win a city and the women thereof?”
‘So spake I, and straightway he answered, and said unto me: “Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, it was not Poseidon that smote me in my ships, and raised the dolorous blast of contrary winds, nor did unfriendly men do me hurt upon the land, but Aegisthus it was that wrought me death and doom and slew me, with the aid of my accursed wife, as one slays an ox at the stall, after he had bidden me to his house, and entertained me at a feast. Even so I died by a death most pitiful, and round me my company likewise were slain without ceasing, like swine with glittering tusks which are slaughtered in the house of a rich and mighty man, whether at a wedding banquet or a joint-feast or a rich clan-drinking. Ere now hast thou been at the slaying of many a man, killed in single fight or in strong battle, yet thou wouldst have sorrowed the most at this sight, how we lay in the hall round the mixing-bowl and the laden boards, and the floor all ran with blood. And most pitiful of all that I heard was the voice of the daughter of Priam, of Cassandra, whom hard by me the crafty Clytemnestra slew. Then I strove to raise my hands as I was dying upon the sword, but to earth they fell. And that shameless one turned her back upon me, and had not the heart to draw down my eyelids with her fingers nor to close my mouth. So surely is there nought more terrible and shameless than a woman who imagines such evil in her heart, even as she too planned a foul deed, fashioning death for her wedded lord. Verily I had thought to come home most welcome to my children and my thralls; but she, out of the depth of her evil knowledge, hath shed shame on herself and on all womankind, which shall be for ever, even on the upright.”
‘Even so he spake, but I answered him, saying: “Lo now, in very sooth, hath Zeus of the far-borne voice wreaked wondrous hatred on the seed of Atreus through the counsels of woman from of old. For Helen’s sake so many of us perished, and now Clytemnestra hath practised treason against thee, while yet thou wast afar off.”
‘Even so I spake, and anon he answered me, saying: “Wherefore do thou too, never henceforth be soft even to thy wife, neither show her all the counsel that thou knowest, but a part declare and let part be hid. Yet shalt not thou, Odysseus, find death at the hand of thy wife, for she is very discreet and prudent in all her ways, the wise Penelope, daughter of Icarius. Verily we left her a bride new wed when we went to the war, and a child was at her breast, who now, methinks, sits in the ranks of men, happy in his lot, for his dear father shall behold him on his coming, and he shall embrace his sire as is meet. But us for my wife, she suffered me not so much as to have my fill of gazing on my son; ere that she slew me, even her lord. And yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. Put thy ship to land in secret, and not openly, on the shore of thy dear country; for there is no more faith in woman. But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all, if haply ye hear of my son as yet living, either, it may be, in Orchomenus or in sandy Pylos, or perchance with Menelaus in wide Sparta, for goodly Orestes hath not yet perished on the earth.”
‘Even so he spake, but I answered him, saying: “Son of Atreus, wherefore dost thou ask me straitly of these things? Nay I know not at all, whether he be alive or dead; it is ill to speak words light as wind.”
‘Thus we twain stood sorrowing, holding sad discourse, while the big tears fell fast: and therewithal came the soul of Achilles, son of Peleus, and of Patroclus and of noble Antilochus and of Aias, who in face and form was goodliest of all the Danaans, after the noble son of Peleus. And the spirit of the son of Aeacus, fleet of foot, knew me again, and making lament spake to me winged words:
‘“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, man overbold, what new deed and hardier than this wilt thou devise in thy heart? How durst thou come down to the house of Hades, where dwell the senseless dead, the phantoms of men outworn?”
‘So he spake, but I answered him: “Achilles, son of Peleus, mightiest far of the Achaeans, I am come hither to seek to Teiresias, if he may tell me any counsel, how I may come to rugged Ithaca. For not yet have I come nigh the Achaean land, nor set foot on mine own soil, but am still in evil case; while as for thee, Achilles, none other than thou wast heretofore the most blessed of men, nor shall any be hereafter. For of old, in the days of thy life, we Argives gave thee one honour with the gods, and now thou art a great prince here among the dead. Wherefore let not thy death be any grief to thee, Achilles.”
‘Even so I spake, and he straightway answered me, and said: “Nay, speak not comfortably to me of death, oh great Odysseus. Rather would I live on ground [[19|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 19]] as the hireling of another, with a landless man who had no great livelihood, than bear sway among all the dead that be departed. But come, tell me tidings of that lordly son of mine — did he follow to the war to be a leader or not? And tell me of noble Peleus, if thou hast heard aught — is he yet held in worship among the Myrmidons, or do they dishonour him from Hellas to Phthia, for that old age binds him hand and foot? For I am no longer his champion under the sun, so mighty a man as once I was, when in wide Troy I slew the best of the host, and succoured the Argives. Ah! could I but come for an hour to my father’s house as then I was, so would I make my might and hands invincible, to be hateful to many an one of those who do him despite and keep him from his honour.”
‘Even so he spake, but I answered him saying: “As for noble Peleus, verily I have heard nought of him; but concerning thy dear son Neoptolemus, I will tell thee all the truth, according to thy word. It was I that led him up out of Scyros in my good hollow ship, in the wake of the goodly-greaved Achaeans. Now oft as we took counsel around Troy town, he was ever the first to speak, and no word missed the mark; the godlike Nestor and I alone surpassed him. But whensoever we Achaeans did battle on the plain of Troy, he never tarried behind in the throng or the press of men, but ran out far before us all, yielding to none in that might of his. And many men he slew in warfare dread; but I could not tell of all or name their names, even all the host he slew in succouring the Argives; but, ah, how he smote with the sword that son of Telephus, the hero Eurypylus, and many Ceteians [[20|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 20]] of his company were slain around him, by reason of a woman’s bribe. He truly was the comeliest man that ever I saw, next to goodly Memnon. And again when we, the best of the Argives, were about to go down into the horse which Epeus wrought, and the charge of all was laid on me, both to open the door of our good ambush and to shut the same, then did the other princes and counsellors of the Danaans wipe away the tears, and the limbs of each one trembled beneath him, but never once did I see thy son’s fair face wax pale, nor did he wipe the tears from his cheeks: but he besought me often to let him go forth from the horse, and kept handling his sword-hilt, and his heavy bronze-shod spear, and he was set on mischief against the Trojans. But after we had sacked the steep city of Priam, he embarked unscathed with his share of the spoil, and with a noble prize; he was not smitten with the sharp spear, and got no wound in close fight: and many such chances there be in war, for Ares rageth confusedly.”
‘So I spake, and the spirit of the son of Aeacus, fleet of foot, passed with great strides along the mead of asphodel, rejoicing in that I had told him of his son’s renown.
‘But lo, other spirits of the dead that be departed stood sorrowing, and each one asked of those that were dear to them. The soul of Aias, son of Telamon, alone stood apart being still angry for the victory wherein I prevailed against him, in the suit by the ships concerning the arms of Achilles, that his lady mother had set for a prize; and the sons of the Trojans made award and Pallas Athene. Would that I had never prevailed and won such a prize! So goodly a head hath the earth closed over, for the sake of those arms, even over Aias, who in beauty and in feats of war was of a mould above all the other Danaans, next to the noble son of Peleus. To him then I spake softly, saying:
‘“Aias, son of noble Telamon, so art thou not even in death to forget thy wrath against me, by reason of those arms accursed, which the gods set to be the bane of the Argives? What a tower of strength fell in thy fall, and we Achaeans cease not to sorrow for thee, even as for the life of Achilles, son of Peleus! Nay, there is none other to blame, but Zeus, who hath borne wondrous hate to the army of the Danaan spearsmen, and laid on thee thy doom. Nay, come hither, my lord, that thou mayest hear my word and my speech; master thy wrath and thy proud spirit.”
‘So I spake, but he answered me not a word and passed to Erebus after the other spirits of the dead that be departed. Even then, despite his anger, would he have spoken to me or I to him, but my heart within me was minded to see the spirits of those others that were departed.
‘There then I saw Minos, glorious son of Zeus, wielding a golden sceptre, giving sentence from his throne to the dead, while they sat and stood around the prince, asking his dooms through the wide-gated house of Hades.
‘And after him I marked the mighty Orion driving the wild beasts together over the mead of asphodel, the very beasts that himself had slain on the lonely hills, with a strong mace all of bronze in his hands, [[21|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 21]] that is ever unbroken.
‘And I saw Tityos, son of renowned Earth, lying on a levelled ground, and he covered nine roods as he lay, and vultures twain beset him one on either side, and gnawed at his liver, piercing even to the caul, but he drave them not away with his hands. For he had dealt violently with Leto, the famous bedfellow of Zeus, as she went up to Pytho through the fair lawns of Panopeus.
‘Moreover I beheld Tantalus in grievous torment, standing in a mere and the water came nigh unto his chin. And he stood straining as one athirst, but he might not attain to the water to drink of it. For often as that old man stooped down in his eagerness to drink, so often the water was swallowed up and it vanished away, and the black earth still showed at his feet, for some god parched it evermore. And tall trees flowering shed their fruit overhead, pears and pomegranates and apple trees with bright fruit, and sweet figs and olives in their bloom, whereat when that old man reached out his hands to clutch them, the wind would toss them to the shadowy clouds.
‘Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with hands and feet, and trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill. But oft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him back, so once again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing. And he once more kept heaving and straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his head.
‘And after him I descried the mighty Heracles, his phantom, I say; but as for himself he hath joy at the banquet among the deathless gods, and hath to wife Hebe of the fair ankles, child of great Zeus, and of Here of the golden sandals. And all about him there was a clamour of the dead, as it were fowls flying every way in fear, and he like black Night, with bow uncased, and shaft upon the string, fiercely glancing around, like one in the act to shoot. And about his breast was an awful belt, a baldric of gold, whereon wondrous things were wrought, bears and wild boars and lions with flashing eyes, and strife and battles and slaughters and murders of men. Nay, now that he hath fashioned this, never another may he fashion, whoso stored in his craft the device of that belt! And anon he knew me when his eyes beheld me, and making lament he spake unto me winged words:
‘“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices: ah! wretched one, dost thou too lead such a life of evil doom, as I endured beneath the rays of the sun? I was the son of Zeus Cronion, yet had I trouble beyond measure, for I was subdued unto a man far worse than I. And he enjoined on me hard adventures, yea and on a time he sent me hither to bring back the hound of hell; for he devised no harder task for me than this. I lifted the hound and brought him forth from out of the house of Hades; and Hermes sped me on my way and the grey-eyed Athene.”
‘Therewith he departed again into the house of Hades, but I abode there still, if perchance some one of the hero folk besides might come, who died in old time. Yea and I should have seen the men of old, whom I was fain to look on, Theseus and Peirithous, renowned children of the gods. But ere that might be the myriad tribes of the dead thronged up together with wondrous clamour: and pale fear gat hold of me, lest the high goddess Persephone should send me the head of the Gorgon, that dread monster, from out of Hades.
‘Straightway then I went to the ship, and bade my men mount the vessel, and loose the hawsers. So speedily they went on board, and sat upon the benches. And the wave of the flood bore the barque down the stream of Oceanus, we rowing first, and afterwards the fair wind was our convoy.
//Odysseus, his passage by the Sirens, and by Scylla and Charybdis. The sacrilege committed by his men in the isle Thrinacia. The destruction of his ships and men. How he swam on a plank nine days together, and came to Ogygia, where he stayed seven years with Calypso.//
‘Now after the ship had left the stream of the river Oceanus, and was come to the wave of the wide sea, and the isle Aeaean, where is the dwelling place of early Dawn and her dancing grounds, and the land of sunrising, upon our coming thither we beached the ship in the sand, and ourselves too stept ashore on the sea beach. There we fell on sound sleep and awaited the bright Dawn.
‘So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, I sent forth my fellows to the house of Circe to fetch the body of the dead Elpenor. And speedily we cut billets of wood and sadly we buried him, where the furthest headland runs out into the sea, shedding big tears. But when the dead man was burned and the arms of the dead, we piled a barrow and dragged up thereon a pillar, and on the topmost mound we set the shapen oar.
‘Now all that task we finished, and our coming from out of Hades was not unknown to Circe, but she arrayed herself and speedily drew nigh, and her handmaids with her bare flesh and bread in plenty and dark red wine. And the fair goddess stood in the midst and spake in our ears, saying:
‘“Men overbold, who have gone alive into the house of Hades, to know death twice, while all men else die once for all. Nay come, eat ye meat and drink wine here all day long; and with the breaking of the day ye shall set sail, and myself I will show you the path and declare each thing, that ye may not suffer pain or hurt through any grievous ill-contrivance by sea or on the land.”
‘So spake she, and our lordly souls consented thereto. Thus for that time we sat the livelong day, until the going down of the sun, feasting on abundant flesh and on sweet wine. Now when the sun sank and darkness came on, my company laid them to rest by the hawsers of the ship. Then she took me by the hand and led me apart from my dear company, and made me to sit down and laid herself at my feet, and asked all my tale. And I told her all in order duly. Then at the last the Lady Circe spake unto me, saying:
‘“Even so, now all these things have an end; do thou then hearken even as I tell thee, and the god himself shall bring it back to thy mind. To the Sirens first shalt thou come, who bewitch all men, whosoever shall come to them. Whoso draws nigh them unwittingly and hears the sound of the Sirens’ voice, never doth he see wife or babes stand by him on his return, nor have they joy at his coming; but the Sirens enchant him with their clear song, sitting in the meadow, and all about is a great heap of bones of men, corrupt in death, and round the bones the skin is wasting. But do thou drive thy ship past, and knead honey-sweet wax, and anoint therewith the ears of thy company, lest any of the rest hear the song; but if thou myself art minded to hear, let them bind thee in the swift ship hand and foot, upright in the mast-stead, and from the mast let rope-ends be tied, that with delight thou mayest hear the voice of the Sirens. And if thou shalt beseech thy company and bid them to loose thee, then let them bind thee with yet more bonds. But when thy friends have driven thy ship past these, I will not tell thee fully which path shall thenceforth be thine, but do thou thyself consider it, and I will speak to thee of either way. On the one side there are beetling rocks, and against them the great wave roars of dark-eyed Amphitrite. These, ye must know, are they the blessed gods call the Rocks Wandering. By this way even winged things may never pass, nay, not even the cowering doves that bear ambrosia to Father Zeus, but the sheer rock evermore takes away one even of these, and the Father sends in another to make up the tale. Thereby no ship of men ever escapes that comes thither, but the planks of ships and the bodies of men confusedly are tossed by the waves of the sea and the storms of ruinous fire. One ship only of all that fare by sea hath passed that way, even Argo, that is in all men’s minds, on her voyage from Aeetes. And even her the wave would lightly have cast there upon the mighty rocks, but Here sent her by for love of Jason.
‘“On the other part are two rocks, whereof the one reaches with sharp peak to the wide heaven, and a dark cloud encompasses it; this never streams away, and there is no clear air about the peak neither in summer nor in harvest tide. No mortal man may scale it or set foot thereon, not though he had twenty hands and feet. For the rock is smooth, and sheer, as it were polished. And in the midst of the cliff is a dim cave turned to Erebus, towards the place of darkness, whereby ye shall even steer your hollow ship, noble Odysseus. Not with an arrow from a bow might a man in his strength reach from his hollow ship into that deep cave. And therein dwelleth Scylla, yelping terribly. Her voice indeed is no greater than the voice of a new-born whelp, but a dreadful monster is she, nor would any look on her gladly, not if it were a god that met her. Verily she hath twelve feet all dangling down; and six necks exceeding long, and on each a hideous head, and therein three rows of teeth set thick and close, full of black death. Up to her middle is she sunk far down in the hollow cave, but forth she holds her heads from the dreadful gulf, and there she fishes, swooping round the rock, for dolphins or sea-dogs, or whatso greater beast she may anywhere take, whereof the deep-voiced Amphitrite feeds countless flocks. Thereby no sailors boast that they have fled scatheless ever with their ship, for with each head she carries off a man, whom she hath snatched from out the dark-prowed ship.
‘“But that other cliff, Odysseus, thou shalt note, lying lower, hard by the first: thou couldest send an arrow across. And thereon is a great fig-tree growing, in fullest leaf, and beneath it mighty Charybdis sucks down black water, for thrice a day she spouts it forth, and thrice a day she sucks it down in terrible wise. Never mayest thou be there when she sucks the water, for none might save thee then from thy bane, not even the Earth–Shaker! But take heed and swiftly drawing nigh to Scylla’s rock drive the ship past, since of a truth it is far better to mourn six of thy company in the ship, than all in the selfsame hour.”
‘So spake she, but I answered, and said unto her: “Come I pray thee herein, goddess, tell me true, if there be any means whereby I might escape from the deadly Charybdis and avenge me on that other, when she would prey upon my company.”
‘So spake I, and that fair goddess answered me: “Man overbold, lo, now again the deeds of war are in thy mind and the travail thereof. Wilt thou not yield thee even to the deathless gods? As for her, she is no mortal, but an immortal plague, dread, grievous, and fierce, and not to be fought with; and against her there is no defence; flight is the bravest way. For if thou tarry to do on thine armour by the cliff, I fear lest once again she sally forth and catch at thee with so many heads, and seize as many men as before. So drive past with all thy force, and call on Cratais, mother of Scylla, which bore her for a bane to mortals. And she will then let her from darting forth thereafter.
‘“Then thou shalt come unto the isle Thrinacia; there are the many kine of Helios and his brave flocks feeding, seven herds of kine and as many goodly flocks of sheep, and fifty in each flock. They have no part in birth or in corruption, and there are goddesses to shepherd them, nymphs with fair tresses, Phaethusa and Lampetie whom bright Neaera bare to Helios Hyperion. Now when the lady their mother had borne and nursed them, she carried them to the isle Thrinacia to dwell afar, that they should guard their father’s flocks and his kine with shambling gait. If thou doest these no hurt, being heedful of thy return, truly ye may even yet reach Ithaca, albeit in evil case. But if thou hurtest them, I foreshow ruin for thy ship and for thy men, and even though thou shouldest thyself escape, late shalt thou return in evil plight with the loss of all thy company.”
‘So spake she, and anon came the golden-throned Dawn. Then the fair goddess took her way up the island. But I departed to my ship and roused my men themselves to mount the vessel and loose the hawsers. And speedily they went aboard and sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with their oars. And in the wake of our dark-prowed ship she sent a favouring wind that filled the sails, a kindly escort — even Circe of the braided tresses, a dread goddess of human speech. And straightway we set in order the gear throughout the ship and sat us down, and the wind and the helmsman guided our barque.
‘Then I spake among my company with a heavy heart: “Friends, forasmuch as it is not well that one or two alone should know of the oracles that Circe, the fair goddess, spake unto me, therefore will I declare them, that with foreknowledge we may die, or haply shunning death and destiny escape. First she bade us avoid the sound of the voice of the wondrous Sirens, and their field of flowers, and me only she bade listen to their voices. So bind ye me in a hard bond, that I may abide unmoved in my place, upright in the mast-stead, and from the mast let rope-ends be tied, and if I beseech and bid you to set me free, then do ye straiten me with yet more bonds.”
‘Thus I rehearsed these things one and all, and declared them to my company. Meanwhile our good ship quickly came to the island of the Sirens twain, for a gentle breeze sped her on her way. Then straightway the wind ceased, and lo, there was a windless calm, and some god lulled the waves. Then my company rose up and drew in the ship’s sails, and stowed them in the hold of the ship, while they sat at the oars and whitened the water with their polished pine blades. But I with my sharp sword cleft in pieces a great circle of wax, and with my strong hands kneaded it. And soon the wax grew warm, for that my great might constrained it, and the beam of the lord Helios, son of Hyperion. And I anointed therewith the ears of all my men in their order, and in the ship they bound me hand and foot upright in the mast-stead, and from the mast they fastened rope-ends and themselves sat down, and smote the grey sea water with their oars. But when the ship was within the sound of a man’s shout from the land, we fleeing swiftly on our way, the Sirens espied the swift ship speeding toward them, and they raised their clear-toned song:
‘“Hither, come hither, renowned Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans, here stay thy barque, that thou mayest listen to the voice of us twain. For none hath ever driven by this way in his black ship, till he hath heard from our lips the voice sweet as the honeycomb, and hath had joy thereof and gone on his way the wiser. For lo, we know all things, all the travail that in wide Troy-land the Argives and Trojans bare by the gods’ designs, yea, and we know all that shall hereafter be upon the fruitful earth.”
‘So spake they uttering a sweet voice, and my heart was fain to listen, and I bade my company unbind me, nodding at them with a frown, but they bent to their oars and rowed on. Then straight uprose Perimedes and Eurylochus and bound me with more cords and straitened me yet the more. Now when we had driven past them, nor heard we any longer the sound of the Sirens or their song, forthwith my dear company took away the wax wherewith I had anointed their ears and loosed me from my bonds.
‘But so soon as we left that isle, thereafter presently I saw smoke and a great wave, and heard the sea roaring. Then for very fear the oars flew from their hands, and down the stream they all splashed, and the ship was holden there, for my company no longer plied with their hands the tapering oars. But I paced the ship and cheered on my men, as I stood by each one and spake smooth words:
‘“Friends, forasmuch as in sorrow we are not all unlearned, truly this is no greater woe that is upon us, [[22|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 22]] than when the Cyclops penned us by main might in his hollow cave; yet even thence we made escape by my manfulness, even by my counsel and my wit, and some day I think that this adventure too we shall remember. Come now, therefore, let us all give ear to do according to my word. Do ye smite the deep surf of the sea with your oars, as ye sit on the benches, if peradventure Zeus may grant us to escape from and shun this death. And as for thee, helmsman, thus I charge thee, and ponder it in thine heart seeing that thou wieldest the helm of the hollow ship. Keep the ship well away from this smoke and from the wave and hug the rocks, lest the ship, ere thou art aware, start from her course to the other side, and so thou hurl us into ruin.”
‘So I spake, and quickly they hearkened to my words. But of Scylla I told them nothing more, a bane none might deal with, lest haply my company should cease from rowing for fear, and hide them in the hold. In that same hour I suffered myself to forget the hard behest of Circe, in that she bade me in nowise be armed; but I did on my glorious harness and caught up two long lances in my hands, and went on the decking of the prow, for thence methought that Scylla of the rock would first be seen, who was to bring woe on my company. Yet could I not spy her anywhere, and my eyes waxed weary for gazing all about toward the darkness of the rock.
“Next we began to sail up the narrow strait lamenting. For on the one hand lay Scylla, and on the other mighty Charybdis in terrible wise sucked down the salt sea water. As often as she belched it forth, like a cauldron on a great fire she would seethe up through all her troubled deeps, and overhead the spray fell on the tops of either cliff. But oft as she gulped down the salt sea water, within she was all plain to see through her troubled deeps, and the rock around roared horribly and beneath the earth was manifest swart with sand, and pale fear gat hold on my men. Toward her, then, we looked fearing destruction; but Scylla meanwhile caught from out my hollow ship six of my company, the hardiest of their hands and the chief in might. And looking into the swift ship to find my men, even then I marked their feet and hands as they were lifted on high, and they cried aloud in their agony, and called me by my name for that last time of all. Even as when as fisher on some headland lets down with a long rod his baits for a snare to the little fishes below, casting into the deep the horn of an ox of the homestead, and as he catches each flings it writhing ashore, so writhing were they borne upward to the cliff. And there she devoured them shrieking in her gates, they stretching forth their hands to me in the dread death-struggle. And the most pitiful thing was this that mine eyes have seen of all my travail in searching out the paths of the sea.
‘Now when we had escaped the Rocks and dread Charybdis and Scylla, thereafter we soon came to the fair island of the god; where were the goodly kine, broad of brow, and the many brave flocks of Helios Hyperion. Then while as yet I was in my black ship upon the deep, I heard the lowing of the cattle being stalled and the bleating of the sheep, and on my mind there fell the saying of the blind seer, Theban Teiresias, and of Circe of Aia, who charged me very straitly to shun the isle of Helios, the gladdener of the world. Then I spake out among my company in sorrow of heart:
‘“Hear my words, my men, albeit in evil plight, that I may declare unto you the oracles of Teiresias and of Circe of Aia, who very straitly charged me to shun the isle of Helios, the gladdener of the world. For there she said the most dreadful mischief would befal us. Nay, drive ye then the black ship beyond and past that isle.”
‘So spake I, and their heart was broken within them. And Eurylochus straightway answered me sadly, saying:
‘“Hardy art thou, Odysseus, of might beyond measure, and thy limbs are never weary; verily thou art fashioned all of iron, that sufferest not thy fellows, foredone with toil and drowsiness, to set foot on shore, where we might presently prepare us a good supper in this sea-girt island. But even as we are thou biddest us fare blindly through the sudden night, and from the isle go wandering on the misty deep. And strong winds, the bane of ships, are born of the night. How could a man escape from utter doom, if there chanced to come a sudden blast of the South Wind, or of the boisterous West, which mainly wreck ships, beyond the will of the gods, the lords of all? Howbeit for this present let us yield to the black night, and we will make ready our supper abiding by the swift ship, and in the morning we will climb on board, and put out into the broad deep.”
‘So spake Eurylochus, and the rest of my company consented thereto. Then at the last I knew that some god was indeed imagining evil, and I uttered my voice and spake unto him winged words:
‘“Eurylochus, verily ye put force upon me, being but one among you all. But come, swear me now a mighty oath, one and all, to the intent that if we light on a herd of kine or a great flock of sheep, none in the evil folly of his heart may slay any sheep or ox; but in quiet eat ye the meat which the deathless Circe gave.”
‘So I spake, and straightway they swore to refrain as I commanded them. Now after they had sworn and done that oath, we stayed our well-builded ship in the hollow harbour near to a well of sweet water, and my company went forth from out the ship and deftly got ready supper. But when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, thereafter they fell a weeping as they thought upon their dear companions whom Scylla had snatched from out the hollow ship and so devoured. And deep sleep came upon them amid their weeping. And when it was the third watch of the night, and the stars had crossed the zenith, Zeus the cloud-gatherer roused against them an angry wind with wondrous tempest, and shrouded in clouds land and sea alike, and from heaven sped down the night. Now when early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, we beached the ship, and dragged it up within a hollow cave, where were the fair dancing grounds of the nymphs and the places of their session. Thereupon I ordered a gathering of my men and spake in their midst, saying:
‘“Friends, forasmuch as there is yet meat and drink in the swift ship, let us keep our hands off those kine, lest some evil thing befal us. For these are the kine and the brave flocks of a dread god, even of Helios, who overseeth all and overheareth all things.”
‘So I spake, and their lordly spirit hearkened thereto. Then for a whole month the South Wind blew without ceasing, and no other wind arose, save only the East and the South.
‘Now so long as my company still had corn and red wine, they refrained them from the kine, for they were fain of life. But when the corn was now all spent from out the ship, and they went wandering with barbed hooks in quest of game, as needs they must, fishes and fowls, whatsoever might come to their hand, for hunger gnawed at their belly, then at last I departed up the isle, that I might pray to the gods, if perchance some one of them might show me a way of returning. And now when I had avoided my company on my way through the island, I laved my hands where was a shelter from the wind, and prayed to all the gods that hold Olympus. But they shed sweet sleep upon my eyelids. And Eurylochus the while set forth an evil counsel to my company:
‘“Hear my words, my friends, though ye be in evil case. Truly every shape of death is hateful to wretched mortals, but to die of hunger and so meet doom is most pitiful of all. Nay come, we will drive off the best of the kine of Helios and will do sacrifice to the deathless gods who keep wide heaven. And if we may yet reach Ithaca, our own country, forthwith will we rear a rich shrine to Helios Hyperion, and therein would we set many a choice offering. But if he be somewhat wroth for his cattle with straight horns, and is fain to wreck our ship, and the other gods follow his desire, rather with one gulp at the wave would I cast my life away, than be slowly straitened to death in a desert isle.”
‘So spake Eurylochus, and the rest of the company consented thereto. Forthwith they drave off the best of the kine of Helios that were nigh at hand, for the fair kine of shambling gait and broad of brow were feeding no great way from the dark-prowed ship. Then they stood around the cattle and prayed to the gods, plucking the fresh leaves from an oak of lofty boughs, for they had no white barley on board the decked ship. Now after they had prayed and cut the throats of the kine and flayed them, they cut out slices of the thighs and wrapped them in the fat, making a double fold, and thereon they laid raw flesh. Yet had they no pure wine to pour over the flaming sacrifices, but they made libation with water and roasted the entrails over the fire. Now after the thighs were quite consumed and they had tasted the inner parts, they cut the rest up small and spitted it on spits. In the same hour deep sleep sped from my eyelids and I sallied forth to the swift ship and the sea-banks. But on my way as I drew near to the curved ship, the sweet savour of the fat came all about me; and I groaned and spake out before the deathless gods:
‘“Father Zeus, and all ye other blessed gods that live for ever, verily to my undoing ye have lulled me with a ruthless sleep, and my company abiding behind have imagined a monstrous deed.”
‘Then swiftly to Helios Hyperion came Lampetie of the long robes, with the tidings that we had slain his kine. And straight he spake with angry heart amid the Immortals:
‘“Father Zeus, and all ye other blessed gods that live for ever, take vengeance I pray you on the company of Odysseus, son of Laertes, that have insolently slain my cattle, wherein I was wont to be glad as I went toward the starry heaven, and when I again turned earthward from the firmament. And if they pay me not full atonement for the cattle, I will go down to Hades and shine among the dead.”
‘And Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him, saying: “Helios, do thou, I say, shine on amidst the deathless gods, and amid mortal men upon the earth, the grain-giver. But as for me, I will soon smite their swift ship with my white bolt, and cleave it in pieces in the midst of the wine-dark deep.”
‘This I heard from Calypso of the fair hair; and she said that she herself had heard it from Hermes the Messenger.
‘But when I had come down to the ship and to the sea, I went up to my companions and rebuked them one by one; but we could find no remedy, the cattle were dead and gone. And soon thereafter the gods showed forth signs and wonders to my company. The skins were creeping, and the flesh bellowing upon the spits, both the roast and raw, and there was a sound as the voice of kine.
‘Then for six days my dear company feasted on the best of the kine of Helios which they had driven off. But when Zeus, son of Cronos, had added the seventh day thereto, thereafter the wind ceased to blow with a rushing storm, and at once we climbed the ship and launched into the broad deep, when we had set up the mast and hoisted the white sails.
‘But now when we left that isle nor any other land appeared, but sky and sea only, even then the son of Cronos stayed a dark cloud above the hollow ship, and beneath it the deep darkened. And the ship ran on her way for no long while, for of a sudden came the shrilling West, with the rushing of a great tempest, and the blast of wind snapped the two forestays of the mast, and the mast fell backward and all the gear dropped into the bilge. And behold, on the hind part of the ship the mast struck the head of the pilot and brake all the bones of his skull together, and like a diver he dropt down from the deck, and his brave spirit left his bones. In that same hour Zeus thundered and cast his bolt upon the ship, and she reeled all over being stricken by the bolt of Zeus, and was filled with sulphur, and lo, my company fell from out the vessel. Like sea-gulls they were borne round the black ship upon the billows, and the god reft them of returning.
‘But I kept pacing through my ship, till the surge loosened the sides from the keel, and the wave swept her along stript of her tackling, and brake her mast clean off at the keel. Now the backstay fashioned of an oxhide had been flung thereon; therewith I lashed together both keel and mast, and sitting thereon I was borne by the ruinous winds.
‘Then verily the West Wind ceased to blow with a rushing storm, and swiftly withal the South Wind came, bringing sorrow to my soul, that so I might again measure back that space of sea, the way to deadly Charybdis. All the night was I borne, but with the rising of the sun I came to the rock of Scylla, and to dread Charybdis. Now she had sucked down her salt sea water, when I was swung up on high to the tall fig-tree whereto I clung like a bat, and could find no sure rest for my feet nor place to stand, for the roots spread far below and the branches hung aloft out of reach, long and large, and overshadowed Charybdis. Steadfast I clung till she should spew forth mast and keel again; and late they came to my desire. At the hour when a man rises up from the assembly and goes to supper, one who judges the many quarrels of the young men that seek to him for law, at that same hour those timbers came forth to view from out Charybdis. And I let myself drop down hands and feet, and plunged heavily in the midst of the waters beyond the long timbers, and sitting on these I rowed hard with my hands. But the father of gods and of men suffered me no more to behold Scylla, else I should never have escaped from utter doom.
‘Thence for nine days was I borne, and on the tenth night the gods brought me nigh to the isle of Ogygia, where dwells Calypso of the braided tresses, an awful goddess of mortal speech, who took me in and entreated me kindly. But why rehearse all this tale? For even yesterday I told it to thee and to thy noble wife in thy house; and it liketh me not twice to tell a plain-told tale.’
//Odysseus, sleeping, is set ashore at Ithaca by the Phaeacians, and waking knows it not. Pallas, in the form of a shepherd, helps to hide his treasure. The ship that conveyed him is turned into a rock, and Odysseus by Pallas is instructed what to do, and transformed into an old beggarman.//
So spake he, and dead silence fell on all, and they were spell-bound throughout the shadowy halls. Thereupon Alcinous answered him, and spake, saying:
‘Odysseus, now that thou hast come to my high house with floor of bronze, never, methinks, shalt thou be driven from thy way ere thou returnest, though thou hast been sore afflicted. And for each man among you, that in these halls of mine drink evermore the dark wine of the elders, and hearken to the minstrel, this is my word and command. Garments for the stranger are already laid up in a polished coffer, with gold curiously wrought, and all other such gifts as the counsellors of the Phaeacians bare hither. Come now, let us each of us give him a great tripod and a cauldron, and we in turn will gather goods among the people and get us recompense; for it were hard that one man should give without repayment.’
So spake Alcinous, and the saying pleased them well. Then they went each one to his house to lay him down to rest; but so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, they hasted to the ship and bare the bronze, the joy of men. And the mighty king Alcinous himself went about the ship and diligently bestowed the gifts beneath the benches, that they might not hinder any of the crew in their rowing, when they laboured at their oars. Then they betook them to the house of Alcinous and fell to feasting. And the mighty king Alcinous sacrificed before them an ox to Zeus, the son of Cronos, that dwells in the dark clouds, who is lord of all. And when they had burnt the pieces of the thighs, they shared the glorious feast and made merry, and among them harped the divine minstrel Demodocus, whom the people honoured. But Odysseus would ever turn his head toward the splendour of the sun, as one fain to hasten his setting: for verily he was most eager to return. And as when a man longs for his supper, for whom all day long two dark oxen drag through the fallow field the jointed plough, yea and welcome to such an one the sunlight sinketh, that so he may get him to supper, for his knees wax faint by the way, even so welcome was the sinking of the sunlight to Odysseus. Then straight he spake among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar, and to Alcinous in chief he made known his word, saying:
‘My lord Alcinous, most notable of all the people, pour ye the drink offering, and send me safe upon my way, and as for you, fare ye well. For now have I all that my heart desired, an escort and loving gifts. May the gods of heaven give me good fortune with them, and may I find my noble wife in my home with my friends unharmed, while ye, for your part, abide here and make glad your wedded wives and children; and may the gods vouchsafe all manner of good, and may no evil come nigh the people!’
So spake he, and they all consented thereto and bade send the stranger on his way, in that he had spoken aright. Then the mighty Alcinous spake to the henchman: ‘Pontonous, mix the bowl and serve out the wine to all in the hall, that we may pray to Father Zeus, and send the stranger on his way to his own country.’
So spake he, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine, and served it to all in turn. And they poured forth before the blessed gods that keep wide heaven, even there as they sat. Then goodly Odysseus uprose, and placed in Arete’s hand the two-handled cup, and uttering his voice spake to her winged words:
‘Fare thee well, O queen, all the days of thy life, till old age come and death, that visit all mankind. But I go homeward, and do thou in this thy house rejoice in thy children and thy people and Alcinous the king.’
Therewith goodly Odysseus stept over the threshold. And with him the mighty Alcinous sent forth a henchman to guide him to the swift ship and the sea-banks. And Arete sent in this train certain maidens of her household, one bearing a fresh robe and a doublet, and another she joined to them to carry the strong coffer, and yet another bare bread and red wine. Now when they had come down to the ship and to the sea, straightway the good men of the escort took these things and laid them by in the hollow ship, even all the meat and drink. Then they strewed for Odysseus a rug and a sheet of linen, on the decks of the hollow ship, in the hinder part thereof, that he might sleep sound. Then he too climbed aboard and laid him down in silence, while they sat upon the benches, every man in order, and unbound the hawser from the pierced stone. So soon as they leant backwards and tossed the sea water with the oar blade, a deep sleep fell upon his eyelids, a sound sleep, very sweet, and next akin to death. And even as on a plain a yoke of four stallions comes springing all together beneath the lash, leaping high and speedily accomplishing the way, so leaped the stern of that ship, and the dark wave of the sounding sea rushed mightily in the wake, and she ran ever surely on her way, nor could a circling hawk keep pace with her, of winged things the swiftest. Even thus she lightly sped and cleft the waves of the sea, bearing a man whose counsel was as the counsel of the gods, one that erewhile had suffered much sorrow of heart, in passing through the wars of men, and the grievous waves; but for that time he slept in peace, forgetful of all that he had suffered.
So when the star came up, that is brightest of all, and goes ever heralding the light of early Dawn, even then did the seafaring ship draw nigh the island. There is in the land of Ithaca a certain haven of Phorcys, the ancient one of the sea, and thereby are two headlands of sheer cliff, which slope to the sea on the haven’s side and break the mighty wave that ill winds roll without, but within, the decked ships ride unmoored when once they have reached the place of anchorage. Now at the harbour’s head is a long-leaved olive tree, and hard by is a pleasant cave and shadowy, sacred to the nymphs, that are called the Naiads. And therein are mixing bowls and jars of stone, and there moreover do bees hive. And there are great looms of stone, whereon the nymphs weave raiment of purple stain, a marvel to behold, and therein are waters welling evermore. Two gates there are to the cave, the one set toward the North Wind whereby men may go down, but the portals toward the South pertain rather to the gods, whereby men may not enter: it is the way of the immortals.
Thither they, as having knowledge of that place, let drive their ship; and now the vessel in full course ran ashore, half her keel’s length high; so well was she sped by the hands of the oarsmen. Then they alighted from the benched ship upon the land, and first they lifted Odysseus from out the hollow ship, all as he was in the sheet of linen and the bright rug, and laid him yet heavy with slumber on the sand. And they took forth the goods which the lordly Phaeacians had given him on his homeward way by grace of the great-hearted Athene. These they set in a heap by the trunk of the olive tree, a little aside from the road, lest some wayfaring man, before Odysseus awakened, should come and spoil them. Then themselves departed homeward again. But the shaker of the earth forgat not the threats, wherewith at the first he had threatened god like Odysseus, and he inquired into the counsel of Zeus, saying:
‘Father Zeus, I for one shall no longer be of worship among the deathless gods, when mortal men hold me in no regard, even Phaeacians, who moreover are of mine own lineage. Lo, now I said that after much affliction Odysseus should come home, for I had no mind to rob him utterly of his return, when once thou hadst promised it and given assent; but behold, in his sleep they have borne him in a swift ship over the sea, and set him down in Ithaca, and given him gifts out of measure, bronze and gold in plenty and woven raiment, much store, such as never would Odysseus have won for himself out of Troy; yea, though he had returned unhurt with the share of the spoil that fell to him.’
And Zeus, the cloud gatherer, answered him saying: ‘Lo, now, shaker of the earth, of widest power, what a word hast thou spoken! The gods nowise dishonour thee; hard would it be to assail with dishonour our eldest and our best. But if any man, giving place to his own hardihood and strength, holds thee not in worship, thou hast always thy revenge for the same, even in the time to come. Do thou as thou wilt, and as seems thee good.’
Then Poseidon, shaker of the earth, answered him: ‘Straightway would I do even as thou sayest, O god of the dark clouds; but thy wrath I always hold in awe and avoid. Howbeit, now I fain would smite a fair ship of the Phaeacians, as she comes home from a convoy on the misty deep, that thereby they may learn to hold their hands, and cease from giving escort to men; and I would overshadow their city with a great mountain.’
And Zeus the gatherer of the clouds, answered him, saying: ‘Friend, learn now what seems best in my sight. At an hour when the folk are all looking forth from the city at the ship upon her way, smite her into a stone hard by the land; a stone in the likeness of a swift ship, that all mankind may marvel, and do thou overshadow their city with a great mountain.’
Now when Poseidon, shaker of the earth, heard this saying, he went on his way to Scheria, where the Phaeacians dwell. There he abode awhile; and lo, she drew near, the seafaring ship, lightly sped upon her way. Then nigh her came the shaker of the earth, and he smote her into a stone, and rooted her far below with the down-stroke of his hand; and he departed thence again.
Then one to the other they spake winged words, the Phaeacians of the long oars, mariners renowned. And thus would they speak, looking each man to his neighbour:
‘Ah me! who is this that fettered our swift ship on the deep as she drave homewards? Even now she stood full in sight.’
Even so they would speak; but they knew not how these things were ordained. And Alcinous made harangue and spake among them:
‘Lo now, in very truth the ancient oracles of my father have come home to me. He was wont to say that Poseidon was jealous of us, for that we give safe escort to all men. He said that the day would come when the god would smite a fair ship of the Phaeacians, as she came home from a convoy on the misty deep, and overshadow our city with a great mountain. Thus that ancient one would speak; and lo, all these things now have an end. But come, let us all give ear and do according to my word. Cease ye from the convoy of mortals, whensoever any shall come unto our town, and let us sacrifice to Poseidon twelve choice bulls, if perchance he may take pity, neither overshadow our city with a great mountain.’
So spake he, and they were dismayed and got ready the bulls. Thus were they praying to the lord Poseidon, the princes and counsellors of the land of the Phaeacians, as they stood about the altar.
Even then the goodly Odysseus awoke where he slept on his native land; nor knew he the same again, having now been long afar, for around him the goddess had shed a mist, even Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, to the end that she might make him undiscovered for that he was, and might expound to him all things, that so his wife should not know him neither his townsmen and kinsfolk, ere the wooers had paid for all their transgressions. Wherefore each thing showed strange to the lord of the land, the long paths and the sheltering havens and the steep rocks and the trees in their bloom. So he started up, and stood and looked upon his native land, and then he made moan withal, and smote on both his thighs with the down-stroke of his hands, and making lament, he spake, saying:
‘Oh, woe is me, unto what mortals’ land am I now come? Say, are they froward, and wild, and unjust, or hospitable and of a god-fearing mind? Whither do I bear all this treasure? Yea, where am I wandering myself? Oh that the treasure had remained with the Phaeacians where it was, so had I come to some other of the mighty princes, who would have entreated me kindly and sent me on my way. But now I know not where to bestow these things, nor yet will I leave them here behind, lest haply other men make spoil of them. Ah then, they are not wholly wise or just, the princes and counsellors of the Phaeacians, who carried me to a strange land. Verily they promised to bring me to clear-seen Ithaca, but they performed it not. May Zeus requite them, the god of suppliants, seeing that he watches over all men and punishes the transgressor! But come, I will reckon up these goods and look to them, lest the men be gone, and have taken aught away upon their hollow ship.’
Therewith he set to number the fair tripods and the cauldrons and the gold and the goodly woven raiment; and of all these he lacked not aught, but he bewailed him for his own country, as he walked downcast by the shore of the sounding sea, and made sore lament. Then Athene came nigh him in the guise of a young man, the herdsman of a flock, a young man most delicate, such as are the sons of kings. And she had a well-wrought mantle that fell in two folds about her shoulders, and beneath her smooth feet she had sandals bound, and a javelin in her hands. And Odysseus rejoiced as he saw her, and came over against her, and uttering his voice spake to her winged words:
‘Friend, since thou art the first that I have chanced on in this land, hail to thee, and with no ill-will mayest thou meet me! Nay, save this my substance and save me too, for to thee as to a god I make prayer, and to thy dear knees have I come. And herein tell me true, that I may surely know. What land, what people is this? what men dwell therein? Surely, methinks, it is some clear seen isle, or a shore of the rich mainland that lies and leans upon the deep.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: ‘Thou art witless, stranger, or thou art come from afar, if indeed thou askest of this land; nay, it is not so very nameless but that many men know it, both all those who dwell toward the dawning and the sun, and they that abide over against the light toward the shadowy west. Verily it is rough and not fit for the driving of horses, yet is it not a very sorry isle, though narrow withal. For herein is corn past telling, and herein too wine is found, and the rain is on it evermore, and the fresh dew. And it is good for feeding goats and feeding kine; all manner of wood is here, and watering-places unfailing are herein. Wherefore, stranger, the name of Ithaca hath reached even unto Troy-land, which men say is far from this Achaean shore.’
So spake she, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus was glad, and had joy in his own country, according to the word of Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis. And he uttered his voice and spake unto her winged words; yet he did not speak the truth, but took back the word that was on his lips, for quick and crafty was his wit within his breast:
‘Of Ithaca have I heard tell, even in broad Crete, far over the seas; and now have I come hither myself with these my goods. And I left as much again to my children, when I turned outlaw for the slaying of the dear son of Idomeneus, Orsilochus, swift of foot, who in wide Crete was the swiftest of all men that live by bread. Now he would have despoiled me of all that booty of Troy, for the which I had endured pain of heart, in passing through the wars of men, and the grievous waves of the sea, for this cause that I would not do a favour to his father, and make me his squire in the land of the Trojans, but commanded other fellowship of mine own. So I smote him with a bronze-shod spear as he came home from the field, lying in ambush for him by the wayside, with one of my companions. And dark midnight held the heavens, and no man marked us, but privily I took his life away. Now after I had slain him with the sharp spear, straightway I went to a ship and besought the lordly Phoenicians, and gave them spoil to their hearts’ desire. I charged them to take me on board, and land me at Pylos or at goodly Elis where the Epeans bear rule. Howbeit of a truth, the might of the wind drave them out of their course, sore against their will, nor did they wilfully play me false. Thence we were driven wandering, and came hither by night. And with much ado we rowed onward into harbour, nor took we any thought of supper, though we stood sore in need thereof, but even as we were we stept ashore and all lay down. Then over me there came sweet slumber in my weariness, but they took forth my goods from the hollow ship, and set them by me where I myself lay upon the sands. Then they went on board, and departed for the fair-lying land of Sidon; while as for me I was left stricken at heart.’
So spake he and the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, smiled, and caressed him with her hand; and straightway she changed to the semblance of a woman, fair and tall, and skilled in splendid handiwork. And uttering her voice she spake unto him winged words:
‘Crafty must he be, and knavish, who would outdo thee in all manner of guile, even if it were a god encountered thee. Hardy man, subtle of wit, of guile insatiate, so thou wast not even in thine own country to cease from thy sleights and knavish words, which thou lovest from the bottom of thine heart! But come, no more let us tell of these things, being both of us practised in deceits, for that thou art of all men far the first in counsel and in discourse, and I in the company of all the gods win renown for my wit and wile. Yet thou knewest not me, Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, who am always by thee and guard thee in all adventures. Yea, and I made thee to be beloved of all the Phaeacians. And now am I come hither to contrive a plot with thee and to hide away the goods, that by my counsel and design the noble Phaeacians gave thee on thy homeward way. And I would tell thee how great a measure of trouble thou art ordained to fulfil within thy well-builded house. But do thou harden thy heart, for so it must be, and tell none neither man nor woman of all the folk, that thou hast indeed returned from wandering, but in silence endure much sorrow, submitting thee to the despite of men.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Hard is it, goddess, for a mortal man that meets thee to discern thee, howsoever wise he be; for thou takest upon thee every shape. But this I know well, that of old thou wast kindly to me, so long as we sons of the Achaeans made war in Troy. But so soon as we had sacked the steep city of Priam and had gone on board our ships, and the god had scattered the Achaeans, thereafter I have never beheld thee, daughter of Zeus, nor seen thee coming on board my ship, to ward off sorrow from me — but I wandered evermore with a stricken heart, till the gods delivered me from my evil case — even till the day when, within the fat land of the men of Phaeacia, thou didst comfort me with thy words, and thyself didst lead me to their city. And now I beseech thee in thy father’s name to tell me: for I deem not that I am come to clear-seen Ithaca, but I roam over some other land, and methinks that thou speakest thus to mock me and beguile my mind. Tell me whether in very deed I am come to mine own dear country.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: ‘Yea, such a thought as this is ever in thy breast. Wherefore I may in no wise leave thee in thy grief, so courteous art thou, so ready of wit and so prudent. Right gladly would any other man on his return from wandering have hasted to behold his children and his wife in his halls; but thou hast no will to learn or to hear aught, till thou hast furthermore made trial of thy wife, who sits as ever in her halls, and wearily for her the nights wane always and the days, in shedding of tears. But of this I never doubted, but ever knew it in my heart that thou wouldest come home with the loss of all thy company. Yet, I tell thee, I had no mind to be at strife with Poseidon, my own father’s brother, who laid up wrath in his heart against thee, being angered at the blinding of his dear son. But come, and I will show thee the place of the dwelling of Ithaca, that thou mayst be assured. Lo, here is the haven of Phorcys, the ancient one of the sea, and here at the haven’s head is the olive tree with spreading leaves, and hard by it is the pleasant cave and shadowy, sacred to the nymphs that are called the Naiads. Yonder, behold, is the roofed cavern, where thou offeredst many an acceptable sacrifice of hecatombs to the nymphs; and lo, this hill is Neriton, all clothed in forest.’
Therewith the goddess scattered the mist, and the land appeared. Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus was glad rejoicing in his own land, and he kissed the earth, the grain-giver. And anon he prayed to the nymphs, and lifted up his hands, saying:
‘Ye Naiad nymphs, daughters of Zeus, never did I think to look on you again, but now be ye greeted in my loving prayers: yea, and gifts as aforetime I will give, if the daughter of Zeus, driver of the spoil, suffer me of her grace myself to live, and bring my dear son to manhood.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: ‘Be of good courage, and let not thy heart be careful about these things. But come, let us straightway set thy goods in the secret place of the wondrous cave, that there they may abide for thee safe. And let us for ourselves advise us how all may be for the very best.’
Therewith the goddess plunged into the shadowy cave, searching out the chambers of the cavern. Meanwhile Odysseus brought up his treasure, the gold and the unyielding bronze and fair woven raiment, which the Phaeacians gave him. And these things he laid by with care, and Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis, set a stone against the door of the cave. Then they twain sat down by the trunk of the sacred olive tree, and devised death for the froward wooers. And the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake first, saying:
‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, advise thee how thou mayest stretch forth thine hands upon the shameless wooers, who now these three years lord it through thy halls, as they woo thy godlike wife and proffer the gifts of wooing. And she, that is ever bewailing her for thy return, gives hope to all and makes promises to every man and sends them messages, but her mind is set on other things.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her, saying:
‘Lo now, in very truth I was like to have perished in my halls by the evil doom of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, hadst not thou, goddess, declared me each thing aright. Come then, weave some counsel whereby I may requite them; and thyself stand by me, and put great boldness of spirit within me, even as in the day when we loosed the shining coronal of Troy. If but thou wouldest stand by me with such eagerness, thou grey-eyed goddess, I would war even with three hundred men, with thee my lady and goddess, if thou of thy grace didst succour me the while.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: ‘Yea, verily I will be near thee nor will I forget thee, whensoever we come to this toil: and methinks that certain of the wooers that devour thy livelihood shall bespatter the boundless earth with blood and brains. But come, I will make thee such-like that no man shall know thee. Thy fair skin I will wither on thy supple limbs, and make waste thy yellow hair from off thy head, and wrap thee in a foul garment, such that one would shudder to see a man therein. And I will dim thy two eyes, erewhile so fair, in such wise that thou mayest be unseemly in the sight of all the wooers and of thy wife and son, whom thou didst leave in thy halls. And do thou thyself first of all go unto the swineherd, who tends thy swine, loyal and at one with thee, and loves thy son and constant Penelope. Him shalt thou find sitting by the swine, as they are feeding near the rock of Corax and the spring Arethusa, and there they eat abundance of acorns and drink the black water, things whereby swine grow fat and well-liking. There do thou abide and sit by the swine, and find out all, till I have gone to Sparta, the land of fair women, to call Telemachus thy dear son, Odysseus, who hath betaken himself to spacious Lacedaemon, to the house of Menelaus to seek tidings of thee, whether haply thou are yet alive.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Nay, wherefore then didst thou not tell him, seeing thou hast knowledge of all? Was it, perchance, that he too may wander in sorrow over the unharvested seas, and that others may consume his livelihood?’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him: ‘Nay, let him not be heavy on thy heart. I myself was his guide, that by going thither he might win a good report. Lo, he knows no toil, but he sits in peace in the palace of the son of Atreus, and has boundless store about him. Truly the young men with their black ship they lie in wait, and are eager to slay him ere he come to his own country. But this, methinks, shall never be. Yea, sooner shall the earth close over certain of the wooers that devour thy livelihood.’
Therewith Athene touched him with her wand. His fair flesh she withered on his supple limbs, and made waste his yellow hair from off his head, and over all his limbs she cast the skin of an old man, and dimmed his two eyes, erewhile so fair. And she changed his raiment to a vile wrap and a doublet, torn garments and filthy, stained with foul smoke. And over all she clad him with the great bald hide of a swift stag, and she gave him a staff and a mean tattered scrip, and a cord therewith to hang it.
And after they twain had taken this counsel together, they parted; and she now went to goodly Lacedaemon to fetch the son of Odysseus.
//Odysseus, in the form of a beggar, goes to Eumaeus, the master of his swine, where he is well used and tells a feigned story, and informs himself of the behaviour of the wooers.//
But Odysseus fared forth from the haven by the rough track, up the wooded country and through the heights, where Athene had showed him that he should find the goodly swineherd, who cared most for his substance of all the thralls that goodly Odysseus had gotten.
Now he found him sitting at the vestibule of the house, where his courtyard was builded high, in a place with wide prospect; a great court it was and a fair, with free range round it. This the swineherd had builded by himself for the swine of his lord who was afar, and his mistress and the old man Laertes knew not of it. With stones from the quarry had he builded it, and coped it with a fence of white thorn, and he had split an oak to the dark core, and without he had driven stakes the whole length thereof on either side, set thick and close; and within the courtyard he made twelve styes hard by one another to be beds for the swine, and in each stye fifty grovelling swine were penned, brood swine; but the boars slept without. Now these were far fewer in number, the godlike wooers minishing them at their feasts, for the swineherd ever sent in the best of all the fatted hogs. And their tale was three hundred and three-score. And by them always slept four dogs, as fierce as wild beasts, which the swineherd had bred, a master of men. Now he was fitting sandals to his feet, cutting a good brown oxhide, while the rest of his fellows, three in all, were abroad this way and that, with the droves of swine; while the fourth he had sent to the city to take a boar to the proud wooers, as needs he must, that they might sacrifice it and satisfy their soul with flesh.
And of a sudden the baying dogs saw Odysseus, and they ran at him yelping, but Odysseus in his wariness sat him down, and let the staff fall from his hand. There by his own homestead would he have suffered foul hurt, but the swineherd with quick feet hasted after them, and sped through the outer door, and let the skin fall from his hand. And the hounds he chid and drave them this way and that, with a shower of stones, and he spake unto his lord, saying:
‘Old man, truly the dogs went nigh to be the death of thee all of a sudden, so shouldest thou have brought shame on me. Yea, and the gods have given me other pains and griefs enough. Here I sit, mourning and sorrowing for my godlike lord, and foster the fat swine for others to eat, while he craving, perchance, for food, wanders over some land and city of men of a strange speech, if haply he yet lives and beholds the sunlight. But come with me, let us to the inner steading, old man, that when thy heart is satisfied with bread and wine, thou too mayest tell thy tale and declare whence thou art, and how many woes thou hast endured.’
Therewith the goodly swineherd led him to the steading, and took him in and set him down, and strewed beneath him thick brushwood, and spread thereon the hide of a shaggy wild goat, wide and soft, which served himself for a mattress. And Odysseus rejoiced that he had given him such welcome, and spake and hailed him:
‘May Zeus, O stranger, and all the other deathless gods grant thee thy dearest wish, since thou hast received me heartily!’
Then, O swineherd Eumaeus, didst thou answer him, saying: ‘Guest of mine, it were an impious thing for me to slight a stranger, even if there came a meaner man than thou; for from Zeus are all strangers and beggars; and a little gift from such as we, is dear; for this is the way with thralls, who are ever in fear when young lords like ours bear rule over them. For surely the gods have stayed the returning of my master, who would have loved me diligently, and given me somewhat of my own, a house and a parcel of ground, and a comely [[23|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 23]] wife, such as a kind lord gives to his man, who hath laboured much for him and the work of whose hands God hath likewise increased, even as he increaseth this work of mine whereat I abide. Therefore would my lord have rewarded me greatly, had he grown old at home. But he hath perished, as I would that all the stock of Helen had perished utterly, forasmuch as she hath caused the loosening of many a man’s knees. For he too departed to Ilios of the goodly steeds, to get atonement for Agamemnon, that so he might war with the Trojans.’
Therewith he quickly bound up his doublet with his girdle, and went his way to the styes, where the tribes of the swine were penned. Thence he took and brought forth two, and sacrificed them both, and singed them and cut them small, and spitted them. And when he had roasted all, he bare and set it by Odysseus, all hot as it was upon the spits, and he sprinkled thereupon white barley-meal. Then in a bowl of ivywood he mixed the honey-sweet wine, and himself sat over against him and bade him fall to:
‘Eat now, stranger, such fare as thralls have to hand, even flesh of sucking pigs; but the fatted hogs the wooers devour, for they know not the wrath of the gods nor any pity. Verily the blessed gods love not froward deeds, but they reverence justice and the righteous acts of men. Yet even foes and men unfriendly, that land on a strange coast, and Zeus grants them a prey, and they have laden their ships and depart for home; yea, even on their hearts falls strong fear of the wrath of the gods. But lo you, these men know somewhat — for they have heard an utterance of a god — even the tidings of our lord’s evil end, seeing that they are not minded justly to woo, nor to go back to their own, but at ease they devour our wealth with insolence, and now there is no sparing. For every day and every night that comes from Zeus, they make sacrifice not of one victim only, nor of two, and wine they draw and waste it riotously. For surely his livelihood was great past telling, no lord in the dark mainland had so much, nor any in Ithaca itself; nay, not twenty men together have wealth so great, and I will tell thee the sum thereof. Twelve herds of kine upon the mainland, as many flocks of sheep, as many droves of swine, as many ranging herds of goats, that his own shepherds and strangers pasture. And ranging herds of goats, eleven in all, graze here by the extremity of the island with trusty men to watch them. And day by day each man of these ever drives one of the flock to the wooers, whichsoever seems the best of the fatted goats. But as for me I guard and keep these swine and I choose out for them, as well as I may, the best of the swine and send it hence.’
So spake he, but Odysseus ceased not to eat flesh and drink wine right eagerly and in silence, and the while was sowing the seeds of evil for the wooers. Now when he had well eaten and comforted his heart with food, then the herdsman filled him the bowl out of which he was wont himself to drink, and he gave it him brimming with wine, and he took it and was glad at heart, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:
‘My friend, who was it then that bought thee with his wealth, a man so exceedingly rich and mighty as thou declarest? Thou saidest that he perished to get atonement for Agamemnon; tell me, if perchance I may know him, being such an one as thou sayest. For Zeus, methinks, and the other deathless gods know whether I may bring tidings of having seen him; for I have wandered far.’
Then the swineherd, a master of men, answered him: ‘Old man, no wanderer who may come hither and bring tidings of him can win the ear of his wife and his dear son; but lightly do vagrants lie when they need entertainment, and care not to tell truth. Whosoever comes straying to the land of Ithaca, goes to my mistress and speaks words of guile. And she receives him kindly and lovingly and inquires of all things, and the tears fall from her eyelids for weeping, as is meet for a woman when her lord hath died afar. And quickly enough wouldst thou too, old man, forge a tale, if any would but give thee a mantle and a doublet for raiment. But as for him, dogs and swift fowls are like already to have torn his skin from the bones, and his spirit hath left him. Or the fishes have eaten him in the deep, and there lie his bones swathed in sand-drift on the shore. Yonder then hath he perished, but for his friends nought is ordained but care, for all, but for me in chief. For never again shall I find a lord so gentle, how far soever I may go, not though again I attain unto the house of my father and my mother, where at first I was born, and they nourished me themselves and with their own hands they reared me. Nor henceforth it is not for these that I sorrow so much, though I long to behold them with mine eyes in mine own country, but desire comes over me for Odysseus who is afar. His name, stranger, even though he is not here, it shameth me to speak, for he loved me exceedingly, and cared for me at heart; nay, I call him “worshipful,” albeit he is far hence.’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus spake to him again: ‘My friend, forasmuch as thou gainsayest utterly, and sayest that henceforth he will not come again, and thine heart is ever slow to believe, therefore will I tell thee not lightly but with an oath, that Odysseus shall return. And let me have the wages of good tidings as soon as ever he in his journeying shall come hither to his home. Then clothe me in a mantle and a doublet, goodly raiment. But ere that, albeit I am sore in need I will not take aught, for hateful to me even as the gates of hell, is that man, who under stress of poverty speaks words of guile. Now be Zeus my witness before any god, and the hospitable board and the hearth of noble Odysseus whereunto I am come, that all these things shall surely be accomplished even as I tell thee. In this same year Odysseus shall come hither; as the old moon wanes and the new is born shall he return to his home, and shall take vengeance on all who here dishonour his wife and noble son.’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Old man, it is not I then, that shall ever pay thee these wages of good tidings, nor henceforth shall Odysseus ever come to his home. Nay drink in peace, and let us turn our thoughts to other matters, and bring not these to my remembrance, for surely my heart within me is sorrowful whenever any man puts me in mind of my true lord. But as for thine oath, we will let it go by; yet, oh that Odysseus may come according to my desire, and the desire of Penelope and of that old man Laertes and godlike Telemachus! But now I make a comfortless lament for the boy begotten of Odysseus, even for Telemachus. When the gods had reared him like a young sapling, and I thought that he would be no worse man among men than his dear father, glorious in form and face, some god or some man marred his good wits within him, and he went to fair Pylos after tidings of his sire. And now the lordly wooers lie in wait for him on his way home, that the race of godlike Arceisius may perish nameless out of Ithaca. Howbeit, no more of him now, whether he shall be taken or whether he shall escape, and Cronion stretch out his hand to shield him. But come, old man, do thou tell me of thine own troubles. And herein tell me true, that I may surely know. Who art thou of the sons of men, and whence? Where is thy city, where are they that begat thee? Say on what manner of ship didst thou come, and how did sailors bring thee to Ithaca, and who did they avow them to be? For in nowise do I deem that thou camest hither by land.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Yea now, I will tell thee all most plainly. Might we have food and sweet wine enough to last for long, while we abide within thy hut to feast thereon in quiet, and others betake them to their work; then could I easily speak for a whole year, nor yet make a full end of telling all the troubles of my spirit, all the travail I have wrought by the will of the gods.
‘I avow that I come by lineage from wide Crete, and am the son of a wealthy man. And many other sons he had born and bred in the halls, lawful born of a wedded wife; but the mother that bare me was a concubine bought with a price. Yet Castor son of Hylax, of whose blood I avow me to be, gave me no less honour than his lawful sons. Now he at the time got worship even as a god from the Cretans in the land, for wealth and riches and sons renowned. Howbeit the fates of death bare him away to the house of Hades, and his gallant sons divided among them his living and cast lots for it. But to me they gave a very small gift and assigned me a dwelling, and I took unto me a wife, the daughter of men that had wide lands, by reason of my valour, for that I was no weakling nor a dastard; but now all my might has failed me, yet even so I deem that thou mightest guess from seeing the stubble what the grain has been, for of trouble I have plenty and to spare. But then verily did Ares and Athene give me boldness and courage to hurl through the press of men, whensoever I chose the best warriors for an ambush, sowing the seeds of evil for my foes; no boding of death was ever in my lordly heart, but I would leap out the foremost and slay with the spear whoso of my foes was less fleet of foot than I. Such an one was I in war, but the labour of the field I never loved, nor home-keeping thrift, that breeds brave children, but galleys with their oars were dear to me, and wars and polished shafts and darts — baneful things whereat others use to shudder. But that, methinks, was dear to me which the god put in my heart, for divers men take delight in divers deeds. For ere ever the sons of the Achaeans had set foot on the land of Troy, I had nine times been a leader of men and of swift-faring ships against a strange people, and wealth fell ever to my hands. Of the booty I would choose out for me all that I craved, and much thereafter I won by lot. So my house got increase speedily, and thus I waxed dread and honourable among the Cretans. But when Zeus, of the far-borne voice, devised at the last that hateful path which loosened the knees of many a man in death, then the people called on me and on renowned Idomeneus to lead the ships to Ilios, nor was there any way whereby to refuse, for the people’s voice bore hard upon us. There we sons of the Achaeans warred for nine whole years, and then in the tenth year we sacked the city of Priam, and departed homeward with our ships, and a god scattered the Achaeans. But Zeus, the counsellor, devised mischief against me, wretched man that I was! For one month only I abode and had joy in my children and my wedded wife, and all that I had; and thereafter my spirit bade me fit out ships in the best manner and sail to Egypt with my godlike company. Nine ships I fitted out and the host was gathered quickly; and then for six days my dear company feasted, and I gave them many victims that they might sacrifice to the gods and prepare a feast for themselves. But on the seventh day we set sail from wide Crete, with a North Wind fresh and fair, and lightly we ran as it were down stream, yea and no harm came to any ship of mine, but we sat safe and hale, while the wind and the pilots guided the barques. And on the fifth day we came to the fair-flowing Aegyptus, and in the river Aegyptus I stayed my curved ships. Then verily I bade my dear companions to abide there by the ships and to guard them, and I sent forth scouts to range the points of outlook. But my men gave place to wantonness, being the fools of their own force, and soon they fell to wasting the fields of the Egyptians, exceeding fair, and led away their wives and infant children and slew the men. And the cry came quickly to the city, and the people hearing the shout came forth at the breaking of the day, and all the plain was filled with footmen and chariots and with the glitter of bronze. And Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, sent an evil panic upon my company, and none durst stand and face the foe, for danger encompassed us on every side. There they slew many of us with the edge of the sword, and others they led up with them alive to work for them perforce. But as for me, Zeus himself put a thought into my heart; would to God that I had rather died, and met my fate there in Egypt, for sorrow was still mine host! Straightway I put off my well-wrought helmet from my head, and the shield from off my shoulders, and I cast away my spear from my hand, and I came over against the chariots of the king, and clasped and kissed his knees, and he saved me and delivered me, and setting me on his own chariot took me weeping to his home. Truly many an one made at me with their ashen spears, eager to slay me, for verily they were sore angered. But the king kept them off and had respect unto the wrath of Zeus, the god of strangers, who chiefly hath displeasure at evil deeds. So for seven whole years I abode with their king, and gathered much substance among the Egyptians, for they all gave me gifts. But when the eighth year came in due season, there arrived a Phoenician practised in deceit, a greedy knave, who had already done much mischief among men. He wrought on me with his cunning, and took me with him until he came to Phoenicia, where was his house and where his treasures lay. There I abode with him for the space of a full year. But when now the months and days were fulfilled, as the year came round and the seasons returned, he set me aboard a seafaring ship for Libya, under colour as though I was to convey a cargo thither with him, but his purpose was to sell me in Libya, and get a great price. So I went with him on board, perforce, yet boding evil. And the ship ran before a North Wind fresh and fair, through the mid sea over above Crete, and Zeus contrived the destruction of the crew. But when we left Crete, and no land showed in sight but sky and sea only, even then the son of Cronos stayed a dark cloud over the hollow ship, and the deep grew dark beneath it. And in the same moment Zeus thundered and smote his bolt into the ship, and she reeled all over being stricken by the bolt of Zeus, and was filled with fire and brimstone, and all the crew fell overboard. And like sea-gulls they were borne hither and thither on the waves about the black ship, and the god cut off their return. But in this hour of my affliction Zeus himself put into my hands the huge mast of the dark-prowed ship, that even yet I might escape from harm. So I clung round the mast and was borne by the ruinous winds. For nine days was I borne, and on the tenth black night the great rolling wave brought me nigh to the land of the Thesprotians. There the king of the Thesprotians, the lord Pheidon, took me in freely, for his dear son lighted on me and raised me by the hand and led me to his house, foredone with toil and the keen air, till he came to his father’s palace. And he clothed me in a mantle and a doublet for raiment.
‘There I heard tidings of Odysseus, for the king told me that he had entertained him, and kindly entreated him on his way to his own country; and he showed me all the wealth that Odysseus had gathered, bronze and gold and well-wrought iron; yea it would suffice for his children after him even to the tenth generation, so great were the treasures he had stored in the chambers of the king. He had gone, he said, to Dodona to hear the counsel of Zeus, from the high leafy oak tree of the god, how he should return to the fat land of Ithaca after long absence, whether openly or by stealth. Moreover, he sware, in mine own presence, as he poured the drink offering in his house, that the ship was drawn down to the sea and his company were ready, who were to convey him to his own dear country. But ere that, he sent me off, for it chanced that a ship of the Thesprotians was starting for Dulichium, a land rich in grain. Thither he bade them bring me with all diligence to the king Acastus. But an evil counsel concerning me found favour in their sight, that even yet I might reach the extremity of sorrow. When the seafaring ship had sailed a great way from the land, anon they sought how they might compass for me the day of slavery. They stript me of my garments, my mantle and a doublet, and changed my raiment to a vile wrap and doublet, tattered garments, even those thou seest now before thee; and in the evening they reached the fields of clear-seen Ithaca. There in the decked ship they bound me closely with a twisted rope, and themselves went ashore, and hasted to take supper by the sea-banks. Meanwhile the gods themselves lightly unclasped my bands, and muffling my head with the wrap I slid down the smooth lading-plank, and set my breast to the sea and rowed hard with both hands as I swam, and very soon I was out of the water and beyond their reach. Then I went up where there was a thicket, a wood in full leaf, and lay there crouching. And they went hither and thither making great moan; but when now it seemed to them little avail to go further on their quest, they departed back again aboard their hollow ship. And the gods themselves hid me easily and brought me nigh to the homestead of a wise man; for still, methinks, I am ordained to live on.’
Then didst thou make answer to him, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Ah! wretched guest, verily thou hast stirred my heart with the tale of all these things, of thy sufferings and thy wanderings. Yet herein, methinks, thou speakest not aright, and never shalt thou persuade me with the tale about Odysseus; why should one in thy plight lie vainly? Well I know of mine own self, as touching my lord’s return, that he was utterly hated by all the gods, in that they smote him not among the Trojans nor in the arms of his friends, when he had wound up the clew of war. So should the whole Achaean host have builded him a barrow; yea and for his son would he have won great glory in the after days; but now all ingloriously the spirits of the storm have snatched him away. But as for me I dwell apart by the swine and go not to the city, unless perchance wise Penelope summons me thither, when tidings of my master are brought I know not whence. Now all the people sit round and straitly question the news-bearer, both such as grieve for their lord that is long gone, and such as rejoice in devouring his living without atonement. But I have no care to ask or to inquire, since the day that an Aetolian cheated me with his story, one who had slain his man and wandered over wide lands and came to my steading, and I dealt lovingly with him. He said that he had seen my master among the Cretans at the house of Idomeneus, mending his ships which the storms had broken. And he said that he would come home either by the summer or the harvest-tide, bringing much wealth with the godlike men of his company. And thou too, old man of many sorrows, seeing that some god hath brought thee to me, seek not my grace with lies, nor give me any such comfort; not for this will I have respect to thee or hold thee dear, but only for the fear of Zeus, the god of strangers, and for pity of thyself.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Verily thy heart within thee is slow to believe, seeing that even with an oath I have not won thee, nor find credence with thee. But come now, let us make a covenant; and we will each one have for witnesses the gods above, who hold Olympus. If thy lord shall return to this house, put on me a mantle and doublet for raiment, and send me on my way to Dulichium, whither I had a desire to go. But if thy lord return not according to my word, set thy thralls upon me, and cast me down from a mighty rock, that another beggar in his turn may beware of deceiving.’
And the goodly swineherd answered him, saying: ‘Yea stranger, even so should I get much honour and good luck among men both now and ever hereafter, if after bringing thee to my hut and giving thee a stranger’s cheer, I should turn again and slay thee and take away thy dear life. Eager indeed thereafter should I be to make a prayer to Zeus the son of Cronos! But now it is supper-time, and would that my fellows may speedily be at home, that we may make ready a dainty supper within the hut.’
Thus they spake one to the other. And lo, the swine and the swineherds drew nigh. And the swine they shut up to sleep in their lairs, and a mighty din arose as the swine were being stalled. Then the goodly swineherd called to his fellows, saying:
‘Bring the best of the swine, that I may sacrifice it for a guest of mine from a far land: and we too will have good cheer therewith, for we have long suffered and toiled by reason of the white-tusked swine, while others devour the fruit of our labour without atonement.’
Therewithal he cleft logs with the pitiless axe, and the others brought in a well-fatted boar of five years old; and they set him by the hearth nor did the swineherd forget the deathless gods, for he was of an understanding heart. But for a beginning of sacrifice he cast bristles from the head of the white-tusked boar upon the fire, and prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus might return to his own house. Then he stood erect, and smote the boar with a billet of oak which he had left in the cleaving, and the boar yielded up his life. Then they cut the throat and singed the carcass and quickly cut it up, and the swineherd took a first portion from all the limbs, and laid the raw flesh on the rich fat. And some pieces he cast into the fire after sprinkling them with bruised barley-meal, and they cut the rest up small, and pierced it, and spitted and roasted it carefully, and drew it all off from the spits, and put the whole mess together on trenchers. Then the swineherd stood up to carve, for well he knew what was fair, and he cut up the whole and divided it into seven portions. One, when he had prayed, he set aside for the nymphs and for Hermes son of Maia, and the rest he distributed to each. And he gave Odysseus the portion of honour, the long back of the white-tusked boar, and the soul of his lord rejoiced at this renown, and Odysseus of many counsels hailed him saying:
‘Eumaeus, oh that thou mayest so surely be dear to father Zeus, as thou art to me, seeing that thou honourest me with a good portion, such an one as I am!’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus:
‘Eat, luckless stranger, and make merry with such fare as is here. And one thing the god will give and another withhold, even as he will, for with him all things are possible.’
So he spake, and made burnt offering of the hallowed parts to the everlasting gods, and poured the dark wine for a drink offering, and set the cup in the hands of Odysseus, the waster of cities, and sat down by his own mess. And Mesaulius bare them wheaten bread, a thrall that the swineherd had gotten all alone, while his lord was away, without the knowledge of his mistress and the old Laertes: yea he had bought him of the Taphians with his own substance. So they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer spread before them. Now after they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, Mesaulius cleared away the bread, and they, now that they had eaten enough of bread and flesh, were moved to go to rest.
Now it was so that night came on foul with a blind moon, and Zeus rained the whole night through, and still the great West Wind, the rainy wind, was blowing. Then Odysseus spake among them that he might make trial of the swineherd, and see whether he would take off his own mantle and give it to him or bid one of his company strip, since he cared for him so greatly:
‘Listen now, Eumaeus, and all of you his companions, with a prayer will I utter my word; so bids me witless wine, which drives even the wisest to sing and to laugh softly, and rouses him to dance, yea and makes him to speak out a word which were better unspoken. Howbeit, now that I have broken into speech, I will not hide aught. Oh that I were young, and my might were steadfast, as in the day when we arrayed our ambush and led it beneath Troy town! And Odysseus, and Menelaus son of Atreus, were leaders and with them I was a third in command; for so they bade me. Now when we had come to the city and the steep wall, we lay about the citadel in the thick brushwood, crouching under our arms among the reeds and the marsh land, and behold, the night came on foul, with frost, as the North Wind went down, while the snow fell from above, and crusted like rime, bitter cold, and the ice set thick about our shields. Now the others all had mantles and doublets, and slept in peace with their shields buckled close about their shoulders; but I as I went forth had left my mantle behind with my men, in my folly, thinking that even so I should not be cold: so I came with only my shield and bright leathern apron. But when it was now the third watch of the night and the stars had passed the zenith, in that hour I spake unto Odysseus who was nigh me, and thrust him with my elbow, and he listened straightway:
‘“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, verily I shall cease from among living men, for this wintry cold is slaying me, seeing that I have no mantle. Some god beguiled me to wear a doublet only, and henceforth is no way of escape.”
‘So I spake, and he apprehended a thought in his heart, such an one as he was in counsel and in fight. So he whispered and spake to me, saying:
‘“Be silent now, lest some other Achaeans hear thee.” Therewith he raised his head upon his elbow, and spake, saying: “Listen, friends, a vision from a god came to me in my sleep. Lo, we have come very far from the ships; I would there were one to tell it to Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of the host, if perchance he may send us hither a greater company from the ships.”
‘So spake he, and Thoas, son of Andraemon, rose up quickly and cast off his purple mantle. And he started to run unto the ships, but I lay gladly in his garment, and the golden-throned Dawn showed her light. Oh! that I were young as then and my might steadfast! Then should some of the swineherds in the homestead give me a mantle, alike for love’s sake and for pity of a good warrior. But now they scorn me for that sorry raiment is about my body.’
Then didst thou make answer, O swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Old man, the tale that thou hast told in his praise is very good, and so far thou hast not misspoken aught, nor uttered a word unprofitably. Wherefore for this night thou shalt lack neither raiment nor aught else that is the due of a hapless suppliant, when he has met them that can befriend him. But in the morning thou shalt go shuffling in thine own rags, for there are not many mantles here or changes of doublet; for each man hath but one coat. But when the dear son of Odysseus comes, he himself will give thee a mantle and doublet for raiment, and send thee whithersoever thy heart and spirit bid.’
With that he sprang up and set a bed for Odysseus near the fire, and thereon he cast skins of sheep and goats. There Odysseus laid him down and Eumaeus cast a great thick mantle over him, which he had ever by him for a change of covering, when any terrible storm should arise.
So there Odysseus slept, and the young men slept beside him. But the swineherd had no mind to lie there in a bed away from the boars. So he made him ready to go forth and Odysseus was glad, because he had a great care for his master’s substance while he was afar. First he cast his sharp sword about his strong shoulders, then he clad him in a very thick mantle, to keep the wind away; and he caught up the fleece of a great and well-fed goat, and seized his sharp javelin, to defend him against dogs and men. Then he went to lay him down even where the white-tusked boars were sleeping, beneath the hollow of the rock, in a place of shelter from the North Wind.
//Pallas sends home Telemachus from Lacedaemon with the presents given him by Menelaus. Telemachus landed, goes first to Eumaeus.//
Now Pallas Athene went to the wide land of Lacedaemon, to put the noble son of the great-hearted Odysseus in mind of his return, and to make him hasten his coming. And she found Telemachus, and the glorious son of Nestor, couched at the vestibule of the house of famous Menelaus. The son of Nestor truly was overcome with soft sleep, but sweet sleep gat not hold of Telemachus, but, through the night divine, careful thoughts for his father kept him wakeful. And grey-eyed Athene stood nigh him and spake to him, saying:
‘Telemachus, it is no longer meet that thou shouldest wander far from thy home, leaving thy substance behind thee, and men in thy house so wanton, lest they divide and utterly devour all thy wealth, and thou shalt have gone on a vain journey. But come, rouse with all haste Menelaus, of the loud war-cry, to send thee on thy way, that thou mayest even yet find thy noble mother in her home. For even now her father and her brethren bid her wed Eurymachus, for he outdoes all the wooers in his presents, and hath been greatly increasing his gifts of wooing. So shall she take no treasure from thy house despite thy will. Thou knowest of what sort is the heart of a woman within her; all her desire is to increase the house of the man who takes her to wife, but of her former children and of her own dear lord she has no more memory once he is dead, and she asks concerning him no more. Go then, and thyself place all thy substance in the care of the handmaid who seems to thee the best, till the day when the gods shall show thee a glorious bride. Now another word will I tell thee, and do thou lay it up in thine heart. The noblest of the wooers lie in wait for thee of purpose, in the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos, eager to slay thee before thou come to thine own country. But this, methinks, will never be; yea, sooner shall the earth close over certain of the wooers that devour thy livelihood. Nay, keep thy well-wrought ship far from those isles, and sail by night as well as day, and he of the immortals who hath thee in his keeping and protection will send thee a fair breeze in thy wake. But when thou hast touched the nearest shore of Ithaca, send thy ship and all thy company forward to the city, but for thy part seek first the swineherd who keeps thy swine, loyal and at one with thee. There do thou rest the night, and bid him go to the city to bear tidings of thy coming to the wise Penelope, how that she hath got thee safe, and thou art come up out of Pylos.’
Therewith she departed to high Olympus. But Telemachus woke the son of Nestor out of sweet sleep, touching him with his heel, and spake to him, saying:
‘Awake, Peisistratus, son of Nestor, bring up thy horses of solid hoof, and yoke them beneath the car, that we may get forward on the road.’
Then Peisistratus, son of Nestor, answered him, saying: ‘Telemachus, we may in no wise drive through the dark night, how eager soever to be gone; nay, soon it will be dawn. Tarry then, till the hero, the son of Atreus, spear-famed Menelaus, brings gifts, and sets them on the car, and bespeaks thee kindly, and sends thee on thy way. For of him a guest is mindful all the days of his life, even of the host that shows him loving-kindness.’
So spake he, and anon came the golden-throned Dawn. And Menelaus, of the loud war cry, drew nigh to them, new risen from his bed, by fair-haired Helen. Now when the dear son of Odysseus marked him, he made haste and girt his shining doublet about him, and the hero cast a great mantle over his mighty shoulders, and went forth at the door, and Telemachus, dear son of divine Odysseus, came up and spake to Menelaus, saying:
‘Menelaus, son of Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the people, even now do thou speed me hence, to mine own dear country; for even now my heart is fain to come home again.’
Then Menelaus, of the loud war cry, answered him: ‘Telemachus, as for me, I will not hold thee a long time here, that art eager to return; nay, I think it shame even in another host, who loves overmuch or hates overmuch. Measure is best in all things. He does equal wrong who speeds a guest that would fain abide, and stays one who is in haste to be gone. Men should lovingly entreat the present guest and speed the parting. But abide till I bring fair gifts and set them on the car and thine own eyes behold them, and I bid the women to prepare the midday meal in the halls, out of the good store they have within. Honour and glory it is for us, and gain withal for thee, that ye should have eaten well ere ye go on your way, over vast and limitless lands. What and if thou art minded to pass through Hellas and mid Argos? So shall I too go with thee, and yoke thee horses and lead thee to the towns of men, and none shall send us empty away, but will give us some one thing to take with us, either a tripod of goodly bronze or a cauldron, or two mules or a golden chalice.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him saying: ‘Menelaus, son of Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the people, rather would I return even now to mine own land, for I left none behind to watch over my goods when I departed. I would not that I myself should perish on the quest of my godlike father, nor that any good heir-loom should be lost from my halls.’
Now when Menelaus, of the loud war cry, heard this saying, straightway he bade his wife and maids to prepare the midday meal in the halls, out of the good store they had by them. Then Eteoneus, son of Boethous, came nigh him, just risen from his bed, for he abode not far from him. Him Menelaus of the loud war cry bade kindle the fire and roast of the flesh; and he hearkened and obeyed. Then the prince went down into the fragrant treasure chamber, not alone, for Helen went with him, and Megapenthes. Now, when they came to the place where the treasures were stored, then Atrides took a two-handled cup, and bade his son Megapenthes to bear a mixing bowl of silver. And Helen stood by the coffers, wherein were her robes of curious needlework which she herself had wrought. Then Helen, the fair lady, lifted one and brought it out, the widest and most beautifully embroidered of all, and it shone like a star, and lay far beneath the rest.
Then they went forth through the house till they came to Telemachus; and Menelaus, of the fair hair, spake to him saying:
‘Telemachus, may Zeus the thunderer, and the lord of Here, in very truth bring about thy return according to the desire of thy heart. And of the gifts, such as are treasures stored in my house, I will give thee the goodliest and greatest of price. I will give thee a mixing bowl beautifully wrought; it is all of silver and the lips thereof are finished with gold, the work of Hephaestus; and the hero Phaedimus the king of the Sidonians, gave it to me when his house sheltered me, on my coming thither. This cup I would give to thee.’
Therewith the hero Atrides set the two-handled cup in his hands. And the strong Megapenthes bare the shining silver bowl and set it before him. And Helen came up, beautiful Helen, with the robe in her hands, and spake and hailed him:
‘Lo! I too give thee this gift, dear child, a memorial of the hands of Helen, against the day of thy desire, even of thy bridal, for thy bride to wear it. But meanwhile let it lie by thy dear mother in her chamber. And may joy go with thee to thy well-builded house, and thine own country.’
With that she put it into his hands, and he took it and was glad. And the hero Peisistratus took the gifts and laid them in the chest of the car, and gazed on all and wondered. Then Menelaus of the fair hair led them to the house. Then they twain sat them down on chairs and high seats, and a handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal, and drew to their side a polished table. And a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by them, and laid on the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her. And the son of Boethous carved by the board and divided the messes, and the son of renowned Menelaus poured forth the wine. So they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, then did Telemachus and the glorious son of Nestor yoke the horses and climb into the inlaid car. And they drave forth from the gateway and the echoing gallery. After these Menelaus, of the fair hair, the son of Atreus, went forth bearing in his right hand a golden cup of honey-hearted wine, that they might pour a drink-offering ere they departed. And he stood before the horses and spake his greeting:
‘Farewell, knightly youths, and salute in my name Nestor, the shepherd of the people; for truly he was gentle to me as a father, while we sons of the Achaeans warred in the land of Troy.’
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Yea verily, O fosterling of Zeus, we will tell him all on our coming even as thou sayest. Would God that when I return to Ithaca I may find Odysseus in his home and tell him all, so surely as now I go on my way having met with all loving-kindness at thy hands, and take with me treasures many and goodly!’
And even as he spake a bird flew forth at his right hand, an eagle that bare in his claws a great white goose, a tame fowl from the yard, and men and women followed shouting. But the bird drew near them and flew off to the right, across the horses, and they that saw it were glad, and their hearts were all comforted within them. And Peisistratus, son of Nestor, first spake among them:
‘Consider, Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the people, whether god hath showed forth this sign for us twain, or for thee thyself.’
So spake he, and the warrior Menelaus pondered thereupon, how he should take heed to answer, and interpret it aright.
And long-robed Helen took the word and spake, saying: ‘Hear me, and I will prophesy as the immortals put it into my heart, and as I deem it will be accomplished. Even as yonder eagle came down from the hill, the place of his birth and kin, and snatched away the goose that was fostered in the house, even so shall Odysseus return home after much trial and long wanderings and take vengeance; yea, or even now is he at home and sowing the seeds of evil for all the wooers.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘Now may Zeus ordain it so, Zeus the thunderer and the lord of Here. Then would I do thee worship, as to a god, even in my home afar.’
He spake and smote the horses with the lash, and they sped quickly towards the plain, in eager course through the city. So all day long they swayed the yoke they bore upon their necks. And the sun sank, and all the ways were darkened. And they came to Pherae, to the house of Diocles, son of Orsilochus, the child begotten of Alpheus. There they rested for the night, and by them he set the entertainment of strangers.
Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, they yoked the horses and mounted the inlaid car. And forth they drave from the gateway and the echoing gallery. And he touched the horses with the whip to start them, and the pair flew onward nothing loth. And soon thereafter they reached the steep hold of Pylos. Then Telemachus spake unto the son of Nestor, saying:
‘Son of Nestor, in what wise mightest thou make me a promise and fulfil my bidding? For we claim to be friends by reason of our fathers’ friendship from of old. Moreover we are equals in age, and this journey shall turn to our greater love. Take me not hence past my ship, O fosterling of Zeus, but leave me there, lest that old man keep me in his house in my despite, out of his eager kindness, for I must go right quickly home.’
So spake he, and the some of Nestor communed with his own heart how he might make promise, and duly fulfil the same. So as he thought thereon, in this wise it seemed to him best. He turned back his horses toward the swift ship and the sea-banks, and took forth the fair gifts and set them in the hinder part of the ship, the raiment and the gold which Menelaus gave him. And he called to Telemachus and spake to him winged words:
‘Now climb the ship with all haste, and bid all thy company do likewise, ere I reach home and bring the old man word. For well I know in my mind and heart that, being so wilful of heart, he will not let thee go, but he himself will come hither to bid thee to his house, and methinks that he will not go back without thee; for very wroth will he be despite thine excuse.’
Thus he spake, and drave the horses with the flowing manes back to the town of the Pylians, and came quickly to the halls. And Telemachus called to his companions and commanded them, saying:
‘Set ye the gear in order, my friends, in the black ship, and let us climb aboard that we may make way upon our course.’
So spake he, and they gave good heed and hearkened. Then straightway they embarked and sat upon the benches.
Thus was he busy hereat and praying and making burnt-offering to Athene, by the stern of the ship, when there drew nigh him one from a far country, that had slain his man and was fleeing from out of Argos. He was a soothsayer, and by his lineage he came of Melampus, who of old time abode in Pylos, mother of flocks, a rich man and one that had an exceeding goodly house among the Pylians, but afterward he had come to the land of strangers, fleeing from his country and from Neleus, the great-hearted, the proudest of living men, who kept all his goods for a full year by force. All that time Melampus lay bound with hard bonds in the halls of Phylacus, suffering strong pains for the sake of the daughter of Neleus, and for the dread blindness of soul which the goddess, the Erinnys of the dolorous stroke, had laid on him. Howsoever he escaped his fate, and drave away the lowing kine from Phylace to Pylos, and avenged the foul deed upon godlike Neleus, and brought the maiden home to his own brother to wife. As for him, he went to a country of other men, to Argos, the pastureland of horses; for there truly it was ordained that he should dwell, bearing rule over many of the Argives. There he wedded a wife, and builded him a lofty house, and begat Antiphates and Mantius, two mighty sons. Now Antiphates begat Oicles the great-hearted, and Oicles Amphiaraus, the rouser of the host, whom Zeus, lord of the aegis, and Apollo loved with all manner of love. Yet he reached not the threshold of old age, but died in Thebes by reason of a woman’s gifts. And the sons born to him were Alcmaeon and Amphilochus. But Mantius begat Polypheides and Cleitus; but it came to pass that the golden-throned Dawn snatched away Cleitus for his very beauty’s sake, that he might dwell with the Immortals.
And Apollo made the high-souled Polypheides a seer, far the chief of human kind, Amphiaraus being now dead. He removed his dwelling to Hypheresia, being angered with his father, and here he abode and prophesied to all men.
This man’s son it was, Theoclymenus by name, that now drew nigh and stood by Telemachus. And he found him pouring a drink-offering and praying by the swift black ship, and uttering his voice he spake to him winged words:
‘Friend, since I find thee making burnt-offering in this place, I pray thee, by thine offerings and by the god, and thereafter by thine own head, and in the name of the men of thy company answer my question truly and hide it not. Who art thou of the sons of men and whence? Where is thy city, where are they that begat thee?’
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Yea now, stranger, I will plainly tell thee all. Of Ithaca am I by lineage, and my father is Odysseus, if ever such an one there was, but now hath he perished by an evil fate. Wherefore I have taken my company and a black ship, and have gone forth to hear word of my father that has been long afar.’
Then godlike Theoclymenus spake to him again: ‘Even so I too have fled from my country, for the manslaying of one of mine own kin. And many brethren and kinsmen of the slain are in Argos, the pastureland of horses, and rule mightily over the Achaeans. Wherefore now am I an exile to shun death and black fate at their hands, for it is my doom yet to wander among men. Now set me on board ship, since I supplicate thee in my flight, lest they slay me utterly; for methinks they follow hard after me.’
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Surely I will not drive thee away from our good ship, if thou art fain to come. Follow thou with us then, and in Ithaca thou shalt be welcome to such things as we have.’
Therewith he took from him his spear of bronze, and laid it along the deck of the curved ship, and himself too climbed the seafaring ship. Then he sat him down in the stern and made Theoclymenus to sit beside him; and his company loosed the hawsers. Then Telemachus called unto his company, and bade them lay hands on the tackling, and speedily they hearkened to his call. So they raised the mast of pine tree, and set it in the hole of the cross plank and made it fast with forestays, and hauled up the white sails with twisted ropes of ox-hide. And grey-eyed Athene sent them a favouring breeze, rushing violently through the clear sky that the ship might speedily finish her course over the salt water of the sea. So they passed by Crouni and Chalcis, a land of fair streams.
And the sun set and all the ways were darkened. And the vessel drew nigh to Pheae, being sped before the breeze of Zeus, and then passed goodly Elis where the Epeans bear rule. From thence he drave on again to the Pointed Isles, pondering whether he should escape death or be cut off.
Now Odysseus and the goodly swineherd were supping in the hut, and the other men sat at meat with them. So when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, Odysseus spake among them, to prove the swineherd, whether he would still entertain him diligently, and bid him abide there in the steading or send him forward to the city:
‘Listen now, Eumaeus, and all the others of the company. In the morning I would fain be gone to the town to go a begging, that I be not ruinous to thyself and thy fellows. Now advise me well, and lend me a good guide by the way to lead me thither; and through the city will I wander alone as needs I must, if perchance one may give me a cup of water and a morsel of bread. Moreover I would go to the house of divine Odysseus and bear tidings to the wise Penelope, and consort with the wanton wooers, if haply they might grant me a meal out of the boundless store that they have by them. Lightly might I do good service among them, even all that they would. For lo! I will tell thee and do thou mark and listen. By the favour of Hermes, the messenger, who gives grace and glory to all men’s work, no mortal may vie with me in the business of a serving-man, in piling well a fire, in cleaving dry faggots, and in carving and roasting flesh and in pouring of wine, those offices wherein meaner men serve their betters.’
Then didst thou speak to him in heaviness of heart, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Ah! wherefore, stranger, hath such a thought arisen in thine heart? Surely thou art set on perishing utterly there, if thou wouldest indeed go into the throng of the wooers, whose outrage and violence reacheth even to the iron heaven! Not such as thou are their servants; they that minister to them are young and gaily clad in mantles and in doublets, and their heads are anointed with oil and they are fair of face, and the polished boards are laden with bread and flesh and wine. Nay, abide here, for none is vexed by thy presence, neither I nor any of my fellows that are with me. But when the dear son of Odysseus comes, he himself will give thee a mantle and a doublet for raiment, and will send thee whithersoever thy heart and spirit bid thee go.’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: ‘Oh, that thou mayst so surely be dear to father Zeus as thou art to me, in that thou didst make me to cease from wandering and dread woe! For there is no other thing more mischievous to men than roaming; yet for their cursed belly’s need men endure sore distress, to whom come wandering and tribulation and pain. But behold now, since thou stayest me here, and biddest me wait his coming, tell me of the mother of divine Odysseus, and of the father whom at his departure he left behind him on the threshold of old age; are they, it may be, yet alive beneath the sunlight, or already dead and within the house of Hades?’
Then spake to him the swineherd, a master of men: ‘Yea now, stranger, I will plainly tell thee all. Laertes yet lives, and prays evermore to Zeus that his life may waste from out his limbs within his halls. For he has wondrous sorrow for his son that is far away, and for the wedded lady his wise wife, whose death afflicted him in chief and brought him to old age before his day. Now she died of very grief for her son renowned, by an evil death, so may no man perish who dwells here and is a friend to me in word and deed! So long as she was on earth, though in much sorrow, I was glad to ask and enquire concerning her, for that she herself had reared me along with long-robed Ctimene, her noble daughter, the youngest of her children. With her I was reared, and she honoured me little less than her own. But when we both came to the time of our desire, to the flower of age, thereupon they sent her to Same, and got a great bride-price; but my lady clad me in a mantle and a doublet, raiment very fair, and gave me sandals for my feet and sent me forth to the field, and right dear at heart she held me. But of these things now at last am I lacking; yet the blessed gods prosper the work of mine own hands, whereat I abide. Of this my substance I have eaten and drunken and given to reverend strangers. But from my lady I may hear naught pleasant, neither word nor deed, for evil hath fallen on her house, a plague of froward men; yet thralls have a great desire to speak before their mistress and find out all eat and drink, and moreover to carry off somewhat with them to the field, such things as ever comfort the heart of a thrall.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Ah, Eumaeus, how far then didst thou wander from thine own country and thy parents while as yet thou wast but a child! But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all. Was a wide-wayed town of men taken and sacked, wherein dwelt thy father and thy lady mother, or did unfriendly men find thee lonely, tending sheep or cattle, and shipped thee thence, and sold thee into the house of thy master here, who paid for thee a goodly price?’
Then spake to him the swineherd, a master of men: Stranger, since thou askest and questionest me hereof, give heed now in silence and make merry, and abide here drinking wine. Lo, the nights now are of length untold. Time is there to sleep, and time to listen and be glad; thou needest not turn to bed before the hour; even too much sleep is vexation of spirit. But for the rest, let him whose heart and mind bid him, go forth and slumber, and at the dawning of the day let him break his fast, and follow our master’s swine. But let us twain drink and feast within the steading, and each in his neighbour’s sorrows take delight, recalling them, for even the memory of griefs is a joy to a man who hath been sore tried and wandered far. Wherefore I will tell thee that whereof thou askest and dost question me.
‘There is a certain isle called Syria, if haply thou hast heard tell of it, over above Ortygia, and there are the turning-places of the sun. It is not very great in compass, though a goodly isle, rich in herds, rich in flocks, with plenty of corn and wine. Dearth never enters the land, and no hateful sickness falls on wretched mortals. But when the tribes of men grow old in that city, then comes Apollo of the silver bow, with Artemis, and slays them with the visitation of his gentle shafts. In that isle are two cities, and the whole land is divided between them, and my father was king over the twain, Ctesius son of Ormenus, a man like to the Immortals.
‘Thither came the Phoenicians, mariners renowned, greedy merchant men, with countless gauds in a black ship. Now in my father’s house was a Phoenician woman, tall and fair and skilled in bright handiwork; this woman the Phoenicians with their sleights beguiled. First as she was washing clothes, one of them lay with her in love by the hollow ship, for love beguiles the minds of womankind, even of the upright. Then he asked her who she was and whence she came, and straightway she showed him the lofty home of my father, saying:
‘“From out of Sidon I avow that I come, land rich in bronze, and I am the daughter of Arybas, the deeply wealthy. But Taphians, who were sea-robbers, laid hands on me and snatched me away as I came in from the fields, and brought me hither and sold me into the house of my master, who paid for me a goodly price.”
‘Then the man who had lain with her privily, answered: “Say, wouldst thou now return home with us, that thou mayst look again on the lofty house of thy father and mother and on their faces? For truly they yet live, and have a name for wealth.”
‘Then the woman answered him and spake, saying: “Even this may well be, if ye sailors will pledge me an oath to bring me home in safety.”
‘So spake she, and they all swore thereto as she bade them. Now when they had sworn and done that oath, again the woman spake among them and answered, saying:
‘“Hold your peace now, and let none of your fellows speak to me and greet me, if they meet me in the street, or even at the well, lest one go and tell it to the old man at home, and he suspect somewhat and bind me in hard bonds and devise death for all of you. But keep ye the matter in mind, and speed the purchase of your homeward freight. And when your ship is freighted with stores, let a message come quickly to me at the house; for I will likewise bring gold, all that comes under my hand. Yea and there is another thing that I would gladly give for my fare. I am nurse to the child of my lord in the halls, a most cunning little boy, that runs out and abroad with me. Him would I bring on board ship, and he should fetch you a great price, wheresoever ye take him for sale among men of strange speech.”
‘Therewith she went her way to the fair halls. But they abode among us a whole year, and got together much wealth in their hollow ship. And when their hollow ship was now laden to depart, they sent a messenger to tell the tidings to the woman. There came a man versed in craft to my father’s house, with a golden chain strung here and there with amber beads. Now the maidens in the hall and my lady mother were handling the chain and gazing on it, and offering him their price; but he had signed silently to the woman, and therewithal gat him away to the hollow ship. Then she took me by the hand and led me forth from the house. And at the vestibule of the house she found the cups and the tables of the guests that had been feasting, who were in waiting on my father. They had gone forth to the session and the place of parley of the people. And she straightway hid three goblets in her bosom, and bare them away, and I followed in my innocence. Then the sun sank and all the ways were darkened and we went quickly and came to the good haven, where was the swift ship of the Phoenicians. So they climbed on board and took us up with them, and sailed over the wet ways, and Zeus sent us a favouring wind. For six days we sailed by day and night continually; but when Zeus, son of Cronos, added the seventh day thereto, then Artemis, the archer, smote the woman that she fell, as a sea-swallow falls, with a plunge into the hold. And they cast her forth to be the prey of seals and fishes, but I was left stricken at heart. And wind and water bare them and brought them to Ithaca, where Laertes bought me with his possessions. And thus it chanced that mine eyes beheld this land.’
Then Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, answered him saying:
‘Eumaeus, verily thou hast stirred my heart within me with the tale of all these things, of all the sorrow of heart thou hast endured. Yet surely Zeus hath given thee good as well as evil, since after all these adventures thou hast come to the house of a kindly man, who is careful to give thee meat and drink and right well thou livest. But I have come hither still wandering through the many towns of men.’
Thus they spake one with the other. Then they laid them down to sleep for no long while, but for a little space, for soon came the throned Dawn. But on the shore the company of Telemachus were striking their sails, and took down the mast quickly and rowed the ship on to anchorage. And they cast anchors and made fast the hawsers, and themselves too stept forth upon the strand of the sea, and made ready the midday meal, and mixed the dark wine. Now when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, wise Telemachus first spake among them:
‘Do ye now drive the black ship to the city, while I will go to the fields and to the herdsmen, and at even I will return to the city, when I have seen my lands. And in the morning I will set by you the wages of the voyage, a good feast of flesh and of sweet wine.’
Then godlike Theoclymenus answered him: ‘And whither shall I go, dear child? To what man’s house shall I betake me, of such as are lords in rocky Ithaca? Shall I get me straight to thy mother and to thy home?’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘In other case I would bid thee go even to our own house; for there is no lack of cheer for strangers, but now would it be worse for thyself, forasmuch as I shall be away nor would my mother see thee. For she comes not often in sight of the wooers in the house, but abides apart from them in her upper chamber, and weaves at her web. Yet there is one whom I will tell thee of, to whom thou mayst go, Eurymachus the glorious son of wise Polybus, whom now the men of Ithaca look upon, even as if he were a god. For he is far the best man of them all, and is most eager to wed my mother and to have the sovereignty of Odysseus. Howbeit, Olympian Zeus, that dwells in the clear sky, knows hereof, whether or no he will fulfill for them the evil day before their marriage.’
Now even as he spake, a bird flew out on the right, a hawk, the swift messenger of Apollo. In his talons he held a dove and plucked her, and shed the feathers down to the earth, midway between the ship and Telemachus himself. Then Theoclymenus called him apart from his fellows, and clasped his hand and spake and hailed him:
‘Telemachus, surely not without the god’s will hath the bird flown out on the right, for I knew when I saw him that he was a bird of omen. There is no other house more kingly than yours in the land of Ithaca; nay, ye have ever the mastery.’
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Ah, stranger, would that this word may be accomplished! Soon shouldest thou be aware of kindness and many a gift at my hands, so that whoso met with thee would call thee blessed.’
Then he spake to Piraeus, his trusty companion: ‘Piraeus, son of Clytius, thou that at other seasons hearkenest to me above all my company who went with me to Pylos, even now, I pray, lead this stranger home with thee, and give heed to treat him lovingly and with worship in thy house till I come.’
Then Piraeus, spearsman renowned, answered him saying: ‘Telemachus, why, even if thou shouldest tarry here long, yet will I entertain this man, and he shall have no lack of stranger’s cheer.’
Therewith he went on board, and bade his men themselves to mount and loose the hawsers. And quickly they embarked and sat upon the benches. And Telemachus bound his goodly sandals beneath his feet, and seized a mighty spear, shod with sharp bronze, from the deck of the ship and his men loosed the hawsers. So they thrust off and sailed to the city, as Telemachus bade them, the dear son of divine Odysseus. But swiftly his feet bore him on his forward way, till he came to the court, where were his swine out of number; and among them the good swineherd slept, a man loyal to his lords.
//Telemachus sends Eumaeus to the city to tell his mother of his return. And how, in the meantime, Odysseus discovers himself to his son.//
Now these twain, Odysseus and the goodly swineherd, within the hut had kindled a fire, and were making ready breakfast at the dawn, and had sent forth the herdsmen with the droves of swine. And round Telemachus the hounds, that love to bark, fawned and barked not, as he drew nigh. And goodly Odysseus took note of the fawning of the dogs, and the noise of footsteps fell upon his ears. Then straight he spake to Eumaeus winged words:
‘Eumaeus, verily some friend or some other of thy familiars will soon be here, for the dogs do not bark but fawn around, and I catch the sound of footsteps.’
While the word was yet on his lips, his own dear son stood at the entering in of the gate. Then the swineherd sprang up in amazement, and out of his hands fell the vessels wherewith he was busied in mingling the dark wine. And he came over against his master and kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes and both his hands, and he let a great tear fall. And even as a loving father welcomes his son that has come in the tenth year from a far country, his only son and well-beloved, for whose sake he has had great sorrow and travail, even so did the goodly swineherd fall upon the neck of godlike Telemachus, and kiss him all over as one escaped from death, and he wept aloud and spake to him winged words:
‘Thou art come, Telemachus, a sweet light in the dark; methought I should see thee never again, after thou hadst gone in thy ship to Pylos. Nay now enter, dear child, that my heart may be glad at the sight of thee in mine house, who hast newly come from afar. For thou dost not often visit the field and the herdsmen, but abidest in the town; so it seems has thy good pleasure been, to look on the ruinous throng of the wooers.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘So be it, father, as thou sayest; and for thy sake am I come hither to see thee with mine eyes, and to hear from thy lips whether my mother yet abides in the halls or another has already wedded her, and the couch of Odysseus, perchance, lies in lack of bedding and deep in foul spider-webs.’
Then the swineherd, a master of men, answered him: ‘Yea verily, she abides with patient spirit in thy halls, and wearily for her the nights wane always and the days, in shedding of tears.’
So he spake and took from him the spear of bronze. Then Telemachus passed within and crossed the threshold of stone. As he came near, his father Odysseus arose from his seat to give him place; but Telemachus, on his part, stayed him and spake saying:
‘Be seated, stranger, and we will find a seat some other where in our steading, and there is a man here to set it for us.’
So he spake, and Odysseus went back and sat him down again. And the swineherd strewed for Telemachus green brushwood below, and a fleece thereupon, and there presently the dear son of Odysseus sat him down. Next the swineherd set by them platters of roast flesh, the fragments that were left from the meal of yesterday. And wheaten bread he briskly heaped up in baskets, and mixed the honey-sweet wine in a goblet of ivy wood, and himself sat down over against divine Odysseus. So they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, Telemachus spake to the goodly swineherd, saying:
‘Father, whence came this stranger to thee? How did sailors bring him to Ithaca? and who did they avow them to be? For in no wise, I deem, did he come hither by land.’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Yea now, my son, I will tell thee all the truth. Of wide Crete he avows him to be by lineage, and he says that round many cities of mortals he has wandered at adventure; even so has some god spun for him the thread of fate. But now, as a runaway from a ship of the Thesprotians, has he come to my steading, and I will give him to thee for thy man; do with him as thou wilt; he avows him for thy suppliant.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Eumaeus, verily a bitter word is this that thou speakest. How indeed shall I receive this guest in my house? Myself I am young, and trust not yet to my strength of hands to defend me against the man who does violence without a cause. And my mother has divisions of heart, whether to abide here with me and keep the house, respecting the bed of her lord and the voice of the people, or straightway to go with whomsoever of the Achaeans that woo her in the halls is the best man, and gives most bridal gifts. But behold, as for this guest of thine, now that he has come to thy house, I will clothe him in a mantle and a doublet, goodly raiment, and I will give him a two-edged sword, and shoes for his feet, and send him on his way, whithersoever his heart and his spirit bid him go. Or, if thou wilt, hold him here in the steading and take care of him, and raiment I will send hither, and all manner of food to eat, that he be not ruinous to thee and to thy fellows. But thither into the company of the wooers would I not suffer him to go, for they are exceeding full of infatuate insolence, lest they mock at him, and that would be a sore grief to me. And hard it is for one man, how valiant soever, to achieve aught among a multitude, for verily they are far the stronger.’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: ‘My friend, since it is indeed my right to answer thee withal, of a truth my heart is rent as I hear your words, such infatuate deeds ye say the wooers devise in the halls, in despite of thee, a man so noble. Say, dost thou willingly submit thee to oppression, or do the people through the township hate thee, obedient to the voice of a god? Or hast thou cause to blame thy brethren, in whose battle a man puts trust, even if a great feud arise? Ah, would that I had the youth, as now I have the spirit, and were either the son of noble Odysseus or Odysseus’ very self, [[24|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 24]] straightway then might a stranger sever my head from off my neck, if I went not to the halls of Odysseus, son of Laertes, and made myself the bane of every man among them! But if they should overcome me by numbers, being but one man against so many, far rather would I die slain in mine own halls, than witness for ever these unseemly deeds, strangers shamefully entreated, and men haling the handmaidens in foul wise through the fair house, and wine drawn wastefully and the wooers devouring food all recklessly without avail, at a work that knows no ending.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Yea now, stranger I will plainly tell thee all. There is no grudge and hatred borne my by the whole people, neither have I cause to blame my brethren, in whose battle a man puts trust, even if a great feud arise. For thus, as thou seest, Cronion has made us a house of but one heir. Arceisius got him one only son Laertes, and one only son Odysseus was begotten of his father, and Odysseus left me the only child of his getting in these halls, and had no joy of me; wherefore now are foemen innumerable in the house. For all the noblest that are princes in the islands, in Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus, and as many as lord it in rocky Ithaca, all these woo my mother and waste my house. But as for her she neither refuseth the hated bridal, nor hath the heart to make and end; so they devour and minish my house; and ere long will they make havoc likewise of myself. Howbeit these things surely lie on the knees of the gods. Nay, father, but do thou go with haste and tell the constant Penelope that she hath got me safe and that I am come up out of Pylos. As for me, I will tarry here, and do thou return hither when thou hast told the tidings to her alone; but of the other Achaeans let no man learn it, for there be many that devise mischief against me.’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘I mark, I heed, all this thou speakest to one with understanding. But come, declare me this and tell it plainly; whether or no I shall go the same road with tidings to Laertes, that hapless man, who till lately, despite his great sorrow for Odysseus’ sake, yet had oversight of the tillage, and did eat and drink with the thralls in his house, as often as his heart within him bade him. But now, from the day that thou wentest in thy ship to Pylos, never to this hour, they say, hath he so much as eaten and drunken, nor looked to the labours of the field, but with groaning and lamentation he sits sorrowing, and the flesh wastes away about his bones.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘All the more grievous it is! yet will we let him be, though we sorrow thereat. For if men might in any wise have all their will, we should before ought else choose the day of my father’s returning. But do thou when thou hast told the tidings come straight back, and go not wandering through the fields after Laertes. But speak to my mother that with all speed she send forth the house-dame her handmaid, secretly, for she might bear tidings to the old man.’
With that word he roused the swineherd, who took his sandals in his hands and bound them beneath his feet and departed for the city. Now Athene noted Eumaeus the swineherd pass from the steading, and she drew nigh in the semblance of a woman fair and tall, and skilled in splendid handiwork. And she stood in presence manifest to Odysseus over against the doorway of the hut; but it was so that Telemachus saw her not before him and marked her not; for the gods in no wise appear visibly to all. But Odysseus was ware of her and the dogs likewise, which barked not, but with a low whine shrank cowering to the far side of the steading. Then she nodded at him with bent brows, and goodly Odysseus perceived it, and came forth from the room, past the great wall of the yard, and stood before her, and Athene spake to him, saying:
‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, now is the hour to reveal thy word to thy son, and hide it not, that ye twain having framed death and doom for the wooers, may fare to the famous town. Nor will I, even I, be long away from you, being right eager for battle.’
Therewith Athene touched him with her golden wand. First she cast about his breast a fresh linen robe and a doublet, and she increased his bulk and bloom. Dark his colour grew again, and his cheeks filled out, and the black beard spread thick around his chin.
Now she, when she had so wrought, withdrew again, but Odysseus went into the hut, and his dear son marvelled at him and looked away for very fear lest it should be a god, and he uttered his voice and spake to him winged words:
‘Even now, stranger, thou art other in my sight than that thou wert a moment since, and other garments thou hast, and the colour of thy skin is no longer the same. Surely thou art a god of those that keep the wide heaven. Nay then, be gracious, that we may offer to thee well-pleasing sacrifices and golden gifts, beautifully wrought; and spare us I pray thee.’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: ‘Behold, no god am I; why likenest thou me to the immortals? nay, thy father am I, for whose sake thou sufferest many pains and groanest sore, and submittest thee to the despite of men,’
At the word he kissed his son, and from his cheeks let a tear fall to earth: before, he had stayed the tears continually. But Telemachus (for as yet he believed not that it was his father) answered in turn and spake, saying:
‘Thou art not Odysseus my father, but some god beguiles me, that I may groan for more exceeding sorrow. For it cannot be that a mortal man should contrive this by the aid of his own wit, unless a god were himself to visit him, and lightly of his own will to make him young or old. For truly, but a moment gone, thou wert old and foully clad, but now thou art like the gods who keep the wide heaven.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Telemachus, it fits thee not to marvel overmuch that thy father is come home, or to be amazed. Nay for thou shalt find no other Odysseus come hither any more; but lo, I, all as I am, after sufferings and much wandering have come in the twentieth year to mine own country. Behold, this is the work of Athene, driver of the spoil, who makes me such manner of man as she will — for with her it is possible — now like a beggar, and now again like a young man, and one clad about in rich raiment. Easy it is for the gods who keep the wide heaven to glorify or to abase a mortal man.’
With this word then he sat down again; but Telemachus, flinging himself upon his noble father’s neck, mourned and shed tears, and in both their hearts arose the desire of lamentation. And they wailed aloud, more ceaselessly than birds, sea-eagles or vultures of crooked claws, whose younglings the country folk have taken from the nest, ere yet they are fledged. Even so pitifully fell the tears beneath their brows. And now would the sunlight have gone down upon their sorrowing, had not Telemachus spoken to his father suddenly:
‘And in what manner of ship, father dear, did sailors at length bring thee hither to Ithaca? and who did they avow them to be? For in no wise, I deem, didst thou come hither by land.’
And the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: ‘Yea now, my child, I will tell thee all the truth. The Phaeacians brought me hither, mariners renowned, who speed other men too upon their way, whosoever comes to them. Asleep in the swift ship they bore me over the seas and set me down in Ithaca, and gave me splendid gifts, bronze and gold in plenty and woven raiment. And these treasures are lying by the gods’ grace in the caves. But now I am come hither by the promptings of Athene, that we may take counsel for the slaughter of the foemen. But come, tell me all the tale of the wooers and their number, that I may know how many and what men they be, and that so I may commune with my good heart and advise me, whether we twain shall be able alone to make head against them without aid, or whether we should even seek succour of others.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Verily, father, I have ever heard of thy great fame, for a warrior hardy of thy hands, and sage in counsel. But this is a hard saying of thine: awe comes over me; for it may not be that two men should do battle with many men and stalwart. For of the wooers there are not barely ten nor twice ten only, but many a decad more: and straight shalt thou learn the tale of them ere we part. From Dulichium there be two and fifty chosen lords, and six serving men go with them; and out of Same four and twenty men; and from Zacynthus there are twenty lords of the Achaeans; and from Ithaca itself full twelve men of the best, and with them Medon the henchman, and the divine minstrel, and two squires skilled in carving viands. If we shall encounter all these within the halls, see thou to it, lest bitter and baneful for us be the vengeance thou takest on their violence at thy coming. But do thou, if thou canst think of some champion, advise thee of any that may help us with all his heart.’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: ‘Yea now, I will tell thee, and do thou mark and listen to me, and consider whether Athene with Father Zeus will suffice for us twain, or whether I shall cast about for some other champion.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Valiant helpers, in sooth, are these two thou namest, whose seat is aloft in the clouds, and they rule among all men and among the deathless gods!’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him: ‘Yet will the twain not long keep aloof from the strong tumult of war, when between the wooers and us in my halls is held the trial of the might of Ares. But as now, do thou go homeward at the breaking of the day, and consort with the proud wooers. As for me, the swineherd will lead me to the town later in the day, in the likeness of a beggar, a wretched man and an old. And if they shall evil entreat me in the house, let thy heart harden itself to endure while I am shamefully handled, yea even if they drag me by the feet through the house to the doors, or cast at me and smite me: still do thou bear the sight. Howbeit thou shalt surely bid them cease from their folly, exhorting them with smooth words; yet no whit will they hearken, nay for the day of their doom is at hand. Yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. When Athene, of deep counsel, shall put it into my heart, I will nod to thee with my head and do thou note it, and carry away all thy weapons of war that lie in the halls, and lay them down every one in the secret place of the lofty chamber. And when the wooers miss them and ask thee concerning them, thou shalt beguile them with soft words, saying:
‘“Out of the smoke I laid them by, since they were no longer like those that Odysseus left behind him of old when he went to Troy, but they are wholly marred: so mightily hath passed upon them the vapour of fire. Moreover Cronion hath put into my heart this other and greater care, that perchance, when ye are heated with wine, ye set a quarrel between you and wound one the other and thereby shame the feast and the wooing; for iron of itself draws a man thereto.” But for us twain alone leave two swords and two spears and two shields of oxhide to grasp, that we may rush upon the arms and seize them; and then shall Pallas Athene and Zeus the counsellor enchant the wooers to their ruin. Yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. If in very truth thou art my son and of our blood, then let no man hear that Odysseus is come home; neither let Laertes know it, nor the swineherd nor any of the household nor Penelope herself, but let me and thee alone discover the intent of the women. Yea, and we would moreover make trial of certain of the men among the thralls, and learn who [[25|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 25]] of them chances to honour us and to fear us heartily, and who regards us not at all and holds even thee in no esteem, so noble a man as thou art.’
Then his renowned son answered him, and said: ‘O my father, of a truth thou shalt learn, methinks, even hereafter what spirit I am of, for no whit doth folly possess me. But I deem not that this device of thine will be gainful to us twain, so I bid thee to give heed. For thou shalt be long time on thy road to little purpose, making trial of each man, while thou visitest the farm lands; but at ease in thy halls the wooers devour thy goods with insolence, and now there is no sparing. Howbeit I would have thee take knowledge of the women, who they be that dishonour thee, and who are guiltless. But of the men I would not that we should make trial in the steadings, but that we should see to this task afterwards, if indeed thou knowest some sign from Zeus, lord of the aegis.’
Thus they spake one to the other. And now the well-builded ship was being brought to land at Ithaca, the ship that bare Telemachus from Pylos with all his company. When they were now come within the deep harbour, the men drew up the black ship on the shore, while squires, haughty of heart, bare away their weapons, and straightway carried the glorious gifts to the house of Clytius. Anon they sent forward a herald to the house of Odysseus to bear the tidings to prudent Penelope, namely, how Telemachus was in the field, and had bidden the ship sail to the city, lest the noble queen should be afraid, and let the round tears fall. So these two met, the herald and the goodly swineherd, come on the same errand to tell all to the lady. Now when they were got to the house of the divine king, the herald spake out among all the handmaids saying:
‘Verily, O queen, thy son hath come out of Pylos.’
But the swineherd went up to Penelope, and told her all that her dear son had bidden him say. So, when he had declared all that had been enjoined him, he went on his way to the swine and left the enclosure and the hall.
Now the wooers were troubled and downcast in spirit, and forth they went from the hall past the great wall of the court, and there in front of the gates they held their session. And Eurymachus son of Polybus first spake among them saying:
‘Verily, friends, a proud deed hath Telemachus accomplished with a high hand, even this journey, and we said that he should never bring it to pass. But come, launch we a black ship, the best there is, and let us get together oarsmen of the sea, who shall straightway bear word to our friends to return home with speed.’
The word was yet on his lips, when Amphinomus turned in his place and saw the ship within the deep harbour, and the men lowering the sails and with the oars in their hands. Then sweetly he laughed out and spake among his fellows:
‘Nay, let us now send no message any more, for lo, they are come home. Either some god has told them all or they themselves have seen the ship of Telemachus go by, and have not been able to catch her.’
Thus he spake, and they arose and went to the sea-banks. Swiftly the men drew up the black ship on the shore, and squires, haughty of heart, bare away their weapons. And the wooers all together went to the assembly-place, and suffered none other to sit with them, either of the young men or of the elders. Then Antinous spake among them, the son of Eupeithes:
‘Lo now, how the gods have delivered this man from his evil case! All day long did scouts sit along the windy headlands, ever in quick succession, and at the going down of the sun we never rested for a night upon the shore, but sailing with our swift ship on the high seas we awaited the bright Dawn, as we lay in wait for Telemachus, that we might take and slay the man himself; but meanwhile some god has brought him home. But even here let us devise an evil end for him, even for Telemachus, and let him not escape out of our hands, for methinks that while he lives we shall never achieve this task of ours. For he himself has understanding in counsel and wisdom, and the people no longer show us favour in all things. Nay come, before he assembles all the Achaeans to the gathering; for methinks that he will in nowise be slack, but will be exceeding wroth, and will stand up and speak out among them all, and tell how we plotted against him sheer destruction but did not overtake him. Then will they not approve us, when they hear these evil deeds. Beware then lest they do us a harm, and drive us forth from our country, and we come to the land of strangers. Nay, but let us be beforehand and take him in the field far from the city, or by the way; and let us ourselves keep his livelihood and his possessions, making fair division among us, but the house we would give to his mother to keep and to whomsoever marries her. But if this saying likes you not, but ye chose rather that he should live and keep the heritage of his father, no longer then let us gather here and eat all his store of pleasant substance, but let each one from his own hall woo her with his bridal gifts and seek to win her; so should she wed the man that gives the most and comes as the chosen of fate.’
So he spake, and they all held their peace. Then Amphinomus made harangue and spake out among them; he was the famous son of Nisus the prince, the son of Aretias, and he led the wooers that came from out Dulichium, a land rich in wheat and in grass, and more than all the rest his words were pleasing to Penelope, for he was of an understanding mind. And now of his good will he made harangue, and spake among them:
‘Friends, I for one would not choose to kill Telemachus; it is a fearful thing to slay one of the stock of kings! Nay, first let us seek to the counsel of the gods, and if the oracles of great Zeus approve, myself I will slay him and bid all the rest to aid. But if the gods are disposed to avert it, I bid you to refrain.’
So spake Amphinomus, and his saying pleased them well. Then straightway they arose and went to the house of Odysseus, and entering in sat down on the polished seats.
Then the wise Penelope had a new thought, namely, to show herself to the wooers, so despiteful in their insolence; for she had heard of the death of her son that was to be in the halls, seeing that Medon the henchman had told her of it; who heard their counsels. So she went on her way to the hall, with the women her handmaids. Now when that fair lady had come unto the wooers, she stood by the pillar of the well-builded roof, holding up her glistening tire before her face, and rebuked Antinous and spake and hailed him:
‘Antinous, full of all insolence, deviser of mischief! and yet they say that in the land of Ithaca thou art chiefest among thy peers in counsel and in speech. Nay, no such man dost thou show thyself. Fool! why indeed dost thou contrive death and doom for Telemachus, and hast no regard unto suppliants who have Zeus to witness? Nay but it is an impious thing to contrive evil one against another. What! knowest thou not of the day when thy father fled to this house in fear of the people, for verily they were exceeding wroth against him, because he had followed with Taphian sea robbers and harried the Thesprotians, who were at peace with us. So they wished to destroy thy father and wrest from him his dear life, and utterly to devour all his great and abundant livelihood; but Odysseus stayed and withheld them, for all their desire. His house thou now consumest without atonement, and his wife thou wooest, and wouldst slay his son, and dost greatly grieve me. But I bid thee cease, and command the others to do likewise.’
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered her saying: ‘Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, take courage, and let not thy heart be careful for these things. The man is not, nor shall be, nor ever shall be born, that shall stretch forth his hands against Telemachus, thy son, while I live and am on earth and see the light. For thus will I declare to thee, and it shall surely come to pass. Right quickly shall the black blood of such an one flow about our spear; for Odysseus, waster of cities, of a truth did many a time set me too upon his knees, and gave me roasted flesh into my hand, and held the red wine to my lips. Wherefore Telemachus is far the dearest of all men to me, and I bid him have no fear of death, not from the wooers’ hands; but from the gods none may avoid it.’
Thus he spake comforting her, but was himself the while framing death for her son.
Now she ascended to her shining upper chamber, and then was bewailing Odysseus, her dear lord, till grey-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.
And in the evening the goodly swineherd came back to Odysseus and his son, and they made ready and served the supper, when they had sacrificed a swine of a year old. Then Athene drew near Odysseus, son of Laertes, and smote him with her wand, and made him into an old man again. In sorry raiment she clad him about his body, lest the swineherd should look on him and know him, and depart to tell the constant Penelope, and not keep the matter in his heart.
Then Telemachus spake first to the swineherd, saying: ‘Thou hast come, goodly Eumaeus. What news is there in the town? Are the lordly wooers now come in from their ambush, or do they still watch for me as before on my homeward way?’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘I had no mind to go down the city asking and inquiring hereof; my heart bade me get me home again, as quick as might be, when once I had told the tidings. And the swift messenger from thy company joined himself unto me, the henchman, who was the first to tell the news to thy mother. Yet this, too, I know, if thou wouldest hear; for I beheld it with mine eyes. Already had I come in my faring above the city, where is the hill Hermaean, when I marked a swift ship entering our haven, and many men there were in her, and she was laden with shields and two-headed spears, and methought they were the wooers, but I know not at all.’
So spake he, and the mighty prince Telemachus smiled, and glanced at his father, while he shunned the eye of the swineherd.
Now when they had ceased from the work and got supper ready, they fell to feasting, and their hearts lacked not ought of the equal banquet. But when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, they bethought them of rest, and took the boon of sleep.
//Telemachus relates to his mother what he had heard at Pylos and Sparta.//
So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, then Telemachus, the dear son of divine Odysseus, bound beneath his feet his goodly sandals, and took up his mighty spear that fitted his grasp, to make for the city; and he spake to his swineherd, saying:
‘Verily, father, I am bound for the city, that my mother may see me, for methinks that she will not cease from grievous wailing and tearful lament, until she beholds my very face. But this command I give thee: Lead this stranger, the hapless one, to the city, that there he may beg his meat, and whoso chooses will give him a morsel of bread and a cup of water. As for myself, I can in no wise suffer every guest who comes to me, so afflicted am I in spirit. But if the stranger be sore angered hereat, the more grievous will it be for himself; howbeit I for one love to speak the truth.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘I too, my friend, have no great liking to be left behind here. It is better that a beggar should beg his meat in the town than in the fields, and whoso chooses will give it me. For I am not now of an age to abide at the steading, and to obey in all things the word of the master. Nay go, and this man that thou biddest will lead me, so soon as I shall be warmed with the fire, and the sun waxes hot. For woefully poor are these garments of mine, and I fear lest the hoar frost of the dawn overcome me; moreover ye say the city is far away.’
So he spake, and Telemachus passed out through the steading, stepping forth at a quick pace, and was sowing the seeds of evil for the wooers. Now when he was come to the fair-lying house, he set his spear against the tall pillar and leaned it there, and himself went in and crossed the threshold of stone.
And the nurse Eurycleia saw him far before the rest, as she was strewing skin coverlets upon the carven chairs, and straightway she drew near him, weeping, and all the other maidens of Odysseus, of the hardy heart, were gathered about him, and kissed him lovingly on the head and shoulders. Now wise Penelope came forth from her chamber, like Artemis or golden Aphrodite, and cast her arms about her dear son, and fell a weeping, and kissed his face and both his beautiful eyes, and wept aloud, and spake to him winged words:
‘Thou art come, Telemachus, a sweet light in the dark; methought I should see thee never again, after thou hadst gone in thy ship to Pylos, secretly and without my will, to seek tidings of thy dear father. Come now, tell me, what sight thou didst get of him?’
And wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘Mother mine, wake not wailing in my soul, nor stir the heart within the breast of me, that have but now fled from utter death. Nay, but wash thee in water, and take to thee fresh raiment, and go aloft to thine upper chamber with the women thy handmaids, and vow to all the gods an acceptable sacrifice of hecatombs, if haply Zeus may grant that deeds of requital be made. But I will go to the assembly-place to bid a stranger to our house, one that accompanied me as I came hither from Pylos. I sent him forward with my godlike company, and commanded Piraeus to lead him home, and to take heed to treat him lovingly and with worship till I should come.’
Thus he spake, and wingless her speech remained. And she washed her in water, and took to her fresh raiment, and vowed to all the gods an acceptable sacrifice of hecatombs, if haply Zeus might grant that deeds of requital should be made.
Now Telemachus went out through the hall with the spear in his hand: and two swift hounds bare him company. And Athene shed on him a wondrous grace, and all the people marvelled at him as he came. And the lordly wooers gathered about him with fair words on their lips, but brooding evil in the deep of their heart. Then he avoided the great press of the wooers, but where Mentor sat, and Antiphus, and Halitherses, who were friends of his house from of old, there he went and sat down; and they asked him of all his adventures. Then Piraeus, the famed spearsman, drew nigh, leading the stranger to the assembly-place by the way of the town; and Telemachus kept not aloof from him long, but went up to him.
Then Piraeus first spake to him, saying: ‘Bestir the women straightway to go to my house, that I may send thee the gifts that Menelaus gave thee.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Piraeus, we know not how these matters will fall out. If the lordly wooers shall slay me by guile in the halls, and divide among them the heritage of my father, then I should wish thee to keep and enjoy the gifts thyself, rather than any of these. But if I shall sow the seeds of death and fate for the wooers, then gladly bring me to the house the gifts that I will gladly take.’
Therewith he led the travel-worn stranger to the house. Now when they came to the fair-lying palace, they laid aside their mantles on the chairs and high seats, and went to the polished baths, and bathed them. So when the maidens had bathed them and anointed them with olive oil, and cast about them thick mantles and doublets, they came forth from the baths, and sat upon the seats. Then the handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal, and drew to their side a polished table. And the grave dame bare wheaten bread, and set it by them, and laid on the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her. And the mother of Telemachus sat over against him by the pillar of the hall, leaning against a chair, and spinning the slender threads from the yarn. And they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, the wise Penelope first spake among them:
‘Telemachus, verily I will go up to my upper chamber, and lay me in my bed, the place of my groanings, that is ever watered by my tears, since the day that Odysseus departed with the sons of Atreus for Ilios. Yet thou hadst no care to tell me clearly, before the lordly wooers came to this house, concerning the returning of thy father, if haply thou hast heard thereof.’
And wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘Yea now, mother, I will tell thee all the truth. We went to Pylos and to Nestor, the shepherd of the people, and he received me in his lofty house, and was diligent to entreat me lovingly, as a father might his son that had but newly come from strange lands after many years; even so diligently he cared for me with his renowned sons. Yet he said that he had heard no word from any man on earth concerning Odysseus, of the hardy heart, whether alive or dead. But he sent me forward on my way with horses and a chariot, well compact, to Menelaus, son of Atreus, spearman renowned. There I saw Argive Helen, for whose sake the Argives and Trojans bore much travail by the gods’ designs. Then straightway Menelaus, of the loud war-cry, asked me on what quest I had come to goodly Lacedaemon. And I told him all the truth. Then he made answer, and spake, saying:
‘“Out upon them, for truly in the bed of a brave-hearted man were they minded to lie, very cravens as they are! Even as when a hind hath couched her newborn fawns unweaned in a strong lion’s lair, and searcheth out the mountain-knees and grassy hollows, seeking pasture; and afterward the lion cometh back to his bed, and sendeth forth unsightly death upon that pair, even so shall Odysseus send forth unsightly death upon the wooers. Would to our father Zeus, and Athene, and Apollo, would that in such might as when of old in stablished Lesbos he rose up in strife and wrestled with Philomeleides, and threw him mightily, and all the Achaeans rejoiced; would that in such strength Odysseus might consort with the wooers; then should they all have swift fate and bitter wedlock! But for that whereof thou askest and entreatest me, be sure I will not swerve from the truth in aught that I say, nor deceive thee; but of all that the ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth, declared to me, not a word will I hide or keep from thee. He said that he saw Odysseus in an island, suffering strong pains in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who holds him there perforce; so that he may not come to his own country, for he has by him no ships with oars, and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea.” So spake Menelaus, son of Atreus, spearsman renowned. Then having fulfilled all, I set out for home, and the deathless gods gave me a fair wind, and brought me swiftly to mine own dear country.’
So he spake, and stirred her heart within her breast. And next the godlike Theoclymenus spake among them:
‘O wife revered of Odysseus, son of Laertes, verily he hath no clear knowledge; but my word do thou mark, for I will prophesy to thee most truly and hide nought. Now Zeus be witness before any god, and this hospitable board and this hearth of noble Odysseus, whereunto I am come, that Odysseus is even now of a surety in his own country, resting or faring, learning of these evil deeds, and sowing the seeds of evil for all the wooers. So clear was the omen of the bird that I saw as I sat on the decked ship, and I proclaimed it to Telemachus.’
Then wise Penelope answered him, saying: ‘Ah, stranger, would that this thy word may be accomplished! Soon shouldest thou be aware of kindness and of many a gift at my hands, so that whoso met with thee would call thee blessed.’
Thus they spake one to the other. But the wooers meantime were before the palace of Odysseus, taking their pleasure in casting of weights and of spears on a levelled place, as heretofore, in their insolence. But when it was now the hour for supper, and the flocks came home from the fields all around, and the men led them whose custom it was, then Medon, who of all the henchmen was most to their mind, and was ever with them at the feast, spake to them, saying:
‘Noble youths, now that ye have had sport to your hearts’ content, get you into the house, that we may make ready a feast; for truly it is no bad thing to take meat in season.’
Even so he spake, and they rose up and departed, and were obedient to his word. Now when they were come into the fair-lying house, they laid aside their mantles on the chairs and high seats, and they sacrificed great sheep and stout goats, yea, and the fatlings of the boars and an heifer of the herd, and got ready the feast.
Now all this while Odysseus and the goodly swineherd were bestirring them to go from the field to the city; and the swineherd, a master of men, spake first saying:
‘Well, my friend, forasmuch as I see thou art eager to be going to the city today, even as my master gave command; — though myself I would well that thou shouldest be left here to keep the steading, but I hold him in reverence and fear, lest he chide me afterwards, and grievous are the rebukes of masters — come then, let us go on our way, for lo, the day is far spent, and soon wilt thou find it colder toward evening.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘I mark, I heed: all this thou speakest to one with understanding. But let us be going, and be thou my guide withal to the end. And if thou hast anywhere a staff ready cut, give it me to lean upon, for truly ye said that slippery was the way.’
Therewith he cast about his shoulders a mean scrip, all tattered, and a cord withal to hang it, and Eumaeus gave him a staff to his mind. So these twain went on their way, and the dogs and the herdsmen stayed behind to guard the steading. And the swineherd led his lord to the city in the guise of a beggar, a wretched man and an old, leaning on a staff; and sorry was the raiment wherewith he was clothed upon. But as they fared along the rugged path they drew near to the town, and came to the fair flowing spring, with a basin fashioned, whence the people of the city drew water. This well Ithacus and Neritus and Polyctor had builded. And around it was a thicket of alders that grow by the waters, all circlewise, and down the cold stream fell from a rock on high, and above was reared an altar to the Nymphs, whereat all wayfarers made offering. In that place Melanthius, son of Dolius, met them, leading his goats to feast the wooers, the best goats that were in all the herds; and two herdsmen bare him company. Now when he saw them he reviled them, and spake and hailed them, in terrible and evil fashion, and stirred the heart of Odysseus, saying:
‘Now in very truth the vile is leading the vile, for god brings ever like to like! Say, whither art thou leading this glutton — thou wretched swineherd — this plaguy beggar, a kill-joy of the feast? He is one to stand about and rub his shoulders against many doorposts, begging for scraps of meat, not for swords or cauldrons. If thou wouldst give me the fellow to watch my steading and sweep out the stalls, and carry fresh fodder to the kids, then he might drink whey and get him a stout thigh. Howbeit, since he is practised only in evil, he will not care to betake him to the labour of the farm, but rather chooses to go louting through the land asking alms to fill his insatiate belly. But now I will speak out and my word shall surely be accomplished. If ever he fares to the house of divine Odysseus, many a stool that men’s hands hurl shall fly about his head, and break upon his ribs, [[26|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 26]] as they pelt him through the house.’
Therewith, as he went past, he kicked Odysseus on the hip, in his witlessness, yet he drave him not from the path, but he abode steadfast. And Odysseus pondered whether he should rush upon him and take away his life with the staff, or lift him in his grasp [[27|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 27]] and smite his head to the earth. Yet he hardened his heart to endure and refrained himself. And the swineherd looked at the other and rebuked him, and lifting up his hands prayed aloud:
‘Nymphs of the well-water, daughters of Zeus, if ever Odysseus burned on your altars pieces of the thighs of rams or kids, in their covering of rich fat, fulfil for me this wish:— oh that he, even he, may come home, and that some god may bring him! Then would he scatter all thy bravery, which now thou flauntest insolently, wandering ever about the city, while evil shepherds destroy the flock.’
Then Melanthius, the goatherd, answered: ‘Lo now, what a word has this evil-witted dog been saying! Some day I will take him in a black decked ship far from Ithaca, that he may bring me in much livelihood. Would God that Apollo, of the silver bow, might smite Telemachus today in the halls, or that he might fall before the wooers, so surely as for Odysseus the day of returning has in a far land gone by!’
So he spake and left them there as they walked slowly on. But Melanthius stepped forth, and came very speedily to the house of the prince, and straightway he went in and sat down among the wooers, over against Eurymachus, who chiefly showed him kindness. And they that ministered set by him a portion of flesh, and the grave dame brought wheaten bread and set it by him to eat. Now Odysseus and the goodly swineherd drew near and stood by, and the sound of the hollow lyre rang around them, for Phemius was lifting up his voice amid the company in song, and Odysseus caught the swineherd by the hand, and spake, saying:
‘Eumaeus, verily this is the fair house of Odysseus, and right easily might it be known and marked even among many. There is building beyond building, and the court of the house is cunningly wrought with a wall and battlements, and well-fenced are the folding doors; no man may hold it in disdain. And I see that many men keep revel within, for the savour of the fat rises upward, [[28|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 28]] and the voice of the lyre is heard there, which the gods have made to be the mate of the feast.’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Easily thou knowest it, for indeed thou never lackest understanding. But come, let us advise us, how things shall fall out here. Either do thou go first within the fair-lying halls, and join the company of the wooers, so will I remain here, or if thou wilt, abide here, and I will go before thy face, and tarry not long, lest one see thee without, and hurl at thee or strike thee. Look well to this, I bid thee.’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: ‘I mark, I heed, all this thou speakest to one with understanding. Do thou then go before me, and I will remain here, for well I know what it is to be smitten and hurled at. My heart is full of hardiness, for much evil have I suffered in perils of waves and war; let this be added to the tale of those. But a ravening belly may none conceal, a thing accursed, that works much ill for men. For this cause too the benched ships are furnished, that bear mischief to foemen over the unharvested seas.’
Thus they spake one to the other. And lo, a hound raised up his head and pricked his ears, even where he lay, Argos, the hound of Odysseus, of the hardy heart, which of old himself had bred, but had got no joy of him, for ere that, he went to sacred Ilios. Now in time past the young men used to lead the hound against wild goats and deer and hares; but as then, despised he lay (his master being afar) in the deep dung of mules and kine, whereof an ample bed was spread before the doors, till the thralls of Odysseus should carry it away to dung therewith his wide demesne. There lay the dog Argos, full of vermin. Yet even now when he was ware of Odysseus standing by, he wagged his tail and dropped both his ears, but nearer to his master he had not now the strength to draw. But Odysseus looked aside and wiped away a tear that he easily hid from Eumaeus, and straightway he asked him, saying:
‘Eumaeus, verily this is a great marvel, this hound lying here in the dung. Truly he is goodly of growth, but I know not certainly if he have speed with this beauty, or if he be comely only, like as are men’s trencher dogs that their lords keep for the pleasure of the eye.’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘In very truth this is the dog of a man that has died in a far land. If he were what once he was in limb and in the feats of the chase, when Odysseus left him to go to Troy, soon wouldst thou marvel at the sight of his swiftness and his strength. There was no beast that could flee from him in the deep places of the wood, when he was in pursuit; for even on a track he was the keenest hound. But now he is holden in an evil case, and his lord hath perished far from his own country, and the careless women take no charge of him. Nay, thralls are no more inclined to honest service when their masters have lost the dominion, for Zeus, of the far-borne voice, takes away the half of a man’s virtue, when the day of slavery comes upon him.’
Therewith he passed within the fair-lying house, and went straight to the hall, to the company of the proud wooers. But upon Argos came the fate of black death even in the hour that he beheld Odysseus again, in the twentieth year.
Now godlike Telemachus was far the first to behold the swineherd as he came into the hall, and straightway then he beckoned and called him to his side. So Eumaeus looked about and took a settle that lay by him, where the carver was wont to sit dividing much flesh among the wooers that were feasting in the house. This seat he carried and set by the table of Telemachus over against him, and there sat down himself. And the henchman took a mess and served it him, and wheaten bread out of the basket.
And close behind him Odysseus entered the house in the guise of a beggar, a wretched man and an old, leaning on his staff, and clothed on with sorry raiment. And he sat down on the ashen threshold within the doorway, leaning against a pillar of cypress wood, which the carpenter on a time had deftly planed, and thereon made straight the line. And Telemachus called the swineherd to him, and took a whole loaf out of the fair basket, and of flesh so much as his hands could hold in their grasp, saying:
‘Take and give this to the stranger, and bid him go about and beg himself of all the wooers in their turn, for shame is an ill mate of a needy man.’
So he spake, and the swineherd went when he heard that saying, and stood by and spake to him winged words:
‘Stranger, Telemachus gives thee these and bids thee go about and beg of all the wooers in their turn, for, he says, “shame ill becomes a beggar man.”’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him and said: ‘King Zeus, grant me that Telemachus may be happy among men, and may he have all his heart’s desire!’
Therewith he took the gift in both hands, and set it there before his feet on his unsightly scrip. Then he ate meat so long as the minstrel was singing in the halls. When he had done supper, and the divine minstrel was ending his song, then the wooers raised a clamour through the halls; but Athene stood by Odysseus, son of Laertes, and moved him to go gathering morsels of bread among the wooers, and learn which were righteous and which unjust. Yet not even so was she fated to redeem one man of them from an evil doom. So he set out, beginning on the right, to ask of each man, stretching out his hand on every side, as though he were a beggar from of old. And they in pity gave him somewhat, and were amazed at the man, asking one another who he was and whence he came?
Then Melanthius, the goatherd, spake among them:
‘Listen, ye wooers of the renowned queen, concerning this stranger, for verily I have seen him before. The swineherd truly was his guide hither, but of him I have no certain knowledge, whence he avows him to be born.’
So spake he, but Antinous rebuked the swineherd, saying: ‘Oh notorious swineherd, wherefore, I pray thee, didst thou bring this man to the city? Have we not vagrants enough besides, plaguy beggars, kill-joys of the feast? Dost thou count it a light thing that they assemble here and devour the living of thy master, but thou must needs [[29|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 29]] call in this man too?’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Antinous, no fair words are these of thine, noble though thou art. For who ever himself seeks out and bids to the feast a stranger from afar, save only one of those that are craftsmen of the people, a prophet or a healer of ills, or a shipwright or even a godlike minstrel, who can delight all with his song? Nay, these are the men that are welcome over all the wide earth. But none would call a beggar to the banquet, to waste his substance. But thou art ever hard above all the other wooers to the servants of Odysseus, and, beyond all, to me; but behold, I care not, so long as my mistress, the constant Penelope, lives in the halls and godlike Telemachus.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Be silent, answer him not, I pray thee, with many words, for Antinous is wont ever to chide us shamefully with bitter speech, yea, and urges the others thereto.’
Therewithal he spake winged words to Antinous: ‘Antinous, verily thou hast a good care for me, as it were a father for his son, thou that biddest me drive our guest from the hall with a harsh command. God forbid that such a thing should be! Take somewhat and give it him: lo, I grudge it not; nay, I charge thee to do it. And herein regard not my mother, nor any of the thralls that are in the house of divine Odysseus. Nay, but thou hast no such thought in thy heart, for thou art far more fain to eat thyself than to give to another.’
Then Antinous answered him and spake, saying: ‘Telemachus, proud of speech, and unrestrained in fury, what word hast thou spoken? If all the wooers should vouchsafe him as much as I, this house would keep him far enough aloof even for three months’ space.’
So he spake, and seized the footstool whereon he rested his sleek feet as he sat at the feast, and showed it from beneath the table where it lay. But all the others gave somewhat and filled the wallet with bread and flesh; yea, and even now, Odysseus as he returned to the threshold, was like to escape scot free, making trial of the Achaeans, but he halted by Antinous, and spake to him, saying:
‘Friend, give me somewhat; for methinks thou art not the basest of the Achaeans, but the best man of them all, for thou art like a king. Wherefore thou shouldest give me a portion of bread, and that a better than the others; so would I make thee renowned over all the wide earth. For I too, once had a house of mine own among men, a rich man with a wealthy house, and many a time would I give to a wanderer, what manner of man soever he might be, and in whatsoever need he came. And I had thralls out of number, and all else in plenty, wherewith folk live well and have a name for riches. But Zeus, the son of Cronos, made me desolate of all — for surely it was his will — who sent me with wandering sea-robbers to go to Egypt, a far road, to my ruin. And in the river Aegyptus I stayed my curved ships. Then verily I bade my loved companions to abide there by the ships, and to guard the ship, and I sent forth scouts to range the points of outlook. Now they gave place to wantonness, being the fools of their own force, and soon they fell to wasting the fields of the Egyptians, exceeding fair, and carried away their wives and infant children, and slew the men. And the cry came quickly to the city, and the people heard the shout and came forth at the breaking of the day; and all the plain was filled with footmen and horsemen and with the glitter of bronze. And Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, sent an evil panic upon my company, and none durst stand and face the foe: for danger encompassed us on every side. There they slew many of us with the edge of the sword, and others they led up with them alive to work for them perforce. But they gave me to a friend who met them, to take to Cyprus, even to Dmetor son of Iasus, who ruled mightily over Cyprus; and thence, behold, am I now come hither in sore distress.’
Then Antinous answered, and spake, saying: ‘What god hath brought this plague hither to trouble the feast? Stand forth thus in the midst, away from my table, lest thou come soon to a bitter Egypt and a sad Cyprus; for a bold beggar art thou and a shameless. Thou standest by all in turn and recklessly they give to thee, for they hold not their hand nor feel any ruth in giving freely of others’ goods, for that each man has plenty by him.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels drew back and answered him: ‘Lo now, I see thou hast not wisdom with thy beauty! From out of thine own house thou wouldest not give even so much as a grain of salt to thy suppliant, thou who now even at another’s board dost sit, and canst not find it in thy heart to take of the bread and give it me, where there is plenty to thy hand.’
He spake, and Antinous was mightily angered at heart, and looked fiercely on him and spake winged words:
‘Henceforth, methinks, thou shalt not get thee out with honour from the hall, seeing thou dost even rail upon me.’
Therewith he caught up the foot-stool and smote Odysseus at the base of the right shoulder by the back. But he stood firm as a rock, nor reeled he beneath the blow of Antinous, but shook his head in silence, brooding evil in the deep of his heart. Then he went back to the threshold, and sat him there, and laid down his well-filled scrip, and spake among the wooers:
‘Hear me, ye wooers of the renowned queen, and I will say what my spirit within me bids me. Verily there is neither pain nor grief of heart, when a man is smitten in battle fighting for his own possessions, whether cattle or white sheep. But now Antinous hath stricken me for my wretched belly’s sake, a thing accursed, that works much ill for men. Ah, if indeed there be gods and Avengers of beggars, may the issues of death come upon Antinous before his wedding!’
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: ‘Sit and eat thy meat in quiet, stranger, or get thee elsewhere, lest the young men drag thee by hand or foot through the house for thy evil words, and strip all thy flesh from off thee.’
Even so he spake, and they were all exceeding wroth at his word. And on this wise would one of the lordly young men speak:
‘Antinous, thou didst ill to strike the hapless wanderer, doomed man that thou art — if indeed there be a god in heaven. Yea and the gods, in the likeness of strangers from far countries, put on all manner of shapes, and wander through the cities, beholding the violence and the righteousness of men.’
So the wooers spake, but he heeded not their words. Now Telemachus nursed in his heart a mighty grief at the smiting of Odysseus, yet he let no tear fall from his eyelids to the ground, but shook his head in silence, brooding evil in the deep of his heart.
Now when wise Penelope heard of the stranger being smitten in the halls, she spake among her maidens, saying:
‘Oh that Apollo, the famed archer, may so smite thee thyself, Antinous!’
And the house-dame, Eurynome, answered her, saying: ‘Oh that we might win fulfilment of our prayers! So should not one of these men come to the fair-throned Dawn.’
And wise Penelope answered her: ‘Nurse, they are all enemies, for they all devise evil continually, but of them all Antinous is the most like to black fate. Some hapless stranger is roaming about the house, begging alms of the men, as his need bids him; and all the others filled his wallet and gave him somewhat, but Antinous smote him at the base of the right shoulder with a stool.’
So she spake among her maidens, sitting in her chamber, while goodly Odysseus was at meat. Then she called to her the goodly swineherd and spake, saying:
‘Go thy way, goodly Eumaeus, and bid the stranger come hither, that I may speak him a word of greeting, and ask him if haply he has heard tidings of Odysseus of the hardy heart, or seen him with his eyes; for he seems like one that has wandered far.’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘Queen, oh that the Achaeans would hold their peace! so would he charm thy very heart, such things doth he say. For I kept him three nights and three days I held him in the steading, for to me he came first when he fled from the ship, yet he had not made an end of the tale of his affliction. Even as when a man gazes on a singer, whom the gods have taught to sing words of yearning joy to mortals, and they have a ceaseless desire to hear him, so long as he will sing; even so he charmed me, sitting by me in the halls. He says that he is a friend of Odysseus and of his house, one that dwells in Crete, where is the race of Minos. Thence he has come hither even now, with sorrow by the way, onward and yet onward wandering; and he stands to it that he has heard tidings of Odysseus nigh at hand and yet alive in the fat land of the men of Thesprotia; and he is bringing many treasures to his home.’
Then wise Penelope answered him, saying: ‘Go, call him hither, that he may speak to me face to face. But let these men sit in the doorway and take their pleasure, or even here in the house, since their heart is glad. For their own wealth lies unspoiled at home, bread and sweet wine, and thereon do their servants feed. But they resorting to our house day by day sacrifice oxen and sheep and fat goats, and keep revel and drink the dark wine recklessly; and, lo, our great wealth is wasted, for there is no man now alive, such as Odysseus was, to keep ruin from the house. Oh, if Odysseus might come again to his own country; soon would he and his son avenge the violence of these men!’
Even so she spake, and Telemachus sneezed loudly, and around the roof rang wondrously. And Penelope laughed, and straightway spake to Eumaeus winged words:
‘Go, call me the stranger, even so, into my presence. Dost thou not mark how my son has sneezed a blessing on all my words? Wherefore no half-wrought doom shall befal the wooers every one, nor shall any avoid death and the fates. Yet another thing will I say, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. If I shall find that he himself speaks nought but truth, I will clothe him with a mantle and a doublet, goodly raiment.’
So she spake, and the swineherd departed when he heard that saying, and stood by the stranger and spake winged words:
‘Father and stranger, wise Penelope, the mother of Telemachus, is calling for thee, and her mind bids her inquire as touching her lord, albeit she has sorrowed much already. And if she shall find that thou dost speak nought but truth, she will clothe thee in a mantle and a doublet, whereof thou standest most in need. Moreover thou shalt beg thy bread through the land and shalt fill thy belly, and whosoever will, shall give to thee.’
Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: ‘Eumaeus, soon would I tell all the truth to the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, for well I know his story, and we have borne our travail together. But I tremble before the throng of the froward wooers, whose outrage and violence reach even to the iron heaven. For even now, as I was going through the house, when this man struck and pained me sore, and that for no ill deed, neither Telemachus nor any other kept off the blow. Wherefore now, bid Penelope tarry in the chambers, for all her eagerness, till the going down of the sun, and then let her ask me concerning her lord, as touching the day of his returning, and let her give me a seat yet nearer to the fire, for behold, I have sorry raiment, and thou knowest it thyself, since I made my supplication first to thee.’
Even so he spake, and the swineherd departed when he heard that saying. And as he crossed the threshold Penelope spake to him:
‘Thou bringest him not, Eumaeus: what means the wanderer hereby? Can it be that he fears some one out of measure, or is he even ashamed of tarrying in the house? A shamefaced man makes a bad beggar.’
Then didst thou make answer, swineherd Eumaeus: ‘He speaks aright, and but as another would deem, in that he shuns the outrage of overweening men. Rather would he have thee wait till the going down of the sun. Yea, and it is far meeter for thyself, O queen, to utter thy word to the stranger alone, and to listen to his speech.’
Then the wise Penelope answered: ‘Not witless is the stranger; even as he deems, so it well may be. [[30|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 30]] For there are no mortal men, methinks, so wanton as these, and none that devise such infatuate deeds.’
So she spake, and the goodly swineherd departed into the throng of the wooers, when he had showed her all his message. And straightway he spake to Telemachus winged words, holding his head close to him, that the others might not hear:
‘Friend, I am going hence to look after thy swine and the things of the farm, thy livelihood and mine; but do thou take charge of all that is here. Yet first look to thyself and take heed that no evil comes nigh thee, for many of the Achaeans have ill will against us, whom may Zeus confound before their mischief falls on us!’
And wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Even so shall it be, father; and do thou get thee on thy way, when thou hast supped. And in the morning come again, and bring fair victims for sacrifice. And all these matters will be a care to me and to the deathless gods.’
Thus he spake, and the other sat down again on the polished settle; and when he had satisfied his heart with meat and drink, he went on his way to the swine, leaving the courts and the hall full of feasters; and they were making merry with dance and song, for already it was close on eventide.
//The fighting at fists of Odysseus with Irus. His admonitions to Amphinomus. Penelope appears before the wooers, and draws presents from them.//
Then up came a common beggar, who was wont to beg through the town of Ithaca, one that was known among all men for ravening greed, for his endless eating and drinking, yet he had no force or might, though he was bulky enough to look on. Arnaeus was his name, for so had his good mother given it him at his birth, but all the young men called him Irus, because he ran on errands, whensoever any might bid him. So now he came, and would have driven Odysseus from his own house, and began reviling him, and spake winged words:
‘Get thee hence, old man, from the doorway, lest thou be even haled out soon by the foot. Seest thou not that all are now giving me the wink, and bidding me drag thee forth? Nevertheless, I feel shame of the task. Nay get thee up, lest our quarrel soon pass even to blows.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on him, and spake saying: ‘Sir, neither in deed nor word do I harm thee, nor do I grudge that any should give to thee, yea though it were a good handful. But this threshold will hold us both, and thou hast no need to be jealous for the sake of other men’s goods. Thou seemest to me to be a wanderer, even as I am, and the gods it is that are like to give us gain. Only provoke me not overmuch to buffeting, lest thou anger me, and old though I be I defile thy breast and lips with blood. Thereby should I have the greater quiet tomorrow, for methinks that thou shalt never again come to the hall of Odysseus, son of Laertes’.
Then the beggar Irus spake unto him in anger: ‘Lo now, how trippingly and like an old cinder-wife this glutton speaks, on whom I will work my evil will, and smite him right and left, and drive all the teeth from his jaws to the ground, like the tusks of a swine that spoils the corn. Gird thyself now, that even these men all may know our mettle in fight. Nay, how shouldst thou do battle with a younger man than thou?’
Thus did they whet each the other’s rage right manfully before the lofty doors upon the polished threshold. And the mighty prince Antinous heard the twain, and sweetly he laughed out, and spake among the wooers:
‘Friends, never before has there been such a thing; such goodly game has a god brought to this house. The stranger yonder and Irus are bidding each other to buffets. Quick, let us match them one against the other.’
Then all at the word leaped up laughing, and gathered round the ragged beggars, and Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spake among them saying: ‘Hear me, ye lordly wooers, and I will say somewhat. Here are goats’ bellies lying at the fire, that we laid by at supper-time and filled with fat and blood. Now whichsoever of the twain wins, and shows himself the better man, let him stand up and take his choice of these puddings. And further, he shall always eat at our feasts, nor will we suffer any other beggar to come among us and ask for alms.’
So spake Antinous, and the saying pleased them well. Then Odysseus of many counsels spake among them craftily:
‘Friends, an old man and foredone with travail may in no wise fight with a younger. But my belly’s call is urgent on me, that evil-worker, to the end that I may be subdued with stripes. But come now, swear me all of you a strong oath, so that none, for the sake of shewing a favour to Irus, may strike me a foul blow with heavy hand and subdue me by violence to my foe.’
So he spake, and they all swore not to strike him, as he bade them. Now when they had sworn and done that oath, the mighty prince Telemachus once more spake among them:
‘Stranger, if thy heart and lordly spirit urge thee to rid thee of this fellow, then fear not any other of the Achaeans, for whoso strikes thee shall have to fight with many. Thy host am I, and the princes consent with me, Antinous and Eurymachus, men of wisdom both.’
So spake he and they all consented thereto. Then Odysseus girt his rags about his loins, and let his thighs be seen, goodly and great, and his broad shoulders and breast and mighty arms were manifest. And Athene came nigh and made greater the limbs of the shepherd of the people. Then the wooers were exceedingly amazed, and thus would one speak looking to his neighbour:
‘Right soon will Irus, unIrused, have a bane of his own bringing, such a thigh as that old man shows from out his rags!’
So they spake, and the mind of Irus was pitifully stirred; but even so the servants girded him and led him out perforce in great fear, his flesh trembling on his limbs. Then Antinous chid him, and spake and hailed him:
‘Thou lubber, better for thee that thou wert not now, nor ever hadst been born, if indeed thou tremblest before this man, and art so terribly afraid; an old man too he is, and foredone with the travail that is come upon him. But I will tell thee plainly, and it shall surely be accomplished. If this man prevail against thee and prove thy master, I will cast thee into a black ship, and send thee to the mainland to Echetus the king, the maimer of all mankind, who will cut off thy nose and ears with the pitiless steel, and draw out thy vitals and give them raw to dogs to rend.’
So he spake, and yet greater trembling gat hold of the limbs of Irus, and they led him into the ring, and the twain put up their hands. Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus mused in himself whether he should smite him in such wise that his life should leave his body, even there where he fell, or whether he should strike him lightly, and stretch him on the earth. And as he thought thereon, this seemed to him the better way, to strike lightly, that the Achaeans might not take note of him, who he was. Then the twain put up their hands, and Irus struck at the right shoulder, but the other smote him on his neck beneath the ear, and crushed in the bones, and straightway the red blood gushed up through his mouth, and with a moan he fell in the dust, and drave together his teeth as he kicked the ground. But the proud wooers threw up their hands, and died outright for laughter. Then Odysseus seized him by the foot, and dragged him forth through the doorway, till he came to the courtyard and the gates of the gallery, and he set him down and rested him against the courtyard wall, and put his staff in his hands, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:
‘Sit thou there now, and scare off swine and dogs, and let not such an one as thou be lord over strangers and beggars, pitiful as thou art, lest haply some worse thing befal thee.’
Thus he spake, and cast about his shoulders his mean scrip all tattered, and the cord therewith to hang it, and he gat him back to the threshold, and sat him down there again. Now the wooers went within laughing sweetly, and greeted him, saying:
‘May Zeus, stranger, and all the other deathless gods give thee thy dearest wish, even all thy heart’s desire, seeing that thou hast made that insatiate one to cease from his begging in the land! Soon will we take him over to the mainland, to Echetus the king, the maimer of all mankind.’
So they spake, and goodly Odysseus rejoiced in the omen of the words. And Antinous set by him the great pudding, stuffed with fat and blood, and Amphinomus took up two loaves from the basket, and set them by him and pledged him in a golden cup, and spake saying:
‘Father and stranger, hail! may happiness be thine in the time to come; but as now, thou art fast holden in many sorrows.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Amphinomus, verily thou seemest to me a prudent man enough; for such too was the father of whom thou art sprung, for I have heard the fair fame of him, how that Nisus of Dulichium was a good man and a rich, and his son they say thou art, and thou seemest a man of understanding. Wherefore I will tell thee, and do thou mark and listen to me. Nought feebler doth the earth nurture than man, of all the creatures that breathe and move upon the face of the earth. Lo, he thinks that he shall never suffer evil in time to come, while the gods give him happiness, and his limbs move lightly. But when again the blessed gods have wrought for him sorrow, even so he bears it, as he must, with a steadfast heart. For the spirit of men upon the earth is even as their day, that comes upon them from the father of gods and men. Yea, and I too once was like to have been prosperous among men, but many an infatuate deed I did, giving place to mine own hardihood and strength, and trusting to my father and my brethren. Wherefore let no man for ever be lawless any more, but keep quietly the gifts of the gods, whatsoever they may give. Such infatuate deeds do I see the wooers devising, as they waste the wealth, and hold in no regard the wife of a man, who, methinks, will not much longer be far from his friends and his own land; nay he is very near. But for thee, may some god withdraw thee hence to thy home, and mayst thou not meet him in the day when he returns to his own dear country! For not without blood, as I deem, will they be sundered, the wooers and Odysseus, when once he shall have come beneath his own roof.’
Thus he spake, and poured an offering and then drank of the honey-sweet wine, and again set the cup in the hands of the arrayer of the people. But the other went back through the hall, sad at heart and bowing his head; for verily his soul boded evil. Yet even so he avoided not his fate, for Athene had bound him likewise to be slain outright at the hands and by the spear of Telemachus. So he sat down again on the high seat whence he had arisen.
Now the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, put it into the heart of the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, to show herself to the wooers, that she might make their heart all flutter with hope, and that she might win yet more worship from her lord and her son than heretofore. To she laughed an idle laugh, and spake to the nurse, and hailed her, saying:
‘Eurynome, my heart yearns, though before I had no such desire, to show myself to the wooers, hateful as they are. I would also say a word to my son, that will be for his weal, namely, that he should not for ever consort with the proud wooers, who speak friendly with their lips, but imagine evil in the latter end.’
Then the housewife, Eurynome, spake to her saying: ‘Yea my child, all this thou hast spoken as is meet. Go then, and declare thy word to thy son and hide it not, but first wash thee and anoint thy face, and go not as thou art with thy cheeks all stained with tears. Go, for it is little good to sorrow always, and never cease. And lo, thy son is now of an age to hear thee, he whom thou hast above all things prayed the gods that thou mightest see with a beard upon his chin.’
Then wise Penelope answered her, saying: ‘Eurynome, speak not thus comfortably to me, for all thy love, bidding me to wash and be anointed with ointment. For the gods that keep Olympus destroyed my bloom, since the day that he departed in the hollow ships. But bid Autonoe and Hippodameia come to me, to stand by my side in the halls. Alone I will not go among men, for I am ashamed.’
So she spake, and the old woman passed through the chamber to tell the maidens, and hasten their coming.
Thereon the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, had another thought. She shed a sweet slumber over the daughter of Icarius, who sank back in sleep, and all her joints were loosened as she lay in the chair, and the fair goddess the while was giving her gifts immortal, that all the Achaeans might marvel at her. Her fair face first she steeped with beauty imperishable, such as that wherewith the crowned Cytherea is anointed, when she goes to the lovely dances of the Graces. And she made her taller and greater to behold, and made her whiter than new-sawn ivory. Now when she had wrought thus, that fair goddess departed, and the white-armed handmaidens came forth from the chamber and drew nigh with a sound of voices. Then sweet sleep left hold of Penelope, and she rubbed her cheeks with her hands, and said:
‘Surely soft slumber wrapped me round, most wretched though I be. Oh! that pure Artemis would give me so soft a death even now, that I might no more waste my life in sorrow of heart, and longing for the manifold excellence of my dear lord, for that he was foremost of the Achaeans.’
With this word she went down from the shining upper chamber, not alone, for two handmaidens likewise bare her company. But when the fair lady had now come to the wooers, she stood by the pillar of the well-builded roof, holding her glistening tire before her face, and on either side of her stood a faithful handmaid. And straightway the knees of the wooers were loosened, and their hearts were enchanted with love, and each one uttered a prayer that he might be her bed-fellow. But she spake to Telemachus, her dear son:
‘Telemachus, thy mind and thy thoughts are no longer stable as they were. While thou wast still a child, thou hadst a yet quicker and more crafty wit, but now that thou art great of growth, and art come to the measure of manhood, and a stranger looking to thy stature and thy beauty might say that thou must be some rich man’s son, thy mind and thy thoughts are no longer right as of old. For lo, what manner of deed has been done in these halls, in that thou hast suffered thy guest to be thus shamefully dealt with. How would it be now, if the stranger sitting thus in our house, were to come to some harm all through this evil handling? Shame and disgrace would be thine henceforth among men.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her: ‘Mother mine, as to this matter I count it no blame that thou art angered. Yet have I knowledge and understanding of each thing, of the good and of the evil; but heretofore I was a child. Howbeit I cannot devise all things according to wisdom, for these men in their evil counsel drive me from my wits, on this side and on that, and there is none to aid me. Howsoever this battle between Irus and the stranger did not fall out as the wooers would have had it, but the stranger proved the better man. Would to Father Zeus and Athene and Apollo, that the wooers in our halls were even now thus vanquished, and wagging their heads, some in the court, and some within the house, and that the limbs of each man were loosened in such fashion as Irus yonder sits now, by the courtyard gates wagging his head, like a drunken man, and cannot stand upright on his feet, nor yet get him home to his own place, seeing that his limbs are loosened!’
Thus they spake one to another. But Eurymachus spake to Penelope, saying:
‘Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, if all the Achaeans in Iasian Argos could behold thee, even a greater press of wooers would feast in your halls from tomorrow’s dawn, since thou dost surpass all women in beauty and stature, and within in wisdom of mind.’
Then wise Penelope answered him: ‘Eurymachus, surely my excellence, both of face and form, the gods destroyed in the day when the Argives embarked for Ilios, and with them went my lord Odysseus. If but he might come and watch over this my life, greater thus would be my fame and fairer! But now am I in sorrow; such a host of ills some god has sent against me. Ah, well do I remember, when he set forth and left his own country, how he took me by the right hand at the wrist and spake, saying:
‘“Lady, methinks that all the goodly-greaved Achaeans will not win a safe return from Troy; for the Trojans too, they say, are good men at arms, as spearsmen, and bowmen, and drivers of fleet horses, such as ever most swiftly determine the great strife of equal battle. Wherefore I know not if the gods will suffer me to return, or whether I shall be cut off there in Troy; so do thou have a care for all these things. Be mindful of my father and my mother in the halls, even as now thou art, or yet more than now, while I am far away. But when thou seest thy son a bearded man, marry whom thou wilt and leave thine own house.”
‘Even so did he speak, and now all these things have an end. The night shall come when a hateful marriage shall find me out, me most luckless, whose good hap Zeus has taken away. But furthermore this sore trouble has come on my heart and soul; for this was not the manner of wooers in time past. Whoso wish to woo a good lady and the daughter of a rich man, and vie one with another, themselves bring with them oxen of their own and goodly flocks, a banquet for the friends of the bride, and they give the lady splendid gifts, but do not devour another’s livelihood without atonement.’
Thus she spake, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus rejoiced because she drew from them gifts, and beguiled their souls with soothing words, while her heart was set on other things.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered her again: ‘Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, the gifts which any of the Achaeans may choose to bring hither, do thou take; for it were ill to withhold a gift. But we for our part will neither go to our lands nor otherwhere, before thou art wedded to the best man of the Achaeans.’
So spake Antinous, and the saying pleased them well, and each man sent a henchman to bring his gifts. For Antinous his henchman bare a broidered robe, great and very fair, wherein were golden brooches, twelve in all, fitted with well bent clasps. And the henchman straightway bare Eurymachus a golden chain of curious work, strung with amber beads, shining like the sun. And his squires bare for Eurydamas a pair of ear-rings, with three drops well wrought, and much grace shone from them. And out of the house of Peisander the prince, the son of Polyctor, the squire brought a necklet, a very lovely jewel. And likewise the Achaeans brought each one some other beautiful gift.
Then the fair lady went aloft to her upper chamber, and her attendant maidens bare for her the lovely gifts, while the wooers turned to dancing and the delight of song, and therein took their pleasure, and awaited the coming of eventide. And dark evening came on them at their pastime. Anon they set up three braziers in the halls, to give them light, and on these they laid firewood all around, faggots seasoned long since and sere, and new split with the axe. And midway by the braziers they placed torches, and the maids of Odysseus, of the hardy heart, held up the lights in turn. Then the prince Odysseus of many counsels himself spake among them saying:
‘Ye maidens of Odysseus, the lord so long afar, get ye into the chambers where the honoured queen abides, and twist the yarn at her side, and gladden her heart as ye sit in the chamber, or card the wools with your hands; but I will minister light to all these that are here. For even if they are minded to wait the throned Dawn, they shall not outstay me, so long enduring am I.’
So he spake, but they laughed and looked one at the other. And the fair Melantho chid him shamefully, Melantho that Dolius begat, but Penelope reared, and entreated her tenderly as she had been her own child, and gave her playthings to her heart’s desire. Yet, for all that, sorrow for Penelope touched not her heart, but she loved Eurymachus and was his paramour. Now she chid Odysseus with railing words:
‘Wretched guest, surely thou art some brain-struck man, seeing that thou dost not choose to go and sleep at a smithy, or at some place of common resort, but here thou pratest much and boldly among many lords and hast no fear at heart. Verily wine has got about thy wits, or perchance thou art always of this mind, and so thou dost babble idly. Art thou beside thyself for joy, because thou hast beaten the beggar Irus? Take heed lest a better man than Irus rise up presently against thee, to lay his mighty hands about thy head and bedabble thee with blood, and send thee hence from the house.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on her, and said: ‘Yea, straight will I go yonder and tell Telemachus hereof, thou shameless thing, for this thy speech, that forthwith he may cut thee limb from limb.’
So he spake, and with his saying scared away the women, who fled through the hall, and the knees of each were loosened for fear, for they deemed that his words were true. But Odysseus took his stand by the burning braziers, tending the lights, and gazed on all the men: but far other matters he pondered in his heart, things not to be unfulfilled.
Now Athene would in no wise suffer the lordly wooers to abstain from biting scorn, that the pain might sink yet the deeper into the heart of Odysseus, son of Laertes. So Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak among them, girding at Odysseus, and so made mirth for his friends:
‘Hear me ye wooers of the queen renowned, that I may say that which my spirit within me bids me. Not without the gods’ will has this man come to the house of Odysseus; methinks at least that the torchlight flares forth from [[31|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 31]] that head of his, for there are no hairs on it, nay never so thin.’
He spake and withal addressed Odysseus, waster of cities: ‘Stranger, wouldest thou indeed be my hireling, if I would take thee for my man, at an upland farm, and thy wages shall be assured thee, and there shalt thou gather stones for walls and plant tall trees? There would I provide thee bread continual, and clothe thee with raiment, and give thee shoes for thy feet. Howbeit, since thou art practised only in evil, thou wilt not care to go to the labours of the field, but wilt choose rather to go louting through the land, that thou mayst have wherewithal to feed thine insatiate belly.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him and said: ‘Eurymachus, would that there might be a trial of labour between us twain, in the season of spring, when the long days begin! In the deep grass might it be, and I should have a crooked scythe, and thou another like it, that we might try each the other in the matter of labour, fasting till late eventide, and grass there should be in plenty. Or would again, that there were oxen to drive, the best there may be, large and tawny, both well filled with fodder, of equal age and force to bear the yoke and of strength untiring! And it should be a field of four ploughgates, and the clod should yield before the ploughshare. Then shouldest thou see me, whether or no I would cut a clean furrow unbroken before me. Or would that this very day Cronion might waken war whence he would, and that I had a shield and two spears, and a helmet all of bronze, close fitting on my temples! Then shouldest thou see me mingling in the forefront of the battle, nor speak and taunt me with this my belly. Nay, thou art exceeding wanton and thy heart is hard, and thou thinkest thyself some great one and mighty, because thou consortest with few men and feeble. Ah, if Odysseus might but return and come to his own country, right soon would yonder doors full wide as they are, prove all too strait for thee in thy flight through the doorway!’
Thus he spake, and Eurymachus waxed yet the more wroth at heart, and looking fiercely on him spake to him winged words:
‘Ah, wretch that thou art, right soon will I work thee mischief, so boldly thou pratest among many lords, and hast no fear at heart. Verily wine has got about thy wits, or perchance thou art always of this mind, and so thou dost babble idly. Art thou beside thyself for joy, because thou hast beaten the beggar Irus?’
Therewith he caught up a footstool, but Odysseus sat him down at the knees of Amphinomus of Dulichium, in dread of Eurymachus. And Eurymachus cast and smote the cup-bearer on the right hand, and the ladle cup dropped to the ground with a clang, while the young man groaned and fell backwards in the dust. Then the wooers clamoured through the shadowy halls, and thus one would say looking to his neighbour:
‘Would that our wandering guest had perished otherwhere, or ever he came hither; so should he never have made all this tumult in our midst! But now we are all at strife about beggars, and there will be no more joy of the good feast, for worse things have their way.’
Then the mighty prince Telemachus spake among them:
‘Sirs, ye are mad; now doth your mood betray that ye have eaten and drunken; some one of the gods is surely moving you. Nay, now that ye have feasted well, go home and lay you to rest, since your spirit so bids; for as for me, I drive no man hence.’
Thus he spake, and they all bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus, in that he spake boldly. Then Amphinomus made harangue, and spake among them, Amphinomus, the famous son of Nisus the prince, the son of Aretias:
‘Friends, when a righteous word has been spoken, none surely would rebuke another with hard speech and be angry. Misuse ye not this stranger, neither any of the thralls that are in the house of godlike Odysseus. But come, let the wine-bearer pour for libation into each cup in turn, that after the drink-offering we may get us home to bed. But the stranger let us leave in the halls of Odysseus for a charge to Telemachus: for to his home has he come.’
Thus he spake, and his word was well-pleasing to them all. Then the lord Mulius mixed for them the bowl, the henchman out of Dulichium, who was squire of Amphinomus. And he stood by all and served it to them in their turn; and they poured forth before the blessed gods, and drank the honey-sweet wine. Now when they had poured forth and had drunken to their hearts’ content, they departed to lie down, each one to his own house.
//Telemachus removes the arms out of the hall. Odysseus disburseth with Penelope. And is known by his nurse, but concealed. And the hunting of the boar upon that occasion related.//
Now the goodly Odysseus was left behind in the hall, devising with Athene’s aid the slaying of the wooers, and straightway he spake winged words to Telemachus:
‘Telemachus, we must needs lay by the weapons of war within, every one; and when the wooers miss them and ask thee concerning them, thou shalt beguile them with soft words, saying:
‘Out of the smoke I laid them by, since they were no longer like those that Odysseus left behind him of old, when he went to Troy, but they are wholly marred, so mightily hath passed upon them the vapour of fire. Moreover some god hath put into my heart this other and greater care, that perchance when ye are heated with wine, ye set a quarrel between you and wound one the other, and thereby shame the feast and the wooing; for iron of itself draws a man thereto.’
Thus he spake, and Telemachus hearkened to his dear father, and called forth to him the nurse Eurycleia and spake to her, saying:
‘Nurse, come now I pray thee, shut up the women in their chambers till I shall have laid by in the armoury the goodly weapons of my father, which all uncared for the smoke dims in the hall, since my father went hence, and I was still but a child. Now I wish to lay them by where the vapour of the fire will not reach them.’
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered him, saying: ‘Ah, my child, if ever thou wouldest but take careful thought in such wise as to mind the house, and guard all this wealth! But come, who shall fetch the light and bear it, if thou hast thy way, since thou wouldest not that the maidens, who might have given light, should go before thee?’
Then wise Telemachus made answer to her: ‘This stranger here, for I will keep no man in idleness who eats of my bread, even if he have come from afar.’
Thus he spake, and wingless her speech remained, and she closed the doors of the fair-lying chambers. Then they twain sprang up, Odysseus and his renowned son, and set to carry within the helmets and the bossy shields, and the sharp-pointed spears; and before them Pallas Athene bare a golden cresset and cast a most lovely light. Thereon Telemachus spake to his father suddenly:
‘Father, surely a great marvel is this that I behold with mine eyes; meseems, at least, that the walls of the hall and the fair main-beams of the roof and the cross-beams of pine, and the pillars that run aloft, are bright as it were with flaming fire. Verily some god is within, of those that hold the wide heaven.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him and said: ‘Hold thy peace and keep thy thoughts in check and ask not hereof. Lo, this is the wont of the gods that hold Olympus. But do thou go and lay thee down, and I will abide here, that I may yet further provoke the maids ant thy mother to answer; and she in her sorrow will ask me concerning each thing, one by one.’
So he spake, and Telemachus passed out through the hall to his chamber to lie down, by the light of the flaming torches, even to the chamber where of old he took his rest, when sweet sleep came over him. There now too he lay down and awaited the bright Dawn. But goodly Odysseus was left behind in the hall, devising with Athene’s aid the slaying of the wooers.
Now forth from her chamber came the wise Penelope, like Artemis or golden Aphrodite, and they set a chair for her hard by before the fire, where she was wont to sit, a chair well-wrought and inlaid with ivory and silver, which on a time the craftsman Icmalius had fashioned, and had joined thereto a footstool, that was part of the chair, whereon a great fleece was used to be laid. Here then, the wise Penelope sat her down, and next came white-armed handmaids from the women’s chamber, and began to take away the many fragments of food, and the tables and the cups whence the proud lords had been drinking, and they raked out the fire from the braziers on to the floor, and piled many fresh logs upon them, to give light and warmth.
Then Melantho began to revile Odysseus yet a second time, saying: ‘Stranger, wilt thou still be a plague to us here, circling round the house in the night, and spying the women? Nay, get thee forth, thou wretched thing, and be thankful for thy supper, or straightway shalt thou even be smitten with a torch and so fare out of the doors.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on her, and said: ‘Good woman, what possesses thee to assail me thus out of an angry heart? Is it because I go filthy and am clothed about in sorry raiment, and beg through the land, for necessity is laid on me? This is the manner of beggars and of wandering men. For I too once had a house of mine own among men, a rich man with a wealthy house, and many a time would I give to a wanderer, what manner of man soever he might be, and in whatsoever need he came. And I had countless thralls, and all else in plenty, whereby folk live well and have a name for riches. But Zeus, the son of Cronos, made me desolate of all, for surely it was his will. Wherefore, woman, see lest some day thou too lose all thy fine show wherein thou now excellest among the handmaids, as well may chance, if thy mistress be provoked to anger with thee, or if Odysseus come home, for there is yet a place for hope. And even if he hath perished as ye deem, and is never more to return, yet by Apollo’s grace he hath a son like him, Telemachus, and none of the women works wantonness in his halls without his knowledge, for he is no longer of an age not to mark it,
Thus he spake, and the wise Penelope heard him, and rebuked the handmaid, and spake and hailed her:
‘Thou reckless thing and unabashed, be sure thy great sin is not hidden from me, and thy blood shall be on thine own head for the same! Four thou knewest right well, in that thou hadst heard it from my lips, how that I was minded to ask the stranger in my halls for tidings of my lord; for I am grievously afflicted.’
Therewith she spake likewise to the housedame, Eurynome, saying:
‘Eurynome, bring hither a settle with a fleece thereon, that the stranger may sit and speak with me and hear my words, for I would ask him all his story.’
So she spake, and the nurse made haste and brought a polished settle, and cast a fleece thereon; and then the steadfast goodly Odysseus sat him down there, and the wise Penelope spake first, saying:
‘Stranger, I will make bold first to ask thee this: who art thou of the sons of men, and whence? Where is thy city, and where are they that begat thee?’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her and said: ‘Lady, no one of mortal men in the wide world could find fault with thee, for lo, thy fame goes up to the wide heaven, as doth the fame of a blameless king, one that fears the gods and reigns among many men and mighty, maintaining right, and the black earth bears wheat and barley, and the trees are laden with fruit, and the sheep bring forth and fail not, and the sea gives store of fish, and all out of his good guidance, and the people prosper under him. Wherefore do thou ask me now in thy house all else that thou wilt, but inquire not concerning my race and mine own country, lest as I think thereupon thou fill my heart the more with pains, for I am a man of many sorrows. Moreover it beseems me not to sit weeping and wailing in another’s house, for it is little good to mourn always without ceasing, lest perchance one of the maidens, or even thyself, be angry with me and say that I swim in tears, as one that is heavy with wine.’
Then wise Penelope answered him, and said: ‘Stranger, surely my excellence, both of face and form, the gods destroyed, in the day when the Argives embarked for Ilios, and with them went my lord Odysseus. If but he might come and watch over this my life, greater and fairer thus would be my fame! But now am I in sorrow, such a host of ills some god has sent against me. For all the noblest that are princes in the isles, in Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus, and they that dwell around even in clear-seen Ithaca, these are wooing me against my will, and devouring the house. Wherefore I take no heed of strangers, nor suppliants, nor at all of heralds, the craftsmen of the people. But I waste my heart away in longing for Odysseus; so they speed on my marriage and I weave a web of wiles. First some god put it into my heart to set up a great web in the halls, and thereat to weave a robe fine of woof and very wide; and anon I spake among them, saying: “Ye princely youths, my wooers, now that goodly Odysseus is dead, do ye abide patiently, how eager soever to speed on this marriage of mine, till I finish the robe. I would not that the threads perish to no avail, even this shroud for the hero Laertes, against the day when the ruinous doom shall bring him low, of death that lays men at their length. So shall none of the Achaean women in the land count it blame in me, as well might be, were he to lie without a winding sheet, a man that had gotten great possessions.”
‘So spake I, and their high hearts consented thereto. So then in the daytime I would weave the mighty web, and in the night unravel the same, when I had let place the torches by me. Thus for the space of three years I hid the thing by craft and beguiled the minds of the Achaeans. But when the fourth year arrived, and the seasons came round as the months waned, and many days were accomplished, then it was that by help of the handmaids, shameless things and reckless, the wooers came and trapped me, and chid me loudly. Thus did I finish the web by no will of mine, for so I must. And now I can neither escape the marriage nor devise any further counsel, and my parents are instant with me to marry, and my son chafes that these men devour his livelihood, as he takes note of all; for by this time he has come to man’s estate; and is full able to care for a household, for one to which Zeus vouchsafes honour. But even so tell me of thine own stock, whence thou art, for thou art not sprung of oak or rock, whereof old tales tell.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her and said:
‘O wife revered of Odysseus, son of Laertes, wilt thou never have done asking me about mine own race? Nay, but I will tell thee: yet surely thou wilt give me over to sorrows yet more than those wherein I am holden, for so it ever is when a man has been afar from his own country, so long as now I am, wandering in sore pain to many cities of mortals. Yet even so I will tell thee what thou askest and inquirest. There is a land called Crete in the midst of the wine-dark sea, a fair land and a rich, begirt with water, and therein are many men innumerable, and ninety cities. And all have not the same speech, but there is confusion of tongues; there dwell Achaeans and there too Cretans of Crete, high of heart, and Cydonians there and Dorians of waving plumes and goodly Pelasgians. And among these cities is the mighty city Cnosus, wherein Minos when he was nine years old began to rule, he who held converse with great Zeus, and was the father of my father, even of Deucalion, high of heart. Now Deucalion begat me and Idomeneus the prince. Howbeit, he had gone in his beaked ships up into Ilios, with the sons of Atreus; but my famed name is Aethon, being the younger of the twain and he was the first born and the better man. There I saw Odysseus, and gave him guest-gifts, for the might of the wind bare him too to Crete, as he was making for Troy land, and had driven him wandering past Malea. So he stayed his ships in Amnisus, whereby is the cave of Eilithyia, in havens hard to win, and scarce he escaped the tempest. Anon he came up to the city and asked for Idomeneus, saying that he was his friend and held by him in love and honour. But it was now the tenth or the eleventh dawn since Idomeneus had gone in his beaked ships up into Ilios. Then I led him to the house, and gave him good entertainment with all loving-kindness out of the plenty in my house, and for him and for the rest of his company, that went with him, I gathered and gave barley meal and dark wine out of the public store, and oxen to sacrifice to his heart’s desire. There the goodly Achaeans abode twelve days, for the strong North Wind penned them there, and suffered them not to stay upon the coast, for some angry god had roused it. On the thirteenth day the wind fell, and then they lifted anchor.’
So he told many a false tale in the likeness of truth, and her tears flowed as she listened, and her flesh melted. And even as the snow melts in the high places of the hills, the snow that the South–East wind has thawed, when the West has scattered it abroad, and as it wastes the river streams run full, even so her fair cheeks melted beneath her tears, as she wept her own lord, who even then was sitting by her. Now Odysseus had compassion of heart upon his wife in her lamenting, but his eyes kept steadfast between his eyelids as it were horn or iron, and craftily he hid his tears. But she, when she had taken her fill of tearful lamentation, answered him in turn and spake, saying:
‘Friend as thou art, even now I think to make trial of thee, and learn whether in very truth thou didst entertain my lord there in thy halls with his godlike company, as thou sayest. Tell me what manner of raiment he was clothed in about his body, and what manner of man he was himself, and tell me of his fellows that went with him.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Lady, it is hard for one so long parted from him to tell thee all this, for it is now the twentieth year since he went thither and left my country. Yet even so I will tell thee as I see him in spirit. Goodly Odysseus wore a thick purple mantle, twofold, which had a brooch fashioned in gold, with two sheathes for the pins, and on the face of it was a curious device: a hound in his forepaws held a dappled fawn and gazed on it as it writhed. And all men marvelled at the workmanship, how, wrought as they were in gold, the hound was gazing on the fawn and strangling it, and the fawn was writhing with his feet and striving to flee. Moreover, I marked the shining doublet about his body, like the gleam over the skin of a dried onion, so smooth it was, and glistering as the sun; truly many women looked thereon and wondered. Yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. I know not if Odysseus was thus clothed upon at home, or if one of his fellows gave him the raiment as he went on board the swift ship, or even it may be some stranger, seeing that to many men was Odysseus dear, for few of the Achaeans were his peers. I, too, gave him a sword of bronze, and a fair purple mantle with double fold, and a tasseled doublet, and I sent him away with all honour on his decked ship. Moreover, a henchman bare him company, somewhat older than he, and I will tell thee of him too, what manner of man he was. He was round-shouldered, black-skinned, and curly-headed, his name Eurybates; and Odysseus honoured him above all his company, because in all things he was like-minded with himself.’
So he spake, and in her heart he stirred yet more the desire of weeping, as she knew the certain tokens that Odysseus showed her. So when she had taken her fill of tearful lament, then she answered him, and spake saying:
‘Now verily, stranger, thou that even before wert held in pity, shalt be dear and honourable in my halls, for it was I who gave him these garments, as judging from thy words, and folded them myself, and brought them from the chamber, and added besides the shining brooch to be his jewel. But him I shall never welcome back, returned home to his own dear country. Wherefore with an evil fate it was that Odysseus went hence in the hollow ship to see that evil Ilios, never to be named.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Wife revered of Odysseus, son of Laertes, destroy not now thy fair flesh any more, nor waste thy heart with weeping for thy lord; — not that I count it any blame in thee, for many a woman weeps that has lost her wedded lord, to whom she has borne children in her love — albeit a far other man than Odysseus, who, they say, is like the gods. Nay, cease from thy lamenting, and lay up my word in thy heart; for I will tell thee without fail, and will hide nought, how but lately I heard tell of the return of Odysseus, that he is nigh at hand, and yet alive in the fat land of the men of Thesprotia, and is bringing with him many choice treasures, as he begs through the land. But he has lost his dear companions and his hollow ship on the wine-dark sea, on his way from the isle Thrinacia: for Zeus and Helios had a grudge against him, because his company had slain the kine of Helios. They for their part all perished in the wash of the sea, but the wave cast him on the keel of the ship out upon the coast, on the land of the Phaeacians that are near of kin to the gods, and they did him all honour heartily as unto a god, and gave him many gifts, and themselves would fain have sent him scathless home. Yea and Odysseus would have been here long since, but he thought it more profitable to gather wealth, as he journeyed over wide lands; so truly is Odysseus skilled in gainful arts above all men upon earth, nor may any mortal men contend with him. So Pheidon king of the Thesprotians told me. Moreover he sware, in mine own presence, as he poured the drink-offering in his house, that the ship was drawn down to the sea and his company were ready, who were to convey him to his own dear country. But me he first sent off, for it chanced that a ship of the Thesprotians was on her way to Dulichium, a land rich in grain. And he showed me all the wealth that Odysseus had gathered, yea it would suffice for his children after him, even to the tenth generation, so great were the treasures he had stored in the chambers of the king. As for him he had gone, he said, to Dodona to hear the counsel of Zeus, from the high leafy oak tree of the god, how he should return to his own dear country, having now been long afar, whether openly or by stealth.
‘In this wise, as I tell thee, he is safe and will come shortly, and very near he is and will not much longer be far from his friends and his own country; yet withal I will give thee my oath on it. Zeus be my witness first, of gods the highest and best, and the hearth of noble Odysseus whereunto I am come, that all these things shall surely be accomplished even as I tell thee. In this same year Odysseus shall come hither, as the old moon wanes and the new is born.’
Then wise Penelope answered him: ‘Ah! stranger, would that this word may be accomplished. Soon shouldst thou be aware of kindness and many a gift at my hands, so that whoso met with thee would call thee blessed. But on this wise my heart has a boding, and so it shall be. Neither shall Odysseus come home any more, nor shalt thou gain an escort hence, since there are not now such masters in the house as Odysseus was among men — if ever such an one there was — to welcome guests revered and speed them on their way. But do ye, my handmaids, wash this man’s feet and strew a couch for him, bedding and mantles and shining blankets, that well and warmly he may come to the time of golden-throned Dawn. And very early in the morning bathe him and anoint him, that within the house beside Telemachus he may eat meat, sitting quietly in the hall. And it shall be the worse for any hurtful man of the wooers, that vexes the stranger, yea he shall not henceforth profit himself here, for all his sore anger. For how shalt thou learn concerning me, stranger, whether indeed I excel all women in wit and thrifty device, if all unkempt and evil clad thou sittest at supper in my halls? Man’s life is brief enough! And if any be a hard man and hard at heart, all men cry evil on him for the time to come, while yet he lives, and all men mock him when he is dead. But if any be a blameless man and blameless of heart, his guests spread abroad his fame over the whole earth and many people call him noble.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her and said: ‘O wife revered of Odysseus, son of Laertes, mantles verily and shining blankets are hateful to me, since first I left behind me the snowy hills of Crete, voyaging in the long-oared galley; nay, I will lie as in time past I was used to rest through the sleepless nights. For full many a night I have lain on an unsightly bed, and awaited the bright throned Dawn. And baths for the feet are no longer my delight, nor shall any women of those who are serving maidens in thy house touch my foot, unless there chance to be some old wife, true of heart, one that has borne as much trouble as myself; I would not grudge such an one to touch my feet.’
Then wise Penelope answered him: ‘Dear stranger, for never yet has there come to my house, of strangers from afar, a dearer man or so discreet as thou, uttering so heedfully the words of wisdom. I have an ancient woman of an understanding heart, that diligently nursed and tended that hapless man my lord, she took him in her arms in the hour when his mother bare him. She will wash thy feet, albeit her strength is frail. Up now, wise Eurycleia, and wash this man, whose years are the same as thy master’s. Yea and perchance such even now are the feet of Odysseus, and such too his hands, for quickly men age in misery.’
So she spake, and the old woman covered her face with her hands and shed hot tears, and spake a word of lamentation, saying:
‘Ah, woe is me, child, for thy sake, all helpless that I am! Surely Zeus hated thee above all men, though thou hadst a god-fearing spirit! For never yet did any mortal burn so many fat pieces of the thigh and so many choice hecatombs to Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, as thou didst give to him, praying that so thou mightest grow to a smooth old age and rear thy renowned son. But now from thee alone hath Zeus wholly cut off the day of thy returning. Haply at him too did the women mock in a strange land afar, whensoever he came to the famous palace of any lord, even as here these shameless ones all mock at thee. To shun their insults and many taunts it is that thou sufferest them not to wash thy feet, but the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, hath bidden me that am right willing to this task. Wherefore I will wash thy feet, both for Penelope’s sake and for thine own, for that my heart within me is moved and troubled. But come, mark the word that I shall speak. Many strangers travel-worn have ere now come hither, but I say that I have never seen any so like another, as thou art like Odysseus, in fashion in voice and in feet.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Old wife, even so all men declare, that have beheld us twain, that we favour each other exceedingly, even as thou dost mark and say.’
Thereupon the crone took the shining cauldron, wherefrom [[32|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 32]] she set to wash his feet, and poured in much cold water and next mingled therewith the warm. Now Odysseus sat aloof from the hearth, and of a sudden he turned his face to the darkness, for anon he had a misgiving of heart lest when she handled him she might know the scar again, and all should be revealed. Now she drew near her lord to wash him, and straightway she knew the scar of the wound, that the boar had dealt him with his white tusk long ago, when Odysseus went to Parnassus to see Autolycus, and the sons of Autolycus, his mother’s noble father, who outdid all men in thievery and skill in swearing. This skill was the gift of the god himself, even Hermes, for that he burned to him the well-pleasing sacrifice of the thighs of lambs and kids; wherefore Hermes abetted him gladly. Now Autolycus once had gone to the rich land of Ithaca, and found his daughter’s son a child new-born, and when he was making an end of supper, behold, Eurycleia set the babe on his knees, and spake and hailed him: ‘Autolycus find now a name thyself to give thy child’s own son; for lo, he is a child of many prayers.’
Then Autolycus made answer and spake: ‘My daughter and my daughter’s lord, give ye him whatsoever name I tell you. Forasmuch as I am come hither in wrath against many a one, both man and woman, over the fruitful earth, wherefore let the child’s name be “a man of wrath,” Odysseus. But when the child reaches his full growth, and comes to the great house of his mother’s kin at Parnassus, whereby are my possessions, I will give him a gift out of these and send him on his way rejoicing.’
Therefore it was that Odysseus went to receive the splendid gifts. And Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus grasped his hands and greeted him with gentle words, and Amphithea, his mother’s mother, clasped him in her arms and kissed his face and both his fair eyes. Then Autolycus called to his renowned sons to get ready the meal, and they hearkened to the call. So presently they led in a five-year-old bull, which they flayed and busily prepared, and cut up all the limbs and deftly chopped them small, and pierced them with spits and roasted them cunningly, dividing the messes. So for that livelong day they feasted till the going down of the sun, and their soul lacked not ought of the equal banquet. But when the sun sank and darkness came on, they laid them to rest and took the boon of sleep.
Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, they all went forth to the chase, the hounds and the sons of Autolycus, and with them went the goodly Odysseus. So they fared up the steep hill of wood-clad Parnassus, and quickly they came to the windy hollows. Now the sun was but just striking on the fields, and was come forth from the soft flowing stream of deep Oceanus. Then the beaters reached a glade of the woodland, and before them went the hounds tracking a scent, but behind came the sons of Autolycus, and among them goodly Odysseus followed close on the hounds, swaying a long spear. Thereby in a thick lair was a great boar lying, and through the coppice the force of the wet winds blew never, neither did the bright sun light on it with his rays, nor could the rain pierce through, so thick it was, and of fallen leaves there was great plenty therein. Then the tramp of the men’s feet and of the dogs’ came upon the boar, as they pressed on in the chase, and forth from his lair he sprang towards them with crest well bristled and fire shining in his eyes, and stood at bay before them all. Then Odysseus was the first to rush in, holding his spear aloft in his strong hand, most eager to stab him; but the boar was too quick and drave a gash above the knee, ripping deep into the flesh with his tusk as he charged sideways, but he reached not to the bone of the man. Then Odysseus aimed well and smote him on his right shoulder, so that the point of the bright spear went clean through, and the boar fell in the dust with a cry, and his life passed from him. Then the dear sons of Autolycus began to busy them with the carcase, and as for the wound of the noble godlike Odysseus, they bound it up skilfully, and stayed the black blood with a song of healing, and straight-way returned to the house of their dear father. Then Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus got him well healed of his hurt, and gave him splendid gifts, and quickly sent him with all love to Ithaca, gladly speeding a glad guest. There his father and lady mother were glad of his returning, and asked him of all his adventures, and of his wound how he came by it, and duly he told them all, namely how the boar gashed him with his white tusk in the chase, when he had gone to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.
Now the old woman took the scarred limb and passed her hands down it, and knew it by the touch and let the foot drop suddenly, so that the knee fell into the bath, and the brazen vessel rang, being turned over on the other side, and behold, the water was spilled on the ground. Then joy and anguish came on her in one moment, and both her eyes filled up with tears, and the voice of her utterance was stayed, and touching the chin of Odysseus she spake to him, saying:
‘Yea verily, thou art Odysseus, my dear child, and I knew thee not before, till I had handled all the body of my lord.’
Therewithal she looked towards Penelope, as minded to make a sign that her husband was now home. But Penelope could not meet her eyes nor take note of her, for Athene had bent her thoughts to other things. But Odysseus feeling for the old woman’s throat gript it with his right hand and with the other drew her closer to him and spake, saying:
‘Woman, why wouldest thou indeed destroy me? It was thou that didst nurse me there at thine own breast, and now after travail and much pain I am come in the twentieth year to mine own country. But since thou art ware of me, and the god has put this in thy heart, be silent, lest another learn the matter in the halls. For on this wise I will declare it, and it shall surely be accomplished:— if the gods subdue the lordly wooers unto me, I will not hold my hand from thee, my nurse though thou art, when I slay the other handmaids in my halls.’
Then wise Eurycleia answered, saying: ‘My child, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Thou knowest how firm is my spirit and unyielding, and I will keep me fast as stubborn stone or iron. Yet another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thine heart. If the gods subdue the lordly wooers to thy hand, then will I tell thee all the tale of the women in the halls, which of them dishonour thee and which be guiltless.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Nurse, wherefore I pray thee wilt thou speak of these? Thou needest not, for even I myself will mark them well and take knowledge of each. Nay, do thou keep thy saying to thyself, and leave the rest to the gods.’
Even so he spake, and the old woman passed forth from the hall to bring water for his feet, for that first water was all spilled. So when she had washed him and anointed him well with olive-oil, Odysseus again drew up his settle nearer to the fire to warm himself, and covered up the scar with his rags. Then the wise Penelope spake first, saying:
‘Stranger, there is yet a little thing I will make bold to ask thee, for soon will it be the hour for pleasant rest, for him on whomsoever sweet sleep falls, though he be heavy with care. But to me has the god given sorrow, yea sorrow measureless, for all the day I have my fill of wailing and lamenting, as I look to mine own housewiferies and to the tasks of the maidens in the house. But when night comes and sleep takes hold of all, I lie on my couch, and shrewd cares, thick thronging about my inmost heart, disquiet me in my sorrowing. Even as when the daughter of Pandareus, the nightingale of the greenwood, sings sweet in the first season of the spring, from her place in the thick leafage of the trees, and with many a turn and trill she pours forth her full-voiced music bewailing her child, dear Itylus, whom on a time she slew with the sword unwitting, Itylus the son of Zethus the prince; even as her song, my troubled soul sways to and fro. Shall I abide with my son, and keep all secure, all the things of my getting, my thralls and great high-roofed home, having respect unto the bed of my lord and the voice of the people, or even now follow with the best of the Achaeans that woos me in the halls, and gives a bride-price beyond reckoning? Now my son, so long as he was a child and light of heart, suffered me not to marry and leave the house of my husband; but now that he is great of growth, and is come to the full measure of manhood, lo now he prays me to go back home from these walls, being vexed for his possessions that the Achaeans devour before his eyes. But come now, hear a dream of mine and tell me the interpretation thereof. Twenty geese I have in the house, that eat wheat, coming forth from the water, and I am gladdened at the sight. Now a great eagle of crooked beak swooped from the mountain, and brake all their necks and slew them; and they lay strewn in a heap in the halls, while he was borne aloft to the bright air. Thereon I wept and wailed, in a dream though it was, and around me were gathered the fair-tressed Achaean women as I made piteous lament, for that the eagle had slain my geese. But he came back and sat him down on a jutting point of the roof-beam, and with the voice of a man he spake, and stayed my weeping:
‘“Take heart, O daughter of renowned Icarius; this is no dream but a true vision, that shall be accomplished for thee. The geese are the wooers, and I that before was the eagle am now thy husband come again, who will let slip unsightly death upon all the wooers.” With that word sweet slumber let me go, and I looked about, and beheld the geese in the court pecking their wheat at the trough, where they were wont before.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her and said: ‘Lady, none may turn aside the dream to interpret it otherwise, seeing that Odysseus himself hath showed thee how he will fulfil it. For the wooers destruction is clearly boded, for all and every one; not a man shall avoid death and the fates.’
Then wise Penelope answered him: ‘Stranger, verily dreams are hard, and hard to be discerned; nor are all things therein fulfilled for men. Twain are the gates of shadowy dreams, the one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Such dreams as pass through the portals of sawn ivory are deceitful, and bear tidings that are unfulfilled. But the dreams that come forth through the gates of polished horn bring a true issue, whosoever of mortals beholds them. Yet methinks my strange dream came not thence; of a truth that would be most welcome to me and to my son. But another thing will I tell thee, and do thou ponder it in thy heart. Lo, even now draws nigh the morn of evil name, that is to sever me from the house of Odysseus, for now I am about to ordain for a trial those axes that he would set up in a row in his halls, like stays of oak in ship-building, twelve in all, and he would stand far apart and shoot his arrow through them all. And now I will offer this contest to the wooers; whoso shall most easily string the bow in his hands, and shoot through all twelve axes, with him will I go and forsake this house, this house of my wedlock, so fair and filled with all livelihood, which methinks I shall yet remember, aye, in a dream.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her and said: ‘Wife revered of Odysseus son of Laertes, no longer delay this contest in thy halls; for, lo, Odysseus of many counsels will be here, before these men, for all their handling of this polished bow, shall have strung it, and shot the arrow through the iron.’
Then the wise Penelope answered him: ‘Stranger, if only thou wert willing still to sit beside me in the halls and to delight me, not upon my eyelids would sleep be shed. But men may in no wise abide sleepless ever, for the immortals have made a time for all things for mortals on the grain-giving earth. Howbeit I will go aloft to my upper chamber, and lay me on my bed, the place of my groanings, that is ever watered by my tears, since the day that Odysseus went to see that evil Ilios, never to be named. There will I lay me down, but do thou lie in this house; either strew thee somewhat on the floor, or let them lay bedding for thee.’
Therewith she ascended to her shining upper chamber, not alone, for with her likewise went her handmaids. So she went aloft to her upper chamber with the women her handmaids, and there was bewailing Odysseus, her dear lord, till grey-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.
//Telemachus complains in vain, and borrowing a ship, goes secretly to Pylos by night. And how he was there received.//
Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, the dear son of Odysseus gat him up from his bed, and put on his raiment and cast his sharp sword about his shoulder, and beneath his smooth feet he bound his goodly sandals, and stept forth from his chamber in presence like a god. And straightway he bade the clear-voiced heralds to call the long-haired Achaeans to the assembly. And the heralds called the gathering, and the Achaeans were assembled quickly. Now when they were gathered and come together, he went on his way to the assembly holding in his hand a spear of bronze — not alone he went, for two swift hounds bare him company. Then Athene shed on him a wondrous grace, and all the people marvelled at him as he came. And he sat him in his father’s seat and the elders gave place to him.
Then the lord Aegyptus spake among them first; bowed was he with age, and skilled in things past number. Now for this reason he spake that his dear son, the warrior Antiphus, had gone in the hollow ships to Ilios of the goodly steeds; but the savage Cyclops slew him in his hollow cave, and made of him then his latest meal. Three other sons Aegyptus had, and one consorted with the wooers, namely Eurynomus, but two continued in their father’s fields; yet even so forgat he not that son, still mourning and sorrowing. So weeping for his sake he made harangue and spake among them:
‘Hearken now to me, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I shall say. Never hath our assembly or session been since the day that goodly Odysseus departed in the hollow ships. And now who was minded thus to assemble us? On what man hath such sore need come, of the young men or of the elder born? Hath he heard some tidings of the host now returning, which he might plainly declare to us, for that he first learned thereof, or doth he show forth and tell some other matter of the common weal? Methinks he is a true man — good luck be with him! Zeus vouchsafe him some good thing in his turn, even all his heart’s desire!’
So spake he, and the dear son of Odysseus was glad at the omen of the word; nor sat he now much longer, but he burned to speak, and he stood in mid assembly; and the herald Peisenor, skilled in sage counsels, placed the staff in his hands. Then he spake, accosting the old man first:
‘Old man, he is not far off, and soon shalt thou know it for thyself, he who called the folk together, even I: for sorrow hath come to me in chief. Neither have I heard any tidings of the host now returning, which I may plainly declare to you, for that I first learned thereof; neither do I show forth or tell any other matter of the common weal, but mine own need, for that evil hath befallen my house, a double woe. First, I have lost my noble sire, who sometime was king among you here, and was gentle as a father; and now is there an evil yet greater far, which surely shall soon make grievous havoc of my whole house and ruin all my livelihood. My mother did certain wooers beset sore against her will, even the sons of those men that here are the noblest. They are too craven to go to the house of her father Icarius, that he may himself set the bride-price for his daughter, and bestow her on whom he will, even on him who finds favour in his sight. But they resorting to our house day by day sacrifice oxen and sheep and fat goats, and keep revel, and drink the dark wine recklessly, and lo, our great wealth is wasted, for there is no man now alive such as Odysseus was, to keep ruin from the house. As for me I am nowise strong like him to ward mine own; verily to the end of my days [[4|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 4]] shall I be a weakling and all unskilled in prowess. Truly I would defend me if but strength were mine; for deeds past sufferance have now been wrought, and now my house is wasted utterly beyond pretence of right. Resent it in your own hearts, and have regard to your neighbours who dwell around, and tremble ye at the anger of the gods, lest haply they turn upon you in wrath at your evil deeds. {Or, lest they bring your evil deeds in wrath on your own heads.} I pray you by Olympian Zeus and by Themis, who looseth and gathereth the meetings of men, let be, my friends, and leave me alone to waste in bitter grief; — unless it so be that my father, the good Odysseus, out of evil heart wrought harm to the goodly-greaved Achaeans, in quittance whereof ye now work me harm out of evil hearts, and spur on these men. Better for me that ye yourselves should eat up my treasures and my flocks. Were YE so to devour them, ere long would some recompense be made, for we would urge our plea throughout the town, begging back our substance, until all should be restored. But now without remedy are the pains that ye lay up in my heart.’
So spake he in wrath, and dashed the staff to the ground, and brake forth in tears; and pity fell on all the people. Then all the others held their peace, and none had the heart to answer Telemachus with hard words, but Antinous alone made answer, saying:
‘Telemachus, proud of speech and unrestrained in fury, what is this thou hast said to put us to shame, and wouldest fasten on us reproach? Behold the fault is not in the Achaean wooers, but in thine own mother, for she is the craftiest of women. For it is now the third year, and the fourth is fast going by, since she began to deceive the minds of the Achaeans in their breasts. She gives hope to all, and makes promises to every man, and sends them messages, but her mind is set on other things. And she hath devised in her heart this wile besides; she set up in her halls a mighty web, fine of woof and very wide, whereat she would weave, and anon she spake among us:
‘“Ye princely youths, my wooers, now that the goodly Odysseus is dead, do ye abide patiently, how eager soever to speed on this marriage of mine, till I finish the robe. I would not that the threads perish to no avail, even this shroud for the hero Laertes, against the day when the ruinous doom shall bring him low, of death that lays men at their length. So shall none of the Achaean women in the land count it blame in me, as well might be, were he to lie without a winding-sheet, a man that had gotten great possessions.”
‘So spake she, and our high hearts consented thereto. So then in the day time she would weave the mighty web, and in the night unravel the same, when she had let place the torches by her. Thus for the space of three years she hid the thing by craft and beguiled the minds of the Achaeans; but when the fourth year arrived and the seasons came round, then at the last one of her women who knew all declared it, and we found her unravelling the splendid web. Thus she finished it perforce and sore against her will. But as for thee, the wooers make thee answer thus, that thou mayest know it in thine own heart, thou and all the Achaeans! Send away thy mother, and bid her be married to whomsoever her father commands, and whoso is well pleasing unto her. But if she will continue for long to vex the sons of the Achaeans, pondering in her heart those things that Athene hath given her beyond women, knowledge of all fair handiwork, yea, and cunning wit, and wiles — so be it! Such wiles as hers we have never yet heard that any even of the women of old did know, of those that aforetime were fair-tressed Achaean ladies, Tyro, and Alcmene, and Mycene with the bright crown. Not one of these in the imaginations of their hearts was like unto Penelope, yet herein at least her imagining was not good. For in despite of her the wooers will devour thy living and thy substance, so long as she is steadfast in such purpose as the gods now put within her breast: great renown for herself she winneth, but for thee regret for thy much livelihood. But we will neither go to our own lands, nor otherwhere, till she marry that man whom she will of the Achaeans.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Antinous, I may in no wise thrust forth from the house, against her will, the woman that bare me, that reared me: while as for my father he is abroad on the earth, whether he be alive or dead. Moreover it is hard for me to make heavy restitution to Icarius, as needs I must, if of mine own will I send my mother away. For I shall have evil at his hand, at the hand of her father, and some god will give me more besides, for my mother will call down the dire Avengers as she departs from the house, and I shall have blame of men; surely then I will never speak this word. Nay, if your own heart, even yours, is indignant, quit ye my halls, and busy yourselves with other feasts, eating your own substance, and going in turn from house to house. But if ye deem this a likelier and a better thing, that one man’s goods should perish without atonement, then waste ye as ye will: and I will call upon the everlasting gods, if haply Zeus may grant that acts of recompense be made: so should ye hereafter perish in the halls without atonement.’
So spake Telemachus, and in answer to his prayer did Zeus, of the far borne voice, send forth two eagles in flight, from on high, from the mountain-crest. Awhile they flew as fleet as the blasts of the wind, side by side, with straining of their pinions. But when they had now reached the mid assembly, the place of many voices, there they wheeled about and flapped their strong wings, and looked down upon the heads of all, and destruction was in their gaze. Then tore they with their talons each the other’s cheeks and neck on every side, and so sped to the right across the dwellings and the city of the people. And the men marvelled at the birds when they had sight of them, and pondered in their hearts the things that should come to pass. Yea and the old man, the lord Halitherses son of Mastor spake among them, for he excelled his peers in knowledge of birds, and in uttering words of fate. With good will he made harangue and spake among them:
‘Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I shall say: and mainly to the wooers do I show forth and tell these things, seeing that a mighty woe is rolling upon them. For Odysseus shall not long be away from his friends, nay, even now, it may be, he is near, and sowing the seeds of death and fate for these men, every one; and he will be a bane to many another likewise of us who dwell in clear-seen Ithaca. But long ere that falls out let us advise us how we may make an end of their mischief; yea, let them of their own selves make an end, for this is the better way for them, as will soon be seen. For I prophesy not as one unproved, but with sure knowledge; verily, I say, that for him all things now are come to pass, even as I told him, what time the Argives embarked for Ilios, and with them went the wise Odysseus. I said that after sore affliction, with the loss of all his company, unknown to all, in the twentieth year he should come home. And behold, all these things now have an end.’
And Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him, saying: ‘Go now, old man, get thee home and prophesy to thine own children, lest haply they suffer harm hereafter: but herein am I a far better prophet than thou. Howbeit there be many birds that fly to and fro under the sun’s rays, but all are not birds of fate. Now as for Odysseus, he hath perished far away, as would that thou too with him hadst been cut off: so wouldst thou not have babbled thus much prophecy, nor wouldst thou hound on Telemachus that is already angered, expecting a gift for thy house, if perchance he may vouchsafe thee aught. But now will I speak out, and my word shall surely be accomplished. If thou that knowest much lore from of old, shalt beguile with words a younger man, and rouse him to indignation, first it shall be a great grief to him:— and yet he can count on no aid from these who hear him; — while upon thee, old man, we will lay a fine, that thou mayest pay it and chafe at heart, and sore pain shall be thine. And I myself will give a word of counsel to Telemachus in presence of you all. Let him command his mother to return to her father’s house; and her kinsfolk will furnish a wedding feast, and array the gifts of wooing, exceeding many, all that should go back with a daughter dearly beloved. For ere that, I trow, we sons of the Achaeans will not cease from our rough wooing, since, come what may, we fear not any man, no, not Telemachus, full of words though he be, nor soothsaying do we heed, whereof thou, old man, pratest idly, and art hated yet the more. His substance too shall be woefully devoured, nor shall recompense ever be made, so long as she shall put off the Achaeans in the matter of her marriage; while we in expectation, from day to day, vie one with another for the prize of her perfection, nor go we after other women whom it were meet that we should each one wed.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him saying: ‘Eurymachus, and ye others, that are lordly wooers, I entreat you no more concerning this nor speak thereof, for the gods have knowledge of it now and all the Achaeans. But come, give me a swift ship and twenty men, who shall accomplish for me my voyage to and fro. For I will go to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to inquire concerning the return of my father that is long afar, if perchance any man shall tell me aught, or if I may hear the voice from Zeus, that chiefly brings tidings to men. If I shall hear news of the life and the returning of my father, then verily I may endure the wasting for yet a year; but if I shall hear that he is dead and gone, let me then return to my own dear country, and pile his mound, and over it pay burial rites full many as is due, and I will give my mother to a husband.’
So with that word he sat him down; then in the midst uprose Mentor, the companion of noble Odysseus. He it was to whom Odysseus, as he departed in the fleet, had given the charge over all his house, that it should obey the old man, and that he should keep all things safe. With good will he now made harangue and spake among them:
‘Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I shall say. Henceforth let not any sceptred king be kind and gentle with all his heart, nor minded to do righteously, but let him alway be a hard man and work unrighteousness: for behold, there is none that remembereth divine Odysseus of the people whose lord he was, and was gentle as a father. Howsoever, it is not that I grudge the lordly wooers their deeds of violence in the evil devices of their heart. For at the hazard of their own heads they violently devour the household of Odysseus, and say of him that he will come no more again. But I am indeed wroth with the rest of the people, to see how ye all sit thus speechless, and do not cry shame upon the wooers, and put them down, ye that are so many and they so few.’
And Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him, saying: ‘Mentor infatuate, with thy wandering wits, what word hast thou spoken, that callest upon them to put us down? Nay, it is a hard thing to fight about a feast, and that with men who are even more in number than you. Though Odysseus of Ithaca himself should come and were eager of heart to drive forth from the hall the lordly wooers that feast throughout his house, yet should his wife have no joy of his coming, though she yearns for him; — but even there should he meet foul doom, if he fought with those that outnumbered him; so thou hast not spoken aright. But as for the people, come now, scatter yourselves each one to his own lands, but Mentor and Halitherses will speed this man’s voyage, for they are friends of his house from of old. Yet after all, methinks, that long time he will abide and seek tidings in Ithaca, and never accomplish this voyage.’
Thus he spake, and in haste they broke up the assembly. So they were scattered each one to his own dwelling, while the wooers departed to the house of divine Odysseus.
Then Telemachus, going far apart to the shore of the sea, laved his hands in the grey sea water, and prayed unto Athene, saying: ‘Hear me, thou who yesterday didst come in thy godhead to our house, and badest me go in a ship across the misty seas, to seek tidings of the return of my father that is long gone: but all this my purpose do the Achaeans delay, and mainly the wooers in the naughtiness of their pride.’
So spake he in prayer, and Athene drew nigh him in the likeness of Mentor, in fashion and in voice, and she spake and hailed him in winged words:
‘Telemachus, even hereafter thou shalt not be craven or witless, if indeed thou hast a drop of thy father’s blood and a portion of his spirit; such an one was he to fulfil both word and work. Nor, if this be so, shall thy voyage be vain or unfulfilled. But if thou art not the very seed of him and of Penelope, then have I no hope that thou wilt accomplish thy desire. For few children, truly, are like their father; lo, the more part are worse, yet a few are better than the sire. But since thou shalt not even hereafter be craven or witless, nor hath the wisdom of Odysseus failed thee quite, so is there good hope of thine accomplishing this work. Wherefore now take no heed of the counsel or the purpose of the senseless wooers, for they are in no way wise or just: neither know they aught of death and of black fate, which already is close upon them, that they are all to perish in one day. But the voyage on which thy heart is set shall not long be lacking to thee — so faithful a friend of thy father am I, who will furnish thee a swift ship and myself be thy companion. But go thou to the house, and consort with the wooers, and make ready corn, and bestow all in vessels, the wine in jars and barley-flour, the marrow of men, in well-sewn skins; and I will lightly gather in the township a crew that offer themselves willingly. There are many ships, new and old, in seagirt Ithaca; of these I will choose out the best for thee, and we will quickly rig her and launch her on the broad deep.’
So spake Athene, daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus made no long tarrying, when he had heard the voice of the goddess. He went on his way towards the house, heavy at heart, and there he found the noble wooers in the halls, flaying goats and singeing swine in the court. And Antinous laughed out and went straight to Telemachus, and clasped his hand and spake and hailed him:
‘Telemachus, proud of speech and unrestrained in fury, let no evil word any more be in thy heart, nor evil work, but let me see thee eat and drink as of old. And the Achaeans will make thee ready all things without fail, a ship and chosen oarsmen, that thou mayest come the quicker to fair Pylos, to seek tidings of thy noble father.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying, ‘Antinous, in no wise in your proud company can I sup in peace, and make merry with a quiet mind. Is it a little thing, ye wooers, that in time past ye wasted many good things of my getting, while as yet I was a child? But now that I am a man grown, and learn the story from the lips of others, and my spirit waxeth within me, I will seek to let loose upon you evil fates, as I may, going either to Pylos for help, or abiding here in this township. Yea, I will go, nor vain shall the voyage be whereof I speak; a passenger on another’s ship go I, for I am not to have a ship nor oarsmen of mine own; so in your wisdom ye have thought it for the better.’
He spake and snatched his hand from out the hand of Antinous, lightly, and all the while the wooers were busy feasting through the house; and they mocked him and sharply taunted him, and thus would some proud youth speak:
‘In very truth Telemachus planneth our destruction. He will bring a rescue either from sandy Pylos, or even it may be from Sparta, so terribly is he set on slaying us. Or else he will go to Ephyra, a fruitful land, to fetch a poisonous drug that he may cast it into the bowl and make an end of all of us.’
And again another proud youth would say: ‘Who knows but that he himself if he goes hence on the hollow ship, may perish wandering far from his friends, even as Odysseus? So should we have yet more ado, for then must we divide among us all his substance, and moreover give the house to his mother to possess it, and to him whosoever should wed her.’
So spake they; but he stepped down into the vaulted treasure-chamber of his father, a spacious room, where gold and bronze lay piled, and raiment in coffers, and fragrant olive oil in plenty. And there stood casks of sweet wine and old, full of the unmixed drink divine, all orderly ranged by the wall, ready if ever Odysseus should come home, albeit after travail and much pain. And the close-fitted doors, the folding doors, were shut, and night and day there abode within a dame in charge, who guarded all in the fulness of her wisdom, Eurycleia, daughter of Ops son of Peisenor. Telemachus now called her into the chamber and spake unto her, saying:
‘Mother, come draw off for me sweet wine in jars, the choicest next to that thou keepest mindful ever of that ill-fated one, Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, if perchance he may come I know not whence, having avoided death and the fates. So fill twelve jars, and close each with his lid, and pour me barley-meal into well-sewn skins, and let there be twenty measures of the grain of bruised barley-meal. Let none know this but thyself! As for these things let them all be got together; for in the evening I will take them with me, at the time that my mother hath gone to her upper chamber and turned her thoughts to sleep. Lo, to Sparta I go and to sandy Pylos to seek tidings of my dear father’s return, if haply I may hear thereof.’
So spake he, and the good nurse Eurycleia wailed aloud, and making lament spake to him winged words: ‘Ah, wherefore, dear child, hath such a thought arisen in thine heart? How shouldst thou fare over wide lands, thou that art an only child and well-beloved? As for him he hath perished, Odysseus of the seed of Zeus, far from his own country in the land of strangers. And yonder men, so soon as thou art gone, will devise mischief against thee thereafter, that thou mayest perish by guile, and they will share among them all this wealth of thine. Nay, abide here, settled on thine own lands: thou hast no need upon the deep unharvested to suffer evil and go wandering.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘Take heart, nurse, for lo, this my purpose came not but of a god. But swear to tell no word thereof to my dear mother, till at least it shall be the eleventh or twelfth day from hence, or till she miss me of herself, and hear of my departure, that so she may not mar her fair face with her tears.’
Thus he spake, and the old woman sware a great oath by the gods not to reveal it. But when she had sworn and done that oath, straightway she drew off the wine for him in jars, and poured barley-meal into well-sewn skins, and Telemachus departed to the house and consorted with the wooers.
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, turned to other thoughts. In the likeness of Telemachus she went all through the city, and stood by each one of the men and spake her saying, and bade them gather at even by the swift ship. Furthermore, she craved a swift ship of Noemon, famous son of Phronius, and right gladly he promised it.
Now the sun sank and all the ways were darkened. Then at length she let drag the swift ship to the sea and stored within it all such tackling as decked ships carry. And she moored it at the far end of the harbour and the good company was gathered together, and the goddess cheered on all.
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, turned to other thoughts. She went on her way to the house of divine Odysseus; and there she shed sweet sleep upon the wooers and made them distraught in their drinking, and cast the cups from their hands. And they arose up to go to rest throughout the city, nor sat they yet a long while, for slumber was falling on their eyelids. Now grey eyed Athene spake unto Telemachus, and called him from out the fair-lying halls, taking the likeness of Mentor, both in fashion and in voice:
‘Telemachus, thy goodly-greaved companions are sitting already at their oars, it is thy despatch they are awaiting. Nay then, let us go, that we delay them not long from the way.’
Therewith Pallas Athene led the way quickly, and he followed hard in the steps of the goddess. Now when they had come down to the ship and to the sea, they found the long-haired youths of the company on the shore; and the mighty prince Telemachus spake among them:
‘Come hither, friends, let us carry the corn on board, for all is now together in the room, and my mother knows nought thereof, nor any of the maidens of the house: one woman only heard my saying.’
Thus he spake and led the way, and they went with him. So they brought all and stowed it in the decked ship, according to the word of the dear son of Odysseus. Then Telemachus climbed the ship, and Athene went before him, and behold, she sat her down in the stern, and near her sat Telemachus. And the men loosed the hawsers and climbed on board themselves and sat down upon the benches. And grey-eyed Athene sent them a favourable gale, a fresh West Wind, singing over the wine-dark sea.
And Telemachus called unto his company and bade them lay hands on the tackling, and they hearkened to his call. So they raised the mast of pine tree and set it in the hole of the cross plank, and made it fast with forestays, and hauled up the white sails with twisted ropes of oxhide. And the wind filled the belly of the sail, and the dark wave seethed loudly round the stem of the running ship, and she fleeted over the wave, accomplishing her path. Then they made all fast in the swift black ship, and set mixing bowls brimmed with wine, and poured drink offering to the deathless gods that are from everlasting, and in chief to the grey eyed daughter of Zeus. So all night long and through the dawn the ship cleft her way.
//Pallas and Odysseus consult of the killing of the wooers.//
But the goodly Odysseus laid him down to sleep in the vestibule of the house. He spread an undressed bull’s hide on the ground and above it many fleeces of sheep, that the Achaeans were wont to slay in sacrifice, and Eurynome threw a mantle over him where he lay. There Odysseus lay wakeful, with evil thoughts against the wooers in his heart. And the women came forth from their chamber, that aforetime were wont to lie with the wooers, making laughter and mirth among themselves. Then the heart of Odysseus was stirred within his breast, and much he communed with his mind and soul, whether he should leap forth upon them and deal death to each, or suffer them to lie with the proud wooers, now for the last and latest time. And his heart growled sullenly within him. And even as a bitch stands over her tender whelps growling, when she spies a man she knows not, and she is eager to assail him, so growled his heart within him in his wrath at their evil deeds. Then he smote upon his breast and rebuked his own heart, saying:
‘Endure, my heart; yea, a baser thing thou once didst bear, on that day when the Cyclops, unrestrained in fury, devoured the mighty men of my company; but still thou didst endure till thy craft found a way for thee forth from out the cave, where thou thoughtest to die.’
So spake he, chiding his own spirit within him, and his heart verily abode steadfast in obedience to his word. But Odysseus himself lay tossing this way and that. And as when a man by a great fire burning takes a paunch full of fat and blood, and turns it this way and that and longs to have it roasted most speedily, so Odysseus tossed from side to side, musing how he might stretch forth his hands upon the shameless wooers, being but one man against so many. Then down from heaven came Athene and drew nigh him, fashioned in the likeness of a woman. And she stood over his head and spake to him, saying:
‘Lo now again, wherefore art thou watching, most luckless of all men living? Is not this thy house and is not thy wife there within and thy child, such a son as men wish to have for their own?’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Yea, goddess, all this thou hast spoken as is meet. But my heart within me muses in some measure upon this, how I may stretch forth my hands upon the shameless wooers, being but one man, while they abide ever in their companies within. Moreover this other and harder matter I ponder in my heart: even if I were to slay them by thy will and the will of Zeus, whither should I flee from the avengers? Look well to this, I pray thee.’
Then answered the goddess, grey-eyed Athene: ‘O hard of belief! yea, many there be that trust even in a weaker friend than I am, in one that is a mortal and knows not such craft as mine; but I am a god, that preserve thee to the end, in all manner of toils. And now I will tell thee plainly; even should fifty companies of mortal men compass us about eager to slay us in battle, even their kine shouldst thou drive off and their brave flocks. But let sleep in turn come over thee; to wake and to watch all night, this too is vexation of spirit; and soon shalt thou rise from out of thy troubles.’
So she spake and poured slumber upon his eyelids, but for her part the fair goddess went back to Olympus.
While sleep laid hold of him loosening the cares of his soul, sleep that loosens the limbs of men, his good wife awoke and wept as she sat on her soft bed. But when she had taken her fill of weeping, to Artemis first the fair lady made her prayer:
‘Artemis, lady and goddess, daughter of Zeus, would that even now thou wouldst plant thy shaft within my breast and take my life away, even in this hour! Or else, would that the stormwind might snatch me up, and bear me hence down the dusky ways, and cast me forth where the back-flowing Oceanus mingles with the sea. It should be even as when the stormwinds bare away the daughters of Pandareus. Their father and their mother the gods had slain, and the maidens were left orphans in the halls, and fair Aphrodite cherished them with curds and sweet honey and delicious wine. And Here gave them beauty and wisdom beyond the lot of women, and holy Artemis dowered them with stature, and Athene taught them skill in all famous handiwork. Now while fair Aphrodite was wending to high Olympus, to pray that a glad marriage might be accomplished for the maidens — and to Zeus she went whose joy is in the thunder, for he knows all things well, what the fates give and deny to mortal men — in the meanwhile the spirits of the storm snatched away these maidens, and gave them to be handmaids to the hateful Erinyes. Would that in such wise they that hold the mansions of Olympus would take me from the sight of men, or that fair-stressed Artemis would strike me, that so with a vision of Odysseus before mine eyes I might even pass beneath the dreadful earth, nor ever make a baser man’s delight! But herein is an evil that may well be borne, namely, when a man weeps all the day long in great sorrow of heart, but sleep takes him in the night, for sleep makes him forgetful of all things, of good and evil, when once it has overshadowed his eyelids. But as for me, even the dreams that the gods send upon me are evil. For furthermore, this very night one seemed to lie by my side, in the likeness of my lord, as he was when he went with the host, and then was my heart glad, since methought it was no vain dream but a clear vision at the last.’
So she spake, and anon came the golden throned Dawn. Now goodly Odysseus caught the voice of her weeping, and then he fell a musing, and it seemed to him that even now she knew him and was standing by his head. So he took up the mantle and the fleeces whereon he was lying, and set them on a high seat in the hall, and bare out the bull’s hide out of doors and laid it there, and lifting up his hands he prayed to Zeus:
‘Father Zeus, if ye gods of your good will have led me over wet and dry, to mine own country, after ye had plagued me sore, let some one I pray of the folk that are waking show me a word of good omen within, and without let some sign also be revealed to me from Zeus.’
So he spake in prayer, and Zeus, the counsellor, heard him. Straightway he thundered from shining Olympus, from on high from the place of clouds; and goodly Odysseus was glad. Moreover a woman, a grinder at the mill, uttered a voice of omen from within the house hard by, where stood the mills of the shepherd of the people. At these handmills twelve women in all plied their task, making meal of barley and of wheat, the marrow of men. Now all the others were asleep, for they had ground out their task of grain, but one alone rested not yet, being the weakest of all. She now stayed her quern and spake a word, a sign to her lord:
‘Father Zeus, who rulest over gods and men, loudly hast thou thundered from the starry sky, yet nowhere is there a cloud to be seen: this surely is a portent thou art showing to some mortal. Fulfil now, I pray thee, even to miserable me, the word that I shall speak. May the wooers, on this day, for the last and latest time make their sweet feasting in the halls of Odysseus! They that have loosened my knees with cruel toil to grind their barley meal, may they now sup their last!’
Thus she spake, and goodly Odysseus was glad in the omen of the voice and in the thunder of Zeus; for he thought that he had gotten his vengeance on the guilty.
Now the other maidens in the fair halls of Odysseus had gathered, and were kindling on the hearth the never-resting fire. And Telemachus rose from his bed, a godlike man, and put on his raiment, and slung a sharp sword about his shoulders, and beneath his shining feet he bound his goodly sandals. And he caught up his mighty spear shod with sharp bronze, and went and stood by the threshold, and spake to Eurycleia:
‘Dear nurse, have ye honoured our guest in the house with food and couch, or does he lie uncared for, as he may? For this is my mother’s way, wise as she is: blindly she honours one of mortal men, even the worse, but the better she sends without honour away.’
Then the prudent Eurycleia answered: ‘Nay, my child, thou shouldst not now blame her where no blame is. For the stranger sat and drank wine, so long as he would, and of food he said he was no longer fain, for thy mother asked him. Moreover, against the hour when he should bethink him of rest and sleep, she bade the maidens strew for him a bed. But he, as one utterly wretched and ill-fated, refused to lie on a couch and under blankets, but on an undressed hide and on the fleeces of sheep he slept in the vestibule, and we cast a mantle over him.’
So she spake, and Telemachus passed out through the hall with his lance in his hand, and two fleet dogs bare him company. He went on his way to the assembly-place to join the goodly-greaved Achaeans. But the good lady Eurycleia, daughter of Ops son of Peisenor, called aloud to her maidens:
‘Come hither, let some of you go busily and sweep the hall, and sprinkle it, and on the fair-fashioned seats throw purple coverlets, and others with sponges wipe all the tables clean, and cleanse the mixing bowls and well-wrought double beakers, and others again go for water to the well, and return with it right speedily. For the wooers will not long be out of the hall but will return very early, for it is a feast day, yea for all the people.’
So she spake, and they all gave ready ear and hearkened. Twenty of them went to the well of dark water, and the others there in the halls were busy with skilful hands.
Then in came the serving-men of the Achaeans. Thereon they cleft the faggots well and cunningly, while, behold, the women came back from the well. Then the swineherd joined them leading three fatted boars, the best in all the flock. These he left to feed at large in the fair courts, but as for him he spake to Odysseus gently, saying:
‘Tell me, stranger, do the Achaeans at all look on thee with more regard, or do they dishonour thee in the halls, as heretofore?’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying:
‘Oh, that the gods, Eumaeus, may avenge the scorn wherewith these men deal insolently, and devise infatuate deeds in another’s house, and have no place for shame!’
On such wise they spake one to another. And Melanthius drew near them, the goatherd, leading the goats that were most excellent in all the herds to be a dinner for the wooers, and two shepherds bare him company. So he tethered the goats beneath the echoing gallery, and himself spake to Odysseus and taunted him, saying:
‘Stranger, wilt thou still be a plague to us here in the hall, with thy begging of men, and wilt not get thee gone? In no wise do I think we twain will be sundered, till we taste each the other’s fists, for thy begging is out of all order. Also there are elsewhere other feasts of the Achaeans.’
So he spake, but Odysseus of many counsels answered him not a word, but in silence he shook his head, brooding evil in the deep of his heart.
Moreover a third man came up, Philoetius, a master of men, leading a barren heifer for the wooers and fatted goats. Now ferrymen had brought them over from the mainland, boatmen who send even other folks on their way, whosoever comes to them. The cattle he tethered carefully beneath the echoing gallery, and himself drew close to the swineherd, and began to question him:
‘Swineherd, who is this stranger but newly come to our house? From what men does he claim his birth? Where are his kin and his native fields? Hapless is he, yet in fashion he is like a royal lord; but the gods mar the goodliness of wandering men, when even for kings they have woven the web of trouble.’
So he spake, and came close to him offering his right hand in welcome, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:
‘Father and stranger, hail! may happiness be thine in the time to come; but as now, thou art fast holden in many sorrows! Father Zeus, none other god is more baneful than thou; thou hast no compassion on men, that are of thine own begetting, but makest them to have fellowship with evil and with bitter pains. The sweat brake out on me when I beheld him, and mine eyes stand full of tears for memory of Odysseus, for he too, methinks, is clad in such vile raiment as this, and is wandering among men, if haply he yet lives and sees the sunlight. But if he be dead already and in the house of Hades, then woe is me for the noble Odysseus, who set me over his cattle while I was but a lad in the land of the Cephallenians. And now these wax numberless; in no better wise could the breed of broad-browed cattle of any mortal increase, even as the ears of corn. But strangers command me to be ever driving these for themselves to devour, and they care nothing for the heir in the house, nor tremble at the vengeance of the gods, for they are eager even now to divide among themselves the possessions of our lord who is long afar. Now my heart within my breast often revolves this thing. Truly it were an evil deed, while a son of the master is yet alive, to get me away to the land of strangers, and go off, with cattle and all, to alien men. But this is more grievous still, to abide here in affliction watching over the herds of other men. Yea, long ago I would have fled and gone forth to some other of the proud kings, for things are now past sufferance; but still my thought is of that hapless one, if he might come I know not whence, and make a scattering of the wooers in the halls.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying:
‘Neatherd, seeing thou art not like to an evil man or a foolish, and of myself I mark how that thou hast gotten understanding of heart, therefore I will tell thee somewhat, and swear a great oath to confirm it. Be Zeus now my witness before any god, and the hospitable board and the hearth of noble Odysseus, whereunto I am come, that while thou art still in this place Odysseus shall come home, and thou shalt see with thine eyes, if thou wilt, the slaying of the wooers who lord it here.’
Then the neatherd made answer, saying:
‘Ah, would, stranger, that Cronion may accomplish this word! So shouldst thou know what my might is, and how my hands follow to obey.’
In like manner Eumaeus prayed to all the gods, that wise Odysseus might return to his own home.
On such wise they spake one to the other, but the wooers at that time were framing death and doom for Telemachus. Even so there came by them a bird on their left, an eagle of lofty flight, with a cowering dove in his clutch. Then Amphinomus made harangue and spake among them:
‘Friends, this counsel of ours will not go well, namely, the slaying of Telemachus; rather let us bethink us of the feast.’
So spake Amphinomus, and his saying pleased them well. They passed into the halls of godlike Odysseus and laid by their mantles on the chairs and high seats, and sacrificed great sheep and stout goats and the fatlings of the boars and the heifer of the herd; then they roasted the entrails and served them round and mixed wine in the bowl, and the swineherd set a cup by each man. And Philoetius, a master of men, handed them wheaten bread in beautiful baskets, and Melanthius poured out the wine. So they put forth their hands on the good cheer set before them.
Now Telemachus, in his crafty purpose, made Odysseus to sit down within the stablished hall by the threshold of stone, and placed for him a mean settle and a little table. He set by him his mess of the entrails, and poured wine into a golden cup and spake to him, saying:
‘There, sit thee down, drinking thy wine among the lords, and the taunts and buffets of all the wooers I myself will ward off from thee, for this is no house of public resort, but the very house of Odysseus, and for me he won it. But, ye wooers, refrain your minds from rebukes and your hands from buffets, that no strife and feud may arise.’
So he said, and they all bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus, in that he spake boldly. Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spake among them, saying:
‘Hard though the word be, let us accept it, Achaeans, even the word of Telemachus, though mightily he threatens us in his speech. For Zeus Cronion hath hindered us of our purpose, else would we have silenced him in our halls, shrill orator as he is.’
So spake Antinous, but Telemachus took no heed of his words. Now the henchmen were leading through the town the holy hecatomb of the gods, and lo, the long-haired Achaeans were gathered beneath the shady grove of Apollo, the prince of archery.
Now when they had roasted the outer flesh and drawn it off the spits, they divided the messes and shared the glorious feast. And beside Odysseus they that waited set an equal share, the same as that which fell to themselves, for so Telemachus commanded, the dear son of divine Odysseus.
Now Athene would in nowise suffer the lordly wooers to abstain from biting scorn, that the pain might sink yet the deeper into the heart of Odysseus, son of Laertes. There was among the wooers a man of a lawless heart, Ctesippus was his name, and in Same was his home, who trusting, forsooth, to his vast possessions, was wooing the wife of Odysseus the lord long afar. And now he spake among the proud wooers:
‘Hear me, ye lordly wooers, and I will say somewhat. The stranger verily has long had his due portion, as is meet, an equal share; for it is not fair nor just to rob the guests of Telemachus of their right, whosoever they may be that come to this house. Go to then, I also will bestow on him a stranger’s gift, that he in turn may give a present either to the bath-woman, or to any other of the thralls within the house of godlike Odysseus.’
Therewith he caught up an ox’s foot from the dish, where it lay, and hurled it with strong hand. But Odysseus lightly avoided it with a turn of his head, and smiled right grimly in his heart, and the ox’s foot smote the well-builded wall. Then Telemachus rebuked Ctesippus, saying:
‘Verily, Ctesippus, it has turned out happier for thy heart’s pleasure as it is! Thou didst not smite the stranger, for he himself avoided that which was cast at him, else surely would I have struck thee through the midst with the sharp spear, and in place of wedding banquet thy father would have had to busy him about a funeral feast in this place. Wherefore let no man make show of unseemly deeds in this my house, for now I have understanding to discern both good and evil, but in time past I was yet a child. But as needs we must, we still endure to see these deeds, while sheep are slaughtered and wine drunken and bread devoured, for hard it is for one man to restrain many. But come, no longer work me harm out of an evil heart; but if ye be set on slaying me, even me, with the sword, even that would I rather endure, and far better would it be to die than to witness for ever these unseemly deeds — strangers shamefully entreated, and men haling the handmaidens in foul wise through the fair house.’
So he spake, and they were all hushed in silence. And late and at last spake among them Agelaus, son of Damastor:
‘Friends, when a righteous word has been spoken, none surely would rebuke another with hard speech and be angry. Misuse ye not this stranger, nor any of the thralls that are in the house of godlike Odysseus. But to Telemachus himself I would speak a soft word and to his mother, if perchance it may find favour with the mind of those twain. So long as your hearts within you had hope of the wise Odysseus returning to his own house, so long none could be wroth that ye waited and held back the wooers in the halls, for so had it been better, if Odysseus had returned and come back to his own home. But now the event is plain, that he will return no more. Go then, sit by thy mother and tell her all, namely, that she must wed the best man that wooes her, and whose gives most gifts; so shalt thou with gladness live on the heritage of thy father, eating and drinking, while she cares for another’s house.’
Then wise Telemachus answered, and said: ‘Nay by Zeus, Agelaus, and by the griefs of my father, who far away methinks from Ithaca has perished or goes wandering, in nowise do I delay my mother’s marriage; nay, I bid her be married to what man she will, and withal I offer gifts without number. But I do indeed feel shame to drive her forth from the hall, despite her will, by a word of compulsion; God forbid that ever this should be.’
So spake Telemachus, but among the wooers Pallas Athene roused laughter unquenchable, and drave their wits wandering. And now they were laughing with alien lips, and blood-bedabbled was the flesh they ate, and their eyes were filled with tears and their soul was fain of lamentation. Then the godlike Theoclymenus spake among them:
‘Ah, wretched men, what woe is this ye suffer? Shrouded in night are your heads and your faces and your knees, and kindled is the voice of wailing, and all cheeks are wet with tears, and the walls and the fair main-beams of the roof are sprinkled with blood. And the porch is full, and full is the court, of ghosts that hasten hellwards beneath the gloom, and the sun has perished out of heaven, and an evil mist has overspread the world.’
So spake he, and they all laughed sweetly at him. Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak to them, saying:
‘The guest that is newly come from a strange land is beside himself. Quick, ye young men, and convey him forth out of doors, that he may go to the place of the gathering, since here he finds it dark as night.’
Then godlike Theoclymenus answered him: ‘Eurymachus, in nowise do I seek guides of thee to send me on my way. Eyes have I, and ears, and both my feet, and a stable mind in my breast of no mean fashioning. With these I will go forth, for I see evil coming on you, which not one man of the wooers may avoid or shun, of all you who in the house of divine Odysseus deal insolently with men and devise infatuate deeds.’
Therewith he went forth from out the fair-lying halls, and came to Peiraeus who received him gladly. Then all the wooers, looking one at the other, provoked Telemachus to anger, laughing at his guests. And thus some one of the haughty youths would speak:
‘Telemachus, no man is more luckless than thou in his guests, seeing thou keepest such a filthy wanderer, whosoever he be, always longing for bread and wine, and skilled in no peaceful work nor any deed of war, but a mere burden of the earth. And this other fellow again must stand up to play the seer! Nay, but if thou wouldest listen to me, much better it were. Let us cast these strangers on board a benched ship, and send them to the Sicilians, whence they would fetch thee their price.’ [[33|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 33]]
So spake the wooers, but he heeded not their words, in silence he looked towards his father, expecting evermore the hour when he should stretch forth his hands upon the shameless wooers.
Now the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, had set her fair chair over against them, and heard the words of each one of the men in the halls. For in the midst of laughter they had got ready the midday meal, a sweet meal and abundant, for they had sacrificed many cattle. But never could there be a banquet less gracious than that supper, such an one as the goddess and the brave man were soon to spread for them; for that they had begun the devices of shame.
//Penelope bringeth forth her husband’s bow, which the suitors could not bend, but was bent by Odysseus.//
Now the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, put it into the heart of the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, to set the bow and the axes of grey iron, for the wooers in the halls of Odysseus, to be the weapons of the contest, and the beginning of death. So she descended the tall staircase of her chamber, and took the well-bent key in her strong hand, a goodly key of bronze, whereon was a handle of ivory. And she betook her, with her handmaidens, to the treasure-chamber in the uttermost part of the house, where lay the treasures of her lord, bronze and gold and well-wrought iron. And there lay the back-bent bow and the quiver for the arrows, and many shafts were therein, winged for death, gifts of a friend of Odysseus, that met with him in Lacedaemon, Iphitus son of Eurytus, a man like to the gods. These twain fell in with one another in Messene, in the house of wise Ortilochus. Now Odysseus had gone thither to recover somewhat that was owing to him from all the people, for the men of Messene had lifted three hundred sheep in benched ships from out of Ithaca, with the shepherds of the flock. In quest of these it was that Odysseus went on a far embassy, being yet a lad; for his father and the other elders sent him forth. Moreover, Iphitus came thither in his search for twelve brood mares, which he had lost, with sturdy mules at the teat. These same it was that brought him death and destiny in the latter end, when he came to the child of Zeus, hardy of heart, the man Heracles, that had knowledge of great adventures, who smote Iphitus though his guest in his house, in his frowardness, and had no regard for the vengeance of the gods, nor for the table which he spread before him; for after the meal he slew him, his guest though he was, and kept for himself in the halls the horses strong of hoof. After these was Iphitus asking, when he met with Odysseus, and he gave him the bow, which of old great Eurytus bare and had left at his death to his son in his lofty house. And Odysseus gave Iphitus a sharp sword and a mighty spear, for the beginning of a loving friendship; but never had they acquaintance one of another at the board; ere that might be, the son of Zeus slew Iphitus son of Eurytus, a man like to the immortals, the same that gave Odysseus the bow. But goodly Odysseus would never take it with him on the black ships, as he went to the wars, but the bow was laid by at home in the halls as a memorial of a dear guest, and he carried it on his own land.
Now when the fair lady had come even to the treasure-chamber, and had stept upon the threshold of oak, which the carpenter had on a time planed cunningly, and over it had made straight the line — doorposts also had he fitted thereby, whereon he set shining doors — anon she quickly loosed the strap from the handle of the door, and thrust in the key, and with a straight aim shot back the bolts. And even as a bull roars that is grazing in a meadow, so mightily roared the fair doors smitten by the key; and speedily they flew open before her. Then she stept on to the high floor, where the coffers stood, wherein the fragrant raiment was stored. Thence she stretched forth her hand, and took the bow from off the pin, all in the bright case which sheathed it around. And there she sat down, and set the case upon her knees, and cried aloud and wept, and took out the bow of her lord. Now when she had her fill of tearful lament, she set forth to go to the hall to the company of the proud wooers, with the back-bent bow in her hands, and the quiver for the arrows, and many shafts were therein winged for death. And her maidens along with her bare a chest, wherein lay much store of iron and bronze, the gear of combat of their lord. Now when the fair lady had come unto the wooers, she stood by the pillar of the well-builded roof, holding up her glistening tire before her face; and a faithful maiden stood on either side of her, and straightway she spake out among the wooers and declared her word, saying:
‘Hear me, ye lordly wooers, who have vexed this house, that ye might eat and drink here evermore, forasmuch as the master is long gone, nor could ye find any other mark [[34|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 34]] for your speech, but all your desire was to wed me and take me to wife. Nay come now, ye wooers, seeing that this is the prize that is put before you. I will set forth for you the great bow of divine Odysseus, and whoso shall most easily string the bow in his hands, and shoot through all twelve axes, with him will I go and forsake this house, this house of my wedlock, so fair and filled with all livelihood, which methinks I shall yet remember, aye, in a dream.’
So spake she, and commanded Eumaeus, the goodly swineherd, to set the bow for the wooers and the axes of grey iron. And Eumaeus took them with tears, and laid them down; and otherwhere the neatherd wept, when he beheld the bow of his lord. Then Antinous rebuked them, and spake and hailed them:
‘Foolish boors, whose thoughts look not beyond the day, ah, wretched pair, wherefore now do ye shed tears, and stir the soul of the lady within her, when her heart already lies low in pain, for that she has lost her dear lord? Nay sit, and feast in silence, or else get ye forth and weep, and leave the bow here behind, to be a terrible contest for the wooers, for methinks that this polished bow does not lightly yield itself to be strung. For there is no man among all these present such as Odysseus was, and I myself saw him, yea I remember it well, though I was still but a child.’
So spake he, but his heart within him hoped that he would string the bow, and shoot through the iron. Yet verily, he was to be the first that should taste the arrow at the hands of the noble Odysseus, whom but late he was dishonouring as he sat in the halls, and was inciting all his fellows to do likewise.
Then the mighty prince Telemachus spake among them, saying: ‘Lo now, in very truth, Cronion has robbed me of my wits! My dear mother, wise as she is, declares that she will go with a stranger and forsake this house; yet I laugh and in my silly heart I am glad. Nay come now, ye wooers, seeing that this is the prize which is set before you, a lady, the like of whom there is not now in the Achaean land, neither in sacred Pylos, nor in Argos, nor in Mycenae, nor yet in Ithaca, nor in the dark mainland. Nay but ye know all this yourselves — why need I praise my mother? Come therefore, delay not the issue with excuses, nor hold much longer aloof from the drawing of the bow, that we may see the thing that is to be. Yea and I myself would make trial of this bow. If I shall string it, and shoot through the iron, then should I not sorrow if my lady mother were to quit these halls and go with a stranger, seeing that I should be left behind, well able now to lift my father’s goodly gear of combat.’
Therewith he cast from off his neck his cloak of scarlet, and sprang to his full height, and put away the sword from his shoulders. First he dug a good trench and set up the axes, one long trench for them all, and over it he made straight the line and round about stamped in the earth. And amazement fell on all that beheld how orderly he set the axes, though never before had he seen it so. Then he went and stood by the threshold and began to prove the bow. Thrice he made it to tremble in his great desire to draw it, and thrice he rested from his effort, though still he hoped in his heart to string the bow, and shoot through the iron. And now at last he might have strung it, mightily straining thereat for the fourth time, but Odysseus nodded frowning and stayed him, for all his eagerness. Then the strong prince Telemachus spake among them again:
‘Lo you now, even to the end of my days I shall be a coward and a weakling, or it may be I am too young, and have as yet no trust in my hands to defend me from such an one as does violence without a cause. But come now, ye who are mightier men than I, essay the bow and let us make an end of the contest.’
Therewith he put the bow from him on the ground, leaning it against the smooth and well-compacted doors, and the swift shaft he propped hard by against the fair bow-tip, and then he sat down once more on the high seat, whence he had risen.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spake among them, saying: ‘Rise up in order, all my friends, beginning from the left, even from the place whence the wine is poured.’
So spake Antinous, and the saying pleased them well. Then first stood up Leiodes, son of Oenops, who was their soothsayer and ever sat by the fair mixing bowl at the extremity of the hall; he alone hated their infatuate deeds and was indignant with all the wooers. He now first took the bow and the swift shaft, and he went and stood by the threshold, and began to prove the bow; but he could not bend it; or ever that might be, his hands grew weary with the straining, his unworn, delicate hands; so he spake among the wooers, saying:
‘Friends, of a truth I cannot bend it, let some other take it. Ah, many of our bravest shall this bow rob of spirit and of life, since truly it is far better for us to die, than to live on and to fail of that for which we assemble evermore in this place, day by day expecting the prize. Many there be even now that hope in their hearts and desire to wed Penelope, the bedfellow of Odysseus: but when such an one shall make trial of the bow and see the issue, thereafter let him woo some other fair-robed Achaean woman with his bridal gifts and seek to win her. So may our lady wed the man that gives most gifts, and comes as the chosen of fate.’
So he spake, and put from him the bow leaning it against the smooth and well-compacted doors, and the swift shaft he propped hard by against the fair bow-tip, and then he sat down once more on the high seat, whence he had risen.
But Antinous rebuked him, and spake and hailed him: ‘Leiodes, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips; a hard word, and a grievous? Nay, it angers me to hear it, and to think that a bow such as this shall rob our bravest of spirit and of life, and all because thou canst not draw it. For I tell thee that thy lady mother bare thee not of such might as to draw a bow and shoot arrows: but there be others of the proud wooers that shall draw it soon.’
So he spake, and commanded Melanthius, the goatherd, saying: ‘Up now, light a fire in the halls, Melanthius; and place a great settle by the fire and a fleece thereon, and bring forth a great ball of lard that is within, that we young men may warm and anoint the bow therewith and prove it, and make an end of the contest.’
So he spake, and Melanthius soon kindled the never-resting fire, and drew up a settle and placed it near, and put a fleece thereon, and he brought forth a great ball of lard that was within. Therewith the young men warmed the bow, and made essay, but could not string it, for they were greatly lacking of such might. And Antinous still held to the task and godlike Eurymachus, chief men among the wooers, who were far the most excellent of all.
But those other twain went forth both together from the house, the neatherd and the swineherd of godlike Odysseus; and Odysseus passed out after them. But when they were now gotten without the gates and the courtyard, he uttered his voice and spake to them in gentle words:
‘Neatherd and thou swineherd, shall I say somewhat or keep it to myself? Nay, my spirit bids me declare it. What manner of men would ye be to help Odysseus, if he should come thus suddenly, I know not whence, and some god were to bring him? Would ye stand on the side of the wooers or of Odysseus? Tell me even as your heart and spirit bid you.’
Then the neatherd answered him, saying: ‘Father Zeus, if but thou wouldst fulfil this wish: [[35|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 35]]— oh, that that man might come, and some god lead him hither! So shouldest thou know what my might is, and how my hands follow to obey.’
In like manner Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus might return to his own home.
Now when he knew for a surety what spirit they were of, once more he answered and spake to them, saying:
‘Behold, home am I come, even I; after much travail and sore am I come in the twentieth year to mine own country. And I know how that my coming is desired by you alone of all my thralls, for from none besides have I heard a prayer that I might return once more to my home. And now I will tell you all the truth, even as it shall come to pass. If the god shall subdue the proud wooers to my hands, I will bring you each one a wife, and will give you a heritage of your own and a house builded near to me, and ye twain shall be thereafter in mine eyes as the brethren and companions of Telemachus. But behold, I will likewise show you a most manifest token, that ye may know me well and be certified in heart, even the wound that the boar dealt me with his white tusk long ago, when I went to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.’
Therewith he drew aside the rags from the great scar. And when the twain had beheld it and marked it well, they cast their arms about the wise Odysseus, and fell a weeping; and kissed him lovingly on head and shoulders. And in like manner Odysseus too kissed their heads and hands. And now would the sunlight have gone down upon their sorrowing, had not Odysseus himself stayed them saying:
‘Cease ye from weeping and lamentation, lest some one come forth from the hall and see us, and tell it likewise in the house. Nay, go ye within one by one and not both together, I first and you following, and let this be the token between us. All the rest, as many as are proud wooers, will not suffer that I should be given the bow and quiver; do thou then, goodly Eumaeus, as thou bearest the bow through the hall, set it in my hands and speak to the women that they bar the well-fitting doors of their chamber. And if any of them hear the sound of groaning or the din of men within our walls, let them not run forth but abide where they are in silence at their work. But on thee, goodly Philoetius, I lay this charge, to bolt and bar the outer gate of the court and swiftly to tie the knot.’
Therewith he passed within the fair-lying halls, and went and sat upon the settle whence he had risen. And likewise the two thralls of divine Odysseus went within.
And now Eurymachus was handling the bow, warming it on this side and on that at the light of the fire; yet even so he could not string it, and in his great heart he groaned mightily; and in heaviness of spirit he spake and called aloud, saying:
‘Lo you now, truly am I grieved for myself and for you all! Not for the marriage do I mourn so greatly, afflicted though I be; there are many Achaean women besides, some in sea-begirt Ithaca itself and some in other cities. Nay, but I grieve, if indeed we are so far worse than godlike Odysseus in might, seeing that we cannot bend the bow. It will be a shame even for men unborn to hear thereof.’
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: ‘Eurymachus, this shall not be so, and thou thyself too knowest it. For today the feast of the archer god is held in the land, a holy feast. Who at such a time would be bending bows? Nay, set it quietly by; what and if we should let the axes all stand as they are? None methinks will come to the hall of Odysseus, son of Laertes, and carry them away. Go to now, let the wine-bearer pour for libation into each cup in turn, that after the drink-offering we may set down the curved bow. And in the morning bid Melanthius, the goatherd, to lead hither the very best goats in all his herds, that we may lay pieces of the thighs on the altar of Apollo the archer, and assay the bow and make an end of the contest.’
So spake Antinous, and the saying pleased them well. Then the henchmen poured water on their hands, and pages crowned the mixing-bowls with drink, and served out the wine to all, when they had poured for libation into each cup in turn. But when they had poured forth and had drunken to their hearts’ desire, Odysseus of many counsels spake among them out of a crafty heart, saying:
‘Hear me, ye wooers of the renowned queen, that I may say that which my heart within me bids. And mainly to Eurymachus I make my prayer and to the godlike Antinous, forasmuch as he has spoken even this word aright, namely, that for this present ye cease from your archery and leave the issue to the gods; and in the morning the god will give the victory to whomsoever he will. Come therefore, give me the polished bow, that in your presence I may prove my hands and strength, whether I have yet any force such as once was in my supple limbs, or whether my wanderings and needy fare have even now destroyed it.’
So spake he and they all were exceeding wroth, for fear lest he should string the polished bow. And Antinous rebuked him, and spake and hailed him:
‘Wretched stranger, thou hast no wit, nay never so little. Art thou not content to feast at ease in our high company, and to lack not thy share of the banquet, but to listen to our speech and our discourse, while no guest and beggar beside thee hears our speech? Wine it is that wounds thee, honey sweet wine, that is the bane of others too, even of all who take great draughts and drink out of measure. Wine it was that darkened the mind even of the Centaur, renowned Eurytion, in the hall of high-hearted Peirithous, when he went to the Lapithae; and after that his heart was darkened with wine, he wrought foul deeds in his frenzy, in the house of Peirithous. Then wrath fell on all the heroes, and they leaped up and dragged him forth through the porch, when they had shorn off his ears and nostrils with the pitiless sword, and then with darkened mind he bare about with him the burden of his sin in foolishness of heart. Thence was the feud begun between the Centaurs and mankind; but first for himself gat he hurt, being heavy with wine. And even so I declare great mischief unto thee if thou shalt string the bow, for thou shalt find no courtesy at the hand of anyone in our land, and anon we will send thee in a black ship to Echetus, the maimer of all men, and thence thou shalt not be saved alive. Nay then, drink at thine ease, and strive not still with men that are younger than thou.’
Then wise Penelope answered him: ‘Antinous, truly it is not fair nor just to rob the guests of Telemachus of their due, whosoever he may be that comes to this house. Dost thou think if yonder stranger strings the great bow of Odysseus, in the pride of his might and of his strength of arm, that he will lead me to his home and make me his wife? Nay he himself, methinks, has no such hope in his breast; so, as for that, let not any of you fret himself while feasting in this place; that were indeed unmeet.’
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered her, saying: ‘Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, it is not that we deem that he will lead thee to his home — far be such a thought from us — but we dread the speech of men and women, lest some day one of the baser sort among the Achaeans say: “Truly men far too mean are wooing the wife of one that is noble, nor can they string the polished bow. But a stranger and a beggar came in his wanderings, and lightly strung the bow, and shot through the iron.” Thus will they speak, and this will turn to our reproach.’
Then wise Penelope answered him: ‘Eurymachus, never can there be fair fame in the land for those that devour and dishonour the house of a prince, but why make ye this thing into a reproach? But, behold, our guest is great of growth and well-knit, and avows him to be born the son of a good father. Come then, give ye him the polished bow, that we may see that which is to be. For thus will I declare my saying, and it shall surely come to pass. If he shall string the bow and Apollo grant him renown, I will clothe him in a mantle and a doublet, goodly raiment, and I will give him a sharp javelin to defend him against dogs and men, and a two-edged sword and sandals to bind beneath his feet, and I will send him whithersoever his heart and spirit bid him go.’
Then wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘My mother, as for the bow, no Achaean is mightier than I to give or to deny it to whomso I will, neither as many as are lords in rocky Ithaca nor in the isles on the side of Elis, the pastureland of horses. Not one of these shall force me in mine own despite, if I choose to give this bow, yea once and for all, to the stranger to bear away with him. But do thou go to thine own chamber and mind thine own housewiferies, the loom and distaff, and bid thine handmaids ply their tasks. But the bow shall be for men, for all, but for me in chief, for mine is the lordship in the house.’
Then in amaze she went back to her chamber, for she laid up the wise saying of her son in her heart. She ascended to her upper chamber with the women her handmaids, and then was bewailing Odysseus, her dear lord, till grey-eyed Athene cast sweet sleep upon her eyelids.
Now the goodly swineherd had taken the curved bow, and was bearing it, when the wooers all cried out upon him in the halls. And thus some one of the haughty youths would speak: ‘Whither now art thou bearing the curved bow, thou wretched swineherd, crazed in thy wits? Lo, soon shall the swift hounds of thine own breeding eat thee hard by thy swine, alone and away from men, if Apollo will be gracious to us and the other deathless gods.’
Even so they spake, and he took and set down the bow in that very place, being affrighted because many cried out on him in the halls. Then Telemachus from the other side spake threateningly, and called aloud:
‘Father, bring hither the bow, soon shalt thou rue it that thou servest many masters. Take heed, lest I that am younger than thou pursue thee to the field, and pelt thee with stones, for in might I am the better. If only I were so much mightier in strength of arm than all the wooers that are in the halls, soon would I send many an one forth on a woeful way from out our house, for they imagine mischief against us.’
So he spake, and all the wooers laughed sweetly at him, and ceased now from their cruel anger toward Telemachus. Then the swineherd bare the bow through the hall, and went up to wise Odysseus, and set it in his hands. And he called forth the nurse Eurycleia from the chamber and spake to her:
‘Wise Eurycleia, Telemachus bids thee bar the well-fitting doors of thy chamber, and if any of the women hear the sound of groaning or the din of men within our walls, let them not go forth, but abide where they are in silence at their work.’
So he spake, and wingless her speech remained, and she barred the doors of the fair-lying chambers.
Then Philoetius hasted forth silently from the house, and barred the outer gates of the fenced court. Now there lay beneath the gallery the cable of a curved ship, fashioned of the byblus plant, wherewith he made fast the gates, and then himself passed within. Then he went and sat on the settle whence he had risen, and gazed upon Odysseus. He already was handling the bow, turning it every way about, and proving it on this side and on that, lest the worms might have eaten the horns when the lord of the bow was away. And thus men spake looking each one to his neighbour:
‘Verily he has a good eye, and a shrewd turn for a bow! Either, methinks, he himself has such a bow lying by at home or else he is set on making one, in such wise does he turn it hither and thither in his hands, this evil-witted beggar.’
And another again of the haughty youths would say: ‘Would that the fellow may have profit thereof, just so surely as he shall ever prevail to bend this bow!’
So spake the wooers, but Odysseus of many counsels had lifted the great bow and viewed it on every side, and even as when a man that is skilled in the lyre and in minstrelsy, easily stretches a cord about a new peg, after tying at either end the twisted sheep-gut, even so Odysseus straightway bent the great bow, all without effort, and took it in his right hand and proved the bow-string, which rang sweetly at the touch, in tone like a swallow. Then great grief came upon the wooers, and the colour of their countenance was changed, and Zeus thundered loud showing forth his tokens. And the steadfast goodly Odysseus was glad thereat, in that the son of deep-counselling Cronos had sent him a sign. Then he caught up a swift arrow which lay by his table, bare, but the other shafts were stored within the hollow quiver, those whereof the Achaeans were soon to taste. He took and laid it on the bridge of the bow, and held the notch and drew the string, even from the settle whereon he sat, and with straight aim shot the shaft and missed not one of the axes, beginning from the first axe-handle, and the bronze-weighted shaft passed clean through and out at the last. Then he spake to Telemachus, saying:
‘Telemachus, thy guest that sits in the halls does thee no shame. In nowise did I miss my mark, nor was I wearied with long bending of the bow. Still is my might steadfast — not as the wooers say scornfully to slight me. But now is it time that supper too be got ready for the Achaeans, while it is yet light, and thereafter must we make other sport with the dance and the lyre, for these are the crown of the feast.’
Therewith he nodded with bent brows, and Telemachus, the dear son of divine Odysseus, girt his sharp sword about him and took the spear in his grasp, and stood by his high seat at his father’s side, armed with the gleaming bronze.
//The killing of the wooers.//
Then Odysseus of many counsels stripped him of his rags and leaped on to the great threshold with his bow and quiver full of arrows, and poured forth all the swift shafts there before his feet, and spake among the wooers:
‘Lo, now is this terrible trial ended at last; and now will I know of another mark, which never yet man has smitten, if perchance I may hit it and Apollo grant me renown.’
With that he pointed the bitter arrow at Antinous. Now he was about raising to his lips a fair twy-eared chalice of gold, and behold, he was handling it to drink of the wine, and death was far from his thoughts. For who among men at feast would deem that one man amongst so many, how hardy soever he were, would bring on him foul death and black fate? But Odysseus aimed and smote him with the arrow in the throat, and the point passed clean out through his delicate neck, and he fell sidelong and the cup dropped from his hand as he was smitten, and at once through his nostrils there came up a thick jet of slain man’s blood, and quickly he spurned the table from him with his foot, and spilt the food on the ground, and the bread and the roast flesh were defiled. Then the wooers raised a clamour through the halls when they saw the man fallen, and they leaped from their high seats, as men stirred by fear, all through the hall, peering everywhere along the well-builded walls, and nowhere was there a shield or mighty spear to lay hold on. Then they reviled Odysseus with angry words:
‘Stranger, thou shootest at men to thy hurt. Never again shalt thou enter other lists, now is utter doom assured thee. Yea, for now hast thou slain the man that was far the best of all the noble youths in Ithaca; wherefore vultures shall devour thee here.’
So each one spake, for indeed they thought that Odysseus had not slain him wilfully; but they knew not in their folly that on their own heads, each and all of them, the bands of death had been made fast. Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on them, and spake:
‘Ye dogs, ye said in your hearts that I should never more come home from the land of the Trojans, in that ye wasted my house, and lay with the maidservants by force, and traitorously wooed my wife while I was yet alive, and ye had no fear of the gods, that hold the wide heaven, nor of the indignation of men hereafter. But now the bands of death have been made fast upon you one and all.’
Even so he spake, and pale fear gat hold on the limbs of all, and each man looked about, where he might shun utter doom. And Eurymachus alone answered him, and spake: ‘If thou art indeed Odysseus of Ithaca, come home again, with right thou speakest thus, of all that the Achaeans have wrought, many infatuate deeds in thy halls and many in the field. Howbeit, he now lies dead that is to blame for all, Antinous; for he brought all these things upon us, not as longing very greatly for the marriage nor needing it sore, but with another purpose, that Cronion has not fulfilled for him, namely, that he might himself be king over all the land of stablished Ithaca, and he was to have lain in wait for thy son and killed him. But now he is slain after his deserving, and do thou spare thy people, even thine own; and we will hereafter go about the township and yield thee amends for all that has been eaten and drunken in thy halls, each for himself bringing atonement of twenty oxen worth, and requiting thee in gold and bronze till thy heart is softened, but till then none may blame thee that thou art angry.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on him, and said: ‘Eurymachus, not even if ye gave me all your heritage, all that ye now have, and whatsoever else ye might in any wise add thereto, not even so would I henceforth hold my hands from slaying, ere the wooers had paid for all their transgressions. And now the choice lies before you, whether to fight in fair battle or to fly, if any may avoid death and the fates. But there be some, methinks, that shall not escape from utter doom.’
He spake, and their knees were straightway loosened and their hearts melted within them. And Eurymachus spake among them yet again:
‘Friends, it is plain that this man will not hold his unconquerable hands, but now that he has caught up the polished bow and quiver, he will shoot from the smooth threshold, till he has slain us all; wherefore let us take thought for the delight of battle. Draw your blades, and hold up the tables to ward off the arrows of swift death, and let us all have at him with one accord, and drive him, if it may be, from the threshold and the doorway and then go through the city, and quickly would the cry be raised. Thereby should this man soon have shot his latest bolt.’
Therewith he drew his sharp two-edged sword of bronze, and leapt on Odysseus with a terrible cry, but in the same moment goodly Odysseus shot the arrow forth and struck him on the breast by the pap, and drave the swift shaft into his liver. So he let the sword fall from his hand, and grovelling over the table he bowed and fell, and spilt the food and the two-handled cup on the floor. And in his agony he smote the ground with his brow, and spurning with both his feet he overthrew the high seat, and the mist of death was shed upon his eyes.
Then Amphinomus made at renowned Odysseus, setting straight at him, and drew his sharp sword, if perchance he might make him give ground from the door. But Telemachus was beforehand with him, and cast and smote him from behind with a bronze-shod spear between the shoulders, and drave it out through the breast, and he fell with a crash and struck the ground full with his forehead. Then Telemachus sprang away, leaving the long spear fixed in Amphinomus, for he greatly dreaded lest one of the Achaeans might run upon him with his blade, and stab him as he drew forth the spear, or smite him with a down stroke [[36|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 36]] of the sword. So he started and ran and came quickly to his father, and stood by him, and spake winged words:
‘Father, lo, now I will bring thee a shield and two spears and a helmet all of bronze, close fitting on the temples, and when I return I will arm myself, and likewise give arms to the swineherd and to the neatherd yonder: for it is better to be clad in full armour.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Run and bring them while I have arrows to defend me, lest they thrust me from the doorway, one man against them all.’
So he spake, and Telemachus obeyed his dear father, and went forth to the chamber, where his famous weapons were lying. Thence he took out four shields and eight spears, and four helmets of bronze, with thick plumes of horse hair, and he started to bring them and came quickly to his father. Now he girded the gear of bronze about his own body first, and in like manner the two thralls did on the goodly armour, and stood beside the wise and crafty Odysseus. Now he, so long as he had arrows to defend him, kept aiming and smote the wooers one by one in his house, and they fell thick one upon another. But when the arrows failed the prince in his archery, he leaned his bow against the doorpost of the stablished hall, against the shining faces of the entrance. As for him he girt his fourfold shield about his shoulders and bound on his mighty head a well wrought helmet, with horse hair crest, and terribly the plume waved aloft. And he grasped two mighty spears tipped with bronze.
Now there was in the well-builded wall a certain postern raised above the floor, and there by the topmost level of the threshold of the stablished hall, was a way into an open passage, closed by well-fitted folding doors. So Odysseus bade the goodly swineherd stand near thereto and watch the way, for thither there was but one approach. Then Agelaus spake among them, and declared his word to all:
‘Friends, will not some man climb up to the postern, and give word to the people, and a cry would be raised straightway; so should this man soon have shot his latest bolt?’
Then Melanthius, the goatherd, answered him, saying: ‘It may in no wise be, prince Agelaus; for the fair gate of the courtyard is terribly nigh, and perilous is the entrance to the passage, and one man, if he were valiant, might keep back a host. But come, let me bring you armour from the inner chamber, that ye may be clad in hauberks, for, methinks, within that room and not elsewhere did Odysseus and his renowned son lay by the arms.’
Therewith Melanthius, the goatherd, climbed up by the clerestory of the hall to the inner chambers of Odysseus, whence he took twelve shields and as many spears, and as many helmets of bronze with thick plumes of horse hair, and he came forth and brought them speedily, and gave them to the wooers. Then the knees of Odysseus were loosened and his heart melted within him, when he saw them girding on the armour and brandishing the long spears in their hands, and great, he saw, was the adventure. Quickly he spake to Telemachus winged words:
‘Telemachus, sure I am that one of the women in the halls is stirring up an evil battle against us, or perchance it is Melanthius.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him: ‘My father, it is I that have erred herein and none other is to blame, for I left the well-fitted door of the chamber open, and there has been one of them but too quick to spy it. Go now, goodly Eumaeus, and close the door of the chamber, and mark if it be indeed one of the women that does this mischief, or Melanthius, son of Dolius, as methinks it is.’
Even so they spake one to the other. And Melanthius, the goatherd, went yet again to the chamber to bring the fair armour. But the goodly swineherd was ware thereof, and quickly he spake to Odysseus who stood nigh him:
‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus, of many devices, lo, there again is that baleful man, whom we ourselves suspect, going to the chamber; do thou tell me truly, shall I slay him if I prove the better man, or bring him hither to thee, that he may pay for the many transgressions that he has devised in thy house?’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered saying: ‘Verily, I and Telemachus will keep the proud wooers within the halls, for all their fury, but do ye twain tie his feet and arms behind his back and cast him into the chamber, and close the doors after you, [[37|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 37]] and make fast to his body a twisted rope, and drag him up the lofty pillar till he be near the roof beams, that he may hang there and live for long, and suffer grievous torment.’
So he spake, and they gave good heed and hearkened. So they went forth to the chamber, but the goatherd who was within knew not of their coming. Now he was seeking for the armour in the secret place of the chamber, but they twain stood in waiting on either side the doorposts. And when Melanthius, the goatherd, was crossing the threshold with a goodly helm in one hand, and in the other a wide shield and an old, stained with rust, the shield of the hero Laertes that he bare when he was young — but at that time it was laid by, and the seams of the straps were loosened — then the twain rushed on him and caught him, and dragged him in by the hair, and cast him on the floor in sorrowful plight, and bound him hand and foot in a bitter bond, tightly winding each limb behind his back, even as the son of Laertes bade them, the steadfast goodly Odysseus. And they made fast to his body a twisted rope, and dragged him up the lofty pillar till he came near the roof beams. Then didst thou speak to him and gird at him, swineherd Eumaeus:
‘Now in good truth, Melanthius, shalt thou watch all night, lying in a soft bed as beseems thee, nor shall the early-born Dawn escape thy ken, when she comes forth from the streams of Oceanus, on her golden throne, in the hour when thou art wont to drive the goats to make a meal for the wooers in the halls.’
So he was left there, stretched tight in the deadly bond. But they twain got into their harness, and closed the shining door, and went to Odysseus, wise and crafty chief. There they stood breathing fury, four men by the threshold, while those others within the halls were many and good warriors. Then Athene, daughter of Zeus, drew nigh them, like Mentor in fashion and in voice, and Odysseus was glad when he saw her and spake, saying:
‘Mentor, ward from us hurt, and remember me thy dear companion, that befriended thee often, and thou art of like age with me.’
So he spake, deeming the while that it was Athene, summoner of the host. But the wooers on the other side shouted in the halls, and first Agelaus son of Damastor rebuked Athene, saying:
‘Mentor, let not the speech of Odysseus beguile thee to fight against the wooers, and to succour him. For methinks that on this wise we shall work our will. When we shall have slain these men, father and son, thereafter shalt thou perish with them, such deeds thou art set on doing in these halls; nay, with thine own head shalt thou pay the price. But when with the sword we shall have overcome your violence, we will mingle all thy possessions, all that thou hast at home or in the field, with the wealth of Odysseus, and we will not suffer thy sons nor thy daughters to dwell in the halls, nor thy good wife to gad about in the town of Ithaca.’
So spake he, and Athene was mightily angered at heart, and chid Odysseus in wrathful words: ‘Odysseus, thou hast no more steadfast might nor any prowess, as when for nine whole years continually thou didst battle with the Trojans for high born Helen, of the white arms, and many men thou slewest in terrible warfare, and by thy device the wide-wayed city of Priam was taken. How then, now that thou art come to thy house and thine own possessions, dost thou bewail thee and art of feeble courage to stand before the wooers? Nay, come hither, friend, and stand by me, and I will show thee a thing, that thou mayest know what manner of man is Mentor, son of Alcimus, to repay good deeds in the ranks of foemen.’
She spake, and gave him not yet clear victory in full, but still for a while made trial of the might and prowess of Odysseus and his renowned son. As for her she flew up to the roof timber of the murky hall, in such fashion as a swallow flies, and there sat down.
Now Agelaus, son of Damastor, urged on the wooers, and likewise Eurynomus and Amphimedon and Demoptolemus and Peisandrus son of Polyctor, and wise Polybus, for these were in valiancy far the best men of the wooers, that still lived and fought for their lives; for the rest had fallen already beneath the bow and the thick rain of arrows. Then Agelaus spake among them, and made known his word to all:
‘Friends, now at last will this man hold his unconquerable hands. Lo, now has Mentor left him and spoken but vain boasts, and these remain alone at the entrance of the doors. Wherefore now, throw not your long spears all together, but come, do ye six cast first, if perchance Zeus may grant us to smite Odysseus and win renown. Of the rest will we take no heed, so soon as that man shall have fallen.’
So he spake and they all cast their javelins, as he bade them, eagerly; but behold, Athene so wrought that they were all in vain. One man smote the doorpost of the stablished hall, and another the well-fastened door, and the ashen spear of yet another wooer, heavy with bronze, stuck fast in the wall. So when they had avoided all the spears of the wooers, the steadfast goodly Odysseus began first to speak among them:
‘Friends, now my word is that we too cast and hurl into the press of the wooers, that are mad to slay and strip us beyond the measure of their former iniquities.’
So he spake, and they all took good aim and threw their sharp spears, and Odysseus smote Demoptolemus, and Telemachus Euryades, and the swineherd slew Elatus, and the neatherd Peisandrus. Thus they all bit the wide floor with their teeth, and the wooers fell back into the inmost part of the hall. But the others dashed upon them and drew forth the shafts from the bodies of the dead.
Then once more the wooers threw their sharp spears eagerly; but behold, Athene so wrought that many of them were in vain. One man smote the door-post of the stablished hall, and another the well-fastened door, and the ashen spear of another wooer, heavy with bronze, struck in the wall. Yet Amphimedon hit Telemachus on the hand by the wrist lightly, and the shaft of bronze wounded the surface of the skin. And Ctesippus grazed the shoulder of Eumaeus with a long spear high above the shield, and the spear flew over and fell to the ground. Then again Odysseus, the wise and crafty, he and his men cast their swift spears into the press of the wooers, and now once more Odysseus, waster of cities, smote Eurydamas, and Telemachus Amphimedon, and the swineherd slew Polybus, and last, the neatherd struck Ctesippus in the breast and boasted over him, saying:
‘O son of Polytherses, thou lover of jeering, never give place at all to folly to speak so big, but leave thy case to the gods, since in truth they are far mightier than thou. This gift is thy recompense for the ox-foot that thou gavest of late to the divine Odysseus, when he went begging through the house.’
So spake the keeper of the shambling kine. Next Odysseus wounded the son of Damastor in close fight with his long spear, and Telemachus wounded Leocritus son of Euenor, right in the flank with his lance, and drave the bronze point clean through, that he fell prone and struck the ground full with his forehead. Then Athene held up her destroying aegis on high from the roof, and their minds were scared, and they fled through the hall, like a drove of kine that the flitting gadfly falls upon and scatters hither and thither in spring time, when the long days begin. But the others set on like vultures of crooked claws and curved beak, that come forth from the mountains and dash upon smaller birds, and these scour low in the plain, stooping in terror from the clouds, while the vultures pounce on them and slay them, and there is no help nor way of flight, and men are glad at the sport; even so did the company of Odysseus set upon the wooers and smite them right and left through the hall; and there rose a hideous moaning as their heads were smitten, and the floor all ran with blood.
Now Leiodes took hold of the knees of Odysseus eagerly, and besought him and spake winged words: ‘I entreat thee by thy knees, Odysseus, and do thou show mercy on me and have pity. For never yet, I say, have I wronged a maiden in thy halls by froward word or deed, nay I bade the other wooers refrain, whoso of them wrought thus. But they hearkened not unto me to keep their hands from evil. Wherefore they have met a shameful death through their own infatuate deeds. Yet I, the soothsayer among them, that have wrought no evil, shall fall even as they, for no grace abides for good deeds done.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked askance at him, and said: ‘If indeed thou dost avow thee to be the soothsayer of these men, thou art like to have often prayed in the halls that the issue of a glad return might be far from me, and that my dear wife should follow thee and bear thee children; wherefore thou shalt not escape the bitterness of death.’
Therewith he caught up a sword in his strong hand, that lay where Agelaus had let it fall to the ground when he was slain, and drave it clean through his neck, and as he yet spake his head fell even to the dust.
But the son of Terpes, the minstrel, still sought how he might shun black fate, Phemius, who sang among the wooers of necessity. He stood with the loud lyre in his hand hard by the postern gate, and his heart was divided within him, whether he should slip forth from the hall and sit down by the well-wrought altar of great Zeus of the household court, whereon Laertes and Odysseus had burnt many pieces of the thighs of oxen, or should spring forward and beseech Odysseus by his knees. And as he thought thereupon this seemed to him the better way, to embrace the knees of Odysseus, son of Laertes. So he laid the hollow lyre on the ground between the mixing-bowl and the high seat inlaid with silver, and himself sprang forward and seized Odysseus by the knees, and besought him and spake winged words:
‘I entreat thee by thy knees, Odysseus, and do thou show mercy on me and have pity. It will be a sorrow to thyself in the aftertime if thou slayest me who am a minstrel, and sing before gods and men. Yea none has taught me but myself, and the god has put into my heart all manner of lays, and methinks I sing to thee as to a god, wherefore be not eager to cut off my head. And Telemachus will testify of this, thine own dear son, that not by mine own will or desire did I resort to thy house to sing to the wooers at their feasts; but being so many and stronger than I they led me by constraint.’
So he spake, and the mighty prince Telemachus heard him and quickly spake to his father at his side: ‘Hold thy hand, and wound not this blameless man with the sword; and let us save also the henchman Medon, that ever had charge of me in our house when I was a child, unless perchance Philoetius or the swineherd have already slain him, or he hath met thee in thy raging through the house.’
So he spake, and Medon, wise of heart, heard him. For he lay crouching beneath a high seat, clad about in the new-flayed hide of an ox and shunned black fate. So he rose up quickly from under the seat, and cast off the ox-hide, and sprang forth and caught Telemachus by the knees, and besought him and spake winged words:
‘Friend, here am I; prithee stay thy hand and speak to thy father, lest he harm me with the sharp sword in the greatness of his strength, out of his anger for the wooers that wasted his possessions in the halls, and in their folly held thee in no honour.’
And Odysseus of many counsels smiled on him and said: ‘Take courage, for lo, he has saved thee and delivered thee, that thou mayst know in thy heart, and tell it even to another, how far more excellent are good deeds than evil. But go forth from the halls and sit down in the court apart from the slaughter, thou and the full-voiced minstrel, till I have accomplished all that I must needs do in the house.’
Therewith the two went forth and gat them from the hall. So they sat down by the altar of great Zeus, peering about on every side, still expecting death. And Odysseus peered all through the house, to see if any man was yet alive and hiding away to shun black fate. But he found all the sort of them fallen in their blood in the dust, like fishes that the fishermen have drawn forth in the meshes of the net into a hollow of the beach from out the grey sea, and all the fish, sore longing for the salt sea waves, are heaped upon the sand, and the sun shines forth and takes their life away; so now the wooers lay heaped upon each other. Then Odysseus of many counsels spake to Telemachus:
‘Telemachus, go, call me the nurse Eurycleia, that I may tell her a word that is on my mind.’
So he spake, and Telemachus obeyed his dear father, and smote at the door, and spake to the nurse Eurycleia: ‘Up now, aged wife, that overlookest all the women servants in our halls, come hither, my father calls thee and has somewhat to say to thee.’
Even so he spake, and wingless her speech remained, and she opened the doors of the fair-lying halls, and came forth, and Telemachus led the way before her. So she found Odysseus among the bodies of the dead, stained with blood and soil of battle, like a lion that has eaten of an ox of the homestead and goes on his way, and all his breast and his cheeks on either side are flecked with blood, and he is terrible to behold; even so was Odysseus stained, both hands and feet. Now the nurse, when she saw the bodies of the dead and the great gore of blood, made ready to cry aloud for joy, beholding so great an adventure. But Odysseus checked and held her in her eagerness, and uttering his voice spake to her winged words:
‘Within thine own heart rejoice, old nurse, and be still, and cry not aloud; for it is an unholy thing to boast over slain men. Now these hath the destiny of the gods overcome, and their own cruel deeds, for they honoured none of earthly men, neither the bad nor yet the good, that came among them. Wherefore they have met a shameful death through their own infatuate deeds. But come, tell me the tale of the women in my halls, which of them dishonour me, and which be guiltless.’
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered him: ‘Yea now, my child, I will tell thee all the truth. Thou hast fifty women-servants in thy halls, that we have taught the ways of housewifery, how to card wool and to bear bondage. Of these twelve in all have gone the way of shame, and honour not me, nor their lady Penelope. And Telemachus hath but newly come to his strength, and his mother suffered him not to take command over the women in this house. But now, let me go aloft to the shining upper chamber, and tell all to thy wife, on whom some god hath sent a sleep.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Wake her not yet, but bid the women come hither, who in time past behaved themselves unseemly.’
So he spake, and the old wife passed through the hall, to tell the women and to hasten their coming. Then Odysseus called to him Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the swineherd, and spake to them winged words:
‘Begin ye now to carry out the dead, and bid the women help you, and thereafter cleanse the fair high seats and the tables with water and porous sponges. And when ye have set all the house in order, lead the maidens without the stablished hall, between the vaulted room and the goodly fence of the court, and there slay them with your long blades, till they shall have all given up the ghost and forgotten the love that of old they had at the bidding of the wooers, in secret dalliance.’
Even so he spake, and the women came all in a crowd together, making a terrible lament and shedding big tears. So first they carried forth the bodies of the slain, and set them beneath the gallery of the fenced court, and propped them one on another; and Odysseus himself hasted the women and directed them, and they carried forth the dead perforce. Thereafter they cleansed the fair high seats and the tables with water and porous sponges. And Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the swineherd, scraped with spades the floor of the well-builded house, and, behold, the maidens carried all forth and laid it without the doors.
Now when they had made an end of setting the hall in order, they led the maidens forth from the stablished hall, and drove them up in a narrow space between the vaulted room and the goodly fence of the court, whence none might avoid; and wise Telemachus began to speak to his fellows, saying: ‘God forbid that I should take these women’s lives by a clean death, these that have poured dishonour on my head and on my mother, and have lain with the wooers.’
With that word he tied the cable of a dark-prowed ship to a great pillar and flung it round the vaulted room, and fastened it aloft, that none might touch the ground with her feet. And even as when thrushes, long of wing, or doves fall into a net that is set in a thicket, as they seek to their roosting-place, and a loathly bed harbours them, even so the women held their heads all in a row, and about all their necks nooses were cast, that they might die by the most pitiful death. And they writhed with their feet for a little space, but for no long while.
Then they led out Melanthius through the doorway and the court, and cut off his nostrils and his ears with the pitiless sword, and drew forth his vitals for the dogs to devour raw, and cut off his hands and feet in their cruel anger.
Thereafter they washed their hands and feet, and went into the house to Odysseus, and all the adventure was over. So Odysseus called to the good nurse Eurycleia: ‘Bring sulphur, old nurse, that cleanses all pollution and bring me fire, that I may purify the house with sulphur, and do thou bid Penelope come here with her handmaidens, and tell all the women to hasten into the hall.’
Then the good nurse Eurycleia made answer: ‘Yea, my child, herein thou hast spoken aright. But go to, let me bring thee a mantle and a doublet for raiment, and stand not thus in the halls with thy broad shoulders wrapped in rags; it were blame in thee so to do.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘First let a fire now be made me in the hall.’
So he spake, and the good nurse Eurycleia was not slow to obey, but brought fire and brimstone; and Odysseus thoroughly purged the women’s chamber and the great hall and the court.
Then the old wife went through the fair halls of Odysseus to tell the women, and to hasten their coming. So they came forth from their chamber with torches in their hands, and fell about Odysseus, and embraced him and kissed and clasped his head and shoulders and his hands lovingly, and a sweet longing came on him to weep and moan, for he remembered them every one.
//Odysseus maketh himself known to Penelope, tells his adventures briefly, and in the morning goes to Laertes and makes himself known to him.//
Then the ancient woman went up into the upper chamber laughing aloud, to tell her mistress how her dear lord was within, and her knees moved fast for joy, and her feet stumbled one over the other; and she stood above the lady’s head and spake to her, saying:
‘Awake, Penelope, dear child, that thou mayest see with thine own eyes that which thou desirest day by day. Odysseus hath come, and hath got him to his own house, though late hath he come, and hath slain the proud wooers that troubled his house, and devoured his substance, and oppressed his child.’
Then wise Penelope answered her: ‘Dear nurse, the gods have made thee distraught, the gods that can make foolish even the wisdom of the wise, and that stablish the simple in understanding. They it is that have marred thy reason, though heretofore thou hadst a prudent heart. Why dost thou mock me, who have a spirit full of sorrow, to speak these wild words, and rousest me out of sweet slumber, that had bound me and overshadowed mine eyelids? Never yet have I slept so sound since the day that Odysseus went forth to see that evil Ilios, never to be named. Go to now, get thee down and back to the women’s chamber, for if any other of the maids of my house had come and brought me such tidings, and wakened me from sleep, straightway would I have sent her back woefully to return within the women’s chamber; but this time thine old age shall stand thee in good stead.’
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered her: ‘I mock thee not, dear child, but in very deed Odysseus is here, and hath come home, even as I tell thee. He is that guest on whom all men wrought such dishonour in the halls. But long ago Telemachus was ware of him, that he was within the house, yet in his prudence he hid the counsels of his father, that he might take vengeance on the violence of the haughty wooers.’
Thus she spake, and then was Penelope glad, and leaping from her bed she fell on the old woman’s neck, and let fall the tears from her eyelids, and uttering her voice spake to her winged words: ‘Come, dear nurse, I pray thee, tell me all truly — if indeed he hath come home as thou sayest — how he hath laid his hands on the shameless wooers, he being but one man, while they abode ever in their companies within the house.’
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered her: ‘I saw not, I wist not, only I heard the groaning of men slain. And we in an inmost place of the well-builded chambers sat all amazed, and the close-fitted doors shut in the room, till thy son called me from the chamber, for his father sent him out to that end. Then I found Odysseus standing among the slain, who around him, stretched on the hard floor, lay one upon the other; it would have comforted thy heart to see him, all stained like a lion with blood and soil of battle. And now are all the wooers gathered in an heap by the gates of the court, while he is purifying his fair house with brimstone, and hath kindled a great fire, and hath sent me forth to call thee. So come with me, that ye may both enter into your heart’s delight, [[38|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 38]] for ye have suffered much affliction. And even now hath this thy long desire been fulfilled; thy lord hath come alive to his own hearth, and hath found both thee and his son in the halls; and the wooers that wrought him evil he hath slain, every man of them in his house.’
Then wise Penelope answered her: ‘Dear nurse, boast not yet over them with laughter. Thou knowest how welcome the sight of him would be in the halls to all, and to me in chief, and to his son that we got between us. But this is no true tale, as thou declarest it, nay but it is one of the deathless gods that hath slain the proud wooers, in wrath at their bitter insolence and evil deeds. For they honoured none of earthly men, neither the good nor yet the bad, that came among them. Wherefore they have suffered an evil doom through their own infatuate deeds. But Odysseus, far away hath lost his homeward path to the Achaean land, and himself is lost.’
Then the good nurse Eurycleia made answer to her: ‘My child, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips, in that thou saidest that thy lord, who is even now within, and by his own hearthstone, would return no more? Nay, thy heart is ever hard of belief. Go to now, and I will tell thee besides a most manifest token, even the scar of the wound that the boar on a time dealt him with his white tusk. This I spied while washing his feet, and fain I would have told it even to thee, but he laid his hand on my mouth, and in the fulness of his wisdom suffered me not to speak. But come with me and I will stake my life on it; and if I play thee false, do thou slay me by a death most pitiful.’
Then wise Penelope made answer to her: ‘Dear nurse, it is hard for thee, how wise soever, to observe the purposes of the everlasting gods. None the less let us go to my child, that I may see the wooers dead, and him that slew them.’
With that word she went down from the upper chamber, and much her heart debated, whether she should stand apart, and question her dear lord or draw nigh, and clasp and kiss his head and hands. But when she had come within and had crossed the threshold of stone, she sat down over against Odysseus, in the light of the fire, by the further wall. Now he was sitting by the tall pillar, looking down and waiting to know if perchance his noble wife would speak to him, when her eyes beheld him. But she sat long in silence, and amazement came upon her soul, and now she would look upon him steadfastly with her eyes, and now again she knew him not, for that he was clad in vile raiment. And Telemachus rebuked her, and spake and hailed her:
‘Mother mine, ill mother, of an ungentle heart, why turnest thou thus away from my father, and dost not sit by him and question him and ask him all? No other woman in the world would harden her heart to stand thus aloof from her lord, who after much travail and sore had come to her in the twentieth year to his own country. But thy heart is ever harder than stone.’
Then wise Penelope answered him, saying: ‘Child, my mind is amazed within me, and I have no strength to speak, nor to ask him aught, nay nor to look on him face to face. But if in truth this be Odysseus, and he hath indeed come home, verily we shall be ware of each other the more surely, for we have tokens that we twain know, even we, secret from all others.’
So she spake, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus smiled, and quickly he spake to Telemachus winged words: ‘Telemachus, leave now thy mother to make trial of me within the chambers; so shall she soon come to a better knowledge than heretofore. But now I go filthy, and am clad in vile raiment, wherefore she has me in dishonour, and as yet will not allow that I am he. Let us then advise us how all may be for the very best. For whoso has slain but one man in a land, even that one leaves not many behind him to take up the feud for him, turns outlaw and leaves his kindred and his own country; but we have slain the very stay of the city, the men who were far the best of all the noble youths in Ithaca. So this I bid thee consider.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Father, see thou to this, for they say that thy counsel is far the best among men, nor might any other of mortal men contend with thee. But right eagerly will we go with thee now, and I think we shall not lack prowess, so far as might is ours.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Yea now, I will tell on what wise methinks it is best. First, go ye to the bath and array you in your doublets, and bid the maidens in the chambers to take to them their garments. Then let the divine minstrel, with his loud lyre in hand, lead off for us the measure of the mirthful dance. So shall any man that hears the sound from without, whether a wayfarer or one of those that dwell around, say that it is a wedding feast. And thus the slaughter of the wooers shall not be noised abroad through the town before we go forth to our well-wooded farm-land. Thereafter shall we consider what gainful counsel the Olympian may vouchsafe us.’
So he spake, and they gave good ear and hearkened to him. So first they went to the bath, and arrayed them in doublets, and the women were apparelled, and the divine minstrel took the hollow harp, and aroused in them the desire of sweet song and of the happy dance. Then the great hall rang round them with the sound of the feet of dancing men and of fair-girdled women. And whoso heard it from without would say:
‘Surely some one has wedded the queen of many wooers. Hard of heart was she, nor had she courage to keep the great house of her wedded lord continually till his coming.’
Even so men spake, and knew not how these things were ordained. Meanwhile, the house-dame Eurynome had bathed the great-hearted Odysseus within his house, and anointed him with olive-oil, and cast about him a goodly mantle and a doublet. Moreover Athene shed great beauty from his head downwards, and made him greater and more mighty to behold, and from his head caused deep curling locks to flow, like the hyacinth flower. And as when some skilful man overlays gold upon silver, one that Hephaestus and Pallas Athene have taught all manner of craft, and full of grace is his handiwork, even so did Athene shed grace about his head and shoulders, and forth from the bath he came, in form like to the immortals. Then he sat down again on the high seat, whence he had arisen, over against his wife, and spake to her, saying:
‘Strange lady, surely to thee above all womankind the Olympians have given a heart that cannot be softened. No other woman in the world would harden her heart to stand thus aloof from her husband, who after much travail and sore had come to her, in the twentieth year, to his own country. Nay come, nurse, strew a bed for me to lie all alone, for assuredly her spirit within her is as iron.’
Then wise Penelope answered him again: ‘Strange man, I have no proud thoughts nor do I think scorn of thee, nor am I too greatly astonied, but I know right well what manner of man thou wert, when thou wentest forth out of Ithaca, on the long-oared galley. But come, Eurycleia, spread for him the good bedstead outside the stablished bridal chamber that he built himself. Thither bring ye forth the good bedstead and cast bedding thereon, even fleeces and rugs and shining blankets.’
So she spake and made trial of her lord, but Odysseus in sore displeasure spake to his true wife, saying: ‘Verily a bitter word is this, lady, that thou hast spoken. Who has set my bed otherwhere? Hard it would be for one, how skilled so ever, unless a god were to come that might easily set it in another place, if so he would. But of men there is none living, howsoever strong in his youth, that could lightly upheave it, for a great token is wrought in the fashioning of the bed, and it was I that made it and none other. There was growing a bush of olive, long of leaf, and most goodly of growth, within the inner court, and the stem as large as a pillar. Round about this I built the chamber, till I had finished it, with stones close set, and I roofed it over well and added thereto compacted doors fitting well. Next I sheared off all the light wood of the long-leaved olive, and rough-hewed the trunk upwards from the root, and smoothed it around with the adze, well and skilfully, and made straight the line thereto and so fashioned it into the bedpost, and I bored it all with the auger. Beginning from this bedpost, I wrought at the bedstead till I had finished it, and made it fair with inlaid work of gold and of silver and of ivory. Then I made fast therein a bright purple band of oxhide. Even so I declare to thee this token, and I know not, lady, if the bedstead be yet fast in his place, or if some man has cut away the stem of the olive tree, and set the bedstead otherwhere.’
So he spake, and at once her knees were loosened, and her heart melted within her, as she knew the sure tokens that Odysseus showed her. Then she fell a weeping, and ran straight toward him and cast her hands about his neck, and kissed his head and spake, saying:
‘Be not angry with me, Odysseus, for thou wert ever at other times the wisest of men. It is the gods that gave us sorrow, the gods who begrudged us that we should abide together and have joy of our youth, and come to the threshold of old age. So now be not wroth with me hereat nor full of indignation, because at the first, when I saw thee, I did not welcome thee straightway. For always my heart within my breast shuddered, for fear lest some man should come and deceive me with his words, for many they be that devise gainful schemes and evil. Nay even Argive Helen, daughter of Zeus, would not have lain with a stranger, and taken him for a lover, had she known that the warlike sons of the Achaeans would bring her home again to her own dear country. Howsoever, it was the god that set her upon this shameful deed; nor ever, ere that, did she lay up in her heart the thought of this folly, a bitter folly, whence on us too first came sorrow. But now that thou hast told all the sure tokens of our bed, which never was seen by mortal man, save by thee and me and one maiden only, the daughter of Actor, that my father gave me ere yet I had come hither, she who kept the doors of our strong bridal chamber, even now dost thou bend my soul, all ungentle as it is.’
Thus she spake, and in his heart she stirred yet a greater longing to lament, and he wept as he embraced his beloved wife and true. And even as when the sight of land is welcome to swimmers, whose well-wrought ship Poseidon hath smitten on the deep, all driven with the wind and swelling waves, and but a remnant hath escaped the grey sea-water and swum to the shore, and their bodies are all crusted with the brine, and gladly have they set foot on land and escaped an evil end; so welcome to her was the sight of her lord, and her white arms she would never quite let go from his neck. And now would the rosy-fingered Dawn have risen upon their weeping, but the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, had other thoughts. The night she held long in the utmost West, and on the other side she stayed the golden-throned Dawn by the stream Oceanus, and suffered her not to harness the swift-footed steeds that bear light to men, Lampus and Phaethon, the steeds ever young, that bring the morning.
Then at the last, Odysseus of many counsels spake to his wife, saying: ‘Lady, we have not yet come to the issue of all our labours; but still there will be toil unmeasured, long and difficult, that I must needs bring to a full end. Even so the spirit of Teiresias foretold to me, on that day when I went down into the house of Hades, to inquire after a returning for myself and my company. Wherefore come, lady, let us to bed, that forthwith we may take our joy of rest beneath the spell of sweet sleep.’
Then wise Penelope answered him: ‘Thy bed verily shall be ready whensoever thy soul desires it, forasmuch as the gods have indeed caused thee to come back to thy stablished home and thine own country. But now that thou hast noted it and the god has put it into thy heart, come, tell me of this ordeal, for methinks the day will come when I must learn it, and timely knowledge is no hurt.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Ah, why now art thou so instant with me to declare it? Yet I will tell thee all and hide nought. Howbeit thy heart shall have no joy of it, as even I myself have no pleasure therein. For Teiresias bade me fare to many cities of men, carrying a shapen oar in my hands, till I should come to such men as know not the sea, neither eat meat savoured with salt, nor have they knowledge of ships of purple cheek nor of shapen oars, which serve for wings to ships. And he told me this with manifest token, which I will not hide from thee. In the day when another wayfarer should meet me and say that I had a winnowing fan on my stout shoulder, even then he bade me make fast my shapen oar in the earth, and do goodly sacrifice to the lord Poseidon, even with a ram and a bull and a boar, the mate of swine, and depart for home, and offer holy hecatombs to the deathless gods, that keep the wide heaven, to each in order due. And from the sea shall mine own death come, the gentlest death that may be, which shall end me, foredone, with smooth old age, and the folk shall dwell happily around. All this, he said, was to be fulfilled.’
Then wise Penelope answered him saying: ‘If indeed the gods will bring about for thee a happier old age at the last, then is there hope that thou mayest yet have an escape from evil.’
Thus they spake one to the other. Meanwhile, Eurynome and the nurse spread the bed with soft coverlets, by the light of the torches burning. But when they had busied them and spread the good bed, the ancient nurse went back to her chamber to lie down, and Eurynome, the bower-maiden, guided them on their way to the couch, with torches in her hands, and when she had led them to the bridal-chamber she departed. And so they came gladly to the rites of their bed, as of old. But Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the swineherd stayed their feet from dancing, and made the women to cease, and themselves gat them to rest through the shadowy halls.
Now when the twain had taken their fill of sweet love, they had delight in the tales, which they told one to the other. The fair lady spoke of all that she had endured in the halls at the sight of the ruinous throng of wooers, who for her sake slew many cattle, kine and goodly sheep; and many a cask of wine was broached. And in turn, Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, recounted all the griefs he had wrought on men, and all his own travail and sorrow, and she was delighted with the story, and sweet sleep fell not upon her eyelids till the tale was ended.
He began by setting forth how he overcame the Cicones, and next arrived at the rich land of the Lotus-eaters, and all that the Cyclops wrought, and what a price he got from him for the good companions that he devoured, and showed no pity. Then how he came to Aeolus, who received him gladly and sent him on his way; but it was not yet ordained that he should reach his own country, for the storm-wind seized him again, and bare him over the teeming seas, making grievous moan. Next how he came to Telepylus of the Laestrygonians, who brake his ships and slew all his goodly-greaved companions, and Odysseus only escaped with his black ship. Then he told all the wiles and many contrivances of Circe, and how in a benched ship he fared to the dank house of Hades, to seek to the soul of Theban Teiresias. There he beheld all those that had been his companions, and his mother who bore him and nurtured him, while yet he was a little one. Then how he heard the song of the full-voiced Sirens, and came to the Rocks Wandering, and to terrible Charybdis, and to Scylla, that never yet have men avoided scatheless. Next he told how his company slew the kine of Helios, and how Zeus, that thunders on high, smote the swift ship with the flaming bolt, and the good crew perished all together, and he alone escaped from evil fates. And how he came to the isle Ogygia, and to the nymph Calypso, who kept him there in her hollow caves, longing to have him for her lord, and nurtured him and said that she would make him never to know death or age all his days: yet she never won his heart within his breast. Next how with great toil he came to the Phaeacians, who gave him all worship heartily, as to a god, and sent him with a ship to his own dear country, with gifts of bronze, and of gold, and raiment in plenty. This was the last word of the tale, when sweet sleep came speedily upon him, sleep that loosens the limbs of men, unknitting the cares of his soul.
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, turned to new thoughts. When she deemed that Odysseus had taken his fill of love and sleep, straightway she aroused from out Oceanus the golden-throned Dawn, to bear light to men. Then Odysseus gat him from his soft bed, and laid this charge on his wife, saying:
‘Lady, already have we had enough of labours, thou and I; thou, in weeping here, and longing for my troublous return, I, while Zeus and the other gods bound me fast in pain, despite my yearning after home, away from mine own country. But now that we both have come to the bed of our desire, take thou thought for the care of my wealth within the halls. But as for the sheep that the proud wooers have slain, I myself will lift many more as spoil, and others the Achaeans will give, till they fill all my folds. But now, behold, I go to the well-wooded farm-land, to see my good father, who for love of me has been in sorrow continually. And this charge I lay on thee, lady, too wise though thou art to need it. Quickly will the bruit go forth with the rising sun, the bruit concerning the wooers, whom I slew in the halls. Wherefore ascend with the women thy handmaids into the upper chamber, and sit there and look on no man, nor ask any question.’
Therewith he girded on his shoulder his goodly armour, and roused Telemachus and the neatherd and the swineherd, and bade them all take weapons of war in their hands. So they were not disobedient to his word, but clad themselves in mail, and opened the doors and went forth, and Odysseus led the way. And now there was light over all the earth; but them Athene hid in night, and quickly conducted out of the town.
//The Ithacans bury the wooers, and sitting in council resolve on revenge. And coming near the house of Laertes, are met by Odysseus, and Laertes with Telemachus and servants, the whole number twelve, and are overcome, and submit.//
Now Cyllenian Hermes called forth from the halls the souls of the wooers, and he held in his hand his wand that is fair and golden, wherewith he lulls the eyes of men, of whomso he will, while others again he even wakens out of sleep. Herewith he roused and led the souls who followed gibbering. And even as bats flit gibbering in the secret place of a wondrous cave, when one has fallen down from the cluster on the rock, where they cling each to each up aloft, even so the souls gibbered as they fared together, and Hermes, the helper, led them down the dank ways. Past the streams of Oceanus and the White Rock, past the gates of the Sun they sped and the land of dreams, and soon they came to the mead of asphodel, where dwell the souls, the phantoms of men outworn. There they found the soul of Achilles son of Peleus, and the souls of Patroclus, and of noble Antilochus, and of Aias, who in face and form was goodliest of all the Danaans after the noble son of Peleus.
So these were flocking round Achilles, and the spirit of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, drew nigh sorrowful; and about him were gathered all the other shades, as many as perished with him in the house of Aegisthus, and met their doom. Now the soul of the son of Peleus spake to him first, saying:
‘Son of Atreus, verily we deemed that thou above all other heroes wast evermore dear to Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, seeing that thou wast lord over warriors, many and mighty men, in the land of the Trojans where we Achaeans suffered affliction. But lo, thee too was deadly doom to visit early, [[39|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 39]] the doom that none avoids of all men born. Ah, would that in the fulness of thy princely honour, thou hadst met death and fate in the land of the Trojans! So would all the Achaean host have builded thee a barrow, yea and for thy son thou wouldst have won great glory in the aftertime. But now it has been decreed for thee to perish by a most pitiful death.’
Then the soul of the son of Atreus answered, and spake: ‘Happy art thou son of Peleus, godlike Achilles, that didst die in Troy-land far from Argos, and about thee fell others, the best of the sons of Trojans and Achaeans, fighting for thy body; but thou in the whirl of dust layest mighty and mightily fallen, forgetful of thy chivalry. And we strove the livelong day, nor would we ever have ceased from the fight, if Zeus had not stayed us with a tempest. Anon when we had borne thee to the ships from out of the battle, we laid thee on a bier and washed thy fair flesh clean with warm water and unguents, and around thee the Danaans shed many a hot tear and shore their hair. And forth from the sea came thy mother with the deathless maidens of the waters, when they heard the tidings; and a wonderful wailing rose over the deep, and trembling fell on the limbs of all the Achaeans. Yea, and they would have sprung up and departed to the hollow ships, had not one held them back that knew much lore from of old, Nestor, whose counsel proved heretofore the best. Out of his good will he made harangue, and spake among them:
‘“Hold, ye Argives, flee not, young lords of the Achaeans. Lo, his mother from the sea is she that comes, with the deathless maidens of the waters, to behold the face of her dead son.”
‘So he spake, and the high-hearted Achaeans ceased from their flight. Then round thee stood the daughters of the ancient one of the sea, holding a pitiful lament, and they clad thee about in raiment incorruptible. And all the nine Muses one to the other replying with sweet voices began the dirge; there thou wouldest not have seen an Argive but wept, so mightily rose up the clear chant. Thus for seventeen days and nights continually did we all bewail thee, immortal gods and mortal men. On the eighteenth day we gave thy body to the flames, and many well-fatted sheep we slew around thee, and kine of shambling gait. So thou wert burned in the garments of the gods, and in much unguents and in sweet honey, and many heroes of the Achaeans moved mail-clad around the pyre when thou wast burning, both footmen and horse, and great was the noise that arose. But when the flame of Hephaestus had utterly abolished thee, lo, in the morning we gathered together thy white bones, Achilles, and bestowed them in unmixed wine and in unguents. Thy mother gave a twy-handled golden urn, and said that it was the gift of Dionysus, and the workmanship of renowned Hephaestus. Therein lie thy white bones, great Achilles, and mingled therewith the bones of Patroclus son of Menoetias, that is dead, but apart is the dust of Antilochus, whom thou didst honour above all thy other companions, after Patroclus that was dead. Then over them did we pile a great and goodly tomb, we the holy host of Argive warriors, high on a jutting headland over wide Hellespont, that it might be far seen from off the sea by men that now are, and by those that shall be hereafter. Then thy mother asked the gods for glorious prizes in the games, and set them in the midst of the lists for the champions of the Achaeans. In days past thou hast been at the funeral games of many a hero, whenso, after some king’s death, the young men gird themselves and make them ready for the meed of victory; but couldst thou have seen these gifts thou wouldst most have marvelled in spirit, such glorious prizes did the goddess set there to honour thee, even Thetis, the silver-footed; for very dear wert thou to the gods. Thus not even in death hast thou lost thy name, but to thee shall be a fair renown for ever among all men, Achilles. But what joy have I now herein, that I have wound up the clew of war, for on my return Zeus devised for me an evil end at the hands of Aegisthus and my wife accursed?’
So they spake one to the other. And nigh them came the Messenger, the slayer of Argos, leading down the ghosts of the wooers by Odysseus slain, and the two heroes were amazed at the sight and went straight toward them. And the soul of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, knew the dear son of Melaneus, renowned Amphimedon, who had been his host, having his dwelling in Ithaca. The soul of the son of Atreus spake to him first, saying:
‘Amphimedon, what hath befallen you, that ye have come beneath the darkness of earth, all of you picked men and of like age? it is even as though one should choose out and gather together the best warriors in a city. Did Poseidon smite you in your ships and rouse up contrary winds and the long waves? Or did unfriendly men, perchance, do you hurt upon the land as ye were cutting off their oxen and fair flocks of sheep, or while they fought to defend their city and the women thereof? Answer and tell me, for I avow me a friend of thy house. Rememberest thou not the day when I came to your house in Ithaca with godlike Menelaus, to urge Odysseus to follow with me to Ilios on the decked ships? And it was a full month ere we had sailed all across the wide sea, for scarce could we win to our cause Odysseus, waster of cities.’
Then the ghost of Amphimedon answered him, and spake: ‘Most famous son of Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon, I remember all these things, O fosterling of Zeus, as thou declarest them, and I in turn will tell thee all the tale well and truly, even our death and evil end, on what wise it befell. We wooed the wife of Odysseus that was long afar, and she neither refused the hated bridal nor was minded to make an end, devising for us death and black fate. Also this other wile she contrived in her heart. She set up in her halls a mighty web, fine of woof and very wide, whereat she would weave, and anon she spake among us:
‘“Ye princely youths, my wooers, now that goodly Odysseus is dead, do ye abide patiently, how eager soever to speed on this marriage of mine, till I finish the robe. I would not that the threads perish to no avail, even this shroud for the hero Laertes, against the day when the ruinous doom shall bring him low, of death that lays men at their length. So shall none of the Achaean women in the land count it blame in me, as well might be, were he to lie without a winding-sheet, a man that had gotten great possessions.”
‘So spake she, and our high hearts consented thereto. So then in the daytime she would weave the mighty web, and in the night unravel the same, when she had let place the torches by her. Thus for the space of three years she hid the thing by guile and won the minds of the Achaeans; but when the fourth year arrived and the seasons came round, as the months waned and many days were accomplished, then it was that one of her women who knew all declared it, and we found her unravelling the splendid web. Thus she finished it perforce and sore against her will. Now when she brought the robe to light, after she had woven the great web and washed it, and it shone even as sun or moon, at that very hour some evil god led Odysseus, I know not whence, to the upland farm, where the swineherd abode in his dwelling. Thither too came the dear son of divine Odysseus out of sandy Pylos, voyaging with his black ship. These twain framed an evil death for the wooers, and came to the renowned town. Odysseus verily came the later, and Telemachus went before and led the way. Now the swineherd brought Odysseus clad in vile raiment, in the likeness of a beggar, a wretched man and an old, leaning on a staff, and behold, he was clad about in sorry raiment. And none of us, not even the elders, could know him for that he was, on this his sudden appearing, but with evil words we assailed him and hurled things at him. Yet for a while he hardened his heart to endure both the hurlings and the evil words in his own halls; but at the last, when the spirit of Zeus, lord of the aegis, aroused him, by the help of Telemachus he took up all the goodly weapons, and laid them by in the inner chamber and drew the bolts. Next in his great craft he bade his wife to offer his bow and store of grey iron to the wooers to be the weapons of our contest, luckless that we were, and the beginning of death. Now not one of us could stretch the string of the strong bow; far short we fell of that might. But when the great bow came to the hands of Odysseus, then we all clamoured and forbade to give him the bow, how much soever he might speak, but Telemachus alone was instant with him and commanded him to take it. Then he took the bow into his hands, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, and lightly he strung it, and sent the arrow through the iron. Then straight he went to the threshold and there took his stand, and poured forth the swift arrows, glancing terribly around, and smote the king Antinous. Thereafter on the others he let fly his bolts, winged for death, with straight aim, and the wooers fell thick one upon another. Then was it known how that some god was their helper, for pressing on as their passion drave them, they slew the men right and left through the halls, and thence there arose a hideous moaning, as heads were smitten and the floor all ran with blood. So we perished, Agamemnon, and even now our bodies lie uncared for in the halls of Odysseus, for the friends of each one at home as yet know nought, even they who might wash the black-clotted blood out of our wounds, and lay out the bodies and wail the dirge, for that is the due of the dead.’
Then the ghost of the son of Atreus answered him: ‘Ah, happy son of Laertes, Odysseus of many devices, yea, for a wife most excellent hast thou gotten, so good was the wisdom of constant Penelope, daughter of Icarius, that was duly mindful of Odysseus, her wedded lord. Wherefore the fame of her virtue shall never perish, but the immortals will make a gracious song in the ears of men on earth to the fame of constant Penelope. In far other wise did the daughter of Tyndareus devise ill deeds, and slay her wedded lord, and hateful shall the song of her be among men, and an evil repute hath she brought upon all womankind, even on the upright.’
Even so these twain spake one to the other, standing in the house of Hades, beneath the secret places of the earth.
Now when those others had gone down from the city, quickly they came to the rich and well-ordered farm land of Laertes, that he had won for himself of old, as the prize of great toil in war. There was his house, and all about it ran the huts wherein the thralls were wont to eat and dwell and sleep, bondsmen that worked his will. And in the house there was an old Sicilian woman, who diligently cared for the old man, in the upland far from the city. There Odysseus spake to his thralls and to his son, saying:
‘Do ye now get you within the well-builded house, and quickly sacrifice the best of the swine for the midday meal, but I will make trial of my father, whether he will know me again and be aware of me when he sees me, or know me not, so long have I been away,’
Therewith he gave the thralls his weapons of war. Then they went speedily to the house, while Odysseus drew near to the fruitful vineyard to make trial of his father. Now he found not Dolius there, as he went down into the great garden, nor any of the thralls nor of their sons. It chanced that they had all gone to gather stones for a garden fence, and the old man at their head. So he found his father alone in the terraced vineyard, digging about a plant. He was clothed in a filthy doublet, patched and unseemly, with clouted leggings of oxhide bound about his legs, against the scratches of the thorns, and long sleeves over his hands by reason of the brambles, and on his head he wore a goatskin cap, and so he nursed his sorrow. Now when the steadfast goodly Odysseus saw his father thus wasted with age and in great grief of heart, he stood still beneath a tall pear tree and let fall a tear. Then he communed with his heart and soul, whether he should fall on his father’s neck and kiss him, and tell him all, how he had returned and come to his own country, or whether he should first question him and prove him in every word. And as he thought within himself, this seemed to him the better way, namely, first to prove his father and speak to him sharply. So with this intent the goodly Odysseus went up to him. Now he was holding his head down and kept digging about the plant, while his renowned son stood by him and spake, saying:
‘Old man, thou hast no lack of skill in tending a garden; lo, thou carest well for all, [[40|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 40]] nor is there aught whatsoever, either plant or fig-tree, or vine, yea, or olive, or pear, or garden-bed in all the close, that is not well seen to. Yet another thing will I tell thee and lay not up wrath thereat in thy heart. Thyself art scarce so well cared for, but a pitiful old age is on thee, and withal thou art withered and unkempt, and clad unseemly. It cannot be to punish thy sloth that thy master cares not for thee; there shows nothing of the slave about thy face and stature, for thou art like a kingly man, even like one who should lie soft, when he has washed and eaten well, as is the manner of the aged. But come declare me this and plainly tell it all. Whose thrall art thou, and whose garden dost thou tend? Tell me moreover truly, that I may surely know, if it be indeed to Ithaca that I am now come, as one yonder told me who met with me but now on the way hither. He was but of little understanding, for he deigned not to tell me all nor to heed my saying, when I questioned him concerning my friend, whether indeed he is yet alive or is even now dead and within the house of Hades. For I will declare it and do thou mark and listen: once did I kindly entreat a man in mine own dear country, who came to our home, and never yet has any mortal been dearer of all the strangers that have drawn to my house from afar. He declared him to be by lineage from out of Ithaca, and said that his own father was Laertes son of Arceisius. So I led him to our halls and gave him good entertainment, with all loving-kindness, out of the plenty that was within. Such gifts too I gave him as are the due of guests; of well wrought gold I gave him seven talents, and a mixing bowl of flowered work, all of silver, and twelve cloaks of single fold, and as many coverlets, and as many goodly mantles and doublets to boot, and besides all these, four women skilled in all fair works and most comely, the women of his choice.’
Then his father answered him, weeping: ‘Stranger, thou art verily come to that country whereof thou askest, but outrageous men and froward hold it. And these thy gifts, thy countless gifts, thou didst bestow in vain. For if thou hadst found that man yet living in the land of Ithaca he would have sent thee on thy way with good return of thy presents, and with all hospitality, as is due to the man that begins the kindness. But come, declare me this and plainly tell me all; how many years are passed since thou didst entertain him, thy guest ill-fated and my child — if ever such an one there was — hapless man, whom far from his friends and his country’s soil, the fishes, it may be, have devoured in the deep sea, or on the shore he has fallen the prey of birds and beasts. His mother wept not over him nor clad him for burial, nor his father, we that begat him. Nor did his bride, whom men sought with rich gifts, the constant Penelope, bewail her lord upon the bier, as was meet, nor closed his eyes, as is the due of the departed. Moreover, tell me this truly, that I may surely know, who art thou and whence of the sons of men? Where is thy city and where are they that begat thee? Where now is thy swift ship moored, that brought thee thither with thy godlike company? Hast thou come as a passenger on another’s ship, while they set thee ashore and went away?
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: ‘Yea now, I will tell thee all most plainly. From out of Alybas I come, where I dwell in a house renowned, and am the son of Apheidas the son of Polypemon, the prince, and my own name is Eperitus. But some god drave me wandering hither from Sicania against my will, and yonder my ship is moored toward the upland away from the city. But for Odysseus, this is now the fifth year since he went thence and departed out of my country. Ill-fated was he, and yet he had birds of good omen when he fared away, birds on the right; wherefore I sped him gladly on his road, and gladly he departed, and the heart of us twain hoped yet to meet in friendship on a day and to give splendid gifts.’
So he spake, and on the old man fell a black cloud of sorrow. With both his hands he clutched the dust and ashes and showered them on his gray head, with ceaseless groaning. Then the heart of Odysseus was moved, and up through his nostrils throbbed anon the keen sting of sorrow at the sight of his dear father. And he sprang towards him and fell on his neck and kissed him, saying:
‘Behold, I here, even I, my father, am the man of whom thou askest; in the twentieth year am I come to mine own country. But stay thy weeping and tearful lamentation, for I will tell thee all clearly, though great need there is of haste. I have slain the wooers in our halls and avenged their bitter scorn and evil deeds.’
Then Laertes answered him and spake, saying: ‘If thou art indeed Odysseus, mine own child, that art come hither, show me now a manifest token, that I may be assured.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Look first on this scar and consider it, that the boar dealt me with his white tusk on Parnassus, whither I had gone, and thou didst send me forth, thou and my lady mother, to Autolycus my mother’s father, to get the gifts which when he came hither he promised and covenanted to give me. But come, and I will even tell thee the trees through all the terraced garden, which thou gavest me once for mine own, and I was begging of thee this and that, being but a little child, and following thee through the garden. Through these very trees we were going, and thou didst tell me the names of each of them. Pear-trees thirteen thou gavest me and ten apple-trees and figs two-score, and, as we went, thou didst name the fifty rows of vines thou wouldest give me, whereof each one ripened at divers times, with all manner of clusters on their boughs, when the seasons of Zeus wrought mightily on them from on high.’
So he spake, and straightway his knees were loosened, and his heart melted within him, as he knew the sure tokens that Odysseus showed him. About his dear son he cast his arms, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus caught him fainting to his breast. Now when he had got breath and his spirit came to him again, once more he answered and spake, saying:
‘Father Zeus, verily ye gods yet bear sway on high Olympus, if indeed the wooers have paid for their infatuate pride! But now my heart is terribly afraid, lest straightway all the men of Ithaca come up against us here, and haste to send messengers everywhere to the cities of the Cephallenians.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Take courage, and let not thy heart be careful about these matters. But come, let us go to the house that lies near the garden, for thither I sent forward Telemachus and the neatherd and the swineherd to get ready the meal as speedily as may be.’
After these words the twain set out to the goodly halls. Now when they had come to the fair-lying house, they found Telemachus and the neatherd and the swineherd carving much flesh, and mixing the dark wine. Meanwhile the Sicilian handmaid bathed high-hearted Laertes in his house, and anointed him with olive-oil, and cast a fair mantle about him. Then Athene drew nigh, and made greater the limbs of the shepherd of the people, taller she made him than before and mightier to behold. Then he went forth from the bath, and his dear son marvelled at him, beholding him like to the deathless gods in presence. And uttering his voice he spake to him winged words:
‘Father, surely one of the gods that are from everlasting hath made thee goodlier and greater to behold.’
Then wise Laertes answered him, saying: ‘Ah, would to father Zeus and Athene and Apollo, that such as I was when I took Nericus, the stablished castle on the foreland of the continent, being then the prince of the Cephallenians, would that in such might, and with mail about my shoulders, I had stood to aid thee yesterday in our house, and to beat back the wooers; so should I have loosened the knees of many an one of them in the halls, and thou shouldest have been gladdened in thine inmost heart!’
So they spake each with the other. But when the others had ceased from their task and made ready the feast, they sat down all orderly on chairs and on high seats. Then they began to put forth their hands on the meat, and the old man Dolius drew nigh, and the old man’s sons withal came tired from their labour in the fields, for their mother, the aged Sicilian woman, had gone forth and called them, she that saw to their living and diligently cared for the old man, now that old age had laid hold on him. So soon as they looked on Odysseus and took knowledge of him, they stood still in the halls in great amazement. But Odysseus addressed them in gentle words, saying:
‘Old man, sit down to meat and do ye forget your marvelling, for long have we been eager to put forth our hands on the food, as we abode in the hall alway expecting your coming.’
So he spake, and Dolius ran straight toward him stretching forth both his hands, and he grasped the hand of Odysseus and kissed it on the wrist, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:
‘Beloved, forasmuch as thou hast come back to us who sore desired thee, and no longer thought to see thee, and the gods have led thee home again; — hail to thee and welcome manifold, and may the gods give thee all good fortune! Moreover tell me this truly, that I may be assured, whether wise Penelope yet knows well that thou hast come back hither, or whether we shall dispatch a messenger.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered saying: ‘Old man, already she knows all; what need to busy thyself herewith?’
Thereon the other sat him down again on his polished settle. And in like wise the sons of Dolius gathered about the renowned Odysseus, and greeted him well and clasped his hands, and then sat down all orderly by Dolius their father.
So they were busy with the meal in the halls. Now Rumour the messenger went swiftly all about the city, telling the tale of the dire death and fate of the wooers. And the people heard it, and all at once gathered together from every side with sighing and groaning before the house of Odysseus. And each brought forth his dead from the halls, and buried them; but those that came out of other cities they placed on swift ships and sent with fisherfolk, each to be carried to his own home. As for them they all fared together to the assembly-place, in sorrow of heart. When they were all gathered and come together, Eupeithes arose and spake among them, for a comfortless grief lay heavy on his heart for his son Antinous, the first man that goodly Odysseus had slain. Weeping for him he made harangue and spake among them:
‘Friends, a great deed truly hath this man devised against the Achaeans. Some with his ships he led away, many men, and noble, and his hollow ships hath he lost, and utterly lost of his company, and others again, and those far the best of the Cephallenians he hath slain on his coming home. Up now, before ever he gets him swiftly either to Pylos or to fair Elis, where the Epeians bear sway, let us go forth; else even hereafter shall we have shame of face for ever. For a scorn this is even for the ears of men unborn to hear, if we avenge not ourselves on the slayers of our sons and of our brethren. Life would no more be sweet to me, but rather would I die straightway and be with the departed. Up, let us be going, lest these fellows be beforehand with us and get them over the sea.’
Thus he spake weeping, and pity fell on all the Achaeans. Then came near to them Medon and the divine minstrel, forth from the halls of Odysseus, for that sleep had let them go. They stood in the midst of the gathering, and amazement seized every man. Then Medon, wise of heart, spake among them, saying:
‘Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, for surely Odysseus planned not these deeds without the will of the gods. Nay I myself beheld a god immortal, who stood hard by Odysseus, in the perfect semblance of Mentor; now as a deathless god was he manifest in front of Odysseus, cheering him, and yet again scaring the wooers he stormed through the hall, and they fell thick one on another.’
Thus he spake, and pale fear gat hold of the limbs of all. Then the old man, the lord Halitherses, spake among them, the son of Mastor, for he alone saw before and after. Out of his good will be made harangue and spake among them, saying:
‘Hearken to me now, ye men of Ithaca, to the word that I will say. Through your own cowardice, my friends, have these deeds come to pass. For ye obeyed not me, nor Mentor, the shepherd of the people, to make your sons cease from their foolish ways. A great villainy they wrought in their evil infatuation, wasting the wealth and holding in no regard the wife of a prince, while they deemed that he would never more come home. And now let things be on this wise, and obey my counsel. Let us not go forth against him, lest haply some may find a bane of their own bringing.’
So he spake, but they leapt up with a great cry, the more part of them, while the rest abode there together; for his counsel was not to the mind of the more part, but they gave ear to Eupeithes, and swiftly thereafter they rushed for their armour. So when they had arrayed them in shining mail, they assembled together in front of the spacious town. And Eupeithes led them in his witlessness, for he thought to avenge the slaying of his son, yet himself was never to return, but then and there to meet his doom.
Now Athene spake to Zeus, the son of Cronos, saying: ‘O Father, our father Cronides, throned in the highest, answer and tell me what is now the hidden counsel of thy heart? Wilt thou yet further rouse up evil war and the terrible din of battle, or art thou minded to set them at one again in friendship?’
Then Zeus, the gatherer of the clouds, answered her saying: ‘My child, why dost thou thus straitly question me, and ask me this? Nay didst not thou thyself devise this very thought, namely, that Odysseus should indeed take vengeance on these men at his coming? Do as thou wilt, but I will tell thee of the better way. Now that goodly Odysseus hath wreaked vengeance on the wooers, let them make a firm covenant together with sacrifice, and let him be king all his days, and let us bring about oblivion of the slaying of their children and their brethren; so may both sides love one another as of old, and let peace and wealth abundant be their portion.’
Therewith he roused Athene to yet greater eagerness, and from the peaks of Olympus she came glancing down.
Now when they had put from them the desire of honey-sweet food, the steadfast goodly Odysseus began to speak among them, saying:
‘Let one go forth and see, lest the people be already drawing near against us.’
So he spake, and the son of Dolius went forth at his bidding, and stood on the outer threshold and saw them all close at hand. Then straightway he spake to Odysseus winged words:
‘Here they be, close upon us! Quick, let us to arms!’
Thereon they rose up and arrayed them in their harness, Odysseus and his men being four, and the six sons of Dolius, and likewise Laertes and Dolius did on their armour, grey-headed as they were, warriors through stress of need. Now when they had clad them in shining mail, they opened the gates and went forth and Odysseus led them.
Then Athene, daughter of Zeus, drew near them in the likeness of Mentor, in fashion and in voice. And the steadfast goodly Odysseus beheld her and was glad, and straightway he spake to Telemachus his dear son:
‘Telemachus, soon shalt thou learn this, when thou thyself art got to the place of the battle where the best men try the issue — namely, not to bring shame on thy father’s house, on us who in time past have been eminent for might and hardihood over all the world.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Thou shalt see me, if thou wilt, dear father, in this my mood no whit disgracing thy line, according to thy word.’
So spake he, and Laertes was glad and spake, saying: ‘What a day has dawned for me, kind gods; yea, a glad man am I! My son and my son’s son are vying with one another in valour.’
Then grey-eyed Athene stood beside Laertes, and spake to him: ‘O son of Arceisius that art far the dearest of all my friends, pray first to the grey-eyed maid and to father Zeus, then swing thy long spear aloft and hurl its straightway.’
Therewith Pallas Athene breathed into him great strength. Then he prayed to the daughter of mighty Zeus, and straightway swung his long spear aloft and hurled it, and smote Eupeithes through his casque with the cheek-piece of bronze. The armour kept not out the spear that went clean through, and he fell with a crash, and his arms rattled about his body. Then Odysseus and his renowned son fell on the fore-fighters, and smote them with swords and two-headed spears. And now would they have slain them all and cut off their return, had not Athene called aloud, the daughter of Zeus lord of the aegis, and stayed all the host of the enemy, saying:
‘Hold your hands from fierce fighting, ye men of Ithaca, that so ye may be parted quickly, without bloodshed.’
So spake Athene, and pale fear gat hold of them all. The arms flew from their hands in their terror and fell all upon the ground, as the goddess uttered her voice. To the city they turned their steps, as men fain of life, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus with a terrible cry gathered himself together and hurled in on them, like an eagle of lofty flight. Then in that hour the son of Cronos cast forth a flaming bolt, and it fell at the feet of the grey-eyed goddess, the daughter of the mighty Sire. Then grey-eyed Athene spake to Odysseus, saying:
‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, refrain thee now and stay the strife of even-handed war, lest perchance the son of Cronos be angry with thee, even Zeus of the far-borne voice.’
So spake Athene, and he obeyed and was glad at heart. And thereafter Pallas Athene set a covenant between them with sacrifice, she, the daughter of Zeus lord of the aegis, in the likeness of Mentor, both in fashion and in voice.
"""
Homer, thy song men liken to the sea,
With every note of music in his tone,
With tides that wash the dim dominion
Of Hades, and light waves that laugh in glee
Around the isles enchanted: nay, to me
Thy verse seems as the River of source unknown
That glasses Egypt’s temples overthrown,
In his sky-nurtur’d stream, eternally.
No wiser we than men of heretofore
To find thy mystic fountains guarded fast;
Enough — thy flood makes green our human shore
As Nilus, Egypt, rolling down his vast,
His fertile waters, murmuring evermore
Of gods dethroned, and empires of the Past.
"""
A. L.
//Nestor entertains Telemachus at Pylos and tells him how the Greeks departed from Troy; and sends him for further information to Sparta.//
Now the sun arose and left the lovely mere, speeding to the brazen heaven, to give light to the immortals and to mortal men on the earth, the graingiver, and they reached Pylos, the stablished castle of Neleus. There the people were doing sacrifice on the sea shore, slaying black bulls without spot to the dark-haired god, the shaker of the earth. Nine companies there were, and five hundred men sat in each, and in every company they held nine bulls ready to hand. Just as they had tasted the inner parts, and were burning the slices of the thighs on the altar to the god, the others were bearing straight to land, and brailed up the sails of the gallant ship, and moored her, and themselves came forth. And Telemachus too stept forth from the ship, and Athene led the way. And the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake first to him, saying:
‘Telemachus, thou needst not now be abashed, no, not one whit. For to this very end didst thou sail over the deep, that thou mightest hear tidings of thy father, even where the earth closed over him, and what manner of death he met. But come now, go straight to Nestor, tamer of horses: let us learn what counsel he hath in the secret of his heart. And beseech him thyself that he may give unerring answer; and he will not lie to thee, for he is very wise.’
The wise Telemachus answered, saying: ‘Mentor, and how shall I go, how shall I greet him, I, who am untried in words of wisdom? Moreover a young man may well be abashed to question an elder.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: ‘Telemachus, thou shalt bethink thee of somewhat in thine own breast, and somewhat the god will give thee to say. For thou, methinks, of all men wert not born and bred without the will of the gods.’
So spake Pallas Athene and led the way quickly; and he followed hard in the steps of the goddess. And they came to the gathering and the session of the men of Pylos. There was Nestor seated with his sons, and round him his company making ready the feast, and roasting some of the flesh and spitting other. Now when they saw the strangers, they went all together, and clasped their hands in welcome, and would have them sit down. First Peisistratus, son of Nestor, drew nigh, and took the hands of each, and made them to sit down at the feast on soft fleeces upon the sea sand, beside his brother Thrasymedes and his father. And he gave them messes of the inner meat, and poured wine into a golden cup, and pledging her, he spake unto Pallas Athene, daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis:
‘Pray now, my guest, to the lord Poseidon, even as it is his feast whereon ye have chanced in coming hither. And when thou hast made drink offering and prayed, as is due, give thy friend also the cup of honeyed wine to make offering thereof, inasmuch as he too, methinks, prayeth to the deathless gods, for all men stand in need of the gods. Howbeit he is younger and mine own equal in years, therefore to thee first will I give the golden chalice.’
Therewith he placed in her hand the cup of sweet wine. And Athene rejoiced in the wisdom and judgment of the man, in that he had given to her first the chalice of gold. And straightway she prayed, and that instantly, to the lord Poseidon:
‘Hear me, Poseidon, girdler of the earth, and grudge not the fulfilment of this labour in answer to our prayer. To Nestor first and to his sons vouchsafe renown, and thereafter grant to all the people of Pylos a gracious recompense for this splendid hecatomb. Grant moreover that Telemachus and I may return, when we have accomplished that for which we came hither with our swift black ship.’
Now as she prayed on this wise, herself the while was fulfilling the prayer. And she gave Telemachus the fair two-handled cup; and in like manner prayed the dear son of Odysseus. Then, when the others had roasted the outer parts and drawn them off the spits, they divided the messes and shared the glorious feast. But when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, first spake among them:
‘Now is the better time to enquire and ask of the strangers who they are, now that they have had their delight of food. Strangers, who are ye? Whence sail ye over the wet ways? On some trading enterprise, or at adventure do ye rove, even as sea-robbers, over the brine, for they wander at hazard of their own lives bringing bale to alien men?’
Then wise Telemachus answered him and spake with courage, for Athene herself had put boldness in his heart, that he might ask about his father who was afar, and that he might be had in good report among men:
‘Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, thou askest whence we are, and I will surely tell thee all. We have come forth out of Ithaca that is below Neion; and this our quest whereof I speak is a matter of mine own, and not of the common weal. I follow after the far-spread rumour of my father, if haply I may hear thereof, even of the goodly steadfast Odysseus, who upon a time, men say, fought by thy side and sacked the city of the Trojans. For of all the others, as many as warred with the Trojans, we hear tidings, and where each one fell by a pitiful death; but even the death of this man Cronion hath left untold. For none can surely declare the place where he hath perished, whether he was smitten by foemen on the mainland, or lost upon the deep among the waves of Amphitrite. So now am I come hither to thy knees, if perchance thou art willing to tell me of his pitiful death, as one that saw it with thine own eyes, or heard the story from some other wanderer — for his mother bare him to exceeding sorrow. And speak me no soft words in ruth or pity, but tell me plainly what sight thou didst get of him. Ah! I pray thee, if ever at all my father, noble Odysseus, made promise to thee of word or work, and fulfilled the same in the land of the Trojans, where ye Achaeans suffered affliction; these things, I pray thee, now remember and tell me truth.’
Then Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, answered him: ‘My friend, since thou hast brought sorrow back to mind, behold, this is the story of the woe which we endured in that land, we sons of the Achaeans, unrestrained in fury, and of all that we bore in wanderings after spoil, sailing with our ships over the misty deep, wheresoever Achilles led; and of all our war round the mighty burg of king Priam. Yea and there the best of us were slain. There lies valiant Aias, and there Achilles, and there Patroclus, the peer of the gods in counsel, and there my own dear son, strong and noble, Antilochus, that excelled in speed of foot and in the fight. And many other ills we suffered beside these; who of mortal men could tell the tale? Nay none, though thou wert to abide here for five years, ay and for six, and ask of all the ills which the goodly Achaeans then endured. Ere all was told thou wouldst be weary and turn to thine own country. For nine whole years we were busy about them, devising their ruin with all manner of craft; and scarce did Cronion bring it to pass. There never a man durst match with him in wisdom, for goodly Odysseus very far outdid the rest in all manner of craft, Odysseus thy father, if indeed thou art his son — amazement comes upon me as I look at thee; for verily thy speech is like unto his; none would say that a younger man would speak so like an elder. Now look you, all the while that myself and goodly Odysseus were there, we never spake diversely either in the assembly or in the council, but always were of one mind, and advised the Argives with understanding and sound counsel, how all might be for the very best. But after we had sacked the steep city of Priam, and had departed in our ships, and a god had scattered the Achaeans, even then did Zeus devise in his heart a pitiful returning for the Argives, for in no wise were they all discreet or just. Wherefore many of them met with an ill faring by reason of the deadly wrath of the grey-eyed goddess, the daughter of the mighty sire, who set debate between the two sons of Atreus. And they twain called to the gathering of the host all the Achaeans, recklessly and out of order, against the going down of the sun; and lo, the sons of the Achaeans came heavy with wine. And the Atreidae spake out and told the reason wherefore they had assembled the host. Then verily Menelaus charged all the Achaeans to bethink them of returning over the broad back of the sea, but in no sort did he please Agamemnon, whose desire was to keep back the host and to offer holy hecatombs, that so he might appease that dread wrath of Athene. Fool! for he knew not this, that she was never to be won; for the mind of the everlasting gods is not lightly turned to repentance. So these twain stood bandying hard words; but the goodly-greaved Achaeans sprang up with a wondrous din, and twofold counsels found favour among them. So that one night we rested, thinking hard things against each other, for Zeus was fashioning for us a ruinous doom. But in the morning, we of the one part drew our ships to the fair salt sea, and put aboard our wealth, and the low-girdled Trojan women. Now one half the people abode steadfastly there with Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of the host; and half of us embarked and drave to sea and swiftly the ships sailed, for a god made smooth the sea with the depths thereof. And when we came to Tenedos, we did sacrifice to the gods, being eager for the homeward way; but Zeus did not yet purpose our returning, nay, hard was he, that roused once more an evil strife among us. Then some turned back their curved ships, and went their way, even the company of Odysseus, the wise and manifold in counsel, once again showing a favour to Agamemnon, son of Atreus. But I fled on with the squadron that followed me, for I knew how now the god imagined mischief. And the warlike son of Tydeus fled and roused his men thereto. And late in our track came Menelaus of the fair hair, who found us in Lesbos, considering about the long voyage, whether we should go sea-ward of craggy Chios, by the isle of Psyria, keeping the isle upon our left, or inside Chios past windy Mimas. So we asked the god to show us a sign, and a sign he declared to us, and bade us cleave a path across the middle sea to Euboea, that we might flee the swiftest way from sorrow. And a shrill wind arose and blew, and the ships ran most fleetly over the teeming ways, and in the night they touched at Geraestus. So there we sacrificed many thighs of bulls to Poseidon, for joy that we had measured out so great a stretch of sea. It was the fourth day when the company of Diomede son of Tydeus, tamer of horses, moored their gallant ships at Argos; but I held on for Pylos, and the breeze was never quenched from the hour that the god sent it forth to blow. Even so I came, dear child, without tidings, nor know I aught of those others, which of the Achaeans were saved and which were lost. But all that I hear tell of as I sit in our halls, thou shalt learn as it is meet, and I will hide nothing from thee. Safely, they say, came the Myrmidons the wild spearsmen, whom the famous son of high-souled Achilles led; and safely Philoctetes, the glorious son of Poias. And Idomeneus brought all his company to Crete, all that escaped the war, and from him the sea gat none. And of the son of Atreus even yourselves have heard, far apart though ye dwell, how he came, and how Aegisthus devised his evil end; but verily he himself paid a terrible reckoning. So good a thing it is that a son of the dead should still be left, even as that son also took vengeance on the slayer of his father, guileful Aegisthus, who slew his famous sire. And thou too, my friend, for I see thee very comely and tall, be valiant, that even men unborn may praise thee.’
And wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, verily and indeed he avenged himself, and the Achaeans shall noise his fame abroad, that even those may hear who are yet for to be. Oh that the gods would clothe me with such strength as his, that I might take vengeance on the wooers for their cruel transgression, who wantonly devise against me infatuate deeds! But the gods have woven for me the web of no such weal, for me or for my sire. But now I must in any wise endure it.’
Then Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, made answer: ‘Dear friend, seeing thou dost call these things to my remembrance and speak thereof, they tell me that many wooers for thy mother’s hand plan mischief within the halls in thy despite. Say, dost thou willingly submit thee to oppression, or do the people through the land hate thee, obedient to the voice of a god? Who knows but that Odysseus may some day come and requite their violence, either himself alone or all the host of the Achaeans with him? Ah, if but grey-eyed Athene were inclined to love thee, as once she cared exceedingly for the renowned Odysseus in the land of the Trojans, where we Achaeans were sore afflicted, for never yet have I seen the gods show forth such manifest love, as then did Pallas Athene standing manifest by him — if she would be pleased so to love thee and to care for thee, then might certain of them clean forget their marriage.’
And wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Old man, in no wise methinks shall this word be accomplished. This is a hard saying of thine, awe comes over me. Not for my hopes shall this thing come to pass, not even if the gods so willed it.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: ‘Telemachus, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Lightly might a god, if so he would, bring a man safe home even from afar. Rather myself would I have travail and much pain ere I came home and saw the day of my returning, than come back and straightway perish on my own hearth-stone, even as Agamemnon perished by guile at the hands of his own wife and of Aegisthus. But lo you, death, which is common to all, the very gods cannot avert even from the man they love, when the ruinous doom shall bring him low of death that lays men at their length.’
And wise Telemachus answered her, saying: ‘Mentor, no longer let us tell of these things, sorrowful though we be. There is none assurance any more of his returning, but already have the deathless gods devised for him death and black fate. But now I would question Nestor, and ask him of another matter, as one who above all men knows judgments and wisdom: for thrice, men say, he hath been king through the generations of men; yea, like an immortal he seems to me to look upon. Nestor, son of Neleus, now tell me true: how died the son of Atreus, Agamemnon of the wide domain? Where was Menelaus? What death did crafty Aegisthus plan for him, in that he killed a man more valiant far than he? Or was Menelaus not in Argos of Achaia but wandering elsewhere among men, and that other took heart and slew Agamemnon?’
Then Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, answered him: ‘Yea now, my child, I will tell thee the whole truth. Verily thou guessest aright even of thyself how things would have fallen out, if Menelaus of the fair hair, the son of Atreus, when he came back from Troy, had found Aegisthus yet alive in the halls. Then even in his death would they not have heaped the piled earth over him, but dogs and fowls of the air would have devoured him as he lay on the plain far from the town. [[5|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 5]] Nor would any of the Achaean women have bewailed him; so dread was the deed he contrived. Now we sat in leaguer there, achieving many adventures; but he the while in peace in the heart of Argos, the pastureland of horses, spake ofttimes, tempting her, to the wife of Agamemnon. Verily at the first she would none of the foul deed, the fair Clytemnestra, for she had a good understanding. Moreover there was with her a minstrel, whom the son of Atreus straitly charged as he went to Troy to have a care of his wife. But when at last the doom of the gods bound her to her ruin, then did Aegisthus carry the minstrel to a lonely isle, and left him there to be the prey and spoil of birds; while as for her, he led her to his house, a willing lover with a willing lady. And he burnt many thigh slices upon the holy altars of the gods, and hung up many offerings, woven-work and gold, seeing that he had accomplished a great deed, beyond all hope. Now we, I say, were sailing together on our way from Troy, the son of Atreus and I, as loving friends. But when we had reached holy Sunium, the headland of Athens, there Phoebus Apollo slew the pilot of Menelaus with the visitation of his gentle shafts, as he held between his hands the rudder of the running ship, even Phrontis, son of Onetor, who excelled the tribes of men in piloting a ship, whenso the storm-winds were hurrying by. Thus was Menelaus holden there, though eager for the way, till he might bury his friend and pay the last rites over him. But when he in his turn, faring over the wine-dark sea in hollow ships, reached in swift course the steep mount of Malea, then it was that Zeus of the far-borne voice devised a hateful path, and shed upon them the breath of the shrill winds, and great swelling waves arose like unto mountains. There sundered he the fleet in twain, and part thereof he brought nigh to Crete, where the Cydonians dwelt about the streams of Iardanus. Now there is a certain cliff, smooth and sheer towards the sea, on the border of Gortyn, in the misty deep, where the South–West Wind drives a great wave against the left headland, towards Phaestus, and a little rock keeps back the mighty water. Thither came one part of the fleet, and the men scarce escaped destruction, but the ships were broken by the waves against the rock; while those other five dark-prowed ships the wind and the water bare and brought nigh to Egypt. Thus Menelaus, gathering much livelihood and gold, was wandering there with his ships among men of strange speech, and even then Aegisthus planned that pitiful work at home. And for seven years he ruled over Mycenae, rich in gold, after he slew the son of Atreus, and the people were subdued unto him. But in the eighth year came upon him goodly Orestes back from Athens to be his bane, and slew the slayer of his father, guileful Aegisthus, who killed his famous sire. Now when he had slain him, he made a funeral feast to the Argives over his hateful mother, and over the craven Aegisthus. And on the selfsame day there came to him Menelaus of the loud war-cry, bringing much treasure, even all the freight of his ships. So thou, my friend, wander not long far away from home, leaving thy substance behind thee and men in thy house so wanton, lest they divide and utterly devour all thy wealth, and thou shalt have gone on a vain journey. Rather I bid and command thee to go to Menelaus, for he hath lately come from a strange country, from the land of men whence none would hope in his heart to return, whom once the storms have driven wandering into so wide a sea. Thence not even the birds can make their way in the space of one year, so great a sea it is and terrible. But go now with thy ship and with thy company, or if thou hast a mind to fare by land, I have a chariot and horses at thy service, yea and my sons to do thy will, who will be thy guides to goodly Lacedaemon, where is Menelaus of the fair hair. Do thou thyself entreat him, that he may give thee unerring answer. He will not lie to thee, for he is very wise.’
Thus he spake, and the sun went down and darkness came on. Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake among them, saying: ‘Yea, old man, thou hast told all this thy tale aright. But come, cut up the tongues of the victims and mix the wine, that we may pour forth before Poseidon and the other deathless gods, and so may bethink us of sleep, for it is the hour for sleep. For already has the light gone beneath the west, and it is not seemly to sit long at a banquet of the gods, but to be going home.’
So spake the daughter of Zeus, and they hearkened to her voice. And the henchmen poured water over their hands, and pages crowned the mixing bowls with drink, and served out the wine to all, after they had first poured for libation into each cup in turn; and they cast the tongues upon the fire, and stood up and poured the drink-offering thereon. But when they had poured forth and had drunken to their heart’s content, Athene and godlike Telemachus were both set on returning to the hollow ship; but Nestor would have stayed them, and accosted them, saying: ‘Zeus forfend it, and all the other deathless gods, that ye should depart from my house to the swift ship, as from the dwelling of one that is utterly without raiment or a needy man, who hath not rugs or blankets many in his house whereon to sleep softly, he or his guests. Nay not so, I have rugs and fair blankets by me. Never, methinks, shall the dear son of this man, even of Odysseus, lay him down upon the ship’s deck, while as yet I am alive, and my children after me are left in my hall to entertain strangers, whoso may chance to come to my house.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake to him again: ‘Yea, herein hast thou spoken aright, dear father: and Telemachus may well obey thee, for before all things this is meet. Behold, he shall now depart with thee, that he may sleep in thy halls; as for me I will go to the black ship, that I may cheer my company and tell them all. For I avow me to be the one elder among them; those others are but younger men, who follow for love of him, all of them of like age with the high-souled Telemachus. There will I lay me down by the black hollow ship this night; but in the morning I will go to the Cauconians high of heart, where somewhat of mine is owing to me, no small debt nor of yesterday. But do thou send this man upon his way with thy chariot and thy son, since he hath come to thy house, and give him horses the lightest of foot and chief in strength.’
Therewith grey-eyed Athene departed in the semblance of a sea-eagle; and amazement fell on all that saw it, and the old man he marvelled when his eyes beheld it. And he took the hand of Telemachus and spake and hailed him:
‘My friend, methinks that thou wilt in no sort be a coward and a weakling, if indeed in thy youth the gods thus follow with thee to be thy guides. For truly this is none other of those who keep the mansions of Olympus, save only the daughter of Zeus, the driver of the spoil, the maiden Trito-born, she that honoured thy good father too among the Argives. Nay be gracious, queen, and vouchsafe a goodly fame to me, even to me and to my sons and to my wife revered. And I in turn will sacrifice to thee a yearling heifer, broad of brow, unbroken, which man never yet hath led beneath the yoke. Such an one will I offer to thee, and gild her horns with gold.’
Even so he spake in prayer, and Pallas Athene heard him. Then Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, led them, even his sons and the husbands of his daughters, to his own fair house. But when they had reached this prince’s famous halls, they sat down all orderly on seats and high chairs; and when they were come, the old man mixed well for them a bowl of sweet wine, which now in the eleventh year from the vintaging the housewife opened, and unloosed the string that fastened the lid. The old man let mix a bowl thereof, and prayed instantly to Athene as he poured forth before her, even to the daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis.
But after they had poured forth and had drunken to their heart’s content, these went each one to his own house to lie down to rest. But Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, would needs have Telemachus, son of divine Odysseus, to sleep there on a jointed bedstead beneath the echoing gallery, and by him Peisistratus of the good ashen spear, leader of men, who alone of his sons was yet unwed in his halls. As for him he slept within the inmost chamber of the lofty house, and the lady his wife arrayed for him bedstead and bedding.
So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, gat him up from his bed, and he went forth and sat him down upon the smooth stones, which were before his lofty doors, all polished, white and glistening, whereon Neleus sat of old, in counsel the peer of the gods. Howbeit, stricken by fate, he had ere now gone down to the house of Hades, and today Nestor of Gerenia in his turn sat thereon, warder of the Achaeans, with his staff in his hands. And about him his sons were gathered and come together, issuing from their chambers, Echephron and Stratius, and Perseus and Aretus and the godlike Thrasymedes. And sixth and last came the hero Peisistratus. And they led godlike Telemachus and set him by their side, and Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, spake first among them:
‘Quickly, my dear children, accomplish my desire, that first of all the gods I may propitiate Athene, who came to me in visible presence to the rich feast of the god. Nay then, let one go to the plain for a heifer, that she may come as soon as may be, and that the neat-herd may drive her: and let another go to the black ship of high-souled Telemachus to bring all his company, and let him leave two men only. And let one again bid Laerces the goldsmith to come hither that he may gild the horns of the heifer. And ye others, abide ye here together and speak to the handmaids within that they make ready a banquet through our famous halls, and fetch seats and logs to set about the altar, and bring clear water.’
Thus he spake and lo, they all hastened to the work. The heifer she came from the field, and from the swift gallant ship came the company of great-hearted Telemachus; the smith came holding in his hands his tools, the instruments of his craft, anvil and hammer and well-made pincers, wherewith he wrought the gold; Athene too came to receive her sacrifice. And the old knight Nestor gave gold, and the other fashioned it skilfully, and gilded therewith the horns of the heifer, that the goddess might be glad at the sight of her fair offering. And Stratius and goodly Echephron led the heifer by the horns. And Aretus came forth from the chamber bearing water for the washing of hands in a basin of flowered work, and in the other hand he held the barley-meal in a basket; and Thrasymedes, steadfast in the battle, stood by holding in his hand a sharp axe, ready to smite the heifer. And Perseus held the dish for the blood, and the old man Nestor, driver of chariots, performed the first rite of the washing of hands and the sprinkling of the meal, and he prayed instantly to Athene as he began the rite, casting into the fire the lock from the head of the victim.
Now when they had prayed and tossed the sprinkled grain, straightway the son of Nestor, gallant Thrasymedes, stood by and struck the blow; and the axe severed the tendons of the neck and loosened the might of the heifer; and the women raised their cry, the daughters and the sons’ wives and the wife revered of Nestor, Eurydice, eldest of the daughters of Clymenus. And now they lifted the victim’s head from the wide-wayed earth, and held it so, while Peisistratus, leader of men, cut the throat. And after the black blood had gushed forth and the life had left the bones, quickly they broke up the body, and anon cut slices from the thighs all duly, and wrapt the same in the fat, folding them double, and laid raw flesh thereon. So that old man burnt them on the cleft wood, and poured over them the red wine, and by his side the young men held in their hands the five-pronged forks. Now after that the thighs were quite consumed and they had tasted the inner parts, they cut the rest up small and spitted and roasted it, holding the sharp spits in their hands.
Meanwhile she bathed Telemachus, even fair Polycaste, the youngest daughter of Nestor, son of Neleus. And after she had bathed him and anointed him with olive oil, and cast about him a goodly mantle and a doublet, he came forth from the bath in fashion like the deathless gods. So he went and sat him down by Nestor, shepherd of the people.
Now when they had roasted the outer flesh, and drawn it off the spits, they sat down and fell to feasting, and honourable men waited on them, pouring wine into the golden cups. But when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, first spake among them:
‘Lo now, my sons, yoke for Telemachus horses with flowing mane and lead them beneath the car, that he may get forward on his way.’
Even so he spake, and they gave good heed and hearkened; and quickly they yoked the swift horses beneath the chariot. And the dame that kept the stores placed therein corn and wine and dainties, such as princes eat, the fosterlings of Zeus. So Telemachus stept up into the goodly car, and with him Peisistratus son of Nestor, leader of men, likewise climbed the car and grasped the reins in his hands, and he touched the horses with the whip to start them, and nothing loth the pair flew towards the plain, and left the steep citadel of Pylos. So all day long they swayed the yoke they bore upon their necks.
Now the sun sank and all the ways were darkened. And they came to Pherae, to the house of Diocles, son of Orsilochus, the child begotten of Alpheus. There they rested for the night, and by them he set the entertainment of strangers.
Now so soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, they yoked the horses and mounted the inlaid car. And forth they drave from the gateway and the echoing gallery, and Peisistratus touched the horses with the whip to start them, and the pair flew onward nothing loth. So they came to the wheat-bearing plain, and thenceforth they pressed toward the end: in such wise did the swift horses speed forward. Now the sun sank and all the ways were darkened.
//Telemachus’ entertainment at Sparta, where Menelaus tells him what befell many of the Greeks on their return; that Odysseus was with Calypso in the isle Ogygia, as he was told by Proteus.//
And they came to Lacedaemon lying low among the caverned hills, and drave to the dwelling of renowned Menelaus. Him they found giving a feast in his house to many friends of his kin, a feast for the wedding of his noble son and daughter. His daughter he was sending to the son of Achilles, cleaver of the ranks of men, for in Troy he first had promised and covenanted to give her, and now the gods were bringing about their marriage. So now he was speeding her on her way with chariot and horses, to the famous city of the Myrmidons, among whom her lord bare rule. And for his son he was bringing to his home the daughter of Alector out of Sparta, for his well-beloved son, strong Megapenthes, [[6|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 6]] born of a slave woman, for the gods no more showed promise of seed to Helen, from the day that she bare a lovely child, Hermione, as fair as golden Aphrodite. So they were feasting through the great vaulted hall, the neighbours and the kinsmen of renowned Menelaus, making merry; and among them a divine minstrel was singing to the lyre, and as he began the song two tumblers in the company whirled through the midst of them.
Meanwhile those twain, the hero Telemachus and the splendid son of Nestor, made halt at the entry of the gate, they and their horses. And the lord Eteoneus came forth and saw them, the ready squire of renowned Menelaus; and he went through the palace to bear the tidings to the shepherd of the people, and standing near spake to him winged words:
‘Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, here are two strangers, whosoever they be, two men like to the lineage of great Zeus. Say, shall we loose their swift horses from under the yoke, or send them onward to some other host who shall receive them kindly?’
Then in sore displeasure spake to him Menelaus of the fair hair: ‘Eteoneus son of Boethous, truly thou wert not a fool aforetime, but now for this once, like a child thou talkest folly. Surely ourselves ate much hospitable cheer of other men, ere we twain came hither, even if in time to come Zeus haply give us rest from affliction. Nay go, unyoke the horses of the strangers, and as for the men, lead them forward to the house to feast with us.’
So spake he, and Eteoneus hasted from the hall, and called the other ready squires to follow with him. So they loosed the sweating horses from beneath the yoke, and fastened them at the stalls of the horses, and threw beside them spelt, and therewith mixed white barley, and tilted the chariot against the shining faces of the gateway, and led the men into the hall divine. And they beheld and marvelled as they gazed throughout the palace of the king, the fosterling of Zeus; for there was a gleam as it were of sun or moon through the lofty palace of renowned Menelaus. But after they had gazed their fill, they went to the polished baths and bathed them. Now when the maidens had bathed them and anointed them with olive oil, and cast about them thick cloaks and doublets, they sat on chairs by Menelaus, son of Atreus. And a handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal; and to their side she drew a polished table, and a grave dame bare food and set it by them, and laid upon the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her, and a carver lifted and placed by them platters of divers kinds of flesh, and nigh them he set golden bowls. So Menelaus of the fair hair greeted the twain and spake:
‘Taste ye food and be glad, and thereafter when ye have supped, we will ask what men ye are; for the blood of your parents is not lost in you, but ye are of the line of men that are sceptred kings, the fosterlings of Zeus; for no churls could beget sons like you.’
So spake he, and took and set before them the fat ox-chine roasted, which they had given him as his own mess by way of honour. And they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now when they had put from them the desire of meat and drink Telemachus spake to the son of Nestor, holding his head close to him, that those others might not hear:
‘Son of Nestor, delight of my heart, mark the flashing of bronze through the echoing halls, and the flashing of gold and of amber and of silver and of ivory. Such like, methinks, is the court of Olympian Zeus within, for the world of things that are here; wonder comes over me as I look thereon.’
And as he spake Menelaus of the fair hair was ware of him, and uttering his voice spake to them winged words:
‘Children dear, of a truth no one of mortal men may contend with Zeus, for his mansions and his treasures are everlasting: but of men there may be who will vie with me in treasure, or there may be none. Yea, for after many a woe and wanderings manifold, I brought my wealth home in ships, and in the eighth year came hither. I roamed over Cyprus and Phoenicia and Egypt, and reached the Aethiopians and Sidonians and Erembi and Libya, where lambs are horned from the birth. For there the ewes yean thrice within the full circle of a year; there neither lord nor shepherd lacketh aught of cheese or flesh or of sweet milk, but ever the flocks yield store of milk continual. While I was yet roaming in those lands, gathering much livelihood, meantime another slew my brother privily, at unawares, by the guile of his accursed wife. Thus, look you, I have no joy of my lordship among these my possessions: and ye are like to have heard hereof from your fathers, whosoever they be, for I have suffered much and let a house go to ruin that was stablished fair, and had in it much choice substance. I would that I had but a third part of those my riches, and dwelt in my halls, and that those men were yet safe, who perished of old in the wide land of Troy, far from Argos, the pastureland of horses. Howbeit, though I bewail them all and sorrow oftentimes as I sit in our halls — awhile indeed I satisfy my soul with lamentation, and then again I cease; for soon hath man enough of chill lamentation — yet for them all I make no such dole, despite my grief, as for one only, who causes me to loathe both sleep and meat, when I think upon him. For no one of the Achaeans toiled so greatly as Odysseus toiled and adventured himself: but to him it was to be but labour and trouble, and to me grief ever comfortless for his sake, so long he is afar, nor know we aught, whether he be alive or dead. Yea methinks they lament him, even that old Laertes and the constant Penelope and Telemachus, whom he left a child new-born in his house.’
So spake he, and in the heart of Telemachus he stirred a yearning to lament his father; and at his father’s name he let a tear fall from his eyelids to the ground, and held up his purple mantle with both his hands before his eyes. And Menelaus marked him and mused in his mind and his heart whether he should leave him to speak of his father, or first question him and prove him in every word.
While yet he pondered these things in his mind and in his heart, Helen came forth from her fragrant vaulted chamber, like Artemis of the golden arrows; and with her came Adraste and set for her the well-wrought chair, and Alcippe bare a rug of soft wool, and Phylo bare a silver basket which Alcandre gave her, the wife of Polybus, who dwelt in Thebes of Egypt, where is the chiefest store of wealth in the houses. He gave two silver baths to Menelaus, and tripods twain, ad ten talents of gold. And besides all this, his wife bestowed on Helen lovely gifts; a golden distaff did she give, and a silver basket with wheels beneath, and the rims thereof were finished with gold. This it was that the handmaid Phylo bare and set beside her, filled with dressed yarn, and across it was laid a distaff charged with wool of violet blue. So Helen sat her down in the chair, and beneath was a footstool for the feet. And anon she spake to her lord and questioned him of each thing:
‘Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, know we now who these men avow themselves to be that have come under our roof? Shall I dissemble or shall I speak the truth? Nay, I am minded to tell it. None, I say, have I ever yet seen so like another, man or woman — wonder comes over me as I look on him — as this man is like the son of great-hearted Odysseus, Telemachus, whom he left a new born child in his house, when for the sake of me, shameless woman that I was, ye Achaeans came up under Troy with bold war in your hearts.’
And Menelaus of the fair hair answered her, saying: ‘Now I too, lady, mark the likeness even as thou tracest it. For such as these were his feet, such his hands, and the glances of his eyes, and his head, and his hair withal. Yea, and even now I was speaking of Odysseus, as I remembered him, of all his woeful travail for my sake; when, lo, he let fall a bitter tear beneath his brows, and held his purple cloak up before his eyes.’
And Peisistratus, son of Nestor, answered him, saying: ‘Menelaus, son of Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the host, assuredly this is the son of that very man, even as thou sayest. But he is of a sober wit, and thinketh it shame in his heart as on this his first coming to make show of presumptuous words in the presence of thee, in whose voice we twain delight as in the voice of a god. Now Nestor of Gerenia, lord of chariots, sent me forth to be his guide on the way: for he desired to see thee that thou mightest put into his heart some word or work. For a son hath many griefs in his halls when his father is away, if perchance he hath none to stand by him. Even so it is now with Telemachus; his father is away, nor hath he others in the township to defend him from distress.’
And Menelaus of the fair hair answered him, and said: ‘Lo now, in good truth there has come unto my house the son of a friend indeed, who for my sake endured many adventures. And I thought to welcome him on his coming more nobly than all the other Argives, if but Olympian Zeus, of the far-borne voice, had vouchsafed us a return over the sea in our swift ships — that such a thing should be. And in Argos I would have given him a city to dwell in, and stablished for him a house, and brought him forth from Ithaca with his substance and his son and all his people, making one city desolate of those that lie around, and are in mine own domain. Then ofttimes would we have held converse here, and nought would have parted us, the welcoming and the welcomed, [[7|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 7]] ere the black cloud of death overshadowed us. Howsoever, the god himself, methinks, must have been jealous hereof, who from that hapless man alone cut off his returning.’
So spake he, and in the hearts of all he stirred the desire of lamentation. She wept, even Argive Helen the daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus wept, and Menelaus the son of Atreus; nay, nor did the son of Nestor keep tearless eyes. For he bethought him in his heart of noble Antilochus, whom the glorious son of the bright Dawn had slain. Thinking upon him he spake winged words:
‘Son of Atreus, the ancient Nestor in his own halls was ever wont to say that thou wert wise beyond man’s wisdom, whensoever we made mention of thee and asked one another concerning thee. And now, if it be possible, be persuaded by me, who for one have no pleasure in weeping at supper time — the new-born day will right soon be upon us. [[8|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 8]] Not indeed that I deem it blame at all to weep for any mortal who hath died and met his fate. Lo, this is now the only due we pay to miserable men, to cut the hair and let the tear fall from the cheek. For I too have a brother dead, nowise the meanest of the Argives, and thou art like to have known him, for as for me I never encountered him, never beheld him. But men say that Antilochus outdid all, being excellent in speed of foot and in the fight.’
And Menelaus of the fair hair answered him, and said: ‘My friend, lo, thou hast said all that a wise man might say or do, yea, and an elder than thou; — for from such a sire too thou art sprung, wherefore thou dost even speak wisely. Right easily known is that man’s seed, for whom Cronion weaves the skein of luck at bridal and at birth: even as now hath he granted prosperity to Nestor for ever for all his days, that he himself should grow into a smooth old age in his halls, and his sons moreover should be wise and the best of spearsmen. But we will cease now the weeping which was erewhile made, and let us once more bethink us of our supper, and let them pour water over our hands. And again in the morning there will be tales for Telemachus and me to tell one to the other, even to the end.’
So spake he, and Asphalion poured water over their hands, the ready squire of renowned Menelaus. And they put forth their hands upon the good cheer spread before them.
Then Helen, daughter of Zeus, turned to new thoughts. Presently she cast a drug into the wine whereof they drank, a drug to lull all pain and anger, and bring forgetfulness of every sorrow. Whoso should drink a draught thereof, when it is mingled in the bowl, on that day he would let no tear fall down his cheeks, not though his mother and his father died, not though men slew his brother or dear son with the sword before his face, and his own eyes beheld it. Medicines of such virtue and so helpful had the daughter of Zeus, which Polydamna, the wife of Thon, had given her, a woman of Egypt, where earth the grain-giver yields herbs in greatest plenty, many that are healing in the cup, and many baneful. There each man is a leech skilled beyond all human kind; yea, for they are of the race of Paeeon. Now after she had cast in the drug and bidden pour forth of the wine, she made answer once again, and spake unto her lord:
‘Son of Atreus, Menelaus, fosterling of Zeus, and lo, ye sons of noble men, forasmuch as now to one and now to another Zeus gives good and evil, for to him all things are possible — now, verily, sit ye down and feast in the halls, and take ye joy in the telling of tales, and I will tell you one that fits the time. Now all of them I could not tell or number, so many as were the adventures of Odysseus of the hardy heart; but, ah, what a deed was this he wrought and dared in his hardiness in the land of the Trojans, where ye Achaeans suffered affliction. He subdued his body with unseemly stripes, and a sorry covering he cast about his shoulders, and in the fashion of a servant he went down into the wide-wayed city of the foemen, and he hid himself in the guise of another, a beggar, though in no wise such an one was he at the ships of the Achaeans. In this semblance he passed into the city of the Trojans, and they wist not who he was, and I alone knew him in that guise, and I kept questioning him, but in his subtlety he avoided me. But when at last I was about washing him and anointing him with olive oil, and had put on him raiment, and sworn a great oath not to reveal Odysseus amid the Trojans, ere he reached the swift ships and the huts, even then he told me all the purpose of the Achaeans. And after slaying many of the Trojans with the long sword, he returned to the Argives and brought back word again of all. Then the other Trojan women wept aloud, but my soul was glad, for already my heart was turned to go back again even to my home: and now at the last I groaned for the blindness that Aphrodite gave me, when she led me thither away from mine own country, forsaking my child and my bridal chamber and my lord, that lacked not aught whether for wisdom or yet for beauty.’
And Menelaus of the fair hair answered her, saying: ‘Verily all this tale, lady, thou hast duly told. Ere now have I learned the counsel and the thought of many heroes, and travelled over many a land, but never yet have mine eyes beheld any such man of heart as was Odysseus; such another deed as he wrought and dared in his hardiness even in the shapen horse, wherein sat all we chiefs of the Argives, bearing to the Trojans death and doom. Anon thou camest thither, and sure some god must have bidden thee, who wished to bring glory to the Trojans. Yea and godlike Deiphobus went with thee on thy way. Thrice thou didst go round about the hollow ambush and handle it, calling aloud on the chiefs of the Argives by name, and making thy voice like the voices of the wives of all the Argives. Now I and the son of Tydeus and goodly Odysseus sat in the midst and heard thy call; and verily we twain had a desire to start up and come forth or presently to answer from within; but Odysseus stayed and held us there, despite our eagerness. Then all the other sons of the Achaeans held their peace, but Anticlus alone was still minded to answer thee. Howbeit Odysseus firmly closed his mouth with strong hands, and so saved all the Achaeans, and held him until such time as Pallas Athene led thee back.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Menelaus, son of Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the host, all the more grievous it is! for in no way did this courage ward from him pitiful destruction, not though his heart within him had been very iron. But come, bid us to bed, that forthwith we may take our joy of rest beneath the spell of sleep.’
So spake he, and Argive Helen bade her handmaids set out bedsteads beneath the gallery, and fling on them fair purple blankets and spread coverlets above, and thereon lay thick mantles to be a clothing over all. So they went from the hall with torch in hand, and spread the beds, and the henchman led forth the guests. Thus they slept there in the vestibule of the house, the hero Telemachus and the splendid son of Nestor. But the son of Atreus slept, as his custom was, in the inmost chamber of the lofty house, and by him lay long-robed Helen, that fair lady.
Soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, Menelaus of the loud war-shout gat him up from his bed and put on his raiment, and cast his sharp sword about his shoulder, and beneath his smooth feet bound his goodly sandals, and stept forth from his chamber, in presence like a god, and sat by Telemachus, and spake and hailed him:
‘To what end hath thy need brought thee hither, hero Telemachus, unto fair Lacedaemon, over the broad back of the sea? Is it a matter of the common weal or of thine own? Herein tell me the plain truth.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, and said: ‘Menelaus, son of Atreus, fosterling of Zeus, leader of the host, I have come if perchance thou mayest tell me some tidings of my father. My dwelling is being devoured and my fat lands are ruined, and of unfriendly men my house is full — who slaughter continually my thronging flocks, and my kine with trailing feet and shambling gait — none other than the wooers of my mother, despiteful out of measure. So now am I come hither to thy knees, if haply thou art willing to tell me of his pitiful death, as one that saw it perchance with thine own eyes, or heard the story from some other wanderer; for his mother bare him to exceeding sorrow. And speak me no soft words in ruth or pity, but tell me plainly how thou didst get sight of him. Ah, I pray thee, if ever at all my father, good Odysseus, made promise to thee of word or work and fulfilled the same in the land of the Trojans, where ye Achaeans suffered affliction, these things, I pray thee, now remember and tell me truth.’
Then in heavy displeasure spake to him Menelaus of the fair hair: ‘Out upon them, for truly in the bed of a brave-hearted man were they minded to lie, very cravens as they are! Even as when a hind hath couched her newborn fawns unweaned in a strong lion’s lair, and searcheth out the mountain knees and grassy hollows, seeking pasture, and afterward the lion cometh back to his bed, and sendeth forth unsightly death upon that pair, even so shall Odysseus send forth unsightly death upon the wooers. Would to our father Zeus and Athene and Apollo, would that in such might as when of old in stablished Lesbos he rose up and wrestled a match with Philomeleides and threw him mightily, and all the Achaeans rejoiced; would that in such strength Odysseus might consort with the wooers: then should they all have swift fate, and bitter wedlock! But for that whereof thou askest and entreatest me, be sure I will not swerve from the truth in aught that I say, nor deceive thee; but of all that the ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth, declared to me, not a word will I hide or keep from thee.
‘In the river Aegyptus, [[9|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 9]] though eager I was to press onward home, the gods they stayed me, for that I had not offered them the acceptable sacrifice of hecatombs, and the gods ever desired that men should be mindful of their commandments. Now there is an island in the wash of the waves over against Aegyptus, and men call it Pharos, within one day’s voyage of a hollow ship, when shrill winds blow fair in her wake. And therein is a good haven, whence men launch the gallant ships into the deep when they have drawn a store of deep black water. There the gods held me twenty days, nor did the sea-winds ever show their breath, they that serve to waft ships over the broad back of the sea. And now would all our corn have been spent, and likewise the strength of the men, except some goddess had taken pity on me and saved me, Eidothee, daughter of mighty Proteus, the ancient one of the sea. For most of all I moved her heart, when she met me wandering alone apart from my company, who were ever roaming round the isle, fishing with bent hooks, for hunger was gnawing at their belly. So she stood by, and spake and uttered her voice saying:
‘“Art thou so very foolish, stranger, and feeble-witted, or art thou wilfully remiss, and hast pleasure in suffering? So long time art thou holden in the isle and canst find no issue therefrom, while the heart of thy company faileth within them?”
‘Even so she spake, and I answered her saying: “I will speak forth, what goddess soever thou art, and tell thee that in no wise am I holden here by mine own will, but it needs must be that I have sinned against the deathless gods, who keep the wide heaven. Howbeit, do thou tell me — for the gods know all things — which of the immortals it is that binds me here and hath hindered me from my way, and declare as touching my returning how I may go over the teeming deep.”
‘So I spake, and straightway the fair goddess made answer: “Yea now, sir, I will plainly tell thee all. Hither resorteth that ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth, the deathless Egyptian Proteus, who knows the depths of every sea, and is the thrall of Poseidon, and who, they say, is my father that begat me. If thou couldst but lay an ambush and catch him, he will surely declare to thee the way and the measure of thy path, and will tell thee of thy returning, how thou mayest go over the teeming deep. Yea, and he will show thee, O fosterling of Zeus, if thou wilt, what good thing and what evil hath been wrought in thy halls, whilst thou has been faring this long and grievous way.”
‘So she spake, but I answered and said unto her: “Devise now thyself the ambush to take this ancient one divine, lest by any chance he see me first, or know of my coming, and avoid me. For a god is hard for mortal man to quell.”
‘So spake I, and straightway the fair goddess made answer: “Yea now, sir, I will plainly tell thee all. So often as the sun in his course stands high in mid heaven, then forth from the brine comes the ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth, before the breath of the West Wind he comes, and the sea’s dark ripple covers him. And when he is got forth, he lies down to sleep in the hollow of the caves. And around him the seals, the brood of the fair daughter of the brine, sleep all in a flock, stolen forth from the grey sea water, and bitter is the scent they breathe of the deeps of the salt sea. There will I lead thee at the breaking of the day, and couch you all orderly; so do thou choose diligently three of thy company, the best thou hast in thy decked ships. And I will tell thee all the magic arts of that old man. First, he will number the seals and go over them; but when he has told their tale and beheld them, he will lay him down in the midst, as a shepherd mid the sheep of his flock. So soon as ever ye shall see him couched, even then mind you of your might and strength, and hold him there, despite his eagerness and striving to be free. And he will make assay, and take all manner of shapes of things that creep upon the earth, of water likewise, and of fierce fire burning. But do ye grasp him steadfastly and press him yet the more, and at length when he questions thee in his proper shape, as he was when first ye saw him laid to rest, then, hero, hold thy strong hands, and let the ancient one go free, and ask him which of the gods is hard upon thee, and as touching thy returning, how thou mayest go over the teeming deep.”
‘Therewith she dived beneath the heaving sea, but I betook me to the ships where they stood in the sand, and my heart was darkly troubled as I went. But after I had come down to the ship and to the sea, and we had made ready our supper and immortal night had come on, then did we lay us to rest upon the sea-beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy fingered, in that hour I walked by the shore of the wide-wayed sea, praying instantly to the gods; and I took with me three of my company, in whom I trusted most for every enterprise.
‘Meanwhile, so it was that she had plunged into the broad bosom of the sea, and had brought from the deep the skins of four sea-calves, and all were newly flayed, for she was minded to lay a snare for her father. She scooped lairs on the sea-sand, and sat awaiting us, and we drew very nigh her, and she made us all lie down in order, and cast a skin over each. There would our ambush have been most terrible, for the deadly stench of the sea bred seals distressed us sore: nay, who would lay him down by a beast of the sea? But herself she wrought deliverance, and devised a great comfort. She took ambrosia of a very sweet savour, and set it beneath each man’s nostril, and did away with the stench of the beast. So all the morning we waited with steadfast heart, and the seals came forth in troops from the brine, and then they couched them all orderly by the sea-beach. And at high day the ancient one came forth from out of the brine, and found his fatted seals, yea and he went along their line and told their tale; and first among the sea-beasts he reckoned us, and guessed not that there was guile, and afterward he too laid him down. Then we rushed upon him with a cry, and cast our hands about him, nor did that ancient one forget his cunning. Now behold, at the first he turned into a bearded lion, and thereafter into a snake, and a pard, and a huge boar; then he took the shape of running water, and of a tall and flowering tree. We the while held him close with steadfast heart. But when now that ancient one of the magic arts was aweary, then at last he questioned me and spake unto me, saying:
‘“Which of the gods was it, son of Atreus, that aided thee with his counsel, that thou mightest waylay and take me perforce? What wouldest thou thereby?”
‘Even so he spake, but I answered him saying; “Old man, thou knowest all, wherefore dost thou question me thereof with crooked words? For lo, I am holden long time in this isle, neither can I find any issue therefrom, and my heart faileth within me. Howbeit do thou tell me — for the gods know all things — which of the immortals it is that bindeth me here, and hath hindered me from my way; and declare as touching my returning, how I may go over the teeming deep.”
‘Even so I spake, and he straightway answered me, saying: “Nay, surely thou shouldest have done goodly sacrifice to Zeus and the other gods ere thine embarking, that with most speed thou mightst reach thy country, sailing over the wine-dark deep. For it is not thy fate to see thy friends, and come to thy stablished house and thine own country, till thou hast passed yet again within the waters of Aegyptus, the heaven-fed stream, and offered holy hecatombs to the deathless gods who keep the wide heaven. So shall the gods grant thee the path which thou desirest.”
‘So spake he, but my spirit within me was broken, for that he bade me again to go to Aegyptus over the misty deep, a long and grievous way.
‘Yet even so I answered him saying: “Old man, all this will I do, according to thy word. But come, declare me this, and tell it all plainly. Did all those Achaeans return safe with their ships, all whom Nestor and I left as we went from Troy, or perished any by a shameful death aboard his own ship, or in the arms of his friends, after he had wound up the clew of war?”
‘So spake I, and anon he answered me, saying: “Son of Atreus, why dost thou straitly question me hereof? Nay, it is not for thy good to know or learn my thought; for I tell thee thou shalt not long be tearless, when thou hast heard it all aright. For many of these were taken, and many were left; but two only of the leaders of the mail-coated Achaeans perished in returning; as for the battle, thou thyself wast there. And one methinks is yet alive, and is holden on the wide deep. Aias in truth was smitten in the midst of his ships of the long oars. Poseidon at first brought him nigh to Gyrae, to the mighty rocks, and delivered him from the sea. And so he would have fled his doom, albeit hated by Athene, had he not let a proud word fall in the fatal darkening of his heart. He said that in the gods’ despite he had escaped the great gulf of the sea; and Poseidon heard his loud boasting, and presently caught up his trident into his strong hands, and smote the rock Gyraean and cleft it in twain. And the one part abode in his place, but the other fell into the sea, the broken piece whereon Aias sat at the first, when his heart was darkened. And the rock bore him down into the vast and heaving deep; so there he perished when he had drunk of the salt sea water. But thy brother verily escaped the fates and avoided them in his hollow ships, for queen Hera saved him. But now when he was like soon to reach the steep mount of Malea, lo, the storm wind snatched him away and bore him over the teeming deep, making great moan, to the border of the country whereof old Thyestes dwelt, but now Aegisthus abode there, the son of Thyestes. But when thence too there showed a good prospect of safe returning, and the gods changed the wind to a fair gale, and they had reached home, then verily did Agamemnon set foot with joy upon his country’s soil, and as he touched his own land he kissed it, and many were the hot tears he let fall, for he saw his land and was glad. And it was so that the watchman spied him from his tower, the watchman whom crafty Aegisthus had led and posted there, promising him for a reward two talents of gold. Now he kept watch for the space of a year, lest Agamemnon should pass by him when he looked not, and mind him of his wild prowess. So he went to the house to bear the tidings to the shepherd of the people. And straightway Aegisthus contrived a cunning treason. He chose out twenty of the best men in the township, and set an ambush, and on the further side of the hall he commanded to prepare a feast. Then with chariot and horses he went to bid to the feast Agamemnon, shepherd of the people; but caitiff thoughts were in his heart. He brought him up to his house, all unwitting of his doom, and when he had feasted him slew him, as one slayeth an ox at the stall. And none of the company of Atreides that were of his following were left, nor any of the men of Aegisthus, but they were all killed in the halls.”
‘So spake he, and my spirit within me was broken, and I wept as I sat upon the sand, nor was I minded any more to live and see the light of the sun. But when I had taken my fill of weeping and grovelling on the ground, then spake the ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth:
‘“No more, son of Atreus, hold this long weeping without cease, for we shall find no help therein. Rather with all haste make essay that so thou mayest come to thine own country. For either thou shalt find Aegisthus yet alive, or it may be Orestes was beforehand with thee and slew him; so mayest thou chance upon his funeral feast.”
‘So he spake, and my heart and lordly soul again were comforted for all my sorrow, and I uttered my voice and I spake to him winged words:
‘“Their fate I now know; but tell me of the third; who is it that is yet living and holden on the wide deep, or perchance is dead? and fain would I hear despite my sorrow.”
‘So spake I, and straightway he answered, and said: “It is the son of Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca; and I saw him in an island shedding big tears in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who holds him there perforce; so he may not come to his own country, for he has by him no ships with oars, and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea. But thou, Menelaus, son of Zeus, art not ordained to die and meet thy fate in Argos, the pasture-land of horses, but the deathless gods will convey thee to the Elysian plain and the world’s end, where is Rhadamanthus of the fair hair, where life is easiest for men. No snow is there, nor yet great storm, nor any rain; but always ocean sendeth forth the breeze of the shrill West to blow cool on men; yea, for thou hast Helen to wife, and thereby they deem thee to be son of Zeus.”
‘So spake he, and plunged into the heaving sea; but I betook me to the ships with my godlike company, and my heart was darkly troubled as I went. Now after I had come down to the ship and to the sea, and had made ready our supper, and immortal night had come on, then did we lay us to rest upon the sea-beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, first of all we drew down our ships to the fair salt sea and placed the masts and the sails in the gallant ships, and the crew too climbed on board, and sat upon the benches and smote the grey sea water with their oars. Then back I went to the waters of Aegyptus, the heaven-fed stream, and there I moored the ships and offered the acceptable sacrifice of hecatombs. So when I had appeased the anger of the everlasting gods, I piled a barrow to Agamemnon, that his fame might never be quenched. So having fulfilled all, I set out for home, and the deathless gods gave me a fair wind, and brought me swiftly to mine own dear country. But lo, now tarry in my halls till it shall be the eleventh day hence or the twelfth. Then will I send thee with all honour on thy way, and give thee splendid gifts, three horses and a polished car; and moreover I will give thee a goodly chalice, that thou mayest pour forth before the deathless gods, and be mindful of me all the days of thy life.’
Then wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Son of Atreus, nay, hold me not long time here. Yea even for a year would I be content to sit by thee, and no desire for home or parents would come upon me; for I take wondrous pleasure in thy tales and talk. But already my company wearieth in fair Pylos, and yet thou art keeping me long time here. And whatsoever gift thou wouldest give me, let it be a thing to treasure; but horses I will take none to Ithaca, but leave them here to grace thine own house, for thou art lord of a wide plain wherein is lotus great plenty, and therein is spear-reed and wheat and rye, and white and spreading barley. In Ithaca there are no wide courses, nor meadow land at all. It is a pasture-land of goats, and more pleasant in my sight than one that pastureth horses; for of the isles that lie and lean upon the sea, none are fit for the driving of horses, or rich in meadow land, and least of all is Ithaca.’
So spake he, and Menelaus, of the loud war cry, smiled, and caressed him with his hand, and spake and hailed him:
‘Thou art of gentle blood, dear child, so gentle the words thou speakest. Therefore I will make exchange of the presents, as I may. Of the gifts, such as are treasures stored in my house, I will give thee the goodliest and greatest of price. I will give thee a mixing bowl beautifully wrought; it is all of silver, and the lips thereof are finished with gold, the work of Hephaestus; and the hero Phaedimus, the king of the Sidonians, gave it me, when his house sheltered me on my coming thither, and to thee now would I give it.’
Even so they spake one to another, while the guests came to the palace of the divine king. They drave their sheep, and brought wine that maketh glad the heart of man: and their wives with fair tire sent them wheaten bread. Thus were these men preparing the feast in the halls.
But the wooers meantime were before the palace of Odysseus, taking their pleasure in casting of weights and spears, on a levelled place, as heretofore, in their insolence. And Antinous and god-like Eurymachus were seated there, the chief men of the wooers, who were far the most excellent of all. And Noemon, son of Phromius, drew nigh to them and spake unto Antinous and questioned him, saying:
‘Antinous, know we at all, or know we not, when Telemachus will return from sandy Pylos? He hath departed with a ship of mine, and I have need thereof, to cross over into spacious Elis, where I have twelve brood mares with hardy mules unbroken at the teat; I would drive off one of these and break him in.’
So spake he, and they were amazed, for they deemed not that Telemachus had gone to Neleian Pylos, but that he was at home somewhere in the fields, whether among the flocks, or with the swineherd.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spake to him in turn: ‘Tell me the plain truth; when did he go, and what noble youths went with him? Were they chosen men of Ithaca or hirelings and thralls of his own? He was in case to bring even that about. And tell me this in good sooth, that I may know for a surety: did he take thy black ship from thee perforce against thy will? or didst thou give it him of free will at his entreaty?
Then Noemon, son of Phromius, answered him saying: ‘I gave it him myself of free will. What can any man do, when such an one, so bestead with care, begs a favour? it were hard to deny the gift. The youths who next to us are noblest in the land, even these have gone with him; and I marked their leader on board ship, Mentor, or a god who in all things resembled Mentor. But one matter I marvel at: I saw the goodly Mentor here yesterday toward dawn, though already he had embarked for Pylos.’
He spake and withal departed to his father’s house. And the proud spirits of these twain were angered, and they made the wooers sit down together and cease from their games. And among them spake Antinous, son of Eupeithes, in displeasure; and his black heart was wholly filled with rage, and his eyes were like flaming fire:
‘Out on him, a proud deed hath Telemachus accomplished with a high hand, even this journey, and we thought that he would never bring it to pass! This lad hath clean gone without more ado, in spite of us all; his ship he hath let haul to the sea, and chosen the noblest in the township. He will begin to be our bane even more than heretofore; but may Zeus destroy his might, not ours, ere he reach the measure of manhood! But come, give me a swift ship and twenty men, that I may lie in watch and wait even for him on his way home, in the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos, that so he may have a woeful end of his cruising in quest of his father.’
So spake he, and they all assented thereto, and bade him to the work. And thereupon they arose and went to the house of Odysseus.
Now it was no long time before Penelope heard of the counsel that the wooers had devised in the deep of their heart. For the henchman Medon told her thereof, who stood without the court and heard their purposes, while they were weaving their plot within. So he went on his way through the halls to bring the news to Penelope; and as he stept down over the threshold, Penelope spake unto him:
‘Henchman, wherefore have the noble wooers sent thee forth? Was it to tell the handmaids of divine Odysseus to cease from their work, and prepare a banquet for them? Nay, after thus much wooing, never again may they come together, but here this day sup for their last and latest time; all ye who assemble so often, and waste much livelihood, the wealth of wise Telemachus! Long ago when ye were children, ye marked not your fathers’ telling, what manner of man was Odysseus among them, one that wrought no iniquity toward any man, nor spake aught unrighteous in the township, as is the wont of divine kings. One man a king is like to hate, another he might chance to love. But never did he do aught at all presumptuously to any man. Nay, it is plain what spirit ye are of, and your unseemly deeds are manifest to all, nor is there any gratitude left for kindness done.’
Then Medon, wise of heart, answered her: ‘Would, oh queen, that this were the crowning evil! But the wooers devise another far greater and more grievous, which I pray the son of Cronos may never fulfil! They are set on slaying Telemachus with the edge of the sword on his homeward way; for he is gone to fair Pylos and goodly Lacedaemon, to seek tidings of his father.’
So spake he, but her knees were loosened where she stood, and her heart melted within her, and long time was she speechless, and lo, her eyes were filled with tears and the voice of her utterance was stayed. And at the last she answered him and said:
‘Henchman, wherefore I pray thee is my son departed? There is no need that he should go abroad on swift ships, that serve men for horses on the sea, and that cross the great wet waste. Is it that even his own name may no more be left upon earth?’
Then Medon, wise of heart, answered her: ‘I know not whether some god set him on or whether his own spirit stirred him to go to Pylos to seek tidings of his father’s return, or to hear what end he met.’
He spake, and departed through the house of Odysseus, and on her fell a cloud of consuming grief; so that she might no more endure to seat her on a chair, whereof there were many in the house, but there she crouched on the threshold of her well-builded chamber, wailing piteously, and her handmaids round her made low moan, as many as were in the house with her, young and old. And Penelope spake among them pouring forth her lamentation:
‘Hear me, my friends, for the Olympian sire hath given me pain exceedingly beyond all women who were born and bred in my day. For erewhile I lost my noble lord of the lion heart, adorned with all perfection among the Danaans, my good lord, whose fame is noised abroad from Hellas to mid Argos. And now again the storm-winds have snatched away my well-beloved son without tidings from our halls, nor heard I of his departure. Oh, women, hard of heart, that even ye did not each one let the thought come into your minds, to rouse me from my couch when he went to the black hollow ship, though ye knew full well thereof! For had I heard that he was purposing this journey, verily he should have stayed here still, though eager to be gone, or have left me dead in the halls. Howbeit let some one make haste to call the ancient Dolius, my thrall, whom my father gave me ere yet I had come hither, who keepeth my garden of trees. So shall he go straightway and sit by Laertes, and tell him all, if perchance Laertes may weave some counsel in his heart, and go forth and make his plaint to the people, who are purposed to destroy his seed, and the seed of god-like Odysseus.’
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered her: ‘Dear lady, aye, slay me if thou wilt with the pitiless sword or let me yet live on in the house — yet will I not hide my saying from thee. I knew all this, and gave him whatsoever he commanded, bread and sweet wine. And he took a great oath of me not to tell thee till at least the twelfth day should come, or thou thyself shouldst miss him and hear of his departure, that thou mightest not mar thy fair flesh with thy tears. But now, wash thee in water, and take to thee clean raiment and ascend to thy upper chamber with the women thy handmaids, and pray to Athene, daughter of Zeus, lord of the aegis. For so may she save him even from death. And heap not troubles on an old man’s trouble; for the seed of the son of Arceisius, is not, methinks, utterly hated by the blessed gods, but someone will haply yet remain to possess these lofty halls, and the fat fields far away.’
So spake she, and lulled her queen’s lamentation, and made her eyes to cease from weeping. So she washed her in water, and took to her clean raiment, and ascended to the upper chamber with the women her handmaids, and placed the meal for sprinkling in a basket, and prayed unto Athene:
‘Hear me, child of Zeus, lord of the aegis, unwearied maiden! If ever wise Odysseus in his halls burnt for thee fat slices of the thighs of heifer or of sheep, these things, I pray thee, now remember, and save my dear son, and ward from him the wooers in the naughtiness of their pride.’
Therewith she raised a cry, and the goddess heard her prayer. But the wooers clamoured through the shadowy halls, and thus would some proud youth say:
‘Verily this queen of many wooers prepareth our marriage, nor knoweth at all how that for her son death hath been ordained.’
Thus would certain of them speak, but they knew not how these things were ordained. And Antinous made harangue and spake among them:
‘Good sirs, my friends, shun all disdainful words alike, lest someone hear and tell it even in the house. But come let us arise, and in silence accomplish that whereof we spake, for the counsel pleased us every one.’
Therewith he chose twenty men that were the best, and they departed to the swift ship and the sea-banks. So first of all they drew the ship down to the deep water, and placed the mast and sails in the black ship, and fixed the oars in leathern loops all orderly, and spread forth the white sails. And squires, haughty of heart, bare for them their arms. And they moored her high out in the shore water, and themselves disembarked. There they supped and waited for evening to come on.
But the wise Penelope lay there in her upper chamber, fasting and tasting neither meat nor drink, musing whether her noble son should escape death, or even fall before the proud wooers. And as a lion broods all in fear among the press of men, when they draw the crafty ring around him, so deeply was she musing when deep sleep came over her. And she sank back in sleep and all her joints were loosened.
Now the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, turned to other thoughts. She made a phantom, and fashioned it after the likeness of a woman, Iphthime, daughter of great-hearted Icarius, whom Eumelus wedded, whose dwelling was in Pherae. And she sent it to the house of divine Odysseus to bid Penelope, amid her sorrow and lamenting, to cease from her weeping and tearful lamentation. So the phantom passed into the chamber by the thong of the bolt, and stood above her head and spake unto her, saying:
‘Sleepest thou, Penelope, stricken at heart? Nay, even the gods who live at ease suffer thee not to wail or be afflicted, seeing that thy son is yet to return; for no sinner is he in the eyes of the gods.’
Then wise Penelope made her answer as she slumbered very softly at the gates of dreams:
‘Wherefore, sister, hast thou come hither, that before wert not wont to come, for thou hast thine habitation very far away? Biddest thou me indeed to cease from the sorrows and pains, so many that disquiet my heart and soul? Erewhile I lost my noble lord of the lion heart, adorned with all perfection among the Danaans, my true lord, whose fame is noised abroad from Hellas to mid Argos. And now, again, my well-beloved son is departed on his hollow ship, poor child, not skilled in toils or in the gatherings of men. For him I sorrow yet more than for my lord, and I tremble and fear for him lest aught befal him, whether, it may be, amid that folk where he is gone, or in the deep. For many foemen devise evil against him, and go about to kill him, or ever he come to his own country.’
And the dim phantom answered her, and said: ‘Take courage, and be not so sorely afraid. For lo, such a friend goes to guide him, as all men pray to stand by them, for that she hath the power, even Pallas Athene. And she pitieth thee in thy sorrow, and now hath sent me forth to speak these words to thee.’
And wise Penelope answered her, saying: ‘If thou art indeed a god, and hast heard the word of a god, come, I pray thee, and tell me tidings concerning that ill-fated man, whether perchance he is yet alive and sees the light of the sun, or hath already died, and is a dweller in the house of Hades.’
And the dim phantom answered her and said: ‘Concerning him I will not tell thee all the tale, whether he be alive or dead; it is ill to speak words light as wind.’
Therewith the phantom slipped away by the bolt of the door and passed into the breath of the wind. And the daughter of Icarius started up from sleep; and her heart was cheered, so clear was the vision that sped toward her in the dead of the night.
Meanwhile the wooers had taken ship and were sailing over the wet ways, pondering in their hearts sheer death for Telemachus. Now there is a rocky isle in the mid sea, midway between Ithaca and rugged Samos, Asteris, a little isle; and there is a harbour therein with a double entrance, where ships may ride. There the Achaeans abode lying in wait for Telemachus.
//The Gods in council command Calypso by Hermes to send away Odysseus on a raft of trees; and Poseidon, returning from Ethiopia and seeing him on the coast of Phaeacia, scattered his raft; and how by the help of Ino he was thrown ashore, and slept on a heap of dry leaves till the next day.//
Now the Dawn arose from her couch, from the side of the lordly Tithonus, to bear light to the immortals and to mortal men. And lo, the gods were gathering to session, and among them Zeus, that thunders on high, whose might is above all. And Athene told them the tale of the many woes of Odysseus, recalling them to mind; for near her heart was he that then abode in the dwelling of the nymph:
‘Father Zeus, and all ye other blessed gods that live for ever, henceforth let not any sceptred king be kind and gentle with all his heart, nor minded to do righteously, but let him alway be a hard man and work unrighteousness, for behold, there is none that remembereth divine Odysseus of the people whose lord he was, and was gentle as a father. Howbeit, as for him he lieth in an island suffering strong pains, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who holdeth him perforce; so he may not reach his own country, for he hath no ships by him with oars, and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea. And now, again, they are set on slaying his beloved son on his homeward way, for he is gone to fair Pylos and to goodly Lacedaemon, to seek tidings of his father.’
And Zeus, gatherer of the clouds, answered and spake unto her: ‘My child, what word hath escaped the door of thy lips? Nay, didst thou not thyself plan this device, that Odysseus may assuredly take vengeance on those men at his coming? As for Telemachus, do thou guide him by thine art, as well as thou mayest, that so he may come to his own country all unharmed, and the wooers may return in their ship with their labour all in vain.’
Therewith he spake to Hermes, his dear son: ‘Hermes, forasmuch as even in all else thou art our herald, tell unto the nymph of the braided tresses my unerring counsel, even the return of the patient Odysseus, how he is to come to his home, with no furtherance of gods or of mortal men. Nay, he shall sail on a well-bound raft, in sore distress, and on the twentieth day arrive at fertile Scheria, even at the land of the Phaeacians, who are near of kin to the gods. And they shall give him all worship heartily as to a god, and send him on his way in a ship to his own dear country, with gifts of bronze and gold, and raiment in plenty, much store, such as never would Odysseus have won for himself out of Troy, yea, though he had returned unhurt with the share of the spoil that fell to him. On such wise is he fated to see his friends, and come to his high-roofed home and his own country.’
So spake he, nor heedless was the messenger, the slayer of Argos. Straightway he bound beneath his feet his lovely golden sandals, that wax not old, that bare him alike over the wet sea and over the limitless land, swift as the breath of the wind. And he took the wand wherewith he lulls the eyes of whomso he will, while others again he even wakes from out of sleep. With this rod in his hand flew the strong slayer of Argos. Above Pieria he passed and leapt from the upper air into the deep. Then he sped along the wave like the cormorant, that chaseth the fishes through the perilous gulfs of the unharvested sea, and wetteth his thick plumage in the brine. Such like did Hermes ride upon the press of the waves. But when he had now reached that far-off isle, he went forth from the sea of violet blue to get him up into the land, till he came to a great cave, wherein dwelt the nymph of the braided tresses: and he found her within. And on the hearth there was a great fire burning, and from afar through the isle was smelt the fragrance of cleft cedar blazing, and of sandal wood. And the nymph within was singing with a sweet voice as she fared to and fro before the loom, and wove with a shuttle of gold. And round about the cave there was a wood blossoming, alder and poplar and sweet-smelling cypress. And therein roosted birds long of wing, owls and falcons and chattering sea-crows, which have their business in the waters. And lo, there about the hollow cave trailed a gadding garden vine, all rich with clusters. And fountains four set orderly were running with clear water, hard by one another, turned each to his own course. And all around soft meadows bloomed of violets and parsley, yea, even a deathless god who came thither might wonder at the sight and be glad at heart. There the messenger, the slayer of Argos, stood and wondered. Now when he had gazed at all with wonder, anon he went into the wide cave; nor did Calypso, that fair goddess, fail to know him, when she saw him face to face; for the gods use not to be strange one to another, the immortals, not though one have his habitation far away. But he found not Odysseus, the greathearted, within the cave, who sat weeping on the shore even as aforetime, straining his soul with tears and groans and griefs, and as he wept he looked wistfully over the unharvested deep. And Calypso, that fair goddess, questioned Hermes, when she had made him sit on a bright shining seat:
‘Wherefore, I pray thee, Hermes, of the golden wand, hast thou come hither, worshipful and welcome, whereas as of old thou wert not wont to visit me? Tell me all thy thought; my heart is set on fulfilling it, if fulfil it I may, and if it hath been fulfilled in the counsel of fate. But now follow me further, that I may set before thee the entertainment of strangers.’
Therewith the goddess spread a table with ambrosia and set it by him, and mixed the ruddy nectar. So the messenger, the slayer of Argos, did eat and drink. Now after he had supped and comforted his soul with food, at the last he answered, and spake to her on this wise:
‘Thou makest question of me on my coming, a goddess of a god, and I will tell thee this my saying truly, at thy command. ’Twas Zeus that bade me come hither, by no will of mine; nay, who of his free will would speed over such a wondrous space of brine, whereby is no city of mortals that do sacrifice to the gods, and offer choice hecatombs? But surely it is in no wise possible for another god to go beyond or to make void the purpose of Zeus, lord of the aegis. He saith that thou hast with thee a man most wretched beyond his fellows, beyond those men that round the burg of Priam for nine years fought, and in the tenth year sacked the city and departed homeward. Yet on the way they sinned against Athene, and she raised upon them an evil blast and long waves of the sea. Then all the rest of his good company was lost, but it came to pass that the wind bare and the wave brought him hither. And now Zeus biddeth thee send him hence with what speed thou mayest, for it is not ordained that he die away from his friends, but rather it is his fate to look on them even yet, and to come to his high-roofed home and his own country.’
So spake he, and Calypso, that fair goddess, shuddered and uttered her voice, and spake unto him winged words: ‘Hard are ye gods and jealous exceeding, who ever grudge goddesses openly to mate with men, if any make a mortal her dear bed-fellow. Even so when rosy-fingered Dawn took Orion for her lover, ye gods that live at ease were jealous thereof, till chaste Artemis, of the golden throne, slew him in Ortygia with the visitation of her gentle shafts. So too when fair-tressed Demeter yielded to her love, and lay with Iasion in the thrice-ploughed fallow-field, Zeus was not long without tidings thereof, and cast at him with his white bolt and slew him. So again ye gods now grudge that a mortal man should dwell with me. Him I saved as he went all alone bestriding the keel of a bark, for that Zeus had crushed [[10|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 10]] and cleft his swift ship with a white bolt in the midst of the wine-dark deep. There all the rest of his good company was lost, but it came to pass that the wind bare and the wave brought him hither. And him have I loved and cherished, and I said that I would make him to know not death and age for ever. Yet forasmuch as it is no wise possible for another god to go beyond, or make void the purpose of Zeus, lord of the aegis, let him away over the unharvested seas, if the summons and the bidding be of Zeus. But I will give him no despatch, not I, for I have no ships by me with oars, nor company to bear him on his way over the broad back of the sea. Yet will I be forward to put this in his mind, and will hide nought, that all unharmed he may come to his own country.’
Then the messenger, the slayer of Argos, answered her: ‘Yea, speed him now upon his path and have regard unto the wrath of Zeus, lest haply he be angered and bear hard on thee hereafter.’
Therewith the great slayer of Argos departed, but the lady nymph went on her way to the great-hearted Odysseus, when she had heard the message of Zeus. And there she found him sitting on the shore, and his eyes were never dry of tears, and his sweet life was ebbing away as he mourned for his return; for the nymph no more found favour in his sight. Howsoever by night he would sleep by her, as needs he must, in the hollow caves, unwilling lover by a willing lady. And in the day-time he would sit on the rocks and on the beach, straining his soul with tears, and groans, and griefs, and through his tears he would look wistfully over the unharvested deep. So standing near him that fair goddess spake to him:
‘Hapless man, sorrow no more I pray thee in this isle, nor let thy good life waste away, for even now will I send thee hence with all my heart. Nay, arise and cut long beams, and fashion a wide raft with the axe, and lay deckings high thereupon, that it may bear thee over the misty deep. And I will place therein bread and water, and red wine to thy heart’s desire, to keep hunger far away. And I will put raiment upon thee, and send a fair gale in thy wake, that so thou mayest come all unharmed to thine own country, if indeed it be the good pleasure of the gods who hold wide heaven, who are stronger than I am both to will and to do.’
So she spake, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus shuddered, and uttering his voice spake to her winged words: ‘Herein, goddess, thou hast plainly some other thought, and in no wise my furtherance, for that thou biddest me to cross in a raft the great gulf of the sea so dread and difficult, which not even the swift gallant ships pass over rejoicing in the breeze of Zeus. Nor would I go aboard a raft to displeasure thee, unless thou wilt deign, O goddess, to swear a great oath not to plan any hidden guile to mine own hurt.’
So spake he, and Calypso, the fair goddess, smiled and caressed him with her hand, and spake and hailed him:
‘Knavish thou art, and no weakling [[11|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 11]] in wit, thou that hast conceived and spoken such a word. Let earth be now witness hereto, and the wide heaven above, and that falling water of the Styx, the greatest oath and the most terrible to the blessed gods, that I will not plan any hidden guile to thine own hurt. Nay, but my thoughts are such, and such will be my counsel, as I would devise for myself, if ever so sore a need came over me. For I too have a righteous mind, and my heart within me is not of iron, but pitiful even as thine.’
Therewith the fair goddess led the way quickly, and he followed hard in the steps of the goddess. And they reached the hollow cave, the goddess and the man; so he sat him down upon the chair whence Hermes had arisen, and the nymph placed by him all manner of food to eat and drink, such as is meat for men. As for her she sat over against divine Odysseus, and the handmaids placed by her ambrosia and nectar. So they put forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. But after they had taken their fill of meat and drink, Calypso, the fair goddess, spake first and said:
‘Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, so it is indeed thy wish to get thee home to thine own dear country even in this hour? Good fortune go with thee even so! Yet didst thou know in thine heart what a measure of suffering thou art ordained to fulfil, or ever thou reach thine own country, here, even here, thou wouldst abide with me and keep this house, and wouldst never taste of death, though thou longest to see thy wife, for whom thou hast ever a desire day by day. Not in sooth that I avow me to be less noble than she in form or fashion, for it is in no wise meet that mortal women should match them with immortals, in shape and comeliness.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered, and spake unto her: ‘Be not wroth with me hereat, goddess and queen. Myself I know it well, how wise Penelope is meaner to look upon than thou, in comeliness and stature. But she is mortal and thou knowest not age nor death. Yet even so, I wish and long day by day to fare homeward and see the day of my returning. Yea, and if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure, with a heart within me patient of affliction. For already have I suffered full much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war; let this be added to the tale of those.’
So spake he, and the sun sank and darkness came on. Then they twain went into the chamber of the hollow rock, and had their delight of love, abiding each by other.
So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, anon Odysseus put on him a mantle and doublet, and the nymph clad her in a great shining robe, light of woof and gracious, and about her waist she cast a fair golden girdle, and a veil withal upon her head. Then she considered of the sending of Odysseus, the great-hearted. She gave him a great axe, fitted to his grasp, an axe of bronze double-edged, and with a goodly handle of olive wood fastened well. Next she gave him a polished adze, and she led the way to the border of the isle where tall trees grew, alder and poplar, and pine that reacheth unto heaven, seasoned long since and sere, that might lightly float for him. Now after she had shown him where the tall trees grew, Calypso, the fair goddess, departed homeward. And he set to cutting timber, and his work went busily. Twenty trees in all he felled, and then trimmed them with the axe of bronze, and deftly smoothed them, and over them made straight the line. Meanwhile Calypso, the fair goddess, brought him augers, so he bored each piece and jointed them together, and then made all fast with trenails and dowels. Wide as is the floor of a broad ship of burden, which some man well skilled in carpentry may trace him out, of such beam did Odysseus fashion his broad raft. And thereat he wrought, and set up the deckings, fitting them to the close-set uprights, and finished them off with long gunwales, and there he set a mast, and a yard-arm fitted thereto, and moreover he made him a rudder to guide the craft. And he fenced it with wattled osier withies from stem to stern, to be a bulwark against the wave, and piled up wood to back them. Meanwhile Calypso, the fair goddess, brought him web of cloth to make him sails; and these too he fashioned very skilfully. And he made fast therein braces and halyards and sheets, and at last he pushed the raft with levers down to the fair salt sea.
It was the fourth day when he had accomplished all. And, lo, on the fifth, the fair Calypso sent him on his way from the island, when she had bathed him and clad him in fragrant attire. Moreover, the goddess placed on board the ship two skins, one of dark wine, and another, a great one, of water, and corn too in a wallet, and she set therein a store of dainties to his heart’s desire, and sent forth a warm and gentle wind to blow. And goodly Odysseus rejoiced as he set his sails to the breeze. So he sate and cunningly guided the craft with the helm, nor did sleep fall upon his eyelids, as he viewed the Pleiads and Bootes, that setteth late, and the Bear, which they likewise call the Wain, which turneth ever in one place, and keepeth watch upon Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. This star, Calypso, the fair goddess, bade him to keep ever on the left as he traversed the deep. Ten days and seven he sailed traversing the deep, and on the eighteenth day appeared the shadowy hills of the land of the Phaeacians, at the point where it lay nearest to him; and it showed like a shield in the misty deep.
Now the lord, the shaker of the earth, on his way from the Ethiopians espied him afar off from the mountains of the Solymi: even thence he saw Odysseus as he sailed over the deep; and he was mightily angered in spirit, and shaking his head he communed with his own heart. ‘Lo now, it must be that the gods at the last have changed their purpose concerning Odysseus, while I was away among the Ethiopians. And now he is nigh to the Phaeacian land, where it is ordained that he escape the great issues of the woe which hath come upon him. But, methinks, that even yet I will drive him far enough in the path of suffering.’
With that he gathered the clouds and troubled the waters of the deep, grasping his trident in his hands; and he roused all storms of all manner of winds, and shrouded in clouds the land and sea: and down sped night from heaven. The East Wind and the South Wind clashed, and the stormy West, and the North, that is born in the bright air, rolling onward a great wave. Then were the knees of Odysseus loosened and his heart melted, and heavily he spake to his own great spirit:
‘Oh, wretched man that I am! what is to befal me at the last? I fear that indeed the goddess spake all things truly, who said that I should fill up the measure of sorrow on the deep, or ever I came to mine own country; and lo, all these things have an end. In such wise doth Zeus crown the wide heaven with clouds, and hath troubled the deep, and the blasts rush on of all the winds; yea, now is utter doom assured me. Thrice blessed those Danaans, yea, four times blessed, who perished on a time in wide Troy-land, doing a pleasure to the sons of Atreus! Would to God that I too had died, and met my fate on that day when the press of Trojans cast their bronze-shod spears upon me, fighting for the body of the son of Peleus! So should I have gotten my dues of burial, and the Achaeans would have spread my fame; but now it is my fate to be overtaken by a pitiful death.’
Even as he spake, the great wave smote down upon him, driving on in terrible wise, that the raft reeled again. And far therefrom he fell, and lost the helm from his hand; and the fierce blast of the jostling winds came and brake his mast in the midst, and sail and yard-arm fell afar into the deep. Long time the water kept him under, nor could he speedily rise from beneath the rush of the mighty wave: for the garments hung heavy which fair Calypso gave him. But late and at length he came up, and spat forth from his mouth the bitter salt water, which ran down in streams from his head. Yet even so forgat he not his raft, for all his wretched plight, but made a spring after it in the waves, and clutched it to him, and sat in the midst thereof, avoiding the issues of death; and the great wave swept it hither and thither along the stream. And as the North Wind in the harvest tide sweeps the thistle-down along the plain, and close the tufts cling each to other, even so the winds bare the raft hither and thither along the main. Now the South would toss it to the North to carry, and now again the East would yield it to the West to chase.
But the daughter of Cadmus marked him, Ino of the fair ankles, Leucothea, who in time past was a maiden of mortal speech, but now in the depths of the salt sea she had gotten her share of worship from the gods. She took pity on Odysseus in his wandering and travail, and she rose, like a sea-gull on the wing, from the depth of the mere, and sat upon the well-bound raft and spake saying:
‘Hapless one, wherefore was Poseidon, shaker of the earth, so wondrous wroth with thee, seeing that he soweth for thee the seeds of many evils? Yet shall he not make a full end of thee, for all his desire. But do even as I tell thee, and methinks thou art not witless. Cast off these garments, and leave the raft to drift before the winds, but do thou swim with thine hands and strive to win a footing on the coast [[12|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 12]] of the Phaeacians, where it is decreed that thou escape. Here, take this veil imperishable and wind it about thy breast; so is there no fear that thou suffer aught or perish. But when thou hast laid hold of the mainland with thy hands, loose it from off thee and cast it into the wine-dark deep far from the land, and thyself turn away.’
With that the goddess gave the veil, and for her part dived back into the heaving deep, like a sea-gull: and the dark wave closed over her. But the steadfast goodly Odysseus pondered, and heavily he spake to his own brave spirit:
‘Ah, woe is me! Can it be that some one of the immortals is weaving a new snare for me, that she bids me quit my raft? Nay verily, I will not yet obey, for I had sight of the shore yet a long way off, where she told me that I might escape. I am resolved what I will do; — and methinks on this wise it is best. So long as the timbers abide in the dowels, so long will I endure steadfast in affliction, but so soon as the wave hath shattered my raft asunder, I will swim, for meanwhile no better counsel may be.’
While yet he pondered these things in his heart and soul, Poseidon, shaker of the earth, stirred against him a great wave, terrible and grievous, and vaulted from the crest, and therewith smote him. And as when a great tempestuous wind tosseth a heap of parched husks, and scatters them this way and that, even so did the wave scatter the long beams of the raft. But Odysseus bestrode a single beam, as one rideth on a courser, and stript him of the garments which fair Calypso gave him. And presently he wound the veil beneath his breast, and fell prone into the sea, outstretching his hands as one eager to swim. And the lord, the shaker of the earth, saw him and shook his head, and communed with his own soul. ‘Even so, after all thy sufferings, go wandering over the deep, till thou shalt come among a people, the fosterlings of Zeus. Yet for all that I deem not that thou shalt think thyself too lightly afflicted.’ Therewith he lashed his steeds of the flowing manes, and came to Aegae, where is his lordly home.
But Athene, daughter of Zeus, turned to new thoughts. Behold, she bound up the courses of the other winds, and charged them all to cease and be still; but she roused the swift North and brake the waves before him, that so Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, might mingle with the Phaeacians, lovers of the oar, avoiding death and the fates.
So for two nights and two days he was wandering in the swell of the sea, and much his heart boded of death. But when at last the fair-tressed Dawn brought the full light of the third day, thereafter the breeze fell, and lo, there was a breathless calm, and with a quick glance ahead, (he being upborne on a great wave,) he saw the land very near. And even as when most welcome to his children is the sight of a father’s life, who lies in sickness and strong pains long wasting away, some angry god assailing him; and to their delight the gods have loosed him from his trouble; so welcome to Odysseus showed land and wood; and he swam onward being eager to set foot on the strand. But when he was within earshot of the shore, and heard now the thunder of the sea against the reefs — for the great wave crashed against the dry land belching in terrible wise, and all was covered with foam of the sea — for there were no harbours for ships nor shelters, but jutting headlands and reefs and cliffs; then at last the knees of Odysseus were loosened and his heart melted, and in heaviness he spake to his own brave spirit:
‘Ah me! now that beyond all hope Zeus hath given me sight of land, and withal I have cloven my way through this gulf of the sea, here there is no place to land on from out of the grey water. For without are sharp crags, and round them the wave roars surging, and sheer the smooth rock rises, and the sea is deep thereby, so that in no wise may I find firm foothold and escape my bane, for as I fain would go ashore, the great wave may haply snatch and dash me on the jagged rock — and a wretched endeavour that would be. But if I swim yet further along the coast to find, if I may, spits that take the waves aslant and havens of the sea, I fear lest the storm-winds catch me again and bear me over the teeming deep, making heavy moan; or else some god may even send forth against me a monster from out of the shore water; and many such pastureth the renowned Amphitrite. For I know how wroth against me hath been the great Shaker of the Earth.’
Whilst yet he pondered these things in his heart and mind, a great wave bore him to the rugged shore. There would he have been stript of his skin and all his bones been broken, but that the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, put a thought into his heart. He rushed in, and with both his hands clutched the rock, whereto he clung till the great wave went by. So he escaped that peril, but again with backward wash it leapt on him and smote him and cast him forth into the deep. And as when the cuttlefish is dragged forth from his chamber, the many pebbles clinging to his suckers, even so was the skin stript from his strong hand against the rocks, and the great wave closed over him. There of a truth would luckless Odysseus have perished beyond that which was ordained, had not grey-eyed Athene given him sure counsel. He rose from the line of the breakers that belch upon the shore, and swam outside, ever looking landwards, to find, if he might, spits that take the waves aslant, and havens of the sea. But when he came in his swimming over against the mouth of a fair-flowing river, whereby the place seemed best in his eyes, smooth of rocks, and withal there was a covert from the wind, Odysseus felt the river running, and prayed to him in his heart:
‘Hear me, O king, whosoever thou art; unto thee am I come, as to one to whom prayer is made, while I flee the rebukes of Poseidon from the deep. Yea, reverend even to the deathless gods is that man who comes as a wanderer, even as I now have come to thy stream and to thy knees after much travail. Nay pity me, O king; for I avow myself thy suppliant.’
So spake he, and the god straightway stayed his stream and withheld his waves, and made the water smooth before him, and brought him safely to the mouths of the river. And his knees bowed and his stout hands fell, for his heart was broken by the brine. And his flesh was all swollen and a great stream of sea water gushed up through his mouth and nostrils. So he lay without breath or speech, swooning, such terrible weariness came upon him. But when now his breath returned and his spirit came to him again, he loosed from off him the veil of the goddess, and let it fall into the salt flowing river. And the great wave bare it back down the stream, and lightly Ino caught it in her hands. Then Odysseus turned from the river, and fell back in the reeds, and kissed earth, the grain-giver, and heavily he spake unto his own brave spirit:
‘Ah, woe is me! What is to betide me? What shall happen unto me at the last? If I watch the river bed all through the careful night, I fear that the bitter frost and fresh dew may overcome me, as I breathe forth my life for faintness, for the river breeze blows cold betimes in the morning. But if I climb the hill-side up to the shady wood, and there take rest in the thickets, though perchance the cold and weariness leave hold of me, and sweet sleep may come over me, I fear lest of wild beasts I become the spoil and prey.’
So as he thought thereon this seemed to him the better way. He went up to the wood, and found it nigh the water in a place of wide prospect. So he crept beneath twin bushes that grew from one stem, both olive trees, one of them wild olive. Through these the force of the wet winds blew never, neither did the bright sun light on it with his rays, nor could the rain pierce through, so close were they twined either to other; and thereunder crept Odysseus and anon he heaped together with his hands a broad couch; for of fallen leaves there was great plenty, enough to cover two or three men in winter time, however hard the weather. And the steadfast goodly Odysseus beheld it and rejoiced, and he laid him in the midst thereof and flung over him the fallen leaves. And as when a man hath hidden away a brand in the black embers at an upland farm, one that hath no neighbours nigh, and so saveth the seed of fire, that he may not have to seek a light otherwhere, even so did Odysseus cover him with the leaves. And Athene shed sleep upon his eyes, that so it might soon release him from his weary travail, overshadowing his eyelids.
Nausicaa, going to a river near that place to wash the clothes of her father, mother, and brethren, while the clothes were drying played with her maids at ball; and Odysseus coming forth is fed and clothed, and led on his way to the house of her father, King Alcinous.
So there he lay asleep, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, fordone with toil and drowsiness. Meanwhile Athene went to the land and the city of the Phaeacians, who of old, upon a time, dwelt in spacious Hypereia; near the Cyclopes they dwelt, men exceeding proud, who harried them continually, being mightier than they. Thence the godlike Nausithous made them depart, and he carried them away, and planted them in Scheria, far off from men that live by bread. And he drew a wall around the town, and builded houses and made temples for the gods and meted out the fields. Howbeit ere this had he been stricken by fate, and had gone down to the house of Hades, and now Alcinous was reigning, with wisdom granted by the gods. To his house went the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, devising a return for the great-hearted Odysseus. She betook her to the rich-wrought bower, wherein was sleeping a maiden like to the gods in form and comeliness, Nausicaa, the daughter of Alcinous, high of heart. Beside her on either hand of the pillars of the door were two handmaids, dowered with beauty from the Graces, and the shining doors were shut.
But the goddess, fleet as the breath of the wind, swept towards the couch of the maiden, and stood above her head, and spake to her in the semblance of the daughter of a famous seafarer, Dymas, a girl of like age with Nausicaa, who had found grace in her sight. In her shape the grey-eyed Athene spake to the princess, saying:
‘Nausicaa, how hath thy mother so heedless a maiden to her daughter? Lo, thou hast shining raiment that lies by thee uncared for, and thy marriage day is near at hand, when thou thyself must needs go beautifully clad, and have garments to give to them who shall lead thee to the house of the bridegroom! And, behold, these are the things whence a good report goes abroad among men, wherein a father and lady mother take delight. But come, let us arise and go a-washing with the breaking of the day, and I will follow with thee to be thy mate in the toil, that without delay thou mayst get thee ready, since truly thou art not long to be a maiden. Lo, already they are wooing thee, the noblest youths of all the Phaeacians, among that people whence thou thyself dost draw thy lineage. So come, beseech thy noble father betimes in the morning to furnish thee with mules and a wain to carry the men’s raiment, and the robes, and the shining coverlets. Yea and for thyself it is seemlier far to go thus than on foot, for the places where we must wash are a great way off the town.’
So spake the grey-eyed Athene, and departed to Olympus, where, as they say, is the seat of the gods that standeth fast for ever. Not by winds is it shaken, nor ever wet with rain, nor doth the snow come nigh thereto, but most clear air is spread about it cloudless, and the white light floats over it. Therein the blessed gods are glad for all their days, and thither Athene went when she had shown forth all to the maiden.
Anon came the throned Dawn, and awakened Nausicaa of the fair robes, who straightway marvelled on the dream, and went through the halls to tell her parents, her father dear and her mother. And she found them within, her mother sitting by the hearth with the women her handmaids, spinning yarn of sea-purple stain, but her father she met as he was going forth to the renowned kings in their council, whither the noble Phaeacians called him. Standing close by her dear father she spake, saying: ‘Father, dear, couldst thou not lend me a high waggon with strong wheels, that I may take the goodly raiment to the river to wash, so much as I have lying soiled? Yea and it is seemly that thou thyself, when thou art with the princes in council, shouldest have fresh raiment to wear. Also, there are five dear sons of thine in the halls, two married, but three are lusty bachelors, and these are always eager for new-washen garments wherein to go to the dances; for all these things have I taken thought.’
This she said, because she was ashamed to speak of glad marriage to her father; but he saw all and answered, saying:
‘Neither the mules nor aught else do I grudge thee, my child. Go thy ways, and the thralls shall get thee ready a high waggon with good wheels, and fitted with an upper frame.’
Therewith he called to his men, and they gave ear, and without the palace they made ready the smooth-running mule-wain, and led the mules beneath the yoke, and harnessed them under the car, while the maiden brought forth from her bower the shining raiment. This she stored in the polished car, and her mother filled a basket with all manner of food to the heart’s desire, dainties too she set therein, and she poured wine into a goat-skin bottle, while Nausicaa climbed into the wain. And her mother gave her soft olive oil also in a golden cruse, that she and her maidens might anoint themselves after the bath. Then Nausicaa took the whip and the shining reins, and touched the mules to start them; then there was a clatter of hoofs, and on they strained without flagging, with their load of the raiment and the maiden. Not alone did she go, for her attendants followed with her.
Now when they were come to the beautiful stream of the river, where truly were the unfailing cisterns, and bright water welled up free from beneath, and flowed past, enough to wash the foulest garments clean, there the girls unharnessed the mules from under the chariot, and turning them loose they drove them along the banks of the eddying river to graze on the honey-sweet clover. Then they took the garments from the wain, in their hands, and bore them to the black water, and briskly trod them down in the trenches, in busy rivalry. Now when they had washed and cleansed all the stains, they spread all out in order along the shore of the deep, even where the sea, in beating on the coast, washed the pebbles clean. Then having bathed and anointed them well with olive oil, they took their mid-day meal on the river’s banks, waiting till the clothes should dry in the brightness of the sun. Anon, when they were satisfied with food, the maidens and the princess, they fell to playing at ball, casting away their tires, and among them Nausicaa of the white arms began the song. And even as Artemis, the archer, moveth down the mountain, either along the ridges of lofty Taygetus or Erymanthus, taking her pastime in the chase of boars and swift deer, and with her the wild wood-nymphs disport them, the daughters of Zeus, lord of the aegis, and Leto is glad at heart, while high over all she rears her head and brows, and easily may she be known — but all are fair; even so the girl unwed outshone her maiden company.
But when now she was about going homewards, after yoking the mules and folding up the goodly raiment, then grey-eyed Athene turned to other thoughts, that so Odysseus might awake, and see the lovely maiden, who should be his guide to the city of the Phaeacian men. So then the princess threw the ball at one of her company; she missed the girl, and cast the ball into the deep eddying current, whereat they all raised a piercing cry. Then the goodly Odysseus awoke and sat up, pondering in his heart and spirit:
‘Woe is me! to what men’s land am I come now? say, are they froward, and wild, and unjust, or are they hospitable, and of God-fearing mind? How shrill a cry of maidens rings round me, of the nymphs that hold the steep hill-tops, and the river-springs, and the grassy water meadows! It must be, methinks, that I am near men of human speech. Go to, I myself will make trial and see.’
Therewith the goodly Odysseus crept out from under the coppice, having broken with his strong hand a leafy bough from the thick wood, to hold athwart his body, that it might hide his nakedness withal. And forth he sallied like a lion mountain-bred, trusting in his strength, who fares out blown and rained upon, with flaming eyes; amid the kine he goes or amid the sheep or in the track of the wild deer; yea, his belly bids him go even to the good homestead to make assay upon the flocks. Even so Odysseus was fain to draw nigh to the fair-tressed maidens, all naked as he was, such need had come upon him. But he was terrible in their eyes, being marred with the salt sea foam, and they fled cowering here and there about the jutting spits of shore. And the daughter of Alcinous alone stood firm, for Athene gave her courage of heart, and took all trembling from her limbs. So she halted and stood over against him, and Odysseus considered whether he should clasp the knees of the lovely maiden, and so make his prayer, or should stand as he was, apart, and beseech her with smooth words, if haply she might show him the town, and give him raiment. And as he thought within himself, it seemed better to stand apart, and beseech her with smooth words, lest the maiden should be angered with him if he touched her knees: so straightway he spake a sweet and cunning word:
‘I supplicate thee, O queen, whether thou art a goddess or a mortal! If indeed thou art a goddess of them that keep the wide heaven; to Artemis, then, the daughter of great Zeus, I mainly liken thee, for beauty and stature and shapeliness. But if thou art one of the daughters of men who dwell on earth, thrice blessed are thy father and thy lady mother, and thrice blessed thy brethren. Surely their souls ever glow with gladness for thy sake, each time they see thee entering the dance, so fair a flower of maidens. But he is of heart the most blessed beyond all other who shall prevail with gifts of wooing, and lead thee to his home. Never have mine eyes beheld such an one among mortals, neither man nor woman; great awe comes upon me as I look on thee. Yet in Delos once I saw as goodly a thing: a young sapling of a palm tree springing by the altar of Apollo. For thither too I went, and much people with me, on that path where my sore troubles were to be. Yea, and when I looked thereupon, long time I marvelled in spirit — for never grew there yet so goodly a shoot from ground — even in such wise as I wonder at thee, lady, and am astonied and do greatly fear to touch thy knees, though grievous sorrow is upon me. Yesterday, on the twentieth day, I escaped from the wine-dark deep, but all that time continually the wave bare me, and the vehement winds drave, from the isle Ogygia. And now some god has cast me on this shore, that here too, methinks, some evil may betide me; for I trow not that trouble will cease; the gods ere that time will yet bring many a thing to pass. But, queen, have pity on me, for after many trials and sore to thee first of all am I come, and of the other folk, who hold this city and land, I know no man. Nay show me the town, give me an old garment to cast about me, if thou hadst, when thou camest here, any wrap for the linen. And may the gods grant thee all thy heart’s desire: a husband and a home, and a mind at one with his may they give — a good gift, for there is nothing mightier and nobler than when man and wife are of one heart and mind in a house, a grief to their foes, and to their friends great joy, but their own hearts know it best.’
Then Nausicaa of the white arms answered him, and said: ‘Stranger, forasmuch as thou seemest no evil man nor foolish — and it is Olympian Zeus himself that giveth weal to men, to the good and to the evil, to each one as he will, and this thy lot doubtless is of him, and so thou must in anywise endure it:— and now, since thou hast come to our city and our land, thou shalt not lack raiment, nor aught else that is the due of a hapless suppliant, when he has met them who can befriend him. And I will show thee the town, and name the name of the people. The Phaeacians hold this city and land, and I am the daughter of Alcinous, great of heart, on whom all the might and force of the Phaeacians depend.’
Thus she spake, and called to her maidens of the fair tresses: ‘Halt, my maidens, whither flee ye at the sight of a man? Ye surely do not take him for an enemy? That mortal breathes not, and never will be born, who shall come with war to the land of the Phaeacians, for they are very dear to the gods. Far apart we live in the wash of the waves, the outermost of men, and no other mortals are conversant with us. Nay, but this man is some helpless one come hither in his wanderings, whom now we must kindly entreat, for all strangers and beggars are from Zeus, and a little gift is dear. So, my maidens, give the stranger meat and drink, and bathe him in the river, where withal is a shelter from the winds.’
So she spake, but they had halted and called each to the other, and they brought Odysseus to the sheltered place, and made him sit down, as Nausicaa bade them, the daughter of Alcinous, high of heart. Beside him they laid a mantle, and a doublet for raiment, and gave him soft olive oil in the golden cruse, and bade him wash in the streams of the river. Then goodly Odysseus spake among the maidens, saying: ‘I pray you stand thus apart, while I myself wash the brine from my shoulders, and anoint me with olive oil, for truly oil is long a stranger to my skin. But in your sight I will not bathe, for I am ashamed to make me naked in the company of fair-tressed maidens.’
Then they went apart and told all to their lady. But with the river water the goodly Odysseus washed from his skin the salt scurf that covered his back and broad shoulders, and from his head he wiped the crusted brine of the barren sea. But when he had washed his whole body, and anointed him with olive oil, and had clad himself in the raiment that the unwedded maiden gave him, then Athene, the daughter of Zeus, made him greater and more mighty to behold, and from his head caused deep curling locks to flow, like the hyacinth flower. And as when some skilful man overlays gold upon silver — one that Hephaestus and Pallas Athene have taught all manner of craft, and full of grace is his handiwork — even so did Athene shed grace about his head and shoulders.
Then to the shore of the sea went Odysseus apart, and sat down, glowing in beauty and grace, and the princess marvelled at him, and spake among her fair-tressed maidens, saying:
‘Listen, my white-armed maidens, and I will say somewhat. Not without the will of all the gods who hold Olympus hath this man come among the godlike Phaeacians. Erewhile he seemed to me uncomely, but now he is like the gods that keep the wide heaven. Would that such an one might be called my husband, dwelling here, and that it might please him here to abide! But come, my maidens, give the stranger meat and drink.’
Thus she spake, and they gave ready ear and hearkened, and set beside Odysseus meat and drink, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus did eat and drink eagerly, for it was long since he had tasted food.
Now Nausicaa of the white arms had another thought. She folded the raiment and stored it in the goodly wain, and yoked the mules strong of hoof, and herself climbed into the car. Then she called on Odysseus, and spake and hailed him: ‘Up now, stranger, and rouse thee to go to the city, that I may convey thee to the house of my wise father, where, I promise thee, thou shalt get knowledge of all the noblest of the Phaeacians. But do thou even as I tell thee, and thou seemest a discreet man enough. So long as we are passing along the fields and farms of men, do thou fare quickly with the maidens behind the mules and the chariot, and I will lead the way. But when we set foot within the city — whereby goes a high wall with towers, and there is a fair haven on either side of the town, and narrow is the entrance, and curved ships are drawn up on either hand of the mole, for all the folk have stations for their vessels, each man one for himself. And there is the place of assembly about the goodly temple of Poseidon, furnished with heavy stones, deep bedded in the earth. There men look to the gear of the black ships, hawsers and sails, and there they fine down the oars. For the Phaeacians care not for bow nor quiver, but for masts, and oars of ships, and gallant barques, wherein rejoicing they cross the grey sea. Their ungracious speech it is that I would avoid, lest some man afterward rebuke me, and there are but too many insolent folk among the people. And some one of the baser sort might meet me and say: “Who is this that goes with Nausicaa, this tall and goodly stranger? Where found she him? Her husband he will be, her very own. Either she has taken in some shipwrecked wanderer of strange men — for no men dwell near us; or some god has come in answer to her instant prayer; from heaven has he descended, and will have her to wife for evermore. Better so, if herself she has ranged abroad and found a lord from a strange land, for verily she holds in no regard the Phaeacians here in this country, the many men and noble who are her wooers.” So will they speak, and this would turn to my reproach. Yea, and I myself would think it blame of another maiden who did such things in despite of her friends, her father and mother being still alive, and was conversant with men before the day of open wedlock. But, stranger, heed well what I say, that as soon as may be thou mayest gain at my father’s hands an escort and a safe return. Thou shalt find a fair grove of Athene, a poplar grove near the road, and a spring wells forth therein, and a meadow lies all around. There is my father’s demesne, and his fruitful close, within the sound of a man’s shout from the city. Sit thee down there and wait until such time as we may have come into the city, and reached the house of my father. But when thou deemest that we are got to the palace, then go up to the city of the Phaeacians, and ask for the house of my father Alcinous, high of heart. It is easily known, and a young child could be thy guide, for nowise like it are builded the houses of the Phaeacians, so goodly is the palace of the hero Alcinous. But when thou art within the shadow of the halls and the court, pass quickly through the great chamber, till thou comest to my mother, who sits at the hearth in the light of the fire, weaving yarn of sea-purple stain, a wonder to behold. Her chair is leaned against a pillar, and her maidens sit behind her. And there my father’s throne leans close to hers, wherein he sits and drinks his wine, like an immortal. Pass thou by him, and cast thy hands about my mother’s knees, that thou mayest see quickly and with joy the day of thy returning, even if thou art from a very far country. If but her heart be kindly disposed toward thee, then is there hope that thou shalt see thy friends, and come to thy well-builded house, and to thine own country.’
She spake, and smote the mules with the shining whip, and quickly they left behind them the streams of the river. And well they trotted and well they paced, and she took heed to drive in such wise that the maidens and Odysseus might follow on foot, and cunningly she plied the lash. Then the sun set, and they came to the famous grove, the sacred place of Athene; so there the goodly Odysseus sat him down. Then straightway he prayed to the daughter of mighty Zeus: ‘Listen to me, child of Zeus, lord of the aegis, unwearied maiden; hear me even now, since before thou heardest not when I was smitten on the sea, when the renowned Earth-shaker smote me. Grant me to come to the Phaeacians as one dear, and worthy of pity.’
So he spake in prayer, and Pallas Athene heard him; but she did not yet appear to him face to face, for she had regard unto her father’s brother, who furiously raged against the godlike Odysseus, till he should come to his own country.
Odysseus being received at the house of the king Alcinous, the queen after supper, taking notice of his garments, gives him occasion to relate his passage thither on the raft. Alcinous promises him a convoy for the morrow.
So he prayed there, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, while the two strong mules bare the princess to the town. And when she had now come to the famous palace of her father, she halted at the gateway, and round her gathered her brothers, men like to the immortals, and they loosed the mules from under the car, and carried the raiment within. But the maiden betook her to her chamber; and an aged dame from Aperaea kindled the fire for her, Eurymedusa, the handmaid of the chamber, whom the curved ships upon a time had brought from Aperaea; and men chose her as a prize for Alcinous, seeing that he bare rule over all the Phaeacians, and the people hearkened to him as to a god. She waited on the white-armed Nausicaa in the palace halls; she was wont to kindle the fire and prepare the supper in the inner chamber.
At that same hour Odysseus roused him to go to the city, and Athene shed a deep mist about Odysseus for the favour that she bare him, lest any of the Phaeacians, high of heart, should meet him and mock him in sharp speech, and ask him who he was. But when he was now about to enter the pleasant city, then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, met him, in the fashion of a young maiden carrying a pitcher, and she stood over against him, and goodly Odysseus inquired of her:
‘My child, couldst thou not lead me to the palace of the lord Alcinous, who bears sway among this people? Lo, I am come here, a stranger travel-worn from afar, from a distant land; wherefore of the folk who possess this city and country I know not any man.’
Then the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, answered him saying: ‘Yea now, father and stranger, I will show thee the house that thou bidst me declare, for it lies near the palace of my noble father; behold, be silent as thou goest, and I will lead the way. And look on no man, nor question any. For these men do not gladly suffer strangers, nor lovingly entreat whoso cometh from a strange land. They trust to the speed of their swift ships, wherewith they cross the great gulf, for the Earth-shaker hath vouchsafed them this power. Their ships are swift as the flight of a bird, or as a thought.’
Therewith Pallas Athene led the way swiftly, and he followed hard in the footsteps of the goddess. And it came to pass that the Phaeacians, mariners renowned, marked him not as he went down the city through their midst, for the fair tressed Athene suffered it not, that awful goddess, who shed a wondrous mist about him, for the favour that she bare him in her heart. And Odysseus marvelled at the havens and the gallant ships, yea and the places of assembly of the heroes, and the long high walls crowned with palisades, a marvel to behold. But when they had now come to the famous palace of the king, the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, spake first and said:
‘Lo, here, father and stranger, is the house that thou wouldst have me show thee: and thou shalt find kings at the feast, the fosterlings of Zeus; enter then, and fear not in thine heart, for the dauntless man is the best in every adventure, even though he come from a strange land. Thou shalt find the queen first in the halls; Arete is the name whereby men call her, and she came even of those that begat the king Alcinous. First Nausithous was son of Poseidon, the Earth-shaker, and of Periboea, the comeliest of women, youngest daughter of great-hearted Eurymedon, who once was king among the haughty Giants. Howbeit, he destroyed his infatuate people, and was himself destroyed; but Poseidon lay with Periboea and begat a son, proud Nausithous, who sometime was prince among the Phaeacians; and Nausithous begat Rhexenor and Alcinous. While Rhexenor had as yet no son, Apollo of the silver bow smote him, a groom new wed, leaving in his halls one only child Arete; and Alcinous took her to wife, and honoured her as no other woman in the world is honoured, of all that now-a-days keep house under the hand of their lords. Thus she hath, and hath ever had, all worship heartily from her dear children and from her lord Alcinous and from all the folk, who look on her as on a goddess, and greet her with reverend speech, when she goes about the town. Yea, for she too hath no lack of understanding. To whomso she shows favour, even if they be men, she ends their feuds. [[13|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 13]] If but her heart be kindly disposed to thee, then is there good hope that thou mayest see thy friends, and come to thy high-roofed home and thine own country.’
Therewith grey-eyed Athene departed over the unharvested seas, and left pleasant Scheria, and came to Marathon and wide-wayed Athens, and entered the good house of Erechtheus. Meanwhile Odysseus went to the famous palace of Alcinous, and his heart was full of many thoughts as he stood there or ever he had reached the threshold of bronze. For there was a gleam as it were of sun or moon through the high-roofed hall of great-hearted Alcinous. Brazen were the walls which ran this way and that from the threshold to the inmost chamber, and round them was a frieze of blue, and golden were the doors that closed in the good house. Silver were the door-posts that were set on the brazen threshold, and silver the lintel thereupon, and the hook of the door was of gold. And on either side stood golden hounds and silver, which Hephaestus wrought by his cunning, to guard the palace of great-hearted Alcinous, being free from death and age all their days. And within were seats arrayed against the wall this way and that, from the threshold even to the inmost chamber, and thereon were spread light coverings finely woven, the handiwork of women. There the Phaeacian chieftains were wont to sit eating and drinking, for they had continual store. Yea, and there were youths fashioned in gold, standing on firm-set bases, with flaming torches in their hands, giving light through the night to the feasters in the palace. And he had fifty handmaids in the house, and some grind the yellow grain on the millstone, and others weave webs and turn the yarn as they sit, restless as the leaves of the tall poplar tree: and the soft olive oil drops off that linen, so closely is it woven. For as the Phaeacian men are skilled beyond all others in driving a swift ship upon the deep, even so are the women the most cunning at the loom, for Athene hath given them notable wisdom in all fair handiwork and cunning wit. And without the courtyard hard by the door is a great garden, off our ploughgates, and a hedge runs round on either side. And there grow tall trees blossoming, pear-trees and pomegranates, and apple-trees with bright fruit, and sweet figs, and olives in their bloom. The fruit of these trees never perisheth neither faileth, winter nor summer, enduring through all the year. Evermore the West Wind blowing brings some fruits to birth and ripens others. Pear upon pear waxes old, and apple on apple, yea and cluster ripens upon cluster of the grape, and fig upon fig. There too hath he a fruitful vineyard planted, whereof the one part is being dried by the heat, a sunny plot on level ground, while other grapes men are gathering, and yet others they are treading in the wine-press. In the foremost row are unripe grapes that cast the blossom, and others there be that are growing black to vintaging. There too, skirting the furthest line, are all manner of garden beds, planted trimly, that are perpetually fresh, and therein are two fountains of water, whereof one scatters his streams all about the garden, and the other runs over against it beneath the threshold of the courtyard, and issues by the lofty house, and thence did the townsfolk draw water. These were the splendid gifts of the gods in the palace of Alcinous.
There the steadfast goodly Odysseus stood and gazed. But when he had gazed at all and wondered, he passed quickly over the threshold within the house. And he found the captains and the counsellors of the Phaeacians pouring forth wine to the keen-sighted god, the slayer of Argos; for to him they poured the last cup when they were minded to take rest. Now the steadfast goodly Odysseus went through the hall, clad in a thick mist, which Athene shed around him, till he came to Arete and the king Alcinous. And Odysseus cast his hands about the knees of Arete, and then it was that the wondrous mist melted from off him, and a silence fell on them that were within the house at the sight of him, and they marvelled as they beheld him. Then Odysseus began his prayer:
‘Arete, daughter of god-like Rhexenor, after many toils am I come to thy husband and to thy knees and to these guests, and may the gods vouchsafe them a happy life, and may each one leave to his children after him his substance in his halls and whatever dues of honour the people have rendered unto him. But speed, I pray you, my parting, that I may come the more quickly to mine own country, for already too long do I suffer affliction far from my friends.’
Therewith he sat him down by the hearth in the ashes at the fire, and behold, a dead silence fell on all. And at the last the ancient lord Echeneus spake among them, an elder of the Phaeacians, excellent in speech and skilled in much wisdom of old time. With good will he made harangue and spake among them:
‘Alcinous, this truly is not the more seemly way, nor is it fitting that the stranger should sit upon the ground in the ashes by the hearth, while these men refrain them, waiting thy word. Nay come, bid the stranger arise, and set him on a chair inlaid with silver, and command the henchmen to mix the wine, that we may pour forth likewise before Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, who attendeth upon reverend suppliants. And let the housewife give supper to the stranger out of such stores as be within.’
Now when the mighty king Alcinous heard this saying, he took Odysseus, the wise and crafty, by the hand, and raised him from the hearth, and set him on a shining chair, whence he bade his son give place, valiant Laodamas, who sat next him and was his dearest. And a handmaid bare water for the hands in a goodly golden ewer, and poured it forth over a silver basin to wash withal, and drew to his side a polished table. And a grave dame bare wheaten bread and set it by him and laid upon the board many dainties, giving freely of such things as she had by her. So the steadfast goodly Odysseus did eat and drink: and then the mighty Alcinous spake unto the henchman:
‘Pontonous, mix the bowl and serve out the wine to all in the hall, that we may pour forth likewise before Zeus, whose joy is in the thunder, who attendeth upon reverend suppliants.’
So spake he, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine, and served it out to all, when he had poured for libation into each cup in turn. But when they had poured forth and had drunken to their heart’s content, Alcinous made harangue and spake among them:
‘Hear me, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, that I may speak as my spirit bids me. Now that the feast is over, go ye home and lie down to rest; and in the morning we will call yet more elders together, and entertain the stranger in the halls and do fair sacrifice to the gods, and thereafter we will likewise bethink us of the convoy, that so without pain or grief yonder stranger may by our convoy reach his own country speedily and with joy, even though he be from very far away. So shall he suffer no hurt or harm in mid passage, ere he set foot on his own land; but thereafter he shall endure such things as Fate and the stern spinning women drew off the spindles for him at his birth when his mother bare him. But if he is some deathless god come down from heaven, then do the gods herein imagine some new device against us. For always heretofore the gods appear manifest amongst us, whensoever we offer glorious hecatombs, and they feast by our side, sitting at the same board; yea, and even if a wayfarer going all alone has met with them, they use no disguise, since we are near of kin to them, even as are the Cyclopes and the wild tribes of the Giants.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying: ‘Alcinous, that thought be far from thee! for I bear no likeness either in form or fashion to the deathless gods, who keep wide heaven, but to men that die. Whomsoever ye know of human kind the heaviest laden with sorrow, to them might I liken myself in my griefs. Yea, and I might tell of yet other woes, even the long tale of toil that by the gods’ will I endured. But as for me, suffer me to sup, afflicted as I am; for nought is there more shameless than a ravening belly, which biddeth a man perforce be mindful of him, though one be worn and sorrowful in spirit, even as I have sorrow of heart; yet evermore he biddeth me eat and drink and maketh me utterly to forget all my sufferings, and commandeth me to take my fill. But do ye bestir you at the breaking of the day, that so ye may set me, hapless as I am, upon my country’s soil, albeit after much suffering. Ah, and may life leave me when I have had sight of mine own possessions, my thralls, and my dwelling that is great and high!’
So spake he, and they all assented thereto, and bade send the stranger on his way, for that he had spoken aright. Now when they had poured forth and had drunken to their hearts’ content, they went each one to his house to lay them to rest. But goodly Odysseus was left behind in the hall, and by him sat Arete and godlike Alcinous; and the maids cleared away the furniture of the feast; and white-armed Arete first spake among them. For she knew the mantle and the doublet, when she saw the goodly raiment that she herself had wrought with the women her handmaids. So she uttered her voice and spake to him winged words:
‘Sir, I am bold to ask thee first of this. Who art thou of the sons of men, and whence? Who gave thee this raiment? Didst thou not say indeed that thou camest hither wandering over the deep?’
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered her, and said: ”Tis hard, O queen, to tell my griefs from end to end, for that the gods of heaven have given me griefs in plenty. But this will I declare to thee, whereof thou dost question and inquire. There is an isle, Ogygia, that lies far off in the sea; there dwells the daughter of Atlas, crafty Calypso, of the braided tresses, an awful goddess, nor is any either of gods or mortals conversant with her. Howbeit, some god brought me to her hearth, wretched man that I am, all alone, for that Zeus with white bolt crushed my swift ship and cleft it in the midst of the wine-dark deep. There all the rest of my good company was lost, but I clung with fast embrace about the keel of the curved ship, and so was I borne for nine whole days. And on the tenth dark night the gods brought me nigh the isle Ogygia, where Calypso of the braided tresses dwells, an awful goddess. She took me in, and with all care she cherished me and gave me sustenance, and said that she would make me to know not death nor age for all my days; but never did she win my heart within me. There I abode for seven years continually, and watered with my tears the imperishable raiment that Calypso gave me. But when the eighth year came round in his course, then at last she urged and bade me to be gone, by reason of a message from Zeus, or it may be that her own mind was turned. So she sent me forth on a well-bound raft, and gave me plenteous store, bread and sweet wine, and she clad me in imperishable raiment, and sent forth a warm and gentle wind to blow. For ten days and seven I sailed, traversing the deep, and on the eighteenth day the shadowy hills of your land showed in sight, and my heart was glad — wretched that I was — for surely I was still to be the mate of much sorrow. For Poseidon, shaker of the earth, stirred up the same, who roused against me the winds and stopped my way, and made a wondrous sea to swell, nor did the wave suffer me to be borne upon my raft, as I made ceaseless moan. Thus the storm winds shattered the raft, but as for me I cleft my way through the gulf yonder, till the wind bare and the water brought me nigh your coast. Then as I strove to land upon the shore, the wave had overwhelmed me, dashing me against the great rocks and a desolate place, but at length I gave way and swam back, till I came to the river, where the place seemed best in mine eyes, smooth of rocks, and withal there was a shelter from the wind. And as I came out I sank down, gathering to me my spirit, and immortal night came on. Then I gat me forth and away from the heaven-fed river, and laid me to sleep in the bushes and strewed leaves about me, and the god shed over me infinite sleep. There among the leaves I slept, stricken at heart, all the night long, even till the morning and mid-day. And the sun sank when sweet sleep let me free. And I was aware of the company of thy daughter disporting them upon the sand, and there was she in the midst of them like unto the goddesses. To her I made my supplication, and she showed no lack of a good understanding, behaving so as thou couldst not hope for in chancing upon one so young; for the younger folk lack wisdom always. She gave me bread enough and red wine, and let wash me in the river and bestowed on me these garments. Herein, albeit in sore distress, have I told thee all the truth.’
And Alcinous answered again, and spake saying: ‘Sir, surely this was no right thought of my daughter, in that she brought thee not to our house with the women her handmaids, though thou didst first entreat her grace.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered, and said unto him: ‘My lord, chide not, I pray thee, for this the blameless maiden. For indeed she bade me follow with her company, but I would not for fear and very shame, lest perchance thine heart might be clouded at the sight; for a jealous race upon the earth are we, the tribes of men.’
And Alcinous answered yet again, and spake saying: ‘Sir, my heart within me is not of such temper as to have been wroth without a cause: due measure in all things is best. Would to father Zeus, and Athene, and Apollo, would that so goodly a man as thou art, and like-minded with me, thou wouldst wed my daughter, and be called my son, here abiding: so would I give thee house and wealth, if thou wouldst stay of thine own will: but against thy will shall none of the Phaeacians keep thee: never be this well-pleasing in the eyes of father Zeus! And now I ordain an escort for thee on a certain day, that thou mayst surely know, and that day the morrow. Then shalt thou lay thee down overcome by sleep, and they the while shall smite the calm waters, till thou come to thy country and thy house, and whatsoever place is dear to thee, even though it be much farther than Euboea, which certain of our men say is the farthest of lands, they who saw it, when they carried Rhadamanthus, of the fair hair, to visit Tityos, son of Gaia. Even thither they went, and accomplished the journey on the self-same day and won home again, and were not weary. And now shalt thou know for thyself how far my ships are the best, and how my young men excel at tossing the salt water with the oar-blade.’
So spake he, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus rejoiced; and then he uttered a word in prayer, and called aloud to Zeus: ‘Father Zeus, oh that Alcinous may fulfil all that he hath said, so may his fame never be quenched upon the earth, the grain-giver, and I should come to mine own land!’
Thus they spake one to the other. And white-armed Arete bade her handmaids set out bedsteads beneath the gallery, and cast fair purple blankets over them, and spread coverlets above, and thereon lay thick mantles to be a clothing over all. So they went from the hall with torch in hand. But when they had busied them and spread the good bedstead, they stood by Odysseus and called unto him, saying:
‘Up now, stranger, and get thee to sleep, thy bed is made’
So spake they, and it seemed to him that rest was wondrous good. So he slept there, the steadfast goodly Odysseus, on the jointed bedstead, beneath the echoing gallery. But Alcinous laid him down in the innermost chamber of the high house, and by him the lady his wife arrayed bedstead and bedding.
The next day’s entertainment of Odysseus, where he sees them contend in wrestling and other exercises, and upon provocation took up a greater stone than that which they were throwing, and overthrew them all. Alcinous and the lords give him presents. And how the king asked his name, his country, and his adventures.
Now when early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, then the mighty king Alcinous gat him up from his bed; and Odysseus, of the seed of Zeus, likewise uprose, the waster of cities. And the mighty king Alcinous led the way to the assembly place of the Phaeacians, which they had established hard by the ships. So when they had come thither, and sat them down on the polished stones close by each other, Pallas Athene went on her way through the town, in the semblance of the herald of wise Alcinous, devising a return for the great-hearted Odysseus. Then standing by each man she spake, saying:
‘Hither now get ye to the assembly, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, that ye may learn concerning the stranger, who hath lately come to the palace of wise Alcinous, in his wanderings over the deep, and his form is like the deathless gods.’
Therewith she aroused the spirit and desire of each one, and speedily the meeting-places and seats were filled with men that came to the gathering: yea, and many an one marvelled at the sight of the wise son of Laertes, for wondrous was the grace Athene poured upon his head and shoulders, and she made him greater and more mighty to behold, that he might win love and worship and honour among all the Phaeacians, and that he might accomplish many feats, wherein the Phaeacians made trial of Odysseus. Now when they were gathered and come together, Alcinous made harangue and spake among them:
‘Harken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and I will say that which my spirit within me bids me utter. This stranger, I know not who he is, hath come to my house in his wandering, whether from the men of the dawning or the westward, and he presses for a convoy, and prays that it be assured to him. So let us, as in time past, speed on the convoy. For never, nay never, doth any man who cometh to my house, abide here long in sorrow for want of help upon his way. Nay, come let us draw down a black ship to the fair salt sea, for her first voyage, and let them choose fifty and two noble youths throughout the township, who have been proved heretofore the best. And when ye have made fast the oars upon the benches, step all a shore, and thereafter come to our house, and quickly fall to feasting; and I will make good provision for all. To the noble youths I give this commandment; but ye others, sceptred kings, come to my fair dwelling, that we may entertain the stranger in the halls, and let no man make excuse. Moreover, bid hither the divine minstrel, Demodocus, for the god hath given minstrelsy to him as to none other, to make men glad in what way soever his spirit stirs him to sing.’
He spake and led the way, and the sceptred kings accompanied him, while the henchmen went for the divine minstrel. And chosen youths, fifty and two, departed at his command, to the shore of the unharvested sea. But after they had gone down to the ship and to the sea, first of all they drew the ship down to the deep water, and placed the mast and sails in the black ship, and fixed the oars in leathern loops, all orderly, and spread forth the white sails. And they moored her high out in the shore water, and thereafter went on their way to the great palace of the wise Alcinous. Now the galleries and the courts and the rooms were thronged with men that came to the gathering, for there were many, young and old. Then Alcinous sacrificed twelve sheep among them, and eight boars with flashing tusks, and two oxen with trailing feet. These they flayed and made ready, and dressed a goodly feast.
Then the henchman drew near, leading with him the beloved minstrel, whom the muse loved dearly, and she gave him both good and evil; of his sight she reft him, but granted him sweet song. Then Pontonous, the henchman, set for him a high chair inlaid with silver, in the midst of the guests, leaning it against the tall pillar, and he hung the loud lyre on a pin, close above his head, and showed him how to lay his hands on it. And close by him he placed a basket, and a fair table, and a goblet of wine by his side, to drink when his spirit bade him. So they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer spread before them. But after they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, the Muse stirred the minstrel to sing the songs of famous men, even that lay whereof the fame had then reached the wide heaven, namely, the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus; how once on a time they contended in fierce words at a rich festival of the gods, but Agamemnon, king of men, was inly glad when the noblest of the Achaeans fell at variance. For so Phoebus Apollo in his soothsaying had told him that it must be, in goodly Pytho, what time he crossed the threshold of stone, to seek to the oracle. For in those days the first wave of woe was rolling on Trojans and Danaans through the counsel of great Zeus.
This song it was that the famous minstrel sang; but Odysseus caught his great purple cloak with his stalwart hands, and drew it down over his head, and hid his comely face, for he was ashamed to shed tears beneath his brows in presence of the Phaeacians. Yea, and oft as the divine minstrel paused in his song, Odysseus would wipe away the tears, and draw the cloak from off his head, and take the two-handled goblet and pour forth before the gods. But whensoever he began again, and the chiefs of the Phaeacians stirred him to sing, in delight at the lay, again would Odysseus cover up his head and make moan. Now none of all the company marked him weeping, but Alcinous alone noted it and was ware thereof as he sat by him and heard him groaning heavily. And presently he spake among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar:
‘Hearken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, now have our souls been satisfied with the good feast, and with the lyre, which is the mate of the rich banquet. Let us go forth anon, and make trial of divers games, that the stranger may tell his friends, when home he returneth, how greatly we excel all men in boxing, and wrestling, and leaping, and speed of foot.’
He spake, and led the way, and they went with him. And the henchman hung the loud lyre on the pin, and took the hand of Demodocus, and let him forth from the hall, and guided him by the same way, whereby those others, the chiefs of the Phaeacians, had gone to gaze upon the games. So they went on their way to the place of assembly, and with them a great company innumerable; and many a noble youth stood up to play. There rose Acroneus, and Ocyalus, and Elatreus, and Nauteus, and Prymneus, and Anchialus, and Eretmeus, and Ponteus, and Proreus, Thoon, and Anabesineus, and Amphialus, son of Polyneus, son of Tekton, and likewise Euryalus, the peer of murderous Ares, the son of Naubolus, who in face and form was goodliest of all the Phaeacians next to noble Laodamas. And there stood up the three sons of noble Alcinous, Laodamas, and Halius, and god-like Clytoneus. And behold, these all first tried the issue in the foot race. From the very start they strained at utmost speed: and all together they flew forward swiftly, raising the dust along the plain. And noble Clytoneus was far the swiftest of them all in running, and by the length of the furrow that mules cleave in a fallow field, [[14|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 14]] so far did he shoot to the front, and came to the crowd by the lists, while those others were left behind. Then they made trial of strong wrestling, and here in turn Euryalus excelled all the best. And in leaping Amphialus was far the foremost, and Elatreus in weight-throwing, and in boxing Laodamas, the good son of Alcinous. Now when they had all taken their pleasure in the games, Laodamas, son of Alcinous, spake among them:
‘Come, my friends, let us ask the stranger whether he is skilled or practised in any sport. Ill fashioned, at least, he is not in his thighs and sinewy legs and hands withal, and his stalwart neck and mighty strength: yea and he lacks not youth, but is crushed by many troubles. For I tell thee there is nought else worse than the sea to confound a man, how hardy soever he may be.’
And Euryalus in turn made answer, and said: ‘Laodamas, verily thou hast spoken this word in season. Go now thyself and challenge him, and declare thy saying.’
Now when the good son of Alcinous heard this, he went and stood in the midst, and spake unto Odysseus: ‘Come, do thou too, father and stranger, try thy skill in the sports, if haply thou art practised in any; and thou art like to have knowledge of games, for there is no greater glory for a man while yet he lives, than that which he achieves by hand and foot. Come, then, make essay, and cast away care from thy soul: thy journey shall not now be long delayed; lo, thy ship is even now drawn down to the sea, and the men of thy company are ready.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him, saying; ‘Laodamas, wherefore do ye mock me, requiring this thing of me? Sorrow is far nearer my heart than sports, for much have I endured and laboured sorely in time past, and now I sit in this your gathering, craving my return, and making my prayer to the king and all the people.’
And Euryalus answered, and rebuked him to his face: ‘No truly, stranger, nor do I think thee at all like one that is skilled in games, whereof there are many among men, rather art thou such an one as comes and goes in a benched ship, a master of sailors that are merchantmen, one with a memory for his freight, or that hath the charge of a cargo homeward bound, and of greedily gotten gains; thou seemest not a man of thy hands.’
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on him and said: ‘Stranger, thou hast not spoken well; thou art like a man presumptuous. So true it is that the gods do not give every gracious gift to all, neither shapeliness, nor wisdom, nor skilled speech. For one man is feebler than another in presence, yet the god crowns his words with beauty, and men behold him and rejoice, and his speech runs surely on his way with a sweet modesty, and he shines forth among the gathering of his people, and as he passes through the town men gaze on him as a god. Another again is like the deathless gods for beauty, but his words have no crown of grace about them; even as thou art in comeliness preeminent, nor could a god himself fashion thee for the better, but in wit thou art a weakling. Yea, thou hast stirred my spirit in my breast by speaking thus amiss. I am not all unversed in sports, as thy words go, but methinks I was among the foremost while as yet I trusted in my youth and my hands, but now am I holden in misery and pains: for I have endured much in passing through the wars of men and the grievous waves of the sea. Yet even so, for all my affliction, I will essay the games, for thy word hath bitten to the quick, and thou hast roused me with thy saying.’
He spake, and clad even as he was in his mantle leaped to his feet, and caught up a weight larger than the rest, a huge weight heavier far than those wherewith the Phaeacians contended in casting. With one whirl he sent it from his stout hand, and the stone flew hurtling: and the Phaeacians, of the long oars, those mariners renowned, crouched to earth beneath the rushing of the stone. Beyond all the marks it flew, so lightly it sped from his hand, and Athene in the fashion of a man marked the place, and spake and hailed him:
‘Yea, even a blind man, stranger, might discern that token if he groped for it, for it is in no wise lost among the throng of the others, but is far the first; for this bout then take heart: not one of the Phaeacians shall attain thereunto or overpass it.’
So spake she; and the steadfast goodly Odysseus rejoiced and was glad, for that he saw a true friend in the lists. Then with a lighter heart he spake amid the Phaeacians:
‘Now reach ye this throw, young men, if ye may; and soon, methinks, will I cast another after it, as far or yet further. And whomsoever of the rest his heart and spirit stir thereto, hither let him come and try the issue with me, in boxing or in wrestling or even in the foot race, I care not which, for ye have greatly angered me: let any of all the Phaeacians come save Laodamas alone, for he is mine host: who would strive with one that entreated him kindly? Witless and worthless is the man, whoso challengeth his host that receiveth him in a strange land, he doth but maim his own estate. But for the rest, I refuse none and hold none lightly, but I fain would know and prove them face to face. For I am no weakling in all sports, even in the feats of men. I know well how to handle the polished bow, and ever the first would I be to shoot and smite my man in the press of foes, even though many of my company stood by, and were aiming at the enemy. Alone Philoctetes in the Trojan land surpassed me with the bow in our Achaean archery. But I avow myself far more excellent than all besides, of the mortals that are now upon the earth and live by bread. Yet with the men of old time I would not match me, neither with Heracles nor with Eurytus of Oechalia, who contended even with the deathless gods for the prize of archery. Wherefore the great Eurytus perished all too soon, nor did old age come on him in his halls, for Apollo slew him in his wrath, seeing that he challenged him to shoot a match. And with the spear I can throw further than any other man can shoot an arrow. Only I doubt that in the foot race some of the Phaeacians may outstrip me, for I have been shamefully broken in many waters, seeing that there was no continual sustenance on board; wherefore my knees are loosened.’
So spake he and all kept silence; and Alcinous alone answered him, saying:
‘Stranger, forasmuch as these thy words are not ill-taken in our gathering, but thou wouldest fain show forth the valour which keeps thee company, being angry that yonder man stood by thee in the lists, and taunted thee, in such sort as no mortal would speak lightly of thine excellence, who had knowledge of sound words; nay now, mark my speech; so shalt thou have somewhat to tell another hero, when with thy wife and children thou suppest in thy halls, and recallest our prowess, what deeds Zeus bestoweth even upon us from our fathers’ days even until now. For we are no perfect boxers, nor wrestlers, but speedy runners, and the best of seamen; and dear to us ever is the banquet, and the harp, and the dance, and changes of raiment, and the warm bath, and love, and sleep. Lo, now arise, ye dancers of the Phaeacians, the best in the land, and make sport, that so the stranger may tell his friends, when he returneth home, how far we surpass all men besides in seamanship, and speed of foot, and in the dance and song. And let one go quickly, and fetch for Demodocus the loud lyre which is lying somewhere in our halls.’
So spake Alcinous the godlike, and the henchman rose to bear the hollow lyre from the king’s palace. Then stood up nine chosen men in all, the judges of the people, who were wont to order all things in the lists aright. So they levelled the place for the dance, and made a fair ring and a wide. And the henchman drew near bearing the loud lyre to Demodocus, who gat him into the midst, and round him stood boys in their first bloom, skilled in the dance, and they smote the good floor with their feet. And Odysseus gazed at the twinklings of the feet, and marvelled in spirit.
Now as the minstrel touched the lyre, he lifted up his voice in sweet song, and he sang of the love of Ares and Aphrodite, of the fair crown, how at the first they lay together in the house of Hephaestus privily; and Ares gave her many gifts, and dishonoured the marriage bed of the lord Hephaestus. And anon there came to him one to report the thing, even Helios, that had seen them at their pastime. Now when Hephaestus heard the bitter tidings, he went his way to the forge, devising evil in the deep of his heart, and set the great anvil on the stithy, and wrought fetters that none might snap or loosen, that the lovers might there unmoveably remain. Now when he had forged the crafty net in his anger against Ares, he went on his way to the chamber where his marriage bed was set out, and strewed his snares all about the posts of the bed, and many too were hung aloft from the main beam, subtle as spiders’ webs, so that none might see them, even of the blessed gods: so cunningly were they forged. Now after he had done winding the snare about the bed, he made as though he would go to Lemnos, that stablished castle, and this was far the dearest of all lands in his sight. But Ares of the golden rein kept no blind watch, what time he saw Hephaestus, the famed craftsman, depart afar. So he went on his way to the house of renowned Hephaestus, eager for the love of crowned Cytherea. Now she was but newly come from her sire, the mighty Cronion, and as it chanced had sat her down; and Ares entered the house, and clasped her hand, and spake, and hailed her:
‘Come, my beloved, let us to bed, and take our pleasure of love, for Hephaestus is no longer among his own people; methinks he is already gone to Lemnos, to the Sintians, men of savage speech.’
So spake he, and a glad thing it seemed to her to lie with him. So they twain went to the couch, and laid them to sleep, and around them clung the cunning bonds of skilled Hephaestus, so that they could not move nor raise a limb. Then at the last they knew it, when there was no way to flee. Now the famous god of the strong arms drew near to them, having turned him back ere he reached the land of Lemnos. For Helios had kept watch, and told him all. So heavy at heart he went his way to his house, and stood at the entering in of the gate, and wild rage gat hold of him, and he cried terribly, and shouted to all the gods:
‘Father Zeus, and ye other blessed gods, that live for ever, come hither, that ye may see a mirthful thing and a cruel, for that Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, ever dishonours me by reason of my lameness, and sets her heart on Ares the destroyer, because he is fair and straight of limb, but as for me, feeble was I born. Howbeit, there is none to blame but my father and mother — would they had never begotten me! But now shall ye see where these have gone up into my bed, and sleep together in love; and I am troubled at the sight. Yet, methinks, they will not care to lie thus even for a little while longer, despite their great love. Soon will they have no desire to sleep together, but the snare and the bond shall hold them, till her sire give back to me the gifts of wooing, one and all, those that I bestowed upon him for the hand of his shameless girl; for that his daughter is fair, but without discretion.’
So spake he; and lo, the gods gathered together to the house of the brazen floor. Poseidon came, the girdler of the earth, and Hermes came, the bringer of luck, and prince Apollo came, the archer. But the lady goddesses abode each within her house for shame. So the gods, the givers of good things, stood in the porch: and laughter unquenchable arose among the blessed gods, as they beheld the sleight of cunning Hephaestus. And thus would one speak, looking to his neighbour:
‘Ill deed, ill speed! The slow catcheth the swift! Lo, how Hephaestus, slow as he is, hath overtaken Ares, albeit he is the swiftest of the gods that hold Olympus, by his craft hath he taken him despite his lameness; wherefore surely Ares oweth the fine of the adulterer.’ Thus they spake one to the other. But the lord Apollo, son of Zeus, spake to Hermes:
‘Hermes, son of Zeus, messenger and giver of good things, wouldst thou be fain, aye, pressed by strong bonds though it might be, to lie on the couch by golden Aphrodite?’
Then the messenger, the slayer of Argos, answered him: ‘I would that this might be, Apollo, my prince of archery! So might thrice as many bonds innumerable encompass me about, and all ye gods be looking on and all the goddesses, yet would I lie by golden Aphrodite.’
So spake he, and laughter rose among the deathless gods. Howbeit, Poseidon laughed not, but was instant with Hephaestus, the renowned artificer, to loose the bonds of Ares: and he uttered his voice, and spake to him winged words:
‘Loose him, I pray thee, and I promise even as thou biddest me, that he shall himself pay all fair forfeit in the presence of the deathless gods.’
Then the famous god of the strong arms answered him: ‘Require not this of me, Poseidon, girdler of the earth. Evil are evil folk’s pledges to hold. How could I keep thee bound among the deathless gods, if Ares were to depart, avoiding the debt and the bond?’
Then Poseidon answered him, shaker of the earth: ‘Hephaestus, even if Ares avoid the debt and flee away, I myself will pay thee all.’
Then the famous god of the strong arms answered him: ‘It may not be that I should say thee nay, neither is it meet.’
Therewith the mighty Hephaestus loosed the bonds, and the twain, when they were freed from that strong bond, sprang up straightway, and departed, he to Thrace, but laughter-loving Aphrodite went to Paphos of Cyprus, where is her precinct and fragrant altar. There the Graces bathed and anointed her with oil imperishable, such as is laid upon the everlasting gods. And they clad her in lovely raiment, a wonder to see.
This was the song the famous minstrel sang; and Odysseus listened and was glad at heart, and likewise did the Phaeacians, of the long oars, those mariners renowned.
Then Alcinous bade Halius and Laodamas dance alone, for none ever contended with them. So when they had taken in their hands the goodly ball of purple hue, that cunning Polybus had wrought for them, the one would bend backwards, and throw it towards the shadowy clouds; and the other would leap upward from the earth, and catch it lightly in his turn, before his feet touched the ground. Now after they had made trial of throwing the ball straight up, the twain set to dance upon the bounteous earth, tossing the ball from hand to hand, and the other youths stood by the lists and beat time, and a great din uprose.
Then it was that goodly Odysseus spake unto Alcinous: ‘My lord Alcinous, most notable among all the people, thou didst boast thy dancers to be the best in the world, and lo, thy words are fulfilled; I wonder as I look on them.’
So spake he, and the mighty king Alcinous rejoiced and spake at once among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar:
‘Hearken ye, captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, this stranger seems to me a wise man enough. Come then, let us give him a stranger’s gift, as is meet. Behold, there are twelve glorious princes who rule among this people and bear sway, and I myself am the thirteenth. Now each man among you bring a fresh robe and a doublet, and a talent of fine gold, and let us speedily carry all these gifts together, that the stranger may take them in his hands, and go to supper with a glad heart. As for Euryalus, let him yield amends to the man himself, with soft speech and with a gift, for his was no gentle saying.’
So spake he, and they all assented thereto, and would have it so. And each one sent forth his henchman to fetch his gift, and Euryalus answered the king and spake, saying:
‘My lord Alcinous, most notable among all the people, I will make atonement to thy guest according to thy word. I will give him a hanger all of bronze, with a silver hilt thereto, and a sheath of fresh-sawn ivory covers it about, and it shall be to him a thing of price.’
Therewith he puts into his hands the hanger dight with silver, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words: ‘Hail, stranger and father; and if aught grievous hath been spoken, may the storm-winds soon snatch and bear it away. But may the gods grant thee to see thy wife and to come to thine own country, for all too long has thou endured affliction away from thy friends.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘Thou too, my friend, all hail; and may the gods vouchsafe thee happiness, and mayst thou never miss this sword which thou hast given me, thou that with soft speech hast yielded me amends.’
He spake and hung about his shoulders the silver-studded sword. And the sun sank, and the noble gifts were brought him. Then the proud henchmen bare them to the palace of Alcinous, and the sons of noble Alcinous took the fair gifts, and set them by their reverend mother. And the mighty king Alcinous led the way, and they came in and sat them down on the high seats. And the mighty Alcinous spake unto Arete:
‘Bring me hither, my lady, a choice coffer, the best thou hast, and thyself place therein a fresh robe and a doublet, and heat for our guest a cauldron on the fire, and warm water, that after the bath the stranger may see all the gifts duly arrayed which the noble Phaeacians bare hither, and that he may have joy in the feast, and in hearing the song of the minstrelsy. Also I will give him a beautiful golden chalice of mine own, that he may be mindful of me all the days of his life when he poureth the drink-offering to Zeus and to the other gods.’
So spake he, and Arete bade her handmaids to set a great cauldron on the fire with what speed they might. And they set the cauldron for the filling of the bath on the blazing fire, and poured water therein, and took faggots and kindled them beneath. So the fire began to circle round the belly of the cauldron, and the water waxed hot. Meanwhile Arete brought forth for her guest the beautiful coffer from the treasure chamber, and bestowed fair gifts therein, raiment and gold, which the Phaeacians gave him. And with her own hands she placed therein a robe and goodly doublet, and uttering her voice spake to him winged words:
‘Do thou now look to the lid, and quickly tie the knot, lest any man spoil thy goods by the way, when presently thou fallest on sweet sleep travelling in thy black ship.’
Now when the steadfast goodly Odysseus heard this saying, forthwith he fixed on the lid, and quickly tied the curious knot, which the lady Circe on a time had taught him. Then straightway the housewife bade him go to the bath and bathe him; and he saw the warm water and was glad, for he was not wont to be so cared for, from the day that he left the house of fair-tressed Calypso, but all that while he had comfort continually as a god.
Now after the maids had bathed him and anointed him with olive oil, and had cast a fair mantle and a doublet upon him, he stept forth from the bath, and went to be with the chiefs at their wine. And Nausicaa, dowered with beauty by the gods, stood by the pillar of the well-builded roof, and marvelled at Odysseus, beholding him before her eyes, and she uttered her voice and spake to him winged words:
‘Farewell, stranger, and even in thine own country bethink thee of me upon a time, for that to me first thou owest the ransom of life.’
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: ‘Nausicaa, daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, yea, may Zeus, the thunderer, the lord of Here, grant me to reach my home and see the day of my returning; so would I, even there, do thee worship as to a god, all my days for evermore, for thou, lady, hast given me my life.’
He spake and sat him in the high seat by king Alcinous. And now they were serving out the portions and mixing the wine. Then the henchmen drew nigh leading the sweet minstrel, Demodocus, that was had in honour of the people. So he set him in the midst of the feasters, and made him lean against a tall column. Then to the henchman spake Odysseus of many counsels, for he had cut off a portion of the chine of a white-toothed boar, whereon yet more was left, with rich fat on either side:
‘Lo, henchman, take this mess, and hand it to Demodocus, that he may eat, and I will bid him hail, despite my sorrow. For minstrels from all men on earth get their meed of honour and worship; inasmuch as the Muse teacheth them the paths of song, and loveth the tribe of minstrels.’
Thus he spake, and the henchman bare the mess, and set it upon the knees of the lord Demodocus, and he took it, and was glad at heart. Then they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer set before them. Now after they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, then Odysseus of many counsels spake to Demodocus, saying:
‘Demodocus, I praise thee far above all mortal men, whether it be the Muse, the daughter of Zeus, that taught thee, or even Apollo, for right duly dost thou chant the faring of the Achaeans, even all that they wrought and suffered, and all their travail, as if, methinks, thou hadst been present, or heard the tale from another. Come now, change thy strain, and sing of the fashioning of the horse of wood, which Epeius made by the aid of Athene, even the guileful thing, that goodly Odysseus led up into the citadel, when he had laden it with the men who wasted Ilios. If thou wilt indeed rehearse me this aright, so will I be thy witness among all men, how the god of his grace hath given thee the gift of wondrous song.’
So spake he, and the minstrel, being stirred by the god, began and showed forth his minstrelsy. He took up the tale where it tells how the Argives of the one part set fire to their huts, and went aboard their decked ships and sailed away, while those others, the fellowship of renowned Odysseus, were now seated in the assembly-place of the Trojans, all hidden in the horse, for the Trojans themselves had dragged him to the citadel. So the horse stood there, while seated all around him the people spake many things confusedly and three ways their counsel looked; either to cleave the hollow timber with the pitiless spear, or to drag it to the brow of the hill, and hurl it from the rocks, or to leave it as a mighty offering to appease the gods. And on this wise it was to be at the last. For the doom was on them to perish when their city should have closed upon the great horse of wood, wherein sat all the bravest of the Argives, bearing to the Trojans death and destiny. And he sang how the sons of the Achaeans poured forth from the horse, and left the hollow lair, and sacked the burg. And he sang how and where each man wasted the town, and of Odysseus, how he went like Ares to the house of Deiphobus with godlike Menelaus. It was there, he said, that Odysseus adventured the most grievous battle, and in the end prevailed, by grace of great-hearted Athene.
This was the song that the famous minstrel sang. But the heart of Odysseus melted, and the tear wet his cheeks beneath the eyelids. And as a woman throws herself wailing about her dear lord, who hath fallen before his city and the host, warding from his town and his children the pitiless day; and she beholds him dying and drawing difficult breath, and embracing his body wails aloud, while the foemen behind smite her with spears on back and shoulders and lead her up into bondage, to bear labour and trouble, and with the most pitiful grief her cheeks are wasted; even so pitifully fell the tears beneath the brows of Odysseus. Now none of all the company marked him weeping; but Alcinous alone noted it, and was ware thereof, as he sat nigh him and heard him groaning heavily. And presently he spake among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar:
‘Hearken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and now let Demodocus hold his hand from the loud lyre, for this song of his is nowise pleasing alike to all. From the time that we began to sup, and that the divine minstrel was moved to sing, ever since hath yonder stranger never ceased from woeful lamentation: sore grief, methinks, hath encompassed his heart. Nay, but let the minstrel cease, that we may all alike make merry, hosts and guest, since it is far meeter so. For all these things are ready for the sake of the honourable stranger, even the convoy and the loving gifts which we give him out of our love. In a brother’s place stand the stranger and the suppliant, to him whose wits have even a little range, wherefore do thou too hide not now with crafty purpose aught whereof I ask thee; it were more meet for thee to tell it out. Say, what is the name whereby they called thee at home, even thy father and thy mother, and others thy townsmen and the dwellers round about? For there is none of all mankind nameless, neither the mean man nor yet the noble, from the first hour of his birth, but parents bestow a name on every man so soon as he is born. Tell me too of thy land, thy township, and thy city, that our ships may conceive of their course to bring thee thither. For the Phaeacians have no pilots nor any rudders after the manner of other ships, but their barques themselves understand the thoughts and intents of men; they know the cities and fat fields of every people, and most swiftly they traverse the gulf of the salt sea, shrouded in mist and cloud, and never do they go in fear of wreck or ruin. Howbeit I heard upon a time this word thus spoken by my father Nausithous, who was wont to say that Poseidon was jealous of us for that we give safe escort to all men. He said that the god would some day smite a well-wrought ship of the Phaeacians as she came home from a convoy over the misty deep, and would overshadow our city with a great mountain. Thus that ancient one would speak, and thus the god may bring it about, or leave it undone, according to the good pleasure of his will. But come now, declare me this and plainly tell it all; whither wast thou borne wandering, and to what shores of men thou camest; tell me of the people and of their fair-lying cities, of those whoso are hard and wild and unjust, and of those likewise who are hospitable and of a god-fearing mind. Declare, too, wherefore thou dost weep and mourn in spirit at the tale of the faring of the Argive Danaans and the lay of Ilios. All this the gods have fashioned, and have woven the skein of death for men, that there might be a song in the ears even of the folk of aftertime. Hadst thou even a kinsman by marriage that fell before Ilios, a true man, a daughter’s husband or wife’s father, such as are nearest us after those of our own stock and blood? Or else, may be, some loving friend, a good man and true; for a friend with an understanding heart is no whit worse than a brother.’
Odysseus relates, first, what befell him amongst the Cicones at Ismarus; secondly, amongst the Lotophagi; thirdly, how he was used by the Cyclops Polyphemus.
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: ‘King Alcinous, most notable of all the people, verily it is a good thing to list to a minstrel such as this one, like to the gods in voice. Nay, as for me, I say that there is no more gracious or perfect delight than when a whole people makes merry, and the men sit orderly at feast in the halls and listen to the singer, and the tables by them are laden with bread and flesh, and a wine-bearer drawing the wine serves it round and pours it into the cups. This seems to me well-nigh the fairest thing in the world. But now thy heart was inclined to ask of my grievous troubles, that I may mourn for more exceeding sorrow. What then shall I tell of first, what last, for the gods of heaven have given me woes in plenty? Now, first, will I tell my name, that ye too may know it, and that I, when I have escaped the pitiless day, may yet be your host, though my home is in a far country. I am ODYSSEUS, SON OF LAERTES, who am in men’s minds for all manner of wiles, and my fame reaches unto heaven. And I dwell in clear-seen Ithaca, wherein is a mountain Neriton, with trembling forest leaves, standing manifest to view, and many islands lie around, very near one to the other, Dulichium and Same, and wooded Zacynthus. Now Ithaca lies low, furthest up the sea-line toward the darkness, but those others face the dawning and the sun: a rugged isle, but a good nurse of noble youths; and for myself I can see nought beside sweeter than a man’s own country. Verily Calypso, the fair goddess, would fain have kept me with her in her hollow caves, longing to have me for her lord; and likewise too, guileful Circe of Aia, would have stayed me in her halls, longing to have me for her lord. But never did they prevail upon my heart within my breast. So surely is there nought sweeter than a man’s own country and his parents, even though he dwell far off in a rich home, in a strange land, away from them that begat him. But come, let me tell thee too of the troubles of my journeying, which Zeus laid on me as I came from Troy.
‘The wind that bare me from Ilios brought me nigh to the Cicones, even to Ismarus, whereupon I sacked their city and slew the people. And from out the city we took their wives and much substance, and divided them amongst us, that none through me might go lacking his proper share. Howbeit, thereafter I commanded that we should flee with a swift foot, but my men in their great folly hearkened not. There was much wine still a drinking, and still they slew many flocks of sheep by the seashore and kine with trailing feet and shambling gait. Meanwhile the Cicones went and raised a cry to other Cicones their neighbours, dwelling inland, who were more in number than they and braver withal: skilled they were to fight with men from chariots, and when need was on foot. So they gathered in the early morning as thick as leaves and flowers that spring in their season — yea and in that hour an evil doom of Zeus stood by us, ill-fated men, that so we might be sore afflicted. They set their battle in array by the swift ships, and the hosts cast at one another with their bronze-shod spears. So long as it was morn and the sacred day waxed stronger, so long we abode their assault and beat them off, albeit they outnumbered us. But when the sun was wending to the time of the loosing of cattle, then at last the Cicones drave in the Achaeans and overcame them, and six of my goodly-greaved company perished from each ship: but the remnant of us escaped death and destiny.
‘Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart, yet glad as men saved from death, albeit we had lost our dear companions. Nor did my curved ships move onward ere we had called thrice on each of those our hapless fellows, who died at the hands of the Cicones on the plain. Now Zeus, gatherer of the clouds, aroused the North Wind against our ships with a terrible tempest, and covered land and sea alike with clouds, and down sped night from heaven. Thus the ships were driven headlong, and their sails were torn to shreds by the might of the wind. So we lowered the sails into the hold, in fear of death, but rowed the ships landward apace. There for two nights and two days we lay continually, consuming our hearts with weariness and sorrow. But when the fair-tressed Dawn had at last brought the full light of the third day, we set up the masts and hoisted the white sails and sat us down, while the wind and the helmsman guided the ships. And now I should have come to mine own country all unhurt, but the wave and the stream of the sea and the North Wind swept me from my course as I was doubling Malea, and drave me wandering past Cythera.
‘Thence for nine whole days was I borne by ruinous winds over the teeming deep; but on the tenth day we set foot on the land of the lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew water, and straightway my company took their midday meal by the swift ships. Now when we had tasted meat and drink I sent forth certain of my company to go and make search what manner of men they were who here live upon the earth by bread, and I chose out two of my fellows, and sent a third with them as herald. Then straightway they went and mixed with the men of the lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters devised not death for our fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste. Now whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to abide with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of his homeward way. Therefore I led them back to the ships weeping, and sore against their will, and dragged them beneath the benches, and bound them in the hollow barques. But I commanded the rest of my well-loved company to make speed and go on board the swift ships, lest haply any should eat of the lotus and be forgetful of returning. Right soon they embarked, and sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly they smote the grey sea water with their oars.
‘Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart. And we came to the land of the Cyclopes, a froward and a lawless folk, who trusting to the deathless gods plant not aught with their hands, neither plough: but, behold, all these things spring for them in plenty, unsown and untilled, wheat, and barley, and vines, which bear great clusters of the juice of the grape, and the rain of Zeus gives them increase. These have neither gatherings for council nor oracles of law, but they dwell in hollow caves on the crests of the high hills, and each one utters the law to his children and his wives, and they reck not one of another.
‘Now there is a waste isle stretching without the harbour of the land of the Cyclopes, neither nigh at hand nor yet afar off, a woodland isle, wherein are wild goats unnumbered, for no path of men scares them, nor do hunters resort thither who suffer hardships in the wood, as they range the mountain crests. Moreover it is possessed neither by flocks nor by ploughed lands, but the soil lies unsown evermore and untilled, desolate of men, and feeds the bleating goats. For the Cyclopes have by them no ships with vermilion cheek, not yet are there shipwrights in the island, who might fashion decked barques, which should accomplish all their desire, voyaging to the towns of men (as ofttimes men cross the sea to one another in ships), who might likewise have made of their isle a goodly settlement. Yea, it is in no wise a sorry land, but would bear all things in their season; for therein are soft water meadows by the shores of the grey salt sea, and there the vines know no decay, and the land is level to plough; thence might they reap a crop exceeding deep in due season, for verily there is fatness beneath the soil. Also there is a fair haven, where is no need of moorings, either to cast anchor or to fasten hawsers, but men may run the ship on the beach, and tarry until such time as the sailors are minded to be gone, and favourable breezes blow. Now at the head of the harbour is a well of bright water issuing from a cave, and round it are poplars growing. Thither we sailed, and some god guided us through the night, for it was dark and there was no light to see, a mist lying deep about the ships, nor did the moon show her light from heaven, but was shut in with clouds. No man then beheld that island, neither saw we the long waves rolling to the beach, till we had run our decked ships ashore. And when our ships were beached, we took down all their sails, and ourselves too stept forth upon the strand of the sea, and there we fell into sound sleep and waited for the bright Dawn.
‘So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, in wonder at the island we roamed over the length thereof: and the Nymphs, the daughters of Zeus, lord of the aegis, started the wild goats of the hills, that my company might have wherewith to sup. Anon we took to us our curved bows from out the ships and long spears, and arrayed in three bands we began shooting at the goats; and the god soon gave us game in plenty. Now twelve ships bare me company, and to each ship fell nine goats for a portion, but for me alone they set ten apart.
‘Thus we sat there the livelong day until the going down of the sun, feasting on abundant flesh and on sweet wine. For the red wine was not yet spent from out the ships, but somewhat was yet therein, for we had each one drawn off large store thereof in jars, when we took the sacred citadel of the Cicones. And we looked across to the land of the Cyclopes, who dwell nigh, and to the smoke, and to the voice of the men, and of the sheep and of the goats. And when the sun had sunk and darkness had come on, then we laid us to rest upon the sea-beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, then I called a gathering of my men, and spake among them all:
‘“Abide here all the rest of you, my dear companions; but I will go with mine own ship and my ship’s company, and make proof of these men, what manner of folk they are, whether froward, and wild, and unjust, or hospitable and of god-fearing mind.”
‘So I spake, and I climbed the ship’s side, and bade my company themselves to mount, and to loose the hawsers. So they soon embarked and sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with their oars. Now when we had come to the land that lies hard by, we saw a cave on the border near to the sea, lofty and roofed over with laurels, and there many flocks of sheep and goats were used to rest. And about it a high outer court was built with stones, deep bedded, and with tall pines and oaks with their high crown of leaves. And a man was wont to sleep therein, of monstrous size, who shepherded his flocks alone and afar, and was not conversant with others, but dwelt apart in lawlessness of mind. Yea, for he was a monstrous thing and fashioned marvellously, nor was he like to any man that lives by bread, but like a wooded peak of the towering hills, which stands out apart and alone from others.
‘Then I commanded the rest of my well-loved company to tarry there by the ship, and to guard the ship, but I chose out twelve men, the best of my company, and sallied forth. Now I had with me a goat-skin of the dark wine and sweet which Maron, son of Euanthes, had given me, the priest of Apollo, the god that watched over Ismarus. And he gave it, for that we had protected him with his wife and child reverently; for he dwelt in a thick grove of Phoebus Apollo. And he made me splendid gifts; he gave me seven talents of gold well wrought, and he gave me a mixing bowl of pure silver, and furthermore wine which he drew off in twelve jars in all, sweet wine unmingled, a draught divine; nor did any of his servants or of his handmaids in the house know thereof, but himself and his dear wife and one housedame only. And as often as they drank that red wine honey sweet, he would fill one cup and pour it into twenty measures of water, and a marvellous sweet smell went up from the mixing bowl: then truly it was no pleasure to refrain.
‘With this wine I filled a great skin, and bare it with me, and corn too I put in a wallet, for my lordly spirit straightway had a boding that a man would come to me, a strange man, clothed in mighty strength, one that knew not judgment and justice. [[15|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 15]]
‘Soon we came to the cave, but we found him not within; he was shepherding his fat flocks in the pastures. So we went into the cave, and gazed on all that was therein. The baskets were well laden with cheeses, and the folds were thronged with lambs and kids; each kind was penned by itself, the firstlings apart, and the summer lambs apart, apart too the younglings of the flock. Now all the vessels swam with whey, the milk-pails and the bowls, the well-wrought vessels whereinto he milked. My company then spake and besought me first of all to take of the cheeses and to return, and afterwards to make haste and drive off the kids and lambs to the swift ships from out the pens, and to sail over the salt sea water. Howbeit I hearkened not (and far better would it have been), but waited to see the giant himself, and whether he would give me gifts as a stranger’s due. Yet was not his coming to be with joy to my company.
‘Then we kindled a fire, and made burnt-offering, and ourselves likewise took of the cheeses, and did eat, and sat waiting for him within till he came back, shepherding his flocks. And he bore a grievous weight of dry wood, against supper time. This log he cast down with a din inside the cave, and in fear we fled to the secret place of the rock. As for him, he drave his fat flocks into the wide cavern, even all that he was wont to milk; but the males both of the sheep and of the goats he left without in the deep yard. Thereafter he lifted a huge doorstone and weighty, and set it in the mouth of the cave, such an one as two and twenty good four-wheeled wains could not raise from the ground, so mighty a sheer rock did he set against the doorway. Then he sat down and milked the ewes and bleating goats, all orderly, and beneath each ewe he placed her young. And anon he curdled one half of the white milk, and massed it together, and stored it in wicker-baskets, and the other half he let stand in pails, that he might have it to take and drink against supper time. Now when he had done all his work busily, then he kindled the fire anew, and espied us, and made question:
‘“Strangers, who are ye? Whence sail ye over the wet ways? On some trading enterprise or at adventure do ye rove, even as sea-robbers over the brine, for at hazard of their own lives they wander, bringing bale to alien men.”
‘So spake he, but as for us our heart within us was broken for terror of the deep voice and his own monstrous shape; yet despite all I answered and spake unto him, saying:
‘“Lo, we are Achaeans, driven wandering from Troy, by all manner of winds over the great gulf of the sea; seeking our homes we fare, but another path have we come, by other ways: even such, methinks, was the will and the counsel of Zeus. And we avow us to be the men of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, whose fame is even now the mightiest under heaven, so great a city did he sack, and destroyed many people; but as for us we have lighted here, and come to these thy knees, if perchance thou wilt give us a stranger’s gift, or make any present, as is the due of strangers. Nay, lord, have regard to the gods, for we are thy suppliants; and Zeus is the avenger of suppliants and sojourners, Zeus, the god of the stranger, who fareth in the company of reverend strangers.”
‘So I spake, and anon he answered out of his pitiless heart: “Thou art witless, my stranger, or thou hast come from afar, who biddest me either to fear or shun the gods. For the Cyclopes pay no heed to Zeus, lord of the aegis, nor to the blessed gods, for verily we are better men than they. Nor would I, to shun the enmity of Zeus, spare either thee or thy company, unless my spirit bade me. But tell me where thou didst stay thy well-wrought ship on thy coming? Was it perchance at the far end of the island, or hard by, that I may know?”
‘So he spake tempting me, but he cheated me not, who knew full much, and I answered him again with words of guile:
‘“As for my ship, Poseidon, the shaker of the earth, brake it to pieces, for he cast it upon the rocks at the border of your country, and brought it nigh the headland, and a wind bare it thither from the sea. But I with these my men escaped from utter doom.”
‘So I spake, and out of his pitiless heart he answered me not a word, but sprang up, and laid his hands upon my fellows, and clutching two together dashed them, as they had been whelps, to the earth, and the brain flowed forth upon the ground, and the earth was wet. Then cut he them up piecemeal, and made ready his supper. So he ate even as a mountain-bred lion, and ceased not, devouring entrails and flesh and bones with their marrow. And we wept and raised our hands to Zeus, beholding the cruel deeds; and we were at our wits’ end. And after the Cyclops had filled his huge maw with human flesh and the milk he drank thereafter, he lay within the cave, stretched out among his sheep.
‘So I took counsel in my great heart, whether I should draw near, and pluck my sharp sword from my thigh, and stab him in the breast, where the midriff holds the liver, feeling for the place with my hand. But my second thought withheld me, for so should we too have perished even there with utter doom. For we should not have prevailed to roll away with our hands from the lofty door the heavy stone which he set there. So for that time we made moan, awaiting the bright Dawn.
‘Now when early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, again he kindled the fire and milked his goodly flocks all orderly, and beneath each ewe set her lamb. Anon when he had done all his work busily, again he seized yet other two men and made ready his mid-day meal. And after the meal, lightly he moved away the great door-stone, and drave his fat flocks forth from the cave, and afterwards he set it in his place again, as one might set the lid on a quiver. Then with a loud whoop, the Cyclops turned his fat flocks towards the hills; but I was left devising evil in the deep of my heart, if in any wise I might avenge me, and Athene grant me renown.
‘And this was the counsel that showed best in my sight. There lay by a sheep-fold a great club of the Cyclops, a club of olive wood, yet green, which he had cut to carry with him when it should be seasoned. Now when we saw it we likened it in size to the mast of a black ship of twenty oars, a wide merchant vessel that traverses the great sea gulf, so huge it was to view in bulk and length. I stood thereby and cut off from it a portion as it were a fathom’s length, and set it by my fellows, and bade them fine it down, and they made it even, while I stood by and sharpened it to a point, and straightway I took it and hardened it in the bright fire. Then I laid it well away, and hid it beneath the dung, which was scattered in great heaps in the depths of the cave. And I bade my company cast lots among them, which of them should risk the adventure with me, and lift the bar and turn it about in his eye, when sweet sleep came upon him. And the lot fell upon those four whom I myself would have been fain to choose, and I appointed myself to be the fifth among them. In the evening he came shepherding his flocks of goodly fleece, and presently he drave his fat flocks into the cave each and all, nor left he any without in the deep court-yard, whether through some foreboding, or perchance that the god so bade him do. Thereafter he lifted the huge door-stone and set it in the mouth of the cave, and sitting down he milked the ewes and bleating goats, all orderly, and beneath each ewe he placed her young. Now when he had done all his work busily, again he seized yet other two and made ready his supper. Then I stood by the Cyclops and spake to him, holding in my hands an ivy bowl of the dark wine:
‘“Cyclops, take and drink wine after thy feast of man’s meat, that thou mayest know what manner of drink this was that our ship held. And lo, I was bringing it thee as a drink offering, if haply thou mayest take pity and send me on my way home, but thy mad rage is past all sufferance. O hard of heart, how may another of the many men there be come ever to thee again, seeing that thy deeds have been lawless?”
‘So I spake, and he took the cup and drank it off, and found great delight in drinking the sweet draught, and asked me for it yet a second time:
‘“Give it me again of thy grace, and tell me thy name straightway, that I may give thee a stranger’s gift, wherein thou mayest be glad. Yea for the earth, the grain-giver, bears for the Cyclopes the mighty clusters of the juice of the grape, and the rain of Zeus gives them increase, but this is a rill of very nectar and ambrosia.”
‘So he spake, and again I handed him the dark wine. Thrice I bare and gave it him, and thrice in his folly he drank it to the lees. Now when the wine had got about the wits of the Cyclops, then did I speak to him with soft words:
‘“Cyclops, thou askest me my renowned name, and I will declare it unto thee, and do thou grant me a stranger’s gift, as thou didst promise. Noman is my name, and Noman they call me, my father and my mother and all my fellows.”
‘So I spake, and straightway he answered me out of his pitiless heart:
‘“Noman will I eat last in the number of his fellows, and the others before him: that shall be thy gift.”
‘Therewith he sank backwards and fell with face upturned, and there he lay with his great neck bent round, and sleep, that conquers all men, overcame him. And the wine and the fragments of men’s flesh issued forth from his mouth, and he vomited, being heavy with wine. Then I thrust in that stake under the deep ashes, until it should grow hot, and I spake to my companions comfortable words, lest any should hang back from me in fear. But when that bar of olive wood was just about to catch fire in the flame, green though it was, and began to glow terribly, even then I came nigh, and drew it from the coals, and my fellows gathered about me, and some god breathed great courage into us. For their part they seized the bar of olive wood, that was sharpened at the point, and thrust it into his eye, while I from my place aloft turned it about, as when a man bores a ship’s beam with a drill while his fellows below spin it with a strap, which they hold at either end, and the auger runs round continually. Even so did we seize the fiery-pointed brand and whirled it round in his eye, and the blood flowed about the heated bar. And the breath of the flame singed his eyelids and brows all about, as the ball of the eye burnt away, and the roots thereof crackled in the flame. And as when a smith dips an axe or adze in chill water with a great hissing, when he would temper it — for hereby anon comes the strength of iron — even so did his eye hiss round the stake of olive. And he raised a great and terrible cry, that the rock rang around, and we fled away in fear, while he plucked forth from his eye the brand bedabbled in much blood. Then maddened with pain he cast it from him with his hands, and called with a loud voice on the Cyclopes, who dwelt about him in the caves along the windy heights. And they heard the cry and flocked together from every side, and gathering round the cave asked him what ailed him:
‘“What hath so distressed thee, Polyphemus, that thou criest thus aloud through the immortal night, and makest us sleepless? Surely no mortal driveth off thy flocks against thy will: surely none slayeth thyself by force or craft?”
‘And the strong Polyphemus spake to them again from out the cave: “My friends, Noman is slaying me by guile, nor at all by force.”
‘And they answered and spake winged words: “If then no man is violently handling thee in thy solitude, it can in no wise be that thou shouldest escape the sickness sent by mighty Zeus. Nay, pray thou to thy father, the lord Poseidon.”
‘On this wise they spake and departed; and my heart within me laughed to see how my name and cunning counsel had beguiled them. But the Cyclops, groaning and travailing in pain, groped with his hands, and lifted away the stone from the door of the cave, and himself sat in the entry, with arms outstretched to catch, if he might, any one that was going forth with his sheep, so witless, methinks, did he hope to find me. But I advised me how all might be for the very best, if perchance I might find a way of escape from death for my companions and myself, and I wove all manner of craft and counsel, as a man will for his life, seeing that great mischief was nigh. And this was the counsel that showed best in my sight. The rams of the flock were well nurtured and thick of fleece, great and goodly, with wool dark as the violet. Quietly I lashed them together with twisted withies, whereon the Cyclops slept, that lawless monster. Three together I took: now the middle one of the three would bear each a man, but the other twain went on either side, saving my fellows. Thus every three sheep bare their man. But as for me I laid hold of the back of a young ram who was far the best and the goodliest of all the flock, and curled beneath his shaggy belly there I lay, and so clung face upward, grasping the wondrous fleece with a steadfast heart. So for that time making moan we awaited the bright Dawn.
‘So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, then did the rams of the flock hasten forth to pasture, but the ewes bleated unmilked about the pens, for their udders were swollen to bursting. Then their lord, sore stricken with pain, felt along the backs of all the sheep as they stood up before him, and guessed not in his folly how that my men were bound beneath the breasts of his thick-fleeced flocks. Last of all the sheep came forth the ram, cumbered with his wool, and the weight of me and my cunning. And the strong Polyphemus laid his hands on him and spake to him saying:
‘“Dear ram, wherefore, I pray thee, art thou the last of all the flocks to go forth from the cave, who of old wast not wont to lag behind the sheep, but wert ever the foremost to pluck the tender blossom of the pasture, faring with long strides, and wert still the first to come to the streams of the rivers, and first did long to return to the homestead in the evening? But now art thou the very last. Surely thou art sorrowing for the eye of thy lord, which an evil man blinded, with his accursed fellows, when he had subdued my wits with wine, even Noman, whom I say hath not yet escaped destruction. Ah, if thou couldst feel as I, and be endued with speech, to tell me where he shifts about to shun my wrath; then should he be smitten, and his brains be dashed against the floor here and there about the cave, and my heart be lightened of the sorrows which Noman, nothing worth, hath brought me!”
‘Therewith he sent the ram forth from him, and when we had gone but a little way from the cave and from the yard, first I loosed myself from under the ram and then I set my fellows free. And swiftly we drave on those stiff-shanked sheep, so rich in fat, and often turned to look about, till we came to the ship. And a glad sight to our fellows were we that had fled from death, but the others they would have bemoaned with tears; howbeit I suffered it not, but with frowning brows forbade each man to weep. Rather I bade them to cast on board the many sheep with goodly fleece, and to sail over the salt sea water. So they embarked forthwith, and sate upon the benches, and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with their oars. But when I had not gone so far, but that a man’s shout might be heard, then I spoke unto the Cyclops taunting him:
‘“Cyclops, so thou wert not to eat the company of a weakling by main might in thy hollow cave! Thine evil deeds were very sure to find thee out, thou cruel man, who hadst no shame to eat thy guests within thy gates, wherefore Zeus hath requited thee, and the other gods.”
‘So I spake, and he was mightily angered at heart, and he brake off the peak of a great hill and threw it at us, and it fell in front of the dark-prowed ship. [[16|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 16]] And the sea heaved beneath the fall of the rock, and the backward flow of the wave bare the ship quickly to the dry land, with the wash from the deep sea, and drave it to the shore. Then I caught up a long pole in my hands, and thrust the ship from off the land, and roused my company, and with a motion of the head bade them dash in with their oars, that so we might escape our evil plight. So they bent to their oars and rowed on. But when we had now made twice the distance over the brine, I would fain have spoken to the Cyclops, but my company stayed me on every side with soft words, saying:
‘“Foolhardy that thou art, why wouldst thou rouse a wild man to wrath, who even now hath cast so mighty a throw towards the deep and brought our ship back to land, yea and we thought that we had perished [[17|Butcher & Lang: Footnote 17]] even there? If he had heard any of us utter sound or speech he would have crushed our heads and our ship timbers with a cast of a rugged stone, so mightily he hurls.”
‘So spake they, but they prevailed not on my lordly spirit, and I answered him again from out an angry heart:
‘“Cyclops, if any one of mortal men shall ask thee of the unsightly blinding of thine eye, say that it was Odysseus that blinded it, the waster of cities, son of Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca.”
‘So I spake, and with a moan he answered me, saying:
‘“Lo now, in very truth the ancient oracles have come upon me. There lived here a soothsayer, a noble man and a mighty, Telemus, son of Eurymus, who surpassed all men in soothsaying, and waxed old as a seer among the Cyclopes. He told me that all these things should come to pass in the aftertime, even that I should lose my eyesight at the hand of Odysseus. But I ever looked for some tall and goodly man to come hither, clad in great might, but behold now one that is a dwarf, a man of no worth and a weakling, hath blinded me of my eye after subduing me with wine. Nay come hither, Odysseus, that I may set by thee a stranger’s cheer, and speed thy parting hence, that so the Earth-shaker may vouchsafe it thee, for his son am I, and he avows him for my father. And he himself will heal me, if it be his will; and none other of the blessed gods or of mortal men.”
‘Even so he spake, but I answered him, and said: “Would god that I were as sure to rob thee of soul and life, and send thee within the house of Hades, as I am that not even the Earth-shaker will heal thine eye!”
‘So I spake, and then he prayed to the lord Poseidon stretching forth his hands to the starry heaven: “Hear me, Poseidon, girdler of the earth, god of the dark hair, if indeed I be thine, and thou avowest thee my sire — grant that he may never come to his home, even Odysseus, waster of cities, the son of Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca; yet if he is ordained to see his friends and come unto his well-builded house, and his own country, late may he come in evil case, with the loss of all his company, in the ship of strangers, and find sorrows in his house.”
‘So he spake in prayer, and the god of the dark locks heard him. And once again he lifted a stone, far greater than the first, and with one swing he hurled it, and he put forth a measureless strength, and cast it but a little space behind the dark-prowed ship, and all but struck the end of the rudder. And the sea heaved beneath the fall of the rock, but the wave bare on the ship and drave it to the further shore.
‘But when he had now reached that island, where all our other decked ships abode together, and our company were gathered sorrowing, expecting us evermore, on our coming thither we ran our ship ashore upon the sand, and ourselves too stept forth upon the sea beach. Next we took forth the sheep of the Cyclops from out the hollow ship, and divided them, that none through me might go lacking his proper share. But the ram for me alone my goodly-greaved company chose out, in the dividing of the sheep, and on the shore I offered him up to Zeus, even to the son of Cronos, who dwells in the dark clouds, and is lord of all, and I burnt the slices of the thighs. But he heeded not the sacrifice, but was devising how my decked ships and my dear company might perish utterly. Thus for that time we sat the livelong day, until the going down of the sun, feasting on abundant flesh and sweet wine. And when the sun had sunk and darkness had come on, then we laid us to rest upon the sea beach. So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, I called to my company, and commanded them that they should themselves climb the ship and loose the hawsers. So they soon embarked and sat upon the benches, and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with their oars.
‘Thence we sailed onward stricken at heart, yet glad as men saved from death, albeit we had lost our dear companions.
Or, according to the ordinary interpretation of [Greek]: So he touched the chords in prelude to his sweet singing.
It seems very doubtful whether [Greek] can bear this meaning. The reading [Greek], ‘smote,’ preserved by the Schol. is highly probable.
[Greek], from root [Greek], ‘ill-grown,’ i. e. a weakling, in the literal sense as B. xi.249, xiv.212, or metaphorical, as here and viii. 177.
Lit. Strive after an arrival on the land, etc. [Greek] originally meant going, journeying, and had no idea of return. The earlier use survives here, and in Soph. Philoct. 43, Eur. Iph. Aul. 1261. Similarly, perhaps, [Greek] in Odyssey iv.619, xv.119, and [Greek] frequently
And for the women she favours, she ends the feuds of their lords also.
The distance here indicated seems to be that which the mule goes in ploughing, without pausing to take breath.
Literally, knowing neither dooms, nor ordinances of law.
We have omitted line 483, as required by the sense. It is introduced here from line 540.
Neither in this passage nor in B ii.171 nor in B xx.121 do we think that the aorist infinitive after a verb of saying can bear a future sense. The aorist infinitive after [Greek] (ii.280, vii.76) is hardly an argument in its favour; the infinitive there is in fact a noun in the genitive case.
[Greek] seems to mean ‘upon the earth,’ ‘above ground,’ as opposed to the dead who are below, rather than ‘bound to the soil,’ in which sense most commentators take it.
Tamasia, in the mountainous centre of Cyprus.
See Lenormant, Premieres Civilisations, vol. i. p.289.
[Greek] in strict grammar agrees with [Greek] in 574, but this merely by attraction, for in sense it refers not to the living man, but to his phantom.
Reading [Greek], not [Greek] with La Roche.
We omit line 101, which spoils the sense of the passage, and was rejected by antiquity.
[Greek] is perhaps best taken as an adverb in [Greek] formed from [Greek], though some letters of the word are still left obscure. Most modern commentators, however, derive it from [Greek] and [Greek] ‘near the ground; hence, in this context, ‘lift him by the feet.’
[Greek] can hardly have a local meaning here. If retained, it must be nearly equivalent to [Greek], ‘it seems,’ with a touch of irony. Cf. i.348. The v. 1. [Greek] is a simpler reading, but by no means certain.
The [Greek] explains the expression of surprise at the sudden departure of the stranger.
Placing at colon at [Greek], and reading [Greek] (cf. xix.312).
Accepting the conjecture [Greek] = [Greek] for the MSS. [Greek]
Reading [Greek], which is a correction. Or keeping the MSS. [Greek] ‘and this should bring thee in a goodly price,’ the subject to [Greek] being, probably, THE SALE, which is suggested by the context.
The accepted interpretation of [Greek] (a word which occurs only here) is ‘pretext’; but this does not agree with any of the meanings of the verb from which the noun is derived. The usage of [Greek] in Od. xix. 71, xxii. 75, of [Greek] in Il. xvii. 465, and of [Greek] in Od. xxii. 15, suggests rather for [Greek] the idea of ‘aiming at a mark.’
Placing a colon at [Greek]
Or, reading [Greek], smite him as he stooped over the corpse.
Or, as Mr. Merry suggests in his note, ‘tie boards behind him’ as a method of torture. He compares Aristoph. Thesm. 931,940.
Reading [Greek] . . . [Greek].
Cf. B. xxi. 131. For the use of the 1st pers. pl. like our ROYAL plural, cf. B. xvi.44, Il. vii. 190.
Supplying [Greek] from the preceding clause as object to [Greek]. Other constructions are possible.
Reading [Greek]. v. 1. ‘[Greek], which must be wrong.
A son of sorrow: Tristram.
Mr. Evelyn Abbott of Balliol College has suggested to us that [Greek] and [Greek] are here correlatives, and denote respectively the parts of host and of guest. This is sufficiently borne out by the usage of the words elsewhere.
The only name for the Nile in Homer. Cf. Wilkinson, Ancient Egyptians (1878), vol. i. p. 7.
COMPOSITION AND PLOT OF THE ODYSSEY.
The Odyssey is generally supposed to be somewhat the later in date of the two most ancient Greek poems which are concerned with the events and consequences of the Trojan war. As to the actual history of that war, it may be said that nothing is known. We may conjecture that some contest between peoples of more or less kindred stocks, who occupied the isles and the eastern and western shores of the Aegean, left a strong impression on the popular fancy. Round the memories of this contest would gather many older legends, myths, and stories, not peculiarly Greek or even ‘Aryan,’ which previously floated unattached, or were connected with heroes whose fame was swallowed up by that of a newer generation. It would be the work of minstrels, priests, and poets, as the national spirit grew conscious of itself, to shape all these materials into a definite body of tradition. This is the rule of development — first scattered stories, then the union of these into a NATIONAL legend. The growth of later national legends, which we are able to trace, historically, has generally come about in this fashion. To take the best known example, we are able to compare the real history of Charlemagne with the old epic poems on his life and exploits. In these poems we find that facts are strangely exaggerated, and distorted; that purely fanciful additions are made to the true records, that the more striking events of earlier history are crowded into the legend of Charles, that mere fairy tales, current among African as well as European peoples, are transmuted into false history, and that the anonymous characters of fairy tales are converted into historical personages. We can also watch the process by which feigned genealogies were constructed, which connected the princely houses of France with the imaginary heroes of the epics. The conclusion is that the poetical history of Charlemagne has only the faintest relations to the true history. And we are justified in supposing that, quite as little of the real history of events can be extracted from the tale of Troy, as from the Chansons de Geste.
By the time the Odyssey was composed, it is certain that a poet had before him a well-arranged mass of legends and traditions from which he might select his materials. The author of the Iliad has an extremely full and curiously consistent knowledge of the local traditions of Greece, the memories which were cherished by Thebans, Pylians, people of Mycenae, of Argos, and so on. The Iliad and the Odyssey assume this knowledge in the hearers of the poems, and take for granted some acquaintance with other legends, as with the story of the Argonautic Expedition. Now that story itself is a tissue of popular tales — still current in many distant lands — but all woven by the Greek genius into the history of Iason.
The history of the return of Odysseus as told in the Odyssey, is in the same way, a tissue of old marchen. These must have existed for an unknown length of time before they gravitated into the cycle of the tale of Troy.
The extraordinary artistic skill with which legends and myths, originally unconnected with each other, are woven into the plot of the Odyssey, so that the marvels of savage and barbaric fancy become indispensable parts of an artistic whole, is one of the chief proofs of the unity of authorship of that poem. We now go on to sketch the plot, which is a marvel of construction.
Odysseus was the King of Ithaca, a small and rugged island on the western coast of Greece. When he was but lately married to Penelope, and while his only son Telemachus was still an infant, the Trojan war began. It is scarcely necessary to say that the object of this war, as conceived of by the poets, was to win back Helen, the wife of Menelaus, from Paris, the son of Priam, King of Troy. As Menelaus was the brother of Agamemnon, the Emperor, so to speak, or recognised chief of the petty kingdoms of ‘Greece, the whole force of these kingdoms was at his disposal. No prince came to the leaguer of Troy from a home more remote than that of Odysseus. When Troy was taken, in the tenth year of the war, his homeward voyage was the longest and most perilous.
The action of the Odyssey occupies but the last six weeks of the ten years during which Odysseus was wandering. Two nights in these six weeks are taken up, however, by his own narrative of his adventures (to the Phaeacians, p. xx) in the previous ten years. With this explanatory narrative we must begin, before coming to the regular action of the poem.
After the fall of Troy, Odysseus touched at Ismarus, the city of a Thracian people, whom he attacked and plundered, but by whom he was at last repulsed. The north wind then carried his ships to Malea, the extreme southern point of Greece. Had he doubled Malea safely, he would probably have reached Ithaca in a few days, would have found Penelope unvexed by wooers, and Telemachus a boy of ten years old. But this was not to be.
The ‘ruinous winds’ drove Odysseus and his ships for ten days, and on the tenth they touched the land of the Lotus–Eaters, whose flowery food causes sweet forgetfulness. Lotus-land was possibly in Western Libya, but it is more probable that ten days’ voyage from the southern point of Greece, brought Odysseus into an unexplored region of fairy-land. Egypt, of which Homer had some knowledge, was but five days’ sail from Crete.
Lotus-land, therefore, being ten days’ sail from Malea, was well over the limit of the discovered world. From this country Odysseus went on till he reached the land of the lawless Cyclopes, a pastoral people of giants. Later Greece feigned that the Cyclopes dwelt near Mount Etna, in Sicily. Homer leaves their place of abode in the vague. Among the Cyclopes, Odysseus had the adventure on which his whole fortunes hinged. He destroyed the eye of the cannibal giant, Polyphemus, a son of Poseidon, the God of the Sea. To avenge this act, Poseidon drove Odysseus wandering for ten long years, and only suffered him to land in Ithaca, ‘alone, in evil case, to find troubles in his house.’ This is a very remarkable point in the plot. The story of the crafty adventurer and the blinding of the giant, with the punning device by which the hero escaped, exists in the shape of a detached marchen or fairy-tale among races who never heard of Homer. And when we find the story among Oghuzians, Esthonians, Basques, and Celts, it seems natural to suppose that these people did not break a fragment out of the Odyssey, but that the author of the Odyssey took possession of a legend out of the great traditional store of fiction. From the wide distribution of the tale, there is reason to suppose that it is older than Homer, and that it was not originally told of Odysseus, but was attached to his legend, as floating jests of unknown authorship are attributed to eminent wits. It has been remarked with truth that in this episode Odysseus acts out of character, that he is foolhardy as well as cunning. Yet the author of the Odyssey, so far from merely dove-tailing this story at random into his narrative, has made his whole plot turn on the injury to the Cyclops. Had he not foolishly exposed himself and his companions, by his visit to the Cyclops, Odysseus would never have been driven wandering for ten weary years. The prayers of the blinded Cyclops were heard and fulfilled by Poseidon.
From the land of the Cyclops, Odysseus and his company sailed to the Isle of Aeolus, the king of the winds. This place too is undefined; we only learn that, even with the most favourable gale, it was ten days’ sail from Ithaca. In the Isle of Aeolus Odysseus abode for a month, and then received from the king a bag in which all the winds were bound, except that which was to waft the hero to his home. This sort of bag was probably not unfamiliar to superstitious Greek sailors who had dealings with witches, like the modern wise women of the Lapps. The companions of the hero opened the bag when Ithaca was in sight, the winds rushed out, the ships were borne back to the Aeolian Isle, and thence the hero was roughly dismissed by Aeolus. Seven days’ sail brought him to Lamos, a city of the cannibal Laestrygonians. Their country, too, is in No-man’s-land, and nothing can be inferred from the fact that their fountain was called Artacia, and that there was an Artacia in Cyzicus. In Lamos a very important adventure befel Odysseus. The cannibals destroyed all his fleet, save one ship, with which he made his escape to the Isle of Circe. Here the enchantress turned part of the crew into swine, but Odysseus, by aid of the god Hermes, redeemed them, and became the lover of Circe. This adventure, like the story of the Cyclops, is a fairy tale of great antiquity. Dr. Gerland, in his Alt Griechische Marchen in der Odyssee, his shown that the story makes part of the collection of Somadeva, a store of Indian tales, of which 1200 A.D. is the approximate date. Circe appears as a Yackshini, and is conquered when an adventurer seizes her flute whose magic music turns men into beasts. The Indian Circe had the habit of eating the animals into which she transformed men.
We must suppose that the affairs with the Cicones, the Lotus-eaters, the Cyclops, Aeolus, and the Laestrygonians, occupied most of the first year after the fall of Troy. A year was then spent in the Isle of Circe, after which the sailors were eager to make for home. Circe commanded them to go down to Hades, to learn the homeward way from the ghost of the Theban prophet Teiresias. The descent into hell, for some similar purpose, is common in the epics of other races, such as the Finns, and the South–Sea Islanders. The narrative of Odysseus’s visit to the dead (book xi) is one of the most moving passages in the whole poem.
From Teiresias Odysseus learned that, if he would bring his companions home, he must avoid injuring the sacred cattle of the Sun, which pastured in the Isle of Thrinacia. If these were harmed, he would arrive in Ithaca alone, or in the words of the Cyclops’s prayer, I in evil plight, with loss of all his company, on board the ship of strangers, to find sorrow in his house.’ On returning to the Isle Aeaean, Odysseus was warned by Circe of the dangers he would encounter. He and his friends set forth, escaped the Sirens (a sort of mermaidens), evaded the Clashing Rocks, which close on ships (a fable known to the Aztecs), passed Scylla (the pieuvre of antiquity) with loss of some of the company, and reached Thrinacia, the Isle of the Sun. Here the company of Odysseus, constrained by hunger, devoured the sacred kine of the Sun, for which offence they were punished by a shipwreck, when all were lost save Odysseus. He floated ten days on a raft, and then reached the isle of the goddess Calypso, who kept him as her lover for eight years.
The first two years after the fall of Troy are now accounted for. They were occupied, as we have seen, by adventures with the Cicones, the Lotus-eaters, the Cyclops, Aeolus, the Laestrygonians, by a year’s residence with Circe, by the descent into Hades, the encounters with the Sirens, and Scylla, and the fatal sojourn in the isle of Thrinacia. We leave Odysseus alone, for eight years, consuming his own heart, in the island paradise of Calypso.
In Ithaca, the hero’s home, things seem to have passed smoothly till about the sixth year after the fall of Troy. Then the men of the younger generation, the island chiefs, began to woo Penelope, and to vex her son Telemachus. Laertes, the father of Odysseus, was too old to help, and Penelope only gained time by her famous device of weaving and unweaving the web. The wooers began to put compulsion on the Queen, quartering themselves upon her, devouring her substance, and insulting her by their relations with her handmaids. Thus Penelope pined at home, amidst her wasting possessions. Telemachus fretted in vain, and Odysseus was devoured by grief and home-sickness in the isle of Calypso. When he had lain there for nigh eight years, the action of the Odyssey begins, and occupies about six weeks.
DAY 1 (Book i).
The ordained time has now arrived, when by the counsels of the Gods, Odysseus is to be brought home to free his house, to avenge himself on the wooers, and recover his kingdom. The chief agent in his restoration is Pallas Athene; the first book opens with her prayer to Zeus that Odysseus may be delivered. For this purpose Hermes is to be sent to Calypso to bid her release Odysseus, while Pallas Athene in the shape of Mentor, a friend of Odysseus, visits Telemachus in Ithaca. She bids him call an assembly of the people, dismiss the wooers to their homes, and his mother to her father’s house, and go in quest of his own father, in Pylos, the city of Nestor, and Sparta, the home of Menelaus. Telemachus recognises the Goddess, and the first day closes.
DAY 2 (Book ii).
Telemachus assembles the people, but he has not the heart to carry out Athene’s advice. He cannot send the wooers away, nor turn his mother out of her house. He rather weakly appeals to the wooers’ consciences, and announces his intention of going to seek his father. They answer with scorn, but are warned of their fate, which is even at the doors, by Halitherses. His prophecy (first made when Odysseus set out for Troy) tallies with the prophecy of Teiresias, and the prayer of the Cyclops. The reader will observe a series of portents, prophecies, and omens, which grow more numerous and admonishing as their doom draws nearer to the wooers. Their hearts, however, are hardened, and they mock at Telemachus, who, after an interview with Athene, borrows a ship and secretly sets out for Pylos. Athene accompanies him, and his friends man his galley.
DAY 3 (Book iii).
They reach Pylos, and are kindly received by the aged Nestor, who has no news about Odysseus. After sacrifice, Athene disappears.
DAY 4 (Book iii).
The fourth day is occupied with sacrifice, and the talk of Nestor. In the evening Telemachus (leaving his ship and friends at Pylos) drives his chariot into Pherae, half way to Sparta; Peisistratus, the soil of Nestor, accompanies him.
DAY 5 (Book iv).
Telemachus and Peisistratus arrive at Sparta, where Menelaus and Helen receive them kindly.
DAY 6 (Book iv).
Menelaus tells how he himself came home in the eighth year after the fall of Troy. He had heard from Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea, that Odysseus was alive, and a captive on an island of the deep. Menelaus invites Telemachus to Stay with him for eleven days or twelve, which Telemachus declines to do. It will later appear that he made an even longer stay at Sparta, though whether he changed his mind, or whether we have here an inadvertence of the poet’s it is hard to determine. This blemish has been used as an argument against the unity of authorship, but writers of all ages have made graver mistakes.
On this same day (the sixth) the wooers in Ithaca learned that Telemachus had really set out to I cruise after his father.’ They sent some of their number to lie in ambush for him, in a certain strait which he was likely to pass on his return to Ithaca. Penelope also heard of her son’s departure, but was consoled by a dream.
DAY 7 (Book v).
The seventh day finds us again in Olympus. Athene again urges the release of Odysseus; and Hermes is sent to bid Calypso let the hero go. Zeus prophecies that after twenty days sailing, Odysseus will reach Scheria, and the hospitable Phaeacians, a people akin to the Gods, who will convey him to Ithaca. Hermes accomplishes the message to Calypso.
DAYS 8–12-32 (Book v).
These days are occupied by Odysseus in making and launching a raft; on the twelfth day from the beginning of the action he leaves Calypso’s isle. He sails for eighteen days, and on the eighteenth day of his voyage (the twenty-ninth from the beginning of the action), he sees Scheria. Poseidon raises a storm against him, and it is not till the thirty-second day from that in which Athene visited Telemachus, that he lands in Scheria, the country of the Phaeacians. Here he is again in fairy land. A rough, but perfectly recognisable form of the Phaeacian myth, is found in an Indian collection of marchen (already referred to) of the twelfth century A.D. Here the Phaeacians are the Vidyidhiris, and their old enemies the Cyclopes, are the Rakshashas, a sort of giants. The Indian Odysseus, who seeks the city of gold, passes by the home of an Indian Aeolus, Satyavrata. His later adventures are confused, and the Greek version retains only the more graceful fancies of the marchen.
DAY 33 (Book vi).
Odysseus meets Nausicaa, daughter of Alcinous, the Phaeacian King, and by her aid, and that of Athene, is favourably received at the palace, and tells how he came from Calypso’s island. His name is still unknown to his hosts.
DAY 34 (Books vii, viii, ix, x, xi, xii).
The Phaeacians and Odysseus display their skill in sports. Nausicaa bids Odysseus farewell. Odysseus recounts to Alcinous, and Arete, the Queen, those adventures in the two years between the fall of Troy and his captivity in the island of Calypso, which we have already described (pp. xiii-xvii).
DAY 35 (Book xiii).
Odysseus is conveyed to Ithaca, in the evening, on one of the magical barques of the Phaeacians.
DAY 36 (Books xiii, xiv, xv).
He wakens in Ithaca, which he does not at first recognise He learns from Athene, for the first time, that the wooers beset his house. She disguises him as an old man, and bids him go to the hut of the swineherd Eumaeus, who is loyal to his absent lord. Athene then goes to Lacedaemon, to bring back Telemachus, who has now resided there for a month. Odysseus won the heart of Eumaeus, who of course did not recognise him, and slept in the swineherd’s hut, while Athene was waking Telemachus, in Lacedaemon, and bidding him ‘be mindful of his return.’
DAY 37 (Book xv).
Is spent by Odysseus in the swineherd’s hut. Telemachus reaches Pherae, half-way to Pylos.
DAY 38 (Book xv).
Telemachus reaches Pylos, but does not visit Nestor. To save time he goes at once on board ship, taking with him an unfortunate outlaw, Theoclymenus, a second-sighted man, or the family of Melampus, in which the gift of prophecy was hereditary. The ship passed the Elian coast at night, and evaded the ambush of the wooers. Meanwhile Odysseus was sitting up almost till dawn, listening to the history of Eumaeus, the swineherd.
DAY 39 (Books xv, xvi).
Telemachus reaches the Isle of Ithaca, sends his ship to the city, but himself, by advice of Athene, makes for the hut of Eumaeus, where he meets, but naturally does not recognise, his disguised father. He sends Eumaeus to Penelope with news of his arrival, and then Athene reveals Odysseus to Telemachus. The two plot the death of the wooers. Odysseus bids Telemachus remove, on a favourable opportunity, the arms which were disposed as trophies on the walls of the hall at home. (There is a slight discrepancy between the words of this advice and the manner in which it is afterwards executed.) During this interview, the ship of Telemachus, the wooers who had been in ambush, and Eumaeus, all reached the town of Ithaca. In the evening Eumaeus returned to his hut, where Athene had again disguised Odysseus.
DAY 40 (Books xvii, xviii, xix, xx).
The story is now hastening to its close, and many events are crowded into the fortieth day. Telemachus goes from the swineherd’s hut to the city, and calls his guest, Theoclymenus, to the palace. The second-sighted man prophesies of the near revenge of Odysseus. In the afternoon, Odysseus (still disguised) and Eumaeus reach the city, the dog Argos recognises the hero, and dies. Odysseus goes begging through his own hall, and is struck by Antinous, the proudest of the wooers. Late in the day Eumaeus goes home, and Odysseus fights with the braggart beggar Irus. Still later, Penelope appears among the wooers, and receives presents from them. When the wooers have withdrawn, Odysseus and Telemachus remove the weapons from the hall to the armoury. Afterwards Odysseus has an interview with Penelope (who does not recognise him), but he is recognised by his old nurse Eurycleia. Penelope mentions her purpose to wed the man who on the following day, the feast of the Archer-god Apollo, shall draw the bow of Odysseus, and send an arrow through the holes in twelve axe-blades, set up in a row. Thus the poet shows that Odysseus has arrived in Ithaca not a day too soon. Odysseus is comforted by a vision of Athene, and
DAY 41 (Books xx, xxi, xxii, xxiii).
by the ominous prayer uttered by a weary woman grinding at the mill. The swineherd and the disloyal Melanthius arrive at the palace. The wooers defer the plot to kill Telemachus, as the day is holy to Apollo. Odysseus is led up from his seat near the door to a place beside Telemachus at the chief’s table. The wooers mock Telemachus, and the second-sighted Theoclymenus sees the ominous shroud of death covering their bodies, and the walls dripping with blood. He leaves the doomed company. In the trial of the bow, none of the wooers can draw it; meanwhile Odysseus has declared himself to the neatherd and the swineherd. The former bars and fastens the outer gates of the court, the latter bids Eurycleia bar the doors of the womens’ chambers which lead out of the hall. Odysseus now gets the bow into his hands, strings it, sends the arrow through the axe-blades, and then leaping on the threshold of stone, deals his shafts among the wooers. Telemachus, the neatherd, and Eumaeus, aiding him, he slaughters all the crew, despite the treachery of Melanthius. The paramours of the wooers are hanged, and Odysseus, after some delay, is recognised by Penelope.
DAY 42 (Books xxiii, xxiv).
This day is occupied with the recognition of Odysseus by his aged father Laertes, and with the futile attempt of the kinsfolk of the wooers to avenge them on Odysseus. Athene reconciles the feud, and the toils of Odysseus are accomplished.
The reader has now before him a chronologically arranged sketch of the action of the Odyssey. It is, perhaps, apparent, even from this bare outline, that the composition is elaborate and artistic, that the threads of the plot are skilfully separated and combined. The germ of the whole epic is probably the popular tale, known all over the world, of the warrior who, on his return from a long expedition, has great difficulty in making his prudent wife recognise him. The incident occurs as a detached story in China, and in most European countries it is told of a crusader. ‘We may suppose it to be older than the legend of Troy, and to have gravitated into the cycle of that legend. The years of the hero’s absence are then filled up with adventures (the Cyclops, Circe, the Phaeacians, the Sirens, the descent into hell) which exist as scattered tales, or are woven into the more elaborate epics of Gaels, Aztecs, Hindoos, Tartars, South–Sea Islanders, Finns, Russians, Scandinavians, and Eskimo. The whole is surrounded with the atmosphere of the kingly age of Greece, and the result is the Odyssey, with that unity of plot and variety of character which must have been given by one masterly constructive genius. The date at which the poet of the Odyssey lived may be approximately determined by his consistent descriptions of a peculiar and definite condition of society, which had ceased to exist in the ninth century B.C., and of a stage of art in which Phoenician and Assyrian influences predominated. (Die Kunst bei Homer. Brunn.) As to the mode of composition, it would not be difficult to show that at least the a priori Wolfian arguments against the early use of writing for literary purposes have no longer the cogency which they were once thought to possess. But this is matter for a separate investigation.
There would have been less controversy about the proper method of Homeric translation, if critics had recognised that the question is a purely relative one, that of Homer there can be no final translation. The taste and the literary habits of each age demand different qualities in poetry, and therefore a different sort of rendering of Homer. To the men of the time of Elizabeth, Homer would have appeared bald, it seems, and lacking in ingenuity, if he had been presented in his antique simplicity. For the Elizabethan age, Chapman supplied what was then necessary, and the mannerisms that were then deemed of the essence of poetry, namely, daring and luxurious conceits. Thus in Chapman’s verse Troy must ‘shed her towers for tears of overthrow,’ and when the winds toss Odysseus about, their sport must be called ‘the horrid tennis.’
In the age of Anne, ‘dignity’ and ‘correctness’ had to be given to Homer, and Pope gave them by aid of his dazzling rhetoric, his antitheses, his nettete, his command of every conventional and favourite artifice. Without Chapman’s conceits, Homer’s poems would hardly have been what the Elizabethans took for poetry; without Pope’s smoothness, and Pope’s points, the Iliad and Odyssey would have seemed rude, and harsh in the age of Anne. These great translations must always live as English poems. As transcripts of Homer they are like pictures drawn from a lost point of view. Chaque siecle depuis le xvi a ue de ce cote son belveder different. Again, when Europe woke to a sense, an almost exaggerated and certainly uncritical sense, of the value of her songs of the people, of all the ballads that Herder, Scott, Lonnrot, and the rest collected, it was commonly said that Homer was a ballad-minstrel, that the translator must imitate the simplicity, and even adopt the formulae of the ballad. Hence came the renderings of Maginn, the experiments of Mr. Gladstone, and others. There was some excuse for the error of critics who asked for a Homer in ballad rhyme. The Epic poet, the poet of gods and heroes, did indeed inherit some of the formulae of the earlier Volks-lied. Homer, like the author of The Song of Roland, like the singers of the Kalevala, uses constantly recurring epithets, and repeats, word for word, certain emphatic passages, messages, and so on. That custom is essential in the ballad, it is an accident not the essence of the epic. The epic is a poem of complete and elaborate art, but it still bears some birthmarks, some signs of the early popular chant, out of which it sprung, as the garden-rose springs from the wild stock, When this is recognised the demand for ballad-like simplicity and ‘ballad-slang’ ceases to exist, and then all Homeric translations in the ballad manner cease to represent our conception of Homer. After the belief in the ballad manner follows the recognition of the romantic vein in Homer, and, as a result, came Mr. Worsley’s admirable Odyssey. This masterly translation does all that can be done for the Odyssey in the romantic style. The smoothness of the verse, the wonderful closeness to the original, reproduce all of Homer, in music and in meaning, that can be rendered in English verse. There still, however, seems an aspect Homeric poems, and a demand in connection with Homer to be recognised, and to be satisfied.
Sainte–Beuve says, with reference probably to M. Leconte de Lisle’s prose version of the epics, that some people treat the epics too much as if the were sagas. Now the Homeric epics are sagas, but then they are the sagas of the divine heroic age of Greece, and thus are told with an art which is not the art of the Northern poets. The epics are stories about the adventures of men living in most respects like the men of our own race who dwelt in Iceland, Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. The epics are, in a way, and as far as manners and institutions are concerned, historical documents. Whoever regards them in this way, must wish to read them exactly as they have reached us, without modern ornament, with nothing added or omitted. He must recognise, with Mr. Matthew Arnold, that what he now wants, namely, the simple truth about the matter of the poem, can only be given in prose, ‘for in a verse translation no original work is any longer recognisable.’ It is for this reason that we have attempted to tell once more, in simple prose, the story of Odysseus. We have tried to transfer, not all the truth about the poem, but the historical truth, into English. In this process Homer must lose at least half his charm, his bright and equable speed, the musical current of that narrative, which, like the river of Egypt, flows from an indiscoverable source, and mirrors the temples and the palaces of unforgotten gods and kings. Without this music of verse, only a half truth about Homer can be told, but then it is that half of the truth which, at this moment, it seems most necessary to tell. This is the half of the truth that the translators who use verse cannot easily tell. They MUST be adding to Homer, talking with Pope about ‘tracing the mazy lev’ret o’er the lawn,’ or with Mr. Worsley about the islands that are ‘stars of the blue Aegaean,’ or with Dr. Hawtrey about ‘the earth’s soft arms,’ when Homer says nothing at all about the ‘mazy lev’ret,’ or the ‘stars of the blue Aegaean,’ or the ‘soft arms’ of earth. It would be impertinent indeed to blame any of these translations in their place. They give that which the romantic reader of poetry, or the student of the age of Anne, looks for in verse; and without tags of this sort, a translation of Homer in verse cannot well be made to hold together.
There can be then, it appears, no final English translation of Homer. In each there must be, in addition to what is Greek and eternal, the element of what is modern, personal, and fleeting. Thus we trust that there may be room for ‘the pale and far-off shadow of a prose translation,’ of which the aim is limited and humble. A prose translation cannot give the movement and the fire of a successful translation in verse; it only gathers, as it were, the crumbs which fall from the richer table, only tells the story, without the song. Yet to a prose translation is permitted, perhaps, that close adherence to the archaisms of the epic, which in verse become mere oddities. The double epithets, the recurring epithets of Homer, if rendered into verse, delay and puzzle the reader, as the Greek does not delay or puzzle him. In prose he may endure them, or even care to study them as the survivals of a stage of taste, which is to be found in its prime in the sagas. These double and recurring epithets of Homer are a softer form of the quaint Northern periphrases, which make the sea the ‘swan’s bath,’ gold, the ‘dragon’s hoard,’ men, the ‘ring-givers,’ and so on. We do not know whether it is necessary to defend our choice of a somewhat antiquated prose. Homer has no ideas which cannot be expressed in words that are ‘old and plain,’ and to words that are old and plain, and, as a rule, to such terms as, being used by the Translators of the Bible, are still not unfamiliar, we have tried to restrict ourselves. It may be objected, that the employment of language which does not come spontaneously to the lips, is an affectation out of place in a version of the Odyssey. To this we may answer that the Greek Epic dialect, like the English of our Bible, was a thing of slow growth and composite nature, that it was never a spoken language, nor, except for certain poetical purposes, a written language. Thus the Biblical English seems as nearly analogous to the Epic Greek, as anything that our tongue has to offer.
The few foot-notes in this book are chiefly intended to make clear some passages where there is a choice of reading. The notes at the end, which we would like to have written in the form of essays, and in company with more complete philological and archaeological studies, are chiefly meant to elucidate the life of Homer’s men. We have received much help from many friends, and especially from Mr. R. W. Raper, Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford and Mr. Gerald Balfour, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, who has aided us with many suggestions while the book was passing through the press.
In the interpretation of B. i.411, ii.191, v.90, and 471, we have departed from the received view, and followed Mr. Raper, who, however, has not been able to read through the proof-sheets further than Book xii.
We have adopted La Roche’s text (Homeri Odyssea, J. La Roche, Leipzig, 1867), except in a few cases where we mention our reading in a foot-note.
The Arguments prefixed to the Books are taken, with very slight alterations, from Hobbes’ Translation of the Odyssey.
It is hoped that the Introduction added to the second edition may illustrate the growth of those national legends on which Homer worked, and may elucidate the plot of the Odyssey.
Wet owe our thanks to the Rev. E. Warre, of Eton College, for certain corrections on nautical points. In particular, he has convinced us that the raft of Odysseus in B. v. is a raft strictly so called, and that it is not, under the poet’s description, elaborated into a ship, as has been commonly supposed. The translation of the passage (B. v.246–261) is accordingly altered.
<center>Done into English prose by S.H. Butcher & A. Lang</center>
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* [[Preface|Butcher & Lang: Preface]]
* [[Preface To The Third Edition|Butcher & Lang: Preface To The Third Edition]]
* [[Introduction|Butcher & Lang: Introduction]]
* [[Book 1|Butcher & Lang: Book 1]]
* [[Book 2|Butcher & Lang: Book 2]]
* [[Book 3|Butcher & Lang: Book 3]]
* [[Book 4|Butcher & Lang: Book 4]]
* [[Book 5|Butcher & Lang: Book 5]]
* [[Book 6|Butcher & Lang: Book 6]]
* [[Book 7|Butcher & Lang: Book 7]]
* [[Book 8|Butcher & Lang: Book 8]]
* [[Book 9|Butcher & Lang: Book 9]]
* [[Book 10|Butcher & Lang: Book 10]]
* [[Book 11|Butcher & Lang: Book 11]]
* [[Book 12|Butcher & Lang: Book 12]]
* [[Book 13|Butcher & Lang: Book 13]]
* [[Book 14|Butcher & Lang: Book 14]]
* [[Book 15|Butcher & Lang: Book 15]]
* [[Book 16|Butcher & Lang: Book 16]]
* [[Book 17|Butcher & Lang: Book 17]]
* [[Book 18|Butcher & Lang: Book 18]]
* [[Book 19|Butcher & Lang: Book 19]]
* [[Book 20|Butcher & Lang: Book 20]]
* [[Book 21|Butcher & Lang: Book 21]]
* [[Book 22|Butcher & Lang: Book 22]]
* [[Book 23|Butcher & Lang: Book 23]]
* [[Book 24|Butcher & Lang: Book 24]]
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TELL ME, O MUSE, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted; moreover he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his men safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about all these things, O daughter of Jove, from whatsoever source you may know them.
So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely home except Ulysses, and he, though he was longing to return to his wife and country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got him into a large cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by, there came a time when the gods settled that he should go back to Ithaca; even then, however, when he was among his own people, his troubles were not yet over; nevertheless all the gods had now begun to pity him except Neptune, who still persecuted him without ceasing and would not let him get home.
Now Neptune had gone off to the Ethiopians, who are at the world’s end, and lie in two halves, the one looking West and the other East. He had gone there to accept a hecatomb of sheep and oxen, and was enjoying himself at his festival; but the other gods met in the house of Olympian Jove, and the sire of gods and men spoke first. At that moment he was thinking of Aegisthus, who had been killed by Agamemnon’s son Orestes; so he said to the other gods:
“See now, how men lay blame upon us gods for what is after all nothing but their own folly. Look at Aegisthus; he must needs make love to Agamemnon’s wife unrighteously and then kill Agamemnon, though he knew it would be the death of him; for I sent Mercury to warn him not to do either of these things, inasmuch as Orestes would be sure to take his revenge when he grew up and wanted to return home. Mercury told him this in all good will but he would not listen, and now he has paid for everything in full.”
Then Minerva said, “Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, it served Aegisthus right, and so it would any one else who does as he did; but Aegisthus is neither here nor there; it is for Ulysses that my heart bleeds, when I think of his sufferings in that lonely sea-girt island, far away, poor man, from all his friends. It is an island covered with forest, in the very middle of the sea, and a goddess lives there, daughter of the magician Atlas, who looks after the bottom of the ocean, and carries the great columns that keep heaven and earth asunder. This daughter of Atlas has got hold of poor unhappy Ulysses, and keeps trying by every kind of blandishment to make him forget his home, so that he is tired of life, and thinks of nothing but how he may once more see the smoke of his own chimneys. You, sir, take no heed of this, and yet when Ulysses was before Troy did he not propitiate you with many a burnt sacrifice? Why then should you keep on being so angry with him?”
And Jove said, “My child, what are you talking about? How can I forget Ulysses than whom there is no more capable man on earth, nor more liberal in his offerings to the immortal gods that live in heaven? Bear in mind, however, that Neptune is still furious with Ulysses for having blinded an eye of Polyphemus king of the Cyclopes. Polyphemus is son to Neptune by the nymph Thoosa, daughter to the sea-king Phorcys; therefore though he will not kill Ulysses outright, he torments him by preventing him from getting home. Still, let us lay our heads together and see how we can help him to return; Neptune will then be pacified, for if we are all of a mind he can hardly stand out against us.”
And Minerva said, “Father, son of Saturn, King of kings, if, then, the gods now mean that Ulysses should get home, we should first send Mercury to the Ogygian island to tell Calypso that we have made up our minds and that he is to return. In the meantime I will go to Ithaca, to put heart into Ulysses’ son Telemachus; I will embolden him to call the Achaeans in assembly, and speak out to the suitors of his mother Penelope, who persist in eating up any number of his sheep and oxen; I will also conduct him to Sparta and to Pylos, to see if he can hear anything about the return of his dear father — for this will make people speak well of him.”
So saying she bound on her glittering golden sandals, imperishable, with which she can fly like the wind over land or sea; she grasped the redoubtable bronze-shod spear, so stout and sturdy and strong, wherewith she quells the ranks of heroes who have displeased her, and down she darted from the topmost summits of Olympus, whereon forthwith she was in Ithaca, at the gateway of Ulysses’ house, disguised as a visitor, Mentes, chief of the Taphians, and she held a bronze spear in her hand. There she found the lordly suitors seated on hides of the oxen which they had killed and eaten, and playing draughts in front of the house. Men-servants and pages were bustling about to wait upon them, some mixing wine with water in the mixing-bowls, some cleaning down the tables with wet sponges and laying them out again, and some cutting up great quantities of meat.
Telemachus saw her long before any one else did. He was sitting moodily among the suitors thinking about his brave father, and how he would send them flying out of the house, if he were to come to his own again and be honoured as in days gone by. Thus brooding as he sat among them, he caught sight of Minerva and went straight to the gate, for he was vexed that a stranger should be kept waiting for admittance. He took her right hand in his own, and bade her give him her spear. “Welcome,” said he, “to our house, and when you have partaken of food you shall tell us what you have come for.”
He led the way as he spoke, and Minerva followed him. When they were within he took her spear and set it in the spear — stand against a strong bearing-post along with the many other spears of his unhappy father, and he conducted her to a richly decorated seat under which he threw a cloth of damask. There was a footstool also for her feet, and he set another seat near her for himself, away from the suitors, that she might not be annoyed while eating by their noise and insolence, and that he might ask her more freely about his father.
A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread, and offered them many good things of what there was in the house, the carver fetched them plates of all manner of meats and set cups of gold by their side, and a man-servant brought them wine and poured it out for them.
Then the suitors came in and took their places on the benches and seats. Forthwith men servants poured water over their hands, maids went round with the bread-baskets, pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and water, and they laid their hands upon the good things that were before them. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink they wanted music and dancing, which are the crowning embellishments of a banquet, so a servant brought a lyre to Phemius, whom they compelled perforce to sing to them. As soon as he touched his lyre and began to sing Telemachus spoke low to Minerva, with his head close to hers that no man might hear.
“I hope, sir,” said he, “that you will not be offended with what I am going to say. Singing comes cheap to those who do not pay for it, and all this is done at the cost of one whose bones lie rotting in some wilderness or grinding to powder in the surf. If these men were to see my father come back to Ithaca they would pray for longer legs rather than a longer purse, for money would not serve them; but he, alas, has fallen on an ill fate, and even when people do sometimes say that he is coming, we no longer heed them; we shall never see him again. And now, sir, tell me and tell me true, who you are and where you come from. Tell me of your town and parents, what manner of ship you came in, how your crew brought you to Ithaca, and of what nation they declared themselves to be — for you cannot have come by land. Tell me also truly, for I want to know, are you a stranger to this house, or have you been here in my father’s time? In the old days we had many visitors for my father went about much himself.”
And Minerva answered, “I will tell you truly and particularly all about it. I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, and I am King of the Taphians. I have come here with my ship and crew, on a voyage to men of a foreign tongue being bound for Temesa with a cargo of iron, and I shall bring back copper. As for my ship, it lies over yonder off the open country away from the town, in the harbour Rheithron under the wooded mountain Neritum. Our fathers were friends before us, as old Laertes will tell you, if you will go and ask him. They say, however, that he never comes to town now, and lives by himself in the country, faring hardly, with an old woman to look after him and get his dinner for him, when he comes in tired from pottering about his vineyard. They told me your father was at home again, and that was why I came, but it seems the gods are still keeping him back, for he is not dead yet not on the mainland. It is more likely he is on some sea-girt island in mid ocean, or a prisoner among savages who are detaining him against his will I am no prophet, and know very little about omens, but I speak as it is borne in upon me from heaven, and assure you that he will not be away much longer; for he is a man of such resource that even though he were in chains of iron he would find some means of getting home again. But tell me, and tell me true, can Ulysses really have such a fine looking fellow for a son? You are indeed wonderfully like him about the head and eyes, for we were close friends before he set sail for Troy where the flower of all the Argives went also. Since that time we have never either of us seen the other.”
“My mother,” answered Telemachus, tells me I am son to Ulysses, but it is a wise child that knows his own father. Would that I were son to one who had grown old upon his own estates, for, since you ask me, there is no more ill-starred man under heaven than he who they tell me is my father.”
And Minerva said, “There is no fear of your race dying out yet, while Penelope has such a fine son as you are. But tell me, and tell me true, what is the meaning of all this feasting, and who are these people? What is it all about? Have you some banquet, or is there a wedding in the family — for no one seems to be bringing any provisions of his own? And the guests — how atrociously they are behaving; what riot they make over the whole house; it is enough to disgust any respectable person who comes near them.”
“Sir,” said Telemachus, “as regards your question, so long as my father was here it was well with us and with the house, but the gods in their displeasure have willed it otherwise, and have hidden him away more closely than mortal man was ever yet hidden. I could have borne it better even though he were dead, if he had fallen with his men before Troy, or had died with friends around him when the days of his fighting were done; for then the Achaeans would have built a mound over his ashes, and I should myself have been heir to his renown; but now the storm-winds have spirited him away we know not wither; he is gone without leaving so much as a trace behind him, and I inherit nothing but dismay. Nor does the matter end simply with grief for the loss of my father; heaven has laid sorrows upon me of yet another kind; for the chiefs from all our islands, Dulichium, Same, and the woodland island of Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying their court to my mother, who will neither point blank say that she will not marry, nor yet bring matters to an end; so they are making havoc of my estate, and before long will do so also with myself.”
“Is that so?” exclaimed Minerva, “then you do indeed want Ulysses home again. Give him his helmet, shield, and a couple lances, and if he is the man he was when I first knew him in our house, drinking and making merry, he would soon lay his hands about these rascally suitors, were he to stand once more upon his own threshold. He was then coming from Ephyra, where he had been to beg poison for his arrows from Ilus, son of Mermerus. Ilus feared the ever-living gods and would not give him any, but my father let him have some, for he was very fond of him. If Ulysses is the man he then was these suitors will have a short shrift and a sorry wedding.
“But there! It rests with heaven to determine whether he is to return, and take his revenge in his own house or no; I would, however, urge you to set about trying to get rid of these suitors at once. Take my advice, call the Achaean heroes in assembly to-morrow — lay your case before them, and call heaven to bear you witness. Bid the suitors take themselves off, each to his own place, and if your mother’s mind is set on marrying again, let her go back to her father, who will find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts that so dear a daughter may expect. As for yourself, let me prevail upon you to take the best ship you can get, with a crew of twenty men, and go in quest of your father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell you something, or (and people often hear things in this way) some heaven-sent message may direct you. First go to Pylos and ask Nestor; thence go on to Sparta and visit Menelaus, for he got home last of all the Achaeans; if you hear that your father is alive and on his way home, you can put up with the waste these suitors will make for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand you hear of his death, come home at once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make your mother marry again. Then, having done all this, think it well over in your mind how, by fair means or foul, you may kill these suitors in your own house. You are too old to plead infancy any longer; have you not heard how people are singing Orestes’ praises for having killed his father’s murderer Aegisthus? You are a fine, smart looking fellow; show your mettle, then, and make yourself a name in story. Now, however, I must go back to my ship and to my crew, who will be impatient if I keep them waiting longer; think the matter over for yourself, and remember what I have said to you.”
“Sir,” answered Telemachus, “it has been very kind of you to talk to me in this way, as though I were your own son, and I will do all you tell me; I know you want to be getting on with your voyage, but stay a little longer till you have taken a bath and refreshed yourself. I will then give you a present, and you shall go on your way rejoicing; I will give you one of great beauty and value — a keepsake such as only dear friends give to one another.”
Minerva answered, “Do not try to keep me, for I would be on my way at once. As for any present you may be disposed to make me, keep it till I come again, and I will take it home with me. You shall give me a very good one, and I will give you one of no less value in return.”
With these words she flew away like a bird into the air, but she had given Telemachus courage, and had made him think more than ever about his father. He felt the change, wondered at it, and knew that the stranger had been a god, so he went straight to where the suitors were sitting.
Phemius was still singing, and his hearers sat rapt in silence as he told the sad tale of the return from Troy, and the ills Minerva had laid upon the Achaeans. Penelope, daughter of Icarius, heard his song from her room upstairs, and came down by the great staircase, not alone, but attended by two of her handmaids. When she reached the suitors she stood by one of the bearing posts that supported the roof of the cloisters with a staid maiden on either side of her. She held a veil, moreover, before her face, and was weeping bitterly.
“Phemius,” she cried, “you know many another feat of gods and heroes, such as poets love to celebrate. Sing the suitors some one of these, and let them drink their wine in silence, but cease this sad tale, for it breaks my sorrowful heart, and reminds me of my lost husband whom I mourn ever without ceasing, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos.”
“Mother,” answered Telemachus, “let the bard sing what he has a mind to; bards do not make the ills they sing of; it is Jove, not they, who makes them, and who sends weal or woe upon mankind according to his own good pleasure. This fellow means no harm by singing the ill-fated return of the Danaans, for people always applaud the latest songs most warmly. Make up your mind to it and bear it; Ulysses is not the only man who never came back from Troy, but many another went down as well as he. Go, then, within the house and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants; for speech is man’s matter, and mine above all others — for it is I who am master here.”
She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son’s saying in her heart. Then, going upstairs with her handmaids into her room, she mourned her dear husband till Minerva shed sweet sleep over her eyes. But the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloisters, and prayed each one that he might be her bed fellow.
Then Telemachus spoke, “Shameless,” he cried, “and insolent suitors, let us feast at our pleasure now, and let there be no brawling, for it is a rare thing to hear a man with such a divine voice as Phemius has; but in the morning meet me in full assembly that I may give you formal notice to depart, and feast at one another’s houses, turn and turn about, at your own cost. If on the other hand you choose to persist in spunging upon one man, heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”
The suitors bit their lips as they heard him, and marvelled at the boldness of his speech. Then, Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said, “The gods seem to have given you lessons in bluster and tall talking; may Jove never grant you to be chief in Ithaca as your father was before you.”
Telemachus answered, “Antinous, do not chide with me, but, god willing, I will be chief too if I can. Is this the worst fate you can think of for me? It is no bad thing to be a chief, for it brings both riches and honour. Still, now that Ulysses is dead there are many great men in Ithaca both old and young, and some other may take the lead among them; nevertheless I will be chief in my own house, and will rule those whom Ulysses has won for me.”
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered, “It rests with heaven to decide who shall be chief among us, but you shall be master in your own house and over your own possessions; no one while there is a man in Ithaca shall do you violence nor rob you. And now, my good fellow, I want to know about this stranger. What country does he come from? Of what family is he, and where is his estate? Has he brought you news about the return of your father, or was he on business of his own? He seemed a well-to-do man, but he hurried off so suddenly that he was gone in a moment before we could get to know him.”
“My father is dead and gone,” answered Telemachus, “and even if some rumour reaches me I put no more faith in it now. My mother does indeed sometimes send for a soothsayer and question him, but I give his prophecyings no heed. As for the stranger, he was Mentes, son of Anchialus, chief of the Taphians, an old friend of my father’s.” But in his heart he knew that it had been the goddess.
The suitors then returned to their singing and dancing until the evening; but when night fell upon their pleasuring they went home to bed each in his own abode. Telemachus’s room was high up in a tower that looked on to the outer court; hither, then, he hied, brooding and full of thought. A good old woman, Euryclea, daughter of Ops, the son of Pisenor, went before him with a couple of blazing torches. Laertes had bought her with his own money when she was quite young; he gave the worth of twenty oxen for her, and shewed as much respect to her in his household as he did to his own wedded wife, but he did not take her to his bed for he feared his wife’s resentment. She it was who now lighted Telemachus to his room, and she loved him better than any of the other women in the house did, for she had nursed him when he was a baby. He opened the door of his bed room and sat down upon the bed; as he took off his shirt he gave it to the good old woman, who folded it tidily up, and hung it for him over a peg by his bed side, after which she went out, pulled the door to by a silver catch, and drew the bolt home by means of the strap. But Telemachus as he lay covered with a woollen fleece kept thinking all night through of his intended voyage of the counsel that Minerva had given him.
THENCE we went on to the Aeoli island where lives Aeolus son of Hippotas, dear to the immortal gods. It is an island that floats (as it were) upon the sea, iron bound with a wall that girds it. Now, Aeolus has six daughters and six lusty sons, so he made the sons marry the daughters, and they all live with their dear father and mother, feasting and enjoying every conceivable kind of luxury. All day long the atmosphere of the house is loaded with the savour of roasting meats till it groans again, yard and all; but by night they sleep on their well-made bedsteads, each with his own wife between the blankets. These were the people among whom we had now come.
“Aeolus entertained me for a whole month asking me questions all the time about Troy, the Argive fleet, and the return of the Achaeans. I told him exactly how everything had happened, and when I said I must go, and asked him to further me on my way, he made no sort of difficulty, but set about doing so at once. Moreover, he flayed me a prime ox-hide to hold the ways of the roaring winds, which he shut up in the hide as in a sack — for Jove had made him captain over the winds, and he could stir or still each one of them according to his own pleasure. He put the sack in the ship and bound the mouth so tightly with a silver thread that not even a breath of a side-wind could blow from any quarter. The West wind which was fair for us did he alone let blow as it chose; but it all came to nothing, for we were lost through our own folly.
“Nine days and nine nights did we sail, and on the tenth day our native land showed on the horizon. We got so close in that we could see the stubble fires burning, and I, being then dead beat, fell into a light sleep, for I had never let the rudder out of my own hands, that we might get home the faster. On this the men fell to talking among themselves, and said I was bringing back gold and silver in the sack that Aeolus had given me. ‘Bless my heart,’ would one turn to his neighbour, saying, ‘how this man gets honoured and makes friends to whatever city or country he may go. See what fine prizes he is taking home from Troy, while we, who have travelled just as far as he has, come back with hands as empty as we set out with — and now Aeolus has given him ever so much more. Quick — let us see what it all is, and how much gold and silver there is in the sack he gave him.’
“Thus they talked and evil counsels prevailed. They loosed the sack, whereupon the wind flew howling forth and raised a storm that carried us weeping out to sea and away from our own country. Then I awoke, and knew not whether to throw myself into the sea or to live on and make the best of it; but I bore it, covered myself up, and lay down in the ship, while the men lamented bitterly as the fierce winds bore our fleet back to the Aeolian island.
“When we reached it we went ashore to take in water, and dined hard by the ships. Immediately after dinner I took a herald and one of my men and went straight to the house of Aeolus, where I found him feasting with his wife and family; so we sat down as suppliants on the threshold. They were astounded when they saw us and said, ‘Ulysses, what brings you here? What god has been ill-treating you? We took great pains to further you on your way home to Ithaca, or wherever it was that you wanted to go to.’
“Thus did they speak, but I answered sorrowfully, ‘My men have undone me; they, and cruel sleep, have ruined me. My friends, mend me this mischief, for you can if you will.’
“I spoke as movingly as I could, but they said nothing, till their father answered, ‘Vilest of mankind, get you gone at once out of the island; him whom heaven hates will I in no wise help. Be off, for you come here as one abhorred of heaven. “And with these words he sent me sorrowing from his door.
“Thence we sailed sadly on till the men were worn out with long and fruitless rowing, for there was no longer any wind to help them. Six days, night and day did we toil, and on the seventh day we reached the rocky stronghold of Lamus — Telepylus, the city of the Laestrygonians, where the shepherd who is driving in his sheep and goats [to be milked] salutes him who is driving out his flock [to feed] and this last answers the salute. In that country a man who could do without sleep might earn double wages, one as a herdsman of cattle, and another as a shepherd, for they work much the same by night as they do by day.
“When we reached the harbour we found it land-locked under steep cliffs, with a narrow entrance between two headlands. My captains took all their ships inside, and made them fast close to one another, for there was never so much as a breath of wind inside, but it was always dead calm. I kept my own ship outside, and moored it to a rock at the very end of the point; then I climbed a high rock to reconnoitre, but could see no sign neither of man nor cattle, only some smoke rising from the ground. So I sent two of my company with an attendant to find out what sort of people the inhabitants were.
“The men when they got on shore followed a level road by which the people draw their firewood from the mountains into the town, till presently they met a young woman who had come outside to fetch water, and who was daughter to a Laestrygonian named Antiphates. She was going to the fountain Artacia from which the people bring in their water, and when my men had come close up to her, they asked her who the king of that country might be, and over what kind of people he ruled; so she directed them to her father’s house, but when they got there they found his wife to be a giantess as huge as a mountain, and they were horrified at the sight of her.
“She at once called her husband Antiphates from the place of assembly, and forthwith he set about killing my men. He snatched up one of them, and began to make his dinner off him then and there, whereon the other two ran back to the ships as fast as ever they could. But Antiphates raised a hue and cry after them, and thousands of sturdy Laestrygonians sprang up from every quarter — ogres, not men. They threw vast rocks at us from the cliffs as though they had been mere stones, and I heard the horrid sound of the ships crunching up against one another, and the death cries of my men, as the Laestrygonians speared them like fishes and took them home to eat them. While they were thus killing my men within the harbour I drew my sword, cut the cable of my own ship, and told my men to row with alf their might if they too would not fare like the rest; so they laid out for their lives, and we were thankful enough when we got into open water out of reach of the rocks they hurled at us. As for the others there was not one of them left.
“Thence we sailed sadly on, glad to have escaped death, though we had lost our comrades, and came to the Aeaean island, where Circe lives a great and cunning goddess who is own sister to the magician Aeetes — for they are both children of the sun by Perse, who is daughter to Oceanus. We brought our ship into a safe harbour without a word, for some god guided us thither, and having landed we there for two days and two nights, worn out in body and mind. When the morning of the third day came I took my spear and my sword, and went away from the ship to reconnoitre, and see if I could discover signs of human handiwork, or hear the sound of voices. Climbing to the top of a high look-out I espied the smoke of Circe’s house rising upwards amid a dense forest of trees, and when I saw this I doubted whether, having seen the smoke, I would not go on at once and find out more, but in the end I deemed it best to go back to the ship, give the men their dinners, and send some of them instead of going myself.
“When I had nearly got back to the ship some god took pity upon my solitude, and sent a fine antlered stag right into the middle of my path. He was coming down his pasture in the forest to drink of the river, for the heat of the sun drove him, and as he passed I struck him in the middle of the back; the bronze point of the spear went clean through him, and he lay groaning in the dust until the life went out of him. Then I set my foot upon him, drew my spear from the wound, and laid it down; I also gathered rough grass and rushes and twisted them into a fathom or so of good stout rope, with which I bound the four feet of the noble creature together; having so done I hung him round my neck and walked back to the ship leaning upon my spear, for the stag was much too big for me to be able to carry him on my shoulder, steadying him with one hand. As I threw him down in front of the ship, I called the men and spoke cheeringly man by man to each of them. ‘Look here my friends,’ said I, ‘we are not going to die so much before our time after all, and at any rate we will not starve so long as we have got something to eat and drink on board.’ On this they uncovered their heads upon the sea shore and admired the stag, for he was indeed a splendid fellow. Then, when they had feasted their eyes upon him sufficiently, they washed their hands and began to cook him for dinner.
“Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we stayed there eating and drinking our fill, but when the sun went down and it came on dark, we camped upon the sea shore. When the child of morning, fingered Dawn, appeared, I called a council and said, ‘My friends, we are in very great difficulties; listen therefore to me. We have no idea where the sun either sets or rises, so that we do not even know East from West. I see no way out of it; nevertheless, we must try and find one. We are certainly on an island, for I went as high as I could this morning, and saw the sea reaching all round it to the horizon; it lies low, but towards the middle I saw smoke rising from out of a thick forest of trees.’
“Their hearts sank as they heard me, for they remembered how they had been treated by the Laestrygonian Antiphates, and by the savage ogre Polyphemus. They wept bitterly in their dismay, but there was nothing to be got by crying, so I divided them into two companies and set a captain over each; I gave one company to Eurylochus, while I took command of the other myself. Then we cast lots in a helmet, and the lot fell upon Eurylochus; so he set out with his twenty-two men, and they wept, as also did we who were left behind.
“When they reached Circe’s house they found it built of cut stones, on a site that could be seen from far, in the middle of the forest. There were wild mountain wolves and lions prowling all round it — poor bewitched creatures whom she had tamed by her enchantments and drugged into subjection. They did not attack my men, but wagged their great tails, fawned upon them, and rubbed their noses lovingly against them. As hounds crowd round their master when they see him coming from dinner — for they know he will bring them something — even so did these wolves and lions with their great claws fawn upon my men, but the men were terribly frightened at seeing such strange creatures. Presently they reached the gates of the goddess’s house, and as they stood there they could hear Circe within, singing most beautifully as she worked at her loom, making a web so fine, so soft, and of such dazzling colours as no one but a goddess could weave. On this Polites, whom I valued and trusted more than any other of my men, said, ‘There is some one inside working at a loom and singing most beautifully; the whole place resounds with it, let us call her and see whether she is woman or goddess.’
“They called her and she came down, unfastened the door, and bade them enter. They, thinking no evil, followed her, all except Eurylochus, who suspected mischief and stayed outside. When she had got them into her house, she set them upon benches and seats and mixed them a mess with cheese, honey, meal, and Pramnian but she drugged it with wicked poisons to make them forget their homes, and when they had drunk she turned them into pigs by a stroke of her wand, and shut them up in her pigsties. They were like pigs-head, hair, and all, and they grunted just as pigs do; but their senses were the same as before, and they remembered everything.
“Thus then were they shut up squealing, and Circe threw them some acorns and beech masts such as pigs eat, but Eurylochus hurried back to tell me about the sad fate of our comrades. He was so overcome with dismay that though he tried to speak he could find no words to do so; his eyes filled with tears and he could only sob and sigh, till at last we forced his story out of him, and he told us what had happened to the others.
“’We went,’ said he, as you told us, through the forest, and in the middle of it there was a fine house built with cut stones in a place that could be seen from far. There we found a woman, or else she was a goddess, working at her loom and singing sweetly; so the men shouted to her and called her, whereon she at once came down, opened the door, and invited us in. The others did not suspect any mischief so they followed her into the house, but I stayed where I was, for I thought there might be some treachery. From that moment I saw them no more, for not one of them ever came out, though I sat a long time watching for them.’
“Then I took my sword of bronze and slung it over my shoulders; I also took my bow, and told Eurylochus to come back with me and show me the way. But he laid hold of me with both his hands and spoke piteously, saying, ‘Sir, do not force me to go with you, but let me stay here, for I know you will not bring one of them back with you, nor even return alive yourself; let us rather see if we cannot escape at any rate with the few that are left us, for we may still save our lives.’
“’Stay where you are, then, ‘answered I, ‘eating and drinking at the ship, but I must go, for I am most urgently bound to do so.’
“With this I left the ship and went up inland. When I got through the charmed grove, and was near the great house of the enchantress Circe, I met Mercury with his golden wand, disguised as a young man in the hey-day of his youth and beauty with the down just coming upon his face. He came up to me and took my hand within his own, saying, ‘My poor unhappy man, whither are you going over this mountain top, alone and without knowing the way? Your men are shut up in Circe’s pigsties, like so many wild boars in their lairs. You surely do not fancy that you can set them free? I can tell you that you will never get back and will have to stay there with the rest of them. But never mind, I will protect you and get you out of your difficulty. Take this herb, which is one of great virtue, and keep it about you when you go to Circe’s house, it will be a talisman to you against every kind of mischief.
“’And I will tell you of all the wicked witchcraft that Circe will try to practise upon you. She will mix a mess for you to drink, and she will drug the meal with which she makes it, but she will not be able to charm you, for the virtue of the herb that I shall give you will prevent her spells from working. I will tell you all about it. When Circe strikes you with her wand, draw your sword and spring upon her as though you were goings to kill her. She will then be frightened and will desire you to go to bed with her; on this you must not point blank refuse her, for you want her to set your companions free, and to take good care also of yourself, but you make her swear solemnly by all the blessed that she will plot no further mischief against you, or else when she has got you naked she will unman you and make you fit for nothing.’
“As he spoke he pulled the herb out of the ground an showed me what it was like. The root was black, while the flower was as white as milk; the gods call it Moly, and mortal men cannot uproot it, but the gods can do whatever they like.
“Then Mercury went back to high Olympus passing over the wooded island; but I fared onward to the house of Circe, and my heart was clouded with care as I walked along. When I got to the gates I stood there and called the goddess, and as soon as she heard me she came down, opened the door, and asked me to come in; so I followed her — much troubled in my mind. She set me on a richly decorated seat inlaid with silver, there was a footstool also under my feet, and she mixed a mess in a golden goblet for me to drink; but she drugged it, for she meant me mischief. When she had given it me, and I had drunk it without its charming me, she struck she, struck me with her wand. ‘There now,’ she cried, ‘be off to the pigsty, and make your lair with the rest of them.’
“But I rushed at her with my sword drawn as though I would kill her, whereon she fell with a loud scream, clasped my knees, and spoke piteously, saying, ‘Who and whence are you? from what place and people have you come? How can it be that my drugs have no power to charm you? Never yet was any man able to stand so much as a taste of the herb I gave you; you must be spell-proof; surely you can be none other than the bold hero Ulysses, who Mercury always said would come here some day with his ship while on his way home form Troy; so be it then; sheathe your sword and let us go to bed, that we may make friends and learn to trust each other.’
“And I answered, ‘Circe, how can you expect me to be friendly with you when you have just been turning all my men into pigs? And now that you have got me here myself, you mean me mischief when you ask me to go to bed with you, and will unman me and make me fit for nothing. I shall certainly not consent to go to bed with you unless you will first take your solemn oath to plot no further harm against me.’
“So she swore at once as I had told her, and when she had completed her oath then I went to bed with her.
“Meanwhile her four servants, who are her housemaids, set about their work. They are the children of the groves and fountains, and of the holy waters that run down into the sea. One of them spread a fair purple cloth over a seat, and laid a carpet underneath it. Another brought tables of silver up to the seats, and set them with baskets of gold. A third mixed some sweet wine with water in a silver bowl and put golden cups upon the tables, while the fourth she brought in water and set it to boil in a large cauldron over a good fire which she had lighted. When the water in the cauldron was boiling, she poured cold into it till it was just as I liked it, and then she set me in a bath and began washing me from the cauldron about the head and shoulders, to take the tire and stiffness out of my limbs. As soon as she had done washing me and anointing me with oil, she arrayed me in a good cloak and shirt and led me to a richly decorated seat inlaid with silver; there was a footstool also under my feet. A maid servant then brought me water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it into a silver basin for me to wash my hands, and she drew a clean table beside me; an upper servant brought me bread and offered me many things of what there was in the house, and then Circe bade me eat, but I would not, and sat without heeding what was before me, still moody and suspicious.
“When Circe saw me sitting there without eating, and in great grief, she came to me and said, ‘Ulysses, why do you sit like that as though you were dumb, gnawing at your own heart, and refusing both meat and drink? Is it that you are still suspicious? You ought not to be, for I have already sworn solemnly that I will not hurt you.’
“And I said, ‘Circe, no man with any sense of what is right can think of either eating or drinking in your house until you have set his friends free and let him see them. If you want me to eat and drink, you must free my men and bring them to me that I may see them with my own eyes.’
“When I had said this she went straight through the court with her wand in her hand and opened the pigsty doors. My men came out like so many prime hogs and stood looking at her, but she went about among them and anointed each with a second drug, whereon the bristles that the bad drug had given them fell off, and they became men again, younger than they were before, and much taller and better looking. They knew me at once, seized me each of them by the hand, and wept for joy till the whole house was filled with the sound of their hullabalooing, and Circe herself was so sorry for them that she came up to me and said, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, go back at once to the sea where you have left your ship, and first draw it on to the land. Then, hide all your ship’s gear and property in some cave, and come back here with your men.’
“I agreed to this, so I went back to the sea shore, and found the men at the ship weeping and wailing most piteously. When they saw me the silly blubbering fellows began frisking round me as calves break out and gambol round their mothers, when they see them coming home to be milked after they have been feeding all day, and the homestead resounds with their lowing. They seemed as glad to see me as though they had got back to their own rugged Ithaca, where they had been born and bred. ‘Sir,’ said the affectionate creatures, ‘we are as glad to see you back as though we had got safe home to Ithaca; but tell us all about the fate of our comrades.’
“I spoke comfortingly to them and said, ‘We must draw our ship on to the land, and hide the ship’s gear with all our property in some cave; then come with me all of you as fast as you can to Circe’s house, where you will find your comrades eating and drinking in the midst of great abundance.’
“On this the men would have come with me at once, but Eurylochus tried to hold them back and said, ‘Alas, poor wretches that we are, what will become of us? Rush not on your ruin by going to the house of Circe, who will turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions, and we shall have to keep guard over her house. Remember how the Cyclops treated us when our comrades went inside his cave, and Ulysses with them. It was all through his sheer folly that those men lost their lives.’
“When I heard him I was in two minds whether or no to draw the keen blade that hung by my sturdy thigh and cut his head off in spite of his being a near relation of my own; but the men interceded for him and said, ‘Sir, if it may so be, let this fellow stay here and mind the ship, but take the rest of us with you to Circe’s house.’
“On this we all went inland, and Eurylochus was not left behind after all, but came on too, for he was frightened by the severe reprimand that I had given him.
“Meanwhile Circe had been seeing that the men who had been left behind were washed and anointed with olive oil; she had also given them woollen cloaks and shirts, and when we came we found them all comfortably at dinner in her house. As soon as the men saw each other face to face and knew one another, they wept for joy and cried aloud till the whole palace rang again. Thereon Circe came up to me and said, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, tell your men to leave off crying; I know how much you have all of you suffered at sea, and how ill you have fared among cruel savages on the mainland, but that is over now, so stay here, and eat and drink till you are once more as strong and hearty as you were when you left Ithaca; for at present you are weakened both in body and mind; you keep all the time thinking of the hardships — you have suffered during your travels, so that you have no more cheerfulness left in you.’
“Thus did she speak and we assented. We stayed with Circe for a whole twelvemonth feasting upon an untold quantity both of meat and wine. But when the year had passed in the waning of moons and the long days had come round, my men called me apart and said, ‘Sir, it is time you began to think about going home, if so be you are to be spared to see your house and native country at all.’
“Thus did they speak and I assented. Thereon through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we feasted our fill on meat and wine, but when the sun went down and it came on dark the men laid themselves down to sleep in the covered cloisters. I, however, after I had got into bed with Circe, besought her by her knees, and the goddess listened to what I had got to say. ‘Circe,’ said I, ‘please to keep the promise you made me about furthering me on my homeward voyage. I want to get back and so do my men, they are always pestering me with their complaints as soon as ever your back is turned.’
“And the goddess answered, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, you shall none of you stay here any longer if you do not want to, but there is another journey which you have got to take before you can sail homewards. You must go to the house of Hades and of dread Proserpine to consult the ghost of the blind Theban prophet Teiresias whose reason is still unshaken. To him alone has Proserpine left his understanding even in death, but the other ghosts flit about aimlessly.’
“I was dismayed when I heard this. I sat up in bed and wept, and would gladly have lived no longer to see the light of the sun, but presently when I was tired of weeping and tossing myself about, I said, ‘And who shall guide me upon this voyage — for the house of Hades is a port that no ship can reach.’
“’You will want no guide,’ she answered; ‘raise you mast, set your white sails, sit quite still, and the North Wind will blow you there of itself. When your ship has traversed the waters of Oceanus, you will reach the fertile shore of Proserpine’s country with its groves of tall poplars and willows that shed their fruit untimely; here beach your ship upon the shore of Oceanus, and go straight on to the dark abode of Hades. You will find it near the place where the rivers Pyriphlegethon and Cocytus (which is a branch of the river Styx) flow into Acheron, and you will see a rock near it, just where the two roaring rivers run into one another.
“’When you have reached this spot, as I now tell you, dig a trench a cubit or so in length, breadth, and depth, and pour into it as a drink-offering to all the dead, first, honey mixed with milk, then wine, and in the third place water-sprinkling white barley meal over the whole. Moreover you must offer many prayers to the poor feeble ghosts, and promise them that when you get back to Ithaca you will sacrifice a barren heifer to them, the best you have, and will load the pyre with good things. More particularly you must promise that Teiresias shall have a black sheep all to himself, the finest in all your flocks.
“’When you shall have thus besought the ghosts with your prayers, offer them a ram and a black ewe, bending their heads towards Erebus; but yourself turn away from them as though you would make towards the river. On this, many dead men’s ghosts will come to you, and you must tell your men to skin the two sheep that you have just killed, and offer them as a burnt sacrifice with prayers to Hades and to Proserpine. Then draw your sword and sit there, so as to prevent any other poor ghost from coming near the split blood before Teiresias shall have answered your questions. The seer will presently come to you, and will tell you about your voyage — what stages you are to make, and how you are to sail the see so as to reach your home.’
“It was day-break by the time she had done speaking, so she dressed me in my shirt and cloak. As for herself she threw a beautiful light gossamer fabric over her shoulders, fastening it with a golden girdle round her waist, and she covered her head with a mantle. Then I went about among the men everywhere all over the house, and spoke kindly to each of them man by man: ‘You must not lie sleeping here any longer,’ said I to them, ‘we must be going, for Circe has told me all about it.’ And this they did as I bade them.
“Even so, however, I did not get them away without misadventure. We had with us a certain youth named Elpenor, not very remarkable for sense or courage, who had got drunk and was lying on the house-top away from the rest of the men, to sleep off his liquor in the cool. When he heard the noise of the men bustling about, he jumped up on a sudden and forgot all about coming down by the main staircase, so he tumbled right off the roof and broke his neck, and his soul went down to the house of Hades.
“When I had got the men together I said to them, ‘You think you are about to start home again, but Circe has explained to me that instead of this, we have got to go to the house of Hades and Proserpine to consult the ghost of the Theban prophet Teiresias.’
“The men were broken-hearted as they heard me, and threw themselves on the ground groaning and tearing their hair, but they did not mend matters by crying. When we reached the sea shore, weeping and lamenting our fate, Circe brought the ram and the ewe, and we made them fast hard by the ship. She passed through the midst of us without our knowing it, for who can see the comings and goings of a god, if the god does not wish to be seen?
THEN, when we had got down to the sea shore we drew our ship into the water and got her mast and sails into her; we also put the sheep on board and took our places, weeping and in great distress of mind. Circe, that great and cunning goddess, sent us a fair wind that blew dead aft and stayed steadily with us keeping our sails all the time well filled; so we did whatever wanted doing to the ship’s gear and let her go as the wind and helmsman headed her. All day long her sails were full as she held her course over the sea, but when the sun went down and darkness was over all the earth, we got into the deep waters of the river Oceanus, where lie the land and city of the Cimmerians who live enshrouded in mist and darkness which the rays of the sun never pierce neither at his rising nor as he goes down again out of the heavens, but the poor wretches live in one long melancholy night. When we got there we beached the ship, took the sheep out of her, and went along by the waters of Oceanus till we came to the place of which Circe had told us.
“Here Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, while I drew my sword and dug the trench a cubit each way. I made a drink-offering to all the dead, first with honey and milk, then with wine, and thirdly with water, and I sprinkled white barley meal over the whole, praying earnestly to the poor feckless ghosts, and promising them that when I got back to Ithaca I would sacrifice a barren heifer for them, the best I had, and would load the pyre with good things. I also particularly promised that Teiresias should have a black sheep to himself, the best in all my flocks. When I had prayed sufficiently to the dead, I cut the throats of the two sheep and let the blood run into the trench, whereon the ghosts came trooping up from Erebus — brides, young bachelors, old men worn out with toil, maids who had been crossed in love, and brave men who had been killed in battle, with their armour still smirched with blood; they came from every quarter and flitted round the trench with a strange kind of screaming sound that made me turn pale with fear. When I saw them coming I told the men to be quick and flay the carcasses of the two dead sheep and make burnt offerings of them, and at the same time to repeat prayers to Hades and to Proserpine; but I sat where I was with my sword drawn and would not let the poor feckless ghosts come near the blood till Teiresias should have answered my questions.
“The first ghost ‘that came was that of my comrade Elpenor, for he had not yet been laid beneath the earth. We had left his body unwaked and unburied in Circe’s house, for we had had too much else to do. I was very sorry for him, and cried when I saw him: ‘Elpenor,’ said I, ‘how did you come down here into this gloom and darkness? You have here on foot quicker than I have with my ship.’
“’Sir,’ he answered with a groan, ‘it was all bad luck, and my own unspeakable drunkenness. I was lying asleep on the top of Circe’s house, and never thought of coming down again by the great staircase but fell right off the roof and broke my neck, so my soul down to the house of Hades. And now I beseech you by all those whom you have left behind you, though they are not here, by your wife, by the father who brought you up when you were a child, and by Telemachus who is the one hope of your house, do what I shall now ask you. I know that when you leave this limbo you will again hold your ship for the Aeaean island. Do not go thence leaving me unwaked and unburied behind you, or I may bring heaven’s anger upon you; but burn me with whatever armour I have, build a barrow for me on the sea shore, that may tell people in days to come what a poor unlucky fellow I was, and plant over my grave the oar I used to row with when I was yet alive and with my messmates.’ And I said, ‘My poor fellow, I will do all that you have asked of me.’
“Thus, then, did we sit and hold sad talk with one another, I on the one side of the trench with my sword held over the blood, and the ghost of my comrade saying all this to me from the other side. Then came the ghost of my dead mother Anticlea, daughter to Autolycus. I had left her alive when I set out for Troy and was moved to tears when I saw her, but even so, for all my sorrow I would not let her come near the blood till I had asked my questions of Teiresias.
“Then came also the ghost of Theban Teiresias, with his golden sceptre in his hand. He knew me and said, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, why, poor man, have you left the light of day and come down to visit the dead in this sad place? Stand back from the trench and withdraw your sword that I may drink of the blood and answer your questions truly.’
“So I drew back, and sheathed my sword, whereon when he had drank of the blood he began with his prophecy.
“You want to know,’ said he, ‘about your return home, but heaven will make this hard for you. I do not think that you will escape the eye of Neptune, who still nurses his bitter grudge against you for having blinded his son. Still, after much suffering you may get home if you can restrain yourself and your companions when your ship reaches the Thrinacian island, where you will find the sheep and cattle belonging to the sun, who sees and gives ear to everything. If you leave these flocks unharmed and think of nothing but of getting home, you may yet after much hardship reach Ithaca; but if you harm them, then I forewarn you of the destruction both of your ship and of your men. Even though you may yourself escape, you will return in bad plight after losing all your men, [in another man’s ship, and you will find trouble in your house, which will be overrun by high-handed people, who are devouring your substance under the pretext of paying court and making presents to your wife.
“’When you get home you will take your revenge on these suitors; and after you have killed them by force or fraud in your own house, you must take a well-made oar and carry it on and on, till you come to a country where the people have never heard of the sea and do not even mix salt with their food, nor do they know anything about ships, and oars that are as the wings of a ship. I will give you this certain token which cannot escape your notice. A wayfarer will meet you and will say it must be a winnowing shovel that you have got upon your shoulder; on this you must fix the oar in the ground and sacrifice a ram, a bull, and a boar to Neptune. Then go home and offer hecatombs to an the gods in heaven one after the other. As for yourself, death shall come to you from the sea, and your life shall ebb away very gently when you are full of years and peace of mind, and your people shall bless you. All that I have said will come true].’
“’This,’ I answered, ‘must be as it may please heaven, but tell me and tell me and tell me true, I see my poor mother’s ghost close by us; she is sitting by the blood without saying a word, and though I am her own son she does not remember me and speak to me; tell me, Sir, how I can make her know me.’
“’That,’ said he, ‘I can soon do Any ghost that you let taste of the blood will talk with you like a reasonable being, but if you do not let them have any blood they will go away again.’
“On this the ghost of Teiresias went back to the house of Hades, for his prophecyings had now been spoken, but I sat still where I was until my mother came up and tasted the blood. Then she knew me at once and spoke fondly to me, saying, ‘My son, how did you come down to this abode of darkness while you are still alive? It is a hard thing for the living to see these places, for between us and them there are great and terrible waters, and there is Oceanus, which no man can cross on foot, but he must have a good ship to take him. Are you all this time trying to find your way home from Troy, and have you never yet got back to Ithaca nor seen your wife in your own house?’
“’Mother,’ said I, ‘I was forced to come here to consult the ghost of the Theban prophet Teiresias. I have never yet been near the Achaean land nor set foot on my native country, and I have had nothing but one long series of misfortunes from the very first day that I set out with Agamemnon for Ilius, the land of noble steeds, to fight the Trojans. But tell me, and tell me true, in what way did you die? Did you have a long illness, or did heaven vouchsafe you a gentle easy passage to eternity? Tell me also about my father, and the son whom I left behind me; is my property still in their hands, or has some one else got hold of it, who thinks that I shall not return to claim it? Tell me again what my wife intends doing, and in what mind she is; does she live with my son and guard my estate securely, or has she made the best match she could and married again?’
“My mother answered, ‘Your wife still remains in your house, but she is in great distress of mind and spends her whole time in tears both night and day. No one as yet has got possession of your fine property, and Telemachus still holds your lands undisturbed. He has to entertain largely, as of course he must, considering his position as a magistrate, and how every one invites him; your father remains at his old place in the country and never goes near the town. He has no comfortable bed nor bedding; in the winter he sleeps on the floor in front of the fire with the men and goes about all in rags, but in summer, when the warm weather comes on again, he lies out in the vineyard on a bed of vine leaves thrown anyhow upon the ground. He grieves continually about your never having come home, and suffers more and more as he grows older. As for my own end it was in this wise: heaven did not take me swiftly and painlessly in my own house, nor was I attacked by any illness such as those that generally wear people out and kill them, but my longing to know what you were doing and the force of my affection for you — this it was that was the death of me.’
“Then I tried to find some way of embracing my mother’s ghost. Thrice I sprang towards her and tried to clasp her in my arms, but each time she flitted from my embrace as it were a dream or phantom, and being touched to the quick I said to her, ‘Mother, why do you not stay still when I would embrace you? If we could throw our arms around one another we might find sad comfort in the sharing of our sorrows even in the house of Hades; does Proserpine want to lay a still further load of grief upon me by mocking me with a phantom only?’
“’My son,’ she answered, ‘most ill-fated of all mankind, it is not Proserpine that is beguiling you, but all people are like this when they are dead. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and bones together; these perish in the fierceness of consuming fire as soon as life has left the body, and the soul flits away as though it were a dream. Now, however, go back to the light of day as soon as you can, and note all these things that you may tell them to your wife hereafter.’
“Thus did we converse, and anon Proserpine sent up the ghosts of the wives and daughters of all the most famous men. They gathered in crowds about the blood, and I considered how I might question them severally. In the end I deemed that it would be best to draw the keen blade that hung by my sturdy thigh, and keep them from all drinking the blood at once. So they came up one after the other, and each one as I questioned her told me her race and lineage.
“The first I saw was Tyro. She was daughter of Salmoneus and wife of Cretheus the son of Aeolus. She fell in love with the river Enipeus who is much the most beautiful river in the whole world. Once when she was taking a walk by his side as usual, Neptune, disguised as her lover, lay with her at the mouth of the river, and a huge blue wave arched itself like a mountain over them to hide both woman and god, whereon he loosed her virgin girdle and laid her in a deep slumber. When the god had accomplished the deed of love, he took her hand in his own and said, ‘Tyro, rejoice in all good will; the embraces of the gods are not fruitless, and you will have fine twins about this time twelve months. Take great care of them. I am Neptune, so now go home, but hold your tongue and do not tell any one.’
“Then he dived under the sea, and she in due course bore Pelias and Neleus, who both of them served Jove with all their might. Pelias was a great breeder of sheep and lived in Iolcus, but the other lived in Pylos. The rest of her children were by Cretheus, namely, Aeson, Pheres, and Amythaon, who was a mighty warrior and charioteer.
“Next to her I saw Antiope, daughter to Asopus, who could boast of having slept in the arms of even Jove himself, and who bore him two sons Amphion and Zethus. These founded Thebes with its seven gates, and built a wall all round it; for strong though they were they could not hold Thebes till they had walled it.
“Then I saw Alcmena, the wife of Amphitryon, who also bore to Jove indomitable Hercules; and Megara who was daughter to great King Creon, and married the redoubtable son of Amphitryon.
“I also saw fair Epicaste mother of king OEdipodes whose awful lot it was to marry her own son without suspecting it. He married her after having killed his father, but the gods proclaimed the whole story to the world; whereon he remained king of Thebes, in great grief for the spite the gods had borne him; but Epicaste went to the house of the mighty jailor Hades, having hanged herself for grief, and the avenging spirits haunted him as for an outraged mother — to his ruing bitterly thereafter.
“Then I saw Chloris, whom Neleus married for her beauty, having given priceless presents for her. She was youngest daughter to Amphion son of Iasus and king of Minyan Orchomenus, and was Queen in Pylos. She bore Nestor, Chromius, and Periclymenus, and she also bore that marvellously lovely woman Pero, who was wooed by all the country round; but Neleus would only give her to him who should raid the cattle of Iphicles from the grazing grounds of Phylace, and this was a hard task. The only man who would undertake to raid them was a certain excellent seer, but the will of heaven was against him, for the rangers of the cattle caught him and put him in prison; nevertheless when a full year had passed and the same season came round again, Iphicles set him at liberty, after he had expounded all the oracles of heaven. Thus, then, was the will of Jove accomplished.
“And I saw Leda the wife of Tyndarus, who bore him two famous sons, Castor breaker of horses, and Pollux the mighty boxer. Both these heroes are lying under the earth, though they are still alive, for by a special dispensation of Jove, they die and come to life again, each one of them every other day throughout all time, and they have the rank of gods.
“After her I saw Iphimedeia wife of Aloeus who boasted the embrace of Neptune. She bore two sons Otus and Ephialtes, but both were short lived. They were the finest children that were ever born in this world, and the best looking, Orion only excepted; for at nine years old they were nine fathoms high, and measured nine cubits round the chest. They threatened to make war with the gods in Olympus, and tried to set Mount Ossa on the top of Mount Olympus, and Mount Pelion on the top of Ossa, that they might scale heaven itself, and they would have done it too if they had been grown up, but Apollo, son of Leto, killed both of them, before they had got so much as a sign of hair upon their cheeks or chin.
“Then I saw Phaedra, and Procris, and fair Ariadne daughter of the magician Minos, whom Theseus was carrying off from Crete to Athens, but he did not enjoy her, for before he could do so Diana killed her in the island of Dia on account of what Bacchus had said against her.
“I also saw Maera and Clymene and hateful Eriphyle, who sold her own husband for gold. But it would take me all night if I were to name every single one of the wives and daughters of heroes whom I saw, and it is time for me to go to bed, either on board ship with my crew, or here. As for my escort, heaven and yourselves will see to it.”
Here he ended, and the guests sat all of them enthralled and speechless throughout the covered cloister. Then Arete said to them:
“What do you think of this man, O Phaecians? Is he not tall and good looking, and is he not Clever? True, he is my own guest, but all of you share in the distinction. Do not he a hurry to send him away, nor niggardly in the presents you make to one who is in such great need, for heaven has blessed all of you with great abundance.”
Then spoke the aged hero Echeneus who was one of the oldest men among them, “My friends,” said he, “what our august queen has just said to us is both reasonable and to the purpose, therefore be persuaded by it; but the decision whether in word or deed rests ultimately with King Alcinous.”
“The thing shall be done,” exclaimed Alcinous, “as surely as I still live and reign over the Phaeacians. Our guest is indeed very anxious to get home, still we must persuade him to remain with us until to-morrow, by which time I shall be able to get together the whole sum that I mean to give him. As regards — his escort it will be a matter for you all, and mine above all others as the chief person among you.”
And Ulysses answered, “King Alcinous, if you were to bid me to stay here for a whole twelve months, and then speed me on my way, loaded with your noble gifts, I should obey you gladly and it would redound greatly to my advantage, for I should return fuller-handed to my own people, and should thus be more respected and beloved by all who see me when I get back to Ithaca.”
“Ulysses,” replied Alcinous, “not one of us who sees you has any idea that you are a charlatan or a swindler. I know there are many people going about who tell such plausible stories that it is very hard to see through them, but there is a style about your language which assures me of your good disposition. Moreover you have told the story of your own misfortunes, and those of the Argives, as though you were a practised bard; but tell me, and tell me true, whether you saw any of the mighty heroes who went to Troy at the same time with yourself, and perished there. The evenings are still at their longest, and it is not yet bed time — go on, therefore, with your divine story, for I could stay here listening till to-morrow morning, so long as you will continue to tell us of your adventures.”
“Alcinous,” answered Ulysses, “there is a time for making speeches, and a time for going to bed; nevertheless, since you so desire, I will not refrain from telling you the still sadder tale of those of my comrades who did not fall fighting with the Trojans, but perished on their return, through the treachery of a wicked woman.
“When Proserpine had dismissed the female ghosts in all directions, the ghost of Agamemnon son of Atreus came sadly up tome, surrounded by those who had perished with him in the house of Aegisthus. As soon as he had tasted the blood he knew me, and weeping bitterly stretched out his arms towards me to embrace me; but he had no strength nor substance any more, and I too wept and pitied him as I beheld him. ‘How did you come by your death,’ said I, ‘King Agamemnon? Did Neptune raise his winds and waves against you when you were at sea, or did your enemies make an end of you on the mainland when you were cattle-lifting or sheep-stealing, or while they were fighting in defence of their wives and city?’
“’Ulysses,’ he answered, ‘noble son of Laertes, was not lost at sea in any storm of Neptune’s raising, nor did my foes despatch me upon the mainland, but Aegisthus and my wicked wife were the death of me between them. He asked me to his house, feasted me, and then butchered me most miserably as though I were a fat beast in a slaughter house, while all around me my comrades were slain like sheep or pigs for the wedding breakfast, or picnic, or gorgeous banquet of some great nobleman. You must have seen numbers of men killed either in a general engagement, or in single combat, but you never saw anything so truly pitiable as the way in which we fell in that cloister, with the mixing-bowl and the loaded tables lying all about, and the ground reeking with our-blood. I heard Priam’s daughter Cassandra scream as Clytemnestra killed her close beside me. I lay dying upon the earth with the sword in my body, and raised my hands to kill the slut of a murderess, but she slipped away from me; she would not even close my lips nor my eyes when I was dying, for there is nothing in this world so cruel and so shameless as a woman when she has fallen into such guilt as hers was. Fancy murdering her own husband! I thought I was going to be welcomed home by my children and my servants, but her abominable crime has brought disgrace on herself and all women who shall come after — even on the good ones.’
“And I said, ‘In truth Jove has hated the house of Atreus from first to last in the matter of their women’s counsels. See how many of us fell for Helen’s sake, and now it seems that Clytemnestra hatched mischief against too during your absence.’
“’Be sure, therefore,’ continued Agamemnon, ‘and not be too friendly even with your own wife. Do not tell her all that you know perfectly well yourself. Tell her a part only, and keep your own counsel about the rest. Not that your wife, Ulysses, is likely to murder you, for Penelope is a very admirable woman, and has an excellent nature. We left her a young bride with an infant at her breast when we set out for Troy. This child no doubt is now grown up happily to man’s estate, and he and his father will have a joyful meeting and embrace one another as it is right they should do, whereas my wicked wife did not even allow me the happiness of looking upon my son, but killed me ere I could do so. Furthermore I say — and lay my saying to your heart — do not tell people when you are bringing your ship to Ithaca, but steal a march upon them, for after all this there is no trusting women. But now tell me, and tell me true, can you give me any news of my son Orestes? Is he in Orchomenus, or at Pylos, or is he at Sparta with Menelaus — for I presume that he is still living.’
“And I said, ‘Agamemnon, why do you ask me? I do not know whether your son is alive or dead, and it is not right to talk when one does not know.’
“As we two sat weeping and talking thus sadly with one another the ghost of Achilles came up to us with Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax who was the finest and goodliest man of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus. The fleet descendant of Aeacus knew me and spoke piteously, saying, ‘Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, what deed of daring will you undertake next, that you venture down to the house of Hades among us silly dead, who are but the ghosts of them that can labour no more?’
“And I said, ‘Achilles, son of Peleus, foremost champion of the Achaeans, I came to consult Teiresias, and see if he could advise me about my return home to Ithaca, for I have never yet been able to get near the Achaean land, nor to set foot in my own country, but have been in trouble all the time. As for you, Achilles, no one was ever yet so fortunate as you have been, nor ever will be, for you were adored by all us Argives as long as you were alive, and now that you are here you are a great prince among the dead. Do not, therefore, take it so much to heart even if you are dead.’
“’Say not a word,’ he answered, ‘in death’s favour; I would rather be a paid servant in a poor man’s house and be above ground than king of kings among the dead. But give me news about son; is he gone to the wars and will he be a great soldier, or is this not so? Tell me also if you have heard anything about my father Peleus — does he still rule among the Myrmidons, or do they show him no respect throughout Hellas and Phthia now that he is old and his limbs fail him? Could I but stand by his side, in the light of day, with the same strength that I had when I killed the bravest of our foes upon the plain of Troy — could I but be as I then was and go even for a short time to my father’s house, any one who tried to do him violence or supersede him would soon me it.’
“’I have heard nothing,’ I answered, ‘of Peleus, but I can tell you all about your son Neoptolemus, for I took him in my own ship from Scyros with the Achaeans. In our councils of war before Troy he was always first to speak, and his judgement was unerring. Nestor and I were the only two who could surpass him; and when it came to fighting on the plain of Troy, he would never remain with the body of his men, but would dash on far in front, foremost of them all in valour. Many a man did he kill in battle — I cannot name every single one of those whom he slew while fighting on the side of the Argives, but will only say how he killed that valiant hero Eurypylus son of Telephus, who was the handsomest man I ever saw except Memnon; many others also of the Ceteians fell around him by reason of a woman’s bribes. Moreover, when all the bravest of the Argives went inside the horse that Epeus had made, and it was left to me to settle when we should either open the door of our ambuscade, or close it, though all the other leaders and chief men among the Danaans were drying their eyes and quaking in every limb, I never once saw him turn pale nor wipe a tear from his cheek; he was all the time urging me to break out from the horse — grasping the handle of his sword and his bronze-shod spear, and breathing fury against the foe. Yet when we had sacked the city of Priam he got his handsome share of the prize money and went on board (such is the fortune of war) without a wound upon him, neither from a thrown spear nor in close combat, for the rage of Mars is a matter of great chance.’
“When I had told him this, the ghost of Achilles strode off across a meadow full of asphodel, exulting over what I had said concerning the prowess of his son.
“The ghosts of other dead men stood near me and told me each his own melancholy tale; but that of Ajax son of Telamon alone held aloof — still angry with me for having won the cause in our dispute about the armour of Achilles. Thetis had offered it as a prize, but the Trojan prisoners and Minerva were the judges. Would that I had never gained the day in such a contest, for it cost the life of Ajax, who was foremost of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus, alike in stature and prowess.
“When I saw him I tried to pacify him and said, ‘Ajax, will you not forget and forgive even in death, but must the judgement about that hateful armour still rankle with you? It cost us Argives dear enough to lose such a tower of strength as you were to us. We mourned you as much as we mourned Achilles son of Peleus himself, nor can the blame be laid on anything but on the spite which Jove bore against the Danaans, for it was this that made him counsel your destruction — come hither, therefore, bring your proud spirit into subjection, and hear what I can tell you.’
“He would not answer, but turned away to Erebus and to the other ghosts; nevertheless, I should have made him talk to me in spite of his being so angry, or I should have gone talking to him, only that there were still others among the dead whom I desired to see.
“Then I saw Minos son of Jove with his golden sceptre in his hand sitting in judgement on the dead, and the ghosts were gathered sitting and standing round him in the spacious house of Hades, to learn his sentences upon them.
“After him I saw huge Orion in a meadow full of asphodel driving the ghosts of the wild beasts that he had killed upon the mountains, and he had a great bronze club in his hand, unbreakable for ever and ever.
“And I saw Tityus son of Gaia stretched upon the plain and covering some nine acres of ground. Two vultures on either side of him were digging their beaks into his liver, and he kept on trying to beat them off with his hands, but could not; for he had violated Jove’s mistress Leto as she was going through Panopeus on her way to Pytho.
“I saw also the dreadful fate of Tantalus, who stood in a lake that reached his chin; he was dying to quench his thirst, but could never reach the water, for whenever the poor creature stooped to drink, it dried up and vanished, so that there was nothing but dry ground — parched by the spite of heaven. There were tall trees, moreover, that shed their fruit over his head — pears, pomegranates, apples, sweet figs and juicy olives, but whenever the poor creature stretched out his hand to take some, the wind tossed the branches back again to the clouds.
“And I saw Sisyphus at his endless task raising his prodigious stone with both his hands. With hands and feet he’ tried to roll it up to the top of the hill, but always, just before he could roll it over on to the other side, its weight would be too much for him, and the pitiless stone would come thundering down again on to the plain. Then he would begin trying to push it up hill again, and the sweat ran off him and the steam rose after him.
“After him I saw mighty Hercules, but it was his phantom only, for he is feasting ever with the immortal gods, and has lovely Hebe to wife, who is daughter of Jove and Juno. The ghosts were screaming round him like scared birds flying all whithers. He looked black as night with his bare bow in his hands and his arrow on the string, glaring around as though ever on the point of taking aim. About his breast there was a wondrous golden belt adorned in the most marvellous fashion with bears, wild boars, and lions with gleaming eyes; there was also war, battle, and death. The man who made that belt, do what he might, would never be able to make another like it. Hercules knew me at once when he saw me, and spoke piteously, saying, my poor Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, are you too leading the same sorry kind of life that I did when I was above ground? I was son of Jove, but I went through an infinity of suffering, for I became bondsman to one who was far beneath me — a low fellow who set me all manner of labours. He once sent me here to fetch the hell-hound — for he did not think he could find anything harder for me than this, but I got the hound out of Hades and brought him to him, for Mercury and Minerva helped me.’
“On this Hercules went down again into the house of Hades, but I stayed where I was in case some other of the mighty dead should come to me. And I should have seen still other of them that are gone before, whom I would fain have seen — Theseus and Pirithous glorious children of the gods, but so many thousands of ghosts came round me and uttered such appalling cries, that I was panic stricken lest Proserpine should send up from the house of Hades the head of that awful monster Gorgon. On this I hastened back to my ship and ordered my men to go on board at once and loose the hawsers; so they embarked and took their places, whereon the ship went down the stream of the river Oceanus. We had to row at first, but presently a fair wind sprang up.
“AFTER we were clear of the river Oceanus, and had got out into the open sea, we went on till we reached the Aeaean island where there is dawn and sunrise as in other places. We then drew our ship on to the sands and got out of her on to the shore, where we went to sleep and waited till day should break.
“Then, when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, I sent some men to Circe’s house to fetch the body of Elpenor. We cut firewood from a wood where the headland jutted out into the sea, and after we had wept over him and lamented him we performed his funeral rites. When his body and armour had been burned to ashes, we raised a cairn, set a stone over it, and at the top of the cairn we fixed the oar that he had been used to row with.
“While we were doing all this, Circe, who knew that we had got back from the house of Hades, dressed herself and came to us as fast as she could; and her maid servants came with her bringing us bread, meat, and wine. Then she stood in the midst of us and said, ‘You have done a bold thing in going down alive to the house of Hades, and you will have died twice, to other people’s once; now, then, stay here for the rest of the day, feast your fill, and go on with your voyage at daybreak tomorrow morning. In the meantime I will tell Ulysses about your course, and will explain everything to him so as to prevent your suffering from misadventure either by land or sea.’
“We agreed to do as she had said, and feasted through the livelong day to the going down of the sun, but when the sun had set and it came on dark, the men laid themselves down to sleep by the stern cables of the ship. Then Circe took me by the hand and bade me be seated away from the others, while she reclined by my side and asked me all about our adventures.
“’So far so good,’ said she, when I had ended my story, ‘and now pay attention to what I am about to tell you — heaven itself, indeed, will recall it to your recollection. First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens, his wife and children will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. There is a great heap of dead men’s bones lying all around, with the flesh still rotting off them. Therefore pass these Sirens by, and stop your men’s ears with wax that none of them may hear; but if you like you can listen yourself, for you may get the men to bind you as you stand upright on a cross-piece half way up the mast, and they must lash the rope’s ends to the mast itself, that you may have the pleasure of listening. If you beg and pray the men to unloose you, then they must bind you faster.
“’When your crew have taken you past these Sirens, I cannot give you coherent directions as to which of two courses you are to take; I will lay the two alternatives before you, and you must consider them for yourself. On the one hand there are some overhanging rocks against which the deep blue waves of Amphitrite beat with terrific fury; the blessed gods call these rocks the Wanderers. Here not even a bird may pass, no, not even the timid doves that bring ambrosia to Father Jove, but the sheer rock always carries off one of them, and Father Jove has to send another to make up their number; no ship that ever yet came to these rocks has got away again, but the waves and whirlwinds of fire are freighted with wreckage and with the bodies of dead men. The only vessel that ever sailed and got through, was the famous Argo on her way from the house of Aetes, and she too would have gone against these great rocks, only that Juno piloted her past them for the love she bore to Jason.
“’Of these two rocks the one reaches heaven and its peak is lost in a dark cloud. This never leaves it, so that the top is never clear not even in summer and early autumn. No man though he had twenty hands and twenty feet could get a foothold on it and climb it, for it runs sheer up, as smooth as though it had been polished. In the middle of it there is a large cavern, looking West and turned towards Erebus; you must take your ship this way, but the cave is so high up that not even the stoutest archer could send an arrow into it. Inside it Scylla sits and yelps with a voice that you might take to be that of a young hound, but in truth she is a dreadful monster and no one — not even a god — could face her without being terror-struck. She has twelve mis-shapen feet, and six necks of the most prodigious length; and at the end of each neck she has a frightful head with three rows of teeth in each, all set very close together, so that they would crunch any one to death in a moment, and she sits deep within her shady cell thrusting out her heads and peering all round the rock, fishing for dolphins or dogfish or any larger monster that she can catch, of the thousands with which Amphitrite teems. No ship ever yet got past her without losing some men, for she shoots out all her heads at once, and carries off a man in each mouth.
“’You will find the other rocks lie lower, but they are so close together that there is not more than a bowshot between them. [A large fig tree in full leaf grows upon it], and under it lies the sucking whirlpool of Charybdis. Three times in the day does she vomit forth her waters, and three times she sucks them down again; see that you be not there when she is sucking, for if you are, Neptune himself could not save you; you must hug the Scylla side and drive ship by as fast as you can, for you had better lose six men than your whole crew.’
“’Is there no way,’ said I, ‘of escaping Charybdis, and at the same time keeping Scylla off when she is trying to harm my men?’
“’You dare-devil,’ replied the goddess, you are always wanting to fight somebody or something; you will not let yourself be beaten even by the immortals. For Scylla is not mortal; moreover she is savage, extreme, rude, cruel and invincible. There is no help for it; your best chance will be to get by her as fast as ever you can, for if you dawdle about her rock while you are putting on your armour, she may catch you with a second cast of her six heads, and snap up another half dozen of your men; so drive your ship past her at full speed, and roar out lustily to Crataiis who is Scylla’s dam, bad luck to her; she will then stop her from making a second raid upon you.
“’You will now come to the Thrinacian island, and here you will see many herds of cattle and flocks of sheep belonging to the sun-god — seven herds of cattle and seven flocks of sheep, with fifty head in each flock. They do not breed, nor do they become fewer in number, and they are tended by the goddesses Phaethusa and Lampetie, who are children of the sun-god Hyperion by Neaera. Their mother when she had borne them and had done suckling them sent them to the Thrinacian island, which was a long way off, to live there and look after their father’s flocks and herds. If you leave these flocks unharmed, and think of nothing but getting home, you may yet after much hardship reach Ithaca; but if you harm them, then I forewarn you of the destruction both of your ship and of your comrades; and even though you may yourself escape, you will return late, in bad plight, after losing all your men.’
“Here she ended, and dawn enthroned in gold began to show in heaven, whereon she returned inland. I then went on board and told my men to loose the ship from her moorings; so they at once got into her, took their places, and began to smite the grey sea with their oars. Presently the great and cunning goddess Circe befriended us with a fair wind that blew dead aft, and stayed steadily with us, keeping our sails well filled, so we did whatever wanted doing to the ship’s gear, and let her go as wind and helmsman headed her.
“Then, being much troubled in mind, I said to my men, ‘My friends, it is not right that one or two of us alone should know the prophecies that Circe has made me, I will therefore tell you about them, so that whether we live or die we may do so with our eyes open. First she said we were to keep clear of the Sirens, who sit and sing most beautifully in a field of flowers; but she said I might hear them myself so long as no one else did. Therefore, take me and bind me to the crosspiece half way up the mast; bind me as I stand upright, with a bond so fast that I cannot possibly break away, and lash the rope’s ends to the mast itself. If I beg and pray you to set me free, then bind me more tightly still.’
“I had hardly finished telling everything to the men before we reached the island of the two Sirens, for the wind had been very favourable. Then all of a sudden it fell dead calm; there was not a breath of wind nor a ripple upon the water, so the men furled the sails and stowed them; then taking to their oars they whitened the water with the foam they raised in rowing. Meanwhile I look a large wheel of wax and cut it up small with my sword. Then I kneaded the wax in my strong hands till it became soft, which it soon did between the kneading and the rays of the sun-god son of Hyperion. Then I stopped the ears of all my men, and they bound me hands and feet to the mast as I stood upright on the crosspiece; but they went on rowing themselves. When we had got within earshot of the land, and the ship was going at a good rate, the Sirens saw that we were getting in shore and began with their singing.
“’Come here,’ they sang, ‘renowned Ulysses, honour to the Achaean name, and listen to our two voices. No one ever sailed past us without staying to hear the enchanting sweetness of our song — and he who listens will go on his way not only charmed, but wiser, for we know all the ills that the gods laid upon the Argives and Trojans before Troy, and can tell you everything that is going to happen over the whole world.’
“They sang these words most musically, and as I longed to hear them further I made by frowning to my men that they should set me free; but they quickened their stroke, and Eurylochus and Perimedes bound me with still stronger bonds till we had got out of hearing of the Sirens’ voices. Then my men took the wax from their ears and unbound me.
“Immediately after we had got past the island I saw a great wave from which spray was rising, and I heard a loud roaring sound. The men were so frightened that they loosed hold of their oars, for the whole sea resounded with the rushing of the waters, but the ship stayed where it was, for the men had left off rowing. I went round, therefore, and exhorted them man by man not to lose heart.
“’My friends,’ said I, ‘this is not the first time that we have been in danger, and we are in nothing like so bad a case as when the Cyclops shut us up in his cave; nevertheless, my courage and wise counsel saved us then, and we shall live to look back on all this as well. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say, trust in Jove and row on with might and main. As for you, coxswain, these are your orders; attend to them, for the ship is in your hands; turn her head away from these steaming rapids and hug the rock, or she will give you the slip and be over yonder before you know where you are, and you will be the death of us.’
“So they did as I told them; but I said nothing about the awful monster Scylla, for I knew the men would not on rowing if I did, but would huddle together in the hold. In one thing only did I disobey Circe’s strict instructions — I put on my armour. Then seizing two strong spears I took my stand on the ship Is bows, for it was there that I expected first to see the monster of the rock, who was to do my men so much harm; but I could not make her out anywhere, though I strained my eyes with looking the gloomy rock all over and over
“Then we entered the Straits in great fear of mind, for on the one hand was Scylla, and on the other dread Charybdis kept sucking up the salt water. As she vomited it up, it was like the water in a cauldron when it is boiling over upon a great fire, and the spray reached the top of the rocks on either side. When she began to suck again, we could see the water all inside whirling round and round, and it made a deafening sound as it broke against the rocks. We could see the bottom of the whirlpool all black with sand and mud, and the men were at their wit’s ends for fear. While we were taken up with this, and were expecting each moment to be our last, Scylla pounced down suddenly upon us and snatched up my six best men. I was looking at once after both ship and men, and in a moment I saw their hands and feet ever so high above me, struggling in the air as Scylla was carrying them off, and I heard them call out my name in one last despairing cry. As a fisherman, seated, spear in hand, upon some jutting rock throws bait into the water to deceive the poor little fishes, and spears them with the ox’s horn with which his spear is shod, throwing them gasping on to the land as he catches them one by one — even so did Scylla land these panting creatures on her rock and munch them up at the mouth of her den, while they screamed and stretched out their hands to me in their mortal agony. This was the most sickening sight that I saw throughout all my voyages.
“When we had passed the [Wandering] rocks, with Scylla and terrible Charybdis, we reached the noble island of the sun-god, where were the goodly cattle and sheep belonging to the sun Hyperion. While still at sea in my ship I could bear the cattle lowing as they came home to the yards, and the sheep bleating. Then I remembered what the blind Theban prophet Teiresias had told me, and how carefully Aeaean Circe had warned me to shun the island of the blessed sun-god. So being much troubled I said to the men, ‘My men, I know you are hard pressed, but listen while I tell you the prophecy that Teiresias made me, and how carefully Aeaean Circe warned me to shun the island of the blessed sun-god, for it was here, she said, that our worst danger would lie. Head the ship, therefore, away from the island.’
“The men were in despair at this, and Eurylochus at once gave me an insolent answer. ‘Ulysses,’ said he, ‘you are cruel; you are very strong yourself and never get worn out; you seem to be made of iron, and now, though your men are exhausted with toil and want of sleep, you will not let them land and cook themselves a good supper upon this island, but bid them put out to sea and go faring fruitlessly on through the watches of the flying night. It is by night that the winds blow hardest and do so much damage; how can we escape should one of those sudden squalls spring up from South West or West, which so often wreck a vessel when our lords the gods are unpropitious? Now, therefore, let us obey the of night and prepare our supper here hard by the ship; to-morrow morning we will go on board again and put out to sea.’
“Thus spoke Eurylochus, and the men approved his words. I saw that heaven meant us a mischief and said, ‘You force me to yield, for you are many against one, but at any rate each one of you must take his solemn oath that if he meet with a herd of cattle or a large flock of sheep, he will not be so mad as to kill a single head of either, but will be satisfied with the food that Circe has given us.’
“They all swore as I bade them, and when they had completed their oath we made the ship fast in a harbour that was near a stream of fresh water, and the men went ashore and cooked their suppers. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, they began talking about their poor comrades whom Scylla had snatched up and eaten; this set them weeping and they went on crying till they fell off into a sound sleep.
“In the third watch of the night when the stars had shifted their places, Jove raised a great gale of wind that flew a hurricane so that land and sea were covered with thick clouds, and night sprang forth out of the heavens. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, we brought the ship to land and drew her into a cave wherein the sea-nymphs hold their courts and dances, and I called the men together in council.
“’My friends,’ said I, ‘we have meat and drink in the ship, let us mind, therefore, and not touch the cattle, or we shall suffer for it; for these cattle and sheep belong to the mighty sun, who sees and gives ear to everything. And again they promised that they would obey.
“For a whole month the wind blew steadily from the South, and there was no other wind, but only South and East. As long as corn and wine held out the men did not touch the cattle when they were hungry; when, however, they had eaten all there was in the ship, they were forced to go further afield, with hook and line, catching birds, and taking whatever they could lay their hands on; for they were starving. One day, therefore, I went up inland that I might pray heaven to show me some means of getting away. When I had gone far enough to be clear of all my men, and had found a place that was well sheltered from the wind, I washed my hands and prayed to all the gods in Olympus till by and by they sent me off into a sweet sleep.
“Meanwhile Eurylochus had been giving evil counsel to the men, ‘Listen to me,’ said he, ‘my poor comrades. All deaths are bad enough but there is none so bad as famine. Why should not we drive in the best of these cows and offer them in sacrifice to the immortal Rods? If we ever get back to Ithaca, we can build a fine temple to the sun-god and enrich it with every kind of ornament; if, however, he is determined to sink our ship out of revenge for these homed cattle, and the other gods are of the same mind, I for one would rather drink salt water once for all and have done with it, than be starved to death by inches in such a desert island as this is.’
“Thus spoke Eurylochus, and the men approved his words. Now the cattle, so fair and goodly, were feeding not far from the ship; the men, therefore drove in the best of them, and they all stood round them saying their prayers, and using young oak-shoots instead of barley-meal, for there was no barley left. When they had done praying they killed the cows and dressed their carcasses; they cut out the thigh bones, wrapped them round in two layers of fat, and set some pieces of raw meat on top of them. They had no wine with which to make drink-offerings over the sacrifice while it was cooking, so they kept pouring on a little water from time to time while the inward meats were being grilled; then, when the thigh bones were burned and they had tasted the inward meats, they cut the rest up small and put the pieces upon the spits.
“By this time my deep sleep had left me, and I turned back to the ship and to the sea shore. As I drew near I began to smell hot roast meat, so I groaned out a prayer to the immortal gods. ‘Father Jove,’ I exclaimed, ‘and all you other gods who live in everlasting bliss, you have done me a cruel mischief by the sleep into which you have sent me; see what fine work these men of mine have been making in my absence.’
“Meanwhile Lampetie went straight off to the sun and told him we had been killing his cows, whereon he flew into a great rage, and said to the immortals, ‘Father Jove, and all you other gods who live in everlasting bliss, I must have vengeance on the crew of Ulysses’ ship: they have had the insolence to kill my cows, which were the one thing I loved to look upon, whether I was going up heaven or down again. If they do not square accounts with me about my cows, I will go down to Hades and shine there among the dead.’
“’Sun,’ said Jove, ‘go on shining upon us gods and upon mankind over the fruitful earth. I will shiver their ship into little pieces with a bolt of white lightning as soon as they get out to sea.’
“I was told all this by Calypso, who said she had heard it from the mouth of Mercury.
“As soon as I got down to my ship and to the sea shore I rebuked each one of the men separately, but we could see no way out of it, for the cows were dead already. And indeed the gods began at once to show signs and wonders among us, for the hides of the cattle crawled about, and the joints upon the spits began to low like cows, and the meat, whether cooked or raw, kept on making a noise just as cows do.
“For six days my men kept driving in the best cows and feasting upon them, but when Jove the son of Saturn had added a seventh day, the fury of the gale abated; we therefore went on board, raised our masts, spread sail, and put out to sea. As soon as we were well away from the island, and could see nothing but sky and sea, the son of Saturn raised a black cloud over our ship, and the sea grew dark beneath it. We not get on much further, for in another moment we were caught by a terrific squall from the West that snapped the forestays of the mast so that it fell aft, while all the ship’s gear tumbled about at the bottom of the vessel. The mast fell upon the head of the helmsman in the ship’s stern, so that the bones of his head were crushed to pieces, and he fell overboard as though he were diving, with no more life left in him.
“Then Jove let fly with his thunderbolts, and the ship went round and round, and was filled with fire and brimstone as the lightning struck it. The men all fell into the sea; they were carried about in the water round the ship, looking like so many sea-gulls, but the god presently deprived them of all chance of getting home again.
“I stuck to the ship till the sea knocked her sides from her keel (which drifted about by itself) and struck the mast out of her in the direction of the keel; but there was a backstay of stout ox-thong still hanging about it, and with this I lashed the mast and keel together, and getting astride of them was carried wherever the winds chose to take me.
“[The gale from the West had now spent its force, and the wind got into the South again, which frightened me lest I should be taken back to the terrible whirlpool of Charybdis. This indeed was what actually happened, for I was borne along by the waves all night, and by sunrise had reacfied the rock of Scylla, and the whirlpool. She was then sucking down the salt sea water, but I was carried aloft toward the fig tree, which I caught hold of and clung on to like a bat. I could not plant my feet anywhere so as to stand securely, for the roots were a long way off and the boughs that overshadowed the whole pool were too high, too vast, and too far apart for me to reach them; so I hung patiently on, waiting till the pool should discharge my mast and raft again — and a very long while it seemed. A juryman is not more glad to get home to supper, after having been long detained in court by troublesome cases, than I was to see my raft beginning to work its way out of the whirlpool again. At last I let go with my hands and feet, and fell heavily into the sea, bard by my raft on to which I then got, and began to row with my hands. As for Scylla, the father of gods and men would not let her get further sight of me — otherwise I should have certainly been lost.]
“Hence I was carried along for nine days till on the tenth night the gods stranded me on the Ogygian island, where dwells the great and powerful goddess Calypso. She took me in and was kind to me, but I need say no more about this, for I told you and your noble wife all about it yesterday, and I hate saying the same thing over and over again.”  
THUS did he speak, and they all held their peace throughout the covered cloister, enthralled by the charm of his story, till presently Alcinous began to speak.
“Ulysses,” said he, “now that you have reached my house I doubt not you will get home without further misadventure no matter how much you have suffered in the past. To you others, however, who come here night after night to drink my choicest wine and listen to my bard, I would insist as follows. Our guest has already packed up the clothes, wrought gold, and other valuables which you have brought for his acceptance; let us now, therefore, present him further, each one of us, with a large tripod and a cauldron. We will recoup ourselves by the levy of a general rate; for private individuals cannot be expected to bear the burden of such a handsome present.”
Every one approved of this, and then they went home to bed each in his own abode. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, they hurried down to the ship and brought their cauldrons with them. Alcinous went on board and saw everything so securely stowed under the ship’s benches that nothing could break adrift and injure the rowers. Then they went to the house of Alcinous to get dinner, and he sacrificed a bull for them in honour of Jove who is the lord of all. They set the steaks to grill and made an excellent dinner, after which the inspired bard, Demodocus, who was a favourite with every one, sang to them; but Ulysses kept on turning his eyes towards the sun, as though to hasten his setting, for he was longing to be on his way. As one who has been all day ploughing a fallow field with a couple of oxen keeps thinking about his supper and is glad when night comes that he may go and get it, for it is all his legs can do to carry him, even so did Ulysses rejoice when the sun went down, and he at once said to the Phaecians, addressing himself more particularly to King Alcinous:
“Sir, and all of you, farewell. Make your drink-offerings and send me on my way rejoicing, for you have fulfilled my heart’s desire by giving me an escort, and making me presents, which heaven grant that I may turn to good account; may I find my admirable wife living in peace among friends, and may you whom I leave behind me give satisfaction to your wives and children; may heaven vouchsafe you every good grace, and may no evil thing come among your people.”
Thus did he speak. His hearers all of them approved his saying and agreed that he should have his escort inasmuch as he had spoken reasonably. Alcinous therefore said to his servant, “Pontonous, mix some wine and hand it round to everybody, that we may offer a prayer to father Jove, and speed our guest upon his way.”
Pontonous mixed the wine and handed it to every one in turn; the others each from his own seat made a drink-offering to the blessed gods that live in heaven, but Ulysses rose and placed the double cup in the hands of queen Arete.
“Farewell, queen,” said he, “henceforward and for ever, till age and death, the common lot of mankind, lay their hands upon you. I now take my leave; be happy in this house with your children, your people, and with king Alcinous.”
As he spoke he crossed the threshold, and Alcinous sent a man to conduct him to his ship and to the sea shore. Arete also sent some maid servants with him — one with a clean shirt and cloak, another to carry his strong-box, and a third with corn and wine. When they got to the water side the crew took these things and put them on board, with all the meat and drink; but for Ulysses they spread a rug and a linen sheet on deck that he might sleep soundly in the stern of the ship. Then he too went on board and lay down without a word, but the crew took every man his place and loosed the hawser from the pierced stone to which it had been bound. Thereon, when they began rowing out to sea, Ulysses fell into a deep, sweet, and almost deathlike slumber.
The ship bounded forward on her way as a four in hand chariot flies over the course when the horses feel the whip. Her prow curveted as it were the neck of a stallion, and a great wave of dark blue water seethed in her wake. She held steadily on her course, and even a falcon, swiftest of all birds, could not have kept pace with her. Thus, then, she cut her way through the water. carrying one who was as cunning as the gods, but who was now sleeping peacefully, forgetful of all that he had suffered both on the field of battle and by the waves of the weary sea.
When the bright star that heralds the approach of dawn began to show. the ship drew near to land. Now there is in Ithaca a haven of the old merman Phorcys, which lies between two points that break the line of the sea and shut the harbour in. These shelter it from the storms of wind and sea that rage outside, so that, when once within it, a ship may lie without being even moored. At the head of this harbour there is a large olive tree, and at no distance a fine overarching cavern sacred to the nymphs who are called Naiads. There are mixing-bowls within it and wine-jars of stone, and the bees hive there. Moreover, there are great looms of stone on which the nymphs weave their robes of sea purple — very curious to see — and at all times there is water within it. It has two entrances, one facing North by which mortals can go down into the cave, while the other comes from the South and is more mysterious; mortals cannot possibly get in by it, it is the way taken by the gods.
Into this harbour, then, they took their ship, for they knew the place, She had so much way upon her that she ran half her own length on to the shore; when, however, they had landed, the first thing they did was to lift Ulysses with his rug and linen sheet out of the ship, and lay him down upon the sand still fast asleep. Then they took out the presents which Minerva had persuaded the Phaeacians to give him when he was setting out on his voyage homewards. They put these all together by the root of the olive tree, away from the road, for fear some passer by might come and steal them before Ulysses awoke; and then they made the best of their way home again.
But Neptune did not forget the threats with which he had already threatened Ulysses, so he took counsel with Jove. “Father Jove,” said he, “I shall no longer be held in any sort of respect among you gods, if mortals like the Phaeacians, who are my own flesh and blood, show such small regard for me. I said I would Ulysses get home when he had suffered sufficiently. I did not say that he should never get home at all, for I knew you had already nodded your head about it, and promised that he should do so; but now they have brought him in a ship fast asleep and have landed him in Ithaca after loading him with more magnificent presents of bronze, gold, and raiment than he would ever have brought back from Troy, if he had had his share of the spoil and got home without misadventure.”
And Jove answered, “What, O Lord of the Earthquake, are you talking about? The gods are by no means wanting in respect for you. It would be monstrous were they to insult one so old and honoured as you are. As regards mortals, however, if any of them is indulging in insolence and treating you disrespectfully, it will always rest with yourself to deal with him as you may think proper, so do just as you please.”
“I should have done so at once,” replied Neptune, “if I were not anxious to avoid anything that might displease you; now, therefore, I should like to wreck the Phaecian ship as it is returning from its escort. This will stop them from escorting people in future; and I should also like to bury their city under a huge mountain.”
“My good friend,” answered Jove, “I should recommend you at the very moment when the people from the city are watching the ship on her way, to turn it into a rock near the land and looking like a ship. This will astonish everybody, and you can then bury their city under the mountain.”
When earth-encircling Neptune heard this he went to Scheria where the Phaecians live, and stayed there till the ship, which was making rapid way, had got close-in. Then he went up to it, turned it into stone, and drove it down with the flat of his hand so as to root it in the ground. After this he went away.
The Phaeacians then began talking among themselves, and one would turn towards his neighbour, saying, “Bless my heart, who is it that can have rooted the ship in the sea just as she was getting into port? We could see the whole of her only moment ago.”
This was how they talked, but they knew nothing about it; and Alcinous said, “I remember now the old prophecy of my father. He said that Neptune would be angry with us for taking every one so safely over the sea, and would one day wreck a Phaeacian ship as it was returning from an escort, and bury our city under a high mountain. This was what my old father used to say, and now it is all coming true. Now therefore let us all do as I say; in the first place we must leave off giving people escorts when they come here, and in the next let us sacrifice twelve picked bulls to Neptune that he may have mercy upon us, and not bury our city under the high mountain.” When the people heard this they were afraid and got ready the bulls.
Thus did the chiefs and rulers of the Phaecians to king Neptune, standing round his altar; and at the same time Ulysses woke up once more upon his own soil. He had been so long away that he did not know it again; moreover, Jove’s daughter Minerva had made it a foggy day, so that people might not know of his having come, and that she might tell him everything without either his wife or his fellow citizens and friends recognizing him until he had taken his revenge upon the wicked suitors. Everything, therefore, seemed quite different to him — the long straight tracks, the harbours, the precipices, and the goodly trees, appeared all changed as he started up and looked upon his native land. So he smote his thighs with the flat of his hands and cried aloud despairingly.
“Alas,” he exclaimed, “among what manner of people am I fallen? Are they savage and uncivilized or hospitable and humane? Where shall I put all this treasure, and which way shall I go? I wish I had stayed over there with the Phaeacians; or I could have gone to some other great chief who would have been good to me and given me an escort. As it is I do not know where to put my treasure, and I cannot leave it here for fear somebody else should get hold of it. In good truth the chiefs and rulers of the Phaeacians have not been dealing fairly by me, and have left me in the wrong country; they said they would take me back to Ithaca and they have not done so: may Jove the protector of suppliants chastise them, for he watches over everybody and punishes those who do wrong. Still, I suppose I must count my goods and see if the crew have gone off with any of them.”
He counted his goodly coppers and cauldrons, his gold and all his clothes, but there was nothing missing; still he kept grieving about not being in his own country, and wandered up and down by the shore of the sounding sea bewailing his hard fate. Then Minerva came up to him disguised as a young shepherd of delicate and princely mien, with a good cloak folded double about her shoulders; she had sandals on her comely feet and held a javelin in her hand. Ulysses was glad when he saw her, and went straight up to her.
“My friend,” said he, “you are the first person whom I have met with in this country; I salute you, therefore, and beg you to be will disposed towards me. Protect these my goods, and myself too, for I embrace your knees and pray to you as though you were a god. Tell me, then, and tell me truly, what land and country is this? Who are its inhabitants? Am I on an island, or is this the sea board of some continent?”
Minerva answered, “Stranger, you must be very simple, or must have come from somewhere a long way off, not to know what country this is. It is a very celebrated place, and everybody knows it East and West. It is rugged and not a good driving country, but it is by no means a bid island for what there is of it. It grows any quantity of corn and also wine, for it is watered both by rain and dew; it breeds cattle also and goats; all kinds of timber grow here, and there are watering places where the water never runs dry; so, sir, the name of Ithaca is known even as far as Troy, which I understand to be a long way off from this Achaean country.”
Ulysses was glad at finding himself, as Minerva told him, in his own country, and he began to answer, but he did not speak the truth, and made up a lying story in the instinctive wiliness of his heart.
“I heard of Ithaca,” said he, “when I was in Crete beyond the seas, and now it seems I have reached it with all these treasures. I have left as much more behind me for my children, but am flying because I killed Orsilochus son of Idomeneus, the fleetest runner in Crete. I killed him because he wanted to rob me of the spoils I had got from Troy with so much trouble and danger both on the field of battle and by the waves of the weary sea; he said I had not served his father loyally at Troy as vassal, but had set myself up as an independent ruler, so I lay in wait for him and with one of my followers by the road side, and speared him as he was coming into town from the country. my It was a very dark night and nobody saw us; it was not known, therefore, that I had killed him, but as soon as I had done so I went to a ship and besought the owners, who were Phoenicians, to take me on board and set me in Pylos or in Elis where the Epeans rule, giving them as much spoil as satisfied them. They meant no guile, but the wind drove them off their course, and we sailed on till we came hither by night. It was all we could do to get inside the harbour, and none of us said a word about supper though we wanted it badly, but we all went on shore and lay down just as we were. I was very tired and fell asleep directly, so they took my goods out of the ship, and placed them beside me where I was lying upon the sand. Then they sailed away to Sidonia, and I was left here in great distress of mind.”
Such was his story, but Minerva smiled and caressed him with her hand. Then she took the form of a woman, fair, stately, and wise, “He must be indeed a shifty lying fellow,” said she, “who could surpass you in all manner of craft even though you had a god for your antagonist. Dare-devil that you are, full of guile, unwearying in deceit, can you not drop your tricks and your instinctive falsehood, even now that you are in your own country again? We will say no more, however, about this, for we can both of us deceive upon occasion — you are the most accomplished counsellor and orator among all mankind, while I for diplomacy and subtlety have no equal among the gods. Did you not know Jove’s daughter Minerva — me, who have been ever with you, who kept watch over you in all your troubles, and who made the Phaeacians take so great a liking to you? And now, again, I am come here to talk things over with you, and help you to hide the treasure I made the Phaeacians give you; I want to tell you about the troubles that await you in your own house; you have got to face them, but tell no one, neither man nor woman, that you have come home again. Bear everything, and put up with every man’s insolence, without a word.”
And Ulysses answered, “A man, goddess, may know a great deal, but you are so constantly changing your appearance that when he meets you it is a hard matter for him to know whether it is you or not. This much, however, I know exceedingly well; you were very kind to me as long as we Achaeans were fighting before Troy, but from the day on which we went on board ship after having sacked the city of Priam, and heaven dispersed us — from that day, Minerva, I saw no more of you, and cannot ever remember your coming to my ship to help me in a difficulty; I had to wander on sick and sorry till the gods delivered me from evil and I reached the city of the Phaeacians, where you encouraged me and took me into the town. And now, I beseech you in your father’s name, tell me the truth, for I do not believe I am really back in Ithaca. I am in some other country and you are mocking me and deceiving me in all you have been saying. Tell me then truly, have I really got back to my own country?”
“You are always taking something of that sort into your head,” replied Minerva, “and that is why I cannot desert you in your afflictions; you are so plausible, shrewd and shifty. Any one but yourself on returning from so long a voyage would at once have gone home to see his wife and children, but you do not seem to care about asking after them or hearing any news about them till you have exploited your wife, who remains at home vainly grieving for you, and having no peace night or day for the tears she sheds on your behalf. As for my not coming near you, I was never uneasy about you, for I was certain you would get back safely though you would lose all your men, and I did not wish to quarrel with my uncle Neptune, who never forgave you for having blinded his son. I will now, however, point out to you the lie of the land, and you will then perhaps believe me. This is the haven of the old merman Phorcys, and here is the olive tree that grows at the head of it; [near it is the cave sacred to the Naiads;] here too is the overarching cavern in which you have offered many an acceptable hecatomb to the nymphs, and this is the wooded mountain Neritum.”
As she spoke the goddess dispersed the mist and the land appeared. Then Ulysses rejoiced at finding himself again in his own land, and kissed the bounteous soil; he lifted up his hands and prayed to the nymphs, saying, “Naiad nymphs, daughters of Jove, I made sure that I was never again to see you, now therefore I greet you with all loving salutations, and I will bring you offerings as in the old days, if Jove’s redoubtable daughter will grant me life, and bring my son to manhood.”
“Take heart, and do not trouble yourself about that,” rejoined Minerva, “let us rather set about stowing your things at once in the cave, where they will be quite safe. Let us see how we can best manage it all.”
Therewith she went down into the cave to look for the safest hiding places, while Ulysses brought up all the treasure of gold, bronze, and good clothing which the Phaecians had given him. They stowed everything carefully away, and Minerva set a stone against the door of the cave. Then the two sat down by the root of the great olive, and consulted how to compass the destruction of the wicked suitors.
“Ulysses,” said Minerva, “noble son of Laertes, think how you can lay hands on these disreputable people who have been lording it in your house these three years, courting your wife and making wedding presents to her, while she does nothing but lament your absence, giving hope and sending your encouraging messages to every one of them, but meaning the very opposite of all she says’
And Ulysses answered, “In good truth, goddess, it seems I should have come to much the same bad end in my own house as Agamemnon did, if you had not given me such timely information. Advise me how I shall best avenge myself. Stand by my side and put your courage into my heart as on the day when we loosed Troy’s fair diadem from her brow. Help me now as you did then, and I will fight three hundred men, if you, goddess, will be with me.”
“Trust me for that,” said she, “I will not lose sight of you when once we set about it, and I would imagine that some of those who are devouring your substance will then bespatter the pavement with their blood and brains. I will begin by disguising you so that no human being shall know you; I will cover your body with wrinkles; you shall lose all your yellow hair; I will clothe you in a garment that shall fill all who see it with loathing; I will blear your fine eyes for you, and make you an unseemly object in the sight of the suitors, of your wife, and of the son whom you left behind you. Then go at once to the swineherd who is in charge of your pigs; he has been always well affected towards you, and is devoted to Penelope and your son; you will find him feeding his pigs near the rock that is called Raven by the fountain Arethusa, where they are fattening on beechmast and spring water after their manner. Stay with him and find out how things are going, while I proceed to Sparta and see your son, who is with Menelaus at Lacedaemon, where he has gone to try and find out whether you are still alive.”
“But why,” said Ulysses, “did you not tell him, for you knew all about it? Did you want him too to go sailing about amid all kinds of hardship while others are eating up his estate?”
Minerva answered, “Never mind about him, I sent him that he might be well spoken of for having gone. He is in no sort of difficulty, but is staying quite comfortably with Menelaus, and is surrounded with abundance of every kind. The suitors have put out to sea and are lying in wait for him, for they mean to kill him before he can get home. I do not much think they will succeed, but rather that some of those who are now eating up your estate will first find a grave themselves.”
As she spoke Minerva touched him with her wand and covered him with wrinkles, took away all his yellow hair, and withered the flesh over his whole body; she bleared his eyes, which were naturally very fine ones; she changed his clothes and threw an old rag of a wrap about him, and a tunic, tattered, filthy, and begrimed with smoke; she also gave him an undressed deer skin as an outer garment, and furnished him with a staff and a wallet all in holes, with a twisted thong for him to sling it over his shoulder.
When the pair had thus laid their plans they parted, and the goddess went straight to Lacedaemon to fetch Telemachus.
ULYSSES now left the haven, and took the rough track up through the wooded country and over the crest of the mountain till he reached the place where Minerva had said that he would find the swineherd, who was the most thrifty servant he had. He found him sitting in front of his hut, which was by the yards that he had built on a site which could be seen from far. He had made them spacious and fair to see, with a free ran for the pigs all round them; he had built them during his master’s absence, of stones which he had gathered out of the ground, without saying anything to Penelope or Laertes, and he had fenced them on top with thorn bushes. Outside the yard he had run a strong fence of oaken posts, split, and set pretty close together, while inside lie had built twelve sties near one another for the sows to lie in. There were fifty pigs wallowing in each sty, all of them breeding sows; but the boars slept outside and were much fewer in number, for the suitors kept on eating them, and die swineherd had to send them the best he had continually. There were three hundred and sixty boar pigs, and the herdsman’s four hounds, which were as fierce as wolves, slept always with them. The swineherd was at that moment cutting out a pair of sandals from a good stout ox hide. Three of his men were out herding the pigs in one place or another, and he had sent the fourth to town with a boar that he had been forced to send the suitors that they might sacrifice it and have their fill of meat.
When the hounds saw Ulysses they set up a furious barking and flew at him, but Ulysses was cunning enough to sit down and loose his hold of the stick that he had in his hand: still, he would have been torn by them in his own homestead had not the swineherd dropped his ox hide, rushed full speed through the gate of the yard and driven the dogs off by shouting and throwing stones at them. Then he said to Ulysses, “Old man, the dogs were likely to have made short work of you, and then you would have got me into trouble. The gods have given me quite enough worries without that, for I have lost the best of masters, and am in continual grief on his account. I have to attend swine for other people to eat, while he, if he yet lives to see the light of day, is starving in some distant land. But come inside, and when you have had your fill of bread and wine, tell me where you come from, and all about your misfortunes.”
On this the swineherd led the way into the hut and bade him sit down. He strewed a good thick bed of rushes upon the floor, and on the top of this he threw the shaggy chamois skin — a great thick one — on which he used to sleep by night. Ulysses was pleased at being made thus welcome, and said “May Jove, sir, and the rest of the gods grant you your heart’s desire in return for the kind way in which you have received me.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Stranger, though a still poorer man should come here, it would not be right for me to insult him, for all strangers and beggars are from Jove. You must take what you can get and be thankful, for servants live in fear when they have young lords for their masters; and this is my misfortune now, for heaven has hindered the return of him who would have been always good to me and given me something of my own — a house, a piece of land, a good looking wife, and all else that a liberal master allows a servant who has worked hard for him, and whose labour the gods have prospered as they have mine in the situation which I hold. If my master had grown old here he would have done great things by me, but he is gone, and I wish that Helen’s whole race were utterly destroyed, for she has been the death of many a good man. It was this matter that took my master to Ilius, the land of noble steeds, to fight the Trojans in the cause of kin Agamemnon.”
As he spoke he bound his girdle round him and went to the sties where the young sucking pigs were penned. He picked out two which he brought back with him and sacrificed. He singed them, cut them up, and spitted on them; when the meat was cooked he brought it all in and set it before Ulysses, hot and still on the spit, whereon Ulysses sprinkled it over with white barley meal. The swineherd then mixed wine in a bowl of ivy-wood, and taking a seat opposite Ulysses told him to begin.
“Fall to, stranger,” said he, “on a dish of servant’s pork. The fat pigs have to go to the suitors, who eat them up without shame or scruple; but the blessed gods love not such shameful doings, and respect those who do what is lawful and right. Even the fierce free-booters who go raiding on other people’s land, and Jove gives them their spoil — even they, when they have filled their ships and got home again live conscience-stricken, and look fearfully for judgement; but some god seems to have told these people that Ulysses is dead and gone; they will not, therefore, go back to their own homes and make their offers of marriage in the usual way, but waste his estate by force, without fear or stint. Not a day or night comes out of heaven, but they sacrifice not one victim nor two only, and they take the run of his wine, for he was exceedingly rich. No other great man either in Ithaca or on the mainland is as rich as he was; he had as much as twenty men put together. I will tell you what he had. There are twelve herds of cattle upon the mainland, and as many flocks of sheep, there are also twelve droves of pigs, while his own men and hired strangers feed him twelve widely spreading herds of goats. Here in Ithaca he runs even large flocks of goats on the far end of the island, and they are in the charge of excellent goatherds. Each one of these sends the suitors the best goat in the flock every day. As for myself, I am in charge of the pigs that you see here, and I have to keep picking out the best I have and sending it to them.”
This was his story, but Ulysses went on eating and drinking ravenously without a word, brooding his revenge. When he had eaten enough and was satisfied, the swineherd took the bowl from which he usually drank, filled it with wine, and gave it to Ulysses, who was pleased, and said as he took it in his hands, “My friend, who was this master of yours that bought you and paid for you, so rich and so powerful as you tell me? You say he perished in the cause of King Agamemnon; tell me who he was, in case I may have met with such a person. Jove and the other gods know, but I may be able to give you news of him, for I have travelled much.”
Eumaeus answered, “Old man, no traveller who comes here with news will get Ulysses’ wife and son to believe his story. Nevertheless, tramps in want of a lodging keep coming with their mouths full of lies, and not a word of truth; every one who finds his way to Ithaca goes to my mistress and tells her falsehoods, whereon she takes them in, makes much of them, and asks them all manner of questions, crying all the time as women will when they have lost their husbands. And you too, old man, for a shirt and a cloak would doubtless make up a very pretty story. But the wolves and birds of prey have long since torn Ulysses to pieces, or the fishes of the sea have eaten him, and his bones are lying buried deep in sand upon some foreign shore; he is dead and gone, and a bad business it is for all his friends — for me especially; go where I may I shall never find so good a master, not even if I were to go home to my mother and father where I was bred and born. I do not so much care, however, about my parents now, though I should dearly like to see them again in my own country; it is the loss of Ulysses that grieves me most; I cannot speak of him without reverence though he is here no longer, for he was very fond of me, and took such care of me that whereever he may be I shall always honour his memory.”
“My friend,” replied Ulysses, “you are very positive, and very hard of belief about your master’s coming home again, nevertheless I will not merely say, but will swear, that he is coming. Do not give me anything for my news till he has actually come, you may then give me a shirt and cloak of good wear if you will. I am in great want, but I will not take anything at all till then, for I hate a man, even as I hate hell fire, who lets his poverty tempt him into lying. I swear by king Jove, by the rites of hospitality, and by that hearth of Ulysses to which I have now come, that all will surely happen as I have said it will. Ulysses will return in this self same year; with the end of this moon and the beginning of the next he will be here to do vengeance on all those who are ill treating his wife and son.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Old man, you will neither get paid for bringing good news, nor will Ulysses ever come home; drink you wine in peace, and let us talk about something else. Do not keep on reminding me of all this; it always pains me when any one speaks about my honoured master. As for your oath we will let it alone, but I only wish he may come, as do Penelope, his old father Laertes, and his son Telemachus. I am terribly unhappy too about this same boy of his; he was running up fast into manhood, and bade fare to be no worse man, face and figure, than his father, but some one, either god or man, has been unsettling his mind, so he has gone off to Pylos to try and get news of his father, and the suitors are lying in wait for him as he is coming home, in the hope of leaving the house of Arceisius without a name in Ithaca. But let us say no more about him, and leave him to be taken, or else to escape if the son of Saturn holds his hand over him to protect him. And now, old man, tell me your own story; tell me also, for I want to know, who you are and where you come from. Tell me of your town and parents, what manner of ship you came in, how crew brought you to Ithaca, and from what country they professed to come — for you cannot have come by land.”
And Ulysses answered, “I will tell you all about it. If there were meat and wine enough, and we could stay here in the hut with nothing to do but to eat and drink while the others go to their work, I could easily talk on for a whole twelve months without ever finishing the story of the sorrows with which it has pleased heaven to visit me.
“I am by birth a Cretan; my father was a well-to-do man, who had many sons born in marriage, whereas I was the son of a slave whom he had purchased for a concubine; nevertheless, my father Castor son of Hylax (whose lineage I claim, and who was held in the highest honour among the Cretans for his wealth, prosperity, and the valour of his sons) put me on the same level with my brothers who had been born in wedlock. When, however, death took him to the house of Hades, his sons divided his estate and cast lots for their shares, but to me they gave a holding and little else; nevertheless, my valour enabled me to marry into a rich family, for I was not given to bragging, or shirking on the field of battle. It is all over now; still, if you look at the straw you can see what the ear was, for I have had trouble enough and to spare. Mars and Minerva made me doughty in war; when I had picked my men to surprise the enemy with an ambuscade I never gave death so much as a thought, but was the first to leap forward and spear all whom I could overtake. Such was I in battle, but I did not care about farm work, nor the frugal home life of those who would bring up children. My delight was in ships, fighting, javelins, and arrows — things that most men shudder to think of; but one man likes one thing and another another, and this was what I was most naturally inclined to. Before the Achaeans went to Troy, nine times was I in command of men and ships on foreign service, and I amassed much wealth. I had my pick of the spoil in the first instance, and much more was allotted to me later on.
“My house grew apace and I became a great man among the Cretans, but when Jove counselled that terrible expedition, in which so many perished, the people required me and Idomeneus to lead their ships to Troy, and there was no way out of it, for they insisted on our doing so. There we fought for nine whole years, but in the tenth we sacked the city of Priam and sailed home again as heaven dispersed us. Then it was that Jove devised evil against me. I spent but one month happily with my children, wife, and property, and then I conceived the idea of making a descent on Egypt, so I fitted out a fine fleet and manned it. I had nine ships, and the people flocked to fill them. For six days I and my men made feast, and I found them many victims both for sacrifice to the gods and for themselves, but on the seventh day we went on board and set sail from Crete with a fair North wind behind us though we were going down a river. Nothing went ill with any of our ships, and we had no sickness on board, but sat where we were and let the ships go as the wind and steersmen took them. On the fifth day we reached the river Aegyptus; there I stationed my ships in the river, bidding my men stay by them and keep guard over them while I sent out scouts to reconnoitre from every point of vantage.
“But the men disobeyed my orders, took to their own devices, and ravaged the land of the Egyptians, killing the men, and taking their wives and children captive. The alarm was soon carried to the city, and when they heard the war cry, the people came out at daybreak till the plain was filled with horsemen and foot soldiers and with the gleam of armour. Then Jove spread panic among my men, and they would no longer face the enemy, for they found themselves surrounded. The Egyptians killed many of us, and took the rest alive to do forced labour for them. Jove, however, put it in my mind to do thus — and I wish I had died then and there in Egypt instead, for there was much sorrow in store for me — I took off my helmet and shield and dropped my spear from my hand; then I went straight up to the king’s chariot, clasped his knees and kissed them, whereon he spared my life, bade me get into his chariot, and took me weeping to his own home. Many made at me with their ashen spears and tried to kil me in their fury, but the king protected me, for he feared the wrath of Jove the protector of strangers, who punishes those who do evil.
“I stayed there for seven years and got together much money among the Egyptians, for they all gave me something; but when it was now going on for eight years there came a certain Phoenician, a cunning rascal, who had already committed all sorts of villainy, and this man talked me over into going with him to Phoenicia, where his house and his possessions lay. I stayed there for a whole twelve months, but at the end of that time when months and days had gone by till the same season had come round again, he set me on board a ship bound for Libya, on a pretence that I was to take a cargo along with him to that place, but really that he might sell me as a slave and take the money I fetched. I suspected his intention, but went on board with him, for I could not help it.
“The ship ran before a fresh North wind till we had reached the sea that lies between Crete and Libya; there, however, Jove counselled their destruction, for as soon as we were well out from Crete and could see nothing but sea and sky, he raised a black cloud over our ship and the sea grew dark beneath it. Then Jove let fly with his thunderbolts and the ship went round and round and was filled with fire and brimstone as the lightning struck it. The men fell all into the sea; they were carried about in the water round the ship looking like so many sea-gulls, but the god presently deprived them of all chance of getting home again. I was all dismayed; Jove, however, sent the ship’s mast within my reach, which saved my life, for I clung to it, and drifted before the fury of the gale. Nine days did I drift but in the darkness of the tenth night a great wave bore me on to the Thesprotian coast. There Pheidon king of the Thesprotians entertained me hospitably without charging me anything at all for his son found me when I was nearly dead with cold and fatigue, whereon he raised me by the hand, took me to his father’s house and gave me clothes to wear.
“There it was that I heard news of Ulysses, for the king told me he had entertained him, and shown him much hospitality while he was on his homeward journey. He showed me also the treasure of gold, and wrought iron that Ulysses had got together. There was enough to keep his family for ten generations, so much had he left in the house of king Pheidon. But the king said Ulysses had gone to Dodona that he might learn Jove’s mind from the god’s high oak tree, and know whether after so long an absence he should return to Ithaca openly, or in secret. Moreover the king swore in my presence, making drink-offerings in his own house as he did so, that the ship was by the water side, and the crew found, that should take him to his own country. He sent me off however before Ulysses returned, for there happened to be a Thesprotian ship sailing for the wheat-growing island of Dulichium, and he told those in charge of her to be sure and take me safely to King Acastus.
“These men hatched a plot against me that would have reduced me to the very extreme of misery, for when the ship had got some way out from land they resolved on selling me as a slave. They stripped me of the shirt and cloak that I was wearing, and gave me instead the tattered old clouts in which you now see me; then, towards nightfall, they reached the tilled lands of Ithaca, and there they bound me with a strong rope fast in the ship, while they went on shore to get supper by the sea side. But the gods soon undid my bonds for me, and having drawn my rags over my head I slid down the rudder into the sea, where I struck out and swam till I was well clear of them, and came ashore near a thick wood in which I lay concealed. They were very angry at my having escaped and went searching about for me, till at last they thought it was no further use and went back to their ship. The gods, having hidden me thus easily, then took me to a good man’s door — for it seems that I am not to die yet awhile.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Poor unhappy stranger, I have found the story of your misfortunes extremely interesting, but that part about Ulysses is not right; and you will never get me to believe it. Why should a man like you go about telling lies in this way? I know all about the return of my master. The gods one and all of them detest him, or they would have taken him before Troy, or let him die with friends around him when the days of his fighting were done; for then the Achaeans would have built a mound over his ashes and his son would have been heir to his renown, but now the storm winds have spirited him away we know not whither.
“As for me I live out of the way here with the pigs, and never go to the town unless when Penelope sends for me on the arrival of some news about Ulysses. Then they all sit round and ask questions, both those who grieve over the king’s absence, and those who rejoice at it because they can eat up his property without paying for it. For my own part I have never cared about asking anyone else since the time when I was taken in by an Aetolian, who had killed a man and come a long way till at last he reached my station, and I was very kind to him. He said he had seen Ulysses with Idomeneus among the Cretans, refitting his ships which had been damaged in a gale. He said Ulysses would return in the following summer or autumn with his men, and that he would bring back much wealth. And now you, you unfortunate old man, since fate has brought you to my door, do not try to flatter me in this way with vain hopes. It is not for any such reason that I shall treat you kindly, but only out of respect for Jove the god of hospitality, as fearing him and pitying you.”
Ulysses answered, “I see that you are of an unbelieving mind; I have given you my oath, and yet you will not credit me; let us then make a bargain, and call all the gods in heaven to witness it. If your master comes home, give me a cloak and shirt of good wear, and send me to Dulichium where I want to go; but if he does not come as I say he will, set your men on to me, and tell them to throw me from yonder precepice, as a warning to tramps not to go about the country telling lies.”
“And a pretty figure I should cut then,” replied Eumaeus, both now and hereafter, if I were to kill you after receiving you into my hut and showing you hospitality. I should have to say my prayers in good earnest if I did; but it is just supper time and I hope my men will come in directly, that we may cook something savoury for supper.”
Thus did they converse, and presently the swineherds came up with the pigs, which were then shut up for the night in their sties, and a tremendous squealing they made as they were being driven into them. But Eumaeus called to his men and said, “Bring in the best pig you have, that I may sacrifice for this stranger, and we will take toll of him ourselves. We have had trouble enough this long time feeding pigs, while others reap the fruit of our labour.”
On this he began chopping firewood, while the others brought in a fine fat five year old boar pig, and set it at the altar. Eumaeus did not forget the gods, for he was a man of good principles, so the first thing he did was to cut bristles from the pig’s face and throw them into the fire, praying to all the gods as he did so that Ulysses might return home again. Then he clubbed the pig with a billet of oak which he had kept back when he was chopping the firewood, and stunned it, while the others slaughtered and singed it. Then they cut it up, and Eumaeus began by putting raw pieces from each joint on to some of the fat; these he sprinkled with barley meal, and laid upon the embers; they cut the rest of the meat up small, put the pieces upon the spits and roasted them till they were done; when they had taken them off the spits they threw them on to the dresser in a heap. The swineherd, who was a most equitable man, then stood up to give every one his share. He made seven portions; one of these he set apart for Mercury the son of Maia and the nymphs, praying to them as he did so; the others he dealt out to the men man by man. He gave Ulysses some slices cut lengthways down the loin as a mark of especial honour, and Ulysses was much pleased. “I hope, Eumaeus,” said he, “that Jove will be as well disposed towards you as I am, for the respect you are showing to an outcast like myself.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “Eat, my good fellow, and enjoy your supper, such as it is. God grants this, and withholds that, just as he thinks right, for he can do whatever he chooses.”
As he spoke he cut off the first piece and offered it as a burnt sacrifice to the immortal gods; then he made them a drink-offering, put the cup in the hands of Ulysses, and sat down to his own portion. Mesaulius brought them their bread; the swineherd had bought this man on his own account from among the Taphians during his master’s absence, and had paid for him with his own money without saying anything either to his mistress or Laertes. They then laid their hands upon the good things that were before them, and when they had had enough to eat and drink, Mesaulius took away what was left of the bread, and they all went to bed after having made a hearty supper.
Now the night came on stormy and very dark, for there was no moon. It poured without ceasing, and the wind blew strong from the West, which is a wet quarter, so Ulysses thought he would see whether Eumaeus, in the excellent care he took of him, would take off his own cloak and give it him, or make one of his men give him one. “Listen to me,” said he, “Eumaeus and the rest of you; when I have said a prayer I will tell you something. It is the wine that makes me talk in this way; wine will make even a wise man fall to singing; it will make him chuckle and dance and say many a word that he had better leave unspoken; still, as I have begun, I will go on. Would that I were still young and strong as when we got up an ambuscade before Troy. Menelaus and Ulysses were the leaders, but I was in command also, for the other two would have it so. When we had come up to the wall of the city we crouched down beneath our armour and lay there under cover of the reeds and thick brush-wood that grew about the swamp. It came on to freeze with a North wind blowing; the snow fell small and fine like hoar frost, and our shields were coated thick with rime. The others had all got cloaks and shirts, and slept comfortably enough with their shields about their shoulders, but I had carelessly left my cloak behind me, not thinking that I should be too cold, and had gone off in nothing but my shirt and shield. When the night was two-thirds through and the stars had shifted their their places, I nudged Ulysses who was close to me with my elbow, and he at once gave me his ear.
“’Ulysses,’ said I, ‘this cold will be the death of me, for I have no cloak; some god fooled me into setting off with nothing on but my shirt, and I do not know what to do.’
“Ulysses, who was as crafty as he was valiant, hit upon the following plan:
“’Keep still,’ said he in a low voice, ‘or the others will hear you.’ Then he raised his head on his elbow.
“’My friends,’ said he, ‘I have had a dream from heaven in my sleep. We are a long way from the ships; I wish some one would go down and tell Agamemnon to send us up more men at once.’
“On this Thoas son of Andraemon threw off his cloak and set out running to the ships, whereon I took the cloak and lay in it comfortably enough till morning. Would that I were still young and strong as I was in those days, for then some one of you swineherds would give me a cloak both out of good will and for the respect due to a brave soldier; but now people look down upon me because my clothes are shabby.”
And Eumaeus answered, “Old man, you have told us an excellent story, and have said nothing so far but what is quite satisfactory; for the present, therefore, you shall want neither clothing nor anything else that a stranger in distress may reasonably expect, but to-morrow morning you have to shake your own old rags about your body again, for we have not many spare cloaks nor shirts up here, but every man has only one. When Ulysses’ son comes home again he will give you both cloak and shirt, and send you wherever you may want to go.”
With this he got up and made a bed for Ulysses by throwing some goatskins and sheepskins on the ground in front of the fire. Here Ulysses lay down, and Eumaeus covered him over with a great heavy cloak that he kept for a change in case of extraordinarily bad weather.
Thus did Ulysses sleep, and the young men slept beside him. But the swineherd did not like sleeping away from his pigs, so he got ready to go and Ulysses was glad to see that he looked after his property during his master’s absence. First he slung his sword over his brawny shoulders and put on a thick cloak to keep out the wind. He also took the skin of a large and well fed goat, and a javelin in case of attack from men or dogs. Thus equipped he went to his rest where the pigs were camping under an overhanging rock that gave them shelter from the North wind.
BUT Minerva went to the fair city of Lacedaemon to tell Ulysses’ son that he was to return at once. She found him and Pisistratus sleeping in the forecourt of Menelaus’s house; Pisistratus was fast asleep, but Telemachus could get no rest all night for thinking of his unhappy father, so Minerva went close up to him and said:
“Telemachus, you should not remain so far away from home any longer, nor leave your property with such dangerous people in your house; they will eat up everything you have among them, and you will have been on a fool’s errand. Ask Menelaus to send you home at once if you wish to find your excellent mother still there when you get back. Her father and brothers are already urging her to marry Eurymachus, who has given her more than any of the others, and has been greatly increasing his wedding presents. I hope nothing valuable may have been taken from the house in spite of you, but you know what women are — they always want to do the best they can for the man who marries them, and never give another thought to the children of their first husband, nor to their father either when he is dead and done with. Go home, therefore, and put everything in charge of the most respectable woman servant that you have, until it shall please heaven to send you a wife of your own. Let me tell you also of another matter which you had better attend to. The chief men among the suitors are lying in wait for you in the Strait between Ithaca and Samos, and they mean to kill you before you can reach home. I do not much think they will succeed; it is more likely that some of those who are now eating up your property will find a grave themselves. Sail night and day, and keep your ship well away from the islands; the god who watches over you and protects you will send you a fair wind. As soon as you get to Ithaca send your ship and men on to the town, but yourself go straight to the swineherd who has charge your pigs; he is well disposed towards you, stay with him, therefore, for the night, and then send him to Penelope to tell her that you have got back safe from Pylos.”
Then she went back to Olympus; but Telemachus stirred Pisistratus with his heel to rouse him, and said, “Wake up Pisistratus, and yoke the horses to the chariot, for we must set off home.”
But Pisistratus said, “No matter what hurry we are in we cannot drive in the dark. It will be morning soon; wait till Menelaus has brought his presents and put them in the chariot for us; and let him say good-bye to us in the usual way. So long as he lives a guest should never forget a host who has shown him kindness.”
As he spoke day began to break, and Menelaus, who had already risen, leaving Helen in bed, came towards them. When Telemachus saw him he put on his shirt as fast as he could, threw a great cloak over his shoulders, and went out to meet him. “Menelaus,” said he, “let me go back now to my own country, for I want to get home.”
And Menelaus answered, “Telemachus, if you insist on going I will not detain you. not like to see a host either too fond of his guest or too rude to him. Moderation is best in all things, and not letting a man go when he wants to do so is as bad as telling him to go if he would like to stay. One should treat a guest well as long as he is in the house and speed him when he wants to leave it. Wait, then, till I can get your beautiful presents into your chariot, and till you have yourself seen them. I will tell the women to prepare a sufficient dinner for you of what there may be in the house; it will be at once more proper and cheaper for you to get your dinner before setting out on such a long journey. If, moreover, you have a fancy for making a tour in Hellas or in the Peloponnese, I will yoke my horses, and will conduct you myself through all our principal cities. No one will send us away empty handed; every one will give us something — a bronze tripod, a couple of mules, or a gold cup.”
“Menelaus,” replied Telemachus, “I want to go home at once, for when I came away I left my property without protection, and fear that while looking for my father I shall come to ruin myself, or find that something valuable has been stolen during my absence.”
When Menelaus heard this he immediately told his wife and servants to prepare a sufficient dinner from what there might be in the house. At this moment Eteoneus joined him, for he lived close by and had just got up; so Menelaus told him to light the fire and cook some meat, which he at once did. Then Menelaus went down into his fragrant store room, not alone, but Helen went too, with Megapenthes. When he reached the place where the treasures of his house were kept, he selected a double cup, and told his son Megapenthes to bring also a silver mixing-bowl. Meanwhile Helen went to the chest where she kept the lovely dresses which she had made with her own hands, and took out one that was largest and most beautifully enriched with embroidery; it glittered like a star, and lay at the very bottom of the chest. Then they all came back through the house again till they got to Telemachus, and Menelaus said, “Telemachus, may Jove, the mighty husband of Juno, bring you safely home according to your desire. I will now present you with the finest and most precious piece of plate in all my house. It is a mixing-bowl of pure silver, except the rim, which is inlaid with gold, and it is the work of Vulcan. Phaedimus king of the Sidonians made me a present of it in the course of a visit that I paid him while I was on my return home. I should like to give it to you.”
With these words he placed the double cup in the hands of Telemachus, while Megapenthes brought the beautiful mixing-bowl and set it before him. Hard by stood lovely Helen with the robe ready in her hand.
“I too, my son,” said she, “have something for you as a keepsake from the hand of Helen; it is for your bride to wear upon her wedding day. Till then, get your dear mother to keep it for you; thus may you go back rejoicing to your own country and to your home.”
So saying she gave the robe over to him and he received it gladly. Then Pisistratus put the presents into the chariot, and admired them all as he did so. Presently Menelaus took Telemachus and Pisistratus into the house, and they both of them sat down to table. A maid servant brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and she drew a clean table beside them; an upper servant brought them bread and offered them many good things of what there was in the house. Eteoneus carved the meat and gave them each their portions, while Megapenthes poured out the wine. Then they laid their hands upon the good things that were before them, but as soon as they had had had enough to eat and drink Telemachus and Pisistratus yoked the horses, and took their places in the chariot. They drove out through the inner gateway and under the echoing gatehouse of the outer court, and Menelaus came after them with a golden goblet of wine in his right hand that they might make a drink-offering before they set out. He stood in front of the horses and pledged them, saying, “Farewell to both of you; see that you tell Nestor how I have treated you, for he was as kind to me as any father could be while we Achaeans were fighting before Troy.”
“We will be sure, sir,” answered Telemachus, “to tell him everything as soon as we see him. I wish I were as certain of finding Ulysses returned when I get back to Ithaca, that I might tell him of the very great kindness you have shown me and of the many beautiful presents I am taking with me.”
As he was thus speaking a bird flew on his right hand — an eagle with a great white goose in its talons which it had carried off from the farm yard — and all the men and women were running after it and shouting. It came quite close up to them and flew away on their right hands in front of the horses. When they saw it they were glad, and their hearts took comfort within them, whereon Pisistratus said, “Tell me, Menelaus, has heaven sent this omen for us or for you?”
Menelaus was thinking what would be the most proper answer for him to make, but Helen was too quick for him and said, “I will read this matter as heaven has put it in my heart, and as I doubt not that it will come to pass. The eagle came from the mountain where it was bred and has its nest, and in like manner Ulysses, after having travelled far and suffered much, will return to take his revenge — if indeed he is not back already and hatching mischief for the suitors.”
“May Jove so grant it,” replied Telemachus; “if it should prove to be so, I will make vows to you as though you were a god, even when I am at home.”
As he spoke he lashed his horses and they started off at full speed through the town towards the open country. They swayed the yoke upon their necks and travelled the whole day long till the sun set and darkness was over all the land. Then they reached Pherae, where Diocles lived who was son of Ortilochus, the son of Alpheus. There they passed the night and were treated hospitably. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, they again yoked their horses and their places in the chariot. They drove out through the inner gateway and under the echoing gatehouse of the outer court. Then Pisistratus lashed his horses on and they flew forward nothing loath; ere long they came to Pylos, and then Telemachus said:
“Pisistratus, I hope you will promise to do what I am going to ask you. You know our fathers were old friends before us; moreover, we are both of an age, and this journey has brought us together still more closely; do not, therefore, take me past my ship, but leave me there, for if I go to your father’s house he will try to keep me in the warmth of his good will towards me, and I must go home at once.”
Pisistratus thought how he should do as he was asked, and in the end he deemed it best to turn his horses towards the ship, and put Menelaus’s beautiful presents of gold and raiment in the stern of the vessel. Then he said, “Go on board at once and tell your men to do so also before I can reach home to tell my father. I know how obstinate he is, and am sure he will not let you go; he will come down here to fetch you, and he will not go back without you. But he will be very angry.”
With this he drove his goodly steeds back to the city of the Pylians and soon reached his home, but Telemachus called the men together and gave his orders. “Now, my men,” said he, “get everything in order on board the ship, and let us set out home.”
Thus did he speak, and they went on board even as he had said. But as Telemachus was thus busied, praying also and sacrificing to Minerva in the ship’s stern, there came to him a man from a distant country, a seer, who was flying from Argos because he had killed a man. He was descended from Melampus, who used to live in Pylos, the land of sheep; he was rich and owned a great house, but he was driven into exile by the great and powerful king Neleus. Neleus seized his goods and held them for a whole year, during which he was a close prisoner in the house of king Phylacus, and in much distress of mind both on account of the daughter of Neleus and because he was haunted by a great sorrow that dread Erinyes had laid upon him. In the end, however, he escaped with his life, drove the cattle from Phylace to Pylos, avenged the wrong that had been done him, and gave the daughter of Neleus to his brother. Then he left the country and went to Argos, where it was ordained that he should reign over much people. There he married, established himself, and had two famous sons Antiphates and Mantius. Antiphates became father of Oicleus, and Oicleus of Amphiaraus, who was dearly loved both by Jove and by Apollo, but he did not live to old age, for he was killed in Thebes by reason of a woman’s gifts. His sons were Alcmaeon and Amphilochus. Mantius, the other son of Melampus, was father to Polypheides and Cleitus. Aurora, throned in gold, carried off Cleitus for his beauty’s sake, that he might dwell among the immortals, but Apollo made Polypheides the greatest seer in the whole world now that Amphiaraus was dead. He quarrelled with his father and went to live in Hyperesia, where he remained and prophesied for all men.
His son, Theoclymenus, it was who now came up to Telemachus as he was making drink-offerings and praying in his ship. “Friend’” said he, “now that I find you sacrificing in this place, I beseech you by your sacrifices themselves, and by the god to whom you make them, I pray you also by your own head and by those of your followers, tell me the truth and nothing but the truth. Who and whence are you? Tell me also of your town and parents.”
Telemachus said, “I will answer you quite truly. I am from Ithaca, and my father is ‘Ulysses, as surely as that he ever lived. But he has come to some miserable end. Therefore I have taken this ship and got my crew together to see if I can hear any news of him, for he has been away a long time.”
“I too,” answered Theoclymenus, am an exile, for I have killed a man of my own race. He has many brothers and kinsmen in Argos, and they have great power among the Argives. I am flying to escape death at their hands, and am thus doomed to be a wanderer on the face of the earth. I am your suppliant; take me, therefore, on board your ship that they may not kill me, for I know they are in pursuit.”
“I will not refuse you,” replied Telemachus, “if you wish to join us. Come, therefore, and in Ithaca we will treat you hospitably according to what we have.”
On this he received Theoclymenus’ spear and laid it down on the deck of the ship. He went on board and sat in the stern, bidding Theoclymenus sit beside him; then the men let go the hawsers. Telemachus told them to catch hold of the ropes, and they made all haste to do so. They set the mast in its socket in the cross plank, raised it and made it fast with the forestays, and they hoisted their white sails with sheets of twisted ox hide. Minerva sent them a fair wind that blew fresh and strong to take the ship on her course as fast as possible. Thus then they passed by Crouni and Chalcis.
Presently the sun set and darkness was over all the land. The vessel made a quick pass sage to Pheae and thence on to Elis, where the Epeans rule. Telemachus then headed her for the flying islands, wondering within himself whether he should escape death or should be taken prisoner.
Meanwhile Ulysses and the swineherd were eating their supper in the hut, and the men supped with them. As soon as they had had to eat and drink, Ulysses began trying to prove the swineherd and see whether he would continue to treat him kindly, and ask him to stay on at the station or pack him off to the city; so he said:
“Eumaeus, and all of you, to-morrow I want to go away and begin begging about the town, so as to be no more trouble to you or to your men. Give me your advice therefore, and let me have a good guide to go with me and show me the way. I will go the round of the city begging as I needs must, to see if any one will give me a drink and a piece of bread. I should like also to go to the house of Ulysses and bring news of her husband to queen Penelope. I could then go about among the suitors and see if out of all their abundance they will give me a dinner. I should soon make them an excellent servant in all sorts of ways. Listen and believe when I tell you that by the blessing of Mercury who gives grace and good name to the works of all men, there is no one living who would make a more handy servant than I should — to put fresh wood on the fire, chop fuel, carve, cook, pour out wine, and do all those services that poor men have to do for their betters.”
The swineherd was very much disturbed when he heard this. “Heaven help me,” he exclaimed, “what ever can have put such a notion as that into your head? If you go near the suitors you will be undone to a certainty, for their pride and insolence reach the very heavens. They would never think of taking a man like you for a servant. Their servants are all young men, well dressed, wearing good cloaks and shirts, with well looking faces and their hair always tidy, the tables are kept quite clean and are loaded with bread, meat, and wine. Stay where you are, then; you are not in anybody’s way; I do not mind your being here, no more do any of the others, and when Telemachus comes home he will give you a shirt and cloak and will send you wherever you want to go.”
Ulysses answered, “I hope you may be as dear to the gods as you are to me, for having saved me from going about and getting into trouble; there is nothing worse than being always ways on the tramp; still, when men have once got low down in the world they will go through a great deal on behalf of their miserable bellies. Since however you press me to stay here and await the return of Telemachus, tell about Ulysses’ mother, and his father whom he left on the threshold of old age when he set out for Troy. Are they still living or are they already dead and in the house of Hades?”
“I will tell you all about them,” replied Eumaeus, “Laertes is still living and prays heaven to let him depart peacefully his own house, for he is terribly distressed about the absence of his son, and also about the death of his wife, which grieved him greatly and aged him more than anything else did. She came to an unhappy end through sorrow for her son: may no friend or neighbour who has dealt kindly by me come to such an end as she did. As long as she was still living, though she was always grieving, I used to like seeing her and asking her how she did, for she brought me up along with her daughter Ctimene, the youngest of her children; we were boy and girl together, and she made little difference between us. When, however, we both grew up, they sent Ctimene to Same and received a splendid dowry for her. As for me, my mistress gave me a good shirt and cloak with a pair of sandals for my feet, and sent me off into the country, but she was just as fond of me as ever. This is all over now. Still it has pleased heaven to prosper my work in the situation which I now hold. I have enough to eat and drink, and can find something for any respectable stranger who comes here; but there is no getting a kind word or deed out of my mistress, for the house has fallen into the hands of wicked people. Servants want sometimes to see their mistress and have a talk with her; they like to have something to eat and drink at the house, and something too to take back with them into the country. This is what will keep servants in a good humour.”
Ulysses answered, “Then you must have been a very little fellow, Eumaeus, when you were taken so far away from your home and parents. Tell me, and tell me true, was the city in which your father and mother lived sacked and pillaged, or did some enemies carry you off when you were alone tending sheep or cattle, ship you off here, and sell you for whatever your master gave them?”
“Stranger,” replied Eumaeus, “as regards your question: sit still, make yourself comfortable, drink your wine, and listen to me. The nights are now at their longest; there is plenty of time both for sleeping and sitting up talking together; you ought not to go to bed till bed time, too much sleep is as bad as too little; if any one of the others wishes to go to bed let him leave us and do so; he can then take my master’s pigs out when he has done breakfast in the morning. We two will sit here eating and drinking in the hut, and telling one another stories about our misfortunes; for when a man has suffered much, and been buffeted about in the world, he takes pleasure in recalling the memory of sorrows that have long gone by. As regards your question, then, my tale is as follows:
“You may have heard of an island called Syra that lies over above Ortygia, where the land begins to turn round and look in another direction. It is not very thickly peopled, but the soil is good, with much pasture fit for cattle and sheep, and it abounds with wine and wheat. Dearth never comes there, nor are the people plagued by any sickness, but when they grow old Apollo comes with Diana and kills them with his painless shafts. It contains two communities, and the whole country is divided between these two. My father Ctesius son of Ormenus, a man comparable to the gods, reigned over both.
“Now to this place there came some cunning traders from Phoenicia (for the Phoenicians are great mariners) in a ship which they had freighted with gewgaws of all kinds. There happened to be a Phoenician woman in my father’s house, very tall and comely, and an excellent servant; these scoundrels got hold of her one day when she was washing near their ship, seduced her, and cajoled her in ways that no woman can resist, no matter how good she may be by nature. The man who had seduced her asked her who she was and where she came from, and on this she told him her father’s name. ‘I come from Sidon,’ said she, ‘and am daughter to Arybas, a man rolling in wealth. One day as I was coming into the town from the country some Taphian pirates seized me and took me here over the sea, where they sold me to the man who owns this house, and he gave them their price for me.’
“The man who had seduced her then said, ‘Would you like to come along with us to see the house of your parents and your parents themselves? They are both alive and are said to be well off.’
“’I will do so gladly,’ answered she, ‘if you men will first swear me a solemn oath that you will do me no harm by the way.’
“They all swore as she told them, and when they had completed their oath the woman said, ‘Hush; and if any of your men meets me in the street or at the well, do not let him speak to me, for fear some one should go and tell my master, in which case he would suspect something. He would put me in prison, and would have all of you murdered; keep your own counsel therefore; buy your merchandise as fast as you can, and send me word when you have done loading. I will bring as much gold as I can lay my hands on, and there is something else also that I can do towards paying my fare. I am nurse to the son of the good man of the house, a funny little fellow just able to run about. I will carry him off in your ship, and you will get a great deal of money for him if you take him and sell him in foreign parts.’
“On this she went back to the house. The Phoenicians stayed a whole year till they had loaded their ship with much precious merchandise, and then, when they had got freight enough, they sent to tell the woman. Their messenger, a very cunning fellow, came to my father’s house bringing a necklace of gold with amber beads strung among it; and while my mother and the servants had it in their hands admiring it and bargaining about it, he made a sign quietly to the woman and then went back to the ship, whereon she took me by the hand and led me out of the house. In the fore part of the house she saw the tables set with the cups of guests who had been feasting with my father, as being in attendance on him; these were now all gone to a meeting of the public assembly, so she snatched up three cups and carried them off in the bosom of her dress, while I followed her, for I knew no better. The sun was now set, and darkness was over all the land, so we hurried on as fast as we could till we reached the harbour, where the Phoenician ship was lying. When they had got on board they sailed their ways over the sea, taking us with them, and Jove sent then a fair wind; six days did we sail both night and day, but on the seventh day Diana struck the woman and she fell heavily down into the ship’s hold as though she were a sea gull alighting on the water; so they threw her overboard to the seals and fishes, and I was left all sorrowful and alone. Presently the winds and waves took the ship to Ithaca, where Laertes gave sundry of his chattels for me, and thus it was that ever I came to set eyes upon this country.”
Ulysses answered, “Eumaeus, I have heard the story of your misfortunes with the most lively interest and pity, but Jove has given you good as well as evil, for in spite of everything you have a good master, who sees that you always have enough to eat and drink; and you lead a good life, whereas I am still going about begging my way from city to city.”
Thus did they converse, and they had only a very little time left for sleep, for it was soon daybreak. In the meantime Telemachus and his crew were nearing land, so they loosed the sails, took down the mast, and rowed the ship into the harbour. They cast out their mooring stones and made fast the hawsers; they then got out upon the sea shore, mixed their wine, and got dinner ready. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink Telemachus said, “Take the ship on to the town, but leave me here, for I want to look after the herdsmen on one of my farms. In the evening, when I have seen all I want, I will come down to the city, and to-morrow morning in return for your trouble I will give you all a good dinner with meat and wine.”
Then Theoclymenus said, ‘And what, my dear young friend, is to become of me? To whose house, among all your chief men, am I to repair? or shall I go straight to your own house and to your mother?”
“At any other time,” replied Telemachus, “I should have bidden you go to my own house, for you would find no want of hospitality; at the present moment, however, you would not be comfortable there, for I shall be away, and my mother will not see you; she does not often show herself even to the suitors, but sits at her loom weaving in an upper chamber, out of their way; but I can tell you a man whose house you can go to — I mean Eurymachus the son of Polybus, who is held in the highest estimation by every one in Ithaca. He is much the best man and the most persistent wooer, of all those who are paying court to my mother and trying to take Ulysses’ place. Jove, however, in heaven alone knows whether or no they will come to a bad end before the marriage takes place.”
As he was speaking a bird flew by upon his right hand — a hawk, Apollo’s messenger. It held a dove in its talons, and the feathers, as it tore them off, fell to the ground midway between Telemachus and the ship. On this Theoclymenus called him apart and caught him by the hand. “Telemachus,” said he, “that bird did not fly on your right hand without having been sent there by some god. As soon as I saw it I knew it was an omen; it means that you will remain powerful and that there will be no house in Ithaca more royal than your own.”
“I wish it may prove so,” answered Telemachus. “If it does, I will show you so much good will and give you so many presents that all who meet you will congratulate you.”
Then he said to his friend Piraeus, “Piraeus, son of Clytius, you have throughout shown yourself the most willing to serve me of all those who have accompanied me to Pylos; I wish you would take this stranger to your own house and entertain him hospitably till I can come for him.”
And Piraeus answered, “Telemachus, you may stay away as long as you please, but I will look after him for you, and he shall find no lack of hospitality.”
As he spoke he went on board, and bade the others do so also and loose the hawsers, so they took their places in the ship. But Telemachus bound on his sandals, and took a long and doughty spear with a head of sharpened bronze from the deck of the ship. Then they loosed the hawsers, thrust the ship off from land, and made on towards the city as they had been told to do, while Telemachus strode on as fast as he could, till he reached the homestead where his countless herds of swine were feeding, and where dwelt the excellent swineherd, who was so devoted a servant to his master.  
MEANWHILE Ulysses and the swineherd had lit a fire in the hut and were were getting breakfast ready at daybreak for they had sent the men out with the pigs. When Telemachus came up, the dogs did not bark, but fawned upon him, so Ulysses, hearing the sound of feet and noticing that the dogs did not bark, said to Eumaeus:
“Eumaeus, I hear footsteps; I suppose one of your men or some one of your acquaintance is coming here, for the dogs are fawning urn him and not barking.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth before his son stood at the door. Eumaeus sprang to his feet, and the bowls in which he was mixing wine fell from his hands, as he made towards his master. He kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes, and wept for joy. A father could not be more delighted at the return of an only son, the child of his old age, after ten years’ absence in a foreign country and after having gone through much hardship. He embraced him, kissed him all over as though he had come back from the dead, and spoke fondly to him saying:
“So you are come, Telemachus, light of my eyes that you are. When I heard you had gone to Pylos I made sure I was never going to see you any more. Come in, my dear child, and sit down, that I may have a good look at you now you are home again; it is not very often you come into the country to see us herdsmen; you stick pretty close to the town generally. I suppose you think it better to keep an eye on what the suitors are doing.”
“So be it, old friend,” answered Telemachus, “but I am come now because I want to see you, and to learn whether my mother is still at her old home or whether some one else has married her, so that the bed of Ulysses is without bedding and covered with cobwebs.”
“She is still at the house,” replied Eumaeus, “grieving and breaking her heart, and doing nothing but weep, both night and day continually.”
As spoke he took Telemachus’ spear, whereon he crossed the stone threshold and came inside. Ulysses rose from his seat to give him place as he entered, but Telemachus checked him; “Sit down, stranger.” said he, “I can easily find another seat, and there is one here who will lay it for me.”
Ulysses went back to his own place, and Eumaeus strewed some green brushwood on the floor and threw a sheepskin on top of it for Telemachus to sit upon. Then the swineherd brought them platters of cold meat, the remains from what they had eaten the day before, and he filled the bread baskets with bread as fast as he could. He mixed wine also in bowls of ivy-wood, and took his seat facing Ulysses. Then they laid their hands on the good things that were before them, and as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink Telemachus said to Eumaeus, “Old friend, where does this stranger come from? How did his crew bring him to Ithaca, and who were they?-for assuredly he did not come here by land”’
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “My son, I will tell you the real truth. He says he is a Cretan, and that he has been a great traveller. At this moment he is running away from a Thesprotian ship, and has refuge at my station, so I will put him into your hands. Do whatever you like with him, only remember that he is your suppliant.”
“I am very much distressed,” said Telemachus, “by what you have just told me. How can I take this stranger into my house? I am as yet young, and am not strong enough to hold my own if any man attacks me. My mother cannot make up her mind whether to stay where she is and look after the house out of respect for public opinion and the memory of her husband, or whether the time is now come for her to take the best man of those who are wooing her, and the one who will make her the most advantageous offer; still, as the stranger has come to your station I will find him a cloak and shirt of good wear, with a sword and sandals, and will send him wherever he wants to go. Or if you like you can keep him here at the station, and I will send him clothes and food that he may be no burden on you and on your men; but I will not have him go near the suitors, for they are very insolent, and are sure to ill-treat him in a way that would greatly grieve me; no matter how valiant a man may be he can do nothing against numbers, for they will be too strong for him.”
Then Ulysses said, “Sir, it is right that I should say something myself. I am much shocked about what you have said about the insolent way in which the suitors are behaving in despite of such a man as you are. Tell me, do you submit to such treatment tamely, or has some god set your people against you? May you not complain of your brothers — for it is to these that a man may look for support, however great his quarrel may be? I wish I were as young as you are and in my present mind; if I were son to Ulysses, or, indeed, Ulysses himself, I would rather some one came and cut my head off, but I would go to the house and be the bane of every one of these men. If they were too many for me — I being single-handed — I would rather die fighting in my own house than see such disgraceful sights day after day, strangers grossly maltreated, and men dragging the women servants about the house in an unseemly way, wine drawn recklessly, and bread wasted all to no purpose for an end that shall never be accomplished.”
And Telemachus answered, “I will tell you truly everything. There is no emnity between me and my people, nor can I complain of brothers, to whom a man may look for support however great his quarrel may be. Jove has made us a race of only sons. Laertes was the only son of Arceisius, and Ulysses only son of Laertes. I am myself the only son of Ulysses who left me behind him when he went away, so that I have never been of any use to him. Hence it comes that my house is in the hands of numberless marauders; for the chiefs from all the neighbouring islands, Dulichium, Same, Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying court to my mother, who will neither say point blank that she will not marry, nor yet bring matters to an end, so they are making havoc of my estate, and before long will do so with myself into the bargain. The issue, however, rests with heaven. But do you, old friend Eumaeus, go at once and tell Penelope that I am safe and have returned from Pylos. Tell it to herself alone, and then come back here without letting any one else know, for there are many who are plotting mischief against me.”
“I understand and heed you,” replied Eumaeus; “you need instruct me no further, only I am going that way say whether I had not better let poor Laertes know that you are returned. He used to superintend the work on his farm in spite of his bitter sorrow about Ulysses, and he would eat and drink at will along with his servants; but they tell me that from the day on which you set out for Pylos he has neither eaten nor drunk as he ought to do, nor does he look after his farm, but sits weeping and wasting the flesh from off his bones.”
“More’s the pity,” answered Telemachus, “I am sorry for him, but we must leave him to himself just now. If people could have everything their own way, the first thing I should choose would be the return of my father; but go, and give your message; then make haste back again, and do not turn out of your way to tell Laertes. Tell my mother to send one of her women secretly with the news at once, and let him hear it from her.”
Thus did he urge the swineherd; Eumaeus, therefore, took his sandals, bound them to his feet, and started for the town. Minerva watched him well off the station, and then came up to it in the form of a woman — fair, stately, and wise. She stood against the side of the entry, and revealed herself to Ulysses, but Telemachus could not see her, and knew not that she was there, for the gods do not let themselves be seen by everybody. Ulysses saw her, and so did the dogs, for they did not bark, but went scared and whining off to the other side of the yards. She nodded her head and motioned to Ulysses with her eyebrows; whereon he left the hut and stood before her outside the main wall of the yards. Then she said to him:
“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, it is now time for you to tell your son: do not keep him in the dark any longer, but lay your plans for the destruction of the suitors, and then make for the town. I will not be long in joining you, for I too am eager for the fray.”
As she spoke she touched him with her golden wand. First she threw a fair clean shirt and cloak about his shoulders; then she made him younger and of more imposing presence; she gave him back his colour, filled out his cheeks, and let his beard become dark again. Then she went away and Ulysses came back inside the hut. His son was astounded when he saw him, and turned his eyes away for fear he might be looking upon a god.
“Stranger,” said he, “how suddenly you have changed from what you were a moment or two ago. You are dressed differently and your colour is not the same. Are you some one or other of the gods that live in heaven? If so, be propitious to me till I can make you due sacrifice and offerings of wrought gold. Have mercy upon me.”
And Ulysses said, “I am no god, why should you take me for one? I am your father, on whose account you grieve and suffer so much at the hands of lawless men.”
As he spoke he kissed his son, and a tear fell from his cheek on to the ground, for he had restrained all tears till now. but Telemachus could not yet believe that it was his father, and said:
“You are not my father, but some god is flattering me with vain hopes that I may grieve the more hereafter; no mortal man could of himself contrive to do as you have been doing, and make yourself old and young at a moment’s notice, unless a god were with him. A second ago you were old and all in rags, and now you are like some god come down from heaven.”
Ulysses answered, “Telemachus, you ought not to be so immeasurably astonished at my being really here. There is no other Ulysses who will come hereafter. Such as I am, it is I, who after long wandering and much hardship have got home in the twentieth year to my own country. What you wonder at is the work of the redoubtable goddess Minerva, who does with me whatever she will, for she can do what she pleases. At one moment she makes me like a beggar, and the next I am a young man with good clothes on my back; it is an easy matter for the gods who live in heaven to make any man look either rich or poor.”
As he spoke he sat down, and Telemachus threw his arms about his father and wept. They were both so much moved that they cried aloud like eagles or vultures with crooked talons that have been robbed of their half fledged young by peasants. Thus piteously did they weep, and the sun would have gone down upon their mourning if Telemachus had not suddenly said, “In what ship, my dear father, did your crew bring you to Ithaca? Of what nation did they declare themselves to be — for you cannot have come by land?”
“I will tell you the truth, my son,” replied Ulysses. “It was the Phaeacians who brought me here. They are great sailors, and are in the habit of giving escorts to any one who reaches their coasts. They took me over the sea while I was fast asleep, and landed me in Ithaca, after giving me many presents in bronze, gold, and raiment. These things by heaven’s mercy are lying concealed in a cave, and I am now come here on the suggestion of Minerva that we may consult about killing our enemies. First, therefore, give me a list of the suitors, with their number, that I may learn who, and how many, they are. I can then turn the matter over in my mind, and see whether we two can fight the whole body of them ourselves, or whether we must find others to help us.”
To this Telemachus answered, “Father, I have always heard of your renown both in the field and in council, but the task you talk of is a very great one: I am awed at the mere thought of it; two men cannot stand against many and brave ones. There are not ten suitors only, nor twice ten, but ten many times over; you shall learn their number at once. There are fifty-two chosen youths from Dulichium, and they have six servants; from Same there are twenty-four; twenty young Achaeans from Zacynthus, and twelve from Ithaca itself, all of them well born. They have with them a servant Medon, a bard, and two men who can carve at table. If we face such numbers as this, you may have bitter cause to rue your coming, and your revenge. See whether you cannot think of some one who would be willing to come and help us.”
“Listen to me,” replied Ulysses, “and think whether Minerva and her father Jove may seem sufficient, or whether I am to try and find some one else as well.”
“Those whom you have named,” answered Telemachus, “are a couple of good allies, for though they dwell high up among the clouds they have power over both gods and men.”
“These two,” continued Ulysses, “will not keep long out of the fray, when the suitors and we join fight in my house. Now, therefore, return home early to-morrow morning, and go about among the suitors as before. Later on the swineherd will bring me to the city disguised as a miserable old beggar. If you see them ill-treating me, steel your heart against my sufferings; even though they drag me feet foremost out of the house, or throw things at me, look on and do nothing beyond gently trying to make them behave more reasonably; but they will not listen to you, for the day of their reckoning is at hand. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your heart, when Minerva shall put it in my mind, I will nod my head to you, and on seeing me do this you must collect all the armour that is in the house and hide it in the strong store room. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you are removing it; say that you have taken it to be out of the way of the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel over their wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes tempts people to use them. But leave a sword and a spear apiece for yourself and me, and a couple oxhide shields so that we can snatch them up at any moment; Jove and Minerva will then soon quiet these people. There is also another matter; if you are indeed my son and my blood runs in your veins, let no one know that Ulysses is within the house — neither Laertes, nor yet the swineherd, nor any of the servants, nor even Penelope herself. Let you and me exploit the women alone, and let us also make trial of some other of the men servants, to see who is on our side and whose hand is against us.”
“Father,” replied Telemachus, “you will come to know me by and by, and when you do you will find that I can keep your counsel. I do not think, however, the plan you propose will turn out well for either of us. Think it over. It will take us a long time to go the round of the farms and exploit the men, and all the time the suitors will be wasting your estate with impunity and without compunction. Prove the women by all means, to see who are disloyal and who guiltless, but I am not in favour of going round and trying the men. We can attend to that later on, if you really have some sign from Jove that he will support you.”
Thus did they converse, and meanwhile the ship which had brought Telemachus and his crew from Pylos had reached the town of Ithaca. When they had come inside the harbour they drew the ship on to the land; their servants came and took their armour from them, and they left all the presents at the house of Clytius. Then they sent a servant to tell Penelope that Telemachus had gone into the country, but had sent the ship to the town to prevent her from being alarmed and made unhappy. This servant and Eumaeus happened to meet when they were both on the same errand of going to tell Penelope. When they reached the House, the servant stood up and said to the queen in the presence of the waiting women, “Your son, Madam, is now returned from Pylos”; but Eumaeus went close up to Penelope, and said privately that her son had given bidden him tell her. When he had given his message he left the house with its outbuildings and went back to his pigs again.
The suitors were surprised and angry at what had happened, so they went outside the great wall that ran round the outer court, and held a council near the main entrance. Eurymachus, son of Polybus, was the first to speak.
“My friends,” said he, “this voyage of Telemachus’s is a very serious matter; we had made sure that it would come to nothing. Now, however, let us draw a ship into the water, and get a crew together to send after the others and tell them to come back as fast as they can.”
He had hardly done speaking when Amphinomus turned in his place and saw the ship inside the harbour, with the crew lowering her sails, and putting by their oars; so he laughed, and said to the others, “We need not send them any message, for they are here. Some god must have told them, or else they saw the ship go by, and could not overtake her.
On this they rose and went to the water side. The crew then drew the ship on shore; their servants took their armour from them, and they went up in a body to the place of assembly, but they would not let any one old or young sit along with them, and Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke first.
“Good heavens,” said he, “see how the gods have saved this man from destruction. We kept a succession of scouts upon the headlands all day long, and when the sun was down we never went on shore to sleep, but waited in the ship all night till morning in the hope of capturing and killing him; but some god has conveyed him home in spite of us. Let us consider how we can make an end of him. He must not escape us; our affair is never likely to come off while is alive, for he is very shrewd, and public feeling is by no means all on our side. We must make haste before he can call the Achaeans in assembly; he will lose no time in doing so, for he will be furious with us, and will tell all the world how we plotted to kill him, but failed to take him. The people will not like this when they come to know of it; we must see that they do us no hurt, nor drive us from our own country into exile. Let us try and lay hold of him either on his farm away from the town, or on the road hither. Then we can divide up his property amongst us, and let his mother and the man who marries her have the house. If this does not please you, and you wish Telemachus to live on and hold his father’s property, then we must not gather here and eat up his goods in this way, but must make our offers to Penelope each from his own house, and she can marry the man who will give the most for her, and whose lot it is to win her.”
They all held their peace until Amphinomus rose to speak. He was the son of Nisus, who was son to king Aretias, and he was foremost among all the suitors from the wheat-growing and well grassed island of Dulichium; his conversation, moreover, was more agreeable to Penelope than that of any of the other for he was a man of good natural disposition. “My friends,” said he, speaking to them plainly and in all honestly, “I am not in favour of killing Telemachus. It is a heinous thing to kill one who is of noble blood. Let us first take counsel of the gods, and if the oracles of Jove advise it, I will both help to kill him myself, and will urge everyone else to do so; but if they dissuade us, I would have you hold your hands.”
Thus did he speak, and his words pleased them well, so they rose forthwith and went to the house of Ulysses where they took their accustomed seats.
Then Penelope resolved that she would show herself to the suitors. She knew of the plot against Telemachus, for the servant Medon had overheard their counsels and had told her; she went down therefore to the court attended by her maidens, and when she reached the suitors she stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister holding a veil before her face, and rebuked Antinous saying:
“Antinous, insolent and wicked schemer, they say you are the best speaker and counsellor of any man your own age in Ithaca, but you are nothing of the kind. Madman, why should you try to compass the death of Telemachus, and take no heed of suppliants, whose witness is Jove himself? It is not right for you to plot thus against one another. Do you not remember how your father fled to this house in fear of the people, who were enraged against him for having gone with some Taphian pirates and plundered the Thesprotians who were at peace with us? They wanted to tear him in pieces and eat up everything he had, but Ulysses stayed their hands although they were infuriated, and now you devour his property without paying for it, and break my heart by his wooing his wife and trying to kill his son. Leave off doing so, and stop the others also.”
To this Eurymachus son of Polybus answered, “Take heart, Queen Penelope daughter of Icarius, and do not trouble yourself about these matters. The man is not yet born, nor never will be, who shall lay hands upon your son Telemachus, while I yet live to look upon the face of the earth. I say — and it shall surely be — that my spear shall be reddened with his blood; for many a time has Ulysses taken me on his knees, held wine up to my lips to drink, and put pieces of meat into my hands. Therefore Telemachus is much the dearest friend I have, and has nothing to fear from the hands of us suitors. Of course, if death comes to him from the gods, he cannot escape it.” He said this to quiet her, but in reality he was plotting against Telemachus.
Then Penelope went upstairs again and mourned her husband till Minerva shed sleep over her eyes. In the evening Eumaeus got back to Ulysses and his son, who had just sacrificed a young pig of a year old and were ready; helping one another to get supper ready; Minerva therefore came up to Ulysses, turned him into an old man with a stroke of her wand, and clad him in his old clothes again, for fear that the swineherd might recognize him and not keep the secret, but go and tell Penelope.
Telemachus was the first to speak. “So you have got back, Eumaeus,” said he. “What is the news of the town? Have the suitors returned, or are they still waiting over yonder, to take me on my way home?”
“I did not think of asking about that,” replied Eumaeus, “when I was in the town. I thought I would give my message and come back as soon as I could. I met a man sent by those who had gone with you to Pylos, and he was the first to tell the new your mother, but I can say what I saw with my own eyes; I had just got on to the crest of the hill of Mercury above the town when I saw a ship coming into harbour with a number of men in her. They had many shields and spears, and I thought it was the suitors, but I cannot be sure.”
On hearing this Telemachus smiled to his father, but so that Eumaeus could not see him.
Then, when they had finished their work and the meal was ready, they ate it, and every man had his full share so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, they laid down to rest and enjoyed the boon of sleep.
WHEN the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemachus bound on his sandals and took a strong spear that suited his hands, for he wanted to go into the city. “Old friend,” said he to the swineherd, “I will now go to the town and show myself to my mother, for she will never leave off grieving till she has seen me. As for this unfortunate stranger, take him to the town and let him beg there of any one who will give him a drink and a piece of bread. I have trouble enough of my own, and cannot be burdened with other people. If this makes him angry so much the worse for him, but I like to say what I mean.”
Then Ulysses said, “Sir, I do not want to stay here; a beggar can always do better in town than country, for any one who likes can give him something. I am too old to care about remaining here at the beck and call of a master. Therefore let this man do as you have just told him, and take me to the town as soon as I have had a warm by the fire, and the day has got a little heat in it. My clothes are wretchedly thin, and this frosty morning I shall be perished with cold, for you say the city is some way off.”
On this Telemachus strode off through the yards, brooding his revenge upon the When he reached home he stood his spear against a bearing-post of the cloister, crossed the stone floor of the cloister itself, and went inside.
Nurse Euryclea saw him long before any one else did. She was putting the fleeces on to the seats, and she burst out crying as she ran up to him; all the other maids came up too, and covered his head and shoulders with their kisses. Penelope came out of her room looking like Diana or Venus, and wept as she flung her arms about her son. She kissed his forehead and both his beautiful eyes, “Light of my eyes,” she cried as she spoke fondly to him, “so you are come home again; I made sure I was never going to see you any more. To think of your having gone off to Pylos without saying anything about it or obtaining my consent. But come, tell me what you saw.”
“Do not scold me, mother,’ answered Telemachus, “nor vex me, seeing what a narrow escape I have had, but wash your face, change your dress, go upstairs with your maids, and promise full and sufficient hecatombs to all the gods if Jove will only grant us our revenge upon the suitors. I must now go to the place of assembly to invite a stranger who has come back with me from Pylos. I sent him on with my crew, and told Piraeus to take him home and look after him till I could come for him myself.”
She heeded her son’s words, washed her face, changed her dress, and vowed full and sufficient hecatombs to all the gods if they would only vouchsafe her revenge upon the suitors.
Telemachus went through, and out of, the cloisters spear in hand — not alone, for his two fleet dogs went with him. Minerva endowed him with a presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went by, and the suitors gathered round him with fair words in their mouths and malice in their hearts; but he avoided them, and went to sit with Mentor, Antiphus, and Halitherses, old friends of his father’s house, and they made him tell them all that had happened to him. Then Piraeus came up with Theoclymenus, whom he had escorted through the town to the place of assembly, whereon Telemachus at once joined them. Piraeus was first to speak: “Telemachus,” said he, “I wish you would send some of your women to my house to take awa the presents Menelaus gave you.”
“We do not know, Piraeus,” answered Telemachus, “what may happen. If the suitors kill me in my own house and divide my property among them, I would rather you had the presents than that any of those people should get hold of them. If on the other hand I manage to kill them, I shall be much obliged if you will kindly bring me my presents.”
With these words he took Theoclymenus to his own house. When they got there they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats, went into the baths, and washed themselves. When the maids had washed and anointed them, and had given them cloaks and shirts, they took their seats at table. A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands; and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread and offered them many good things of what there was in the house. Opposite them sat Penelope, reclining on a couch by one of the bearing-posts of the cloister, and spinning. Then they laid their hands on the good things that were before them, and as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink Penelope said:
“Telemachus, I shall go upstairs and lie down on that sad couch, which I have not ceased to water with my tears, from the day Ulysses set out for Troy with the sons of Atreus. You failed, however, to make it clear to me before the suitors came back to the house, whether or no you had been able to hear anything about the return of your father.”
“I will tell you then truth,” replied her son. “We went to Pylos and saw Nestor, who took me to his house and treated me as hospitably as though I were a son of his own who had just returned after a long absence; so also did his sons; but he said he had not heard a word from any human being about Ulysses, whether he was alive or dead. He sent me, therefore, with a chariot and horses to Menelaus. There I saw Helen, for whose sake so many, both Argives and Trojans, were in heaven’s wisdom doomed to suffer. Menelaus asked me what it was that had brought me to Lacedaemon, and I told him the whole truth, whereon he said, ‘So, then, these cowards would usurp a brave man’s bed? A hind might as well lay her new-born young in the lair of a lion, and then go off to feed in the forest or in some grassy dell. The lion, when he comes back to his lair, will make short work with the pair of them, and so will Ulysses with these suitors. By father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, if Ulysses is still the man that he was when he wrestled with Philomeleides in Lesbos, and threw him so heavily that all the Greeks cheered him — if he is still such, and were to come near these suitors, they would have a short shrift and a sorry wedding. As regards your question, however, I will not prevaricate nor deceive you, but what the old man of the sea told me, so much will I tell you in full. He said he could see Ulysses on an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph Calypso, who was keeping him prisoner, and he could not reach his home, for he had no ships nor sailors to take him over the sea.’ This was what Menelaus told me, and when I had heard his story I came away; the gods then gave me a fair wind and soon brought me safe home again.”
With these words he moved the heart of Penelope. Then Theoclymenus said to her:
“Madam, wife of Ulysses, Telemachus does not understand these things; listen therefore to me, for I can divine them surely, and will hide nothing from you. May Jove the king of heaven be my witness, and the rites of hospitality, with that hearth of Ulysses to which I now come, that Ulysses himself is even now in Ithaca, and, either going about the country or staying in one place, is enquiring into all these evil deeds and preparing a day of reckoning for the suitors. I saw an omen when I was on the ship which meant this, and I told Telemachus about it.”
“May it be even so,” answered Penelope; “if your words come true, you shall have such gifts and such good will from me that all who see you shall congratulate you.”
Thus did they converse. Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs, or aiming with spears at a mark on the levelled ground in front of the house, and behaving with all their old insolence. But when it was now time for dinner, and the flock of sheep and goats had come into the town from all the country round, with their shepherds as usual, then Medon, who was their favourite servant, and who waited upon them at table, said, “Now then, my young masters, you have had enough sport, so come inside that we may get dinner ready. Dinner is not a bad thing, at dinner time.”
They left their sports as he told them, and when they were within the house, they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats inside, and then sacrificed some sheep, goats, pigs, and a heifer, all of them fat and well grown. Thus they made ready for their meal. In the meantime Ulysses and the swineherd were about starting for the town, and the swineherd said, “Stranger, I suppose you still want to go to town to-day, as my master said you were to do; for my own part I should have liked you to stay here as a station hand, but I must do as my master tells me, or he will scold me later on, and a scolding from one’s master is a very serious thing. Let us then be off, for it is now broad day; it will be night again directly and then you will find it colder.”
“I know, and understand you,” replied Ulysses; “you need say no more. Let us be going, but if you have a stick ready cut, let me have it to walk with, for you say the road is a very rough one.”
As he spoke he threw his shabby old tattered wallet over his shoulders, by the cord from which it hung, and Eumaeus gave him a stick to his liking. The two then started, leaving the station in charge of the dogs and herdsmen who remained behind; the swineherd led the way and his master followed after, looking like some broken-down old tramp as he leaned upon his staff, and his clothes were all in rags. When they had got over the rough steep ground and were nearing the city, they reached the fountain from which the citizens drew their water. This had been made by Ithacus, Neritus, and Polyctor. There was a grove of water-loving poplars planted in a circle all round it, and the clear cold water came down to it from a rock high up, while above the fountain there was an altar to the nymphs, at which all wayfarers used to sacrifice. Here Melanthius son of Dolius overtook them as he was driving down some goats, the best in his flock, for the suitors’ dinner, and there were two shepherds with him. When he saw Eumaeus and Ulysses he reviled them with outrageous and unseemly language, which made Ulysses very angry.
“There you go,” cried he, “and a precious pair you are. See how heaven brings birds of the same feather to one another. Where, pray, master swineherd, are you taking this poor miserable object? It would make any one sick to see such a creature at table. A fellow like this never won a prize for anything in his life, but will go about rubbing his shoulders against every man’s door post, and begging, not for swords and cauldrons like a man, but only for a few scraps not worth begging for. If you would give him to me for a hand on my station, he might do to clean out the folds, or bring a bit of sweet feed to the kids, and he could fatten his thighs as much as he pleased on whey; but he has taken to bad ways and will not go about any kind of work; he will do nothing but beg victuals all the town over, to feed his insatiable belly. I say, therefore and it shall surely be — if he goes near Ulysses’ house he will get his head broken by the stools they will fling at him, till they turn him out.”
On this, as he passed, he gave Ulysses a kick on the hip out of pure wantonness, but Ulysses stood firm, and did not budge from the path. For a moment he doubted whether or no to fly at Melanthius and kill him with his staff, or fling him to the ground and beat his brains out; he resolved, however, to endure it and keep himself in check, but the swineherd looked straight at Melanthius and rebuked him, lifting up his hands and praying to heaven as he did so.
“Fountain nymphs,” he cried, “children of Jove, if ever Ulysses burned you thigh bones covered with fat whether of lambs or kids, grant my prayer that heaven may send him home. He would soon put an end to the swaggering threats with which such men as you go about insulting people-gadding all over the town while your flocks are going to ruin through bad shepherding.”
Then Melanthius the goatherd answered, “You ill-conditioned cur, what are you talking about? Some day or other I will put you on board ship and take you to a foreign country, where I can sell you and pocket the money you will fetch. I wish I were as sure that Apollo would strike Telemachus dead this very day, or that the suitors would kill him, as I am that Ulysses will never come home again.”
With this he left them to come on at their leisure, while he went quickly forward and soon reached the house of his master. When he got there he went in and took his seat among the suitors opposite Eurymachus, who liked him better than any of the others. The servants brought him a portion of meat, and an upper woman servant set bread before him that he might eat. Presently Ulysses and the swineherd came up to the house and stood by it, amid a sound of music, for Phemius was just beginning to sing to the suitors. Then Ulysses took hold of the swineherd’s hand, and said:
“Eumaeus, this house of Ulysses is a very fine place. No matter how far you go you will find few like it. One building keeps following on after another. The outer court has a wall with battlements all round it; the doors are double folding, and of good workmanship; it would be a hard matter to take it by force of arms. I perceive, too, that there are many people banqueting within it, for there is a smell of roast meat, and I hear a sound of music, which the gods have made to go along with feasting.”
Then Eumaeus said, “You have perceived aright, as indeed you generally do; but let us think what will be our best course. Will you go inside first and join the suitors, leaving me here behind you, or will you wait here and let me go in first? But do not wait long, or some one may you loitering about outside, and throw something at you. Consider this matter I pray you.”
And Ulysses answered, “I understand and heed. Go in first and leave me here where I am. I am quite used to being beaten and having things thrown at me. I have been so much buffeted about in war and by sea that I am case-hardened, and this too may go with the rest. But a man cannot hide away the cravings of a hungry belly; this is an enemy which gives much trouble to all men; it is because of this that ships are fitted out to sail the seas, and to make war upon other people.”
As they were thus talking, a dog that had been lying asleep raised his head and pricked up his ears. This was Argos, whom Ulysses had bred before setting out for Troy, but he had never had any work out of him. In the old days he used to be taken out by the young men when they went hunting wild goats, or deer, or hares, but now that his master was gone he was lying neglected on the heaps of mule and cow dung that lay in front of the stable doors till the men should come and draw it away to manure the great close; and he was full of fleas. As soon as he saw Ulysses standing there, he dropped his ears and wagged his tail, but he could not get close up to his master. When Ulysses saw the dog on the other side of the yard, dashed a tear from his eyes without Eumaeus seeing it, and said:
“Eumaeus, what a noble hound that is over yonder on the manure heap: his build is splendid; is he as fine a fellow as he looks, or is he only one of those dogs that come begging about a table, and are kept merely for show?”
“This hound,” answered Eumaeus, “belonged to him who has died in a far country. If he were what he was when Ulysses left for Troy, he would soon show you what he could do. There was not a wild beast in the forest that could get away from him when he was once on its tracks. But now he has fallen on evil times, for his master is dead and gone, and the women take no care of him. Servants never do their work when their master’s hand is no longer over them, for Jove takes half the goodness out of a man when he makes a slave of him.”
As he spoke he went inside the buildings to the cloister where the suitors were, but Argos died as soon as he had recognized his master.
Telemachus saw Eumaeus long before any one else did, and beckoned him to come and sit beside him; so he looked about and saw a seat lying near where the carver sat serving out their portions to the suitors; he picked it up, brought it to Telemachus’s table, and sat down opposite him. Then the servant brought him his portion, and gave him bread from the bread-basket.
Immediately afterwards Ulysses came inside, looking like a poor miserable old beggar, leaning on his staff and with his clothes all in rags. He sat down upon the threshold of ash-wood just inside the doors leading from the outer to the inner court, and against a bearing-post of cypress-wood which the carpenter had skillfully planed, and had made to join truly with rule and line. Telemachus took a whole loaf from the bread-basket, with as much meat as he could hold in his two hands, and said to Eumaeus, “Take this to the stranger, and tell him to go the round of the suitors, and beg from them; a beggar must not be shamefaced.”
So Eumaeus went up to him and said, “Stranger, Telemachus sends you this, and says you are to go the round of the suitors begging, for beggars must not be shamefaced.”
Ulysses answered, “May King Jove grant all happiness to Telemachus, and fulfil the desire of his heart.”
Then with both hands he took what Telemachus had sent him, and laid it on the dirty old wallet at his feet. He went on eating it while the bard was singing, and had just finished his dinner as he left off. The suitors applauded the bard, whereon Minerva went up to Ulysses and prompted him to beg pieces of bread from each one of the suitors, that he might see what kind of people they were, and tell the good from the bad; but come what might she was not going to save a single one of them. Ulysses, therefore, went on his round, going from left to right, and stretched out his hands to beg as though he were a real beggar. Some of them pitied him, and were curious about him, asking one another who he was and where he came from; whereon the goatherd Melanthius said, “Suitors of my noble mistress, I can tell you something about him, for I have seen him before. The swineherd brought him here, but I know nothing about the man himself, nor where he comes from.”
On this Antinous began to abuse the swineherd. “You precious idiot,” he cried, “what have you brought this man to town for? Have we not tramps and beggars enough already to pester us as we sit at meat? Do you think it a small thing that such people gather here to waste your master’s property and must you needs bring this man as well?”
And Eumaeus answered, “Antinous, your birth is good but your words evil. It was no doing of mine that he came here. Who is likely to invite a stranger from a foreign country, unless it be one of those who can do public service as a seer, a healer of hurts, a carpenter, or a bard who can charm us with his Such men are welcome all the world over, but no one is likely to ask a beggar who will only worry him. You are always harder on Ulysses’ servants than any of the other suitors are, and above all on me, but I do not care so long as Telemachus and Penelope are alive and here.”
But Telemachus said, “Hush, do not answer him; Antinous has the bitterest tongue of all the suitors, and he makes the others worse.”
Then turning to Antinous he said, “Antinous, you take as much care of my interests as though I were your son. Why should you want to see this stranger turned out of the house? Heaven forbid; take’ something and give it him yourself; I do not grudge it; I bid you take it. Never mind my mother, nor any of the other servants in the house; but I know you will not do what I say, for you are more fond of eating things yourself than of giving them to other people.”
“What do you mean, Telemachus,” replied Antinous, “by this swaggering talk? If all the suitors were to give him as much as I will, he would not come here again for another three months.”
As he spoke he drew the stool on which he rested his dainty feet from under the table, and made as though he would throw it at Ulysses, but the other suitors all gave him something, and filled his wallet with bread and meat; he was about, therefore, to go back to the threshold and eat what the suitors had given him, but he first went up to Antinous and said:
“Sir, give me something; you are not, surely, the poorest man here; you seem to be a chief, foremost among them all; therefore you should be the better giver, and I will tell far and wide of your bounty. I too was a rich man once, and had a fine house of my own; in those days I gave to many a tramp such as I now am, no matter who he might be nor what he wanted. I had any number of servants, and all the other things which people have who live well and are accounted wealthy, but it pleased Jove to take all away from me. He sent me with a band of roving robbers to Egypt; it was a long voyage and I was undone by it. I stationed my bade ships in the river Aegyptus, and bade my men stay by them and keep guard over them, while sent out scouts to reconnoitre from every point of vantage.
“But the men disobeyed my orders, took to their own devices, and ravaged the land of the Egyptians, killing the men, and taking their wives and children captives. The alarm was soon carried to the city, and when they heard the war-cry, the people came out at daybreak till the plain was filled with soldiers horse and foot, and with the gleam of armour. Then Jove spread panic among my men, and they would no longer face the enemy, for they found themselves surrounded. The Egyptians killed many of us, and took the rest alive to do forced labour for them; as for myself, they gave me to a friend who met them, to take to Cyprus, Dmetor by name, son of Iasus, who was a great man in Cyprus. Thence I am come hither in a state of great misery.”
Then Antinous said, “What god can have sent such a pestilence to plague us during our dinner? Get out, into the open part of the court, or I will give you Egypt and Cyprus over again for your insolence and importunity; you have begged of all the others, and they have given you lavishly, for they have abundance round them, and it is easy to be free with other people’s property when there is plenty of it.”
On this Ulysses began to move off, and said, “Your looks, my fine sir, are better than your breeding; if you were in your own house you would not spare a poor man so much as a pinch of salt, for though you are in another man’s, and surrounded with abundance, you cannot find it in you to give him even a piece of bread.”
This made Antinous very angry, and he scowled at him saying, “You shall pay for this before you get clear of the court.” With these words he threw a footstool at him, and hit him on the right shoulder-blade near the top of his back. Ulysses stood firm as a rock and the blow did not even stagger him, but he shook his head in silence as he brooded on his revenge. Then he went back to the threshold and sat down there, laying his well-filled wallet at his feet.
“Listen to me,” he cried, “you suitors of Queen Penelope, that I may speak even as I am minded. A man knows neither ache nor pain if he gets hit while fighting for his money, or for his sheep or his cattle; and even so Antinous has hit me while in the service of my miserable belly, which is always getting people into trouble. Still, if the poor have gods and avenging deities at all, I pray them that Antinous may come to a bad end before his marriage.”
“Sit where you are, and eat your victuals in silence, or be off elsewhere,” shouted Antinous. “If you say more I will have you dragged hand and foot through the courts, and the servants shall flay you alive.”
The other suitors were much displeased at this, and one of the young men said, “Antinous, you did ill in striking that poor wretch of a tramp: it will be worse for you if he should turn out to be some god — and we know the gods go about disguised in all sorts of ways as people from foreign countries, and travel about the world to see who do amiss and who righteously.”
Thus said the suitors, but Antinous paid them no heed. Meanwhile Telemachus was furious about the blow that had been given to his father, and though no tear fell from him, he shook his head in silence and brooded on his revenge.
Now when Penelope heard that the beggar had been struck in the banqueting-cloister, she said before her maids, “Would that Apollo would so strike you, Antinous,” and her waiting woman Eurynome answered, “If our prayers were answered not one of the suitors would ever again see the sun rise.” Then Penelope said, “Nurse, I hate every single one of them, for they mean nothing but mischief, but I hate Antinous like the darkness of death itself. A poor unfortunate tramp has come begging about the house for sheer want. Every one else has given him something to put in his wallet, but Antinous has hit him on the right shoulder-blade with a footstool.”
Thus did she talk with her maids as she sat in her own room, and in the meantime Ulysses was getting his dinner. Then she called for the swineherd and said, “Eumaeus, go and tell the stranger to come here, I want to see him and ask him some questions. He seems to have travelled much, and he may have seen or heard something of my unhappy husband.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “If these Achaeans, Madam, would only keep quiet, you would be charmed with the history of his adventures. I had him three days and three nights with me in my hut, which was the first place he reached after running away from his ship, and he has not yet completed the story of his misfortunes. If he had been the most heaven-taught minstrel in the whole world, on whose lips all hearers hang entranced, I could not have been more charmed as I sat in my hut and listened to him. He says there is an old friendship between his house and that of Ulysses, and that he comes from Crete where the descendants of Minos live, after having been driven hither and thither by every kind of misfortune; he also declares that he has heard of Ulysses as being alive and near at hand among the Thesprotians, and that he is bringing great wealth home with him.”
“Call him here, then,” said Penelope, “that I too may hear his story. As for the suitors, let them take their pleasure indoors or out as they will, for they have nothing to fret about. Their corn and wine remain unwasted in their houses with none but servants to consume them, while they keep hanging about our house day after day sacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand such recklessness, for we have now no Ulysses to protect us. If he were to come again, he and his son would soon have their revenge.”
As she spoke Telemachus sneezed so loudly that the whole house resounded with it. Penelope laughed when she heard this, and said to Eumaeus, “Go and call the stranger; did you not hear how my son sneezed just as I was speaking? This can only mean that all the suitors are going to be killed, and that not one of them shall escape. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your heart: if I am satisfied that the stranger is speaking the truth I shall give him a shirt and cloak of good wear.”
When Eumaeus heard this he went straight to Ulysses and said, “Father stranger, my mistress Penelope, mother of Telemachus, has sent for you; she is in great grief, but she wishes to hear anything you can tell her about her husband, and if she is satisfied that you are speaking the truth, she will give you a shirt and cloak, which are the very things that you are most in want of. As for bread, you can get enough of that to fill your belly, by begging about the town, and letting those give that will.”
“I will tell Penelope,” answered Ulysses, “nothing but what is strictly true. I know all about her husband, and have been partner with him in affliction, but I am afraid of passing. through this crowd of cruel suitors, for their pride and insolence reach heaven. Just now, moreover, as I was going about the house without doing any harm, a man gave me a blow that hurt me very much, but neither Telemachus nor any one else defended me. Tell Penelope, therefore, to be patient and wait till sundown. Let her give me a seat close up to the fire, for my clothes are worn very thin — you know they are, for you have seen them ever since I first asked you to help me — she can then ask me about the return of her husband.”
The swineherd went back when he heard this, and Penelope said as she saw him cross the threshold, “Why do you not bring him here, Eumaeus? Is he afraid that some one will ill-treat him, or is he shy of coming inside the house at all? Beggars should not be shamefaced.”
To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “The stranger is quite reasonable. He is avoiding the suitors, and is only doing what any one else would do. He asks you to wait till sundown, and it will be much better, madam, that you should have him all to yourself, when you can hear him and talk to him as you will.”
“The man is no fool,” answered Penelope, “it would very likely be as he says, for there are no such abominable people in the whole world as these men are.”
When she had done speaking Eumaeus went back to the suitors, for he had explained everything. Then he went up to Telemachus and said in his ear so that none could overhear him, “My dear sir, I will now go back to the pigs, to see after your property and my own business. You will look to what is going on here, but above all be careful to keep out of danger, for there are many who bear you ill will. May Jove bring them to a bad end before they do us a mischief.”
“Very well,” replied Telemachus, “go home when you have had your dinner, and in the morning come here with the victims we are to sacrifice for the day. Leave the rest to heaven and me.”
On this Eumaeus took his seat again, and when he had finished his dinner he left the courts and the cloister with the men at table, and went back to his pigs. As for the suitors, they presently began to amuse themselves with singing and dancing, for it was now getting on towards evening.
NOW there came a certain common tramp who used to go begging all over the city of Ithaca, and was notorious as an incorrigible glutton and drunkard. This man had no strength nor stay in him, but he was a great hulking fellow to look at; his real name, the one his mother gave him, was Arnaeus, but the young men of the place called him Irus, because he used to run errands for any one who would send him. As soon as he came he began to insult Ulysses, and to try and drive him out of his own house.
“Be off, old man,” he cried, “from the doorway, or you shall be dragged out neck and heels. Do you not see that they are all giving me the wink, and wanting me to turn you out by force, only I do not like to do so? Get up then, and go of yourself, or we shall come to blows.”
Ulysses frowned on him and said, “My friend, I do you no manner of harm; people give you a great deal, but I am not jealous. There is room enough in this doorway for the pair of us, and you need not grudge me things that are not yours to give. You seem to be just such another tramp as myself, but perhaps the gods will give us better luck by and by. Do not, however, talk too much about fighting or you will incense me, and old though I am, I shall cover your mouth and chest with blood. I shall have more peace to-morrow if I do, for you will not come to the house of Ulysses any more.”
Irus was very angry and answered, “You filthy glutton, you run on trippingly like an old fish-fag. I have a good mind to lay both hands about you, and knock your teeth out of your head like so many boar’s tusks. Get ready, therefore, and let these people here stand by and look on. You will never be able to fight one who is so much younger than yourself.”
Thus roundly did they rate one another on the smooth pavement in front of the doorway, and when Antinous saw what was going on he laughed heartily and said to the others, “This is the finest sport that you ever saw; heaven never yet sent anything like it into this house. The stranger and Irus have quarreled and are going to fight, let us set them on to do so at once.”
The suitors all came up laughing, and gathered round the two ragged tramps. “Listen to me,” said Antinous, “there are some goats’ paunches down at the fire, which we have filled with blood and fat, and set aside for supper; he who is victorious and proves himself to be the better man shall have his pick of the lot; he shall be free of our table and we will not allow any other beggar about the house at all.”
The others all agreed, but Ulysses, to throw them off the scent, said, “Sirs, an old man like myself, worn out with suffering, cannot hold his own against a young one; but my irrepressible belly urges me on, though I know it can only end in my getting a drubbing. You must swear, however that none of you will give me a foul blow to favour Irus and secure him the victory.”
They swore as he told them, and when they had completed their oath Telemachus put in a word and said, “Stranger, if you have a mind to settle with this fellow, you need not be afraid of any one here. Whoever strikes you will have to fight more than one. I am host, and the other chiefs, Antinous and Eurymachus, both of them men of understanding, are of the same mind as I am.”
Every one assented, and Ulysses girded his old rags about his loins, thus baring his stalwart thighs, his broad chest and shoulders, and his mighty arms; but Minerva came up to him and made his limbs even stronger still. The suitors were beyond measure astonished, and one would turn towards his neighbour saying, “The stranger has brought such a thigh out of his old rags that there will soon be nothing left of Irus.”
Irus began to be very uneasy as he heard them, but the servants girded him by force, and brought him [into the open part of the court] in such a fright that his limbs were all of a tremble. Antinous scolded him and said, “You swaggering bully, you ought never to have been born at all if you are afraid of such an old broken-down creature as this tramp is. I say, therefore — and it shall surely be — if he beats you and proves himself the better man, I shall pack you off on board ship to the mainland and send you to king Echetus, who kills every one that comes near him. He will cut off your nose and ears, and draw out your entrails for the dogs to eat.”
This frightened Irus still more, but they brought him into the middle of the court, and the two men raised their hands to fight. Then Ulysses considered whether he should let drive so hard at him as to make an end of him then and there, or whether he should give him a lighter blow that should only knock him down; in the end he deemed it best to give the lighter blow for fear the Achaeans should begin to suspect who he was. Then they began to fight, and Irus hit Ulysses on the right shoulder; but Ulysses gave Irus a blow on the neck under the ear that broke in the bones of his skull, and the blood came gushing out of his mouth; he fell groaning in the dust, gnashing his teeth and kicking on the ground, but the suitors threw up their hands and nearly died of laughter, as Ulysses caught hold of him by the foot and dragged him into the outer court as far as the gate-house. There he propped him up against the wall and put his staff in his hands. “Sit here,” said he, “and keep the dogs and pigs off; you are a pitiful creature, and if you try to make yourself king of the beggars any more you shall fare still worse.”
Then he threw his dirty old wallet, all tattered and torn, over his shoulder with the cord by which it hung, and went back to sit down upon the threshold; but the suitors went within the cloisters, laughing and saluting him, “May Jove, and all the other gods,” said they, ‘grant you whatever you want for having put an end to the importunity of this insatiable tramp. We will take him over to the mainland presently, to king Echetus, who kills every one that comes near him.”
Ulysses hailed this as of good omen, and Antinous set a great goat’s paunch before him filled with blood and fat. Amphinomus took two loaves out of the bread-basket and brought them to him, pledging him as he did so in a golden goblet of wine. “Good luck to you,” he said, “father stranger, you are very badly off at present, but I hope you will have better times by and by.”
To this Ulysses answered, “Amphinomus, you seem to be a man of good understanding, as indeed you may well be, seeing whose son you are. I have heard your father well spoken of; he is Nisus of Dulichium, a man both brave and wealthy. They tell me you are his son, and you appear to be a considerable person; listen, therefore, and take heed to what I am saying. Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth. As long as heaven vouchsafes him health and strength, he thinks that he shall come to no harm hereafter, and even when the blessed gods bring sorrow upon him, he bears it as he needs must, and makes the best of it; for God Almighty gives men their daily minds day by day. I know all about it, for I was a rich man once, and did much wrong in the stubbornness of my pride, and in the confidence that my father and my brothers would support me; therefore let a man fear God in all things always, and take the good that heaven may see fit to send him without vainglory. Consider the infamy of what these suitors are doing; see how they are wasting the estate, and doing dishonour to the wife, of one who is certain to return some day, and that, too, not long hence. Nay, he will be here soon; may heaven send you home quietly first that you may not meet with him in the day of his coming, for once he is here the suitors and he will not part bloodlessly.”
With these words he made a drink-offering, and when he had drunk he put the gold cup again into the hands of Amphinomus, who walked away serious and bowing his head, for he foreboded evil. But even so he did not escape destruction, for Minerva had doomed him fall by the hand of Telemachus. So he took his seat again at the place from which he had come.
Then Minerva put it into the mind of Penelope to show herself to the suitors, that she might make them still more enamoured of her, and win still further honour from her son and husband. So she feigned a mocking laugh and said, “Eurynome, I have changed my and have a fancy to show myself to the suitors although I detest them. I should like also to give my son a hint that he had better not have anything more to do with them. They speak fairly enough but they mean mischief.”
“My dear child,” answered Eurynome, “all that you have said is true, go and tell your son about it, but first wash yourself and anoint your face. Do not go about with your cheeks all covered with tears; it is not right that you should grieve so incessantly; for Telemachus, whom you always prayed that you might live to see with a beard, is already grown up.”
“I know, Eurynome,” replied Penelope, “that you mean well, but do not try and persuade me to wash and to anoint myself, for heaven robbed me of all my beauty on the day my husband sailed; nevertheless, tell Autonoe and Hippodamia that I want them. They must be with me when I am in the cloister; I am not going among the men alone; it would not be proper for me to do so.”
On this the old woman went out of the room to bid the maids go to their mistress. In the meantime Minerva bethought her of another matter, and sent Penelope off into a sweet slumber; so she lay down on her couch and her limbs became heavy with sleep. Then the goddess shed grace and beauty over her that all the Achaeans might admire her. She washed her face with the ambrosial loveliness that Venus wears when she goes dancing with the Graces; she made her taller and of a more commanding figure, while as for her complexion it was whiter than sawn ivory. When Minerva had done all this she went away, whereon the maids came in from the women’s room and woke Penelope with the sound of their talking.
“What an exquisitely delicious sleep I have been having,” said she, as she passed her hands over her face, “in spite of all my misery. I wish Diana would let me die so sweetly now at this very moment, that I might no longer waste in despair for the loss of my dear husband, who possessed every kind of good quality and was the most distinguished man among the Achaeans.”
With these words she came down from her upper room, not alone but attended by two of her maidens, and when she reached the suitors she stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister, holding a veil before her face, and with a staid maid servant on either side of her. As they beheld her the suitors were so overpowered and became so desperately enamoured of her, that each one prayed he might win her for his own bed fellow.
“Telemachus,” said she, addressing her son, “I fear you are no longer so discreet and well conducted as you used to be. When you were younger you had a greater sense of propriety; now, however, that you are grown up, though a stranger to look at you would take you for the son of a well-to-do father as far as size and good looks go, your conduct is by no means what it should be. What is all this disturbance that has been going on, and how came you to allow a stranger to be so disgracefully ill-treated? What would have happened if he had suffered serious injury while a suppliant in our house? Surely this would have been very discreditable to you.”
“I am not surprised, my dear mother, at your displeasure,” replied Telemachus, “I understand all about it and know when things are not as they should be, which I could not do when I was younger; I cannot, however, behave with perfect propriety at all times. First one and then another of these wicked people here keeps driving me out of my mind, and I have no one to stand by me. After all, however, this fight between Irus and the stranger did not turn out as the suitors meant it to do, for the stranger got the best of it. I wish Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo would break the neck of every one of these wooers of yours, some inside the house and some out; and I wish they might all be as limp as Irus is over yonder in the gate of the outer court. See how he nods his head like a drunken man; he has had such a thrashing that he cannot stand on his feet nor get back to his home, wherever that may be, for has no strength left in him.”
Thus did they converse. Eurymachus then came up and said, “Queen Penelope, daughter of Icarius, if all the Achaeans in Iasian Argos could see you at this moment, you would have still more suitors in your house by tomorrow morning, for you are the most admirable woman in the whole world both as regards personal beauty and strength of understanding.”
To this Penelope replied, “Eurymachus, heaven robbed me of all my beauty whether of face or figure when the Argives set sail for Troy and my dear husband with them. If he were to return and look after my affairs, I should both be more respected and show a better presence to the world. As it is, I am oppressed with care, and with the afflictions which heaven has seen fit to heap upon me. My husband foresaw it all, and when he was leaving home he took my right wrist in his hand —‘Wife, ‘he said, ‘we shall not all of us come safe home from Troy, for the Trojans fight well both with bow and spear. They are excellent also at fighting from chariots, and nothing decides the issue of a fight sooner than this. I know not, therefore, whether heaven will send me back to you, or whether I may not fall over there at Troy. In the meantime do you look after things here. Take care of my father and mother as at present, and even more so during my absence, but when you see our son growing a beard, then marry whom you will, and leave this your present home. This is what he said and now it is all coming true. A night will come when I shall have to yield myself to a marriage which I detest, for Jove has taken from me all hope of happiness. This further grief, moreover, cuts me to the very heart. You suitors are not wooing me after the custom of my country. When men are courting a woman who they think will be a good wife to them and who is of noble birth, and when they are each trying to win her for himself, they usually bring oxen and sheep to feast the friends of the lady, and they make her magnificent presents, instead of eating up other people’s property without paying for it.”
This was what she said, and Ulysses was glad when he heard her trying to get presents out of the suitors, and flattering them with fair words which he knew she did not mean.
Then Antinous said, “Queen Penelope, daughter of Icarius, take as many presents as you please from any one who will give them to you; it is not well to refuse a present; but we will not go about our business nor stir from where we are, till you have married the best man among us whoever he may be.”
The others applauded what Antinous had said, and each one sent his servant to bring his present. Antinous’s man returned with a large and lovely dress most exquisitely embroidered. It had twelve beautifully made brooch pins of pure gold with which to fasten it. Eurymachus immediately brought her a magnificent chain of gold and amber beads that gleamed like sunlight. Eurydamas’s two men returned with some earrings fashioned into three brilliant pendants which glistened most beautifully; while king Pisander son of Polyctor gave her a necklace of the rarest workmanship, and every one else brought her a beautiful present of some kind.
Then the queen went back to her room upstairs, and her maids brought the presents after her. Meanwhile the suitors took to singing and dancing, and stayed till evening came. They danced and sang till it grew dark; they then brought in three braziers to give light, and piled them up with chopped firewood very and dry, and they lit torches from them, which the maids held up turn and turn about. Then Ulysses said:
“Maids, servants of Ulysses who has so long been absent, go to the queen inside the house; sit with her and amuse her, or spin, and pick wool. I will hold the light for all these people. They may stay till morning, but shall not beat me, for I can stand a great deal.”
The maids looked at one another and laughed, while pretty Melantho began to gibe at him contemptuously. She was daughter to Dolius, but had been brought up by Penelope, who used to give her toys to play with, and looked after her when she was a child; but in spite of all this she showed no consideration for the sorrows of her mistress, and used to misconduct herself with Eurymachus, with whom she was in love.
“Poor wretch,” said she, “are you gone clean out of your mind? Go and sleep in some smithy, or place of public gossips, instead of chattering here. Are you not ashamed of opening your mouth before your betters — so many of them too? Has the wine been getting into your head, or do you always babble in this way? You seem to have lost your wits because you beat the tramp Irus; take care that a better man than he does not come and cudgel you about the head till he pack you bleeding out of the house.”
“Vixen,” replied Ulysses, scowling at her, “I will go and tell Telemachus what you have been saying, and he will have you torn limb from limb.”
With these words he scared the women, and they went off into the body of the house. They trembled all aver, for they thought he would do as he said. But Ulysses took his stand near the burning braziers, holding up torches and looking at the people — brooding the while on things that should surely come to pass.
But Minerva would not let the suitors for one moment cease their insolence, for she wanted Ulysses to become even more bitter against them; she therefore set Eurymachus son of Polybus on to gibe at him, which made the others laugh. “Listen to me,” said he, “you suitors of Queen Penelope, that I may speak even as I am minded. It is not for nothing that this man has come to the house of Ulysses; I believe the light has not been coming from the torches, but from his own head — for his hair is all gone, every bit of it.”
Then turning to Ulysses he said, “Stranger, will you work as a servant, if I send you to the wolds and see that you are well paid? Can you build a stone fence, or plant trees? I will have you fed all the year round, and will find you in shoes and clothing. Will you go, then? Not you; for you have got into bad ways, and do not want to work; you had rather fill your belly by going round the country begging.”
“Eurymachus,” answered Ulysses, “if you and I were to work one against the other in early summer when the days are at their longest — give me a good scythe, and take another yourself, and let us see which will fast the longer or mow the stronger, from dawn till dark when the mowing grass is about. Or if you will plough against me, let us each take a yoke of tawny oxen, well-mated and of great strength and endurance: turn me into a four acre field, and see whether you or I can drive the straighter furrow. If, again, war were to break out this day, give me a shield, a couple of spears and a helmet fitting well upon my temples — you would find me foremost in the fray, and would cease your gibes about my belly. You are insolent and cruel, and think yourself a great man because you live in a little world, ind that a bad one. If Ulysses comes to his own again, the doors of his house are wide, but you will find them narrow when you try to fly through them.”
Eurymachus was furious at all this. He scowled at him and cried, “You wretch, I will soon pay you out for daring to say such things to me, and in public too. Has the wine been getting into your head or do you always babble in this way? You seem to have lost your wits because you beat the tramp Irus. With this he caught hold of a footstool, but Ulysses sought protection at the knees of Amphinomus of Dulichium, for he was afraid. The stool hit the cupbearer on his right hand and knocked him down: the man fell with a cry flat on his back, and his wine-jug fell ringing to the ground. The suitors in the covered cloister were now in an uproar, and one would turn towards his neighbour, saying, “I wish the stranger had gone somewhere else, bad luck to hide, for all the trouble he gives us. We cannot permit such disturbance about a beggar; if such ill counsels are to prevail we shall have no more pleasure at our banquet.”
On this Telemachus came forward and said, “Sirs, are you mad? Can you not carry your meat and your liquor decently? Some evil spirit has possessed you. I do not wish to drive any of you away, but you have had your suppers, and the sooner you all go home to bed the better.”
The suitors bit their lips and marvelled at the boldness of his speech; but Amphinomus the son of Nisus, who was son to Aretias, said, “Do not let us take offence; it is reasonable, so let us make no answer. Neither let us do violence to the stranger nor to any of Ulysses’ servants. Let the cupbearer go round with the drink-offerings, that we may make them and go home to our rest. As for the stranger, let us leave Telemachus to deal with him, for it is to his house that he has come.”
Thus did he speak, and his saying pleased them well, so Mulius of Dulichium, servant to Amphinomus, mixed them a bowl of wine and water and handed it round to each of them man by man, whereon they made their drink-offerings to the blessed gods: Then, when they had made their drink-offerings and had drunk each one as he was minded, they took their several ways each of them to his own abode.
ULYSSES was left in the cloister, pondering on the means whereby with Minerva’s help he might be able to kill the suitors. Presently he said to Telemachus, “Telemachus, we must get the armour together and take it down inside. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you have removed it. Say that you have taken it to be out of the way of the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel over their wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes tempts people to use them.”
Telemachus approved of what his father had said, so he called nurse Euryclea and said, “Nurse, shut the women up in their room, while I take the armour that my father left behind him down into the store room. No one looks after it now my father is gone, and it has got all smirched with soot during my own boyhood. I want to take it down where the smoke cannot reach it.”
“I wish, child,” answered Euryclea, “that you would take the management of the house into your own hands altogether, and look after all the property yourself. But who is to go with you and light you to the store room? The maids would have so, but you would not let them.
“The stranger,” said Telemachus, “shall show me a light; when people eat my bread they must earn it, no matter where they come from.”
Euryclea did as she was told, and bolted the women inside their room. Then Ulysses and his son made all haste to take the helmets, shields, and spears inside; and Minerva went before them with a gold lamp in her hand that shed a soft and brilliant radiance, whereon Telemachus said, “Father, my eyes behold a great marvel: the walls, with the rafters, crossbeams, and the supports on which they rest are all aglow as with a flaming fire. Surely there is some god here who has come down from heaven.”
“Hush,” answered Ulysses, “hold your peace and ask no questions, for this is the manner of the gods. Get you to your bed, and leave me here to talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother in her grief will ask me all sorts of questions.”
On this Telemachus went by torch-light to the other side of the inner court, to the room in which he always slept. There he lay in his bed till morning, while Ulysses was left in the cloister pondering on the means whereby with Minerva’s help he might be able to kill the suitors.
Then Penelope came down from her room looking like Venus or Diana, and they set her a seat inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near the fire in her accustomed place. It had been made by Icmalius and had a footstool all in one piece with the seat itself; and it was covered with a thick fleece: on this she now sat, and the maids came from the women’s room to join her. They set about removing the tables at which the wicked suitors had been dining, and took away the bread that was left, with the cups from which they had drunk. They emptied the embers out of the braziers, and heaped much wood upon them to give both light and heat; but Melantho began to rail at Ulysses a second time and said, “Stranger, do you mean to plague us by hanging about the house all night and spying upon the women? Be off, you wretch, outside, and eat your supper there, or you shall be driven out with a firebrand.”
Ulysses scowled at her and answered, “My good woman, why should you be so angry with me? Is it because I am not clean, and my clothes are all in rags, and because I am obliged to go begging about after the manner of tramps and beggars generall? I too was a rich man once, and had a fine house of my own; in those days I gave to many a tramp such as I now am, no matter who he might be nor what he wanted. I had any number of servants, and all the other things which people have who live well and are accounted wealthy, but it pleased Jove to take all away from me; therefore, woman, beware lest you too come to lose that pride and place in which you now wanton above your fellows; have a care lest you get out of favour with your mistress, and lest Ulysses should come home, for there is still a chance that he may do so. Moreover, though he be dead as you think he is, yet by Apollo’s will he has left a son behind him, Telemachus, who will note anything done amiss by the maids in the house, for he is now no longer in his boyhood.”
Penelope heard what he was saying and scolded the maid, “Impudent baggage, said she, “I see how abominably you are behaving, and you shall smart for it. You knew perfectly well, for I told you myself, that I was going to see the stranger and ask him about my husband, for whose sake I am in such continual sorrow.”
Then she said to her head waiting woman Eurynome, “Bring a seat with a fleece upon it, for the stranger to sit upon while he tells his story, and listens to what I have to say. I wish to ask him some questions.”
Eurynome brought the seat at once and set a fleece upon it, and as soon as Ulysses had sat down Penelope began by saying, “Stranger, I shall first ask you who and whence are you? Tell me of your town and parents.”
“Madam;” answered Ulysses, “who on the face of the whole earth can dare to chide with you? Your fame reaches the firmament of heaven itself; you are like some blameless king, who upholds righteousness, as the monarch over a great and valiant nation: the earth yields its wheat and barley, the trees are loaded with fruit, the ewes bring forth lambs, and the sea abounds with fish by reason of his virtues, and his people do good deeds under him. Nevertheless, as I sit here in your house, ask me some other question and do not seek to know my race and family, or you will recall memories that will yet more increase my sorrow. I am full of heaviness, but I ought not to sit weeping and wailing in another person’s house, nor is it well to be thus grieving continually. I shall have one of the servants or even yourself complaining of me, and saying that my eyes swim with tears because I am heavy with wine.”
Then Penelope answered, “Stranger, heaven robbed me of all beauty, whether of face or figure, when the Argives set sail for Troy and my dear husband with them. If he were to return and look after my affairs I should be both more respected and should show a better presence to the world. As it is, I am oppressed with care, and with the afflictions which heaven has seen fit to heap upon me. The chiefs from all our islands — Dulichium, Same, and Zacynthus, as also from Ithaca itself, are wooing me against my will and are wasting my estate. I can therefore show no attention to strangers, nor suppliants, nor to people who say that they are skilled artisans, but am all the time brokenhearted about Ulysses. They want me to marry again at once, and I have to invent stratagems in order to deceive them. In the first place heaven put it in my mind to set up a great tambour-frame in my room, and to begin working upon an enormous piece of fine needlework. Then I said to them, ‘Sweethearts, Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not press me to marry again immediately; wait — for I would not have my skill in needlework perish unrecorded — till I have finished making a pall for the hero Laertes, to be ready against the time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out without a pall.’ This was what I said, and they assented; whereon I used to keep working at my great web all day long, but at night I would unpick the stitches again by torch light. I fooled them in this way for three years without their finding it out, but as time wore on and I was now in my fourth year, in the waning of moons, and many days had been accomplished, those good-for-nothing hussies my maids betrayed me to the suitors, who broke in upon me and caught me; they were very angry with me, so I was forced to finish my work whether I would or no. And now I do not see how I can find any further shift for getting out of this marriage. My parents are putting great pressure upon me, and my son chafes at the ravages the suitors are making upon his estate, for he is now old enough to understand all about it and is perfectly able to look after his own affairs, for heaven has blessed him with an excellent disposition. Still, notwithstanding all this, tell me who you are and where you come from — for you must have had father and mother of some sort; you cannot be the son of an oak or of a rock.”
Then Ulysses answered, “madam, wife of Ulysses, since you persist in asking me about my family, I will answer, no matter what it costs me: people must expect to be pained when they have been exiles as long as I have, and suffered as much among as many peoples. Nevertheless, as regards your question I will tell you all you ask. There is a fair and fruitful island in mid-ocean called Crete; it is thickly peopled and there are nine cities in it: the people speak many different languages which overlap one another, for there are Achaeans, brave Eteocretans, Dorians of three-fold race, and noble Pelasgi. There is a great town there, Cnossus, where Minos reigned who every nine years had a conference with Jove himself. Minos was father to Deucalion, whose son I am, for Deucalion had two sons Idomeneus and myself. Idomeneus sailed for Troy, and I, who am the younger, am called Aethon; my brother, however, was at once the older and the more valiant of the two; hence it was in Crete that I saw Ulysses and showed him hospitality, for the winds took him there as he was on his way to Troy, carrying him out of his course from cape Malea and leaving him in Amnisus off the cave of Ilithuia, where the harbours are difficult to enter and he could hardly find shelter from the winds that were then xaging. As soon as he got there he went into the town and asked for Idomeneus, claiming to be his old and valued friend, but Idomeneus had already set sail for Troy some ten or twelve days earlier, so I took him to my own house and showed him every kind of hospitality, for I had abundance of everything. Moreover, I fed the men who were with him with barley meal from the public store, and got subscriptions of wine and oxen for them to sacrifice to their heart’s content. They stayed with me twelve days, for there was a gale blowing from the North so strong that one could hardly keep one’s feet on land. I suppose some unfriendly god had raised it for them, but on the thirteenth day the wind dropped, and they got away.”
Many a plausible tale did Ulysses further tell her, and Penelope wept as she listened, for her heart was melted. As the snow wastes upon the mountain tops when the winds from South East and West have breathed upon it and thawed it till the rivers run bank full with water, even so did her cheeks overflow with tears for the husband who was all the time sitting by her side. Ulysses felt for her and was for her, but he kept his eyes as hard as or iron without letting them so much as quiver, so cunningly did he restrain his tears. Then, when she had relieved herself by weeping, she turned to him again and said: “Now, stranger, I shall put you to the test and see whether or no you really did entertain my husband and his men, as you say you did. Tell me, then, how he was dressed, what kind of a man he was to look at, and so also with his companions.”
“Madam,” answered Ulysses, “it is such a long time ago that I can hardly say. Twenty years are come and gone since he left my home, and went elsewhither; but I will tell you as well as I can recollect. Ulysses wore a mantle of purple wool, double lined, and it was fastened by a gold brooch with two catches for the pin. On the face of this there was a device that showed a dog holding a spotted fawn between his fore paws, and watching it as it lay panting upon the ground. Every one marvelled at the way in which these things had been done in gold, the dog looking at the fawn, and strangling it, while the fawn was struggling convulsively to escape. As for the shirt that he wore next his skin, it was so soft that it fitted him like the skin of an onion, and glistened in the sunlight to the admiration of all the women who beheld it. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your heart, that I do not know whether Ulysses wore these clothes when he left home, or whether one of his companions had given them to him while he was on his voyage; or possibly some one at whose house he was staying made him a present of them, for he was a man of many friends and had few equals among the Achaeans. I myself gave him a sword of bronze and a beautiful purple mantle, double lined, with a shirt that went down to his feet, and I sent him on board his ship with every mark of honour. He had a servant with him, a little older than himself, and I can tell you what he was like; his shoulders were hunched, he was dark, and he had thick curly hair. His name was Eurybates, and Ulysses treated him with greater familiarity than he did any of the others, as being the most like-minded with himself.”
Penelope was moved still more deeply as she heard the indisputable proofs that Ulysses laid before her; and when she had again found relief in tears she said to him, “Stranger, I was already disposed to pity you, but henceforth you shall be honoured and made welcome in my house. It was I who gave Ulysses the clothes you speak of. I took them out of the store room and folded them up myself, and I gave him also the gold brooch to wear as an ornament. Alas! I shall never welcome him home again. It was by an ill fate that he ever set out for that detested city whose very name I cannot bring myself even to mention.”
Then Ulysses answered, “Madam, wife of Ulysses, do not disfigure yourself further by grieving thus bitterly for your loss, though I can hardly blame you for doing so. A woman who has loved her husband and borne him children, would naturally be grieved at losing him, even though he were a worse man than Ulysses, who they say was like a god. Still, cease your tears and listen to what I can tell I will hide nothing from you, and can say with perfect truth that I have lately heard of Ulysses as being alive and on his way home; he is among the Thesprotians, and is bringing back much valuable treasure that he has begged from one and another of them; but his ship and all his crew were lost as they were leaving the Thrinacian island, for Jove and the sun-god were angry with him because his men had slaughtered the sun-god’s cattle, and they were all drowned to a man. But Ulysses stuck to the keel of the ship and was drifted on to the land of the Phaecians, who are near of kin to the immortals, and who treated him as though he had been a god, giving him many presents, and wishing to escort him home safe and sound. In fact Ulysses would have been here long ago, had he not thought better to go from land to land gathering wealth; for there is no man living who is so wily as he is; there is no one can compare with him. Pheidon king of the Thesprotians told me all this, and he swore to me — making drink-offerings in his house as he did so — that the ship was by the water side and the crew found who would take Ulysses to his own country. He sent me off first, for there happened to be a Thesprotian ship sailing for the wheat-growing island of Dulichium, but he showed me all treasure Ulysses had got together, and he had enough lying in the house of king Pheidon to keep his family for ten generations; but the king said Ulysses had gone to Dodona that he might learn Jove’s mind from the high oak tree, and know whether after so long an absence he should return to Ithaca openly or in secret. So you may know he is safe and will be here shortly; he is close at hand and cannot remain away from home much longer; nevertheless I will confirm my words with an oath, and call Jove who is the first and mightiest of all gods to witness, as also that hearth of Ulysses to which I have now come, that all I have spoken shall surely come to pass. Ulysses will return in this self same year; with the end of this moon and the beginning of the next he will be here.”
“May it be even so,” answered Penelope; “if your words come true you shall have such gifts and such good will from me that all who see you shall congratulate you; but I know very well how it will be. Ulysses will not return, neither will you get your escort hence, for so surely as that Ulysses ever was, there are now no longer any such masters in the house as he was, to receive honourable strangers or to further them on their way home. And now, you maids, wash his feet for him, and make him a bed on a couch with rugs and blankets, that he may be warm and quiet till morning. Then, at day break wash him and anoint him again, that he may sit in the cloister and take his meals with Telemachus. It shall be the worse for any one of these hateful people who is uncivil to him; like it or not, he shall have no more to do in this house. For how, sir, shall you be able to learn whether or no I am superior to others of my sex both in goodness of heart and understanding, if I let you dine in my cloisters squalid and ill clad? Men live but for a little season; if they are hard, and deal hardly, people wish them ill so long as they are alive, and speak contemptuously of them when they are dead, but he that is righteous and deals righteously, the people tell of his praise among all lands, and many shall call him blessed.”
Ulysses answered, “Madam, I have foresworn rugs and blankets from the day that I left the snowy ranges of Crete to go on shipboard. I will lie as I have lain on many a sleepless night hitherto. Night after night have I passed in any rough sleeping place, and waited for morning. Nor, again, do I like having my feet washed; I shall not let any of the young hussies about your house touch my feet; but, if you have any old and respectable woman who has gone through as much trouble as I have, I will allow her to wash them.”
To this Penelope said, “My dear sir, of all the guests who ever yet came to my house there never was one who spoke in all things with such admirable propriety as you do. There happens to be in the house a most respectable old woman — the same who received my poor dear husband in her arms the night he was born, and nursed him in infancy. She is very feeble now, but she shall wash your feet.” “Come here,” said she, “Euryclea, and wash your master’s age-mate; I suppose Ulysses’ hands and feet are very much the same now as his are, for trouble ages all of us dreadfully fast.”
On these words the old woman covered her face with her hands; she began to weep and made lamentation saying, “My dear child, I cannot think whatever I am to do with you. I am certain no one was ever more god-fearing than yourself, and yet Jove hates you. No one in the whole world ever burned him more thigh bones, nor gave him finer hecatombs when you prayed you might come to a green old age yourself and see your son grow up to take after you; yet see how he has prevented you alone from ever getting back to your own home. I have no doubt the women in some foreign palace which Ulysses has got to are gibing at him as all these sluts here have been gibing you. I do not wonder at your not choosing to let them wash you after the manner in which they have insulted you; I will wash your feet myself gladly enough, as Penelope has said that I am to do so; I will wash them both for Penelope’s sake and for your own, for you have raised the most lively feelings of compassion in my mind; and let me say this moreover, which pray attend to; we have had all kinds of strangers in distress come here before now, but I make bold to say that no one ever yet came who was so like Ulysses in figure, voice, and feet as you are.”
“Those who have seen us both,” answered Ulysses, “have always said we were wonderfully like each other, and now you have noticed it too.
Then the old woman took the cauldron in which she was going to wash his feet, and poured plenty of cold water into it, adding hot till the bath was warm enough. Ulysses sat by the fire, but ere long he turned away from the light, for it occurred to him that when the old woman had hold of his leg she would recognize a certain scar which it bore, whereon the whole truth would come out. And indeed as soon as she began washing her master, she at once knew the scar as one that had been given him by a wild boar when he was hunting on Mount Parnassus with his excellent grandfather Autolycus — who was the most accomplished thief and perjurer in the whole world — and with the sons of Autolycus. Mercury himself had endowed him with this gift, for he used to burn the thigh bones of goats and kids to him, so he took pleasure in his companionship. It happened once that Autolycus had gone to Ithaca and had found the child of his daughter just born. As soon as he had done supper Euryclea set the infant upon his knees and said, you must find a name for your grandson; you greatly wished that you might have one.”
‘Son-in-law and daughter,” replied Autolycus, “call the child thus: I am highly displeased with a large number of people in one place and another, both men and women; so name the child ‘Ulysses,’ or the child of anger. When he grows up and comes to visit his mother’s family on Mount Parnassus, where my possessions lie, I will make him a present and will send him on his way rejoicing.”
Ulysses, therefore, went to Parnassus to get the presents from Autolycus, who with his sons shook hands with him and gave him welcome. His grandmother Amphithea threw her arms about him, and kissed his head, and both his beautiful eyes, while Autolycus desired his sons to get dinner ready, and they did as he told them. They brought in a five year old bull, flayed it, made it ready and divided it into joints; these they then cut carefully up into smaller pieces and spitted them; they roasted them sufficiently and served the portions round. Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun they feasted, and every man had his full share so that all were satisfied; but when the sun set and it came on dark, they went to bed and enjoyed the boon of sleep.
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, the sons of Autolycus went out with their hounds hunting, and Ulysses went too. They climbed the wooded slopes of Parnassus and soon reached its breezy upland valleys; but as the sun was beginning to beat upon the fields, fresh-risen from the slow still currents of Oceanus, they came to a mountain dell. The dogs were in front searching for the tracks of the beast they were chasing, and after them came the sons of Autolycus, among whom was Ulysses, close behind the dogs, and he had a long spear in his hand. Here was the lair of a huge boar among some thick brushwood, so dense that the wind and rain could not get through it, nor could the sun’s rays pierce it, and the ground underneath lay thick with fallen leaves. The boar heard the noise of the men’s feet, and the hounds baying on every side as the huntsmen came up to him, so rushed from his lair, raised the bristles on his neck, and stood at bay with fire flashing from his eyes. Ulysses was the first to raise his spear and try to drive it into the brute, but the boar was too quick for him, and charged him sideways, ripping him above the knee with a gash that tore deep though it did not reach the bone. As for the boar, Ulysses hit him on the right shoulder, and the point of the spear went right through him, so that he fell groaning in the dust until the life went out of him. The sons of Autolycus busied themselves with the carcass of the boar, and bound Ulysses’ wound; then, after saying a spell to stop the bleeding, they went home as fast as they could. But when Autolycus and his sons had thoroughly healed Ulysses, they made him some splendid presents, and sent him back to Ithaca with much mutual good will. When he got back, his father and mother were rejoiced to see him, and asked him all about it, and how he had hurt himself to get the scar; so he told them how the boar had ripped him when he was out hunting with Autolycus and his sons on Mount Parnassus.
As soon as Euryclea had got the scarred limb in her hands and had well hold of it, she recognized it and dropped the foot at once. The leg fell into the bath, which rang out and was overturned, so that all the water was spilt on the ground; Euryclea’s eyes between her joy and her grief filled with tears, and she could not speak, but she caught Ulysses by the beard and said, “My dear child, I am sure you must be Ulysses himself, only I did not know you till I had actually touched and handled you.”
As she spoke she looked towards Penelope, as though wanting to tell her that her dear husband was in the house, but Penelope was unable to look in that direction and observe what was going on, for Minerva had diverted her attention; so Ulysses caught Euryclea by the throat with his right hand and with his left drew her close to him, and said, “Nurse, do you wish to be the ruin of me, you who nursed me at your own breast, now that after twenty years of wandering I am at last come to my own home again? Since it has been borne in upon you by heaven to recognize me, hold your tongue, and do not say a word about it any one else in the house, for if you do I tell you — and it shall surely be — that if heaven grants me to take the lives of these suitors, I will not spare you, though you are my own nurse, when I am killing the other women.”
“My child,” answered Euryclea, “what are you talking about? You know very well that nothing can either bend or break me. I will hold my tongue like a stone or a piece of iron; furthermore let me say, and lay my saying to your heart, when heaven has delivered the suitors into your hand, I will give you a list of the women in the house who have been ill-behaved, and of those who are guiltless.”
And Ulysses answered, “Nurse, you ought not to speak in that way; I am well able to form my own opinion about one and all of them; hold your tongue and leave everything to heaven.”
As he said this Euryclea left the cloister to fetch some more water, for the first had been all spilt; and when she had washed him and anointed him with oil, Ulysses drew his seat nearer to the fire to warm himself, and hid the scar under his rags. Then Penelope began talking to him and said:
“Stranger, I should like to speak with you briefly about another matter. It is indeed nearly bed time — for those, at least, who can sleep in spite of sorrow. As for myself, heaven has given me a life of such unmeasurable woe, that even by day when I am attending to my duties and looking after the servants, I am still weeping and lamenting during the whole time; then, when night comes, and we all of us go to bed, I lie awake thinking, and my heart comes a prey to the most incessant and cruel tortures. As the dun nightingale, daughter of Pandareus, sings in the early spring from her seat in shadiest covert hid, and with many a plaintive trill pours out the tale how by mishap she killed her own child Itylus, son of king Zethus, even so does my mind toss and turn in its uncertainty whether I ought to stay with my son here, and safeguard my substance, my bondsmen, and the greatness of my house, out of regard to public opinion and the memory of my late husband, or whether it is not now time for me to go with the best of these suitors who are wooing me and making me such magnificent presents. As long as my son was still young, and unable to understand, he would not hear of my leaving my husband’s house, but now that he is full grown he begs and prays me to do so, being incensed at the way in which the suitors are eating up his property. Listen, then, to a dream that I have had and interpret it for me if you can. I have twenty geese about the house that eat mash out of a trough, and of which I am exceedingly fond. I dreamed that a great eagle came swooping down from a mountain, and dug his curved beak into the neck of each of them till he had killed them all. Presently he soared off into the sky, and left them lying dead about the yard; whereon I wept in my room till all my maids gathered round me, so piteously was I grieving because the eagle had killed my geese. Then he came back again, and perching on a projecting rafter spoke to me with human voice, and told me to leave off crying. ‘Be of good courage,’ he said, ‘daughter of Icarius; this is no dream, but a vision of good omen that shall surely come to pass. The geese are the suitors, and I am no longer an eagle, but your own husband, who am come back to you, and who will bring these suitors to a disgraceful end.’ On this I woke, and when I looked out I saw my geese at the trough eating their mash as usual.”
“This dream, Madam,” replied Ulysses, “can admit but of one interpretation, for had not Ulysses himself told you how it shall be fulfilled? The death of the suitors is portended, and not one single one of them will escape.”
And Penelope answered, “Stranger, dreams are very curious and unaccountable things, and they do not by any means invariably come true. There are two gates through which these unsubstantial fancies proceed; the one is of horn, and the other ivory. Those that come through the gate of ivory are fatuous, but those from the gate of horn mean something to those that see them. I do not think, however, that my own dream came through the gate of horn, though I and my son should be most thankful if it proves to have done so. Furthermore I say — and lay my saying to your heart — the coming dawn will usher in the ill-omened day that is to sever me from the house of Ulysses, for I am about to hold a tournament of axes. My husband used to set up twelve axes in the court, one in front of the other, like the stays upon which a ship is built; he would then go back from them and shoot an arrow through the whole twelve. I shall make the suitors try to do the same thing, and whichever of them can string the bow most easily, and send his arrow through all the twelve axes, him will I follow, and quit this house of my lawful husband, so goodly and so abounding in wealth. But even so, I doubt not that I shall remember it in my dreams.”
Then Ulysses answered, “Madam wife of Ulysses, you need not defer your tournament, for Ulysses will return ere ever they can string the bow, handle it how they will, and send their arrows through the iron.”
To this Penelope said, “As long, sir, as you will sit here and talk to me, I can have no desire to go to bed. Still, people cannot do permanently without sleep, and heaven has appointed us dwellers on earth a time for all things. I will therefore go upstairs and recline upon that couch which I have never ceased to flood with my tears from the day Ulysses set out for the city with a hateful name.”
She then went upstairs to her own room, not alone, but attended by her maidens, and when there, she lamented her dear husband till Minerva shed sweet sleep over her eyelids.
NOW when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemachus rose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet, girded his sword about his shoulder, and left his room looking like an immortal god. He at once sent the criers round to call the people in assembly, so they called them and the people gathered thereon; then, when they were got together, he went to the place of assembly spear in hand — not alone, for his two hounds went with him. Minerva endowed him with a presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went by, and when he took his place’ in his father’s seat even the oldest councillors made way for him.
Aegyptius, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience, the first to speak His son Antiphus had gone with Ulysses to Ilius, land of noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him when they were all shut up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him, He had three sons left, of whom two still worked on their father’s land, while the third, Eurynomus, was one of the suitors; nevertheless their father could not get over the loss of Antiphus, and was still weeping for him when he began his speech.
“Men of Ithaca,” he said, “hear my words. From the day Ulysses left us there has been no meeting of our councillors until now; who then can it be, whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene us? Has he got wind of some host approaching, and does he wish to warn us, or would he speak upon some other matter of public moment? I am sure he is an excellent person, and I hope Jove will grant him his heart’s desire.”
Telemachus took this speech as of good omen and rose at once, for he was bursting with what he had to say. He stood in the middle of the assembly and the good herald Pisenor brought him his staff. Then, turning to Aegyptius, “Sir,” said he, “it is I, as you will shortly learn, who have convened you, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I have not got wind of any host approaching about which I would warn you, nor is there any matter of public moment on which I would speak. My grieveance is purely personal, and turns on two great misfortunes which have fallen upon my house. The first of these is the loss of my excellent father, who was chief among all you here present, and was like a father to every one of you; the second is much more serious, and ere long will be the utter ruin of my estate. The sons of all the chief men among you are pestering my mother to marry them against her will. They are afraid to go to her father Icarius, asking him to choose the one he likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for his daughter, but day by day they keep hanging about my father’s house, sacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand such recklessness; we have now no Ulysses to ward off harm from our doors, and I cannot hold my own against them. I shall never all my days be as good a man as he was, still I would indeed defend myself if I had power to do so, for I cannot stand such treatment any longer; my house is being disgraced and ruined. Have respect, therefore, to your own consciences and to public opinion. Fear, too, the wrath of heaven, lest the gods should be displeased and turn upon you. I pray you by Jove and Themis, who is the beginning and the end of councils, [do not] hold back, my friends, and leave me singlehanded — unless it be that my brave father Ulysses did some wrong to the Achaeans which you would now avenge on me, by aiding and abetting these suitors. Moreover, if I am to be eaten out of house and home at all, I had rather you did the eating yourselves, for I could then take action against you to some purpose, and serve you with notices from house to house till I got paid in full, whereas now I have no remedy.”
With this Telemachus dashed his staff to the ground and burst into tears. Every one was very sorry for him, but they all sat still and no one ventured to make him an angry answer, save only Antinous, who spoke thus:
“Telemachus, insolent braggart that you are, how dare you try to throw the blame upon us suitors? It is your mother’s fault not ours, for she is a very artful woman. This three years past, and close on four, she has been driving us out of our minds, by encouraging each one of us, and sending him messages without meaning one word of what she says. And then there was that other trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in her room, and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework. ‘Sweet hearts,’ said she, ‘Ulysses is indeed dead, still do not press me to marry again immediately, wait — for I would not have skill in needlework perish unrecorded — till I have completed a pall for the hero Laertes, to be in readiness against the time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out without a pall.’
“This was what she said, and we assented; whereon we could see her working on her great web all day long, but at night she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three years and we never found her out, but as time wore on and she was now in her fourth year, one of her maids who knew what she was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work, so she had to finish it whether she would or no. The suitors, therefore, make you this answer, that both you and the Achaeans may understand-’Send your mother away, and bid her marry the man of her own and of her father’s choice’; for I do not know what will happen if she goes on plaguing us much longer with the airs she gives herself on the score of the accomplishments Minerva has taught her, and because she is so clever. We never yet heard of such a woman; we know all about Tyro, Alcmena, Mycene, and the famous women of old, but they were nothing to your mother, any one of them. It was not fair of her to treat us in that way, and as long as she continues in the mind with which heaven has now endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up your estate; and I do not see why she should change, for she gets all the honour and glory, and it is you who pay for it, not she. Understand, then, that we will not go back to our lands, neither here nor elsewhere, till she has made her choice and married some one or other of us.”
Telemachus answered, “Antinous, how can I drive the mother who bore me from my father’s house? My father is abroad and we do not know whether he is alive or dead. It will be hard on me if I have to pay Icarius the large sum which I must give him if I insist on sending his daughter back to him. Not only will he deal rigorously with me, but heaven will also punish me; for my mother when she leaves the house will calf on the Erinyes to avenge her; besides, it would not be a creditable thing to do, and I will have nothing to say to it. If you choose to take offence at this, leave the house and feast elsewhere at one another’s houses at your own cost turn and turn about. If, on the other hand, you elect to persist in spunging upon one man, heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”
As he spoke Jove sent two eagles from the top of the mountain, and they flew on and on with the wind, sailing side by side in their own lordly flight. When they were right over the middle of the assembly they wheeled and circled about, beating the air with their wings and glaring death into the eyes of them that were below; then, fighting fiercely and tearing at one another, they flew off towards the right over the town. The people wondered as they saw them, and asked each other what an this might be; whereon Halitherses, who was the best prophet and reader of omens among them, spoke to them plainly and in all honesty, saying:
“Hear me, men of Ithaca, and I speak more particularly to the suitors, for I see mischief brewing for them. Ulysses is not going to be away much longer; indeed he is close at hand to deal out death and destruction, not on them alone, but on many another of us who live in Ithaca. Let us then be wise in time, and put a stop to this wickedness before he comes. Let the suitors do so of their own accord; it will be better for them, for I am not prophesying without due knowledge; everything has happened to Ulysses as I foretold when the Argives set out for Troy, and he with them. I said that after going through much hardship and losing all his men he should come home again in the twentieth year and that no one would know him; and now all this is coming true.”
Eurymachus son of Polybus then said, “Go home, old man, and prophesy to your own children, or it may be worse for them. I can read these omens myself much better than you can; birds are always flying about in the sunshine somewhere or other, but they seldom mean anything. Ulysses has died in a far country, and it is a pity you are not dead along with him, instead of prating here about omens and adding fuel to the anger of Telemachus which is fierce enough as it is. I suppose you think he will give you something for your family, but I tell you — and it shall surely be — when an old man like you, who should know better, talks a young one over till he becomes troublesome, in the first place his young friend will only fare so much the worse — he will take nothing by it, for the suitors will prevent this — and in the next, we will lay a heavier fine, sir, upon yourself than you will at all like paying, for it will bear hardly upon you. As for Telemachus, I warn him in the presence of you all to send his mother back to her father, who will find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts so dear a daughter may expect. Till we shall go on harassing him with our suit; for we fear no man, and care neither for him, with all his fine speeches, nor for any fortune-telling of yours. You may preach as much as you please, but we shall only hate you the more. We shall go back and continue to eat up Telemachus’s estate without paying him, till such time as his mother leaves off tormenting us by keeping us day after day on the tiptoe of expectation, each vying with the other in his suit for a prize of such rare perfection. Besides we cannot go after the other women whom we should marry in due course, but for the way in which she treats us.”
Then Telemachus said, “Eurymachus, and you other suitors, I shall say no more, and entreat you no further, for the gods and the people of Ithaca now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty men to take me hither and thither, and I will go to Sparta and to Pylos in quest of my father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell me something, or (and people often hear things in this way) some heaven-sent message may direct me. If I can hear of him as alive and on his way home I will put up with the waste you suitors will make for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand I hear of his death, I will return at once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make my mother marry again.”
With these words he sat down, and Mentor who had been a friend of Ulysses, and had been left in charge of everything with full authority over the servants, rose to speak. He, then, plainly and in all honesty addressed them thus:
“Hear me, men of Ithaca, I hope that you may never have a kind and well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern you equitably; I hope that all your chiefs henceforward may be cruel and unjust, for there is not one of you but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled you as though he were your father. I am not half so angry with the suitors, for if they choose to do violence in the naughtiness of their hearts, and wager their heads that Ulysses will not return, they can take the high hand and eat up his estate, but as for you others I am shocked at the way in which you all sit still without even trying to stop such scandalous goings on-which you could do if you chose, for you are many and they are few.”
Leiocritus, son of Evenor, answered him saying, “Mentor, what folly is all this, that you should set the people to stay us? It is a hard thing for one man to fight with many about his victuals. Even though Ulysses himself were to set upon us while we are feasting in his house, and do his best to oust us, his wife, who wants him back so very badly, would have small cause for rejoicing, and his blood would be upon his own head if he fought against such great odds. There is no sense in what you have been saying. Now, therefore, do you people go about your business, and let his father’s old friends, Mentor and Halitherses, speed this boy on his journey, if he goes at all — which I do not think he will, for he is more likely to stay where he is till some one comes and tells him something.”
On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own abode, while the suitors returned to the house of Ulysses.
Then Telemachus went all alone by the sea side, washed his hands in the grey waves, and prayed to Minerva.
“Hear me,” he cried, “you god who visited me yesterday, and bade me sail the seas in search of my father who has so long been missing. I would obey you, but the Achaeans, and more particularly the wicked suitors, are hindering me that I cannot do so.”
As he thus prayed, Minerva came close up to him in the likeness and with the voice of Mentor. “Telemachus,” said she, “if you are made of the same stuff as your father you will be neither fool nor coward henceforward, for Ulysses never broke his word nor left his work half done. If, then, you take after him, your voyage will not be fruitless, but unless you have the blood of Ulysses and of Penelope in your veins I see no likelihood of your succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men as their fathers; they are generally worse, not better; still, as you are not going to be either fool or coward henceforward, and are not entirely without some share of your father’s wise discernment, I look with hope upon your undertaking. But mind you never make common cause with any of those foolish suitors, for they have neither sense nor virtue, and give no thought to death and to the doom that will shortly fall on one and all of them, so that they shall perish on the same day. As for your voyage, it shall not be long delayed; your father was such an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship, and will come with you myself. Now, however, return home, and go about among the suitors; begin getting provisions ready for your voyage; see everything well stowed, the wine in jars, and the barley meal, which is the staff of life, in leathern bags, while I go round the town and beat up volunteers at once. There are many ships in Ithaca both old and new; I will run my eye over them for you and will choose the best; we will get her ready and will put out to sea without delay.”
Thus spoke Minerva daughter of Jove, and Telemachus lost no time in doing as the goddess told him. He went moodily and found the suitors flaying goats and singeing pigs in the outer court. Antinous came up to him at once and laughed as he took his hand in his own, saying, “Telemachus, my fine fire-eater, bear no more ill blood neither in word nor deed, but eat and drink with us as you used to do. The Achaeans will find you in everything — a ship and a picked crew to boot — so that you can set sail for Pylos at once and get news of your noble father.”
“Antinous,” answered Telemachus, “I cannot eat in peace, nor take pleasure of any kind with such men as you are. Was it not enough that you should waste so much good property of mine while I was yet a boy? Now that I am older and know more about it, I am also stronger, and whether here among this people, or by going to Pylos, I will do you all the harm I can. I shall go, and my going will not be in vain though, thanks to you suitors, I have neither ship nor crew of my own, and must be passenger not captain.”
As he spoke he snatched his hand from that of Antinous. Meanwhile the others went on getting dinner ready about the buildings, jeering at him tauntingly as they did so.
“Telemachus,” said one youngster, “means to be the death of us; I suppose he thinks he can bring friends to help him from Pylos, or again from Sparta, where he seems bent on going. Or will he go to Ephyra as well, for poison to put in our wine and kill us?”
Another said, “Perhaps if Telemachus goes on board ship, he will be like his father and perish far from his friends. In this case we should have plenty to do, for we could then divide up his property amongst us: as for the house we can let his mother and the man who marries her have that.”
This was how they talked. But Telemachus went down into the lofty and spacious store-room where his father’s treasure of gold and bronze lay heaped up upon the floor, and where the linen and spare clothes were kept in open chests. Here, too, there was a store of fragrant olive oil, while casks of old, well-ripened wine, unblended and fit for a god to drink, were ranged against the wall in case Ulysses should come home again after all. The room was closed with well-made doors opening in the middle; moreover the faithful old house-keeper Euryclea, daughter of Ops the son of Pisenor, was in charge of everything both night and day. Telemachus called her to the store-room and said:
“Nurse, draw me off some of the best wine you have, after what you are keeping for my father’s own drinking, in case, poor man, he should escape death, and find his way home again after all. Let me have twelve jars, and see that they all have lids; also fill me some well-sewn leathern bags with barley meal — about twenty measures in all. Get these things put together at once, and say nothing about it. I will take everything away this evening as soon as my mother has gone upstairs for the night. I am going to Sparta and to Pylos to see if I can hear anything about the return of my dear father.
When Euryclea heard this she began to cry, and spoke fondly to him, saying, “My dear child, what ever can have put such notion as that into your head? Where in the world do you want to go to — you, who are the one hope of the house? Your poor father is dead and gone in some foreign country nobody knows where, and as soon as your back is turned these wicked ones here will be scheming to get you put out of the way, and will share all your possessions among themselves; stay where you are among your own people, and do not go wandering and worrying your life out on the barren ocean.”
“Fear not, nurse,” answered Telemachus, “my scheme is not without heaven’s sanction; but swear that you will say nothing about all this to my mother, till I have been away some ten or twelve days, unless she hears of my having gone, and asks you; for I do not want her to spoil her beauty by crying.”
The old woman swore most solemnly that she would not, and when she had completed her oath, she began drawing off the wine into jars, and getting the barley meal into the bags, while Telemachus went back to the suitors.
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter. She took his shape, and went round the town to each one of the crew, telling them to meet at the ship by sundown. She went also to Noemon son of Phronius, and asked him to let her have a ship — which he was very ready to do. When the sun had set and darkness was over all the land, she got the ship into the water, put all the tackle on board her that ships generally carry, and stationed her at the end of the harbour. Presently the crew came up, and the goddess spoke encouragingly to each of them.
Furthermore she went to the house of Ulysses, and threw the suitors into a deep slumber. She caused their drink to fuddle them, and made them drop their cups from their hands, so that instead of sitting over their wine, they went back into the town to sleep, with their eyes heavy and full of drowsiness. Then she took the form and voice of Mentor, and called Telemachus to come outside.
“Telemachus,” said she, “the men are on board and at their oars, waiting for you to give your orders, so make haste and let us be off.”
On this she led the way, while Telemachus followed in her steps. When they got to the ship they found the crew waiting by the water side, and Telemachus said, “Now my men, help me to get the stores on board; they are all put together in the cloister, and my mother does not know anything about it, nor any of the maid servants except one.”
With these words he led the way and the others followed after. When they had brought the things as he told them, Telemachus went on board, Minerva going before him and taking her seat in the stern of the vessel, while Telemachus sat beside her. Then the men loosed the hawsers and took their places on the benches. Minerva sent them a fair wind from the West, that whistled over the deep blue waves whereon Telemachus told them to catch hold of the ropes and hoist sail, and they did as he told them. They set the mast in its socket in the cross plank, raised it, and made it fast with the forestays; then they hoisted their white sails aloft with ropes of twisted ox hide. As the sail bellied out with the wind, the ship flew through the deep blue water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. Then they made all fast throughout the ship, filled the mixing-bowls to the brim, and made drink offerings to the immortal gods that are from everlasting, but more particularly to the grey-eyed daughter of Jove.
Thus, then, the ship sped on her way through the watches of the night from dark till dawn.
ULYSSES slept in the cloister upon an undressed bullock’s hide, on the top of which he threw several skins of the sheep the suitors had eaten, and Eurynome threw a cloak over him after he had laid himself down. There, then, Ulysses lay wakefully brooding upon the way in which he should kill the suitors; and by and by, the women who had been in the habit of misconducting themselves with them, left the house giggling and laughing with one another. This made Ulysses very angry, and he doubted whether to get up and kill every single one of them then and there, or to let them sleep one more and last time with the suitors. His heart growled within him, and as a bitch with puppies growls and shows her teeth when she sees a stranger, so did his heart growl with anger at the evil deeds that were being done: but he beat his breast and said, “Heart, be still, you had worse than this to bear on the day when the terrible Cyclops ate your brave companions; yet you bore it in silence till your cunning got you safe out of the cave, though you made sure of being killed.”
Thus he chided with his heart, and checked it into endurance, but he tossed about as one who turns a paunch full of blood and fat in front of a hot fire, doing it first on one side and then on the other, that he may get it cooked as soon as possible, even so did he turn himself about from side to side, thinking all the time how, single handed as he was, he should contrive to kill so large a body of men as the wicked suitors. But by and by Minerva came down from heaven in the likeness of a woman, and hovered over his head saying, “My poor unhappy man, why do you lie awake in this way? This is your house: your wife is safe inside it, and so is your son who is just such a young man as any father may be proud of.”
“Goddess,” answered Ulysses, “all that you have said is true, but I am in some doubt as to how I shall be able to kill these wicked suitors single handed, seeing what a number of them there always are. And there is this further difficulty, which is still more considerable. Supposing that with Jove’s and your assistance I succeed in killing them, I must ask you to consider where I am to escape to from their avengers when it is all over.”
“For shame,” replied Minerva, “why, any one else would trust a worse ally than myself, even though that ally were only a mortal and less wise than I am. Am I not a goddess, and have I not protected you throughout in all your troubles? I tell you plainly that even though there were fifty bands of men surrounding us and eager to kill us, you should take all their sheep and cattle, and drive them away with you. But go to sleep; it is a very bad thing to lie awake all night, and you shall be out of your troubles before long.”
As she spoke she shed sleep over his eyes, and then went back to Olympus.
While Ulysses was thus yielding himself to a very deep slumber that eased the burden of his sorrows, his admirable wife awoke, and sitting up in her bed began to cry. When she had relieved herself by weeping she prayed to Diana saying, “Great Goddess Diana, daughter of Jove, drive an arrow into my heart and slay me; or let some whirlwind snatch me up and bear me through paths of darkness till it drop me into the mouths of overflowing Oceanus, as it did the daughters of Pandareus. The daughters of Pandareus lost their father and mother, for the gods killed them, so they were left orphans. But Venus took care of them, and fed them on cheese, honey, and sweet wine. Juno taught them to excel all women in beauty of form and understanding; Diana gave them an imposing presence, and Minerva endowed them with every kind of accomplishment; but one day when Venus had gone up to Olympus to see Jove about getting them married (for well does he know both what shall happen and what not happen to every one) the storm winds came and spirited them away to become handmaids to the dread Erinyes. Even so I wish that the gods who live in heaven would hide me from mortal sight, or that fair Diana might strike me, for I would fain go even beneath the sad earth if I might do so still looking towards Ulysses only, and without having to yield myself to a worse man than he was. Besides, no matter how much people may grieve by day, they can put up with it so long as they can sleep at night, for when the eyes are closed in slumber people forget good and ill alike; whereas my misery haunts me even in my dreams. This very night methought there was one lying by my side who was like Ulysses as he was when he went away with his host, and I rejoiced, for I believed that it was no dream, but the very truth itself.”
On this the day broke, but Ulysses heard the sound of her weeping, and it puzzled him, for it seemed as though she already knew him and was by his side. Then he gathered up the cloak and the fleeces on which he had lain, and set them on a seat in the cloister, but he took the bullock’s hide out into the open. He lifted up his hands to heaven, and prayed, saying “Father Jove, since you have seen fit to bring me over land and sea to my own home after all the afflictions you have laid upon me, give me a sign out of the mouth of some one or other of those who are now waking within the house, and let me have another sign of some kind from outside.”
Thus did he pray. Jove heard his prayer and forthwith thundered high up among the from the splendour of Olympus, and Ulysses was glad when he heard it. At the same time within the house, a miller-woman from hard by in the mill room lifted up her voice and gave him another sign. There were twelve miller-women whose business it was to grind wheat and barley which are the staff of life. The others had ground their task and had gone to take their rest, but this one had not yet finished, for she was not so strong as they were, and when she heard the thunder she stopped grinding and gave the sign to her master. “Father Jove,” said she, “you who rule over heaven and earth, you have thundered from a clear sky without so much as a cloud in it, and this means something for somebody; grant the prayer, then, of me your poor servant who calls upon you, and let this be the very last day that the suitors dine in the house of Ulysses. They have worn me out with the labour of grinding meal for them, and I hope they may never have another dinner anywhere at all.”
Ulysses was glad when he heard the omens conveyed to him by the woman’s speech, and by the thunder, for he knew they meant that he should avenge himself on the suitors.
Then the other maids in the house rose and lit the fire on the hearth; Telemachus also rose and put on his clothes. He girded his sword about his shoulder, bound his sandals on his comely feet, and took a doughty spear with a point of sharpened bronze; then he went to the threshold of the cloister and said to Euryclea, “Nurse, did you make the stranger comfortable both as regards bed and board, or did you let him shift for himself? — for my mother, good woman though she is, has a way of paying great attention to second-rate people, and of neglecting others who are in reality much better men.”
“Do not find fault child,” said Euryclea, “when there is no one to find fault with. The stranger sat and drank his wine as long as he liked: your mother did ask him if he would take any more bread and he said he would not. When he wanted to go to bed she told the servants to make one for him, but he said he was re such wretched outcast that he would not sleep on a bed and under blankets; he insisted on having an undressed bullock’s hide and some sheepskins put for him in the cloister and I threw a cloak over him myself.”
Then Telemachus went out of the court to the place where the Achaeans were meeting in assembly; he had his spear in his hand, and he was not alone, for his two dogs went with him. But Euryclea called the maids and said, “Come, wake up; set about sweeping the cloisters and sprinkling them with water to lay the dust; put the covers on the seats; wipe down the tables, some of you, with a wet sponge; clean out the mixing-jugs and the cups, and for water from the fountain at once; the suitors will be here directly; they will be here early, for it is a feast day.”
Thus did she speak, and they did even as she had said: twenty of them went to the fountain for water, and the others set themselves busily to work about the house. The men who were in attendance on the suitors also came up and began chopping firewood. By and by the women returned from the fountain, and the swineherd came after them with the three best pigs he could pick out. These he let feed about the premises, and then he said good-humouredly to Ulysses, “Stranger, are the suitors treating you any better now, or are they as insolent as ever?”
“May heaven,” answered Ulysses, “requite to them the wickedness with which they deal high-handedly in another man’s house without any sense of shame.”
Thus did they converse; meanwhile Melanthius the goatherd came up, for he too was bringing in his best goats for the suitors’ dinner; and he had two shepherds with him. They tied the goats up under the gatehouse, and then Melanthius began gibing at Ulysses. “Are you still here, stranger,” said he, “to pester people by begging about the house? Why can you not go elsewhere? You and I shall not come to an understanding before we have given each other a taste of our fists. You beg without any sense of decency: are there not feasts elsewhere among the Achaeans, as well as here?”
Ulysses made no answer, but bowed his head and brooded. Then a third man, Philoetius, joined them, who was bringing in a barren heifer and some goats. These were brought over by the boatmen who are there to take people over when any one comes to them. So Philoetius made his heifer and his goats secure under the gatehouse, and then went up to the swineherd. “Who, Swineherd,” said he, “is this stranger that is lately come here? Is he one of your men? What is his family? Where does he come from? Poor fellow, he looks as if he had been some great man, but the gods give sorrow to whom they will — even to kings if it so pleases them
As he spoke he went up to Ulysses and saluted him with his right hand; “Good day to you, father stranger,” said he, “you seem to be very poorly off now, but I hope you will have better times by and by. Father Jove, of all gods you are the most malicious. We are your own children, yet you show us no mercy in all our misery and afflictions. A sweat came over me when I saw this man, and my eyes filled with tears, for he reminds me of Ulysses, who I fear is going about in just such rags as this man’s are, if indeed he is still among the living. If he is already dead and in the house of Hades, then, alas! for my good master, who made me his stockman when I was quite young among the Cephallenians, and now his cattle are countless; no one could have done better with them than I have, for they have bred like ears of corn; nevertheless I have to keep bringing them in for others to eat, who take no heed of his son though he is in the house, and fear not the wrath of heaven, but are already eager to divide Ulysses’ property among them because he has been away so long. I have often thought — only it would not be right while his son is living — of going off with the cattle to some foreign country; bad as this would be, it is still harder to stay here and be ill-treated about other people’s herds. My position is intolerable, and I should long since have run away and put myself under the protection of some other chief, only that I believe my poor master will yet return, and send all these suitors flying out of the house.”
“Stockman,” answered Ulysses, “you seem to be a very well-disposed person, and I can see that you are a man of sense. Therefore I will tell you, and will confirm my words with an oath: by Jove, the chief of all gods, and by that hearth of Ulysses to which I am now come, Ulysses shall return before you leave this place, and if you are so minded you shall see him killing the suitors who are now masters here.”
“If Jove were to bring this to pass,” replied the stockman, “you should see how I would do my very utmost to help him.”
And in like manner Eumaeus prayed that Ulysses might return home.
Thus did they converse. Meanwhile the suitors were hatching a plot to murder Telemachus: but a bird flew near them on their left hand — an eagle with a dove in its talons. On this Amphinomus said, “My friends, this plot of ours to murder Telemachus will not succeed; let us go to dinner instead.”
The others assented, so they went inside and laid their cloaks on the benches and seats. They sacrificed the sheep, goats, pigs, and the heifer, and when the inward meats were cooked they served them round. They mixed the wine in the mixing-bowls, and the swineherd gave every man his cup, while Philoetius handed round the bread in the breadbaskets, and Melanthius poured them out their wine. Then they laid their hands upon the good things that were before them.
Telemachus purposely made Ulysses sit in the part of the cloister that was paved with stone; he gave him a shabby-looking seat at a little table to himself, and had his portion of the inward meats brought to him, with his wine in a gold cup. “Sit there,” said he, “and drink your wine among the great people. I will put a stop to the gibes and blows of the suitors, for this is no public house, but belongs to Ulysses, and has passed from him to me. Therefore, suitors, keep your hands and your tongues to yourselves, or there will be mischief.”
The suitors bit their lips, and marvelled at the boldness of his speech; then Antinous said, “We do not like such language but we will put up with it, for Telemachus is threatening us in good earnest. If Jove had let us we should have put a stop to his brave talk ere now.”
Thus spoke Antinous, but Telemachus heeded him not. Meanwhile the heralds were bringing the holy hecatomb through the city, and the Achaeans gathered under the shady grove of Apollo.
Then they roasted the outer meat, drew it off the spits, gave every man his portion, and feasted to their hearts’ content; those who waited at table gave Ulysses exactly the same portion as the others had, for Telemachus had told them to do so.
But Minerva would not let the suitors for one moment drop their insolence, for she wanted Ulysses to become still more bitter against them. Now there happened to be among them a ribald fellow, whose name was Ctesippus, and who came from Same. This man, confident in his great wealth, was paying court to the wife of Ulysses, and said to the suitors, “Hear what I have to say. The stranger has already had as large a portion as any one else; this is well, for it is not right nor reasonable to ill-treat any guest of Telemachus who comes here. I will, however, make him a present on my own account, that he may have something to give to the bath-woman, or to some other of Ulysses’ servants.”
As he spoke he picked up a heifer’s foot from the meat-basket in which it lay, and threw it at Ulysses, but Ulysses turned his head a little aside, and avoided it, smiling grimly Sardinian fashion as he did so, and it hit the wall, not him. On this Telemachus spoke fiercely to Ctesippus, “It is a good thing for you,” said he, “that the stranger turned his head so that you missed him. If you had hit him I should have run you through with my spear, and your father would have had to see about getting you buried rather than married in this house. So let me have no more unseemly behaviour from any of you, for I am grown up now to the knowledge of good and evil and understand what is going on, instead of being the child that I have been heretofore. I have long seen you killing my sheep and making free with my corn and wine: I have put up with this, for one man is no match for many, but do me no further violence. Still, if you wish to kill me, kill me; I would far rather die than see such disgraceful scenes day after day — guests insulted, and men dragging the women servants about the house in an unseemly way.”
They all held their peace till at last Agelaus son of Damastor said, “No one should take offence at what has just been said, nor gainsay it, for it is quite reasonable. Leave off, therefore, ill-treating the stranger, or any one else of the servants who are about the house; I would say, however, a friendly word to Telemachus and his mother, which I trust may commend itself to both. ‘As long,’ I would say, ‘as you had ground for hoping that Ulysses would one day come home, no one could complain of your waiting and suffering the suitors to be in your house. It would have been better that he should have returned, but it is now sufficiently clear that he will never do so; therefore talk all this quietly over with your mother, and tell her to marry the best man, and the one who makes her the most advantageous offer. Thus you will yourself be able to manage your own inheritance, and to eat and drink in peace, while your mother will look after some other man’s house, not yours.”’
To this Telemachus answered, “By Jove, Agelaus, and by the sorrows of my unhappy father, who has either perished far from Ithaca, or is wandering in some distant land, I throw no obstacles in the way of my mother’s marriage; on the contrary I urge her to choose whomsoever she will, and I will give her numberless gifts into the bargain, but I dare not insist point blank that she shall leave the house against her own wishes. Heaven forbid that I should do this.”
Minerva now made the suitors fall to laughing immoderately, and set their wits wandering; but they were laughing with a forced laughter. Their meat became smeared with blood; their eyes filled with tears, and their hearts were heavy with forebodings. Theoclymenus saw this and said, “Unhappy men, what is it that ails you? There is a shroud of darkness drawn over you from head to foot, your cheeks are wet with tears; the air is alive with wailing voices; the walls and roof-beams drip blood; the gate of the cloisters and the court beyond them are full of ghosts trooping down into the night of hell; the sun is blotted out of heaven, and a blighting gloom is over all the land.”
Thus did he speak, and they all of them laughed heartily. Eurymachus then said, “This stranger who has lately come here has lost his senses. Servants, turn him out into the streets, since he finds it so dark here.”
But Theoclymenus said, “Eurymachus, you need not send any one with me. I have eyes, ears, and a pair of feet of my own, to say nothing of an understanding mind. I will take these out of the house with me, for I see mischief overhanging you, from which not one of you men who are insulting people and plotting ill deeds in the house of Ulysses will be able to escape.”
He left the house as he spoke, and went back to Piraeus who gave him welcome, but the suitors kept looking at one another and provoking Telemachus fly laughing at the strangers. One insolent fellow said to him, “Telemachus, you are not happy in your guests; first you have this importunate tramp, who comes begging bread and wine and has no skill for work or for hard fighting, but is perfectly useless, and now here is another fellow who is setting himself up as a prophet. Let me persuade you, for it will be much better, to put them on board ship and send them off to the Sicels to sell for what they will bring.”
Telemachus gave him no heed, but sat silently watching his father, expecting every moment that he would begin his attack upon the suitors.
Meanwhile the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, had had had a rich seat placed for her facing the court and cloisters, so that she could hear what every one was saying. The dinner indeed had been prepared amid merriment; it had been both good and abundant, for they had sacrificed many victims; but the supper was yet to come, and nothing can be conceived more gruesome than the meal which a goddess and a brave man were soon to lay before them — for they had brought their doom upon themselves.
MINERVA now put it in Penelope’s mind to make the suitors try their skill with the bow and with the iron axes, in contest among themselves, as a means of bringing about their destruction. She went upstairs and got the store room key, which was made of bronze and had a handle of ivory; she then went with her maidens into the store room at the end of the house, where her husband’s treasures of gold, bronze, and wrought iron were kept, and where was also his bow, and the quiver full of deadly arrows that had been given him by a friend whom he had met in Lacedaemon — Iphitus the son of Eurytus. The two fell in with one another in Messene at the house of Ortilochus, where Ulysses was staying in order to recover a debt that was owing from the whole people; for the Messenians had carried off three hundred sheep from Ithaca, and had sailed away with them and with their shepherds. In quest of these Ulysses took a long journey while still quite young, for his father and the other chieftains sent him on a mission to recover them. Iphitus had gone there also to try and get back twelve brood mares that he had lost, and the mule foals that were running with them. These mares were the death of him in the end, for when he went to the house of Jove’s son, mighty Hercules, who performed such prodigies of valour, Hercules to his shame killed him, though he was his guest, for he feared not heaven’s vengeance, nor yet respected his own table which he had set before Iphitus, but killed him in spite of everything, and kept the mares himself. It was when claiming these that Iphitus met Ulysses, and gave him the bow which mighty Eurytus had been used to carry, and which on his death had been left by him to his son. Ulysses gave him in return a sword and a spear, and this was the beginning of a fast friendship, although they never visited at one another’s houses, for Jove’s son Hercules killed Iphitus ere they could do so. This bow, then, given him by Iphitus, had not been taken with him by Ulysses when he sailed for Troy; he had used it so long as he had been at home, but had left it behind as having been a keepsake from a valued friend.
Penelope presently reached the oak threshold of the store room; the carpenter had planed this duly, and had drawn a line on it so as to get it quite straight; he had then set the door posts into it and hung the doors. She loosed the strap from the handle of the door, put in the key, and drove it straight home to shoot back the bolts that held the doors; these flew open with a noise like a bull bellowing in a meadow, and Penelope stepped upon the raised platform, where the chests stood in which the fair linen and clothes were laid by along with fragrant herbs: reaching thence, she took down the bow with its bow case from the peg on which it hung. She sat down with it on her knees, weeping bitterly as she took the bow out of its case, and when her tears had relieved her, she went to the cloister where the suitors were, carrying the bow and the quiver, with the many deadly arrows that were inside it. Along with her came her maidens, bearing a chest that contained much iron and bronze which her husband had won as prizes. When she reached the suitors, she stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister, holding a veil before her face, and with a maid on either side of her. Then she said:
“Listen to me you suitors, who persist in abusing the hospitality of this house because its owner has been long absent, and without other pretext than that you want to marry me; this, then, being the prize that you are contending for, I will bring out the mighty bow of Ulysses, and whomsoever of you shall string it most easily and send his arrow through each one of twelve axes, him will I follow and quit this house of my lawful husband, so goodly, and so abounding in wealth. But even so I doubt not that I shall remember it in my dreams.”
As she spoke, she told Eumaeus to set the bow and the pieces of iron before the suitors, and Eumaeus wept as he took them to do as she had bidden him. Hard by, the stockman wept also when he saw his master’s bow, but Antinous scolded them. “You country louts,” said he, “silly simpletons; why should you add to the sorrows of your mistress by crying in this way? She has enough to grieve her in the loss of her husband; sit still, therefore, and eat your dinners in silence, or go outside if you want to cry, and leave the bow behind you. We suitors shall have to contend for it with might and main, for we shall find it no light matter to string such a bow as this is. There is not a man of us all who is such another as Ulysses; for I have seen him and remember him, though I was then only a child.”
This was what he said, but all the time he was expecting to be able to string the bow and shoot through the iron, whereas in fact he was to be the first that should taste of the arrows from the hands of Ulysses, whom he was dishonouring in his own house — egging the others on to do so also.
Then Telemachus spoke. “Great heavens!” he exclaimed, “Jove must have robbed me of my senses. Here is my dear and excellent mother saying she will quit this house and marry again, yet I am laughing and enjoying myself as though there were nothing happening. But, suitors, as the contest has been agreed upon, let it go forward. It is for a woman whose peer is not to be found in Pylos, Argos, or Mycene, nor yet in Ithaca nor on the mainland. You know this as well as I do; what need have I to speak in praise of my mother? Come on, then, make no excuses for delay, but let us see whether you can string the bow or no. I too will make trial of it, for if I can string it and shoot through the iron, I shall not suffer my mother to quit this house with a stranger, not if I can win the prizes which my father won before me.”
As he spoke he sprang from his seat, threw his crimson cloak from him, and took his sword from his shoulder. First he set the axes in a row, in a long groove which he had dug for them, and had Wade straight by line. Then he stamped the earth tight round them, and everyone was surprised when they saw him set up so orderly, though he had never seen anything of the kind before. This done, he went on to the pavement to make trial of the bow; thrice did he tug at it, trying with all his might to draw the string, and thrice he had to leave off, though he had hoped to string the bow and shoot through the iron. He was trying for the fourth time, and would have strung it had not Ulysses made a sign to check him in spite of all his eagerness. So he said:
“Alas! I shall either be always feeble and of no prowess, or I am too young, and have not yet reached my full strength so as to be able to hold my own if any one attacks me. You others, therefore, who are stronger than I, make trial of the bow and get this contest settled.”
On this he put the bow down, letting it lean against the door [that led into the house] with the arrow standing against the top of the bow. Then he sat down on the seat from which he had risen, and Antinous said:
“Come on each of you in his turn, going towards the right from the place at which the. cupbearer begins when he is handing round the wine.”
The rest agreed, and Leiodes son of OEnops was the first to rise. He was sacrificial priest to the suitors, and sat in the corner near the mixing-bowl. He was the only man who hated their evil deeds and was indignant with the others. He was now the first to take the bow and arrow, so he went on to the pavement to make his trial, but he could not string the bow, for his hands were weak and unused to hard work, they therefore soon grew tired, and he said to the suitors, “My friends, I cannot string it; let another have it; this bow shall take the life and soul out of many a chief among us, for it is better to die than to live after having missed the prize that we have so long striven for, and which has brought us so long together. Some one of us is even now hoping and praying that he may marry Penelope, but when he has seen this bow and tried it, let him woo and make bridal offerings to some other woman, and let Penelope marry whoever makes her the best offer and whose lot it is to win her.”
On this he put the bow down, letting it lean against the door, with the arrow standing against the tip of the bow. Then he took his seat again on the seat from which he had risen; and Antinous rebuked him saying:
“Leiodes, what are you talking about? Your words are monstrous and intolerable; it makes me angry to listen to you. Shall, then, this bow take the life of many a chief among us, merely because you cannot bend it yourself? True, you were not born to be an archer, but there are others who will soon string it.”
Then he said to Melanthius the goatherd, “Look sharp, light a fire in the court, and set a seat hard by with a sheep skin on it; bring us also a large ball of lard, from what they have in the house. Let us warm the bow and grease it we will then make trial of it again, and bring the contest to an end.”
Melanthius lit the fire, and set a seat covered with sheep skins beside it. He also brought a great ball of lard from what they had in the house, and the suitors warmed the bow and again made trial of it, but they were none of them nearly strong enough to string it. Nevertheless there still remained Antinous and Eurymachus, who were the ringleaders among the suitors and much the foremost among them all.
Then the swineherd and the stockman left the cloisters together, and Ulysses followed them. When they had got outside the gates and the outer yard, Ulysses said to them quietly:
“Stockman, and you swineherd, I have something in my mind which I am in doubt whether to say or no; but I think I will say it. What manner of men would you be to stand by Ulysses, if some god should bring him back here all of a sudden? Say which you are disposed to do — to side with the suitors, or with Ulysses?”
“Father Jove,” answered the stockman, “would indeed that you might so ordain it. If some god were but to bring Ulysses back, you should see with what might and main I would fight for him.”
In like words Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that Ulysses might return; when, therefore, he saw for certain what mind they were of, Ulysses said, “It is I, Ulysses, who am here. I have suffered much, but at last, in the twentieth year, I am come back to my own country. I find that you two alone of all my servants are glad that I should do so, for I have not heard any of the others praying for my return. To you two, therefore, will I unfold the truth as it shall be. If heaven shall deliver the suitors into my hands, I will find wives for both of you, will give you house and holding close to my own, and you shall be to me as though you were brothers and friends of Telemachus. I will now give you convincing proofs that you may know me and be assured. See, here is the scar from the boar’s tooth that ripped me when I was out hunting on Mount Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.”
As he spoke he drew his rags aside from the great scar, and when they had examined it thoroughly, they both of them wept about Ulysses, threw their arms round him and kissed his head and shoulders, while Ulysses kissed their hands and faces in return. The sun would have gone down upon their mourning if Ulysses had not checked them and said:
“Cease your weeping, lest some one should come outside and see us, and tell those who a are within. When you go in, do so separately, not both together; I will go first, and do you follow afterwards; Let this moreover be the token between us; the suitors will all of them try to prevent me from getting hold of the bow and quiver; do you, therefore, Eumaeus, place it in my hands when you are carrying it about, and tell the women to close the doors of their apartment. If they hear any groaning or uproar as of men fighting about the house, they must not come out; they must keep quiet, and stay where they are at their work. And I charge you, Philoetius, to make fast the doors of the outer court, and to bind them securely at once.”
When he had thus spoken, he went back to the house and took the seat that he had left. Presently, his two servants followed him inside.
At this moment the bow was in the hands of Eurymachus, who was warming it by the fire, but even so he could not string it, and he was greatly grieved. He heaved a deep sigh and said, “I grieve for myself and for us all; I grieve that I shall have to forgo the marriage, but I do not care nearly so much about this, for there are plenty of other women in Ithaca and elsewhere; what I feel most is the fact of our being so inferior to Ulysses in strength that we cannot string his bow. This will disgrace us in the eyes of those who are yet unborn.”
“It shall not be so, Eurymachus,” said Antinous, “and you know it yourself. To-day is the feast of Apollo throughout all the land; who can string a bow on such a day as this? Put it on one side — as for the axes they can stay where they are, for no one is likely to come to the house and take them away: let the cupbearer go round with his cups, that we may make our drink-offerings and drop this matter of the bow; we will tell Melanthius to bring us in some goats to-morrow — the best he has; we can then offer thigh bones to Apollo the mighty archer, and again make trial of the bow, so as to bring the contest to an end.”
The rest approved his words, and thereon men servants poured water over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and water and handed it round after giving every man his drink-offering. Then, when they had made their offerings and had drunk each as much as he desired, Ulysses craftily said:
“Suitors of the illustrious queen, listen that I may speak even as I am minded. I appeal more especially to Eurymachus, and to Antinous who has just spoken with so much reason. Cease shooting for the present and leave the matter to the gods, but in the morning let heaven give victory to whom it will. For the moment, however, give me the bow that I may prove the power of my hands among you all, and see whether I still have as much strength as I used to have, or whether travel and neglect have made an end of it.”
This made them all very angry, for they feared he might string the bow; Antinous therefore rebuked him fiercely saying, “Wretched creature, you have not so much as a grain of sense in your whole body; you ought to think yourself lucky in being allowed to dine unharmed among your betters, without having any smaller portion served you than we others have had, and in being allowed to hear our conversation. No other beggar or stranger has been allowed to hear what we say among ourselves; the wine must have been doing you a mischief, as it does with all those drink immoderately. It was wine that inflamed the Centaur Eurytion when he was staying with Peirithous among the Lapithae. When the wine had got into his head he went mad and did ill deeds about the house of Peirithous; this angered the heroes who were there assembled, so they rushed at him and cut off his ears and nostrils; then they dragged him through the doorway out of the house, so he went away crazed, and bore the burden of his crime, bereft of understanding. Henceforth, therefore, there was war between mankind and the centaurs, but he brought it upon himself through his own drunkenness. In like manner I can tell you that it will go hardly with you if you string the bow: you will find no mercy from any one here, for we shall at once ship you off to king Echetus, who kills every one that comes near him: you will never get away alive, so drink and keep quiet without getting into a quarrel with men younger than yourself.”
Penelope then spoke to him. “Antinous,” said she, “it is not right that you should ill-treat any guest of Telemachus who comes to this house. If the stranger should prove strong enough to string the mighty bow of Ulysses, can you suppose that he would take me home with him and make me his wife? Even the man himself can have no such idea in his mind: none of you need let that disturb his feasting; it would be out of all reason.”
“Queen Penelope,” answered Eurymachus, “we do not suppose that this man will take you away with him; it is impossible; but we are afraid lest some of the baser sort, men or women among the Achaeans, should go gossiping about and say, ‘These suitors are a feeble folk; they are paying court to the wife of a brave man whose bow not one of them was able to string, and yet a beggarly tramp who came to the house strung it at once and sent an arrow through the iron.’ This is what will be said, and it will be a scandal against us.”
“Eurymachus,” Penelope answered, “people who persist in eating up the estate of a great chieftain and dishonouring his house must not expect others to think well of them. Why then should you mind if men talk as you think they will? This stranger is strong and well-built, he says moreover that he is of noble birth. Give him the bow, and let us see whether he can string it or no. I say — and it shall surely be — that if Apollo vouchsafes him the glory of stringing it, I will give him a cloak and shirt of good wear, with a javelin to keep off dogs and robbers, and a sharp sword. I will also give him sandals, and will see him sent safely whereever he wants to go.”
Then Telemachus said, “Mother, I am the only man either in Ithaca or in the islands that are over against Elis who has the right to let any one have the bow or to refuse it. No one shall force me one way or the other, not even though I choose to make the stranger a present of the bow outright, and let him take it away with him. Go, then, within the house and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants. This bow is a man’s matter, and mine above all others, for it is I who am master here.”
She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son’s saying in her heart. Then going upstairs with her handmaids into her room, she mourned her dear husband till Minerva sent sweet sleep over her eyelids.
The swineherd now took up the bow and was for taking it to Ulysses, but the suitors clamoured at him from all parts of the cloisters, and one of them said, “You idiot, where are you taking the bow to? Are you out of your wits? If Apollo and the other gods will grant our prayer, your own boarhounds shall get you into some quiet little place, and worry you to death.”
Eumaeus was frightened at the outcry they all raised, so he put the bow down then and there, but Telemachus shouted out at him from the other side of the cloisters, and threatened him saying, “Father Eumaeus, bring the bow on in spite of them, or young as I am I will pelt you with stones back to the country, for I am the better man of the two. I wish I was as much stronger than all the other suitors in the house as I am than you, I would soon send some of them off sick and sorry, for they mean mischief.”
Thus did he speak, and they all of them laughed heartily, which put them in a better humour with Telemachus; so Eumaeus brought the bow on and placed it in the hands of Ulysses. When he had done this, he called Euryclea apart and said to her, “Euryclea, Telemachus says you are to close the doors of the women’s apartments. If they hear any groaning or uproar as of men fighting about the house, they are not to come out, but are to keep quiet and stay where they are at their work.”
Euryclea did as she was told and closed the doors of the women’s apartments.
Meanwhile Philoetius slipped quietly out and made fast the gates of the outer court. There was a ship’s cable of byblus fibre lying in the gatehouse, so he made the gates fast with it and then came in again, resuming the seat that he had left, and keeping an eye on Ulysses, who had now got the bow in his hands, and was turning it every way about, and proving it all over to see whether the worms had been eating into its two horns during his absence. Then would one turn towards his neighbour saying, “This is some tricky old bow-fancier; either he has got one like it at home, or he wants to make one, in such workmanlike style does the old vagabond handle it.”
Another said, “I hope he may be no more successful in other things than he is likely to be in stringing this bow.”
But Ulysses, when he had taken it up and examined it all over, strung it as easily as a skilled bard strings a new peg of his lyre and makes the twisted gut fast at both ends. Then he took it in his right hand to prove the string, and it sang sweetly under his touch like the twittering of a swallow. The suitors were dismayed, and turned colour as they heard it; at that moment, moreover, Jove thundered loudly as a sign, and the heart of Ulysses rejoiced as he heard the omen that the son of scheming Saturn had sent him.
He took an arrow that was lying upon the table — for those which the Achaeans were so shortly about to taste were all inside the quiver — he laid it on the centre-piece of the bow, and drew the notch of the arrow and the string toward him, still seated on his seat. When he had taken aim he let fly, and his arrow pierced every one of the handle-holes of the axes from the first onwards till it had gone right through them, and into the outer courtyard. Then he said to Telemachus:
“Your guest has not disgraced you, Telemachus. I did not miss what I aimed at, and I was not long in stringing my bow. I am still strong, and not as the suitors twit me with being. Now, however, it is time for the Achaeans to prepare supper while there is still daylight, and then otherwise to disport themselves with song and dance which are the crowning ornaments of a banquet.”
As he spoke he made a sign with his eyebrows, and Telemachus girded on his sword, grasped his spear, and stood armed beside his father’s seat.
THEN Ulysses tore off his rags, and sprang on to the broad pavement with his bow and his quiver full of arrows. He shed the arrows on to the ground at his feet and said, “The mighty contest is at an end. I will now see whether Apollo will vouchsafe it to me to hit another mark which no man has yet hit.”
On this he aimed a deadly arrow at Antinous, who was about to take up a two-handled gold cup to drink his wine and already had it in his hands. He had no thought of death — who amongst all the revellers would think that one man, however brave, would stand alone among so many and kill him? The arrow struck Antinous in the throat, and the point went clean through his neck, so that he fell over and the cup dropped from his hand, while a thick stream of blood gushed from his nostrils. He kicked the table from him and upset the things on it, so that the bread and roasted meats were all soiled as they fell over on to the ground. The suitors were in an uproar when they saw that a man had been hit; they sprang in dismay one and all of them from their seats and looked everywhere towards the walls, but there was neither shield nor spear, and they rebuked Ulysses very angrily. “Stranger,” said they, “you shall pay for shooting people in this way: om yi you shall see no other contest; you are a doomed man; he whom you have slain was the foremost youth in Ithaca, and the vultures shall devour you for having killed him.”
Thus they spoke, for they thought that he had killed Antinous by mistake, and did not perceive that death was hanging over the head of every one of them. But Ulysses glared at them and said:
“Dogs, did you think that I should not come back from Troy? You have wasted my substance, have forced my women servants to lie with you, and have wooed my wife while I was still living. You have feared neither Cod nor man, and now you shall die.”
They turned pale with fear as he spoke, and every man looked round about to see whither he might fly for safety, but Eurymachus alone spoke.
“If you are Ulysses,” said he, “then what you have said is just. We have done much wrong on your lands and in your house. But Antinous who was the head and front of the offending lies low already. It was all his doing. It was not that he wanted to marry Penelope; he did not so much care about that; what he wanted was something quite different, and Jove has not vouchsafed it to him; he wanted to kill your son and to be chief man in Ithaca. Now, therefore, that he has met the death which was his due, spare the lives of your people. We will make everything good among ourselves, and pay you in full for all that we have eaten and drunk. Each one of us shall pay you a fine worth twenty oxen, and we will keep on giving you gold and bronze till your heart is softened. Until we have done this no one can complain of your being enraged against us.”
Ulysses again glared at him and said, “Though you should give me all that you have in the world both now and all that you ever shall have, I will not stay my hand till I have paid all of you in full. You must fight, or fly for your lives; and fly, not a man of you shall.”
Their hearts sank as they heard him, but Eurymachus again spoke saying:
“My friends, this man will give us no quarter. He will stand where he is and shoot us down till he has killed every man among us. Let us then show fight; draw your swords, and hold up the tables to shield you from his arrows. Let us have at him with a rush, to drive him from the pavement and doorway: we can then get through into the town, and raise such an alarm as shall soon stay his shooting.”
As he spoke he drew his keen blade of bronze, sharpened on both sides, and with a loud cry sprang towards Ulysses, but Ulysses instantly shot an arrow into his breast that caught him by the nipple and fixed itself in his liver. He dropped his sword and fell doubled up over his table. The cup and all the meats went over on to the ground as he smote the earth with his forehead in the agonies of death, and he kicked the stool with his feet until his eyes were closed in darkness.
Then Amphinomus drew his sword and made straight at Ulysses to try and get him away from the door; but Telemachus was too quick for him, and struck him from behind; the spear caught him between the shoulders and went right through his chest, so that he fell heavily to the ground and struck the earth with his forehead. Then Telemachus sprang away from him, leaving his spear still in the body, for he feared that if he stayed to draw it out, some one of the Achaeans might come up and hack at him with his sword, or knock him down, so he set off at a run, and immediately was at his father’s side. Then he said:
“Father, let me bring you a shield, two spears, and a brass helmet for your temples. I will arm myself as well, and will bring other armour for the swineherd and the stockman, for we had better be armed.”
“Run and fetch them,” answered Ulysses, “while my arrows hold out, or when I am alone they may get me away from the door.”
Telemachus did as his father said, and went off to the store room where the armour was kept. He chose four shields, eight spears, and four brass helmets with horse-hair plumes. He brought them with all speed to his father, and armed himself first, while the stockman and the swineherd also put on their armour, and took their places near Ulysses. Meanwhile Ulysses, as long as his arrows lasted, had been shooting the suitors one by one, and they fell thick on one another: when his arrows gave out, he set the bow to stand against the end wall of the house by the door post, and hung a shield four hides thick about his shoulders; on his comely head he set his helmet, well wrought with a crest of horse-hair that nodded menacingly above it, and he grasped two redoubtable bronze-shod spears.
Now there was a trap door on the wall, while at one end of the pavement there was an exit leading to a narrow passage, and this exit was closed by a well-made door. Ulysses told Philoetius to stand by this door and guard it, for only one person could attack it at a time. But Agelaus shouted out, “Cannot some one go up to the trap door and tell the people what is going on? Help would come at once, and we should soon make an end of this man and his shooting.”
“This may not be, Agelaus,” answered Melanthius, “the mouth of the narrow passage is dangerously near the entrance to the outer court. One brave man could prevent any number from getting in. But I know what I will do, I will bring you arms from the store room, for I am sure it is there that Ulysses and his son have put them.”
On this the goatherd Melanthius went by back passages to the store room of Ulysses, house. There he chose twelve shields, with as many helmets and spears, and brought them back as fast as he could to give them to the suitors. Ulysses’ heart began to fail him when he saw the suitors putting on their armour and brandishing their spears. He saw the greatness of the danger, and said to Telemachus, “Some one of the women inside is helping the suitors against us, or it may be Melanthius.”
Telemachus answered, “The fault, father, is mine, and mine only; I left the store room door open, and they have kept a sharper look out than I have. Go, Eumaeus, put the door to, and see whether it is one of the women who is doing this, or whether, as I suspect, it is Melanthius the son of Dolius.”
Thus did they converse. Meanwhile Melanthius was again going to the store room to fetch more armour, but the swineherd saw him and said to Ulysses who was beside him, “Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, it is that scoundrel Melanthius, just as we suspected, who is going to the store room. Say, shall I kill him, if I can get the better of him, or shall I bring him here that you may take your own revenge for all the many wrongs that he has done in your house?”
Ulysses answered, “Telemachus and I will hold these suitors in check, no matter what they do; go back both of you and bind Melanthius’ hands and feet behind him. Throw him into the store room and make the door fast behind you; then fasten a noose about his body, and string him close up to the rafters from a high bearing-post, that he may linger on in an agony.”
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said; they went to the store room, which they entered before Melanthius saw them, for he was busy searching for arms in the innermost part of the room, so the two took their stand on either side of the door and waited. By and by Melanthius came out with a helmet in one hand, and an old dry-rotted shield in the other, which had been borne by Laertes when he was young, but which had been long since thrown aside, and the straps had become unsewn; on this the two seized him, dragged him back by the hair, and threw him struggling to the ground. They bent his hands and feet well behind his back, and bound them tight with a painful bond as Ulysses had told them; then they fastened a noose about his body and strung him up from a high pillar till he was close up to the rafters, and over him did you then vaunt, O swineherd Eumaeus, saying, “Melanthius, you will pass the night on a soft bed as you deserve. You will know very well when morning comes from the streams of Oceanus, and it is time for you to be driving in your goats for the suitors to feast on.”
There, then, they left him in very cruel bondage, and having put on their armour they closed the door behind them and went back to take their places by the side of Ulysses; whereon the four men stood in the cloister, fierce and full of fury; nevertheless, those who were in the body of the court were still both brave and many. Then Jove’s daughter Minerva came up to them, having assumed the voice and form of Mentor. Ulysses was glad when he saw her and said, “Mentor, lend me your help, and forget not your old comrade, nor the many good turns he has done you. Besides, you are my age-mate.”
But all the time he felt sure it was Minerva, and the suitors from the other side raised an uproar when they saw her. Agelaus was the first to reproach her. “Mentor,” he cried, “do not let Ulysses beguile you into siding with him and fighting the suitors. This is what we will do: when we have killed these people, father and son, we will kill you too. You shall pay for it with your head, and when we have killed you, we will take all you have, in doors or out, and bring it into hotch-pot with Ulysses’ property; we will not let your sons live in your house, nor your daughters, nor shall your widow continue to live in the city of Ithaca.”
This made Minerva still more furious, so she scolded Ulysses very angrily. “Ulysses,” said she, “your strength and prowess are no longer what they were when you fought for nine long years among the Trojans about the noble lady Helen. You killed many a man in those days, and it was through your stratagem that Priam’s city was taken. How comes it that you are so lamentably less valiant now that you are on your own ground, face to face with the suitors in your own house? Come on, my good fellow, stand by my side and see how Mentor, son of Alcinous shall fight your foes and requite your kindnesses conferred upon him.”
But she would not give him full victory as yet, for she wished still further to prove his own prowess and that of his brave son, so she flew up to one of the rafters in the roof of the cloister and sat upon it in the form of a swallow.
Meanwhile Agelaus son of Damastor, Eurynomus, Amphimedon, Demoptolemus, Pisander, and Polybus son of Polyctor bore the brunt of the fight upon the suitors’ side; of all those who were still fighting for their lives they were by far the most valiant, for the others had already fallen under the arrows of Ulysses. Agelaus shouted to them and said, “My friends, he will soon have to leave off, for Mentor has gone away after having done nothing for him but brag. They are standing at the doors unsupported. Do not aim at him all at once, but six of you throw your spears first, and see if you cannot cover yourselves with glory by killing him. When he has fallen we need not be uneasy about the others.”
They threw their spears as he bade them, but Minerva made them all of no effect. One hit the door post; another went against the door; the pointed shaft of another struck the wall; and as soon as they had avoided all the spears of the suitors Ulysses said to his own men, “My friends, I should say we too had better let drive into the middle of them, or they will crown all the harm they have done us by us outright.”
They therefore aimed straight in front of them and threw their spears. Ulysses killed Demoptolemus, Telemachus Euryades, Eumaeus Elatus, while the stockman killed Pisander. These all bit the dust, and as the others drew back into a corner Ulysses and his men rushed forward and regained their spears by drawing them from the bodies of the dead.
The suitors now aimed a second time, but again Minerva made their weapons for the most part without effect. One hit a bearing-post of the cloister; another went against the door; while the pointed shaft of another struck the wall. Still, Amphimedon just took a piece of the top skin from off Telemachus’s wrist, and Ctesippus managed to graze Eumaeus’s shoulder above his shield; but the spear went on and fell to the ground. Then Ulysses and his men let drive into the crowd of suitors. Ulysses hit Eurydamas, Telemachus Amphimedon, and Eumaeus Polybus. After this the stockman hit Ctesippus in the breast, and taunted him saying, “Foul-mouthed son of Polytherses, do not be so foolish as to talk wickedly another time, but let heaven direct your speech, for the gods are far stronger than men. I make you a present of this advice to repay you for the foot which you gave Ulysses when he was begging about in his own house.”
Thus spoke the stockman, and Ulysses struck the son of Damastor with a spear in close fight, while Telemachus hit Leocritus son of Evenor in the belly, and the dart went clean through him, so that he fell forward full on his face upon the ground. Then Minerva from her seat on the rafter held up her deadly aegis, and the hearts of the suitors quailed. They fled to the other end of the court like a herd of cattle maddened by the gadfly in early summer when the days are at their longest. As eagle-beaked, crook-taloned vultures from the mountains swoop down on the smaller birds that cower in flocks upon the ground, and kill them, for they cannot either fight or fly, and lookers on enjoy the sport — even so did Ulysses and his men fall upon the suitors and smite them on every side. They made a horrible groaning as their brains were being battered in, and the ground seethed with their blood.
Leiodes then caught the knees of Ulysses and said, “Ulysses I beseech you have mercy upon me and spare me. I never wronged any of the women in your house either in word or deed, and I tried to stop the others. I saw them, but they would not listen, and now they are paying for their folly. I was their sacrificing priest; if you kill me, I shall die without having done anything to deserve it, and shall have got no thanks for all the good that I did.”
Ulysses looked sternly at him and answered, “If you were their sacrificing priest, you must have prayed many a time that it might be long before I got home again, and that you might marry my wife and have children by her. Therefore you shall die.”
With these words he picked up the sword that Agelaus had dropped when he was being killed, and which was lying upon the ground. Then he struck Leiodes on the back of his neck, so that his head fell rolling in the dust while he was yet speaking.
The minstrel Phemius son of Terpes — he who had been forced by the suitors to sing to them — now tried to save his life. He was standing near towards the trap door, and held his lyre in his hand. He did not know whether to fly out of the cloister and sit down by the altar of Jove that was in the outer court, and on which both Laertes and Ulysses had offered up the thigh bones of many an ox, or whether to go straight up to Ulysses and embrace his knees, but in the end he deemed it best to embrace Ulysses’ knees. So he laid his lyre on the ground the ground between the mixing-bowl and the silver-studded seat; then going up to Ulysses he caught hold of his knees and said, “Ulysses, I beseech you have mercy on me and spare me. You will be sorry for it afterwards if you kill a bard who can sing both for gods and men as I can. I make all my lays myself, and heaven visits me with every kind of inspiration. I would sing to you as though you were a god, do not therefore be in such a hurry to cut my head off. Your own son Telemachus will tell you that I did not want to frequent your house and sing to the suitors after their meals, but they were too many and too strong for me, so they made me.”
Telemachus heard him, and at once went up to his father. “Hold!” he cried, “the man is guiltless, do him no hurt; and we will Medon too, who was always good to me when I was a boy, unless Philoetius or Eumaeus has already killed him, or he has fallen in your way when you were raging about the court.”
Medon caught these words of Telemachus, for he was crouching under a seat beneath which he had hidden by covering himself up with a freshly flayed heifer’s hide, so he threw off the hide, went up to Telemachus, and laid hold of his knees.
“Here I am, my dear sir,” said he, “stay your hand therefore, and tell your father, or he will kill me in his rage against the suitors for having wasted his substance and been so foolishly disrespectful to yourself.”
Ulysses smiled at him and answered, “Fear not; Telemachus has saved your life, that you may know in future, and tell other people, how greatly better good deeds prosper than evil ones. Go, therefore, outside the cloisters into the outer court, and be out of the way of the slaughter — you and the bard — while I finish my work here inside.”
The pair went into the outer court as fast as they could, and sat down by Jove’s great altar, looking fearfully round, and still expecting that they would be killed. Then Ulysses searched the whole court carefully over, to see if anyone had managed to hide himself and was still living, but he found them all lying in the dust and weltering in their blood. They were like fishes which fishermen have netted out of the sea, and thrown upon the beach to lie gasping for water till the heat of the sun makes an end of them. Even so were the suitors lying all huddled up one against the other.
Then Ulysses said to Telemachus, “Call nurse Euryclea; I have something to say to her.”
Telemachus went and knocked at the door of the women’s room. “Make haste,” said he, “you old woman who have been set over all the other women in the house. Come outside; my father wishes to speak to you.”
When Euryclea heard this she unfastened the door of the women’s room and came out, following Telemachus. She found Ulysses among the corpses bespattered with blood and filth like a lion that has just been devouring an ox, and his breast and both his cheeks are all bloody, so that he is a fearful sight; even so was Ulysses besmirched from head to foot with gore. When she saw all the corpses and such a quantity of blood, she was beginning to cry out for joy, for she saw that a great deed had been done; but Ulysses checked her, “Old woman,” said he, “rejoice in silence; restrain yourself, and do not make any noise about it; it is an unholy thing to vaunt over dead men. Heaven’s doom and their own evil deeds have brought these men to destruction, for they respected no man in the whole world, neither rich nor poor, who came near them, and they have come to a bad end as a punishment for their wickedness and folly. Now, however, tell me which of the women in the house have misconducted themselves, and who are innocent.”
“I will tell you the truth, my son,” answered Euryclea. “There are fifty women in the house whom we teach to do things, such as carding wool, and all kinds of household work. Of these, twelve in all have misbehaved, and have been wanting in respect to me, and also to Penelope. They showed no disrespect to Telemachus, for he has only lately grown and his mother never permitted him to give orders to the female servants; but let me go upstairs and tell your wife all that has happened, for some god has been sending her to sleep.”
“Do not wake her yet,” answered Ulysses, “but tell the women who have misconducted themselves to come to me.”
Euryclea left the cloister to tell the women, and make them come to Ulysses; in the meantime he called Telemachus, the stockman, and the swineherd. “Begin,” said he, “to remove the dead, and make the women help you. Then, get sponges and clean water to swill down the tables and seats. When you have thoroughly cleansed the whole cloisters, take the women into the space between the domed room and the wall of the outer court, and run them through with your swords till they are quite dead, and have forgotten all about love and the way in which they used to lie in secret with the suitors.”
On this the women came down in a body, weeping and wailing bitterly. First they carried the dead bodies out, and propped them up against one another in the gatehouse. Ulysses ordered them about and made them do their work quickly, so they had to carry the bodies out. When they had done this, they cleaned all the tables and seats with sponges and water, while Telemachus and the two others shovelled up the blood and dirt from the ground, and the women carried it all away and put it out of doors. Then when they had made the whole place quite clean and orderly, they took the women out and hemmed them in the narrow space between the wall of the domed room and that of the yard, so that they could not get away: and Telemachus said to the other two, “I shall not let these women die a clean death, for they were insolent to me and my mother, and used to sleep with the suitors.”
So saying he made a ship’s cable fast to one of the bearing-posts that supported the roof of the domed room, and secured it all around the building, at a good height, lest any of the women’s feet should touch the ground; and as thrushes or doves beat against a net that has been set for them in a thicket just as they were getting to their nest, and a terrible fate awaits them, even so did the women have to put their heads in nooses one after the other and die most miserably. Their feet moved convulsively for a while, but not for very long.
As for Melanthius, they took him through the cloister into the inner court. There they cut off his nose and his ears; they drew out his vitals and gave them to the dogs raw, and then in their fury they cut off his hands and his feet.
When they had done this they washed their hands and feet and went back into the house, for all was now over; and Ulysses said to the dear old nurse Euryclea, “Bring me sulphur, which cleanses all pollution, and fetch fire also that I may burn it, and purify the cloisters. Go, moreover, and tell Penelope to come here with her attendants, and also all the maid servants that are in the house.”
“All that you have said is true,” answered Euryclea, “but let me bring you some clean clothes — a shirt and cloak. Do not keep these rags on your back any longer. It is not right.”
“First light me a fire,” replied Ulysses.
She brought the fire and sulphur, as he had bidden her, and Ulysses thoroughly purified the cloisters and both the inner and outer courts. Then she went inside to call the women and tell them what had happened; whereon they came from their apartment with torches in their hands, and pressed round Ulysses to embrace him, kissing his head and shoulders and taking hold of his hands. It made him feel as if he should like to weep, for he remembered every one of them.  
EURYCLEA now went upstairs laughing to tell her mistress that her dear husband had come home. Her aged knees became young again and her feet were nimble for joy as she went up to her mistress and bent over her head to speak to her. “Wake up Penelope, my dear child,” she exclaimed, “and see with your own eyes something that you have been wanting this long time past. Ulysses has at last indeed come home again, and has killed the suitors who were giving so much trouble in his house, eating up his estate and ill-treating his son.”
“My good nurse,” answered Penelope, “you must be mad. The gods sometimes send some very sensible people out of their minds, and make foolish people become sensible. This is what they must have been doing to you; for you always used to be a reasonable person. Why should you thus mock me when I have trouble enough already — talking such nonsense, and waking me up out of a sweet sleep that had taken possession of my eyes and closed them? I have never slept so soundly from the day my poor husband went to that city with the ill-omened name. Go back again into the women’s room; if it had been any one else, who had woke me up to bring me such absurd news I should have sent her away with a severe scolding. As it is, your age shall protect you.”
“My dear child,” answered Euryclea, “I am not mocking you. It is quite true as I tell you that Ulysses is come home again. He was the stranger whom they all kept on treating so badly in the cloister. Telemachus knew all the time that he was come back, but kept his father’s secret that he might have his revenge on all these wicked people.
Then Penelope sprang up from her couch, threw her arms round Euryclea, and wept for joy. “But my dear nurse,” said she, “explain this to me; if he has really come home as you say, how did he manage to overcome the wicked suitors single handed, seeing what a number of them there always were?”
“I was not there,” answered Euryclea, “and do not know; I only heard them groaning while they were being killed. We sat crouching and huddled up in a corner of the women’s room with the doors closed, till your son came to fetch me because his father sent him. Then I found Ulysses standing over the corpses that were lying on the ground all round him, one on top of the other. You would have enjoyed it if you could have seen him standing there all bespattered with blood and filth, and looking just like a lion. But the corpses are now all piled up in the gatehouse that is in the outer court, and Ulysses has lit a great fire to purify the house with sulphur. He has sent me to call you, so come with me that you may both be happy together after all; for now at last the desire of your heart has been fulfilled; your husband is come home to find both wife and son alive and well, and to take his revenge in his own house on the suitors who behaved so badly to him.”
“’My dear nurse,” said Penelope, “do not exult too confidently over all this. You know how delighted every one would be to see Ulysses come home — more particularly myself, and the son who has been born to both of us; but what you tell me cannot be really true. It is some god who is angry with the suitors for their great wickedness, and has made an end of them; for they respected no man in the whole world, neither rich nor poor, who came near them, who came near them, and they have come to a bad end in consequence of their iniquity. Ulysses is dead far away from the Achaean land; he will never return home again.”
Then nurse Euryclea said, “My child, what are you talking about? but you were all hard of belief and have made up your mind that your husband is never coming, although he is in the house and by his own fire side at this very moment. Besides I can give you another proof; when I was washing him I perceived the scar which the wild boar gave him, and I wanted to tell you about it, but in his wisdom he would not let me, and clapped his hands over my mouth; so come with me and I will make this bargain with you — if I am deceiving you, you may have me killed by the most cruel death you can think of.”
“My dear nurse,” said Penelope, “however wise you may be you can hardly fathom the counsels of the gods. Nevertheless, we will go in search of my son, that I may see the corpses of the suitors, and the man who has killed them.”
On this she came down from her upper room, and while doing so she considered whether she should keep at a distance from her husband and question him, or whether she should at once go up to him and embrace him. When, however, she had crossed the stone floor of the cloister, she sat down opposite Ulysses by the fire, against the wall at right angles [to that by which she had entered], while Ulysses sat near one of the bearing-posts, looking upon the ground, and waiting to see what his wife would say to him when she saw him. For a long time she sat silent and as one lost in amazement. At one moment she looked him full in the face, but then again directly, she was misled by his shabby clothes and failed to recognize him, till Telemachus began to reproach her and said:
“Mother — but you are so hard that I cannot call you by such a name — why do you keep away from my father in this way? Why do you not sit by his side and begin talking to him and asking him questions? No other woman could bear to keep away from her husband when he had come back to her after twenty years of absence, and after having gone through so much; but your heart always was as hard as a stone.”
Penelope answered, “My son, I am so lost in astonishment that I can find no words in which either to ask questions or to answer them. I cannot even look him straight in the face. Still, if he really is Ulysses come back to his own home again, we shall get to understand one another better by and by, for there are tokens with which we two are alone acquainted, and which are hidden from all others.”
Ulysses smiled at this, and said to Telemachus, “Let your mother put me to any proof she likes; she will make up her mind about it presently. She rejects me for the moment and believes me to be somebody else, because I am covered with dirt and have such bad clothes on; let us, however, consider what we had better do next. When one man has killed another, even though he was not one who would leave many friends to take up his quarrel, the man who has killed him must still say good bye to his friends and fly the country; whereas we have been killing the stay of a whole town, and all the picked youth of Ithaca. I would have you consider this matter.”
“Look to it yourself, father,” answered Telemachus, “for they say you are the wisest counsellor in the world, and that there is no other mortal man who can compare with you. We will follow you with right good will, nor shall you find us fail you in so far as our strength holds out.”
“I will say what I think will be best,” answered Ulysses. “First wash and put your shirts on; tell the maids also to go to their own room and dress; Phemius shall then strike up a dance tune on his lyre, so that if people outside hear, or any of the neighbours, or some one going along the street happens to notice it, they may think there is a wedding in the house, and no rumours about the death of the suitors will get about in the town, before we can escape to the woods upon my own land. Once there, we will settle which of the courses heaven vouchsafes us shall seem wisest.”
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. First they washed and put their shirts on, while the women got ready. Then Phemius took his lyre and set them all longing for sweet song and stately dance. The house re-echoed with the sound of men and women dancing, and the people outside said, “I suppose the queen has been getting married at last. She ought to be ashamed of herself for not continuing to protect her husband’s property until he comes home.”
This was what they said, but they did not know what it was that had been happening. The upper servant Eurynome washed and anointed Ulysses in his own house and gave him a shirt and cloak, while Minerva made him look taller and stronger than before; she also made the hair grow thick on the top of his head, and flow down in curls like hyacinth blossoms; she glorified him about the head and shoulders just as a skilful workman who has studied art of all kinds under Vulcan or Minerva — and his work is full of beauty — enriches a piece of silver plate by gilding it. He came from the bath looking like one of the immortals, and sat down opposite his wife on the seat he had left. “My dear,” said he, “heaven has endowed you with a heart more unyielding than woman ever yet had. No other woman could bear to keep away from her husband when he had come back to her after twenty years of absence, and after having gone through so much. But come, nurse, get a bed ready for me; I will sleep alone, for this woman has a heart as hard as iron.”
“My dear,” answered Penelope, “I have no wish to set myself up, nor to depreciate you; but I am not struck by your appearance, for I very well remember what kind of a man you were when you set sail from Ithaca. Nevertheless, Euryclea, take his bed outside the bed chamber that he himself built. Bring the bed outside this room, and put bedding upon it with fleeces, good coverlets, and blankets.”
She said this to try him, but Ulysses was very angry and said, “Wife, I am much displeased at what you have just been saying. Who has been taking my bed from the place in which I left it? He must have found it a hard task, no matter how skilled a workman he was, unless some god came and helped him to shift it. There is no man living, however strong and in his prime, who could move it from its place, for it is a marvellous curiosity which I made with my very own hands. There was a young olive growing within the precincts of the house, in full vigour, and about as thick as a bearing-post. I built my room round this with strong walls of stone and a roof to cover them, and I made the doors strong and well-fitting. Then I cut off the top boughs of the olive tree and left the stump standing. This I dressed roughly from the root upwards and then worked with carpenter’s tools well and skilfully, straightening my work by drawing a line on the wood, and making it into a bed-prop. I then bored a hole down the middle, and made it the centre-post of my bed, at which I worked till I had finished it, inlaying it with gold and silver; after this I stretched a hide of crimson leather from one side of it to the other. So you see I know all about it, and I desire to learn whether it is still there, or whether any one has been removing it by cutting down the olive tree at its roots.”
When she heard the sure proofs Ulysses now gave her, she fairly broke down. She flew weeping to his side, flung her arms about his neck, and kissed him. “Do not be angry with me Ulysses,” she cried, “you, who are the wisest of mankind. We have suffered, both of us. Heaven has denied us the happiness of spending our youth, and of growing old, together; do not then be aggrieved or take it amiss that I did not embrace you thus as soon as I saw you. I have been shuddering all the time through fear that someone might come here and deceive me with a lying story; for there are many very wicked people going about. Jove’s daughter Helen would never have yielded herself to a man from a foreign country, if she had known that the sons of Achaeans would come after her and bring her back. Heaven put it in her heart to do wrong, and she gave no thought to that sin, which has been the source of all our sorrows. Now, however, that you have convinced me by showing that you know all about our bed (which no human being has ever seen but you and I and a single maid servant, the daughter of Actor, who was given me by my father on my marriage, and who keeps the doors of our room) hard of belief though I have been I can mistrust no longer.”
Then Ulysses in his turn melted, and wept as he clasped his dear and faithful wife to his bosom. As the sight of land is welcome to men who are swimming towards the shore, when Neptune has wrecked their ship with the fury of his winds and waves — a few alone reach the land, and these, covered with brine, are thankful when they find themselves on firm ground and out of danger — even so was her husband welcome to her as she looked upon him, and she could not tear her two fair arms from about his neck. Indeed they would have gone on indulging their sorrow till rosy-fingered morn appeared, had not Minerva determined otherwise, and held night back in the far west, while she would not suffer Dawn to leave Oceanus, nor to yoke the two steeds Lampus and Phaethon that bear her onward to break the day upon mankind.
At last, however, Ulysses said, “Wife, we have not yet reached the end of our troubles. I have an unknown amount of toil still to undergo. It is long and difficult, but I must go through with it, for thus the shade of Teiresias prophesied concerning me, on the day when I went down into Hades to ask about my return and that of my companions. But now let us go to bed, that we may lie down and enjoy the blessed boon of sleep.”
“You shall go to bed as soon as you please,” replied Penelope, “now that the gods have sent you home to your own good house and to your country. But as heaven has put it in your mind to speak of it, tell me about the task that lies before you. I shall have to hear about it later, so it is better that I should be told at once.”
“My dear,” answered Ulysses, “why should you press me to tell you? Still, I will not conceal it from you, though you will not like it. I do not like it myself, for Teiresias bade me travel far and wide, carrying an oar, till I came to a country where the people have never heard of the sea, and do not even mix salt with their food. They know nothing about ships, nor oars that are as the wings of a ship. He gave me this certain token which I will not hide from you. He said that a wayfarer should meet me and ask me whether it was a winnowing shovel that I had on my shoulder. On this, I was to fix my oar in the ground and sacrifice a ram, a bull, and a boar to Neptune; after which I was to go home and offer hecatombs to all the gods in heaven, one after the other. As for myself, he said that death should come to me from the sea, and that my life should ebb away very gently when I was full of years and peace of mind, and my people should bless me. All this, he said, should surely come to pass.”
And Penelope said, “If the gods are going to vouchsafe you a happier time in your old age, you may hope then to have some respite from misfortune.”
Thus did they converse. Meanwhile Eurynome and the nurse took torches and made the bed ready with soft coverlets; as soon as they had laid them, the nurse went back into the house to go to her rest, leaving the bed chamber woman Eurynome to show Ulysses and Penelope to bed by torch light. When she had conducted them to their room she went back, and they then came joyfully to the rites of their own old bed. Telemachus, Philoetius, and the swineherd now left off dancing, and made the women leave off also. They then laid themselves down to sleep in the cloisters.
When Ulysses and Penelope had had their fill of love they fell talking with one another. She told him how much she had had to bear in seeing the house filled with a crowd of wicked suitors who had killed so many sheep and oxen on her account, and had drunk so many casks of wine. Ulysses in his turn told her what he had suffered, and how much trouble he had himself given to other people. He told her everything, and she was so delighted to listen that she never went to sleep till he had ended his whole story.
He began with his victory over the Cicons, and how he thence reached the fertile land of the Lotus-eaters. He told her all about the Cyclops and how he had punished him for having so ruthlessly eaten his brave comrades; how he then went on to Aeolus, who received him hospitably and furthered him on his way, but even so he was not to reach home, for to his great grief a hurricane carried him out to sea again; how he went on to the Laestrygonian city Telepylos, where the people destroyed all his ships with their crews, save himself and his own ship only. Then he told of cunning Circe and her craft, and how he sailed to the chill house of Hades, to consult the ghost of the Theban prophet Teiresias, and how he saw his old comrades in arms, and his mother who bore him and brought him up when he was a child; how he then heard the wondrous singing of the Sirens, and went on to the wandering rocks and terrible Charybdis and to Scylla, whom no man had ever yet passed in safety; how his men then ate the cattle of the sun-god, and how Jove therefore struck the ship with his thunderbolts, so that all his men perished together, himself alone being left alive; how at last he reached the Ogygian island and the nymph Calypso, who kept him there in a cave, and fed him, and wanted him to marry her, in which case she intended making him immortal so that he should never grow old, but she could not persuade him to let her do so; and how after much suffering he had found his way to the Phaeacians, who had treated him as though he had been a god, and sent him back in a ship to his own country after having given him gold, bronze, and raiment in great abundance. This was the last thing about which he told her, for here a deep sleep took hold upon him and eased the burden of his sorrows.
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter. When she deemed that Ulysses had had both of his wife and of repose, she bade gold-enthroned Dawn rise out of Oceanus that she might shed light upon mankind. On this, Ulysses rose from his comfortable bed and said to Penelope, “Wife, we have both of us had our full share of troubles, you, here, in lamenting my absence, and I in being prevented from getting home though I was longing all the time to do so. Now, however, that we have at last come together, take care of the property that is in the house. As for the sheep and goats which the wicked suitors have eaten, I will take many myself by force from other people, and will compel the Achaeans to make good the rest till they shall have filled all my yards. I am now going to the wooded lands out in the country to see my father who has so long been grieved on my account, and to yourself I will give these instructions, though you have little need of them. At sunrise it will at once get abroad that I have been killing the suitors; go upstairs, therefore, and stay there with your women. See nobody and ask no questions.”
As he spoke he girded on his armour. Then he roused Telemachus, Philoetius, and Eumaeus, and told them all to put on their armour also. This they did, and armed themselves. When they had done so, they opened the gates and sallied forth, Ulysses leading the way. It was now daylight, but Minerva nevertheless concealed them in darkness and led them quickly out of the town.
THEN Mercury of Cyllene summoned the ghosts of the suitors, and in his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men’s eyes in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the ghosts and led them, while they followed whining and gibbering behind him. As bats fly squealing in the hollow of some great cave, when one of them has fallen out of the cluster in which they hang, even so did the ghosts whine and squeal as Mercury the healer of sorrow led them down into the dark abode of death. When they had passed the waters of Oceanus and the rock Leucas, they came to the gates of the sun and the land of dreams, whereon they reached the meadow of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of them that can labour no more.
Here they found the ghost of Achilles son of Peleus, with those of Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax, who was the finest and handsomest man of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus himself.
They gathered round the ghost of the son of Peleus, and the ghost of Agamemnon joined them, sorrowing bitterly. Round him were gathered also the ghosts of those who had perished with him in the house of Aeisthus; and the ghost of Achilles spoke first.
“Son of Atreus,” it said, “we used to say that Jove had loved you better from first to last than any other hero, for you were captain over many and brave men, when we were all fighting together before Troy; yet the hand of death, which no mortal can escape, was laid upon you all too early. Better for you had you fallen at Troy in the hey-day of your renown, for the Achaeans would have built a mound over your ashes, and your son would have been heir to your good name, whereas it has now been your lot to come to a most miserable end.”
“Happy son of Peleus,” answered the ghost of Agamemnon, “for having died at Troy far from Argos, while the bravest of the Trojans and the Achaeans fell round you fighting for your body. There you lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless now of your chivalry. We fought the whole of the livelong day, nor should we ever have left off if Jove had not sent a hurricane to stay us. Then, when we had borne you to the ships out of the fray, we laid you on your bed and cleansed your fair skin with warm water and with ointments. The Danaans tore their hair and wept bitterly round about you. Your mother, when she heard, came with her immortal nymphs from out of the sea, and the sound of a great wailing went forth over the waters so that the Achaeans quaked for fear. They would have fled panic-stricken to their ships had not wise old Nestor whose counsel was ever truest checked them saying, ‘Hold, Argives, fly not sons of the Achaeans, this is his mother coming from the sea with her immortal nymphs to view the body of her son.’
“Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans feared no more. The daughters of the old man of the sea stood round you weeping bitterly, and clothed you in immortal raiment. The nine muses also came and lifted up their sweet voices in lament — calling and answering one another; there was not an Argive but wept for pity of the dirge they chaunted. Days and nights seven and ten we mourned you, mortals and immortals, but on the eighteenth day we gave you to the flames, and many a fat sheep with many an ox did we slay in sacrifice around you. You were burnt in raiment of the gods, with rich resins and with honey, while heroes, horse and foot, clashed their armour round the pile as you were burning, with the tramp as of a great multitude. But when the flames of heaven had done their work, we gathered your white bones at daybreak and laid them in ointments and in pure wine. Your mother brought us a golden vase to hold them — gift of Bacchus, and work of Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of Patroclus who had gone before you, and separate we enclosed also those of Antilochus, who had been closer to you than any other of your comrades now that Patroclus was no more.
“Over these the host of the Argives built a noble tomb, on a point jutting out over the open Hellespont, that it might be seen from far out upon the sea by those now living and by them that shall be born hereafter. Your mother begged prizes from the gods, and offered them to be contended for by the noblest of the Achaeans. You must have been present at the funeral of many a hero, when the young men gird themselves and make ready to contend for prizes on the death of some great chieftain, but you never saw such prizes as silver-footed Thetis offered in your honour; for the gods loved you well. Thus even in death your fame, Achilles, has not been lost, and your name lives evermore among all mankind. But as for me, what solace had I when the days of my fighting were done? For Jove willed my destruction on my return, by the hands of Aegisthus and those of my wicked wife.”
Thus did they converse, and presently Mercury came up to them with the ghosts of the suitors who had been killed by Ulysses. The ghosts of Agamemnon and Achilles were astonished at seeing them, and went up to them at once. The ghost of Agamemnon recognized Amphimedon son of Melaneus, who lived in Ithaca and had been his host, so it began to talk to him.
“Amphimedon,” it said, “what has happened to all you fine young men — all of an age too — that you are come down here under the ground? One could pick no finer body of men from any city. Did Neptune raise his winds and waves against you when you were at sea, or did your enemies make an end of you on the mainland when you were cattle-lifting or sheep-stealing, or while fighting in defence of their wives and city? Answer my question, for I have been your guest. Do you not remember how I came to your house with Menelaus, to persuade Ulysses to join us with his ships against Troy? It was a whole month ere we could resume our voyage, for we had hard work to persuade Ulysses to come with us.”
And the ghost of Amphimedon answered, “Agamemnon, son of Atreus, king of men, I remember everything that you have said, and will tell you fully and accurately about the way in which our end was brought about. Ulysses had been long gone, and we were courting his wife, who did not say point blank that she would not marry, nor yet bring matters to an end, for she meant to compass our destruction: this, then, was the trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in her room and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework. ‘Sweethearts,’ said she, ‘Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not press me to marry again immediately; wait — for I would not have my skill in needlework perish unrecorded — till I have completed a pall for the hero Laertes, against the time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out without a pall.’ This is what she said, and we assented; whereupon we could see her working upon her great web all day long, but at night she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three years without our finding it out, but as time wore on and she was now in her fourth year, in the waning of moons and many days had been accomplished, one of her maids who knew what she was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work, so she had to finish it whether she would or no; and when she showed us the robe she had made, after she had had it washed, its splendour was as that of the sun or moon.
“Then some malicious god conveyed Ulysses to the upland farm where his swineherd lives. Thither presently came also his son, returning from a voyage to Pylos, and the two came to the town when they had hatched their plot for our destruction. Telemachus came first, and then after him, accompanied by the swineherd, came Ulysses, clad in rags and leaning on a staff as though he were some miserable old beggar. He came so unexpectedly that none of us knew him, not even the older ones among us, and we reviled him and threw things at him. He endured both being struck and insulted without a word, though he was in his own house; but when the will of Aegis-bearing Jove inspired him, he and Telemachus took the armour and hid it in an inner chamber, bolting the doors behind them. Then he cunningly made his wife offer his bow and a quantity of iron to be contended for by us ill-fated suitors; and this was the beginning of our end, for not one of us could string the bow — nor nearly do so. When it was about to reach the hands of Ulysses, we all of us shouted out that it should not be given him, no matter what he might say, but Telemachus insisted on his having it. When he had got it in his hands he strung it with ease and sent his arrow through the iron. Then he stood on the floor of the cloister and poured his arrows on the ground, glaring fiercely about him. First he killed Antinous, and then, aiming straight before him, he let fly his deadly darts and they fell thick on one another. It was plain that some one of the gods was helping them, for they fell upon us with might and main throughout the cloisters, and there was a hideous sound of groaning as our brains were being battered in, and the ground seethed with our blood. This, Agamemnon, is how we came by our end, and our bodies are lying still un-cared for in the house of Ulysses, for our friends at home do not yet know what has happened, so that they cannot lay us out and wash the black blood from our wounds, making moan over us according to the offices due to the departed.”
“Happy Ulysses, son of Laertes,” replied the ghost of Agamemnon, “you are indeed blessed in the possession of a wife endowed with such rare excellence of understanding, and so faithful to her wedded lord as Penelope the daughter of Icarius. The fame, therefore, of her virtue shall never die, and the immortals shall compose a song that shall be welcome to all mankind in honour of the constancy of Penelope. How far otherwise was the wickedness of the daughter of Tyndareus who killed her lawful husband; her song shall be hateful among men, for she has brought disgrace on all womankind even on the good ones.”
Thus did they converse in the house of Hades deep down within the bowels of the earth. Meanwhile Ulysses and the others passed out of the town and soon reached the fair and well-tilled farm of Laertes, which he had reclaimed with infinite labour. Here was his house, with a lean-to running all round it, where the slaves who worked for him slept and sat and ate, while inside the house there was an old Sicel woman, who looked after him in this his country-farm. When Ulysses got there, he said to his son and to the other two:
“Go to the house, and kill the best pig that you can find for dinner. Meanwhile I want to see whether my father will know me, or fail to recognize me after so long an absence.”
He then took off his armour and gave it to Eumaeus and Philoetius, who went straight on to the house, while he turned off into the vineyard to make trial of his father. As he went down into the great orchard, he did not see Dolius, nor any of his sons nor of the other bondsmen, for they were all gathering thorns to make a fence for the vineyard, at the place where the old man had told them; he therefore found his father alone, hoeing a vine. He had on a dirty old shirt, patched and very shabby; his legs were bound round with thongs of oxhide to save him from the brambles, and he also wore sleeves of leather; he had a goat skin cap on his head, and was looking very woe-begone. When Ulysses saw him so worn, so old and full of sorrow, he stood still under a tall pear tree and began to weep. He doubted whether to embrace him, kiss him, and tell him all about his having come home, or whether he should first question him and see what he would say. In the end he deemed it best to be crafty with him, so in this mind he went up to his father, who was bending down and digging about a plant.
“I see, sir,” said Ulysses, “that you are an excellent gardener — what pains you take with it, to be sure. There is not a single plant, not a fig tree, vine, olive, pear, nor flower bed, but bears the trace of your attention. I trust, however, that you will not be offended if I say that you take better care of your garden than of yourself. You are old, unsavoury, and very meanly clad. It cannot be because you are idle that your master takes such poor care of you, indeed your face and figure have nothing of the slave about them, and proclaim you of noble birth. I should have said that you were one of those who should wash well, eat well, and lie soft at night as old men have a right to do; but tell me, and tell me true, whose bondman are you, and in whose garden are you working? Tell me also about another matter. Is this place that I have come to really Ithaca? I met a man just now who said so, but he was a dull fellow, and had not the patience to hear my story out when I was asking him about an old friend of mine, whether he was still living, or was already dead and in the house of Hades. Believe me when I tell you that this man came to my house once when I was in my own country and never yet did any stranger come to me whom I liked better. He said that his family came from Ithaca and that his father was Laertes, son of Arceisius. I received him hospitably, making him welcome to all the abundance of my house, and when he went away I gave him all customary presents. I gave him seven talents of fine gold, and a cup of solid silver with flowers chased upon it. I gave him twelve light cloaks, and as many pieces of tapestry; I also gave him twelve cloaks of single fold, twelve rugs, twelve fair mantles, and an equal number of shirts. To all this I added four good looking women skilled in all useful arts, and I let him take his choice.”
His father shed tears and answered, “Sir, you have indeed come to the country that you have named, but it is fallen into the hands of wicked people. All this wealth of presents has been given to no purpose. If you could have found your friend here alive in Ithaca, he would have entertained you hospitably and would have required your presents amply when you left him — as would have been only right considering what you have already given him. But tell me, and tell me true, how many years is it since you entertained this guest — my unhappy son, as ever was? Alas! He has perished far from his own country; the fishes of the sea have eaten him, or he has fallen a prey to the birds and wild beasts of some continent. Neither his mother, nor I his father, who were his parents, could throw our arms about him and wrap him in his shroud, nor could his excellent and richly dowered wife Penelope bewail her husband as was natural upon his death bed, and close his eyes according to the offices due to the departed. But now, tell me truly for I want to know. Who and whence are you — tell me of your town and parents? Where is the ship lying that has brought you and your men to Ithaca? Or were you a passenger on some other man’s ship, and those who brought you here have gone on their way and left you?”
“I will tell you everything,” answered Ulysses, “quite truly. I come from Alybas, where I have a fine house. I am son of king Apheidas, who is the son of Polypemon. My own name is Eperitus; heaven drove me off my course as I was leaving Sicania, and I have been carried here against my will. As for my ship it is lying over yonder, off the open country outside the town, and this is the fifth year since Ulysses left my country. Poor fellow, yet the omens were good for him when he left me. The birds all flew on our right hands, and both he and I rejoiced to see them as we parted, for we had every hope that we should have another friendly meeting and exchange presents.”
A dark cloud of sorrow fell upon Laertes as he listened. He filled both hands with the dust from off the ground and poured it over his grey head, groaning heavily as he did so. The heart of Ulysses was touched, and his nostrils quivered as he looked upon his father; then he sprang towards him, flung his arms about him and kissed him, saying, “I am he, father, about whom you are asking — I have returned after having been away for twenty years. But cease your sighing and lamentation — we have no time to lose, for I should tell you that I have been killing the suitors in my house, to punish them for their insolence and crimes.”
“If you really are my son Ulysses,” replied Laertes, “and have come back again, you must give me such manifest proof of your identity as shall convince me.”
“First observe this scar,” answered Ulysses, “which I got from a boar’s tusk when I was hunting on Mount Parnassus. You and my mother had sent me to Autolycus, my mother’s father, to receive the presents which when he was over here he had promised to give me. Furthermore I will point out to you the trees in the vineyard which you gave me, and I asked you all about them as I followed you round the garden. We went over them all, and you told me their names and what they all were. You gave me thirteen pear trees, ten apple trees, and forty fig trees; you also said you would give me fifty rows of vines; there was corn planted between each row, and they yield grapes of every kind when the heat of heaven has been laid heavy upon them.”
Laertes’ strength failed him when he heard the convincing proofs which his son had given him. He threw his arms about him, and Ulysses had to support him, or he would have gone off into a swoon; but as soon as he came to, and was beginning to recover his senses, he said, “O father Jove, then you gods are still in Olympus after all, if the suitors have really been punished for their insolence and folly. Nevertheless, I am much afraid that I shall have all the townspeople of Ithaca up here directly, and they will be sending messengers everywhere throughout the cities of the Cephallenians.”
Ulysses answered, “Take heart and do not trouble yourself about that, but let us go into the house hard by your garden. I have already told Telemachus, Philoetius, and Eumaeus to go on there and get dinner ready as soon as possible.”
Thus conversing the two made their way towards the house. When they got there they found Telemachus with the stockman and the swineherd cutting up meat and mixing wine with water. Then the old Sicel woman took Laertes inside and washed him and anointed him with oil. She put him on a good cloak, and Minerva came up to him and gave him a more imposing presence, making him taller and stouter than before. When he came back his son was surprised to see him looking so like an immortal, and said to him, “My dear father, some one of the gods has been making you much taller and better-looking.”
Laertes answered, “Would, by Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, that I were the man I was when I ruled among the Cephallenians, and took Nericum, that strong fortress on the foreland. If I were still what I then was and had been in our house yesterday with my armour on, I should have been able to stand by you and help you against the suitors. I should have killed a great many of them, and you would have rejoiced to see it.”
Thus did they converse; but the others, when they had finished their work and the feast was ready, left off working, and took each his proper place on the benches and seats. Then they began eating; by and by old Dolius and his sons left their work and came up, for their mother, the Sicel woman who looked after Laertes now that he was growing old, had been to fetch them. When they saw Ulysses and were certain it was he, they stood there lost in astonishment; but Ulysses scolded them good-naturedly and said, “Sit down to your dinner, old man, and never mind about your surprise; we have been wanting to begin for some time and have been waiting for you.”
Then Dolius put out both his hands and went up to Ulysses. “Sir,” said he, seizing his master’s hand and kissing it at the wrist, “we have long been wishing you home: and now heaven has restored you to us after we had given up hoping. All hail, therefore, and may the gods prosper you. But tell me, does Penelope already know of your return, or shall we send some one to tell her?”
“Old man,” answered Ulysses, “she knows already, so you need not trouble about that.” On this he took his seat, and the sons of Dolius gathered round Ulysses to give him greeting and embrace him one after the other; then they took their seats in due order near Dolius their father.
While they were thus busy getting their dinner ready, Rumour went round the town, and noised abroad the terrible fate that had befallen the suitors; as soon, therefore, as the people heard of it they gathered from every quarter, groaning and hooting before the house of Ulysses. They took the dead away, buried every man his own, and put the bodies of those who came from elsewhere on board the fishing vessels, for the fishermen to take each of them to his own place. They then met angrily in the place of assembly, and when they were got together Eupeithes rose to speak. He was overwhelmed with grief for the death of his son Antinous, who had been the first man killed by Ulysses, so he said, weeping bitterly, “My friend, this man has done the Achaeans great wrong. He took many of our best men away with him in his fleet, and he has lost both ships and men; now, moreover, on his return he has been killing all the foremost men among the Cephallenians. Let us be up and doing before he can get away to Pylos or to Elis where the Epeans rule, or we shall be ashamed of ourselves for ever afterwards. It will be an everlasting disgrace to us if we do not avenge the murder of our sons and brothers. For my own part I should have no mote pleasure in life, but had rather die at once. Let us be up, then, and after them, before they can cross over to the mainland.”
He wept as he spoke and every one pitied him. But Medon and the bard Phemius had now woke up, and came to them from the house of Ulysses. Every one was astonished at seeing them, but they stood in the middle of the assembly, and Medon said, “Hear me, men of Ithaca. Ulysses did not do these things against the will of heaven. I myself saw an immortal god take the form of Mentor and stand beside him. This god appeared, now in front of him encouraging him, and now going furiously about the court and attacking the suitors whereon they fell thick on one another.”
On this pale fear laid hold of them, and old Halitherses, son of Mastor, rose to speak, for he was the only man among them who knew both past and future; so he spoke to them plainly and in all honesty, saying,
“Men of Ithaca, it is all your own fault that things have turned out as they have; you would not listen to me, nor yet to Mentor, when we bade you check the folly of your sons who were doing much wrong in the wantonness of their hearts — wasting the substance and dishonouring the wife of a chieftain who they thought would not return. Now, however, let it be as I say, and do as I tell you. Do not go out against Ulysses, or you may find that you have been drawing down evil on your own heads.”
This was what he said, and more than half raised a loud shout, and at once left the assembly. But the rest stayed where they were, for the speech of Halitherses displeased them, and they sided with Eupeithes; they therefore hurried off for their armour, and when they had armed themselves, they met together in front of the city, and Eupeithes led them on in their folly. He thought he was going to avenge the murder of his son, whereas in truth he was never to return, but was himself to perish in his attempt.
Then Minerva said to Jove, “Father, son of Saturn, king of kings, answer me this question — What do you propose to do? Will you set them fighting still further, or will you make peace between them?”
And Jove answered, “My child, why should you ask me? Was it not by your own arrangement that Ulysses came home and took his revenge upon the suitors? Do whatever you like, but I will tell you what I think will be most reasonable arrangement. Now that Ulysses is revenged, let them swear to a solemn covenant, in virtue of which he shall continue to rule, while we cause the others to forgive and forget the massacre of their sons and brothers. Let them then all become friends as heretofore, and let peace and plenty reign.”
This was what Minerva was already eager to bring about, so down she darted from off the topmost summits of Olympus.
Now when Laertes and the others had done dinner, Ulysses began by saying, “Some of you go out and see if they are not getting close up to us.” So one of Dolius’s sons went as he was bid. Standing on the threshold he could see them all quite near, and said to Ulysses, “Here they are, let us put on our armour at once.”
They put on their armour as fast as they could — that is to say Ulysses, his three men, and the six sons of Dolius. Laertes also and Dolius did the same — warriors by necessity in spite of their grey hair. When they had all put on their armour, they opened the gate and sallied forth, Ulysses leading the way.
Then Jove’s daughter Minerva came up to them, having assumed the form and voice of Mentor. Ulysses was glad when he saw her, and said to his son Telemachus, “Telemachus, now that are about to fight in an engagement, which will show every man’s mettle, be sure not to disgrace your ancestors, who were eminent for their strength and courage all the world over.”
“You say truly, my dear father,” answered Telemachus, “and you shall see, if you will, that I am in no mind to disgrace your family.”
Laertes was delighted when he heard this. “Good heavens, he exclaimed, “what a day I am enjoying: I do indeed rejoice at it. My son and grandson are vying with one another in the matter of valour.”
On this Minerva came close up to him and said, “Son of Arceisius — best friend I have in the world — pray to the blue-eyed damsel, and to Jove her father; then poise your spear and hurl it.”
As she spoke she infused fresh vigour into him, and when he had prayed to her he poised his spear and hurled it. He hit Eupeithes’ helmet, and the spear went right through it, for the helmet stayed it not, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground. Meantime Ulysses and his son fell the front line of the foe and smote them with their swords and spears; indeed, they would have killed every one of them, and prevented them from ever getting home again, only Minerva raised her voice aloud, and made every one pause. “Men of Ithaca,” she cried, cease this dreadful war, and settle the matter at once without further bloodshed.”
On this pale fear seized every one; they were so frightened that their arms dropped from their hands and fell upon the ground at the sound of the goddess’s voice, and they fled back to the city for their lives. But Ulysses gave a great cry, and gathering himself together swooped down like a soaring eagle. Then the son of Saturn sent a thunderbolt of fire that fell just in front of Minerva, so she said to Ulysses, “Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, stop this warful strife, or Jove will be angry with you.”
Thus spoke Minerva, and Ulysses obeyed her gladly. Then Minerva assumed the form and voice of Mentor, and presently made a covenant of peace between the two contending parties.
BUT as the sun was rising from the fair sea into the firmament of heaven to shed Blight on mortals and immortals, they reached Pylos the city of Neleus. Now the people of Pylos were gathered on the sea shore to offer sacrifice of black bulls to Neptune lord of the Earthquake. There were nine guilds with five hundred men in each, and there were nine bulls to each guild. As they were eating the inward meats and burning the thigh bones [on the embers] in the name of Neptune, Telemachus and his crew arrived, furled their sails, brought their ship to anchor, and went ashore.
Minerva led the way and Telemachus followed her. Presently she said, “Telemachus, you must not be in the least shy or nervous; you have taken this voyage to try and find out where your father is buried and how he came by his end; so go straight up to Nestor that we may see what he has got to tell us. Beg of him to speak the truth, and he will tell no lies, for he is an excellent person.”
“But how, Mentor,” replied Telemachus, “dare I go up to Nestor, and how am I to address him? I have never yet been used to holding long conversations with people, and am ashamed to begin questioning one who is so much older than myself.”
“Some things, Telemachus,” answered Minerva, “will be suggested to you by your own instinct, and heaven will prompt you further; for I am assured that the gods have been with you from the time of your birth until now.”
She then went quickly on, and Telemachus followed in her steps till they reached the place where the guilds of the Pylian people were assembled. There they found Nestor sitting with his sons, while his company round him were busy getting dinner ready, and putting pieces of meat on to the spits while other pieces were cooking. When they saw the strangers they crowded round them, took them by the hand and bade them take their places. Nestor’s son Pisistratus at once offered his hand to each of them, and seated them on some soft sheepskins that were lying on the sands near his father and his brother Thrasymedes. Then he gave them their portions of the inward meats and poured wine for them into a golden cup, handing it to Minerva first, and saluting her at the same time.
“Offer a prayer, sir,” said he, “to King Neptune, for it is his feast that you are joining; when you have duly prayed and made your drink-offering, pass the cup to your friend that he may do so also. I doubt not that he too lifts his hands in prayer, for man cannot live without God in the world. Still he is younger than you are, and is much of an age with myself, so I he handed I will give you the precedence.”
As he spoke he handed her the cup. Minerva thought it very right and proper of him to have given it to herself first; she accordingly began praying heartily to Neptune. “O thou,” she cried, “that encirclest the earth, vouchsafe to grant the prayers of thy servants that call upon thee. More especially we pray thee send down thy grace on Nestor and on his sons; thereafter also make the rest of the Pylian people some handsome return for the goodly hecatomb they are offering you. Lastly, grant Telemachus and myself a happy issue, in respect of the matter that has brought us in our to Pylos.”
When she had thus made an end of praying, she handed the cup to Telemachus and he prayed likewise. By and by, when the outer meats were roasted and had been taken off the spits, the carvers gave every man his portion and they all made an excellent dinner. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, Nestor, knight of Gerene, began to speak.
“Now,” said he, “that our guests have done their dinner, it will be best to ask them who they are. Who, then, sir strangers, are you, and from what port have you sailed? Are you traders? or do you sail the seas as rovers with your hand against every man, and every man’s hand against you?”
Telemachus answered boldly, for Minerva had given him courage to ask about his father and get himself a good name.
“Nestor,” said he, “son of Neleus, honour to the Achaean name, you ask whence we come, and I will tell you. We come from Ithaca under Neritum, and the matter about which I would speak is of private not public import. I seek news of my unhappy father Ulysses, who is said to have sacked the town of Troy in company with yourself. We know what fate befell each one of the other heroes who fought at Troy, but as regards Ulysses heaven has hidden from us the knowledge even that he is dead at all, for no one can certify us in what place he perished, nor say whether he fell in battle on the mainland, or was lost at sea amid the waves of Amphitrite. Therefore I am suppliant at your knees, if haply you may be pleased to tell me of his melancholy end, whether you saw it with your own eyes, or heard it from some other traveller, for he was a man born to trouble. Do not soften things out of any pity for me, but tell me in all plainness exactly what you saw. If my brave father Ulysses ever did you loyal service, either by word or deed, when you Achaeans were harassed among the Trojans, bear it in mind now as in my favour and tell me truly all.”
“My friend,” answered Nestor, “you recall a time of much sorrow to my mind, for the brave Achaeans suffered much both at sea, while privateering under Achilles, and when fighting before the great city of king Priam. Our best men all of them fell there — Ajax, Achilles, Patroclus peer of gods in counsel, and my own dear son Antilochus, a man singularly fleet of foot and in fight valiant. But we suffered much more than this; what mortal tongue indeed could tell the whole story? Though you were to stay here and question me for five years, or even six, I could not tell you all that the Achaeans suffered, and you would turn homeward weary of my tale before it ended. Nine long years did we try every kind of stratagem, but the hand of heaven was against us; during all this time there was no one who could compare with your father in subtlety — if indeed you are his son — I can hardly believe my eyes — and you talk just like him too — no one would say that people of such different ages could speak so much alike. He and I never had any kind of difference from first to last neither in camp nor council, but in singleness of heart and purpose we advised the Argives how all might be ordered for the best.
“When however, we had sacked the city of Priam, and were setting sail in our ships as heaven had dispersed us, then Jove saw fit to vex the Argives on their homeward voyage; for they had Not all been either wise or understanding, and hence many came to a bad end through the displeasure of Jove’s daughter Minerva, who brought about a quarrel between the two sons of Atreus.
“The sons of Atreus called a meeting which was not as it should be, for it was sunset and the Achaeans were heavy with wine. When they explained why they had called — the people together, it seemed that Menelaus was for sailing homeward at once, and this displeased Agamemnon, who thought that we should wait till we had offered hecatombs to appease the anger of Minerva. Fool that he was, he might have known that he would not prevail with her, for when the gods have made up their minds they do not change them lightly. So the two stood bandying hard words, whereon the Achaeans sprang to their feet with a cry that rent the air, and were of two minds as to what they should do.
“That night we rested and nursed our anger, for Jove was hatching mischief against us. But in the morning some of us drew our ships into the water and put our goods with our women on board, while the rest, about half in number, stayed behind with Agamemnon. We — the other half — embarked and sailed; and the ships went well, for heaven had smoothed the sea. When we reached Tenedos we offered sacrifices to the gods, for we were longing to get home; cruel Jove, however, did not yet mean that we should do so, and raised a second quarrel in the course of which some among us turned their ships back again, and sailed away under Ulysses to make their peace with Agamemnon; but I, and all the ships that were with me pressed forward, for I saw that mischief was brewing. The son of Tydeus went on also with me, and his crews with him. Later on Menelaus joined us at Lesbos, and found us making up our minds about our course — for we did not know whether to go outside Chios by the island of Psyra, keeping this to our left, or inside Chios, over against the stormy headland of Mimas. So we asked heaven for a sign, and were shown one to the effect that we should be soonest out of danger if we headed our ships across the open sea to Euboea. This we therefore did, and a fair wind sprang up which gave us a quick passage during the night to Geraestus, where we offered many sacrifices to Neptune for having helped us so far on our way. Four days later Diomed and his men stationed their ships in Argos, but I held on for Pylos, and the wind never fell light from the day when heaven first made it fair for me.
“Therefore, my dear young friend, I returned without hearing anything about the others. I know neither who got home safely nor who were lost but, as in duty bound, I will give you without reserve the reports that have reached me since I have been here in my own house. They say the Myrmidons returned home safely under Achilles’ son Neoptolemus; so also did the valiant son of Poias, Philoctetes. Idomeneus, again, lost no men at sea, and all his followers who escaped death in the field got safe home with him to Crete. No matter how far out of the world you live, you will have heard of Agamemnon and the bad end he came to at the hands of Aegisthus — and a fearful reckoning did Aegisthus presently pay. See what a good thing it is for a man to leave a son behind him to do as Orestes did, who killed false Aegisthus the murderer of his noble father. You too, then — for you are a tall, smart-looking fellow — show your mettle and make yourself a name in story.”
“Nestor son of Neleus,” answered Telemachus, “honour to the Achaean name, the Achaeans applaud Orestes and his name will live through all time for he has avenged his father nobly. Would that heaven might grant me to do like vengeance on the insolence of the wicked suitors, who are ill treating me and plotting my ruin; but the gods have no such happiness in store for me and for my father, so we must bear it as best we may.”
“My friend,” said Nestor, “now that you remind me, I remember to have heard that your mother has many suitors, who are ill disposed towards you and are making havoc of your estate. Do you submit to this tamely, or are public feeling and the voice of heaven against you? Who knows but what Ulysses may come back after all, and pay these scoundrels in full, either single-handed or with a force of Achaeans behind him? If Minerva were to take as great a liking to you as she did to Ulysses when we were fighting before Troy (for I never yet saw the gods so openly fond of any one as Minerva then was of your father), if she would take as good care of you as she did of him, these wooers would soon some of them him, forget their wooing.”
Telemachus answered, “I can expect nothing of the kind; it would be far too much to hope for. I dare not let myself think of it. Even though the gods themselves willed it no such good fortune could befall me.”
On this Minerva said, “Telemachus, what are you talking about? Heaven has a long arm if it is minded to save a man; and if it were me, I should not care how much I suffered before getting home, provided I could be safe when I was once there. I would rather this, than get home quickly, and then be killed in my own house as Agamemnon was by the treachery of Aegisthus and his wife. Still, death is certain, and when a man’s hour is come, not even the gods can save him, no matter how fond they are of him.”
“Mentor,” answered Telemachus, “do not let us talk about it any more. There is no chance of my father’s ever coming back; the gods have long since counselled his destruction. There is something else, however, about which I should like to ask Nestor, for he knows much more than any one else does. They say he has reigned for three generations so that it is like talking to an immortal. Tell me, therefore, Nestor, and tell me true; how did Agamemnon come to die in that way? What was Menelaus doing? And how came false Aegisthus to kill so far better a man than himself? Was Menelaus away from Achaean Argos, voyaging elsewhither among mankind, that Aegisthus took heart and killed Agamemnon?”
“I will tell you truly,” answered Nestor, “and indeed you have yourself divined how it all happened. If Menelaus when he got back from Troy had found Aegisthus still alive in his house, there would have been no barrow heaped up for him, not even when he was dead, but he would have been thrown outside the city to dogs and vultures, and not a woman would have mourned him, for he had done a deed of great wickedness; but we were over there, fighting hard at Troy, and Aegisthus who was taking his ease quietly in the heart of Argos, cajoled Agamemnon’s wife Clytemnestra with incessant flattery.
“At first she would have nothing to do with his wicked scheme, for she was of a good natural disposition; moreover there was a bard with her, to whom Agamemnon had given strict orders on setting out for Troy, that he was to keep guard over his wife; but when heaven had counselled her destruction, Aegisthus thus this bard off to a desert island and left him there for crows and seagulls to batten upon — after which she went willingly enough to the house of Aegisthus. Then he offered many burnt sacrifices to the gods, and decorated many temples with tapestries and gilding, for he had succeeded far beyond his expectations.
“Meanwhile Menelaus and I were on our way home from Troy, on good terms with one another. When we got to Sunium, which is the point of Athens, Apollo with his painless shafts killed Phrontis the steersman of Menelaus’ ship (and never man knew better how to handle a vessel in rough weather) so that he died then and there with the helm in his hand, and Menelaus, though very anxious to press forward, had to wait in order to bury his comrade and give him his due funeral rites. Presently, when he too could put to sea again, and had sailed on as far as the Malean heads, Jove counselled evil against him and made it it blow hard till the waves ran mountains high. Here he divided his fleet and took the one half towards Crete where the Cydonians dwell round about the waters of the river Iardanus. There is a high headland hereabouts stretching out into the sea from a place called Gortyn, and all along this part of the coast as far as Phaestus the sea runs high when there is a south wind blowing, but arter Phaestus the coast is more protected, for a small headland can make a great shelter. Here this part of the fleet was driven on to the rocks and wrecked; but the crews just managed to save themselves. As for the other five ships, they were taken by winds and seas to Egypt, where Menelaus gathered much gold and substance among people of an alien speech. Meanwhile Aegisthus here at home plotted his evil deed. For seven years after he had killed Agamemnon he ruled in Mycene, and the people were obedient under him, but in the eighth year Orestes came back from Athens to be his bane, and killed the murderer of his father. Then he celebrated the funeral rites of his mother and of false Aegisthus by a banquet to the people of Argos, and on that very day Menelaus came home, with as much treasure as his ships could carry.
“Take my advice then, and do not go travelling about for long so far from home, nor leave your property with such dangerous people in your house; they will eat up everything you have among them, and you will have been on a fool’s errand. Still, I should advise you by all means to go and visit Menelaus, who has lately come off a voyage among such distant peoples as no man could ever hope to get back from, when the winds had once carried him so far out of his reckoning; even birds cannot fly the distance in a twelvemonth, so vast and terrible are the seas that they must cross. Go to him, therefore, by sea, and take your own men with you; or if you would rather travel by land you can have a chariot, you can have horses, and here are my sons who can escort you to Lacedaemon where Menelaus lives. Beg of him to speak the truth, and he will tell you no lies, for he is an excellent person.”
As he spoke the sun set and it came on dark, whereon Minerva said, “Sir, all that you have said is well; now, however, order the tongues of the victims to be cut, and mix wine that we may make drink-offerings to Neptune, and the other immortals, and then go to bed, for it is bed time. People should go away early and not keep late hours at a religious festival.”
Thus spoke the daughter of Jove, and they obeyed her saying. Men servants poured water over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and water, and handed it round after giving every man his drink-offering; then they threw the tongues of the victims into the fire, and stood up to make their drink-offerings. When they had made their offerings and had drunk each as much as he was minded, Minerva and Telemachus were forgoing on board their ship, but Nestor caught them up at once and stayed them.
“Heaven and the immortal gods,” he exclaimed, “forbid that you should leave my house to go on board of a ship. Do you think I am so poor and short of clothes, or that I have so few cloaks and as to be unable to find comfortable beds both for myself and for my guests? Let me tell you I have store both of rugs and cloaks, and shall not permit the son of my old friend Ulysses to camp down on the deck of a ship — not while I live — nor yet will my sons after me, but they will keep open house as have done.”
Then Minerva answered, “Sir, you have spoken well, and it will be much better that Telemachus should do as you have said; he, therefore, shall return with you and sleep at your house, but I must go back to give orders to my crew, and keep them in good heart. I am the only older person among them; the rest are all young men of Telemachus’ own age, who have taken this voyage out of friendship; so I must return to the ship and sleep there. Moreover to-morrow I must go to the Cauconians where I have a large sum of money long owing to me. As for Telemachus, now that he is your guest, send him to Lacedaemon in a chariot, and let one of your sons go with him. Be pleased also to provide him with your best and fleetest horses.”
When she had thus spoken, she flew away in the form of an eagle, and all marvelled as they beheld it. Nestor was astonished, and took Telemachus by the hand. “My friend,” said he, “I see that you are going to be a great hero some day, since the gods wait upon you thus while you are still so young. This can have been none other of those who dwell in heaven than Jove’s redoubtable daughter, the Trito-born, who showed such favour towards your brave father among the Argives.” “Holy queen,” he continued, “vouchsafe to send down thy grace upon myself, my good wife, and my children. In return, I will offer you in sacrifice a broad-browed heifer of a year old, unbroken, and never yet brought by man under the yoke. I will gild her horns, and will offer her up to you in sacrifice.”
Thus did he pray, and Minerva heard his prayer. He then led the way to his own house, followed by his sons and sons-in-law. When they had got there and had taken their places on the benches and seats, he mixed them a bowl of sweet wine that was eleven years old when the housekeeper took the lid off the jar that held it. As he mixed the wine, he prayed much and made drink-offerings to Minerva, daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove. Then, when they had made their drink-offerings and had drunk each as much as he was minded, the others went home to bed each in his own abode; but Nestor put Telemachus to sleep in the room that was over the gateway along with Pisistratus, who was the only unmarried son now left him. As for himself, he slept in an inner room of the house, with the queen his wife by his side.
Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Nestor left his couch and took his seat on the benches of white and polished marble that stood in front of his house. Here aforetime sat Neleus, peer of gods in counsel, but he was now dead, and had gone to the house of Hades; so Nestor sat in his seat, sceptre in hand, as guardian of the public weal. His sons as they left their rooms gathered round him, Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymedes; the sixth son was Pisistratus, and when Telemachus joined them they made him sit with them. Nestor then addressed them.
“My sons,” said he, “make haste to do as I shall bid you. I wish first and foremost to propitiate the great goddess Minerva, who manifested herself visibly to me during yesterday’s festivities. Go, then, one or other of you to the plain, tell the stockman to look me out a heifer, and come on here with it at once. Another must go to Telemachus’s ship, and invite all the crew, leaving two men only in charge of the vessel. Some one else will run and fetch Laerceus the goldsmith to gild the horns of the heifer. The rest, stay all of you where you are; tell the maids in the house to prepare an excellent dinner, and to fetch seats, and logs of wood for a burnt offering. Tell them also — to bring me some clear spring water.”
On this they hurried off on their several errands. The heifer was brought in from the plain, and Telemachus’s crew came from the ship; the goldsmith brought the anvil, hammer, and tongs, with which he worked his gold, and Minerva herself came to the sacrifice. Nestor gave out the gold, and the smith gilded the horns of the heifer that the goddess might have pleasure in their beauty. Then Stratius and Echephron brought her in by the horns; Aretus fetched water from the house in a ewer that had a flower pattern on it, and in his other hand he held a basket of barley meal; sturdy Thrasymedes stood by with a sharp axe, ready to strike the heifer, while Perseus held a bucket. Then Nestor began with washing his hands and sprinkling the barley meal, and he offered many a prayer to Minerva as he threw a lock from the heifer’s head upon the fire.
When they had done praying and sprinkling the barley meal Thrasymedes dealt his blow, and brought the heifer down with a stroke that cut through the tendons at the base of her neck, whereon the daughters and daughters-in-law of Nestor, and his venerable wife Eurydice (she was eldest daughter to Clymenus) screamed with delight. Then they lifted the heifer’s head from off the ground, and Pisistratus cut her throat. When she had done bleeding and was quite dead, they cut her up. They cut out the thigh bones all in due course, wrapped them round in two layers of fat, and set some pieces of raw meat on the top of them; then Nestor laid them upon the wood fire and poured wine over them, while the young men stood near him with five-pronged spits in their hands. When the thighs were burned and they had tasted the inward meats, they cut the rest of the meat up small, put the pieces on the spits and toasted them over the fire.
Meanwhile lovely Polycaste, Nestor’s youngest daughter, washed Telemachus. When she had washed him and anointed him with oil, she brought him a fair mantle and shirt, and he looked like a god as he came from the bath and took his seat by the side of Nestor. When the outer meats were done they drew them off the spits and sat down to dinner where they were waited upon by some worthy henchmen, who kept pouring them out their wine in cups of gold. As soon as they had had had enough to eat and drink Nestor said, “Sons, put Telemachus’s horses to the chariot that he may start at once.”
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said, and yoked the fleet horses to the chariot. The housekeeper packed them up a provision of bread, wine, and sweetmeats fit for the sons of princes. Then Telemachus got into the chariot, while Pisistratus gathered up the reins and took his seat beside him. He lashed the horses on and they flew forward nothing loth into the open country, leaving the high citadel of Pylos behind them. All that day did they travel, swaying the yoke upon their necks till the sun went down and darkness was over all the land. Then they reached Pherae where Diocles lived, who was son to Ortilochus and grandson to Alpheus. Here they passed the night and Diocles entertained them hospitably. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn; appeared, they again yoked their horses and drove out through the gateway under the echoing gatehouse. Pisistratus lashed the horses on and they flew forward nothing loth; presently they came to the corn lands Of the open country, and in the course of time completed their journey, so well did their steeds take them.
Now when the sun had set and darkness was over the land,
THEY reached the low lying city of Lacedaemon them where they drove straight to the of abode Menelaus [and found him in his own house, feasting with his many clansmen in honour of the wedding of his son, and also of his daughter, whom he was marrying to the son of that valiant warrior Achilles. He had given his consent and promised her to him while he was still at Troy, and now the gods were bringing the marriage about; so he was sending her with chariots and horses to the city of the Myrmidons over whom Achilles’ son was reigning. For his only son he had found a bride from Sparta, daughter of Alector. This son, Megapenthes, was born to him of a bondwoman, for heaven vouchsafed Helen no more children after she had borne Hermione, who was fair as golden Venus herself.
So the neighbours and kinsmen of Menelaus were feasting and making merry in his house. There was a bard also to sing to them and play his lyre, while two tumblers went about performing in the midst of them when the man struck up with his tune.]
Telemachus and the son of Nestor stayed their horses at the gate, whereon Eteoneus servant to Menelaus came out, and as soon as he saw them ran hurrying back into the house to tell his Master. He went close up to him and said, “Menelaus, there are some strangers come here, two men, who look like sons of Jove. What are we to do? Shall we take their horses out, or tell them to find friends elsewhere as they best can?”
Menelaus was very angry and said, “Eteoneus, son of Boethous, you never used to be a fool, but now you talk like a simpleton. Take their horses out, of course, and show the strangers in that they may have supper; you and I have stayed often enough at other people’s houses before we got back here, where heaven grant that we may rest in peace henceforward.”
So Eteoneus bustled back and bade other servants come with him. They took their sweating hands from under the yoke, made them fast to the mangers, and gave them a feed of oats and barley mixed. Then they leaned the chariot against the end wall of the courtyard, and led the way into the house. Telemachus and Pisistratus were astonished when they saw it, for its splendour was as that of the sun and moon; then, when they had admired everything to their heart’s content, they went into the bath room and washed themselves.
When the servants had washed them and anointed them with oil, they brought them woollen cloaks and shirts, and the two took their seats by the side of Menelaus. A maidservant brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands; and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread, and offered them many good things of what there was in the house, while the carver fetched them plates of all manner of meats and set cups of gold by their side.
Menelaus then greeted them saying, “Fall to, and welcome; when you have done supper I shall ask who you are, for the lineage of such men as you cannot have been lost. You must be descended from a line of sceptre-bearing kings, for poor people do not have such sons as you are.”
On this he handed them a piece of fat roast loin, which had been set near him as being a prime part, and they laid their hands on the good things that were before them; as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, Telemachus said to the son of Nestor, with his head so close that no one might hear, “Look, Pisistratus, man after my own heart, see the gleam of bronze and gold — of amber, ivory, and silver. Everything is so splendid that it is like seeing the palace of Olympian Jove. I am lost in admiration.”
Menelaus overheard him and said, “No one, my sons, can hold his own with Jove, for his house and everything about him is immortal; but among mortal men — well, there may be another who has as much wealth as I have, or there may not; but at all events I have travelled much and have undergone much hardship, for it was nearly eight years before I could get home with my fleet. I went to Cyprus, Phoenicia and the Egyptians; I went also to the Ethiopians, the Sidonians, and the Erembians, and to Libya where the lambs have horns as soon as they are born, and the sheep lamb down three times a year. Every one in that country, whether master or man, has plenty of cheese, meat, and good milk, for the ewes yield all the year round. But while I was travelling and getting great riches among these people, my brother was secretly and shockingly murdered through the perfidy of his wicked wife, so that I have no pleasure in being lord of all this wealth. Whoever your parents may be they must have told you about all this, and of my heavy loss in the ruin of a stately mansion fully and magnificently furnished. Would that I had only a third of what I now have so that I had stayed at home, and all those were living who perished on the plain of Troy, far from Argos. I of grieve, as I sit here in my house, for one and all of them. At times I cry aloud for sorrow, but presently I leave off again, for crying is cold comfort and one soon tires of it. Yet grieve for these as I may, I do so for one man more than for them all. I cannot even think of him without loathing both food and sleep, so miserable does he make me, for no one of all the Achaeans worked so hard or risked so much as he did. He took nothing by it, and has left a legacy of sorrow to myself, for he has been gone a long time, and we know not whether he is alive or dead. His old father, his long-suffering wife Penelope, and his son Telemachus, whom he left behind him an infant in arms, are plunged in grief on his account.”
Thus spoke Menelaus, and the heart of Telemachus yearned as he bethought him of his father. Tears fell from his eyes as he heard him thus mentioned, so that he held his cloak before his face with both hands. When Menelaus saw this he doubted whether to let him choose his own time for speaking, or to ask him at once and find what it was all about.
While he was thus in two minds Helen came down from her high vaulted and perfumed room, looking as lovely as Diana herself. Adraste brought her a seat, Alcippe a soft woollen rug while Phylo fetched her the silver work-box which Alcandra wife of Polybus had given her. Polybus lived in Egyptian Thebes, which is the richest city in the whole world; he gave Menelaus two baths, both of pure silver, two tripods, and ten talents of gold; besides all this, his wife gave Helen some beautiful presents, to wit, a golden distaff, and a silver work-box that ran on wheels, with a gold band round the top of it. Phylo now placed this by her side, full of fine spun yarn, and a distaff charged with violet coloured wool was laid upon the top of it. Then Helen took her seat, put her feet upon the footstool, and began to question her husband.
“Do we know, Menelaus,” said she, “the names of these strangers who have come to visit us? Shall I guess right or wrong?-but I cannot help saying what I think. Never yet have I seen either man or woman so like somebody else (indeed when I look at him I hardly know what to think) as this young man is like Telemachus, whom Ulysses left as a baby behind him, when you Achaeans went to Troy with battle in your hearts, on account of my most shameless self.”
“My dear wife,” replied Menelaus, “I see the likeness just as you do. His hands and feet are just like Ulysses’; so is his hair, with the shape of his head and the expression of his eyes. Moreover, when I was talking about Ulysses, and saying how much he had suffered on my account, tears fell from his eyes, and he hid his face in his mantle.”
Then Pisistratus said, “Menelaus, son of Atreus, you are right in thinking that this young man is Telemachus, but he is very modest, and is ashamed to come here and begin opening up discourse with one whose conversation is so divinely interesting as your own. My father, Nestor, sent me to escort him hither, for he wanted to know whether you could give him any counsel or suggestion. A son has always trouble at home when his father has gone away leaving him without supporters; and this is how Telemachus is now placed, for his father is absent, and there is no one among his own people to stand by him.”
“Bless my heart,” replied Menelaus, “then I am receiving a visit from the son of a very dear friend, who suffered much hardship for my sake. I had always hoped to entertain him with most marked distinction when heaven had granted us a safe return from beyond the seas. I should have founded a city for him in Argos, and built him a house. I should have made him leave Ithaca with his goods, his son, and all his people, and should have sacked for them some one of the neighbouring cities that are subject to me. We should thus have seen one another continually, and nothing but death could have interrupted so close and happy an intercourse. I suppose, however, that heaven grudged us such great good fortune, for it has prevented the poor fellow from ever getting home at all.”
Thus did he speak, and his words set them all a weeping. Helen wept, Telemachus wept, and so did Menelaus, nor could Pisistratus keep his eyes from filling, when he remembered his dear brother Antilochus whom the son of bright Dawn had killed. Thereon he said to Menelaus,
“Sir, my father Nestor, when we used to talk about you at home, told me you were a person of rare and excellent understanding. If, then, it be possible, do as I would urge you. I am not fond of crying while I am getting my supper. Morning will come in due course, and in the forenoon I care not how much I cry for those that are dead and gone. This is all we can do for the poor things. We can only shave our heads for them and wring the tears from our cheeks. I had a brother who died at Troy; he was by no means the worst man there; you are sure to have known him — his name was Antilochus; I never set eyes upon him myself, but they say that he was singularly fleet of foot and in fight valiant.”
“Your discretion, my friend,” answered Menelaus, “is beyond your years. It is plain you take after your father. One can soon see when a man is son to one whom heaven has blessed both as regards wife and offspring — and it has blessed Nestor from first to last all his days, giving him a green old age in his own house, with sons about him who are both we disposed and valiant. We will put an end therefore to all this weeping, and attend to our supper again. Let water be poured over our hands. Telemachus and I can talk with one another fully in the morning.”
On this Asphalion, one of the servants, poured water over their hands and they laid their hands on the good things that were before them.
Then Jove’s daughter Helen bethought her of another matter. She drugged the wine with an herb that banishes all care, sorrow, and ill humour. Whoever drinks wine thus drugged cannot shed a single tear all the rest of the day, not even though his father and mother both of them drop down dead, or he sees a brother or a son hewn in pieces before his very eyes. This drug, of such sovereign power and virtue, had been given to Helen by Polydamna wife of Thon, a woman of Egypt, where there grow all sorts of herbs, some good to put into the mixing-bowl and others poisonous. Moreover, every one in the whole country is a skilled physician, for they are of the race of Paeeon. When Helen had put this drug in the bowl, and had told the servants to serve the wine round, she said:
“Menelaus, son of Atreus, and you my good friends, sons of honourable men (which is as Jove wills, for he is the giver both of good and evil, and can do what he chooses), feast here as you will, and listen while I tell you a tale in season. I cannot indeed name every single one of the exploits of Ulysses, but I can say what he did when he was before Troy, and you Achaeans were in all sorts of difficulties. He covered himself with wounds and bruises, dressed himself all in rags, and entered the enemy’s city looking like a menial or a beggar. and quite different from what he did when he was among his own people. In this disguise he entered the city of Troy, and no one said anything to him. I alone recognized him and began to question him, but he was too cunning for me. When, however, I had washed and anointed him and had given him clothes, and after I had sworn a solemn oath not to betray him to the Trojans till he had got safely back to his own camp and to the ships, he told me all that the Achaeans meant to do. He killed many Trojans and got much information before he reached the Argive camp, for all which things the Trojan women made lamentation, but for my own part I was glad, for my heart was beginning to oam after my home, and I was unhappy about wrong that Venus had done me in taking me over there, away from my country, my girl, and my lawful wedded husband, who is indeed by no means deficient either in person or understanding.”
Then Menelaus said, “All that you have been saying, my dear wife, is true. I have travelled much, and have had much to do with heroes, but I have never seen such another man as Ulysses. What endurance too, and what courage he displayed within the wooden horse, wherein all the bravest of the Argives were lying in wait to bring death and destruction upon the Trojans. At that moment you came up to us; some god who wished well to the Trojans must have set you on to it and you had Deiphobus with you. Three times did you go all round our hiding place and pat it; you called our chiefs each by his own name, and mimicked all our wives — Diomed, Ulysses, and I from our seats inside heard what a noise you made. Diomed and I could not make up our minds whether to spring out then and there, or to answer you from inside, but Ulysses held us all in check, so we sat quite still, all except Anticlus, who was beginning to answer you, when Ulysses clapped his two brawny hands over his mouth, and kept them there. It was this that saved us all, for he muzzled Anticlus till Minerva took you away again.”
“How sad,” exclaimed Telemachus, “that all this was of no avail to save him, nor yet his own iron courage. But now, sir, be pleased to send us all to bed, that we may lie down and enjoy the blessed boon of sleep.”
On this Helen told the maid servants to set beds in the room that was in the gatehouse, and to make them with good red rugs, and spread coverlets on the top of them with woollen cloaks for the guests to wear. So the maids went out, carrying a torch, and made the beds, to which a man-servant presently conducted the strangers. Thus, then, did Telemachus and Pisistratus sleep there in the forecourt, while the son of Atreus lay in an inner room with lovely Helen by his side.
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Menelaus rose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet, girded his sword about his shoulders, and left his room looking like an immortal god. Then, taking a seat near Telemachus he said:
“And what, Telemachus, has led you to take this long sea voyage to Lacedaemon? Are you on public or private business? Tell me all about it.”
“I have come, sir replied Telemachus, “to see if you can tell me anything about my father. I am being eaten out of house and home; my fair estate is being wasted, and my house is full of miscreants who keep killing great numbers of my sheep and oxen, on the pretence of paying their addresses to my mother. Therefore, I am suppliant at your knees if haply you may tell me about my father’s melancholy end, whether you saw it with your own eyes, or heard it from some other traveller; for he was a man born to trouble. Do not soften things out of any pity for myself, but tell me in all plainness exactly what you saw. If my brave father Ulysses ever did you loyal service either by word or deed, when you Achaeans were harassed by the Trojans, bear it in mind now as in my favour and tell me truly all.”
Menelaus on hearing this was very much shocked. “So,” he exclaimed, “these cowards would usurp a brave man’s bed? A hind might as well lay her new born young in the lair of a lion, and then go off to feed in the forest or in some grassy dell: the lion when he comes back to his lair will make short work with the pair of them — and so will Ulysses with these suitors. By father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, if Ulysses is still the man that he was when he wrestled with Philomeleides in Lesbos, and threw him so heavily that all the Achaeans cheered him — if he is still such and were to come near these suitors, they would have a short shrift and a sorry wedding. As regards your questions, however, I will not prevaricate nor deceive you, but will tell you without concealment all that the old man of the sea told me.
“I was trying to come on here, but the gods detained me in Egypt, for my hecatombs had not given them full satisfaction, and the gods are very strict about having their dues. Now off Egypt, about as far as a ship can sail in a day with a good stiff breeze behind her, there is an island called Pharos — it has a good harbour from which vessels can get out into open sea when they have taken in water — and the gods becalmed me twenty days without so much as a breath of fair wind to help me forward. We should have run clean out of provisions and my men would have starved, if a goddess had not taken pity upon me and saved me in the person of Idothea, daughter to Proteus, the old man of the sea, for she had taken a great fancy to me.
“She came to me one day when I was by myself, as I often was, for the men used to go with their barbed hooks, all over the island in the hope of catching a fish or two to save them from the pangs of hunger. ‘Stranger,’ said she, ‘it seems to me that you like starving in this way — at any rate it does not greatly trouble you, for you stick here day after day, without even trying to get away though your men are dying by inches.’
“’Let me tell you,’ said I, ‘whichever of the goddesses you may happen to be, that I am not staying here of my own accord, but must have offended the gods that live in heaven. Tell me, therefore, for the gods know everything. which of the immortals it is that is hindering me in this way, and tell me also how I may sail the sea so as to reach my home.’
“’Stranger,’ replied she, ‘I will make it all quite clear to you. There is an old immortal who lives under the sea hereabouts and whose name is Proteus. He is an Egyptian, and people say he is my father; he is Neptune’s head man and knows every inch of ground all over the bottom of the sea. If you can snare him and hold him tight, he will tell you about your voyage, what courses you are to take, and how you are to sail the sea so as to reach your home. He will also tell you, if you so will, all that has been going on at your house both good and bad, while you have been away on your long and dangerous journey.’
“’Can you show me,’ said I, ‘some stratagem by means of which I may catch this old god without his suspecting it and finding me out? For a god is not easily caught — not by a mortal man.’
“’Stranger,’ said she, ‘I will make it all quite clear to you. About the time when the sun shall have reached mid heaven, the old man of the sea comes up from under the waves, heralded by the West wind that furs the water over his head. As soon as he has come up he lies down, and goes to sleep in a great sea cave, where the seals — Halosydne’s chickens as they call them — come up also from the grey sea, and go to sleep in shoals all round him; and a very strong and fish-like smell do they bring with them. Early to-morrow morning I will take you to this place and will lay you in ambush. Pick out, therefore, the three best men you have in your fleet, and I will tell you all the tricks that the old man will play you.
“’First he will look over all his seals, and count them; then, when he has seen them and tallied them on his five fingers, he will go to sleep among them, as a shepherd among his sheep. The moment you see that he is asleep seize him; put forth all your strength and hold him fast, for he will do his very utmost to get away from you. He will turn himself into every kind of creature that goes upon the earth, and will become also both fire and water; but you must hold him fast and grip him tighter and tighter, till he begins to talk to you and comes back to what he was when you saw him go to sleep; then you may slacken your hold and let him go; and you can ask him which of the gods it is that is angry with you, and what you must do to reach your home over the seas.’
“Having so said she dived under the waves, whereon I turned back to the place where my ships were ranged upon the shore; and my heart was clouded with care as I went along. When I reached my ship we got supper ready, for night was falling, and camped down upon the beach.
“When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, I took the three men on whose prowess of all kinds I could most rely, and went along by the sea-side, praying heartily to heaven. Meanwhile the goddess fetched me up four seal skins from the bottom of the sea, all of them just skinned, for she meant playing a trick upon her father. Then she dug four pits for us to lie in, and sat down to wait till we should come up. When we were close to her, she made us lie down in the pits one after the other, and threw a seal skin over each of us. Our ambuscade would have been intolerable, for the stench of the fishy seals was most distressing — who would go to bed with a sea monster if he could help it?-but here, too, the goddess helped us, and thought of something that gave us great relief, for she put some ambrosia under each man’s nostrils, which was so fragrant that it killed the smell of the seals.
“We waited the whole morning and made the best of it, watching the seals come up in hundreds to bask upon the sea shore, till at noon the old man of the sea came up too, and when he had found his fat seals he went over them and counted them. We were among the first he counted, and he never suspected any guile, but laid himself down to sleep as soon as he had done counting. Then we rushed upon him with a shout and seized him; on which he began at once with his old tricks, and changed himself first into a lion with a great mane; then all of a sudden he became a dragon, a leopard, a wild boar; the next moment he was running water, and then again directly he was a tree, but we stuck to him and never lost hold, till at last the cunning old creature became distressed, and said, Which of the gods was it, Son of Atreus, that hatched this plot with you for snaring me and seizing me against my will? What do you want?’
“’You know that yourself, old man,’ I answered, ‘you will gain nothing by trying to put me off. It is because I have been kept so long in this island, and see no sign of my being able to get away. I am losing all heart; tell me, then, for you gods know everything, which of the immortals it is that is hindering me, and tell me also how I may sail the sea so as to reach my home?’
“Then,’ he said, ‘if you would finish your voyage and get home quickly, you must offer sacrifices to Jove and to the rest of the gods before embarking; for it is decreed that you shall not get back to your friends, and to your own house, till you have returned to the heaven fed stream of Egypt, and offered holy hecatombs to the immortal gods that reign in heaven. When you have done this they will let you finish your voyage.’
“I was broken hearted when I heard that I must go back all that long and terrible voyage to Egypt; nevertheless, I answered, ‘I will do all, old man, that you have laid upon me; but now tell me, and tell me true, whether all the Achaeans whom Nestor and I left behind us when we set sail from Troy have got home safely, or whether any one of them came to a bad end either on board his own ship or among his friends when the days of his fighting were done.’
“’Son of Atreus,’ he answered, ‘why ask me? You had better not know what I can tell you, for your eyes will surely fill when you have heard my story. Many of those about whom you ask are dead and gone, but many still remain, and only two of the chief men among the Achaeans perished during their return home. As for what happened on the field of battle — you were there yourself. A third Achaean leader is still at sea, alive, but hindered from returning. Ajax was wrecked, for Neptune drove him on to the great rocks of Gyrae; nevertheless, he let him get safe out of the water, and in spite of all Minerva’s hatred he would have escaped death, if he had not ruined himself by boasting. He said the gods could not drown him even though they had tried to do so, and when Neptune heard this large talk, he seized his trident in his two brawny hands, and split the rock of Gyrae in two pieces. The base remained where it was, but the part on which Ajax was sitting fell headlong into the sea and carried Ajax with it; so he drank salt water and was drowned.
“’Your brother and his ships escaped, for Juno protected him, but when he was just about to reach the high promontory of Malea, he was caught by a heavy gale which carried him out to sea again sorely against his will, and drove him to the foreland where Thyestes used to dwell, but where Aegisthus was then living. By and by, however, it seemed as though he was to return safely after all, for the gods backed the wind into its old quarter and they reached home; whereon Agamemnon kissed his native soil, and shed tears of joy at finding himself in his own country.
“’Now there was a watchman whom Aegisthus kept always on the watch, and to whom he had promised two talents of gold. This man had been looking out for a whole year to make sure that Agamemnon did not give him the slip and prepare war; when, therefore, this man saw Agamemnon go by, he went and told Aegisthus who at once began to lay a plot for him. He picked twenty of his bravest warriors and placed them in ambuscade on one side the cloister, while on the opposite side he prepared a banquet. Then he sent his chariots and horsemen to Agamemnon, and invited him to the feast, but he meant foul play. He got him there, all unsuspicious of the doom that was awaiting him, and killed him when the banquet was over as though he were butchering an ox in the shambles; not one of Agamemnon’s followers was left alive, nor yet one of Aegisthus’, but they were all killed there in the cloisters.’
“Thus spoke Proteus, and I was broken hearted as I heard him. I sat down upon the sands and wept; I felt as though I could no longer bear to live nor look upon the light of the sun. Presently, when I had had my fill of weeping and writhing upon the ground, the old man of the sea said, ‘Son of Atreus, do not waste any more time in crying so bitterly; it can do no manner of good; find your way home as fast as ever you can, for Aegisthus be still alive, and even though Orestes has beforehand with you in kilting him, you may yet come in for his funeral.’
“On this I took comfort in spite of all my sorrow, and said, ‘I know, then, about these two; tell me, therefore, about the third man of whom you spoke; is he still alive, but at sea, and unable to get home? or is he dead? Tell me, no matter how much it may grieve me.’
“’The third man,’ he answered, ‘is Ulysses who dwells in Ithaca. I can see him in an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph Calypso, who is keeping him prisoner, and he cannot reach his home for he has no ships nor sailors to take him over the sea. As for your own end, Menelaus, you shall not die in Argos, but the gods will take you to the Elysian plain, which is at the ends of the world. There fair-haired Rhadamanthus reigns, and men lead an easier life than any where else in the world, for in Elysium there falls not rain, nor hail, nor snow, but Oceanus breathes ever with a West wind that sings softly from the sea, and gives fresh life to all men. This will happen to you because you have married Helen, and are Jove’s son-in-law.’
“As he spoke he dived under the waves, whereon I turned back to the ships with my companions, and my heart was clouded with care as I went along. When we reached the ships we got supper ready, for night was falling, and camped down upon the beach. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, we drew our ships into the water, and put our masts and sails within them; then we went on board ourselves, took our seats on the benches, and smote the grey sea with our oars. I again stationed my ships in the heaven-fed stream of Egypt, and offered hecatombs that were full and sufficient. When I had thus appeased heaven’s anger, I raised a barrow to the memory of Agamemnon that his name might live for ever, after which I had a quick passage home, for the gods sent me a fair wind.
“And now for yourself — stay here some ten or twelve days longer, and I will then speed you on your way. I will make you a noble present of a chariot and three horses. I will also give you a beautiful chalice that so long as you live you may think of me whenever you make a drink-offering to the immortal gods.”
“Son of Atreus,” replied Telemachus, “do not press me to stay longer; I should be contented to remain with you for another twelve months; I find your conversation so delightful that I should never once wish myself at home with my parents; but my crew whom I have left at Pylos are already impatient, and you are detaining me from them. As for any present you may be disposed to make me, I had rather that it should he a piece of plate. I will take no horses back with me to Ithaca, but will leave them to adorn your own stables, for you have much flat ground in your kingdom where lotus thrives, as also meadowsweet and wheat and barley, and oats with their white and spreading ears; whereas in Ithaca we have neither open fields nor racecourses, and the country is more fit for goats than horses, and I like it the better for that. None of our islands have much level ground, suitable for horses, and Ithaca least of all.”
Menelaus smiled and took Telemachus’s hand within his own. “What you say,” said he, “shows that you come of good family. I both can, and will, make this exchange for you, by giving you the finest and most precious piece of plate in all my house. It is a mixing-bowl by Vulcan’s own hand, of pure silver, except the rim, which is inlaid with gold. Phaedimus, king of the Sidonians, gave it me in the course of a visit which I paid him when I returned thither on my homeward journey. I will make you a present of it.”
Thus did they converse [and guests kept coming to the king’s house. They brought sheep and wine, while their wives had put up bread for them to take with them; so they were busy cooking their dinners in the courts].
Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs or aiming with spears at a mark on the levelled ground in front of Ulysses’ house, and were behaving with all their old insolence. Antinous and Eurymachus, who were their ringleaders and much the foremost among them all, were sitting together when Noemon son of Phronius came up and said to Antinous,
“Have we any idea, Antinous, on what day Telemachus returns from Pylos? He has a ship of mine, and I want it, to cross over to Elis: I have twelve brood mares there with yearling mule foals by their side not yet broken in, and I want to bring one of them over here and break him.”
They were astounded when they heard this, for they had made sure that Telemachus had not gone to the city of Neleus. They thought he was only away somewhere on the farms, and was with the sheep, or with the swineherd; so Antinous said, “When did he go? Tell me truly, and what young men did he take with him? Were they freemen or his own bondsmen — for he might manage that too? Tell me also, did you let him have the ship of your own free will because he asked you, or did he take it without yourleave?”
“I lent it him,” answered Noemon, “what else could I do when a man of his position said he was in a difficulty, and asked me to oblige him? I could not possibly refuse. As for those who went with him they were the best young men we have, and I saw Mentor go on board as captain — or some god who was exactly like him. I cannot understand it, for I saw Mentor here myself yesterday morning, and yet he was then setting out for Pylos.”
Noemon then went back to his father’s house, but Antinous and Eurymachus were very angry. They told the others to leave off playing, and to come and sit down along with themselves. When they came, Antinous son of Eupeithes spoke in anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he said:
“Good heavens, this voyage of Telemachus is a very serious matter; we had made sure that it would come to nothing, but the young fellow has got away in spite of us, and with a picked crew too. He will be giving us trouble presently; may Jove take him before he is full grown. Find me a ship, therefore, with a crew of twenty men, and I will lie in wait for him in the straits between Ithaca and Samos; he will then rue the day that he set out to try and get news of his father.”
Thus did he speak, and the others applauded his saying; they then all of them went inside the buildings.
It was not long ere Penelope came to know what the suitors were plotting; for a man servant, Medon, overheard them from outside the outer court as they were laying their schemes within, and went to tell his mistress. As he crossed the threshold of her room Penelope said: “Medon, what have the suitors sent you here for? Is it to tell the maids to leave their master’s business and cook dinner for them? I wish they may neither woo nor dine henceforward, neither here nor anywhere else, but let this be the very last time, for the waste you all make of my son’s estate. Did not your fathers tell you when you were children how good Ulysses had been to them — never doing anything high-handed, nor speaking harshly to anybody? Kings may say things sometimes, and they may take a fancy to one man and dislike another, but Ulysses never did an unjust thing by anybody — which shows what bad hearts you have, and that there is no such thing as gratitude left in this world.”
Then Medon said, “I wish, Madam, that this were all; but they are plotting something much more dreadful now — may heaven frustrate their design. They are going to try and murder Telemachus as he is coming home from Pylos and Lacedaemon, where he has been to get news of his father.”
Then Penelope’s heart sank within her, and for a long time she was speechless; her eyes filled with tears, and she could find no utterance. At last, however, she said, “Why did my son leave me? What business had he to go sailing off in ships that make long voyages over the ocean like sea-horses? Does he want to die without leaving any one behind him to keep up his name?”
“I do not know,” answered Medon, “whether some god set him on to it, or whether he went on his own impulse to see if he could find out if his father was dead, or alive and on his way home.”
Then he went downstairs again, leaving Penelope in an agony of grief. There were plenty of seats in the house, but she. had no heart for sitting on any one of them; she could only fling herself on the floor of her own room and cry; whereon all the maids in the house, both old and young, gathered round her and began to cry too, till at last in a transport of sorrow she exclaimed,
“My dears, heaven has been pleased to try me with more affliction than any other woman of my age and country. First I lost my brave and lion-hearted husband, who had every good quality under heaven, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos, and now my darling son is at the mercy of the winds and waves, without my having heard one word about his leaving home. You hussies, there was not one of you would so much as think of giving me a call out of my bed, though you all of you very well knew when he was starting. If I had known he meant taking this voyage, he would have had to give it up, no matter how much he was bent upon it, or leave me a corpse behind him — one or other. Now, however, go some of you and call old Dolius, who was given me by my father on my marriage, and who is my gardener. Bid him go at once and tell everything to Laertes, who may be able to hit on some plan for enlisting public sympathy on our side, as against those who are trying to exterminate his own race and that of Ulysses.”
Then the dear old nurse Euryclea said, “You may kill me, Madam, or let me live on in your house, whichever you please, but I will tell you the real truth. I knew all about it, and gave him everything he wanted in the way of bread and wine, but he made me take my solemn oath that I would not tell you anything for some ten or twelve days, unless you asked or happened to hear of his having gone, for he did not want you to spoil your beauty by crying. And now, Madam, wash your face, change your dress, and go upstairs with your maids to offer prayers to Minerva, daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, for she can save him even though he be in the jaws of death. Do not trouble Laertes: he has trouble enough already. Besides, I cannot think that the gods hate die race of the race of the son of Arceisius so much, but there will be a son left to come up after him, and inherit both the house and the fair fields that lie far all round it.”
With these words she made her mistress leave off crying, and dried the tears from her eyes. Penelope washed her face, changed her dress, and went upstairs with her maids. She then put some bruised barley into a basket and began praying to Minerva.
“Hear me,” she cried, “Daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable. If ever Ulysses while he was here burned you fat thigh bones of sheep or heifer, bear it in mind now as in my favour, and save my darling son from the villainy of the suitors.”
She cried aloud as she spoke, and the goddess heard her prayer; meanwhile the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloister, and one of them said:
“The queen is preparing for her marriage with one or other of us. Little does she dream that her son has now been doomed to die.”
This was what they said, but they did not know what was going to happen. Then Antinous said, “Comrades, let there be no loud talking, lest some of it get carried inside. Let us be up and do that in silence, about which we are all of a mind.”
He then chose twenty men, and they went down to their. ship and to the sea side; they drew the vessel into the water and got her mast and sails inside her; they bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted thongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft, while their fine servants brought them their armour. Then they made the ship fast a little way out, came on shore again, got their suppers, and waited till night should fall.
But Penelope lay in her own room upstairs unable to eat or drink, and wondering whether her brave son would escape, or be overpowered by the wicked suitors. Like a lioness caught in the toils with huntsmen hemming her in on every side she thought and thought till she sank into a slumber, and lay on her bed bereft of thought and motion.
Then Minerva bethought her of another matter, and made a vision in the likeness of Penelope’s sister Iphthime daughter of Icarius who had married Eumelus and lived in Pherae. She told the vision to go to the house of Ulysses, and to make Penelope leave off crying, so it came into her room by the hole through which the thong went for pulling the door to, and hovered over her head, saying,
“You are asleep, Penelope: the gods who live at ease will not suffer you to weep and be so sad. Your son has done them no wrong, so he will yet come back to you.”
Penelope, who was sleeping sweetly at the gates of dreamland, answered, “Sister, why have you come here? You do not come very often, but I suppose that is because you live such a long way off. Am I, then, to leave off crying and refrain from all the sad thoughts that torture me? I, who have lost my brave and lion-hearted husband, who had every good quality under heaven, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos; and now my darling son has gone off on board of a ship — a foolish fellow who has never been used to roughing it, nor to going about among gatherings of men. I am even more anxious about him than about my husband; I am all in a tremble when I think of him, lest something should happen to him, either from the people among whom he has gone, or by sea, for he has many enemies who are plotting against him, and are bent on killing him before he can return home.”
Then the vision said, “Take heart, and be not so much dismayed. There is one gone with him whom many a man would be glad enough to have stand by his side, I mean Minerva; it is she who has compassion upon you, and who has sent me to bear you this message.”
“Then,” said Penelope, “if you are a god or have been sent here by divine commission, tell me also about that other unhappy one — is he still alive, or is he already dead and in the house of Hades?”
And the vision said, “I shall not tell you for certain whether he is alive or dead, and there is no use in idle conversation.”
Then it vanished through the thong-hole of the door and was dissipated into thin air; but Penelope rose from her sleep refreshed and comforted, so vivid had been her dream.
Meantime the suitors went on board and sailed their ways over the sea, intent on murdering Telemachus. Now there is a rocky islet called Asteris, of no great size, in mid channel between Ithaca and Samos, and there is a harbour on either side of it where a ship can lie. Here then the Achaeans placed themselves in ambush.
AND NOW, as Dawn rose from her couch beside Tithonus — harbinger of light alike to mortals and immortals — the gods met in council and with them, Jove the lord of thunder, who is their king. Thereon Minerva began to tell them of the many sufferings of Ulysses, for she pitied him away there in the house of the nymph Calypso.
“Father Jove,” said she, “and all you other gods that live in everlasting bliss, I hope there may never be such a thing as a kind and well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern equitably. I hope they will be all henceforth cruel and unjust, for there is not one of his subjects but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled them as though he were their father. There he is, lying in great pain in an island where dwells the nymph Calypso, who will not let him go; and he cannot get back to his own country, for he can find neither ships nor sailors to take him over the sea. Furthermore, wicked people are now trying to murder his only son Telemachus, who is coming home from Pylos and Lacedaemon, where he has been to see if he can get news of his father.”
“What, my dear, are you talking about?” replied her father, “did you not send him there yourself, because you thought it would help Ulysses to get home and punish the suitors? Besides, you are perfectly able to protect Telemachus, and to see him safely home again, while the suitors have to come hurry-skurrying back without having killed him.”
When he had thus spoken, he said to his son Mercury, “Mercury, you are our messenger, go therefore and tell Calypso we have decreed that poor Ulysses is to return home. He is to be convoyed neither by gods nor men, but after a perilous voyage of twenty days upon a raft he is to reach fertile Scheria, the land of the Phaeacians, who are near of kin to the gods, and will honour him as though he were one of ourselves. They will send him in a ship to his own country, and will give him more bronze and gold and raiment than he would have brought back from Troy, if he had had had all his prize money and had got home without disaster. This is how we have settled that he shall return to his country and his friends.”
Thus he spoke, and Mercury, guide and guardian, slayer of Argus, did as he was told. Forthwith he bound on his glittering golden sandals with which he could fly like the wind over land and sea. He took the wand with which he seals men’s eyes in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases, and flew holding it in his hand over Pieria; then he swooped down through the firmament till he reached the level of the sea, whose waves he skimmed like a cormorant that flies fishing every hole and corner of the ocean, and drenching its thick plumage in the spray. He flew and flew over many a weary wave, but when at last he got to the island which was his journey’s end, he left the sea and went on by land till he came to the cave where the nymph Calypso lived.
He found her at home. There was a large fire burning on the hearth, and one could smell from far the fragrant reek of burning cedar and sandal wood. As for herself, she was busy at her loom, shooting her golden shuttle through the warp and singing beautifully. Round her cave there was a thick wood of alder, poplar, and sweet smelling cypress trees, wherein all kinds of great birds had built their nests — owls, hawks, and chattering sea-crows that occupy their business in the waters. A vine loaded with grapes was trained and grew luxuriantly about the mouth of the cave; there were also four running rills of water in channels cut pretty close together, and turned hither and thither so as to irrigate the beds of violets and luscious herbage over which they flowed. Even a god could not help being charmed with such a lovely spot, so Mercury stood still and looked at it; but when he had admired it sufficiently he went inside the cave.
Calypso knew him at once — for the gods all know each other, no matter how far they live from one another — but Ulysses was not within; he was on the sea-shore as usual, looking out upon the barren ocean with tears in his eyes, groaning and breaking his heart for sorrow. Calypso gave Mercury a seat and said: “Why have you come to see me, Mercury — honoured, and ever welcome — for you do not visit me often? Say what you want; I will do it for be you at once if I can, and if it can be done at all; but come inside, and let me set refreshment before you.
As she spoke she drew a table loaded with ambrosia beside him and mixed him some red nectar, so Mercury ate and drank till he had had enough, and then said:
“We are speaking god and goddess to one another, one another, and you ask me why I have come here, and I will tell you truly as you would have me do. Jove sent me; it was no doing of mine; who could possibly want to come all this way over the sea where there are no cities full of people to offer me sacrifices or choice hecatombs? Nevertheless I had to come, for none of us other gods can cross Jove, nor transgress his orders. He says that you have here the most ill-starred of alf those who fought nine years before the city of King Priam and sailed home in the tenth year after having sacked it. On their way home they sinned against Minerva, who raised both wind and waves against them, so that all his brave companions perished, and he alone was carried hither by wind and tide. Jove says that you are to let this by man go at once, for it is decreed that he shall not perish here, far from his own people, but shall return to his house and country and see his friends again.”
Calypso trembled with rage when she heard this, “You gods,” she exclaimed, to be ashamed of yourselves. You are always jealous and hate seeing a goddess take a fancy to a mortal man, and live with him in open matrimony. So when rosy-fingered Dawn made love to Orion, you precious gods were all of you furious till Diana went and killed him in Ortygia. So again when Ceres fell in love with Iasion, and yielded to him in a thrice ploughed fallow field, Jove came to hear of it before so long and killed Iasion with his thunder-bolts. And now you are angry with me too because I have a man here. I found the poor creature sitting all alone astride of a keel, for Jove had struck his ship with lightning and sunk it in mid ocean, so that all his crew were drowned, while he himself was driven by wind and waves on to my island. I got fond of him and cherished him, and had set my heart on making him immortal, so that he should never grow old all his days; still I cannot cross Jove, nor bring his counsels to nothing; therefore, if he insists upon it, let the man go beyond the seas again; but I cannot send him anywhere myself for I have neither ships nor men who can take him. Nevertheless I will readily give him such advice, in all good faith, as will be likely to bring him safely to his own country.”
“Then send him away,” said Mercury, “or Jove will be angry with you and punish you”’
On this he took his leave, and Calypso went out to look for Ulysses, for she had heard Jove’s message. She found him sitting upon the beach with his eyes ever filled with tears, and dying of sheer home-sickness; for he had got tired of Calypso, and though he was forced to sleep with her in the cave by night, it was she, not he, that would have it so. As for the day time, he spent it on the rocks and on the sea-shore, weeping, crying aloud for his despair, and always looking out upon the sea. Calypso then went close up to him said:
“My poor fellow, you shall not stay here grieving and fretting your life out any longer. I am going to send you away of my own free will; so go, cut some beams of wood, and make yourself a large raft with an upper deck that it may carry you safely over the sea. I will put bread, wine, and water on board to save you from starving. I will also give you clothes, and will send you a fair wind to take you home, if the gods in heaven so will it — for they know more about these things, and can settle them better than I can.”
Ulysses shuddered as he heard her. “Now goddess,” he answered, “there is something behind all this; you cannot be really meaning to help me home when you bid me do such a dreadful thing as put to sea on a raft. Not even a well-found ship with a fair wind could venture on such a distant voyage: nothing that you can say or do shall mage me go on board a raft unless you first solemnly swear that you mean me no mischief.”
Calypso smiled at this and caressed him with her hand: “You know a great deal,” said she, “but you are quite wrong here. May heaven above and earth below be my witnesses, with the waters of the river Styx — and this is the most solemn oath which a blessed god can take — that I mean you no sort of harm, and am only advising you to do exactly what I should do myself in your place. I am dealing with you quite straightforwardly; my heart is not made of iron, and I am very sorry for you.”
When she had thus spoken she led the way rapidly before him, and Ulysses followed in her steps; so the pair, goddess and man, went on and on till they came to Calypso’s cave, where Ulysses took the seat that Mercury had just left. Calypso set meat and drink before him of the food that mortals eat; but her maids brought ambrosia and nectar for herself, and they laid their hands on the good things that were before them. When they had satisfied themselves with meat and drink, Calypso spoke, saying:
“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, so you would start home to your own land at once? Good luck go with you, but if you could only know how much suffering is in store for you before you get back to your own country, you would stay where you are, keep house along with me, and let me make you immortal, no matter how anxious you may be to see this wife of yours, of whom you are thinking all the time day after day; yet I flatter myself that at am no whit less tall or well-looking than she is, for it is not to be expected that a mortal woman should compare in beauty with an immortal.”
“Goddess,” replied Ulysses, “do not be angry with me about this. I am quite aware that my wife Penelope is nothing like so tall or so beautiful as yourself. She is only a woman, whereas you are an immortal. Nevertheless, I want to get home, and can think of nothing else. If some god wrecks me when I am on the sea, I will bear it and make the best of it. I have had infinite trouble both by land and sea already, so let this go with the rest.”
Presently the sun set and it became dark, whereon the pair retired into the inner part of the cave and went to bed.
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Ulysses put on his shirt and cloak, while the goddess wore a dress of a light gossamer fabric, very fine and graceful, with a beautiful golden girdle about her waist and a veil to cover her head. She at once set herself to think how she could speed Ulysses on his way. So she gave him a great bronze axe that suited his hands; it was sharpened on both sides, and had a beautiful olive-wood handle fitted firmly on to it. She also gave him a sharp adze, and then led the way to the far end of the island where the largest trees grew — alder, poplar and pine, that reached the sky — very dry and well seasoned, so as to sail light for him in the water. Then, when she had shown him where the best trees grew, Calypso went home, leaving him to cut them, which he soon finished doing. He cut down twenty trees in all and adzed them smooth, squaring them by rule in good workmanlike fashion. Meanwhile Calypso came back with some augers, so he bored holes with them and fitted the timbers together with bolts and rivets. He made the raft as broad as a skilled shipwright makes the beam of a large vessel, and he filed a deck on top of the ribs, and ran a gunwale all round it. He also made a mast with a yard arm, and a rudder to steer with. He fenced the raft all round with wicker hurdles as a protection against the waves, and then he threw on a quantity of wood. By and by Calypso brought him some linen to make the sails, and he made these too, excellently, making them fast with braces and sheets. Last of all, with the help of levers, he drew the raft down into the water.
In four days he had completed the whole work, and on the fifth Calypso sent him from the island after washing him and giving him some clean clothes. She gave him a goat skin full of black wine, and another larger one of water; she also gave him a wallet full of provisions, and found him in much good meat. Moreover, she made the wind fair and warm for him, and gladly did Ulysses spread his sail before it, while he sat and guided the raft skilfully by means of the rudder. He never closed his eyes, but kept them fixed on the Pleiads, on late-setting Bootes, and on the Bear — which men also call the wain, and which turns round and round where it is, facing Orion, and alone never dipping into the stream of Oceanus — for Calypso had told him to keep this to his left. Days seven and ten did he sail over the sea, and on the eighteenth the dim outlines of the mountains on the nearest part of the Phaeacian coast appeared, rising like a shield on the horizon.
But King Neptune, who was returning from the Ethiopians, caught sight of Ulysses a long way off, from the mountains of the Solymi. He could see him sailing upon the sea, and it made him very angry, so he wagged his head and muttered to himself, saying, heavens, so the gods have been changing their minds about Ulysses while I was away in Ethiopia, and now he is close to the land of the Phaeacians, where it is decreed that he shall escape from the calamities that have befallen him. Still, he shall have plenty of hardship yet before he has done with it.”
Thereon he gathered his clouds together, grasped his trident, stirred it round in the sea, and roused the rage of every wind that blows till earth, sea, and sky were hidden in cloud, and night sprang forth out of the heavens. Winds from East, South, North, and West fell upon him all at the same time, and a tremendous sea got up, so that Ulysses’ heart began to fail him. “Alas,” he said to himself in his dismay, “what ever will become of me? I am afraid Calypso was right when she said I should have trouble by sea before I got back home. It is all coming true. How black is Jove making heaven with his clouds, and what a sea the winds are raising from every quarter at once. I am now safe to perish. Blest and thrice blest were those Danaans who fell before Troy in the cause of the sons of Atreus. Would that had been killed on the day when the Trojans were pressing me so sorely about the dead body of Achilles, for then I should have had due burial and the Achaeans would have honoured my name; but now it seems that I shall come to a most pitiable end.”
As he spoke a sea broke over him with such terrific fury that the raft reeled again, and he was carried overboard a long way off. He let go the helm, and the force of the hurricane was so great that it broke the mast half way up, and both sail and yard went over into the sea. For a long time Ulysses was under water, and it was all he could do to rise to the surface again, for the clothes Calypso had given him weighed him down; but at last he got his head above water and spat out the bitter brine that was running down his face in streams. In spite of all this, however, he did not lose sight of his raft, but swam as fast as he could towards it, got hold of it, and climbed on board again so as to escape drowning. The sea took the raft and tossed it about as Autumn winds whirl thistledown round and round upon a road. It was as though the South, North, East, and West winds were all playing battledore and shuttlecock with it at once.
When he was in this plight, Ino daughter of Cadmus, also called Leucothea, saw him. She had formerly been a mere mortal, but had been since raised to the rank of a marine goddess. Seeing in what great distress Ulysses now was, she had compassion upon him, and, rising like a sea-gull from the waves, took her seat upon the raft.
“My poor good man,” said she, “why is Neptune so furiously angry with you? He is giving you a great deal of trouble, but for all his bluster he will not kill you. You seem to be a sensible person, do then as I bid you; strip, leave your raft to drive before the wind, and swim to the Phaecian coast where better luck awaits you. And here, take my veil and put it round your chest; it is enchanted, and you can come to no harm so long as you wear it. As soon as you touch land take it off, throw it back as far as you can into the sea, and then go away again.” With these words she took off her veil and gave it him. Then she dived down again like a sea-gull and vanished beneath the dark blue waters.
But Ulysses did not know what to think. “Alas,” he said to himself in his dismay, “this is only some one or other of the gods who is luring me to ruin by advising me to will quit my raft. At any rate I will not do so at present, for the land where she said I should be quit of all troubles seemed to be still a good way off. I know what I will do — I am sure it will be best — no matter what happens I will stick to the raft as long as her timbers hold together, but when the sea breaks her up I will swim for it; I do not see how I can do any better than this.”
While he was thus in two minds, Neptune sent a terrible great wave that seemed to rear itself above his head till it broke right over the raft, which then went to pieces as though it were a heap of dry chaff tossed about by a whirlwind. Ulysses got astride of one plank and rode upon it as if he were on horseback; he then took off the clothes Calypso had given him, bound Ino’s veil under his arms, and plunged into the sea — meaning to swim on shore. King Neptune watched him as he did so, and wagged his head, muttering to himself and saying, “’There now, swim up and down as you best can till you fall in with well-to-do people. I do not think you will be able to say that I have let you off too lightly.” On this he lashed his horses and drove to Aegae where his palace is.
But Minerva resolved to help Ulysses, so she bound the ways of all the winds except one, and made them lie quite still; but she roused a good stiff breeze from the North that should lay the waters till Ulysses reached the land of the Phaeacians where he would be safe.
Thereon he floated about for two nights and two days in the water, with a heavy swell on the sea and death staring him in the face; but when the third day broke, the wind fell and there was a dead calm without so much as a breath of air stirring. As he rose on the swell he looked eagerly ahead, and could see land quite near. Then, as children rejoice when their dear father begins to get better after having for a long time borne sore affliction sent him by some angry spirit, but the gods deliver him from evil, so was Ulysses thankful when he again saw land and trees, and swam on with all his strength that he might once more set foot upon dry ground. When, however, he got within earshot, he began to hear the surf thundering up against the rocks, for the swell still broke against them with a terrific roar. Everything was enveloped in spray; there were no harbours where a ship might ride, nor shelter of any kind, but only headlands, low-lying rocks, and mountain tops.
Ulysses’ heart now began to fail him, and he said despairingly to himself, “Alas, Jove has let me see land after swimming so far that I had given up all hope, but I can find no landing place, for the coast is rocky and surf-beaten, the rocks are smooth and rise sheer from the sea, with deep water close under them so that I cannot climb out for want of foothold. I am afraid some great wave will lift me off my legs and dash me against the rocks as I leave the water — which would give me a sorry landing. If, on the other hand, I swim further in search of some shelving beach or harbour, a hurricane may carry me out to sea again sorely against my will, or heaven may send some great monster of the deep to attack me; for Amphitrite breeds many such, and I know that Neptune is very angry with me.”
While he was thus in two minds a wave caught him and took him with such force against the rocks that he would have been smashed and torn to pieces if Minerva had not shown him what to do. He caught hold of the rock with both hands and clung to it groaning with pain till the wave retired, so he was saved that time; but presently the wave came on again and carried him back with it far into the sea-tearing his hands as the suckers of a polypus are torn when some one plucks it from its bed, and the stones come up along with it even so did the rocks tear the skin from his strong hands, and then the wave drew him deep down under the water.
Here poor Ulysses would have certainly perished even in spite of his own destiny, if Minerva had not helped him to keep his wits about him. He swam seaward again, beyond reach of the surf that was beating against the land, and at the same time he kept looking towards the shore to see if he could find some haven, or a spit that should take the waves aslant. By and by, as he swam on, he came to the mouth of a river, and here he thought would be the best place, for there were no rocks, and it afforded shelter from the wind. He felt that there was a current, so he prayed inwardly and said:
“Hear me, O King, whoever you may be, and save me from the anger of the sea-god Neptune, for I approach you prayerfully. Any one who has lost his way has at all times a claim even upon the gods, wherefore in my distress I draw near to your stream, and cling to the knees of your riverhood. Have mercy upon me, O king, for I declare myself your suppliant.”
Then the god stayed his stream and stilled the waves, making all calm before him, and bringing him safely into the mouth of the river. Here at last Ulysses’ knees and strong hands failed him, for the sea had completely broken him. His body was all swollen, and his mouth and nostrils ran down like a river with sea-water, so that he could neither breathe nor speak, and lay swooning from sheer exhaustion; presently, when he had got his breath and came to himself again, he took off the scarf that Ino had given him and threw it back into the salt stream of the river, whereon Ino received it into her hands from the wave that bore it towards her. Then he left the river, laid himself down among the rushes, and kissed the bounteous earth.
“Alas,” he cried to himself in his dismay, “what ever will become of me, and how is it all to end? If I stay here upon the river bed through the long watches of the night, I am so exhausted that the bitter cold and damp may make an end of me — for towards sunrise there will be a keen wind blowing from off the river. If, on the other hand, I climb the hill side, find shelter in the woods, and sleep in some thicket, I may escape the cold and have a good night’s rest, but some savage beast may take advantage of me and devour me.”
In the end he deemed it best to take to the woods, and he found one upon some high ground not far from the water. There he crept beneath two shoots of olive that grew from a single stock — the one an ungrafted sucker, while the other had been grafted. No wind, however squally, could break through the cover they afforded, nor could the sun’s rays pierce them, nor the rain get through them, so closely did they grow into one another. Ulysses crept under these and began to make himself a bed to lie on, for there was a great litter of dead leaves lying about — enough to make a covering for two or three men even in hard winter weather. He was glad enough to see this, so he laid himself down and heaped the leaves all round him. Then, as one who lives alone in the country, far from any neighbor, hides a brand as fire-seed in the ashes to save himself from having to get a light elsewhere, even so did Ulysses cover himself up with leaves; and Minerva shed a sweet sleep upon his eyes, closed his eyelids, and made him lose all memories of his sorrows.
SO HERE Ulysses slept, overcome by sleep and toil; but Minerva went off to the country and city of the Phaecians — a people who used to live in the fair town of Hypereia, near the lawless Cyclopes. Now the Cyclopes were stronger than they and plundered them, so their king Nausithous moved them thence and settled them in Scheria, far from all other people. He surrounded the city with a wall, built houses and temples, and divided the lands among his people; but he was dead and gone to the house of Hades, and King Alcinous, whose counsels were inspired of heaven, was now reigning. To his house, then, did Minerva hie in furtherance of the return of Ulysses.
She went straight to the beautifully decorated bedroom in which there slept a girl who was as lovely as a goddess, Nausicaa, daughter to King Alcinous. Two maid servants were sleeping near her, both very pretty, one on either side of the doorway, which was closed with well-made folding doors. Minerva took the form of the famous sea captain Dymas’s daughter, who was a bosom friend of Nausicaa and just her own age; then, coming up to the girl’s bedside like a breath of wind, she hovered over her head and said:
“Nausicaa, what can your mother have been about, to have such a lazy daughter? Here are your clothes all lying in disorder, yet you are going to be married almost immediately, and should not only be well dressed yourself, but should find good clothes for those who attend you. This is the way to get yourself a good name, and to make your father and mother proud of you. Suppose, then, that we make tomorrow a washing day, and start at daybreak. I will come and help you so that you may have everything ready as soon as possible, for all the best young men among your own people are courting you, and you are not going to remain a maid much longer. Ask your father, therefore, to have a waggon and mules ready for us at daybreak, to take the rugs, robes, and girdles; and you can ride, too, which will be much pleasanter for you than walking, for the washing-cisterns are some way from the town.”
When she had said this Minerva went away to Olympus, which they say is the everlasting home of the gods. Here no wind beats roughly, and neither rain nor snow can fall; but it abides in everlasting sunshine and in a great peacefulness of light, wherein the blessed gods are illumined for ever and ever. This was the place to which the goddess went when she had given instructions to the girl.
By and by morning came and woke Nausicaa, who began wondering about her dream; she therefore went to the other end of the house to tell her father and mother all about it, and found them in their own room. Her mother was sitting by the fireside spinning her purple yarn with her maids around her, and she happened to catch her father just as he was going out to attend a meeting of the town council, which the Phaeacian aldermen had convened. She stopped him and said:
“Papa dear, could you manage to let me have a good big waggon? I want to take all our dirty clothes to the river and wash them. You are the chief man here, so it is only right that you should have a clean shirt when you attend meetings of the council. Moreover, you have five sons at home, two of them married, while the other three are good-looking bachelors; you know they always like to have clean linen when they go to a dance, and I have been thinking about all this.”
She did not say a word about her own wedding, for she did not like to, but her father knew and said, “You shall have the mules, my love, and whatever else you have a mind for. Be off with you, and the men shall get you a good strong waggon with a body to it that will hold all your clothes.”
On this he gave his orders to the servants, who got the waggon out, harnessed the mules, and put them to, while the girl brought the clothes down from the linen room and placed them on the waggon. Her mother prepared her a basket of provisions with all sorts of good things, and a goat skin full of wine; the girl now got into the waggon, and her mother gave her also a golden cruse of oil, that she and her women might anoint themselves. Then she took the whip and reins and lashed the mules on, whereon they set off, and their hoofs clattered on the road. They pulled without flagging, and carried not only Nausicaa and her wash of clothes, but the maids also who were with her.
When they reached the water side they went to the washing-cisterns, through which there ran at all times enough pure water to wash any quantity of linen, no matter how dirty. Here they unharnessed the mules and turned them out to feed on the sweet juicy herbage that grew by the water side. They took the clothes out of the waggon, put them in the water, and vied with one another in treading them in the pits to get the dirt out. After they had washed them and got them quite clean, they laid them out by the sea side, where the waves had raised a high beach of shingle, and set about washing themselves and anointing themselves with olive oil. Then they got their dinner by the side of the stream, and waited for the sun to finish drying the clothes. When they had done dinner they threw off the veils that covered their heads and began to play at ball, while Nausicaa sang for them. As the huntress Diana goes forth upon the mountains of Taygetus or Erymanthus to hunt wild boars or deer, and the wood-nymphs, daughters of Aegis-bearing Jove, take their sport along with her (then is Leto proud at seeing her daughter stand a full head taller than the others, and eclipse the loveliest amid a whole bevy of beauties), even so did the girl outshine her handmaids.
When it was time for them to start home, and they were folding the clothes and putting them into the waggon, Minerva began to consider how Ulysses should wake up and see the handsome girl who was to conduct him to the city of the Phaeacians. The girl, therefore, threw a ball at one of the maids, which missed her and fell into deep water. On this they all shouted, and the noise they made woke Ulysses, who sat up in his bed of leaves and began to wonder what it might all be.
“Alas,” said he to himself, “what kind of people have I come amongst? Are they cruel, savage, and uncivilized, or hospitable and humane? I seem to hear the voices of young women, and they sound like those of the nymphs that haunt mountain tops, or springs of rivers and meadows of green grass. At any rate I am among a race of men and women. Let me try if I cannot manage to get a look at them.”
As he said this he crept from under his bush, and broke off a bough covered with thick leaves to hide his nakedness. He looked like some lion of the wilderness that stalks about exulting in his strength and defying both wind and rain; his eyes glare as he prowls in quest of oxen, sheep, or deer, for he is famished, and will dare break even into a well-fenced homestead, trying to get at the sheep — even such did Ulysses seem to the young women, as he drew near to them all naked as he was, for he was in great want. On seeing one so unkempt and so begrimed with salt water, the others scampered off along the spits that jutted out into the sea, but the daughter of Alcinous stood firm, for Minerva put courage into her heart and took away all fear from her. She stood right in front of Ulysses, and he doubted whether he should go up to her, throw himself at her feet, and embrace her knees as a suppliant, or stay where he was and entreat her to give him some clothes and show him the way to the town. In the end he deemed it best to entreat her from a distance in case the girl should take offence at his coming near enough to clasp her knees, so he addressed her in honeyed and persuasive language.
“O queen,” he said, “I implore your aid — but tell me, are you a goddess or are you a mortal woman? If you are a goddess and dwell in heaven, I can only conjecture that you are Jove’s daughter Diana, for your face and figure resemble none but hers; if on the other hand you are a mortal and live on earth, thrice happy are your father and mother — thrice happy, too, are your brothers and sisters; how proud and delighted they must feel when they see so fair a scion as yourself going out to a dance; most happy, however, of all will he be whose wedding gifts have been the richest, and who takes you to his own home. I never yet saw any one so beautiful, neither man nor woman, and am lost in admiration as I behold you. I can only compare you to a young palm tree which I saw when I was at Delos growing near the altar of Apollo — for I was there, too, with much people after me, when I was on that journey which has been the source of all my troubles. Never yet did such a young plant shoot out of the ground as that was, and I admired and wondered at it exactly as I now admire and wonder at yourself. I dare not clasp your knees, but I am in great distress; yesterday made the twentieth day that I had been tossing about upon the sea. The winds and waves have taken me all the way from the Ogygian island, and now fate has flung me upon this coast that I may endure still further suffering; for I do not think that I have yet come to the end of it, but rather that heaven has still much evil in store for me.
“And now, O queen, have pity upon me, for you are the first person I have met, and I know no one else in this country. Show me the way to your town, and let me have anything that you may have brought hither to wrap your clothes in. May heaven grant you in all things your heart’s desire — husband, house, and a happy, peaceful home; for there is nothing better in this world than that man and wife should be of one mind in a house. It discomfits their enemies, makes the hearts of their friends glad, and they themselves know more about it than any one.”
To this Nausicaa answered, “Stranger, you appear to be a sensible, well-disposed person. There is no accounting for luck; Jove gives prosperity to rich and poor just as he chooses, so you must take what he has seen fit to send you, and make the best of it. Now, however, that you have come to this our country, you shall not want for clothes nor for anything else that a foreigner in distress may reasonably look for. I will show you the way to the town, and will tell you the name of our people; we are called Phaeacians, and I am daughter to Alcinous, in whom the whole power of the state is vested.”
Then she called her maids and said, “Stay where you are, you girls. Can you not see a man without running away from him? Do you take him for a robber or a murderer? Neither he nor any one else can come here to do us Phaeacians any harm, for we are dear to the gods, and live apart on a land’s end that juts into the sounding sea, and have nothing to do with any other people. This is only some poor man who has lost his way, and we must be kind to him, for strangers and foreigners in distress are under Jove’s protection, and will take what they can get and be thankful; so, girls, give the poor fellow something to eat and drink, and wash him in the stream at some place that is sheltered from the wind.”
On this the maids left off running away and began calling one another back. They made Ulysses sit down in the shelter as Nausicaa had told them, and brought him a shirt and cloak. They also brought him the little golden cruse of oil, and told him to go wash in the stream. But Ulysses said, “Young women, please to stand a little on one side that I may wash the brine from my shoulders and anoint myself with oil, for it is long enough since my skin has had a drop of oil upon it. I cannot wash as long as you all keep standing there. I am ashamed to strip before a number of good-looking young women.”
Then they stood on one side and went to tell the girl, while Ulysses washed himself in the stream and scrubbed the brine from his back and from his broad shoulders. When he had thoroughly washed himself, and had got the brine out of his hair, he anointed himself with oil, and put on the clothes which the girl had given him; Minerva then made him look taller and stronger than before, she also made the hair grow thick on the top of his head, and flow down in curls like hyacinth blossoms; she glorified him about the head and shoulders as a skilful workman who has studied art of all kinds under Vulcan and Minerva enriches a piece of silver plate by gilding it — and his work is full of beauty. Then he went and sat down a little way off upon the beach, looking quite young and handsome, and the girl gazed on him with admiration; then she said to her maids:
“Hush, my dears, for I want to say something. I believe the gods who live in heaven have sent this man to the Phaeacians. When I first saw him I thought him plain, but now his appearance is like that of the gods who dwell in heaven. I should like my future husband to be just such another as he is, if he would only stay here and not want to go away. However, give him something to eat and drink.”
They did as they were told, and set food before Ulysses, who ate and drank ravenously, for it was long since he had had food of any kind. Meanwhile, Nausicaa bethought her of another matter. She got the linen folded and placed in the waggon, she then yoked the mules, and, as she took her seat, she called Ulysses:
“Stranger,” said she, “rise and let us be going back to the town; I will introduce you at the house of my excellent father, where I can tell you that you will meet all the best people among the Phaecians. But be sure and do as I bid you, for you seem to be a sensible person. As long as we are going past the fields — and farm lands, follow briskly behind the waggon along with the maids and I will lead the way myself. Presently, however, we shall come to the town, where you will find a high wall running all round it, and a good harbour on either side with a narrow entrance into the city, and the ships will be drawn up by the road side, for every one has a place where his own ship can lie. You will see the market place with a temple of Neptune in the middle of it, and paved with large stones bedded in the earth. Here people deal in ship’s gear of all kinds, such as cables and sails, and here, too, are the places where oars are made, for the Phaeacians are not a nation of archers; they know nothing about bows and arrows, but are a sea-faring folk, and pride themselves on their masts, oars, and ships, with which they travel far over the sea.
“I am afraid of the gossip and scandal that may be set on foot against me later on; for the people here are very ill-natured, and some low fellow, if he met us, might say, ‘Who is this fine-looking stranger that is going about with Nausicaa? Where did she End him? I suppose she is going to marry him. Perhaps he is a vagabond sailor whom she has taken from some foreign vessel, for we have no neighbours; or some god has at last come down from heaven in answer to her prayers, and she is going to live with him all the rest of her life. It would be a good thing if she would take herself of I for sh and find a husband somewhere else, for she will not look at one of the many excellent young Phaeacians who are in with her.’ This is the kind of disparaging remark that would be made about me, and I could not complain, for I should myself be scandalized at seeing any other girl do the like, and go about with men in spite of everybody, while her father and mother were still alive, and without having been married in the face of all the world.
“If, therefore, you want my father to give you an escort and to help you home, do as I bid you; you will see a beautiful grove of poplars by the road side dedicated to Minerva; it has a well in it and a meadow all round it. Here my father has a field of rich garden ground, about as far from the town as a man’ voice will carry. Sit down there and wait for a while till the rest of us can get into the town and reach my father’s house. Then, when you think we must have done this, come into the town and ask the way to the house of my father Alcinous. You will have no difficulty in finding it; any child will point it out to you, for no one else in the whole town has anything like such a fine house as he has. When you have got past the gates and through the outer court, go right across the inner court till you come to my mother. You will find her sitting by the fire and spinning her purple wool by firelight. It is a fine sight to see her as she leans back against one of the bearing-posts with her maids all ranged behind her. Close to her seat stands that of my father, on which he sits and topes like an immortal god. Never mind him, but go up to my mother, and lay your hands upon her knees if you would get home quickly. If you can gain her over, you may hope to see your own country again, no matter how distant it may be.”
So saying she lashed the mules with her whip and they left the river. The mules drew well and their hoofs went up and down upon the road. She was careful not to go too fast for Ulysses and the maids who were following on foot along with the waggon, so she plied her whip with judgement. As the sun was going down they came to the sacred grove of Minerva, and there Ulysses sat down and prayed to the mighty daughter of Jove.
“Hear me,” he cried, “daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable, hear me now, for you gave no heed to my prayers when Neptune was wrecking me. Now, therefore, have pity upon me and grant that I may find friends and be hospitably received by the Phaecians.”
Thus did he pray, and Minerva heard his prayer, but she would not show herself to him openly, for she was afraid of her uncle Neptune, who was still furious in his endeavors to prevent Ulysses from getting home.
THUS, then, did Ulysses wait and pray; but the girl drove on to the town. When she reached her father’s house she drew up at the gateway, and her brothers — comely as the gods — gathered round her, took the mules out of the waggon, and carried the clothes into the house, while she went to her own room, where an old servant, Eurymedusa of Apeira, lit the fire for her. This old woman had been brought by sea from Apeira, and had been chosen as a prize for Alcinous because he was king over the Phaecians, and the people obeyed him as though he were a god. She had been nurse to Nausicaa, and had now lit the fire for her, and brought her supper for her into her own room.
Presently Ulysses got up to go towards the town; and Minerva shed a thick mist all round him to hide him in case any of the proud Phaecians who met him should be rude to him, or ask him who he was. Then, as he was just entering the town, she came towards him in the likeness of a little girl carrying a pitcher. She stood right in front of him, and Ulysses said:
“My dear, will you be so kind as to show me the house of king Alcinous? I am an unfortunate foreigner in distress, and do not know one in your town and country.”
Then Minerva said, “Yes, father stranger, I will show you the house you want, for Alcinous lives quite close to my own father. I will go before you and show the way, but say not a word as you go, and do not look at any man, nor ask him questions; for the people here cannot abide strangers, and do not like men who come from some other place. They are a sea-faring folk, and sail the seas by the grace of Neptune in ships that glide along like thought, or as a bird in the air.”
On this she led the way, and Ulysses followed in her steps; but not one of the Phaecians could see him as he passed through the city in the midst of them; for the great goddess Minerva in her good will towards him had hidden him in a thick cloud of darkness. He admired their harbours, ships, places of assembly, and the lofty walls of the city, which, with the palisade on top of them, were very striking, and when they reached the king’s house Minerva said:
“This is the house, father stranger, which you would have me show you. You will find a number of great people sitting at table, but do not be afraid; go straight in, for the bolder a man is the more likely he is to carry his point, even though he is a stranger. First find the queen. Her name is Arete, and she comes of the same family as her husband Alcinous. They both descend originally from Neptune, who was father to Nausithous by Periboea, a woman of great beauty. Periboea was the youngest daughter of Eurymedon, who at one time reigned over the giants, but he ruined his ill-fated people and lost his own life to boot.
“Neptune, however, lay with his daughter, and she had a son by him, the great Nausithous, who reigned over the Phaecians. Nausithous had two sons Rhexenor and Alcinous; Apollo killed the first of them while he was still a bridegroom and without male issue; but he left a daughter Arete, whom Alcinous married, and honours as no other woman is honoured of all those that keep house along with their husbands.
“Thus she both was, and still is, respected beyond measure by her children, by Alcinous himself, and by the whole people, who look upon her as a goddess, and greet her whenever she goes about the city, for she is a thoroughly good woman both in head and heart, and when any women are friends of hers, she will help their husbands also to settle their disputes. If you can gain her good will, you may have every hope of seeing your friends again, and getting safely back to your home and country.”
Then Minerva left Scheria and went away over the sea. She went to Marathon and to the spacious streets of Athens, where she entered the abode of Erechtheus; but Ulysses went on to the house of Alcinous, and he pondered much as he paused a while before reaching the threshold of bronze, for the splendour of the palace was like that of the sun or moon. The walls on either side were of bronze from end to end, and the cornice was of blue enamel. The doors were gold, and hung on pillars of silver that rose from a floor of bronze, while the lintel was silver and the hook of the door was of gold.
On either side there stood gold and silver mastiffs which Vulcan, with his consummate skill, had fashioned expressly to keep watch over the palace of king Alcinous; so they were immortal and could never grow old. Seats were ranged all along the wall, here and there from one end to the other, with coverings of fine woven work which the women of the house had made. Here the chief persons of the Phaecians used to sit and eat and drink, for there was abundance at all seasons; and there were golden figures of young men with lighted torches in their hands, raised on pedestals, to give light by night to those who were at table. There are fifty maid servants in the house, some of whom are always grinding rich yellow grain at the mill, while others work at the loom, or sit and spin, and their shuttles go, backwards and forwards like the fluttering of aspen leaves, while the linen is so closely woven that it will turn oil. As the Phaecians are the best sailors in the world, so their women excel all others in weaving, for Minerva has taught them all manner of useful arts, and they are very intelligent.
Outside the gate of the outer court there is a large garden of about four acres with a wall all round it. It is full of beautiful trees — pears, pomegranates, and the most delicious apples. There are luscious figs also, and olives in full growth. The fruits never rot nor fail all the year round, neither winter nor summer, for the air is so soft that a new crop ripens before the old has dropped. Pear grows on pear, apple on apple, and fig on fig, and so also with the grapes, for there is an excellent vineyard: on the level ground of a part of this, the grapes are being made into raisins; in another part they are being gathered; some are being trodden in the wine tubs, others further on have shed their blossom and are beginning to show fruit, others again are just changing colour. In the furthest part of the ground there are beautifully arranged beds of flowers that are in bloom all the year round. Two streams go through it, the one turned in ducts throughout the whole garden, while the other is carried under the ground of the outer court to the house itself, and the town’s people draw water from it. Such, then, were the splendours with which the gods had endowed the house of king Alcinous.
So here Ulysses stood for a while and looked about him, but when he had looked long enough he crossed the threshold and went within the precincts of the house. There he found all the chief people among the Phaecians making their drink-offerings to Mercury, which they always did the last thing before going away for the night. He went straight through the court, still hidden by the cloak of darkness in which Minerva had enveloped him, till he reached Arete and King Alcinous; then he laid his hands upon the knees of the queen, and at that moment the miraculous darkness fell away from him and he became visible. Every one was speechless with surprise at seeing a man there, but Ulysses began at once with his petition.
“Queen Arete,” he exclaimed, “daughter of great Rhexenor, in my distress I humbly pray you, as also your husband and these your guests (whom may heaven prosper with long life and happiness, and may they leave their possessions to their children, and all the honours conferred upon them by the state) to help me home to my own country as soon as possible; for I have been long in trouble and away from my friends.”
Then he sat down on the hearth among the ashes and they all held their peace, till presently the old hero Echeneus, who was an excellent speaker and an elder among the Phaeacians, plainly and in all honesty addressed them thus:
“Alcinous,” said he, “it is not creditable to you that a stranger should be seen sitting among the ashes of your hearth; every one is waiting to hear what you are about to say; tell him, then, to rise and take a seat on a stool inlaid with silver, and bid your servants mix some wine and water that we may make a drink-offering to Jove the lord of thunder, who takes all well-disposed suppliants under his protection; and let the housekeeper give him some supper, of whatever there may be in the house.”
When Alcinous heard this he took Ulysses by the hand, raised him from the hearth, and bade him take the seat of Laodamas, who had been sitting beside him, and was his favourite son. A maid servant then brought him water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it into a silver basin for him to wash his hands, and she drew a clean table beside him; an upper servant brought him bread and offered him many good things of what there was in the house, and Ulysses ate and drank. Then Alcinous said to one of the servants, “Pontonous, mix a cup of wine and hand it round that we may make drink-offerings to Jove the lord of thunder, who is the protector of all well-disposed suppliants.”
Pontonous then mixed wine and water, and handed it round after giving every man his drink-offering. When they had made their offerings, and had drunk each as much as he was minded, Alcinous said:
“Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, hear my words. You have had your supper, so now go home to bed. To-morrow morning I shall invite a still larger number of aldermen, and will give a sacrificial banquet in honour of our guest; we can then discuss the question of his escort, and consider how we may at once send him back rejoicing to his own country without trouble or inconvenience to himself, no matter how distant it may be. We must see that he comes to no harm while on his homeward journey, but when he is once at home he will have to take the luck he was born with for better or worse like other people. It is possible, however, that the stranger is one of the immortals who has come down from heaven to visit us; but in this case the gods are departing from their usual practice, for hitherto they have made themselves perfectly clear to us when we have been offering them hecatombs. They come and sit at our feasts just like one of our selves, and if any solitary wayfarer happens to stumble upon some one or other of them, they affect no concealment, for we are as near of kin to the gods as the Cyclopes and the savage giants are.”
Then Ulysses said: “Pray, Alcinous, do not take any such notion into your head. I have nothing of the immortal about me, neither in body nor mind, and most resemble those among you who are the most afflicted. Indeed, were I to tell you all that heaven has seen fit to lay upon me, you would say that I was still worse off than they are. Nevertheless, let me sup in spite of sorrow, for an empty stomach is a very importunate thing, and thrusts itself on a man’s notice no matter how dire is his distress. I am in great trouble, yet it insists that I shall eat and drink, bids me lay aside all memory of my sorrows and dwell only on the due replenishing of itself. As for yourselves, do as you propose, and at break of day set about helping me to get home. I shall be content to die if I may first once more behold my property, my bondsmen, and all the greatness of my house.”
Thus did he speak. Every one approved his saying, and agreed that he should have his escort inasmuch as he had spoken reasonably. Then when they had made their drink-offerings, and had drunk each as much as he was minded they went home to bed every man in his own abode, leaving Ulysses in the cloister with Arete and Alcinous while the servants were taking the things away after supper. Arete was the first to speak, for she recognized the shirt, cloak, and good clothes that Ulysses was wearing, as the work of herself and of her maids; so she said, “Stranger, before we go any further, there is a question I should like to ask you. Who, and whence are you, and who gave you those clothes? Did you not say you had come here from beyond the sea?”
And Ulysses answered, “It would be a long story Madam, were I to relate in full the tale of my misfortunes, for the hand of heaven has been laid heavy upon me; but as regards your question, there is an island far away in the sea which is called ‘the Ogygian.’ Here dwells the cunning and powerful goddess Calypso, daughter of Atlas. She lives by herself far from all neighbours human or divine. Fortune, however, me to her hearth all desolate and alone, for Jove struck my ship with his thunderbolts, and broke it up in mid-ocean. My brave comrades were drowned every man of them, but I stuck to the keel and was carried hither and thither for the space of nine days, till at last during the darkness of the tenth night the gods brought me to the Ogygian island where the great goddess Calypso lives. She took me in and treated me with the utmost kindness; indeed she wanted to make me immortal that I might never grow old, but she could not persuade me to let her do so.
“I stayed with Calypso seven years straight on end, and watered the good clothes she gave me with my tears during the whole time; but at last when the eighth year came round she bade me depart of her own free will, either because Jove had told her she must, or because she had changed her mind. She sent me from her island on a raft, which she provisioned with abundance of bread and wine. Moreover she gave me good stout clothing, and sent me a wind that blew both warm and fair. Days seven and ten did I sail over the sea, and on the eighteenth I caught sight of the first outlines of the mountains upon your coast — and glad indeed was I to set eyes upon them. Nevertheless there was still much trouble in store for me, for at this point Neptune would let me go no further, and raised a great storm against me; the sea was so terribly high that I could no longer keep to my raft, which went to pieces under the fury of the gale, and I had to swim for it, till wind and current brought me to your shores.
“There I tried to land, but could not, for it was a bad place and the waves dashed me against the rocks, so I again took to the sea and swam on till I came to a river that seemed the most likely landing place, for there were no rocks and it was sheltered from the wind. Here, then, I got out of the water and gathered my senses together again. Night was coming on, so I left the river, and went into a thicket, where I covered myself all over with leaves, and presently heaven sent me off into a very deep sleep. Sick and sorry as I was I slept among the leaves all night, and through the next day till afternoon, when I woke as the sun was westering, and saw your daughter’s maid servants playing upon the beach, and your daughter among them looking like a goddess. I besought her aid, and she proved to be of an excellent disposition, much more so than could be expected from so young a person — for young people are apt to be thoughtless. She gave me plenty of bread and wine, and when she had had me washed in the river she also gave me the clothes in which you see me. Now, therefore, though it has pained me to do so, I have told you the whole truth.”
Then Alcinous said, “Stranger, it was very wrong of my daughter not to bring you on at once to my house along with the maids, seeing that she was the first person whose aid you asked.”
“Pray do not scold her,” replied Ulysses; “she is not to blame. She did tell me to follow along with the maids, but I was ashamed and afraid, for I thought you might perhaps be displeased if you saw me. Every human being is sometimes a little suspicious and irritable.”
“Stranger,” replied Alcinous, “I am not the kind of man to get angry about nothing; it is always better to be reasonable; but by Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, now that I see what kind of person you are, and how much you think as I do, I wish you would stay here, marry my daughter, and become my son-in-law. If you will stay I will give you a house and an estate, but no one (heaven forbid) shall keep you here against your own wish, and that you may be sure of this I will attend to-morrow to the matter of your escort. You can sleep during the whole voyage if you like, and the men shall sail you over smooth waters either to your own home, or wherever you please, even though it be a long way further off than Euboea, which those of my people who saw it when they took yellow-haired Rhadamanthus to see Tityus the son of Gaia, tell me is the furthest of any place — and yet they did the whole voyage in a single day without distressing themselves, and came back again afterwards. You will thus see how much my ships excel all others, and what magnificent oarsmen my sailors are.”
Then was Ulysses glad and prayed aloud saying, “Father Jove, grant that Alcinous may do all as he has said, for so he will win an imperishable name among mankind, and at the same time I shall return to my country.”
Thus did they converse. Then Arete told her maids to set a bed in the room that was in the gatehouse, and make it with good red rugs, and to spread coverlets on the top of them with woollen cloaks for Ulysses to wear. The maids thereon went out with torches in their hands, and when they had made the bed they came up to Ulysses and said, “Rise, sir stranger, and come with us for your bed is ready,” and glad indeed was he to go to his rest.
So Ulysses slept in a bed placed in a room over the echoing gateway; but Alcinous lay in the inner part of the house, with the queen his wife by his side.
NOW when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Alcinous and Ulysses both rose, and Alcinous led the way to the Phaecian place of assembly, which was near the ships. When they got there they sat down side by side on a seat of polished stone, while Minerva took the form of one of Alcinous’ servants, and went round the town in order to help Ulysses to get home. She went up to the citizens, man by man, and said, “Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, come to the assembly all of you and listen to the stranger who has just come off a long voyage to the house of King Alcinous; he looks like an immortal god.”
With these words she made them all want to come, and they flocked to the assembly till seats and standing room were alike crowded. Every one was struck with the appearance of Ulysses, for Minerva had beautified him about the head and shoulders, making him look taller and stouter than he really was, that he might impress the Phaecians favourably as being a very remarkable man, and might come off well in the many trials of skill to which they would challenge him. Then, when they were got together, Alcinous spoke:
“Hear me,” said he, “aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, that I may speak even as I am minded. This stranger, whoever he may be, has found his way to my house from somewhere or other either East or West. He wants an escort and wishes to have the matter settled. Let us then get one ready for him, as we have done for others before him; indeed, no one who ever yet came to my house has been able to complain of me for not speeding on his way soon enough. Let us draw a ship into the sea — one that has never yet made a voyage — and man her with two and fifty of our smartest young sailors. Then when you have made fast your oars each by his own seat, leave the ship and come to my house to prepare a feast. I will find you in everything. I am giving will these instructions to the young men who will form the crew, for as regards you aldermen and town councillors, you will join me in entertaining our guest in the cloisters. I can take no excuses, and we will have Demodocus to sing to us; for there is no bard like him whatever he may choose to sing about.”
Alcinous then led the way, and the others followed after, while a servant went to fetch Demodocus. The fifty-two picked oarsmen went to the sea shore as they had been told, and when they got there they drew the ship into the water, got her mast and sails inside her, bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted thongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft. They moored the vessel a little way out from land, and then came on shore and went to the house of King Alcinous. The outhouses, yards, and all the precincts were filled with crowds of men in great multitudes both old and young; and Alcinous killed them a dozen sheep, eight full grown pigs, and two oxen. These they skinned and dressed so as to provide a magnificent banquet.
A servant presently led in the famous bard Demodocus, whom the muse had dearly loved, but to whom she had given both good and evil, for though she had endowed him with a divine gift of song, she had robbed him of his eyesight. Pontonous set a seat for him among the guests, leaning it up against a bearing-post. He hung the lyre for him on a peg over his head, and showed him where he was to feel for it with his hands. He also set a fair table with a basket of victuals by his side, and a cup of wine from which he might drink whenever he was so disposed.
The company then laid their hands upon the good things that were before them, but as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, the muse inspired Demodocus to sing the feats of heroes, and more especially a matter that was then in the mouths of all men, to wit, the quarrel between Ulysses and Achilles, and the fierce words that they heaped on one another as they gat together at a banquet. But Agamemnon was glad when he heard his chieftains quarrelling with one another, for Apollo had foretold him this at Pytho when he crossed the stone floor to consult the oracle. Here was the beginning of the evil that by the will of Jove fell both Danaans and Trojans.
Thus sang the bard, but Ulysses drew his purple mantle over his head and covered his face, for he was ashamed to let the Phaeacians see that he was weeping. When the bard left off singing he wiped the tears from his eyes, uncovered his face, and, taking his cup, made a drink-offering to the gods; but when the Phaeacians pressed Demodocus to sing further, for they delighted in his lays, then Ulysses again drew his mantle over his head and wept bitterly. No one noticed his distress except Alcinous, who was sitting near him, and heard the heavy sighs that he was heaving. So he at once said, “Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, we have had enough now, both of the feast, and of the minstrelsy that is its due accompaniment; let us proceed therefore to the athletic sports, so that our guest on his return home may be able to tell his friends how much we surpass all other nations as boxers, wrestlers, jumpers, and runners.”
With these words he led the way, and the others followed after. A servant hung Demodocus’s lyre on its peg for him, led him out of the cloister, and set him on the same way as that along which all the chief men of the Phaeacians were going to see the sports; a crowd of several thousands of people followed them, and there were many excellent competitors for all the prizes. Acroneos, Ocyalus, Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, Anchialus, Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus, Thoon, Anabesineus, and Amphialus son of Polyneus son of Tecton. There was also Euryalus son of Naubolus, who was like Mars himself, and was the best looking man among the Phaecians except Laodamas. Three sons of Alcinous, Laodamas, Halios, and Clytoneus, competed also.
The foot races came first. The course was set out for them from the starting post, and they raised a dust upon the plain as they all flew forward at the same moment. Clytoneus came in first by a long way; he left every one else behind him by the length of the furrow that a couple of mules can plough in a fallow field. They then turned to the painful art of wrestling, and here Euryalus proved to be the best man. Amphialus excelled all the others in jumping, while at throwing the disc there was no one who could approach Elatreus. Alcinous’s son Laodamas was the best boxer, and he it was who presently said, when they had all been diverted with the games, “Let us ask the stranger whether he excels in any of these sports; he seems very powerfully built; his thighs, claves, hands, and neck are of prodigious strength, nor is he at all old, but he has suffered much lately, and there is nothing like the sea for making havoc with a man, no matter how strong he is.”
“You are quite right, Laodamas,” replied Euryalus, “go up to your guest and speak to him about it yourself.”
When Laodamas heard this he made his way into the middle of the crowd and said to Ulysses, “I hope, Sir, that you will enter yourself for some one or other of our competitions if you are skilled in any of them — and you must have gone in for many a one before now. There is nothing that does any one so much credit all his life long as the showing himself a proper man with his hands and feet. Have a try therefore at something, and banish all sorrow from your mind. Your return home will not be long delayed, for the ship is already drawn into the water, and the crew is found.”
Ulysses answered, “Laodamas, why do you taunt me in this way? my mind is set rather on cares than contests; I have been through infinite trouble, and am come among you now as a suppliant, praying your king and people to further me on my return home.”
Then Euryalus reviled him outright and said, “I gather, then, that you are unskilled in any of the many sports that men generally delight in. I suppose you are one of those grasping traders that go about in ships as captains or merchants, and who think of nothing but of their outward freights and homeward cargoes. There does not seem to be much of the athlete about you.”
“For shame, Sir,” answered Ulysses, fiercely, “you are an insolent fellow — so true is it that the gods do not grace all men alike in speech, person, and understanding. One man may be of weak presence, but heaven has adorned this with such a good conversation that he charms every one who sees him; his honeyed moderation carries his hearers with him so that he is leader in all assemblies of his fellows, and wherever he goes he is looked up to. Another may be as handsome as a god, but his good looks are not crowned with discretion. This is your case. No god could make a finer looking fellow than you are, but you are a fool. Your ill-judged remarks have made me exceedingly angry, and you are quite mistaken, for I excel in a great many athletic exercises; indeed, so long as I had youth and strength, I was among the first athletes of the age. Now, however, I am worn out by labour and sorrow, for I have gone through much both on the field of battle and by the waves of the weary sea; still, in spite of all this I will compete, for your taunts have stung me to the quick.”
So he hurried up without even taking his cloak off, and seized a disc, larger, more massive and much heavier than those used by the Phaeacians when disc-throwing among themselves. Then, swinging it back, he threw it from his brawny hand, and it made a humming sound in the air as he did so. The Phaeacians quailed beneath the rushing of its flight as it sped gracefully from his hand, and flew beyond any mark that had been made yet. Minerva, in the form of a man, came and marked the place where it had fallen. “A blind man, Sir,” said she, “could easily tell your mark by groping for it — it is so far ahead of any other. You may make your mind easy about this contest, for no Phaeacian can come near to such a throw as yours.”
Ulysses was glad when he found he had a friend among the lookers-on, so he began to speak more pleasantly. “Young men,” said he, “come up to that throw if you can, and I will throw another disc as heavy or even heavier. If anyone wants to have a bout with me let him come on, for I am exceedingly angry; I will box, wrestle, or run, I do not care what it is, with any man of you all except Laodamas, but not with him because I am his guest, and one cannot compete with one’s own personal friend. At least I do not think it a prudent or a sensible thing for a guest to challenge his host’s family at any game, especially when he is in a foreign country. He will cut the ground from under his own feet if he does; but I make no exception as regards any one else, for I want to have the matter out and know which is the best man. I am a good hand at every kind of athletic sport known among mankind. I am an excellent archer. In battle I am always the first to bring a man down with my arrow, no matter how many more are taking aim at him alongside of me. Philoctetes was the only man who could shoot better than I could when we Achaeans were before Troy and in practice. I far excel every one else in the whole world, of those who still eat bread upon the face of the earth, but I should not like to shoot against the mighty dead, such as Hercules, or Eurytus the Cechalian-men who could shoot against the gods themselves. This in fact was how Eurytus came prematurely by his end, for Apollo was angry with him and killed him because he challenged him as an archer. I can throw a dart farther than any one else can shoot an arrow. Running is the only point in respect of which I am afraid some of the Phaecians might beat me, for I have been brought down very low at sea; my provisions ran short, and therefore I am still weak.”
They all held their peace except King Alcinous, who began, “Sir, we have had much pleasure in hearing all that you have told us, from which I understand that you are willing to show your prowess, as having been displeased with some insolent remarks that have been made to you by one of our athletes, and which could never have been uttered by any one who knows how to talk with propriety. I hope you will apprehend my meaning, and will explain to any be one of your chief men who may be dining with yourself and your family when you get home, that we have an hereditary aptitude for accomplishments of all kinds. We are not particularly remarkable for our boxing, nor yet as wrestlers, but we are singularly fleet of foot and are excellent sailors. We are extremely fond of good dinners, music, and dancing; we also like frequent changes of linen, warm baths, and good beds, so now, please, some of you who are the best dancers set about dancing, that our guest on his return home may be able to tell his friends how much we surpass all other nations as sailors, runners, dancers, minstrels. Demodocus has left his lyre at my house, so run some one or other of you and fetch it for him.”
On this a servant hurried off to bring the lyre from the king’s house, and the nine men who had been chosen as stewards stood forward. It was their business to manage everything connected with the sports, so they made the ground smooth and marked a wide space for the dancers. Presently the servant came back with Demodocus’s lyre, and he took his place in the midst of them, whereon the best young dancers in the town began to foot and trip it so nimbly that Ulysses was delighted with the merry twinkling of their feet.
Meanwhile the bard began to sing the loves of Mars and Venus, and how they first began their intrigue in the house of Vulcan. Mars made Venus many presents, and defiled King Vulcan’s marriage bed, so the sun, who saw what they were about, told Vulcan. Vulcan was very angry when he heard such dreadful news, so he went to his smithy brooding mischief, got his great anvil into its place, and began to forge some chains which none could either unloose or break, so that they might stay there in that place. When he had finished his snare he went into his bedroom and festooned the bed-posts all over with chains like cobwebs; he also let many hang down from the great beam of the ceiling. Not even a god could see them, so fine and subtle were they. As soon as he had spread the chains all over the bed, he made as though he were setting out for the fair state of Lemnos, which of all places in the world was the one he was most fond of. But Mars kept no blind look out, and as soon as he saw him start, hurried off to his house, burning with love for Venus.
Now Venus was just come in from a visit to her father Jove, and was about sitting down when Mars came inside the house, an said as he took her hand in his own, “Let us go to the couch of Vulcan: he is not at home, but is gone off to Lemnos among the Sintians, whose speech is barbarous.”
She was nothing loth, so they went to the couch to take their rest, whereon they were caught in the toils which cunning Vulcan had spread for them, and could neither get up nor stir hand or foot, but found too late that they were in a trap. Then Vulcan came up to them, for he had turned back before reaching Lemnos, when his scout the sun told him what was going on. He was in a furious passion, and stood in the vestibule making a dreadful noise as he shouted to all the gods.
“Father Jove,” he cried, “and all you other blessed gods who live for ever, come here and see the ridiculous and disgraceful sight that I will show you. Jove’s daughter Venus is always dishonouring me because I am lame. She is in love with Mars, who is handsome and clean built, whereas I am a cripple — but my parents are to blame for that, not I; they ought never to have begotten me. Come and see the pair together asleep on my bed. It makes me furious to look at them. They are very fond of one another, but I do not think they will lie there longer than they can help, nor do I think that they will sleep much; there, however, they shall stay till her father has repaid me the sum I gave him for his baggage of a daughter, who is fair but not honest.”
On this the gods gathered to the house of Vulcan. Earth-encircling Neptune came, and Mercury the bringer of luck, and King Apollo, but the goddesses stayed at home all of them for shame. Then the givers of all good things stood in the doorway, and the blessed gods roared with inextinguishable laughter, as they saw how cunning Vulcan had been, whereon one would turn towards his neighbour saying:
“Ill deeds do not prosper, and the weak confound the strong. See how limping Vulcan, lame as he is, has caught Mars who is the fleetest god in heaven; and now Mars will be cast in heavy damages.”
Thus did they converse, but King Apollo said to Mercury, “Messenger Mercury, giver of good things, you would not care how strong the chains were, would you, if you could sleep with Venus?”
“King Apollo,” answered Mercury, “I only wish I might get the chance, though there were three times as many chains — and you might look on, all of you, gods and goddesses, but would sleep with her if I could.”
The immortal gods burst out laughing as they heard him, but Neptune took it all seriously, and kept on imploring Vulcan to set Mars free again. “Let him go,” he cried, “and I will undertake, as you require, that he shall pay you all the damages that are held reasonable among the immortal gods.”
“Do not,” replied Vulcan, “ask me to do this; a bad man’s bond is bad security; what remedy could I enforce against you if Mars should go away and leave his debts behind him along with his chains?”
“Vulcan,” said Neptune, “if Mars goes away without paying his damages, I will pay you myself.” So Vulcan answered, “In this case I cannot and must not refuse you.”
Thereon he loosed the bonds that bound them, and as soon as they were free they scampered off, Mars to Thrace and laughter-loving Venus to Cyprus and to Paphos, where is her grove and her altar fragrant with burnt offerings. Here the Graces hathed her, and anointed her with oil of ambrosia such as the immortal gods make use of, and they clothed her in raiment of the most enchanting beauty.
Thus sang the bard, and both Ulysses and the seafaring Phaeacians were charmed as they heard him.
Then Alcinous told Laodamas and Halius to dance alone, for there was no one to compete with them. So they took a red ball which Polybus had made for them, and one of them bent himself backwards and threw it up towards the clouds, while the other jumped from off the ground and caught it with ease before it came down again. When they had done throwing the ball straight up into the air they began to dance, and at the same time kept on throwing it backwards and forwards to one another, while all the young men in the ring applauded and made a great stamping with their feet. Then Ulysses said:
“King Alcinous, you said your people were the nimblest dancers in the world, and indeed they have proved themselves to be so. I was astonished as I saw them.”
The king was delighted at this, and exclaimed to the Phaecians “Aldermen and town councillors, our guest seems to be a person of singular judgement; let us give him such proof of our hospitality as he may reasonably expect. There are twelve chief men among you, and counting myself there are thirteen; contribute, each of you, a clean cloak, a shirt, and a talent of fine gold; let us give him all this in a lump down at once, so that when he gets his supper he may do so with a light heart. As for Euryalus he will have to make a formal apology and a present too, for he has been rude.”
Thus did he speak. The others all of them applauded his saying, and sent their servants to fetch the presents. Then Euryalus said, “King Alcinous, I will give the stranger all the satisfaction you require. He shall have sword, which is of bronze, all but the hilt, which is of silver. I will also give him the scabbard of newly sawn ivory into which it fits. It will be worth a great deal to him.”
As he spoke he placed the sword in the hands of Ulysses and said, “Good luck to you, father stranger; if anything has been said amiss may the winds blow it away with them, and may heaven grant you a safe return, for I understand you have been long away from home, and have gone through much hardship.”
To which Ulysses answered, “Good luck to you too my friend, and may the gods grant you every happiness. I hope you will not miss the sword you have given me along with your apology.”
With these words he girded the sword about his shoulders and towards sundown the presents began to make their appearance, as the servants of the donors kept bringing them to the house of King Alcinous; here his sons received them, and placed them under their mother’s charge. Then Alcinous led the way to the house and bade his guests take their seats.
“Wife,” said he, turning to Queen Arete, “Go, fetch the best chest we have, and put a clean cloak and shirt in it. Also, set a copper on the fire and heat some water; our guest will take a warm bath; see also to the careful packing of the presents that the noble Phaeacians have made him; he will thus better enjoy both his supper and the singing that will follow. I shall myself give him this golden goblet — which is of exquisite workmanship — that he may be reminded of me for the rest of his life whenever he makes a drink-offering to Jove, or to any of the gods.”
Then Arete told her maids to set a large tripod upon the fire as fast as they could, whereon they set a tripod full of bath water on to a clear fire; they threw on sticks to make it blaze, and the water became hot as the flame played about the belly of the tripod. Meanwhile Arete brought a magnificent chest her own room, and inside it she packed all the beautiful presents of gold and raiment which the Phaeacians had brought. Lastly she added a cloak and a good shirt from Alcinous, and said to Ulysses:
“See to the lid yourself, and have the whole bound round at once, for fear any one should rob you by the way when you are asleep in your ship.”
When Ulysses heard this he put the lid on the chest and made it fast with a bond that Circe had taught him. He had done so before an upper servant told him to come to the bath and wash himself. He was very glad of a warm bath, for he had had no one to wait upon him ever since he left the house of Calypso, who as long as he remained with her had taken as good care of him as though he had been a god. When the servants had done washing and anointing him with oil, and had given him a clean cloak and shirt, he left the bath room and joined the guests who were sitting over their wine. Lovely Nausicaa stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof if the cloister, and admired him as she saw him pass. “Farewell stranger,” said she, “do not forget me when you are safe at home again, for it is to me first that you owe a ransom for having saved your life.”
And Ulysses said, “Nausicaa, daughter of great Alcinous, may Jove the mighty husband of Juno, grant that I may reach my home; so shall I bless you as my guardian angel all my days, for it was you who saved me.”
When he had said this, he seated himself beside Alcinous. Supper was then served, and the wine was mixed for drinking. A servant led in the favourite bard Demodocus, and set him in the midst of the company, near one of the bearing-posts supporting the cloister, that he might lean against it. Then Ulysses cut off a piece of roast pork with plenty of fat (for there was abundance left on the joint) and said to a servant, “Take this piece of pork over to Demodocus and tell him to eat it; for all the pain his lays may cause me I will salute him none the less; bards are honoured and respected throughout the world, for the muse teaches them their songs and loves them.”
The servant carried the pork in his fingers over to Demodocus, who took it and was very much pleased. They then laid their hands on the good things that were before them, and as soon as they had had to eat and drink, Ulysses said to Demodocus, “Demodocus, there is no one in the world whom I admire more than I do you. You must have studied under the Muse, Jove’s daughter, and under Apollo, so accurately do you sing the return of the Achaeans with all their sufferings and adventures. If you were not there yourself, you must have heard it all from some one who was. Now, however, change your song and tell us of the wooden horse which Epeus made with the assistance of Minerva, and which Ulysses got by stratagem into the fort of Troy after freighting it with the men who afterwards sacked the city. If you will sing this tale aright I will tell all the world how magnificently heaven has endowed you.”
The bard inspired of heaven took up the story at the point where some of the Argives set fire to their tents and sailed away while others, hidden within the horse, were waiting with Ulysses in the Trojan place of assembly. For the Trojans themselves had drawn the horse into their fortress, and it stood there while they sat in council round it, and were in three minds as to what they should do. Some were for breaking it up then and there; others would have it dragged to the top of the rock on which the fortress stood, and then thrown down the precipice; while yet others were for letting it remain as an offering and propitiation for the gods. And this was how they settled it in the end, for the city was doomed when it took in that horse, within which were all the bravest of the Argives waiting to bring death and destruction on the Trojans. Anon he sang how the sons of the Achaeans issued from the horse, and sacked the town, breaking out from their ambuscade. He sang how they over ran the city hither and thither and ravaged it, and how Ulysses went raging like Mars along with Menelaus to the house of Deiphobus. It was there that the fight raged most furiously, nevertheless by Minerva’s help he was victorious.
All this he told, but Ulysses was overcome as he heard him, and his cheeks were wet with tears. He wept as a woman weeps when she throws herself on the body of her husband who has fallen before his own city and people, fighting bravely in defence of his home and children. She screams aloud and flings her arms about him as he lies gasping for breath and dying, but her enemies beat her from behind about the back and shoulders, and carry her off into slavery, to a life of labour and sorrow, and the beauty fades from her cheeks — even so piteously did Ulysses weep, but none of those present perceived his tears except Alcinous, who was sitting near him, and could hear the sobs and sighs that he was heaving. The king, therefore, at once rose and said:
“Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, let Demodocus cease his song, for there are those present who do not seem to like it. From the moment that we had done supper and Demodocus began to sing, our guest has been all the time groaning and lamenting. He is evidently in great trouble, so let the bard leave off, that we may all enjoy ourselves, hosts and guest alike. This will be much more as it should be, for all these festivities, with the escort and the presents that we are making with so much good will, are wholly in his honour, and any one with even a moderate amount of right feeling knows that he ought to treat a guest and a suppliant as though he were his own brother.
“Therefore, Sir, do you on your part affect no more concealment nor reserve in the matter about which I shall ask you; it will be more polite in you to give me a plain answer; tell me the name by which your father and mother over yonder used to call you, and by which you were known among your neighbours and fellow-citizens. There is no one, neither rich nor poor, who is absolutely without any name whatever, for people’s fathers and mothers give them names as soon as they are born. Tell me also your country, nation, and city, that our ships may shape their purpose accordingly and take you there. For the Phaeacians have no pilots; their vessels have no rudders as those of other nations have, but the ships themselves understand what it is that we are thinking about and want; they know all the cities and countries in the whole world, and can traverse the sea just as well even when it is covered with mist and cloud, so that there is no danger of being wrecked or coming to any harm. Still I do remember hearing my father say that Neptune was angry with us for being too easy-going in the matter of giving people escorts. He said that one of these days he should wreck a ship of ours as it was returning from having escorted some one, and bury our city under a high mountain. This is what my used to say, but whether the god will carry out his threat or no is a matter which he will decide for himself.
“And now, tell me and tell me true. Where have you been wandering, and in what countries have you travelled? Tell us of the peoples themselves, and of their cities — who were hostile, savage and uncivilized, and who, on the other hand, hospitable and humane. Tell us also why you are made unhappy on hearing about the return of the Argive Danaans from Troy. The gods arranged all this, and sent them their misfortunes in order that future generations might have something to sing about. Did you lose some brave kinsman of your wife’s when you were before Troy? a son-in-law or father-in-law — which are the nearest relations a man has outside his own flesh and blood? or was it some brave and kindly-natured comrade — for a good friend is as dear to a man as his own brother?”
AND ULYSSES answered, “King Alcinous, it is a good thing to hear a bard with such a divine voice as this man has. There is nothing better or more delightful than when a whole people make merry together, with the guests sitting orderly to listen, while the table is loaded with bread and meats, and the cup-bearer draws wine and fills his cup for every man. This is indeed as fair a sight as a man can see. Now, however, since you are inclined to ask the story of my sorrows, and rekindle my own sad memories in respect of them, I do not know how to begin, nor yet how to continue and conclude my tale, for the hand of heaven has been laid heavily upon me.
“Firstly, then, I will tell you my name that you too may know it, and one day, if I outlive this time of sorrow, may become my there guests though I live so far away from all of you. I am Ulysses son of Laertes, reknowned among mankind for all manner of subtlety, so that my fame ascends to heaven. I live in Ithaca, where there is a high mountain called Neritum, covered with forests; and not far from it there is a group of islands very near to one another — Dulichium, Same, and the wooded island of Zacynthus. It lies squat on the horizon, all highest up in the sea towards the sunset, while the others lie away from it towards dawn. It is a rugged island, but it breeds brave men, and my eyes know none that they better love to look upon. The goddess Calypso kept me with her in her cave, and wanted me to marry her, as did also the cunning Aeaean goddess Circe; but they could neither of them persuade me, for there is nothing dearer to a man than his own country and his parents, and however splendid a home he may have in a foreign country, if it be far from father or mother, he does not care about it. Now, however, I will tell you of the many hazardous adventures which by Jove’s will I met with on my return from Troy.
“When I had set sail thence the wind took me first to Ismarus, which is the city of the Cicons. There I sacked the town and put the people to the sword. We took their wives and also much booty, which we divided equitably amongst us, so that none might have reason to complain. I then said that we had better make off at once, but my men very foolishly would not obey me, so they stayed there drinking much wine and killing great numbers of sheep and oxen on the sea shore. Meanwhile the Cicons cried out for help to other Cicons who lived inland. These were more in number, and stronger, and they were more skilled in the art of war, for they could fight, either from chariots or on foot as the occasion served; in the morning, therefore, they came as thick as leaves and bloom in summer, and the hand of heaven was against us, so that we were hard pressed. They set the battle in array near the ships, and the hosts aimed their bronze-shod spears at one another. So long as the day waxed and it was still morning, we held our own against them, though they were more in number than we; but as the sun went down, towards the time when men loose their oxen, the Cicons got the better of us, and we lost half a dozen men from every ship we had; so we got away with those that were left.
“Thence we sailed onward with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have escaped death though we had lost our comrades, nor did we leave till we had thrice invoked each one of the poor fellows who had perished by the hands of the Cicons. Then Jove raised the North wind against us till it blew a hurricane, so that land and sky were hidden in thick clouds, and night sprang forth out of the heavens. We let the ships run before the gale, but the force of the wind tore our sails to tatters, so we took them down for fear of shipwreck, and rowed our hardest towards the land. There we lay two days and two nights suffering much alike from toil and distress of mind, but on the morning of the third day we again raised our masts, set sail, and took our places, letting the wind and steersmen direct our ship. I should have got home at that time unharmed had not the North wind and the currents been against me as I was doubling Cape Malea, and set me off my course hard by the island of Cythera.
“I was driven thence by foul winds for a space of nine days upon the sea, but on the tenth day we reached the land of the Lotus-eater, who live on a food that comes from a kind of flower. Here we landed to take in fresh water, and our crews got their mid-day meal on the shore near the ships. When they had eaten and drunk I sent two of my company to see what manner of men the people of the place might be, and they had a third man under them. They started at once, and went about among the Lotus-eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened to them, but were for staying and munching lotus with the Lotus-eater without thinking further of their return; nevertheless, though they wept bitterly I forced them back to the ships and made them fast under the benches. Then I told the rest to go on board at once, lest any of them should taste of the lotus and leave off wanting to get home, so they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars.
“We sailed hence, always in much distress, till we came to the land of the lawless and inhuman Cyclopes. Now the Cyclopes neither plant nor plough, but trust in providence, and live on such wheat, barley, and grapes as grow wild without any kind of tillage, and their wild grapes yield them wine as the sun and the rain may grow them. They have no laws nor assemblies of the people, but live in caves on the tops of high mountains; each is lord and master in his family, and they take no account of their neighbours.
“Now off their harbour there lies a wooded and fertile island not quite close to the land of the Cyclopes, but still not far. It is overrun with wild goats, that breed there in great numbers and are never disturbed by foot of man; for sportsmen — who as a rule will suffer so much hardship in forest or among mountain precipices — do not go there, nor yet again is it ever ploughed or fed down, but it lies a wilderness untilled and unsown from year to year, and has no living thing upon it but only goats. For the Cyclopes have no ships, nor yet shipwrights who could make ships for them; they cannot therefore go from city to city, or sail over the sea to one another’s country as people who have ships can do; if they had had these they would have colonized the island, for it is a very good one, and would yield everything in due season. There are meadows that in some places come right down to the sea shore, well watered and full of luscious grass; grapes would do there excellently; there is level land for ploughing, and it would always yield heavily at harvest time, for the soil is deep. There is a good harbour where no cables are wanted, nor yet anchors, nor need a ship be moored, but all one has to do is to beach one’s vessel and stay there till the wind becomes fair for putting out to sea again. At the head of the harbour there is a spring of clear water coming out of a cave, and there are poplars growing all round it.
“Here we entered, but so dark was the night that some god must have brought us in, for there was nothing whatever to be seen. A thick mist hung all round our ships; the moon was hidden behind a mass of clouds so that no one could have seen the island if he had looked for it, nor were there any breakers to tell us we were close in shore before we found ourselves upon the land itself; when, however, we had beached the ships, we took down the sails, went ashore and camped upon the beach till daybreak.
“When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, we admired the island and wandered all over it, while the nymphs Jove’s daughters roused the wild goats that we might get some meat for our dinner. On this we fetched our spears and bows and arrows from the ships, and dividing ourselves into three bands began to shoot the goats. Heaven sent us excellent sport; I had twelve ships with me, and each ship got nine goats, while my own ship had ten; thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we ate and drank our fill — and we had plenty of wine left, for each one of us had taken many jars full when we sacked the city of the Cicons, and this had not yet run out. While we were feasting we kept turning our eyes towards the land of the Cyclopes, which was hard by, and saw the smoke of their stubble fires. We could almost fancy we heard their voices and the bleating of their sheep and goats, but when the sun went down and it came on dark, we camped down upon the beach, and next morning I called a council.
“’Stay here, my brave fellows,’ said I, ‘all the rest of you, while I go with my ship and exploit these people myself: I want to see if they are uncivilized savages, or a hospitable and humane race.’
“I went on board, bidding my men to do so also and loose the hawsers; so they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars. When we got to the land, which was not far, there, on the face of a cliff near the sea, we saw a great cave overhung with laurels. It was a station for a great many sheep and goats, and outside there was a large yard, with a high wall round it made of stones built into the ground and of trees both pine and oak. This was the abode of a huge monster who was then away from home shepherding his flocks. He would have nothing to do with other people, but led the life of an outlaw. He was a horrid creature, not like a human being at all, but resembling rather some crag that stands out boldly against the sky on the top of a high mountain.
“I told my men to draw the ship ashore, and stay where they were, all but the twelve best among them, who were to go along with myself. I also took a goatskin of sweet black wine which had been given me by Maron, Apollo son of Euanthes, who was priest of Apollo the patron god of Ismarus, and lived within the wooded precincts of the temple. When we were sacking the city we respected him, and spared his life, as also his wife and child; so he made me some presents of great value — seven talents of fine gold, and a bowl of silver, with twelve jars of sweet wine, unblended, and of the most exquisite flavour. Not a man nor maid in the house knew about it, but only himself, his wife, and one housekeeper: when he drank it he mixed twenty parts of water to one of wine, and yet the fragrance from the mixing-bowl was so exquisite that it was impossible to refrain from drinking. I filled a large skin with this wine, and took a wallet full of provisions with me, for my mind misgave me that I might have to deal with some savage who would be of great strength, and would respect neither right nor law.
“We soon reached his cave, but he was out shepherding, so we went inside and took stock of all that we could see. His cheese-racks were loaded with cheeses, and he had more lambs and kids than his pens could hold. They were kept in separate flocks; first there were the hoggets, then the oldest of the younger lambs and lastly the very young ones all kept apart from one another; as for his dairy, all the vessels, bowls, and milk pails into which he milked, were swimming with whey. When they saw all this, my men begged me to let them first steal some cheeses, and make off with them to the ship; they would then return, drive down the lambs and kids, put them on board and sail away with them. It would have been indeed better if we had done so but I would not listen to them, for I wanted to see the owner himself, in the hope that he might give me a present. When, however, we saw him my poor men found him ill to deal with.
“We lit a fire, offered some of the cheeses in sacrifice, ate others of them, and then sat waiting till the Cyclops should come in with his sheep. When he came, he brought in with him a huge load of dry firewood to light the fire for his supper, and this he flung with such a noise on to the floor of his cave that we hid ourselves for fear at the far end of the cavern. Meanwhile he drove all the ewes inside, as well as the she-goats that he was going to milk, leaving the males, both rams and he-goats, outside in the yards. Then he rolled a huge stone to the mouth of the cave — so huge that two and twenty strong four-wheeled waggons would not be enough to draw it from its place against the doorway. When he had so done he sat down and milked his ewes and goats, all in due course, and then let each of them have her own young. He curdled half the milk and set it aside in wicker strainers, but the other half he poured into bowls that he might drink it for his supper. When he had got through with all his work, he lit the fire, and then caught sight of us, whereon he said:
“’Strangers, who are you? Where do sail from? Are you traders, or do you sail the as rovers, with your hands against every man, and every man’s hand against you?’
“We were frightened out of our senses by his loud voice and monstrous form, but I managed to say, ‘We are Achaeans on our way home from Troy, but by the will of Jove, and stress of weather, we have been driven far out of our course. We are the people of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, who has won infinite renown throughout the whole world, by sacking so great a city and killing so many people. We therefore humbly pray you to show us some hospitality, and otherwise make us such presents as visitors may reasonably expect. May your excellency fear the wrath of heaven, for we are your suppliants, and Jove takes all respectable travellers under his protection, for he is the avenger of all suppliants and foreigners in distress.’
“To this he gave me but a pitiless answer, ‘Stranger,’ said he, ‘you are a fool, or else you know nothing of this country. Talk to me, indeed, about fearing the gods or shunning their anger? We Cyclopes do not care about Jove or any of your blessed gods, for we are ever so much stronger than they. I shall not spare either yourself or your companions out of any regard for Jove, unless I am in the humour for doing so. And now tell me where you made your ship fast when you came on shore. Was it round the point, or is she lying straight off the land?’
“He said this to draw me out, but I was too cunning to be caught in that way, so I answered with a lie; ‘Neptune,’ said I, ‘sent my ship on to the rocks at the far end of your country, and wrecked it. We were driven on to them from the open sea, but I and those who are with me escaped the jaws of death.’
“The cruel wretch vouchsafed me not one word of answer, but with a sudden clutch he gripped up two of my men at once and dashed them down upon the ground as though they had been puppies. Their brains were shed upon the ground, and the earth was wet with their blood. Then he tore them limb from limb and supped upon them. He gobbled them up like a lion in the wilderness, flesh, bones, marrow, and entrails, without leaving anything uneaten. As for us, we wept and lifted up our hands to heaven on seeing such a horrid sight, for we did not know what else to do; but when the Cyclops had filled his huge paunch, and had washed down his meal of human flesh with a drink of neat milk, he stretched himself full length upon the ground among his sheep, and went to sleep. I was at first inclined to seize my sword, draw it, and drive it into his vitals, but I reflected that if I did we should all certainly be lost, for we should never be able to shift the stone which the monster had put in front of the door. So we stayed sobbing and sighing where we were till morning came.
“When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, he again lit his fire, milked his goats and ewes, all quite rightly, and then let each have her own young one; as soon as he had got through with all his work, he clutched up two more of my men, and began eating them for his morning’s meal. Presently, with the utmost ease, he rolled the stone away from the door and drove out his sheep, but he at once put it back again — as easily as though he were merely clapping the lid on to a quiver full of arrows. As soon as he had done so he shouted, and cried ‘Shoo, shoo,’ after his sheep to drive them on to the mountain; so I was left to scheme some way of taking my revenge and covering myself with glory.
“In the end I deemed it would be the best plan to do as follows. The Cyclops had a great club which was lying near one of the sheep pens; it was of green olive wood, and he had cut it intending to use it for a staff as soon as it should be dry. It was so huge that we could only compare it to the mast of a twenty-oared merchant vessel of large burden, and able to venture out into open sea. I went up to this club and cut off about six feet of it; I then gave this piece to the men and told them to fine it evenly off at one end, which they proceeded to do, and lastly I brought it to a point myself, charring the end in the fire to make it harder. When I had done this I hid it under dung, which was lying about all over the cave, and told the men to cast lots which of them should venture along with myself to lift it and bore it into the monster’s eye while he was asleep. The lot fell upon the very four whom I should have chosen, and I myself made five. In the evening the wretch came back from shepherding, and drove his flocks into the cave — this time driving them all inside, and not leaving any in the yards; I suppose some fancy must have taken him, or a god must have prompted him to do so. As soon as he had put the stone back to its place against the door, he sat down, milked his ewes and his goats all quite rightly, and then let each have her own young one; when he had got through with all this work, he gripped up two more of my men, and made his supper off them. So I went up to him with an ivy-wood bowl of black wine in my hands:
“’Look here, Cyclops,’ said I, you have been eating a great deal of man’s flesh, so take this and drink some wine, that you may see what kind of liquor we had on board my ship. I was bringing it to you as a drink-offering, in the hope that you would take compassion upon me and further me on my way home, whereas all you do is to go on ramping and raving most intolerably. You ought to be ashamed yourself; how can you expect people to come see you any more if you treat them in this way?’
“He then took the cup and drank. He was so delighted with the taste of the wine that he begged me for another bowl full. ‘Be so kind,’ he said, ‘as to give me some more, and tell me your name at once. I want to make you a present that you will be glad to have. We have wine even in this country, for our soil grows grapes and the sun ripens them, but this drinks like nectar and ambrosia all in one.’
“I then gave him some more; three times did I fill the bowl for him, and three times did he drain it without thought or heed; then, when I saw that the wine had got into his head, I said to him as plausibly as I could: ‘Cyclops, you ask my name and I will tell it you; give me, therefore, the present you promised me; my name is Noman; this is what my father and mother and my friends have always called me.’
“But the cruel wretch said, ‘Then I will eat all Noman’s comrades before Noman himself, and will keep Noman for the last. This is the present that I will make him.’
As he spoke he reeled, and fell sprawling face upwards on the ground. His great neck hung heavily backwards and a deep sleep took hold upon him. Presently he turned sick, and threw up both wine and the gobbets of human flesh on which he had been gorging, for he was very drunk. Then I thrust the beam of wood far into the embers to heat it, and encouraged my men lest any of them should turn faint-hearted. When the wood, green though it was, was about to blaze, I drew it out of the fire glowing with heat, and my men gathered round me, for heaven had filled their hearts with courage. We drove the sharp end of the beam into the monster’s eye, and bearing upon it with all my weight I kept turning it round and round as though I were boring a hole in a ship’s plank with an auger, which two men with a wheel and strap can keep on turning as long as they choose. Even thus did we bore the red hot beam into his eye, till the boiling blood bubbled all over it as we worked it round and round, so that the steam from the burning eyeball scalded his eyelids and eyebrows, and the roots of the eye sputtered in the fire. As a blacksmith plunges an axe or hatchet into cold water to temper it — for it is this that gives strength to the iron — and it makes a great hiss as he does so, even thus did the Cyclops’ eye hiss round the beam of olive wood, and his hideous yells made the cave ring again. We ran away in a fright, but he plucked the beam all besmirched with gore from his eye, and hurled it from him in a frenzy of rage and pain, shouting as he did so to the other Cyclopes who lived on the bleak headlands near him; so they gathered from all quarters round his cave when they heard him crying, and asked what was the matter with him.
“’What ails you, Polyphemus,’ said they, ‘that you make such a noise, breaking the stillness of the night, and preventing us from being able to sleep? Surely no man is carrying off your sheep? Surely no man is trying to kill you either by fraud or by force?
“But Polyphemus shouted to them from inside the cave, ‘Noman is killing me by fraud! Noman is killing me by force!’
“’Then,’ said they, ‘if no man is attacking you, you must be ill; when Jove makes people ill, there is no help for it, and you had better pray to your father Neptune.’
“Then they went away, and I laughed inwardly at the success of my clever stratagem, but the Cyclops, groaning and in an agony of pain, felt about with his hands till he found the stone and took it from the door; then he sat in the doorway and stretched his hands in front of it to catch anyone going out with the sheep, for he thought I might be foolish enough to attempt this.
“As for myself I kept on puzzling to think how I could best save my own life and those of my companions; I schemed and schemed, as one who knows that his life depends upon it, for the danger was very great. In the end I deemed that this plan would be the best. The male sheep were well grown, and carried a heavy black fleece, so I bound them noiselessly in threes together, with some of the withies on which the wicked monster used to sleep. There was to be a man under the middle sheep, and the two on either side were to cover him, so that there were three sheep to each man. As for myself there was a ram finer than any of the others, so I caught hold of him by the back, esconced myself in the thick wool under his belly, and flung on patiently to his fleece, face upwards, keeping a firm hold on it all the time.
“Thus, then, did we wait in great fear of mind till morning came, but when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, the male sheep hurried out to feed, while the ewes remained bleating about the pens waiting to be milked, for their udders were full to bursting; but their master in spite of all his pain felt the backs of all the sheep as they stood upright, without being sharp enough to find out that the men were underneath their bellies. As the ram was going out, last of all, heavy with its fleece and with the weight of my crafty self; Polyphemus laid hold of it and said:
“’My good ram, what is it that makes you the last to leave my cave this morning? You are not wont to let the ewes go before you, but lead the mob with a run whether to flowery mead or bubbling fountain, and are the first to come home again at night; but now you lag last of all. Is it because you know your master has lost his eye, and are sorry because that wicked Noman and his horrid crew have got him down in his drink and blinded him? But I will have his life yet. If you could understand and talk, you would tell me where the wretch is hiding, and I would dash his brains upon the ground till they flew all over the cave. I should thus have some satisfaction for the harm a this no-good Noman has done me.’
“As spoke he drove the ram outside, but when we were a little way out from the cave and yards, I first got from under the ram’s belly, and then freed my comrades; as for the sheep, which were very fat, by constantly heading them in the right direction we managed to drive them down to the ship. The crew rejoiced greatly at seeing those of us who had escaped death, but wept for the others whom the Cyclops had killed. However, I made signs to them by nodding and frowning that they were to hush their crying, and told them to get all the sheep on board at once and put out to sea; so they went aboard, took their places, and smote the grey sea with their oars. Then, when I had got as far out as my voice would reach, I began to jeer at the Cyclops.
“’Cyclops,’ said I, ‘you should have taken better measure of your man before eating up his comrades in your cave. You wretch, eat up your visitors in your own house? You might have known that your sin would find you out, and now Jove and the other gods have punished you.’
“He got more and more furious as he heard me, so he tore the top from off a high mountain, and flung it just in front of my ship so that it was within a little of hitting the end of the rudder. The sea quaked as the rock fell into it, and the wash of the wave it raised carried us back towards the mainland, and forced us towards the shore. But I snatched up a long pole and kept the ship off, making signs to my men by nodding my head, that they must row for their lives, whereon they laid out with a will. When we had got twice as far as we were before, I was for jeering at the Cyclops again, but the men begged and prayed of me to hold my tongue.
“’Do not,’ they exclaimed, ‘be mad enough to provoke this savage creature further; he has thrown one rock at us already which drove us back again to the mainland, and we made sure it had been the death of us; if he had then heard any further sound of voices he would have pounded our heads and our ship’s timbers into a jelly with the rugged rocks he would have heaved at us, for he can throw them a long way.’
“But I would not listen to them, and shouted out to him in my rage, ‘Cyclops, if any one asks you who it was that put your eye out and spoiled your beauty, say it was the valiant warrior Ulysses, son of Laertes, who lives in Ithaca.’
“On this he groaned, and cried out, ‘Alas, alas, then the old prophecy about me is coming true. There was a prophet here, at one time, a man both brave and of great stature, Telemus son of Eurymus, who was an excellent seer, and did all the prophesying for the Cyclopes till he grew old; he told me that all this would happen to me some day, and said I should lose my sight by the hand of Ulysses. I have been all along expecting some one of imposing presence and superhuman strength, whereas he turns out to be a little insignificant weakling, who has managed to blind my eye by taking advantage of me in my drink; come here, then, Ulysses, that I may make you presents to show my hospitality, and urge Neptune to help you forward on your journey — for Neptune and I are father and son. He, if he so will, shall heal me, which no one else neither god nor man can do.’
“Then I said, ‘I wish I could be as sure of killing you outright and sending you down to the house of Hades, as I am that it will take more than Neptune to cure that eye of yours.’
“On this he lifted up his hands to the firmament of heaven and prayed, saying, ‘Hear me, great Neptune; if I am indeed your own true-begotten son, grant that Ulysses may never reach his home alive; or if he must get back to his friends at last, let him do so late and in sore plight after losing all his men [let him reach his home in another man’s ship and find trouble in his house.’]
“Thus did he pray, and Neptune heard his prayer. Then he picked up a rock much larger than the first, swung it aloft and hurled it with prodigious force. It fell just short of the ship, but was within a little of hitting the end of the rudder. The sea quaked as the rock fell into it, and the wash of the wave it raised drove us onwards on our way towards the shore of the island.
“When at last we got to the island where we had left the rest of our ships, we found our comrades lamenting us, and anxiously awaiting our return. We ran our vessel upon the sands and got out of her on to the sea shore; we also landed the Cyclops’ sheep, and divided them equitably amongst us so that none might have reason to complain. As for the ram, my companions agreed that I should have it as an extra share; so I sacrificed it on the sea shore, and burned its thigh bones to Jove, who is the lord of all. But he heeded not my sacrifice, and only thought how he might destroy my ships and my comrades.
“Thus through the livelong day to the going down of the sun we feasted our fill on meat and drink, but when the sun went down and it came on dark, we camped upon the beach. When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, I bade my men on board and loose the hawsers. Then they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars; so we sailed on with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have escaped death though we had lost our comrades.
<center>Rendered into English Prose by
Samuel Butler</center>
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* [[BOOK I|Butler: Book 1]]
* [[BOOK II|Butler: Book 2]]
* [[BOOK III|Butler: Book 3]]
* [[BOOK IV|Butler: Book 4]]
* [[BOOK V|Butler: Book 5]]
* [[BOOK VI|Butler: Book 6]]
* [[BOOK VII|Butler: Book 7]]
* [[BOOK VIII|Butler: Book 8]]
* [[BOOK IX|Butler: Book 9]]
* [[BOOK X|Butler: Book 10]]
* [[BOOK XI|Butler: Book 11]]
* [[BOOK XII|Butler: Book 12]]
* [[BOOK XIII|Butler: Book 13]]
* [[BOOK XIV|Butler: Book 14]]
* [[BOOK XV|Butler: Book 15]]
* [[BOOK XVI|Butler: Book 16]]
* [[BOOK XVII|Butler: Book 17]]
* [[BOOK XVIII|Butler: Book 18]]
* [[BOOK XIX|Butler: Book 19]]
* [[BOOK XX|Butler: Book 20]]
* [[BOOK XXI|Butler: Book 21]]
* [[BOOK XXII|Butler: Book 22]]
* [[BOOK XXIII|Butler: Book 23]]
* [[BOOK XXIV|Butler: Book 24]]
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"""
//So wrought divine Ulysses through his woes,//
//So crown’d the light with him his mother’s throes,//
//As through his great Renowner I have wrought,//
//And my safe sail to sacred anchor brought.//
//Nor did the Argive ship more burthen feel,//
//That bore the care of all men in her keel,//
//That my adventurous bark; the Colchian fleece//
//Not half so precious as this Soul of Greece,//
//In whose Songs I have made our shores rejoice,//
//And Greek itself vail to our English voice.//
//Yet this inestimable Pearl will all//
//Our dunghill chanticleers but obvious call;//
//Each modern scraper this Gem scratching by,//
//His oat preferring far. Let such let lie.//
//So scorn the stars the clouds, as true-soul’d men//
//Despise deceivers. For, as clouds would fain//
//Obscure the stars, yet (regions left below//
//With all their envies) bar them but of show,//
//For they shine ever, and will shine, when they//
//Dissolve in sinks, make mire, and temper clay;//
//So puff’d impostors (our muse-vapours) strive,//
//With their self-blown additions, to deprive//
//Men solid of their full, though infinite short//
//They come in their compare, and false report//
//Of levelling or touching at their light,//
//That still retain their radiance, and clear right,//
//And shall shine ever, when, alas! one blast//
//Of least disgrace tears down th’ impostor’s mast,//
//His tops and tacklings, his whole freight, and he//
//Confiscate to the fishy monarchy,//
//His trash, by foolish Fame brought now, from hence//
//Given to serve mackarel forth, and frankincense.//
//Such then, and any too soft-eyed to see,//
//Through works so solid, any worth, so free//
//Of all the learn’d professions, as is fit//
//To praise at such price, let him think his wit//
//Too weak to rate it, rather than oppose//
//With his poor pow’rs Ages and Hosts of Foes.//
"""
"""
//The Only True God (betwixt Whom and me//
//I only bound my comfort, and agree//
//With all my actions) only truly knows,//
//And can judge truly, me, with all that goes//
//To all my faculties, In Whose free Grace//
//And Inspiration I only place//
//All means to know (with my means, study, pray’r,//
//In and from His Word taken) stair by stair,//
//In all continual contentation, rising//
//To knowledge of His Truth, and practising//
//His Will in it, with my sole Saviour’s Aid,//
//Guide, and Enlight’ning; nothing done, nor said,//
//Nor thought, that good is, but acknowledg’d by//
//His Inclination, Skill, and Faculty.//
//By which, to find the way out to His Love//
//Past all the worlds, the sphere is where doth move//
//My studies, pray’rs, and pow’rs; no pleasure taken//
//But sign’d by His, for which, my blood forsaken,//
//My soul I cleave to, and what (in His Blood//
//That hath redeem’d, cleans’d, taught her) fits her good.//
"""
Deo Opt. Max. Gloria
''The Argument''
"""
The Gods in council sit, to call
Ulysses from Calypso’s thrall,
And order their high pleasures thus:
Grey Pallas to Telemachus
(In Ithaca) her way addrest;
And did her heav’nly limbs invest
In Mentas’ likeness, that did reign
King of the Taphians, in the main
Whose rough waves near Leucadia run.
Advising wise Ulysses’ son
To seek his father, and address
His course to young Tantalides,
That govern’d Sparta. Thus much said,
She shew’d she was Heav’n’s martial Maid,
And vanish’d from him. Next to this,
The Banquet of the Wooers is.
"""
''Another Argument''
Ἂλφα.
"""
The Deities sit;
The Man retired;
Th’ Ulyssean wit
By Pallas fired.
"""
"""
The man, O Muse, inform, that many a way ^^[[1|Chapman: Footnote 1]]^^
Wound with his wisdom to his wished stay;
That wander’d wondrous far, when he the town
Of sacred Troy had sack’d and shiver’d down;
The cities of a world of nations,
With all their manners, minds, and fashions,
He saw and knew; at sea felt many woes,
Much care sustain’d, to save from overthrows
Himself and friends in their retreat for home;
But so their fates he could not overcome,
Though much he thirsted it. O men unwise,
They perish’d by their own impieties!
That in their hunger’s rapine would not shun
The oxen of the lofty-going Sun,
Who therefore from their eyes the day bereft
Of safe return. These acts, in some part left,
Tell us, as others, deified Seed of Jove.
Now all the rest that austere death outstrove
At Troy’s long siege at home safe anchor’d are,
Free from the malice both of sea and war;
Only Ulysses is denied access
To wife and home. The grace of Goddesses,
The rev’rend nymph Calypso, did detain
Him in her caves, past all the race of men
Enflam’d to make him her lov’d lord and spouse.
And when the Gods had destin’d that his house,
Which Ithaca on her rough bosom bears,
(The point of time wrought out by ambient years)
Should be his haven, Contention still extends
Her envy to him, ev’n amongst his friends.
All Gods took pity on him; only he,
That girds earth in the cincture of the sea,
Divine Ulysses ever did envy,
And made the fix’d port of his birth to fly.
But he himself solemniz’d a retreat
To th’ Æthiops, far dissunder’d in their seat,
(In two parts parted, at the sun’s descent,
And underneath his golden orient,
The first and last of men) t’ enjoy their feast
Of bulls and lambs, in hecatombs addrest; ^^[[2|Chapman: Footnote 2]]^^
At which he sat, giv’n over to delight.
The other Gods in heav’n’s supremest height
Were all in council met; to whom began
The mighty Father both of God and man
Discourse, inducing matter that inclin’d
To wise Ulysses, calling to his mind
Faultful Ægisthus, who to death was done ^^[[3|Chapman: Footnote 3]]^^
By young Orestes, Agamemnon’s son.
His memory to the Immortals then
Mov’d Jove thus deeply: “O how falsely men
Accuse us Gods as authors of their ill!
When, by the bane their own bad lives instill,
They suffer all the mis’ries of their states,
Past our inflictions, and beyond their fates.
As now Ægisthus, past his fate, did wed
The wife of Agamemnon, and (in dread
To suffer death himself) to shun his ill,
Incurr’d it by the loose bent of his will,
In slaughtering Atrides in retreat.
Which we foretold him would so hardly set
To his murd’rous purpose, sending Mercury
That slaughter’d Argus, our consid’rate spy,
To give him this charge: ‘Do not wed his wife,
Nor murder him; for thou shalt buy his life
With ransom of thine own, impos’d on thee
By his Orestes, when in him shall be
Atrides’self renew’d, and but the prime
Of youth’s spring put abroad, in thirst to climb
His haughty father’s throne by his high acts.’
These words of Hermes wrought not into facts
Ægisthus’ powers; good counsel he despis’d,
And to that good his ill is sacrific’d.”
Pallas, whose eyes did sparkle like the skies,
Answer’d: “O Sire! Supreme of Deities,
Ægisthus pass’d his fate, and had desert
To warrant our infliction; and convert
May all the pains such impious men inflict
On innocent suff’rers to revenge as strict,
Their own hearts eating. But, that Ithacus,
Thus never meriting, should suffer thus,
I deeply suffer. His more pious mind
Divides him from these fortunes. Though unkind
Is piety to him, giving him a fate
More suff’ring than the most unfortunate,
So long kept friendless in a sea-girt soil,
Where the sea’s navel is a sylvan isle,
In which the Goddess dwells that doth derive
Her birth from Atlas, who of all alive
The motion and the fashion doth command
With his wise mind, whose forces understand ^^[[4|Chapman: Footnote 4]]^^
The inmost deeps and gulfs of all the seas,
Who (for his skill of things superior) stays
The two steep columns that prop earth and heav’n.
His daughter ‘tis, who holds this homeless-driv’n ^^[[5|Chapman: Footnote 5]]^^
Still mourning with her; evermore profuse
Of soft and winning speeches, that abuse
And make so languishingly, and possest ^^[[6|Chapman: Footnote 6]]^^
With so remiss a mind her loved guest,
Manage the action of his way for home.
Where he, though in affection overcome,
In judgment yet more longs to show his hopes
His country’s smoke leap from her chimney tops,
And death asks in her arms. Yet never shall
Thy lov’d heart be converted on his thrall,
Austere Olympius. Did not ever he,
In ample Troy, thy altars gratify,
And Grecians’ fleet make in thy off’rings swim?
Jove, why still then burns thy wrath to him?”
The Cloud-assembler answer’d: “What words fly,
Bold daughter, from thy pale of ivory? ^^[[7|Chapman: Footnote 7]]^^
As if I ever could cast from my care
Divine Ulysses, who exceeds so far
All men in wisdom, and so oft hath giv’n
To all th’ Immortals thron’d in ample heav’n
So great and sacred gifts? But his decrees,
That holds the earth in with his nimble knees,
Stand to Ulysses’ longings so extreme,
For taking from the God-foe Polypheme
His only eye; a Cyclop, that excell’d
All other Cyclops, with whose burden swell’d
The nymph Thoosa, the divine increase
Of Phorcys’ seed, a great God of the seas.
She mix’d with Neptune in his hollow caves,
And bore this Cyclop to that God of waves.
For whose lost eye, th’ Earth-shaker did not kill
Erring Ulysses, but reserves him still
In life for more death. But use we our pow’rs,
And round about us cast these cares of ours,
All to discover how we may prefer
His wish’d retreat, and Neptune make forbear
His stern eye to him, since no one God can,
In spite of all, prevail, but ’gainst a man.”
To this, this answer made the grey-eyed Maid:
“Supreme of rulers, since so well apaid
The blesséd Gods are all then, now, in thee,
To limit wise Ulysses’ misery,
And that you speak as you referr’d to me
Prescription for the means, in this sort be
Their sacred order: Let us now address
With utmost speed our swift Argicides,
To tell the nymph that bears the golden tress
In th’ isle Ogygia, that ’tis our will
She should not stay our lov’d Ulysses still,
But suffer his return; and then will I
To Ithaca, to make his son apply
His sire’s inquest the more; infusing force
Into his soul, to summon the concourse
Of curl’d-head Greeks to council, and deter
Each wooer, that hath been the slaughterer
Of his fat sheep and crooked-headed beeves.
From more wrong to his mother, and their leaves
Take in such terms as fit deserts so great.
To Sparta then, and Pylos, where doth beat
Bright Amathus, the flood, and epithet
To all that kingdom, my advice shall send
The spirit-advanc’d Prince, to the pious end
Of seeking his lost father, if he may
Receive report from Fame where rests his stay;
And make, besides, his own successive worth
Known to the world, and set in action forth.”
This said, her wing’d shoes to her feet she tied,
Form’d all of gold, and all eternified,
That on the round earth or the sea sustain’d
Her ravish’d substance swift as gusts of wind.
Then took she her strong lance with steel made keen,
Great, massy, active, that whole hosts of men,
Though all heroës, conquers, if her ire
Their wrongs inflame, back’d by so great a Sire.
Down from Olympus’ tops she headlong div’d,
And swift as thought in Ithaca arriv’d,
Close at Ulysses’ gates; in whose first court
She made her stand, and, for her breast’s support,
Lean’d on her iron lance; her form imprest
With Mentas’ likeness, come as being a guest.
There found she those proud wooers, that were then
Set on those ox-hides that themselves had slain,
Before the gates, and all at dice were playing.
To them the heralds, and the rest obeying,
Fill’d wine and water; some, still as they play’d,
And some, for solemn supper’s state, purvey’d,
With porous sponges cleansing tables, serv’d
With much rich feast; of which to all they kerv’d.
God-like Telemachus amongst them sat,
Griev’d much in mind; and in his heart begat
All representment of his absent sire,
How, come from far-off parts, his spirits would fire
With those proud wooers’ sight, with slaughter parting
Their bold concourse, and to himself converting
The honours they usurp’d, his own commanding.
In this discourse, he first saw Pallas standing,
Unbidden entry; up rose, and addrest
His pace right to her, angry that a guest
Should stand so long at gate; and, coming near,
Her right hand took, took in his own her spear,
And thus saluted: “Grace to your repair,
Fair guest, your welcome shall be likewise fair.
Enter, and, cheer’d with feast, disclose th’ intent
That caus’d your coming.” This said, first he went,
And Pallas follow’d. To a room they came,
Steep, and of state; the jav’lin of the Dame
He set against a pillar vast and high,
Amidst a large and bright-kept armory,
Which was, besides, with woods of lances grac’d
Of his grave father’s. In a throne he plac’d
The man-turn’d Goddess, under which was spread
A carpet, rich and of deviceful thread;
A footstool staying her feet; and by her chair
Another seat (all garnish’d wondrous fair,
To rest or sleep on in the day) he set,
Far from the prease of wooers, lest at meat
The noise they still made might offend his guest,
Disturbing him at banquet or at rest,
Ev’n to his combat with that pride of theirs,
That kept no noble form in their affairs.
And these he set far from them, much the rather
To question freely of his absent father.
A table fairly-polish’d then was spread,
On which a rev’rend officer set bread,
And other servitors all sorts of meat
(Salads, and flesh, such as their haste could get)
Serv’d with observance in. And then the sewer
Pour’d water from a great and golden ewer,
That from their hands t’ a silver caldron ran.
Both wash’d, and seated close, the voiceful man
Fetch’d cups of gold, and set by them, and round
Those cups with wine with all endeavour crown’d.
Then rush’d in the rude wooers, themselves plac’d;
The heralds water gave; the maids in haste
Serv’d bread from baskets. When, of all prepar’d
And set before them, the bold wooers shar’d,
Their pages plying their cups past the rest.
But lusty wooers must do more than feast;
For now, their hungers and their thirsts allay’d,
They call’d for songs and dances; those, they said,
Were th’ ornaments of feast. The herald straight
A harp, carv’d full of artificial sleight,
Thrust into Phemius’, a learn’d singer’s, hand,
Who, till he much was urg’d, on terms did stand,
But, after, play’d and sung with all his art.
Telemachus to Pallas then (apart,
His ear inclining close, that none might hear)
In this sort said: “My guest, exceeding dear,
Will you not sit incens’d with what I say?
These are the cares these men take; feast and play.
Which eas’ly they may use, because they eat,
Free and unpunish’d, of another’s meat;
And of a man’s, whose white bones wasting lie
In some far region; with th’ incessancy
Of show’rs pour’d down upon them, lying ashore,
Or in the seas wash’d nak’d. Who, if he wore
Those bones with flesh and life and industry,
And these might here in Ithaca set eye
On him return’d, they all would wish to be
Either past other in celerity
Of feet and knees, and not contend t’ exceed
In golden garments. But his virtues feed
The fate of ill death; nor is left to me
The least hope of his life’s recovery,
No, not if any of the mortal race
Should tell me his return; the cheerful face
Of his return’d day never will appear.
But tell me, and let Truth your witness bear,
Who, and from whence you are? What city’s birth?
What parents? In what vessel set you forth?
And with what mariners arriv’d you here?
I cannot think you a foot passenger.
Recount then to me all, to teach me well
Fit usage for your worth. And if it fell
In chance now first that you thus see us here,
Or that in former passages you were
My father’s guest? For many men have been
Guests to my father. Studious of men
His sociable nature ever was.”
On him again the grey-eyed Maid did pass
This kind reply: “I’ll answer passing true
All thou hast ask’d: My birth his honour drew
From wise Anchialus. The name I bear
Is Mentas, the commanding islander
Of all the Taphians studious in the art
Of navigation; having touch’d this part
With ship and men, of purpose to maintain
Course through the dark seas t’ other-languag’d men;
And Temesis sustains the city’s name
For which my ship is bound, made known by fame
For rich in brass, which my occasions need,
And therefore bring I shining steel in stead,
Which their use wants, yet makes my vessel’s freight,
That near a plough’d field rides at anchor’s weight,
Apart this city, in the harbour call’d
Rhethrus, whose waves with Neius’ woods are wall’d.
Thy sire and I were ever mutual guests,
At either’s house still interchanging feasts.
I glory in it. Ask, when thou shalt see
Laertes, th’ old heroë, these of me,
From the beginning. He, men say, no more
Visits the city, but will needs deplore
His son’s believ’d loss in a private field;
One old maid only at his hands to yield
Food to his life, as oft as labour makes
His old limbs faint; which, though he creeps, he takes
Along a fruitful plain, set all with vines,
Which husbandman-like, though a king, he proins.
But now I come to be thy father’s guest;
I hear he wanders, while these wooers feast.
And (as th’ Immortals prompt me at this hour)
I’ll tell thee, out of a prophetic pow’r,
(Not as profess’d a prophet, nor clear seen
At all times what shall after chance to men)
What I conceive, for this time, will be true:
The Gods’ inflictions keep your sire from you.
Divine Ulysses, yet, abides not dead
Above earth, nor beneath, nor buried
In any seas, as you did late conceive,
But, with the broad sea sieg’d, is kept alive
Within an isle by rude and upland men,
That in his spite his passage home detain.
Yet long it shall not be before he tread
His country’s dear earth, though solicited,
And held from his return, with iron chains;
For he hath wit to forge a world of trains,
And will, of all, be sure to make good one
For his return, so much relied upon.
But tell me, and be true: Art thou indeed
So much a son, as to be said the seed ^^[[8|Chapman: Footnote 8]]^^
Of Ithacus himself? Exceeding much
Thy forehead and fair eyes at his form touch;
For oftentimes we met, as you and I
Meet at this hour, before he did apply
His pow’rs for Troy, when other Grecian states
In hollow ships were his associates.
But, since that time, mine eyes could never see
Renown’d Ulysses, nor met his with me.”
The wise Telemachus again replied:
“You shall with all I know be satisfied.
My mother certain says I am his son;
I know not; nor was ever simply known
By any child the sure truth of his sire.
But would my veins had took in living fire
From some man happy, rather than one wise,
Whom age might see seis’d of what youth made prise.
But he whoever of the mortal race
Is most unblest, he holds my father’s place.
This, since you ask, I answer.” She, again:
“The Gods sure did not make the future strain
Both of thy race and days obscure to thee,
Since thou wert born so of Penelope.
The style may by thy after acts be won,
Of so great sire the high undoubted son.
Say truth in this then: What’s this feasting here?
What all this rout? Is all this nuptial cheer?
Or else some friendly banquet made by thee?
For here no shots are, where all sharers be.
Past measure contumeliously this crew
Fare through thy house; which should th’ ingenuous view
Of any good or wise man come and find,
(Impiety seeing play’d in ev’ry kind)
He could not but through ev’ry vein be mov’d.”
Again Telemachus: “My guest much lov’d.
Since you demand and sift these sights so far,
I grant ’twere fit a house so regular,
Rich, and so faultless once in government,
Should still at all parts the same form present
That gave it glory while her lord was here.
But now the Gods, that us displeasure bear,
Have otherwise appointed, and disgrace
My father most of all the mortal race.
For whom I could not mourn so were he dead,
Amongst his fellow-captains slaughteréd
By common enemies, or in the hands
Of his kind friends had ended his commands,
After he had egregiously bestow’d
His pow’r and order in a war so vow’d,
And to his tomb all Greeks their grace had done,
That to all ages he might leave his son
Immortal honour; but now Harpies have
Digg’d in their gorges his abhorréd grave.
Obscure, inglorious, death hath made his end,
And me, for glories, to all griefs contend.
Nor shall I any more mourn him alone,
The Gods have giv’n me other cause of moan.
For look how many optimates remain
In Samos, or the shores Dulichian,
Shady Zacynthus, or how many bear
Rule in the rough brows of this island here;
So many now my mother and this house
At all parts make defam’d and ruinous;
And she her hateful nuptials nor denies,
Nor will despatch their importunities,
Though she beholds them spoil still as they feast
All my free house yields, and the little rest
Of my dead sire in me perhaps intend
To bring ere long to some untimely end.”
This Pallas sigh’d and answer’d: “O,” said she,
“Absent Ulysses is much miss’d by thee,
That on these shameless suitors he might lay
His wreakful hands. Should he now come, and stay
In thy court’s first gates, arm’d with helm and shield,
And two such darts as I have seen him wield,
When first I saw him in our Taphian court,
Feasting, and doing his desert’s disport;
When from Ephyrus he return’d by us
From Ilus, son to Centaur Mermerus,
To whom he travell’d through the wat’ry dreads,
For bane to poison his sharp arrows’ heads,
That death, but touch’d, caus’d; which he would not give,
Because he fear’d the Gods that ever live
Would plague such death with death; and yet their fear
Was to my father’s bosom not so dear
As was thy father’s love; (for what he sought
My loving father found him to a thought.)
If such as then Ulysses might but meet
With these proud wooers, all were at his feet
But instant dead men, and their nuptialls
Would prove as bitter as their dying galls.
But these things in the Gods’ knees are repos’d,
If his return shall see with wreak inclos’d,
These in his house, or he return no more;
And therefore I advise thee to explore
All ways thyself, to set these wooers gone;
To which end give me fit attentión:
To-morrow into solemn council call
The Greek heroës, and declare to all
(The Gods being witness) what thy pleasure is.
Command to towns of their nativity:
These frontless wooers. If thy mother’s mind
Stands to her second nuptials so inclin’d,
Return she to her royal father’s tow’rs,
Where th’ one of these may wed her, and her dow’rs
Make rich, and such as may consort with grace
So dear a daughter of so great a race
And thee I warn as well (if thou as well
Wilt hear and follow) take thy best-built sail,
With twenty oars mann’d, and haste t’ inquire
Where the abode is of thy absent sire,
If any can inform thee, or thine ear
From Jove the fame of his retreat may hear,
For chiefly Jove gives all that honours men.
To Pylos first be thy addression then,
To god-like Nestor; thence to Sparta haste,
To gold-lock’d Menelaus, who was last
Of all the brass-arm’d Greeks that sail’d from Troy;
And try from both these, if thou canst enjoy
News of thy sire’s return’d life anywhere,
Though sad thou suffer’st in his search a year.
If of his death thou hear’st, return thou home,
And to his memory erect a tomb,
Performing parent-rites, of feast and game,
Pompous, and such as best may fit his fame;
And then thy mother a fit husband give.
These past, consider how thou mayst deprive
Of worthless life these wooers in thy house,
By open force, or projects enginous.
Things childish fit not thee; th’ art so no more.
Hast thou not heard, how all men did adore
Divine Orestes, after he had slain
Ægisthus murd’ring by a treach’rous train
His famous father? Be then, my most lov’d,
Valiant and manly, ev’ry way approv’d
As great as he. I see thy person fit,
Noble thy mind, and excellent thy wit,
All giv’n thee so to use and manage here
That ev’n past death they may their memories bear.
In meantime I’ll descend to ship and men,
That much expect me. Be observant then
Of my advice, and careful to maintain
In equal acts thy royal father’s reign.”
Telemachus replied: “You ope, fair guest,
A friend’s heart in your speech, as well exprest
As might a father serve t’ inform his son;
All which sure place have in my memory won.
Abide yet, though your voyage calls away,
That, having bath’d, and dignified your stay
With some more honour, you may yet beside
Delight your mind by being gratified
With some rich present taken in your way,
That, as a jewel, your respect may lay
Up in your treasury, bestow’d by me,
As free friends use to guests of such degree.”
“Detain me not,” said she, “so much inclin’d
To haste my voyage. What thy loved mind
Commands to give, at my return this way,
Bestow on me, that I directly may
Convey it home; which more of price to me
The more it asks my recompense to thee.”
This said, away grey-eyed Minerva flew,
Like to a mounting lark; and did endue
His mind with strength and boldness, and much more
Made him his father long for than before;
And weighing better who his guest might be,
He stood amaz’d, and thought a Deity
Was there descended; to whose will he fram’d
His pow’rs at all parts, and went so inflam’d
Amongst the wooers, who were silent set,
To hear a poet sing the sad retreat
The Greeks perform’d from Troy; which was from thence
Proclaim’d by Pallas, pain of her offence.
When which divine song was perceiv’d to bear
That mournful subject by the list’ning ear
Of wise Penelope, Icarius’ seed,
Who from an upper room had giv’n it heed,
Down she descended by a winding stair,
Not solely, but the state in her repair
Two maids of honour made. And when this queen
Of women stoop’d so low, she might be seen
By all her wooers. In the door, aloof,
Ent’ring the hall grac’d with a goodly roof,
She stood, in shade of graceful veils, implied
About her beauties; on her either side,
Her honour’d women. When, to tears mov’d, thus
She chid the sacred singer: “Phemiüs,
You know a number more of these great deeds
Of Gods and men, that are the sacred seeds,
And proper subjects, of a poet’s song,
And those due pleasures that to men belong,
Besides these facts that furnish Troy’s retreat,
Sing one of those to these, that round your seat
They may with silence sit, and taste their wine;
But cease this song, that through these ears of mine
Conveys deserv’d occasion to my heart
Of endless sorrows, of which the desert
In me unmeasur’d is past all these men,
So endless is the memory I retain,
And so desertful is that memory,
Of such a man as hath a dignity
So broad it spreads itself through all the pride
Of Greece and Argos.” To the queen replied
Inspir’d Telemachus: “Why thus envies
My mother him that fits societies ^^[[9|Chapman: Footnote 9]]^^
With so much harmony, to let him please
His own mind in his will to honour these?
For these ingenious and first sort of men, ^^[[10|Chapman: Footnote 10]]^^
That do immediately from Jove retain
Their singing raptures, are by Jove as well
Inspir’d with choice of what their songs impell,
Jove’s will is free in it, and therefore theirs.
Nor is this man to blame, that the repairs
The Greeks make homeward sings; for his fresh muse
Men still most celebrate that sings most news.
And therefore in his note your ears employ:
For not Ulysses only lost in Troy
The day of his return, but numbers more
The deadly ruins of his fortunes bore.
Go you then in, and take your work in hand,
Your web, and distaff; and your maids command
To ply their fit work. Words to men are due,
And those reproving counsels you pursue,
And most to me of all men, since I bear
The rule of all things that are manag’d here.”
She went amaz’d away, and in her heart
Laid up the wisdom Pallas did impart
To her lov’d son so lately, turn’d again
Up to her chamber, and no more would reign
In manly counsels. To her women she
Applied her sway; and to the wooers he
Began new orders, other spirits bewray’d
Than those in spite of which the wooers sway’d.
And (whiles his mother’s tears still wash’d her eyes,
Till grey Minerva did those tears surprise
With timely sleep, and that her wooers did rouse
Rude tumult up through all the shady house,
Dispos’d to sleep because their widow was)
Telemachus this new-giv’n spirit did pass
On their old insolence: “Ho! you that are,
My mother’s wooers! much too high ye bear
Your petulant spirits; sit; and, while ye may
Enjoy me in your banquets, see ye lay
These loud notes down, nor do this man the wrong,
Because my mother hath disliked his song,
To grace her interruption. ’Tis a thing
Honest, and honour’d too, to hear one sing
Numbers so like the Gods in elegance,
As this man flows in. By the morn’s first light, ^^[[11|Chapman: Footnote 11]]^^
I’ll call ye all before me in a Court,
That I may clearly banish your resort,
With all your rudeness, from these roofs of mine.
Away; and elsewhere in your feasts combine.
Consume your own goods, and make mutual feast
At either’s house. Or if ye still hold best,
And for your humours’ more sufficéd fill,
To feed, to spoil, because unpunish’d still,
On other findings, spoil; but here I call
Th’ Eternal Gods to witness, if it fall
In my wish’d reach once to be dealing wreaks,
By Jove’s high bounty, these your present checks
To what I give in charge shall add more reins
To my revenge hereafter; and the pains
Ye then must suffer shall pass all your pride
Ever to see redress’d, or qualified.”
At this all bit their lips, and did admire
His words sent from him with such phrase and fire;
Which so much mov’d them that Antinous,
Eupitheus’ son, cried out: “Telemachus!
The Gods, I think, have rapt thee to this height
Of elocution, and this great conceit
Of self-ability. We all may pray,
That Jove invest not in this kingdom’s sway
Thy forward forces, which I see put forth
A hot ambition in thee for thy birth.”
“Be not offended,” he replied, “if I ^^[[12|Chapman: Footnote 12]]^^
Shall say, I would assume this empery,
If Jove gave leave. You are not he that sings:
//The rule of kingdoms is the worst of things.//
Nor is it ill, at all, to sway a throne;
A man may quickly gain possession
Of mighty riches, make a wondrous prize
Set of his virtues; but the dignities
That deck a king, there are enough beside
In this circumfluous isle that want no pride
To think them worthy of, as young as I,
And old as you are. An ascent so high
My thoughts affect not. Dead is he that held
Desert of virtue to have so excell’d.
But of these turrets I will take on me
To be the absolute king, and reign as free,
As did my father, over all his hand
Left here in this house slaves to my command.”
Eurymachus, the son of Polybus,
To this made this reply: “Telemachus!
The girlond of this kingdom let the knees
Of Deity run for; but the faculties
This house is seis’d of, and the turrets here,
Thou shalt be lord of, nor shall any bear
The least part off of all thou dost possess,
As long as this land is no wilderness.
Nor rul’d by out-laws. But give these their pass,
And tell me, best of princes, who he was
That guested here so late? From whence? And what
In any region boasted he his state?
His race? His country? Brought he any news
Of thy returning father? Or for dues
Of moneys to him made he fit repair?
How suddenly he rush’d into the air,
Nor would sustain to stay and make him known!
His port show’d no debauch’d companion.”
He answer’d: “The return of my lov’d sire
Is past all hope; and should rude Fame inspire
From any place a flatt’ring messenger
With news of his survival, he should bear
No least belief off from my desp’rate love.
Which if a sacred prophet should approve,
Call’d by my mother for her care’s unrest,
It should not move me. For my late fair guest,
He was of old my father’s, touching here
From sea-girt Taphos; and for name doth bear
Mentas, the son of wise Anchialus;
And governs all the Taphians studious
Of navigation.” This he said, but knew
It was a Goddess. These again withdrew
To dances and attraction of the song;
And while their pleasures did the time prolong,
The sable Even descended, and did steep
The lids of all men in desire of sleep.
Telemachus, into a room built high,
Of his illustrious court, and to the eye
Of circular prospect, to his bed ascended,
And in his mind much weighty thought contended
Before him Euryclea (that well knew
All the observance of a handmaid’s due,
Daughter to Opis Pisenorides)
Bore two bright torches; who did so much please
Laërtes in her prime, that, for the price
Of twenty oxen, he made merchandise
Of her rare beauties; and love’s equal flame,
To her he felt, as to his nuptial dame,
Yet never durst he mix with her in bed,
So much the anger of his wife he fled.
She, now grown old, to young Telemachus
Two torches bore, and was obsequious
Past all his other maids, and did apply
Her service to him from his infancy.
His well-built chamber reach’d, she op’d the door,
He on his bed sat, the soft weeds he wore
Put off, and to the diligent old maid
Gave all; who fitly all in thick folds laid,
And hung them on a beam-pin near the bed,
That round about was rich embroidered.
Then made she haste forth from him, and did bring
The door together with a silver ring,
And by a string a bar to it did pull.
He, laid, and cover’d well with curled wool
Wov’n in silk quilts, all night employ’d his mind
About the task that Pallas had design’d.
"""
Finis Libri Primi Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses now relates to us
The grace he had with Æolus,
Great Guardian of the hollow Winds;
Which in a leather bag he binds,
And gives Ulysses; all but one,
Which Zephyr was, who fill’d alone
Ulysses’ sails. The bag once seen,
While he slept, by Ulysses’ men,
They thinking it did gold enclose,
To find it, all the winds did loose,
Who back flew to their Guard again.
Forth sail’d he; and did next attain
To where the Læstrygonians dwell.
Where he eleven ships lost, and fell
On the Ææan coast, whose shore
He sends Eurylochus t’ explore,
Dividing with him half his men.
Who go, and turn no more again,
All, save Eurylochus, to swine
By Circe turn’d. Their stays incline
Ulysses to their search; who got
Of Mercury an antidote,
Which moly was, ’gainst Circe’s charms,
And so avoids his soldiers’ harms.
A year with Circe all remain,
And then their native forms regain.
On utter shores a time they dwell,
While Ithacus descends to hell.
"""
''Another Argument''
Κάππα.
"""
Great Æolus,
And Circe, friends
Finds Ithacus;
And hell descends.
"""
"""
“To the Æolian island we attain’d,
That swum about still on the sea, where reign’d
The God-lov’d Æolus Hippotades.
A wall of steel it had; and in the seas
A wave-beat-smooth rock mov’d about the wall.
Twelve children in his house imperial
Were born to him; of which six daughters were,
And six were sons, that youth’s sweet flow’r did bear.
His daughters to his sons he gave as wives;
Who spent in feastful comforts all their lives,
Close seated by their sire and his grave spouse.
Past number were the dishes that the house
Made ever savour; and still full the hall
As long as day shin’d; in the night-time, all
Slept with their chaste wives, each his fair carv’d bed
Most richly furnish’d; and this life they led.
We reach’d the city and fair roofs of these,
Where, a whole month’s time, all things that might please
The king vouchsaf’d us; of great Troy inquir’d,
The Grecian fleet, and how the Greeks retir’d.
To all which I gave answer as behov’d.
The fit time come when I dismission mov’d,
He nothing would deny me, but addrest
My pass with such a bounty, as might best
Teach me contentment; for he did enfold
Within an ox-hide, flay’d at nine years old,
All th’ airy blasts that were of stormy kinds.
Saturnius made him Steward of his Winds,
And gave him pow’r to raise and to assuage.
And these he gave me, curb’d thus of their rage,
Which in a glitt’ring silver band I bound,
And hung-up in my ship, enclos’d so round
That no egression any breath could find;
Only he left abroad the Western Wind,
To speed our ships, and us with blasts secure.
But our securities made all unsure;
Nor could he consummate our course alone,
When all the rest had got egressión;
Which thus succeeded: Nine whole days and nights
We sail’d in safety; and the tenth, the lights
Borne on our country-earth we might descry,
So near we drew; and yet ev’n then fell I,
Being overwatch’d, into a fatal sleep,
For I would suffer no man else to keep
The foot that rul’d my vessel’s course, to lead ^^[[72|Chapman: Footnote 72]]^^
The faster home. My friends then Envy fed
About the bag I hung-up, and suppos’d
That gold and silver I had there enclos’d,
As gift from Æolus, and said: ‘O heav’n!
What grace and grave price is by all men giv’n
To our commander! Whatsoever coast
Or town he comes to, how much he engrost
Of fair and precious prey, and brought from Troy!
We the same voyage went, and yet enjoy
In our return these empty hands for all.
This bag, now, Æolus was so liberal
To make a guest-gift to him; let us try
Of what consists the fair-bound treasury,
And how much gold and silver it contains.’
//Ill counsel present approbation gains.//
They op’d the bag, and out the vapours brake,
When instant tempest did our vessel take,
That bore us back to sea, to mourn anew
Our absent country. Up amaz’d I flew,
And desp’rate things discours’d; if I should cast
Myself to ruin in the seas, or taste
Amongst the living more moan, and sustain?
Silent, I did so, and lay hid again
Beneath the hatches, while an ill wind took
My ships back to Æolia, my men strook
With woe enough. We pump’d and landed then,
Took food, for all this; and of all my men
I took a herald to me, and away
Went to the court of Æolus, where they
Were feasting still; he, wife, and children, set
Together close. We would not at their meat
Thrust in; but humbly on the threshold sat.
He then, amaz’d, my presence wonder’d at,
And call’d to me: ‘Ulysses! How thus back
Art thou arriv’d here? What foul spirit brake
Into thy bosom, to retire thee thus?
We thought we had deduction curious
Giv’n thee before, to reach thy shore and home;
Did it not like thee?’ I, ev’n overcome
With worthy sorrow, answer’d: ‘My ill men
Have done me mischief, and to them hath been
My sleep th’ unhappy motive; but do you,
Dearest of friends, deign succour to my vow.
Your pow’rs command it.’ Thus endeavour’d I
With soft speech to repair my misery.
The rest with ruth sat dumb. But thus spake he:
‘Avaunt, and quickly quit my land of thee,
Thou worst of all that breathe. It fits not me
To convoy, and take-in, whom Heav’ns expose.
Away, and with thee go the worst of woes,
That seek’st my friendship, and the Gods thy foes.’
Thus he dismiss’d me sighing. Forth we sail’d,
At heart afflicted. And now wholly fail’d
The minds my men sustain’d, so spent they were
With toiling at their oars, and worse did bear
Their growing labours; and they caus’d their grought
By self-will’d follies; nor now ever thought
To see their country more. Six nights and days
We sail’d; the seventh we saw fair Lamos raise
Her lofty tow’rs, the Læstrygonian state
That bears her ports so far disterminate;
Where shepherd shepherd calls out, he at home ^^[[73|Chapman: Footnote 73]]^^
Is call’d out by the other that doth come
From charge abroad, and then goes he to sleep,
The other issuing; he whose turn doth keep
The night observance hath his double hire,
Since day and night in equal length expire
About that region, and the night’s watch weigh’d
At twice the day’s ward, since the charge that’s laid
Upon the night’s-man (besides breach of sleep)
Exceeds the days-man’s; for one oxen keep,
The other sheep. But when the haven we found,
(Exceeding famous, and environ’d round
With one continuate rock, which so much bent
That both ends almost met, so prominent
They were, and made the haven’s mouth passing strait)
Our whole fleet in we got; in whose receit
Our ships lay anchor’d close. Nor needed we
Fear harm on any stays, Tranquillity ^^[[74|Chapman: Footnote 74]]^^
So purely sat there, that waves great nor small
Did ever rise to any height at all.
And yet would I no entry make, but stay’d
Alone without the haven, and thence survey’d,
From out a lofty watch-tow’r raised there,
The country round about; nor anywhere
The work of man or beast appear’d to me,
Only a smoke from earth break I might see.
I then made choice of two, and added more,
A herald for associate, to explore
What sort of men liv’d there. They went, and saw
A beaten way, through which carts us’d to draw
Wood from the high hills to the town, and met
A maid without the port, about to get
Some near spring-water. She the daughter was
Of mighty Læstrygonian Antiphas,
And to the clear spring call’d Artacia went,
To which the whole town for their water sent.
To her they came, and ask’d who govern’d there,
And what the people whom he order’d were?
She answer’d not, but led them through the port,
As making haste to show her father’s court.
Where enter’d, they beheld, to their affright,
A woman like a mountain-top in height,
Who rush’d abroad, and from the council-place
Call’d home her horrid husband Antiphas, ^^[[75|Chapman: Footnote 75]]^^
Who, deadly-minded, straight he snatch’d up one,
And fell to supper. Both the rest were gone;
And to the fleet came. Antiphas a cry
Drave through the city; which heard, instantly
This way and that innumerable sorts,
Not men, but giants, issued through the ports,
And mighty flints from rocks tore, which they threw
Amongst our ships; through which an ill noise flew
Of shiver’d ships, and life-expiring men,
That were, like fishes, by the monsters slain,
And borne to sad feast. While they slaughter’d these,
That were engag’d in all th’ advantages
The close-mouth’d and most dead-calm haven could give,
I, that without lay, made some means to live,
My sword drew, cut my gables, and to oars
Set all my men; and, from the plagues those shores
Let fly amongst us, we made haste to fly,
My men close working as men loth to die.
My ship flew freely off; but theirs that lay
On heaps in harbours could enforce no way
Through these stern fates that had engag’d them there.
Forth our sad remnant sail’d, yet still retain’d
The joys of men, that our poor few remain’d.
Then to the isle Ææa we attain’d,
Where fair-hair’d, dreadful, eloquent Circe reign’d,
Ææta’s sister both by dame and sire,
Both daughters to Heav’n’s man-enlight’ning Fire,
And Perse, whom Oceanus begat,
The ship-fit port here soon we landed at,
Some God directing us. Two days, two nights,
We lay here pining in the fatal spights
Of toil and sorrow; but the next third day
When fair Aurora had inform’d, quick way
I made out of my ship, my sword and lance
Took for my surer guide, and made advance
Up to a prospect; I assay to see
The works of men, or hear mortality
Exspire a voice. When I had climb’d a height,
Rough and right hardly accessible, I might
Behold from Circe’s house, that in a grove
Set thick with trees stood, a bright vapour move,
I then grew curious in my thought to try ^^[[76|Chapman: Footnote 76]]^^
Some fit inquiry, when so spritely fly
I saw the yellow smoke; but my discourse ^^[[77|Chapman: Footnote 77]]^^
A first retiring to my ship gave force,
To give my men their dinner, and to send
(Before th’ adventure of myself) some friend.
Being near my ship, of one so desolate
Some God had pity, and would recreate
My woes a little, putting up to me
A great and high-palm’d hart, that (fatally,
Just in my way itself to taste a flood)
Was then descending; the sun heat had sure
Importun’d him, besides the temperature
His natural heat gave. Howsoever, I
Made up to him, and let my jav’lin fly,
That struck him through the mid-part of his chine,
And made him, braying, to the dust confine
His flying forces. Forth his spirit flew;
When I stept in, and from the death’s wound drew
My shrewdly-bitten lance; there let him lie
Till I, of cut-up osiers, did imply
A withe a fathom long, with which his feet
I made together in a sure league meet,
Stoop’d under him, and to my neck I heav’d
The mighty burden, of which I receiv’d
A good part on my lance, for else I could
By no means with one hand alone uphold
(Join’d with one shoulder) such a deathful load.
And so, to both my shoulders, both hands stood
Needful assistants; for it was a deer
Goodly-well-grown. When (coming something near
Where rode my ships) I cast it down, and rear’d
My friends with kind words; whom by name I cheer’d,
In note particular, and said: ‘See, friends,
We will not yet to Pluto’s house; our ends
Shall not be hasten’d, though we be declin’d
In cause of comfort, till the day design’d
By Fate’s fix’d finger. Come, as long as food
Or wine lasts in our ship, let’s spirit our blood,
And quit our care and hunger both in one.’
This said, they frolick’d, came, and look’d upon
With admiration the huge-bodied beast;
And when their first-serv’d eyes had done their feast,
They wash’d, and made a to-bestriv’d-for meal ^^[[78|Chapman: Footnote 78]]^^
In point of honour. On which all did dwell
The whole day long. And, to our venison’s store,
We added wine till we could wish no more.
Sun set, and darkness up, we slept, till light
Put darkness down; and then did I excite
My friends to counsel, utt’ring this: ‘Now, friends, ^^[[79|Chapman: Footnote 79]]^^
Afford unpassionate ear; though ill Fate lends
So good cause to your passion, no man knows
The reason whence and how the darkness grows;
The reason how the morn is thus begun;
The reason how the man-enlight’ning sun
Dives under earth; the reason how again
He rears his golden head. Those counsels, then,
That pass our comprehension, we must leave
To him that knows their causes; and receive
Direction from him in our acts, as far
As he shall please to make them regular,
And stoop them to our reason. In our state
What then behoves us? Can we estimate,
With all our counsels, where we are? Or know
(Without instruction, past our own skills) how,
Put off from hence, to steer our course the more?
I think we cannot. We must then explore
These parts for information; in which way
We thus far are: Last morn I might display
(From off a high-rais’d cliff) an island lie
Girt with th’ unmeasur’d sea, and is so nigh
That in the midst I saw the smoke arise
Through tufts of trees. This rests then to advise,
Who shall explore this?’ This struck dead their hearts,
Rememb’ring the most execrable parts
That Læstrygonian Antiphas had play’d,
And that foul Cyclop that their fellows bray’d
Betwixt his jaws; which mov’d them so, they cried.
But idle tears had never wants supplied.
I in two parts divided all, and gave
To either part his captain. I must have
The charge of one; and one of God-like look,
Eurylochus, the other. Lots we shook,
Put in a casque together, which of us
Should lead th’ attempt; and ’twas Eurylochus.
He freely went, with two-and-twenty more;
All which took leave with tears; and our eyes wore
The same wet badge of weak humanity.
These in a dale did Circe’s house descry,
Of bright stone built, in a conspicuous way.
Before her gates hill-wolves, and lions, lay;
Which with her virtuous drugs so tame she made,
That wolf nor lion would one man invade
With any violence, but all arose,
Their huge long tails wagg’d, and in fawns would close,
As loving dogs, when masters bring them home
Relics of feast, in all observance come,
And soothe their entries with their fawns and bounds,
All guests still bringing some scraps for their hounds;
So, on these men, the wolves and lions ramp’d,
Their horrid paws set up. Their spirits were damp’d
To see such monstrous kindness, stay’d at gate,
And heard within the Goddess elevate
A voice divine, as at her web she wrought,
Subtle, and glorious, and past earthly thought,
As all the housewif’ries of Deities are.
To hear a voice so ravishingly rare,
Polités (one exceeding dear to me,
A prince of men, and of no mean degree
In knowing virtue, in all acts whose mind ^^[[80|Chapman: Footnote 80]]^^
Discreet cares all ways us’d to turn, and wind)
Was yet surpris’d with it, and said: ‘O friends,
Some one abides within here, that commends
The place to us, and breathes a voice divine,
As she some web wrought, or her spindle’s twine
She cherish’d with her song; the pavement rings
With imitation of the tunes she sings.
Some woman, or some Goddess, ’tis. Assay
To see with knocking.’ Thus said he, and they
Both knock’d, and call’d; and straight her shining gates
She open’d, issuing, bade them in to cates.
Led, and unwise, they follow’d; all but one,
Which was Eurylochus, who stood alone
Without the gates, suspicious of a sleight.
They enter’d, she made sit; and her deceit
She cloak’d with thrones, and goodly chairs of state;
Set herby honey, and the delicate
Wine brought from Smynra, to them; meal and cheese;
But harmful venoms she commix’d with these,
That made their country vanish from their thought.
Which eat, she touch’d them with a rod that wrought
Their transformation far past human wonts;
Swine’s snouts, swine’s bodies, took they, bristles, grunts,
But still retain’d the souls they had before,
Which made them mourn their bodies’ change the more.
She shut them straight in styes, and gave them meat,
Oak-mast, and beech, and cornel-fruit, they eat,
Grov’lling like swine on earth, in foulest sort.
Eurylochus straight hasted the report
Of this his fellows’ most remorseful fate,
Came to the ships, but so excruciate
Was with his woe, he could not speak a word,
His eyes stood full of tears, which show’d how stor’d
His mind with moan remain’d. We all admir’d,
Ask’d what had chanc’d him, earnestly desir’d
He would resolve us. At the last, our eyes
Enflam’d in him his fellows’ memories, ^^[[81|Chapman: Footnote 81]]^^
And out his grief burst thus: ‘You will’d; we went
Through those thick woods you saw; when a descent
Show’d us a fair house, in a lightsome ground,
Where, at some work, we heard a heav’nly sound
Breath’d from a Goddess’, or a woman’s, breast.
They knock’d, she op’d her bright gates; each her guest
Her fair invitement made; nor would they stay,
Fools that they were, when she once led the way.
I enter’d not, suspecting some deceit.
When all together vanish’d, nor the sight
Of anyone (though long I look’d) mine eye
Could any way discover.’ Instantly,
My sword and bow reach’d, I bad show the place,
When down he fell, did both my knees embrace,
And pray’d with tears thus: ‘O thou kept of God,
Do not thyself lose, nor to that abode
Lead others rashly; both thyself, and all
Thou ventur’st thither, I know well, must fall
In one sure ruin. With these few then fly;
We yet may shun the others’ destiny.’
I answer’d him: ‘Eurylochus! Stay thou,
And keep the ship then, eat and drink; I now
Will undertake th’ adventure; there is cause
In great Necessity’s unalter’d laws.’
This said, I left both ship and seas, and on
Along the sacred valleys all alone
Went in discov’ry, till at last I came
Where of the main-med’cine-making Dame
I saw the great house; where encounter’d me
The golden-rod-sustaining Mercury,
Ev’n ent’ring Circe’s doors. He met me in
A young man’s likeness, of the first-flow’r’d chin,
Whose form hath all the grace of one so young.
He first call’d to me, then my hand he wrung,
And said: ‘Thou no-place-finding-for-repose,
Whither, alone, by these hill-confines, goes
Thy erring foot? Th’ art ent’ring Circe’s house,
Where, by her med’cines, black, and sorcerous,
Thy soldiers all are shut in well-arm’d styes,
And turn’d to swine. Art thou arriv’d with prize
Fit for their ransoms? Thou com’st out no more,
If once thou ent’rest, like thy men before
Made to remain here. But I’ll guard thee free,
And save thee in her spite. Receive of me
This fair and good receipt; with which once arm’d,
Enter her roofs, for th’ art to all proof charm’d
Against the ill day. I will tell thee all
Her baneful counsel: With a festival
She’ll first receive thee, but will spice thy bread
With flow’ry poisons; yet unalteréd
Shall thy firm form be, for this remedy
Stands most approv’d ’gainst all her sorcery,
Which thus particularly shun: When she
Shall with her long rod strike thee, instantly
Draw from thy thigh thy sword, and fly on her
As to her slaughter. She, surpris’d with fear
And love, at first, will bid thee to her bed.
Nor say the Goddess nay, that welcoméd
Thou may’st with all respect be, and procure
Thy fellows’ freedoms. But before, make sure
Her favours to thee; and the great oath take
With which the blesséd Gods assurance make
Of all they promise; that no prejudice
(By stripping thee of form, and faculties)
She may so much as once attempt on thee.’
This said, he gave his antidote to me,
Which from the earth he pluck’d, and told me all
The virtue of it, with what Deities call
The name it bears; and Moly ^^[[82|Chapman: Footnote 82]]^^ they impose
For name to it. The root is hard to loose
From hold of earth by mortals; but God’s pow’r
Can all things do. ’Tis black, but bears a flow’r
As white as milk. And thus flew Mercury
Up to immense Olympus, gliding by
The sylvan island. I made back my way
To Circe’s house, my mind of my assay
Much thought revolving. At her gates I stay’d
And call’d; she heard, and her bright doors display’d,
Invited, led; I follow’d in, but trac’d
With some distraction. In a throne she plac’d
My welcome person; of a curious frame
’Twas, and so bright I sat as in a flame;
A foot-stool added. In a golden bowl
She then suborn’d a potion, in her soul
Deform’d things thinking; for amidst the wine
She mix’d her man-transforming medicine;
Which when she saw I had devour’d, she then
No more observ’d me with her soothing vein,
But struck me with her rod, and to her stye
Bad, out, away, and with thy fellows lie.
I drew my sword, and charg’d her, as I meant
To take her life. When out she cried, and bent
Beneath my sword her knees, embracing mine,
And, full of tears, said: ‘Who? Of what high line
Art thou the issue? Whence? What shores sustain
Thy native city? I amaz’d remain
That, drinking these my venoms, th’ art not turn’d.
Never drunk any this cup but be mourn’d
In other likeness, if it once had pass’d
The ivory bounders of his tongue and taste.
All but thyself are brutishly declin’d.
Thy breast holds firm yet, and unchang’d thy mind.
Thou canst be therefore none else but the man
Of many virtues, Ithacensian,
Deep-soul’d, Ulysses, who; I oft was told,
By that sly God that bears the rod of gold,
Was to arrive here in retreat from Troy.
Sheathe then thy sword, and let my bed enjoy
So much a man, that when the bed we prove,
We may believe in one another’s love.’
I then: ‘O Circe, why entreat’st thou me
To mix in any human league with thee,
When thou my friends hast beasts turn’d; and thy bed
Tender’st to me, that I might likewise lead
A beast’s life with thee, soften’d, naked stripp’d,
That in my blood thy banes may more be steep’d?
I never will ascend thy bed, before,
I may affirm, that in heav’n’s sight you swore
The great oath of the Gods, that all attempt
To do me ill is from your thoughts exempt.’
I said, she swore, when, all the oath-rites said,
I then ascended her adornéd bed,
But thus prepar’d: Four handmaids served her there,
That daughters to her silver fountains were,
To her bright-sea-observing sacred floods,
And to her uncut consecrated woods.
One deck’d the throne-tops with rich cloths of state,
And did with silks the foot-pace consecrate.
Another silver tables set before
The pompous throne, and golden dishes’ store
Serv’d in with sev’ral feast. A third fill’d wine.
The fourth brought water, and made fuel shine
In ruddy fires beneath a womb of brass.
Which heat, I bath’d; and od’rous water was
Disperpled lightly on my head and neck,
That might my late heart-hurting sorrows check
With the refreshing sweetness; and, for that,
Men sometimes may be something delicate.
Bath’d, and adorn’d, she led me to a throne
Of massy silver, and of fashión
Exceeding curious. A fair foot-stool set,
Water appos’d, and ev’ry sort of meat
Set on th’ elaborately-polish’d board,
She wish’d my taste employ’d; but not a word
Would my ears taste of taste; my mind had food
That must digest; eye-meat would do me good.
Circe (observing that I put no hand
To any banquet, having countermand
From weightier cares the light cates could excuse)
Bowing her near me, these wing’d words did use;
‘Why sits Ulysses like one dumb, his mind
Less’ning with languors? Nor to food inclin’d,
Nor wine? Whence comes it? Out of any fear
Of more illusion? You must needs forbear
That wrongful doubt, since you have heard me swear.’
‘O Circe!’ I replied, ‘what man is he,
Aw’d with the rights of true humanity,
That dares taste food or wine, before he sees
His friends redeem’d from their deformities?
If you be gentle, and indeed incline
To let me taste the comfort of your wine,
Dissolve the charms that their forc’d forms enchain,
And show me here my honour’d friends like men.’
This said, she left her throne, and took her rod,
Went to her stye, and let my men abroad,
Like swine of nine years old. They opposite stood,
Observ’d their brutish form, and look’d for food;
When, with another med’cine, ev’ry one
All over smear’d, their bristles all were gone,
Produc’d by malice of the other bane,
And ev’ry one, afresh, look’d up a man,
Both younger than they were, of stature more,
And all their forms much goodlier than before.
All knew me, cling’d about me, and a cry
Of pleasing mourning flew about so high
The horrid roof resounded; and the queen
Herself was mov’d to see our kind so keen,
Who bad me now bring ship and men ashore,
Our arms, and goods in caves hid, and restore
Myself to her, with all my other men.
I granted, went, and op’d the weeping vein
In all my men; whose violent joy to see
My safe return was passing kindly free
Of friendly tears, and miserably wept.
You have not seen young heifers (highly kept,
Fill’d full of daisies at the field, and driv’n
Home to their hovels, all so spritely giv’n
That no room can contain them, but about
Bace by the dams, and let their spirits out
In ceaseless bleating) of more jocund plight
Than my kind friends, ev’n crying out with sight
Of my return so doubted; circled me
With all their welcomes, and as cheerfully
Dispos’d their rapt minds, as if there they saw
Their natural country, cliffy Ithaca,
And ev’n the roofs where they were bred and born,
And vow’d as much, with tears; ‘O your return
As much delights us as in you had come
Our country to us, and our natural home.
But what unhappy fate hath reft our friends?’
I gave unlook’d-for answer, that amends
Made for their mourning, bad them first of all
Our ship ashore draw, then in caverns stall
Our foody cattle, hide our mutual prize,
῾And then,᾿ said I, ῾attend me, that your eyes,
In Circe’s sacred house, may see each friend
Eating and drinking banquets out of end.᾿
They soon obey’d; all but Eurylochus,
Who needs would stay them all, and counsell’d thus:
῾O wretches! whither will ye? Why are you
Fond of your mischiefs, and such gladness show
For Circe’s house, that will transform ye all
To swine, or wolves, or lions? Never shall
Our heads get out, if once within we be,
But stay compell’d by strong necessity.
So wrought the Cyclop, when t’ his cave our friends
This bold one led on, and brought all their ends
By his one indiscretion.᾿ I for this
Thought with my sword (that desp’rate head of his
Hewn from his neck) to gash upon the ground
His mangled body, though my blood was bound
In near alliance to him. But the rest
With humble suit contain’d me, and request,
That I would leave him with my ship alone,
And to the sacred palace lead them on.
I led them; nor Eurylochus would stay
From their attendance on me, our late fray
Struck to his heart so. But mean time, my men,
In Circe’s house, were all, in sev’ral bain,
Studiously sweeten’d, smug’d with oil, and deck’d
With in and out weeds, and a feast secret
Serv’d in before them; at which close we found
They all were set, cheer’d, and carousing round,
When mutual sight had, and all thought on, then
Feast was forgotten, and the moan again ^^[[83|Chapman: Footnote 83]]^^
About the house flew, driv’n with wings of joy.
But then spake Circe: ‘Now, no more annoy,
I know myself what woes by sea, and shore,
And men unjust have plagued enough before
Your injur’d virtues. Here then feast as long,
And be as cheerful, till ye grow as strong
As when ye first forsook your country-earth.
Ye now fare all like exiles; not a mirth,
Flash’d in amongst ye, but is quench’d again
With still-renew’d tears, though the beaten vein
Of your distresses should, me think, be now
Benumb with suff’rance.’ We did well allow
Her kind persuasions, and the whole year stay’d
In varied feast with her. When, now array’d
The world was with the spring, and orby hours
Had gone the round again through herbs and flow’rs,
The months absolv’d in order, till the days
Had run their full race in Apollo’s rays;
My friends remember’d me of home, and said;
If ever fate would sign my pass, delay’d
It should be now no more. I heard them well,
Yet that day spent in feast, till darkness fell,
And sleep his virtues through our vapours shed.
When I ascended sacred Circe’s bed,
Implor’d my pass, and her performéd vow
Which now my soul urg’d, and my soldiers now
Afflicted me with tears to get them gone.
All these I told her, and she answer’d these:
“Much-skill’d Ulysses Laertiades!
Remain no more against your wills with me,
But take your free way; only this must be
Perform’d before you steer your course for home:
You must the way to Pluto overcome,
And stern Persephoné, to form your pass,
By th’ aged Theban soul Tiresias,
The dark-brow’d prophet, whose soul yet can see
Clearly, and firmly; grave Persephoné,
Ev’n dead, gave him a mind, that he alone
Might sing truth’s solid wisdom, and not one
Prove more than shade in his comparison.᾿
This broke my heart; I sunk into my bed,
Mourn’d, and would never more be comforted
With light, nor life. But having now exprest
My pains enough to her in my unrest,
That so I might prepare her ruth, and get
All I held fit for an affair so great,
I said: ‘O Circe, who shall steer my course
To Pluto’s kingdom? Never ship had force
To make that voyage.’ The divine-invoice
Said; ‘Seek no guide, raise you your mast, and hoise
Your ship’s white sails, and then sit yon at peace,
The fresh North Spirit shall waft ye through the Seas.
But, having past the ocean, you shall see
A little shore, that to Persephoné
Puts up a consecrated wood, where grows
Tall firs, and sallows that their fruits soon lose.
Cast anchor in the gulfs, and go alone
To Pluto’s dark house, where, to Acheron
Cocytus runs, and Pyriphlegethon,
Cocytus born of Styx, and where a rock
Of both the met floods bears the roaring shock.
The dark heroë, great Tiresias,
Now coming near, to gain propitious pass,
Dig of a cubit ev’ry way a pit,
And pour to all that are deceas’d in it
A solemn sacrifice. For which, first take
Honey and wine, and their commixtion make;
Then sweet wine neat; and thirdly water pour;
And lastly add to these the whitest flour.
Then vow to all the weak necks of the dead
Off’rings a number; and, when thou shalt tread
The Ithacensian shore, to sacrifice
A heifer never-tam’d, and most of prize,
A pile of all thy most esteeméd goods
Enflaming to the dear streams of their bloods;
And, in secret rites, to Tiresias vow
A ram coal-black at all parts, that doth flow
With fat and fleece, and all thy flocks doth lead.
When the all-calling nation of the dead ^^[[84|Chapman: Footnote 84]]^^
Thou thus hast pray’d to, offer on the place
A ram and ewe all black being turn’d in face
To dreadful Erebus, thyself aside
The flood’s shore walking. And then, gratified
With flocks of souls of men and dames deceas’d
Shall all thy pious rites be. Straight address’d
See then the off’ring that thy fellows slew,
Flay’d, and impos’d in fire; and all thy crew
Pray to the state of either Deity,
Grave Pluto, and severe Persephoné.
Then draw thy sword, stand firm, nor suffer one
Of all the faint shades of the dead and gone
T’ approach the blood, till thou hast heard their king,
The wise Tiresias; who thy offering
Will instantly do honour, thy home-ways,
And all the measure of them by the seas,
Amply unfolding.’ This the Goddess told;
And then the Morning in her throne of gold
Survey’d the vast world; by whose orient light
The Nymph adorn’d me with attires as bright,
Her own hands putting on both shirt and weed,
Robes fine, and curious, and upon my head
An ornament that glitter’d like a flame,
Girt me in gold; and forth betimes I came
Amongst my soldiers, rous’d them all from sleep,
And bad them now no more observance keep
Of ease, and feast, but straight a-shipboard fall,
For now the Goddess had inform’d me all.
Their noble spirits agreed; nor yet so clear
Could I bring all off, but Elpenor there
His heedless life left. He was youngest man
Of all my company, and one that wan
Least fame for arms, as little for his brain;
Who (too much steep’d in wine, and so made fain
To get refreshing by the cool of sleep,
Apart his fellows, plung’d in vapours deep,
And they as high in tumult of their way)
Suddenly wak’d and (quite out of the stay
A sober mind had giv’n him) would descend
A huge long ladder, forward, and an end
Fell from the very roof, full pitching on
The dearest joint his head was plac’d upon,
Which, quite dissolv’d, let loose his soul to hell.
I to the rest, and Circe’s means did tell
Of our return, as crossing clean the hope
I gave them first, and said: ‘You think the scope
Of our endeavours now is straight for home;
No; Circe otherwise design’d, whose doom
Enjoin’d us first to greet the dreadful house
Of austere Pluto and his glorious spouse,
To take the counsel of Tiresias,
The rev’rend Theban, to direct our pass.’
This brake their hearts, and grief made tear their hair.
But grief was never good at great affair;
It would have way yet. We went woful on
To ship and shore, where was arriv’d as soon
Circe unseen, a black ewe and a ram
Binding for sacrifice, and, as she came,
Vanish’d again unwitness’d by our eyes;
Which griev’d not us, nor check’d our sacrifice,
For who would see God, loth to let us see,
This way or that bent; still his ways are free.
"""
Finis Decimi Libri Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysees’ way to Hell appears;
Where he the grave Tiresias hears;
Enquires his own and others’ fates;
His mother sees, and th’ after states
In which were held by sad decease
Heroës, and Heroesses,
A number, that at Troy wag’d war;
As Ajax that was still at jar
With Ithacus, for th’ arms he lost;
And with the great Achilles’ ghost.
"""
''Another Argument''
Λάνβδα.
"""
Ulysses here
Invokes the dead,
The lives appear
Hereafter led.
"""
"""
“Arriv’d now at our ship, we launch’d, and set
Our mast up, put forth sail, and in did get
Our late-got cattle. Up our sails, we went,
My wayward fellows mourning now th’ event. ^^[[85|Chapman: Footnote 85]]^^
A good companion yet, a foreright wind,
Circe (the excellent utt’rer of her mind)
Supplied our murmuring consorts with, that was
Both speed and guide to our adventurous pass.
All day our sails stood to the winds, and made
Our voyage prosp’rous. Sun then set, and shade
All ways obscuring, on the bounds we fell
Of deep Oceanus, where people dwell
Whom a perpetual cloud obscures outright,
To whom the cheerful sun lends never light,
Nor when he mounts the star-sustaining heaven,
Nor when he stoops earth, and sets up the even,
But night holds fix’d wings, feather’d all with banes,
Above those most unblest Cimmerians.
Here drew we up our ship, our sheep withdrew,
And walk’d the shore till we attain’d the view,
Of that sad region Circe had foreshow’d;
And then the sacred off’rings to be vow’d
Eurylochus and Persimedes bore.
When I my sword drew, and earth’s womb did gore
Till I a pit digg’d of a cubit round,
Which with the liquid sacrifice we crown’d,
First honey mix’d with wine, then sweet wine neat,
Then water pour’d in, last the flour of wheat.
Much I importun’d then the weak-neck’d dead,
And vow’d, when I the barren soil should tread
Of clifty Ithaca, amidst my hall
To kill a heifer, my clear best of all,
And give in off’ring, on a pile compos’d
Of all the choice goods my whole house enclos’d.
And to Tiresias himself, alone,
A sheep coal-black, and the selectest one
Of all my flocks. When to the Pow’rs beneath,
The sacred nation that survive with death,
My pray’rs and vows had done devotions fit,
I took the off’rings, and upon the pit
Bereft their lives. Out gush’d the sable blood,
And round about me fled out of the flood
The souls of the deceas’d. There cluster’d then
Youths, and their wives, much-suff’ring aged men,
Soft tender virgins that but new came there
By timeless death, and green their sorrows were.
There men-at-arms, with armours all embrew’d,
Wounded with lances, and with faulchions hew’d,
In numbers, up and down the ditch, did stalk,
And threw unmeasur’d cries about their walk,
So horrid that a bloodless fear surpris’d
My daunted spirits. Straight then I advis’d
My friends to flay the slaughter’d sacrifice,
Put them in fire, and to the Deities,
Stern Pluto and Persephoné, apply
Exciteful pray’rs. Then drew I from my thigh
My well-edg’d sword, stept in, and firmly stood
Betwixt the prease of shadows and the blood,
And would not suffer anyone to dip
Within our off’ring his unsolid lip,
Before Tiresias that did all controul.
The first that press’d in was Elpenor’s soul,
His body in the broad-way’d earth as yet
Unmourn’d, unburied by us, since we swet
With other urgent labours. Yet his smart
I wept to see, and rued it from my heart,
Enquiring how he could before me be
That came by ship? He, mourning, answer’d me:
‘In Circe’s house, the spite some spirit did bear,
And the unspeakable good liquor there,
Hath been my bane; for, being to descend
A ladder much in height, I did not tend
My way well down, but forwards made a proof
To tread the rounds, and from the very roof
Fell on my neck, and brake it; and this made
My soul thus visit this infernal shade.
And here, by them that next thyself are dear,
Thy wife, and father, that a little one
Gave food to thee, and by thy only son
At home behind thee left, Telemachus,
Do not depart by stealth, and leave me thus,
Unmourn’d, unburied, lest neglected I
Bring on thyself th’ incenséd Deity.
I know that, sail’d from hence, thy ship must touch
On th’ isle Ææa; where vouchsafe thus much,
Good king, that, landed, thou wilt instantly
Bestow on me thy royal memory
To this grace, that my body, arms and all,
May rest consum’d in fiery funeral;
And on the foamy shore a sepulchre
Erect to me, that after-times may hear
Of one so hapless. Let me these implore
And fix upon my sepulchre the oar ^^[[86|Chapman: Footnote 86]]^^
With which alive I shook the aged seas,
And had of friends the dear societies.’
I told the wretched soul I would fulfill
And execute to th’ utmost point his will;
And, all the time we sadly talk’d, I still
My sword above the blood held, when aside
The idol of my friend still amplified
His plaint, as up and down the shades he err’d.
Then my deceaséd mother’s soul appear’d,
Fair daughter of Autolycus the great,
Grave Anticlea, whom, when forth I set
For sacred Ilion, I had left alive.
Her sight much mov’d me, and to tears did drive
My note of her decease; and yet not she
(Though in my ruth she held the high’st degree)
Would I admit to touch the sacred blood,
Till from Tiresias I had understood
What Circe told me. At the length did land
Theban Tiresias’ soul, and in his hand
Sustain’d a golden sceptre, knew me well,
And said: ‘O man unhappy, why to hell
Admitt’st thou dark arrival, and the light
The sun gives leav’st, to have the horrid sight
Of this black region, and the shadows here?
Now sheathe thy sharp sword, and the pit forbear,
That I the blood may taste, and then relate
The truth of those acts that affect thy fate.’
I sheath’d my sword, and left the pit, till he,
The black blood tasting, thus instructed me:
‘Renown’d Ulysses! All unask’d I know
That all the cause of thy arrival now
Is to enquire thy wish’d retreat for home;
Which hardly God will let thee overcome,
Since Neptune still will his opposure try,
With all his laid-up anger, for the eye
His lov’d son lost to thee. And yet through all
Thy suff’ring course (which must be capital)
If both thine own affections, and thy friends,
Thou wilt contain, when thy access ascends
The three-fork’d island, having ‘scap’d the seas,
Where ye shall find fed on the flow’ry leas
Fat flocks, and oxen, which the Sun doth own,
To whom are all things as well heard as shown,
And never dare one head of those to slay,
But hold unharmful on your wishéd way,
Though through enough affliction, yet secure
Your Fates shall land ye; but presage says sure,
If once ye spoil them, spoil to all thy friends,
Spoil to thy fleet, and if the justice ends
Short of thyself, it shall be long before,
And that length forc’d out with inflictions store,
When, losing all thy fellows, in a sail
Of foreign built (when most thy Fates prevail
In thy deliv’rance) thus th’ event shall sort:
Thou shalt find shipwrack raging in thy port,
Proud men thy goods consuming, and thy wife
Urging with gifts, give charge upon thy life.
But all these wrongs revenge shall end to thee,
And force, or cunning, set with slaughter free
The house of all thy spoilers. Yet again
Thou shalt a voyage make, and come to men
That know no sea, nor ships, nor oars that are
Wings to a ship, nor mix with any fare ^^[[87|Chapman: Footnote 87]]^^
Salt’s savoury vapour. Where thou first shalt land,
This clear-giv’n sign shall let thee understand,
That there those men remain: Assume ashore
Up to thy royal shoulder a ship oar,
With which, when thou shalt meet one on the way
That will in county admiration say
What dost thou with that wan upon thy neck?
There fix that wan thy oar, and that shore deck
With sacred rites to Neptune; slaughter there
A ram, a bull, and (who for strength doth bear
The name of husband to a herd) a boar.
And, coming home, upon thy natural shore,
Give pious hecatombs to all the Gods,
Degrees observ’d. And then the periods
Of all thy labours in the peace shall end
Of easy death; which shall the less extend
His passion to thee, that thy foe, the Sea,
Shall not enforce it, but Death’s victory
Shall chance in only-earnest-pray-vow’d age, ^^[[88|Chapman: Footnote 88]]^^
Obtain’d at home, quite emptied of his rage,
Thy subjects round about thee, rich and blest.
And here hath Truth summ’d up thy vital rest.’
I answer’d him: ‘We will suppose all these
Decreed in Deity; let it likewise please
Tiresias to resolve me, why so near
The blood and me my mother’s soul doth bear,
And yet nor word, nor look, vouchsafe her son?
Doth she not know me?’ ‘No,’ said he, ‘nor none
Of all these spirits, but myself alone,
Knows anything till he shall taste the blood.
But whomsoever you shall do that good,
He will the truth of all you wish unfold;
Who you envy it to will all withhold.’
Thus said the kingly soul, and made retreat
Amidst the inner parts of Pluto’s seat,
When he had spoke thus by divine instinct.
Still I stood firm, till to the blood’s precinct
My mother came, and drunk; and then she knew
I was her son, had passion to renew
Her natural plaints, which thus she did pursue:
‘How is it, O my son, that you alive
This deadly-darksome region underdive?
’Twixt which, and earth, so many mighty seas,
And horrid currents, interpose their prease,
Oceanus in chief? Which none (unless
More help’d than you) on foot now can transgress.
A well-built ship he needs that ventures there.
Com’st thou from Troy but now, enforc’d to err
All this time with thy soldiers? Nor hast seen,
Ere this long day, thy country, and thy queen?’
I answer’d: ‘That a necessary end
To this infernal state made me contend;
That from the wise Tiresias’ Theban soul
I might an oracle involv’d unroll;
For I came nothing near Achaia yet,
Nor on our lov’d earth happy foot had set,
But, mishaps suff’ring, err’d from coast to coast,
Ever since first the mighty Grecian host
Divine Atrides led to Ilion,
And I his follower, to set war upon
The rapeful Trojans; and so pray’d she would
The fate of that ungentle death unfold,
That forc’d her thither; if some long disease,
Or that the spleen of her-that-arrows-please,
Diana, envious of most eminent dames,
Had made her th’ object of her deadly aims?
My father’s state and sons I sought, if they
Kept still my goods? Or they became the prey
Of any other, holding me no more
In pow’r of safe return? Or if my store
My wife had kept together with her son?
If she her first mind held, or had been won
By some chief Grecian from my love and bed?’
All this she answer’d: ‘That affliction fed
On her blood still at home, and that to grief
She all the days and darkness of her life
In tears had consecrate. That none possest
My famous kingdom’s throne, but th’ interest
My son had in it still he held in peace,
A court kept like a prince, and his increase
Spent in his subjects’ good, administ’ring laws
With justice, and the general applause
A king should merit, and all call’d him king.
My father kept the upland, labouring,
And shunn’d the city, us’d no sumptuous beds,
Wonder’d-at furnitures, nor wealthy weeds,
But in the winter strew’d about the fire
Lay with his slaves in ashes, his attire
Like to a beggar’s; when the summer came,
And autumn all fruits ripen’d with his flame,
Where grape-charg’d vines made shadows most abound,
His couch with fall’n leaves made upon the ground,
And here lay he, his sorrow’s fruitful state
Increasing as he faded for my fate;
And now the part of age that irksome is
Lay sadly on him. And that life of his
She led, and perish’d in; not slaughter’d by
The Dame that darts lov’d, and her archery;
Nor by disease invaded, vast and foul,
That wastes the body, and sends out the soul
With shame and horror; only in her moan,
For me and my life, she consum’d her own.’
She thus, when I had great desire to prove
My arms the circle where her soul did move.
Thrice prov’d I, thrice she vanish’d like a sleep,
Or fleeting shadow, which struck much more deep
The wounds my woes made, and made ask her why
She would my love to her embraces fly,
And not vouchsafe that ev’n in hell we might
Pay pious Nature her unalter’d right,
And give Vexation here her cruel fill?
Should not the Queen here, to augment the ill
Of ev’ry suff’rance, which her office is,
Enforce thy idol to afford me this?
‘O son,’ she answer’d, ‘of the race of men
The most unhappy, our most equal Queen
Will mock no solid arms with empty shade,
Nor suffer empty shades again t’ invade
Flesh, bones, and nerves; nor will defraud the fire
Of his last dues, that, soon as spirits expire
And leave the white bone, are his native right,
When, like a dream, the soul assumes her flight.
The light then of the living with most haste,
O son, contend to. This thy little taste
Of this state is enough; and all this life
Will make a tale fit to be told thy wife.’
This speech we had; when now repair’d to me
More female spirits, by Persephoné
Driv’n on before her. All th’ heroës’ wives,
And daughters, that led there their second lives,
About the black blood throng’d. Of whom yet more
My mind impell’d me to inquire, before
I let them all together taste the gore,
For then would all have been dispers’d, and gone
Thick as they came. I, therefore, one by one
Let taste the pit, my sword drawn from my thigh,
And stand betwixt them made, when, sev’rally,
All told their stocks. The first, that quench’d her fire,
Was Tyro, issued of a noble sire.
She said she sprung from pure Salmoneus’ bed,
And Cretheus, son of Æolus, did wed;
Yet the divine flood Enipëus lov’d,
Who much the most fair stream of all floods mov’d.
Near whose streams Tyro walking, Neptune came,
Like Enipëus, and enjoy’d the dame.
Like to a hill, the blue and snaky flood
Above th’ immortal and the mortal stood,
And hid them both, as both together lay,
Just where his current falls into the sea.
Her virgin waist dissolv’d, she slumber’d then;
But when the God had done the work of men,
Her fair hand gently wringing, thus he said:
‘Woman! rejoice in our combinéd bed,
For when the year hath run his circle round
(Because the Gods’ loves must in fruit abound)
My love shall make, to cheer thy teeming moans,
Thy one dear burden bear two famous sons;
Love well, and bring them up. Go home, and see
That, though of more joy yet I shall be free,
Thou dost not tell, to glorify thy birth;
Thy love is Neptune, shaker of the earth.’
This said, he plung’d into the sea; and she,
Begot with child by him, the light let see
Great Pelias, and Neleus, that became
In Jove’s great ministry of mighty fame.
Pelias in broad Iolcus held his throne,
Wealthy in cattle; th’ other royal son
Rul’d sandy Pylos. To these issue more
This queen of women to her husband bore,
Æson, and Pheres, and Amythaon
That for his fight on horseback stoop’d to none.
Next her, I saw admir’d Antiope,
Asopus’ daughter, who (as much as she
Boasted attraction of great Neptune’s love)
Boasted to slumber in the arms of Jove,
And two sons likewise at one burden bore
To that her all-controlling paramour,
Amphion, and fair Zethus; that first laid
Great Thebes’ foundations, and strong walls convey’d
About her turrets, that seven ports enclos’d,
For though the Thebans much in strength repos’d,
Yet had not they the strength to hold their own,
Without the added aids of wood and stone.
Alcmena next I saw, that famous wife
Was to Amphitryo, and honour’d life
Gave to the lion-hearted Hercules,
That was of Jove’s embrace the great increase.
I saw, besides, proud Creon’s daughter there,
Bright Megara, that nuptial yoke did wear
With Jove’s great son, who never field did try
But bore to him the flow’r of victory.
The mother then of Œdipus I saw,
Fair Epicasta, that, beyond all law,
Her own son married, ignorant of kind.
And he, as darkly taken in his mind,
His mother wedded, and his father slew.
Whose blind act Heav’n expos’d at length to view,
And he in all-lov’d Thebes the supreme state
With much moan manag’d, for the heavy fate
The Gods laid on him. She made violent flight
To Pluto’s dark house from the loathéd light,
Beneath a steep beam strangled with a cord,
And left her son, in life, pains as abhorr’d
As all the Furies pour’d on her in hell.
Then saw I Chloris, that did so excell
In answering beauties, that each part had all.
Great Neleus married her, when gifts not small
Had won her favour, term’d by name of dow’r.
She was of all Amphion’s seed the flow’r;
Amphion, call’d Iasides, that then
Rul’d strongly Myniæan Orchomen,
And now his daughter rul’d the Pylian throne,
Because her beauty’s empire overshone.
She brought her wife-awed husband, Neleús,
Nestor much honour’d, Periclymenus,
And Chromius, sons with sov’reign virtues grac’d;
But after brought a daughter that surpass’d,
Rare-beautied Pero, so for form exact
That Nature to a miracle was rack’d
In her perfections, blaz’d with th’ eyes of men;
That made of all the country’s hearts a chain,
And drew them suitors to her. Which her sire
Took vantage of, and, since he did aspire
To nothing more than to the broad-brow’d herd
Of oxen, which the common fame so rear’d,
Own’d by Iphiclus, not a man should be
His Pero’s husband, that from Phylace
Those never-yet-driv’n oxen could not drive.
Yet these a strong hope held him to achieve,
Because a prophet, that had never err’d,
Had said, that only he should be preferr’d
To their possession. But the equal fate
Of God withstood his stealth; inextricate
Imprisoning bands, and sturdy churlish swains
That were the herdsmen, who withheld with chains
The stealth-attempter; which was only he
That durst abet the act with prophecy,
None else would undertake it, and he must;
The king would needs a prophet should be just.
But when some days and months expired were,
And all the hours had brought about the year,
The prophet did so satisfy the king
(Iphiclus, all his cunning questioning)
That he enfranchis’d him; and, all worst done,
Jove’s counsel made th’ all-safe conclusión.
Then saw I Leda, link’d in nuptial chain
With Tyndarus, to whom she did sustain
Sons much renown’d for wisdom; Castor one,
That pass’d for use of horse comparison;
And Pollux, that excell’d in whirlbat fight;
Both these the fruitful earth bore, while the light
Of life inspir’d them; after which, they found
Such grace with Jove, that both liv’d under ground,
By change of days; life still did one sustain,
While th’ other died; the dead then liv’d again,
The living dying; both of one self date
Their lives and deaths made by the Gods and Fate.
Iphimedia after Leda came,
That did derive from Neptune too the name
Of father to two admirable sons.
Life yet made short their admiratións,
Who God-opposéd Otus had to name,
And Ephialtes far in sound of fame.
The prodigal earth so fed them, that they grew
To most huge stature, and had fairest hue
Of all men, but Orion, under heav’n.
At nine years old nine cubits they were driv’n
Abroad in breadth, and sprung nine fathoms high.
They threaten’d to give battle to the sky,
And all th’ Immortals. They were setting on
Ossa upon Olympus, and upon
Steep Ossa leavy Pelius, that ev’n
They might a highway make with lofty heav’n;
And had perhaps perform’d it, had they liv’d
Till they were striplings; but Jove’s son depriv’d
Their limbs of life, before th’ age that begins
The flow’r of youth, and should adorn their chins.
Phædra and Procris, with wise Minos’ flame,
Bright Ariadne, to the off’ring came.
Whom whilome Theseus made his prise from Crete,
That Athens’ sacred soil might kiss her feet,
But never could obtain her virgin flow’r,
Till, in the sea-girt Dia, Dian’s pow’r
Detain’d his homeward haste, where (in her fane,
By Bacchus witness’d) was the fatal wane
Of her prime glory, Mæra, Clymene,
I witness’d there; and loath’d Eriphyle,
That honour’d gold more than she lov’d her spouse. ^^[[89|Chapman: Footnote 89]]^^
But, all th’ heroesses in Pluto’s house
That then encounter’d me, exceeds my might
To name or number, and ambrosian night
Would quite be spent, when now the formal hours
Present to sleep our all disposéd pow’rs,
If at my ship, or here. My home-made vow
I leave for fit grace to the Gods and you.”
This said; the silence his discourse had made
With pleasure held still through the house’s shade,
When white-arm’d Areté this speech began:
“Phæacians! How appears to you this man,
So goodly person’d, and so match’d with mind?
My guest he is, but all you stand combin’d
In the renown he doth us. Do not then
With careless haste dismiss him, nor the main
Of his dispatch to one so needy maim,
The Gods’ free bounty gives us all just claim
To goods enow.” This speech, the oldest man
Of any other Phæacensian,
The grave heroë, Echinëus, gave
All approbation, saying: “Friends! ye have
The motion of the wise queen in such words
As have not miss’d the mark, with which accords
My clear opinion. But Alcinous,
In word and work, must be our rule.” He thus;
And then Alcinous said: “This then must stand,
If while I live I rule in the command
Of this well-skill’d-innavigation state:
Endure then, guest, though most importunate
Be your affects for home. A little stay
If your expectance bear, perhaps it may
Our gifts make more complete. The cares of all
Your due deduction asks; but principal
I am therein the ruler.” He replied:
“Alcinous, the most duly glorified
With rule of all of all men, if you lay
Commandment on me of a whole year’s stay,
So all the while your preparations rise,
As well in gifts as time, ^^[[90|Chapman: Footnote 90]]^^ ye can devise
No better wish for me; for I shall come
Much fuller-handed, and more honoured, home,
And dearer to my people, in whose loves
The richer evermore the better proves.”
He answer’d: “There is argued in your sight
A worth that works not men for benefit,
Like prollers or impostors; of which crew,
The gentle black earth feeds not up a few,
Here and there wand’rers, blanching tales and lies,
Of neither praise, nor use. You move our eyes
With form, our minds with matter, and our ears
With elegant oration, such as bears
A music in the order’d history
It lays before us. Not Demodocus
With sweeter strains hath us’d to sing to us
All the Greek sorrows, wept out in your own.
But say: Of all your worthy friends, were none
Objected to your eyes that consorts were
To Ilion with you, and serv’d destiny there?
This night is passing long, unmeasur’d, none
Of all my household would to bed yet; on,
Relate these wondrous things. Were I with you,
If you would tell me but your woes, as now,
Till the divine Aurora show’d her head,
I should in no night relish thought of bed.”
“Most eminent king,” said he, “times all must keep,
There’s time to speak much, time as much to sleep.
But would you hear still, I will tell you still,
And utter more, more miserable ill
Of friends than yet, that scap’d the dismal wars,
And perish’d homewards, and in household jars
Wag’d by a wicked woman. The chaste Queen
No sooner made these lady ghosts unseen,
Here and there flitting, but mine eyesight won
The soul of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son,
Sad, and about him all his train of friends,
That in Ægisthus’ house endur’d their ends
With his stern fortune. Having drunk the blood,
He knew me instantly, and forth a flood
Of springing tears gush’d; out he thrust his hands,
With will t’ embrace me, but their old commands
Flow’d not about him, nor their weakest part.
I wept to see, and moan’d him from my heart,
And ask’d: ‘O Agamemnon! King of men!
What sort of cruel death hath render’d slain
Thy royal person? Neptune in thy fleet
Heav’n and his hellish billows making meet,
Rousing the winds? Or have thy men by land
Done thee this ill, for using thy command,
Past their consents, in diminution
Of those full shares their worths by lot had won
Of sheep or oxen? Or of any town,
In covetous strife, to make their rights thine own
In men or women prisoners?’ He replied:
‘By none of these in any right I died,
But by Ægisthus and my murd’rous wife
(Bid to a banquet at his house) my life
Hath thus been reft me, to my slaughter led
Like to an ox pretended to be fed.
So miserably fell I, and with me
My friends lay massacred, as when you see
At any rich man’s nuptials, shot, or feast,
About his kitchen white-tooth’d swine lie drest.
The slaughters of a world of men thine eyes,
Both private, and in prease of enemies,
Have personally witness’d; but this one
Would all thy parts have broken into moan,
To see how strew’d about our cups and cates,
As tables set with feast, so we with fates,
All gash’d and slain lay, all the floor embrued
With blood and brain. But that which most I rued,
Flew from the heavy voice that Priam’s seed,
Cassandra, breath’d, whom, she that wit doth feed
With baneful crafts, false Clytemnestra, slew,
Close sitting by me; up my hands I threw
From earth to heav’n, and tumbling on my sword
Gave wretched life up; when the most abhorr’d,
By all her sex’s shame, forsook the room,
Nor deign’d, though then so near this heavy home,
To shut my lips, or close my broken eyes.
Nothing so heap’d is with impieties,
As such a woman that would kill her spouse
That married her a maid. When to my house
I brought her, hoping of her love in heart,
To children, maids, and slaves. But she (in th’ art
Of only mischief hearty) not alone
Cast on herself this foul aspersión,
But loving dames, hereafter, to their lords
Will bear, for good deeds, her bad thoughts and words.’
‘Alas,’ said I, ‘that Jove should hate the lives
Of Atreus’ seed so highly for their wives!
For Menelaus’ wife a number fell,
For dang’rous absence thine sent thee to hell.’
‘For this,’ he answer’d, ‘be not thou more kind
Than wise to thy wife. Never all thy mind
Let words express to her. Of all she knows,
Curbs for the worst still, in thyself repose.
But thou by thy wife’s wiles shalt lose no blood,
Exceeding wise she is, and wise in good.
Icarius’ daughter, chaste Penelope,
We left a young bride, when for battle we
Forsook the nuptial peace, and at her breast
Her first child sucking, who, by this hour, blest,
Sits in the number of surviving men.
And his bliss she hath, that she can contain,
And her bliss thou hast, that she is so wise.
For, by her wisdom, thy returnéd eyes
Shall see thy son, and he shall greet his sire
With fitting welcomes; when in my retire,
My wife denies mine eyes my son’s dear sight,
And, as from me, will take from him the light,
Before she adds one just delight to life,
Or her false wit one truth that fits a wife.
For her sake therefore let my harms advise,
That though thy wife be ne’er so chaste and wise,
Yet come not home to her in open view, ^^[[91|Chapman: Footnote 91]]^^
With any ship or any personal show,
But take close shore disguis’d, nor let her know,
For ’tis no world to trust a woman now.
But what says Fame? Doth my son yet survive,
In Orchomen, or Pylos? Or doth live
In Sparta with his uncle? Yet I see
Divine Orestes is not here with me.’
I answer’d, asking: ‘Why doth Atreus’ son
Enquire of me, who yet arriv’d where none
Could give to these news any certain wings?
And ’tis absurd to tell uncertain things.’
Such sad speech past us; and as thus we stood,
With kind tears rend’ring unkind fortunes good,
Achilles’ and Patroclus’ soul appear’d,
And his soul, of whom never ill was heard,
The good Antilochus, and the soul of him
That all the Greeks past both for force and limb,
Excepting the unmatch’d Æacides,
Illustrious Ajax. But the first of these
That saw, acknowledg’d, and saluted me,
Was Thetis’ conqu’ring son, who (heavily
His state here taking) said: ‘Unworthy breath!
What act yet mightier imagineth
Thy vent’rous spirit? How dost thou descend
These under-regions, where the dead man’s end
Is to be look’d on, and his foolish shade?’
I answer’d him: ‘I was induc’d t’ invade
These under-parts, most excellent of Greece,
To visit wise Tiresias, for advice
Of virtue to direct my voyage home
To rugged Ithaca; since I could come
To note in no place, where Achaia stood,
And so liv’d ever, tortur’d with the blood
In man’s vain veins. Thou, therefore, Thetis’ son,
Hast equall’d all, that ever yet have won
The bliss the earth yields, or hereafter shall.
In life thy eminence was ador’d of all,
Ev’n with the Gods; and now, ev’n dead, I see
Thy virtues propagate thy empery
To a renew’d life of command beneath;
So great Achilles triumphs over death.’
This comfort of him this encounter found;
‘Urge not my death to me, nor rub that wound,
I rather wish to live in earth a swain,
Or serve a swain for hire, that scarce can gain
Bread to sustain him, than, that life once gone,
Of all the dead sway the imperial throne.
But say, and of my son some comfort yield,
If he goes on in first fights of the field,
Or lurks for safety in the obscure rear?
Or of my father if thy royal ear
Hath been advertis’d, that the Phthian throne
He still commands, as greatest Myrmidon?
Or that the Phthian and Thessalian rage
(Now feet and hands are in the hold of age)
Despise his empire? Under those bright rays,
In which heav’n’s fervour hurls about the days.
Must I no more shine his revenger now,
Such as of old the Ilion overthrow
Witness’d my anger, th’ universal host
Sending before me to this shady coast,
In fight for Grecia. Could I now resort,
(But for some small time) to my father’s court,
In spirit and pow’r as then, those men should find
My hands inaccessible, and of fire my mind,
That durst with all the numbers they are strong
Unseat his honour, and suborn his wrong.’
This pitch still flew his spirit, though so low,
And this I answer’d thus: ‘I do not know
Of blameless Peleus any least report,
But of your son, in all the utmost sort,
I can inform your care with truth, and thus:
From Scyros princely Neoptolemus
By fleet I convey’d to the Greeks, where he
Was chief, at both parts, when our gravity
Retir’d to council, and our youth to fight.
In council still so fiery was Conceit
In his quick apprehension of a cause,
That first he ever spake, nor pass’d the laws
Of any great stay, in his greatest haste.
None would contend with him, that counsell’d last,
Unless illustrious Nestor, he and I
Would sometimes put a friendly contrary
On his opinion. In our fights, the prease
Of great or common, he would never cease,
But far before fight ever. No man there,
For force, he forcéd. He was slaughterer
Of many a brave man in most dreadful fight.
But one and other whom he reft of light,
In Grecian succour, I can neither name,
Nor give in number. The particular fame
Of one man’s slaughter yet I must not pass;
Eurypylus Telephides he was,
That fell beneath him, and with him the falls
Of such huge men went, that they show’d like whales ^^[[92|Chapman: Footnote 92]]^^
Rampir’d about him. Neoptolemus
Set him so sharply, for the sumptuous
Favours of mistresses he saw him wear;
For past all doubt his beauties had no peer
Of all that mine eyes noted, next to one,
And that was Memnon, Tithon’s Sun-like son.
Thus far, for fight in public, may a taste
Give of his eminence. How far surpast
His spirit in private, where he was not seen,
Nor glory could be said to praise his spleen,
This close note I excerpted. When we sat
Hid in Epëus’ horse, no optimate
Of all the Greeks there had the charge to ope
And shut the stratagem but I. ^^[[93|Chapman: Footnote 93]]^^ My scope
To note then each man’s spirit in a strait
Of so much danger, much the better might
Be hit by me, than others, as, provok’d,
I shifted place still, when, in some I smok’d
Both privy tremblings, and close vent of tears,
In him yet not a soft conceit of theirs
Could all my search see, either his wet eyes
Ply’d still with wipings, or the goodly guise,
His person all ways put forth, in least part,
By any tremblings, show’d his touch’d-at heart.
But ever he was urging me to make
Way to their sally, by his sign to shake
His sword hid in his scabbard, or his lance
Loaded with iron, at me. No good chance
His thoughts to Troy intended. In th’ event,
High Troy depopulate, he made ascent
To his fair ship, with prise and treasure store,
Safe, and no touch away with him he bore
Of far-off-hurl’d lance, or of close-fought sword,
Whose wounds for favours war doth oft afford,
Which he (though sought) miss’d in war’s closest wage.
//In close fights Mars doth never fight, but rage.’//
This made the soul of swift Achilles tread
A march of glory through the herby mead,
For joy to hear me so renown his son;
And vanish’d stalking. But with passión
Stood th’ other souls struck, and each told his bane.
Only the spirit Telamonian ^^[[94|Chapman: Footnote 94]]^^
Kept far off, angry for the victory
I won from him at fleet; though arbitry
Of all a court of war pronounc’d it mine,
And Pallas’ self. Our prise were th’ arms divine
Of great Æacides, proposd t’ our fames
By his bright Mother, at his funeral games.
I wish to heav’n I ought not to have won;
Since for those arms so high a head so soon
The base earth cover’d, Ajax, that of all
The host of Greece had person capital,
And acts as eminent, excepting his
Whose arms those were, in whom was nought amiss.
I tried the great soul with soft words, and said:
‘Ajax! Great son of Telamon, array’d
In all our glories! What! not dead resign
Thy wrath for those curst arms? The Pow’rs divine
In them forg’d all our banes, in thine own one,
In thy grave fall our tower was overthrown.
We mourn, for ever maim’d, for thee as much
As for Achilles; nor thy wrong doth touch,
In sentence, any but Saturnius’ doom;
In whose hate was the host of Greece become
A very horror; who express’d it well
In signing thy fate with this timeless hell.
Approach then, king of all the Grecian merit,
Repress thy great mind and thy flamy spirit,
And give the words I give thee worthy ear.’
All this no word drew from him, but less near
The stern soul kept; to other souls he fled,
And glid along the river of the dead.
Though anger mov’d him, yet he might have spoke,
Since I to him. But my desires were strook
With sight of other souls. And then I saw
Minos, that minister’d to Death a law,
And Jove’s bright son was. He was set, and sway’d
A golden sceptre; and to him did plead
A sort of others, set about his throne,
In Pluto’s wide-door’d house; when straight came on
Mighty Orion, who was hunting there
The herds of those beasts he had slaughter’d here
In desert hills on earth. A club he bore,
Entirely steel, whose virtues never wore.
Tityus I saw, to whom the glorious earth
Open’d her womb, and gave unhappy birth.
Upwards, and flat upon the pavement, lay
His ample limbs, that spread in their display
Nine acres’ compass. On his bosom sat
Two vultures, digging, through his caul of fat,
Into his liver with their crookéd beaks;
And each by turns the concrete entrail breaks
(As smiths their steel beat) set on either side.
Nor doth he ever labour to divide
His liver and their beaks, nor with his hand
Offer them off, but suffers by command
Of th’ angry Thund’rer, off’ring to enforce
His love Latona, in the close recourse
She us’d to Pytho through the dancing land,
Smooth Panopëus, I saw likewise stand,
Up to the chin, amidst a liquid lake,
Tormented Tantalus, yet could not slake
His burning thirst. Oft as his scornful cup
Th’ old man would taste, so oft ’twas swallow’d up,
And all the black earth to his feet descried,
Divine pow’r (plaguing him) the lake still dried.
About his head, on high trees, clust’ring, hung
Pears, apples, granates, olives ever-young,
Delicious figs, and many fruit-trees more
Of other burden; whose alluring store
When th’ old soul striv’d to pluck, the winds from sight,
In gloomy vapours, made them vanish quite.
There saw I Sisyphus in infinite moan,
With both hands heaving up a massy stone,
And on his tip-toes racking all his height,
To wrest up to a mountain-top his freight;
When prest to rest it there, his nerves quite spent,
Down rush’d the deadly quarry, the event
Of all his torture new to raise again;
To which straight set his never-rested pain.
The sweat came gushing out from ev’ry pore
And on his head a standing mist he wore,
Reeking from thence, as if a cloud of dust
Were rais’d about it. Down with these was thrust
The idol of the force of Hercules,
But his firm self did no such fate oppress,
He feasting lives amongst th’ Immortal States,
White-ankled Hebe and himself made mates
In heav’nly nuptials. Hebe, Jove’s dear race,
And Juno’s whom the golden sandals grace.
About him flew the clamours of the dead
Like fowls, and still stoop’d cuffing at his head.
He with his bow, like Night, stalk’d up and down,
His shaft still nock’d, and hurling round his frown
At those vex’d hov’rers, aiming at them still,
And still, as shooting out, desire to still.
A horrid bawdrick wore he thwart his breast,
The thong all-gold, in which were forms imprest,
Where art and miracle drew equal breaths,
In bears, boars, lions, battles, combats, deaths,
Who wrought that work did never such before,
Nor so divinely will do ever more.
Soon as he saw, he knew me, and gave speech:
‘Son of Laertes, high in wisdom’s reach,
And yet unhappy wretch, for in this heart,
Of all exploits achiev’d by thy desert,
Thy worth but works out some sinister fate,
As I in earth did. I was generate
By Jove himself, and yet past mean opprest
By one my far inferior, whose proud hest
Impos’d abhorréd labours on my hand.
Of all which one was, to descend this strand,
And hale the dog from thence. He could not think
An act that danger could make deeper sink.
And yet this depth I drew, and fetch’d as high,
As this was low, the dog. The Deity
Of sleight and wisdom, as of downright pow’r,
Both stoop’d, and rais’d, and made me conqueror.’
This said, he made descent again as low
As Pluto’s court; when I stood firm, for show
Of more heroës of the times before,
And might perhaps have seen my wish of more,
(As Theseus and Pirithous, deriv’d
From roots of Deity) but before th’ achiev’d
Rare sight of these, the rank-soul’d multitude
In infinite flocks rose, venting sounds so rude,
That pale Fear took me, lest the Gorgon’s head
Rush’d in amongst them, thrust up, in my dread,
By grim Persephoné. I therefore sent
My men before to ship, and after went.
Where, boarded, set, and launch’d, the ocean wave
Our oars and forewinds speedy passage gave.
"""
Finis Libri Undecimi Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
He shows from Hell his safe retreat
To th’ isle Ææa, Circe’s seat;
And how he ’scap’d the Sirens’ calls,
With th’ erring rocks, and waters’ falls,
That Scylla and Charybdis break;
The Sun’ s stol’ n herds; and his sad wreak
Both of Ulysses’ ship and men,
His own head ’scaping scarce the pain.
"""
''Another Argument''
Μυ̑
"""
The rocks that err’d,
The Sirens’ call.
The Sun’s stol’n herd.
The soldiers’ fall.
"""
"""
“Our ship now past the straits of th’ ocean flood,
She plow’d the broad sea’s billows, and made good
The isle Ææa, where the palace stands
Of th’ early riser with the rosy hands,
Active Aurora, where she loves to dance,
And where the Sun doth his prime beams advance.
When here arriv’d, we drew her up to land,
And trod ourselves the resaluted sand,
Found on the shore fit resting for the night,
Slept, and expected the celestial light.
Soon as the white-and-red-mix’d finger’d Dame
Had gilt the mountains with her saffron flame,
I sent my men to Circe’s house before,
To fetch deceas’d Elpenor to the shore.
Straight swell’d the high banks with fell’d heaps of trees,
And, full of tears, we did due exsequies
To our dead friend. Whose corse consum’d with fire,
And honour’d arms, whose sepulchre entire,
And over that a column rais’d, his oar,
Curiously carv’d, to his desire before,
Upon the top of all his tomb we fix’d.
Of all rites fit his funeral pile was mix’d.
Nor was our safe ascent from Hell conceal’d
From Circe’s knowledge; nor so soon reveal’d
But she was with us, with her bread and food,
And ruddy wine, brought by her sacred brood
Of woods and fountains. In the midst she stood,
And thus saluted us; ‘Unhappy men,
That have, inform’d with all your senses, been
In Pluto’s dismal mansion! You shall die
Twice now, where others, that Mortality
In her fair arms holds, shall but once decease.
But eat and drink out all conceit of these,
And this day dedicate to food and wine,
The following night to sleep. When next shall shine
The cheerful morning, you shall prove the seas.
Your way, and ev’ry act ye must address,
My knowledge of their order shall design,
Lest with your own bad counsels ye incline
Events as bad against ye, and sustain,
By sea and shore, the woful ends that reign
In wilful actions.’ Thus did she advise
And, for the time, our fortunes were so wise
To follow wise directions. All that day
We sat and feasted. When his lower way
The Sun had entered, and the Even the high,
My friends slept on their gables; she and I
(Led by her fair hand to place apart,
By her well-sorted) did to sleep convert
Our timid pow’rs; when all things Fate let fall
In our affair she ask’d; I told her all.
To which she answer’d: ‘These things thus took end.
And now to those that I inform attend,
Which you rememb’ring, God himself shall be
The blesséd author of your memory.
First to the Sirens ye shall come, that taint
The minds of all men whom they can acquaint
With their attractions. Whosoever shall,
For want of knowledge mov’d, but hear the call
Of any Siren, he will so despise
Both wife and children, for their sorceries,
That never home turns his affection’s stream,
Nor they take joy in him, nor he in them.
The Sirens will so soften with their song
(Shrill, and in sensual appetite so strong)
His loose affections, that he gives them head.
And then observe: They sit amidst a mead,
And round about it runs a hedge or wall
Of dead men’s bones, their wither’d skins and all
Hung all along upon it; and these men
Were such as they had fawn’d into their fen,
And then their skins hung on their hedge of bones.
Sail by them therefore, thy companions
Beforehand causing to stop ev’ry ear
With sweet soft wax, so close that none may hear
A note of all their charmings. Yet may you,
If you affect it, open ear allow
To try their motion; but presume not so
To trust your judgment, when your senses go
So loose about you, but give strait command
To all your men, to bind you foot and hand
Sure to the mast, that you may safe approve
How strong in instigation to their love
Their rapting tunes are. If so much they move,
That, spite of all your reason, your will stands
To be enfranchis’d both of feet and hands,
Charge all your men before to slight your charge,
And rest so far from fearing to enlarge
That much more sure they bind you. When your friends
Have outsail’d these, the danger that transcends
Rests not in any counsel to prevent,
Unless your own mind finds the tract and bent
Of that way that avoids it. I can say
That in your course there lies a twofold way,
The right of which your own, taught, present wit,
And grace divine, must prompt. In gen’ral yet
Let this inform you: Near these Sirens’ shore
Move two steep rocks, at whose feet lie and roar
The black sea’s cruel billows; the bless’d Gods
Call them the Rovers. Their abhorr’d abodes
No bird can pass; no not the doves, whose fear ^^[[95|Chapman: Footnote 95]]^^
Sire Jove so loves that they are said to bear
Ambrosia to him, can their ravine ’scape,
But one of them falls ever to the rape
Of those sly rocks; yet Jove another still
Adds to the rest, that so may ever fill
The sacred number. Never ship could shun
The nimble peril wing’d there, but did run
With all her bulk, and bodies of her men,
To utter ruin. For the seas retain
Not only their outrageous æsture there,
But fierce assistants of particular fear,
And supernatural mischief, they exspire,
And those are whirlwinds of devouring fire
Whisking about still. Th’ Argive ship alone,
Which bore the care of all men, got her gone, ^^[[96|Chapman: Footnote 96]]^^
Come from Areta. Yet perhaps ev’n she
Had wrack’d at those rocks, if the Deity,
That lies by Jove’s side, had not lent her hand
To their transmission; since the man, that mann’d
In chief that voyage, she in chief did love.
Of these two spiteful rocks, the one doth shove
Against the height of heav’n her pointed brow.
A black cloud binds it round, and never show
Lends to the sharp point; not the clear blue sky
Lets ever view it, not the summer’s eye,
Nor fervent autumn’s. None that death could end
Could ever scale it, or, if up, descend,
Though twenty hands and feet he had for hold,
A polish’d ice-like glibness doth enfold
The rock so round, whose midst a gloomy cell
Shrouds so far westward that it sees to hell.
From this keep you as far, as from his bow
An able young man can his shaft bestow.
For here the whuling Scylla shrouds her face, ^^[[97|Chapman: Footnote 97]]^^
That breathes a voice at all parts no more base
Than are a newly-kitten’d kitling’s cries,
Herself a monster yet of boundless size,
Whose sight would nothing please a mortal’s eyes,
No nor the eyes of any God, if he
(Whom nought should fright) fell foul on her, and she
Her full shape show’d. Twelve foul feet bear about
Her ugly bulk. Six huge long necks look out
Of her rank shoulders; ev’ry neck doth let
A ghastly head out; ev’ry head three set,
Thick thrust together, of abhorréd teeth,
And ev’ry tooth stuck with a sable death.
She lurks in midst of all her den, and streaks
From out a ghastly whirlpool all her necks;
Where, gloting round her rock, to fish she falls;
And up rush dolphins, dogfish; somewhiles whales
If got within her when her rapine feeds;
For ever-groaning Amphitrite breeds
About her whirlpool an unmeasur’d store.
No sea-man ever boasted touch of shore
That there touch’d with his ship, but still she fed
Of him and his; a man for ev’ry head
Spoiling his ship of. You shall then descry
The other humbler rock, that moves so nigh
Your dart may mete the distance. It receives
A huge wild fig-tree, curl’d with ample leaves,
Beneath whose shades divine Charybdis sits,
Supping the black deeps. Thrice a day her pits
She drinking all dry, and thrice a day again
All up she belches, baneful to sustain.
When she is drinking, dare not near her draught,
For not the force of Neptune, if once caught,
Can force your freedom. Therefore, in your strife
To ’scape Charybdis, labour all for life
To row near Scylla, for she will but have
For her six heads six men; and better save
The rest, than all make off’rings to the wave.’
This need she told me of my loss, when I
Desir’d to know, if that Necessity,
When I had ’scap’d Charybdis’ outrages,
My pow’rs might not revenge, though not redress?
She answer’d: ‘O unhappy! art thou yet
Enflam’d with war, and thirst to drink thy sweat?
Not to the Gods give up both arms and will?
She deathless is, and that immortal ill
Grave, harsh, outrageous, not to be subdued,
That men must suffer till they be renew’d.
Nor lives there any virtue that can fly
The vicious outrage of their cruelty.
Shouldst thou put arms on, and approach the rock,
I fear six more must expiate the shock.
Six heads six men ask still. Hoise sail, and fly,
And, in thy flight, aloud on Cratis cry
(Great Scylla’s mother, who expos’d to light
The bane of men) and she will do such right
To thy observance, that she down will tread
Her daughter’s rage, nor let her show a head.
From thenceforth then, for ever past her care,
Thou shalt ascend the isle triangular,
Where many oxen of the Sun are fed,
And fatted flocks. Of oxen fifty head
In ev’ry herd feed, and their herds are seven;
And of his fat flocks is their number even.
Increase they yield not, for they never die.
There ev’ry shepherdess a Deity.
Fair Phaëthusa, and Lampetié,
The lovely Nymphs are that their guardians be,
Who to the daylight’s lofty-going Flame
Had gracious birthright from the heav’nly Dame,
Still young Neæra; who (brought forth and bred)
Far off dismiss’d them, to see duly fed
Their father’s herds and flocks in Sicily.
These herds and flocks if to the Deity
Ye leave, as sacred things, untouch’d, and on
Go with all fit care of your home, alone,
(Though through some suff’rance) you yet safe shall land
In wishéd Ithaca. But if impious hand
You lay on those herds to their hurts, I then
Presage sure ruin to thy ship and men.
If thou escap’st thyself, extending home
Thy long’d-for landing, thou shalt loaded come
With store of losses, most exceeding late,
And not consorted with a savéd mate.’
This said, the golden-thron’d Aurora rose,
She her way went, and I did mine dispose
Up to my ship, weigh’d anchor, and away.
When rev’rend Circe help’d us to convey
Our vessel safe, by making well inclin’d
A seaman’s true companion, a forewind,
With which she fill’d our sails; when, fitting all
Our arms close by us, I did sadly fall
To grave relation what concern’d in fate
My friends to know, and told them that the state
Of our affairs’ success, which Circe had
Presag’d to me alone, must yet be made
To one nor only two known, but to all;
That, since their lives and deaths were left to fall
In their elections, they might life elect,
And give what would preserve it fit effect.
I first inform’d them, that we were to fly
The heav’nly-singing Sirens’ harmony,
And flow’r-adorned meadow; and that I
Had charge to hear their song, but fetter’d fast
In bands, unfavour’d, to th’ erected mast,
From whence, if I should pray, or use command,
To be enlarg’d, they should with much more band
Contain my strugglings. This I simply told
To each particular, nor would withhold
What most enjoin’d mine own affection’s stay,
That theirs the rather might be taught t’ obey.
In mean time flew our ships, and straight we fetch’d
The Siren’s isle; a spleenless wind so stretch’d
Her wings to waft us, and so urg’d our keel.
But having reach’d this isle, we could not feel
The least gasp of it, it was stricken dead,
And all the sea in prostrate slumber spread,
The Sirens’ devil charm’d all. Up then flew
My friends to work, struck sail, together drew,
And under hatches stow’d them, sat, and plied
The polish’d oars, and did in curls divide
The white-head waters. My part then came on:
A mighty waxen cake I set upon,
Chopp’d it in fragments with my sword, and wrought
With strong hand ev’ry piece, till all were soft.
The great pow’r of the sun, in such a beam
As then flew burning from his diadem,
To liquefaction help’d us. Orderly
I stopp’d their ears; and they as fair did ply
My feet and hands with cords, and to the mast
With other halsers made me soundly fast.
Then took they seat, and forth our passage strook,
The foamy sea beneath their labour shook.
Row’d on, in reach of an erected voice,
The Sirens soon took note, without our noise,
Tun’d those sweet accents that made charms so strong,
And these learn’d numbers made the Sirens’ song:
//‘Come here, thou worthy of a world of praise,//
//That dost so high the Grecian glory raise,//
//Ulysses! stay thy ship, and that song hear//
//That none pass’d ever but it bent his ear,//
//But left him ravish’d, and instructed more//
//By us, than any ever heard before.//
//For we know all things whatsoever were//
//In wide Troy labour’d; whatsoever there//
//The Grecians and the Trojans both sustain’d//
//By those high issues that the Gods ordain’d.//
//And whatsoever all the earth can show//
//T’ inform a knowledge of desert, we know.’//
This they gave accent in the sweetest strain
That ever open’d an enamour’d vein.
When my constrain’d heart needs would have mine ear
Yet more delighted, force way forth, and hear.
To which end I commanded with all sign
Stern looks could make (for not a joint of mine
Had pow’r to stir) my friends to rise, and give
My limbs free way. They freely striv’d to drive
Their ship still on. When, far from will to loose,
Eurylochus and Perimedes rose
To wrap me surer, and oppress’d me more
With many a halser than had use before.
When, rowing on without the reach of sound,
My friends unstopp’d their ears, and me unbound,
And that isle quite we quitted. But again
Fresh fears employ’d us. I beheld a main
Of mighty billows, and a smoke ascend,
A horrid murmur hearing. Ev’ry friend
Astonish’d sat; from ev’ry hand his Oar
Fell quite forsaken; with the dismal roar
Were all things there made echoes; stone-still stood
Our ship itself, because the ghastly flood
Took all men’s motions from her in their own.
I through the ship went, labouring up and down
My friends’ recover’d spirits. One by one
I gave good words, and said: That well were known
These ills to them before, I told them all,
And that these could not prove more capital
Than those the Cyclops block’d us up in, yet
My virtue, wit, and heav’n-help’d counsels set
Their freedoms open. I could not believe
But they remember’d it, and wish’d them give
My equal care and means now equal trust.
The strength they had for stirring up they must
Rouse and extend, to try if Jove had laid
His pow’rs in theirs up, and would add his aid
To ’scape ev’n that death. In particular then,
I told our pilot, that past other men
He most must bear firm spirits, since he sway’d
The continent that all our spirits convey’d,
In his whole guide of her. He saw there boil
The fiery whirlpools that to all our spoil
Inclos’d a rock, without which he must steer,
Or all our ruins stood concluded there.
All heard me and obey’d, and little knew
That, shunning that rock, six of them should rue
The wrack another hid. For I conceal’d
The heavy wounds, that never would be heal’d,
To be by Scylla open’d; for their fear
Would then have robb’d all of all care to steer,
Or stir an oar, and made them hide beneath,
When they and all had died an idle death.
But then ev’n I forgot to shun the harm
Circe forewarn’d; who will’d I should not arm,
Nor show myself to Scylla, lest in vain
I ventur’d life. Yet could not I contain,
But arm’d at all parts, and two lances took,
Up to the foredeck went, and thence did look
That rocky Scylla would have first appear’d
And taken my life with the friends I fear’d.
From thence yet no place could afford her sight,
Though through the dark rock mine eye threw her light,
And ransack’d all ways. I then took a strait
That gave myself, and some few more, receit
’Twixt Scylla and Charybdis; whence we saw
How horridly Charybdis’ throat did draw
The brackish sea up, which when all aboard
She spit again out, never caldron sod
With so much fervour, fed with all the store
That could enrage it; all the rock did roar
With troubled waters; round about the tops
Of all the steep crags flew the foamy drops.
But when her draught the sea and earth dissunder’d,
The troubled bottoms turn’d up, and she thunder’d,
Far under shore the swart sands naked lay.
Whose whole stern sight the startled blood did fray
From all our faces. And while we on her
Our eyes bestow’d thus to our ruin’s fear,
Six friends had Scylla snatch’d out of our keel,
In whom most loss did force and virtue feel.
When looking to my ship, and lending eye
To see my friends’ estates, their heels turn’d high,
And hands cast up, I might discern, and hear
Their calls to me for help, when now they were
To try me in their last extremities.
And as an angler med’cine for surprise
Of little fish sits pouring from the rocks,
From out the crook’d horn of a fold-bred ox,
And then with his long angle hoists them high
Up to the air, then slightly hurls them by,
When helpless sprawling on the land they lie;
So eas’ly Scylla to her rock had rapt
My woeful friends, and so unhelp’d entrapt
Struggling they lay beneath her violent rape,
Who in their tortures, desp’rate of escape,
Shriek’d as she tore, and up their hands to me
Still threw for sweet life. I did never see,
In all my suff’rance ransacking the seas,
A spectacle so full of miseries.
Thus having fled these rocks (these cruel dames
Scylla, Charybdis) where the King of flames
Hath off’rings burn’d to him, our ship put in
The island that from all the earth doth win
The epithet //Faultless,// where the broad-of-head
And famous oxen for the Sun are fed,
With many fat flocks of that high-gone God.
Set in my ship, mine ear reach’d where we rode
The bellowing of oxen, and the bleat
Of fleecy sheep, that in my memory’s seat
Put up the forms that late had been imprest
By dread Ææn Circe, and the best
Of souls and prophets, the blind Theban seer,
The wise Tiresias, who was grave decreer
Of my return’s whole means; of which this one
In chief he urg’d—that I should always shun
The island of the man-delighting Sun.
When, sad at heart for our late loss, I pray’d
My friends to hear fit counsel (though dismay’d
With all ill fortunes) which was giv’n to me
By Circe’s and Tiresias’ prophecy,—
That I should fly the isle where was ador’d
The Comfort of the world, for ills abhorr’d
Were ambush’d for us there; and therefore will’d
They should put off and leave the isle. This kill’d
Their tender spirits; when Eurylochus
A speech that vex’d me utter’d, answ’ring thus:
‘Cruel Ulysses! Since thy nerves abound
In strength, the more spent, and no toils confound
Thy able limbs, as all beat out of steel,
Thou ablest us too, as unapt to feel
The teeth of Labour, and the spoil of Sleep,
And therefore still wet waste us in the deep,
Nor let us land to eat, but madly now
In night put forth, and leave firm land to strew
The sea with errors. All the rabid flight
Of winds that ruin ships are bred in night.
Who is it that can keep off cruel Death,
If suddenly should rush out th’ angry breath
Of Notus, or the eager-spirited West,
That cuff ships dead, and do the Gods their best?
Serve black Night still with shore, meat, sleep, and ease,
And offer to the Morning for the seas.’
This all the rest approv’d, and then knew I
That past all doubt the Devil did apply
His slaught’rous works. Nor would they be withheld;
I was but one, nor yielded but compell’d.
But all that might contain them I assay’d,
A sacred oath on all their pow’rs I laid,
That if with herds or any richest-flocks
We chanc’d t’ encounter, neither sheep nor ox
We once should touch, nor (for that constant ill
That follows folly) scorn advice and kill,
But quiet sit us down and take such food
As the immortal Circe had bestow’d.
They swore all this in all severest sort;
And then we anchor’d in the winding port
Near a fresh river, where the long’d-for shore
They all flew out to, took in victuals store,
And, being full, thought of their friends, and wept
Their loss by Scylla, weeping till they slept.
In night’s third part, when stars began to stoop,
The Cloud-assembler put a tempest up.
A boist’rous spirit he gave it, drave out all
His flocks of clouds, and let such darkness fall
That Earth and Seas, for fear, to hide were driv’n,
For with his clouds he thrust out Night from heav’n.
At morn we drew our ships into a cave,
In which the Nymphs that Phœbus’ cattle drave
Fair dancing-rooms had, and their seats of state.
I urg’d my friends then, that, to shun their fate,
They would observe their oath, and take the food
Our ship afforded, nor attempt the blood
Of those fair herds and flocks, because they were
The dreadful God’s that all could see and hear.
They stood observant, and in that good mind
Had we been gone; but so adverse the wind
Stood to our passage, that we could not go.
For one whole month perpetually did blow
Impetuous Notus, not a breath’s repair
But his and Eurus’ rul’d in all the air.
As long yet as their ruddy wine and bread
Stood out amongst them, so long not a head
Of all those oxen fell in any strife
Amongst those students for the gut and life;
But when their victuals fail’d they fell to prey,
Necessity compell’d them then to stray
In rape of fish and fowl; whatever came
In reach of hand or hook, the belly’s flame
Afflicted to it. I then fell to pray’r,
And (making to a close retreat repair,
Free from both friends and winds) I wash’d my hands,
And all the Gods besought, that held commands
In liberal heav’n, to yield some mean to stay
Their desp’rate hunger, and set up the way
Of our return restrain’d. The Gods, instead
Of giving what I pray’d for—pow’r of deed—
A deedless sleep did on my lids distill,
For mean to work upon my friends their fill.
For whiles I slept, there wak’d no mean to curb
Their headstrong wants; which he that did disturb
My rule in chief at all times, and was chief
To all the rest in counsel to their grief,
Knew well, and of my present absence took
His fit advantage, and their iron strook
At highest heat. For, feeling their desire
In his own entrails, to allay the fire
That Famine blew in them, he thus gave way
To that affection: ‘Hear what I shall say,
Though words will staunch no hunger, ev’ry death
To us poor wretches that draw temporal breath
You know is hateful; but, all know, to die
The death of Famine is a misery
Past all death loathsome. Let us, therefore, take
The chief of this fair herd, and off’rings make
To all the Deathless that in broad heav’n live,
And in particular vow, if we arrive
In natural Ithaca, to straight erect
A temple to the Haughty-inaspect,
Rich and magnificent, and all within
Deck it with relics many and divine.
If yet he stands incens’d, since we have slain
His high-brow’d herd, and, therefore, will sustain
Desire to wrack our ship, he is but one,
And all the other Gods that we atone
With our divine rites will their suffrage give
To our design’d return, and let us live.
If not, and all take part, I rather crave
To serve with one sole death the yawning wave,
Than in a desert island lie and sterve,
And with one pin’d life many deaths observe.’
All cried ‘He counsels nobly,’ and all speed
Made to their resolute driving; for the feed
Of those coal-black, fair, broad-brow’d, sun-lov’d beeves
Had place close by our ships. They took the lives
Of sence, most eminent; about their fall
Stood round, and to the States Celestial
Made solemn vows; but other rites their ship
Could not afford them, they did, therefore, strip
The curl’d-head oak of fresh young leaves, to make
Supply of service for their barley-cake.
And on the sacredly-enflam’d, for wine,
Pour’d purest water, all the parts divine
Spitting and roasting; all the rites beside
Orderly using. Then did light divide
My low and upper lids; when, my repair
Made near my ship, I met the delicate air
Their roast exhal’d; out instantly I cried,
And said: ‘O Jove, and all ye Deified,
Ye have oppress’d me with a cruel sleep,
While ye conferr’d on me a loss as deep
As Death descends to. To themselves alone
My rude men left ungovern’d, they have done
A deed so impious, I stand well assur’d,
That you will not forgive though ye procur’d.’
Then flew Lampetié with the ample robe
Up to her father with the golden globe,
Ambassadress t’ inform him that my men
Had slain his oxen. Heart-incensed then,
He cried: ‘Revenge me, Father, and the rest
Both ever-living and for ever blest!
Ulysses’ impious men have drawn the blood
Of those my oxen that it did me good
To look on, walking all my starry round,
And when I trod earth all with meadows crown’d.
Without your full amends I’ll leave heav’n quite,
Dis and the dead adorning with my light.’
The Cloud-herd answer’d: ‘Son! Thou shalt be ours,
And light those mortals in that mine of flow’rs!
My red-hot flash shall graze but on their ship,
And eat it, burning, in the boiling deep.’
This by Calypso I was told, and she
Inform’d it from the verger Mercury.
Come to our ship, I chid and told by name
Each man how impiously he was to blame.
But chiding got no peace, and beeves were slain!
When straight the Gods forewent their following pain
With dire ostents. The hides the flesh had lost
Crept all before them. As the flesh did roast,
It bellow’d like the ox itself alive.
And yet my soldiers did their dead beeves drive
Through all these prodigies in daily feasts.
Six days they banqueted and slew fresh beasts;
And when the sev’nth day Jove reduc’d the wind
That all the month rag’d, and so in did bind
Our ship and us, was turn’d and calm’d, and we
Launch’d, put up masts, sails hoised, and to sea.
The island left so far that land nowhere
But only sea and sky had pow’r t’ appear,
Jove fix’d a cloud above our ship, so black
That all the sea it darken’d. Yet from wrack
She ran a good free time, till from the West
Came Zephyr ruffling forth, and put his breast
Out in a singing tempest, so most vast
It burst the gables that made sure our mast.
Our masts came tumbling down, our cattle down
Rush’d to the pump, and by our pilot’s crown
The main-mast pass’d his fall, pash’d all his skull,
And all this wrack but one flaw made at full.
Off from the stern the sternsman diving fell,
And from his sinews flew his soul to hell.
Together all this time Jove’s thunder chid,
And through and through the ship his lightning glid,
Till it embrac’d her round; her bulk was fill’d
With nasty sulphur, and her men were kill’d,
Tumbled to sea, like sea-mews swum about,
And there the date of their return was out.
I toss’d from side to side still, till all-broke
Her ribs were with the storm, and she did choke
With let-in surges; for the mast torn down
Tore her up piecemeal, and for me to drown
Left little undissolv’d. But to the mast
There was a leather thong left, which I cast
About it and the keel, and so sat tost
With baneful weather, till the West had lost
His stormy tyranny. And then arose
The South, that bred me more abhorréd woes;
For back again his blasts expell’d me quite
On ravenous Charybdis. All that night
I totter’d up and down, till Light and I
At Scylla’s rock encounter’d, and the nigh
Dreadful Charybdis. As I drave on these,
I saw Charybdis supping up the seas,
And had gone up together, if the tree
That bore the wild figs had not rescued me;
To which I leap’d, and left my keel, and high
Chamb’ring upon it did as close imply
My breast about it as a reremouse could;
Yet might my feet on no stub fasten hold
To ease my hands, the roots were crept so low
Beneath the earth, and so aloft did grow
The far-spread arms that, though good height I gat,
I could not reach them. To the main bole flat
I, therefore, still must cling; till up again
She belch’d my mast, and after that amain
My keel came tumbling. So at length it chanc’d
To me, as to a judge that long advanc’d
To judge a sort of hot young fellows’ jars,
At length time frees him from their civil wars,
When glad he riseth and to dinner goes;
So time, at length, releas’d with joys my woes,
And from Charybdis’ mouth appear’d my keel.
To which, my hand now loos’d and now my heel,
I altogether with a huge noise dropp’d,
Just in her midst fell, where the mast was propp’d,
And there row’d off with owers of my hands.
God and man’s Father would not from her sands
Let Scylla see me, for I then had died
That bitter death that my poor friends supplied.
Nine days at sea I hover’d; the tenth night
In th’ isle Ogygia, where, about the bright
And right renown’d Calypso, I was cast
By pow’r of Deity; where I lived embrac’d
With love and feasts. But why should I relate
Those kind occurrents? I should iterate
What I in part to your chaste queen and you
So late imparted. And, for me to grow
A talker-over of my tale again,
Were past my free contentment to sustain.”
"""
Finis Duodecimi Libri Hom. Odyss.
//Opus novem dierum.//
//Σὺν Θεᾳ.//
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses (shipp’d, but in the even,
With all the presents he was given,
And sleeping then) is set next morn
In full scope of his wish’d return,
And treads unknown his country-shore,
Whose search so many winters wore.
The ship (returning, and arriv’d
Against the city) is depriv’d
Of form, and, all her motion gone,
Transform’d by Neptune to a stone.
Ulysses (let to know the strand
Where the Phæacians made him land)
Consults with Pallas, for the life
Of ev’ry wooer of his wife.
His gifts she hides within a cave,
And him into a man more grave,
All hid in wrinkles, crookéd, gray,
Transform’d; who so goes on his way.
"""
''Another Argument''
Νυ̑.
"""
Phæacia
Ulysses leaves;
Whom Ithaca,
Unwares, receives.
"""
"""
He said; and silence all their tongues contain’d,
In admiration, when with pleasure chain’d
Their ears had long been to him. At last brake
Alcinous silence, and in this sort spake
To th’ Ithacensian, Laertes’ son:
“O Ithacus! However over-run
With former suff’rings in your way for home,
Since ’twas, at last, your happy fate to come
To my high-roof’d and brass-foundation’d house,
I hope, such speed and pass auspicious
Our loves shall yield you, that you shall no more
Wander, nor suffer, homewards, as before.
You then, whoever that are ever grac’d
With all choice of authoriz’d pow’r to taste
Such wine with me as warms the sacred rage,
And is an honorary giv’n to age, ^^[[98|Chapman: Footnote 98]]^^
With which ye likewise hear divinely sing,
In honour’s praise, the poet of the king,
I move, by way of my command, to this:
That where in an elaborate chest there lies
A present for our guest, attires of price,
And gold engrav’n with infinite device,
I wish that each of us should add beside
A tripod, and a caldron, amplified
With size, and metal of most rate, and great;
For we, in council of taxation met,
Will from our subjects gain their worth again;
Since ’tis unequal one man should sustain
A charge so weighty, being the grace of all,
Which borne by many is a weight but small.”
Thus spake Alcinous, and pleas’d the rest;
When each man clos’d with home and sleep his feast.
But when the colour-giving light arose,
All to the ship did all their speeds dispose, ^^[[99|Chapman: Footnote 99]]^^
And wealth, that honest men makes, brought with them. ^^[[100|Chapman: Footnote 100]]^^
All which ev’n he that wore the diadem
Stow’d in the ship himself, beneath the seats
The rowers sat in, stooping, lest their lets
In any of their labours he might prove.
Then home he turn’d, and after him did move
The whole assembly to expected feast.
Among whom he a sacrifice addrest,
And slew an ox, to weather-wielding Jove,
Beneath whose empire all things are, and move.
The thighs then roasting, they made glorious cheer
Delighted highly; and amongst them there
The honour’d-of-the-people us’d his voice,
Divine Demodocus. Yet, through this choice
Of cheer and music, had Ulysses still
An eye directed to the Eastern hill,
To see Him rising that illustrates all;
For now into his mind a fire did fall
Of thirst for home. And as in hungry vow
To needful food a man at fixéd plow
(To whom the black ox all day long hath turn’d
The stubborn fallows up, his stomach burn’d
With empty heat and appetite to food,
His knees afflicted with his spirit-spent blood)
At length the long-expected sunset sees,
That he may sit to food, and rest his knees;
So to Ulysses set the friendly light
The sun afforded, with as wish’d a sight.
Who straight be spake that oar-affecting State,
But did in chief his speech appropriate
To him by name, that with their rule was crown’d.
“Alcinous, of all men most renown’d,
Dismiss me with as safe pass as you vow
(Your off’ring past) and may the Gods to you
In all contentment use as full a hand;
For now my landing here and stay shall stand
In all perfection with my heart’s desire,
Both my so safe deduction to aspire,
And loving gifts; which may the Gods to me
As blest in use make as your acts are free,
Ev’n to the finding firm in love, and life,
With all desir’d event, my friends, and wife.
When, as myself shall live delighted there,
May you with your wives rest as happy here,
Your sons and daughters, in particular state,
With ev’ry virtue render’d consummate;
And, in your gen’ral empire, may ill never
Approach your land, but good your good quit ever.”
This all applauded, and all jointly cried:
“Dismiss the stranger! He hath dignified
With fit speech his dismission.” Then the king
Thus charg’d the herald: “Fill for offering
A bowl of wine; which through the whole large house
Dispose to all men, that, propitious
Our father Jove made with our pray’rs, we may
Give home our guest in full and wishéd way.”
This said, Pontonous commix’d a bowl
Of such sweet wine as did delight the soul.
Which making sacred to the blessed Gods,
That hold in broad heav’n their supreme abodes,
God-like Ulysses from his chair arose,
And in the hands of th’ empress did impose
The all-round cup; to whom, fair spoke, he said:
    “Rejoice, O queen, and be your joys repaid
By heav’n, for me, till age and death succeed;
Both which inflict their most unwelcome need
On men and dames alike. And, first, for me,
I must from hence, to both: Live you here free,
And ever may all living blessings spring,
Your joy in children, subjects, and your king.”
This said, divine Ulysses took his way;
Before whom the unalterable sway
Of king Alcinous’ virtue did command
A herald’s fit attendance to the strand,
And ship appointed. With him likewise went
Handmaids, by Arete’s injunction sent.
One bore an out and inweed, fair and sweet,
The other an embroider’d cabinet,
The third had bread to bear, and ruddy wine;
All which, at sea and ship arriv’d, resign
Their freight conferr’d. With fair attendants then,
The sheets and bedding of the man of men,
Within a cabin of the hollow keel,
Spread, and made soft, that sleep might sweetly seel
His restful eyes, he enter’d, and his bed
In silence took. The rowers orderéd
Themselves in sev’ral seats, and then set gone
The ship, the gable from the hollow stone
Dissolv’d and weigh’d-up, all, together, close
Then beat the sea. His lids in sweet repose
Sleep bound so fast, it scarce gave way to breath
Inexcitable, most dear, next of all to death.
And as amids a fair field four brave horse
Before a chariot stung into their course
With fervent lashes of the smarting scourge,
That all their fire blows high, and makes them urge
To utmost speed the measure of their ground;
So bore the ship aloft her fiery bound;
About whom rush’d the billows black and vast,
In which the sea-roars burst. As firm as fast
She ply’d her course yet; nor her wingéd speed
The falcon-gentle could for pace exceed;
So cut she through the waves, and bore a man
Even with the Gods in counsels, that began
And spent his former life in all misease,
Battles of men, and rude waves of the seas,
Yet now securely slept, forgetting all.
And when heav’n’s brightest star, that first doth call
The early morning out, advanc’d her head,
Then near to Ithaca the billow-bred
Phræcian ship approach’d. There is a port,
That th’ aged sea-God Phorcys makes his fort,
Whose earth the Ithacensian people own,
In which two rocks inaccessible are grown
Far forth into the sea, whose each strength binds
The boist’rous waves in from the high-flown winds
On both the out-parts so, that all within
The well-built ships, that once their harbour win
In his calm bosom, without anchor rest,
Safe, and unstirr’d. From forth the haven’s high crest
Branch the well-brawn’d arms of an olive-tree;
Beneath which runs a cave from all sun free,
Cool, and delightsome, sacred to th’ access
Of Nymphs whose surnames are the Naiadés;
In which flew humming bees, in which lay thrown
Stone cups, stone vessels, shittles all of stone,
With which the Nymphs their purple mantles wove,
In whose contexture art and wonder strove;
In which pure springs perpetually ran;
To which two entries were; the one for man,
On which the North breath’d; th’ other for the Gods,
On which the South; and that bore no abodes
For earthy men, but only deathless feet
Had there free way. This port these men thought meet
To land Ulysses, being the first they knew,
Drew then their ship in, but no further drew
Than half her bulk reach’d, by such cunning hand
Her course was manag’d. Then her men took land,
And first brought forth Ulysses, bed, and all
That richly furnish’d it, he still in thrall
Of all-subduing sleep. Upon the sand
They set him softly down; and then the strand
They strew’d with all the goods he had, bestow’d
By the renown’d Phæacians, since he show’d
So much Minerva. At the olive root
They drew them then in heap, most far from foot
Of any traveller, lest, ere his eyes
Resum’d their charge, they might be others’ prise.
These then turn’d home; nor was the sea’s Supreme
Forgetful of his threats, for Polypheme
Bent at divine Ulysses, yet would prove
(Ere their performance) the decree of Jove.
“Father! no more the Gods shall honour me,
Since men despise me, and those men that see
The light in lineage of mine own lov’d race. ^^[[101|Chapman: Footnote 101]]^^
I vow’d Ulysses should, before the grace
Of his return, encounter woes enow
To make that purchase dear; yet did not vow
Simply against it, since thy brow had bent
To his reduction, in the fore-consent
Thou hadst vouchsaf’d it; yet, before my mind
Hath full pow’r on him, the Phæacians find
Their own minds’ satisfaction with his pass,
So far from suff’ring what my pleasure was,
That ease and softness now is habited
In his secure breast, and his careless head
Return’d in peace of sleep to Ithaca,
The brass and gold of rich Phæacia
Rocking his temples, garments richly wov’n,
And worlds of prise, more than was ever strov’n
From all the conflicts he sustain’d at Troy,
If safe he should his full share there enjoy.”
The Show’r-dissolver answer’d: “What a speech
Hath pass’d thy palate, O thou great in reach
Of wrackful empire! Far the Gods remain
From scorn of thee, for ’twere a work of pain
To prosecute with ignominies one
That sways our ablest and most ancient throne.
For men, if any so beneath in pow’r
Neglect thy high will, now, or any hour
That moves hereafter, take revenge to thee,
Soothe all thy will, and be thy pleasure free.”
“Why then,” said he, “thou blacker of the fumes
That dim the sun, my licens’d pow’r resumes
Act from thy speech; but I observe so much
And fear thy pleasure, that, I dare not touch
At any inclination of mine own,
Till thy consenting influence be known.
But now this curious-built Phæacian ship,
Returning from her convoy, I will strip
Of all her fleeting matter, and to stone
Transform and fix it, just when she hath gone
Her full time home, and jets before their prease
In all her trim, amids the sable seas,
That they may cease to convoy strangers still,
When they shall see so like a mighty hill
Their glory stick before their city’s grace,
And my hands cast a mask before her face.” ^^[[102|Chapman: Footnote 102]]^^
“O friend,” said Jove, “it shows to me the best
Of all earth’s objects, that their whole prease, drest
In all their wonder, near their town shall stand,
And stare upon a stone, so near the land,
So like a ship, and dam up all their lights,
As if a mountain interpos’d their sights.”
When Neptune heard this, he for Scheria went,
Whence the Phæacians took their first descent.
Which when he reach’d, and, in her swiftest pride,
The water-treader by the city’s side
Came cutting close, close he came swiftly on,
Took her in violent hand, and to a stone
Turn’d all her sylvan substance; all below
Firm’d her with roots, and left her. This strange show
When the Phæacians saw, they stupid stood,
And ask’d each other, who amids the flood
Could fix their ship so in her full speed home,
And quite transparent make her bulk become?
Thus talk’d they; but were far from knowing how
These things had issue. Which their king did show,
And said: “O friends, the ancient prophecies
My father told to me, to all our eyes
Are now in proof. He said, the time would come,
When Neptune, for our safe conducting home
All sorts of strangers, out of envy fir’d,
Would meet our fairest ship as she retir’d,
And all the goodly shape and speed we boast
Should like a mountain stand before us lost
Amids the moving waters; which we see
Perform’d in full end to our prophecy.
Hear then my counsel, and obey me then:
Renounce henceforth our convoy home of men,
Whoever shall hereafter greet our town;
And to th’ offended Deity’s renown
Twelve chosen oxen let us sacred make,
That he may pity us, and from us take
This shady mountain. They, in fear, obey’d,
Slew all the beeves, and to the Godhead pray’d,
The dukes and princes all ensphering round
The sacred altar; while whose tops were crown’d,
Divine Ulysses, on his country’s breast
Laid bound in sleep, now rose out of his rest,
Nor (being so long remov’d) the region knew.
Besides which absence yet, Minerva threw
A cloud about him, to make strange the more
His safe arrival, lest upon his shore
He should make known his face, and utter all
That might prevent th’ event that was to fall.
Which she prepar’d so well, that not his wife,
Presented to him, should perceive his life,
No citizen, no friend, till righteous fate
Upon the Wooer’s wrongs were consummate.
Through which cloud all things show’d now to the king
Of foreign fashion; the enflow’réd spring
Amongst the trees there, the perpetual waves,
The rocks, that did more high their foreheads raise
To his wrapt eye than naturally they did,
And all the haven, in which a man seem’d hid
From wind and weather, when storms loudest chid.
He therefore, being risen, stood and view’d
His country-earth; which, not perceiv’d, he rued,
And, striking with his hurl’d-down hands his thighs,
He mourn’d, and said: “O me! Again where lies
My desert way? To wrongful men and rude,
And with no laws of human right endued?
Or are they human, and of holy minds?
What fits my deed with these so many kinds
Of goods late giv’n? What with myself will floods
And errors do? I would to God, these goods
Had rested with their owners, and that I
Had fall’n on kings of more regality,
To grace out my return, that lov’d indeed,
And would have giv’n me consorts of fit speed
To my distresses’ ending! But, as now
All knowledge flies me where I may bestow
My labour’d purchase, here they shall not stay,
Lest what I car’d for others make their prey.
O Gods! I see the great Phæacians then
Were not all just and understanding men,
That land me elsewhere than their vaunts pretended,
Assuring me my country should see ended
My miseries told them, yet now eat their vaunts.
O Jove! Great Guardian of poor suppliants,
That others sees, and notes too, shutting in
All in thy plagues that most presume on sin,
Revenge me on them. Let me number now
The goods they gave, to give my mind to know
If they have stol’n none in their close retreat.”
The goodly caldrons then, and tripods, set
In sev’ral ranks from out the heap, he told,
His rich wrought garments too, and all his gold,
And nothing lack’d; and yet this man did mourn
The but suppos’d miss of his home-return,
And creeping to the shore with much complaint;
Minerva (like a shepherd, young, and quaint, ^^[[103|Chapman: Footnote 103]]^^
As king sons are, a double mantle cast
Athwart his shoulders, his fair goers grac’d
With fitted shoes, and in his hand a dart)
Appear’d to him, whose sight rejoic’d his heart,
To whom he came, and said: “O friend! Since first
I meet your sight here, be all good the worst
That can join our encounter. Fare you fair,
Nor with adverse mind welcome my repair,
But guard these goods of mine, and succour me.
As to a God I offer pray’rs to thee,
And low access make to thy lovéd knee.
Say truth, that I may know, what country then,
What common people live here, and what men?
Some famous isle is this? Or gives it vent,
Being near the sea, to some rich continent?”
She answer’d: “Stranger, whatsoe’er you are,
Y’are either foolish, or come passing far,
That know not this isle, and make that doubt trouble,
For ’tis not so exceedingly ignoble,
But passing many know it; and so many,
That of all nations there abides not any,
From where the morning rises and the sun,
To where the even and night their courses run,
But know this country. Rocky ’tis, and rough,
And so for use of horse unapt enough,
Yet with sad barrenness not much infested, ^^[[104|Chapman: Footnote 104]]^^
Since clouds are here in frequent rains digested,
And flow’ry dews. The compass is not great,
The little yet well-fill’d with wine and wheat.
It feeds a goat and ox well, being still
Water’d with floods, that ever over-fill
With heav’n’s continual show’rs; and wooded so,
It makes a spring of all the kinds that grow.
And therefore, Stranger, the extended name
Of this dominion makes access by fame
From this extreme part of Achaia
As far as Ilion, and ’tis Ithaca.”
This joy’d him much, that so unknown a land
Turn’d to his country. Yet so wise a hand
He carried, ev’n of this joy, flown so high,
That other end he put to his reply
Than straight to show that joy, and lay abroad
His life to strangers. Therefore he bestow’d
A veil on truth; for evermore did wind
About his bosom a most crafty mind,
Which thus his words show’d: “I have far at sea,
In spacious Crete, heard speak of Ithaca,
Of which myself, it seems, now reach the shore,
With these my fortunes; whose whole value more
I left in Crete amongst my children there,
From whence I fly for being the slaughterer
Of royal Idomen’s most-lovéd son,
Swift-foot Orsilochus, that could out-run
Profess’d men for the race. Yet him I slew,
Because he would deprive me of my due
In Trojan prise; for which I suffer’d so
(The rude waves piercing) the redoubled woe
Of mind and body in the wars of men.
Nor did I gratify his father then
With any service, but, as well as he
Sway’d in command of other soldiery,
So, with a friend withdrawn, we waylaid him,
When gloomy night the cope of heav’n did dim,
And no man knew; but, we lodg’d close, he came,
And I put out to him his vital flame.
Whose slaughter having author’d with my sword,
I instant flight made, and straight fell aboard
A ship of the renown’d Phœnician state;
When pray’r, and pay at a sufficient rate,
Obtain’d my pass of men in her command;
Whom I enjoin’d to set me on the land
Of Pylos, or of Elis the divine,
Where the Epeïans in great empire shine.
But force of weather check’d that course to them,
Though (loth to fail me) to their most extreme
They spent their willing pow’rs. But, forc’d from thence,
We err’d, and put in here, with much expence
Of care and labour; and in dead of night,
When no man there serv’d any appetite
So much as with the memory of food,
Though our estates exceeding needy stood.
But, going ashore, we lay; when gentle sleep
My weary pow’rs invaded, and from ship
They fetching these my riches, with just hand
About me laid them, while upon the sand
Sleep bound my senses; and for Sidon they
(Put off from hence) made sail, while here I lay,
Left sad alone.” The Goddess laugh’d, and took
His hand in hers, and with another look
(Assuming then the likeness of a dame,
Lovely and goodly, expert in the frame
Of virtuous housewif’ries) she answer’d thus:
“He should be passing-sly, and covetous
Of stealth, in men’s deceits, that coted thee ^^[[105|Chapman: Footnote 105]]^^
In any craft, though any God should be
Ambitious to exceed in subtilty.
Thou still-wit-varying wretch! Insatiate ^^[[106|Chapman: Footnote 106]]^^
In over-reaches! Not secure thy state
Without these wiles, though on thy native shore
Thou sett’st safe footing, but upon thy store
Of false words still spend, that ev’n from thy birth
Have been thy best friends? Come, our either worth
Is known to either. Thou of men art far,
For words and counsels, the most singular,
But I above the Gods in both may boast
My still-tried faculties. Yet thou hast lost
The knowledge ev’n of me, the Seed of Jove,
Pallas Athenia, that have still out-strove
In all thy labours their extremes, and stood
Thy sure guard ever, making all thy good
Known to the good Phæacians, and receiv’d.
And now again I greet thee, to see weav’d
Fresh counsels for thee, and will take on me
The close reserving of these goods for thee,
Which the renown’d Phæacian states bestow’d
At thy deduction homewards, only mov’d
With my both spirit and counsel. All which grace
I now will amplify, and tell what case
Thy household stands in, utt’ring all those pains
That of mere need yet still must wrack thy veins.
Do thou then freely bear, nor one word give
To man nor dame to show thou yet dost live,
But silent suffer over all again
Thy sorrows past, and bear the wrongs of men.”
“Goddess,” said he, “unjust men, and unwise,
That author injuries and vanities,
By vanities and wrongs should rather be
Bound to this ill-abearing destiny,
Than just and wise men. What delight hath heav’n,
That lives unhurt itself, to suffer giv’n
Up to all domage those poor few that strive
To imitate it, and like the Deities live?
But where you wonder that I know you not
Through all your changes, that skill is not got
By sleight or art, since thy most hard-hit face
Is still distinguish’d by thy free-giv’n grace;
And therefore, truly to acknowledge thee
In thy encounters, is a mastery
In men most-knowing; for to all men thou
Tak’st sev’ral likeness. All men think they know
Thee in their wits; but, since thy seeming view
Appears to all, and yet thy truth to few,
Through all thy changes to discern thee right
Asks chief love to thee, and inspiréd light.
But this I surely know, that, some years past,
I have been often with thy presence grac’d,
All time the sons of Greece wag’d war at Troy;
But when Fate’s full hour let our swords enjoy
Our vows in sack of Priam’s lofty town,
Our ships all boarded, and when God had blown
Our fleet in sunder, I could never see
The Seed of Jove, nor once distinguish thee
Boarding my ship, to take one woe from me.
But only in my proper spirit involv’d,
Err’d here and there, quite slain, till heav’n dissolv’d
Me, and my ill; which chanc’d not, till thy grace
By open speech confirm’d me, in a place
Fruitful of people, where, in person, thou
Didst give me guide, and all their city show;
And that was the renown’d Phæacian earth.
Now then, ev’n by the Author of thy birth,
Vouchsafe my doubt the truth (for far it flies
My thoughts that thus should fall into mine eyes
Conspicuous Ithaca, but fear I touch
At some far shore, and that thy wit is such
Thou dost delude me) is it sure the same
Most honour’d earth that bears my country’s name?”
“I see,” said she, “thou wilt be ever thus
In ev’ry worldly good incredulous,
And therefore have no more the pow’r to see
Frail life more plagued with infelicity
In one so eloquent, ingenious, wise.
Another man, that so long miseries
Had kept from his lov’d home, and thus return’d
To see his house, wife, children, would have burn’d
In headlong lust to visit. Yet t’ inquire
What states they hold, affects not thy desire,
Till thou hast tried if in thy wife there be
A sorrow wasting days and nights for thee
In loving tears, that then the sight may prove
A full reward for either’s mutual love.
But I would never credit in you both
Least cause of sorrow, but well knew the troth
Of this thine own return, though all thy friends,
I knew as well, should make returnless ends;
Yet would not cross mine uncle Neptune so
To stand their safeguard, since so high did go
His wrath for thy extinction of the eye
Of his lov’d son. Come then, I’ll show thee why
I call this isle thy Ithaca, to ground
Thy credit on my words: This haven is own’d
By th’ agéd sea-god Phorcys, in whose brow
This is the olive with the ample bough,
And here, close by, the pleasant-shaded cave
That to the Fount–Nymphs th’ Ithacensians gave,
As sacred to their pleasures. Here doth run
The large and cover’d den, where thou hast done
Hundreds of off’rings to the Naiades,
Here Mount Neritus shakes his curléd tress
Of shady woods.” This said, she clear’d the cloud
That first deceiv’d his eyes; and all things show’d
His country to him. Glad he stood with sight
Of his lov’d soil, and kiss’d it with delight;
And instantly to all the Nymphs he paid
(With hands held up to heav’n) these vows, and said:
“Ye Nymphs the Naiades, great Seed of Jove,
I had conceit that never more should move
Your sight in these spheres of my erring eyes,
And therefore, in the fuller sacrifice
Of my heart’s gratitude, rejoice, till more
I pay your names in off’rings as before;
Which here I vow, if Jove’s benign descent,
The mighty Pillager, with life convent
My person home, and to my sav’d decease
Of my lov’d son’s sight add the sweet increase.”
“Be confident,” said Pallas, “nor oppress
Thy spirits with care of these performances,
But these thy fortunes let us straight repose
In this divine cave’s bosom, that may close
Reserve their value; and we then may see
How best to order other acts to thee.”
Thus enter’d she the light-excluding cave,
And through it sought some inmost nook to save
The gold, the great brass, and robes richly-wrought,
Giv’n to Ulysses. All which in he brought,
Laid down in heap; and she impos’d a stone
Close to the cavern’s mouth. Then sat they on
The sacred olive’s root, consulting how
To act th’ insulting Wooers’ overthrow;
When Pallas said: “Examine now the means
That best may lay hands on the impudence
Of those proud Wooers, that have now three years
Thy roof’s rule sway’d, and been bold offerers
Of suit and gifts to thy renownéd wife,
Who for thy absence all her desolate life
Dissolves in tears till thy desir’d return;
Yet all her Wooers, while she thus doth mourn,
She holds in hope, and ev’ry one affords
(In fore-sent message) promise; but her words
Bear other utt’rance than her heart approves.”
“O Gods,” said Ithacus, “it now behoves
My fate to end me in the ill decease
That Agamemnon underwent, unless
You tell me, and in time; their close intents.
Advise then means to the reveng’d events
We both resolve on. Be thyself so kind
To stand close to me, and but such a mind
Breathe in my bosom, as when th’ Ilion tow’rs
We tore in cinders. O if equal pow’rs
Thou wouldst enflame amidst my nerves as then,
I could encounter with three hundred men,
Thy only self, great Goddess, had to friend,
In those brave ardors thou wert wont t’ extend!”
“I will be strongly with thee,” answer’d she,
“Nor must thou fail, but do thy part with me.
When both whose pow’rs combine, I hope the bloods
And brains of some of these that waste thy goods
Shall strew thy goodly pavements. Join we then:
I first will render thee unknown to men,
And on thy solid lineaments make dry
Thy now smooth skin; thy bright-brown curls imply
In hoary mattings; thy broad shoulders clothe
In such a cloak as ev’ry eye shall lothe;
Thy bright eyes blear and wrinkle; and so change
Thy form at all parts, that thou shalt be strange
To all the Wooers, thy young son, and wife.
But to thy herdsman first present thy life,
That guards thy swine, and wisheth well to thee,
That loves thy son and wife Penelopé.
Thy search shall find him set aside his herd,
That are with taste-delighting acorns rear’d,
And drink the dark-deep water of the spring,
Bright Arethusa, the most nourishing
Raiser of herds. There stay, and, taking seat
Aside thy herdsman, of the whole state treat
Of home-occurrents, while I make access
To fair-dame-breeding Sparta for regress
Of lov’d Telemachus, who went in quest
Of thy lov’d fame, and liv’d the welcome guest
Of Menelaus.” The much-knower said:
“Why wouldst not thou, in whose grave breast is bred
The art to order all acts, tell in this
His error to him? Let those years of his
Amids the rude seas wander, and sustain
The woes there raging, while unworthy men
Devour his fortunes?” “Let not care extend
Thy heart for him,” said she, “myself did send
His person in thy search; to set his worth,
By good fame blown, to such a distance forth.
Nor suffers he in any least degree
The grief you fear, but all variety
That Plenty can yield in her quiet’st fare,
In Menelaus’ court, doth sit and share.
In whose return from home, the Wooers yet
Lay bloody ambush, and a ship have set
To sea, to intercept his life before
He touch again his birth’s attempted shore.
All which, my thoughts say, they shall never do,
But rather, that the earth shall overgo
Some one at least of these love-making men,
By which thy goods so much impair sustain.”
Thus using certain secret words to him,
She touch’d him with her rod; and ev’ry limb
Was hid all-over with a wither’d skin;
His bright eyes blear’d; his brow-curls white and thin;
And all things did an agéd man present.
Then, for his own weeds, shirt and coat, all-rent,
Tann’d, and all-sootiéd with noisome smoke,
She put him on; and, over all, a cloke
Made of a stag’s huge hide, of which was worn
The hair quite off; a scrip, all-patch’d and torn,
Hung by a cord, oft broke and knit again;
And with a staff did his old limbs sustain.
Thus having both consulted of th’ event,
They parted both; and forth to Sparta went
The gray-eyed Goddess, to see all things done
That appertain’d to wise Ulysses’ son.
"""
The End Of The Thirteenth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses meets amids the field
His swain Eumæus: who doth yield
Kind guest-rites to him, and relate
Occurrents of his wrong’d estate.
"""
''Another Argument''
Ξι̑.
"""
Ulysses fains
For his true good:
His pious swain’s
Faith understood.
"""
"""
But he the rough way took from forth the port,
Through woods and hill-tops, seeking the resort
Where Pallas said divine Eumæus liv’d;
Who of the fortunes, that were first achiev’d
By God-like Ithacus in household rights,
Had more true care than all his prosylites. ^^[[107|Chapman: Footnote 107]]^^
He found him sitting in his cottage door,
Where he had rais’d to ev’ry airy blore
A front of great height, and in such a place
That round ye might behold, of circular grace
A walk so wound about it; which the swain
(In absence of his far-gone sovereign)
Had built himself, without his queen’s supply,
Or old Laertes’, to see safely lie
His houséd herd. The inner part he wrought
Of stones, that thither his own labours brought,
Which with an hedge of thorn he fenc’d about,
And compass’d all the hedge with pales cleft out
Of sable oak, that here and there he fix’d
Frequent and thick. Within his yard he mix’d
Twelve styes to lodge his herd; and ev’ry stye
Had room and use for fifty swine to lie;
But those were females all. The male swine slept
Without doors ever; nor was their herd kept
Fair like the females, since they suffer’d still
Great diminution, he being forc’d to kill
And send the fattest to the dainty feasts
Affected by th’ ungodly wooing guests.
Their number therefore but three hundred were
And sixty. By them mastiffs, as austere
As savage beasts, lay ever, their fierce strain
Bred by the herdsman, a mere prince of men,
Their number four. Himself was then applied
In cutting forth a fair-hued ox’s hide,
To fit his feet with shoes. His servants held
Guard of his swine: three, here and there, at field,
The fourth he sent to city with a sow,
Which must of force be offer’d to the vow
The Wooers made to all satiety,
To serve which still they did those off’rings ply.
The fate-born-dogs-to-bark took sudden view ^^[[108|Chapman: Footnote 108]]^^
Of Odyssëus, and upon him flew
With open mouth. He, cunning to appall
A fierce dog’s fury, from his hand let fall
His staff to earth, and sat him careless down.
And yet to him had one foul wrong been shown
Where most his right lay, had not instantly
The herdsman let his hide fall, and his cry
(With frequent stones flung at the dogs) repell’d
This way and that their eager course they held;
When through the entry past, he thus did mourn:
“O father! How soon had you near been torn
By these rude dogs, whose hurt had branded me
With much neglect of you! But Deity
Hath giv’n so many other sighs and cares
To my attendant state, that well unwares
You might be hurt for me, for here I lie
Grieving and mourning for the Majesty
That, God-like, wonted to be ruling here,
Since now I fat his swine for others’ cheer,
Where he, perhaps, errs hungry up and down,
In countries, nations, cities, all unknown;
If any where he lives yet, and doth see
The sun’s sweet beams. But, father, follow me,
That, cheer’d with wine and food, you may disclose
From whence you truly are, and all the woes
Your age is subject to.” This said, he led
Into his cottage, and of osiers spread
A thicken’d hurdle, on whose top he strow’d
A wild-goat’s shaggy skin, and then bestow’d
His own couch on it, that was soft and great.
Ulysses joy’d to see him so entreat
His uncouth presence, saying: “Jove requite,
And all th’ immortal Gods, with that delight
Thou most desir’st, thy kind receipt of me,
friend to human hospitality!”
Eumæus answer’d: “Guest! If one much worse
Arriv’d here than thyself, it were a curse
To my poor means, to let a stranger taste
Contempt for fit food. Poor men, and unplac’d
In free seats of their own, are all from Jove
Commended to our entertaining love.
But poor is th’ entertainment I can give,
Yet free and loving. Of such men as live
The lives of servants, and are still in fear
Where young lords govern, this is all the cheer
They can afford a stranger. There was one
That us’d to manage this now desert throne,
To whom the Gods deny return, that show’d
His curious favour to me, and bestow’d
Possessions on me, a most-wishéd wife,
A house, and portion, and a servant’s life,
Fit for the gift a gracious king should give;
Who still took pains himself, and God made thrive
His personal endeavour, and to me
His work the more increas’d, in which you see
I now am conversant. And therefore much
His hand had help’d me, had Heav’n’s will been such,
He might have here grown old. But he is gone,
And would to God the whole successión
Of Helen might go with him, since for her
So many men died, whose fate did confer
My liege to Troy, in Agamemnon’s grace,
To spoil her people, and her turrets race!”
This said, his coat to him he straight did gird,
And to his styes went that contain’d his herd;
From whence he took out two, slew both, and cut
Both fairly up; a fire enflam’d, and put
To spit the joints; which roasted well, he set
With spit and all to him, that he might eat
From thence his food in all the singeing heat,
Yet dredg’d it first with flour; then fill’d his cup
With good sweet wine; sat then, and cheer’d him up
“Eat now, my guest, such lean swine as are meat
For us poor swains; the fat the Wooers eat,
In whose minds no shame, no remorse, doth move,
Though well they know the bless’d Gods do not love
Ungodly actions, but respect the right,
And in the works of pious men delight.
But these are worse than impious, for those
That vow t’ injustice, and profess them foes
To other nations, enter on their land,
And Jupiter (to show his punishing hand
Upon th’ invaded, for their penance then)
Gives favour to their foes, though wicked men,
To make their prey on them; who, having freight
Their ships with spoil enough, weigh anchor straight,
And each man to his house; (and yet ev’n these,
Doth pow’rful fear of God’s just vengeance seize
Ev’n for that prize in which they so rejoice)
But these men, knowing (having heard the voice
Of God by some means) that sad death hath reft
The ruler here, will never suffer left
Their unjust wooing of his wife, nor take
Her often answer, and their own roofs make
Their fit retreats, but (since uncheck’d they may)
They therefore will make still his goods their prey,
Without all spare or end. There is no day,
Nor night, sent out from God, that ever they
Profane with one beast’s blood, or only two,
But more make spoil of; and the wrongs they do
In meat’s excess to wine as well extend,
Which as excessively their riots spend,
Yet still leave store, for sure his means were great,
And no heroë, that hath choicest seat
Upon the fruitful neighbour-continent,
Or in this isle itself, so opulent
Was as Ulysses; no, nor twenty such,
Put altogether, did possess so much.
Whose herds and flocks I’ll tell to ev’ry head:
Upon the continent he daily fed
Twelve herds of oxen, no less flocks of sheep,
As many herds of swine, stalls large and steep,
And equal sorts of goats, which tenants there,
And his own shepherds, kept. Then fed he here
Eleven fair stalls of goats, whose food hath yield
In the extreme part of a neighbour-field.
Each stall his herdsman hath, an honest swain,
Yet ev’ry one must ev’ry day sustain
The load of one beast (the most-fat, and best
Of all the stall-fed) to the Wooers’ feast.
And I, for my part, of the swine I keep
(With four more herdsmen) ev’ry day help steep
The Wooers’ appetites in blood of one,
The most select our choice can fall upon.”
To this Ulysses gave good ear, and fed,
And drunk his wine, and vex’d, and ravishéd
His food for mere vexation. Seeds of ill
His stomach sow’d, to hear his goods go still
To glut of Wooers. But his dinner done,
And stomach fed to satisfactión,
He drunk a full bowl, all of only wine,
And gave it to the guardian of his swine,
Who took it, and rejoic’d; to whom he said:
“O friend, who is it that, so rich, hath paid
Price for thy service, whose commended pow’r,
Thou sayst, to grace the Grecian conquerour,
At Ilion perish’d? Tell me. It may fall
I knew some such. The great God knows, and all
The other deathless Godheads, if I can,
Far having travell’d, tell of such a man.”
Eumæus answer’d: “Father, never one,
Of all the strangers that have touch’d upon
This coast, with his life’s news could ever yet
Of queen, or lov’d son, any credit get.
These travellers, for clothes, or for a meal,
At all adventures, any lie will tell.
Nor do they trade for truth. Not any man
That saw the people Ithacensian,
Of all their sort, and had the queen’s supplies,
Did ever tell her any news, but lies.
She graciously receives them yet, inquires
Of all she can, and all in tears expires.
It is th’ accustom’d law, that women keep,
Their husbands elsewhere dead, at home to weep.
But do thou quickly, father, forge a tale,
Some coat, or cloak, to keep thee warm withal,
Perhaps some one may yield thee; but for him,
Vultures and dogs have torn from ev’ry limb
His porous skin, and forth his soul is fled,
His corse at sea to fishes forfeited,
Or on the shore lies hid in heaps of sand,
And there hath he his ebb, his native strand
With friends’ tears flowing. But to me past all
Were tears created, for I never shall
Find so humane a royal master more,
Whatever sea I seek, whatever shore.
Nay, to my father, or my mother’s love
Should I return, by whom I breathe and move,
Could I so much joy offer; nor these eyes
(Though my desires sustain extremities
For their sad absence) would so fain be blest
With sight of their lives, in my native nest,
As with Ulysses dead; in whose last rest,
O friend, my soul shall love him. He’s not here
Nor do I name him like a flatterer,
But as one thankful for his love and care
To me a poor man; in the rich so rare.
And be he past all shores where sun can shine,
I will invoke him as a soul divine.”
“O friend,” said he, “to say, and to believe,
He cannot live, doth too much licence give
To incredulity; for, not to speak
At needy randon, but my breath to break
In sacred oath, Ulysses shall return.
And when his sight recomforts those that mourn
In his own roofs, then give me cloak, and coat,
And garments worthy of a man of note.
Before which, though need urg’d me never so,
I’ll not receive a thread, but naked go.
No less I hate him than the gates of hell,
That poorness can force an untruth to tell.
Let Jove then (Heav’n’s chief God) just witness bear,
And this thy hospitable table here,
Together with unblam’d Ulysses’ house,
In which I find receipt so gracious,
What I affirm’d of him shall all be true.
This instant year thine eyes ev’n here shall view
Thy lord Ulysses. Nay, ere this month’s end,
Return’d full-home, he shall revenge extend
To ev’ry one, whose ever deed hath done
Wrong to his wife and his illustrious son.”
“O father,” he replied, “I’ll neither give
Thy news reward, nor doth Ulysses live.
But come, enough of this, let’s drink and eat,
And never more his memory repeat.
It grieves my heart to be remember’d thus
By anyone of one so glorious.
But stand your oath in your assertion strong,
And let Ulysses come, for whom I long,
For whom his wife, for whom his agéd sire,
For whom his son consumes his god-like fire,
Whose chance I now must mourn, and ever shall.
Whom when the Gods had brought to be as tall
As any upright plant, and I had said,
He would amongst a court of men have sway’d
In counsels, and for form have been admir’d
Ev’n with his father, some God misinspir’d,
Or man took from him his own equal mind,
And pass’d him for the Pylian shore to find
His long-lost father. In return from whence,
The Wooers’ pride way-lays his innocence,
That of divine Arcesius all the race
May fade to Ithaca, and not the grace
Of any name left to it. But leave we
His state, however, if surpris’d he be,
Or if he scape. And may Saturnius’ hand
Protect him safely to his native land.
Do thou then, father, show your griefs, and cause
Of your arrival here; nor break the laws
That truth prescribes you, but relate your name,
And of what race you are, your father’s fame,
And native city’s; ship and men unfold,
That to this isle convey’d you, since I hold
Your here arrival was not all by shore,
Nor that your feet your agéd person bore.”
He answer’d him: “I’ll tell all strictly true,
If time, and food, and wine enough, accrue
Within your roof to us, that freely we
May sit and banquet. Let your business be
Discharg’d by others; for, when all is done,
I cannot easily, while the year doth run
His circle round, run over all the woes,
Beneath which, by the course the Gods dispose,
My sad age labours. First, I’ll tell you then,
From ample Crete I fetch my native strain;
My father wealthy, whose house many a life
Brought forth and bred besides by his true wife,
But me a bond-maid bore, his concubine.
Yet tender’d was I as his lawful line
By him of whose race I my life profess.
Castor his name, surnam’d Hylacides.
A man, in fore-times, by the Cretan state,
For goods, good children, and his fortunate
Success in all acts, of no mean esteem.
But death-conferring Fates have banish’d him
To Pluto’s kingdom. After whom, his sons
By lots divided his possessions,
And gave me passing little; yet bestow’d
A house on me, to which my virtues woo’d
A wife from rich men’s roofs; nor was borne low,
Nor last in fight, though all nerves fail me now.
But I suppose, that you, by thus much seen,
Know by the stubble what the corn hath been.
For, past all doubt, affliction past all mean
Hath brought my age on; but, in seasons past,
Both Mars and Pallas have with boldness grac’d,
And fortitude, my fortunes, when I chus’d
Choice men for ambush, prest to have produc’d
Ill to mine enemies; my too vent’rous spirit
Set never death before mine eyes, for merit,
But, far the first advanc’d still, still I strook
Dead with my lance whoever overtook
My speed of foot. Such was I then for war.
But rustic actions ever fled me far,
And household thrift, which breeds a famous race.
In oar-driv’n ships did I my pleasures place,
In battles, light darts, arrows. Sad things all,
And into others’ thoughts with horror fall.
But what God put into my mind, to me
I still esteem’d as my felicity.
As men of sev’ral metals are address’d,
So sev’ral forms are in their souls impress’d.
Before the sons of Greece set foot in Troy,
Nine times, in chief, I did command enjoy
Of men and ships against our foreign foe,
And all I fitly wish’d succeeded so.
Yet, after this, I much exploit achiev’d,
When straight my house in all possessions thriv’d.
Yet, after that, I great and rev’rend grew
Amongst the Cretans, till the Thund’rer drew
Our forces out in his foe-Troy decrees;
A hateful service that dissolv’d the knees
Of many a soldier. And to this was I,
And famous Idomen, enjoin’d t’ apply
Our ships and pow’rs, Nor was there to be heard
One reason for denial, so preferr’d
Was the unreasonable people’s rumour.
Nine years we therefore fed the martial humour,
And in the tenth, depeopling Priam’s town,
We sail’d for home. But God had quickly blown
Our fleet in pieces; and to wretched me
The counsellor Jove did much mishap decree,
For, only one month, I had leave t’ enjoy
My wife and children, and my goods t’ employ.
But, after this, my mind for Ægypt stood,
When nine fair ships I rigg’d forth for the flood,
Mann’d them with noble soldiers, all things fit
For such a voyage soon were won to it.
Yet six days after stay’d my friends in feast,
While I in banquets to the Gods addrest
Much sacred matter for their sacrifice.
The seventh, we boarded; and the Northern skies
Lent us a frank and passing prosp’rous gale,
‘Fore which we bore us free and easy sail
As we had back’d a full and frolic tide;
Nor felt one ship misfortune for her pride,
But safe we sat, our sailors and the wind
Consenting in our convoy. When heav’n shin’d
In sacred radiance of the fifth fair day,
To sweetly-water’d Egypt reach’d our way,
And there we anchor’d; where I charg’d my men
To stay aboard, and watch. Dismissing then
Some scouts to get the hill-tops, and discover,
They (to their own intemperance giv’n over).
Straight fell to forage the rich fields, and thence
Enforce both wives and infants, with th’ expence
Of both their bloods. When straight the rumour flew
Up to the city. Which heard, up they drew
By day’s First break, and all the field was fill’d
With foot and horse, whose arms did all things gild.
And then the lightning-loving Deity cast
A foul flight on my soldiers; nor stood fast
One man of all. About whom mischief stood,
And with his stern steel drew in streams the blood
The greater part fed in their dissolute veins;
The rest were sav’d, and made enthralléd swains
To all the basest usages there bred.
And then, ev’n Jove himself supplied my head
With saving counsel; though I wish’d to die,
And there in Egypt with their slaughters lie,
So much grief seiz’d me, but Jove made me yield,
Dishelm my head, take from my neck my shield,
Hurl from my hand my lance, and to the troop
Of horse the king led instantly made up,
Embrace, and kiss his knees; whom pity won
To give me safety, and (to make me shun
The people’s outrage, that made in amain,
All jointly fir’d with thirst to see me slain)
He took me to his chariot, weeping, home,
Himself with fear of Jove’s wrath overcome,
Who yielding souls receives, and takes most ill
All such as well may save yet love to kill.
Seven years I sojourn’d here, and treasure gat
In good abundance of th’ Ægyptian state,
For all would give; but when th’ eighth year began,
A knowing fellow (that would gnaw a man ^^[[109|Chapman: Footnote 109]]^^
Like to a vermin, with his hellish brain,
And many an honest soul ev’n quick had slain,
Whose name was Phœnix) close accosted me,
And with insinuations, such as he
Practis’d on others, my consent he gain’d
To go into Phœnicia, where remain’d
His house, and living. And with him I liv’d
A cómplete year; but when were all arriv’d
The months and days, and that the year again
Was turning round, and ev’ry season’s reign
Renew’d upon us, we for Libya went,
When, still inventing crafts to circumvent,
He made pretext, that I should only go
And help convey his freight; but thought not so,
For his intent was to have sold me there,
And made good gain for finding me a year.
Yet him I follow’d, though suspecting this,
For, being aboard his ship, I must be his
Of strong necessity. She ran the flood
(Driven with a northern gale, right free, and good)
Amids the full stream, full on Crete. But then
Jove plotted death to him and all his men,
For (put off quite from Crete, and so far gone
That shore was lost, and we set eye on none,
But all show’d heav’n and sea) above our keel
Jove pointed right a cloud as black as hell,
Beneath which all the sea hid, and from whence
Jove thunder’d as his hand would never thence,
And thick into our ship he threw his flash; ^^[[110|Chapman: Footnote 110]]^^
That ’gainst a rock, or flat, her keel did dash
With headlong rapture. Of the sulphur all
Her bulk did savour; and her men let fall
Amids the surges, on which all lay tost,
Like sea-gulls, round about her sides, and lost.
And so God took all home-return from them.
But Jove himself, though plung’d in that extreme,
Recover’d me by thrusting on my hand
The ship’s long mast. And, that my life might stand
A little more up, I embrac’d it round;
And on the rude winds, that did ruins sound,
Nine days we hover’d. In the tenth black night
A huge sea cast me on Thesprotia’s height,
Where the heroë Phidon, that was chief
Of all the Thesprots, gave my wrack relief,
Without the price of that redemptión ^^[[111|Chapman: Footnote 111]]^^
That Phœnix fish’d for. Where the king’s lov’d son
Came to me, took me by the hand, and led
Into his court my poor life, surfeited
With cold and labour; and because my wrack
Chanc’d on his father’s shore, he let not lack
My plight or coat, or cloak, or anything
Might cherish heat in me. And here the king
Said, he receiv’d Ulysses as his guest,
Observ’d him friend-like, and his course addrest
Home to his country, showing there to me
Ulysses’ goods, a very treasury
Of brass, and gold, and steel of curious frame.
And to the tenth succession of his name
He laid up wealth enough, to serve beside
In that king’s house, so hugely amplified
His treasure was. But from his court the king
Affirm’d him shipp’d for the Dodonean spring,
To hear, from out the high-hair’d oak of Jove,
Counsel from him for means to his remove
To his lov’d country, whence so many a year
He had been absent; if he should appear
Disguis’d, or manifest; and further swore
In his mid court, at sacrifice, before
These very eyes, that he had ready there
Both ship and soldiers, to attend and bear
Him to his country. But, before, it chanc’d
That a Thesprotian ship was to be launch’d
For the much-corn-renown’d Dulichian land,
In which the king gave to his men command
To take, and bring me under tender hand
To king Acastus. But, in ill design
Of my poor life, did their desires combine,
So far forth, as might ever keep me under
In fortune’s hands, and tear my state in sunder.
And when the water-treader far away
Had left the land, then plotted they the day
Of my long servitude, and took from me
Both coat and cloak, and all things that might be
Grace in my habit, and in place put on
These tatter’d rags, which now you see upon
My wretched bosom. When heav’n’s light took sea, ^^[[112|Chapman: Footnote 112]]^^
They fetch’d the field-works of fair Ithaca,
And in the arm’d ship, with a well-wreath’d cord,
They straitly bound me, and did all disboard
To shore to supper, in contentious rout.
Yet straight the Gods themselves took from about
My pressed limbs the bands, with equal ease,
And I, my head in rags wrapp’d, took the seas,
Descending by the smooth stern, using then
My hands for oars, and made from these bad men
Long way in little time. At last, I fetch’d
A goodly grove of oaks, whose shore I reach’d,
And cast me prostrate on it. When they knew
My thus-made ‘scape, about the shores they flew,
But, soon not finding, held it not their best
To seek me further, but return’d to rest
Aboard their vessel. Me the Gods lodg’d close,
Conducting me into the safe repose
A good man’s stable yielded. And thus Fate
This poor hour added to my living date.”
“O wretch of guests,” said he, “thy tale hath stirr’d
My mind to much ruth, both how thou hast err’d,
And suffer’d, hearing in such good parts shown.
But, what thy chang’d relation would make known
About Ulysses, I hold neither true,
Nor will believe. And what need’st thou pursue
A lie so rashly, since he sure is so
As I conceive, for which my skill shall go?
The safe return my king lacks cannot be,
He is so envied of each Deity,
So clear, so cruelly. For not in Troy
They gave him end, nor let his corpse enjoy
The hands of friends (which well they might have done,
He manag’d arms to such perfection,
And should have had his sepulchre, and all,
And all the Greeks to grace his funeral,
And this had giv’n a glory to his son
Through all times future) but his head is run
Unseen, unhonour’d, into Harpies’ maws.
For my part, I’ll not meddle with the cause,
I live a separate life amongst my swine,
Come at no town for any need of mine,
Unless the circularly-witted queen ^^[[113|Chapman: Footnote 113]]^^
(When any far-come guest is to be seen
That brings her news) commands me bring a brawn,
About which (all things being in question drawn,
That touch the king) they sit, and some are sad
For his long absence, some again are glad
To waste his goods unwreak’d, all talking still.
But, as for me, I nourish’d little will
T’ inquire or question of him, since the man
That feign’d himself the fled Ætolian,
For slaught’ring one, through many regions stray’d,
In my stall, as his diversory, stay’d.
Where well entreating him, he told me then,
Amongst the Cretans, with king Idomen,
He saw Ulysses at his ship’s repair,
That had been brush’d with the enragéd air;
And that in summer, or in autumn, sure,
With all his brave friends and rich furniture,
He would be here; and nothing so, nor so.
But thou, an old man, taught with so much woe
As thou hast suffer’d, to be season’d true,
And brought by his fate, do not here pursue
His gratulations with thy cunning lies,
Thou canst not soak so through my faculties
For I did never either honour thee
Or give thee love, to bring these tales to me,
But in my fear of hospitable Jove
Thou didst to this pass my affections move.”
“You stand exceeding much incredulous,”
Replied Ulysses, “to have witness’d thus
My word and oath, yet yield no trust at all.
But make me now a covenant here, and call
The dreadful Gods to witness, that take seat
In large Olympus: If your king’s retreat
Prove made, ev’n hither, you shall furnish me
With cloak, and coat, and make my passage free
For lov’d Dulichius; if, as fits my vow,
Your king return not, let your servants throw
My old limbs headlong from some rock most high,
That other poor men may take fear to lie.”
The herdsman, that had gifts in him divine,
Replied: “O guest, how shall this fame of mine
And honest virtue, amongst men, remain
Now, and hereafter, without worthy stain,
If I, that led thee to my hovel here,
And made thee fitting hospitable cheer,
Should after kill thee, and thy lovéd mind
Force from thy bones? Or how should stand inclin’d
With any faith my will t’ importune Jove,
In any pray’r hereafter for his love?
Come, now ’tis supper’s hour, and instant haste
My men will make home, when our sweet repast
We’ll taste together.” This discourse they held
In mutual kind, when from a neighbour-field
His swine and swine-herds came, who in their cotes
Inclos’d their herds for sleep, which mighty throats
Laid out in ent’ring. Then the God-like swain
His men enjoin’d thus: “Bring me to be slain
A chief swine female, for my stranger guest,
When altogether we will take our feast,
Refreshing now our spirits, that all day take
Pains in our swine’s good, who may therefore make
For our pains with them all amends with one,
Since others eat our labours, and take none.”
This said, his sharp steel hew’d down wood, and they
A passing fat swine hal’d out of the sty,
Of five years old, which to the fire they put.
When first Eumæus from the front did cut
The sacred hair, and cast it in the fire,
Then pray’d to heav’n; for still before desire
Was serv’d with food, in their so rude abodes,
Not the poor swine-herd would forget the Gods,
Good souls they bore, how bad soever were
The habits that their bodies’ parts did bear.
When all the deathless Deities besought,
That wise Ulysses might be safely brought
Home to his house; then with a log of oak
Left lying by, high lifting it, a stroke
He gave so deadly it made life expire.
Then cut the rest her throat, and all in fire
They hid and sing’d her, cut her up; and then,
The master took the office from the men,
Who on the altar did the parts impose
That serv’d for sacrifice; beginning close
About the belly, thorough which he went.
And (all the chief fat gath’ring) gave it vent
(Part dredg’d with flour) into the sacred flame;
Then cut they up the joints, and roasted them,
Drew all from spit, and serv’d in dishes all.
Then rose Eumæus (who was general
In skill to guide each act his fit event)
And, all in seven parts cut, the first part went
To service of the Nymphs and Mercury,
To whose names he did rites of piety
In vows particular; and all the rest
He shar’d to ev’ry one, but his lov’d guest
He grac’d with all the chine, and of that king,
To have his heart cheer’d, set up ev’ry string.
Which he observing said: “I would to Jove,
Eumæus, thou liv’dst in his worthy love
As great as mine, that giv’st to such a guest
As my poor self of all thy goods the best.”
Eumæus answer’d: “Eat, unhappy wretch,
And to what here is at thy pleasure reach.
This I have, this thou want’st; thus God will give,
Thus take away, in us, and all that live.
To his will’s equal centre all things fall,
His mind he must have, for he can do all.”
Thus having eat, and to his wine descended,
Before he serv’d his own thirst, he commended
The first use of it in fit sacrifice
(As of his meat) to all the Deities,
And to the city-racer’s hand applied
The second cup, whose place was next his side.
Mesauliús did distribute the meat,
(To which charge was Eumæus solely set,
In absence of Ulysses, by the queen
And old Laertes) and this man had been
Bought by Eumæus, with his faculties,
Employ’d then in the Taphian merchandise.
But now, to food appos’d, and order’d thus,
All fell. Desire suffic’d, Mesauliriús
Did take away. For bed then next they were,
All thoroughly satisfied with cómplete cheer.
The night then came, ill, and no taper shin’d;
Jove rain’d her whole date; th’ ever-wat’ry wind
Zephyr blew loud; and Laertiades
(Approving kind Eumæus’ carefulness
For his whole good) made far about assay,
To get some cast-off cassock (lest he lay
That rough night cold) of him, or anyone
Of those his servants; when he thus begun:
“Hear me, Eumæus, and my other friends,
I’ll use a speech that to my glory tends,
Since I have drunk wine past my usual guise.
//Strong wine commands the fool and moves the wise,//
Moves and impels him too to sing and dance,
And break in pleasant laughters, and, perchance,
Prefer a speech too that were better in.
But when my spirits once to speak begin,
I shall not then dissemble. Would to heav’n,
I were as young, and had my forces driv’n
As close together, as when once our pow’rs
We led to ambush under th’ Ilion tow’rs!
Where Ithacus and Menelaus were
The two commanders, when it pleas’d them there
To take myself for third, when to the town
And lofty walls we led, we couch’d close down,
All arm’d, amids the osiers and the reeds,
Which oftentimes th’ o’er-flowing river feeds.
The cold night came, and th’ icy northern gale
Blew bleak upon us, after which did fall
A snow so cold, it cut as in it beat
A frozen water, which was all concrete
About our shields like crystal. All made feign
Above our arms to clothe, and clothe again.
And so we made good shift, our shields beside
Clapp’d close upon our clothes, to rest and hide
From all discovery. But I, poor fool,
Left my weeds with my men, because so cool
I thought it could not prove; which thought my pride
A little strengthen’d, being loth to hide
A goodly glitt’ring garment I had on;
And so I follow’d with my shield alone,
And that brave weed. But when the night near ended
Her course on earth, and that the stars descended,
I jogg’d Ulysses, who lay passing near,
And spake to him, that had a nimble ear,
Assuring him, that long I could not lie
Amongst the living, for the fervency
Of that sharp night would kill me, since as then
My evil angel made me with my men
Leave all weeds but a fine one. But I know
’Tis vain to talk; here wants all remedy now.
This said, he bore that understanding part
In his prompt spirit that still show’d his art
In fight and counsel, saying (in a word,
And that low whisper’d) peace, lest you afford
Some Greek note of your softness. No word more,
But made as if his stern austerity bore
My plight no pity; yet, as still he lay
His head reposing on his hand, gave way
To this invention: ‘Hear me friends, a dream
(That was of some celestial light a beam)
Stood in my sleep before me, prompting me
With this fit notice: ‘We are far,’ said he,
‘From out our fleet. Let one go then, and try
If Agamemnon will afford supply
To what we now are strong.’ This stirr’d a speed
In Thoas to th’ affair; whose purple weed
He left for haste; which then I took, and lay
In quiet after, till the dawn of day.
This shift Ulysses made for one in need,
And would to heav’n, that youth such spirit did feed
Now in my nerves, and that my joints were knit
With such a strength as made me then held fit
To lead men with Ulysses! I should then
Seem worth a weed that fits a herdsman’s men,
For two respects, to gain a thankful friend,
And to a good man’s need a good extend.”
“O father,” said Eumæus “thou hast shown
Good cause for us to give thee good renown,
Not using any word that was not freed
From all least ill. Thou, therefore, shalt not need
Or coat, or other thing, that aptly may
Beseem a wretched suppliant for defray
Of this night’s need. But, when her golden throne
The morn ascends, you must resume your own,
For here you must not dream of many weeds,
Or any change at all. We serve our needs
As you do yours; one back, one coat. But when
Ulysses’ lovéd son returns, he then
Shall give you coat and cassock, and bestow
Your person where your heart and soul is now,”
This said, he rose, made near the fire his bed,
Which all with goats’ and sheep skins he bespread.
All which Ulysses with himself did line,
With whom; besides, he chang’d a gaberdine,
Thick lin’d, and soft, which still he made his shift
When he would dress him ’gainst the horrid drift
Of tempest, when deep winter’s season blows.
Nor pleas’d it him to lie there with his sows,
But while Ulysses slept there, and close by
The other younkers, he abroad would lie,
And therefore arm’d him. Which set cheerful fare
Before Ulysses’ heart, to see such care
Of his goods taken, how far off soever
His fate his person and his wealth should sever.
First then, a sharp-edg’d sword he girt about
His well-spread shoulders, and (to shelter out
The sharp West wind that blew) he put him on
A thick-lin’d jacket, and yet cast upon
All that the large hide of a goat well-fed.
A lance then took he, with a keen steel head,
To be his keep-off both ’gainst men and dogs.
And thus went he to rest with his male hogs,
That still abroad lay underneath a rock,
Shield to the North wind’s ever-eager shock.
"""
The End Of The Fourteenth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Minerva to his native seat.
Exhorts Ulysses’ son’s retreat,
In bed, and waking. He receives
Gifts of Atrides, and so leaves
The Spartan court. And, going aboard,
Doth favourable way afford
To Theoclymenus, that was
The Argive augur, and sought pass,
Fled for a slaughter he had done.
Eumæus tells Laertes’ son,
How he became his father’s man,
Being sold by the Phœnician
For some agreed-on faculties,
From forth the Syrian isle made prise.
Telemachus, arrived at home,
Doth to Eumæus’ cottage come.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
O.
From Sparta’s strand
Makes safe access
To his own land
Ulyssides.
"""
"""
In Lacedæmon, large, and apt for dances, ^^[[114|Chapman: Footnote 114]]^^
Athenian Pallas her access advances
Up to the great-insoul Ulysses’ seed,
Suggesting his return now fit for deed.
She found both him and Nestor’s noble son
In bed, in front of that fair mansión,
Nestorides surpris’d with pleasing sleep,
But on the watch Ulysses’ son did keep,
Sleep could not enter, cares did so excite
His soul, through all the solitary night,
For his lov’d father. To him, near, she said:
“Telemachus! ’Tis time that now were stay’d
Thy foreign travels, since thy goods are free
For those proud men that all will eat from thee,
Divide thy whole possessións, and leave
Thy too-late presence nothing to receive.
Incite the shrill-voic’d Menelaus then,
To send thee to thy native seat again,
While thou mayst yet find in her honour strong
Thy blameless mother, ’gainst thy fathers’ wrong.
For both the father, and the brothers too,
Of thy lov’d mother, will not suffer so
Extended any more her widow’s bed,
But make her now her richest wooer wed,
Eurymachus, who chiefly may augment
Her gifts, and make her jointure eminent.
And therefore haste thee, lest, in thy despite,
Thy house stand empty of thy native right.
For well thou know’st what mind a woman bears;
The house of him, whoever she endears
Herself in nuptials to, she sees increas’d,
The issue of her first lov’d lord deceas’d
Forgotten quite, and never thought on more.
In thy return then, the recounted store
Thou find’st reserv’d, to thy most trusted maid
Commit in guard, till Heav’n’s Pow’rs have purvey’d
A wife, in virtue and in beauty’s grace,
Of fit sort for thee, to supply her place.
And this note more I’ll give thee, which repose
In sure remembrance: The best sort of those
That woo thy mother watchful scouts address
Both in the straits of th’ Ithacensian seas,
And dusty Samos, with intent t’ invade
And take thy life, ere thy return be made.
Which yet I think will fail, and some of them
That waste thy fortunes taste of that extreme
They plot for thee. But keep off far from shore,
And day and night sail, for a fore-right blore,
Whoever of th’ Immortals that vow guard
And ’scape to thy return, will see prepar’d.
As soon as thou arriv’st, dismiss to town
Thy ship and men, and first of all make down
To him that keeps thy swine, and doth conceive
A tender care to see thee well survive.
There sleep; and send him to the town, to tell
The chaste Penelopé, that safe and well
Thou liv’st in his charge, and that Pylos’ sands
The place contain’d from whence thy person lands.”
Thus she to large Olympus made ascent.
When with his heel a little touch he lent
To Nestor’s son, whose sleep’s sweet chains he loos’d,
Bad rise, and see in chariot inclos’d
Their one-hoof’d horse, that they might straight be gone.
“No such haste,” he replied, “Night holds her throne,
And dims all way to course of chariot.
The morn will soon get up. Nor see forgot
The gifts with haste, that will, I know, be rich,
And put into our coach with gracious speech
By lance-fam’d Menelaus. Not a guest
Shall touch at his house, but shall store his breast
With fit mind of an hospitable man,
To last as long as any daylight can
His eyes recomfort, in such gifts as he
Will proofs make of his hearty royalty.”
He had no sooner said, but up arose
Aurora, that the golden hills repose.
And Menelaus, good-at-martial-cries,
From Helen’s bed rais’d, to his guest applies
His first appearance. Whose repair made known
T’ Ulysses’ lov’d son, on his robe was thrown
About his gracious body, his cloak cast
Athwart his ample shoulders, and in haste
Abroad he went, and did the king accost:
“Atrides, guarded with heav’n’s deified host,
Grant now remission to my native right,
My mind now urging mine own house’s sight.”
“Nor will I stay,” said he, “thy person long,
Since thy desires to go are grown so strong.
I should myself be angry to sustain
The like detention urg’d by other men.
Who loves a guest past mean, past mean will hate,
//The mean in all acts bears the best estate.//
A like ill ’tis, to thrust out such a guest
As would not go, as to detain the rest.
We should a guest love, while he loves to stay,
And, when he likes not, give him loving way.
Yet suffer so, that we may gifts impose
In coach to thee; which ere our hands inclose,
Thine eyes shall see, lest else our loves may glose.
Besides, I’ll cause our women to prepare
What our house yields, and merely so much fare
As may suffice for health. Both well will do,
Both for our honour and our profit too.
And, serving strength with food, you after may
As much earth measure as will match the clay.
If you will turn your course from sea, and go
Through Greece and Argos (that myself may so
Keep kind way with thee) I’ll join horse, and guide
T’ our human cities. Nor ungratified
Will anyone remit us; some one thing
Will each present us, that along may bring
Our pass with love, and prove our virtues blaz’d:
A caldron, or a tripod, richly-braz’d,
Two mules, a bowl of gold, that hath his price
Heighten’d with emblems of some rare device.”
The wise prince answer’d: “I would gladly go
Home to mine own, and see that govern’d so
That I may keep what I for certain hold,
Not hazard that for only hop’d-for gold.
I left behind me none so all ways fit
To give it guard, as mine own trust with it.
Besides, in this broad course which you propose,
My father seeking I myself may lose.”
When this the shrill-voic’d Menelaus heard,
He charg’d his queen and maids to see prepar’d
Breakfast, of what the whole house held for best.
To him rose Eteoneus from his rest,
Whose dwelling was not far off from the court,
And his attendance his command did sort
With kindling fires, and furth’ring all the roast,
In act of whose charge heard no time he lost.
Himself then to an odorous room descended,
Whom Megapenthe and his queen attended.
Come to his treasury, a two-ear’d cup
He choos’d of all, and made his son bear up
A silver bowl. The queen then taking stand
Aside her chest, where by her own fair hand
Lay vests of all hues wrought, she took out one
Most large, most artful, chiefly fair, and shone
Like to a star, and lay of all the last.
Then through the house with either’s gift they past;
When to Ulysses’ son Atrides said:
“Telemachus, since so entirely sway’d
Thy thoughts are with thy vow’d return now tender’d,
May Juno’s thund’ring husband see it render’d
Perfect at all parts, action answ’ring thought.
Of all the rich gifts, in my treasure sought,
I give thee here the most in grace and best.
A bowl but silver, yet the brim’s comprest
With gold, whose fabric his desert doth bring
From Vulcan’s hand, presented by the king
And great heroë of Sidonia’s state,
When at our parting he did consummate
His whole house-keeping. This do thou command.”
This said, he put the round bowl in his hand,
And then his strong son Megapenthe plac’d
The silver cup before him, amply grac’d
With work and lustre. Helen (standing by,
And in her hand the robe, her housewifery)
His name rememb’ring, said: “And I present,
Lov’d son, this gift to thee, the monument
Of the so-many-lovéd Helen’s hands,
Which, at the knitting of thy nuptial bands,
Present thy wife. In mean space, may it lie
By thy lov’d mother; but to me apply
Thy pleasure in it, and thus take thy way
To thy fair house, and country’s wishéd stay.”
Thus gave she to his hands the veil, and he
The acceptation author’d joyfully.
Which in the chariot’s chest Pisistratus
Plac’d with the rest, and held miraculous.
The yellow-headed king then led them all
To seats and thrones plac’d in his spacious hall.
The hand-maid water brought, and gave it stream
From out a fair and golden ewer to them,
From whose hands to a silver caldron fled
The troubled wave. A bright board then she spread,
On which another rev’rend dame set bread.
To which more servants store of victuals serv’d.
Eteonëus was the man that kerv’d,
And Megapenthe fill’d them all their wine.
All fed and drank, till all felt care decline
For those refreshings. Both the guests did go
To horse, and coach, and forth the portico
A little issued, when the yellow King
Brought wine himself, that, with an offering
To all the Gods, they might their journey take.
He stood before the Gods, and thus he spake:
“Farewell young Princes! To grave Nestor’s ear
This salutation from my gratitude bear:
That I profess, in all our Ilion wars,
He stood a careful father to my cares.”
To whom the wise Ulyssides replied:
“With all our utmost shall be signified,
Jove-kept Atrides, your right royal will;
And would to God, I could as well fulfill
Mine own mind’s gratitude, for your free grace,
In telling to Ulysses, in the place
Of my return, in what accomplish’d kind
I have obtain’d the office of a friend
At your deservings; whose fair end you crown
With gifts so many, and of such renown!”
His wish, that he might find in his retreat
His father safe return’d (to so repeat
The king’s love to him) was saluted thus:
An eagle rose, and in her seres did truss
A goose, all-white, and huge, a household one,
Which men and women, crying out upon,
Pursued, but she, being near the guests, her flight
Made on their right hand, and kept still fore-right
Before their horses; which observ’d by them,
The spirits in all their minds took joys extreme,
Which Nestor’s son thus question’d: “Jove-kept king, ^^[[115|Chapman: Footnote 115]]^^
Yield your grave thoughts, if this ostentful thing
(This eagle, and this goose) touch us, or you?”
He put to study, and not knowing how
To give fit answer, Helen took on her
Th’ ostent’s solution, and did this prefer:
“Hear me, and I will play the prophet’s part,
As the Immortals cast it in my heart,
And as, I think, will make the true sense known:
As this Jove’s bird, from out the mountains flown,
(Where was her eyrie, and whence rose her race,)
Truss’d up this goose, that from the house did graze,
So shall Ulysses, coming from the wild
Of seas and suff’rings, reach, unreconcil’d,
His native home, where ev’n this hour he is,
And on those house-fed Wooers those wrongs of his
Will shortly wreak, with all their miseries.”
“O,” said Telemachus, “if Saturnian Jove
To my desires thy dear presage approve,
When I arrive, I will perform to thee
My daily vows, as to a Deity.”
This said, he us’d his scourge upon the horse,
That through the city freely made their course
To field, and all day made that first speed good.
But when the sun set, and obscureness stood
In each man’s way, they ended their access
At Pheras, in the house of Diocles,
Son to Orsilochus, Alphëus’ seed,
Who gave them guest-rites; and sleep’s natural need
They that night served there. When Aurora rose,
They join’d their horse, took coach, and did dispose
Their course for Pylos; whose high city soon
They reach’d. Nor would Telemachus be won
To Nestor’s house, and therefore order’d thus
His speech to Nestor’s son, Pisistratus:
“How shall I win thy promise to a grace
That I must ask of thee? We both embrace
The names of bed-fellows, and in that name
Will glory as an adjunct of our fame;
Our fathers’ friendship, our own equal age,
And our joint travel, may the more engage
Our mutual concord. Do not then assay,
My God-lov’d friend, to lead me from my way
To my near ship, but take a course direct
And leave me there, lest thy old sire’s respect,
In his desire to love me, hinder so
My way for home, that have such need to go.”
This said, Nestorides held all discourse
In his kind soul, how best he might enforce
Both promise and performance; which, at last;
He vow’d to venture, and directly cast
His horse about to fetch the ship and shore.
Where come, his friends’ most lovely gifts he bore
Aboard the ship, and in her hind-deck plac’d
The veil that Helen’s curious hand had grac’d,
And Menelaus’ gold, and said: “Away,
Nor let thy men, in any least date, stay,
But quite put off, ere I get home, and tell
The old duke, you are past; for passing well
I know his mind to so exceed all force
Of any pray’r, that he will stay your course,
Himself make hither, all your course call back,
And, when he hath you, have no thought to rack
Him from his bounty, and to let you part
Without a present, but be vex’d at heart
With both our pleadings, if we once put move
The least repression of his fiery love.”
Thus took he coach, his fair-man’d steeds scourg’d on
Along the Pylian city, and anon
His father’s court reach’d; while Ulysses’ son
Bade board, and arm; which with a thought was done.
His rowers set, and he rich odours firing
In his hind-deck, for his secure retiring,
To great Athenia, to his ship came flying
A stranger, and a prophet, as relying
On wishéd passage, having newly slain
A man at Argos, yet his race’s vein
Flow’d from Melampus, who in former date
In Pylos liv’d, and had a huge estate,
But fled his country, and the punishing hand
Of great-soul’d Neleus, in a foreign land,
From that most famous mortal, having held
A world of riches, nor could be compell’d
To render restitution in a year.
In mean space, living as close prisoner
In court of Phylacus, and for the sake
Of Neleus’ daughter mighty cares did take,
Together with a grievous languor sent
From grave Erinnys, that did much torment
His vexéd conscience; yet his life’s expence
He scap’d, and drave the loud-voiced oxen thence,
To breed-sheep Pylos, bringing vengeance thus
Her foul demerit to great Neleüs,
And to his brother’s house reduc’d his wife.
Who yet from Pylos did remove his life
For feed-horse Argos, where his fate set down
A dwelling for him, and in much renown
Made govern many Argives, where a spouse
He took to him, and built a famous house.
There had he born to him Antiphates,
And forceful Mantius. To the first of these
Was great Oïcleus born: Oïcleus gat
Amphiaraus, that the popular state
Had all their health in, whom ev’n from his heart
Jove lov’d, and Phœbus in the whole desert
Of friendship held him; yet not bless’d so much
That age’s threshold he did ever touch,
But lost his life by female bribery. ^^[[116|Chapman: Footnote 116]]^^
Yet two sons author’d his posterity,
Alemæon, and renown’d Amphilochus.
Mantius had issue Polyphidius,
And Clytus, but Aurora ravish’d him,
For excellence of his admiréd limb,
And interested him amongst the Gods.
His brother knew men’s good and bad abodes
The best of all men, after the decease
Of him that perish’d in unnatural peace
At spacious Thebes. Apollo did inspire
His knowing soul with a prophetic fire.
Who, angry with his father, took his way
To Hyperesia; where, making stay,
He prophesied to all men, and had there
A son call’d Theoclymenus, who here
Came to Telemachus, and found aboard
Himself at sacrifice, whom in a word
He thus saluted: “O friend, since I find,
Ev’n here at ship, a sacrificing mind
Inform your actions, by your sacrifice,
And by that worthy choice of Deities
To whom you offer, by yourself, and all
These men that serve your course maritimal,
Tell one that asks the truth, nor give it glose,
Both who, and whence, you are? From what seed rose
Your royal person? And what city’s tow’rs
Hold habitation to your parents’ pow’rs?”
He answer’d: “Stranger! The sure truth is this:
I am of Ithaca; my father is
(Or was) Ulysses, but austere death now
Takes his state from him; whose event to know
Himself being long away, I set forth thus
With ship and soldiers.” Theoclymenus
As freely said: “And I to thee am fled
From forth my country, for a man struck dead
By my unhappy hand, who was with me
Of one self-tribe, and of his pedigree
Are many friends and brothers, and the sway
Of Achive kindred reacheth far away.
From whom, because I fear their spleens suborn
Blood and black fate against me (being born
To be a wand’rer among foreign men)
Make thy fair ship my rescue, and sustain
My life from slaughter. Thy deservings may
Perform that mercy, and to them I pray.”
“Nor will I bar,” said he, “thy will to make
My means and equal ship thy aid, but take
(With what we have here, in all friendly use)
Thy life from any violence that pursues.”
Thus took he in his lance, and it extended
Aloft the hatches, which himself ascended.
The prince took seat at stern, on his right hand
Set Theoclymenus, and gave command
To all his men to arm, and see made fast
Amidst the hollow keel the beechen mast
With able halsers, hoise sail, launch; which soon
He saw obey’d. And then his ship did run
A merry course; blue-eyed Minerva sent
A fore-right gale, tumultuous, vehement,
Along the air, that her way’s utmost yield
The ship might make, and plough the brackish field.
Then set the sun, and night black’d all the ways.
The ship, with Jove’s wind wing’d, where th’ Epian sways,
Fetch’d Pheras first, then Elis the divine,
And then for those isles made, that sea-ward shine
For form and sharpness like a lance’s head,
About which lay the Wooers ambushéd;
On which he rush’d, to try if he could ’scape
His plotted death, or serve her treach’rous rape.
And now return we to Eumæus’ shed,
Where, at their food with others marshalléd,
Ulysses and his noble herdsman sate.
To try if whose love’s curious estate
Stood firm to his abode, or felt it fade,
And so would take each best cause to persuade
His guest to town, Ulysses thus contends:
    “Hear me, Eumæus, and ye other friends.
Next morn to town I covet to be gone,
To beg some others’ alms, not still charge one.
Advise me well then, and as well provide
I may be fitted with an honest guide,
For through the streets, since need will have it so,
I’ll tread, to try if any will bestow
A dish of drink on me, or bit of bread,
Till to Ulysses’ house I may be led;
And there I’ll tell all-wise Penelope news,
Mix with the Wooers’ pride, and, since they use
To fare above the full, their hands excite
To some small feast from out their infinite:
For which, I’ll wait, and play the servingman,
Fairly enough, command the most they can.
For I will tell thee, note me well, and hear,
That, if the will be of Heav’n’s Messenger,
(Who to the works of men, of any sort,
Can grace infuse, and glory) nothing short
Am I of him, that doth to most aspire
In any service, as to build a fire,
To cleave sere wood, to roast or boil their meat,
To wait at board, mix wine, or know the neat,
Or any work, in which the poor-call’d worst
To serve the rich-call’d best in Fate are forc’d.”
He, angry with him, said: “Alas, poor guest,
Why did this counsel ever touch thy breast?
Thou seek’st thy utter spoil beyond all doubt,
If thou giv’st venture on the Wooers’ rout,
Whose wrong and force affects the iron heav’n,
Their light delights are far from being giv’n
To such grave servitors. Youths richly trick’d
In coats or cassocks, locks divinely slick’d,
And looks most rapting, ever have the gift
To taste their crown’d cups, and full trenchers shift.
Their tables ever like their glasses shine,
Loaded with bread, with varied flesh, and wine.
And thou go thither? Stay, for here do none
Grudge at thy presence, nor myself, nor one
Of all I feed. But when Ulysses’ son
Again shall greet us, he shall put thee on
Both coat and cassock, and thy quick retreat
Set where thy heart and soul desire thy seat.”
Industrious Ulysses gave reply:
“I still much wish, that Heav’n’s chief Deity
Lov’d thee, as I do, that hast eas’d my mind
Of woes and wand’rings never yet confin’d.
//Nought is more wretched in a human race,//
//Than country’s want, and shift from place to place.//
But for the baneful belly men take care
Beyond good counsel, whosoever are
In compass of the wants it undergoes
By wand’rings, losses, or dependent woes.
Excuse me therefore, if I err’d at home;
Which since thou wilt make here, as overcome
With thy command for stay, I’ll take on me
Cares appertaining to this place, like thee.
Does then Ulysses’ sire, and mother, breathe,
Both whom he left in th’ age next door to death?
Or are they breathless, and descended where
The dark house is, that never day doth clear?”
  “Laertes lives,” said he, “but ev’ry hour
Beseecheth Jove to take from him the pow’r
That joins his life and limbs; for with a moan
That breeds a marvel he laments his son
Depriv’d by death, and adds to that another
Of no less depth for that dead son’s dead mother,
Whom he a virgin wedded, which the more
Makes him lament her loss, and doth deplore
Yet more her miss, because her womb the truer
Was to his brave son, and his slaughter slew her.
Which last love to her doth his life engage,
And makes him live an undigested age.
O! such a death she died as never may
Seize anyone that here beholds the day,
That either is to any man a friend,
Or can a woman kill in such a kind.
As long as she had being, I would be
A still inquirer (since ’twas dear to me,
Though death to her, to hear his name) when she
Heard of Ulysses, for I might be bold,
She brought me up, and in her love did hold
My life, compar’d with long-veil’d Ctimené,
Her youngest issue (in some small degree
Her daughter yet preferr’d) a brave young dame.
And when of youth the dearly-lovéd flame
Was lighted in us, marriage did prefer
The maid to Samos; whence was sent for her
Infinite riches, when the queen bestow’d
A fair new suit, new shoes, and all, and vow’d
Me to the field, but passing loth to part,
As loving me more than she lov’d her heart.
And these I want now; but their business grows
Upon me daily, which the Gods impose,
To whom I hold all, give account to them,
For I see none left to the diadem
That may dispose all better. So, I drink
And eat of what is here; and whom I think
Worthy or rev’rend, I have giv’n to, still,
These kinds of guest-rites; for the household ill
(Which, where the queen is, riots) takes her still
From thought of these things. Nor is it delight
To hear, from her plight, of or work or word;
The Wooers spoil all. But yet my men will board
Her sorrows often with discourse of all,
Eating and drinking of the festival
That there is kept, and after bring to field
Such things as servants make their pleasures yield.
“O me, Eumæus,” said Laertes’ son,
“Hast thou then err’d so of a little one,
Like me, from friends and country? Pray thee say,
And say a truth, doth vast Destruction lay
Her hand upon the wide-way’d seat of men, ^^[[117|Chapman: Footnote 117]]^^
Where dwelt thy sire and rev’rend mother then,
That thou art spar’d there? Or else, set alone
In guard of beeves, or sheep, set th’ enemy on,
Surpris’d, and shipp’d, transferr’d, and sold thee here?
He that bought thee paid well, yet bought not dear.”
“Since thou enquir’st of that, my guest,” said he,
“Hear and be silent, and, mean space, sit free
In use of these cups to thy most delights;
Unspeakable in length now are the nights.
Those that affect sleep yet, to sleep have leave,
Those that affect to hear, their hearers give.
But sleep not ere your hour; //much sleep doth grieve.//
Whoever lists to sleep, away to bed,
Together with the morning raise his head,
Together with his fellows break his fast,
And then his lord’s herd drive to their repast.
We two, still in our tabernacle here
Drinking and eating, will our bosoms cheer
With memories and tales of our annoys.
//Betwixt his sorrows ev’ry human joys,//
He most, who most hath felt and furthest err’d.
And now thy will to act shall be preferr’d.
There is an isle above Ortygia,
If thou hast heard, they call it Syria,
Where, once a day, the sun moves backward still.
’Tis not so great as good, for it doth fill
The fields with oxen, fills them still with sheep,
Fills roofs with wine, and makes all corn there cheap.
No dearth comes ever there, nor no disease
That doth with hate us wretched mortals seize,
But when men’s varied nations, dwelling there
In any city, enter th’ aged year,
The silver-bow-bearer, the Sun, and She
That bears as much renown for archery,
Stoop with their painless shafts, and strike them dead,
As one would sleep, and never keep the bed.
In this isle stand two cities, betwixt whom
All things that of the soil’s fertility come
In two parts are divided. And both these
My father rul’d, Ctesius Ormenides,
A man like the Immortals. With these states
The cross-biting Phœnicians traffick’d rates
Of infinite merchandise in ships brought there,
In which they then were held exempt from peer.
There dwelt within my father’s house a dame,
Born a Phœnician, skilful in the frame
Of noble housewif’ries, right tall and fair.
Her the Phœnician great-wench-net-lay’r ^^[[118|Chapman: Footnote 118]]^^
With sweet words circumvented, as she was
Washing her linen. To his amorous pass
He brought her first, shor’d from his ship to her;
To whom he did his whole life’s love prefer,
Which of these breast-exposing dames the hearts
Deceives, though fashion’d of right honest parts.
He ask’d her after, what she was, and whence?
She, passing presently, the excellence
Told of her father’s turrets, and that she
Might boast herself sprung from the progeny
Of the rich Sidons, and the daughter was
Of the much-year-revénued Arybas;
But that the Taphian pirates made her prise,
As she return’d from her field-housewif’ries,
Transferr’d her hither, and, at that man’s house
Where now she liv’d, for value precious
Sold her to th’ owner. He that stole her love
Bade her again to her birth’s seat remove,
To see the fair roofs of her friends again,
Who still held state, and did the port maintain
Herself reported. She said: ‘Be it so,
So you, and all that in your ship shall row,
Swear to return me in all safety hence.’
All swore. Th’ oath past, with ev’ry consequence,
She bade: ‘Be silent now, and not a word
Do you, or any of your friends, afford,
Meeting me afterward in any way,
Or at the washing-fount; lest some display
Be made, and told the old man, and he then
Keep me strait bound, to you and to your men
The utter ruin plotting of your lives.
Keep in firm thought then ev’ry word that strives
For dang’rous utt’rance. Haste your ship’s full freight
Of what you traffic for, and let me straight
Know by some sent friend she hath all in hold,
And with myself I’ll bring thence all the gold
I can by all means finger; and, beside,
I’ll do my best to see your freight supplied
With some well-weighing burthen of mine own.
For I bring-up in house a great man’s son,
As crafty as myself, who will with me
Run ev’ry way along, and I will be
His leader, till your ship hath made him sure.
He will an infinite great price procure,
Transfer him to what languag’d men ye may.’
This said, she gat her home, and there made stay
A whole year with us, goods of great avail
Their ship enriching. Which now fit for sail,
They sent a messenger t’ inform the dame;
And to my father’s house a fellow came,
Full of Phœnician craft, that to be sold
A tablet brought, the body all of gold,
The verge all-amber. This had ocular view
Both by my honour’d mother and the crew
Of her house-handmaids, handled, and the price
Beat, ask’d, and promis’d. And while this device
Lay thus upon the forge, this jeweller
Made privy signs, by winks and wiles, to her
That was his object; which she took, and he,
His sign seeing noted, hied to ship. When she,
(My hand still taking, as she us’d to do
To walk abroad with her) convey’d me so
Abroad with her, and in the portico
Found cups, with tasted viands, which the guests
That us’d to flock about my father’s feasts
Had left. They gone (some to the council-court,
Some to hear news amongst the talking sort)
Her theft three bowls into her lap convey’d,
And forth she went. Nor was my wit so stay’d
To stay her, or myself. The sun went down,
And shadows round about the world were flown,
When we came to the haven, in which did ride
The swift Phœnician ship; whose fair broad side
They boarded straight, took us up; and all went
Along the moist waves. Wind Saturnius sent.
Six days we day and night sail’d; but when Jove
Put up the seventh day, She that shafts doth love
Shot dead the woman, who into the pump
Like to a dop-chick div’d, and gave a thump
In her sad settling. Forth they cast her then
To serve the fish and sea-calves, no more men;
But I was left there with a heavy heart;
When wind and water drave them quit apart
Their own course, and on Ithaca they fell,
And there poor me did to Laertes sell.
And thus these eyes the sight of this isle prov’d.”
“Eumæus,” he replied, “thou much hast mov’d
The mind in me with all things thou hast said,
And all the suff’rance on thy bosom laid,
But, truly, to thy ill hath Jove join’d good,
That one whose veins are serv’d with human blood
Hath bought thy service, that gives competence
Of food, wine, cloth to thee; and sure th’ expence
Of thy life’s date here is of good desert,
Whose labours not to thee alone impart
Sufficient food and housing, but to me;
Where I through many a heap’d humanity
Have hither err’d, where, though, like thee, not sold,
Nor stay’d like thee yet, nor nought needful hold.”
This mutual speech they us’d, nor had they slept
Much time before the much-near morning leapt
To her fair throne. And now struck sail the men
That serv’d Telemachus, arriv’d just then
Near his lov’d shore; where now they stoop’d the mast,
Made to the port with oars, and anchor cast,
Made fast the ship, and then ashore they went,
Dress’d supper, fill’d wine; when (their appetites spent)
Telemachus commanded they should yield
The ship to th’ owner, while himself at field
Would see his shepherds; when light drew to end
He would his gifts see, and to town descend,
And in the morning at a feast bestow
Rewards for all their pains. “And whither, now,”
Said Theoclymenus, “my lovéd son,
Shall I address myself? Whose mansión,
Of all men, in this rough-hewn isle, shall I
Direct my way to? Or go readily
To thy house and thy mother?” He replied:
“Another time I’ll see you satisfied
With my house-entertainment, but as now
You should encounter none that could bestow
Your fit entreaty, and (which less grace were)
You could not see my mother, I not there;
For she’s no frequent object, but apart
Keeps from her Wooers, woo’d with her desert,
Up in her chamber, at her housewif’ry
But I’ll name one to whom you shall apply
Direct repair, and that’s Eurymachus,
Renown’d descent to wise Polybius,
A man whom th’ Ithacensians look on now
As on a God, since he of all that woo
Is far superior man, and likest far
To wed my mother, and as circular
Be in that honour as Ulysses was.
But heav’n-hous’d Jove knows the yet hidden pass
Of her disposure, and on them he may
A blacker sight bring than her nuptial day.”
As this he utter’d, on his right hand flew
A saker, sacred to the God of view,
That in his talons truss’d and plum’d a dove;
The feathers round about the ship did rove,
And on Telemachus fell; whom th’ augur then
Took fast by the hand, withdrew him from his men,
And said: “Telemachus! This hawk is sent
From God; I knew it for a sure ostent
When first I saw it. Be you well assur’d,
There will no Wooer be by heav’n endur’d
To rule in Ithaca above your race,
But your pow’rs ever fill the regal place.”
“I wish to heav’n,” said he, “thy word might stand,
Thou then shouldst soon acknowledge from my hand
Such gifts and friendship, as would make thee, guest,
Met and saluted as no less than blest.”
This said, he call’d Piræus, Clytus’ son,
His true associate, saying: “Thou hast done
(Of all my followers to the Pylian shore)
My will in chief in other things, once more
Be chiefly good to me; take to thy house
This lovéd stranger, and be studious
T’ embrace and greet him with thy greatest fare,
Till I myself come and take off thy care.”
The famous-for-his-lance said: “If your stay
Take time for life here, this man’s care I’ll lay
On my performance, nor what fits a guest
Shall any penury withhold his feast.”
Thus took he ship, bade them board, and away.
They boarded, sat, but did their labour stay
Till he had deck’d his feet, and reached his lance.
They to the city; he did straight advance
Up to his styes, where swine lay for him store,
By whose side did his honest swine-herd snore,
Till his short cares his longest nights had ended,
And nothing worse to both his lords intended.
"""
The End Of The Fifteenth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
The Prince at field, he sends to town
Eumæus, to make truly known
His safe return. By Pallas’ will,
Telemachus is giv’n the skill
To know his father. Those that lay
In ambush, to prevent the way
Of young Ulyssides for home,
Retire, with anger overcome.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Πι̑.
To his most dear
Ulysses shows.
The wise-son here
His father knows.
"""
"""
Ulysses and divine Eumæus rose
Soon as the morning could her eyes unclose,
Made fire, brake fast, and to their pasture send
The gather’d herds, on whom their swains attend.
The self-tire barking dogs all fawn’d upon,
Nor bark’d, at first sight of Ulysses’ son.
The whinings of their fawnings yet did greet
Ulysses’ ears, and sounds of certain feet,
Who thus be spake Eumæus: “Sure some friend,
Or one well-known, comes, that the mastiffs spend
Their mouths no louder. Only some one near
They whine, and leap about, whose feet I hear.”
Each word of this speech was not spent, before
His son stood in the entry of the door.
Out-rush’d amaz’d Eumæus, and let go
The cup to earth, that he had labour’d so,
Cleans’d for the neat wine, did the prince-surprise,
Kiss’d his fair forehead, both his lovely eyes,
Both his white hands, and tender tears distill’d.
There breath’d no kind-soul’d father that was fill’d
Less with his son’s embraces, that had liv’d
Ten years in far-off earth, now new retriev’d,
His only child too, gotten in his age,
And for whose absence he had felt the rage
Of griefs upon him, than for this divin’d
So-much-for-form was this divine-for-mind;
Who kiss’d him through, who grew about him kissing,
As fresh from death ’scap’d. Whom so long time missing,
He wept for joy, and said: “Thou yet art come,
Sweet light, sweet sun-rise, to thy cloudy home.
O, never I look’d, when once shipp’d away
For Pylos’ shores, to see thy turning day.
Come, enter, lov’d son, let me feast my heart
With thy sweet sight, new-come, so far apart.
Nor, when you liv’d at home, would you walk down
Often enough here, but stay’d still at town;
It pleas’d you then to cast such forehand view
About your house on that most damnéd crew.” ^^[[119|Chapman: Footnote 119]]^^
“It shall be so then, friend,” said he, “but now
I come to glad mine eyes with thee, and know
If still my mother in her house remain,
Or if some Wooer hath aspir’d to gain
Of her in nuptials; for Ulysses’ bed,
By this, lies all with spiders’s cobwebs spread,
In penury of him that should supply it.”
“She still,” said he, “holds her most constant quiet,
Aloft thine own house, for the bed’s respect;
But, for her lord’s sad loss, sad nights and days
Obscure her beauties, and corrupt their rays.”
This said, Eumæus took his brazen spear,
And in he went; when, being enter’d near
Within the stony threshold; from his seat
His father rose to him, who would not let
Th’ old man remove, but drew him back and prest
With earnest terms his sitting, saying: “Guest,
Take here your seat again, we soon shall get
Within our own house here some other seat.
Here’s one will fetch it.” This said, down again
His father sat, and to his son his swain
Strew’d fair green osiers, and impos’d thereon
A good soft sheepskin, which made him a throne.
Then he appos’d to them his last-left roast,
And in a wicker basket bread engrost,
Fill’d luscious wine, and then took opposite seat
To the divine Ulysses. When, the meat
Set there before them, all fell-to, and eat.
When they had fed, the prince said: “Pray thee say,
Whence comes this guest? What seaman gave him way
To this our isle? I hope these feet of his
Could walk no water. Who boasts he he is?”
“I’ll tell all truly son: From ample Crete
He boasts himself, and says, his erring feet
Have many cities trod, and God was he
Whose finger wrought in his infirmity.
But, to my cottage, the last ’scape of his
Was from a Thesprot’s ship. Whate’er he is,
I’ll give him you, do what you please; his vaunt
Is, that he is, at most, a suppliant.”
“Eumæus,” said the prince, “to tell me this,
You have afflicted my weak faculties;
For how shall I receive him to my house
With any safety, that suspicious
Of my young forces (should I be assay’d
With any sudden violence) may want aid
To shield myself? Besides, if I go home,
My mother is with two doubts overcome,
If she shall stay with me, and take fit care
For all such guests as there seek guestive fare,
Her husband’s bed respecting, and her fame
Amongst the people; or her blood may frame
A liking to some Wooer, such as best
May bed her in his house, not giving least.
And thus am I unsure of all means free
To use a guest there, fit for his degree.
But, being thy guest, I’ll be his supply
For all weeds, such as mere necessity
Shall more than furnish. Fit him with a sword,
And set him where his heart would have been shor’d;
Or, if so pleas’d, receive him in thy shed,
I’ll send thee clothes, I vow, and all the bread
His wish would eat, that to thy men and thee
He be no burthen. But that I should be
His mean to my house; where a company
Of wrong-professing Wooers wildly live,
I will in no sort author, lest they give
Foul use to him, and me as gravely grieve.
For what great act can anyone achieve
Against a multitude, although his mind
Retain a courage of the greatest kind?
For all minds have not force in one degree.”
Ulysses answer’d: “O friend, since ’tis free
For any man to change fit words with thee,
I’ll freely speak: Methinks, a wolfish pow’r
My heart puts on to tear and to devour,
To hear your affirmation, that, in spite
Of what may fall on you, made opposite,
Being one of your proportion, birth, and age,
These Wooers should in such injustice rage.
What should the cause be? Do you wilfully
Endure their spoil? Or hath your empery
Been such amongst your people, that all gather
In troop, and one voice (which ev’n God doth father)
And vow your hate so, that they suffer them?
Or blame your kinsfolk’s faiths, before th’ extreme
Of your first stroke hath tried them, whom a man,
When strifes to blows rise, trusts, though battle ran
In huge and high waves? Would to heav’n my spirit
Such youth breath’d, as the man that must inherit
Yet-never-touch’d Ulysses, or that he,
But wand’ring this way, would but come, and see
What my age could achieve (and there is Fate
For Hope yet left, that he may recreate
His eyes with such an object) this my head
Should any stranger strike off, if stark dead
I struck not all, the house in open force
Ent’ring with challenge! If their great concourse
Did over-lay me, being a man alone,
(Which you urge for yourself) be you that one,
I rather in mine own house wish to die
One death for all, than so indecently
See evermore deeds worse than death applied,
Guests wrong’d with vile words and blow-giving pride,
The women-servants dragg’d in filthy kind
About the fair house, and in corners blind
Made serve the rapes of ruffians, food devour’d
Idly and rudely, wine exhaust, and pour’d
Through throats profane; and all about a deed
That’s ever wooing, and will never speed.”
“I’ll tell you, guest, most truly,” said his son,
“I do not think that all my people run
One hateful course against me; nor accuse
Kinsfolks that I in strifes of weight might use;
But Jove will have it so, our race alone
(As if made singular) to one and one
His hand confining. Only to the king,
Jove-bred Arcesius, did Laertes spring;
Only to old Laertes did descend
Ulysses; only to Ulysses’ end
Am I the adjunct, whom he left so young,
That from me to him never comfort sprung.
And to all these now, for their race, arise
Up in their house a brood of enemies.
As many as in these isles bow men’s knees,
Samos, Dulichius, and the rich-intrees
Zacynthus, or in this rough isle’s command,
So many suitors for the nuptials stand,
That ask my mother, and, mean space, prefer
Their lusts to all spoil, that dishonour her.
Nor doth she, though she loaths, deny their suits,
Nor they denials take, though taste their fruits.
But all this time the state of all things there
Their throats devour, and I must shortly bear
A part in all. And yet the periods
Of these designs lie in the knees of Gods.
Of all loves then, Eumæus, make quick way
To wise Penelopé, and to her say
My safe return from Pylos, and alone,
Return thou hither, having made it known.
Nor let, besides my mother, any ear
Partake thy message, since a number bear
My safe return displeasure.” He replied;
“I know, and comprehend you. You divide
Your mind with one that understands you well.
But, all in one yet, may I not reveal
To th’ old hard-fated Arcesiades
Your safe return? Who, through his whole distress
Felt for Ulysses, did not yet so grieve,
But with his household he had will to live,
And serv’d his appetite with wine and food,
Survey’d his husbandry, and did his blood
Some comforts fitting life; but since you took
Your ship for Pylos, he would never brook
Or wine or food, they say, nor cast an eye
On any labour, but sits weeping by,
And sighing out his sorrows, ceaseless moans
Wasting his body, turn’d all skin and bones.”
“More sad news still,” said he, “yet, mourn he still;
For if the rule of all men’s works be will,
And his will his way goes, mine stands inclin’d
T’ attend the home-turn of my nearer kind. ^^[[120|Chapman: Footnote 120]]^^
Do then what I enjoin; which giv’n effect,
Err nor to field to him, but turn direct,
Entreating first my mother, with most speed,
And all the secrecy that now serves need,
To send this way their store-house guardian,
And she shall tell all to the aged man.” ^^[[121|Chapman: Footnote 121]]^^
He took his shoes up, put them on, and went.
Nor was his absence hid from Jove’s descent,
Divine Minerva, who took straight to view,
A goodly woman’s shape that all works knew,
And, standing in the entry, did prefer
Her sight t’ Ulysses; but, though meeting her,
His son Telemachus nor saw nor knew.
//The Gods’ clear presences are know to few.//
Yet, with Ulysses, ev’n the dogs did see,
And would not bark, but, whining lovingly,
Fled to the stall’s far side. When she her eyne
Mov’d to Ulysses; he knew her design,
And left the house, pass’d the great sheep-cote’s wall,
And stood before her. She bade utter all
Now to his son, nor keep the least unlos’d,
That, all the Wooers’ deaths being now dispos’d,
They might approach the town; affirming; she
Not long would fail t’ assist to victory.
This said, she laid her golden rod on him,
And with his late-worn weeds grac’d ev’ry limb,
His body straighten’d, and his youth instill’d,
His fresh blood call’d up, ev’ry wrinkle fill’d
About his broken eyes, and on his chin
The brown hair spread. When his whole trim wrought in,
She issued, and he enter’d to his son,
Who stood amaz’d, and thought some God had done
His house that honour, turn’d away his eyes,
And said; “Now guest, you grace another guise
Than suits your late show. Other weeds you wear,
And other person. Of the starry sphere
You certainly present some deathless God.
Be pleas’d, that to your here-vouchsaf’d abode
We may give sacred rites, and offer gold,
To do us favour.” He replied; “I hold
No deified state. Why put you thus on me
A God’s resemblance? I am only he
That bears thy father’s name; for whose lov’d sake
Thy youth so grieves, whose absence makes thee take
Such wrongs of men.” Thus kiss’d he him, nor could
Forbear those tears that in such mighty hold
He held before, still held, still issuing ever;
And now, the shores once broke, the springtide never
Forbore earth from the cheeks he kiss’d. His son,
By all these violent arguments not won
To credit him his father, did deny
His kind assumpt, and said, some Deity
Feign’d that joy’s cause, to make him grieve the more;
Affirming, that no man, whoever wore
The garment of mortality, could take,
By any utmost pow’r his soul could make,
Such change into it, since, at so much will,
Not Jove himself could both remove and fill
Old age with youth, and youth with age so spoil,
In such an instant. “You wore all the soil
Of age but now, and were old; and but now
You bear that young grace that the Gods indow
Their heav’n-born forms withal.” His father said:
“Telemachus! Admire, nor stand dismay’d,
But know thy solid father; since within
He answers all parts that adorn his skin.
There shall no more Ulyssesses come here.
I am the man, that now this twentieth year
(Still under suff’rance of a world of ill)
My country-earth recover. ’Tis the will
The prey-professor Pallas puts in act,
Who put me thus together, thus distract
In aged pieces as ev’n now you saw,
This youth now rend’ring. ’Tis within the law
Of her free pow’r. Sometimes to show me poor,
Sometimes again thus amply to restore
My youth and ornaments, she still would please.
//The Gods can raise, and throw men down, with ease.”//
This said, he sat; when his Telemachus pour’d
Himself about him; tears on tears he show’r’d,
And to desire of moan increas’d the cloud.
Both wept and howl’d, and laid out shrieks more loud
Than or the bird-bone-breaking eagle rears,
Or brood-kind vulture with the crooked seres,
When rustic hands their tender eyries draw,
Before they give their wings their full-plum’d law.
But miserably pour’d they from beneath
Their lids their tears, while both their breasts did breathe
As frequent cries; and, to their fervent moan,
The light had left the skies, if first the son
Their dumb moans had not vented, with demand
What ship it was that gave the natural land
To his bless’d feet? He then did likewise lay
Hand on his passion, and gave these words way:
“I’ll tell thee truth, my son: The men that bear
Much fame for shipping, my reducers were
To long-wish’d Ithaca, who each man else
That greets their shore give pass to where he dwells.
The Phæacensian peers, in one night’s date,
While I fast slept, fetch’d th’ Ithacensian state,
Grac’d me with wealthy gifts, brass, store of gold,
And robes fair-wrought; all which have secret hold
In caves that by the Gods’ advice I chus’d.
And now Minerva’s admonitions us’d
For this retreat, that we might here dispose
In close discourse the slaughters of our foes.
Recount the number of the Wooers then,
And let me know what name they hold with men,
That my mind may cast over their estates
A curious measure, and confer the rates
Of our two pow’rs and theirs, to try, if we
Alone may propagate to victory
Our bold encounters of them all, or prove
The kind assistance of some others’ love.”
“O father,” he replied, “I oft have heard
Your counsels and your force of hand preferr’d
To mighty glory, but your speeches now
Your vent’rous mind exceeding mighty show.
Ev’n to amaze they move me; for, in right
Of no fit counsel, should be brought to fight
Two men ’gainst th’ able faction of a throng.
No one two, no one ten, no twice ten, strong
These Wooers are, but more by much. For know,
That from Dulichius there are fifty-two,
All choice young men; and ev’ry one of these
Six men attend. From Samos cross’d the seas
Twice-twelve young gallants. From Zacynthus came
Twice-ten. Of Ithaca, the best of name,
Twice-six. Of all which all the state they take
A sacred poet and a herald make.
Their delicacies two, of special sort
In skill of banquets, serve. And all this port
If we shall dare t’ encounter, all-thrust-up
In one strong roof, have great care lest the cup,
Your great mind thirsts, exceeding bitter taste,
And your retreat commend not to your haste
Your great attempt, but make you say, you buy
Their pride’s revenges at a price too high.
And therefore, if you could; ’twere well you thought
Of some assistant. Be your spirit wrought
In such a man’s election, as may lend
His succours freely, and express a friend.”
His father answer’d: “Let me ask of thee;
Hear me, consider, and then answer me.
Think’st thou, if Pallas and the King of skies
We had to friend, would their sufficiencies
Make strong our part? Or that some other yet
My thoughts must work for?” “These,” said he “are set
Aloft the clouds, and are found aids indeed,
As pow’rs not only that these men exceed,
But bear of all men else the high command,
And hold of Gods an overruling hand.”
“Well then,” said he, “not these shall sever long
Their force and ours in fights assur’d and strong.
And then ’twixt us and them shall Mars prefer
His strength, to stand our great distinguisher,
When in mine own roofs I am forc’d to blows.
But when the day shall first her fires disclose,
Go thou for home, and troop up with the Wooers,
Thy will with theirs join’d, pow’r with their rude pow’rs;
And after shall the herdsman guide to town
My steps, my person wholly overgrown
With all appearance of a poor old swain,
Heavy, and wretched. If their high disdain
Of my vile presence make them my desert
Affect with contumelies, let thy lov’d heart
Beat in fix’d cónfines of thy bosom still,
And see me suffer, patient of their ill.
Ay, though they drag me by the heels about
Mine own free earth, and after hurl me out,
Do thou still suffer. Nay, though with their darts
They beat and bruise me, bear. But these foul parts
Persuade them to forbear, and by their names
Call all with kind words; bidding, for their shames,
Their pleasures cease. If yet they yield not way,
There breaks the first light of their fatal day.
In mean space, mark this: When the chiefly-wise
Minerva prompts me, I’ll inform thine eyes
With some giv’n sign, and then all th’ arms that are
Aloft thy roof in some near room prepare
For speediest use. If those brave men inquire
Thy end in all, still rake up all thy fire
In fair cool words, and say: ‘I bring them down
To scour the smoke off, being so overgrown
That one would think all fumes, that ever were
Breath’d since Ulysses’ loss, reflected here.
These are not like the arms he left behind,
In way for Troy. Besides, Jove prompts my mind
In their remove apart thus with this thought,
That, if in height of wine there should be wrought,
Some harsh contention ’twixt you, this apt mean
To mutual bloodshed may be taken clean
From out your reach, and all the spoil prevented
Of present feast, perhaps ev’n then presented
My mother’s nuptials to your long kind vows.
//Steel itself, ready, draws a man to blows.’//
Thus make their thoughts secure; to us alone
Two swords, two darts, two shields left: which see done
Within our readiest reach, that at our will
We may resume, and charge, and all their skill
Pallas and Jove, that all just counsels breathe,
May darken with secureness to their death.
And let me charge thee now, as thou art mine,
And as thy veins mine own true blood combine:
Let, after this, none know Ulysses near,
Not anyone of all the household there,
Not here the herdsman, not Laertes be
Made privy, not herself Penelopé
But only let thyself and me work out
The women’s thoughts of all things borne about
The Wooers’ hearts; and then thy men approve,
To know who honours, who with rev’rence love,
Our well-weigh’d memories, and who is won
To fail thy fit right, though my only son.”
“You teach,” said he, “so punctually now,
As I knew nothing, nor were sprung from you.
I hope, hereafter, you shall better know
What soul I bear, and that it doth not let
The least loose motion pass his natural seat.
But this course you propose will prove, I fear,
Small profit to us; and could wish your care
Would weigh it better as too far about.
For time will ask much, to the sifting out
Of each man’s disposition by his deeds;
And, in the mean time, ev’ry Wooer feeds
Beyond satiety, nor knows how to spare.
The women yet, since they more easy are
For our inquiry, I would wish you try,
Who right your state, who do it injury.
The men I would omit, and these things make
Your labour after. But, to undertake
The Wooers’ war, I wish your utmost speed,
Especially if you could cheer the deed
With some ostent from Jove.” Thus, as the sire
Consented to the son, did here expire
Their mutual speech. And now the ship was come,
That brought the young prince and his soldiers home,
The deep haven reach’d, they drew the ship ashore,
Took all their arms out, and the rich gifts bore
To Clitius’ house. But to Ulysses’ court
They sent a herald first, to make report
To wise Penelopé, that safe at field
Her son was left; yet, since the ship would yield
Most haste to her, he sent that first, and them
To comfort with his utmost the extreme
He knew she suffer’d. At the court now met
The herald and the herdsman, to repeat
One message to the queen. Both whom arriv’d
Within the gates; both to be foremost striv’d
In that good news. The herald, he for haste
Amongst the maids bestow’d it, thinking plac’d
The queen amongst them. “Now,” said he, “O queen,
Your lov’d son is arriv’d.” And, then was seen
The queen herself, to whom the herdsman told
All that Telemachus enjoin’d he should;
All which discharg’d, his steps he back bestows,
And left both court and city for his sows.
The Wooers then grew sad; soul-vex’d, and all
Made forth the court; when, by the mighty wall
They took their sev’ral seats, before the gates.
To whom Eurymachus initiates.
Their utter’d grievance. “O,” said he, “my friends,
A work right-great begun, as proudly ends,
We said, Telemachus should never make
His voyage good, nor this shore ever take
For his return’s receipt; and yet we fail,
And he performs it. Come, let’s man a sail,
The best In our election, and bestow
Such soldiers in her as can swiftest row,
To tell our friends that way-lay his retreat
‘Tis safe perform’d, and make them quickly get
Their ship for Ithaca.” This was not said
Before Amphinomus in port display’d
The ship arriv’d, her sails then under-stroke,
And oars resum’d; when, laughing, thus he spoke:
“Move for no messenger. These men are come,
Some God hath either told his turning home,
Or they themselves have seen his ship gone by,
Had her in chase, and lost her.” Instantly
They rose, and went to port; found drawn to land
The ship, the soldiers taking arms in hand.
The Wooers themselves to council went in throng,
And not a man besides, or old, or young,
Let sit amongst them. Then Eupitheus’ son,
Antinous, said: “See, what the Gods have done!
They only have deliver’d from our ill
The men we way-laid. Ev’ry windy hill
Hath been their watch-tow’r, where by turns they stood
Continual sentinel. And we made good
Our work as well, for, sun once set, we never
Slept wink ashore all night, but made sail ever,
This way and that, ev’n till the morning kept
Her sacred station, so to intercept
And take his life, for whom our ambush lay;
And yet hath God to his return giv’n way.
But let us prosecute with counsels here
His necessary death, nor anywhere
Let rest his safety; for if he survive,
Our sails will never-in wish’d havens arrive;
Since he is wise, hath soul, and counsel too,
To work the people, who, will never do
Our faction favour. What we then intend
Against his person, give we present end,
Before he call a council, which, believe,
His spirit will haste, and point where it doth grieve,
Stand up amongst them all, and urge his death
Decreed amongst us. Which complaint will breathe
A fire about their spleens, and blow no praise
On our ill labours. Lest, they therefore raise
Pow’r to exile us from our native earth,
And force our lives’ societies to the birth
Of foreign countries, let our speeds prevent,
His coming home to this austere complaint,
At field and far from town, or in some way
Of narrow passage, with his latest day
Shown to his forward youth, his goods and lands
Left to the free division of our hands,
The moveables made all his mother’s dow’r,
And his, whoever Fate affords the pow’r
To celebrate, with her sweet Hymen’s rites.
Or if this please not, but your appetites
Stand to his safety, and to give him seat
In his whole birth-right, let us look to eat
At his cost never more, but ev’ry man
Haste to his home, and wed, with whom he can
At home, and there lay first about for dow’r
And then the woman give his second pow’r
Of nuptial-liking, and, for last, apply
His purpose with most gifts and destiny.”
This silence caus’d; whose breach, at last, begun
Amphinomus, the much renownéd son
Of Nisus surnam’d Aretiades,
Who from Dulichius full of flow’ry leas
Led all the Wooers, and in chief did please
The queen with his discourse, because it grew
From roots of those good minds that did endue ^^[[122|Chapman: Footnote 122]]^^
His goodly person; who, exceeding wise,
Us’d this speech: “Friends, I never will advise
The prince’s death; for ’tis a damnéd thing
To put to death the issue of a king.
First, therefore, let’s examine, what applause
The Gods will give it: If the equal laws
Of Jove approve it, I myself will be
The man shall kill him, and this company
Exhort to that mind: If the Gods remain
Adverse, and hate it, I advise, refrain.”
This said Amphinomus, and pleas’d them all
When all arose, and in Ulysses’ hall
Took seat again. Then to the queen was come
The Wooers’ plot, to kill her son at home,
Since their abroad-design had miss’d success,
The herald Medon (who the whole address
Knew of their counsels) making the report.
The Goddess of her sex, with her fair sort
Of lovely women, at the large hall’s door
(Her bright cheeks clouded with a veil she wore)
Stood, and directed to Antinous
Her sharp reproof, which she digested thus:
“Antinous! Compos’d of injury!
Plotter of mischief! Though reports that fly
Amongst our Ithacensian people say
That thou, of all that glory in their sway,
Art best in words and counsels, th’ art not so.
Fond, busy fellow, why plott’st thou the woe
And slaughter of my son, and dost not fear
The presidents of suppliants, when the ear
Of Jove stoops to them? ’Tis unjust to do
Slaughter for slaughter, or pay woe for woe,
Mischief for kindness. Death for life sought, then,
Is an injustice to be loath’d of men.
Serves not thy knowledge to remember when
Thy father fled to us? Who (mov’d to wrath
Against the Taphian thieves) pursued with scathe
The guiltless Thesprots; in whose people’s fear,
Pursuing him for wreak, he landed here,
They after him, professing both their prize
Of all his chiefly-valued faculties,
And more priz’d life. Of all whose bloodiest ends
Ulysses curb’d them, though they were his friends.
Yet thou, like one that no law will allow
The least true honour, eat’st his house up now
That fed thy father; woo’st for love his wife,
Whom thus thou griev’st and seek’st her sole son’s life!
Cease, I command thee, and command the rest
To see all thought of these foul fashions ceas’d.”
Eurymachus replied: “Be confident,
Thou all-of-wit-made, the most fam’d descent
Of king Icarius. Free thy spirits of fear.
There lives not anyone, nor shall live here
Now, nor hereafter, while my life gives heat
And light to me on earth, that dares intreat
With any ill touch thy well-lovéd son,
But here I vow, and here will see it done,
His life shall stain my lance. If on his knees
The city-racer, Laertiades,
Hath made me sit, put in my hand his food,
And held his red wine to me, shall the blood
Of his Telemachus on my hand lay
The least pollution, that my life can stay?
No! I have ever charg’d him not to fear
Death’s threat from any. And, for that most dear
Love of his father, he shall ever be
Much the most lov’d of all that live to me.
//Who kills a guiltless man from man may fly,//
//From God his searches all escapes deny.”//
Thus cheer’d his words, but his affections still
Fear’d not to cherish foul intent to kill
Ev’n him whose life to all lives he preferr’d.
The queen went up, and to her love appear’d
Her lord so freshly, that she wept, till sleep
(By Pallas forc’d on her) her eyes did steep
In his sweet humour. When the even was come,
The God-like herdsman reach’d the whole way home.
Ulysses and his son for supper drest
A year-old swine, and ere their host and guest
Had got their presence, Pallas had put by
With her fair rod Ulysses’ royalty,
And render’d him an aged man again,
With all his vile integuments, lest his swain
Should know him in his trim, and tell his queen,
In these deep secrets being not deeply seen.
He seen, to him the prince these words did use:
“Welcome divine Eumæus! Now what news
Employs the city? Are the Wooers come
Back from their scout dismay’d? Or here at home
Will they again attempt me?” He replied:
“These touch not my care. I was satisfied
To do, with most speed, what I went to do;
My message done, return. And yet, not so
Came my news first; a herald (met with there)
Forestall’d my tale, and told how safe you were.
Besides which merely necessary thing,
What in my way chanc’d I may over-bring,
Being what I know, and witness’d with mine eyes.
Where the Hermæan sepulchre doth rise
Above the city, I beheld take port
A ship, and in her many a man of sort;
Her freight was shields and lances; and, methought,
They were the Wooers; but, of knowledge, nought
Can therein tell you.” The prince smil’d, and knew
They were the Wooers, casting secret view
Upon his father. But what they intended
Fled far the herdsman; whose swain’s labours ended,
They dress’d the supper, which, past want, was eat.
When all desire suffic’d of wine and meat,
Of other human wants they took supplies
At Sleep’s soft hand, who sweetly clos’d their eyes.
"""
The End Of The Sixteenth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Telemachus, return’d to town,
Makes to his curious mother known,
In part, his travels. After whom
Ulysses to the court doth come,
In good Eumæus’ guide, and prest
To witness of the Wooers’ feast;
Whom, though twice ten years did bestow
In far-off parts, his dog doth know.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Ρω̑.
Ulysses shows
Through all disguise.
Whom his dog knows;
Who knowing dies.
"""
"""
But when air’s rosy birth, the morn, arose,
Telemachus did for the town dispose
His early steps; and took to his command
His fair long lance, well-sorting with his hand,
Thus parting with Eumæus: “Now, my friend,
I must to town, lest too far I extend
My mother’s moan for me, who, till her eyes
Mine own eyes witness, varies tears and cries
Through all extremes. Do then this charge of mine,
And guide to town this hapless guest of thine,
To beg elsewhere his further festival.
Give they that please, I cannot give to all,
Mine own wants take up for myself my pain.
If it incense him, he the worst shall gain.
The lovely truth I love, and must be plain.”
“Alas, friend,” said his father, “nor do I
Desire at all your further charity.
‘Tis better beg in cities than in fields,
And take the worst a beggar’s fortune yields.
Nor am I apt to stay in swine-styes more,
However; ever the great chief before
The poor ranks must to ev’ry step obey.
But go; your man in my command shall sway,
Anon yet too, by favour, when your fires
Have comforted the cold heat age expires,
And when the sun’s flame hath besides corrected
The early air abroad, not being protected
By these my bare weeds from the morning’s frost,
Which (if so much ground is to be engrost
By my poor feet as you report) may give
Too violent charge to th’ heat by which I live.”
This said, his son went on with spritely pace,
And to the Wooers studied little grace.
Arriv’d at home, he gave his jav’lin stay
Against a lofty pillar, and bold way
Made further in. When having so far gone
That he transcended the fair porch of stone,
The first by far that gave his entry eye
Was nurse Euryclea; who th’ embrodery
Of stools there set was giving cushions fair;
Who ran upon him, and her rapt repair
Shed tears for joy. About him gather’d round
The other maids; his head and shoulders crown’d
With kisses and embraces. From above
The Queen herself came, like the Queen of Love,
Or bright Diana; cast about her son
Her kind embraces, with effusión
Of loving tears; kiss’d both his lovely eyes,
His cheeks, and forehead; and gave all supplies
With this entreaty; “Welcome, sweetest light!
I never had conceit to set quick sight
On thee thus soon, when thy lov’d father’s fame
As far as Pylos did thy spirit inflame,
In that search ventur’d all-unknown to me.
O say, by what pow’r cam’st thou now to be
Mine eyes’ dear object?” He return’d reply:
“Move me not now, when you my ’scape descry
From imminent death, to think me fresh entrapt;
The fear’d wound rubbing, felt before I ’scapt.
Double not needless passion on a heart
Whose joy so green is, and so apt t’ invert;
But pure weeds putting on, ascend and take
Your women with you, that ye all may make
Vows of full hecatombs in sacred fire
To all the Godheads, if their only Sire
Vouchsafe revenge of guest-rites wrong’d, which he
Is to protect as being their Deity.
My way shall be directed to the hall
Of common concourse, that I thence may call
A stranger, who from off the Pylian shore
Came friendly with me; whom I sent before
With all my soldiers, but in chief did charge
Piræus with him, wishing him t’ enlarge
His love to him at home, in best affair,
And utmost honours, till mine own repair.”
Her son thus spoken, his words could not bear
The wings too easily through her either ear,
But putting pure weeds on, made vows entire
Of perfect hecatombs in sacred fire
To all the Deities, if their only Sire
Vouchsaf’d revenge of guest-rites wrong’d, which he
Was to protect as being their Deity.
Her son left house, in his fair hand his lance,
His dogs attending; and, on ev’ry glance
His looks cast from them, Pallas put a grace
That made him seem of the celestial race.
Whom, come to concourse, ev’ry man admir’d,
About him throng’d the Wooers, and desir’d
All good to him in tongues, but in their hearts
Most deep ills threaten’d to his most deserts.
Of whose huge rout once free, he cast glad eye
On some that, long before his infancy,
Were with his father great and gracious,
Grave Halitherses, Mentor, Antiphus:
To whom he went, took seat by them, and they
Inquir’d of all things since his parting day.
To them Piræus came, and brought his guest
Along the city thither, whom not least
The prince respected, nor was long before
He rose and met him. The first word yet bore
Piræus from them both; whose haste besought
The prince to send his women to see brought
The gifts from his house that Atrides gave,
Which his own roofs, he thought, would better save.
The wise prince answer’d: “I can scarce conceive
The way to these works. If the Wooers reave
By privy stratagem my life at home,
I rather wish Piræus may become
The master of them, than the best of these.
But, if I sow in their fields of excess
Slaughter and ruin, then thy trust employ,
And to me joying bring thou those with joy.”
This said, he brought home his grief-practis’d guest;
Where both put off, both oil’d, and did invest
Themselves in rich robes, wash’d, and sate, and eat.
His mother, in a fair chair taking seat
Directly opposite, her loom applied;
Who, when her son and guest had satisfied
Their appetites with feast, said: “O my son,
You know that ever since your sire was won
To go in Agamemnon’s guide to Troy,
Attempting sleep, I never did enjoy
One night’s good rest, but made my quiet bed
A sea blown-up with sighs, with tears still shed
Embrew’d and troubled; yet, though all your miss
In your late voyage hath been made for this,
That you might know th’ abode your father made.
You shun to tell me what success you had.
Now then, before the insolent access
The Wooers straight will force on us, express
What you have heard.” “I will,” said he, “and true.
We came to Pylos, where the studious due
That any father could afford his son,
(But new-arriv’d from some course he had run
To an extreme length, in some voyage vow’d),
Nestor, the pastor of the people, show’d
To me arriv’d, in turrets thrust-up high,
Where not his brave sons were more lov’d than I.
Yet of th’ unconquer’d ever-sufferer;
Ulysses, never he could set his ear,
Alive or dead, from any earthy man.
But to the great Lacedæmonian,
Atrides, famous for his lance, he sent,
With horse and chariots, me, to learn th’ event
From his relation; where I had the view
Of Argive Helen, whose strong beauties drew,
By wills of Gods, so many Grecian states,
And Trojans, under such laborious fates.
Where Menelaus ask’d me, what affair
To Lacedæmon render’d my repair.
I told him all the truth, who made reply:
‘O deed of most abhorr’d indecency!
A sort of impotents attempt his bed
Whose strength of mind hath cities levelléd!
As to a lion’s den, when any hind
Hath brought her young calves, to their rest inclin’d,
When he is ranging hills, and herby dales,
To make of feeders there his festivals,
But, turning to his luster, calves and dam
He shows abhorr’d death, in his anger’s flame;
So, should Ulysses find this rabble hous’d
In his free turrets, courting his espous’d,
Foul death would fall them. O, I would to Jove,
Phœbus, and Pallas, that, when he shall prove
The broad report of his exhausted store
True with his eyes, his nerves and sinews wore
That vigour then that in the Lesbian tow’rs,
Provok’d to wrastle with the iron pow’rs
Philomelides vaunted, he approv’d;
When down he hurl’d his challenger, and mov’d
Huge shouts from all the Achives then in view.
If, once come home, he all those forces drew
About him there to work, they all were dead,
And should find bitter his attempted bed.
But what you ask and sue for, I, as far
As I have heard the true-spoke mariner,
Will tell directly, nor delude your ear:
He told me that an island did ensphere,
In much discomfort, great Laertes’ son;
And that the Nymph Calypso, overrun
With his affection, kept him in her caves,
Where men, nor ship, of pow’r to brook the waves,
Were near his convoy to his country’s shore,
And where herself importun’d evermore
His quiet stay; which not obtain’d, by force
She kept his person from all else recourse.’
This told Atrides, which was all he knew.
Nor stay’d I more, but from the Gods there blew
A prosp’rous wind, that set me quickly here.”
This put his mother quite from all her cheer.
When Theoclymenus the augur said:
“O woman, honour’d with Ulysses’ bed,
Your son, no doubt, knows clearly nothing more,
Hear me yet speak, that can the truth uncore,
Nor will be curious. Jove then witness bear,
And this thy hospitable table here,
With this whole household of your blameless lord,
That at this hour his royal feet are shor’d
On his lov’d country-earth, and that ev’n here
Coming, or creeping, he will see the cheer
These Wooers make, and in his soul’s field sow
Seeds that shall thrive to all their overthrow.
This, set a ship-board, I knew sorted thus,
And cried it out to your Telemachus.”
Penelopé replied: “Would this would prove,
You well should witness a most friendly love,
And gifts such of me, as encount’ring Fame
Should greet you with a blesséd mortal’s name.”
This mutual speech past, all the Wooers were
Hurling the stone, and tossing of the spear,
Before the palace, in the pavéd court,
Where otherwhiles their petulant resort
Sat plotting injuries. But when the hour
Of supper enter’d, and the feeding pow’r
Brought sheep from field, that fill’d up ev’ry way
With those that us’d to furnish that purvey,
Medon, the herald (who of all the rest
Pleas’d most the Wooers, and at ev’ry feast
Was ever near) said: “You whose kind consort
Make the fair branches of the tree our court,
Grace it within now, and your suppers take.
You that for health, and fair contention’s sake,
Will please your minds, know, bodies must have meat;
//Play’s worse than idleness in times to eat.”//
This said, all left, came in, cast by, on thrones
And chairs, their garments. Their provisións
Were sheep, swine, goats, the chiefly-great and fat,
Besides an ox that from the herd they gat.
And now the king and herdsman, from the field,
In good way were to town; ’twixt whom was held
Some walking conference, which thus begun
The good Eumæus: “Guest, your will was won,
Because the prince commanded, to make way
Up to the city, though I wish’d your stay,
And to have made you guardian of my stall;
But I, in care and fear of what might fall
In after-anger of the prince, forbore.
//The checks of princes touch their subjects sore.//
But make we haste, the day is nearly ended,
And cold airs still are in the even extended.”
“I know’t,” said he, “consider all; your charge
Is giv’n to one that understands at large.
Haste then. Hereafter, you shall lead the way;
Afford your staff too, if it fit your stay,
That I may use it; since you say our pass
Is less friend to a weak foot than it was.”
Thus cast he on his neck his nasty scrip,
All-patch’d and torn; a cord, that would not slip
For knots and bracks about the mouth of it,
Made serve the turn; and then his swain did fit
His forc’d state with a staff. Then plied they hard
Their way to town, their cottage left in guard
To swains and dogs. And now Eumæus led
The king along, his garments to a thread
All-bare and burn’d, and he himself hard bore
Upon his staff, at all parts like a poor
And sad old beggar. But when now they got
The rough highway, their voyage wanted not
Much of the city, where a fount they reach’d,
From whence the town their choicest water fetch’d,
That ever overflow’d, and curious art
Was shown about it; in which three had part
Whose names Neritus and Polyctor were,
And famous Ithacus. It had a sphere
Of poplar, that ran round about the wall;
And into it a lofty rock let fall
Continual supply of cool clear stream.
On whose top, to the Nymphs that were supreme
In those parts’ loves, a stately altar rose,
Where ev’ry traveller did still impose
Devoted sacrifice. At this fount found
These silly travellers a man renown’d
For guard of goats, which now he had in guide,
Whose huge-stor’d herd two herdsmen kept beside,
For all herds it excell’d, and bred a feed
For Wooers only. He was Dolius’ seed,
And call’d Melanthius. Who casting eye
On these two there, he chid them terribly,
And so past mean, that ev’n the wretched fate
Now on Ulysses he did irritate.
His fume to this effect he did pursue:
“Why so,’tis now at all parts passing true,
That ill leads ill, good evermore doth train
With like his like. Why, thou unenvied swain,
Whither dost thou lead this same victless leaguer,
This bane of banquets, this most nasty beggar,
Whose sight doth make one sad, it so abhors?
Who, with his standing in so many doors,
Hath broke his back; and all his beggary tends
To beg base crusts, but to no manly ends,
As asking swords, or with activity
To get a caldron. Wouldst thou give him me,
To farm my stable, or to sweep my yard,
And bring browse to my kids, and that preferr’d
He should be at my keeping for his pains
To drink as much whey as his thirsty veins
Would still be swilling (whey made all his fees)
His monstrous belly would oppress his knees.
But he hath learn’d to lead base life about,
And will not work, but crouch among the rout
For broken meat to cram his bursten gut.
Yet this I’ll say, and he will find it put
In sure effect, that if he enters where
Ulysses’ roofs cast shade, the stools will there
About his ears fly, all the house will throw,
And rub his ragged sides with cuffs enow.”
Past these reviles, his manless rudeness spurn’d
Divine Ulysses; who at no part turn’d
His face from him, but had his spirit fed
With these two thoughts, if he should strike him dead
With his bestowéd staff, or at his feet
Make his direct head and the pavement meet.
But he bore all, and entertain’d a breast
That in the strife of all extremes did rest.
Eumæus, frowning on him, chid him yet,
And, lifting up his hands to heav’n, he set
This bitter curse at him: “O you that bear
Fair name to be the race of Jupiter,
Nymphs of these fountains! If Ulysses ever
Burn’d thighs to you, that, hid in fat, did never
Fail your acceptance, of or lamb or kid,
Grant this grace to me: Let the man thus hid
Shine through his dark fate, make some God his guide,
That, to thee, goatherd, this same palate’s pride, ^^[[123|Chapman: Footnote 123]]^^
Thou driv’st afore thee, he may come and make
The scatt’rings of the earth, and overtake
Thy wrongs, with forcing thee to ever err
About the city, hunted by his fear.
And in the mean space by some slothful swains
Let lousy sickness gnaw thy cattle’s veins.”
“O Gods!” replied Melanthius, “what a curse
Hath this dog bark’d out, and can yet do worse!
This man shall I have giv’n into my hands,
When in a well-built ship to far-off lands
I shall transport him, that, should I want here,
My sale of him may find me victuals there.
And, for Ulysses, would to heav’n his joy
The silver-bearing-bow God would destroy,
This day, within his house, as sure as he
The day of his return shall never see.”
This said, he left them going silent on;
But he out-went them, and took straight upon
The palace-royal, which he enter’d straight,
Sat with the Wooers, and his trencher’s freight
The carvers gave him of the flesh there vented,
But bread the rev’rend butleress presented.
He took against Eurymachus his place,
Who most of all the Wooers gave him grace.
And now Ulysses and his swain got near,
When round about them visited their ear
The hollow harp’s delicious-stricken string,
To which did Phemius, near the Wooers, sing.
Then by the hand Ulysses took his swain,
And said: “Eumæus, one may here see plain,
In many a grace, that Laertiades
Built here these turrets, and,’mongst others these,
His whole court arm’d with such a goodly wall,
The cornice, and the cope, majestical,
His double gates, and turrets, built too strong
For force or virtue ever to expugn.
I know the feasters in it now abound,
Their cates cast such a savour; and the sound
The harp gives argues an accomplish’d feast.
//The Gods made music banquet’s dearest guest.”//
“These things,” said he, “your skill may tell with ease,
Since you are grac’d with greater knowledges.
But now consult we how these works shall sort,
If you will first approach this praiséd court,
And see these Wooers, I remaining here;
Or I shall enter, and yourself forbear?
But be not you too tedious in your stay,
Lest thrust ye be and buffeted away.
//Brain hath no fence for blows;// look to ’t I pray.”
“You speak to one that comprehends,” said he,
“Go you before, and here adventure me.
I have of old been us’d to cuffs and blows;
My mind is harden’d, having borne the throes
Of many a sour event in waves and wars,
Where knocks and buffets are no foreigners.
And this same harmful belly by no mean
The greatest abstinent can ever wean.
//Men suffer much bane by the belly’s rage;//
For whose sake ships in all their equipage
Are arm’d, and set out to th’ untamed seas,
Their bulks full-fraught with ills to enemies.”
Such speech they chang’d; when in the yard there lay
A dog, call’d Argus, which, before his way
Assum’d for Ilion, Ulysses bred,
Yet stood his pleasure then in little stead,
As being too young, but, growing to his grace,
Young men made choice of him for ev’ry chace,
Or of their wild goats, of their hares, or harts.
But his king gone, and he, now past his parts,
Lay all abjectly on the stable’s store,
Before the oxstall, and mules’ stable door,
To keep the clothes cast from the peasants’ hands,
While they laid compass on Ulysses’ lands,
The dog, with ticks (unlook’d-to) overgrown.
But by this dog no sooner seen but known
Was wise Ulysses, who new-enter’d there,
Up went his dog’s laid ears, and, coming near,
Up he himself rose, fawn’d, and wagg’d his stern,
Couch’d close his ears, and lay so; nor discern ^^[[124|Chapman: Footnote 124]]^^
Could evermore his dear-lov’d lord again.
Ulysses saw it, nor had pow’r t’ abstain
From shedding tears; which (far-off seeing his swain)
He dried from his sight clean; to whom he thus
His grief dissembled: “’Tis miraculous,
That such a dog as this should have his lair
On such a dunghill, for his form is fair.
And yet, I know not, if there were in him
Good pace, or parts, for all his goodly limb;
Or he liv’d empty of those inward things,
As are those trencher-beagles tending kings,
Whom for their pleasure’s, or their glory’s, sake,
Or fashion, they into their favour take.”
“This dog,” said he, “was servant to one dead
A huge time since. But if he bore his head,
For form and quality, of such a height,
As when Ulysses, bound for th’ Ilion fight,
Or quickly after, left him, your rapt eyes
Would then admire to see him use his thighs
In strength and swiftness. He would nothing fly,
Nor anything let ’scape. If once his eye
Seiz’d any wild beast, he knew straight his scent;
Go where he would, away with him he went.
Nor was there ever any savage stood
Amongst the thickets of the deepest wood
Long time before him, but he pull’d him down;
As well by that true hunting to be shown
In such vast coverts, as for speed of pace
In any open lawn. For in deep chace
He was a passing-wise and well-nos’d hound.
And yet is all this good in him uncrown’d
With any grace here now, nor he more fed
Than any errant cur. His king is dead,
Far from his country; and his servants are
So negligent they lend his hound no care.
//Where masters rule not, but let men alone,//
//You never there see honest service done.//
//That man’s half-virtue Jove takes quite away,//
//That once is sun-burnt with the servile day.”//
This said, he enter’d the well-builded-tow’rs,
Up bearing right upon the glorious Wooers,
And left poor Argus dead; his lord’s first sight
Since that time twenty years bereft his light.
Telemachus did far the first behold
Eumæus enter, and made signs he should
Come up to him. He, noting, came, and took
On earth his seat. And then the master-cook
Serv’d in more banquet; of which, part he set
Before the Wooers, part the prince did get,
Who sate alone, his table plac’d aside;
To which the herald did the bread divide.
After Eumæus, enter’d straight the king, ^^[[125|Chapman: Footnote 125]]^^
Like to a poor and heavy aged thing,
Bore hard upon his staff, and was so clad
As would have made his mere beholder sad.
Upon the ashen floor his limbs he spread,
And ’gainst a cypress-threshold stay’d his head,
The tree wrought smooth, and in a line direct
Tried by the plumb and by the architect.
The prince then bade the herdsman give him bread,
The finest there, and see that prostrated
At-all-parts plight of his giv’n all the cheer
His hands could turn to: “Take,” said he, “and bear
These cates to him, and bid him beg of all
These Wooers here, and to their festival
Bear up with all the impudence he can;
//Bashful behaviour fits no needy man.”//
He heard, and did his will. “Hold guest,” said he,
“Telemachus commends these cates to thee,
Bids thee bear up, and all these Wooers implore.
//Wit must make impudent whom Fate makes poor.”//
“O Jove,” said he, “do my poor pray’rs the grace
To make him blessed’st of the mortal race,
And ev’ry thought now in his gen’rous heart
To deeds that further my desires convert.”
Thus took he in with both his hands his store,
And in the uncouth scrip, that lay before
His ill-shod feet, repos’d it; whence he fed
All time the music to the feasters play’d.
Both jointly ending, then began the Wooers
To put in old act their tumultuous pow’rs;
When Pallas standing close did prompt her friend,
To prove how far the bounties would extend
Of those proud Wooers; so, to let him try
Who most, who least, had learn’d humanity.
However, no thought touch’d Minerva’s mind,
That anyone should’scape his wreak design’d.
He handsomely became all, crept about
To ev’ry Wooer, held a forc’d hand out,
And all his work did in so like a way,
As he had practis’d begging many a day.
And though they knew all beggars could do this,
Yet they admir’d it as no deed of his;
Though far from thought of other, us’d expence
And pity to him, who he was, and whence,
Inquiring mutually. Melanthius then:
“Hear me, ye Wooers of the far-fam’d queen,
About this beggar. I have seen before
This face of his; and know for certain more,
That this swain brought him hither. What he is,
Or whence he came, flies me.” Reply to this
Antinous made, and mock’d Eumæus thus:
“O thou renownéd herdsman, why to us
Brought’st thou this beggar? Serves it not our hands;
That other land-leapers, and cormorands,
Profane poor knaves, lie on us, unconducted,
But you must bring them? So amiss instructed
Art thou in course of thrift, as not to know
Thy lord’s goods wrack’d in this their overflow?
Which think’st thou nothing, that thou call’st in these?”
Eumæus answer’d: “Though you may be wise,
You speak not wisely. Who calls in a guest
That is a guest himself? None call to feast
Other than men that are of public use,
Prophets, or poets, whom the Gods produce,
Physicians for men’s ills, or architects.
Such men the boundless earth affords respects
Bounded in honour, and may call them well.
But poor men who calls? Who doth so excell
In others’ good to do himself an ill?
But all Ulysses’ servants have been still
Eyesores in your way more than all that woo,
And chiefly I. But what care I for you,
As long as these roofs hold as thralls to none
The wise Penelope and her god-like son?”
“Forbear,” said he, “and leave this tongue’s bold ill.
Antinous uses to be crossing still,
And give sharp words; his blood that humour bears,
To set men still together by the ears.
But,” turning then t’ Antinous, “O,” said he,
“You entertain a father’s care of me,
To turn these eating guests out. ’Tis advice
Of needful use for my poor faculties,
But God doth not allow this; there must be
Some care of poor men in humanity.
What you yourselves take, give; I not envy,
But give command that hospitality
Be giv’n all strangers. Nor shall my pow’rs fear,
If this mood in me reach my mother’s ear;
Much less the servants’, that are here to see
Ulysses’ house kept in his old degree.
But you bear no such mind, your wits more cast
To fill yourself than let another taste.”
Antinous answer’d him: “Brave-spoken man!
Whose mind’s free fire see check’d no virtue can.
If all we Wooers here would give as much
As my mind serves, his ^^[[126|Chapman: Footnote 126]]^^ largess should be such
As would for three months serve his far-off way
From troubling your house with more cause of stay.”
This said, he took a stool up, that did rest,
Beneath the board, his spangled feet at feast,
And offer’d at him; but the rest gave all,
And fill’d his fulsome scrip with festival.
And so Ulysses for the present was,
And for the future, furnish’d, and his pass
Bent to the door to eat. Yet could not leave
Antinous so, but said: “Do you too give,
Lov’d lord; your presence makes a show to me
As you not worst were of the company,
But best, and so much that you seem the king,
And therefore you should give some better thing
Than bread, like others. I will spread your praise
Through all the wide world, that have in my days
Kept house myself, and trod the wealthy ways
Of other men ev’n to the title Blest;
And often have I giv’n an erring guest
(How mean soever) to the utmost gain
Of what he wanted, kept whole troops of men,
And had all other comings in, with which
Men live so well, and gain the fame of rich.
Yet Jove consum’d all; he would have it so;
To which, his mean was this: He made me go
Far off, for Egypt, in the rude consort
Of all-ways-wand’ring pirates, where, in port,
I bade my lov’d men draw their ships ashore,
And dwell amongst them; sent out some t’ explore
Up to the mountains, who, intemperate,
And their inflam’d bloods bent to satiate,
Forag’d the rich fields, hal’d the women thence,
And unwean’d children, with the foul expence
Both of their fames and bloods. The cry then flew
Straight to the city; and the great fields grew
With horse and foot, and flam’d with iron arms;
When Jove (that breaks the thunder in alarms)
An ill flight cast amongst my men; not one
Inspir’d with spirit to stand, and turn upon
The fierce pursuing foe; and therefore stood
Their ill fate thick about them; some in blood,
And some in bondage; toils led by constraint
Fast’ning upon them. Me along they sent
To Cyprus with a stranger-prince they met,
Dmetor Iasides, who th’ imperial seat
Of that sweet island sway’d in strong command.
And thus feel I here need’s contemned hand.”
“And what God sent,” said he, “this suff’ring bane
To vex our banquet? Stand off, nor profane
My board so boldly, lest I show thee here
Cyprus and Egypt made more sour than there.
You are a saucy set-fac’d vagabond.
About with all you go, and they, beyond
Discretion, give thee, since they find not here
The least proportion set down to their cheer.
But ev’ry fountain hath his under-floods.
//It is no bounty to give others’ goods.”//
“O Gods,” replied Ulysses, “I see now,
You bear no soul in this your goodly show.
Beggars at your board, I perceive, should get
Scarce salt from your hands, if themselves brought meat;
Since, sitting where another’s board is spread,
That flows with feast, not to the broken bread
Will your allowance reach.” “Nay then,” said he,
And look’d austerely, “if so saucy be
Your suffer’d language, I suppose, that clear
You shall not ’scape without some broken cheer.”
Thus rapt he up a stool, with which he smit
The king’s right shoulder, ’twixt his neck and it.
He stood him like a rock. Antinous’ dart
Nor stirr’d Ulysses; who in his great heart
Deep ills projected, which, for time yet, close
He bound in silence, shook his head, and went
Out to the entry, where he then gave vent
To his full scrip, sat on the earth, and eat,
And talk’d still to the Wooers: “Hear me yet,
Ye Wooers of the Queen. It never grieves
A man to take blows, where for sheep, or beeves,
Or other main possessions, a man fights;
But for his harmful belly this man smites,
Whose love to many a man breeds many a woe.
And if the poor have Gods, and Furies too,
Before Antinous wear his nuptial wreath,
He shall be worn upon the dart of death.”
“Harsh guest,” said he, “sit silent at your meat,
Or seek your desp’rate plight some safer seat,
Lest by the hands or heels youths drag your years,
And rend your rotten rags about your ears.”
This made the rest as highly hate his folly,
As he had violated something holy.
When one, ev’n of the proudest, thus began:
“Thou dost not nobly, thus to play the man
On such an errant wretch. O ill dispos’d!
Perhaps some sacred Godhead goes enclos’d
Ev’n in his abject outside; for the Gods
Have often visited these rich abodes
Like such poor stranger pilgrims, since their pow’rs
(Being always shapeful) glide through towns and tow’rs,
Observing, as they pass still, who they be
That piety love, and who impiety.”
This all men said, but he held sayings cheap.
And all this time Telemachus did heap
Sorrow on sorrow on his beating heart,
To see his father stricken; yet let part
No tear to earth, but shook his head, and thought
As deep as those ills that were after wrought.
The Queen now, hearing of her poor guest’s stroke,
Said to her maid (as to her Wooer she spoke),
“I wish the famous-for-his-bow, the Sun,
Would strike thy heart so.” Her wish, thus begun,
Her lady, fair Eurynome, pursued
Her execration, and did thus conclude:
“So may our vows call down from heav’n his end,
And let no one life of the rest extend
His life till morning.” “O Eurynomé,”
Replied the Queen, “may all Gods speak in thee,
For all the Wooers we should rate as foes,
Since all their weals they place in others’ woes!
But this Antinous we past all should hate,
As one resembling black and cruel Fate.
A poor strange wretch begg’d here, compell’d by need,
Ask’d all, and ev’ry one gave in his deed,
Fill’d his sad scrip, and eas’d his heavy wants,
Only this man bestow’d unmanly taunts,
And with a cruel blow, his force let fly,
‘Twixt neck and shoulders show’d his charity.”
These minds, above, she and her maids did show,
While, at his scrip, Ulysses sat below.
In which time she Eumæus call’d, and said:
“Go, good Eumæus, and see soon convey’d
The stranger to me; bid him come and take
My salutations for his welcome’s sake,
And my desire serve, if he hath not heard
Or seen distress’d Ulysses, who hath err’d
Like such a man, and therefore chance may fall
He hath by him been met and spoke withal?”
“O Queen,” said he, “I wish to heav’n your ear
Were quit of this unrev’rend noise you hear
From these rude Wooers, when I bring the guest;
Such words your ear would let into your breast
As would delight it to your very heart.
Three nights and days I did my roof impart
To his fruition (for he came to me
The first of all men since he fled the sea)
And yet he had not giv’n a perfect end
To his relation of what woes did spend
The spite of Fate on him, but as you see ^^[[127|Chapman: Footnote 127]]^^
A singer, breathing out of Deity
Love-kindling lines, when all men seated near
Are rapt with endless thirst to ever hear;
So sweeten’d he my bosom at my meat,
Affirming that Ulysses was in Crete,
Where first the memories of Minos were,
A guest to him there dwelling then, as dear
As his true father; and from thence came he
Tir’d on with sorrows, toss’d from sea to sea,
To cast himself in dust, and tumble here,
At Wooers’ feet, for blows and broken cheer.
But of Ulysses, where the Thesprots dwell,
A wealthy people, Fame, he says, did tell
The still survival; who his native light
Was bound for now, with treasure infinite.”
“Call him,” said she, “that he himself may say
This over to me. We shall soon have way
Giv’n by the Wooers; they, as well at gate,
As set within doors, use to recreate
Their high-fed spirits. As their humours lead
They follow; and may well; for still they tread
Uncharg’d ways here, their own wealth lying unwasted
In poor-kept houses, only something tasted
Their bread and wine is by their household swains,
But they themselves let loose continual reins
To our expenses, making slaughter still
Of sheep, goats, oxen, feeding past their fill,
And vainly lavishing our richest wine;
All these extending past the sacred line,
For here lives no man like Ulysses now
To curb these reins. But should he once show
His country-light his presence, he and his
Would soon revenge these Wooers’ injuries.”
This said, about the house, in echoes round,
Her son’s strange neesings made a horrid sound; ^^[[128|Chapman: Footnote 128]]^^
At which the Queen yet laugh’d, and said: “Go call
The stranger to me. Heard’st thou not, to all
My words last utter’d, what a neesing brake
From my Telemachus? From whence I make,
This sure conclusion: That the death and fate
Of ev’ry Wooer here is near his date.
Call, then, the guest, and if he tell as true
What I shall ask him, coat, cloak, all things new,
These hands shall yield him.” This said, down he went,
And told Ulysses, “that the Queen had sent
To call him to her, that she might enquire
About her husband what her sad desire
Urg’d her to ask; and, if she found him true,
Both coat, and cassock (which he needed) new
Her hands would put on him; and that the bread,
Which now he begg’d amongst the common tread,
Should freely feed his hunger now from her,
Who all he wish’d would to his wants prefer.”
His answer was: “I will with fit speed tell
The whole truth to the Queen; for passing well
I know her lord, since he and I have shar’d
In equal sorrows. But I much am scar’d
With this rude multitude of Wooers here,
The rage of whose pride smites heav’n’s brazen sphere.
Of whose rout when one struck me for no fault,
Telemachus nor none else turn’d th’ assault
From my poor shoulders. Therefore, though she haste,
Beseech the Queen her patience will see past
The day’s broad light, and then may she enquire.
’Tis but my closer pressing to the fire
In th’ ev’ning’s cold, because my weeds, you know,
Are passing thin; for I made bold to show
Their bracks to you, and pray’d your kind supply.”
He heard, and hasted; and met instantly
The Queen upon the pavement in his way,
Who ask’d: “What! Bring’st thou not? What cause of stay
Find his austere supposes? Takes he fear
Of th’ unjust Wooers? Or thus hard doth bear
On any other doubt the house objects?
He does me wrong, and gives too nice respects
To his fear’d safety.” “He does right,” said he,
“And what he fears should move the policy
Of any wise one; taking care to shun
The violent Wooers. He bids bide, till sun
Hath hid his broad light. And, believe it, Queen,
’Twill make your best course, since you two, unseen,
May pass th’ encounter; you to speak more free,
And he your ear gain less distractedly.”
“The guest is wise,” said she, “and well doth give
The right thought use. Of all the men that live,
Life serves none such as these proud Wooers are,
To give a good man cause to use his care.”
Thus, all agreed, amongst the Wooers goes
Eumæus to the prince, and, whisp’ring close,
Said: “Now, my love, my charge shall take up me,
(Your goods and mine). What here is, you must see
In fit protection. But, in chief, regard
Your own dear safeguard; whose state study hard,
Lest suff’rance seize you. Many a wicked thought
Conceal these Wooers; whom just Jove see brought
To utter ruin, ere it touch at us.”
“So chance it, friend,” replied Telemachus,
“Your bever taken, go. In first of day
Come, and bring sacrifice the best you may.
To me and to th’ Immortals be the care
or whatsoever here the safeties are.”
This said, he sat in his elaborate throne.
Eumæus (fed to satisfaction)
Went to his charge, left both the court and walls
Full of secure and fatal festivals,
In which the Wooers’ pleasures still would sway.
And now begun the even’s near-ending day.
"""
The End Of The Seventeenth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses and rogue Irus fight.
Penelope vouchsafes her sight
To all her Wooers; who present
Gifts to her, ravish’d with content.
A certain parlé then we sing.
Betwixt a Wooer and the King.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Σίγμα.
The beggar’s glee.
The King’s high fame.
Gifts giv’n to see
A virtuous dame.
"""
"""
There came a common beggar to the court,
Who in the city begg’d of all resort,
Excell’d in madness of the gut, drunk, ate,
Past intermission, was most hugely great,
Yet had no fibres in him nor no force,
In sight a man, in mind a living corse.
His true name was Arnæus, for his mother
Impos’d it from his birth, and yet another
The city youth would give him (from the course
He after took, deriv’d out of the force
That need held on him, which was up and down
To run on all men’s errands through the town)
Which sounded Irus. When whose gut was come,
He needs would bar Ulysses his own home,
And fell to chiding him: “Old man,” said he,
“Your way out of the entry quickly see
Be with fair language taken, lest your stay
But little longer see you dragg’d away.
See, sir, observe you not how all these make
Direct signs at me, charging me to take
Your heels, and drag you out? But I take shame.
Rise yet, y’ are best, lest we two play a game
At cuffs together.” He bent brows, and said:
“Wretch! I do thee no ill, nor once upbraid
Thy presence with a word, nor, what mine eye
By all hands sees thee giv’n, one thought envy.
Nor shouldst thou envy others. Thou may’st see
The place will hold us both; and seem’st to me
A beggar like myself; which who can mend?
//The Gods give most to whom they least are friend.//
//The chief goods Gods give, is in good to end.//
But to the hands’ strife, of which y’ are so free,
Provoke me not, for fear you anger me;
And lest the old man, on whose scorn you stood,
Your lips and bosom make shake hands in blood.
I love my quiet well, and more will love
To-morrow than today. But if you move
My peace beyond my right, the war you make
Will never after give you will to take
Ulysses’ house into your begging walk.”
“O Gods,” said he, “how volubly doth talk
This eating gulf! And how his fume breaks out,
As from an old crack’d oven! Whom I will clout
So bitterly, and so with both hands mall
His chaps together, that his teeth shall fall
As plain seen on the earth as any sow’s,
That ruts the corn-fields, or devours the mows.
Come, close we now, that all may see what wrong
An old man tempts that takes at cuffs a young.”
Thus in the entry of those lofty tow’rs
These two, with all spleen, spent their jarring pow’rs.
Antinous took it, laugh’d, and said: “O friends,
We never had such sport! This guest contends
With this vast beggar at the buffet’s fight.
Come, join we hands, and screw up all their spite.”
All rose in laughters; and about them bore
All the ragg’d rout of beggars at the door.
Then mov’d Antinous the victor’s hire
To all the Wooers thus: “There are now at fire
Two breasts of goat; both which let law set down
Before the man that wins the day’s renown,
With all their fat and gravy. And of both
The glorious victor shall prefer his tooth,
To which he makes his choice of, from us all,
And ever after banquet in our hall,
With what our boards yield; not a beggar more
Allow’d to share, but all keep out at door.”
This he propos’d; and this they all approv’d,
To which Ulysses answer’d: “O most lov’d,
By no means should an old man, and one old
In chief with sorrows, be so over-bold
To combat with his younger; but, alas,
Man’s own-ill-working belly needs will pass
This work upon me, and enforce me, too,
To beat this fellow. But then, you must do
My age no wrong, to take my younger’s part,
And play me foul play, making your strokes’ smart
Help his to conquer; for you eas’ly may
With your strengths crush me. Do then right, and lay
Your honours on it in your oaths, to yield
His part no aid, but equal leave the field.”
All swore his will. But then Telemachus
His father’s scoffs with comforts serious
Could not but answer, and made this reply:
“Guest! If thine own pow’rs cheer thy victory,
Fear no man’s else that will not pass it free.
He fights with many that shall touch but thee.
I’ll see thy guest-right paid. Thou here art come
In my protection; and to this the sum
Of all these Wooers (which Antinous are
And King Eurymachus) conjoin their care.”
Both vow’d it. When Ulysses, laying by
His upper weed, his inner beggary
Near show’d his shame, which he with rags prevented
Pluck’d from about his thighs, and so presented
Their goodly sight, which were so white and great,
And his large shoulders were to view so set
By his bare rags, his arms, his breast, and all,
So broad, and brawny—their grace natural
Being kept by Pallas, ever standing near—
That all the Wooers his admirers were
Beyond all measure, mutual whispers driv’n
Through all their cluster, saying: “Sure as heav’n
Poor Irus pull’d upon him bitter blows.
Through his thin garment what a thigh he shows!”
They said; but Irus felt. His coward mind
Was mov’d at root. But now he needs must find
Facts to his brags; and forth at all parts fit
The servants brought him, all his art’ries smit
With fears and tremblings. Which Antinous saw,
And said: “Nay, now too late comes fear. No law
Thou shouldst at first have giv’n thy braggart vein,
Nor should it so have swell’d, if terrors strain
Thy spirits to this pass, for a man so old,
And worn with penuries that still lay hold
On his ragg’d person. Howsoever, take
This vow from me for firm: That if, he make
Thy forces stoop, and prove his own supreme,
I’ll put thee in a ship, and down the stream
Send thee ashore where King Echetus reigns,
(The roughest tyrant that the world contains)
And he will slit thy nostrils, crop each ear,
Thy shame cut off, and give it dogs to tear.”
This shook his nerves the more. But both were now
Brought to the lists; and up did either throw
His heavy fists. Ulysses, in suspense
To strike so home that he should fright from thence
His coward soul, his trunk laid prostrate there,
Or let him take more leisure to his fear,
And stoop him by degrees. The last show’d best,
To strike him slightly, out of fear the rest
Would else discover him. But, peace now broke,
On his right shoulder Irus laid his stroke.
Ulysses struck him just beneath the ear,
His jawbone broke, and made the blood appear;
When straight he strew’d the dust, and made his cry
Stand for himself; with whom his teeth did lie,
Spit with his blood out; and against the ground
His heels lay sprawling. Up the hands went round
Of all the Wooers, all at point to die
With violent laughters. Then the king did ply
The beggar’s feet, and dragg’d him forth the hall,
Along the entry, to the gates and wall;
Where leaving him, he put into his hand
A staff; and bade him there use his command
On swine and dogs, and not presume to be
Lord of the guests, or of the beggary,
Since he of all men was the scum and curse;
And so bade please with that, or fare yet worse.
Then cast he on his scrip, all-patch’d and rent,
Hung by a rotten cord, and back he went
To greet the entry’s threshold with his seat.
The Wooers throng’d to him, and did entreat
With gentle words his conquest, laughing still,
Pray’d Jove and all the Gods to give his will
What most it wish’d him and would joy him most,
Since he so happily had clear’d their coast
Of that unsavoury morsel; whom they vow’d
To see with all their utmost haste bestow’d
Aboard a ship, and for Epirus sent
To King Echetus, on whose throne was spent
The worst man’s seat that breath’d. And thus was grac’d
Divine Ulysses, who with joy embrac’d
Ev’n that poor conquest. Then was set to him
The goodly goat’s breast promis’d (that did swim
In fat and gravy) by Antinous,
And from a basket, by Amphinomus,
Were two breads giv’n him; who, besides, renown’d
His banquet with a golden goblet; crown’d,
And this high salutation: “Frolic, guest,
And be those riches that you first possest
Restor’d again with full as many joys,
As in your poor state I see now annoys.”
“Amphinomus,” said he, “you seem to me
Exceeding wise, as being the progeny
Of such a father as authentic Fame
Hath told me was so, one of honour’d name,
And great revenues in Dulichius,
His fair name Nisus. He is blazon’d thus;
And you to be his son, his wisdom heiring,
As well as wealth, his state in nought impairing.
To prove which always, let me tell you this,
(As warning you to shun the miseries
That follow full states, if they be not held
With wisdom still at full, and so compell’d
To courses that abode not in their brows,
By too much swing, their sudden overthrows)
//Of all things breathing, or that creep on earth,//
//Nought is more wretched than a human birth.//
//Bless’d men think never they can cursed be,//
//While any power lasts to move a knee.//
But when the bless’d Gods make them feel that smart,
That fled their faith so, as they had no heart
They bear their suff’rings, and, what well they might
Have clearly shunn’d, they then meet in despite.
//The mind of man flies still out of his way,//
//Unless God guide and prompt it ev’ry day.//
I thought me once a blesséd man with men.
And fashion’d me to all so counted then,
Did all injustice like them, what for lust,
Or any pleasure, never so unjust
I could by pow’r or violence obtain,
And gave them both in all their pow’rs the rein,
Bold of my fathers and my brothers still;
While which held good my arts seem’d never ill.
And thus is none held simply good or bad,
But as his will is either miss’d or had.
All goods God’s gifts man calls, howe’er he gets them,
And so takes all; what price soe’er God sets them,
Says nought how ill they come, nor will controul
That ravine in him, though it cost his soul.
And these parts here I see these Wooers play,
Take all that falls, and all dishonours lay
On that man’s Queen, that, tell your friends, doth bear
No long time’s absence, but is passing near.
Let God then guide thee home, lest he may meet
In his return thy undeparted feet;
For when he enters, and sees men so rude,
The quarrel cannot but in blood conclude.”
This said, he sacrific’d, then drunk, and then
Referr’d the giv’n bowl to the guide-of-men;
Who walk’d away, afflicted at his heart,
Shook head, and fear’d that these facts would convert
To ill in th’ end; yet had not grace to fly,
Minerva stay’d him, being ordain’d to die
Upon the lance of young Ulyssides.
So down he sat; and then did Pallas please
T’ incline the Queen’s affections to appear
To all the Wooers, to extend their cheer
To th’ utmost lightning that still ushers death,
And made her put on all the painted sheath,
That might both set her Wooers’ fancies high,
And get her greater honour in the eye
Ev’n of her son and sov’reign than before.
Who laughing yet, to show her humour bore
No serious appetite to that light show,
She told Eurynomé, that not till now
She ever knew her entertain desire
To please her Wooers’ eyes, but oft on fire
She set their hate, in keeping from them still;
Yet now she pleas’d t’ appear, though from no will
To do them honour, vowing she would tell
Her son that of them that should fit him well
To make use of; which was, not to converse
Too freely with their pride, nor to disperse
His thoughts amongst them, since they us’d to give
Good words, but through them ill intents did drive.
Eurynomé replied: “With good advise
You vow his counsel, and your open guise.
Go then, advise your son, nor keep more close
Your cheeks, still drown’d in your eyes’ overflows,
But bathe your body, and with balms make clear
Your thicken’d count’nance. //Uncomposéd cheer,//
//And ever mourning, will the marrow wear.//
Nor have you cause to mourn; your son hath now
Put on that virtue which, in chief, your vow
Wish’d, as your blessing, at his birth, might deck
His blood and person.” “But forbear to speak
Of baths, or balmings, or of beauty, now,”
The Queen replied, “lest, urging comforts, you
Discomfort much; because the Gods have won
The spoil of my looks since my lord was gone.
But these must serve. Call hither then to me
Hippodamia and Autonoé,
That those our train additions may supply
Our own deserts. And yet, besides, not I,
With all my age, have learn’d the boldness yet
T’ expose myself to men, unless I get
Some other gracers.” This said, forth she went
To call the ladies, and much spirit spent
To make their utmost speed, for now their Queen
Would both herself show, and make them be seen.
But now Minerva other projects laid,
And through Icarius’ daughter’s veins convey’d
Sweet sleep’s desire; in whose soft fumes involv’d
She was as soon as laid, and quite dissolv’d
Were all her lineaments. The Goddess then
Bestow’d immortal gifts on her, that men
Might wonder at her beauties; and the beams
That glister in the Deified Supremes
She clear’d her mourning count’nance up withall.
Ev’n such a radiance as doth round empall
Crown’d Cytherea, when her order’d places
Conduct the bevy of the dancing Graces,
She added to her own; more plump, more high,
And fairer than the polish’d ivory,
Rend’ring her parts and presence. This grace done,
Away the Deity flew; and up did run
Her lovely-wristed ladies, with a noise
That blew the soft chains from her sleeping joys;
When she her fair eyes wip’d, and, gasping, said:
“O me unblest! How deep a sweet sleep spread
His shades about me! Would Diana pleas’d
To shoot me with a death no more diseas’d,
As soon as might be, that no more my moan
Might waste my blood in weepings never done,
For want of that accomplish’d virtue spher’d
In my lov’d lord, to all the Greeks preferr’d!”
Then she descended with her maids, and took
Place in the portal; whence her beamy look
Reach’d ev’ry Wooer’s heart; yet cast she on
So thin a veil, that through it quite there shone
A grace so stol’n, it pleas’d above the clear,
And sunk the knees of ev’ry Wooer there,
Their minds so melted in love’s vehement fires,
That to her bed she heighten’d all desires.
The prince then coming near, she said: “O son,
Thy thoughts and judgments have not yet put on
That constancy in what becomes their good,
Which all expect in thee. Thy younger blood
Did sparkle choicer spirits; but, arriv’d
At this full growth, wherein their form hath thriv’d
Beyond the bounds of childhood, and when now,
Beholders should affirm, ‘This man doth grow
Like the rare son of his matchless Sire,
(His goodliness, his beauty, and his fire
Of soul aspir’d to)’ thou mak’st nothing good
Thy fate, nor fortune, nor thy height of blood,
In manage of thy actions. What a deed
Of foul desert hath thy gross suff’rance freed
Beneath thine own roof! A poor stranger here
Us’d most unmanly! How will this appear
To all the world, when Fame shall trumpet out,
That thus, and thus, are our guests beat about
Our court unrighted? ’Tis a blaze will show
Extremely shameful to your name and you.”
“I blame you not, O mother,” he replied,
“That, this clear wrong sustain’d by me, you chide;
Yet know I both the good and bad of all,
Being past the years in which young errors fall.
But, all this known, skill is not so exact
To give, when once it knows, things fit their fact.
I well may doubt the prease of strangers here,
Who, bent to ill, and only my nerves near,
May do it in despite. And yet the jar
Betwixt our guest and Irus was no war
Wrought by the Wooers; nor our guest sustain’d
Wrong in that action, but the conquest gain’d.
And would to Jove, Minerva, and the Sun,
That all your Wooers might serve Contention
For such a purchase as the beggar made,
And wore such weak heads! Some should death invade,
Strew’d in the entry, some embrue the hall,
Till ev’ry man had vengeance capital,
Sattled like Irus at the gates, his head
Ev’ry way nodding, like one forfeited
To reeling Bacchus, knees nor feet his own,
To bear him where he’s better lov’d or known.”
Their speeches giv’n this end, Eurymachus
Began his courtship, and express’d it thus:
“Most wise Icarius’ daughter! If all those,
That did for Colchos vent’rous sail dispose
For that rich purchase, had before but seen
Earth’s richer prize in th’ Ithacensian Queen,
They had not made that voyage, but to you
Would all their virtues and their beings vow.
Should all the world know what a worth you store,
To-morrow than today, and next light, more
Your court should banquet; since to all dames you
Are far preferr’d, both for the grace of show,
In stature, beauty, form in ev’ry kind
Of all parts outward, and for faultless mind.”
“Alas,” said she, “my virtue, body, form,
The Gods have blasted with that only storm
That ravish’d Greece to Ilion, since my lord,
For that war shipp’d, bore all my goods aboard.
If he, return’d, should come and govern here
My life’s whole state, the grace of all things there
His guide would heighten, as the spirit it bore;
Which dead in me lives, giv’n him long before.
A sad course I live now; Heav’n’s stern decree
With many an ill hath numb’d and deaded me.
He took life with him, when he took my hand
In parting from me to the Trojan strand,
These words my witness: ‘Woman! I conceive
That not all th’ Achives bound for Troy shall leave
Their native earth their safe returnéd bones,
Fame saying, that Troy trains up approvéd sons
In deeds of arms, brave putters-off of shafts,
For winging lances masters of their crafts,
Unmatchéd riders, swift of foot, and straight
Can arbitrate a war of deadliest weight.
Hope then can scarce fill all with life’s supply,
And of all any failing, why not I?
Nor do I know, if God hath marshall’d me
Amongst the safe-return’d; or his decree
Hath left me to the thraldom order’d there.
However, all cares be thy burthens here,
My sire and mother tend as much as now,
I further off, more near in cares be you.
Your son to man’s state grown, wed whom you will;
And, you gone, his care let his household fill.’
Thus made my lord his will, which Heav’n sees prov’d
Almost at all parts; for the Sun remov’d
Down to his set, ere long, will lead the night
Of those abhorréd nuptials, that should fright
Each worthy woman, which her second are
With any man that breathes, her first lord’s care
Dead, because he to flesh and blood is dead;
Which, I fear, I shall yield to, and so wed
A second husband; and my reason is,
Since Jove hath taken from me all his bliss.
//Whom God gives over they themselves forsake,//
//Their griefs their joys, their God their devil, make.//
And ’tis a great grief, nor was seen till now
In any fashion of such men as woo
A good and wealthy woman, and contend
Who shall obtain her, that those men should spend
Her beeves and best sheep, as their chiefest ends,
But rather that herself and all her friends
They should with banquets and rich gifts entreat.
//Their life is death that live with other’s meat.”//
Divine Ulysses much rejoic’d to hear
His Queen thus fish for gifts, and keep in cheer.
Their hearts with hope that she would wed again,
Her mind yet still her first intent retain.
Antinous saw the Wooers won to give,
And said: “Wise Queen, by all your means receive
Whatever bounty any Wooer shall use.
Gifts freely giv’n ’tis folly to refuse.
For know, that we resolve not to be gone
To keep our own roofs, till of all some one,
Whom best you like, your long-woo’d love shall win.”
This pleas’d the rest, and ev’ry one sent in
His present by the herald. First had place
Antinous’ gift: A robe of special grace,
Exceeding full and fair, and twenty hues
Chang’d lustre to it; to which choice of shows,
Twelve massy plated buttons, all of gold,
Enrich’d the substance, made to fairly hold
The robe together, all lac’d down before,
Where keeps and catches both sides of it wore.
Eurymachus a golden tablet gave,
In which did Art her choicest works engrave;
And round about an amber verge did run,
That cast a radiance from it like the Sun.
Eurydamas two servants had that bore
Two goodly earrings, whose rich hollows wore
Three pearls in either, like so many eyes,
Reflecting glances radiant as the skies.
The king Pisander, great Polyctor’s heir,
A casket gave, exceeding rich and fair.
The other other wealthy gifts commended
To her fair hand; which took, and straight ascended
This Goddess of her sex her upper state.
Her ladies all her gifts elaborate
Up bearing after. All to dancing then
The Wooers went, and song’s delightful strain;
In which they frolick’d, till the evening came,
And then rais’d sable Hesperus his flame.
When, for their lights within, they set up there
Three lamps, whose wicks were wood exceeding sere,
And passing porous; which they caus’d to burn,
Their matter ever minister’d by turn
Of sev’ral handmaids. Whom Ulysses seeing
Too conversant with Wooers, ill-agreeing
With guise of maids, advis’d in this fair sort:
“Maids of your long-lack’d King, keep you the port
Your Queen’s chaste presence bears. Go up to her,
Employ your looms, or rocks, and keep ye there;
I’ll serve to feed these lamps, should these lords’ dances
Last till Aurora cheer’d us with their glances.
They cannot weary me, for I am one
Born to endure when all men else have done.”
They wantonly brake out in laughters all,
Look’d on each other; and to terms did fall
Cheek-proud Melantho, who was Dolius’ seed,
Kept by the Queen, that gave her dainty bread
Fit for her daughter; and yet won not so
Her heart to her to share in any woe
She suffer’d for her lord, but she was great
With great Eurymachus, and her love’s heat
In his bed quench’d. And this choleric thing
Bestow’d this railing language on the King:
“Base stranger, you are taken in your brain,
You talk so wildly. Never you again
Can get where you were born, and seek your bed
In some smith’s hovel, or the marketsted,
But here you must take confidence to prate
Before all these; for fear can get no state
In your wine-hardy stomach. Or ’tis like
To prove your native garb, your tongue will strike
On this side of your mouth still, being at best.
Is the man idle-brain’d for want of rest?
Or proud because he beat the roguish beggar?
Take heed, Sir, lest some better man beleager
Your ears with his fists, and set headlong hence
Your bold abode here with your blood’s expence.”
He, looking sternly on her, answer’d her:
“Dog! What broad language giv’st thou? I’ll prefer
Your usage to the prince, that he may fall
Foul on your fair limbs till he tell them all.”
This fray’d the wenches, and all straight got gone
In fear about their business, ev’ry one
Confessing he said well. But he stood now
Close by the cressets, and did looks bestow
On all men there; his brain employ’d about
Some sharper business than to dance it out,
Which had not long to go. Nor therefore would
Minerva let the Wooers’ spleens grow cold
With too good usuage of him, that his heart
Might fret enough, and make his choler smart.
Eurymachus provok’d him first, and made
His fellow laugh, with a conceit he had
Fetch’d far from what was spoken long before,
That his poor form perhaps some Deity bore.
“It well may chance,” said he, “some God doth bear
This man’s resemblance, for, thus standing near
The glist’ring torches, his slick’d head doth throw
Beams round about it as those cressets do,
For not a hair he hath to give it shade.
Say, will thy heart serve t’ undertake a trade
For fitting wages? Should I take thee hence
To walk my grounds, and look to ev’ry fence,
Or plant high trees, thy hire should raise thy forces
Food store, and clothes. But these same idle courses
Thou art so prompt in that thou wilt not work,
But forage up and down, and beg, and lurk
In ev’ry house whose roofs hold any will
To feed such fellows. That thy gut may fill,
Gives end to all thy being.” He replied:
“I wish, at any work we two were tried,
In height of spring-time, when heav’n’s lights are long,
I a good crook’d scythe that were sharp and strong,
You such another, where the grass grew deep,
Up by day-break, and both our labours keep
Up till slow darkness eas’d the labouring light,
Fasting all day, and not a crumb till night;
We then should prove our either workmanship.
Or if, again, beeves, that the goad or whip
Were apt t’ obey before a tearing plow,
Big lusty beasts, alike in bulk and brow,
Alike in labour, and alike in strength,
Our task four acres, to be till’d in length
Of one sole day; again: then you should try
If the dull glebe before the plow-should fly,
Or I a long stitch could bear clean and even.
Or lastly, if the Guide of earth and heaven
Should stir stern war up, either here or there,
And that at this day I had double spear,
And shield, and steel casque fitting for my brows;
At this work likewise, ’midst the foremost blows,
Your eyes should note me, and get little cause
To twit me with my belly’s sole applause.
But you affect t’ affect with injury,
Your mind ungentle, seem in valour high,
Because ’gainst few, and those not of the best,
Your conversation hath been still profest.
But if Ulysses, landed on his earth,
And enter’d on the true right of his birth,
Should come and front ye, straight his ample gates
Your feet would hold too narrow for your fates.”
He frown’d, rag’d, call’d him wretch, and vow’d
To be his death, since he durst prove so proud
Amongst so many, to tell him so home
What he affected; ask’d, if overcome
With wine he were, or, as his minion said,
Talk’d still so idly, and were palsiéd
In his mind’s instruments, or was proud because
He gat from Irus off with such applause?
With all which, snatching up a stool, he threw;
When old Ulysses to the knees withdrew
Of the Dulichian lord, Amphinomus,
As if he fear’d him. His dart missing thus
His aged object, and his page’s hand
(A boy that waited on his cup’s command,
Now holding of an ewer to him) he smit,
Down fell the sounding ewer, and after it
The guiltless page lay sprawling in the dust,
And crying out. When all the Wooers thrust
A tumult up amongst them, wishing all
The rogue had perish’d in some hospital,
Before his life there stirr’d such uproars up,
And with rude speeches spice their pleasures’ cup.
And all this for a beggar to fulfill
A filthy proverb: //Good still yields to ill.//
The prince cried out on them, to let the bad
Obscure the good so; told them they were mad,
Abus’d their banquet, and affirm’d some God
Tried mast’ries with them; bade them take their load
Of food and wine, sit up, or fall to bed
At their free pleasures; and since he gave head
To all their freedoms, why should they mistake
Their own rich humours for a beggar’s sake?
All bit their lips to be so taken down,
And taught the course that should have been their own,
Admir’d the prince; and said he bravely spoke.
But Nisus’ son then struck the equal stroke,
And said: “O friends, let no man here disdain
To put up equal speeches, nor maintain
With serious words an humour, nor with stroke
A stranger in another’s house provoke,
Nor touch the meanest servant, but confine
All these dissentions in a bowl of wine;
Which fill us, cup-bearer, that, having done
Our nightly sacrifice, we may atone
Our pow’rs with sleep, resigning first the guest
Up to the prince, that holds all interest
In his disposure here; the house being his
In just descent, and all the faculties.”
This all approv’d; when noble Mulius,
Herald-inchief to lord Amphinomus,
The wine distributed with rev’rend grace
To ev’ry Wooer; when the Gods giv’n place;
With service fit; they serv’d themselves, and took
Their parting cups, till, when they all had shook
The angry humour off, they bent to rest,
And ev’ry Wooer to sev’ral roofs addrest.
"""
The End Of The Eighteenth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses and his son eschew
Offending of the Wooers’ view
With any armour. His birth’s seat,
Ulysses tells his Queen, is Crete,
Euryclea the truth yet found,
Discover’d by a scar-heal’d wound,
Which in Parnassus’ tops a boar,
Struck by him in his chace, did gore.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Ταυ̑.
The King still hid
By what he said;
By what he did
Informs his maid.
"""
"""
Yet did divine Ulysses keep his roof,
And with Minerva plotted still the proof
Of all the Wooers’ deaths; when thus his son
He taught with these fore-counsels: “We must run
A close course with these arms, and lay them by,
And to the Wooers make so fair a sky
As it would never thunder. Let me then,
That you may well retain, repeat again
What in Eumæus’ cottage I advis’d:
If when they see no leisure exercis’d,
In fetching down your arms, and ask what use
Your mind will give them, say, ’tis their abuse
With smoke and rust that makes you take them down,
This not being like the armory well-known
To be the leavings of Laertes’ son
Consorting the design for Ilion;
Your eyes may see how much they are infected,
As all fires’ vapours ever since reflected
On those sole arms. Besides, a graver thought
Jove graves within you, lest, their spirits wrought
Above their pitch with wine, they might contend
At some high banquet, and to wounds transcend,
Their feast inverting; which, perhaps, may be
Their nuptial feast with wise Penelopé.
//The ready weapon, when the blood is up,//
//Doubles the uproar heighten’d by the cup.//
//Wrath’s means for act, curb all the ways ye can,//
//As loadstones draw the steel, so steel draws man.//
Retain these words; nor what is good think, thus
Receiv’d at second hand, superfluous.”
The son, obeying, did Euryclea call,
And bade her shut in th’ utter porches all
The other women, till himself brought down
His father’s arms, which all were overgrown
By his neglect with rust, his father gone,
And he too-childish to spend thoughts upon
Those manly implements; but he would now
Reform those young neglects, and th’ arms bestow
Past reach of smoke. The loving nurse replied:
“I wish, O son, your pow’rs would once provide
For wisdom’s habit, see your household were
In thrifty manage, and tend all things there.
But if these arms must down, and ev’ry maid
Be shut in utter rooms, who else should aid
Your work with light?” He answer’d: “This my guest.
There shall no one in my house taste my feast,
Or join in my nave, that shall idly live, ^^[[129|Chapman: Footnote 129]]^^
However far hence he his home derive.”
He said, and his words stood. The doors she shut
Of that so well-fill’d house. And th’ other put
Their thoughts in act; best shields, helms, sharpen’d lances,
Brought down; and Pallas before both advances
A golden cresset, that did cast a light
As if the Day sat in the throne of Night.
When, half-amaz’d, the prince said: “O my father,
Mine eyes my soul’s pow’rs all in wonder gather,
For though the walls, and goodly wind-beams here,
All all these pillars, that their heads so rear,
And all of fir, they seem yet all of fire.
Some God is surely with us.” His wise sire
Bade peace, and keep the counsels of the Gods,
Nor ask a word: “These Pow’rs, that use abodes
Above the stars, have pow’r from thence to shine
Through night and all shades to earth’s inmost mine.
Go thou for sleep, and leave me here to wake
The women, and the Queen whose heart doth ache
To make inquiry for myself of me.”
He went to sleep where lights did endlessly
Burn in his night-rooms; where he feasted rest,
Till day’s fair weed did all the world invest.
Thus was divine Ulysses left alone
With Pallas, plotting foul confusion
To all the Wooers. Forth then came the Queen;
Phœbe, with golden Cytherea seen,
Her port presented. Whom they set a chair
Aside the fire, the fashion circular,
The substance silver and rich elephant;
Whose fabric did the cunning finger vaunt
Of great Icmalius, who besides had done
A footstool for her that did suit her throne,
On which they cast an ample skin, to be
The cushion for her other royalty.
And there she sat; about whom came her maids,
Who brought upon a table store of breads,
And bowls that with the Wooers’ wine were crown’d.
The embers then they cast upon the ground
From out the lamps, and other fuel added,
That still with cheerful flame the sad house gladded.
Melantha seeing still Ulysses there,
Thus she held out her spleen: “Still, stranger, here?
Thus late in night? To see what ladies do?
Avaunt you, wretch, hence, go without doors, go;
And quickly, too, lest ye be singed away
With burning firebrands.” He, thus seeing their fray
Continued by her with such spleen, replied:
“Minion! What makes your angry blood thus chide
My presence still? Is it because you see
I shine not in your wanton bravery,
But wear these rags? It fits the needy fate
That makes me beg thus of the common state.
Such poor souls, and such beggars, yet are men;
And ev’n my mean means means had to maintain
A wealthy house, and kept a manly press,
Was counted blessed, and the poor access
Of any beggar did not scorn, but feed,
With often hand, and any man of need
Reliev’d as fitted; kept my servants, too,
Not few, but did with those additions go
That call choice men //The Honest//, who are styl’d
The rich, the great. But what such great ones build
Jove oft pulls down, as thus he ruin’d me;
His will was such, which is his equity.
And therefore, woman, bear you fitting hand
On your behaviour, lest your spirit thus mann’d,
And cherish’d with your beauties, when they wane,
Comes down, your pride now being then your bane;
And in the mean space shun the present danger,
Lest your bold fashion breed your sov’reign’s anger,
Or lest Ulysses come, of whom ev’n yet
Hope finds some life in Fate. Or, be his seat
Amongst the merely ruin’d, yet his son,
Whose life’s heat Phœbus saves, is such a one
As can discover who doth well deserve
Of any woman here his years now serve.”
The Queen gave ear, and thus suppress’d the flame:
“Thou quite without a brow, past female shame,
I hear thy monstrous boldness, which thy head
Shall pay me pains for. Thou hast heard it said,
And from myself too, and ev’ry part
Thy knowledge serves thee, that, to ease my heart
So punish’d in thy witness, my desire
Dwelt on this stranger, that I might inquire
My lost friend’s being. But ’tis ever tried,
//Both man and God are still forgot with pride.//
Eurynomé, bring here this guest a seat,
And cushion on it, that we two may treat
Of the affair in question. Set it near,
That I may softly speak, yet he well hear.”
She did this little freely; and he sat
Close by the Queen, who ask’d him, Whence, and what
He was himself? And what th’ inhabited place
Where liv’d his parents? Whence he fetch’d his race?
“O woman,” he replied, “with whom no man,
That moves in earth’s unbounded circle, can
Maintain contention for true honour giv’n,
Whose fame hath reach’d the fairly-flowing heav’n,
Who, like a never-ill-deserving king,
That is well-spoke of, first, for worshipping,
And striving to resemble God in empire;
Whose equal hand impartially doth temper
Greatness and Goodness; to whom therefore bears
The black earth store of all grain, trees confers
Cracking with burthen, long-liv’d herds creates,
All which the sea with her sorts emulates;
And all this feeds beneath his pow’rful hand
Men, valiant, many, making strong his land
With happy lives led; nothing else the cause
Of all these blessings, but well-order’d laws;
Like such a king are you, in love, in fame,
And all the bliss that deifies a dame.
And therefore do not mix this with a moan
So wretched as is now in question;
Ask not my race nor country, lest you fill
My heart yet fuller with repeated ill;
For I must follow it with many tears,
Though ’tis not seemly to sit wounding ears
In public roofs with our particular life.
//Time’s worst expense is still-repeated grief.//
I should be irksome to your ladies here,
And you yourself would say you urg’d your ear
To what offends it, my still-broken eyne
Supposing wounded with your too-much wine.”
“Stranger,” said she, “you fear your own excess
With giving me too great a nobleness.
The Gods my person, beauty, virtue too,
Long since subverted, when the Ilion woe
The Greek design attempted; in which went
My praise and honour. In his government
Had I deserv’d your utmost grace, but now
Sinister Deity makes dishonour woo,
In show of grace, my ruin. All the peers
Sylvan Zacynthus, and Dulichius, spheres,
Samos and Ithaca, strange strifes have shown
To win me, spending on me all mine own;
Will wed me, in my spite; and these are those
That take from me all virtue to dispose
Or guest or suppliant, or take any course
Amongst my heralds, that should all disburse,
To order anything. Though I need none
To give me grief at home, abroad errs one
That my veins shrink for, whom these holding gone,
Their nuptials hasten, and find me as slow.
Good spirits prompted me to make a show
Of undertaking a most curious task,
That an unmeasur’d space of time would ask;
Which they enduring long would often say,
When ends thy work? I soon had my delay,
And pray’d their stay; for though my lord were dead,
His father’s life yet matter ministred
That must employ me; which, to tell them true,
Was that great work I nam’d. For now near drew
Laertes’ death, and on my hand did lie
His funeral-robe, whose end, being now so nigh,
I must not leave, and lose so much begun,
The rather lest the Greek dames might be won
To tax mine honour, if a man so great
Should greet his grave without his winding sheet.
Pride made them credulous, and I went on;
When whatsoever all the day had done
I made the night help to undo again,
Though oil and watch it cost, and equal pain.
Three years my wit secur’d me undiscern’d,
Yet, when the fourth came, by my maids discern’d,
False careless wenches, how they were deluded;
When, by my light discern’d, they all intruded,
Used threat’ning words, and made me give it end;
And then could I to no more length extend
My linger’d nuptials; not a counsel more
Was to be stood upon; my parents bore
Continual hand on me to make me wed;
My son grew angry that so ruinéd
His goods were by them. He is now a man
Wise in a great degree, and one that can
Himself give order to his household fare;
And Jove give equal glory to his care.
But thus you must not pass me; I must know,
It may be for more end, from whence doth grow
Your race and you; for I suppose you none
Sprung of old oak, or justled out of stone.”
He answer’d: “O Ulysses’ rev’rend wife!
Yet hold you purpose to inquire my life?
I’ll tell you, though it much afflict me more
Than all the sorrows I have felt before.
As worthily it may, since so long time
As I have wander’d from my native clime,
Through human cities, and in suff’rance still,
To rip all wounds up, though of all their ill
I touch but part, must actuate all their pain.
But, ask you still, I’ll tell, though still sustain.
In middle of the sable sea there lies
An isle call’d Crete, a ravisher of eyes,
Fruitful, and mann’d with many an infinite store;
Where ninety cities crown the famous shore,
Mix’d with all-languag’d men. There Greeks survive,
There the great-minded Eteocretans live,
There the Dorensians never out of war,
The Cydons there, and there the singular
Pelasgian people. There doth Cnossus stand,
That mighty city, where had most command
Great Jove’s disciple, Minos, who nine years
Conferr’d with Jove, both great familiars
In mutual counsels. And this Minos’ son,
The mighty-minded king Deucalion,
Was sire to me and royal Idomen,
Who with Atrides went to Ilion then,
My elder brother and the better man,
My name Aethon. At that time began
My knowledge of Ulysses, whom my home
Receiv’d with guest-rites. He was thither come
By force of weather, from the Malean coast
But new got off, where he the navy lost,
Then under sail for Troy, and wind-bound lay
Long in Amnisus; hardly got away
From horrid storms, that made him anchor there,
In havens that sacred to Lucina were,
Dreadful and dang’rous, in whose bosom crept
Lucina’s cavern. But in my roof slept
Ulysses, shor’d in Crete; who first inquir’d
For royal Idomen, and much desir’d
To taste his guest-rites, since to him had been
A welcome guest my brother Idomen.
The tenth or ’leventh light on Ulysses shin’d
In stay at Crete, attending then the wind
For threaten’d Ilion. All which time my house
With love and entertainments curious
Embrac’d his person, though a number more
My hospitable roofs receiv’d before,
His men I likewise call’d, and from the store
Allow’d them meal and heat-exciting wine,
And oxen for their slaughter, to confine
In my free hand the utmost of their need.
Twelve days the Greeks stay’d, ere they got them freed,
A gale so bitter blew out of the north,
That none could stand on earth, being tumbled forth
By some stern God. But on the thirteenth day
The tempest ceas’d, and then went Greeks their way.”
Thus many tales Ulysses told his wife,
At most but painting, yet most like the life;
Of which her heart such sense took through her ears,
It made her weep as she would turn to tears.
And as from off the mountains melts the snow,
Which Zephyr’s breath conceal’d, but was made flow
By hollow Eurus, which so fast pours down,
That with their torrent floods have overflown;
So down her fair cheeks her kind tears did glide,
Her miss’d lord mourning set so near her side.
Ulysses much was mov’d to see her mourn,
Whose eyes yet stood as dry as iron or horn
In his untroubled lids, which in his craft
Of bridling passion he from issue saft.
When she had giv’n her moan so many tears,
That now ’twas satiate, her yet loving fears
Ask’d thus much further: “You have thus far tried
My love’s credulity, but if gratified
With so long stay he was with you, you can
Describe what weed he wore, what kind of man
Both he himself was, and what followers
Observ’d him there.” “Alas,” said he, “the years
Have grown so many since—this making now
Their twentieth revolution—that my show
Of these slight notes will set my memory sore,
But, to my now remembrance, this he wore:
A double purple robe, drawn close before
With golden buttons, plaited thick, and bore
A facing where a hundred colours shin’d.
About the skirts a hound a freckled hind
In full course hunted; on the fore skirts, yet,
He pinch’d and pull’d her down, when with her feet,
And all her force, she struggled hard for flight.
Which had such life in gold, that to the sight
It seem’d the hind itself for ev’ry hue,
The hound and all so answering the view,
That all admir’d all. I observ’d beside
His inner weed, so rarely beautified
That dumb amaze it bred, and was as thin
As any dry and tender onion skin;
As soft ’twas, too, and glister’d like the sun.
The women were to loving wonder won
By him and by his weeds. But, by the way,
You must excuse me, that I cannot say
He brought this suit from home, or had it there
Sent for some present, or, perhaps, elsewhere
Receiv’d it for his guest-gift; for your lord
Had friends not few, the fleet did not afford
Many that had not fewer. I bestow’d
A well-edg’d sword on him, a robe that flow’d
In folds and fulness, and did reach his feet,
Of richest purple; brought him to his fleet
With all my honour; and besides, to add
To all this sifted circumstance, he had
A herald there, in height a little more
Put from the earth, that thicker shoulders wore,
A swarth complexion and a curléd head,
His name Eurybates; and much in stead
He stood your king, employ’d in most command,
Since most of all his mind could understand.”
When all these signs she knew for chiefly true,
Desire of moan upon her beauties grew,
And yet, ev’n that desire suffic’d, she said:
“Till this, my guest, a wretched state array’d
Your ill-us’d person, but from this hour forth
You shall be honour’d, and find all the worth
That fits a friend. Those weeds these hands bestow’d
From out my wardrobe; those gold buttons sew’d
Before for closure and for ornament.
But never more must his return present
The person that gave those adornments state;
And therefore, under an abhorréd fate,
Was he induc’d to feed the common fame,
To visit vile Troy, ay too vile to name.”
“No more yet mourn,” said he, “nor thus see pin’d
Your lovely person. //Weeping wastes the mind.//
And yet I blame you not; for any dame
That weds one young, and brings to him his name,
Whatever man he is, will mourn his loss.
Much more respectful then must show your woes
That weep thus for Ulysses, who, Fame says,
Was equal with the Gods in all his ways.
But where no cause is there must be no moan,
And therefore hear me, my relation
Shall lay the clear truth naked to your view:
I heard amongst the Thesprots for most true,
That lord Ulysses liv’d, and stood just now
On his return for home; that wealth did flow
In his possession, which he made not known,
But begg’d amongst the people, since alone
He quite was left, for all his men were lost
In getting off from the Trinacrian coast;
Jove and the Sun was wroth with them for rape
Made of his oxen, and no man let ’scape
The rugged deeps of Neptune; only he,
The ship’s keel only keeping, was by sea
Cast on the fair Phæacian continent,
Where men survive that are the Gods’ descent,
And like a God receiv’d him, gave him heaps
Of wealthy gifts, and would conduct his steps
Themselves safe home; which he might long ago
His pleasure make, but profit would not so.
He gather’d going, and had mighty store
Of gold in safeguard; so beyond the shore
That common sails kept, his high flood of wit
Bore glorious top, and all the world for it
Hath far exceeded. All this Phædon told,
That doth the sceptre of Thesprotia hold,
Who swore to me, in household sacrifice,
The ship was launch’d, and men to man the prise,
That soon should set him on his country earth,
Show’d me the goods, enough to serve the birth
That in the tenth age of his seed should spring,
Yet in his court contain’d. But then the king,
Your husband, for Dodona was in way,
That from th’ Oraculous Oak he might display
Jove’s will what course for home would best prevail,
To come in pomp, or bear a secret sail.
But me the king dispatch’d in course before,
A ship then bound for the Dulichian shore.
So thus you see his safety whom you mourn;
Who now is passing near, and his return
No more will punish with delays, but see
His friends and country. All which truth to thee
I’ll seal with sacred oath. Be witness, Jove,
Thou first and best of all the thron’d above!
And thou house of the great Laertes’ heir,
To whose high roofs I tender my repair,
That what I tell the Queen event shall crown!
This year Ulysses shall possess his own,
Nay ere the next month ends shall here arrive,
Nay, ere it enters, here abide alive!”
“O may this prove,” said she; “gifts, friendship, then
Should make your name the most renown’d of men.
But ’tis of me receiv’d, and must so sort,
That nor my lord shall ever see his court,
Nor you gain your deduction thence, for now
The alter’d house doth no such man allow
As was Ulysses, if he ever were,
To entertain a rev’rend passenger,
And give him fair dismission. But, maids, see
Ye bathe his feet, and then with tapestry,
Best sheets and blankets, make his bed, and lay
Soft waistcoats by him, that, lodg’d warm, he may
Ev’n till the golden-seated morning’s ray
Enjoy good rest; and then, with her first light,
Bathe, and give alms, that cherish’d appetite
He may apply within our hall, and sit
Safe by Telemachus. Or, if th’ unfit
And harmful mind of any be so base
To grieve his age again, let none give grace
Of doing any deed he shall command,
How wroth soever, to his barbarous hand.
For how shall you, guest, know me for a dame
That pass so far, nay, turn and wind the fame
Of other dames for wisdom, and the frame
Of household usage, if your poor thin weeds
I let draw on you want, and worser deeds,
That may, perhaps, cause here your latest day?
//The life of man is short and flies away.//
And if the ruler’s self of households be
Ungentle, studying inhumanity,
The rest prove worse, but he bears all the blame;
All men will, living, vow against his name
Mischiefs and miseries, and, dead, supply
With bitter epitaphs his memory.
But if himself be noble—noble things
Doing and knowing—all his underlings
Will imitate his noblesse, and all guests
Give it, in many, many interests.”
“But, worthiest Queen,” said he, “where you command
Baths and rich beds for me, I scorn to stand
On such state now nor ever thought it yet,
Since first I left the snowy hills of Crete.
When once I fell a-shipboard those thoughts fled;
I love to take now, as long since, my bed.
Though I began the use with sleepless nights,
I many a darkness with right homely rites
Have spent ere this hour, and desir’d the morn
Would come, and make sleep to the world a scorn.
Nor run these dainty baths in my rude head;
Nor any handmaid, to your service bred,
Shall touch my ill-kept feet, unless there live
Some poor old drudge here, that hath learn’d to give
Old men good usage, and no work will fly,
As having suffer’d ill as much as I.
But if there live one such in your command,
I will not shame to give my foot her hand.”
She gave this answer: “O my lovéd guest,
There never enter’d these kind roofs for rest
Stranger or friend that so much wisdom laid
In gage for guest-rites, as your lips have paid.
There lives an old maid in my charge that knows
The good you speak of by her many woes;
That nourish’d and brought up, with curious care,
Th’ unhappy man; your old familiar,
Ev’n since his mother let him view the light,
And oft hath felt in her weak arms his weight;
And she, though now much weaker, shall apply
Her maiden service to your modesty.
Euryclea, rise, and wash the feet of one
That is of one age with your sov’reign gone,
Such hands, such feet hath, though of alter’d grace.
//Much grief in men will bring on change apace.”//
She, from her aged slumber wak’d, did clear
Her heavy eyes, and instantly, to hear
Her sov’reign’s name, had work enough to dry
Her cheeks from tears, and to his memory
These moans did offer: “O my son,” said she,
“I never can take grief enough for thee,
Whom Goodness hurts, and whom ev’n Jove’s high spleen,
Since thou art Jove-like, hates the most of men.
For none hath offer’d him so many thighs,
Nor such whole hecatombs of sacrifice,
Fat and selected, as thy zeal hath done;
For all, but praying that thy noble son,
Thy happy age might see at state of man.
And yet hath Jove with mists Cimmerian
Put out the light of his returning day.
And as yourself, O father, in your way
Took these fair roofs for hospitable rites,
Yet find, for them, our dogged women’s spites;
So he, in like course, being driven to proof,
Long time ere this, what such a royal roof
Would yield his mis’ries, found such usage there.
And you, now flying the foul language here,
And many a filthy fact of our fair dames,
Fly me like them, and put on causeless shames
To let me cleanse your feet. For not the cause
The Queen’s command yields is the pow’r that draws
My will to wash your feet, but what I do
Proceeds from her charge and your rev’rence too;
Since I in soul am stricken with a ruth
Of your distresses, and past show of truth; ^^[[130|Chapman: Footnote 130]]^^
Your strangeness claiming little interest
In my affections. And yet many a guest
Of poor condition hath been harbour’d here,
But never any did so right appear
Like king Ulysses as yourself, for state
Both of your stature, voice, and very gait.”
“So all have said,” said he, “that ever yet
Had the proportions of our figures met
In their observance; so right your eye
Proves in your soul your judging faculty.”
Thus took she up a caldron brightly scour’d,
To cleanse his feet in; and into it pour’d
Store of cold wave, which on the fire she set;
And therein bath’d, being temperately heat,
Her sov’reign’s feet. Who turn’d him from the light,
Since suddenly he doubted her conceit,
So rightly touching at his state before,
A scar now seeing on his foot, that bore
An old note, to discern him, might descry
The absolute truth; which, witness’d by her eye,
Was straight approv’d. He first receiv’d this sore
As in Parnassus’ tops a white-tooth’d boar
He stood in chase withal, who struck him there,
At such time as he liv’d a sojourner
With his grandsire, Autolycus; who th’ art
Of theft and swearing (not out of the heart,
But by equivocation) first adorn’d
Your witty man withal, and was suborn’d
By Jove’s descent, ingenious Mercury,
Who did bestow it, since so many a thigh
Of lambs and kids be had on him bestow’d
In sacred flames, who therefore when he vow’d
Was ever with him. And this man impos’d
Ulysses’ name, the light being first disclos’d
To his first sight then, when his grandsire came
To see the then preferrer of his fame,
His lovéd daughter. The first supper done,
Euryclea put in his lap her son,
And pray’d him to bethink and give his name,
Since that desire did all desires inflame.
“Daughter and son-in-law,” said he, “let then
The name that I shall give him stand with men.
Since I arriv’d here at the hour of pain,
In which mine own kind entrails did sustain
Moan for my daughter’s yet unended throes,
And when so many men’s and women’s woes,
In joint compassion met of human birth,
Brought forth t’ attend the many-feeding earth,
Let Odyssëus be his name, as one ^^[[131|Chapman: Footnote 131]]^^
Expos’d to just constraint of all men’s moan.
When here at home he is arriv’d at state
Of man’s first youth he shall initiate
His practis’d feet in travel made abroad,
And to Parnassus, where mine own abode
And chief means lie, address his way, where I
Will give him from my open’d treasury
What shall return him well, and fit the fame
Of one that had the honour of his name.”
For these fair gifts he went, and found all grace
Of hands and words in him and all his race.
Amphithea, his mother’s mother, too,
Applied her to his love, withal, to do
In grandame’s welcomes, both his fair eyes kist,
And brows; and then commanded to assist
Were all her sons by their respected sire
In furnishing a feast, whose ears did fire
Their minds with his command; who home straight led
A five-years-old male ox, fell’d, slew, and flay’d,
Gather’d about him, cut him up with art,
Spitted, and roasted, and his ev’ry part
Divided orderly. So all the day
They spent in feast; no one man went his way
Without his fit fill. When the sun was set,
And darkness rose, they slept, till day’s fire het
Th’ enlighten’d earth; and then on hunting went
Both hounds and all Autolycus’ descent.
In whose guide did divine Ulysses go,
Climb’d steep Parnassus, on whose forehead grow
All sylvan offsprings round. And Soon they reach’d
The concaves, whence air’s sounding vapours fetch’d
Their loud descent. As soon as any sun
Had from the ocean, where his waters run
In silent deepness, rais’d his golden head,
The early huntsmen all the hill had spread,
Their hounds before them on the searching trail,
They near, and ever eager to assail:
Ulysses brandishing a lengthful lance,
Of whose first flight he long’d to prove the chance.
Then found they lodg’d a boar of bulk extreme,
In such a queach as never any beam
The sun shot pierc’d, nor any pass let find
The moist impressions of the fiercest wind,
Nor any storm the sternest winter drives,
Such proof it was; yet all within lay leaves
In mighty thickness; and through all this flew
The hounds’ loud mouths. The sounds the tumult threw,
And all together, rous’d the boar, that rush’d
Amongst their thickest, all his bristles push’d
From forth his rough neck, and with flaming eyes
Stood close, and dar’d all. On which horrid prise
Ulysses first charg’d; whom above the knee
The savage struck, and rac’d it crookedly
Along the skin, yet never reach’d the bone.
Ulysses’ lance yet through him quite was thrown,
At his right shoulder ent’ring, at his left
The bright head passage to his keenness cleft,
And show’d his point gilt with the gushing gore.
Down in the dust fell the extended boar,
And forth his life flew. To Ulysses round
His uncle drew; who, woeful for his wound,
With all art bound it up, and with a charm
Stay’d straight the blood, went home, and, when the harm
Receiv’d full cure, with gifts, and all event
Of joy and love to his lov’d home they sent
Their honour’d nephew; whose return his sire
And rev’rend mother took with joys entire,
Enquir’d all passages, all which he gave
In good relation, nor of all would save
His wound from utt’rance; by whose scar he came
To be discover’d by this aged dame.
Which when she cleansing felt, and noted well,
Down from her lap into the caldron fell
His weighty foot, that made the brass resound,
Turn’d all aside, and on th’ embrewéd ground
Spilt all the water. Joy and grief together
Her breast invaded; and of weeping weather
Her eyes stood full; her small voice stuck within
Her part expressive; till at length his chin
She took and spake to him: “O son,” said she,
“Thou art Ulysses, nor canst other be;
Nor could I know thee yet, till all my king
I had gone over with the warméd spring.”
Then look’d she for the Queen to tell her all;
And yet knew nothing sure, though nought could fall
In compass of all thoughts to make her doubt,
Minerva that distraction struck throughout
Her mind’s rapt forces that she might not tell.
Ulysses, noting yet her aptness well,
With one hand took her chin, and made all show
Of favour to her, with the other drew
Her offer’d parting closer, ask’d her why
She, whose kind breast had nurs’d so tenderly
His infant life, would now his age destroy,
Though twenty years had held him from the joy
Of his lov’d country? But, since only she,
God putting her in mind, now knew ’twas he,
He charg’d her silence, and to let no ear
In all the court more know his being there,
Lest, if God gave into his wreakful hand
Th’ insulting Wooers’ lives, he did not stand
On any partial respect with her,
Because his nurse, and to the rest prefer
Her safety therefore, but, when they should feel
His punishing finger, give her equal steel.
“What words,” said she, “fly your retentive pow’rs?
You know you lock your counsels in your tow’rs
In my firm bosom, and that I am far
From those loose frailties. Like an iron bar,
Or bolt of solid’st stone, I will contain;
And tell you this besides; that if you gain,
By God’s good aid, the Wooers’ lives in yours,
What dames are here their shameless paramours;
And have done most dishonour to your worth,
My information well shall paint you forth.”
“It shall not need,” said he, “myself will soon,
While thus I mask here, set on ev’ry one
My sure observance of the worst and best.
Be thou then silent, and leave God the rest.”
This said, the old dame for more water went,
The rest was all upon the pavement spent
By known Ulysses’ foot. More brought, and he
Supplied beside with sweetest ointments, she
His seat drew near the fire, to keep him warm,
And with his piec’d rags hiding close his harm.
The Queen came near, and said: “Yet, guest, afford
Your further patience, till but in a word
I’ll tell my woes to you; for well I know
That Rest’s sweet hour her soft foot orders now,
When all poor men, how much soever griev’d,
Would gladly get their woe-watch’d pow’rs reliev’d.
But God hath giv’n my grief a heart so great
It will not down with rest, and so I set
My judgment up to make it my delight.
All day I mourn, yet nothing let the right
I owe my charge both in my work and maids;
And when the night brings rest to others’ aids
I toss my bed; Distress, with twenty points,
Slaught’ring the pow’rs that to my turning joints
Convey the vital heat. And as all night
Pandareus’ daughter, poor Edone, sings,
Clad in the verdure of the yearly springs,
When she for Itylus, her lovéd son,
By Zethus’ issue in his madness done
To cruel death, pours out her hourly moan,
And draws the ears to her of ev’ry one;
So flows my moan that cuts in two my mind,
And here and there gives my discourse the wind,
Uncertain whether I shall with my son
Abide still here, the safe possession
And guard of all goods, rev’rence to the bed
Of my lov’d lord, and to my far-off spread
Fame with the people, putting still in use,
Or follow any best Greek I can chuse
To his fit house, with treasure infinite,
Won to his nuptials. While the infant plight
And want of judgment kept my son in guide,
He was not willing with my being a bride,
Nor with my parting from his court; but now,
Arriv’d at man’s state, he would have me vow
My love to some one of my Wooers here,
And leave his court; offended that their cheer
Should so consume his free possessions.
To settle then a choice in these my moans,
Hear and expound a dream that did engrave
My sleeping fancy: Twenty geese I have,
All which, me thought, mine eye saw tasting wheat
In water steep’d, and joy’d to see them eat;
When straight a crook-beak’d eagle from a hill
Stoop’d, and truss’d all their necks, and all did kill;
When, all left scatter’d on the pavement there,
She took her wing up to the Gods’ fair sphere.
I, ev’n amid my dream, did weep and mourn
To see the eagle, with so shrewd a turn,
Stoop my sad turrets; when, methought, there came
About my mournings many a Grecian dame,
To cheer my sorrows; in whose most extreme
The hawk came back, and on the prominent beam
That cross’d my chamber fell, and us’d to me
A human voice, that sounded horribly,
And said: ‘Be confident, Icarius’ seed,
This is no dream, but what shall chance indeed.
The geese the Wooers are, the eagle, I,
Was heretofore a fowl, but now imply
Thy husband’s being, and am come to give
The Wooers’ death, that on my treasure live.’
With this sleep left me, and my waking way
I took, to try if any violent prey
Were made of those my fowls, which well enough
I, as before, found feeding at their trough
Their yoted wheat.” “O woman,” he replied,
“Thy dream can no interpretation bide
But what the eagle made, who was your lord,
And said himself would sure effect afford
To what he told you; that confusion
To all the Wooers should appear, and none
Escape the fate and death he had decreed.”
She answer’d him: “O guest, these dreams exceed
The art of man t’ interpret; and appear
Without all choice or form; nor ever were
Perform’d to all at all parts. But there are
To these light dreams, that like thin vapours fare,
Two two-leav’d gates, the one of ivory,
The other horn. Those dreams, that fantasy
Takes from the polish’d ivory port, delude
The dreamer ever, and no truth include;
Those, that the glitt’ring horn-gate lets abroad,
Do evermore some certain truth abode.
But this my dream I hold of no such sort
To fly from thence; yet, whichsoever port
It had access from, it did highly please
My son and me. And this my thoughts profess:
That day that lights me from Ulysses’ court
Shall both my infamy and curse consort.
I, therefore, purpose to propose them now,
In strong contention, Ulysses’ bow;
Which he that eas’ly draws, and from his draft
Shoots through twelve axes (as he did his shaft,
All set up in a row, and from them all
His stand-far-off kept firm) my fortunes shall
Dispose, and take me to his house from hence,
Where I was wed a maid, in confluence
Of feast and riches; such a court here then
As I shall ever in my dreams retain.”
“Do not,” said he, “defer the gameful prize,
But set to task their importunities
With something else than nuptials; for your lord
Will to his court and kingdom be restor’d
Before they thread those steels, or draw his bow.”
“O guest,” replied Penelope, “would you
Thus sit and please me with your speech, mine ears
Would never let mine eyelids close their spheres!
But none can live without the death of sleep,
Th’ Immortals in our mortal memories keep
Our ends and deaths by sleep, dividing so,
As by the fate and portion of our woe,
Our times spent here, to let us nightly try
That while we live, as much live as we die.
In which use I will to my bed ascend,
Which I bedew with tears, and sigh past end
Through all my hours spent, since I lost my joy
For vile, lewd, never-to-benaméd, Troy,
Yet there I’ll prove for sleep, which take you here,
Or on the earth, if that your custom were,
Or have a bed, dispos’d for warmer rest.”
Thus left she with her ladies her old guest,
Ascended her fair chamber, and her bed,
Whose sight did ever duly make her shed
Tears for her lord; which still her eyes did steep,
Till Pallas shut them with delightsome sleep.
"""
The End Of The Nineteenth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Telemachus to court doth call
The Wooers, and commands them all
To leave his house; and taking then
From wise Minerva ship and men,
And all things fit for him beside,
That Euryclea could provide
For sea-rites till he found his sire,
He hoists sail; when Heav’n stoops his fire.
"""
''Another Argument''
βητα.
"""
The old Maid’s store
The voyage cheers.
The ship leaves shore,
Minerva steers.
"""
"""
Now when with rosy fingers, th’ early born
And thrown through all the air, appear’d the Morn,
Ulysses’ lov’d son from his bed appear’d,
His weeds put on, and did about him gird
His sword that thwart his shoulders hung, and tied
To his fair feet fair shoes, and all parts plied
For speedy readiness: who, when he trod
The open earth, to men show’d like a God.
The heralds then he straight charg’d to consort
The curl’d-head Greeks, with loud calls, to a Court.
They summon’d; th’ other came in utmost haste.
Who all assembled, and in one heap plac’d
He likewise came to council, and did bear
In his fair hand his iron-headed spear.
Nor came alone, nor with men-troops prepar’d,
But two fleet dogs made both his train and guard.
Pallas supplied with her high wisdom’s grace,
That all men’s wants supplies, State’s painted face.
His ent’ring presence all men did admire;
Who took seat in the high throne of his sire,
To which the grave peers gave him rev’rend way.
Amongst whom, an Egyptian heroë
(Crookéd with age, and full of skill) begun
The speech to all; who had a loved son
That with divine Ulysses did ascend
His hollow fleet to Troy; to serve which end,
He kept fair horse, and was a man-at-arms,
And in the cruel Cyclop’s stern alarms
His life lost by him in his hollow cave,
Whose entrails open’d his abhorréd grave,
And made of him, of all Ulysses’ train,
His latest supper, being latest slain;
His name was Antiphus, And this old man,
This crookéd-grown, this wise Egyptian,
Had three sons more; of which one riotous
A wooer was, and call’d Eurynomus;
The other two took both his own wish’d course.
Yet both the best fates weigh’d not down the worse,
But left the old man mindful still of moan;
Who, weeping, thus bespake the Session:
“Hear, Ithacensians, all I fitly say:
Since our divine Ulysses’ parting day
Never was council call’d, nor session,
And now by whom is this thus undergone?
Whom did necessity so much compell,
Of young or old? Hath anyone heard tell
Of any coming army, that he thus now
May openly take boldness to avow,
First having heard it? Or will any here
Some motion for the public good prefer?
Some worth of note there is in this command;
And, methinks, it must be some good man’s hand
That’s put to it, that either hath direct
Means to assist, or, for his good affect,
Hopes to be happy in the proof he makes;
And that Jove grant, whate’er he undertakes.”
Telemachus (rejoicing much to hear
The good hope and opinion men did bear
Of his young actions) no longer sat,
But long’d t’ approve what this man pointed at,
And make his first proof in a cause so good;
And in the council’s chief place up he stood;
When straight Pisenor (herald to his sire,
And learn’d in counsels) felt his heart on fire
To hear him speak, and put into his hand
The sceptre that his father did command;
Then, to the old Egyptian turn’d, he spoke:
“Father, not far he is that undertook
To call this Council; whom you soon shall know.
Myself, whose wrongs my griefs will make me show,
Am he that author’d this assembly here.
Nor have I heard of any army near,
Of which, being first told, I might iterate,
Nor for the public good can aught relate,
Only mine own affairs all this procure,
That in my house a double ill endure;
One, having lost a father so renown’d,
Whose kind rule once with’ your command was crown’d;
The other is, what much more doth augment
His weighty loss, the ruin imminent
Of all my house by it, my goods all spent.
And of all this the wooers, that are sons
To our chief peers, are the confusións,
Importuning my mother’s marriáge
Against her will; nor dares their blood’s bold rage
Go to Icarius’, her father’s, court,
That, his will ask’d in kind and comely sort,
He may endow his daughter with a dow’r,
And, she consenting, at his pleasure’s pow’r
Dispose her to a man, that, thus behav’d,
May have fit grace, and see her honour sav’d.
But these, in none but my house, all their lives
Resolve to spend; slaught’ring my sheep and beeves,
And with my fattest goats lay feast on feast,
My gen’rous wine consuming as they list.
A world of things they spoil, here wanting one,
That, like Ulysses, quickly could set gone
These peace-plagues from his house, that spoil like war;
Whom my pow’rs are unfit to urge so far,
Myself immartial. But, had I the pow’r,
My will should serve me to exempt this hour
From out my life-time. For, past patience,
Base deeds are done here, that exceed defence
Of any honour. Falling is my house,
Which you should shame to see so ruinous.
Rev’rence the censures that all good men give,
That dwell about you; and for fear to live
Expos’d to heav’n’s wrath (that doth ever pay
Pains for joys forfeit) even by Jove I pray,
Or Themis, both which pow’rs have to restrain,
Or gather, councils, that ye will abstain
From further spoil, and let me only waste
In that most wretched grief I have embrac’d
For my lost father. And though I am free
From meriting your outrage, yet, if he,
Good man, hath ever with a hostile heart
Done ill to any Greek, on me convert
Your like hostility, and vengeance take
Of his ill on my life, and all these make
Join in that justice; but, to see abus’d
Those goods that do none ill but being ill-us’d,
Exceeds all right. Yet better ’tis for me,
My whole possessions and my rents to see
Consum’d by you, than lose my life and all;
For on your rapine a revenge may fall,
While I live; and so long I may complain
About the city, till my goods again,
Oft ask’d, may be with all amends repaid.
But in the mean space your misrule hath laid
Griefs on my bosom, that can only speak,
And are denied the instant pow’r of wreak.”
This said, his sceptre ’gainst the ground he threw,
And tears still’d from him; which mov’d all the crew,
The court struck silent, not a man did dare
To give a word that might offend his ear.
Antinous only in this sort replied:
“High spoken, and of spirit unpacified,
How have you sham’d us in this speech of yours!
Will you brand us for an offence not ours?
Your mother, first in craft, is first in cause.
Three years are past, and near the fourth now draws,
Since first she mock’d the peers Achaian.
All she made hope, and promis’d ev’ry man,
Sent for us ever, left love’s show in nought,
But in her heart conceal’d another thought.
Besides, as curious in her craft, her loom
She with a web charg’d, hard to overcome,
And thus bespake us: ‘Youths, that seek my bed,
Since my divine spouse rests amongst the dead,
Hold on your suits but till I end, at most,
This funeral weed, lest what is done be lost.
Besides, I purpose, that when th’ austere fate
Of bitter death shall take into his state
Laertes the heroë, it shall deck
His royal corse, since I should suffer check
In ill report of ev’ry common dame,
If one so rich should show in death his shame.’
This speech she us’d; and this did soon persuade
Our gentle minds. But this a work she made
So hugely long, undoing still in night,
By torches, all she did by day’s broad light,
That three years her deceit div’d past our view,
And made us think that all she feign’d was true.
But when the fourth year came, and those sly hours
That still surprise at length dames’ craftiest powers,
One of her women, that knew all, disclos’d
The secret to us, that she still unloos’d
Her whole day’s fair affair in depth of night.
And then no further she could force her sleight,
But, of necessity, her work gave end.
And thus, by me, doth ev’ry other friend,
Professing love to her, reply to thee;
That ev’n thyself, and all Greeks else, may see,
That we offend not in our stay, but she.
To free thy house then, send her to her sire,
Commanding that her choice be left entire
To his election, and one settled will.
Nor let her vex with her illusions still
Her friends that woo her, standing on her wit,
Because wise Pallas hath giv’n wills to it
So full of art, and made her understand
All works in fair skill of a lady’s hand.
But (for her working mind) we read of none
Of all the old world, in which Greece hath shown
Her rarest pieces, that could equal her:
Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycena were
To hold comparison in no degree,
For solid brain, with wise Penelope.
And yet, in her delays of us, she shows
No prophet’s skill with all the wit she owes;
For all this time thy goods and victuals go
To utter ruin; and shall ever so,
While thus the Gods her glorious mind dispose.
Glory herself may gain, but thou shalt lose
Thy longings ev’n for necessary food,
For we will never go where lies our good,
Nor any other where, till this delay
She puts on all she quits with th’ endless stay
Of some one of us, that to all the rest
May give free farewell with his nuptial feast.”
The wise young prince replied: “Antinous!
I may by no means turn out of my house
Her that hath brought me forth and nourish’d me.
Besides, if quick or dead my father be
In any region, yet abides in doubt;
And ’twill go hard, my means being so run out,
To tender to Icarius again,
If he again my mother must maintain
In her retreat, the dow’r she brought with her.
And then a double ill it will confer,
Both from my father and from God on me,
When, thrust out of her house, on her bent knee,
My mother shall the horrid Furies raise
With imprecations, and all men dispraise
My part in her exposure. Never then
Will I perform this counsel. If your spleen
Swell at my courses, once more I command
Your absence from my house; some other’s hand
Charge with your banquets; on your own goods eat,
And either other mutually in treat,
At either of your houses, with your feast.
But if ye still esteem more sweet and best
Another’s spoil, so you still wreakless live,
Gnaw, vermin-like, things sacred, no laws give ^^[[13|Chapman: Footnote 13]]^^
To your devouring; it remains that I
Invoke each Ever-living Deity,
And vow, if Jove shall deign in any date
Pow’r of like pains for pleasure so past rate,
From thenceforth look, where ye have revell’d so
Unwreak’d, your ruins all shall undergo.”
Thus spake Telemachus; t’ assure whose threat,
Far-seeing Jove upon their pinions set
Two eagles from the high brows of a hill,
That, mounted on the Winds, together still
Their strokes extended; but arriving now
Amidst the Council, over ev’ry brow
Shook their thick wings and, threat’ning death’s cold fears,
Their necks and cheeks tore with their eager seres;
Then, on the court’s right hand away they flew,
Above both court and city. With whose view,
And study what events they might foretell
The Council into admiration fell.
The old heroë, Halitherses, then,
The son of Nestor, that of all old men,
His peers in that court, only could foresee
By flight of fowls man’s fixed destiny,
’Twixt them and their amaze, this interpos’d:
“Hear, Ithacensians, all your doubts disclos’d.
The Wooers most are touch’d in this ostent,
To whom are dangers great and imminent;
For now not long more shall Ulysses bear
Lack of his most lov’d, but fills some place near,
Addressing to these Wooers fate and death.
And many more this mischief menaceth
Of us inhabiting this famous isle.
Let us consult yet, in this long forewhile,
How to ourselves we may prevent this ill.
Let these men rest secure, and revel still;
Though they might find it safer, if with us
They would in time prevent what threats them thus;
Since not without sure trial I foretell
These coming storms, but know their issue well.
For to Ulysses all things have event,
As I foretold him, when for Ilion went
The whole Greek fleet together, and with them
Th’ abundant-inall-counsels took the stream.
I told him, that, when much ill he had past,
And all his men were lost, he should at last,
The twentieth year, turn home, to all unknown;
All which effects are to perfection grown.”
  Eurymachus, the son of Polybus,
Oppos’d this man’s presage, and answer’d thus:
“Hence, great in years, go, prophesy at home,
Thy children teach to shun their ills to come.
In these superior far to thee am I.
A world of fowls beneath the sun-beams fly
That are not fit t’ inform a prophecy.
Besides, Ulysses perish’d long ago;
And would thy fates to thee had destin’d so,
Since so thy so much prophecy had spar’d
Thy wronging of our rights, which, for reward
Expected home with thee, hath summon’d us
Within the anger of Telemachus.
But this I will presage, which shall be true:
If any spark of anger chance t’ ensue
Thy much old art in these deep auguries,
In this young man incenséd by thy lies,
Ev’n to himself his anger shall confer
The greater anguish, and thine own ends err
From all their objects; and, besides, thine age
Shall feel a pain, to make thee curse presage
With worthy cause, for it shall touch thee near.
But I will soon give end to all our fear,
Preventing whatsoever chance can fall,
In my suit to the young prince for us all,
To send his mother to her father’s house,
That he may sort her out a worthy spouse,
And such a dow’r bestow, as may befit
One lov’d, to leave her friends and follow it.
Before which course be, I believe that none
Of all the Greeks will cease th’ ambitión
Of such a match. For, chance what can to us,
We no man fear, no not Telemachus,
Though ne’er so greatly spoken. Nor care we
For any threats of austere prophecy,
Which thou, old dotard, vaunt’st of so in vain.
And thus shalt thou in much more hate remain;
For still the Gods shall bear their ill expense,
Nor ever be dispos’d by competence,
Till with her nuptials she dismiss our suits,
Our whole lives’ days shall sow hopes for such fruits.
Her virtues we contend to, nor will go
To any other, be she never so
Worthy of us, and all the worth we owe.”
He answer’d him: “Eurymachus, and all
Ye gen’rous Wooers, now, in general,
I see your brave resolves, and will no more
Make speech of these points, and, much less, implore.
It is enough, that all the Grecians here,
And all the Gods besides, just witness bear,
What friendly premonitions have been spent
On your forbearance, and their vain event.
Yet, with my other friends, let love prevail
To fit me with a vessel free of sail,
And twenty men, that may divide to me
My ready passage through the yielding sea
For Sparta, and Amathoan Pylos’ shore,
I now am bound, in purpose to explore
My long-lack’d father, and to try if fame
Or Jove, most author of man’s honour’d name,
With his return and life may glad mine ear,
Though toil’d in that proof I sustain a year.
If dead I hear him, nor of more state, here
Retir’d to my lov’d country, I will rear
A sepulchre to him, and celebrate
Such royal parent-rites, as fits his state;
And then my mother to a spouse dispose.”
This said, he sat; and to the rest arose
Mentor, that was Ulysses’ chosen friend,
To whom, when he set forth, he did commend
His cómplete family, and whom he will’d
To see the mind of his old sire fulfill’d,
All things conserving safe, till his retreat.
Who, tender of his charge, and seeing so set
In slight care of their king his subjects there,
Suff’ring his son so much contempt to bear,
Thus gravely, and with zeal, to him began:
“No more let any sceptre-bearing man,
Benevolent, or mild, or human be,
Nor in his mind form acts of piety,
But ever feed on blood, and facts unjust
Commit, ev’n to the full swing of his lust,
Since of divine Ulysses no man now,
Of all his subjects, any thought doth show.
All whom he govern’d, and became to them,
Rather than one that wore a diadem,
A most indulgent father. But, for all
That can touch me, within no envy fall
These insolent Wooers, that in violent kind
Commit things foul by th’ ill wit of the mind,
And with the hazard of their heads devour
Ulysses’ house, since his returning hour
They hold past hope. But it affects me much,
Ye dull plebeians, that all this doth touch
Your free states nothing; who, struck dumb, afford
These Wooers not so much wreak as a word,
Though few, and you with only number might
Extinguish to them the profaned light.”
Evenor’s son, Leocritus, replied:
“Mentor! the railer, made a fool with pride,
What language giv’st thou that would quiet us
With putting us in storm, exciting thus
The rout against us? Who, though more than we,
Should find it is no easy victory
To drive men, habited in feast, from feasts,
No not if Ithacus himself such guests
Should come and find so furnishing his Court,
And hope to force them from so sweet a fort.
His wife should little joy in his arrive,
Though much she wants him; for, where she alive
Would her’s enjoy, there death should claim his rights.
//He must be conquer’d that with many fights.//
Thou speak’st unfit things. To their labours then
Disperse these people; and let these two men,
Mentor and Halitherses, that so boast
From the beginning to have govern’d most
In friendship of the father, to the son
Confirm the course he now affects to run.
But my mind says, that, if he would but use
A little patience, he should here hear news
Of all things that his wish would understand,
But no good hope for of the course in hand.”
This said, the Council rose; when ev’ry peer
And all the people in dispersion were
To houses of their own; the Wooers yet
Made to Ulysses’ house their old retreat.
Telemachus, apart from all the prease,
Prepar’d to shore, and, in the aged seas
His fair hands wash’d, did thus to Pallas pray:
“Hear me, O Goddess, that but yesterday
Didst deign access to me at home, and lay
Grave charge on me to take ship, and inquire
Along the dark seas for mine absent sire!
Which all the Greeks oppose; amongst whom most
Those that are proud still at another’s cost,
Past measure, and the civil rights of men,
My mother’s Wooers, my repulse maintain.”
Thus spake he praying; when close to him came
Pallas, resembling Mentor both in frame
Of voice and person, and advis’d him thus:
“Those Wooers well might know, Telemachus,
Thou wilt not ever weak and childish be,
If to thee be instill’d the faculty
Of mind and body that thy father grac’d;
And if, like him, there be in thee enchac’d
Virtue to give words works, and works their end.
This voyage, that to them thou didst commend,
Shall not so quickly, as they idly ween,
Be vain, or giv’n up, for their opposite spleen.
But, if Ulysses nor Penelope
Were thy true parents, I then hope in thee
Of no more urging thy attempt in hand;
For few, that rightly bred on both sides stand,
Are like their parents, many that are worse,
And most few better. Those then that the nurse
Or mother call true-born yet are not so,
Like worthy sires much less are like to grow.
But thou show’st now that in thee fades not quite
Thy father’s wisdom; and that future light
Shall therefore show thee far from being unwise,
Or touch’d with stain of bastard cowardice.
Hope therefore says, that thou wilt to the end
Pursue the brave act thou didst erst intend.
But for the foolish Wooers, they bewray
They neither counsel have nor soul, since they
Are neither wise nor just, and so must needs
Rest ignorant how black above their heads
Fate hovers holding Death, that one sole day
Will make enough to make them all away.
For thee, the way thou wishest shall no more
Fly thee a step; I, that have been before
Thy father’s friend, thine likewise now will be,
Provide thy ship myself, and follow thee.
Go thou then home, and sooth each Wooer’s vein,
But under hand fit all things for the main;
Wine in as strong and sweet casks as you can,
And meal, the very marrow of a man,
Which put in good sure leather sacks, and see
That with sweet food sweet vessels still agree.
I from the people straight will press for you
Free voluntaries; and, for ships, enow
Sea-circled Ithaca contains, both new
And old-built; all which I’ll exactly view,
And choose what one soever most doth please;
Which rigg’d, we’ll straight launch, and assay the seas.”
This spake Jove’s daughter, Pallas; whose voice heard,
No more Telemachus her charge deferr’d,
But hasted home, and, sad at heart, did see
Amidst his hall th’ insulting Wooers flea
Goats, and roast swine. ’Mongst whom, Antinous
Careless, discov’ring in Telemachus
His grudge to see them, laugh’d, met, took his hand,
And said: “High-spoken, with the mind so mann’d!
Come, do as we do, put not up your spirits
With these low trifles, nor our loving merits
In gall of any hateful purpose steep,
But eat egregiously, and drink as deep.
The things thou think’st on, all at full shall be
By th’ Achives thought on, and perform’d to thee;
Ship, and choice oars, that in a trice will land
Thy hasty fleet on heav’nly Pylos’ sand,
And at the fame of thy illustrious sire.”
He answer’d: “Men, whom pride did so inspire,
Are not fit consorts for an humble guest;
Nor are constrain’d men merry at their feast.
Is ’t not enough, that all this time ye have
Op’d in your entrails my chief goods a grave,
And, while I was a child, made me partake?
My now more growth more grown my mind doth make,
And, hearing speak more judging men than you,
Perceive how much I was misgovern’d now.
I now will try if I can bring ye home
An ill Fate to consort you; if it come
From Pylos, or amongst the people here.
But thither I resolve, and know that there
I shall not touch in vain. Nor will I stay,
Though in a merchant’s ship I steer my way;
Which shows in your sights best; since me ye know
Incapable of ship, or men to row.”
This said, his hand he coyly snatch’d away
From forth Antinous’ hand. The rest the day
Spent through the house with banquets; some with jests,
And some with railings, dignifying their feasts.
To whom a jest-proud youth the wit began:
“Telemachus will kill us ev’ry man.
From Sparta, to the very Pylian sand,
He will raise aids to his impetuous hand.
O he affects it strangely! Or he means
To search Ephyra’s fat shores, and from thence
Bring deathful poisons, which amongst our bowls
Will make a general shipwrack of our souls.”
Another said: “Alas, who knows but he
Once gone, and erring like his sire at sea,
May perish like him, far from aid of friends,
And so he makes us work? For all the ends
Left of his goods here we shall share, the house
Left to his mother and her chosen spouse.”
Thus they; while he a room ascended, high
And large, built by his father, where did lie
Gold and brass heap’d up, and in coffers were
Rich robes, great store of odorous oils, and there
Stood tuns of sweet old wines along the wall,
Neat and divine drink, kept to cheer with all
Ulysses’ old heart, if he turn’d again
From labours fatal to him to sustain.
The doors of plank were, their close exquisite,
Kept with a double key, and day and night
A woman lock’d within; and that was she
Who all trust had for her sufficiency,
Old Euryclea, one of Opis’ race,
Son to Pisenor, and in passing grace
With grey Minerva; her the prince did call,
And said: “Nurse! Draw me the most sweet of all
The wine thou keep’st; next that which for my sire
Thy care reserves, in hope he shall retire.
Twelve vessels fill me forth, and stop them well.
Then into well-sew’d sacks of fine ground meal
Pour twenty measures. Nor, to anyone
But thee thyself, let this design be known.
All this see got together; I it all
In night will fetch off, when my mother shall
Ascend her high room, and for sleep prepare.
Sparta and Pylos I must see, in care
To find my father.” Out Euryclea cried,
And ask’d with tears: “Why is your mind applied.
Dear son, to this course? Whither will you go?
So far off leave us, and belovéd so,
So only? And the sale hope of your race?
Royal Ulysses, far from the embrace
Of his kind country, in a land unknown
Is dead; and, you from your lov’d country gone,
The Wooers will with some deceit assay
To your destruction, making then their prey
Of all your goods. Where, in your own y’are strong,
Make sure abode. It fits not you so young
To suffer so much by the aged seas,
And err in such a wayless wilderness.”
“Be cheer’d, lov’d nurse,” said he, “for, not without
The will of God, go my attempts about.
Swear therefore, not to wound my mother’s ears
With word of this, before from heav’n appears
Th’ elev’nth or twelfth light, or herself shall please
To ask of me, or hears me put to seas,
Lest her fair body with her woe be wore.”
To this the great oath of the Gods she swore;
Which having sworn, and of it every due
Perform’d to full, to vessels wine she drew,
And into well-sew’d sacks pour’d foody meal.
In mean time he, with cunning to conceal
All thought of this from others, himself bore
In broad house, with the Wooers, as before.
Then grey-eyed Pallas other thoughts did own,
And like Telemachus trod through the town,
Commanding all his men in th’ even to be
Aboard his ship. Again then question’d she
Noënon, fam’d for aged Phronius’ son,
About his ship; who all things to be done
Assur’d her freely should. The sun then set,
And sable shadows slid through ev’ry street,
When forth they launch’d, and soon aboard did bring
All arms, and choice of ev’ry needful thing
That fits a well-rigg’d ship. The Goddess then
Stood in the port’s extreme part, where her men,
Nobly appointed, thick about her came,
Whose ev’ry breast she did with spirit enflame.
Yet still fresh projects laid the grey-eyed Dame.
Straight to the house she hasted, and sweet sleep
Pour’d on each Wooer; which so laid in steep
Their drowsy temples, that each brow did nod,
As all were drinking, and each hand his load,
The cup, let fall. All start up, and to bed,
Nor more would watch, when sleep so surfeited
Their leaden eye-lids. Then did Pallas call
Telemachus, in body, voice, and all,
Resembling Mentor, from his native nest,
And said, that all his arm’d men were addrest
To use their oars, and all expected now
He should the spirit of a soldier show.
“Come then,” said she, “no more let us defer
Our honour’d action.” Then she took on her
A ravish’d spirit, and led as she did leap;
And he her most haste took out step by step.
Arrived at sea and ship, they found ashore
The soldiers that their fashion’d-long hair wore;
To whom the prince said: “Come, my friends, let’s bring
Our voyage’s provision; ev’ry thing
Is heap’d together in our court; and none,
No not my mother, nor her maids, but one
Knows our intention.” This express’d, he led,
The soldiers close together followed;
And all together brought aboard their store.
Aboard the prince went; Pallas still before
Sat at the stern, he close to her, the men
Up hasted after. He and Pallas then
Put from the shore. His soldiers then he bad
See all their arms fit; which they heard, and had.
A beechen mast, then, in the hollow base
They put, and hoisted, fix’d it in its place
With cables; and with well-wreath’d halsers hoise
Their white sails, which grey Pallas now employs
With full and fore-gales through the dark deep main.
The purple waves, so swift cut, roar’d again
Against the ship sides, that now ran and plow’d
The rugged seas up. Then the men bestow’d
Their arms about the ship, and sacrifice
With crown’d wine-cups to th’ endless Deities
They offer’d up. Of all yet thron’d above,
They most observ’d the grey-eyed seed of Jove;
Who, from the evening till the morning rose,
And all day long their voyage did dispose.
"""
Finis Libri Secundi Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses, in the Wooers’ beds,
Resolving first to kill the maids.
That sentence giving off, his care
For other objects doth prepare.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
ψ.
Jove’s thunder chides,
But cheers the King,
The Wooers’ prides
Discomfiting.
"""
"""
Ulysses in the entry laid his head,
And under him an ox-hide newly-flay’d,
Above him sheep-fells store; and over those
Eurynomé cast mantles. His repose
Would bring no sleep yet, studying the ill
He wish’d the Wooers; who came by him still
With all their wenches, laughing, wantoning,
In mutual lightness; which his heart did sting,
Contending two ways, if, all patience fled,
He should rush up and strike those strumpets dead,
Or let that night be last, and take th’ extreme
Of those proud Wooers, that were so supreme
In pleasure of their high-fed fantasies.
His heart did bark within him to surprise
Their sports with spoils; no fell she-mastiff can,
Amongst her whelps, fly eag’rer on a man
She doth not know, yet scents him something near,
And fain would come to please her tooth, and tear,
Than his disdain, to see his roof so fil’d
With those foul fashions, grew within him wild
To be in blood of them. But, finding best
In his free judgment to let passion rest,
He chid his angry spirit, and beat his breast,
And said: “Forbear, my mind, and think on this:
There hath been time when bitter agonies
Have tried thy patience. Call to mind the day
In which the Cyclop, which pass’d manly sway
Of violent strength, devour’d thy friends; thou then
Stood’st firmly bold, till from that hellish den
Thy wisdom brought thee off, when nought but death
Thy thoughts resolv’d on.” This discourse did breathe
The fiery boundings of his heart, that still
Lay in that æsture, without end his ill
Yet manly suff’ring. But from side to side
It made him toss apace. You have not tried
A fellow roasting of a pig before
A hasty fire, his belly yielding store
Of fat and blood, turn faster, labour more
To have it roast, and would not have it burn,
Than this and that way his unrest made turn
His thoughts and body, would not quench the fire,
And yet not have it heighten his desire
Past his discretion, and the fit enough
Of haste and speed, that went to all the proof
His well-laid plots, and his exploits requir’d,
Since he, but one, to all their deaths aspir’d.
In this contention Pallas stoop’d from heav’n,
Stood over him, and had her presence giv’n
A woman’s form, who sternly thus began:
“Why, thou most sour and wretched-fated man
Of all that breathe, yet liest thou thus awake?
The house in which thy cares so toss and take
Thy quiet up is thine; thy wife is there;
And such a son, as if thy wishes were
To be suffic’d with one they could not mend.”
“Goddess,” said he, “’tis true; but I contend
To right their wrongs, and, though I be but one,
To lay unhelp’d and wreakful hand upon
This whole resort of impudents, that here
Their rude assemblies never will forbear.
And yet a greater doubt employs my care,
That if their slaughters in my reaches are,
And I perform them, Jove and you not pleas’d,
How shall I fly their friends? And would stand seis’d
Of counsel to resolve this care in me.”
“Wretch,” she replied, “a friend of worse degree
Might win thy credence, that a mortal were, I
And us’d to second thee, though nothing near
So pow’rful in performance nor in care;
Yet I, a Goddess, that have still had share
In thy achievements, and thy person’s guard,
Must still be doubted by thy brain, so hard
To credit anything above thy pow’r;
And that must come from heav’n; if ev’ry hour
There be not personal appearance made,
And aid direct giv’n, that may sense invade.
I’ll tell thee, therefore, clearly: If there were
Of divers-languag’d men an army here
Of fifty companies, all driving hence
Thy sheep and oxen, and with violence
Offer’d to charge us, and besiege us round,
Thou shouldst their prey reprise, and them confound.
Let sleep then seize thee. //To keep watch all night//
//Consumes the spirits, and makes dull the sight.”//
Thus pour’d the Goddess sleep into his eyes,
And reascended the Olympian skies.
When care-and-lineament-resolving sleep
Had laid his temples in his golden steep,
His-wise-inchaste-wit-worthy wife did rise,
First sitting up in her soft bed, her eyes
Open’d with tears, in care of her estate,
Which now her friends resolv’d to terminate
To more delays, and make her marry one.
Her silent tears then ceas’d, her orison
This Queen of women to Diana made:
“Rev’rend Diana, let thy darts invade
My woeful bosom, and my life deprive,
Now at this instant, or soon after drive
My soul with tempests forth, and give it way
To those far-off dark vaults, where never day
Hath pow’r to shine, and let them cast it down
Where refluent Oceanus doth crown
His curléd head, where Pluto’s orchard is,
And entrance to our after miseries.
As such stern whirlwinds ravish’d to that stream
Pandareus’ daughters, when the Gods to them
Had reft their parents, and them left alone,
Poor orphan children, in their mansion;
Whose desolate life did Love’s sweet Queen incline
To nurse with presséd milk and sweetest wine;
Whom Juno deck’d beyond all other dames
With wisdom’s light, and beauty’s moving flames;
Whom Phœbe goodliness of stature render’d;
And to whose fair hands wise Minerva tender’d
The loom and needle in their utmost skill;
And while Love’s Empress scal’d th’ Olympian hill
To beg of lightning-loving Jove (since he
The means to all things knows, and doth decree
Fortunes, infortunes, to the mortal race)
For those poor virgins, the accomplish’d grace
Of sweetest nuptials, the fierce Harpies prey’d
On ev’ry good and miserable maid,
And to the hateful Furies gave them all
In horrid service; yet, may such fate fall
From steep Olympus on my loathéd head,
Or fair-chair’d Phœbe strike me instant dead,
That I may undergo the gloomy shore
To visit great Ulysses’ soul, before
I soothe my idle blood and wed a worse.
And yet, beneath how desperate a curse
Do I live now! It is an ill that may
Be well endur’d, to mourn the whole long day,
So night’s sweet sleeps, that make a man forget
Both bad and good, in some degree would let
My thoughts leave grieving; but, both day and night,
Some cruel God gives my sad memory sight.
This night, methought, Ulysses grac’d my bed
In all the goodly state with which he led
The Grecian army; which gave joys extreme
To my distress, esteeming it no dream,
But true indeed; and that conceit I had,
That when I saw it false I might be mad.
Such cruel fates command in my life’s guide.”
By this the morning’s orient dews had dyed
The earth in all her colours; when the King,
In his sweet sleep, suppos’d the sorrowing
That she us’d waking in her plaintive bed
To be her mourning, standing by his head,
As having known him there; who straight arose,
And did again within the hall dispose
The carpets and the cushions, where before
They serv’d the seats. The hide without the door
He carried back, and then, with held-up hands,
He pray’d to Him that heav’n and earth commands:
“O Father Jove, if through the moist and dry
You, willing, brought me home, when misery
Had punish’d me enough by your free dooms,
Let some of these within those inner rooms,
Startled with horror of some strange ostent,
Come here, and tell me that great Jove hath bent
Threat’nings without at some lewd men within.”
To this his pray’r Jove shook his sable chin,
And thunder’d from those pure clouds that, above
The breathing air, in bright Olympus move.
Divine Ulysses joy’d to hear it roar.
Report of which a woman-miller bore
Straight to his ears; for near to him there ground
Mills for his corn, that twice six women found
Continual motion, grinding barley-meal,
And wheat, man’s marrow. Sleep the eyes did seal
Of all the other women, having done
Their usual task; which yet this dame alone
Had scarce giv’n end to, being, of all the rest,
Least fit for labour. But when these sounds prest
Her ears, above the rumbling of her mill,
She let that stand, look’d out, and heav’n’s steep hill
Saw clear and temp’rate; which made her (unware
Of giving any comfort to his care
In that strange sign he pray’d for) thus, invoke:
“O King of men and Gods, a mighty stroke
Thy thund’ring hand laid on the cope of stars,
No cloud in all the air; and therefore wars
Thou bidst to some men in thy sure ostent!
Perform to me, poor wretch, the main event,
And make this day the last, and most extreme,
In which the Wooers’ pride shall solace them
With whorish banquets in Ulysses’ roof,
That, with sad toil to grind them meal enough,
Have quite dissolv’d my knees. Vouchsafe, then, now
Thy thunders may their latest feast foreshow.”
This was the boon Ulysses begg’d of Jove, ^^[[132|Chapman: Footnote 132]]^^
Which, with his thunder, through his bosom drove
A joy, that this vaunt breath’d: “Why now these men,
Despite their pride, will Jove make pay me pain.”
By this had other maids, than those that lay
Mix’d with the Wooers, made a fire like day
Amidst the hearth of the illustrious hall;
And then the Prince, like a Celestial,
Rose from his bed, to his embalm’d feet tied
Fair shoes, his sword about his breast applied,
Took to his hand his sharp-pil’d lance, and met,
Amidst the entry, his old nurse, that set
His haste at sudden stand; to whom he said:
“O, my lov’d nurse, with what grace have you laid
And fed my guest here? Could you so neglect
His age, to lodge him thus? Though all respect
I give my mother’s wisdom, I must yet
Affirm it fail’d in this; for she hath set
At much more price a man of much less worth,
Without his person’s note, and yet casts forth
With ignominious hands, for his form sake,
A man much better.” “Do not faulty make,
Good son, the faultless. He was giv’n his seat
Close to her side, and food till he would eat,
Wine till his wish was serv’d; for she requir’d
His wants, and will’d him all things he desir’d;
Commanded her chief maids to make his bed,
But he, as one whom sorrow only fed
And all infortune, would not take his rest
In bed, and cov’rings fit for any guest,
But in the entry, on an ox’s hide
Never at tanner’s, his old limbs implied,
In warm sheep-fells; yet over all we cast
A mantle, fitting for a man more grac’d.”
He took her answer, left the house, and went,
Attended with his dogs, to sift th’ event
Of private plots, betwixt him and his sire
In common counsel. Then the crew entire
Of all the household maids Euryclea bad
Bestir them through the house, and see it clad
In all best form; gave all their parts; and one
She set to furnish ev’ry seat and throne
With needle works, and purple clothes of state;
Another set to scour and cleanse the plate;
Another all the tables to make proud
With porous sponges; others she bestow’d
In all speed to the spring, to fetch from thence
Fit store of water; all at all expence
Of pains she will’d to be; for this to all
Should be a day of common festival,
And not a Wooer now should seek his home,
Elsewhere than there, but all were bid to come
Exceeding early, and be rais’d to heav’n
With all the entertainment could be giv’n.
They heard with greedy ears, and ev’rything
Put straight in practice. Twenty to the spring
Made speed for water; many in the house
Took pains; and all were both laborious
And skill’d in labour; many fell to fell
And cleave their wood; and all did more than well.
Then troop’d the lusty Wooers in; and then
Came all from spring; at their heels loaded men
With slaughter’d brawns, of all the herd the prize,
That had been long fed-up in sev’ral styes;
Eumæus and his men convey’d them there,
He, seeing now the king, began to cheer,
And thus saluted him: “How now, my guest?
Have yet your virtues found more interest
In these great Wooers’ good respects? Or still
Pursue they you with all their wonted ill?”
“I would to heav’n, Eumæus,” he replied,
“The Deities once would take in hand their pride,
That such unseemly fashions put in frame
In others’ roofs, as show no spark of shame.”
Thus these; and to these came Melanthius,
Great guardian of the most egregious
Rich Wooers’ herds, consisting all of goats;
Which he, with two more, drave, and made their cotes
The sounding porticos of that fair court.
Melanthius, seeing the king, this former sort
Of upland language gave: “What? Still stay here,
And dull these Wooers with thy wretched cheer?
Not gone for ever yet? Why now I see
This strife of cuffs betwixt the beggary,
That yesterday assay’d to get thee gone,
And thy more roguery, needs will fall upon
My hands to arbitrate. Thou wilt not hence
Till I set on thee; thy ragg’d impudence
Is so fast-footed. Are there not beside
Other great banquetants, but you must tide
At anchor still with us?” He nothing said,
But thought of ill enough, and shook his head.
Then came Philœtius, a chief of men,
That to the Wooers’ all-devouring den
A barren steer drave, and fat goats; for they
In custom were with traffickers by sea,
That who they would sent, and had utt’rance there.
And for these likewise the fair porches were
Hurdles and sheep-pens, as in any fair.
Philœtius took note in his repair
Of seen Ulysses, being a man as well
Giv’n to his mind’s use as to buy and sell,
Or do the drudg’ry that the blood desir’d,
And, standing near Eumæus, this enquir’d:
“What guest is this that makes our house of late
His entertainer? Whence claims he the state
His birth in this life holds? What nation?
What race? What country stands his speech upon?
O’er hardly portion’d by the terrible Fates.
The structure of his lineaments relates
A king’s resemblance in his pomp of reign
Ev’n thus in these rags. But poor erring men,
That have no firm home, but range here and there
As need compels, God keeps in this earth’s sphere,
As under water, and this tune he sings,
When he is spinning ev’n the cares of kings.”
Thus coming to him, with a kind of fear
He took his hand, and, touch’d exceeding near
With mere imagination of his worth,
This salutation he sent loudly forth:
“Health! Father stranger! In another world
Be rich and happy, though thou here art hurl’d
At feet of never such insulting Need.
O Jove, there lives no one God of thy seed
More ill to man than thou. Thou tak’st no ruth—
When thou thyself hast got him in most truth—
To wrap him in the straits of most distress,
And in the curse of others’ wickedness.
My brows have swet to see it, and mine eyes
Broke all in tears, when this being still the guise
Of worthiest men, I have but only thought,
That down to these ills was Ulysses wrought,
And that, thus clad, ev’n he is error-driv’n,
If yet he live and sees the light of heav’n.
But, if now dead, and in the house of hell,
O me! O good Ulysses! That my weal
Did ever wish, and when, but half a man
Amongst the people Cephallenian,
His bounty to his oxen’s charge preferr’d
One in that youth; which now is grown a herd
Unspeakable for number, and feed there
With their broad heads, as thick as of his ear
A field of corn is to a man. Yet these
Some men advise me with this noted prease
Of Wooers may devour, and wish me drive
Up to their feasts with them, that neither give
His son respect, though in his own free roof,
Nor have the wit to fear th’ infallible proof
Of Heav’nly vengeance, but make offer now
The long-lack’d King’s possessions to bestow
In their self-shares. Methinks the mind in me
Doth turn as fast, as in a flood or sea
A raging whirlpit doth, to gather in
To fishy death those swimmers in their sin;
Or feeds a motion as circular
To drive my herds away. But while the son
Bears up with life, ’twere heinous wrong to run
To other people with them, and to trust
Men of another earth. And yet more just
It were to venture their laws, the main right
Made still their masters, than at home lose quite
Their right and them, and sit and grieve to see
The wrong authoriz’d by their gluttony.
And I had long since fled, and tried th’ event
With other proud kings, since more insolent
These are than can be borne, but that ev’n still
I had a hope that this, though born to ill,
Would one day come from some coast, and their last
In his roofs strew with ruins red and vast.”
“Herdsman,” said he, “because thou art in show
Nor lewd nor indiscreet, and that I know
There rules in thee an understanding soul,
I’ll take an oath, that in thee shall control
All doubt of what I swear: Be witness, Jove,
That sway’st the first seat of the thron’d above,
This hospitable table, and this house,
That still hold title for the strenuous
Son of Laertes, that, if so you please,
Your eyes shall witness Laertiades
Arriv’d at home, and all these men that reign
In such excesses here shall here lie slain!”
He answer’d: “Stranger! Would just Jove would sign
What you have sworn! In your eyes’ beams should shine
What pow’rs I manage, and how these my hands
Would rise and follow where he first commands.”
So said Eumæus, praying all the Sky
That wise Ulysses might arrive and try.
Thus while they vow’d, the Wooers sat as hard
On his son’s death, but had their counsels scar’d,
For on their left hand did an eagle soar,
And in her seres a fearful pigeon bore.
Which seen, Amphinomus presag’d: “O friends,
Our counsels never will receive their ends
In this man’s slaughter. Let us therefore ply
Our bloody feast, and make his oxen die.”
Thus came they in, cast off on seats their cloaks,
And fell to giving sacrificing strokes
Of sheep and goats, the chiefly fat and great,
Slew fed-up swine, and from the herd a neat.
    The inwards roasted they dispos’d bewixt
Their then observers, wine in flagons mixt.
The bowls Eumæus brought, Philœtius bread,
Melanthius fill’d the wine. Thus drank and fed
The feastful Wooers. Then the prince, in grace
Of his close project, did his father place
Amidst the pavéd entry, in a seat
Seemless and abject, a small board and meat
Of th’ only inwards; in a cup of gold
Yet sent him wine, and bade him now drink bold,
All his approaches he himself would free
’Gainst all the Wooers, since he would not see
His court made popular, but that his sire
Built it to his use. Therefore all the fire
Blown in the Wooers’ spleens he bade suppress,
And that in hands nor words they should digress
From that set peace his speech did then proclaim.
They bit their lips and wonder’d at his aim
In that brave language; when Antinous said:
“Though this speech, Grecians, be a mere upbraid,
Yet this time give it pass. The will of Jove
Forbids the violence of our hands to move,
But of our tongues we keep the motion free,
And, therefore, if his further jollity
Tempt our encounter with his braves, let’s check
His growing insolence, though pride to speak
Fly passing high with him.” The wise prince made
No more spring of his speech, but let it fade.
And now the heralds bore about the town
The sacred hecatomb; to whose renown
The fair-hair’d Greeks assembled, and beneath
Apollo’s shady wood the holy death
They put to fire; which, made enough, they drew,
Divided all, that did in th’ end accrue
To glorious satisfaction. Those that were
Disposers of the feast did equal cheer
Bestow on wretched Laertiades,
With all the Wooers’ souls; it so did please
Telemachus to charge them. And for these
Minerva would not see the malices
The Wooers bore too much contain’d, that so
Ulysses’ mov’d heart yet might higher flow
In wreakful anguish. There was wooing there,
Amongst the rest, a gallant that did bear
The name of one well-learn’d in jests profane,
His name Ctesippus, born a Samian;
Who, proud because his father was so rich,
Had so much confidence as did bewitch
His heart with hope to wed Ulysses’ wife;
And this man said: “Hear me, my lords, in strife
For this great widow. This her guest did share
Even feast with us, with very comely care
Of him that order’d it; for ’tis not good
Nor equal to deprive guests of their food,
And specially whatever guest makes way
To that house where Telemachus doth sway;
And therefore I will add to his receit
A gift of very hospitable weight,
Which he may give again to any maid
That bathes his grave feet, and her pains see paid,
Or any servant else that the divine
Ulysses’ lofty battlements confine.”
Thus snatch’d he with a valiant hand, from out
The poor folks’ common basket, a neat’s foot,
And threw it at Ulysses; who his head
Shrunk quietly aside, and let it shed
His malice on the wall; the suff’ring man
A laughter raising most Sardinian,
With scorn and wrath mix’d, at the Samian.
Whom thus the prince reprov’d: “Your valour wan
Much grace, Ctesippus, and hath eas’d your mind
With mighty profit, yet you see it find
No mark it aim’d at; the poor stranger’s part
Himself made good enough, to ’scape your dart.
But should I serve thee worthily, my lance
Should strike thy heart through, and, in place t’ advance
Thyself in nuptials with his wealth, thy sire
Should make thy tomb here; that the foolish fire
Of all such valours may not dare to show
These foul indecencies to me. I now
Have years to understand my strength, and know
The good and bad of things, and am no more
At your large suff’rance, to behold my store
Consum’d with patience, see my cattle slain,
My wine exhausted, and my bread in vain
Spent on your license; for to one then young
So many enemies were match too strong.
But let me never more be witness to
Your hostile minds, nor those base deeds ye do;
For, should ye kill me in my offer’d wreak,
I wish it rather, and my death would speak
Much more good of me, than to live and see
Indignity upon indignity,
My guests provok’d with bitter words and blows,
My women-servants dragg’d about my house
To lust and rapture.” This made silence seize
The house throughout; till Damastorides
At length the calm brake, and said: “Friend, forbear
To give a just speech a disdainful ear;
The guest no more touch, nor no servant here.
Myself will to the Prince and Queen commend
A motion grateful, if they please to lend
Grateful receipt. As long as any hope
Left wise Ulysses any passage ope
To his return in our conceits, so long
The Queen’s delays to our demands stood strong
In cause and reason, and our quarrels thus
With guests, the Queen, or her Telemachus,
Set never foot amongst our lib’ral feast;
For should the King return, though thought deceas’d,
It had been gain to us, in finding him,
To lose his wife. But now, since nothing dim
The days break out that show he never more
Shall reach the dear touch of his country-shore,
Sit by your mother, in persuasion
That now it stands her honour much upon
To choose the best of us, and, who gives most,
To go with him home. For so, all things lost
In sticking on our haunt so, you shall clear
Recover in our no more concourse here,
Possess your birth-right wholly, eat and drink,
And never more on our disgraces think.”
“By Jove, no, Agelaus! For I swear
By all my father’s sorrows, who doth err
Far off from Ithaca, or rests in death,
I am so far from spending but my breath
To make my mother any more defer
Her wishéd nuptials, that I’ll counsel her
To make her free choice; and besides will give
Large gifts to move her. But I fear to drive
Or charge her hence; for God will not give way
To any such course, if I should assay.”
At this, Minerva made for foolish joy
The Wooers mad, and rous’d their late annoy
To such a laughter as would never down.
They laugh’d with others’ cheeks, ate meat o’erflown
With their own bloods, their eyes stood full of tears
For violent joys; their souls yet thought of fears,
Which Theoclymenus express’d, and said:
“O wretches! Why sustain ye, well apaid,
Your imminent ill? A night, with which death sees,
Your heads and faces hides beneath your knees;
Shrieks burn about you; your eyes thrust out tears;
These fixéd walls, and that main beam that bears
The whole house up, in bloody torrents fall;
The entry full of ghosts stands; full the hall
Of passengers to hell; and under all
The dismal shades; the sun sinks from the poles;
And troubled air pours bane about your souls.”
They sweetly laughed at this. Eurymachus
To mocks dispos’d, and said: “This new-come-t’-us
Is surely mad, conduct him forth to light
In th’ open market-place; he thinks ’tis night
Within the house.” “Eurymachus,” said he,
“I will not ask for any guide of thee,
I both my feet enjoy, have ears and eyes,
And no mad soul within me; and with these
Will I go forth the doors, because I know
That imminent mischief must abide with you,
Which not a man of all the Wooers here
Shall fly or ’scape. Ye all too highly bear
Your uncurb’d heads. Impieties ye commit,
And ev’ry man affect with forms unfit.”
This said, he left the house, and took his way
Home to Piræus; who, as free as day,
Was of his welcome. When the Wooers’ eyes
Chang’d looks with one another, and, their guise
Of laughters still held on, still eas’d their breasts
Of will to set the Prince against his guests,
Affirming that of all the men alive
He worst luck had, and prov’d it worst to give
Guests entertainment; for he had one there
A wand’ring hunter-out of provender,
An errant beggar ev’ry way, yet thought
(He was so hungry) that he needed nought
But wine and victuals, nor knew how to do,
Nor had a spirit to put a knowledge to,
But liv’d an idle burthen to the earth.
Another then stepp’d up, and would lay forth
His lips in prophecy, thus: “But, would he hear
His friends’ persuasions, he should find it were
More profit for him to put both aboard
For the Sicilian people, that afford
These feet of men good price; and this would bring ^^[[133|Chapman: Footnote 133]]^^
Good means for better guests.” These, words made wing
To his ears idly, who had still his eye
Upon his father, looking fervently
When he would lay his long-withholding hand
On those proud Wooers. And, within command
Of all this speech that pass’d, Icarius’ heir,
The wise Penelope, her royal chair
Had plac’d of purpose. Their high dinner then
With all-pleas’d palates these ridiculous men
Fell sweetly to, as joying they had slain
Such store of banquet. But there did not reign
A bitterer banquet-planet in all heav’n
Than that which Pallas had to that day driv’n,
And, with her able friend now, meant t’ appose,
Since they till then were in deserts so gross.
"""
The End Of The Twentieth Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Penelope proposeth now
To him that draws Ulysses’ bow
Her instant nuptials. Ithacus
Eumæus and Philœtius
Gives charge for guarding of the gates;
And he his shaft shoots through the plates.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Φι̑.
The nuptial vow
And game rehears’d,
Drawn is the bow,
The steels are pierc’d.
"""
"""
Pallus, the Goddess with the sparkling eyes,
Excites Penelope t’ object the prize,
The bow and bright steels, to the Wooers’ strength
And here began the strife and blood at length.
She first ascended by a lofty stair
Her utmost chamber; of whose door her fair
And half transparent hand receiv’d the key,
Bright, brazen, bitted passing curiously,
And at it hung a knob of ivory.
And this did lead her where was strongly kept
The treasure-royal; in whose store lay heapt
Gold, brass, and steel, engrav’n with infinite art;
The crooked bow, and arrowy quiver, part
Of that rich magazine. In the quiver were
Arrows a number, sharp and sighing gear.
The bow was giv’n by kind Eurytides
Iphitus, fashion’d like the Deities,
To young Ulysses, when within the roof
Of wise Orsilochus their pass had proof
Of mutual meeting in Messena; where
Ulysses claim’d a debt, to whose pay were
The whole Messenian people bound, since they
From Ithaca had forc’d a wealthy prey
Of sheep and shepherds. In their ships they thrust
Three hundred sheep together; for whose just
And instant rendry old Laertes sent
Ulysses his ambassador, that went
A long way in the ambassy, yet then
Bore but the foremost prime of youngest men;
His father sending first to that affair
His gravest counsellors, and then his heir.
Iphitus made his way there, having lost
Twelve female horse, and mules commended most
For use of burthen; which were after cause
Of death and fate to him; for, past all laws
Of hospitality, Jove’s mighty son,
Skill’d in great acts, was his confusion
Close by his house, though at that time his guest,
Respecting neither the apposéd feast,
And hospitable table, that in love
He set before him, nor the voice of Jove,
But, seizing first his mares, he after slew
His host himself. From those mares’ search now grew
Ulysses known t’ Iphitus; who that bow
At their encounter did in love bestow,
Which great Eurytus’ hand had borne before,
(Iphitus’ father) who, at death’s sad door,
In his steep turrets, left it to his son.
Ulysses gave him a keen falchion,
And mighty lance. And thus began they there
Their fatal loves; for after never were
Their mutual tables to each other known,
Because Jove’s son th’ unworthy part had shown
Of slaughtering this God-like loving man,
Eurytus’ son, who with that bow began
And ended love t’ Ulysses; who so dear
A gift esteem’d it, that he would not bear
In his black fleet that guest-rite to the war,
But, in fit memory of one so far
In his affection, brought it home, and kept
His treasure with it; where till now it slept.
And now the Queen of women had intent
To give it use, and therefore made ascent
Up all the stairs’ height to the chamber door,
Whose shining leaves two bright pilasters bore
To such a close when both together went
It would resist the air in their consent.
The ring she took then, and did draw aside
A bar that ran within, and then implied
The key into the lock, which gave a sound,
The bolt then shooting, as in pasture ground
A bull doth low, and make the valleys ring;
So loud the lock humm’d when it loos’d the spring,
And ope the doors flew. In she went, along
The lofty chamber, that was boarded strong
With heart of oak, which many years ago
The architect did smooth and polish so
That now as then he made it freshly shine,
And tried the evenness of it with a line.
There stood in this room presses that enclos’d
Robes odoriferous, by which repos’d
The bow was upon pins; nor from it far
Hung the round quiver glitt’ring like a star;
Both which her white extended hand took down.
Then sat she low, and made her lap a crown
Of both these relics, which she wept to see,
And cried quite out with loving memory
Of her dear lord; to whose worth paying then
Kind debts enow, she left, and, to the men
Vow’d to her wooing, brought the crooked bow,
And shaft-receiving quiver, that did flow
With arrows beating sighs up where they fell.
Then, with another chest, replete as well
With games won by the King, of steel and brass,
Her maids attended. Past whom making pass
To where her Wooers were, she made her stay
Amidst the fair hall door, and kept the ray
Of her bright count’nance hid with veils so thin,
That though they seem’d t’ expose, they let love in;
Her maids on both sides stood; and thus she spake:
“Hear me, ye Wooers, that a pleasure take
To do me sorrow, and my house invade
To eat and drink, as if ’twere only made
To serve your rapines; my lord long away,
And you allow’d no colour for your stay
But his still absence; striving who shall frame
Me for his wife; and, since ’tis made a game,
I here propose divine Ulysses’ bow
For that great master-piece to which ye vow.
He that can draw it with least show to strive,
And through these twelve axe-heads an arrow drive,
Him will I follow, and this house forego
That nourish’d me a maid, now furnish’d so
With all things fit, and which I so esteem
That I shall still live in it in my dream.”
This said, she made Eumæus give it them.
He took and laid it by, and wept for woe;
And like him wept Philœtius, when the bow
Of which his king was bearer he beheld.
Their tears Antinous’ manhood much refell’d,
And said: “Ye rustic fools! that still each day
Your minds give over to this vain dismay,
Why weep ye, wretches, and the widow’s eyes
Tempt with renew’d thought, that would otherwise
Depose her sorrows, since her lord is dead,
And tears are idle? Sit, and eat your bread,
Nor whisper more a word; or get ye gone,
And weep without doors. Let this bow alone
To our out-match’d contention. For I fear
The bow will scarce yield draught to any here;
Here no such man lives as Laertes’ son
Amongst us all. I knew him; thought puts on
His look’s sight now, methinks, though then a child.”
Thus show’d his words doubt, yet his hopes instill’d
His strength the stretcher of Ulysses’ string,
And his steels’ piercer. But his shaft must sing
Through his pierc’d palate first; whom so he wrong’d
In his free roof, and made the rest ill-tongued
Against his virtues. Then the sacred heat
That spirited his son did further set
Their confidence on fire, and said: “O friends,
Jove hath bereft my wits. The Queen intends,
Though I must grant her wise, ere long to leave
Ulysses’ court, and to her bed receive
Some other lord; yet, notwithstanding, I
Am forc’d to laugh, and set my pleasures high
Like one mad sick. But, Wooers, since ye have
An object for your trials now so brave,
As all the broad Achaian earth exceeds,
As sacred Pylos, as the Argive breeds,
As black Epirus, as Mycena’s birth,
And as the more fam’d Ithacensian earth,
All which, yourselves well know, and oft have said—
For what need hath my mother of my aid
In her advancement?—tender no excuse
For least delay, nor too much time profuse
In stay to draw this bow, but draw it straight,
Shoot, and the steels pierce; make all see how slight
You make these poor bars to so rich a prize.
No eag’rer yet? Come all. My faculties
Shall try the bow’s strength, and the piercéd steel.
I will not for my rev’rend mother feel
The sorrows that I know will seize my heart,
To see her follow any, and depart
From her so long-held home; but first extend
The bow and arrow to their tender’d end.
For I am only to succeed my sire
In guard of his games, and let none aspire
To their besides possession.” This said,
His purple robe he cast off; by he laid
His well-edg’d sword; and, first, a sev’ral pit
He digg’d for ev’ry axe, and strengthen’d it
With earth close ramm’d about it; on a rew
Set them, of one height, by a line he drew
Along the whole twelve; and so orderly
Did ev’ry deed belonging (yet his eye
Never before beholding how ’twas done)
That in amaze rose all his lookers-on.
Then stood he near the door, and prov’d to draw
The stubborn bow. Thrice tried, and thrice gave law
To his uncrown’d attempts; the fourth assay
With all force off’ring, which a sign gave stay
Giv’n by his father; though he show’d a mind
As if he stood right heartily inclin’d
To perfect the exploit, when all was done
In only drift to set the Wooers on.
His weakness yet confess’d, he said: “O shame!
I either shall be ever of no name,
But prove a wretch; or else I am too young,
And must not now presume on pow’rs so strong
As sinews yet more growing may engraft,
To turn a man quite over with a shaft.
Besides, to men whose nerves are best prepar’d,
//All great adventures at first proof are hard.//
But come, you stronger men, attempt this bow,
And let us end our labour.” Thus, below
A well-join’d board he laid it, and close by
The brightly-headed shaft; then thron’d his thigh
Amidst his late-left seat. Antinous then
Bade all arise; but first, who did sustain
The cup’s state ever, and did sacrifice
Before they ate still, and that man bade rise,
Since on the other’s right hand he was plac’d,
Because he held the right hand’s rising, grac’d
With best success still. This discretion won
Supreme applause; and first rose Œnops’ son,
Liodes, that was priest to all the rest,
Sat lowest with the cup still, and their jest
Could never like, but ever was the man
That check’d their follies; and he now began
To taste the bow, the sharp shaft took, tugg’d hard,
And held aloft, and, till he quite had marr’d
His delicate tender fingers, could not stir
The churlish string; who therefore did refer
The game to others, saying, that same bow,
In his presage, would prove the overthrow
Of many a chief man there; nor thought the fate
Was any whit austere, since death’s short date
Were much the better taken, than long life
Without the object of their amorous strife,
For whom they had burn’d-out so many days
To find still other, nothing but delays
Obtaining in them; and affirm’d that now
Some hop’d to have her, but when that tough bow
They all had tried, and seen the utmost done,
They must rest pleas’d to cease; and now some one
Of all their other fair-veil’d Grecian dames
With gifts, and dower, and Hymeneal flames,
Let her love light to him that most will give,
And whom the nuptial destiny did drive.”
Thus laid he on the well-join’d polish’d board
The bow and bright-pil’d shaft, and then restor’d
His seat his right. To him Antinous
Gave bitter language, and reprov’d him thus:
“What words, Liodes, pass thy speech’s guard,
That ’tis a work to bear, and set so hard
They set up my disdain! This bow must end
The best of us? Since thy arms cannot lend
The string least motion? Thy mother’s throes
Brought never forth thy arms to draught of bows,
Or knitting shafts off. Though thou canst not draw
The sturdy plant, thou art to us no law.
Melanthius! Light a fire, and set thereat
A chair and cushions, and that mass of fat
That lies within bring out, that we may set
Our pages to this bow, to see it bet
And suppled with the suet, and then we
May give it draught, and pay this great decree
Utmost performance.” He a mighty fire
Gave instant flame, put into act th’ entire
Command laid on him, chair and cushions set,
Laid on the bow, which straight the pages het,
Chaf’d, suppled with the suet to their most;
And still was all their unctuous labour lost,
All Wooers’ strengths too indigent and poor
To draw that bow; Antinous’ arms it tore,
And great Eurymachus’, the both clear best,
Yet both it tir’d, and made them glad to rest.
Forth then went both the swains, and after them
Divine Ulysses; when, being past th’ extreme
Of all the gates, with winning words he tried
Their loves, and this ask’d: “Shall my counsels hide
Their depths from you? My mind would gladly know
If suddenly Ulysses had his vow
Made good for home, and had some God to guide
His steps and strokes to wreak these Wooers’ pride,
Would your aids join on his part, or with theirs?
How stand your hearts affected?” They made pray’rs
That some God would please to return their lord,
He then should see how far they would afford
Their lives for his. He, seeing their truth, replied;
“I am your lord, through many a suff’rance tried,
Arriv’d now here, whom twenty years have held
From forth my country. Yet are not conceal’d
From my sure knowledge your desires to see
My safe return. Of all the company
Now serving here besides, not one but you
Mine ear hath witness’d willing to bestow
Their wishes of my life, so long held dead.
I therefore vow, which shall be perfected,
That if God please beneath my hand to leave
These Wooers lifeless, ye shall both receive
Wives from that hand, and means, and near to me
Have houses built to you, and both shall be
As friends and brothers to my only son.
And, that ye well may know me, and be won
To that assurance, the infallible sign
The white-tooth’d boar gave, this mark’d knee of mine,
When in Parnassus he was held in chase
By me, and by my famous grandsire’s race,
I’ll let you see.” Thus sever’d he his weed
From that his wound; and ev’ry word had deed
In their sure knowledges. Which made them cast
Their arms about him, his broad breast embrac’d,
His neck and shoulders kiss’d. And him as well
Did those true pow’rs of human love compell
To kiss their heads and hands, and to their moan
Had sent the free light of the cheerful sun,
Had not Ulysses broke the ruth, and said;
“Cease tears and sorrows, lest we prove display’d
By some that issue from the house, and they
Relate to those within. Take each his way,
Not altogether in, but one by one,
First I, then you; and then see this be done;
The envious Wooers will by no means give
The offer of the bow and arrow leave
To come at me; spite then their pride, do thou,
My good Eumæus, bring both shaft and bow
To my hand’s proof; and charge the maids before
That instantly they shut in ev’ry door,
That they themselves (if any tumult rise
Beneath my roofs by any that envies
My will to undertake the game) may gain
No passage forth, but close at work contain
With all free quiet, or at least constrain’d,
And therefore, my Philœtius, see maintain’d,
When close the gates are shut, their closure fast,
To which end be it thy sole work to cast
Their chains before them.” This said, in he led,
Took first his seat; and then they seconded
His entry with their own. Then took in hand
Eurymachus the bow, made close his stand
Aside the fire, at whose heat here and there
He warm’d and suppled it, yet could not stere
To any draught the string, with all his art;
And therefore swell’d in him his glorious heart,
Affirming, “that himself and all his friends
Had cause to grieve, not only that their ends
They miss’d in marriage, since enough besides
Kind Grecian dames there liv’d to be their brides
In Ithaca, and other bord’ring towns,
But that to all times future their renowns
Would stand disparag’d, if Ulysses’ bow
They could not draw, and yet his wife would woo.”
Antinous answer’d; “That there could ensue
No shame at all to them; for well he knew
That this day was kept holy to the Sun
By all the city, and there should be done
No such profane act, therefore bade lay by
The bow for that day; but the mastery
Of axes that were set up still might stand,
Since that no labour was, nor any hand
Would offer to invade Ulysses’ house,
To take, or touch with surreptitious
Or violent hand, what there was left for use
He, therefore, bade the cup-bearer infuse
Wine to the bowls, that so with sacrifice
They might let rest the shooting exercise,
And in the morning make Melanthius bring
The chief goats of his herd, that to the King
Of bows and archers they might burn the thighs
For good success, and then attempt the prize.”
The rest sat pleas’d with this. The heralds straight
Pour’d water on their hands; each page did wait
With his crown’d cup of wine, serv’d ev’ry man
Till all were satisfied. And then began
Ulysses’ plot of his close purpose thus:
“Hear me, ye much renown’d Eurymachus,
And king Antinous, in chief, who well,
And with decorum sacred, doth compell
This day’s observance, and to let lay down
The bow all this light, giving Gods their own.
The morning’s labour God the more will bless,
And strength bestow where he himself shall please.
Against which time let me presume to pray
Your favours with the rest, that this assay
May my old arms prove, trying if there lie
In my poor pow’rs the same activity
That long since crown’d them; or if needy fare
And desolate wand’ring have the web worn bare
Of my life’s thread at all parts, that no more
Can furnish these affairs as heretofore.”
This het their spleens past measure, blown with fear
Lest his loath’d temples would the garland wear
Of that bow’s draught; Antinous using speech
To this sour purpose: “Thou most arrant wretch
Of all guests breathing, in no least degree
Grac’d with a human soul, it serves not thee
To feast in peace with us, take equal share
Of what we reach to, sit, and all things hear
That we speak freely,—which no begging guest
Did ever yet,—but thou must make request
To mix with us in merit of the Queen.
But wine inflames thee, that hath ever been
The bane of men whoever yet would take
Th’ excess it offers and the mean forsake.
Wine spoil’d the Centaur great Eurytion,
In guest-rites with the mighty-minded son
Of bold Ixion, in his way to war
Against the Lapithes; who, driv’n as far
As madness with the bold effects of wine,
Did outrage to his kind host, and decline
Other heroës from him feasted there
With so much anger that they left their cheer,
And dragg’d him forth the fore-court, slit his nose,
Cropp’d both his ears, and, in the ill-dispose
His mind then suffer’d, drew the fatal day
On his head with his host; for thence the fray
Betwixt the Centaurs and the Lapithes
Had mortal act. But he for his excess
In spoil of wine fared worse himself; as thou
For thy large cups, if thy arms draw the bow,
My mind fortells shalt fear; for not a man
Of all our consort, that in wisdom can
Boast any fit share, will take prayers then,
But to Echetus, the most stern of men,
A black sail freight with thee, whose worst of ill,
Be sure, is past all ransom. Sit, then, still,
Drink temp’rately, and never more contend
With men your youngers.” This the Queen did end
With her defence of him, and told his foe
It was not fair nor equal t’ overcrow
The poorest guest her son pleas’d t’ entertain
In his free turrets with so proud a strain
Of threats and bravings; asking if he thought,
That if the stranger to his arms had brought
The stubborn bow down, he should marry her,
And bear her home? And said, himself should err
In no such hope; nor of them all the best
That griev’d at any good she did her guest
Should banquet there; since it in no sort show’d
Noblesse in them, nor paid her what she ow’d
Her own free rule there. This Eurymachus
Confirm’d and said: “Nor feeds it hope in us,
Icarius’ daughter, to solemnize rites
Of nuptials with thee; nor in noblest sights
It can show comely; but to our respects
The rumour both of sexes and of sects
Amongst the people would breed shame and fear,
Lest any worst Greek said: ‘See, men that were
Of mean deservings will presume t’ aspire
To his wife’s bed, whom all men did admire
For fame and merit, could not draw his bow,
And yet his wife had foolish pride to woo,
When straight an errant beggar comes and draws
The bow with ease, performing all the laws
The game besides contain’d’; and this would thus
Prove both indignity and shame to us.”
The Queen replied: “The fame of men, I see,
Bears much price in your great suppos’d degree;
Yet who can prove amongst the people great,
That of one so esteem’d of them the seat
Doth so defame and ruin? And beside,
With what right is this guest thus vilified
In your high censures, when the man in blood
Is well compos’d and great, his parents good? ^^[[134|Chapman: Footnote 134]]^^
And therefore give the bow to him, to try
His birth and breeding by his chivalry.
If his arms draw it, and that Phœbus stands
So great a glory to his strength, my hands
Shall add this guerdon: Ev’ry sort of weed,
A two-edg’d sword, and lance to keep him freed
From dogs and men hereafter, and dismiss
His worth to what place tends that heart of his.”
Her son gave answer: “That it was a wrong
To his free sway in all things that belong
To guard of that house, to demand the bow
Of any Wooer, and the use bestow
Upon the stranger: for the bow was his
To give or to withhold; no masteries
Of her proposing giving any pow’r
T’ impair his right in things for any Wooer,
Or any that rough Ithaca affords,
Any that Elis; of which no man’s words
Nor pow’rs should curb him, stood he so inclin’d,
To see the bow in absolute gift resign’d
To that his guest to bear and use at will,
And therefore bade his mother keep her still
Amongst her women at her rock and loom;
Bows were for men; and this bow did become
Past all men’s his disposure, since his sire
Left it to him, and all the house entire.”
She stood dismay’d at this, and in her mind
His wise words laid up, standing so inclin’d
As he had will’d, with all her women going
Up to her chamber, there her tears bestowing,
As ev’ry night she did, on her lov’d lord,
Till sleep and Pallas her fit rest restor’d.
The bow Eumæus took, and bore away;
Which up in tumult, and almost in fray,
Put all the Wooers, one enquiring thus:
“Whither, rogue, abject, wilt thou bear from us
That bow propos’d? Lay down, or I protest
Thy dogs shall eat thee, that thou nourishest
To guard thy swine; amongst whom, left of all,
Thy life shall leave thee, if the festival,
We now observe to Phœbus, may our zeals
Grace with his aid, and all the Deities else.”
This threat made good Eumæus yield the bow
To his late place, not knowing what might grow
From such a multitude. And then fell on
Telemachus with threats, and said: “Set gone
That bow yet further; ’tis no servant’s part
To serve too many masters; raise your heart
And bear it off, lest, though you’re younger, yet
With stones I pelt you to the field with it.
If you and I close, I shall prove too strong.
I wish as much too hard for all this throng
The Gods would make me, I should quickly send
Some after with just sorrow to their end,
They waste my victuals so, and ply my cup,
And do me such shrewd turns still.” This put up
The Wooers all in laughters, and put down
Their angers to him, that so late were grown
So grave and bloody; which resolv’d that fear
Of good Eumæus, who did take and bear
The King the bow; call’d nurse, and bade her make
The doors all sure, that if men’s tumults take
The ears of some within, they may not fly,
But keep at work still close and silently.
These words put wings to her, and close she put
The chamber door. The court-gates then were shut
By kind Philœtius, who straight did go
From out the hall, and in the portico
Found laid a gable of a ship, compos’d
Of spongy bulrushes; with which he clos’d,
In winding round about them, the court-gates,
Then took his place again, to view the fates
That quickly follow’d. When he came, he saw
Ulysses viewing, ere he tried to draw,
The famous bow, which ev’ry way he mov’d,
Up and down turning it; in which be prov’d
The plight it was in, fearing, chiefly, lest
The horns were eat with worms in so long rest.
But what his thoughts intended turning so,
And keeping such a search about the bow,
The Wooers little knowing fell to jest,
And said: “Past doubt he is a man profest
In bowyers’ craft, and sees quite through the wood;
Or something, certain, to be understood
There is in this his turning of it still.
A cunning rogue he is at any ill.”
Then spake another proud one: “Would to heav’n,
I might, at will, get gold till he hath giv’n
That bow his draught!” With these sharp jests did these
Delightsome Woo’rs their fatal humours please.
But when the wise Ulysses once had laid
His fingers on it, and to proof survey’d
The still sound plight it held, as one of skill
In song, and of the harp, doth at his will,
In tuning of his instrument, extend
A string out with his pin, touch all, and lend
To ev’ry well-wreath’d string his perfect sound,
Struck all together; with such ease drew round
The King the bow. Then twang’d he up the string,
That as a swallow in the air doth sing
With no continued tune, but, pausing still,
Twinks out her scatter’d voice in accents shrill;
So sharp the string sung when he gave it touch,
Once having bent and drawn it. Which so much
Amaz’d the Wooers, that their colours went
And came most grievously. And then Jove rent
The air with thunder; which at heart did cheer
The now-enough-sustaining traveller,
That Jove again would his attempt enable.
Then took he into hand, from off the table,
The first drawn arrow: and a number more
Spent shortly on the Wooers; but this one
He measur’d by his arm, as if not known
The length were to him, nock’d it then, and drew;
And through the axes, at the first hole, flew
The steel-charg’d arrow; which when he had done
He thus bespake the Prince: “You have not won
Disgrace yet by your guest; for I have strook
The mark I shot at, and no such toil took
In wearying the bow with fat and fire
As did the Wooers. Yet reserv’d entire,
Thank Heav’n, my strength is, and myself am tried,
No man to be so basely vilified
As these men pleas’d to think me. But, free way
Take that, and all their pleasures; and while day
Holds her torch to you, and the hour of feast
Hath now full date, give banquet, and the rest,
Poem and harp, that grace a well-fill’d board.”
This said, he beckon’d to his son; whose sword
He straight girt to him, took to hand his lance,
And cómplete-arm’d did to his sire advance.
"""
The End Of The Twenty-first Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
The Wooers in Minerva’s sight
Slain by Ulysses; all the light
And lustful housewives by his son
And servants are to slaughter done.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Χι̑.
The end of pride,
And lawless lust,
Is wretched tried
With slaughters just.
"""
"""
The upper rags that wise Ulysses wore
Cast off, he rusheth to the great hall door
With bow and quiver full of shafts, which down
He pour’d before his feet, and thus made known
His true state to the Wooers: “This strife thus
Hath harmless been decided; now for us
There rests another mark, more hard to hit,
And such as never man before hath smit;
Whose full point likewise my hands shall assay,
And try if Phœbus will give me his day.”
He said, and off his bitter arrow thrust
Right at Antinous; and struck him just
As he was lifting up the bowl, to show
That ’twixt the cup and lip much ill may grow.
Death touch’d not at his thoughts at feast; for who
Would think that he alone could perish so
Amongst so many, and he best of all?
The arrow in his throat took full his fall,
And thrust his head far through the other side.
Down fell his cup, down he, down all his pride;
Straight from his nostrils gush’d the human gore;
And, as he fell, his feet far overbore
The feastful table; all the roast and bread
About the house strew’d. When his high-born head
The rest beheld so low, up rush’d they all,
And ransack’d ev’ry corner of the hall
For shields and darts; but all fled far their reach.
Then fell they foul on him with terrible speech,
And told him it should prove the dearest shaft
That ever pass’d him; and that now was saft
No shift for him, but sure and sudden death;
For he had slain a man, whose like did breathe
In no part of the kingdom; and that now
He should no more for games strive with his bow,
But vultures eat him there. These threats they spent,
Yet ev’ry man believ’d that stern event
Chanc’d ’gainst the author’s will. O fools, to think
That all their rest had any cup to drink
But what their great Antinous began!
He, frowning, said: “Dogs, see in me the man
Ye all held dead at Troy. My house it is
That thus ye spoil, and thus your luxuries
File with my women’s rapes; in which ye woo
The wife of one that lives, and no thought show
Of man’s fit fear, or God’s, your present fame,
Or any fair sense of your future name;
And, therefore, present and eternal death
Shall end your base life.” This made fresh fears breathe
Their former boldness. Ev’ry man had eye
On all the means, and studied ways to fly
So deep deaths imminent. But seeing none,
Eurymachus began with suppliant moan
To move his pity, saying: “If you be
This isle’s Ulysses, we must all agree,
In grant of your reproof’s integrity,
The Greeks have done you many a wrong at home,
At field as many. But of all the sum
Lies here contract in death; for only he
Impos’d the whole ill-offices that we
Are now made guilty of, and not so much
Sought his endeavours, or in thought did touch
At any nuptials, but a greater thing
Employ’d his forces; for to be our king
Was his chief object; his sole plot it was
To kill your son, which Jove’s hand would not pass,
But set it to his own most merited end.
In which end your just anger, nor extend
Your stern wreak further; spend your royal pow’rs
In mild ruth of your people; we are yours;
And whatsoever waste of wine or food
Our liberties have made, we’ll make all good
In restitutions. Call a court, and pass
A fine of twenty oxen, gold, and brass,
On ev’ry head, and raise your most rates still,
Till you are pleas’d with your confesséd fill.
Which if we fail to tender, all your wrath
It shall be justice in our bloods to bathe.”
“Eurymachus,” said he, “if you would give
All that your fathers’ hoard, to make ye live,
And all that ever you yourselves possess,
Or shall by any industry increase,
I would not cease from slaughter, till your bloods
Had bought out your intemp’rance in my goods.
It rests now for you that you either fight
That will ’scape death, or make your way by flight.
In whose best choice, my thoughts conceive, not one
Shall shun the death your first hath undergone.”
This quite dissolv’d their knees. Eurymachus,
Enforcing all their fears, yet counsell’d thus:
“O friends! This man, now he hath got the bow
And quiver by him, ever will bestow
His most inaccessible hands at us,
And never leave, if we avoid him thus,
Till he hath strewn the pavement with us all;
And, therefore, join we swords, and on him fall
With tables forc’d up, and borne in oppos’d
Against his sharp shafts; when, being round-enclos’d
By all our onsets, we shall either take
His horrid person, or for safety make
His rage retire from out the hall and gates;
And then, if he escape, we’ll make our states
Known to the city by our gen’ral cry.
And thus this man shall let his last shaft fly
That ever his hand vaunted.” Thus he drew
His sharp-edg’d sword; and with a table flew
In on Ulysses, with a terrible throat
His fierce charge urging. But Ulysses smote
The board, and cleft it through from end to end
Borne at his breast; and made his shaft extend
His sharp head to his liver, his broad breast
Pierc’d at his nipple; when his hand releast
Forthwith his sword, that fell and kiss’d the ground,
With cups and victuals lying scatter’d round
About the pavement; amongst which his brow
Knock’d the imbrued earth, while in pains did flow
His vital spirits, till his heels shook out
His feastful life, and hurl’d a throne about
That way-laid death’s convulsions in his feet;
When from his tender eyes the light did fleet.
Then charg’d Amphinomus with his drawn blade
The glorious king, in purpose to have made
His feet forsake the house; but his assay
The prince prevented, and his lance gave way
Quite through his shoulder, at his back; his breast
The fierce pile letting forth. His ruin prest
Groans from the pavement, which his forehead strook.
Telemachus his long lance then forsook—
Left in Amphinomus—and to his sire
Made fiery pass, not staying to acquire
His lance again, in doubt that, while he drew
The fixéd pile, some other might renew
Fierce charge upon him, and his unharm’d head
Cleave with his back-drawn sword; for which he fled
Close to his father, bade him arm, and he
Would bring him shield and jav’lins instantly,
His own head arming, more arms laying by
To serve the swine-herd and the oxen-herd.
//Valour well arm’d is ever most preferr’d.//
“Run then,” said he, “and come before the last
Of these auxiliary shafts are past,
For fear, lest, left alone, they force my stand
From forth the ports.” He flew, and brought to hand
Eight darts, four shields, four helms. His own parts then
First put in arms, he furnish’d both his men,
That to their king stood close; but he, as long
As he had shafts to friend, enough was strong
For all the Wooers, and some one man still
He made make even with earth, till all a hill
Had rais’d in th’ even-floor’d hall. His last shaft spent,
He set his bow against a beam, and went
To arm at all parts, while the other three
Kept off the Wooers, who, unarm’d, could be
No great assailants. In the well-built wall
A window was thrust out, at end of all
The house’s entry; on whose utter side
There lay a way to town, and in it wide
And two-leav’d folds were forg’d, that gave fit mean
For flyers-out; and, therefore, at it then
Ulysses plac’d Eumæus in close guard;
One only pass ope to it, which (prepar’d
In this sort by Ulysses ’gainst all pass)
By Agelaus’ tardy memory was
In question call’d, who bade some one ascend
At such a window, and bring straight to friend
The city with his clamour, that this man
Might quickly shoot his last. “This no one can
Make safe access to,” said Melanthius,
“For ’tis too near the hall’s fair doors, whence thus
The man afflicts ye; for from thence there lies
But one strait passage to it, that denies
Access to all, if any one man stand,
Being one of courage, and will countermand
Our offer to it. But I know a way
To bring you arms, from where the King doth lay
His whole munition; and believe there is
No other place to all the armories
Both of himself and son.” This said, a pair
Of lofty stairs he climb’d, and to th’ affair
Twelve shields, twelve lances brought, as many casques
With horsehair plumes; and set to bitter tasks
Both son and sire. Then shrunk Ulysses’ knees,
And his lov’d heart, when thus in arms he sees
So many Wooers, and their shaken darts;
For then the work show’d as it ask’d more parts
To safe performance, and he told his son
That or Melanthius or his maids had done
A deed that foul war to their hands conferr’d.
“O father,” he replied, “’tis I have err’d
In this caus’d labour; I, and none but I,
That left the door ope of your armoury.
But some, it seems, hath set a sharper eye
On that important place. Eumæus! Haste
And shut the door, observing who hath past
To this false action; any maid, or one
That I suspect more, which is Dolius’ son.”
While these spake thus, Melanthius went again
For more fair arms; when the renownéd swain
Eumæus saw, and told Ulysses straight
It was the hateful man that his conceit
Before suspected, who had done that ill;
And, being again there, ask’d if he should kill,
If his pow’r serv’d, or he should bring the swain
To him, t’ inflict on him a sev’ral pain
For ev’ry forfeit he had made his house.
He answer’d: “I and my Telemachus
Will here contain these proud ones in despite,
How much soever these stol’n arms excite
Their guilty courages, while you two take
Possession of the chamber. The doors make
Sure at your back, and then, surprising him,
His feet and hands bind, wrapping ev’ry limb
In pliant chains; and with a halter cast
Above the wind-beam—at himself made fast—
Aloft the column draw him; where alive
He long may hang, and pains enough deprive
His vexéd life before his death succeed.”
This charge, soon heard, as soon they put to deed,
Stole on his stealth, and at the further end
Of all the chamber saw him busily bend
His hands to more arms, when they, still at door,
Watch’d his return. At last he came, and bore
In one hand a fair helm, in th’ other held
A broad and ancient rusty-rested shield,
That old Laertes in his youth had worn,
Of which the cheek-bands had with age been torn.
They rush’d upon him, caught him by the hair,
And dragg’d him in again; whom, crying out,
They cast upon the pavement, wrapp’d about
With sure and pinching cords both foot and hand,
And then, in full act of their King’s command,
A pliant chain bestow’d on him, and hal’d
His body up the column, till he scal’d
The highest wind-beam; where made firmly fast,
Eumæus on his just infliction past
This pleasurable cavil: “Now you may
All night keep watch here, and the earliest day
Discern, being hung so high, to rouse from rest
Your dainty cattle to the Wooers’ feast.
There, as befits a man of means so fair,
Soft may you sleep, nought under you but air;
And so long hang you.” Thus they left him there,
Made fast the door, and with Ulysses were
All arm’d in th’ instant. Then they all stood close,
Their minds fire breath’d in flames against their foes,
Four in th’ entry fighting all alone;
When from the hall charg’d many a mighty one.
But to them then Jove’s seed, Minerva, came,
Resembling Mentor both in voice and frame
Of manly person. Passing well apaid
Ulysses was, and said: “Now, Mentor, aid
’Gainst these odd mischiefs; call to memory now
My often good to thee, and that we two
Of one year’s life are.” Thus he said, but thought
ft was Minerva, that had ever brought
To her side safety. On the other part,
The Wooers threaten’d; but the chief in heart
Was Agelaus, who to Mentor spake:
“Mentor! Let no words of Ulysses make
Thy hand a fighter on his feeble side
‘Gainst all us Wooers; for we firm abide
In this persuasion, that when sire and son
Our swords have slain, thy life is sure to run
One fortune with them. What strange acts hast thou
Conceit to form here? Thy head must bestow
The wreak of theirs on us. And when thy pow’rs
Are taken down by these fierce steels of ours,
All thy possessions, indoors and without,
Must raise on heap with his; and all thy rout
Of sons and daughters in thy turrets bleed
Wreak off’rings to us; and our town stand freed
Of all charge with thy wife.” Minerva’s heart
Was fir’d with these braves, the approv’d desert
Of her Ulysses chiding, saying: “No more
Thy force nor fortitude as heretofore
Will gain thee glory; when nine years at Troy
White-wristed Helen’s rescue did employ
Thy arms and wisdom, still and ever us’d,
The bloods of thousands through the field diffus’d
By thy vast valour; Priam’s broad-way’d town
By thy grave parts was sack’d and overthrown;
And now, amongst thy people and thy goods,
Against the Wooers’ base and petulant bloods
Stint’st thou thy valour? Rather mourning here
Than manly fighting? Come, friend, stand we near,
And note my labour, that thou may’st discern
Amongst thy foes how Mentor’s nerves will earn
All thy old bounties.” This she spake, but stay’d
Her hand from giving each-way-often-sway’d
Uncertain conquest to his certain use,
But still would try what self-pow’rs would produce
Both in the father and the glorious son.
Then on the wind-beam that along did ron
The smoky roof, transform’d, Minerva sat,
Like to a swallow; sometimes cuffing at
The swords and lances, rushing from her seat,
And up and down the troubl’d house did beat
Her wing at ev’ry motion. And as she
Had rous’d Ulysses; so the enemy
Damastor’s son excited, Polybus,
Amphinomus, and Demoptolemus,
Eurynomus, and Polyctorides;
For these were men that of the wooing prease
Were most egregious, and the clearly best
In strength of hand of all the desp’rate rest
That yet surviv’d, and now fought for their souls;
Which straight swift arrows sent among the fowls.
But first, Damastor’s son had more spare breath
To spend on their excitements ere his death,
And said: That now Ulysses would forbear
His dismal hand, since Mentor’s spirit was there,
And blew vain vaunts about Ulysses’ ears;
In whose trust he would cease his massacres,
Rest him, and put his friend’s huge boasts in proof;
And so was he beneath the entry’s roof
Left with Telemachus and th’ other two.
“At whom,” said he, “discharge no darts, but throw
All at Ulysses, rousing his faint rest;
Whom if we slaughter, by our interest
In Jove’s assistance, all the rest may yield
Our pow’rs no care, when he strews once the field.”
As he then will’d, they all at random threw
Where they suppos’d he rested; and then flew
Minerva after ev’ry dart, and made
Some strike the threshold, some the walls invade,
Some beat the doors, and all acts render’d vain
Their grave steel offer’d. Which escap’d, again”
Came on Ulysses, saying: “O that we
The Wooers’ troop with our joint archery
Might so assail, that where their spirits dream
On our deaths first, we first may slaughter them!”
Thus the much-suff’rer said; and all let-fly,
When ev’ry man struck dead his enemy.
Ulysses slaughter’d Demoptolemus.
Euryades by young Telemachus
His death encounter’d. Good Eumæus slew
Elatus. And Philœtius overthrew
Pisander. All which tore the pavéd floor
Up with their teeth. The rest retir’d before
Their second charge to inner rooms; and then
Ulysses follow’d; from the slaughter’d men
Their darts first drawing. While which work was done,
The Wooers threw with huge contention
To kill them all; when with her swallow-wing
Minerva cuff’d, and made their jav’lins ring
Against the doors and thresholds, as before.
Some yet did graze upon their marks. One tore
The prince’s wrist, which was Amphimedon,
Th’ extreme part of the skin but touch’d upon.
Ctesippus over good Eumeeus’ shield
His shoulder’s top did taint; which yet did yield
The lance free pass, and gave his hurt the ground.
Again then charg’d the Wooers, and girt round
Ulysses with their lances; who turn’d head,
And with his jav’lin struck Eurydamas dead.
Telemachus disliv’d Amphimedon;
Eumæus, Polybus; Philœtius won
Ctesippus’ bosom with his dart, and said,
In quittance of the jester’s part he play’d,
The neat’s foot hurling at Ulysses: “Now,
Great son of Polytherses, you that vow
Your wit to bitter taunts, and love to wound
The heart of any with a jest, so crown’d
Your wit be with a laughter, never yielding
To fools in folly, but your glory building
On putting down in fooling, spitting forth
Puff’d words at all sorts, cease to scoff at worth,
And leave revenge of vile words to the Gods,
Since their wits bear the sharper edge by odds;
And, in the mean time, take the dart I drave,
For that right hospitable foot you gave
Divine Ulysses, begging but his own.”
Thus spake the black-ox-herdsman; and straight down
Ulysses struck another with his dart—
Damastor’s son. Telemachus did part,
Just in the midst, the belly of the fair
Evenor’s son; his fierce pile taking air
Out at his back. Flat fell he on his face,
His whole brows knocking, and did mark the place.
And now man-slaught’ring Pallas took in hand
Her snake-fring’d shield, and on that beam took stand
In her true form, where swallow-like she sat.
And then, in this way of the house and that,
The Wooers, wounded at the heart with fear,
Fled the encounter; as in pastures where
Fat herds of oxen feed, about the field
(As if wild madness their instincts impell’d)
The high-fed bullocks fly, whom in the spring,
When days are long, gad-bees or breezes sting.
Ulysses and his son the flyers chas’d,
As when, with crooked beaks and seres, a cast
Of hill-bred eagles, cast-off at some game,
That yet their strengths keep, but, put up, in flame
The eagle stoops; from which, along the field
The poor fowls make wing, this and that way yield
Their hard-flown pinions, then the clouds assay
For ’scape or shelter, their forlorn dismay
All spirit exhaling, all wings’ strength to carry
Their bodies forth, and, truss’d up, to the quarry
Their falconers ride-in, and rejoice to see
Their hawks perform a flight so fervently;
So, in their flight, Ulysses with his heir
Did stoop and cuff the Wooers, that the air
Broke in vast sighs, whose heads they shot and cleft,
The pavement boiling with the souls they reft.
Liodes, running to Ulysses, took
His knees, and thus did on his name invoke;
“Ulysses! Let me pray thee to my place
Afford the rev’rence, and to me the grace;
That never did or said, to any dame
Thy court contain’d, or deed, or word to blame;
But others so affected I have made
I lay down their insolence; and, if the trade
They kept with wickedness have made them still
Despise my speech, and use their wonted ill,
They have their penance by the stroke of death,
Which their desert divinely warranteth.
But I am priest amongst them, and shall I
That nought have done worth death amongst them die?
From thee this proverb then will men derive:
//Good turns do never their mere deeds survive.”//
He, bending his displeaséd forehead, said:
“If you be priest among them, as you plead,
Yet you would marry, and with my wife too,
And have descent by her. For all that woo
Wish to obtain, which they should never do,
Dames’ husbands living. You must therefore pray
Of force, and oft in Court here, that the day
Of my return for him might never shine;
The death to me wish’d, therefore, shall be thine.”
This said, he took a sword up that was cast
From Agelaus, having struck his last,
And on the priest’s mid neck he laid a stroke
That struck his head off, tumbling as he spoke.
Then did the poet Phemius (whose surname
Was call’d Terpiades; who thither came
Forc’d by the Wooers) fly death; but being near
The court’s great gate, he stood, and parted there
In two his counsels; either to remove
And take the altar of Herceian Jove
(Made sacred to him, with a world of art
Engrav’n about it, where were wont t’ impart
Laertes and Ulysses many a thigh
Of broad-brow’d oxen to the Deity)
Or venture to Ulysses, clasp his knee,
And pray his ruth. The last was the decree
His choice resolv’d on. ’Twixt the royal throne
And that fair table that the bowl stood on
With which they sacrific’d, his harp he laid
Along the earth, the King’s knees hugg’d, and said:
“Ulysses! Let my pray’rs obtain of thee
My sacred skill’s respect, and ruth to me!
It will hereafter grieve thee to have slain
A poet, that doth sing to Gods and men.
I of myself am taught, for God alone
All sorts of song hath in my bosom sown,
And I, as to a God, will sing to thee;
Then do not thou deal like the priest with me.
Thine own lov’d son Telemachus will say,
That not to beg here, nor with willing way
Was my access to thy high court addrest,
To give the Wooers my song after feast,
But, being many, and so much more strong,
They forced me hither, and compell’d my song.”
This did the prince’s sacred virtue hear,
And to the King, his father, said: “Forbear
To mix the guiltless with the guilty’s blood.
And with him likewise let our mercies save
Medon the herald, that did still behave
Himself with care of my good from a child;
If by Eumæus yet he be not kill’d,
Or by Philœtius, nor your fury met,
While all this blood about the house it swet.”
This Medon heard, as lying hid beneath
A throne set near, half-dead with fear of death;
A new-flay’d ox-hide, as but there thrown by,
His serious shroud made, he lying there to fly.
But hearing this he quickly left the throne,
His ox-hide cast as quickly, and as soon
The prince’s knees seiz’d, saying: “O my love,
I am not slain, but here alive and move.
Abstain yourself, and do not see your sire
Quench with my cold blood the unmeasur’d fire
That flames in his strength, making spoil of me,
His wrath’s right, for the Wooers’ injury.”
Ulysses smil’d, and said: “Be confident
This man hath sav’d and made thee different,
To let thee know, and say, and others see,
//Good life is much more safe than villany.//
Go then, sit free without from death within.
This much-renownéd singer from the sin
Of these men likewise quit. Both rest you there,
While I my house purge as it fits me here.”
This said, they went and took their seat without
At Jove’s high altar, looking round about,
Expecting still their slaughter. When the King
Search’d round the hall, to try life’s hidden wing
Made from more death. But all laid prostrate there
In blood and gore he saw. Whole shoals they were,
And lay as thick as in a hollow creek
Without the white sea, when the fishers break
Their many-mesh’d draught-net up, there lie
Fish frisking on the sands, and fain the dry
Would for the wet change, but th’ all-seeing beam
The sun exhales hath suck’d their lives from them;
So one by other sprawl’d the Wooers there.
Ulysses and his son then bid appear
The nurse Euryclea, to let her hear
His mind in something fit for her affair.
He op’d the door, and call’d, and said: “Repair,
Grave matron long since born, that art our spy
To all this house’s servile housewif’ry;
My father calls thee, to impart some thought
That asks thy action.” His word found in nought
Her slack observance, who straight op’d the door
And enter’d to him; when himself before
Had left the hall. But there the King she view’d
Amongst the slain, with blood and gore imbrued.
And as a lion skulking all in night,
Far-off in pastures, and come home, all dight
In jaws and breast-locks with an ox’s blood
New feasted on him, his looks full of mood;
So look’d Ulysses, all his hands and feet
Freckled with purple. When which sight did greet
The poor old woman (such works being for eyes
Of no soft temper) out she brake in cries,
Whose vent, though throughly open’d, he yet clos’d,
Call’d her more near, and thus her plaints compos’d:
“‘Forbear, nor shriek thus, but vent joys as loud.
//It is no piety to bemoan the proud,//
Though ends befall them moving ne’er so much,
These are the portions of the Gods to such.
//Men’s own impieties in their instant act//
//Sustain their plagues, which are with stay but rackt.//
But these men Gods nor men had in esteem,
Nor good nor bad had any sense in them,
Their lives directly ill were, therefore, cause
That Death in these stern forms so deeply draws.
Recount, then, to me those licentious dames
That lost my honour and their sex’s shames.”
“I’ll tell you truly,” she replied: “There are
Twice five-and-twenty women here that share
All work amongst them; whom I taught to spin,
And bear the just bands that they suffer’d in.
Of all which only there were twelve that gave
Themselves to impudence and light behave,
Nor me respecting, nor herself—the Queen.
And for your son he hath but lately been
Of years to rule; nor would his mother bear
His empire where her women’s labours were,
But let me go and give her notice now
Of your arrival. Sure some God doth show
His hand upon her in this rest she takes,
That all these uproars bears and never wakes.”
“Nor wake her yet,” said he, “but cause to come
Those twelve light women to this utter room.”
She made all utmost haste to come and go,
And bring the women he had summon’d so.
Then both his swains and son he bade go call
The women to their aid, and clear the hall
Of those dead bodies, cleanse each board and throne
With wetted sponges. Which with fitness done,
He bade take all the strumpets ’twixt the wall
Of his first court and that room next the hall,
In which the vessels of the house were scour’d,
And in their bosoms sheath their ev’ry sword,
Till all their souls were fled, and they had then
Felt ’twas but pain to sport with lawless men.
This said, the women came all drown’d in moan,
And weeping bitterly. But first was done
The bearing thence the dead; all which beneath
The portico they stow’d, where death on death
They heap’d together. Then took all the pains
Ulysses will’d. His son yet and the swains
With paring-shovels wrought. The women bore
Their parings forth, and all the clotter’d gore.
The house then cleans’d, they brought the women out,
And put them in a room so wall’d about
That no means serv’d their sad estates to fly.
Then said Telemachus: “These shall not die
A death that lets out any wanton blood,
And vents the poison that gave lust her food,
The body cleansing, but a death that chokes
The breath, and altogether that provokes
And seems as bellows to abhorréd lust,
That both on my head pour’d depraves unjust,
And on my mother’s, scandalling the Court,
With men debauch’d, in so abhorr’d a sort.”
This said, a halser of a ship they cast
About a cross-beam of the roof, which fast
They made about their necks, in twelve parts cut,
And hal’d them up so high they could not put
Their feet to any stay. As which was done,
Look how a mavis, or a pigeon,
In any grove caught with a springe or net,
With struggling pinions ’gainst the ground doth beat
Her tender body, and that then strait bed
Is sour to that swing in which she was bred;
So striv’d these taken birds, till ev’ry one
Her pliant halter had enforc’d upon
Her stubborn neck, and then aloft was haul’d
To wretched death. A little space they sprawl’d,
Their feet fast moving, but were quickly still.
Then fetch’d they down Melanthius, to fulfill
The equal execution; which was done
In portal of the hall, and thus begun:
They first slit both his nostrils, cropp’d each ear,
His members tugg’d off, which the dogs did tear
And chop up bleeding sweet; and, while red-hot
The vice-abhorring blood was, off they smote
His hands and feet; and there that work had end
Then wash’d they hands and feet that blood had stain’d,
And took the house again. And then the King
Euryclea calling, bade her quickly bring
All-ill-expelling brimstone, and some fire,
That with perfumes cast he might make entire
The house’s first integrity in all.
And then his timely will was, she should call
Her Queen and ladies; still yet charging her
That all the handmaids she should first confer.
She said he spake as fitted; but, before,
She held it fit to change the weeds he wore,
And she would others bring him, that not so
His fair broad shoulders might rest clad, and show
His person to his servants was to blame.
“First bring me fire,” said he. She went and came
With fire and sulphur straight; with which the hall
And of the huge house all rooms capital
He throughly sweeten’d. Then went nurse to call
The handmaid servants down; and up she went
To tell the news, and will’d them to present
Their service to their sov’reign. Down they came
Sustaining torches all, and pour’d a flame
Of love about their lord, with welcomes home,
With huggings of his hands, with laboursome
Both heads and foreheads kisses, and embraces,
And plied him so with all their loving graces
That tears and sighs took up his whole desire;
For now he knew their hearts to him entire.
"""
The End Of The Twenty-second Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses to his wife is known.
A brief sum of his travels shown.
Himself, his son, and servants go
T’ approve the Wooers’ overthrow.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Ψι̑.
For all annoys
Sustain’d before,
The true wife’s joys
Now made the more.
"""
"""
The servants thus inform’d, the matron goes
Up where the Queen was cast in such repose,
Affected with a fervent joy to tell
What all this time she did with pain conceal.
Her knees revok’d their first strength, and her feet
Were borne above the ground with wings to greet
The long-griev’d Queen with news her King was come;
And, near her, said: “Wake, leave this withdrawn room,
That now your eyes may see at length, though late,
The man return’d, which, all the heavy date
Your woes have rack’d out, you have long’d to see.
Ulysses is come home, and hath set free
His court of all your Wooers, slaught’ring all
For wasting so his goods with festival,
His house so vexing, and for violence done
So all ways varied to his only son.”
She answer’d her: “The Gods have made thee mad,
Of whose pow’r now thy pow’rs such proof have had.
The Gods can blind with follies wisest eyes,
And make men foolish so to make them wise.
For they have hurt ev’n thy grave brain, that bore
An understanding spirit heretofore.
Why hast thou wak’d me to more tears, when Moan
Hath turn’d my mind, with tears into her own?
Thy madness much more blameful, that with lies
Thy haste is laden, and both robs mine eyes
Of most delightsome sleep, and sleep of them,
That now had bound me in his sweet extreme,
T’ embrace my lids and close my visual spheres:
I have not slept so much this twenty years,
Since first my dearest sleeping-mate was gone
For that too-ill-to-speak-of Ilion.
Hence, take your mad steps back. If any maid
Of all my train besides a part had play’d
So bold to wake, and tell mine ears such lies,
I had return’d her to her housewif’ries
With good proof of my wrath to such rude dames.
But go, your years have sav’d their younger blames.”
She answer’d her: “I nothing wrong your ear,
But tell the truth. Your long-miss’d lord is here,
And, with the Wooers’ slaughter, his own hand,
In chief exploit, hath to his own command
Reduc’d his house; and that poor guest was he,
That all those Wooers wrought such injury.
Telemachus had knowledge long ago
That ’twas his father, but his wisdom so
Observ’d his counsels, to give surer end
To that great work to which they did contend.”
This call’d her spirits to their conceiving places;
She sprung for joy from blames into embraces
Of her grave nurse, wip’d ev’ry tear away
From her fair cheeks, and then began to say
What nurse said over thus: “O nurse, can this
Be true thou say’st? How could that hand of his
Alone destroy so many? They would still
Troop all together. How could he then kill
Such numbers so united?” “How,” said she,
“I have not seen nor heard; but certainly
The deed is done. We sat within in fear,
The doors shut on us, and from thence might hear
The sighs and groans of ev’ry man he slew,
But heard nor saw more, till at length there flew
Your son’s voice to mine ear, that call’d to me,
And bade me then come forth, and then I see
Ulysses standing in the midst of all
Your slaughter’d Wooers, heap’d up, like a wall,
One on another round about his side.
It would have done you good to have descried
Your conqu’ring lord all-smear’d with blood and gore
So like a lion. Straight, then, off they bore
The slaughter’d carcasses, that now before
The fore-court gates lie, one on another pil’d.
And now your victor all the hall, defil’d
With stench of hot death, is perfuming round,
And with a mighty fire the hearth hath crown’d.
“Thus, all the death remov’d, and ev’ry room
Made sweet and sightly, that yourself should come
His pleasure sent me. Come, then, take you now
Your mutual fills of comfort. Grief on you
Hath long and many suff’rings laid; which length,
Which many suff’rings, now your virtuous strength
Of uncorrupted chasteness hath conferr’d
A happy end to. He that long hath err’d
Is safe arriv’d at home; his wife, his son,
Found safe and good; all ill that hath been done
On all the doers’ heads, though long prolong’d,
His right hath wreak’d, and in the place they wrong’d.”
She answer’d: “Do not you now laugh and boast
As you had done some great act, seeing most
Into his being; for you know he won—
Ev’n through his poor and vile condition—
A kind of prompted thought that there was plac’d
Some virtue in him fit to be embrac’d
By all the house, but most of all by me,
And by my son that was the progeny
Of both our loves. And yet it is not he,
For all the likely proofs ye plead to me,—
Some God hath slain the Wooers in disdain
Of the abhorréd pride he saw so reign
In those base works they did. No man alive,
Or good or bad, whoever did arrive
At their abodes once, ever could obtain
Regard of them; and therefore their so vain
And vile deserts have found as vile an end.
But, for Ulysses, never will extend
His wish’d return to Greece, nor he yet lives.”
“How strange a Queen are you,” said she, “that gives
No truth your credit, that your husband, set
Close in his house at fire, can purchase yet
No faith of you, but that he still is far
From any home of his! Your wit’s at war
With all credulity ever! And yet now,
I’ll name a sign shall force belief from you:
I bath’d him lately, and beheld the scar
That still remains a mark too ocular
To leave your heart yet blinded; and I then
Had run and told you, but his hand was fain
To close my lips from th’ acclamation
My heart was breathing, and his wisdom won
My still retention, till he gave me leave
And charge to tell you this. Now then receive
My life for gage of his return; which take
In any cruel fashion, if I make
All this not clear to you.” “Lov’d nurse,” said she,
“Though many things thou know’st, yet these things be
Veil’d in the counsels th’ uncreated Gods
Have long time mask’d in; whose dark periods
’Tis hard for thee to see into. But come,
Let’s see my son, the slain, and him by whom
They had their slaughter.” This said, down they went;
When, on the Queen’s part, divers thoughts were spent,
If, all this giv’n no faith, she still should stand
Aloof, and question more; or his hugg’d hand
And lovéd head she should at first assay
With free-giv’n kisses. When her doubtful way
Had pass’d the stony pavement, she took seat
Against her husband, in the opposite heat
The fire then cast upon the other wall.
Himself set by the column of the hall,
His looks cast downwards, and expected still
When her incredulous and curious will
To shun ridiculous error, and the shame
To kiss a husband that was not the same,
Would down, and win enough faith from his sight.
She silent sat, and her perplexéd plight
Amaze encounter’d. Sometimes she stood clear
He was her husband; sometimes the ill wear
His person had put on transform’d him so
That yet his stamp would hardly current go.
Her son, her strangeness seeing, blam’d her thus:
“Mother, ungentle mother! tyrannous!
In this too-curious modesty you show.
Why sit you from my father, nor bestow
A word on me t’ enquire and clear such doubt
As may perplex you? Found man ever out
One other such a wife that could forbear
Her lov’d lord’s welcome home, when twenty year
In infinite suff’rance he had spent apart.
//No flint so hard is as a woman’s heart.”//
“Son,” said she, “amaze contains my mind,
Nor can I speak and use the common kind
Of those enquiries, nor sustain to see
With opposite looks his count’nance. If this be
My true Ulysses now return’d, there are
Tokens betwixt us of more fitness far
To give me argument he is my lord;
And my assurance of him may afford
My proofs of joy for him from all these eyes
With more decorum than objéct their guise
To public notice.” The much-suff’rer brake
In laughter out, and to his son said: “Take
Your mother from the prease, that she may make
Her own proofs of me, which perhaps may give
More cause to the acknowledgments that drive
Their show thus off. But now, because I go
So poorly clad, she takes disdain to know
So loath’d a creature for her lovéd lord.
Let us consult, then, how we may accord
The town to our late action. Some one slain
Hath made the all-left slaughterer of him fain
To fly his friends and country; but our swords
Have slain a city’s most supportful lords,
The chief peers of the kingdom, therefore see
You use wise means t’ uphold your victory.”
“See you to that, good father,” said the son,
“Whose counsels have the sov’reign glory won
From all men living. None will strive with you,
But with unquestion’d girlands grace your brow,
To whom our whole alacrities we vow
In free attendance. Nor shall our hands leave
Your onsets needy of supplies to give
All the effects that in our pow’rs can fall.”
“Then this,” said he, “to me seems capital
Of all choice courses: Bathe we first, and then
Attire we freshly; all our maids and men
Enjoining likewise to their best attire.
The sacred singer then let touch his lyre,
And go before us all in graceful dance,
That all without, to whose ears shall advance
Our cheerful accents, or of travellers by,
Or firm inhabitants, solemnity
Of frolic nuptials may imagine here.
And this perform we, lest the massacre
Of all our Wooers be divulg’d about
The ample city, ere ourselves get out
And greet my father in his grove of trees,
Where, after, we will prove what policies
Olympius shall suggest to overcome
Our latest toils, and crown our welcome home.”
This all obey’d; bath’d, put on fresh attire
Both men and women did. Then took his lyre
The holy singer, and set thirst on fire
With songs and faultless dances; all the court
Rung with the footings that the numerous sport
From jocund men drew and fair-girdled dames;
Which heard abroad, thus flew the common fames:
“This sure the day is when the much-woo’d Queen
Is richly wed. O wretch! That hath not been
So constant as to keep her ample house
Till th’ utmost hour had brought her foremost spouse.”
Thus some conceiv’d, but little knew the thing.
And now Eurynomé had bath’d the King,
Smooth’d him with oils, and he himself attir’d
In vestures royal. Her part then inspir’d
The Goddess Pallas, deck’d his head and face
With infinite beauties, gave a goodly grace
Of stature to him, a much plumper plight
Through all his body breath’d, curls soft and bright
Adorn’d his head withal, and made it show
As if the flow’ry hyacinth did grow
In all his pride there, in the gen’ral trim
Of ev’ry lock and ev’ry curious limb.
Look how a skilful artizan, well-seen
In all arts metalline, as having been
Taught by Minerva and the God of fire,
Doth gold with silver mix so that entire
They keep their self-distinction, and yet so
That to the silver from the gold doth flow
A much more artificial lustre than his own,
And thereby to the gold itself is grown
A greater glory than if wrought alone,
Both being stuck off by either’s mixtion;
So did Minerva her’s and his combine,
He more in her, she more in him, did shine.
Like an Immortal from the bath he rose,
And to his wife did all his grace dispose,
Encount’ring this her strangeness: “Cruel dame
Of all that breathe, the Gods past steel and flame
Have made thee ruthless. Life retains not one
Of all dames else that bears so overgrown
A mind with abstinence, as twenty years
To miss her husband drown’d in woes and tears,
And at his coming keep aloof, and fare
As of his so long absence and his care
No sense had seiz’d her. Go, nurse, make a bed,
That I alone may sleep; her heart is dead
To all reflection!” To him thus replied
The wise Penelope: “Man half-deified,
’Tis not my fashion to be taken straight
With bravest men, nor poorest use to sleight.
Your mean appearance made not me retire,
Nor this your rich show makes me now admire,
Nor moves at all; for what is all to me
If not my husband? All his certainty
I knew at parting; but, so long apart,
The outward likeness holds no full desert
For me to trust to. Go, nurse, see addrest
A soft bed for him, and the single rest
Himself affects so. Let it be the bed
That stands within our bridal chamber-sted,
Which he himself made. Bring it forth from thence,
And see it furnish’d with magnificence.”
This said she to assay him, and did stir
Ev’n his establish’d patience; and to her
Whom thus he answer’d: “Woman! your words prove
My patience strangely. Who is it can move
My bed out of his place? It shall oppress
Earth’s greatest understander; and, unless
Ev’n God himself come, that can eas’ly grace
Men in their most skills, it shall hold his place;
For man he lives not that (as not most skill’d,
So not most young) shall easily make it yield,
If, building on the strength in which he flows,
He adds both levers too and iron crows:
For in the fixture of the bed is shown
A master-piece, a wonder; and ’twas done
By me, and none but me, and thus was wrought:
There was an olive-tree that had his grought
Amidst a hedge, and was of shadow proud,
Fresh, and the prime age of his verdure show’d,
His leaves and arms so thick that to the eye
It show’d a column for solidity.
To this had I a comprehension
To build my bridal bow’r; which all of stone,
Thick as the tree of leaves, I rais’d, and cast
A roof about it nothing meanly grac’d,
Put glued doors to it, that op’d art enough,
Then from the olive ev’ry broad-leav’d bough
I lopp’d away; then fell’d the tree; and then
Went over it both with my axe and plane,
Both govern’d by my line, And then I hew’d
My curious bedstead out; in which I shew’d
Work of no common hand. All this begun,
I could not leave till to perfection
My pains had brought it; took my wimble, bor’d
The holes, as fitted, and did last afford
The varied ornament, which show’d no want
Of silver, gold, and polish’d elephant.
An ox-hide dyed in purple then I threw
Above the cords. And thus to curious view
I hope I have objected honest sign
To prove I author nought that is not mine.
But if my bed stand unremov’d or no,
O woman, passeth human wit to know.”
This sunk her knees and heart, to hear so true
The signs she urg’d; and first did tears ensue
Her rapt assurance; then she ran and spread
Her arms about his neck, kiss’d oft his head,
And thus the curious stay she made excus’d:
“Ulysses! Be not angry that I us’d
Such strange delays to this, since heretofore
Your suff’ring wisdom hath the garland wore
From all that breathe; and ’tis the Gods that, thus
With mutual miss so long afflicting us,
Have caus’d my coyness; to our youths envied
That wish’d society that should have tied
Our youths and years together; and since now
Judgment and Duty should our age allow
As full joys therein as in youth and blood,
See all young anger and reproof withstood
For not at first sight giving up my arms,
My heart still trembling lest the false alarms
That words oft strike-up should ridiculize me.
Had Argive Helen known credulity
Would bring such plagues with it, and her again,
As authoress of them all, with that foul stain
To her and to her country, she had stay’d
Her love and mixture from a stranger’s bed;
But God impell’d her to a shameless deed,
Because she had not in herself decreed,
Before th’ attempt, that such acts still were shent
As simply in themselves as in th’ event
By which not only she herself sustains,
But we, for her fault, have paid mutual pains,
Yet now, since these signs of our certain bed
You have discover’d, and distinguishéd
From all earth’s others, no one man but you
Yet ever getting of it th’ only show,
Nor one of all dames but myself and she
My father gave, old Actor’s progeny,
Who ever guarded to ourselves the door
Of that thick-shaded chamber, I no more
Will cross your clear persuasion, though till now
I stood too doubtful and austere to you,”
These words of hers, so justifying her stay,
Did more desire of joyful moan convey
To his glad mind than if at instant sight
She had allow’d him all his wishes’ right.
He wept for joy, t’ enjoy a wife so fit
For his grave mind, that knew his depth of wit,
And held chaste virtue at a price so high,
And as sad men at sea when shore is nigh,
Which long their hearts have wish’d, their ship quite lost
By Neptune’s rigour, and they vex’d and tost
’Twixt winds and black waves, swimming for their lives,
A few escap’d, and that few that survives,
All drench’d in foam and brine, crawl up to land,
With joy as much as they did worlds command;
So dear to this wife was her husband’s sight,
Who still embrac’d his neck, and had, till light
Display’d her silver ensign, if the Dame,
That bears the blue sky intermix’d with flame
In her fair eyes, had not infix’d her thought
On other joys, for loves so hardly brought
To long’d-for meeting; who th’ extended night
Withheld in long date, nor would let the light
Her wing-hoov’d horse join—Lampus, Phaeton—
Those ever-colts that bring the morning on
To worldly men, but, in her golden chair,
Down to the ocean by her silver hair
Bound her aspirings. Then Ulysses said:
“O wife! Nor yet are my contentions stay’d.
A most unmeasur’d labour long and hard
Asks more performance; to it being prepar’d
By grave Tiresiás, when down to hell
I made dark passage, that his skill might tell
My men’s return and mine. But come, and now
Enjoy the sweet rest that our Fates allow.”
“The place of rest is ready,” she replied,
“Your will at full serve, since the Deified
Have brought you where your right is to command.
But since you know, God making understand
Your searching mind, inform me what must be
Your last set labour; since ’twill fall to me,
I hope, to hear it after, tell me now.
//The greatest pleasure is before to know.”//
“Unhappy!” said Ulysses; “To what end
Importune you this labour? It will lend
Nor you nor me delight, but you shall know
I was commanded yet more to bestow
My years in travel, many cities more
By sea to visit; and when first for shore
I left my shipping, I was will’d to take
A naval oar in hand, and with it make
My passage forth till such strange men I met
As knew no sea, nor ever salt did eat
With any victuals, who the purple beaks
Of ships did never see, nor that which breaks
The waves in curls, which is a fan-like oar,
And serves as wings with which a ship doth soar.
To let me know, then, when I was arriv’d
On that strange earth where such a people liv’d,
He gave me this for an unfailing sign:
When any one that took that oar of mine,
Borne on my shoulder, for a corn-cleanse fan,
I met ashore, and show’d to be a man
Of that land’s labour, there had I command
To fix mine oar, and offer on that strand
T’ imperial Neptune, whom I must implore,
A lamb, a bull, and sow-ascending boar;
And then turn home, where all the other Gods
That in the broad heav’n made secure abodes
I must solicit—all my curious heed
Giv’n to the sev’ral rites they have decreed—
With holy hecatombs; and then, at home,
A gentle death should seize me that would come
From out the sea, and take me to his rest
In full ripe age, about me living blest
My loving people; to which, he presag’d,
The sequel of my fortunes were engag’d.”
“If then,” said she, “the Gods will please t’ impose
A happier being to your fortune’s close
Than went before, your hope gives comfort strength
That life shall lend you better days at length.”
While this discourse spent mutual speech, the bed
Eurynomé and nurse had made, and spread
With richest furniture, while torches spent
Their parcel-gilt thereon. To bed then went
The aged nurse; and, where their sov’reigns were,
Eurynomé, the chambermaid, did bear
A torch, and went before them to their rest;
To which she left them and for her’s addrest.
The King and Queen then now, as newly-wed,
Resum’d the old laws of th’ embracing bed.
Telemachus and both his herdsmen then
Dissolv’d the dances both to maids and men;
Who in their shady roofs took timely sleep.
The bride and bridegroom having ceas’d to keep
Observéd love-joys, from their fit delight
They turn’d to talk. The Queen then did recite
What she had suffer’d by the hateful rout
Of harmful Wooers, who had eat her out
So many oxen and so many sheep,
How many tun of wine their drinking deep
Had quite exhausted. Great Ulysses then
Whatever slaughters he had made of men,
Whatever sorrows he himself sustain’d,
Repeated amply; and her ears remain’d
With all delight attentive to their end,
Nor would one wink sleep till he told her all,
Beginning where he gave the Cicons fall;
From thence his pass to the Lotophagi;
The Cyclop’s acts, the putting out his eye,
And wreak of all the soldiers he had eat,
No least ruth shown to all they could entreat;
His way to Æolus; his prompt receit
And kind dismission; his enforc’d retreat
By sudden tempest to the fishy main,
And quite distraction from his course again;
His landing at the Læstrigonian port,
Where ships and men in miserable sort
Met all their spoils, his ship and he alone
Got off from the abhorr’d confusión;
His pass to Circe, her deceits and arts;
His thence descension to th’ Infernal parts;
His life’s course of the Theban prophet learn’d,
Where all the slaughter’d Grecians he discern’d,
And lovéd mother; his astonish’d ear
With what the Siren’s voices made him hear;
His ’scape from th’ erring rocks, which Scylla was,
And rough Charybdis, with the dang’rous pass
Of all that touch’d there; his Sicilian
Offence giv’n to the Sun; his ev’ry man
Destroy’d by thunder vollied out of heav’n,
That split his ship; his own endeavours driv’n
To shift for succours on th’ Ogygian shore,
Where Nymph Calypso such affection bore
To him in his arrival, that with feast
She kept him in her caves, and would have blest
His welcome life with an immortal state
Would he have stay’d and liv’d her nuptial mate,
All which she never could persuade him to;
His pass to the Phæacians spent in woe;
Their hearty welcome of him, as he were
A God descended from the starry sphere;
Their kind dismission of him home with gold,
Brass, garments, all things his occasions would.
This last word us’d, sleep seiz’d his weary eye
That salves all care to all mortality.
In mean space Pallas entertain’d intent
That when Ulysses thought enough time spent
In love-joys with his wife, to raise the day,
And make his grave occasions call away.
The morning rose and he, when thus he said:
“O Queen, now satiate with afflictions laid
On both our bosoms,—you oppresséd here
With cares for my return, I ev’rywhere
By Jove and all the other Deities tost
Ev’n till all hope of my return was lost,—
And both arriv’d at this sweet haven, our bed,
Be your care us’d to see administ’red
My house-possessions left. Those sheep, that were
Consum’d in surfeits by your Wooers here,
I’ll forage to supply with some; and more
The suff’ring Grecians shall be made restore,
Ev’n till our stalls receive their wonted fill.
“And now, to comfort my good father’s ill
Long suffer’d for me, to the many-tree’d
And ample vineyard grounds it is decreed
In my next care that I must haste and see
His long’d-for presence. In the mean time, be
Your wisdom us’d, that since, the sun ascended,
The fame will soon be through the town extended
Of those I here have slain, yourself, got close
Up to your chamber, see you there repose,
Cheer’d with your women, and nor look afford
Without your court, nor any man a word.”
This said, he arm’d; to arms both son and swain
His pow’r commanding, who did entertain
His charge with spirit, op’d the gates and out,
He leading all. And now was hurl’d about
Aurora’s ruddy fire; through all whose light
Minerva led them through the town from sight.
"""
The End Of The Twenty-third Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
By Mercury the Wooers’ souls
Are usher’d to th’ infernal pools.
Ulysses with Laertes met,
The people are in uproar set
Against them, for the Wooers’ ends;
Whom Pallas stays and renders friends.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Ω.
The uproar’s fire,
The people’s fall:
The grandsire, sire,
And son, to all.
"""
"""
Cyllenian Hermes, with his golden rod,
The Wooers’ souls, that yet retain’d abode
Amidst their bodies, call’d in dreadful rout
Forth to th’ Infernals; who came murmuring out.
And as amidst the desolate retreat
Of some vast cavern, made the sacred seat
Of austere spirits, bats with breasts and wings
Clasp fast the walls, and each to other clings,
But, swept off from their coverts, up they rise
And fly with murmurs in amazeful guise
About the cavern; so these, grumbling, rose
And flock’d together. Down before them goes
None-hurting Mercury to Hell’s broad ways,
And straight to those straits; where the ocean stays
His lofty current in calm deeps, they flew,
Then to the snowy rock they next withdrew,
And to the close of Phœbus’ orient gates,
The nation then of dreams, and then the states
Of those souls’ idols that the weary dead
Gave up in earth, which in a flow’ry mead
Had habitable situatión.
And there they saw the soul of Thetis’ son,
Of good Patroclus, brave Antilochus,
And Ajax, the supremely strenuous
Of all the Greek host next Pelëion;
All which assembled about Maia’s son.
And to them, after, came the mournful ghost
Of Agamemnon, with all those he lost
In false Ægisthus’ court. Achilles then
Beholding there that mighty king of men,
Deplor’d his plight, and said: “O Atreus’ son!
Of all heroës, all opinion
Gave thee for Jove’s most lov’d, since most command
Of all the Greeks he gave thy eminent hand
At siege of Ilion, where we suffer’d so.
And is the issue this, that first in woe
Stern Fate did therefore set thy sequel down?
//None borne past others’ Fates can pass his own.//
I wish to heav’n that in the height of all
Our pomp at Ilion Fate had sign’d thy fall,
That all the Greeks might have advanc’d to thee
A famous sepulchre, and Fame might see
Thy son giv’n honour in thy honour’d end!
But now a wretched death did Fate extend
To thy confusion and thy issue’s shame.”
“O Thetis’ son,” said he, “the vital flame
Extinct at Ilion, far from th’ Argive fields,
The style of Blessed to thy virtue yields.
About thy fall the best of Greece and Troy
Were sacrific’d to slaughter. Thy just joy
Conceiv’d in battle with some worth forgot
In such a death as great Apollo shot
At thy encounters. Thy brave person lay
Hid in a dusty whirlwind, that made way
With human breaths spent in thy ruin’s state
Thou, great, wert greatly valued in thy fate.
All day we fought about thee; nor at all
Had ceas’d our conflict, had not Jove let fall
A storm that forc’d off our unwilling feet.
But, having brought thee from the fight to fleet,
Thy glorious person, bath’d and balm’d, we laid
Aloft a bed; and round about thee paid
The Greeks warm tears to thy deplor’d decease,
Quite daunted, cutting all their curls’ increase.
Thy death drave a divine voice through the seas
That started up thy mother from the waves;
And all the márine Godheads left their caves,
Consorting to our fleet her rapt repair.
The Greeks stood frighted to see sea and air
And earth combine so in thy loss’s sense,
Had taken ship and fled for ever thence,
If old much-knowing-Nestor had not stay’d
Their rushing off; his counsels having sway’d
In all times former with such cause their courses;
Who bade contain themselves, and trust their forces,
For all they saw was Thetis come from sea,
With others of the wat’ry progeny,
To see and mourn for her deceaséd son.
Which stay’d the fears that all to flight had won;
And round about thee stood th’ old sea-God’s Seeds
Wretchedly mourning, their immortal weeds
Spreading upon thee. All the sacred Nine
Of deathless Muses paid thee dues divine,
By varied turns their heav’nly voices venting,
All in deep passion for thy death consenting.
And then of all our army not an eye
You could have seen undrown’d in misery,
The moving Muse so rul’d in ev’ry mind.
Full seventeen days and nights our tears confin’d
To celebration of thy mournéd end;
Both men and Gods did in thy moan contend.
The eighteenth day we spent about thy heap
Of dying fire. Black oxen, fattest sheep
We slew past number. Then the precious spoil,
Thy corse, we took up, which with floods of oil
And pleasant honey we embalm’d, and then
Wrapp’d thee in those robes that the Gods did rain.
In which we gave thee to the hallow’d flame;
To which a number of heroical name,
As prest to sacrifice their vital right
To thy dead ruins while so bright they burn’d.
Both foot and horse brake in, and fought and mourn’d
In infinite tumult. But when all the night
The rich flame lasted, and that wasted quite
Thy body was with the enamour’d fire:
We came in early morn, and an entire
Collection made of ev’ry ivory bone;
Which wash’d in wine, and giv’n fit unctión,
A two-ear’d bowl of gold thy mother gave,
By Bacchus giv’n her and did form receive
From Vulcan’s famous hand, which, O renown’d
Great Thetis’ son, with thy fair bones we crown’d
Mix’d with the bones of Menœtiades
And brave Antilochus; who, in decease
Of thy Patroclus, was thy favour’s dear.
About thee then a matchless sepulchre
The sacred host of the Achaians rais’d
Upon the Hellespont, where most it seiz’d,
For height and conspicuity, the eyes
Of living men and their posterities.
Thy mother then obtain’d the Gods’ consent
To institute an honour’d game, that spent
The best approvement of our Grecian fames.
In whose praise I must say that many games
About heroës’ sepulchres mine eyes
Have seen perform’d, but these bore off the prize
With miracles to me from all before.
In which thy silver-footed mother bore
The institution’s name, but thy deserts,
Being great with heav’n, caus’d all the eminent parts.
And thus, through all the worst effects of Fate,
Achilles’ fame ev’n Death shall propagate.
While anyone shall lend the light an eye
Divine Æacides shall never die.
But wherein can these comforts be conceiv’d
As rights to me? When, having quite achiev’d
An end with safety, and with conquest, too,
Of so unmatch’d a war, what none could do
Of all our enemies there, at home a friend
And wife have giv’n me inglorious end?”
While these thus spake, the Argus-killing spy
Brought-near Ulysses’ noble victory
To their renew’d discourse, in all the ends
The Wooers’ suffer’d, and show’d those his friends;
Whom now amaze invaded with the view
And made give back; yet Agamemnon knew
Melanthius’ heir, much-fam’d Amphimedon,
Who had in Ithaca guest-favours shown
To great Atrides; who first spake, and said:
“Amphimedon! What suff’rance hath been laid
On your alive parts that hath made you make
This land of darkness the retreat you take,
So all together, all being like in years,
Nor would a man have choos’d, of all the peers
A city honours, men to make a part
More strong for any object? Hath your smart
Been felt from Neptune, being at sea—his wrath
The winds and waves exciting to your scathe?
Or have offensive men impos’d this fate—
Your oxen driving, or your flock’s estate?
Or for your city fighting and your wives,
Have deaths untimely seiz’d your best-tim’d lives?
Inform me truly. I was once your guest,
When I and Menelaus had profest
First arms for Ilion, and were come ashore
On Ithaca, with purpose to implore
Ulysses’ aid, that city-racing man,
In wreak of the adult’rous Phrygian.
Retain not you the time? A whole month’s date
We spent at sea, in hope to instigate
In our arrival old Laertes’ son,
Whom, hardly yet, to our design we won.”
The soul made answer: “Worthiest king of men,
I well remember ev’ry passage then
You now reduce to thought, and will relate
The truth in whole form of our timeless fate:
“We woo’d the wife of that long-absent king,
Who (though her second marriage were a thing
Of most hate to her) she would yet deny
At no part our affections, nor comply
With any in performance, but decreed,
In her delays, the cruel Fates we feed.
Her craft was this: She undertook to weave
A funeral garment destin’d to receive
The corse of old Laertes; being a task
Of infinite labour, and which time would ask.
In midst of whose attempt she caus’d our stay
With this attraction: ‘Youths, that come in way
Of honour’d nuptials to me, though my lord
Abide amongst the dead, yet cease to board
My choice for present nuptials, and sustain,
Lest what is past me of this web be vain,
Till all receive perfection. ’Tis a weed
Dispos’d to wrap in at his funeral need
The old Laertes; who, possessing much,
Would, in his want of rites as fitting, touch
My honour highly with each vulgar dame.’
Thus spake she, and persuaded; and her frame
All-day she labour’d, her day’s work not small,
But ev’ry night-time she unwrought it all.
Three years continuing this imperfect task;
But when the fourth year came her sleights could mask
In no more covert, since her trusted maid
Her whole deceit to our true note betray’d.
With which surpriz’d, she could no more protract
Her work’s perfection, but gave end exact
To what remain’d, wash’d-up, and set thereon
A gloss so bright that like the sun and moon
The whole work show’d together. And when now
Of mere necessity her honour’d vow
She must make good to us, ill-fortune brought
Ulysses home, who yet gave none one thought
Of his arrival, but far-off at field
Liv’d with his herdsman, nor his trust would yield
Note of his person, but liv’d there as guest,
Ragg’d as a beggar in that life profest.
At length Telemachus left Pylos’ sand,
And with a ship fetch’d soon his native land,
When yet not home he went, but laid his way
Up to his herdsman where his father lay;
And where both laid our deaths. To town then bore
The swine-herd and his King, the swain before,
Telemachus in other ways bestow’d
His course home first, t’ associate us that woo’d.
The swain the King led after, who came on
Raggéd and wretched, and still lean’d upon
A borrow’d staff. At length he reach’d his home,
Where (on the sudden and so wretched come)
Nor we nor much our elders once did dream
Of his return there, but did wrongs extreme
Of words and blows to him; all which he bore
With that old patience he had learn’d before.
But when the mind of Jove had rais’d his own,
His son and he fetch’d all their armour down,
Fast-lock’d the doors, and, to prepare their use,
He will’d his wife, for first mean, to produce
His bow to us to draw; of which no one
Could stir the string; himself yet set upon
The deadly strength it held, drew all with ease,
Shot through the steels, and then began to seize
Our armless bosoms; striking first the breast
Of king Antinous, and then the rest
In heaps turn’d over; hopeful of his end
Because some God, he knew, stood firm his friend.
Nor prov’d it worse with him, but all in flood
The pavement straight blush’d with our vital blood.
And thus our souls came here; our bodies laid
Neglected in his roofs, no word convey’d
To any friend to take us home and give
Our wounds fit balming, nor let such as live
Entomb our deaths, and for our fortunes shed
Those tears and dead-rites that renown the dead.”
Atrides’ ghost gave answer: “O bless’d son
Of old Laertes, thou at length hast won
With mighty virtue thy unmatchéd wife.
How good a knowledge, how untouch’d a life,
Hath wise Penelope! How well she laid
Her husband’s rights up, whom she lov’d a maid!
For which her virtues shall extend applause,
Beyond the circles frail mortality draws;
The deathless in this vale of death comprising
Her praise in numbers into infinites rising.
The daughter Tyndarus begat begot
No such chaste thoughts, but cut the virgin knot
That knit her spouse and her with murd’rous swords.
For which posterities shall put hateful words
To notes of her that all her sex defam’d,
And for her ill shall ev’n the good be blam’d.”
To this effect these these digressions made
In hell, earth’s dark and ever-hiding shade.
Ulysses and his son, now past the town,
Soon reach’d the field elaborately grown
By old Laertes’ labour, when, with cares
For his lost son, he left all court affairs,
And took to this rude upland; which with toil
He made a sweet and habitable soil;
Where stood a house to him; about which ran,
In turnings thick and labyrinthian,
Poor hovels, where his necessary men
That did those works (of pleasure to him then)
Might sit, and eat, and sleep. In his own house
An old Sicilian dame liv’d, studious
To serve his sour age with her cheerful pains.
Then said Ulysses to his son and swains:
“Go you to town, and for your dinner kill
The best swine ye can choose; myself will still
Stay with my father, and assay his eye
If my acknowledg’d truth it can descry,
Or that my long time’s travel doth so change
My sight to him that I appear as strange.”
Thus gave he arms to them, and home they hied.
Ulysses to the fruitful field applied
His present place; nor found he Dolius there,
His sons, or any servant, anywhere
In all that spacious ground; all gone from thence
Were dragging bushes to repair a fence,
Old Dolius leading all. Ulysses found
His father far above in that fair ground,
Employ’d in proining of a plant; his weeds
All torn and tatter’d, fit for homely deeds,
But not for him. Upon his legs he wore
Patch’d boots to guard him from the bramble’s gore;
His hands had thorn-proof hedging mittens on;
His head a goat-skin casque; through all which shone
His heart giv’n over to abjectest moan.
Him when Ulysses saw consum’d with age,
And all the ensigns on him that the rage
Of grief presented, he brake out in tears;
And, taking stand then where a tree of pears
Shot high his forehead over him, his mind
Had much contention, if to yield to kind,
Make straight way to his father, kiss, embrace,
Tell his return, and put on all the face
And fashion of his instant-told return;
Or stay th’ impulsion, and the long day burn
Of his quite loss giv’n in his father’s fear
A little longer, trying first his cheer
With some free dalliance, th’ earnest being so near.
This course his choice preferr’d, and forth he went.
His father then his aged shoulders bent
Beneath what years had stoop’d, about a tree
Busily digging: “O, old man,” said he,
“You want no skill to dress and deck your ground,
For all your plants doth order’d distance bound.
No apple, pear, or olive, fig; or vine,
Nor any plat or quarter you confine
To grass or flow’rs stands empty of your care,
Which shows exact in each peculiar;
And yet (which let not move you) you bestow
No care upon yourself, though to this show
Of outward irksomeness to what you are
You labour with an inward froward care,
Which is your age, that should wear all without
More neat and cherishing. I make no doubt
That any sloth you use procures your lord
To let an old man go so much abhorr’d
In all his weeds; nor shines there in your look
A fashion and a goodliness so took
With abject qualities to merit this
Nasty entreaty. Your resemblance is
A very king’s, and shines through this retreat.
You look like one that having wash’d and eat
Should sleep securely, lying sweet and neat.
//It is the ground of age, when cares abuse it,//
//To know life’s end, and, as ’tis sweet, so use it.//
“But utter truth, and tell what lord is he
That rates your labour and your liberty?
Whose orchard is it that you husband thus?
Or quit me this doubt, for if Ithacus
This kingdom claims for his, the man I found
At first arrival here is hardly sound
Of brain or civil, not enduring stay
To tell nor hear me my inquiry out
Of that my friend, if still he bore about
His life and being, or were div’d to death,
And in the house of him that harboureth
The souls of men. For once he liv’d my guest;
My land and house retaining interest
In his abode there; where there sojourn’d none
As guest from any foreign region
Of more price with me. He deriv’d his race
From Ithaca, and said his father was
Laertes, surnam’d Arcesiades,
I had him home, and all the offices
Perforrn’d to him that fitted any friend,
Whose proof I did to wealthy gifts extend:
Seven talents gold; a bowl all-silver, set
With pots of flowers; twelve robes that had no pleat!
Twelve cloaks, or mantles, of delicious dye;
Twelve inner weeds; twelve suits of tapestry.
I gave him likewise women skill’d in use
Of loom and needle, freeing him to choose
Four the most fair.” His father, weeping, said:
“Stranger! The earth to which you are convey’d
Is Ithaca; by such rude men possess’d,
Unjust and insolent, as first address’d
To your encounter; but the gifts you gave
Were giv’n, alas! to the ungrateful grave.
If with his people, where you now arrive,
Your fate had been to find your friend alive,
You should have found like guest-rites from his hand,
Like gifts, and kind pass to your wishéd land.
But how long since receiv’d you for your guest
Your friend, my son, who was th’ unhappiest
Of all men breathing, if he were at all?
O born when Fates and ill-aspects let fall
A cruel influence for him! Far away
From friends and country destin’d to allay.
The sea-bred appetites, or, left ashore,
To be by fowls and upland monsters tore,
His life’s kind authors nor his wealthy wife
Bemoaning, as behov’d, his parted life,
Nor closing, as in honour’s course it lies
To all men dead, in bed his dying eyes.
But give me knowledge of your name and race.
What city bred you? Where the anchoring-place
Your ship now rides-at lies that shor’d you here
And where your men? Or, if a passenger
In other keels you came, who (giving land
To your adventures here, some other strand
To fetch in further course) have left to us
Your welcome presence?” His reply was thus:
“I am of Alybandé, where I hold
My name’s chief house, to much renown extoll’d.
My father Aphidantes, fam’d to spring
From Polypemon, the Molossian king.
My name Eperitus. My taking land
On this fair Isle was rul’d by the command
Of God or fortune, quite against consent
Of my free purpose, that in course was bent
For th’ isle Sicania. My ship is held
Far from the city, near an ample field.
And for Ulysses, since his pass from me
’Tis now five years. Unbless’d by destiny,
That all this time hath had the fate to err!
Though, at his parting, good birds did augur
His putting-off, and on his right hand flew,
Which to his passage my affection drew,
His spirit joyful; and my hope was now
To guest with him, and see his hand bestow
Rites of our friendship.” This a cloud of grief
Cast over all the forces of his life.
With both his hands the burning dust he swept
Up from the earth, which on his head he heapt,
And fetch’d a sigh as in it life were broke.
Which grieved his son, and gave so smart a stroke
Upon his nostrils with the inward stripe,
That up the vein rose there; and weeping ripe
He was to see his sire feel such woe
For his dissembled joy; which now let go,
He sprung from earth, embrac’d and kiss’d his sire,
And said: “O father! He of whom y’ enquire
Am I myself, that, from you twenty years,
Is now return’d. But do not break in tears,
For now we must not forms of kind maintain,
But haste and guard the substance. I have slain
All my wife’s Wooers, so revenging now
Their wrong so long time suffer’d. Take not you
The comfort of my coming then to heart
At this glad instant, but, in prov’d desert
Of your grave judgment, give moan glad suspense,
And on the sudden put this consequence
In act as absolute, as all time went
To ripening of your resolute assent.”
All this haste made not his staid faith so free
To trust his words; who said: “If you are he,
Approve it by some sign.” “This scar then see,”
Replied Ulysses, “giv’n me by the boar
Slain in Parnassus, I being sent before
By your’s and by my honour’d mother’s will,
To see your sire Autolycus fulfill
The gifts he vow’d at giving of my name.
I’ll tell you, too, the trees, in goodly frame
Of this fair orchard, that I ask’d of you
Being yet a child, and follow’d for your show
And name of ev’ry tree. You gave me then
Of fig-trees forty, apple-bearers ten,
Pear-trees thirteen, and fifty ranks of vine;
Each one of which a season did confine
For his best eating. Not a grape did grow
That grew not there, and had his heavy brow
When Jove’s fair daughters, the all ripening Hours,
Gave timely date to it.” This charg’d the pow’rs
Both of his knees and heart with such impression
Of sudden comfort, that it gave possession
Of all to Trance, the signs were all so true,
And did the love that gave them so renew.
He cast his arms about his son and sunk,
The circle slipping to his feet; so shrunk
Were all his age’s forces with the fire
Of his young love rekindled. The old sire
The son took up quite lifeless. But his breath
Again respiring, and his soul from death
His body’s pow’r recov’ring, out he cried,
And said: “O Jupiter! I now have tried
That still there live in heav’n rememb’ring Gods
Of men that serve them; though the periods
They set on their appearances are long
In best men’s suff’rings, yet as sure as strong
They are in comforts, be their strange delays
Extended never so from days to days.
Yet see the short joys or the soon-mix’d fears
Of helps withheld by them so many years!
For if the Wooers now have paid the pain
Due to their impious pleasures, now again
Extreme fear takes me, lest we straight shall see
The Ithacensians here in mutiny,
Their messengers dispatch’d to win to friend
The Cephallenian cities.” “Do not spend
Your thoughts on these cares,” said his suff’ring son,
“But be of comfort, and see that course run
That best may shun the worst. Our house is near,
Telemachus and both his herdsmen there
To dress our supper with their utmost haste;
And thither haste we.” This said, forth they past,
Came home, and found Telemachus at feast
With both his swains; while who had done, all drest
With baths and balms and royally array’d
The old king was by his Sicilian maid.
By whose side Pallas stood, his crook’d-age straight’ning,
His flesh more plumping, and his looks enlight’ning.
Who issuing then to view, his son admir’d
The Gods’ aspects into his form inspir’d,
And said: “O father, certainly some God
By your addression in this state hath stood,
More great, more rev’rend, rend’ring you by far
At all your parts than of yourself you are!”
“I would to Jove,” said he, “the Sun, and She
That bears Jove’s shield, the state had stood with me
That help’d me take-in the well-builded tow’rs
Of strong Nericus (the Cephalian pow’rs
To that fair city leading) two days past,
While with the Wooers thy conflict did last,
And I had then been in the Wooers’ wreak!
I should have help’d thee so to render weak
Their stubborn knees, that in thy joy’s desert
Thy breast had been too little for thy heart.”
This said, and supper order’d by their men,
They sat to it; old Dolius ent’ring then,
And with him, tried with labour, his sons came,
Call’d by their mother, the Sicilian dame
That brought them up and dress’d their father’s fare,
As whose age grew, with it increas’d her care
To see him serv’d as fitted. When thus set
These men beheld Ulysses there at meat,
They knew him, and astonish’d in the place
Stood at his presence; who, with words of grace,
Call’d to old Dolius, saying: “Come and eat,
And banish all astonishment. Your meat
Hath long been ready, and ourselves made stay,
Expecting ever when your wishéd way
Would reach amongst us.” This brought fiercely on
Old Dolius from his stand; who ran upon,
With both his arms abroad, the King, and kiss’d
Of both his rapt up hands the either wrist,
Thus welcoming his presence: “O my love,
Your presence here, for which all wishes strove,
No one expected. Ev’n the Gods have gone
In guide before you to your mansión.
Welcome, and all joys to your heart contend.
Knows yet Penelope? Or shall we send
Some one to tell her this?” “She knows,” said he,
“What need these troubles, father, touch at thee?”
Then came the sons of Dolius, and again
Went over with their father’s entertain,
Welcom’d, shook hands, and then to feast sat down.
About which while they sat, about the town
Fame flew, and shriek’d about the cruel death
And fate the Wooers had sustain’d beneath
Ulysses’ roofs. All heard; together all
From hence and thence met in Ulysses’ hall,
Short-breath’d and noiseful, bore out all the dead
To instant burial, while their deaths were spread
To other neighbour cities where they liv’d,
From whence in swiftest fisher-boats arriv’d
Men to transfer them home. In mean space here
The heavy nobles all in council were;
Where, met in much heap, up to all arose
Extremely-griev’d Eupitheus so to lose
His son Antinous, who, first of all,
By great Ulysses’ hand had slaught’rous fall.
Whose father, weeping for him, said: “O friends,
This man hath author’d works of dismal ends,
Long since conveying in his guide to Troy
Good men, and many that did ships employ,
All which are lost, and all their soldiers dead;
And now the best men Cephallenia bred
His hand hath slaughter’d. Go we then (before
His ’scape to Pylos, or the Elians’ shore,
Where rule the Epeans) ’gainst his horrid hand;
For we shall grieve, and infamy will brand
Our fames for ever, if we see our sons
And brothers end in these confusions,
Revenge left uninflicted. Nor will I
Enjoy one day’s life more, but grieve and die
With instant onset. Nor should you survive
To keep a base and beastly name alive.
Haste, then, lest flight prevent us.” This with tears
His griefs advis’d, and made all sufferers
In his affliction. But by this was come
Up to the council from Ulysses’ home—
When sleep had left them, which the slaughters there
And their self-dangers from their eyes in fear
Had two nights intercepted—those two men
That just Ulysses sav’d out of the slain,
Which Medon and the sacred singer were.
These stood amidst the council; and the fear
The slaughter had impress’d in either’s look
Stuck still so ghastly, that amaze it strook
Through ev’ry there beholder. To whose ears
One thus enforc’d, in his fright, cause of theirs:
“Attend me, Ithacensians! This stern fact
Done by Ulysses was not put in act
Without the Gods’ assistance. These self eyes
Saw one of the immortal Deities
Close by Ulysses, Mentor’s form put on
At ev’ry part. And this sure Deity shone
Now near Ulysses, setting on his bold
And slaught’rous spirit, now the points controll’d
Of all the Wooers’ weapons, round about
The arm’d house whisking, in continual rout
Their party putting, till in heaps they fell.”
This news new fears did through their spirits impell,
When Halitherses (honour’d Mastor’s son,
Who of them all saw only what was done
Present and future) the much-knowing man
And aged heroë this plain course ran
Amongst their counsels: “Give me likewise ear,
And let me tell ye, friends, that these ills bear
On your malignant spleens their sad effects,
Who not what I persuaded gave respects,
Nor what the people’s pastor, Mentor, said,—
That you should see your issues’ follies stay’d
In those foul courses, by their petulant life
The goods devouring, scandalling the wife
Of no mean person, who, they still would say,
Could never more see his returning-day.
Which yet appearing now, now give it trust,
And yield to my free counsels: Do not thrust
Your own safe persons on the acts your sons
So dearly bought, lest their confusions
On your lov’d heads your like addictions draw.”
This stood so far from force of any law
To curb their loose attempts, that much the more
They rush’d to wreak, and made rude tumult roar.
The greater part of all the court arose;
Good counsel could not ill designs dispose.
Eupitheus was persuader of the course,
Which, cómplete-arm’d, they put in present force;
The rest sat still in council. These men met
Before the broad town, in a place they set
All girt in arms; Eupitheus choosing chief
To all their follies, who put grief to grief,
And in his slaughter’d son’s revenge did burn.
But Fate gave never feet to his return,
Ordaining there his death. Then Pallas spake
To Jove, her Father, with intent to make
His will high arbiter of th’ act design’d,
And ask’d of him what his unsearchéd mind
Held undiscover’d? If with arms, and ill,
And grave encounter he, would first fulfill
His sacred purpose, or both parts combine
In peaceful friendship? He ask’d: “Why incline
These doubts thy counsels? Hast not thou decreed
That Ithacus should come and give his deed
The glory of revenge on these and theirs?
Perform thy will; the frame of these affairs
Have this fit issue: When Ulysses’ hand
Hath reach’d full wreak, his then renown’d command
Shall reign for ever, faithful truces strook
’Twixt him and all; for ev’ry man shall brook
His sons’ and brothers’ slaughters; by our mean
To send Oblivion in, expunging clean
The character of enmity in them all,
As in best leagues before. //Peace, festival,//
//And riches in abundance, be the state//
//That crowns the close of wise Ulysses’ Fate.”//
This spurr’d the free, who from heav’n’s continent
To th’ Ithacensian isle made straight descent.
Where, dinner past, Ulysses said: “Some one
Look out to see their nearness.” Dolius’ son
Made present speed abroad, and saw them nigh,
Ran back, and told, bade arm; and instantly
Were all in arms. Ulysses’ part was four,
And six more sons of Dolius; all his pow’r
Two only more, which were his aged sire
And like-year’d Dolius, whose lives’-slak’d fire
All-white had left their heads, yet, driv’n by need,
Made soldiers both of necessary deed.
And now, all-girt in arms, the ports set wide,
They sallied forth, Ulysses being their guide;
And to them in the instant Pallas came,
In form and voice like Mentor, who a flame
Inspir’d of comfort in Ulysses’ heart
With her seen presence. To his son, apart,
He thus then spake: “Now, son, your eyes shall see,
Expos’d in slaught’rous fight, the enemy,
Against whom who shall best serve will be seen.
Disgrace not then your race, that yet hath been
For force and fortitude the foremost tried
Of all earth’s offsprings.” His true son replied:
“Yourself shall see, lov’d father, if you please,
That my deservings shall in nought digress
From best fame of our race’s foremost merit.”
The old king sprung for joy to hear his spirit,
And said: “O lov’d Immortals, what a day
Do your clear bounties to my life display!
I joy, past measure, to behold my son
And nephew close in such contention
Of virtues martial.” Pallas, standing near,
Said: “O my friend! Of all supremely dear,
Seed of Arcesius, pray to Jove and Her
That rules in arms, his daughter, and a dart,
Spritefully brandish’d, hurl at th’ adverse part.”
This said, he pray’d; and she a mighty force
Inspir’d within him, who gave instant course
To his brave-brandish’d lance, which struck the brass
That cheek’d Eupitheus’ casque, and thrust his pass
Quite through his head; who fell, and sounded falling,
His arms the sound again from earth recalling.
Ulysses and his son rush’d on before,
And with their both-way-headed darts did gore
Their enemies’ breasts so thick, that all had gone
The way of slaughter, had not Pallas thrown
Her voice betwixt them, charging all to stay
And spare expense of blood. Her voice did fray
The blood so from their faces that it left
A greenish paleness; all their hands it reft
Of all their weapons, falling thence to earth;
And to the common mother of their birth,
The city, all fled, in desire to save
The lives yet left them. Then Ulysses gave
A horrid shout, and like Jove’s eagle flew
In fiery pursuit, till Saturnius threw
His smoking lightning ’twixt them, that had fall
Before Minerva, who then out did call
Thus to Ulysses: “Born of Jove! Abstain
From further bloodshed. Jove’s hand in the slain
Hath equall’d in their pains their prides to thee.
Abstain, then, lest you move the Deity.”
Again then, ’twixt both parts the Seed of Jove,
Athenian Pallas, of all future love
A league compos’d, and for her form took choice
Of Mentor’s likeness both in limb and voice.
"""
The End Of The Twenty-fourth And Last Book Of Homer’s Odysseys.
''The Argument''
"""
Telemachus, and Heav’n’s wise Dame
That never husband had, now came
To Nestor; who his either guest
Receiv’d at the religious feast
He made to Neptune, on his shore;
And there told what was done before
The Trojan turrets, and the state
Of all the Greeks since Ilion’s fate.
This book these three of greatest place
Doth serve with many a varied grace.
Which past, Minerva takes her leave.
Whose state when Nestor doth perceive,
With sacrifice he makes it known,
Where many a pleasing rite is shown.
Which done, Telemachus hath gain’d
A chariot of him; who ordain’d
Pisistratus, his son, his guide
To Sparta; and when starry eyed
The ample heav’n began to be,
All house-rites to afford them free,
In Pheris, Diocles did please,
His surname Ortilochides.
"""
''Another Argument''
Γἀμμα.
"""Ulysses’ son
With Nestor lies,
To Sparta gone;
Thence Pallas flies.
"""
"""
The sun now left the great and goodly lake,
And to the firm heav’n bright ascent did make,
To shine as well upon the mortal birth,
Inhabiting the plow’d life-giving earth,
As on the ever-treaders upon death.
And now to Pylos, that so garnisheth
Herself with buildings, old Neleus’ town,
The prince and Goddess come had strange sights shown,
For, on the marine shore, the people there
To Neptune, that the azure locks doth wear,
Beeves that were wholly black gave holy flame.
Nine seats of state they made to his high name;
And ev’ry seat set with five hundred men,
And each five hundred was to furnish then
With nine black oxen ev’ry sacred seat.
These of the entrails only pleas’d to eat,
And to the God enflam’d the fleshy thighs.
By this time Pallas with the sparkling eyes,
And he she led, within the haven bore,
Struck sail, cast anchor, and trod both the shore,
She first, he after. Then said Pallas: “Now
No more befits thee the least bashful brow;
T’ embolden which this act is put on thee,
To seek thy father both at shore and sea,
And learn in what clime he abides so close,
Or in the pow’r of what Fate doth repose.
Come then, go right to Nestor; let us see,
If in his bosom any counsel be,
That may inform us. Pray him not to trace
The common courtship, and to speak in grace
Of the demander, but to tell the truth;
Which will delight him, and commend thy youth
For such prevention; for he loves no lies,
Nor will report them, being truly wise.”
He answer’d: “Mentor! how, alas! shall I
Present myself? How greet his gravity?
My youth by no means that ripe form affords,
That can digest my mind’s instinct in words
Wise, and beseeming th’ ears of one so sage.
Youth of most hope blush to use words with age.”
She said: “Thy mind will some conceit impress,
And something God will prompt thy towardness;
For, I suppose, thy birth, and breeding too,
Were not in spite of what the Gods could do.”
This said, she swiftly went before, and he
Her steps made guides, and follow’d instantly.
When soon they reach’d the Pylian throngs and seats,
Where Nestor with his sons sat; and the meats,
That for the feast serv’d, round about them were
Adherents dressing, all their sacred cheer,
Being roast and boil’d meats. When the Pylians saw
These strangers come, in thrust did all men draw
About their entry, took their hands, and pray’d
They both would sit; their entry first assay’d
By Nestor’s son, Pisistratus. In grace
Of whose repair, he gave them honour’d place
Betwixt his sire and brother Thrasymed,
Who sat at feast on soft fells that were spread
Along the sea sands, kerv’d, and reach’d to them
Parts of the inwards, and did make a stream
Of spritely wine into a golden bowl;
Which to Minerva with a gentle soul
He gave, and thus spake: “Ere you eat, fair guest,
Invoke the Seas’ King, of whose sacred feast
Your travel hither makes ye partners now;
When, sacrificing as becomes, bestow
This bowl of sweet wine on your friend, that he
May likewise use these rites of piety;
For I suppose his youth doth prayers use,
Since all men need the Gods. But you I choose
First in this cup’s disposure, since his years
Seem short of yours, who more like me appears.”
Thus gave he her the cup of pleasant wine;
And since a wise and just man did design
The golden bowl first to her free receit,
Ev’n to the Goddess it did add delight,
Who thus invok’d: “Hear thou, whose vast embrace
Enspheres the whole earth, nor disdain thy grace
To us that ask it in performing this:
To Nestor first, and these fair sons of his,
Vouchsafe all honour; and, next them, bestow
On all these Pylians, that have offer’d now
This most renowned hecatomb to thee,
Remuneration fit for them, and free;
And lastly deign Telemachus and me,
The work perform’d for whose effect we came,
Our safe return, both with our ship and fame.”
Thus pray’d she; and herself herself obey’d,
In th’ end performing all for which she pray’d.
And now, to pray, and do as she had done,
She gave the fair round bowl t’ Ulysses’ son.
The meat then dress’d, and drawn, and serv’d t’ each guest,
They celebrated a most sumptuous feast.
When appetite to wine and food allay’d,
Horse-taming Nestor then began, and said:
“Now life’s desire is serv’d, as far as fare,
Time fits me to enquire what guests these are.
Fair guests, what are ye? And for what coast tries
Your ship the moist deeps? For fit merchandise?
Or rudely coast ye, like our men of prise,
The rough seas tempting, desperately erring,
The ill of others in their good conferring?”
The wise prince now his boldness did begin,
For Pallas’ self had harden’d him within,
By this device of travel to explore
His absent father; which two girlonds wore;
His good by manage of his spirits; and then
To gain him high grace in th’ accounts of men.
“O Nestor! still in whom Nelëus lives!
And all the glory of the Greeks survives,
You ask from whence we are, and I relate:
From Ithaca (whose seat is situate
Where Neius, the renownéd mountain, rears
His haughty forehead, and the honour bears
To be our sea-mark) we assay’d the waves.
The business, I must tell, our own good craves,
And not the public. I am come t’ enquire,
If, in the fame that best men doth inspire
Of my most-suff’ring father, I may hear
Some truth of his estate now, who did bear
The name, being join’d in fight with you alone,
To even with earth the height of Ilion.
Of all men else, that any name did bear,
And fought for Troy, the sev’ral ends we hear;
But his death Jove keeps from the world unknown,
The certain fame thereof being told by none;
If on the continent by enemies slain,
Or with the waves eat of the ravenous main.
For his love ’tis that to your knees I sue,
That you would please, out of your own clear view,
T’ assure his sad end; or say, if your ear
Hath heard of the unhappy wanderer,
To too much sorrow whom his mother bore.
You then by all your bounties I implore,
(If ever to you deed or word hath stood,
By my good father promis’d, render’d good
Amongst the Trojans, where ye both have tried
The Grecian suff’rance) that in nought applied
To my respect or pity you will glose,
But uncloth’d truth to my desires disclose.”
“O my much-lov’d,” said he, “since you renew
Remembrance of the miseries that grew
Upon our still-instrength-opposing Greece
Amongst Troy’s people, I must touch a piece
Of all our woes there, either in the men
Achilles brought by sea and led to gain
About the country, or in us that fought
About the city, where to death were brought
All our chief men, as many as were there.
There Mars-like Ajax lies; Achilles there;
There the incounsel-like-the-Gods, his friend;
There my dear son Antilochus took end,
Past measure swift of foot, and staid in fight.
A number more that ills felt infinite;
Of which to reckon all, what mortal man,
If five or six years you should stay here, can
Serve such enquiry? You would back again,
Affected with unsufferable pain,
Before you heard it. Nine years sieg’d we them,
With all the depth and sleight of stratagem
That could be thought. Ill knit to ill past end.
Yet still they toil’d us; nor would yet Jove send
Rest to our labours, nor will scarcely yet.
But no man liv’d, that would in public set
His wisdom by Ulysses’ policy,
As thought his equal; so excessively
He stood superior all ways. If you be
His son indeed, mine eyes ev’n ravish me
To admiration. And in all consent
Your speech puts on his speech’s ornament.
Nor would one say, that one so young could use,
Unless his son, a rhetoric so profuse.
And while we liv’d together, he and I
Never in speech maintain’d diversity;
Nor sat in council but, by one soul led,
With spirit and prudent counsel furnishéd
The Greeks at all hours, that, with fairest course,
What best became them, they might put in force.
But when Troy’s’ high tow’rs we had levell’d thus,
We put to sea, and God divided us.
And then did Jove our sad retreat devise;
For all the Greeks were neither just nor wise,
And therefore many felt so sharp a fate,
Sent from Minerva’s most pernicious hate;
Whose mighty Father can do fearful things.
By whose help she betwixt the brother kings
Let fall contention; who in council met
In vain, and timeless, when the sun was set,
And all the Greeks call’d, that came charg’d with wine.
Yet then the kings would utter their design,
And why they summon’d. Menelaus, he
Put all in mind of home, and cried, To sea.
But Agamemnon stood on contraries,
Whose will was, they should stay and sacrifice
Whole hecatombs to Pallas, to forego
Her high wrath to them. Fool! that did not know
She would not so be won; for not with ease
Th’ Eternal Gods are turn’d from what they please.
So they, divided, on foul language stood.
The Greeks in huge rout rose, their wine-heat blood
Two ways affecting. And, that night’s sleep too,
We turn’d to studying either other’s woe;
When Jove besides made ready woes enow.
Morn came, we launch’d, and in our ships did stow
Our goods, and fair-girt women. Half our men
The people’s guide, Atrides, did contain,
And half, being now aboard, put forth to sea.
A most free gale gave all ships prosp’rous way.
God settled then the huge whale-bearing lake,
And Tenedos we reach’d; where, for time’s sake,
We did divine rites to the Gods. But Jove,
Inexorable still, bore yet no love
To our return, but did again excite
A second sad contention, that turn’d quite
A great part of us back to sea again;
Which were th’ abundant-inall-counsels man,
Your matchless father, who, to gratify
The great Atrides, back to him did fly.
But I fled all, with all that follow’d me,
Because I knew God studied misery,
To hurl amongst us. With me likewise fled
Martial Tydides. I the men he led
Gat to go with him. Winds our fleet did bring
To Lesbos, where the yellow-headed king,
Though late, yet found us, as we put to choice
A tedious voyage; if we sail should hoise
Above rough Chius, left on our left hand,
To th’ isle of Psyria, or that rugged land
Sail under, and for windy Mimas steer.
We ask’d of God that some ostent might clear
Our cloudy business, who gave us sign,
And charge, that all should, in a middle line,
The sea cut for Eubœa, that with speed
Our long-sustain’d infortune might be freed.
Then did a whistling wind begin to rise,
And swiftly flew we through the fishy skies,
Till to Geræstus we in night were brought;
Where, through the broad sea since we safe had wrought,
At Neptune’s altars many solid thighs
Of slaughter’d bulls we burn’d for sacrifice.
The fourth day came, when Tydeus’ son did greet
The haven of Argos with his cómplete fleet.
But I for Pylos straight steer’d on my course;
Nor ever left the wind his foreright force,
Since God fore-sent it first. And thus I came,
Dear son, to Pylos, uninform’d by fame,
Nor know one sav’d by Fate, or overcome.
Whom I have heard of since, set here at home,
As fits, thou shalt be taught, nought left unshown.
The expert spear-men, ev’ry Myrmidon,
Led by the brave heir of the mighty-soul’d
Unpeer’d Achilles, safe of home got hold;
Safe Philoctetes, Pœan’s famous seed;
And safe Idomenæus his men led
To his home, Crete, who fled the arméd field,
Of whom yet none the sea from him withheld.
Atrides, you have both heard, though ye be
His far-off dwellers, what an end had he,
Done by Ægisthus to a bitter death;
Who miserably paid for forcéd breath,
Atrides leaving a good son, that dyed,
In blood of that deceitful parricide,
His wreakful sword. And thou my friend, as he
For this hath his fame, the like spirit in thee
Assume at all parts. Fair and great, I see,
Thou art in all hope, make it good to th’ end,
That after-times as much may thee commend.”
He answer’d: “O thou greatest grace of Greece,
Orestes made that wreak his master-piece,
And him the Greeks will give a master-praise,
Verse finding him to last all after-days.
And would to God the Gods would favour me
With his performance, that my injury,
Done by my mother’s Wooers, being so foul,
I might revenge upon their ev’ry soul;
Who, pressing me with contumelies, dare
Such things as past the pow’r of utt’rance are.
But Heav’n’s great Pow’rs have grac’d my destiny
With no such honour. Both my sire and I
Are born to suffer everlastingly.”
“Because you name those Wooers, friend,” said he,
“Report says, many such, in spite of thee,
Wooing thy mother, in thy house commit
The ills thou nam’st. But say: Proceedeth it
From will in thee to bear so foul a foil?
Or from thy subjects’ hate, that wish thy spoil,
And will not aid thee, since their spirits rely,
Against thy rule, on some grave augury?
What know they, but at length thy father may
Come, and with violence their violence pay;
Or he alone, or all the Greeks with him?
But if Minerva now did so esteem
Thee, as thy father in times past; whom, past
All measure, she with glorious favours grac’t
Amongst the Trojans, where we suffer’d so;
(O! I did never see, in such clear show,
The Gods so grace a man, as she to him,
To all our eyes, appear’d in all her trim)
If so, I say, she would be pleas’d to love,
And that her mind’s care thou so much couldst move,
As did thy father, ev’ry man of these
Would lose in death their seeking marriages.”
“O father,” answer’d he, “you make amaze
Seize me throughout. Beyond the height of phrase
You raise expression; but ’twill never be,
That I shall move in any Deity
So blest an honour. Not by any means,
If Hope should prompt me, or blind Confidence,
(The Gods of Fools) or ev’ry Deity
Should will it; for ’tis past my destiny.”
  The burning-eyed Dame answer’d: “What a speech
Hath past the teeth-guard Nature gave to teach
Fit question of thy words before they fly!
God easily can ^^[[14|Chapman: Footnote 14]]^^ (when to mortal eye
He’s furthest off) a mortal satisfy;
And does the more still. For thy car’d-for sire,
I rather wish, that I might home retire,
After my suff’rance of a world of woes,
Far off, and then my glad eyes might disclose
The day of my return, then straight retire,
And perish standing by my household fire;
As Agamemnon did, that lost his life
By false Ægisthus, and his falser wife.
For Death to come at length, ’tis due to all;
Nor can the Gods themselves, when Fate shall call
Their most-lov’d man, extend his vital breath
Beyond the fix’d bounds of abhorréd Death.”
“Mentor!” said he, “let’s dwell no more on this,
Although in us the sorrow pious is.
No such return, as we wish, Fates bequeath
My erring father; whom a present death
The Deathless have decreed. I’ll now use speech
That tends to other purpose; and beseech
Instruction of grave Nestor, since he flows
Past shore in all experience, and knows
The sleights and wisdoms, and whose heights aspire
Others, as well as my commended sire,
Whom Fame reports to have commanded three
Ages of men, and doth in sight to me
Show like th’ Immortals. Nestor! the renown
Of old Neleius, make the clear truth known,
How the most-great-inempire, Atreus’ son,
Sustain’d the act of his destruction,
Where then was Menelaus? How was it
That false Ægisthus, being so far unfit
A match for him, could his death so enforce?
Was he not then in Argos? or his course
With men so left, to let a coward breathe
Spirit enough to dare his brother’s death?”
“I’ll tell thee truth in all, fair son,” said he:
“Right well was this event conceiv’d by thee.
If Menelaus in his brother’s house
Had found the idle liver with his spouse,
Arriv’d from Troy, he had not liv’d, nor dead
Had the digg’d heap pour’d on his lustful head,
But fowls and dogs had torn him in the fields,
Far off of Argos; not a dame it yields
Had giv’n him any tear, so foul his fact
Show’d ev’n to women. Us Troy’s wars had rack’d
To ev’ry sinew’s sufferance, while he
In Argos’ uplands liv’d, from those works free,
And Agamemnon’s wife with force of word
Flatter’d and soften’d, who, at first, abhorr’d
A fact so infamous. The heav’nly dame
A good mind had, but was in blood to blame.
There was a poet, to whose care the king
His queen committed, and in ev’ry thing,
When he from Troy went, charg’d him to apply
Himself in all guard to her dignity.
But when strong Fate so wrapt-in her effects,
That she resolv’d to leave her fit respects,
Into a desert isle her guardian led,
There left, the rapine of the vultures fed.
Then brought he willing home his will’s won prize,
On sacred altars offer’d many thighs,
Hung in the God’s fanes many ornaments,
Garments and gold, that he the vast events
Of such a labour to his wish had brought,
As neither fell into his hope nor thought.
At last, from Troy sail’d Sparta’s king and I,
Both holding her untouch’d. And, that his eye
Might see no worse of her, when both were blown
To sacred Sunium, of Minerva’s town
The goodly promontory, with his shafts severe
Augur Apollo slew him that did steer
Atrides’ ship, as he the stern did guide,
And she the full speed of her sail applied.
He was a man that natións of men
Excell’d in safe guide of a vessel, when
A tempest rush’d in on the ruffled seas;
His name was Phrontis Onetorides.
And thus was Menelaus held from home,
Whose way he thirsted so to overcome,
To give his friend the earth, being his pursuit,
And all his exequies to execute.
But sailing still the wine-hued seas, ^^[[15|Chapman: Footnote 15]]^^ to reach
Some shore for fit performance, he did fetch
The steep mount of the Malians, and there,
With open voice, offended Jupiter
Proclaim’d the voyage his repugnant mind,
And pour’d the puffs out of a shrieking wind,
That nourish’d billows heighten’d like to hills;
And with the fleet’s division fulfills
His hate proclaim’d; upon a part of Crete
Casting the navy, where the sea-waves meet
Rough Jardanus, and where the Cydons live.
There is a rock, on which the sea doth drive,
Bare, and all broken, on the confines set
Of Gortys, that the dark seas likewise fret;
And hither sent the South a horrid drift
Of waves against the top, that was the left
Of that torn cliff as far as Phæstus’ strand.
A little stone the great sea’s rage did stand.
The men here driv’n ‘scap’d hard the ship’s sore shocks,
The ships themselves being wrack’d against the rocks,
Save only five, that blue fore-castles bore,
Which wind and water cast on Egypt’s shore.
When he (there victling well, and store of gold
Aboard his ships brought) his wild way did hold,
And t’ other languag’d men was forc’d to roam.
Mean space Ægisthus made sad work at home,
And slew his brother, forcing to his sway
Atrides’ subjects, and did sev’n years lay
His yoke upon the rich Mycenian state.
But in the eighth, to his affrighting fate,
Divine Orestes home from Athens came,
And what his royal father felt, the same
He made the false Ægisthus groan beneath.
//Death evermore is the reward of death.//
Thus having slain him, a sepulchral feast
He made the Argives for his lustful guest,
And for his mother whom he did detest.
The self-same day upon him stole the king
Good-at-a-martial-shout, and goods did bring,
As many as his freighted fleet could bear.
But thou, my son, too long by no means err,
Thy goods left free for many a spoilful guest,
Lest they consume some, and divide the rest,
And thou, perhaps, besides, thy voyage lose.
To Menelaus yet thy course dispose
I wish and charge thee; who but late arriv’d
From such a shore and men, as to have liv’d
In a return from them he never thought,
And whom black whirlwinds violently brought
Within a sea so vast, that in a year
Not any fowl could pass it anywhere,
So huge and horrid was it. But go thou
With ship and men (or, if thou pleasest now
To pass by land, there shall be brought for thee
Both horse and chariot, and thy guides shall be
My sons themselves) to Sparta the divine,
And to the king whose locks like amber shine.
Intreat the truth of him, nor loves he lies,
Wisdom in truth is, and he’s passing wise.”
This said, the Sun went down, and up rose Night,
When Pallas spake: “O father, all good right
Bear thy directions. But divide we now
The sacrifices’ tongues, mix wines, and vow
To Neptune, and the other Ever–Blest,
That, having sacrific’d, we may to rest.
The fit hour runs now, light dives out of date,
At sacred feasts we must not sit too late.”
She said; they heard; the heralds water gave;
The youths crown’d cups with wine, and let all have
Their equal shares, beginning from the cup
Their parting banquet. All the tongues cut up,
The fire they gave them, sacrific’d, and rose,
Wine, and divine rites us’d, to each dispose;
Minerva and Telemachus desir’d
They might to ship be, with his leave, retir’d.
He, mov’d with that, provok’d thus their abodes:
“Now Jove forbid, and all the long-liv’d Gods,
Your leaving me, to sleep aboard a ship;
As I had drunk of poor Penia’s whip,
Even to my nakedness, and had nor sheet
Nor cov’ring in my house; that warm nor sweet
A guest, nor I myself, had means to sleep;
Where I, both weeds and wealthy cov’rings keep
For all my guests. Nor shall Fame ever say,
The dear son of the man Ulysses lay
All night a-ship-board here while my days shine,
Or in my court whiles any son of mine
Enjoys survival, who shall guests receive,
Whomever my house hath a nook to leave.”
“My much-lov’d father,” said Minerva, “well
All this becomes thee. But persuade to dwell
This night with thee thy son Telemachus,
For more convenient is the course for us,
That he may follow to thy house and rest,
And I may board our black-sail, that addrest
At all parts I may make our men, and cheer
All with my presence, since of all men there
I boast myself the senior, th’ others are
Youths, that attend in free and friendly care
Great-soul’d Telemachus, and are his peers
In fresh similitude of form and years.
For their confirmance, I will therefore now
Sleep in our black bark. But, when light shall show
Her silver forehead, I intend my way
Amongst the Caucons, men that are to pay
A debt to me, nor small, nor new. For this,
Take you him home; whom in the morn dismiss,
With chariot and your sons, and give him horse
Ablest in strength, and of the speediest course”
This said, away she flew, form’d like the fowl
Men call the ossifrage; when ev’ry soul
Amaze invaded; even th’ old man admir’d,
The youth’s hand took, and said: “O most desir’d,
My hope says thy proof will no coward show,
Nor one unskill’d in war, when Deities now
So young attend thee, and become thy guides;
Nor any of the heav’n-hous’d States besides,
But Tritogenia’s self, the Seed of Jove,
The great-inprey, that did in honour move
So much about thy father, amongst all
The Grecian army. Fairest queen, let fall
On me like favours! Give me good renown!
Which, as on me, on my lov’d wife let down,
And all my children. I will burn to thee
An ox right bred, broad-headed, and yoke-free,
To no man’s hand yet humbled. Him will I,
His horns in gold hid, give thy Deity.”
Thus pray’d he, and she heard; and home he led
His sons, and all his heaps of kindered.
Who ent’ring his court royal, ev’ry one
He marshall’d in his sev’ral seat and throne;
And ev’ry one, so kindly come, he gave
His sweet-wine cup; which none was let to have
Before his ‘leventh year landed him from Troy;
Which now the butleress had leave t’ employ,
Who therefore pierc’d it, and did give it vent.
Of this the old duke did a cup present
To ev’ry guest; made his Maid many a pray’r
That wears the shield fring’d with his nurse’s hair,
And gave her sacrifice. With this rich wine
And food suffic’d, sleep all eyes did decline,
And all for home went; but his court alone
Telemachus, divine Ulysses’ son,
Must make his lodging, or not please his heart.
A bed, all chequer’d with elaborate art,
Within a portico that rung like brass,
He brought his guest to; and his bedfere was
Pisistratus, the martial guide of men,
That liv’d, of all his sons, unwed till then.
Himself lay in a by-room, far above,
His bed made by his barren wife, his love.
The rosy-finger’d Morn no sooner shone,
But up he rose, took air, and sat upon
A seat of white and goodly polish’d stone,
That such a gloss as richest ointments wore,
Before his high gates; where the counsellor
That match’d the Gods (his father) us’d to sit,
Who now, by fate forc’d, stoop’d as low as it.
And here sat Nestor, holding in his hand
A sceptre; and about him round did stand,
As early up, his sons’ troop; Perseus,
The god-like Thrasymed, and Aretus,
Echephron, Stratius, and sixth and last
Pisistratus, and by him (half embrac’d
Still as they came) divine Telemachus;
To these spake Nestor, old Gerenius:
“Haste, lovéd sons, and do me a desire,
That, first of all the Gods, I may aspire
To Pallas’ favour, who vouchsaf’d to me
At Neptune’s feast her sight so openly.
Let one to field go, and an ox with speed
Cause hither brought, which let the herdsman lead;
Another to my dear guest’s vessel go,
And all his soldiers bring, save only two;
A third the smith that works in gold command
(Laertius) to attend, and lend his hand,
To plate the both horns round about with gold;
The rest remain here close. But first, see told
The maids within, that they prepare a feast,
Set seats through all the court, see straight addrest
The purest water, and get fuel fell’d.”
This said, not one but in the service held
Officious hand. The ox came led from field;
The soldiers troop’d from ship; the smith he came,
And those tools brought that serv’d the actual frame
His art conceiv’d, brought anvil, hammers brought,
Fair tongs, and all, with which the gold was wrought.
Minerva likewise came, to set the crown
On that kind sacrifice, and make ’t her own.
Then th’ old knight Nestor gave the smith the gold,
With which he straight did both the horns infold,
And trimm’d the off’ring so, the Goddess joy’d.
About which thus were Nestor’s sons employ’d:
Divine Echephron, and fair Stratius,
Held both the horns. The water odorous,
In which they wash’d, what to the rites was vow’d,
Aretus, in a caldron all bestrow’d
With herbs and flowers, serv’d in from th’ holy room
Where all were drest, and whence the rites must come.
And after him a hallow’d virgin came,
That brought the barley-cake, and blew the flame.
The axe, with which the ox should both be fell’d
And cut forth, Thrasymed stood by and held.
Perseus the vessel held that should retain
The purple liquor of the off’ring slain.
Then wash’d the pious father, then the cake
(Of barley, salt, and oil, made) took, and brake,
Ask’d many a boon of Pallas, and the state
Of all the off’ring did initiate,
In three parts cutting off the hair, and cast
Amidst the flame. All th’ invocation past,
And all the cake broke, manly Thrasymed
Stood near, and sure, and such a blow he laid
Aloft the off’ring, that to earth he sunk,
His neck-nerves sunder’d, and his spirits shrunk.
Out shriek’d the daughters, daughter-inlaws, and wife
Of three-ag’d Nestor, who had eldest life
Of Clymen’s daughters, chaste Eurydice.
The ox on broad earth then laid laterally
They held, while duke Pisistratus the throat
Dissolv’d, and set the sable blood afloat,
And then the life the bones left. Instantly
They cut him up; apart flew either thigh,
That with the fat they dubb’d, with art alone,
The throat-brisk, and the sweet-bread pricking on.
Then Nestor broil’d them on the coal-turn’d wood,
Pour’d black wine on; and by him young men stood,
That spits fine-pointed held, on which, when burn’d
The solid thighs were, they transfix’d, and turn’d
The inwards, cut in cantles; which, the meat
Vow’d to the Gods consum’d, they roast and eat.
In mean space, Polycasté (call’d the fair,
Nestor’s young’st daughter) bath’d Ulysses’ heir;
Whom having cleans’d, and with rich balms bespread,
She cast a white shirt quickly o’er his head,
And then his weeds put on; when forth he went,
And did the person of a God present,
Came, and by Nestor took his honour’d seat,
This pastor of the people. Then, the meat
Of all the spare parts roasted, off they drew,
Sat, and fell to. But soon the temp’rate few
Rose, and in golden bowls fill’d others wine.
Till, when the rest felt thirst of feast decline,
Nestor his sons bad fetch his high-man’d horse,
And them in chariot join, to run the course
The prince resolv’d. Obey’d, as soon as heard,
Was Nestor by his sons, who straight prepar’d
Both horse and chariot. She that kept the store,
Both bread and wine, and all such viands more,
As should the feast of Jove-fed kings compose,
Purvey’d the voyage. To the rich coach rose
Ulysses’ son, and close to him ascended
The duke Pisistratus, the reins intended,
And scourg’d, to force to field, who freely flew;
And left the town that far her splendour threw,
Both holding yoke, and shook it all the day.
But now the sun set, dark’ning ev’ry way,
When they to Pheris came; and in the house
Of Diocles (the son t’ Orsilochus,
Whom flood Alphëus got) slept all that night;
Who gave them each due hospitable rite.
But when the rosy-finger’d Morn arose,
They went to coach, and did their horse inclose,
Drave forth the fore-court, and the porch that yields
Each breath a sound, and to the fruitful fields
Rode scourging still their willing flying steeds,
Who strenuously perform’d their wonted speeds.
Their journey ending just when sun went down,
And shadows all ways through the earth were thrown.
"""
Finis Libri Tertii Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
Receiv’d now in the Spartan court,
Telemachus prefers report
To Menelaus of the throng
Of Wooers with him, and their wrong.
Atrides tells the Greeks’ retreat,
And doth a prophecy repeat
That Proteus made, by which he knew
His brother’s death; and then doth show
How with Calypso liv’d the sire
Of his young guest. The Wooers conspire
Their prince’s death. Whose treach’ry known,
Penelope in tears doth drown.
Whom Pallas by a dream doth cheer,
And in similitude appear
Of fair Iphthima, known to be
The sister of Penelope.
"""
''Another Argument''
Δἐλτα.
"""
Here of the sire
The son doth hear.
The Wooers conspire.
The Mother’s fear.
"""
"""
In Lacedæmon now, the nurse of whales, ^^[[16|Chapman: Footnote 16]]^^
These two arriv’d, and found at festivals,
With mighty concourse, the renownéd king,
His son and daughter jointly marrying.
Alector’s daughter he did give his son,
Strong Megapenthes, who his life begun
By Menelaus’ bondmaid; whom he knew
In years when Helen could no more renew
In issue like divine Hermione,
Who held in all fair form as high degree
As golden Venus. Her he married now
To great Achilles’ son, who was by vow
Betroth’d to her at Troy, And thus the Gods
To constant loves give nuptial periods.
Whose state here past, the Myrmidons’ rich town
(Of which she shar’d in the imperial crown)
With horse and chariots he resign’d her to.
Mean space, the high huge house with feast did flow
Of friends and neighbours, joying with the king.
Amongst whom did a heav’nly poet sing,
And touch his harp. Amongst whom likewise danc’d
Two, who in that dumb motion advanc’d,
Would prompt the singer what to sing and play. ^^[[17|Chapman: Footnote 17]]^^
All this time in the utter court did stay,
With horse and chariot, Telemachus,
And Nestor’s noble son Pisistratus.
Whom Eteoneus, coming forth, descried,
And, being a servant to the king, most tried
In care and his respect, he ran and cried:
“Guests, Jove-kept Menelaus, two such men
As are for form of high Saturnius’ strain.
Inform your pleasure, if we shall unclose
Their horse from coach, or say they must dispose
Their way to some such house, as may embrace
Their known arrival with more welcome grace?”
He, angry, answer’d: “Thou didst never show
Thyself a fool, Boethides, till now;
But now, as if turn’d child, a childish speech
Vents thy vain spirits. We ourselves now reach
Our home by much spent hospitality
Of other men; nor know if Jove will try
With other after-wants our state again;
And therefore from our feast no more detain
Those welcome guests, but take their steeds from coach,
And with attendance guide in their approach.”
This said, he rush’d abroad, and call’d some more
Tried in such service, that together bore
Up to the guests, and took their steeds that swet
Beneath their yokes from coach; at mangers set,
Wheat and white barley gave them mix’d; and plac’d
Their chariot by a wall so clear, it cast
A light quite through it. And then they led
Their guests to the divine house; which so fed
Their eyes at all parts with illustrious sights,
That admiration seiz’d them. Like the lights
The sun and moon gave, all the palace threw
A lustre through it. Satiate with whose view,
Down to the king’s most bright-kept baths they went,
Where handmaids did their services present,
Bath’d, balm’d them, shirts and well-napt weeds put on,
And by Atrides’ side set each his throne.
Then did the handmaid-royal water bring,
And to a laver, rich and glittering,
Of massy gold, pour’d; which she plac’d upon
A silver caldron, into which might run
The water as they wash’d. Then set she near
A polish’d table, on which all the cheer
The present could afford a rev’rend dame,
That kept the larder, set. A cook then came,
And divers dishes, borne thence, serv’d again;
Furnish’d the board with bowls of gold. And then,
His right hand giv’n the guests, Atrides said:
“Eat, and be cheerful. Appetite allay’d,
I long to ask, of what stock ye descend;
For not from parents whose race nameless end
We must derive your offspring. Men obscure
Could get none such as you. The portraiture
Of Jove-sustain’d and sceptre-bearing kings
Your either person in his presence brings.”
An ox’s fat chine then they up did lift,
And set before the guests; which was a gift,
Sent as an honour to the king’s own taste.
They saw yet ’twas but to be eaten plac’d,
And fell to it. But food and wine’s care past,
Telemachus thus prompted Nestor’s son,
(His ear close laying, to be heard of none): ^^[[18|Chapman: Footnote 18]]^^
“Consider, thou whom most of my mind esteems,
The brass-work here, how rich it is in beams,
And how, besides, it makes the whole house sound;
What gold, and amber, silver, ivory, round
Is wrought about it. Out of doubt, the hall
Of Jupiter Olympius hath of all
This state the like. How many infinites
Take up to admiration all men’s sights!”
Atrides over-heard, and said: “Lov’d son,
No mortal must affect contentión
With Jove, whose dwellings are of endless date.
Perhaps of men some one may emulate,
Or none, my house, or me; for I am one
That many a grave extreme have undergone,
Much error felt by sea, and till th’ eighth year,
Had never stay, but wander’d far and near,
Cyprus, Phœnicia, and Sidonia,
And fetch’d the far-off Æthiopia,
Reach’d the Erembi of Arabia,
And Lybia, where with horns ewes yean their lambs,
Which ev’ry full year ewes are three times dams,
Where neither king, nor shepherd, want comes near
Of cheese, or flesh, or sweet milk; all the year
They ever milk their ewes. And here while I
Err’d, gath’ring means to live, one, murd’rously,
Unwares, unseen, bereft my brother’s life,
Chiefly betray’d by his abhorréd wife.
So hold I, not enjoying, what you see.
And of your fathers, if they living be,
You must have heard this, since my suff’rings were
So great and famous; from this palace here
(So rarely-well-built, furnishéd so well,
And substancéd with such a precious deal
Of well-got treasure) banish’d by the doom
Of Fate, and erring as I had no home.
And now I have, and use it, not to take
Th’ entire delight it offers, but to make
Continual wishes, that a triple part
Of all it holds were wanting, so my heart
Were eas’d of sorrows, taken for their deaths
That fell at Troy, by their revivéd breaths.
And thus sit I here weeping, mourning still
Each least man lost; and sometimes make mine ill,
In paying just tears for their loss, my joy.
Sometimes I breathe my woes, for in annoy
The pleasure soon admits satiety.
But all these men’s wants wet not so mine eye,
Though much they move me, as one sole man’s miss,
For which my sleep and meat ev’n loathsome is
In his renew’d thought, since no Greek hath won
Grace for such labours as Laërtes’ son
Hath wrought and suffer’d, to himself nought else
But future sorrows forging, to me hells
For his long absence, since I cannot know
If life or death detain him; since such woe
For his love, old Laërtes, his wise wife,
And poor young son sustains, whom new with life
He left as sireless.” This speech grief to tears
(Pour’d from the son’s lids on the earth) his ears,
Told of the father, did excite; who kept
His cheeks dry with his red weed as he wept,
His both hands us’d therein. Atrides then
Began to know him, and did strife retain,
If he should let himself confess his sire,
Or with all fitting circumstance enquire.
While this his thoughts disputed, forth did shine,
Like to the golden distaff-deck’d Divine,
From her bed’s high and odoriferous room,
Helen. To whom, of an elaborate loom,
Adresta set a chair; Alcippe brought
A piece of tapestry of fine wool wrought;
Phylo a silver cabinet conferr’d,
Giv’n by Alcandra, nuptially endear’d
To lord Polybius, whose abode in Thebes
Th’ Ægyptian city was, where wealth in heaps
His famous house held, out of which did go,
In gift t’ Atrides, silver bath-tubs two,
Two tripods, and of fine gold talents ten.
His wife did likewise send to Helen then
Fair gifts, a distaff that of gold was wrought,
And that rich cabinet that Phylo brought,
Round, and with gold ribb’d, now of fine thread full;
On which extended (crown‘d with finest wool,
Of violet gloss) the golden distaff-lay.
She took her state-chair, and a foot-stool’s stay
Had for her feet; and of her husband thus
Ask’d to know all things: “Is it known to us,
King Menelaus, whom these men commend
Themselves for, that our court now takes to friend?
I must affirm, be I deceiv’d or no,
I never yet saw man nor woman so
Like one another, as this man is like
Ulysses’ son. With admiration strike
His looks my thoughts, that they should carry now
Pow’r to persuade me thus, who did but know,
When newly he was born, the form they bore.
But ’tis his father’s grace, whom more and more
His grace resembles, that makes me retain
Thought that he now is like Telemachus, then
Left by his sire, when Greece did undertake
Troy’s bold war for my impudency’s sake.”
He answer’d: “Now wife, what you think I know,
The true cast of his father’s eye doth show
In his eyes’ order. Both his head and hair,
His hands and feet, his very father’s are.
Of whom, so well remember’d, I should now
Acknowledge for me his continual flow
Of cares and perils, yet still patient.
But I should too much move him, that doth vent
Such bitter tears for that which hath been spoke,
Which, shunning soft show, see how he would cloak,
And with his purple weed his weepings hide.”
Then Nestor’s son, Pisistratus, replied:
“Great pastor of the people, kept of God!
He is Ulysses’ son, but his abode
Not made before here, and he modest too,
He holds it an indignity to do
A deed so vain, to use the boast of words,
Where your words are on wing; whose voice affords
Delight to us as if a God did break
The air amongst us, and vouchsafe to speak.
But me my father, old duke Nestor, sent
To be his consort hither; his content
Not to be heighten’d so as with your sight,
In hope that therewith words and actions might
Inform his comforts from you, since he is
Extremely griev’d and injur’d by the miss
Of his great father; suff’ring ev’n at home,
And few friends found to help him overcome
His too weak suff’rance, now his sire is gone;
Amongst the people, not afforded one
To check the miseries that mate him thus.
And this the state is of Telemachus.”
“O Gods,” said he, “how certain, now, I see
My house enjoys that friend’s son, that for me
Hath undergone so many willing fights!
Whom I resolv’d, past all the Grecian knights,
To hold in love, if our return by seas
The far-off Thunderer did ever please
To grant our wishes. And to his respect
A palace and a city to erect,
My vow had bound me; whither bringing then
His riches, and his son, and all his men,
From barren Ithaca, (some one sole town
Inhabited about him batter’d down)
All should in Argos live. And there would I
Ease him of rule, and take the empery
Of all on me. And often here would we,
Delighting, loving either’s company,
Meet and converse; whom nothing should divide,
Till death’s black veil did each all over hide.
But this perhaps hath been a mean to take
Ev’n God himself with envy; who did make
Ulysses therefore only the unblest,
That should not reach his loved country’s rest.”
These woes made ev’ry one with woe in love;
Ev’n Argive Helen wept, the Seed of Jove;
Ulysses’ son wept; Atreus’ son did weep;
And Nestor’s son his eyes in tears did steep,
But his tears fell not from the present cloud
That from Ulysses was exhal’d, but flow’d
From brave Antilochus’ remember’d due,
Whom the renown’d Son of the Morning slew,
Which yet he thus excus’d: “O Atreus’ son!
Old Nestor says, there lives not such a one
Amongst all mortals as Atrides is
For deathless wisdom. ’Tis a praise of his,
Still giv’n in your remembrance, when at home
Our speech concerns you. Since then overcome
You please to be with sorrow, ev’n to tears,
That are in wisdom so exempt from peers,
Vouchsafe the like effect in me excuse,
If it be lawful, I affect no use
Of tears thus after meals; at least, at night;
But when the morn brings forth, with tears, her light,
It shall not then impair me to bestow
My tears on any worthy’s overthrow.
It is the only rite that wretched men
Can do dead friends, to cut hair, and complain.
But Death my brother took, whom none could call
The Grecian coward, you best knew of all.
I was not there, nor saw, but men report
Antilochus excell’d the common sort
For footmanship, or for the chariot race,
Or in the fight for hardy hold of place.”
“O friend,” said he, “since thou hast spoken so,
At all parts as one wise should say and do,
And like one far beyond thyself in years,
Thy words shall bounds be to our former tears.
O he is questionless a right-born son,
That of his father hath not only won
The person but the wisdom; and that sire
Complete himself that hath a son entire,
Jove did not only his full fate adorn,
When he was wedded, but when he was born.
As now Saturnius, through his life’s whole date,
Hath Nestor’s bliss rais’d to as steep a state,
Both in his age to keep in peace his house,
And to have children wise and valorous.
But let us not forget our rear feast thus.
Let some give water here. Telemachus!
The morning shall yield time to you and me
To do what fits, and reason mutually.”
This said, the careful servant of the king,
Asphalion, pour’d on th’ issue of the spring;
And all to ready feast set ready hand.
But Helen now on new device did stand,
Infusing straight a medicine to their wine,
That, drowning care and angers; did decline
All thought of ill. Who drunk her cup could shed
All that day not a tear, no not if dead
That day his father or his mother were,
Not if his brother, child, or chiefest dear,
He should see murder’d then before his face.
Such useful medicines, only borne in grace
Of what was good, would Helen ever have.
And this juice to her Polydamna gave
The wife of Thoon, an Ægyptian born,
Whose rich earth herbs of medicine do adorn
In great abundance. Many healthful are,
And many baneful. Ev’ry man is there
A good physician out of Nature’s grace,
For all the nation sprung of Pæon’s race.
When Helen then her medicine had infus’d,
She bad pour wine to it, and this speech us’d:
“Atrides, and these good men’s sons, great Jove
Makes good and ill one after other move,
In all things earthly; for he can do all.
The woes past, therefore, he so late let fall,
The comforts he affords us let us take;
Feast, and, with fit discourses, merry make.
Nor will I other use. As then our blood
Griev’d for Ulysses, since he was so good,
Since he was good, let us delight to hear
How good he was, and what his suff’rings were;
Though ev’ry fight, and ev’ry suff’ring deed,
Patient Ulysses underwent, exceed
My woman’s pow’r to number, or to name.
But what he did, and suffer’d, when he came
Amongst the Trojans, where ye Grecians all
Took part with suff’rance, I in part can call
To your kind memories. How with ghastly wounds
Himself he mangled, and the Trojan bounds,
Thrust thick with enemies, adventur’d on,
His royal shoulders having cast upon
Base abject weeds, and enter’d like a slave.
Then, beggar-like, he did of all men crave,
And such a wretch was, as the whole Greek fleet
Brought not besides. And thus through ev’ry street
He crept discov’ring, of no one man known.
And yet through all this diff’rence, I alone
Smoked his true person, talk’d with him; but he
Fled me with wiles still. Nor could we agree,
Till I disclaim’d him quite; and so (as mov’d
With womanly remorse of one that prov’d
So wretched an estate, whate’er he were)
Won him to take my house. And yet ev’n there,
Till freely I, to make him doubtless, swore
A pow’rful oath, to let him reach the shore
Of ships and tents before Troy understood,
I could not force on him his proper good.
But then I bath’d and sooth’d him, and he then
Confess’d, and told me all; and, having slain
A number of the Trojan guards, retir’d,
And reach’d the fleet, for sleight and force admir’d.
Their husbands’ deaths by him the Trojan wives
Shriek’d for; but I made triumphs for their lives,
For then my heart conceiv’d, that once again
I should reach home; and yet did still retain
Woe for the slaughters Venus made for me,
When both my husband, my Hermione,
And bridal room, she robb’d of so much right,
And drew me from my country with her sleight,
Though nothing under heaven I here did need,
That could my fancy or my beauty feed.”
Her husband said: “Wife! what you please to tell
Is true at all parts, and becomes you well;
And I myself, that now may say have seen
The minds and manners of a world of men,
And great heroes, measuring many a ground,
Have never, by these eyes that light me, found
One with a bosom so to be belov’d,
As that in which th’ accomplish’d spirit mov’d
Of patient Ulysses. What, brave man,
He both did act, and suffer, when he wan
The town of Ilion, in the brave-built horse,
When all we chief states of the Grecian force
Were hous’d together, bringing death and Fate
Amongst the Trojans, you, wife, may relate;
For you, at last, came to us; God, that would
The Trojans’ glory give, gave charge you should
Approach the engine; and Deiphobus,
The god-like, follow’d. Thrice ye circled us
With full survey of it; and often tried
The hollow crafts that in it were implied. ^^[[19|Chapman: Footnote 19]]^^
When all the voices of their wives in it
You took on you with voice so like and fit,
And ev’ry man by name so visited,
That I, Ulysses, the king Diomed,
(Set in the midst, and hearing how you call’d)
Tydides, and myself (as half appall’d
With your remorseful plaints) would passing fain
Have broke our silence, rather than again
Endure, respectless, their so moving cries.
But Ithacus our strongest phantasies
Contain’d within us from the slenderest noise,
And ev’ry man there sat without a voice.
Anticlus only would have answer’d thee,
But his speech Ithacus incessantly
With strong hand held in, till, Minerva’s call
Charging thee off, Ulysses sav’d us all.”
Telemachus replied: “Much greater is
My grief, for hearing this high praise of his.
For all this doth not his sad death divert,
Nor can, though in him swell’d an iron heart.
Prepare, and lead then, if you please, to rest:
Sleep, that we hear not, will content us best.”
Then Argive Helen made her handmaid go,
And put fair bedding in the portico,
Lay purple blankets on, rugs warm and soft,
And cast an arras coverlet aloft.
They torches took, made haste, and made the bed;
When both the guests were to their lodgings led
Within a portico without the house.
Atrides, and his large-train-wearing spouse,
The excellent of women, for the way,
In a retir’d receit, together lay.
The Morn arose; the king rose, and put on
His royal weeds, his sharp sword hung upon
His ample shoulders, forth his chamber went,
And did the person of a God present.
Telemachus accosts him, who begun
Speech of his journey’s proposition:
“And what, my young Ulyssean heroë,
Provok’d thee on the broad back of the sea,
To visit Lacedæmon the divine?
Speak truth, some public good or only thine?”
“I come,” said he, “to hear, if any fame
Breath’d of my father to thy notice came.
My house is sack’d, my fat works of the field
Are all destroy’d; my house doth nothing yield
But enemies, that kill my harmless sheep,
And sinewy oxen, nor will ever keep
Their steels without them. And these men are they
That woo my mother, most inhumanly
Committing injury on injury.
To thy knees therefore I am come, t’ attend
Relation of the sad and wretched end
My erring father felt, if witness’d by
Your own eyes, or the certain news that fly
From others’ knowledges. For, more than is
The usual heap of human miseries,
His mother bore him to. Vouchsafe me then,
Without all ruth of what I can sustain,
The plain and simple truth of all you know.
Let me beseech so much, if ever vow
Was made, and put in good effect to you,
At Troy, where suff’rance bred you so much smart,
Upon my father good Ulysses’ part,
And quit it now to me (himself in youth)
Unfolding only the uncloséd truth.”
He, deeply sighing, answer’d him: “O shame,
That such poor vassals should affect the fame
To share the joys of such a worthy’s bed!
As when a hind, her calves late farrowéd,
To give suck, enters the bold lion’s den,
He roots of hills and herby vallies then
For food (there feeding) hunting; but at length
Returning to his cavern, gives his strength
The lives of both the mother and her brood
In deaths indecent; so the Wooers’ blood
Must pay Ulysses’ pow’rs as sharp an end.
O would to Jove, Apollo, and thy friend
The wise Minerva, that thy father were
As once he was, when he his spirits did rear
Against Philomelides, in a fight
Perform’d in well-built Lesbos, where, down-right
He strook the earth with him, and gat a shout
Of all the Grecians! O, if now full out
He were as then, and with the Wooers coped,
Short-liv’d they all were, and their nuptials hoped
Would prove as desp’rate. But, for thy demand
Enforc’d with pray’rs, I’ll let thee understand
The truth directly, nor decline a thought,
Much less deceive, or sooth thy search in ought;
But what the old and still-true-spoken God,
That from the sea breathes oracles abroad,
Disclos’d to me, to thee I’ll all impart,
Nor hide one word from thy sollicitous heart.
  I was in Ægypt, where a mighty time
The Gods detain’d me, though my natural clime
I never so desir’d, because their homes
I did not greet with perfect hecatombs.
For they will put men evermore in mind,
How much their masterly commandments bind.
There is, besides, a certain island, call’d
Pharos, that with the high-wav’d sea is wall’d,
Just against Ægypt, and so much remote,
As in a whole day, with a fore-gale smote,
A hollow ship can sail. And this isle bears
A port most portly, where sea-passengers
Put in still for fresh water, and away
To sea again. Yet here the Gods did stay
My fleet full twenty days; the winds, that are
Masters at sea, no prosp’rous puff would spare
To put us off; and all my victuals here
Had quite corrupted, as my men’s minds were,
Had not a certain Goddess giv’n regard,
And pitied me in an estate so hard;
And ’twas Idothea, honour’d Proteus’ seed,
That old sea-farer. Her mind I make bleed
With my compassion, when (walk’d all alone,
From all my soldiers, that were ever gone
About the isle on fishing with hooks bent;
Hunger their bellies on her errand sent)
She came close to me, spake, and thus began:
‘Of all men thou art the most foolish man!
Or slack in business, or stay’st here of choice,
And dost in all thy suff’rances rejoice,
That thus long liv’st detain’d here, and no end
Canst give thy tarriance? Thou dost much offend
The minds of all thy fellows.’ I replied:
‘Whoever thou art of the Deified,
I must affirm, that no way with my will
I make abode here; but, it seems, some ill
The Gods, inhabiting broad heav’n, sustain
Against my getting off. Inform me then,
For Godheads all things know, what God is he
That stays my passage from the fishy sea?’
‘Stranger,’ said she, ‘I’ll tell thee true: There lives
An old sea-farer in these seas, that gives
A true solution of all secrets here,
Who deathless Proteus is, th’ Ægyptian peer,
Who can the deeps of all the seas exquire,
Who Neptune’s priest is, and, they say, the sire
That did beget me. Him, if any way
Thou couldst inveigle, he would clear display
Thy course from hence, and how far off doth lie
Thy voyage’s whole scope through Neptune’s sky.
Informing thee, O God-preserv’d, beside,
If thy desires would so be satisfied,
Whatever good or ill hath got event,
In all the time thy long and hard course spent,
Since thy departure from thy house.’ This said;
Again I answer’d: ‘Make the sleights display’d
Thy father useth, lest his foresight see,
Or his foreknowledge taking note of me,
He flies the fixt place of his us’d abode.
’Tis hard for man to countermine with God.’
She straight replied: ‘I’ll utter truth in all:
When heav’n’s supremest height the sun doth skall,
The old Sea-tell-truth leaves the deeps, and hides
Amidst a black storm, when the West Wind chides,
In caves still sleeping. Round about him sleep
(With short feet swimming forth the foamy deep)
The sea-calves, lovely Halosydnes call’d,
From whom a noisome odour is exhal’d,
Got from the whirl-pools, on whose earth they lie.
Here, when the morn illustrates all the sky,
I’ll guide, and seat thee in the fittest place
For the performance thou hast now in chace.
In mean time, reach thy fleet, and choose out three
Of best exploit, to go as aids to thee.
But now I’ll show thee all the old God’s sleights:
He first will number, and take all the sights
Of those his guard, that on the shore arrives.
When having view’d, and told them forth by fives,
He takes place in their midst, and there doth sleep,
Like to a shepherd midst his flock of sheep.
In his first sleep, call up your hardiest cheer,
Vigour and violence, and hold him there,
In spite of all his strivings to be gone.
He then will turn himself to ev’ry one
Of all things that in earth creep and respire,
In water swim, or shine in heav’nly fire.
Yet still hold you him firm, and much the more
Press him from passing. But when, as before,
When sleep first bound his pow’rs, his form ye see,
Then cease your force, and th’ old heroë free,
And then demand, which heav’n-born it may be
That so afflicts you, hind’ring your retreat,
And free sea-passage to your native seat.’
This said, she div’d into the wavy seas,
And I my course did to my ships address,
That on the sands stuck; where arriv’d, we made
Our supper ready. Then th’ ambrosian shade
Of night fell on us, and to sleep we fell.
Rosy Aurora rose; we rose as well,
And three of them on whom I most relied,
For firm at ev’ry force, I choos’d, and hied
Straight to the many-river-servéd seas;
And all assistance ask’d the Deities.
Mean time Idothea the sea’s broad breast
Embrac’d, and brought for me, and all my rest,
Four of the sea-calves’ skins but newly flay’d,
To work a wile which she had fashionéd
Upon her father. Then, within the sand
A covert digging, when these calves should land,
She sat expecting. We came close to her;
She plac’d us orderly, and made us wear
Each one his calf’s skin. But we then must pass
A huge exploit. The sea-calves’ savour was
So passing sour, they still being bred at seas,
It much afflicted us; for who can please
To lie by one of these same sea-bred whales?
But she preserves us, and to memory calls
A rare commodity; she fetch’d to us
Ambrosia, that an air most odorous
Bears still about it, which she ‘nointed round
Our either nosthrils, and in it quite drown’d
The nasty whale-smell. Then the great event
The whole morn’s date, with spirits patient,
We lay expecting. When bright noon did flame,
Forth from the sea in shoals the sea-calves came,
And orderly, at last lay down and slept
Along the sands. And then th’ old Sea–God crept
From forth the deeps, and found his fat calves there,
Survey’d, and number’d, and came never near
The craft we us’d, but told us five for calves.
His temples then diseas’d with sleep he salves;
And in rush’d we, with an abhorréd cry,
Cast all our hands about him manfully;
And then th’ old Forger all his forms began:
First was a lion with a mighty mane,
Then next a dragon, a pied panther then,
A vast boar next, and suddenly did strain
All into water. Last he was a tree,
Curl’d all at top, and shot up to the sky.
We, with resolv’d hearts, held him firmly still,
When th’ old one (held too strait for all his skill
To extricate) gave words, and question’d me:
“Which of the Gods, O Atreus’ son,’ said he,
‘Advis’d and taught thy fortitude this sleight,
To take and hold me thus in my despite?’
‘What asks thy wish now?’ I replied. ‘Thou know’st.
Why dost thou ask? What wiles are these thou show’st?
I have within this isle been held for wind
A wondrous time, and can by no means find
An end to my retention. It hath spent
The very heart in me. Give thou then vent
To doubts thus bound in me, ye Gods know all,
Which of the Godheads doth so foully fall
On my addression home, to stay me here,
Avert me from my way, the fishy clear
Barr’d to my passage?’ He replied: ‘Of force,
If to thy home thou wishest free recourse,
To Jove, and all the other Deities,
Thou must exhibit solemn sacrifice;
And then the black sea for thee shall be clear,
Till thy lov’d country’s settled reach. But where
Ask these rites thy performance? ’Tis a fate
To thee and thy affairs appropriate,
That thou shalt never see thy friends, nor tread
Thy country’s earth, nor see inhabited
Thy so magnificent house, till thou make good
Thy voyage back to the Ægyptian flood,
Whose waters fell from Jove, and there hast giv’n
To Jove, and all Gods housed in ample heav’n,
Devoted hecatombs, and then free ways
Shall open to thee, clear’d of all delays.’
This told he; and, methought, he brake my heart,
In such a long and hard course to divert
My hope for home, and charge my back retreat
As far as Ægypt. I made answer yet:
‘Father, thy charge I’ll perfect; but before
Resolve me truly, if their natural shore
All those Greeks, and their ships, do safe enjoy,
That Nestor and myself left, when from Troy
We first rais’d sail? Or whether any died
At sea a death unwish’d? Or, satisfied,
When war was past, by friends embrac’d, in peace
Resign’d their spirits? He made answer: ‘Cease
To ask so far. It fits thee not to be
So cunning in thine own calamity.
Nor seek to learn what learn’d thou shouldst forget.
Men’s knowledges have proper limits set,
And should not prease into the mind of God.
But ’twill not long be, as my thoughts abode,
Before thou buy this curious skill with tears.
Many of those, whose states so tempt thine ears,
Are stoop’d by death, and many left alive,
One chief of which in strong hold doth survive,
Amidst the broad sea. Two, in their retreat,
Are done to death. I list not to repeat
Who fell at Troy, thyself was there in fight,
But in return swift Ajax lost the light,
In his long-oar’d ship. Neptune, yet, awhile
Saft him unwrack’d, to the Gyræan isle,
A mighty-rock removing from his way.
And surely he had ‘scap’d the fatal day,
In spite of Pallas, if to that foul deed
He in her fane did, (when he ravishéd
The Trojan prophetess) he had not here
Adjoin’d an impious boast, that he would bear,
Despite the Gods, his ship safe through the waves
Then rais’d against him. These his impious braves
When Neptune heard, in his strong hand he took
His massy trident, and so soundly strook
The rock Gyræan, that in two it cleft;
Of which one fragment on the land he left,
The other fell into the troubled seas;
At which first rush’d Ajax Oïliades,
And split his ship, and then himself afloat
Swum on the rough waves of the world’s vast mote,
Till having drunk a salt cup for his sin,
There perish’d he. Thy brother yet did win
The wreath from death, while in the waves they strove,
Afflicted by the rev’rend wife of Jove.
But when the steep mount of the Malian shore
He seem’d to reach, a most tempestuous blore,
Far to the fishy world that sighs so sore,
Straight ravish’d him again as far away,
As to th’ extreme bounds where the Agrians stay,
Where first Thyestes dwelt, but then his son
Ægisthus Thyestiades liv’d. This done,
When his return untouch’d appear’d again,
Back turn’d the Gods the wind, and set him then
Hard by his house. Then, full of joy, he left
His ship, and close t’ his country earth he cleft,
Kiss’d it, and wept for joy, pour’d tear on tear,
To set so wishedly his footing there.
But see, a sentinel that all the year
Crafty Ægisthus in a watchtow’r set
To spy his landing, for reward as great
As two gold talents, all his pow’rs did call
To strict remembrance of his charge, and all
Discharg’d at first sight, which at first he cast
On Agamemnon, and with all his haste
Inform’d Ægisthus. He an instant train
Laid for his slaughter: Twenty chosen men
Of his plebeians he in ambush laid;
His other men he charg’d to see purvey’d
A feast; and forth, with horse and chariots grac’d,
He rode t’ invite him, but in heart embrac’d
Horrible welcomes, and to death did bring,
With treach’rous slaughter, the unwary king,
Receiv’d him at a feast, and, like an ox
Slain at his manger, gave him bits and knocks.
No one left of Atrides’ train, nor one
Sav’d to Ægisthus, but himself alone,
All strew’d together there the bloody court.’
This said, my soul he sunk with his report,
Flat on the sands I fell, tears spent their store,
I light abhorr’d, my heart would live no more.
When dry of tears, and tir’d of tumbling there,
Th’ old Tell-truth thus my daunted spirits did cheer:
‘No more spend tears nor time, O Atreus’ son,
With ceaseless weeping never wish was won,
Use uttermost assay to reach thy home,
And all unwares upon the murderer come,
For torture, taking him thyself alive;
Or let Orestes, that should far out-strive
Thee in fit vengeance, quickly quit the light
Of such a dark soul, and do thou the rite
Of burial to him with a funeral feast.’
With these last words I fortified my breast,
In which again a gen’rous spring began
Of fitting comfort, as I was a man;
But, as a brother, I must ever mourn.
Yet forth I went, and told him the return
Of these I knew; but he had nam’d a third,
Held on the broad sea, still with life inspir’d,
Whom I besought to know, though likewise dead,
And I must mourn alike. He answeréd:
‘He is Laertes’ son; whom I beheld
In nymph Calypso’s palace, who compell’d
His stay with her, and, since he could not see
His country earth, he mourn’d incessantly.
For he had neither ship instruct with oars,
Nor men to fetch him from those stranger shores.
Where leave we him, and to thy self descend,
Whom not in Argos Fate nor Death shall end,
But the immortal ends of all the earth,
So rul’d by them that order death by birth,
The fields Elysian, Fate to thee will give;
Where Rhadamanthus rules, and where men live
A never-troubled life, where snow, nor show’rs,
Nor irksome Winter spends his fruitless pow’rs,
But from the ocean Zephyr still resumes
A constant breath, that all the fields perfumes.
Which, since thou marriedst Helen, are thy hire,
And Jove himself is by her side thy sire.’
This said; he div’d the deepsome wat’ry heaps;
I and my tried men took us to our ships,
And worlds of thoughts I varied with my steps.
Arriv’d and shipp’d, the silent solemn night
And sleep bereft us of our visual light.
At morn, masts, sails, rear’d, we sat, left the shores,
And beat the foamy ocean with our oars.
Again then we the Jove-fall’n flood did fetch,
As far as Ægypt; where we did beseech
The Gods with hecatombs; whose angers ceast,
I tomb’d my brother that I might be blest.
All rites perform’d, all haste I made for home,
And all the prosp’rous winds about were come,
I had the passport now of ev’ry God,
And here clos’d all these labours’ period.
Here stay then till th’ eleventh or twelfth day’s light,
And I’ll dismiss thee well, gifts exquisite
Preparing for thee, chariot, horses three,
A cup of curious frame to serve for thee
To serve th’ immortal Gods with sacrifice,
Mindful of me while all suns light thy skies.”
He answer’d: “Stay me not too long time here,
Though I could sit attending all the year.
Nor should my house, nor parents, with desire,
Take my affections from you, so on fire
With love to hear you are my thoughts; but so
My Pylian friends I shall afflict with woe
Who mourn ev’n this stay. Whatsoever be
The gifts your grace is to bestow on me,
Vouchsafe them such as I may bear and save
For your sake ever. Horse, I list not have,
To keep in Ithaca, but leave them here,
To your soil’s dainties, where the broad fields bear
Sweet cypers grass, where men-fed lote doth flow,
Where wheat-like spelt, and wheat itself, doth grow,
Where barley, white, and spreading like a tree;
But Ithaca hath neither ground to be,
For any length it comprehends, a race
To try a horse’s speed, nor any place
To make him fat in; fitter far to feed
A cliff-bred goat, than raise or please a steed.
Of all isles, Ithaca doth least provide
Or meads to feed a horse, or ways to ride.”
He, smiling, said: “Of good blood art thou, son.
What speech, so young! What observatión
Hast thou made of the world! I well am pleas’d
To change my gifts to thee, as being confess’d
Unfit indeed, my store is such I may.
Of all my house-gifts then, that up I lay
For treasure there, I will bestow on thee
The fairest, and of greatest price to me.
I will bestow on thee a rich carv’d cup,
Of silver all, but all the brims wrought up
With finest gold; it was the only thing
That the heroical Sidonian king
Presented to me, when we were to part
At his receipt of me, and ’twas the art
Of that great Artist that of heav’n is free;
And yet ev’n this will I bestow on thee.”
This speech thus ended, guests came, and did bring
Muttons, for presents, to the God-like king,
And spirit-prompting wine, that strenuous makes.
Their riband-wreathed wives brought fruit and cakes.
Thus in this house did these their feast apply;
And in Ulysses’ house activity
The Wooers practis’d; tossing of the spear,
The stone, and hurling; thus delighted, where
They exercis’d such insolence before,
Ev’n in the court that wealthy pavements wore
Antinous did still their strifes decide,
And he that was in person deified
Eurymachus; both ring-leaders of all,
For in their virtues they were principal.
These by Noëmon, son to Phronius,
Were sided now, who made the question thus:
“Antinous! Does any friend here know,
When this Telemachus returns, or no,
From sandy Pylos? He made bold to take
My ship with him; of which, I now should make
Fit use myself, and sail in her as far
As spacious Elis, where of mine there are
Twelve delicate mares, and under their sides go
Laborious mules, that yet did never know
The yoke, nor labour; some of which should bear
The taming now, if I could fetch them there.”
This speech the rest admir’d, nor dream’d that he
Neleïan Pylos ever thought to see,
But was at field about his flocks’ survey,
Or thought his herdsmen held him so away.
Eupitheus son, Antinous, then replied:
“When went he, or with what train dignified?
Of his selected Ithacensian youth?
Prest men, or bond men, were they? Tell the truth.
Could he effect this? Let me truly know.
To gain thy vessel did he violence show,
And us’d her ’gainst thy will? or had her free,
When fitting question he had made with thee?”
Noëmon answer’d: “I did freely give
My vessel to him. Who deserves to live
That would do other, when such men as he
Did in distress ask? He should churlish be
That would deny him. Of our youth the best
Amongst the people, to the interest
His charge did challenge in them, giving way,
With all the tribute all their pow’rs could pay.
Their captain, as he took the ship, I knew,
Who Mentor was, or God. A Deity’s shew
Mask’d in his likeness. But, to think ’twas he,
I much admire, for I did clearly see,
But yester-morning, God-like Mentor here;
Yet th’ other ev’ning he took shipping there,
And went for Pylos.” Thus went he for home,
And left the rest with envy overcome;
Who sat, and pastime left. Eupitheus son,
Sad, and with rage his entrails overrun,
His eyes like flames, thus interpos’d his speech:
“Strange thing! An action of how proud a reach
Is here committed by Telemachus!
A boy, a child, and we, a sort of us,
Vow’d ’gainst his voyage, yet admit it thus!
With ship and choice youth of our people too!
But let him on, and all his mischief do,
Jove shall convert upon himself his pow’rs,
Before their ill presum’d he brings on ours.
Provide me then a ship, and twenty men
To give her manage, that, against again
He turns for home, on th’ Ithacensian seas,
Or cliffy Samian, I may interprease,
Way-lay, and take him, and make all his craft
Sail with his ruin for his father saft.”
This all applauded, and gave charge to do,
Rose, and to greet Ulysses’ house did go.
But long time past not, ere Penelope
Had notice of their far-fetch’d treachery.
Medon the herald told her, who had heard
Without the hall how they within conferr’d,
And hasted straight to tell it to the queen,
Who, from the entry having Medon seen,
Prevents him thus: “Now herald, what affair
Intend the famous Wooers, in your repair?
To tell Ulysses’ maids that they must cease
From doing our work, and their banquets dress?
I would to heav’n, that, leaving wooing me,
Nor ever troubling other company,
Here might the last feast be, and most extreme,
That ever any shall address for them.
They never meet but to consent in spoil,
And reap the free fruits of another’s toil.
O did they never, when they children were,
What to their fathers was Ulysses, hear?
Who never did ’gainst anyone proceed
With unjust usage, or in word or deed?
’Tis yet with other kings another right,
One to pursue with love, another spite;
He still yet just, nor would, though might, devour,
Nor to the worst did ever taste of pow’r.
But their unrul’d acts show their minds’ estate.
Good turns receiv’d once, thanks grow out of date.”
Medon, the learn’d in wisdom, answer’d her:
“I wish, O queen, that their ingratitudes were
Their worst ill towards you; but worse by far,
And much more deadly, their endeavours are,
Which Jove will fail them in. Telemachus
Their purpose is, as he returns to us,
To give their sharp steels in a cruel death;
Who now is gone to learn, if fame can breathe
News of his sire, and will the Pylian shore,
And sacred Sparta, in his search explore.”
This news dissolv’d to her both knees and heart,
Long silence held her ere one word would part,
Her eyes stood full of tears, her small soft voice
All late use lost; that yet at last had choice
Of wonted words, which briefly thus she us’d:
“Why left my son his mother? Why refus’d
His wit the solid shore, to try the seas,
And put in ships the trust of his distress,
That are at sea to men unbridled horse,
And run, past rule, their far-engagéd course,
Amidst a moisture past all mean unstaid?
No need compell’d this. Did he it, afraid
To live and leave posterity his name?”
“I know not,” he replied, “if th’ humour came
From current of his own instinct, or flow’d
From others’ instigations; but he vow’d
Attempt to Pylos, or to see descried
His sire’s return, or know what death he died.”
This said, he took him to Ulysses’ house
After the Wooers; the Ulyssean spouse,
Run through with woes, let Torture seize her mind,
Nor in her choice of state chairs stood inclin’d
To take her seat, but th’ abject threshold chose
Of her fair chamber for her loath’d repose,
And mourn’d most wretch-like. Round about her fell
Her handmaids, join’d in a continuate yell.
From ev’ry corner of the palace, all
Of all degrees tun’d to her comfort’s fall
Their own dejections; to whom her complaint
She thus enforc’d: “The Gods, beyond constraint
Of any measure, urge these tears on me;
Nor was there ever dame of my degree
So past degree griev’d. First, a lord so good,
That had such hardy spirits in his blood,
That all the virtues was adorn’d withall,
That all the Greeks did their superior call,
To part with thus, and lose! And now a son,
So worthily belov’d, a course to run
Beyond my knowledge; whom rude tempests have
Made far from home his most inglorious grave!
Unhappy wenches, that no one of all
(Though in the reach of ev’ry one must fall
His taking ship) sustain’d the careful mind,
To call me from my bed, who this design’d
And most vow’d course in him had either stay’d,
How much soever hasted, or dead laid
He should have left me. Many a man I have,
That would have call’d old Dolius my slave,
(That keeps my orchard, whom my father gave
At my departure) to have run, and told
Laertes this; to try if he could hold
From running through the people, and from tears,
In telling them of these vow’d murderers;
That both divine Ulysses’ hope, and his,
Resolv’d to end in their conspiracies.”
His nurse then, Euryclea, made reply:
“Dear sov’reign, let me with your own hands die,
Or cast me off here, I’ll not keep from thee
One word of what I know. He trusted me
With all his purpose, and I gave him all
The bread and wine for which he pleas’d to call.
But then a mighty oath he made me swear,
Not to report it to your royal ear
Before the twelfth day either should appear,
Or you should ask me when you heard him gone.
Impair not then your beauties with your moan,
But wash, and put untear-stain’d garments on,
Ascend your chamber with your ladies here,
And pray the seed of goat-nurs’d Jupiter,
Divine Athenia, to preserve your son,
And she will save him from confusión,
Th’ old king, to whom your hopes stand so inclin’d
For his grave counsels, you perhaps may find
Unfit affected, for his age’s sake.
But heav’n-kings wax not old, and therefore make
Fit pray’rs to them; for my thoughts never will
Believe the heav’nly Pow’rs conceit so ill
The seed of righteous Arcesiades,
To end it utterly, but still will please
In some place evermore some one of them
To save, and deck him with a diadem,
Give him possession of erected tow’rs,
And far-stretch’d fields, crown’d all of fruits and flowr’s.”
This eas’d her heart, and dried her humorous eyes,
When having wash’d, and weeds of sacrifice
Pure, and unstain’d with her distrustful tears,
Put on, with all her women-ministers
Up to a chamber of most height she rose,
And cakes of salt and barley did impose
Within a wicker basket; all which broke
In decent order, thus she did invoke:
“Great Virgin of the goat-preservéd God,
If ever the inhabited abode
Of wise Ulysses held the fatted thighs
Of sheep and oxen, made thy sacrifice
By his devotion, hear me, nor forget
His pious services, but safe see set
His dear son on these shores, and banish hence
These Wooers past all mean in insolence.”
This said, she shriek’d, and Pallas heard her pray’r.
The Wooers broke with tumult all the air
About the shady house; and one of them,
Whose pride his youth had made the more extreme,
Said: “Now the many-wooer-honour’d queen
Will surely satiate her delayful spleen,
And one of us in instant nuptials take.
Poor dame, she dreams not, what design we make
Upon the life and slaughter of her son.”
So said he; but so said was not so done;
Whose arrogant spirit in a vaunt so vain
Antinous chid, and said: “For shame, contain
These braving speeches. Who can tell who hears?
Are we not now in reach of others’ ears?
If our intentions please us, let us call
Our spirits up to them, and let speeches fall.
By watchful danger men must silent go.
What we resolve on, let’s not say, but do.”
This said, he choos’d out twenty men, that bore
Best reckoning with him, and to ship and shore
All hasted, reach’d the ship, launch’d, rais’d the mast,
Put sails in, and with leather loops made fast
The oars; sails hoisted, arms their men did bring,
All giving speed and form to ev’rything.
Then to the high deeps their rigg’d vessel driven,
They supp’d, expecting the approaching even.
Mean space, Penelope her chamber kept
And bed, and neither eat, nor drank, nor slept,
Her strong thoughts wrought so on her blameless son,
Still in contention, if he should be done
To death, or ‘scape the impious Wooers’ design.
Look how a lion, whom men-troops combine
To hunt, and close him in a crafty ring,
Much varied thought conceives, and fear doth sting
For urgent danger; so far’d she, till sleep
All juncture of her joints and nerves did steep
In his dissolving humour. When, at rest,
Pallas her favours varied, when addrest
An idol, that Iphthima did present
In structure of her ev’ry lineament, ^^[[20|Chapman: Footnote 20]]^^
Great-soul’d Icarius’ daughter, whom for spouse
Eumelus took, that kept in Pheris’ house.
This to divine Ulysses’ house she sent,
To try her best mean how she might content
Mournful Penelope, and make relent
The strict addiction in her to deplore.
This idol, like a worm, that less or more ^^[[21|Chapman: Footnote 21]]^^
Contracts or strains her, did itself convey,
Beyond the wards or windings of the key,
Into the chamber, and, above her head
Her seat assuming, thus she comforted
Distress’d Penelope: “Doth sleep thus seize
Thy pow’rs, affected with so much disease?
The Gods, that nothing troubles, will not see
Thy tears nor griefs, in any least degree,
Sustain’d with cause, for they will guard thy son
Safe to his wish’d and native mansión.
Since he is no offender of their states,
And they to such are firmer than their fates.”
The wise Penelope receiv’d her thus,
Bound with a slumber most delicious,
And in the port of dreams: “O sister, why
Repair you hither, since so far off lie
Your house and household? You were never here
Before this hour, and would you now give cheer
To my so many woes and miseries,
Affecting fitly all the faculties
My soul and mind hold, having lost before
A husband, that of all the virtues bore
The palm amongst the Greeks, and whose renown
So ample was that Fame the sound hath blown
Through Greece and Argos to her very heart?
And now again, a son, that did convert
My whole pow’rs to his love, by ship is gone;
A tender plant, that yet was never grown
To labour’s taste, nor the commerce of men;
For whom more than my husband I complain,
And lest he should at any suff’rance touch
(Or in the sea, or by the men so much
Estrang’d to him that must his consorts be)
Fear and chill tremblings shake each joint of me.
Besides, his danger sets on foes profess’d
To way-lay his return, that have address’d
Plots for his death.” The scarce-discernéd Dream,
Said: “Be of comfort, nor fears so extreme
Let thus dismay thee; thou hast such a mate
Attending thee, as some at any rate
Would wish to purchase, for her pow’r is great;
Minerva pities thy delights’ defeat,
Whose grace hath sent me to foretell thee these.”
“If thou,” said she, “be of the Goddesses,
And heardst her tell thee these, thou mayst as well
From her tell all things else. Deign then to tell,
If yet the man to all misfortunes born,
My husband, lives, and sees the sun adorn
The darksome earth, or hides his wretched head
In Pluto’s house, and lives amongst the dead?”
“I will not,” she replied, “my breath exhale
In one continued and perpetual tale,
Lives he or dies he. ’Tis a filthy use,
To be in vain and idle speech profuse.”
This said, she, through the key-hole of the door,
Vanish’d again into the open blore.
Icarius’ daughter started from her sleep,
And Joy’s fresh humour her lov’d breast did steep,
When now so clear, in that first watch of night,
She saw the seen Dream vanish from her sight.
The Wooers’ ship the sea’s moist waves did ply,
And thought the prince a haughty death should die.
There lies a certain island in the sea,
Twixt rocky Samos and rough Ithaca,
That cliffy is itself, and nothing great,
Yet holds convenient havens that two ways let
Ships in and out, call’d Asteris; and there
The Wooers hop’d to make their massacre.
"""
Finis Libri Quarti Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
A second Court on Jove attends;
Who Hermes to Calypso sends,
Commanding her to clear the ways
Ulysses sought; and she obeys.
When Neptune saw Ulysses free,
And so in safety plough the sea,
Enrag’d, he ruffles up the waves,
And splits his ship. Leucothea saves
His person yet, as being a Dame
Whose Godhead govern’d in the frame
Of those seas’ tempers. But the mean,
By which she curbs dread Neptune’s spleen,
Is made a jewel, which she takes
From off her head, and that she makes
Ulysses on his bosom wear,
About his neck, she ties it there,
And, when he is with waves beset,
Bids wear it as an amulet,
Commanding him, that not before
He touch’d upon Phæacia’s shore,
He should not part with it, but then
Return it to the sea again,
And cast it from him. He performs;
Yet, after this, bides bitter storms,
And in the rocks sees death engrav’d,
But on Phæacia’s shore is sav’d.
"""
''Another Argument''
"""
Ulysses builds
A ship; and gains
The glassy fields;
Pays Neptune pains.
"""
"""
Aurora rose from high-born Tithon’s bed,
That men and Gods might be illustrated,
And then the Deities sat. Imperial Jove,
That makes the horrid murmur beat above,
Took place past all, whose height for ever springs,
And from whom flowers th’ eternal pow’r of things.
Then Pallas, mindful of Ulysses, told
The many cares that in Calypso’s hold
He still sustain’d, when he had felt before
So much affliction, and such dangers more.
“O Father,” said she, “and ye Ever-blest,
Give never king hereafter interest
In any aid of yours, by serving you,
By being gentle, human, just, but grow
Rude, and for ever scornful of your rights,
All justice ord’ring by their appetites,
Since he, that rul’d as it in right behov’d,
That all his subjects as his children lov’d,
Finds you so thoughtless of him and his birth.
Thus men begin to say, ye rule in earth,
And grudge at what ye let him undergo,
Who yet the least part of his suff’rance know:
Thrall’d in an island, shipwrack’d in his tears,
And, in the fancies that Calypso bears,
Bound from his birthright, all his shipping gone,
And of his soldiers not retaining one.
And now his most-lov’d son’s life doth inflame
Their slaught’rous envies; since his father’s fame
He puts in pursuit, and is gone as far
As sacred Pylos, and the singular
Dame-breeding Sparta.” This, with this reply,
The Cloud-assembler answer’d: “What words fly
Thine own remembrance, daughter? Hast not thou
The counsel giv’n thyself, that told thee how
Ulysses shall with his return address
His Wooers wrong? And, for the safe access
His son shall make to his innative port,
Do thou direct it, in as curious sort
As thy wit serves thee; it obeys thy pow’rs;
And in their ship return the speedless Wooers.”
Then turn’d he to his issue Mercury,
And said: “Thou hast made good our ambassy
To th’ other Statists, to the Nymph then now,
On whose fair head a tuft of gold doth grow,
Bear our true-spoken counsel, for retreat
Of patient Ulysses; who shall get
No aid from us, nor any mortal man,
But in a patch’d-up skiff (built as he can, ^^[[22|Chapman: Footnote 22]]^^
And suff’ring woes enough) the twentieth day
At fruitful Scheria let him breathe his way,
With the Phæacians, that half Deities live,
Who like a God will honour him, and give
His wisdom clothes, and ship, and brass, and gold,
More than for gain of Troy he ever told;
Where, at the whole division of the prey,
If he a saver were, or got away
Without a wound, if he should grudge, ’twas well.
But th’ end shall crown all; therefore Fate will deal
So well with him, to let him land, and see
His native earth, friends, house, and family.”
Thus charg’d he; nor Argicides denied,
But to his feet his fair wing’d shoes he tied,
Ambrosian, golden, that in his command
Put either sea, or the unmeasur’d land,
With pace as speedy as a puft of wind.
Then up his rod went, with which he declin’d
The eyes of any waker, when he pleas’d,
And any sleeper, when he wish’d, diseas’d.
This took; he stoop’d Pieria, and thence
Glid through the air, and Neptune’s confluence
Kiss’d as he flew, and check’d the waves as light
As any sea-mew in her fishing flight,
Her thick wings sousing in the savory seas.
Like her, he pass’d a world of wilderness;
But when the far-off isle he touch’d, he went
Up from the blue sea to the continent,
And reach’d the ample cavern of the Queen,
Whom he within found, without seldom seen.
A sun-like fire upon the hearth did flame,
The matter precious, and divine the frame,
Of cedar cleft and incense was the pile,
That breath’d an odour round about the isle.
Herself was seated in an inner room,
Whom sweetly sing he heard, and at her loom,
About a curious web, whose yarn she threw
In with a golden shittle. A grove grew
In endless spring about her cavern round,
With odorous cypress, pines, and poplars, crown’d,
Where hawks, sea-owls, and long-tongued bittours bred,
And other birds their shady pinions spread;
All fowls maritimal; none roosted there,
But those whose labours in the waters were.
A vine did all the hollow cave embrace,
Still green, yet still ripe bunches gave it grace.
Four fountains, one against another, pour’d
Their silver streams; and meadows all enflower’d
With sweet balm-gentle, and blue-violets hid,
That deck’d the soft breasts of each fragrant mead.
Should anyone, though he immortal were,
Arrive and see the sacred objects there,
He would admire them, and be over-joy’d;
And so stood Hermes’ ravish’d pow’rs employ’d,
But having all admir’d, he enter’d on
The ample cave, nor could be seen unknown
Of great Calypso (for all Deities are
Prompt in each other’s knowledge, though so far
Sever’d in dwellings) but he could not see
Ulysses there within; without was he,
Set sad ashore, where ’twas his use to view
Th’ unquiet sea, sigh’d, wept, and empty drew
His heart of comfort. Plac’d here in her throne,
That beams cast up to admiratión,
Divine Calypso question’d Hermes thus:
“For what cause, dear, and much-esteem’d by us,
Thou golden-rod-adorned Mercury,
Arriv’st thou here? Thou hast not us’d t’ apply
Thy passage this way. Say, whatever be
Thy heart’s desire, my mind commands it thee,
If in my means it lie, or pow’r of fact.
But first, what hospitable rites exact,
Come yet more near, and take.” This said, she set
A table forth, and furnish’d it with meat,
Such as the Gods taste; and serv’d in with it
Vermilion nectar. When with banquet fit
He had confirm’d his spirits, he thus exprest
His cause of coming: “Thou hast made request,
Goddess of Goddesses, to understand
My cause of touch here; which thou shalt command,
And know with truth: Jove caus’d my course to thee
Against my will, for who would willingly
Lackey along so vast a lake of brine,
Near to no city that the Pow’rs divine
Receives with solemn rites and hecatombs?
But Jove’s will ever all law overcomes,
No other God can cross or make it void;
And he affirms, that one the most annoy’d
With woes and toils of all those men that fought
For Priam’s city, and to end hath brought
Nine years in the contention, is with thee.
For in the tenth year, when roy victory
Was won to give the Greeks the spoil of Troy,
Return they did profess, but not enjoy,
Since Pallas they incens’d, and she the waves
By all the winds’ pow’r, that blew ope their graves.
And there they rested. Only this poor one
This coast both winds and waves have cast upon;
Whom now forthwith he wills thee to dismiss,
Affirming that th’ unalter’d Destinies
Not only have decreed he shall not die
Apart his friends, but of necessity
Enjoy their sights before those fatal hours,
His country earth reach, and erected tow’rs.”
  This struck a love-check’d horror through her pow’rs,
When, naming him, she this reply did give:
“Insatiate are ye Gods, past all that live,
In all things you affect; which still converts
Your pow’rs to envies. It afflicts your hearts,
That any Goddess should, as you obtain
The use of earthly dames, enjoy the men,
And most in open marriage. So ye far’d,
When the delicious-finger’d Morning shar’d
Orion’s bed; you easy-living States
Could never satisfy your emulous hates,
Till in Ortygia the precise-liv’d Dame,
Gold-thron’d Diana, on him rudely came,
And with her swift shafts slew him. And such pains,
When rich-hair’d Ceres pleas’d to give the reins
To her affections, and the grace did yield
Of love and bed, amidst a three-cropp’d field,
To her Iasion, he paid angry Jove,
Who lost no long time notice of their love,
But with a glowing lightning was his death.
And now your envies labour underneath
A mortal’s choice of mine; whose life I took
To lib’ral safety, when his ship Jove strook,
With red-hot flashes, piece-meal in the seas,
And all his friends and soldiers succourless
Perish’d but he. Him, cast upon this coast
With blasts and billows, I, in life giv’n lost,
Preserv’d alone, lov’d, nourish’d, and did vow
To make him deathless, and yet never grow
Crooked, or worn with age, his whole life long.
But since no reason may be made so strong
To strive with Jove’s will, or to make it vain,
No not if all the other Gods should strain
Their pow’rs against it, let his will be law,
So he afford him fit means to withdraw,
As he commands him, to the raging main.
But means from me he never shall obtain,
For my means yield nor men, nor ship, nor oars,
To set him off from my so envied shores.
But if my counsel and good will can aid
His safe pass home, my best shall be assay’d.”
“Vouchsafe it so,” said heav’n’s ambassador,
“And deign it quickly. By all means abhor
T’ incense Jove’s wrath against thee, that with grace
He may hereafter all thy wish embrace.”
Thus took the Argus-killing God his wings.
And since the rev’rend Nymph these awful things
Receiv’d from Jove, she to Ulysses went;
Whom she ashore found, drown’d in discontent,
His eyes kept never dry he did so mourn,
And waste his dear age for his wish’d return;
Which still without the cave he us’d to do,
Because he could not please the Goddess so,
At night yet, forc’d, together took their rest,
The willing Goddess and th’ unwilling Guest;
But he all day in rocks, and on the shore,
The vex’d sea view’d, and did his fate deplore.
Him, now, the Goddess coming near bespake:
“Unhappy man, no more discomfort take
For my constraint of thee, nor waste thine age,
I now will passing freely disengage
Thy irksome stay here. Come then, fell thee wood,
And build a ship, to save thee from the flood.
I’ll furnish thee with fresh wave, bread, and wine
Ruddy and sweet, that will the piner pine, ^^[[23|Chapman: Footnote 23]]^^
Put garments on thee, give the winds foreright,
That ev’ry way thy home-bent appetite
May safe attain to it; if so it please
At all parts all the heav’n-hous’d Deities,
That more in pow’r are, more in skill, than I,
And more can judge what fits humanity.”
He stood amaz’d at this strange change in her,
And said: “O Goddess! Thy intents prefer
Some other project than my parting hence,
Commanding things of too high consequence
For my performance, that myself should build
A ship of pow’r, my home-assays to shield
Against the great sea of such dread to pass;
Which not the best-built ship that ever was
Will pass exulting, when such winds, as Jove
Can thunder up, their trims and tacklings prove.
But could I build one, I would ne’er aboard,
Thy will oppos’d, nor, won, without thy word,
Giv’n in the great oath of the Gods to me,
Not to beguile me in the least degree.”
The Goddess smil’d, held hard his hand, and said:
“O y’ are a shrewd one, and so habited
In taking heed thou know’st not what it is
To be unwary, nor use words amiss.
How hast thou charm’d me, were I ne’er so sly!
Let earth know then, and heav’n, so broad, so high,
And th’ under-sunk waves of th’ infernal stream,
(Which is an oath, as terribly supreme,
As any God swears) that I had no thought
But stood with what I spake, nor would have wrought,
Nor counsell’d, any act against thy good;
But ever diligently weigh’d, and stood
On those points in persuading thee, that I
Would use myself in such extremity.
For my mind simple is, and innocent,
Not giv’n by cruel sleights to circumvent,
Nor bear I in my breast a heart of steel,
But with the suff’rer willing suff’rance feel.”
This said, the Grace of Goddesses led home,
He trac’d her steps; and, to the cavern come,
In that rich throne, whence Mercury arose,
He sat. The Nymph herself did then appose,
For food and bev’rage, to him all best meat
And drink, that mortals use to taste and eat.
Then sat she opposite, and for her feast
Was nectar and ambrosia addrest
By handmaids to her. Both, what was prepar’d,
Did freely fall to. Having fitly far’d,
The Nymph Calypso this discourse began:
“Jove-bred Ulysses! Many-witted man!
Still is thy home so wish’d? So soon, away?
Be still of cheer, for all the worst I say.
But, if thy soul knew what a sum of woes,
For thee to cast up, thy stern Fates impose,
Ere to thy country earth thy hopes attain,
Undoubtedly thy choice would here remain,
Keep house with me, and be a liver ever.
Which, methinks, should thy house and thee dissever,
Though for thy wife there thou art set on fire,
And all thy days are spent in her desire;
And though it be no boast in me to say
In form and mind I match her ev’ry way.
Nor can it fit a mortal dame’s compare,
T’ affect those terms with us that deathless are.”
The great-incounsels made her this reply:
“Renown’d, and to be rev’renc’d, Deity!
Let it not move thee, that so much I vow
My comforts to my wife; though well I know
All cause myself why wise Penelope
In wit is far inferior to thee,
In feature, stature, all the parts of show,
She being a mortal, an immortal thou,
Old ever growing, and yet never old.
Yet her desire shall all my days see told,
Adding the sight of my returning day,
And natural home. If any God shall lay
His hand upon me as I pass the seas,
I’ll bear the worst of what his hand shall please,
As having giv’n me such a mind as shall
The more still rise the more his hand lets fall.
In wars and waves my suff’rings were not small.
I now have suffer’d much, as much before,
Hereafter let as much result, and more.”
This said, the sun set, and earth shadows gave;
When these two (in an inroom of the cave,
Left to themselves) left love no rites undone.
The early Morn up, up he rose, put on
His in and out weed. She herself enchaces
Amidst a white robe, full of all the Graces,
Ample, and pleated thick like fishy scales;
A golden girdle then her waist impales;
Her head a veil decks; and abroad they come.
And now began Ulysses to go home.
A great axe first she gave, that two ways cut,
In which a fair well-polish’d helm was put,
That from an olive bough receiv’d his frame.
A plainer then. Then led she, till they came
To lofty woods that did the isle confine.
The fir-tree, poplar, and heav’n-scaling pine,
Had there their offspring. Of which, those that were
Of driest matter, and grew longest there,
He choos’d for lighter sail. This place thus shown,
The Nymph turn’d home. He fell to felling down,
And twenty trees he stoop’d in little space,
Plain’d, used his plumb, did all with artful grace.
In mean time did Calypso wimbles bring.
He bor’d, clos’d, nail’d, and order’d ev’ry thing,
And look how much a ship-wright will allow
A ship of burden (one that best doth know
What fits his art) so large a keel he cast,
Wrought up her decks, and hatches, side-boards, mast,
With willow watlings arm’d her to resist
The billows’ outrage, added all she miss’d,
Sail-yards, and stern for guide. The Nymph then brought
Linen for sails, which with dispatch he wrought,
Gables, and halsters, tacklings. All the frame
In four days’ space to full perfection came. ^^[[24|Chapman: Footnote 24]]^^
The fifth day, they dismiss’d him from the shore,
Weeds neat, and odorous, gave him, victuals store,
Wine, strong waters, and a prosp’rous wind,
To which, Ulysses, fit-to-bedivin’d,
His sails expos’d, and hoiséd. Off he gat;
And cheerful was he. At the stern he sat,
And steer’d right artfully. Nor sleep could seize
His eye-lids. He beheld the Pleiades;
The Bear, surnam’d the Wain, that round doth move
About Orion, and keeps still above
The billowy ocean; the slow-setting star
Bootes call’d, by some the Waggoner.
Calypso warn’d him he his course should steer
Still to his left hand. Seventeen days did clear
The cloudy night’s command in his moist way,
And by the eighteenth light he might display
The shady hills of the Phæacian shore,
For which, as to his next abode, he bore.
The country did a pretty figure yield,
And look’d from off the dark seas like a shield.
Imperious Neptune, making his retreat
From th’ Æthiopian earth, and taking seat
Upon the mountains of the Solymi,
From thence, far off discov’ring, did descry
Ulysses his fields ploughing. All on fire
The sight straight set his heart, and made desire
Of wreak run over, it did boil so high.
When, his head nodding; “O impiety,”
He cried out, “now the Gods’ inconstancy
Is most apparent, alt’ring their designs
Since I the Æthiops saw, and here confines
To this Ulysses’ fate his misery.
The great mark, on which all his hopes rely,
Lies in Phæacia. But I hope he shall
Feel woe at height, ere that dead calm befall.”
This said; he, begging, gather’d clouds from land, ^^[[25|Chapman: Footnote 25]]^^
Frighted the seas up, snatch’d into his hand
His horrid trident, and aloft did toss,
Of all the winds, all storms he could engross,
All earth took into sea with clouds, grim Night
Fell tumbling headlong from the cope of light,
The East and South winds justled in the air,
The violent Zephyr, and North making-fair,
Roll’d up the waves before them. And then bent
Ulysses’ knees, then all his spirit was spent.
In which despair, he thus spake: “Woe is me!
What was I born to, man of misery!
Fear tells me now, that, all the Goddess said,
Truth’s self will author, that Fate would be paid
Grief’s whole sum due from me, at sea, before
I reach’d the dear touch of my country’s shore.
With what clouds Jove heav’n’s heighten’d forehead binds!
How tyrannize the wraths of all the winds!
How all the tops he bottoms with the deeps,
And in the bottoms all the tops he steeps!
Thus dreadful is the presence of our death.
Thrice four times blest were they that sunk beneath
Their fates at Troy, and did to nought contend
But to renown Atrides with their end!
I would to God, my hour of death and fate
That day had held the’ pow’r to terminate,
When show’rs of darts my life bore undepress’d
About divine Æacides deceas’d!
Then had I been allotted to have died,
By all the Greeks with fun’rals glorified,
(Whence death, encouraging good life, had grown)
Where now I die, by no man mourn’d nor known.”
This spoke, a huge wave took him by the head,
And hurl’d him o’er board; ship and all it laid
Inverted quite amidst the waves, but he
Far off from her sprawl’d, strow’d about the sea,
His stern still holding broken off, his mast
Burst in the midst, so horrible a blast
Of mix’d winds struck it. Sails and sail-yards fell
Amongst the billows; and himself did dwell
A long time under water, nor could get
In haste his head out, wave with wave so met
In his depression; and his garments too,
Giv’n by Calypso, gave him much to do,
Hind’ring his swimming; yet he left not so
His drenchéd vessel, for the overthrow
Of her nor him, but gat at length again,
Wrastling with Neptune, hold of her; and then
Sat in her bulk, insulting over death,
Which, with the salt stream prest to stop his breath,
He ’scap’d, and gave the sea again to give
To other men. His ship so striv’d to live,
Floating at random, cuff’d from wave to wave.
As you have seen the North wind when he drave
In autumn heaps of thorn-fed grasshoppers
Hither and thither, one heap this way bears,
Another that, and makes them often meet
in his confus’d gales; so Ulysses’ fleet
The winds hurl’d up and down; now Boreas
Toss’d it to Notus, Notus gave it pass
To Eurus, Eurus Zephyr made pursue
The horrid tennis. This sport call’d the view
Of Cadmus’ daughter, with the narrow heel,
Ino Leucothea, that first did feel
A mortal dame’s desires, and had a tongue,
But now had th’ honour to be nam’d among
The marine Godheads. She with pity saw
Ulysses justled thus from flaw to flaw,
And, like a cormorant in form and flight,
Rose from a whirl-pool, on the ship did light,
And thus bespake him: “Why is Neptune thus
In thy pursuit extremely furious,
Oppressing thee with such a world of ill,
Ev’n to thy death? He must not serve his will,
Though ’tis his study. Let me then advise
As my thoughts serve; thou shalt not be unwise
To leave thy weeds and ship to the commands
Of these rude winds, and work out with thy hands
Pass to Phæacia, where thy austere Fate
Is to pursue thee with no more such hate.
Take here this tablet, with this riband strung,
And see it still about thy bosom hung;
By whose eternal virtue never fear
To suffer thus again, nor perish here.
But when thou touchest with thy hand the shore,
Then take it from thy neck, nor wear it more,
But cast it far off from the continent,
And then thy person far ashore present.
Thus gave she him the tablet; and again,
Turn’d to a cormorant, div’d, past sight, the main.
Patient Ulysses sigh’d at this, and stuck
In the conceit of such fair-spoken luck,
And said: “Alas! I must suspect ev’n this,
Lest any other of the Deities
Add sleight to Neptune’s force, to counsel me
To leave my vessel, and so far off see
The shore I aim at. Not with thoughts too clear
Will I obey her, but to me appear
These counsels best: As long as I perceive
My ship not quite dissolv’d, I will not leave
The help she may afford me, but abide,
And suffer all woes till the worst be tried.
When she is split, I’ll swim. No miracle can,
Past near and clear means, move a knowing man.”
While this discourse employ’d him, Neptune rais’d
A huge, a high, and horrid sea, that seiz’d
Him and his ship, and toss’d them through the lake.
As when the violent winds together take
Heaps of dry chaff, and hurl them ev’ry way;
So his long wood-stack Neptune strook astray
Then did Ulysses mount on rib, perforce,
Like to a rider of a running horse,
To stay himself a time, while he might shift
His drenched weeds, that were Calypso’s gift.
When putting straight Leucothea’s amulet
About his neck, he all his forces set
To swim, and cast him prostrate to the seas.
When pow’rful Neptune saw the ruthless prease
Of perils siege him thus, he mov’d his head,
And this betwixt him and his heart he said:
“So, now feel ills enow, and struggle so,
Till to your Jove-lov’d islanders you row.
But my mind says, you will not so avoid
This last task too, but be with suff’rance cloy’d.”
This said, his rich-man’d horse he mov’d, and reach’d
His house at Ægas. But Minerva fetch’d
The winds from sea, and all their ways but one
Barr’d to their passage; the bleak North alone
She set to blow, the rest she charg’d to keep
Their rages in, and bind themselves in sleep.
But Boreas still flew high to break the seas,
Till Jove-bred Ithacus the more with ease
The navigation-skill’d Phæacian states
Might make his refuge, Death and angry Fates
At length escaping. Two nights, yet, and days
He spent in wrastling with the sable seas;
In which space, often did his heart propose
Death to his eyes. But when Aurora rose,
And threw the third light from her orient hair,
The winds grew calm, and clear was all the air,
Not one breath stirring. Then he might descry,
Rais’d by the high seas, clear, and land was nigh.
And then, look how to good sons that esteem
Their father’s life dear, (after pains extreme,
Felt in some sickness, that hath held him long
Down to his bed, and with affections strong
Wasted his body, made his life his load,
As being inflicted by some angry God)
When on their pray’rs they see descend at length
Health from the heav’ns, clad all in spirit and strength,
The sight is precious; so, since here should end
Ulysses’ toils, which therein should extend
Health to his country, held to him his sire
And on which long for him disease did tire,
And then, besides, for his own sake to see
The shores, the woods so near, such joy had he,
As those good sons for their recover’d sire.
Then labour’d feet and all parts to aspire
To that wish’d continent; which when as near
He came, as Clamour might inform an ear,
He heard a sound beat from the sea-bred rocks,
Against which gave a huge sea horrid shocks,
That belch’d upon the firm land weeds and foam,
With which were all things hid there, where no room
Of fit capacity was for any port,
Nor from the sea for any man’s resort,
The shores, the rocks, the cliff’s, so prominent were.
“O,” said Ulysses then, “now Jupiter
Hath giv’n me sight of an unhop’d for shore,
Though I have wrought these seas so long, so sore.
Of rest yet no place shows the slend’rest prints,
The rugged shore so bristled is with flints,
Against which ev’ry way the waves so flock,
And all the shore shows as one eminent rock,
So near which ’tis so deep, that not a sand
Is there for any tired foot to stand,
Nor fly his death-fast-following miseries,
Lest, if he land, upon him foreright flies
A churlish wave, to crush him ’gainst a cliff,
Worse than vain rend’ring all his landing strife.
And should I swim to seek a hav’n elsewhere,
Or land less way-beat, I may justly fear
I shall be taken with a gale again,
And cast a huge way off into the main;
And there the great Earth-shaker (having seen
My so near landing, and again his spleen
Forcing me to him) will some whale send out,
(Of which a horrid number here about
His Amphitrite breeds) to swallow me.
I well have prov’d, with what malignity
He treads my steps.” While this discourse he held,
A curs’d surge ’gainst a cutting rock impell’d
His naked body, which it gash’d and tore,
And had his bones broke, if but one sea more
Had cast him on it. But She prompted him,
That never fail’d, and bade him no more swim
Still off and on, but boldly force the shore,
And hug the rock that him so rudely tore;
Which he with both hands sigh’d and clasp’d, till past
The billow’s rage was; when ’scap’d, back so fast
The rock repuls’d it, that it reft his hold,
Sucking him from it, and far back he roll’d
And as the polypus that (forc’d from home
Amidst the soft sea, and near rough land come
For shelter ’gainst the storms that beat on her
At open sea, as she abroad doth err)
A deal of gravel, and sharp little stones,
Needfully gathers in her hollow bones;
So he forc’d hither by the sharper ill,
Shunning the smoother, where he best hop’d, still
The worst succeeded; for the cruel friend,
To which he cling’d for succour, off did rend
From his broad hands the soaken flesh so sore
That off he fell, and could sustain no more.
Quite under water fell he; and, past fate,
Hapless Ulysses there had lost the state
He held in life, if, still the grey-eyed Maid
His wisdom prompting, he had not assay’d
Another course, and ceas’d t’ attempt that shore,
Swimming, and casting round his eye t’ explore
Some other shelter. Then the mouth he found
Of fair Callicoe’s flood, whose shores were crown’d
With most apt succours: rocks so smooth they seem’d
Polish’d of purpose; land that quite redeem’d
With breathless coverts th’ others’ blasted shores.
The flood he knew, and thus in heart implores:
“King of this river, hear! Whatever name
Makes thee invok’d, to thee I humbly frame
My flight from Neptune’s furies. Rev’rend is
To all the ever-living Deities
What erring man soever seeks their aid.
To thy both flood and knees a man dismay’d
With varied suff’rance sues. Yield then some rest
To him that is thy suppliant profest.”
This, though but spoke in thought, the Godhead heard,
Her current straight stay’d, and her thick waves clear’d
Before him, smooth’d her waters, and, just where
He pray’d half-drown’d, entirely sav’d him there.
Then forth he came, his both knees falt’ring, both
His strong hands hanging down, and all with froth
His cheeks and nosthrils flowing, voice and breath
Spent to all use, and down he sunk to death.
The sea had soak’d his heart through; all his veins
His toils had rack’d t’ a labouring woman’s pains. ^^[[26|Chapman: Footnote 26]]^^
Dead weary was he. But when breath did find
A pass reciprocal, and in his mind
His spirit was recollected, up he rose,
And from his neck did th’ amulet unloose,
That Ino gave him; which he hurl’d from him
To sea. It sounding fell, and back did swim
With th’ ebbing waters, till it straight arriv’d
Where Ino’s fair hand it again receiv’d.
Then kiss’d he th’ humble earth; and on he goes,
Till bulrushes show’d place for his repose,
Where laid, he sigh’d, and thus said to his soul:
“O me, what strange perplexities control
The whole skill of thy pow’rs in this event!
What feel I? If till care-nurse night be spent
I watch amidst the flood, the sea’s chill breath,
And vegetant dews, I fear will be my death,
So low brought with my labours. Towards day
A passing sharp air ever breathes at sea.
If I the pitch of this next mountain scale,
And shady wood, and in some thicket fall
Into the hands of Sleep, though there the cold
May well be check’d, and healthful slumbers hold
Her sweet hand on my pow’rs, all care allay’d,
Yet there will beasts devour me. Best appaid
Doth that course make me yet; for there, some strife,
Strength, and my spirit, may make me make for life;
Which, though impair’d, may yet be fresh applied,
Where peril possible of escape is tried.
But he that fights with heav’n, or with the sea,
To indiscretion adds impiety.”
Thus to the woods he hasted; which he found
Not far from sea, but on far-seeing ground,
Where two twin underwoods he enter’d on,
With olive-trees and oil-trees overgrown;
Through which the moist force of the loud-voic’d wind
Did never beat, nor ever Phœbus shin’d,
Nor show’r beat through, they grew so one in one,
And had, by turns, their pow’r t’ exclude the sun.
Here enter’d our Ulysses; and a bed
Of leaves huge, and of huge abundance, spread
With all his speed. Large he made it, for there
For two or three men ample cov’rings were,
Such as might shield them from the winter’s worst,
Though steel it breathed, and blew as it would burst. ^^[[27|Chapman: Footnote 27]]^^
Patient Ulysses joy’d, that ever day
Show’d such a shelter. In the midst he lay,
Store of leaves heaping high on ev’ry side.
And as in some out-field a man doth hide
A kindled brand, to keep the seed of fire,
No neighbour dwelling near, and his desire
Serv’d with self store, he else would ask of none,
But of his fore-spent sparks rakes th’ ashes on;
So this out-place Ulysses thus receives,
And thus nak’d virtue’s seed lies hid in leaves.
Yet Pallas made him sleep as soon as men
Whom delicacies all their flatt’ries deign,
And all that all his labours could comprise
Quickly concluded in his closed eyes.
"""
Finis Libri Quinti Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
Minerva in a vision stands
Before Nausicaa: and commands
She to the flood her weeds should bear;
For now her nuptial day was near.
Nausicaa her charge obeys,
And then with other virgins plays.
Their sports make wak’d Ulysses rise;
Walk to them, and beseech supplies
Of food and clothes. His naked sight
Puts th’ other maids, afraid, to flight;
Nausicaa only boldly stays,
And gladly his desire obeys.
He, furnish’d with her favour’s shown,
Attends her and the rest to town.
"""
''Another Argument''
Ζη̑τα.
"""
Here olive leaves
T’ hide shame began,
The maid receives
The naked man.
"""
"""
The much-sustaining, patient, heav’nly man,
Whom Toil and Sleep had worn so weak and wan, ^^[[28|Chapman: Footnote 28]]^^
Thus won his rest. In mean space Pallas went
To the Phæacian city, and descent
That first did broad Hyperia’s lands divide,
Near the vast Cyclops, men of monstrous pride,
That prey’d on those Hyperians, since they were
Of greater pow’r; and therefore longer there
Divine Nausithous dwelt not, but arose,
And did for Scheria all his pow’rs dispose;
Far from ingenious art-inventing men
But there did he erect a city then,
First drew a wall round, then he houses builds,
And then a temple to the Gods, the fields
Lastly dividing. But he, stoop’d by Fate,
Div’d to th’ infernals; and Alcinous sate
In his command, a man the Gods did teach
Commanding counsels. His house held the reach
Of grey Minerva’s project, to provide
That great-soul’d Ithacus might be supplied
With all things fitting his return. She went
Up to the chamber, where the fair descent
Of great Alcinous slept; a maid, whose parts
In wit and beauty wore divine deserts.
Well-deck’d her chamber was; of which the door
Did seem to lighten, such a gloss it bore
Betwixt the posts, and now flew ope to find
The Goddess entry. Like a puft of wind
She reach’d the virgin bed; neat which there lay
Two maids, to whom the Graces did convey
Figure and manners. But above the head
Of bright Nausicaa did Pallas tread
The subtle air, and put the person on
Of Dymas’ daughter, from comparison
Exempt in business naval. Like his seed
Minerva look’d now; whom one year did breed ^^[[29|Chapman: Footnote 29]]^^
With bright Nausicaa, and who had gain’d
Grace in her love, yet on her thus complain’d:
“Nausicaa! Why bred thy mother one
So negligent in rites so stood upon
By other virgins? Thy fair garments lie
Neglected by thee, yet thy nuptials nigh;
When rich in all attire both thou shouldst be,
And garments give to others honouring thee,
That lead thee to the temple. Thy good name
Grows amongst men for these things; they inflame
Father and rev’rend mother with delight.
Come, when the Day takes any wink from Night,
Let’s to the river, and repurify
Thy wedding garments. My society
Shall freely serve thee for thy speedier aid,
Because thou shalt no mote stand on the maid.
The best of all Phæacia woo thy grace,
Where thou wert bred, and ow’st thyself a race.
Up, and stir up to thee thy honour’d sire,
To give thee mules and coach, thee and thy tire,
Veils, girdles, mantles, early to the flood
To bear in state. It suits thy high-born blood,
And far more fits thee, than to foot so far,
For far from town thou know’st the bath-founts are.”
This said, away blue-eyed Minerva went
Up to Olympus, the firm continent
That bears in endless being the Deified kind,
That’s neither sous’d with show’rs, nor shook with wind,
Nor chill’d with snow, but where Serenity flies
Exempt from clouds, and ever-beamy skies
Circle the glitt’ring hill, and all their days
Give the delights of blesséd Deity praise.
And hither Pallas flew, and left the maid,
When she had all that might excite her said.
Straight rose the lovely Morn, that up did raise
Fair-veil’d Nausicaa, whose dream her praise
To admiration took; who no time spent
To give the rapture of her vision vent
To her lov’d parents, whom she found within.
Her mother set at fire, who had to spin
A rock, whose tincture with sea-purple shin’d;
Her maids about her. But she chanc’d to find
Her father going abroad, to council call’d
By his grave Senate. And to him exhal’d
Her smother’d bosom was: “Lov’d sire,” said she, ^^[[30|Chapman: Footnote 30]]^^
“Will you not now command a coach for me,
Stately and cómplete, fit for me to bear
To wash at flood the weeds I cannot wear
Before repurified? Yourself it fits
To wear fair weeds, as ev’ry man that sits
In place of council. And five sons you have,
Two wed, three bachelors, that must be brave
In ev’ry day’s shift, that they may go dance;
For these three last with these things must advance
Their states in marriage, and who else but I,
Their sister, should their dancing rites supply?”
This gen’ral cause she show’d, and would not name
Her mind of nuptials to her sire, for shame.
He understood her yet, and thus replied:
“Daughter! nor these, nor any grace beside,
I either will deny thee, or defer,
Mules, nor a coach, of state and circular,
Fitting at all parts. Go, my servants shall
Serves thy desires, and thy command in all.”
The servants then commanded soon obey’d,
Fetch’d coach, and mules join’d in it. Then the Maid
Brought from the chamber her rich weeds, and laid
All up in coach; in which her mother plac’d
A maund of victuals, varied well in taste,
And other junkets. Wine she likewise fill’d
Within a goat-skin bottle, and distill’d
Sweet and moist oil into a golden cruse,
Both for her daughter’s, and her handmaid’s, use,
To soften their bright bodies, when they rose
Cleans’d from their cold baths. Up to coach then goes
Th’ observéd Maid, takes both the scourge and reins,
And to her side her handmaid straight attains.
Nor these alone, but other virgins, grac’d
The nuptial chariot. The whole bevy plac’d,
Nausicaa scourg’d to make the coach-mules run,
That neigh’d, and pac’d their usual speed, and soon
Both maids and weeds brought to the river-side,
Where baths for all the year their use supplied,
Whose waters were so pure they would not stain,
But still ran fair forth, and did more remain
Apt to purge stains, for that purg’d stain within,
Which by the water’s pure store was not seen.
These, here arriv’d, the mules uncoach’d, and drave
Up to the gulfy river’s shore, that gave
Sweet grass to them. The maids from coach then took
Their clothes, and steep’d them in the sable brook:
Then put them into springs, and trod them clean
With cleanly feet; adventuring wagers then
Who should have soonest and most cleanly done.
When having thoroughly cleans’d, they spread them on
The flood’s shore, all in order. And then, where
The waves the pebbles wash’d, and ground was clear,
They bath’d themselves, and all with glitt’ring oil
Smooth’d their white skins; refreshing then their toil
With pleasant dinner, by the river-side;
Yet still watch’d when the sun their clothes had dried.
Till which time, having din’d, Nausicaa
With other virgins did at stool-ball play,
Their shoulder-reaching head-tires laying by.
Nausicaa, with the wrists of ivory,
The liking stroke struck, singing first a song,
As custom order’d, and amidst the throng
Made such a show, and so past all was seen,
As when the chaste-born, arrow-loving, Queen,
Along the mountains gliding, either over
Spartan Taygetus, whose tops far discover,
Or Eurymanthus, in the wild boar’s chace,
Or swift-hov’d hart, and with her Jove’s fair race,
The field Nymphs, sporting; amongst whom, to see
How far Diana had priority,
Though all were fair, for fairness yet of all,
As both by head and forehead being more tall,
Latona triumph’d, since the dullest sight
Might eas’ly judge whom her pains brought to light;
Nausicaa so, whom never husband tam’d,
Above them all in all the beauties flam’d.
But when they now made homewards, and array’d,
Ord’ring their weeds disorder’d as they play’d,
Mules and coach ready, then Minerva thought
What means to wake Ulysses might be wrought,
That he might see this lovely-sighted maid,
Whom she intended should become his aid,
Bring him to town, and his return advance.
Her mean was this, though thought a stool-ball chance: ^^[[31|Chapman: Footnote 31]]^^
The queen now, for the upstroke, struck the ball
Quite wide off th’ other maids, and made it fall
Amidst the whirlpools. At which out shriek’d all,
And with the shriek did wise Ulysses wake;
Who, sitting up, was doubtful who should make
That sudden outcry, and in mind thus striv’d:
“On what a people am I now arriv’d?
At civil hospitable men, that fear
The Gods? Or dwell injurious mortals here?
Unjust, and churlish? Like the female cry
Of youth it sounds. What are they? Nymphs bred high
On tops of hills, or in the founts of floods,
In herby marshes, or in leafy woods?
Or are they high-spoke men I now am near?
I’ll prove, and see.” With this, the wary peer
Crept forth the thicket, and an olive bough
Broke with his broad hand, which he did bestow
In covert of his nakedness, and then
Put hasty head out. Look how from his den
A mountain lion looks, that, all embrued
With drops of trees, and weather-beaten-hued,
Bold of his strength, goes on, and in his eye
A burning furnace glows, all bent to prey
On sheep, or oxen, or the upland hart,
His belly charging him, and he must part
Stakes with the herdsman in his beasts’ attempt,
Ev’n where from rape their strengths are most exempt;
So wet, so weather-beat, so stung with need,
Ev’n to the home-fields of the country’s breed
Ulysses was to force forth his access,
Though merely naked; and his sight did press
The eyes of soft-hair’d virgins. Horrid was
His rough appearance to them; the hard pass
He had at sea stuck by him. All in flight
The virgins scatter’d, frighted with this sight,
About the prominent windings of the flood.
All but Nausicaa fled; but she fast stood,
Pallas had put a boldness in her breast,
And in her fair limbs tender fear comprest.
And still she stood him, as resolv’d to know
What man he was, or out of what should grow
His strange repair to them. And here was he
Put to his wisdom; if her virgin knee
He should be bold, but kneeling, to embrace,
Or keep aloof, and try with words of grace,
In humblest suppliance, if he might obtain
Some cover for his nakedness, and gain
Her grace to show and guide him to the town.
The last he best thought, to be worth his own,
In weighing both well; to keep still aloof,
And give with soft words his desires their proof,
Lest, pressing so near as to touch her knee,
He might incense her maiden modesty.
This fair and fil’d speech then shew’d this was he:
“Let me beseech, O queen, this truth of thee,
Are you of mortal, or the defied, race?
If of the Gods, that th’ ample heav’ns embrace,
I can resemble you to none above
So near as to the chaste-born birth of Jove,
The beamy Cynthia. Her you full present,
In grace of ev’ry God-like lineament,
Her goodly magnitude, and all th’ address
You promise of her very perfectness.
If sprung of humans, that inhabit earth,
Thrice blest are both the authors of your birth,
Thrice blest your brothers, that in your deserts
Must, ev’n to rapture, bear delighted hearts,
To see, so like the first trim of a tree,
Your form adorn a dance. But most blest he,
Of all that breathe, that hath the gift t’ engage
Your bright neck in the yoke of marriage,
And deck his house with your commanding merit
I have not seen a man of so much spirit,
Nor man, nor woman, I did ever see,
At all parts equal to the parts in thee.
T’ enjoy your sight, doth admiration seize
My eyes, and apprehensive faculties.
Lately in Delos (with a charge of men
Arriv’d, that render’d me most wretched then,
Now making me thus naked) I beheld
The burthen of a palm, whose issue swell’d
About Apollo’s fane, and that put on
A grace like thee; for Earth had never none
Of all her sylvan issue so adorn’d.
Into amaze my very soul was turn’d,
To give it observation; as now thee
To view, O virgin, a stupidity
Past admiration strikes me, join’d with fear
To do a suppliant’s due, and press so near,
As to embrace thy knees. Nor is it strange,
For one of fresh and firmest spirit would change
T’ embrace so bright an object. But, for me,
A cruel habit of calamity
Prepar’d the strong impression thou hast made;
For this last day did fly night’s twentieth shade
Since I, at length, escap’d the sable seas;
When in the mean time th’ unrelenting prease
Of waves and stern storms toss’d me up and down,
From th’ isle Ogygia. And now God hath thrown
My wrack on this shore, that perhaps I may
My mis’ries vary here; for yet their stay,
I fear, Heav’n hath not order’d, though, before
These late afflictions, it hath lent me store.
O queen, deign pity then, since first to you
My fate importunes my distress to vow.
No other dame, nor man, that this Earth own,
And neighbour city, I have seen or known.
The town then show me; give my nakedness
Some shroud to shelter it, if to these seas
Linen or woollen you have brought to cleanse.
God give you, in requital, all th’ amends
Your heart can wish, a husband, family,
And good agreement. Nought beneath the sky
More sweet, more worthy is, than firm consent
Of man and wife in household government.
It joys their wishers-well, their enemies wounds,
But to themselves the special good redounds.”
She answer’d: “Stranger! I discern in thee
Nor sloth, nor folly, reigns; and yet I see
Th’ art poor and wretched. In which I conclude,
That industry nor wisdom make endued
Men with those gifts that make them best to th’ eye;
Jove only orders man’s felicity.
To good and bad his pleasure fashions still
The whole proportion of their good and ill.
And he, perhaps, hath form’d this plight in thee,
Of which thou must be patient, as he free.
But after all thy wand’rings, since thy way,
Both to our earth, and near our city, lay,
As being expos’d to our cares to relieve,
Weeds, and what else a human hand should give
To one so suppliant and tam’d with woe,
Thou shalt not want. Our city I will show,
And tell our people’s name: This neighbour town,
And all this kingdom, the Phæacians own.
And (since thou seem’dst so fain to know my birth,
And mad’st a question, if of heav’n or earth.)
This earth hath bred me; and my father’s name
Alcinous is, that in the pow’r and frame
Of this isle’s rule is supereminent.”
Thus, passing him, she to the virgins went,
And said: “Give stay both to your feet and fright.
Why thus disperse ye for a man’s mere sight?
Esteem you him a Cyclop, that long since
Made use to prey upon our citizens?
This man no moist man is, (nor wat’rish thing, ^^[[32|Chapman: Footnote 32]]^^
That’s ever flitting, ever ravishing
All it can compass; and, like it, doth range
In rape of women, never stay’d in change).
This man is truly manly, wise, and stay’d, ^^[[33|Chapman: Footnote 33]]^^
In soul more rich the more to sense decay’d,
Who nor will do, nor suffer to be done,
Acts lewd and abject; nor can such a one
Greet the Phæacians with a mind envíous,
Dear to the Gods they are, and he is pious,
Besides, divided from the world we are,
The out-part of it, billows circular
The sea revolving round about our shore;
Nor is there any man that enters more
Than our own countrymen, with what is brought
From other countries. This man, minding nought
But his relief, a poor unhappy wretch,
Wrack’d here, and hath no other land to fetch,
Him now we must provide for. From Jove come ^^[[34|Chapman: Footnote 34]]^^
All strangers, and the needy of a home,
Who any gift, though ne’er so small it be,
Esteem as great, and take it gratefully.
And therefore, virgins, give the stranger food,
And wine; and see ye bathe him in the flood,
Near to some shore to shelter most inclin’d.
//To cold-bath-bathers hurtful is the wind,//
Not only rugged making th’ outward skin,
But by his thin pow’rs pierceth parts within.
This said, their flight in a return they set,
And did Ulysses with all grace entreat,
Show’d him a shore, wind-proof, and full of shade,
By him a shirt and utter mantle laid,
A golden jug of liquid oil did add,
Bad wash, and all things as Nausicaa bad.
Divine Ulysses would not use their aid;
But thus bespake them: “Ev’ry lovely maid,
Let me entreat to stand a little by, ^^[[35|Chapman: Footnote 35]]^^
That I, alone, the fresh flood may apply
To cleanse my bosom of the sea-wrought brine,
And then use oil, which long time did not shine
On my poor shoulders. I’ll not wash in sight
Of fair-hair’d maidens. I should blush outright,
To bathe all-bare by such a virgin light.”
They mov’d, and mus’d a man had so much grace,
And told their mistress what a man he was.
He cleans’d his broad soil’d shoulders, back, and head
Yet never tam’d, but now had foam and weed
Knit in the fair curls. Which dissolv’d, and he
Slick’d all with sweet oil, the sweet charity
The untouch’d virgin show’d in his attire
He cloth’d him with. Then Pallas put a fire,
More than before, into his sparkling eyes,
His late soil set off with his soon fresh guise.
His locks, cleans’d, curl’d the more, and match’d, in pow’r
To please an eye, the hyacinthian flow’r.
And as a workman, that can well combine
Silver and gold, and make both strive to shine,
As being by Vulcan, and Minerva too,
Taught how far either may be urg’d to go
In strife of eminence, when work sets forth
A worthy soul to bodies of such worth,
No thought reproving th’ act, in any place,
Nor Art no debt to Nature’s liveliest grace;
So Pallas wrought in him a grace as great
From head to shoulders, and ashore did seat
His goodly presence. To which such a guise
He show’d in going, that it ravish’d eyes.
All which continued, as he sat apart,
Nausicaa’s eye struck wonder through her heart,
Who thus bespake her consorts: “Hear me, you
Fair-wristed virgins! This rare man, I know,
Treads not our country-earth, against the will
Of some God thronéd on th’ Olympian hill.
He show’d to me, till now, not worth the note,
But now he looks as he had godhead got.
I would to heav’n my husband were no worse,
And would be call’d no better, but the course
Of other husbands pleas’d to dwell out here.
Observe and serve him with our utmost cheer.”
She said, they heard and did. He drunk and eat
Like to a harpy, having touch’d no meat
A long before time. But Nausicaa now
Thought of the more grace she did lately vow,
Had horse to chariot join’d, and up she rose,
Up cheer’d her guest, and said: “Guest, now dispose
Yourself for town, that I may let you see
My father’s court, where all the peers will be
Of our Phæacian state. At all parts, then,
Observe to whom and what place y’ are t’ attain;
Though I need usher you with no advice,
Since I suppose you absolutely wise.
While we the fields pass, and men’s labours there,
So long, in these maids’ guides, directly bear
Upon my chariot (I must go before
For cause that after comes, to which this more
Be my induction) you shall then soon end
Your way to town, whose tow’rs you see ascend ^^[[36|Chapman: Footnote 36]]^^
To such a steepness. On whose either side
A fair port stands, to which is nothing wide
An ent’rer’s passage; on whose both hands ride
Ships in fair harbours; which once past, you win
The goodly market-place (that circles in
A fane to Neptune, built of curious stone,
And passing ample) where munitión,
Gables, and masts, men make, and polish’d oars;
For the Phæacians are not conquerors
By bows nor quivers; oars, masts, ships they are
With which they plough the sea, and wage their war.
And now the cause comes why I lead the way,
Not taking you to coach: The men, that sway
In work of those tools that so fit our state,
Are rude mechanicals, that rare and late
Work in the market-place; and those are they
Whose bitter tongues I shun, who straight would say
(For these vile vulgars are extremely proud,
And foully-languag’d) ‘What is he, allow’d
To coach it with Nausicaa, so large set,
And fairly fashion’d? Where were these two met?
He shall be sure her husband. She hath been
Gadding in some place, and, of foreign men
Fitting her fancy, kindly brought him home
In her own ship. He must, of force, be come
From some far region; we have no such man.
It may be, praying hard, when her heart ran
On some wish’d husband, out of heav’n some God
Dropp’d in her lap; and there lies she at road
Her cómplete life time. But, in sooth, if she,
Ranging abroad, a husband, such as he
Whom now we saw, laid hand on, she was wise,
For none of all our nobles are of prize
Enough for her; he must beyond sea come,
That wins her high mind, and will have her home.
Of our peers many have importun’d her,
Yet she will none.’ Thus these folks will confer
Behind my back; or, meeting, to my face
The foul-mouth rout dare put home this disgrace;
And this would be reproaches to my fame,
For, ev’n myself just anger would inflame,
If any other virgin I should see,
Her parents living, keep the company
Of any man to any end of love,
Till open nuptials should her act approve.
And therefore hear me, guest, and take such way,
That you yourself may compass, in your stay,
Your quick deduction by my father’s grace,
And means to reach the root of all your race.
We shall, not far out of our way to town,
A never-fell’d grove find, that poplars crown,
To Pallas sacred, where a fountain flows,
And round about the grove a meadow grows,
In which my father holds a manor-house,
Deck’d all with orchards, green, and odorous,
As far from town as one may hear a shout.
There stay, and rest your foot-pains, till full out
We reach the city; where, when you may guess
We are arriv’d, and enter our access
Within my father’s court, then put you on
For our Phæacian state, where, to be shown
My father’s house, desire. Each infant there
Can bring you to it; and yourself will clear
Distinguish it from others, for no shows
The city-buildings make compar’d with those
That king Alcinous’ seat doth celebrate.
In whose roofs, and the court (where men of state,
And suitors sit and stay) when you shall hide,
Straight pass it, ent’ring further, where abide
My mother, with her withdrawn housewif’ries,
Who still sits in the fire-shine, and applies
Her rock, all-purple, and of pompous show,
Her chair plac’d ’gainst a pillar, all-a-row
Her maids behind her set; and to her here
My father’s dining-throne looks, seated where
He pours his choice of wine in, like a God.
This view once past, for th’ end of your abode,
Address suit to my mother, that her mean
May make the day of your redition seen,
And you may frolic straight, though far away
You are in distance from your wishéd stay.
For, if she once be won to wish you well,
Your hope may instantly your passport seal,
And thenceforth sure abide to see your friends,
Fair house, and all to which your heart contends.”
This said, she us’d her shining scourge, and lash’d
Her mules, that soon the shore left where she wash’d,
And, knowing well the way, their pace was fleet,
And thick they gather’d up their nimble feet.
Which yet she temper’d so, and us’d her scourge ^^[[37|Chapman: Footnote 37]]^^
With so much skill, as not to over-urge
The foot behind, and make them straggle so
From close society. Firm together go
Ulysses and her maids. And now the sun
Sunk to the waters, when they all had won
The never-fell’d, and sound-exciting, wood,
Sacred to Pallas; where the god-like good
Ulysses rested, and to Pallas pray’d:
“Hear me, of goat-kept Jove th’ unconquer’d Maid! ^^[[38|Chapman: Footnote 38]]^^
Now throughly hear me, since, in all the time
Of all my wrack, my pray’rs could never climb
Thy far-off ears; when noiseful Neptune toss’d
Upon his wat’ry bristles my emboss’d
And rock-torn body. Hear yet now, and deign
I may of the Phæacian state obtain
Pity, and grace.” Thus pray’d he, and she heard,
By no means yet, expos’d to sight, appear’d,
For fear t’ offend her uncle, the supreme
Of all the Sea–Gods, whose wrath still extreme
Stood to Ulysses; and would never cease,
Till with his country shore he crown’d his peace.
"""
Finis Libri Sexti Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
Nausicaa arrives at town;
And then Ulysses. He makes known
His suit to Arete: who view
Takes of his vesture, which she knew,
And asks him from whose hands it came.
He tells, with all the hapless frame
Of his affairs in all the while
Since he forsook Calypso’s isle.
"""
''Another Argument''
Ητα.
"""
The honour’d minds,
And welcome things,
Ulysses finds
In Scheria’s kings.
"""
"""
Thus pray’d the wise and God-observing man.
The Maid, by free force of her palfreys, wan
Access to town, and the renownéd court
Reach’d of her father; where, within the port,
She stay’d her coach, and round about her came
Her brothers, made as of immortal frame,
Who yet disdain’d not, for her love, mean deeds,
But took from coach her mules, brought in her weeds. ^^[[39|Chapman: Footnote 39]]^^
And she ascends her chamber; where purvey’d
A quick fire was by her old chamber-maid,
Eurymedusa, th’ Aperæan born,
And brought by sea from Apera t’ adorn
The court of great Alcinous, because
He gave to all the blest Phæacians laws,
And, like a heav’n-born pow’r in speech, acquir’d
The people’s ears. To one then so admir’d,
Eurymedusa was esteem’d no worse
Than worth the gift; yet now, grown old, was nurse
To ivory-arm’d Nausicaa, gave heat
To all her fires, and dress’d her privy meat.
Then rose Ulysses, and made way to town;
Which ere he reach’d, a mighty mist was thrown
By Pallas round about him, in her care,
Lest, in the sway of envies popular,
Some proud Phæacian might foul language pass,
Justle him up, and ask him what he was.
Ent’ring the lovely town yet, through the cloud
Pallas appear’d, and like a young wench show’d
Bearing a pitcher, stood before him so
As if objected purposely to know
What there he needed; whom he question’d thus:
“Know you not, daughter, where Alcinous,
That rules this town, dwells? I, a poor distrest
Mere stranger here, know none I may request
To make this court known to me.” She replied:
“Strange father, I will see you satisfied
In that request. My father dwells just by
The house you seek for; but go silently,
Nor ask, nor speak to any other, I
Shall be enough to show your way. The men
That here inhabit do not entertain
With ready kindness strangers, of what worth
Or state soever, nor have taken forth
Lessons of civil usage or respect
To men beyond them. They, upon their pow’rs
Of swift ships building, top the wat’ry tow’rs,
And Jove hath giv’n them ships, for sail so wrought,
They cut a feather, and command a thought.” ^^[[40|Chapman: Footnote 40]]^^
This said, she usher’d him, and after he
Trod in the swift steps of the Deity.
The free-sail’d seamen could not get a sight
Of our Ulysses yet, though he forthright
Both by their houses and their persons past,
Pallas about him such a darkness cast
By her divine pow’r, and her rev’rend care,
She would not give the town-born cause to stare.
He wonder’d, as he past, to see the ports;
The shipping in them; and for all resorts
The goodly market-steads; and aisles beside
For the heroës; walls so large and wide;
Rampires so high, and of such strength withall,
It would with wonder any eye appall.
At last they reach’d the court, and Pallas said:
“Now, honour’d stranger, I will see obey’d
Your will, to show our ruler’s house; ’tis here;
Where you shall find kings celebrating cheer.
Enter amongst them, nor admit a fear.
//More bold a man is, he prevails the more,//
//Though man nor place lie ever saw before.//
You first shall find the queen in court, whose name
Is Arete, of parents born the same
That was the king her spouse; their pedigree ^^[[41|Chapman: Footnote 41]]^^
I can report. The great Earth-shaker, he
Of Peribœa (that her sex out-shone,
And youngest daughter was t’ Eurymedon,
Who of th’ unmeasur’d-minded giants sway’d
Th’ imperial sceptre, and the pride allay’d
Of men so impious with cold death, and died
Himself soon after) got the magnified
In mind, Nausithous; whom the kingdom’s state
First held in supreme rule. Nausithous gat
Rhexenor, and Alcinous, now king.
Rhexenor (whose seed did no male fruit spring,
And whom the silver-bow-grac’d Phœbus slew
Young in the court) his shed blood did renew
In only Arete, who now is spouse
To him that rules the kingdom in this house,
And is her uncle king Alcinous,
Who honours her past equal. She may boast
More honour of him than the honour’d most ^^[[42|Chapman: Footnote 42]]^^
Of any wife in earth can of her lord,
How many more soever realms afford,
That keep house under husbands. Yet no more
Her husband honours her, than her blest store
Of gracious children. All the city cast
Eyes on her as a Goddess, and give taste
Of their affections to her in their pray’rs,
Still as she decks the street; for, all affairs
Wrapt in contention, she dissolves to men.
Whom she affects, she wants no mind to deign
Goodness enough. If her heart stand inclin’d
To your dispatch, hope all you wish to find,
Your friends, your longing family, and all
That can within your most affections fall.”
This said, away the grey-eyed Goddess flew
Along th’ untam’d sea, left the lovely hue
Scheria presented, out-flew Marathon,
And ample-streeted Athens lighted on;
Where to the house, that casts so thick a shade, ^^[[43|Chapman: Footnote 43]]^^
Of Erechtheüs she ingression made.
Ulysses to the lofty-builded court
Of king Alcinous made bold resort;
Yet in his heart cast many a thought, before
The brazen pavement of the rich court bore
His enter’d person. Like heav’n’s two main lights
The rooms illustrated both days and nights.
On ev’ry side stood firm a wall of brass,
Ev’n from the threshold to the inmost pass,
Which bore a roof up that all-sapphire was.
The brazen thresholds both sides did enfold
Silver pilasters, hung with gates of gold;
Whose portal was of silver; over which
A golden cornice did the front enrich.
On each side, dogs, of gold and silver fram’d,
The house’s guard stood: which the Deity lam’d
With knowing inwards had inspir’d, and made
That death nor age should their estates invade.
Along the wall stood ev’ry way a throne,
From th’ entry to the lobby, ev’ry one
Cast over with a rich-wrought cloth of state.
Beneath which the Phæacian princes sate
At wine and food, and feasted all the year.
Youths forg’d of gold, at ev’ry table there,
Stood holding flaming torches, that, in night,
Gave through the house each honour’d guest his light
And, to encounter feast with housewif’ry,
In one room fifty women did apply
Their sev’ral tasks. Some apple-colour’d corn
Ground in fair querns, and some did spindles turn,
Some work in looms; no hand least rest receives,
But all had motion apt as aspen leaves.
And from the weeds they wove, so fast they laid,
And so thick thrust together thread by thread,
That th’ oil, of which the wool had drunk his fill,
Did with his moisture in light dews distill.
As much as the Phæacian men excell’d
All other countrymen in art to build
A swift-sail’d ship; so much the women there
For work of webs, past other women were.
Past mean, by Pallas’ means, they understood
The grace of good works; and had wits as good.
Without the hall, and close upon the gate,
A goodly orchard-ground was situate,
Of near ten acres; about which was led
A lofty quickset. In it flourished
High and broad fruit trees, that pomegranates bore,
Sweet figs, pears, olives; and a number more
Most useful plants did there produce their store,
Whose fruits the hardest winter could not kill,
Nor hottest summer wither. There was still
Fruit in his proper season all the year.
Sweet Zephyr breath’d upon them blasts that were
Of varied tempers. These he made to bear
Ripe fruits, these blossoms. Pear grew after pear,
Apple succeeded apple, grape the grape,
Fig after fig came; time made never rape
Of any dainty there. A spritely vine
Spread here his root, whose fruit a hot sunshine
Made ripe betimes; here grew another green.
Here some were gath’ring, here some pressing, seen.
A large-allotted sev’ral each fruit had;
And all th’ adorn’d grounds their appearance made
In flow’r and fruit, at which the king did aim
To the precisest order he could claim.
Two fountains grac’d the garden; of which, one
Pour’d out a winding stream that over-run
The grounds for their use chiefly, th’ other went
Close by the lofty palace gate, and lent
The city his sweet benefit. And thus
The Gods the court deck’d of Alcinous.
Patient Ulysses stood a while at gaze,
But, having all observ’d, made instant pace
Into the court; where all the peers he found,
And captains of Phæacia, with cups-crown’d
Off’ring to sharp-eyed Hermes, to whom last
They us’d to sacrifice, when sleep had cast
His inclination through their thoughts. But these
Ulysses pass’d, and forth went; nor their eyes
Took note of him, for Pallas stopp’d the light
With mists about him, that, unstay’d, he might
First to Alcinous, and Arete,
Present his person; and, of both them, she,
By Pallas’ counsel, was to have the grace
Of foremost greeting. Therefore his embrace
He cast about her knee. And then off flew
The heav’nly air that hid him. When his view
With silence and with admiration strook
The court quite through; but thus he silence broke:
“Divine Rhexenor’s offspring, Arete,
To thy most honour’d husband, and to thee,
A man whom many labours have distrest
Is come for comfort, and to ev’ry guest.
To all whom heav’n vouchsafe delightsome lives,
And after to your issue that survives
A good resignment of the goods ye leave,
With all the honour that yourselves receive
Amongst your people. Only this of me
Is the ambition; that I may but see
(By your vouchsaf’d means, and betimes vouchsaf’d)
My country-earth; since I have long been left
To labours, and to errors, barr’d from end,
And far from benefit of any friend,”
He said no more, but left them dumb with that,
Went to the hearth, and in the ashes sat,
Aside the fire. At last their silence brake,
And Echinëus, th’ old heroë, spake;
A man that all Phæacians pass’d in years,
And in persuasive eloquence all the peers,
Knew much, and us’d it well; and thus spake he:
“Alcinous! It shews not decently,
Nor doth your honour what you see admit,
That this your guest should thus abjectly sit,
His chair the earth, the hearth his cushion,
Ashes as if appos’d for food. A throne,
Adorn’d with due rites, stands you more in hand
To see his person plac’d in, and command
That instantly your heralds fill-in wine,
That to the God that doth in lightnings shine
We may do sacrifice; for he is there,
Where these his rev’rend suppliants appear.
Let what you have within be brought abroad,
To sup the stranger. All these would have show’d
This fit respect to him, but that they stay
For your precedence, that should grace the way.”
When this had added to the well-inclin’d
And sacred order of Alcinous’ mind,
Then of the great-inwit the hand he seis’d,
And from the ashes his fair person rais’d,
Advanc’d him to a well-adornéd throne,
And from his seat rais’d his most lovéd son,
Laodamas, that next himself was set,
To give him place. The handmaid then did get
An ewer of gold, with water fill’d, which plac’d
Upon a caldron, all with silver grac’d,
She pour’d out on their hands. And then was spread
A table, which the butler set with bread,
As others serv’d with other food the board,
In all the choice the present could afford.
Ulysses meat and wine took; and then thus
The king the herald call’d: “Pontonous!
Serve wine through all the house, that all may pay
Rites to the Lightner, who is still in way
With humble suppliants, and them pursues
With all benign and hospitable dues.”
Pontonous gave act to all he will’d,
And honey-sweetness-giving-minds wine fill’d, ^^[[44|Chapman: Footnote 44]]^^
Disposing it in cups for all to drink.
All having drunk what either’s heart could think
Fit for due sacrifice, Alcinous said:
“Hear me, ye dukes that the Phæacians lead,
And you our counsellors, that I may now
Discharge the charge my mind suggests to you,
For this our guest: Feast past, and this night’s sleep,
Next morn, our senate summon’d, we will keep
Justs, sacred to the Gods, and this our guest
Receive in solemn court with fitting feast;
Then think of his return, that, under hand
Of our deduction, his natural land
(Without more toil or care, and with delight,
And that soon giv’n him, how far-hence dissite
Soever it can be) he may ascend;
And in the mean time without wrong attend,
Or other want, fit means to that ascent. ^^[[45|Chapman: Footnote 45]]^^
What, after, austere Fates shall make th’ event
Of his life’s thread, now spinning, and began
When his pain’d mother freed his root of man,
He must endure in all kinds. If some God
Perhaps abides with us in his abode,
And other things will think upon than we,
The Gods’ wills stand, who ever yet were free
Of their appearance to us, when to them
We offer’d hecatombs of fit esteem,
And would at feast sit with us, ev’n where we
Order’d our session. They would likewise be
Encount’rers of us, when in way alone
About his fit affairs went any one.
Nor let them cloak themselves in any care
To do us comfort, we as near them are,
As are the Cyclops, or the impious race ^^[[46|Chapman: Footnote 46]]^^
Of earthy giants, that would heav’n outface.”
Ulysses answer’d: “Let some other doubt
Employ your thoughts than what your words give out,
Which intimate a kind of doubt that I
Should shadow in this shape a Deity.
I bear no such least semblance, or in wit,
Virtue, or person. What may well befit
One of those mortals, whom you chiefly know
Bears up and down the burthen of the woe
Appropriate to poor man, give that to me;
Of whose moans I sit in the most degree,
And might say more, sustaining griefs that all
The Gods consent to; no one ’twixt their fall
And my unpitied shoulders letting down
The least diversion. Be the grace then shown,
To let me taste your free-giv’n food in peace.
//Through greatest grief the belly must have ease;//
//Worse than an envious belly nothing is.//
It will command his strict necessities,
Of men most griev’d in body or in mind,
That are in health, and will not give their kind
A desp’rate wound. When most with cause I grieve,
It bids me still, Eat, man, and drink, and live;
And this makes all forgot. Whatever ill
I ever bear, it ever bids me fill.
But this ease is but forc’d, and will not last,
Till what the mind likes be as well embrac’d;
And therefore let me wish you would partake
In your late purpose; when the morn shall make
Her next appearance, deign me but the grace,
Unhappy man, that I may once embrace
My country-earth. Though I be still thrust at
By ancient ills, yet make me but see that.
And then let life go, when withal I see
My high-roof’d large house, lands, and family.”
This all approv’d; and each will’d ev’ry one,
Since he hath said so fairly, set him gone.
Feast past and sacrifice, to sleep all vow
Their eyes at either’s house. Ulysses now
Was left here with Alcinous, and his Queen,
The all-lov’d Arete. The handmaids then
The vessel of the banquet took away.
When Arete set eye on his array;
Knew both his out and under weed, which she
Made with her maids; and mus’d by what means he
Obtain’d their wearing; which she made request
To know, and wings gave to these speeches: “Guest!
First let me ask, what, and from whence you are?
And then, who grac’d you with the weeds you wear?
Said you not lately, you had err’d at seas,
And thence arriv’d here?” Laertiades
To this thus answer’d: “’Tis a pain, O Queen,
Still to be op’ning wounds wrought deep, and green,
Of which the Gods have open’d store in me;
Yet your will must be serv’d. Far hence, at sea,
There lies an isle, that bears Ogygia’s name,
Where Atlas’ daughter, the ingenious dame,
Fair-hair’d Calypso lives; a Goddess grave,
And with whom men nor Gods society have;
Yet I, past man unhappy, liv’d alone,
By Heav’n’s wrath forc’d, her house-companion.
For Jove had with a fervent lightning cleft
My ship in twain, and far at black sea left
Me and my soldiers; all whose lives I lost.
I in mine arms the keel took, and was tost
Nine days together up from wave to wave.
The tenth grim night, the angry Deities drave
Me and my wrack on th’ isle, in which doth dwell
Dreadful Calypso; who exactly well
Receiv’d and nourish’d me, and promise made
To make me deathless, nor should age invade
My pow’rs with his deserts through all my days.
All mov’d not me, and therefore, on her stays,
Sev’n years she made me lie; and there spent I
The long time, steeping in the misery
Of ceaseless tears the garments I did wear,
From her fair hand. The eighth revolvéd year
(Or by her chang’d mind, or by charge of Jove)
She gave provok’d way to my wish’d remove,
And in a many-jointed ship, with wine
Dainty in savour, bread, and weeds divine,
Sign’d, with a harmless and sweet wind, my pass.
Then sev’nteen days at sea I homeward was,
And by the eighteenth the dark hills appear’d
That your earth thrusts up. Much my heart was cheer’d,
Unhappy man, for that was but a beam,
To show I yet had agonies extreme
To put in suff”rance, which th’ Earth-shaker sent,
Crossing my way with tempests violent,
Unmeasur’d seas up-lifting, nor would give
The billows leave to let my vessel live
The least time quiet, that ev’n sigh’d to bear
Their bitter outrage, which, at last, did tear
Her sides in pieces, set on by the winds.
I yet through-swum the waves that your shore binds,
Till wind and water threw me up to it;
When, coming forth, a ruthless billow smit
Against huge rocks, and an accessless shore,
My mangl’d body. Back again I bore,
And swum till I was fall’n upon a flood,
Whose shores, methought, on good advantage stood
For my receipt, rock-free, and fenc’d from wind;
And this I put for, gath’ring up my mind.
Then the divine night came, and treading earth,
Close by the flood that had from Jove her birth,
Within a thicket I repos’d; when round
I ruffled up fall’n leaves in heap; and found,
Let fall from heav’n, a sleep interminate.
And here my heart, long time excruciate,
Amongst the leaves I rested all that night,
Ev’n till the morning and meridian light.
The sun declining then, delightsome sleep
No longer laid my temples in his steep,
But forth I went, and on the shore might see
Your daughter’s maids play. Like a Deity
She shin’d above them; and I pray’d to her,
And she in disposition did prefer
Noblesse, and wisdom, no more low than might
Become the goodness of a Goddess’ height.
Nor would you therefore hope, suppos’d distrest
As I was then, and old, to find the least
Of any grace from her, being younger far.
//With young folks Wisdom makes her commerce rare.//
Yet she in all abundance did bestow
Both wine, that makes the blood in humans grow, ^^[[47|Chapman: Footnote 47]]^^
And food, and bath’d me in the flood, and gave
The weeds to me which now ye see me have.
This through my griefs I tell you, and ’tis true.”
Alcinous answer’d: “Guest! my daughter knew
Least of what most you give her; nor became
The course she took, to let with ev’ry dame
Your person lackey; nor hath with them brought
Yourself home too; which first you had besought.”
“O blame her not,” said he, “heroical lord,
Nor let me hear against her worth a word.
She faultless is, and wish’d I would have gone
With all her women home, but I alone
Would venture my receipt here, having fear
And rev’rend awe of accidents that were
Of likely issue; both your wrath to move,
And to inflame the common people’s love
Of speaking ill, to which they soon give place.
//We men are all a most suspicious race.”//
“My guest,” said he, “I use not to be stirr’d
To wrath too rashly; and where are preferr’d
To men’s conceits things that may both ways fail,
The noblest ever should the most prevail.
Would Jove our Father, Pallas, and the Sun,
That, were you still as now, and could but run
One fate with me, you would my daughter wed,
And be my son-in-law, still vow’d to lead
Your rest of life here! I a house would give,
And household goods, so freely you would live,
Confin’d with us. But ’gainst your will shall none
Contain you here, since that were violence done
To Jove our Father. For your passage home,
That you may well know we can overcome
So great a voyage, thus it shall succeed:
To-morrow shall our men take all their heed,
While you securely sleep, to see the seas
In calmest temper, and, if that will please,
Show you your country and your house ere night,
Though far beyond Eubœa be that sight.
And this Eubœa, as our subjects say
That have been there and seen, is far away,
Farthest from us of all the parts they know;
And made the trial when they help’d to row
The gold-lock’d Rhadamanth, to give him view
Of earth-born Tityus; whom their speeds did show
In that far-off Eubœa, the same day
They set from hence; and home made good their way
With ease again, and him they did convey.
Which I report to you, to let you see
How swift my ships are, and how matchlessly
My young Phæacians with their oars prevail,
To beat the sea through, and assist a sail.”
This cheer’d Ulysses, who in private pray’d:
“I would to Jove our Father, what he said,
He could perform at all parts; he should then
Be glorified for ever, and I gain
My natural country.” This discourse they had;
When fair-arm’d Arete her handmaids bad
A bed make in the portico, and ply
With clothes, the cov’ring tapestry,
The blankets purple; well-napp’d waistcoats too,
To wear for more warmth. What these had to do,
They torches took and did. The bed purvey’d,
They mov’d Ulysses for his rest, and said:
“Come guest, your bed is fit, now frame to rest.”
Motion of sleep was gracious to their guest;
Which now he took profoundly, being laid
Within a loop-hole tow’r, where was convey’d
The sounding portico. The King took rest
In a retir’d part of the house; where drest
The Queen her self a bed, and trundlebed,
And by her lord repos’d her rev’rend head.
"""
Finis Libri Septimi Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
The Peers of the Phæacian State
A Council call, to consolate
Ulysses with all means for home.
The Council to a banquet come,
Invited by the King. Which done,
Assays for hurling of the stone
The youths make with the stranger-king.
Demodocus, at feast, doth sing
Th’ adult’ry of the God of Arms
With Her that rules in amorous charms;
And after sings the entercourse
Of acts about th’ Epæan horse.
"""
''Another Argument''
Θη̑τα.
"""
The council’s frame
At fleet applied.
In strifes of game
Ulysses tried.
"""
"""
Now when the rosy-finger’d Morn arose,
The sacred pow’r Alcinous did dispose
Did likewise rise; and, like him, left his ease
The city-razer Laertiades.
The Council at the navy was design’d;
To which Alcinous, with the sacred mind,
Came first of all. On polish’d stones they sate,
Near to the navy. To increase the state,
Minerva took the herald’s form on her,
That serv’d Alcinous, studious to prefer
Ulysses’ suit for home. About the town
She made quick way, and fill’d with the renown
Of that design the ears of ev’ry man,
Proclaiming thus: “Peers Phæacensian!
And Men of Council, all haste to the court,
To hear the stranger that made late resort
To King Alcinous, long time lost at sea,
And is in person like a Deity.”
This all their pow’rs set up, and spirit instill’d,
And straight the court and seats with men were fill’d.
The whole state wonder’d at Laertes’ son,
When they beheld him. Pallas put him on
A supernatural and heav’nly dress,
Enlarg’d him with a height, and goodliness
In breast and shoulders, that he might appear
Gracious, and grave, and reverend, and bear
A perfect hand on his performance there
In all the trials they resolv’d t’ impose.
All met, and gather’d in attention close,
Alcinous thus bespake them: “Dukes, and lords,
Hear me digest my hearty thoughts in words.
This stranger here, whose travels found my court,
I know not, nor can tell if his resort
From East or West comes; but his suit is this:
That to his country-earth we would dismiss
His hither-forcéd person, and doth bear
The mind to pass it under ev’ry peer;
Whom I prepare, and stir up, making known
My free desire of his deductión.
Nor shall there ever any other man
That tries the goodness Phæacensian
In me, and my court’s entertainment, stay,
Mourning for passage, under least delay.
Come then, a ship into the sacred seas,
New-built, now launch we; and from out our prease
Choose two-and-fifty youths, of all, the best
To use an oar. All which see straight imprest,
And in their oar-bound seats. Let others hie
Home to our court, commanding instantly
The solemn preparation of a feast,
In which provision may for any guest
Be made at my charge. Charge of these low things
I give our youth. You, sceptre-bearing kings,
Consort me home, and help with grace to use
This guest of ours; no one man shall refuse.
Some other of you haste, and call to us
The sacred singer, grave Demodocus,
To whom hath God giv’n song that can excite
The heart of whom he listeth with delight.”
This said, he led. The sceptre-bearers lent
Their free attendance; and with all speed went
The herald for the sacred man-insong.
Youths two-and-fifty, chosen from the throng,
Went, as was will’d, to the untam’d sea’s shore;
Where come, they launch’d the ship, the mast it bore
Advanc’d, sails hoiséd, ev’ry seat his oar
Gave with a leather thong. The deep moist then
They further reach’d. The dry streets flow’d with men,
That troop’d up to the king’s capacious court,
Whose porticos were chok’d with the resort,
Whose walls were hung with men, young, old, thrust there
In mighty concourse; for whose promis’d cheer
Alcinous slew twelve sheep, eight white-tooth’d swine,
Two crook-haunch’d beeves; which flay’d and dress’d, divine
The show was of so many a jocund guest,
All set together at so set a feast.
To whose accomplish’d state the herald then
The lovely singer led; who past all mean
The Muse affected, gave him good, and ill,
His eyes put out, but put in soul at will.
His place was giv’n him in a chair all grac’d
With silver studs, and ’gainst a pillar plac’d:
Where, as the centre to the state, he rests,
And round about the circle of the guests.
The herald on a pin above his head
His soundful harp hung, to whose height he led
His hand for taking of it down at will,
A board set by with food, and forth did fill
A bowl of wine, to drink at his desire.
The rest then fell to feast, and, when the fire
Of appetite was quench’d, the Muse inflam’d
The sacred singer. Of men highliest fam’d
He sung the glories, and a poem penn’d,
That in applause did ample heav’n ascend.
Whose subject was, the stern Contentión
Betwixt Ulysses and great Thetis’ son,
As, at a banquet sacred to the Gods,
In dreadful language they express’d their odds.
When Agamemnon sat rejoic’d in soul
To hear the Greek peers jar in terms so foul;
For augur Phœbus in presage had told
The King of men (desirous to unfold
The war’s perplex’d end, and being therefore gone
In heav’nly Pythia to the porch of stone,)
That then the end of all griefs should begin
’Twixt Greece and Troy, when Greece (with strife to win
That wish’d conclusion) in her kings should jar,
And plead, if force or wit must end the war.
This brave Contention did the poet sing,
Expressing so the spleen of either king,
That his large purple weed Ulysses held
Before his face and eyes, since thence distill’d
Tears uncontain’d; which he obscur’d, in fear
To let th’ observing presence note a tear.
But, when his sacred song the mere divine
Had giv’n an end, a goblet crown’d with wine
Ulysses, drying his wet eyes, did seize, ^^[[48|Chapman: Footnote 48]]^^
And sacrific’d to those Gods that would please
T’ inspire the poet with a song so fit
To do him honour, and renown his wit.
His tears then stay’d. But when again began,
By all the kings’ desires, the moving man,
Again Ulysses could not choose but yield
To that soft passion, which again, withheld,
He kept so cunningly from sight, that none,
Except Alcinous himself alone,
Discern’d him mov’d so much. But he sat next,
And heard him deeply sigh; which his pretext
Could not keep hid from him. Yet he conceal’d
His utt’rance of it, and would have it held
From all the rest, brake off the song, and this
Said to those oar-affecting peers of his:
“Princes, and peers! We now are satiate
With sacred song that fits a feast of state,
With wine and food. Now then to field, and try
In all kinds our approv’d activity,
That this our guest may give his friends to know,
In his return, that we as little owe
To fights and wrastlings, leaping, speed-of race,
As these our court-rites; and commend our grace
In all to all superior.” Forth he led,
The peers and people troop’d up to their head.
Nor must Demodocus be left within;
Whose harp the herald hung upon the pin,
His hand in his took, and abroad he brought
The heav’nly poet, out the same way wrought
That did the princes, and what they would see
With admiration, with his company
They wish’d to honour. To the place of game
These throng’d; and after routs of other came,
Of all sort, infinite. Of youths that strove,
Many and strong rose to their trial’s love.
Up rose Acroneus, and Ocyalus,
Elatreus, Prymneus, and Anchialus, ^^[[49|Chapman: Footnote 49]]^^
Nauteus, Eretmeus, Thoen, Proreüs,
Pontëus, and the strong Amphialus
Son to Tectonides Polyneüs.
Up rose to these the great Euryalus,
In action like the Homicide of War.
Naubolides, that was for person far
Past all the rest, but one he could not pass,
Nor any thought improve, Laodamas.
Up Anabesinëus then arose;
And three sons of the Sceptre-state, and those
Were Halius, the fore-prais’d Laodamas,
And Clytonëus like a God in grace.
These first the foot-game tried, and from the lists
Took start together. Up the dust in mists
They hurl’d about, as in their speed they flew;
But Clytonëus first of all the crew
A stitch’s length in any fallow field
Made good his pace; when, where the judges yield
The prize and praise, his glorious speed arriv’d.
Next, for the boist’rous wrastling game they striv’d;
At which Euryalus the rest outshone.
At leap Amphialus, At the hollow stone
Elatreüs excell’d. At buffets, last,
Laodamas, the king’s fair son, surpast.
When all had striv’d in these assays their fill,
Laodamas said: “Come friends, let’s prove what skill
This stranger hath attain’d to in our sport.
Methinks, he must be of the active sort,
His calves, thighs, hands, and well-knit shoulders show
That Nature disposition did bestow
To fit with fact their form. Nor wants he prime.
But sour affliction, made a mate with time,
Makes time the more seen. Nor imagine I,
A worse thing to enforce debility
Than is the sea, though nature ne’er so strong
Knits one together.” “Nor conceive you wrong,”
Replied Euryalus, “but prove his blood
With what you question.” In the midst then stood
Renown’d Laodamas, and prov’d him thus:
“Come, stranger-father, and assay with us
Your pow’rs in these contentions. If your show
Be answer’d with your worth, ’tis fit that you
Should know these conflicts. Nor doth glory stand
On any worth more, in a man’s command,
Than to be strenuous both of foot and hand.
Come then, make proof with us, discharge your mind
Of discontentments; for not far behind
Comes your deduction, ship is ready now, ^^[[50|Chapman: Footnote 50]]^^
And men, and all things.” “Why,” said he, “dost thou
Mock me, Laodamas, and these strifes bind
My pow’rs to answer? I am more inclin’d
To cares than conflict. Much sustain’d I have,
And still am suff’ring. I come here to crave,
In your assemblies, means to be dismist,
And pray both kings and subjects to assist.”
Euryalus an open brawl began,
And said: “I take you, sir, for no such man
As fits these honour’d strifes. A number more
Strange men there are that I would choose before.
To one that loves to lie aship-board much,
Or is the prince of sailors; or to such
As traffic far and near, and nothing mind
But freight, and passage, and a foreright wind;
Or to a victualler of a ship; or men
That set up all their pow’rs for rampant gain;
I can compare, or hold you like to be:
But, for a wrastler, or of quality
Fit for contentions noble, you abhor
From worth of any such competitor.”
Ulysses, frowning, answer’d: “Stranger, far
Thy words are from the fashions regular
Of kind, or honour. Thou art in thy guise
Like to a man that authors injuries. ^^[[51|Chapman: Footnote 51]]^^
I see, the Gods to all men give not all
Manly addiction, wisdom, words that fall,
Like dice, upon the square still. Some man takes
Ill form from parents, but God often makes
That fault of form up with observ’d repair
Of pleasing speech, that makes him held for fair,
That makes him speak securely, makes him shine
In an assembly with a grace divine.
Men take delight to see how ev’nly lie
His words asteep in honey modesty.
Another, then, hath fashion like a God,
But in his language he is foul and broad.
And such art thou. A person fair is giv’n,
But nothing else is in thee sent from heav’n;
For in thee lurks a base and earthy soul,
And t’ hast compell’d me, with a speech most foul,
To be thus bitter. I am not unseen
In these fair strifes, as thy words overween,
But in the first rank of the best I stand;
At least I did, when youth and strength of hand
Made me thus confident, but now am worn
With woes and labours, as a human born
To bear all anguish. Suffer’d much I have.
The war of men, and the inhuman wave,
Have I driv’n through at all parts. But with all
My waste in suff’rance, what yet may fall
In my performance, at these strifes I’ll try.
Thy speech hath mov’d, and made my wrath run high.”
This said, with robe and all, he grasp’d a stone,
A little graver than was ever thrown
By these Phæacians in their wrastling rout,
More firm, more massy; which, turn’d round about,
He hurried from him with a hand so strong
It sung, and flew, and over all the throng,
That at the others’ marks stood, quite it went;
Yet down fell all beneath it, fearing spent
The force that drave it flying from his hand,
As it a dart were, or a walking wand;
And far past all the marks of all the rest
His wing stole way; when Pallas straight imprest
A mark at fall of it, resembling then
One of the navy-giv’n Phæacian men,
And thus advanc’d Ulysses: “One, though blind,
O stranger, groping, may thy stone’s fall find,
For not amidst the rout of marks it fell,
But far before all. Of thy worth think well,
And stand in all strifes. No Phæacian here
This bound can either better or come near.”
Ulysses joy’d to hear that one man yet
Us’d him benignly, and would truth abet
In those contentions; and then thus smooth
He took his speech down: “Reach me that now, youth,
You shall, and straight I think, have one such more,
And one beyond it too. And now, whose core
Stands sound and great within him, since ye have
Thus put my spleen up, come again and brave
The guest ye tempted, with such gross disgrace,
At wrastling, buffets, whirlbat, speed o’ race;
At all, or either, I except at none,
But urge the whole state of you; only one,
I will not challenge in my forced boast,
And that’s Laodamas, for he’s mine host. ^^[[52|Chapman: Footnote 52]]^^
And who will fight, or wrangle, with his friend?
Unwise he is, and base, that will contend
With him that feeds him in a foreign place;
And takes all edge off from his own sought grace.
None else except I here, nor none despise,
But wish to know, and prove his faculties,
That dares appear now. No strife ye can name
Am I unskill’d in; reckon any game
Of all that are, as many as there are
In use with men. For archery I dare
Affirm myself not mean. Of all a troop
I’ll make the first foe with mine arrow stoop,
Though with me ne’er so many fellows bend
Their bows at mark’d men, and affect their end.
Only was Philoctetes with his bow
Still my superior, when we Greeks would show
Our archery against our foes of Troy.
But all, that now by bread frail life enjoy,
I far hold my inferiors. Men of old,
None now alive shall witness me so bold,
To vaunt equality with, such men as these,
Œchalián Eurytus, Hercules,
Who with their bows durst with the Gods contend;
And therefore caught Eurytus soon his end,
Nor died at home, in age, a rev’rend man.
But by the great incenséd Delphian
Was shot to death, for daring competence
With him in all an archer’s excellence.
A spear I’ll hurl as far as any man
Shall shoot a shaft. How at a race I can
Bestir my feet, I only yield to fear,
And doubt to meet with my superior here.
So many seas so too much have misus’d
My limbs for race, and therefore have diffus’d
A dissolution through my lovéd knees.”
This said, he still’d all talking properties.
Alcinous only answer’d: “O my guest,
In good part take we what you have been prest
With speech to answer. You would make appear
Your virtues therefore, that will still shine where
Your only look is. Yet must this man give
Your worth ill language; when, he does not live
In sort of mortals (whencesoe’er he springs,
That judgment hath to speak becoming things)
That will deprave your virtues. Note then now
My speech, and what my love presents to you,
That you may tell heroës, when you come
To banquet with your wife and birth at home,
(Mindful of our worth) what deservings Jove
Hath put on our parts likewise, in remove
From sire to son, as an inherent grace
Kind, and perpetual. We must needs give place
To other countrymen, and freely yield
We are not blameless in our fights of field,
Buffets, nor wrastlings; but in speed of feet,
And all the equipage that fits a fleet,
We boast us best; for table ever spread
With neighbour feasts, for garments varied,
For poesy, music, dancing, baths, and beds.
And now, Phæacians, you that bear your heads
And feet with best grace in enamouring dance,
Enflame our guest here, that he may advance
Our worth past all the world’s to his home-friends,
As well for the unmatch’d grace that commends.
Your skill in footing of a dance, as theirs
That fly a race best. And so, all affairs,
At which we boast us best, he best may try,
As sea-race, land-race, dance, and poesy.
Some one with instant speed to court retire,
And fetch Demodocus’s soundful lyre.”
This said the God-grac’d king; and quick resort
Pontonous made for that fair harp to court.
Nine of the lot-choos’d public rulers rose,
That all in those contentions did dispose,
Commanding a most smooth ground, and a wide,
And all the people in fair game aside.
Then with the rich harp came Pontonous,
And in the midst took place Demodocus.
About him then stood forth the choice young men, ^^[[53|Chapman: Footnote 53]]^^
That on man’s first youth made fresh entry then,
Had art to make their natural motion sweet,
And shook a most divine dance from their feet,
That twinkled star-like, mov’d as swift, and fine,
And beat the air so thin, they made it shine.
Ulysses wonder’d at it, but amaz’d
He stood in mind to hear the dance so phras’d.
For, as they danc’d, Demodocus did sing,
The bright-crown’d Venus’ love with Battle’s King;
As first they closely mix’d in th’ house of fire.
What worlds of gifts won her to his desire,
Who then the night-and-day-bed did defile
Of good king Vulcan. But in little while
The Sun their mixture saw, and came and told.
The bitter news did by his ears take hold
Of Vulcan’s heart. Then to his forge he went,
And in his shrewd mind deep stuff did invent.
His mighty anvil in the stock he put,
And forg’d a net that none could loose or cut,
That when it had them it might hold them fast.
Which having finish’d, he made utmost haste
Up to the dear room where his wife he woo’d,
And, madly wrath with Mars, he all bestrow’d
The bed, and bed-posts, all the beam above
That cross’d the chamber; and a circle strove
Of his device to wrap in all the room.
And ’twas as pure, as of a spider’s loom
The woof before ’tis wov’n. No man nor God
Could set his eye on it, a sleight so odd
His art show’d in it. All his craft bespent
About the bed, he feign’d as if he went
To well-built Lemnos, his most lovéd town
Of all towns earthly; nor left this unknown
To golden-bridle-using Mars, who kept
No blind watch over him, but, seeing stept
His rival so aside, he hasted home
With fair-wreath’d Venus’ love stung, who was come
New from the court of her most mighty Sire.
Mars enter’d, wrung her hand, and the retire
Her husband made to Lemnos told, and said;
“Now, love, is Vulcan gone, let us to bed,
He’s for the barbarous Sintians.” Well appay’d
Was Venus with it; and afresh assay’d
Their old encounter. Down they went; and straight
About them cling’d the artificial sleight
Of most wise Vulcan; and were so ensnar’d,
That neither they could stir their course prepar’d
In any limb about them, nor arise.
And then they knew, they would no more disguise
Their close conveyance, but lay, forc’d, stone-still.
Back rush’d the both-foot-cook’d, but straight in skill,
From his near scout-hole turn’d, nor ever went
To any Lemnos, but the sure event
Left Phœbus to discover, who told all.
Then home hopp’d Vulcan, full of grief and gall,
Stood in the portal, and cried out so high,
That all the Gods heard; “Father of the sky,
And ev’ry other deathless God,” said he,
“Come all, and a ridiculous object see,
And yet not sufferable neither. Come,
And witness how, when still I step from home,
Lame that I am, Jove’s daughter doth profess
To do me all the shameful offices,
Indignities, despites, that can be thought;
And loves this all-things-making-come-to-nought,
Since he is fair forsooth, foot-sound, and I
Took in my brain a little, legg’d awry.
And no fault mine, but all my parent’s fault,
Who should not get, if mock me, with my halt.
But see how fast they sleep, while I, in moan,
Am only made an idle looker on.
One bed their turn serves, and it must be mine;
I think yet, I have made their self-loves shine.
They shall no more wrong me, and none perceive;
Nor will they sleep together, I believe,
With too hot haste again. Thus both shall lie
In craft, and force, till the extremity
Of all the dow’r I gave her sire (to gain
A doggéd set-fac’d girl, that will not stain
Her face with blushing, though she shame her head)
He pays me back. She’s fair, but was no maid.”
While this long speech was making, all were come
To Vulcan’s wholly-brazen-founded home,
Earth-shaking Neptune, useful Mercury,
And far-shot Phœbus. No She–Deity,
For shame, would show there. All the give-good Gods
Stood in the portal, and past periods
Gave length to laughters, all rejoic’d to see
That which they said, that no impiety
Finds good success at th’ end. “And now,” said one,
“The slow outgoes the swift. Lame Vulcan, known
To be the slowest of the Gods, outgoes
Mars the most swift. And this is that which grows
To greatest justice: that adult’ry’s sport,
Obtain’d by craft, by craft of other sort
(And lame craft too) is plagued, which grieves the more,
That sound limbs turning lame the lame restore.” ^^[[54|Chapman: Footnote 54]]^^
This speech amongst themselves they entertain’d,
When Phœbus thus ask’d Hermes: “Thus enchain’d
Wouldst thou be, Hermes, to be thus disclos’d?
Though with thee golden Venus were repos’d?”
He soon gave that an answer: “O,” said he,
“Thou king of archers, would ’twere thus with me!
Though thrice so much shame; nay, though infinite
Were pour’d about me, and that ev’ry light,
In great heav’n shining, witness’d all my harms,
So golden Venus slumber’d in mine arms.”
The Gods again laugh’d; even the Watery State
Wrung out a laughter, but propitiate
Was still for Mars, and pray’d the God of Fire
He would dissolve him, off’ring the desire
He made to Jove to pay himself, and said,
All due debts should be by the Gods repaid.
“Pay me, no words,” said he, “where deeds lend pain,
Wretched the words are giv’n for wretched men.
How shall I bind you in th’ Immortals’ sight,
If Mars be once loos’d, nor will pay his right?” ^^[[55|Chapman: Footnote 55]]^^
“Vulcan,” said he, “if Mars should fly, nor see
Thy right repaid, it should be paid by me.”
“Your word, so giv’n, I must accept,” said he.
Which said, he loos’d them. Mars then rush’d from sky,
And stoop’d cold Thrace. The laughing Deity
For Cyprus was, and took her Paphian state,
Where she a grove, ne’er cut, had consecrate,
All with Arabian odours fum’d, and hath
An altar there, at which the Graces bathe,
And with immortal balms besmooth, her skin,
Fit for the bliss Immortals solace in;
Deck’d her in to-bestudiéd attire,
And apt to set beholders’ hearts on fire.
This sung the sacred muse, whose notes and words
The dancers’ feet kept as his hands his chords.
Ulysses much was pleas’d, and all the crew.
This would the king have varied with a new
And pleasing measure, and performéd by
Two, with whom none would strive in dancery;
And those his sons were, that must therefore dance
Alone, and only to the harp advance,
Without the words. And this sweet couple was
Young Halius, and divine Laodamas;
Who danc’d a ball-dance. Then the rich-wrought ball,
That Polybus had made, of purple all,
They took to hand. One threw it to the sky,
And then danc’d back; the other, capering high,
Would surely catch it ere his foot touch’d ground,
And up again advanc’d it, and so found
The other cause of dance; and then did he
Dance lofty tricks, till next it came to be
His turn to catch, and serve the other still.
When they had kept it up to either’s will,
They then danc’d ground tricks, oft mix’d hand in hand,
And did so gracefully their change command,
That all the other youth that stood at pause,
With deaf’ning shouts, gave them the great applause.
Then said Ulysses: “O, past all men here
Clear, not in pow’r, but in desert as clear,
You said your dancers did the world surpass,
And they perform it clear, and to amaze.”
This won Alcinous’ heart, and equal prize
He gave Ulysses, saying: “Matchless wise,
Princes and rulers, I perceive our guest,
And therefore let our hospitable best
In fitting gifts be giv’n him: Twelve chief kings
There are that order all the glorious things
Of this our kingdom; and, the thirteenth, I
Exist, as crown to all. Let instantly
Be thirteen garments giv’n him, and of gold
Precious, and fine, a talent. While we hold
This our assembly, be all fetch’d, and giv’n,
That to our feast prepar’d, as to his heav’n,
Our guest may enter. And, that nothing be
Left unperform’d that fits his dignity,
Euryalus shall here conciliate
Himself with words and gifts, since past our rate
He gave bad language.” This did all commend
And give in charge; and ev’ry king did send
His herald for his gift. Euryalus,
Answ’ring for his part, said: “Alcinous!
Our chief of all, since you command, I will
To this our guest by all means reconcile,
And give him this entirely-metall’d sword,
The handle massy silver, and the board,
That gives it cover, all of ivory,
New, and in all kinds worth his quality.”
This put he straight into his hand, and said:
“Frolic, O guest and father; if words fled
Have been offensive, let swift whirlwinds take
And ravish them from thought. May all Gods make
Thy wife’s sight good to thee, in quick retreat
To all thy friends, and best-lov’d breeding seat,
Their long miss quitting with the greater joy;
In whose sweet vanish all thy worst annoy.”
“And frolic thou to all height, friend,” said he,
“Which heav’n confirm with wish’d felicity;
Nor ever give again desire to thee
Of this sword’s use, which with affects so free,
In my reclaim, thou hast bestow’d on me.”
This said, athwart his shoulders he put on
The right fair sword; and then did set the sun.
When all the gifts were brought, which back again
(With king Alcinous in all the train)
Were by the honour’d heralds borne to court;
Which his fair sons took, and from the resort
Laid by their rev’rend mother. Each his throne
Of all the peers (which yet were overshone
In king Alcinous’ command) ascended;
Whom he to pass as much in gifts contended,
And to his queen said: “Wife! See brought me here
The fairest cabinet I have, and there
Impose a well-cleans’d in, and utter, weed.
A caldron heat with water, that with speed
Our guest well-bath’d, and all his gifts made sure,
It may a joyful appetite procure
To his succeeding feast, and make him hear
The poet’s hymn with the securer ear.
To all which I will add my bowl of gold,
In all frame curious, to make him hold
My memory always dear, and sacrifice
With it at home to all the Deities.”
Then Arete her maids charg’d to set on
A well-siz’d caldron quickly. Which was done,
Clear water pour’d in, flame made so entire,
It gilt the brass, and made the water fire.
In mean space, from her chamber brought the queen
A wealthy cabinet, where, pure and clean,
She put the garments, and the gold bestow’d
By that free state, and then the other vow’d
By her Alcinous, and said: “Now, guest,
Make close and fast your gifts, lest, when you rest
Aship-board sweetly, in your way you meet
Some loss, that less may make your next sleep sweet.”
This when Ulysses heard, all sure he made
Enclos’d and bound safe; for the saving trade
The rev’rend-for-her-wisdom, Circe, had
In foreyears taught him. Then the handmaid bad
His worth to bathing; which rejoic’d his heart,
For, since he did with his Calypso part,
He had no hot baths; none had favour’d him,
Nor been so tender of his kingly limb.
But all the time he spent in her abode,
He liv’d respected as he were a God.
Cleans’d then and balm’d, fair shirt and robe put on,
Fresh come from bath, and to the feasters gone,
Nausicaa, that from the Gods’ hands took
The sov’reign beauty of her blessed look,
Stood by a well-carv’d column of the room,
And through her eye her heart was overcome
With admiration of the port imprest
In his aspéct, and said: “God save you, guest!
Be cheerful, as in all the future state
Your home will show you in your better fate.
But yet, ev’n then, let this remember’d be,
Your life’s price I lent, and you owe it me.”
The varied-inall-counsels gave reply:
“Nausicaa! Flow’r of all this empery!
So Juno’s husband, that the strife for noise
Makes in the clouds, bless me with strife of joys,
In the desir’d day that my house shall show,
As I, as I to a Goddess there shall vow,
To thy fair hand that did my being give,
Which I’ll acknowledge ev’ry hour I live.”
This said, Alcinous plac’d him by his side.
Then took they feast, and did in parts divide
The sev’ral dishes, fill’d out wine, and then
The striv’d-for-for-his-worth of worthy men, ^^[[56|Chapman: Footnote 56]]^^
And rev’renc’d-of-the-state, Demodocus
Was brought in by the good Pontonous.
In midst of all the guests they gave him place,
Against a lofty pillar, when this grace
The grac’d-with-wisdom did him: From the chine,
That stood before him, of a white-tooth’d swine,
Being far the daintiest joint, mix’d through with fat,
He carv’d to him, and sent it where he sat
By his old friend the herald, willing thus:
“Herald, reach this to grave Demodocus,
Say, I salute him, and his worth embrace.
Poets deserve, past all the human race,
Rev’rend respect and honour, since the queen
Of knowledge, and the supreme worth in men,
The Muse, informs them, and loves all their race.”
This reach’d the herald to him, who the grace
Receiv’d encourag’d; which, when feast was spent,
Ulysses amplified to this ascent:
“Demodocus! I must prefer you far,
Past all your sort, if, or the Muse of war,
Jove’s daughter, prompts you, that the Greeks respects,
Or if the Sun, that those of Troy affects.
For I have heard you, since my coming, sing
The fate of Greece to an admiréd string.
How much our suff’rance was, how much we wrought,
How much the actions rose-to when we fought.
So lively forming, as you had been there,
Or to some free relater lent your ear.
Forth then, and sing the wooden horse’s frame,
Built by Epëus, by the martial Dame
Taught the whole fabric; which, by force of sleight,
Ulysses brought into the city’s height,
When he had stuff’d it with as many men
As levell’d lofty Ilion with the plain.
With all which if you can as well enchant,
As with expression quick and elegant
You sung the rest, I will pronounce you clear
Inspir’d by God, past all that ever were.”
This said, ev’n stirr’d by God up, he began,
And to his song fell, past the forms of man,
Beginning where the Greeks aship-board went,
And ev’ry chief had set on fire his tent,
When th’ other kings, in great Ulysses’ guide,
In Troy’s vast market place the horse did hide,
From whence the Trojans up to Ilion drew
The dreadful engine. Where sat all arew
Their kings about it; many counsels giv’n
How to dispose it. In three ways were driv’n
Their whole distractions. First, if they should feel
The hollow wood’s heart, search’d with piercing steel;
Or from the battlements drawn higher yet
Deject it headlong; or that counterfeit
So vast and novel set on sacred fire,
Vow’d to appease each anger’d Godhead’s ire.
On which opinion, they, thereafter, saw,
They then should have resolv’d; th’ unalter’d law
Of fate presaging, that Troy then should end,
When th’ hostile horse she should receive to friend,
For therein should the Grecian kings lie hid,
To bring the fate and death they after did.
He sung, besides, the Greeks’ eruptión
From those their hollow crafts, and horse foregone;
And how they made depopulation tread
Beneath her feet so high a city’s head.
In which affair, he sung in other place,
That of that ambush some man else did race
The Ilion tow’rs than Laertiades;
But here he sung, that he alone did seize, ^^[[57|Chapman: Footnote 57]]^^
With Menelaus, the ascended roof
Of prince Deiphobus, and Mars-like proof
Made of his valour, a most dreadful fight
Daring against him; and there vanquish’d quite,
In little time, by great Minerva’s aid,
All Ilion’s remnant, and Troy level laid.
This the divine expressor did so give
Both act and passion, that he made it live,
And to Ulysses’ facts did breathe a fire
So deadly quick’ning, that it did inspire ^^[[58|Chapman: Footnote 58]]^^
Old death with life, and render’d life so sweet,
And passionate, that all there felt it fleet;
Which made him pity his own cruelty,
And put into that ruth so pure an eye
Of human frailty, that to see a man
Could so revive from death, yet no way can
Defend from death, his own quick pow’rs it made
Feel there death’s horrors, and he felt life fade,
In tears his feeling brain swet; for, in things ^^[[59|Chapman: Footnote 59]]^^
That move past utt’rance, tears ope all their springs.
Nor are there in the pow’rs that all life bears
More true interpreters of all than tears.
And as a lady mourns her sole-lov’d lord,
That fall’n before his city by the sword,
Fighting to rescue from a cruel fate
His town and children, and in dead estate
Yet panting seeing him, wraps him in her arms,
Weeps, shrieks, and pours her health into his arms,
Lies on him, striving to become his shield
From foes that still assail him, spears impell’d
Through back and shoulders, by whose points embrued,
They raise and lead him into servitude,
Labour, and languor; for all which the dame
Eats down her cheeks with tears, and feeds life’s flame
With miserable suff’rance; so this king
Of tear-swet anguish op’d a boundless spring;
Nor yet was seen to any one man there
But king Alcinous, who sat so near
He could not ‘scape him, sighs, so chok’d, so brake
From all his tempers; which the king did take
Both note and grave respect of, and thus spake:
“Hear me, Phæacian councillors and peers,
And cease Demodocus; perhaps all ears
Are not delighted with his song, for, ever
Since the divine Muse sung, ‘our guest hath never
Contain’d from secret mournings. It may fall,
That something sung he hath been grieved with all,
As touching his particular. Forbear,
That feast may jointly comfort all hearts here,
And we may cheer our guest up; ’tis our best
In all due honour. For our rev’rend guest
Is all our celebration, gifts, and all,
His love hath added to our festival.
A guest, and suppliant too, we should esteem
Dear as our brother, one that doth but dream
He hath a soul, or touch but at a mind
Deathless and manly, should stand so inclin’d.
Nor cloak you longer with your curious wit,
Lov’d guest, what ever we shall ask of it.
It now stands on your honest state to tell,
And therefore give your name, nor more conceal
What of your parents, and the town that bears
Name of your native, or of foreigners
That near us border, you are call’d in fame.
There’s no man living walks without a name,
Noble nor base, but had one from his birth
Impos’d as fit as to be borne. What earth,
People, and city, own you, give to know.
Tell but our ships all, that your way must show.
For our ships know th’ expressed minds of men,
And will so most intentively retain
Their scopes appointed, that they never err,
And yet use never any man to steer,
Nor any rudders have, as others need.
They know men’s thoughts, and whither tends their speed,
And there will set them; for you cannot name ^^[[60|Chapman: Footnote 60]]^^
A city to them, nor fat soil, that Fame
Hath any notice giv’n, but well they know,
And they will fly to them, though they ebb and flow
In blackest clouds and nights; and never bear
Of any wrack or rock the slend’rest fear.
But this I heard my sire Nausithous say.
Long since, that Neptune, seeing us convey
So safely passengers of all degrees,
Was angry with us; and upon our seas
A well-built ship we had, near harbour come
From safe deduction of some stranger home,
Made in his flitting billows stick stone still;
And dimm’d our city, like a mighty hill
With shade cast round about it. This report,
The old king made; ^^[[61|Chapman: Footnote 61]]^^ in which miraculous sort,
If God had done such things, or left undone,
At his good pleasure be it. But now, on,
And truth relate us, both whence you err’d,
And to what clime of men would be transferr’d,
With all their fair towns, be they as they are,
If rude, unjust, and all irregular,
Or hospitable, bearing minds that please
The mighty Deity. Which one of these
You would be set at, say, and you are there.
And therefore what afflicts you? Why, to hear
The fate of Greece and Ilion, mourn you so?
The Gods have done it; as to all they do
Destine destruction, that from thence may rise
A poem to instruct posterities.
Fell any kinsman before Ilion?
Some worthy sire-in-law, or like-near son,
Whom next our own blood and self-race we love?
Or any friend perhaps, in whom did move
A knowing soul, and no unpleasing thing?
Since such a good one is no underling
To any brother; for, what fits true friends,
True wisdom is, that blood and birth transcends.
"""
Finis Libri Octavi Hom. Odyss.
''The Argument''
"""
Ulysses here is first made known;
Who tells the stern contention
His pow’rs did ’gainst the Cicons try;
And thence to the Lotophagi
Extends his conquest; and from them
Assays the Cyclop Polypheme,
And, by the crafts his wits apply,
He puts him out his only eye.
"""
''Another Argument''
᾿Ιω̑τα.
"""
The strangely fed
Lotophagi.
The Cicons fled.
The Cyclop’s eye.
"""
"""
Ulysses thus resolv’d the king’s demands:
“Alcinous, in whom this empire stands,
You should not of so natural right disherit
Your princely feast, as take from it the spirit.
To hear a poet, that in accent brings
The Gods’ breasts down, and breathes them as he sings,
Is sweet, and sacred; nor can I conceive,
In any common-weal, what more doth give
Note of the just and blessed empery,
Than to see comfort universally
Cheer up the people, when in ev’ry roof
She gives observers a most human proof
Of men’s contents. To see a neighbour’s feast
Adorn it through; and thereat hear the breast
Of the divine Muse; men in order set;
A wine-page waiting; tables crown’d with meat,
Set close to guests that are to use it skill’d;
The cup-boards furnish’d, and the cups still fill’d;
This shows, to my mind, most humanely fair.
Nor should you, for me, still the heav’nly air,
That stirr’d my soul so; for I love such tears
As fall from fit notes, beaten through mine ears
With repetitions of what heav’n hath done,
And break from hearty apprehensión
Of God and goodness, though they show my ill.
And therefore doth my mind excite me still,
To tell my bleeding moan; but much more now,
To serve your pleasure, that to over-flow
My tears with such cause may by sighs be driv’n,
Though ne’er so much plagued I may seem by heav’n.
And now my name; which way shall lead to all
My mis’ries after, that their sounds may fall
Through your ears also, and show (having fled
So much affliction) first, who rests his head
In your embraces, when, so far from home,
I knew not where t’ obtain it resting room.
I am Ulysses Laertiades,
The fear of all the world for policies,
For which my facts as high as heav’n resound.
I dwell in Ithaca, earth’s most renown’d,
All over-shadow’d with the shake-leaf hill, ^^[[62|Chapman: Footnote 62]]^^
Tree-fam’d Neritus; whose near confines fill
Islands a number, well-inhabited,
That under my observance taste their bread;
Dulichius, Samos, and the full-of-food ^^[[63|Chapman: Footnote 63]]^^
Zacynthus, likewise grac’d with store of wood.
But Ithaca, though in the seas it lie,
Yet lies she so aloft she casts her eye
Quite over all the neighbour continent;
Far northward situate, and, being lent
But little favour of the morn and sun,
With barren rocks and cliffs is over-run;
And yet of hardy youths a nurse of name;
Nor could I see a soil, where’er I came,
More sweet and wishful. Yet, from hence was I
Withheld with horror by the Deity,
Divine Calypso, in her cavy house,
Enflam’d to make me her sole lord and spouse.
Circe Ææa too, that knowing dame,
Whose veins the like affections did enflame,
Detain’d me likewise. But to neither’s love
Could I be tempted; which doth well approve,
Nothing so sweet is as our country’s earth, ^^[[64|Chapman: Footnote 64]]^^
And joy of those from whom we claim our birth.
Though roofs far richer we far off possess,
Yet, from our native, all our more is less.
To which as I contended, I will tell
The much-distress-conferring facts that fell
By Jove’s divine prevention, since I set
From ruin’d Troy my first foot in retreat.
From Ilion ill winds cast me on the coast
The Cicons hold, where I employ’d mine host
For Ismarus, a city built just by
My place of landing; of which victory
Made me expugner. I depeopled it,
Slew all the men, and did their wives remit,
With much spoil taken; which we did divide,
That none might need his part. I then applied
All speed for flight; but my command therein,
Fools that they were, could no observance win
Of many soldiers, who, with spoil fed high,
Would yet fill higher, and excessively
Fell to their wine, gave slaughter on the shore
Clov’n-footed beeves and sheep in mighty store.
In mean space, Cicons did to Cicons cry,
When, of their nearest dwellers, instantly
Many and better soldiers made strong head,
That held the continent, and managéd
Their horse with high skill, on which they would fight,
When fittest cause serv’d, and again alight,
With soon seen vantage, and on foot contend.
Their concourse swift was, and had never end;
As thick and sudden ’twas, as flow’rs and leaves
Dark spring discovers, when she light receives. ^^[[65|Chapman: Footnote 65]]^^
And then began the bitter Fate of Jove
To alter us unhappy, which ev’n strove
To give us suff’rance. At our fleet we made
Enforcéd stand; and there did they invade
Our thrust-up forces; darts encounter’d darts,
With blows on both sides; either making parts
Good upon either, while the morning shone,
And sacred day her bright increase held on,
Though much out-match’d in number; but as soon
As Phœbus westward fell, the Cicons won
Much hand of us; six proved soldiers fell,
Of ev’ry ship, the rest they did compel!
To seek of Flight escape from Death and Fate.
"""
"""
Thence sad in heart we sail’d; and yet our state
Was something cheer’d, that (being o’er-match’d so much
In violent number) our retreat was such
As sav’d so many. Our dear loss the less,
That they surviv’d, so like for like success.
Yet left we not the coast, before we call’d
Home to our country-earth the souls exhal’d
Of all the friends the Cicons overcame.
Thrice call’d we on them by their sev’ral name, ^^[[66|Chapman: Footnote 66]]^^
And then took leave. Then from the angry North
Cloud-gath’ring Jove a dreadful storm call’d forth
Against our navy, cover’d shore and all
With gloomy vapours. Night did headlong fall
From frowning heav’n. And then hurl’d here and there
Was all our navy; the rude winds did tear
In three, in four parts, all their sails; and down
Driv’n under hatches were we, prest to drown.
Up rush’d we yet again, and with tough hand
(Two days, two nights, entoil’d) we gat near land,
Labours and sorrows eating up our minds.
The third clear day yet, to more friendly winds
We masts advanc’d, we white sails spread, and sate.
Forewinds and guides again did iterate
Our ease and home-hopes; which we clear had reach’d,
Had not, by chance, a sudden north-wind fetch’d,
With an extreme sea, quite about again
Our whole endeavours, and our course constrain
To giddy round, and with our bow’d sails greet
Dreadful Maleia, calling back our fleet
As far forth as Cythera. Nine days more
Adverse winds toss’d me; and the tenth, the shore,
Where dwelt the blossom-fed Lotophagi,
I fetch’d, fresh water took in, instantly
Fell to our food aship-board, and then sent
Two of my choice men to the continent
(Adding a third, a herald) to discover
What sort of people were the rulers over
The land next to us. Where, the first they met,
Were the Lotophagi, that made them eat
Their country-diet, and no ill intent
Hid in their hearts to them; and yet th’ event
To ill converted it, for having eat
Their dainty viands, they did quite forget
(As all men else that did but taste their feast)
Both countrymen and country, nor addrest
Any return t’ inform what sort of men
Made fix’d abode there, but would needs maintain
Abode themselves there, and eat that food ever.
I made out after, and was feign to sever
Th’ enchanted knot by forcing their retreat;
That striv’d, and wept, and would not leave their meat
For heav’n itself. But, dragging them to fleet,
I wrapt in sure bands both their hands and feet,
And cast them under hatches, and away
Commanded all the rest without least stay,
Lest they should taste the lote too, and forget
With such strange raptures their despis’d retreat.
All then aboard, we beat the sea with oars,
And still with sad hearts sail’d by out-way shores,
Till th’ out-law’d Cyclops’ land we fetch’d; a race
Of proud-liv’d loiterers, that never sow,
Nor put a plant in earth, nor use a plow,
But trust in God for all things; and their earth,
Unsown, unplow’d, gives ev’ry offspring birth
That other lands have; wheat, and barley, vines
That bear in goodly grapes delicious wines;
And Jove sends show’rs for all. No councils there,
Nor councillors, nor laws; but all men bear
Their heads aloft on mountains, and those steep,
And on their tops too; and their houses keep
In vaulty caves, their households govern’d all
By each man’s law, impos’d in several,
Nor wife, nor child awed, but as he thinks good,
None for another caring. But there stood
Another little isle, well stor’d with wood,
Betwixt this and the entry; neither nigh
The Cyclops’ isle, nor yet far off doth lie,
Men’s want it suffer’d, but the men’s supplies
The goats made with their inarticulate cries.
Goats beyond number this small island breeds,
So tame, that no access disturbs their feeds,
No hunters, that the tops of mountains scale,
And rub through woods with toil, seek them at all.
Nor is the soil with flocks fed down, not plow’d,
Nor ever in it any seed was sow’d.
Nor place the neighbour Cyclops their delights
In brave vermilion-prow-deck’d ships; nor wrights
Useful, and skilful in such works as need
Perfection to those traffics that exceed
Their natural confines, to fly out and see
Cities of men, and take in mutually
The prease of others; to themselves they live,
And to their island that enough would give
A good inhabitant; and time of year
Observe to all things art could order there.
There, close upon the sea, sweet meadows spring;
That yet of fresh streams want no watering
To their soft burthens, but of special yield.
Your vines would be there; and your common field
But gentle work make for your plow, yet bear
A lofty harvest when you came to shear;
For passing fat the soil is. In it lies
A harbour so oppórtune, that no ties,
Halsers, or gables need, nor anchors cast.
Whom storms put in there are with stay embrac’d, ^^[[67|Chapman: Footnote 67]]^^
Or to their full wills safe, or winds aspire
To pilots’ uses their more quick desire.
At entry of the haven, a silver ford
Is from a rock-impressing fountain pour’d,
All set with sable poplars. And this port
Were we arriv’d at, by the sweet resort
Of some God guiding us, for ’twas a night
So ghastly dark all port was past our sight,
Clouds hid our ships, and would not let the moon
Afford a beam to us, the whole isle won
By not an eye of ours. None thought the blore,
That then was up, shov’d waves’ against the shore,
That then to an unmeasur’d height put on;
We still at sea esteem’d us, till alone
Our fleet put in itself. And then were strook
Our gather’d sails; our rest ashore we took,
And day expected. When the morn gave fire,
We rose, and walk’d, and did the isle admire;
The Nymphs, Jove’s daughters, putting up a herd
Of mountain goats to us, to render cheer’d
My fellow soldiers. To our fleet we flew,
Our crooked bows took, long-pil’d darts, and drew
Ourselves in three parts out; when, by the grace
That God vouchsaf’d, we made a gainful chace.
Twelve ships we had, and ev’ry ship had nine
Fat goats allotted it, ten only mine.
Thus all that day, ev’n till the sun was set,
We sat and feasted, pleasant wine and meat
Plenteously taking; for we had not spent
Our ruddy wine aship-board, supplement
Of large sort each man to his vessel drew,
When we the sacred city overthrew
That held the Cicons. Now then saw we near
The Cyclops’ late-prais’d island, and might hear
The murmur of their sheep and goats, and see
Their smokes ascend. The sun then set, and we,
When night succeeded, took our rest ashore.
And when the world the morning’s favour wore,
I call’d my friends to council, charging them
To make stay there, while I took ship and stream,
With some associates, and explor’d what men
The neighbour isle held; if of rude disdain,
Churlish and tyrannous, or minds bewray’d
Pious and hospitable. Thus much said,
I boarded, and commanded to ascend
My friends and soldiers, to put off, and lend
Way to our ship. They boarded, sat, and beat
The old sea forth, till we might see the seat
The greatest Cyclop held for his abode,
Which was a deep cave, near the common road
Of ships that touch’d there, thick with laurels spread,
Where many sheep and goats lay shadowéd;
And, near to this, a hall of torn-up stone,
High built with pines, that heav’n and earth attone,
And lofty-fronted oaks; in which kept house
A man in shape immane, and monsterous,
Fed all his flocks alone, nor would afford
Commerce with men, but had a wit abhorr’d,
His mind his body answ’ring. Nor was he
Like any man that food could possibly
Enhance so hugely, but, beheld alone,
Show’d like a steep hill’s top, all overgrown
With trees and brambles; little thought had I
Of such vast objects. When, arriv’d so nigh,
Some of my lov’d friends I made stay aboard,
To guard my ship; and twelve with me I shor’d,
The choice of all. I took besides along
A goat-skin flagon of wine, black and strong,
That Maro did present, Evantheus’ son,
And priest to Phœbus, who had mansión
In Thracian Ismarus (the town I took).
He gave it me, since I (with rev’rence strook
Of his grave place, his wife and children’s good)
Freed all of violence. Amidst a wood,
Sacred to Phœbus, stood his house; from whence
He fetch’d me gifts of varied excellence;
Sev’n talents of fine gold; a bowl all fram’d
Of massy silver; but his gift most fam’d
Was twelve great vessels, fill’d with such rich wine
As was incorruptible and divine.
He kept it as his jewel, which none knew
But he himself, his wife, and he that drew.
It was so strong that never any fill’d
A cup, where that was but by drops instill’d,
And drunk it off, but ’twas before allay’d
With twenty parts in water; yet so sway’d
The spirit of that little, that the whole
A sacred odour breath’d about the bowl.
Had you the odour smelt and scent it cast,
It would have vex’d you to forbear the taste.
But then, the taste gain’d too, the spirit it wrought
To dare things high set-up-an-end my thought.
Of this a huge great flagon full I bore,
And, in a good large knapsack, victuals store;
And long’d to see this heap of fortitude,
That so illit’rate was and upland rude
That laws divine nor human he had learn’d.
With speed we reach’d the cavern; nor discern’d
His presence there, his flocks he fed at field.
Ent’ring his den, each thing beheld did yield
Our admiration; shelves with cheeses heap’d;
Sheds stuff’d with lambs and goats, distinctly kept,
Distinct the biggest, the more mean distinct,
Distinct the youngest. And in their precinct,
Proper and placeful, stood the troughs and pails,
In which he milk’d; and what was giv’n at meals,
Set up a creaming; in the ev’ning still
All scouring bright as dew upon the hill.
Then were my fellows instant to convey
“Kids, cheeses, lambs, aship-board, and away
Sail the salt billow. I thought best not so,
But better otherwise; and first would know,
What guest-gifts he would spare me. Little knew
My friends on whom they would have prey’d. His view
Prov’d after, that his inwards were too rough
For such bold usage. We were bold enough
In what I suffer’d; which was there to stay,
Make fire and feed there, though bear none away.
There sat we, till we saw him feeding come,
And on his neck a burthen lugging home,
Most highly huge, of sere-wood, which the pile
That fed his fire supplied all supper-while.
Down by his den he threw it, and up rose
A tumult with the fall. Afraid, we close
Withdrew ourselves, while he into a cave
Of huge receipt his high-fed cattle drave,
All that he milk’d; the males he left without
His lofty roofs, that all bestrow’d about
With rams and buck-goats were. And then a rock
He lift aloft, that damm’d up to his flock
The door they enter’d; ’twas so hard to wield,
That two-and-twenty waggons, all four-wheel’d,
(Could they be loaded, and have teams that were
Proportion’d to them) could not stir it there.
Thus making sure, he kneel’d and milk’d his ewes,
And braying goats, with all a milker’s dues;
Then let in all their young. Then quick did dress
His half milk up for cheese, and in a press
Of wicker press’d it; put in bowls the rest,
To drink and eat, and serve his supping feast.
All works dispatch’d thus, he began his fire;
Which blown, he saw us, and did thus inquire:
῾Ho! guests! What are ye? Whence sail ye these seas?
Traffic, or rove ye, and like thieves oppress
Poor strange adventurers, exposing so
Your souls to danger, and your lives to woe?’
This utter’d he, when fear from our hearts took
The very life, to be so thunder-strook
With such a voice, and such a monster see;
But thus I answer’d: ‘Erring Grecians, we
From Troy were turning homewards, but by force
Of adverse winds, in far diverted course,
Such unknown ways took, and on rude seas toss’d,
As Jove decreed, are cast upon this coast,
Of Agamemnon, famous Atreus’ son,
We boast ourselves the soldiers; who hath won ^^[[68|Chapman: Footnote 68]]^^
Renown that reacheth heav’n, to overthrow
So great a city, and to ruin so
So many nations. Yet at thy knees lie
Our prostrate bosoms, forc’d with pray’rs to try
If any hospitable right, or boon
Of other nature, such as have been won
By laws of other houses, thou wilt give.
Rev’rence the Gods, thou great’st of all that live.
We suppliants are; and hospitable Jove
Pours wreak on all whom pray’rs want pow’r to move,
And with their plagues together will provide
That humble guests shall have their wants supplied.’
He cruelly answer’d: ‘O thou fool,’ said he,
To come so far, and to importune me
With any God’s fear, or observéd love!
We Cyclops care not for your goat-fed Jove,
Nor other Bless’d ones; we are better far.
To Jove himself dare I bid open war,
To thee, and all thy fellows, if I please.
But tell me, where’s the ship, that by the seas
Hath brought thee hither? If far off, or near,
Inform me quickly.’ These his temptings were;
But I too much knew not to know his mind,
And craft with craft paid, telling him the wind
(Thrust up from sea by Him that shakes the shore)
Had dash’d our ships against his rocks, and tore
Her ribs in pieces close upon his coast,
And we from high wrack sav’d, the rest were lost.
He answer’d nothing, but rush’d in, and took
Two of my fellows up from earth, and strook
Their brains against it. Like two whelps they flew
About his shoulders, and did all embrue
The blushing earth. No mountain lion tore
Two lambs so sternly, lapp’d up all their gore
Gush’d from their torn-up bodies, limb by limb
(Trembling with life yet) ravish’d into him.
Both flesh and marrow-stufféd bones he eat,
And ev’n th’ uncleanséd entrails made his meat.
We, weeping, cast our hands to heav’n, to view
A sight so horrid. Desperation flew,
With all our after lives, to instant death,
In our believ’d destruction. But when breath
The fury of his appetite had got,
Because the gulf his belly reach’d his throat,
Man’s flesh, and goat’s milk, laying lay’r on lay’r,
Till near chok’d up was all the pass for air,
Along his den, among’st his cattle, down
He rush’d, and streak’d him. ‘When my mind was grown
Desp’rate to step in, draw my sword, and part
His bosom where the strings about the heart
Circle the liver, and add strength of hand.
But that rash thought, more stay’d, did countermand,
For there we all had perish’d, since it past
Our pow’rs to lift aside a log so vast,
As barr’d all outscape; and so sigh’d away
The thought all night, expecting active day.
Which come, he first of all his fire enflames,
Then milks his goats and ewes, then to their dams
Lets in their young, and, wondrous orderly,
With manly haste dispatch’d his housewif’ry.
Then to his breakfast, to which other two
Of my poor friends went; which eat, out then go
His herds and fat flocks, lightly putting by
The churlish bar, and clos’d it instantly;
For both those works with ease as much he did,
As you would ope and shut your quiver lid.
With storms of whistlings then his flock he drave
Up to the mountains; and occasion gave
For me to use my wits, which to their height
I striv’d to screw up, that a vengeance might
By some means fall from thence, and Pallas now
Afford a full ear to my neediest vow.
This then my thoughts preferr’d: A huge club lay
Close by his milk-house, which was now in way
To dry and season, being an olive-tree
Which late he fell’d, and, being green, must be
Made lighter for his manage. ’Twas so vast,
That we resembled it to some fit mast,
To serve a ship of burthen that was driv’n
With twenty oars, and had a bigness giv’n
To bear a huge sea. Full so thick, so tall,
We judg’d this club; which I, in part, hew’d small,
And cut a fathom off. The piece I gave
Amongst my soldiers, to take down, and shave;
Which done, I sharpen’d it at top, and then,
Harden’d in fire, I hid it in the den
Within a nasty dunghill reeking there,
Thick, and so moist it issued ev’rywhere.
Then made I lots cast by my friends to try
Whose fortune serv’d to dare the bor’d-out eye
Of that man-eater; and the lot did fall
On four I wish’d to make my aid of all,
And I the fifth made, chosen like the rest.
Then came the even, and he came from the feast
Of his fat cattle, drave in all; nor kept
One male abroad; if, or his memory slept
By Gods’ direct will, or of purpose was
His driving in of all then, doth surpass
My comprehension. But he clos’d again
The mighty bar, milk’d, and did still maintain
All other observation as before.
His work all done, two of my soldiers more
At once he snatch’d up, and to supper went.
Then dar’d I words to him, and did present
A bowl of wine, with these words: ‘Cyclop! take
A bowl of wine, from my hand, that may make
Way for the man’s flesh thou hast eat, and show
What drink our ship held; which in sacred vow
I offer to thee to take ruth on me
In my dismission home. Thy rages be
Now no more sufferable. How shall men,
Mad and inhuman that thou art, again
Greet thy abode, and get thy actions grace,
If thus thou ragest, and eat’st up their race.’
He took, and drunk, and vehemently joy’d
To taste the sweet cup; and again employ’d
My flagon’s pow’rs, entreating more, and said:
῾Good guest, again afford my taste thy aid,
And let me know thy name, and quickly now,
That in thy recompense I may bestow
A hospitable gift on thy desert,
And such a one as shall rejoice thy heart.
For to the Cyclops too the gentle earth
Bears gen’rous wine, and Jove augments her birth,
In store of such, with show’rs; but this rich wine
Fell from the river, that is mere divine,
Of nectar and ambrosia.’ This again
I gave him, and again; nor could the fool abstain,
But drunk as often. When the noble juice
Had wrought upon his spirit, I then gave use
To fairer language, saying: ‘Cyclop! now,
As thou demand’st, I’ll tell my name, do thou
Make good thy hospitable gift to me.
My name is No–Man; No–Man each degree
Of friends, as well as parents, call my name.’
He answer’d, as his cruel soul became:
‘No–Man! I’ll eat thee last of all thy friends;
And this is that in which so much amends
I vow’d to thy deservings, thus shall be
My hospitable gift made good to thee.’
This said, he upwards fell, but then bent round
His fleshy neck; and Sleep, with all crowns crown’d,
Subdued the savage. From his throat brake out
My wine, with man’s-flesh gobbets, like a spout,
When, loaded with his cups, he lay and snor’d;
And then took I the club’s end up, and gor’d
The burning coal-heap, that the point might heat;
Confirm’d my fellow’s minds, lest Fear should let
Their vow’d assay, and make them fly my aid.
Straight was the olive-lever, I had laid
Amidst the huge fire to get hard’ning, hot,
And glow’d extremely, though ’twas green; which got
From forth the cinders, close about me stood
My hardy friends; but that which did the good
Was God’s good inspiratión, that gave
A spirit beyond the spirit they us’d to have;
Who took the olive spar, made keen before,
And plung’d it in his eye, and up I bore,
Bent to the top close, and help’d pour it in,
With all my forces. And as you have seen
A ship-wright bore a naval beam, he oft
Thrusts at the auger’s froofe, works still aloft,
And at the shank help others, with a cord
Wound round about to make it sooner bor’d,
All plying the round still; so into his eye
The fiery stake we labour’d to imply.
Out gush’d the blood that scalded, his eye-ball
Thrust out a flaming vapour, that scorch’d all
His brows and eye-lids, his eye-strings did crack,
As in the sharp and burning rafter brake.
And as a smith, to harden any tool,
Broad axe, or mattock, in his trough doth cool
The red-hot substance, that so fervent is
It makes the cold wave straight to seethe and hiss;
So sod and hiss’d his eye about the stake.
He roar’d withal, and all his cavern brake
In claps like thunder. We did frighted fly,
Dispers’d in corners. He from forth his eye
The fixed stake pluck’d; after which the blood
Flow’d freshly forth; and, mad, he hurl’d the wood
About his hovel. Out he then did cry
For other Cyclops, that in caverns by
Upon a windy promontory dwell’d;
Who, hearing how impetuously he yell’d,
Rush’d ev’ry way about him, and inquir’d,
What ill afflicted him, that he exspir’d
Such horrid clamours, and in sacred Night
To break their sleeps so? Ask’d him, if his fright
Came from some mortal that his flocks had driv’n?
Or if by craft, or might, his death were giv’n?
He answer’d from his den: ‘By craft, nor might,
No–Man hath giv’n me death.’ They then said right,
‘If no man hurt thee, and thyself alone,
That which is done to thee by Jove is done;
And what great Jove inflicts no man can fly.
Pray to thy Father yet, a Deity,
And prove, from him if thou canst help acquire.’
Thus spake they, leaving him; when all-on-fire
My heart with joy was, that so well my wit
And name deceiv’d him; whom now pain did split,
And groaning up and down he groping tried
To find the stone, which found, he put aside;
But in the door sat, feeling if he could
(As his sheep issued) on some man lay hold;
Esteeming me a fool, that could devise
No stratagem to ‘scape his gross surprise.
But I, contending what I could invent
My friends and me from death so eminent
To get deliver’d, all my wiles I wove
(Life being the subject) and did this approve:
Fat fleecy rams, most fair, and great, lay there,
That did a burden like a violet bear. ^^[[69|Chapman: Footnote 69]]^^
These, while this learn’d-invillainy did sleep,
I yok’d with osiers cut there, sheep to sheep,
Three in a rank, and still the mid sheep bore
A man about his belly, the two more
March’d on his each side for defence. I then,
Choosing myself the fairest of the den,
His fleecy belly under-crept, embrac’d
His back, and in his rich wool wrapt me fast
With both my hands, arm’d with as fast a mind.
And thus each man hung, till the morning shin’d;
Which come, he knew the hour, and let abroad
His male-flocks first, the females unmilk’d stood
Bleating and braying, their full bags so sore
With being unemptied, but their shepherd more
With being unsighted; which was cause his mind
Went not a milking. He, to wreak inclin’d,
The backs felt, as they pass’d, of those male dams,
Gross fool! believing, we would ride his rams!
Nor ever knew that any of them bore
Upon his belly any man before.
The last ram came to pass him, with his wool
And me together loaded to the full,
For there did I hang; and that ram he stay’d,
And me withal had in his hands, my head
Troubled the while, not causelessly, nor least.
This ram he grop’d, and talk’d to: ‘Lazy beast!
Why last art thou now? Thou hast never us’d
To lag thus hindmost, but still first hast bruis’d
The tender blossom of a flow’r, and held
State in thy steps, both to the flood and field,
First still at fold at even, now last remain?
Dost thou not wish I had mine eye again,
Which that abhorr’d man No–Man did put out,
Assisted by his execrable rout,
When he had wrought me down with wine? But he
Must not escape my wreak so cunningly.
I would to heav’n thou knew’st, and could but speak,
To tell me where he lurks now! I would break
His brain about my cave, strew’d here and there,
To ease my heart of those foul ills, that were
Th’ inflictions of a man I priz’d at nought.’
Thus let he him abroad; when I, once brought
A little from his hold, myself first los’d,
And next my friends. Then drave we, and dispos’d,
His straight-legg’d fat fleece-bearers over land,
Ev’n till they all were in my ship’s command;
And to our lov’d friends show’d our pray’d-for sight,
Escap’d from death. But, for our loss, outright
They brake in tears; which with a look I stay’d,
And bade them take our boot in. They obey’d,
And up we all went, sat, and us’d our oars.
But having left as far the savage shores
As one might hear a voice, we then might see
The Cyclop at the haven; when instantly
I stay’d our oars, and this insultance us’d:
῾Cyclop! thou shouldst not have so much abus’d
Thy monstrous forces, to oppose their least
Against a man immartial, and a guest,
And eat his fellows. Thou mightst know there were
Some ills behind, rude swain, for thee to bear,
That fear’d not to devour thy guests, and break
All laws of humans. Jove sends therefore wreak,
And all the Gods, by me.’ This blew the more
His burning fury; when the top he tore
From off a huge rock, and so right a throw
Made at our ship, that just before the prow
It overflew and fell, miss’d mast and all
Exceeding little; but about the fall
So fierce a wave it rais’d, that back it bore
Our ship so far, it almost touch’d the shore.
A bead-hook then, a far-extended one,
I snatch’d up, thrust hard, and so set us gone
Some little way; and straight commanded all
To help me with their oars, on pain to fall
Again on our confusion. But a sign
I with my head made, and their oars were mine
In all performance. When we off were set,
(Then first, twice further) my heart was so great,
It would again provoke him, but my men
On all sides rush’d about me, to contain,
And said: ‘Unhappy! why will you provoke
A man so rude, that with so dead a stroke,
Giv’n with his rock-dart, made the sea thrust back
Our ship so far, and near hand forc’d our wrack?
Should he again but hear your voice resound,
And any word reach, thereby would be found
His dart’s direction, which would, in his fall,
Crush piece-meal us, quite split our ship and all;
So much dart wields the monster.’ Thus urg’d they
Impossible things, in fear; but I gave way
To that wrath which so long I held deprest,
By great necessity conquer’d, in my breast:
‘Cyclop! if any ask thee, who impos’d ^^[[70|Chapman: Footnote 70]]^^
Th’ unsightly blemish that thine eye enclos’d,
Say that Ulysses, old Laertes’ son,
Whose seat is Ithaca, and who hath won
Surname of City-razer, bor’d it out.’
At this, he bray’d so loud, that round about
He drave affrighted echoes through the air,
And said: ‘O beast! I was premonish’d fair,
By aged prophecy, in one that was
A great and good man, this should come to pass;
And how ’tis prov’d now! Augur Telemus,
Surnam’d Eurymides (that spent with us
His age in augury, and did exceed
In all presage of truth) said all this deed
Should this event take, author’d by the hand
Of one Ulysses, who I thought was mann’d
With great and goodly personage, and bore
A virtue answerable; and this shore
Should shake with weight of such a conqueror;
When now a weakling came, a dwarfy thing,
A thing of nothing; who yet wit did bring,
That brought supply to all, and with his wine
Put out the flame where all my light did shine.
Come, land again, Ulysses! that my hand
May guest-rites give thee, and the great command,
That Neptune hath at sea, I may convert
To the deduction where abides thy heart,
With my solicitings, whose son I am,
And whose fame boasts to bear my father’s name.
Nor think my hurt offends me, for my sire
Can soon repose in it the visual fire,
At his free pleasure; which no pow’r beside
Can boast, of men, or of the Deified.’
I answer’d: ‘Would to God! I could compell
Both life and soul from thee, and send to hell
Those spoils of nature! Hardly Neptune then
Could cure thy hurt, and give thee all again.’
Then flew fierce vows to Neptune, both his hands
To star-born heav’n cast: ‘O thou that all lands
Gird’st in thy ambient circle, and in air
Shak’st the curl’d tresses of thy sapphire hair,
If I be thine, or thou mayst justly vaunt
Thou art my father, hear me now, and grant
That this Ulysses, old Laertes’ son,
That dwells in Ithaca, and name hath won
Of City-ruiner, may never reach
His natural region. Or if to fetch
That, and the sight of his fair roofs and friends,
Be fatal to him, let him that amends
For all his miseries, long time and ill,
Smart for, and fail of; nor that fate fulfill,
Till all his soldiers quite are cast away
In others’ ships. And when, at last, the day
Of his sole-landing shall his dwelling show,
Let Detriment prepare him wrongs enow.’
Thus pray’d he Neptune; who, his sire, appear’d,
And all his pray’r to ev’ry syllable heard.
But then a rock, in size more amplified
Than first, he ravish’d to him, and implied
A dismal strength in it, when, wheel’d about,
He sent it after us; nor flew it out
From any blind aim, for a little pass
Beyond our fore-deck from the fall there was,
With which the sea our ship gave back upon,
And shrunk up into billows from the stone,
Our ship again repelling near as near
The shore as first. But then our rowers were,
Being warn’d, more arm’d, and stronglier stemm’d the flood
That bore back on us, till our ship made good
The other island, where our whole fleet lay,
In which our friends lay mourning for our stay,
And ev’ry minute look’d when we should land.
Where, now arriv’d, we drew up to the sand,
The Cyclops’ sheep dividing, that none there
Of all our privates might be wrung, and bear
Too much on pow’r. The ram yet was alone
By all my friends made all my portion
Above all others; and I made him then
A sacrifice for me and all my men ^^[[71|Chapman: Footnote 71]]^^
To cloud-compelling Jove that all commands,
To whom I burn’d the thighs; but my sad hands
Receiv’d no grace from him, who studied how
To offer men and fleet to overthrow.
"""
"""
All day, till sun-set, yet, we sat and eat,
And lib’ral store took in of wine and meat.
The sun then down, and place resign’d to shade,
We slept. Morn came, my men I rais’d, and made
All go aboard, weigh anchor, and away.
They boarded, sat, and beat the aged sea;
And forth we made sail, sad for loss before,
Any yet had comfort since we lost no more.”
"""
Finis Libri Noni Hom. Odyss.
"""
All stars are drunk-up by the fiery sun,
And in so much a flame lies shrunk the moon.
Homer’s all-liv’d name all names leaves in death,
Whose splendour only Muses’ bosoms breathe.
"""
''Another''
"""
Heav’n’s fires shall first fall darken’d from his sphere,
Grave Night the light weed of the Day shall wear,
Fresh streams shall chase the sea, tough ploughs shall tear
Her fishy bottoms, men in long date dead
Shall rise and live, before Oblivion shed
Those still-green leaves that crown great Homer’s head.
"""
''Another''
"""
The great Mæonides doth only write,
And to him dictates the great God of Light.
"""
''Another''
"""
Sev’n kingdoms strove in which should swell the womb
That bore great Homer, whom Fame freed from tomb;
Argos, Chios, Pylos, Smyrna, Colophone,
The learn’d Athenian, and Ulyssean throne.
"""
''Another''
"""
Art thou of Chios? No. Of Salamine?
As little. Was the Smyrnean country thine?
Nor so. Which then? Was Cuma’s? Colophone?
Nor one nor other. Art thou, then, of none
That fame proclaims thee? None. Thy reason call.
If I confess of one I anger all.
"""
''To the most Worthily Honoured, my Singular Good Lord, Robert, earl of Somerset, Lord Chamberlain, Etc.''
I have adventured, right noble Earl, out of my utmost and ever-vowed service to your virtues, to entitle their merits to the patronage of Homer’s English life, whose wished natural life the great Macedon would have protected as the spirit of his empire,
"""
That he to his unmeasur’d mighty acts
Might add a fame as vast; and their extracts,
In fires as bright and endless as the stars,
His breast might breathe and thunder out his wars.
But that great monarch’s love of fame and praise
Receives an envious cloud in our foul days;
For since our great ones ceased themselves to do,
Deeds worth their praise, they hold it folly too
To feed their praise in others. But what can,
Of all the gifts that are, be giv’n to man
More precious than Eternity and Glory,
Singing their praises in unsilenc’d story?
Which no black day, no nation, nor no age,
No change of time or fortune, force nor rage,
Shall ever rase? All which the monarch knew,
Where Homer liv’d entitled, would ensue:
//Cujus de gurgite vivo//
//Combibit arcanos vatum omnis turba furores, etc.//
From whose deep fount of life the thirsty rout
Of Thespian prophets have lien sucking out
Their sacred rages. And as th’ influent stone
Of Father Jove’s great and laborious son
Lifts high the heavy iron, and far implies
The wide orbs that the needle rectifies,
In virtuous guide of ev’ry sea-driv’n course,
To all aspiring his one boundless force;
So from one Homer all the holy fire
That ever did the hidden heat inspire
In each true Muse came clearly sparkling down,
And must for him compose one flaming crown.
He, at Jove’s table set, fills out to us
Cups that repair age sad and ruinous,
And gives it built of an eternal stand
With his all-sinewy Odyssæan hand,
Shifts time and fate, puts death in life’s free state,
And life doth into ages propagate.
He doth in men the Gods’ affects inflame,
His fuel Virtue blown by Praise and Fame;
And, with the high soul’s first impression driv’n,
Breaks through rude chaos, earth, the seas, and heav’n.
The nerves of all things hid in nature lie
Naked before him; all their harmony
Tun’d to his accents, that in beasts breathe minds.
What fowls, what floods, what earth, what air, what winds,
What fires ethereal, what the Gods conclude
In all their counsels, his Muse makes indued
With varied voices that ev’n rocks have mov’d.
And yet for all this, naked Virtue lov’d,
Honours without her he as abject prizes,
And foolish Fame, deriv’d from thence, despises.
When from the vulgar taking glorious bound
Up to the mountain where the Muse is crown’d,
He sits and laughs to see the jaded rabble
Toil to his hard heights, t’ all access unable, etc.
"""
And that your Lordship may in his face take view of his mind, the first words of his Iliads is //μη̑νιν, wrath//; the first word of his Odysseys, //ἄνδρα man:// contracting in either word his each work’s proposition. In one //predominant perturbation;// in the other //over-ruling wisdom.// In one the body’s fervour and fashion of outward fortitude to all possible height of heroical action; in the other the mind’s inward, constant, and unconquered empire, unbroken, unaltered, with any most insolent, and tyrannous infliction. To many most sovereign praises is this poem entitled; but to that grace, in chief, which sets on the crown both of poets and orators; //τὸ τὰ μικρὰ μεγάλως, καὶ τὰ κοινὰ καιίνως:// that is, //Parva magnè dicere; pervulgata novè; jejuna plenè.—To speak things little greatly; things common rarely; things barren and empty fruitfully and fully.// The return of a man into his country is his whole scope and object; which in itself, your Lordship may well say, is jejune and fruitless enough, affording nothing feastful, nothing magnificent. And yet even this doth the divine inspiration render vast, illustrious, and of miraculous composure. And for this, my Lord, is this poem preferred to his lliads; for therein much magnificence, both of person and action, gives great aid to his industry; but in this are these helps exceeding sparing, or nothing; and yet is the structure so elaborate and pompous that the poor plain ground-work, considered together, may seem the naturally rich womb to it, and produce it needfully. Much wondered at, therefore, is the censure of Dionysius Longinus, (a man otherwise affirmed grave and of elegant judgment,) comparing Homer in his Iliads to the Sun rising, in his Odysseys to his descent or setting, or to the ocean robbed of his æsture, many tributary floods and rivers of excellent ornament withheld from their observance. When this his work so far exceeds the ocean, with all his court and concourse, that all his sea is only a serviceable stream to it. Nor can it be compared to any one power to be named in nature, being an entirely well-sorted and digested confluence of all; where the most solid and grave is made as nimble and fluent as the most airy and fiery, the nimble and fluent as firm and well-bounded as the most grave and solid. And, taking all together, of so tender impression, and of such command to the voice of the Muse, that they knock heaven with her breath, and discover their foundations as low as hell. Nor is this all-comprising Poesy fantastic or mere fictive; but the most material and doctrinal illations of truth, both for all manly information of manners in the young, all prescription of justice, and even Christian piety, in the most grave and high governed. To illustrate both which, in both kinds, with all heightof expression, the Poet creates both a body and a soul in them. Wherein, if the body (being the letter or history) seems fictive, and beyond possibility to bring into act, the sense then and allegory, which is the soul, is to be sought, which intends a more eminent expressure of Virtue for her loveliness, and of Vice for her ugliness, in their several effects; going beyond the life than any art within life can possibly delineate. Why then is fiction to this end so hateful to our true ignorants? Or why should a poor chronicler of a Lord Mayor’s naked truth (that peradventure will last his year) include more worth with our modern wizards than Homer for his naked Ulysses clad in eternal fiction? But this proser Dionysius, and the rest of these grave and reputatively learned—that dare undertake for their gravities the headstrong censure of all things, and challenge the understanding of these toys in their childhoods; when even these childish vanities retain deep and most necessary learning enough in them to make them children in their ages, and teach them while they live—are not in these absolute divine infusions allowed either voice or relish: for, //Qui Poeticas ad fores accedit, etc.// (says the divine philosopher) he that knocks at the gates of the Muses, //sine Musarum furore,// is neither to be admitted entry, nor a touch at their thresholds; his opinion of entry ridiculous, and his presumption impious. Nor must Poets themselves (might I a little insist on these contempts, not tempting too far your Lordship’s Ulyssean patience) presume to these doors without the truly genuine and peculiar induction. There being in Poesy a twofold rapture,—or alienation of soul, as the abovesaid teacher terms it,—one //insania,// a disease of the mind, and a mere madness, by which the infected is thrust beneath all the degrees of humanity: //et ex homine, brutum quodammodò redditur://—(for which poor Poesy, in this diseased and impostorous age, is so barbarously vilified;)—the other is, //divinus furor,// by which the sound and divinely healthful //suprà hominis naturam erigitur, et in Deum transit.// One a perfection directly infused from God; the other an infection obliquely and degenerately proceeding from man. Of the divine fury, my Lord, your Homer hath ever been both first and last instance; being pronounced absolutely, //τὸν σοφώτατον, καὶ τὸν θειότατον ποιητήν,// “THE MOST WISE AND MOST DIVINE POET.” Against whom whosoever shall open his profane mouth may worthily receive answer with this of his divine defender—Empedocles, Heraclitus, Protagoras, Epicharmus, etc., being of Homer’s part—τίς οο͒ν, etc.; who against such an army, and the general Homer, dares attempt the assault, but he must be reputed ridiculous? And yet against this host, and this invincible commander, shall we have every //besogne// and fool a leader. The common herd, I assure myself, ready to receive it on their horns. Their infected leaders,
"""
Such men as sideling ride the ambling Muse,
Whose saddle is as frequent as the stews.
Whose raptures are in ev’ry pageant seen,
In ev’ry wassail-rhyme and dancing-green;
When he that writes by any beam of truth
Must dive as deep as he, past shallow youth.
Truth dwells in gulfs, whose deeps hide shades so rich
That Night sits muffled there in clouds of pitch,
More dark than Nature made her, and requires,
To clear her tough mists, heav’n’s great fire of fires,
To whom the sun itself is but a beam.
For sick souls then—but rapt in foolish dream—
To wrastle with these heav’n-strong mysteries,
What madness is it? when their light serves eyes
That are not worldly in their least aspect,
But truly pure, and aim at heav’n direct.
Yet these none like but what the brazen head
Blatters abroad, no sooner born but dead.
"""
Holding, then, in eternal contempt, my Lord, those short-lived bubbles, eternize your virtue and judgment with the Grecian monarch; esteeming, not as the least of your new-year’s presents,
"""
Homer, three thousand years dead, now reviv’d,
Ev’n from that dull death that in life he liv’d;
When none conceited him, none understood
That so much life in so much death as blood
Conveys about it could mix. But when death
Drunk up the bloody mist that human breath
Pour’d round about him—poverty and spite.
Thick’ning the hapless vapour—then truth’s light
Glimmer’d about his poem; the pinch’d soul
(Amidst the mysteries it did enrol)
Brake pow’rfully abroad. And as we see
The sun all-hid in clouds, at length got free,
Through some forc’d covert, over all the ways,
Near and beneath him, shoots his vented rays
Far off, and sticks them in some little glade,
All woods, fields, rivers, left besides in shade;
So your Apollo, from that world of light
Clos’d in his poem’s body, shot to sight
Some few forc’d beams, which near him were not seen,
(As in his life or country) Fate and spleen
Clouding their radiance; which when Death had clear’d,
To far-off regions his free beams appear’d;
In which all stood and wonder’d, striving which
His birth and rapture should in right enrich.
Twelve labours of your Thespian Hercules
I now present your Lordship; do but please
To lend life means till th’ other twelve receive
Equal achievement; and let Death then reave
My life now lost in our patrician loves,
That knock heads with the herd; in whom there moves
One blood, one soul, both drown’d in one set height
Of stupid envy and mere popular spite.
Whose loves with no good did my least vein fill;
And from their hates I fear as little ill.
Their bounties nourish not when most they feed,
But, where there is no merit or no need,
Rain into rivers still, and are such show’rs
As bubbles spring and overflow the flow’rs.
Their worse parts and worst men their best suborns,
Like winter cows whose milk runs to their horns.
And as litigious clients’ books of law
Cost infinitely; taste of all the awe
Bench’d in our kingdom’s policy, piety, state;
Earn all their deep explorings; satiate
All sorts there thrust together by the heart
With thirst of wisdom spent on either part;
Horrid examples made of Life and Death
From their fine stuff wov’n; yet when once the breath
Of sentence leaves them, all their worth is drawn
As dry as dust, and wears like cobweb lawn:
So these men set a price upon their worth,
That no man gives but those that trot it forth
Though Need’s foul ways, feed Humours with all cost
Though Judgment sterves in them; rout, State engrost
(At all tobacco-benches, solemn tables,
Where all that cross their envies are their fables)
In their rank faction; shame and death approv’d
Fit penance for their opposites; none lov’d
But those that rub them; not a reason heard
That doth not soothe and glorify their preferr’d
Bitter opinions. When, would Truth resume
The cause to his hands, all would fly in fume
Before his sentence; since the innocent mind
Just God makes good, to Whom their worst is wind.
For, that I freely all my thoughts express,
My conscience is my thousand witnesses;
And to this stay my constant comforts vow,
//You for the world I have, or God for you.//
"""
The information or fashion of an absolute man; and necessary (or fatal) passage through many afflictions (according with the most Sacred Letter) to his natural haven and country, is the whole argument and scope of this inimitable and miraculous poem. And therefore is the epithet //πολὐτροπον// given him in the first verse: //πολὐτροπος// signifying, //Homo cujus ingenium velut per multas et varias vias vertitur in verum.//
//’Ανδρἀσιν ἀλφηστᾔσιν. ’Αλφηστᾔσιν// is an epithet proper to poets for their first finding out of arts and documents tending to elocution and government inspired only by Jove, and are here called the first of men, since first they gave rules to manly life, and have their information immediately from Jove (as Plato in Ione witnesseth); the word deduced from //ἅλφα,// which is taken for him //qui primas teneat aliquâ in re,// and will //ἀλφηστῃσιν// then be sufficiently expressed with //ingeniosis,// than which no exposition goes further.
//Εὐήνορα χαλκὸν, bene honestos faciens æs.//
The Phæacians were descended originally from Neptune.
//Αμϕικαλύπτω, superinjicio aliquid tanquam tegmen seu operimentum.//
Minerva like a shepherd (such as kings’ sons used at those times to be) appears to Ulysses.
//Λυπρὸς, velut tristis, jejunaque naturâ.//
//Επίκλοπος, furandi avidus.//
//Σχέτλιε, ποικλομη̑τα, varia et multiplicia habens consilia.//
//Πρόσυλος, materiæ adhærens: item, qui rebus mundanis deditus est.//
//‘ϒλακόμωρος, ad latrandum fato quodam natus.//
//Ανὴρ ἀπατήλια εἰδὼς, τρώκτης.//
//‘Ελελίχθη qui terram rapido motu concutit.//
//‘Απριάτην sine emptionis seu redemptionis pretio.//
//Εὐρύχορον Λακεδαίμονα in quâ ampli ut pulchri chori duci possunt, vel ducuntur;// which the vulgar translations turn therefore, //latam, seu amplam.//
Nestor’s son to Menelaus, his ironical question continuing still Homer’s character of Menelaus.
His wife betrayed him for money.
Supposing him to dwell in a city.
//Πολυπαίπαλος, admodum vafer, Der. ex παλεύω, pertraho in retia, et παι̑ς, puella.//
//’Αΐδηλον ὅμιλον, ἀΐδηλος of ἀΐδης, orcus,// and signifies properly //tenebricosus,// or //infernalis,// so that //perniciosus// (which is the Latin translation) is not so fit as damned for that crew of dissolute Wooers. The phrase being now used to all so licentious.
Upon this answer of Telemachus, because it hath so sudden a change and is so far let down from his late height of heat, altering and tempering so commandingly his affections I thought not amiss to insert here Spondanus’ further annotations, which is this: //Prudenter Telemachus joco furorem Antinoi ac asperitatem emolliit. Nam ita dictum illius interpretatur, ut existimetur censere jocosè ilia etiam ab Antinoo adversum se pronunciata. Et primum ironicè se Regem esse exoptat propter commoda quæ Reges solent comitari. Ne tamen invidiam in se ambitionis concitet, testatur se regnum, Ithacæ non ambire, mortuo Ulysse, cum id alii possidere queant se longe præstantiores ac digniores: hoc unum ait se moliri, ut propriarum ædium et bonorum solus sit dominus, iis exclusis, ac ejectis, qui vi illa occupare ac disperdere conantur.//
Intending his father, whose return though he were far from knowing, or fully expecting, yet he desired to order all things as he were present.
Intending to Laertes all that Eumæus would have told.
//ϕπεσὶ ἀγαθῃ̑σιν, bonis mentibus,// the plural number used ever by Homer.
Intending his fat herd, kept only for the Wooers’ dainty palates.
The dog died as soon as he had seen Ulysses.
Ulysses’ ruthful fashion of entry to his own hall.
Simile, in which Ulysses is compared with a poet for the sweetness of his speech.
//Χοὶνικος ἅπτηται,// they will needs turn this, //quadram// (for //modium) gustet.// Though the words bear no such signification, but give a proverb then in use repetition, which was: //he shall not join or make a spoke in the nave of my chariot, or chariot-wheel. Χοίνικον,// or //χοίνικις,// signifying //modiolus rotæ,// and //ἅπτω, recto.//
The word is //κεἰρετε, κεἰρω// signifying //insatiabili, quddâm edacitate voro.//
Intending with truth itself, not his show only.
Autolycus gives his grandchild Ulysses his name: from whence the Odysseys is derived, //’Οδυσσεύς,// derived of //ὀδύζομαι, ex ὀδύνη factum;// signifying //dolorem proprie corporis, nam ira ex dolore oritur.//
Viz. That some from within might issue, and witness in his hearing some wreakful ostent to his enemies from heaven.
These feet of men, etc. //ἀνδραποδισταί.//
//Εὐπηγής, bene compactus et coagmentatus.//
//Volente Deo, nihil est difficile.//
//Οἲνοπα πὀντον: οἲνοψ cujus facies vinum repræsentat.//
//Αακεδαἰμονα κητὠσσαν// which is expounded //Spartam amplam,// or //πεγἀλην magnam;// where //κητὠεσσαν// signifies properly //plurima cete nutrientem.//
//Μολπης ἐ ἄρχοντες Cantum auspicantes:// of which place, the critics affirm that //saltatores motu suo indicant cantori quo genere cantus saltaturi forent.// The rapture of Eteoneus at sight of Telemachus and Pisistratus.
Telemachus to Pisistratus, in observation of the house, not so much that he heartily admired it, as to please Menelaus, who he knew heard, though he seemed desirous he should not hear.
Helen counterfeited the wives’ voices of those kings of Greece that were in the wooden horse, and calls their husbands.
These notes following I am forced to insert (since the words they contain differ from all other translations) lest I be thought to err out of that ignorance that may perhaps possess my depraver.
//Δἐμας, membrorum structura.//
//Παρἁ κληîδος ἱμἀντα. Ιμἀς, affectus curculionis significat quod longior et gracilior evaserit.//
//᾽Επἱ σχεδἰης πογυδἐσμον, in rate multis vinculis ligatus.//
This four day days’ work (you will say) is too much for one man: and Pliny affirms, that Hiero (a king of Sicily) in five-and forty days built two hundred and twenty ships, rigged them, and put to sea with them.
//Συναγεἰρω—Mendicando colligo.//
//Ὤιδεε// of //ὠδἰνω ἁ partu doleo.//
A metaphorical hyperbole, expressing the winter’s extremity of sharpness.
//ϒπνῳ καἱ καμἀτῳ ἁρημένος. Sonno et labore afflictus.// Sleep (//καταχρηστικω̑ς//) for the want of sleep.
Intending Dymas’ daughter.
//‘Αμὑμονος// translated in this place //inculpabilis,// and made the epithet of Ægisthus, is from the true sense of the word, as it is here to be understood; which is quite contrary. As //ὰντίθεος// is to be expounded in some place //Divinus,// or //Deo similis,// but in another (soon after) //contrarius Deo.// The person to whom the epithet is given giving reason to distinguish it. And so //ὀλοὁφρων,// an epithet given to Atlas, instantly following, in one place signifies //mente perniciosus,// in the next, //qui universa mente gerit.//
This familiar and near wanton carriage of Nausicaa to her father, joined with that virgin modesty expressed in her after, is much praised by the gravest of Homer’s expositors; with her father’s loving allowance of it, knowing her shamefastness and judgment would not let her exceed at any part. Which note is here inserted, not as if this were more worthy the observation than other every-where strewed flowers of precept, but because this more generally pleasing subject may perhaps find more fitness for the stay of most readers.
The piety and wisdom of the Poet was such, that (agreeing with the Sacred Letter) not the least of things he makes come to pass //sine Numinis providentiâ.// As Spondanus well notes of him.
//Διερὸς βροτός. Cui vitalis vel sensualis humiditas inest. βροτὸς ὰ ῥέω, ut dicatur quasi ῥοτὸς,// i.e. //ὁ ἐν ῥοᾓ ὢν, quod nihil sit magis fluxum quam homo.//
//Ανήρ virili animo præditus, fortis, magnanimus.// Nor are those affirmed to be men, //qui servile quidpiam et abjectum faciunt, vel, facere sustinent//: according to this of Herodotus in Polym. //πολλοὶ μὲν ἄνθρωποι ει͒εν, ὀλίγοι δὲ ἄνδρες.// Many men’s forms sustain, but few are men.
According to another translator:
"""
//“Ab Jove nam supplex pauper procedit et hospes,//
//Res brevis, at chara est, magni quoque munaris instar.”//
"""
Which I cite to show his good when he keeps him to the original, and near in any degree expounds it.
He taught their youths modesty by his aged judgment. As receiving the custom of maids then used to that entertainment of men, notwithstanding the modesty of that age, could not be corrupted inwardly for those outward kind observations of guests and strangers, and was therefore privileged. It is easy to avoid show; and those, that most curiously avoid the outward construction, are ever most tainted with the inward corruption.
The city’s description so far forth as may in part induce her promised reason why she took not Ulysses to coach with her.
Not without some little note of our omnisufficient Homer’s general touch of the least fitness lying in his way, may this courtly discretion he describes in Nausicaa be observed, if you please.
More of our Poet’s curious and sweet piety.
//Hac fuit illius sæculi simplicitas: nam vel fraternus quoque amor tantus fuit, ut libenter hanc redeunti charissimæ sorori operam præstiterint. Spond.//
In this place is Atlas given the epithet //ὀλοὁφρων,// which signifies //qui universa mente agitat,// here given him for the power the stars have in all things. Yet this receives other interpretation in other places, as abovesaid.
//Νέες ώκει̑αι ὡσεὶ πτερὸν ἠὲ νόημα, naves veloces veluti penna, atque cogitatio.//
For the more perspicuity of this pedigree, I have here set down the diagram, as Spondanus hath it. Neptune begat Nausithous of Peribœa. By Nausithous, Rhexenor, Alcinous, were begot. By Rhexenor, Arete, the wife of her uncle Alcinous.
The honour of Arete (or virtue) alleg.
Casts so thick a shade—πυκινός spissus.
The word that bears this long epithet is translated only //dulce:// which signifies more, //Μελίϕρονα οι͒νον ἐκίρνα Vinum quod melleâ dulcedine animum perfundit, et oblectat.//
Ascent to his country’s shore.
Eustathius will have this comparison of the Phæacians with the Giants and Cyclops to proceed out of the inveterate virulency of Antinous to the Cyclops; who were cause (as is before said) of their remove from their country; and with great endeavour labours the approbation of it; but (under his peace) from the purpose: for the sense of the Poet is clear, that the Cyclops and Giants being in part the issue of the Gods, and yet afterward their defiers, (as Polyp. hereafter dares profess) Antinous (out of bold and manly reason, even to the face of one that might have been a God, for the past manly appearance he made there) would tell him, and the rest in him, that if they graced those Cyclops with their open appearance, that, though descended from them, durst yet deny them, they might much more do them the honour of their open presence that adored them.
//Αἴθοψ οι͒νος, Vinum calefaciendi vim habens.//
The continued piety of Ulysses through all places, times, and occasions.
Since the Phæacians were not only dwellers by sea, but studious also of sea qualities, their names seem to usurp their faculties therein. All consisting of sea-faring signification, except Laodamas, As Acroneus, //summa seu extrema navis pars.// Ocyalus, //velox in mari.// Elatreus, or //᾽Ελατὴρ, ἐλατη̑ρος, Remex, etc.//
//Δὐστηνος// is here turned by others, //infelix,// in the general collection; when it hath here a particular exposition, applied to express Ulysses’ desert errors, //‘παρἁ τὁ στἣναι, ut sit, qui vix locum invenire potest ubi consistat.//
The word is //πομπή,// signifying //deductio, quâ trausvehendum curamus eum qui nobiscum aliquando est versatus.//
//᾽Ατάσθαλος damnorum magnorum auctor.//
He names Laodamas only for all the other brothers; since in his exception, the others’ envies were curbed: for brothers either are or should be of one acceptation in all fit things, And Laodamas, he calls his host, being eldest son to Alcinous: the heir being ever the young master; nor might he conveniently prefer Alcinous in his exception, since he stood not in competition at these contentions.
//Μαρμαρυγὰς ποδω̑ν. Μαρμαρυγὴ// signifies //splendor vibrans//; a twincked splendor; //μαρμαρύσσειν, vibrare veluti radios solares.//
Intending the sound of foot, when they outgo the soundest.
This is //τὸ τὰ μικρὰ μεγάλως, etc. Parva magnè dicere;// grave sentence out of lightest vapour.
//’Ερίηρον ἀοιδὸν, Poetam cujus hominibus digna est societas.//
As by the divine fury directly inspired so, for Ulysses’ glory.
In that the slaughters he made were expressed so lively.
//Τήκετο ᾽Οδυσσεύς. Τήκω,// metaph. signifying //consumo, tabesco.//
This is thus translated, the rather to express and approve the allegory driven through the whole Odysseys. Deciphering the intangling of the wisest in his affections; and the torments that breed in every pious mind; to be thereby hindered to arrive so directly as he desires, at the proper and only true natural country of every worthy man, whose haven is heaven and the next life, to which, this life is but a sea in continual æsture and vexation. The words occasioning all this are //μαλακοἳς λὀλοις: μαλακὀς// signifying, //qui languide, et animo remisso rem aliquam gerit;// which being the effect of Calypso’s sweet words in Ulysses, is here applied passively to his own sufferance of their operation.
This //τερατολογία// or //affirmation of miracles,// how impossible soever in these times assured, yet in those ages they were neither absurd nor strange. Those inanimate things having (it seemed) certain Genii, in whose powers they supposed their ships’ faculties. As others have affirmed oaks to have sense of hearing; and so the ship of Argos was said to have a mast made of Dodonean oak, that was vocal, and could speak.
Intending his father Nausithous.
//Εἰνοσίϕυλλον, quatientem seu agitantem frondes.//
//Quædam quibus corpus alitur et vita sustentatur ὕλη appellantur.//
After night, in the first of the morning.
The ancient custom of calling home the dead.
The description of all these countries have admirable allegories besides their artly and pleasing relation.
This his relation of Agamemnon, and his glory and theirs for Troy’s sack, with the piety of suppliants’ receipt, to him that was so barbarous and impious, must be intended spoken by Ulysses, with supposition that his hearers would note, still as he spake, how vain they would show to the Cyclops; who respected little Agamemnon, or their valiant exploit against Troy, or the Gods themselves. For otherwise, the serious observation of the words (though good and grave, if spoken to another) want their intentional sharpness and life.
//῞Ερκος ὀδὀντων,// viz. //vallum// or //clanstrum dentium,// which, for the better sound in our language, is here turned, Pale of Ivory. The teeth being that rampire, or pale, given us by nature in that part for restraint and compression of our speech, till the imagination, appetite, and soul (that ought to rule in their examination, before their delivery) have given worthy pass to them. The most grave and divine poet, teaching therein, that not so much for the necessary chewing of our sustenance our teeth are given us, as for their stay of our words, lest we utter them rashly.
Ulysses’ continued insolence, no more to repeat what he said to the Cyclop, than to let his hearers know epithets, and estimation in the world.
No occasion let pass to Ulysses’ piety in our Poet’s singular wit and wisdom.
//Πόδα νηὸς//—He calls the stern the foot of the ship.
This place suffers different construction in all the Commentors: in which all err from the mind of the Poet, as in a hundred other places (which yet I want time to approve) especially about //ἐγγὺς γὰρ νυκτός,// etc. //Prope enim noetis et diei sunt viœ// (or //similiter,// which //ἐγγὺς// signifies) which they will have to be understood, that the days in that region are long, and the nights short; where Homer intends, that the equinoctial is there; for how else is the course of day and night near or equal? But therefore the night’s-man hath his double hire, being as long about his charge as the other; and the night being more dangerous, etc. And if the day were so long, why should the night’s-man be preferred in wages?
For being cast on the stays, as ships are by weather.
//Μερμαίρω, curiosè cogito.//
//Αἴθοπα καπνόν. Αι͒θοψ// signifying //rutilus,// by reason or the fire mixed with it. //Fumus qui fit dut aliquid accenditur.//
The whole end of this counsel was to persuade his soldiers to explore those parts, which he knew would prove a most unpleasing motion to them: for their fellows’ terrible entertainment with Antiphas, and Polyph. and therefore he prepares the little he hath to say with this long circumstance; implying a necessity of that service, and necessary resolution to add the trial of the event to their other adventures.
//Τὀσος παîς, Tantus filius.// Pallas thus enforcing her question to stir up the son the more to the father’s worthiness.
//Κεδνὸς, cujus animus curas prudentes versat.//
Seeing them, he thought of his fellows.
The herb Moly, which, with Ulysses’ whole narration, hath in chief an allegorical exposition. Notwithstanding I say with our Spondanus, //Credo in hoc vasto mundi ambitu extare res innumeras mirandæ facultatis: adeo, ut ne quidem ista quæ ad transformanda corpora pertinet, jure è mundo eximi possit, etc.//
//Φράσσαντό τε πάντα. Commemorabantque omnia.// Intending all their miseries, escapes, and meetings.
//Κλυτὰ ἕθνεα νεκρω̑ν.// Which is expounded //Inclyta examina mortuorum:// but //κλυτὸς// is the epithet of Pluto; and by analogy belongs to the dead, //quod ad se omnes advocat.//
They mourned the event before they knew it.
//Misenus apud Virgilium, ingenti mole, etc.//
Men that never eat salt with their food.
//Γήπᾳ ὑπὸ λιπαρῳ̑.// Which all translate //senectute sub molli.// The epithet //λιπαρῳ̑;// not of //λιπαρὸς,// viz, //pinguis,// or //λιπαρω̑ς, pinguiter,// but //λιπαρω̑ς// signifying //flagitanter orando.// To which pious age is ever altogether addicted.
Amphiaraus was her husband, whom she betrayed to his ruin at Thebes, for gold taken of Adrastus her brother.
//’Ερἰηρος ἀοιδὀς. Cantor, cujus tam apta est societas hominibus.//
//Venustè et salsè dictum.//
This advice he followed at his coming home.
This place (and a number more) is most miserably mistaken by all translators and commentors.
//Πέλειαι τρήρωνες. Columbæ timidæ.// What these doves were, and the whole mind of this place, the great Macedon asking Chiron Amphipolites, he answered: They were the Pleiades or seven Stars. One of which (besides his proper imperfection of being //ἀμυδρὸς,// i.e. //adeo exilis, vel subobscurus, ut vix appareat//) is utterly obscured or let by these rocks. Why then, or how, Jove still supplied the lost one, that the number might be full, Athenæus falls to it, and helps the other out, interpreting it to be affirmed of their perpetual septenary number, though there appeared but six. But how lame and loathsome these prosers show in their affected expositions of the poetical mind, this and an hundred others, spent in mere presumptuous guess at this inaccessible Poet, I hope will make plain enough to the most envious of any thing done, besides their own set censures and most arrogant over-weenings. In the 23 of the lliads (being //ψ//) at the games celebrated at Patroclus’ funerals, they tied to the top of a mast //πέλειαν τρήρωνα, timidam columbam,// to shoot at for a game, so that (by these great men’s abovesaid expositions) they shot at the Pleiades.
//Νηυ̑ς πα̑σι μέλουσα,// etc. //Navis omnibus curæ: the ship that held the care of all men, or of all things:// which our critics will needs restrain, //omnibus heroibus, Poetis omnibus, vel Historicis,// when the care of all men’s preservation is affirmed to be the freight of it; as if poets and historians comprehended all things, when I scarce know any that makes them any part of their care. But this likewise is garbage good enough for the monster. Nor will I tempt our spiced consciences with expressing the divine mind it includes. Being afraid to affirm any good of poor poesy, since no man gets any goods by it. And notwithstanding many of our bird-eyed starters at profanation are for nothing so afraid of it; as that lest their galled consciences (scarce believing the most real truth, in approbation of their lives) should be rubbed with the confirmation of it, even in these contemned vanities (as their impieties please to call them) which by much more learned and pious than themselves have ever been called the raptures of divine inspiration, by which, //Homo supra humanam naturam erigitur, et in Deum transit.//—Plat.
//Δεινὸν λελακυι̑α,// etc. //Graviter vociferans;// as all most untruly translate it. As they do in the next verse these words //σκύλακος νεογιλη̑ς catuli leonis,// no lion being here dreamed of, nor any vociferation. //Δεινὸν λελακυι̑α// signifying //indignam, dissimilem,// or //horribilem vocem edens:// but in what kind //horribilem?// Not for the gravity or greatness of her voice, but for the unworthy or disproportionable small whuling of it; she being in the vast frame of her body, as the very words //πέλωρ κακὸν// signify, //monstrum ingens;// whose disproportion and deformity is too poetically (and therein elegantly) ordered for fat and flat prosers to comprehend. Nor could they make the Poet’s words serve their comprehension; and therefore they add of their own, //λάσκω,// from whence //λελακυι̑α// is derived, signifying //crepo,// or //stridulê clamo.// And //σκύλακος νεογιλη̑ς// is to be expounded, //catuli nuper// or //recens nati,// not //leonis.// But thus they botch and abuse the incomparable expressor, because they knew not how otherwise to be monstrous enough themselves to help out the monster. Imagining so huge a great body must needs have a voice as huge; and then would not our Homer have likened it to a lion’s whelp’s voice, but to the lion’s own; and all had been much too little to make a voice answerable to her hugeness. And therefore found our inimitable master a new way to express her monstrous disproportion; performing it so, as there can be //nihil suprâ.// And I would fain learn of my learned detractor, that will needs have me only translate out of the Latin, what Latin translation tells me this? Or what Grecian hath ever found this and a hundred other such? Which may be some poor instance, or proof, of my Grecian faculty, as far as old Homer goes in his two simple Poems, but not a syllable further will my silly spirit presume.
//Γερούσιος οι͒νος, quod pro honorario senibus datur.// And because the word so Englished hath no other to express it, sounding well, and helping our language, it is here used.
Intending in chief the senators, with every man’s addition of gift.
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* [[Dedication|Chapman: Dedication]]
* [[Certain Ancient Greek Epigrams Translated|Chapman: Certain Ancient Greek Epigrams Translated]]
* [[Book 1|Chapman: Book 1]]
* [[Book 2|Chapman: Book 2]]
* [[Book 3|Chapman: Book 3]]
* [[Book 4|Chapman: Book 4]]
* [[Book 5|Chapman: Book 5]]
* [[Book 6|Chapman: Book 6]]
* [[Book 7|Chapman: Book 7]]
* [[Book 8|Chapman: Book 8]]
* [[Book 9|Chapman: Book 9]]
* [[Book 10|Chapman: Book 10]]
* [[Book 11|Chapman: Book 11]]
* [[Book 12|Chapman: Book 12]]
* [[Book 13|Chapman: Book 13]]
* [[Book 14|Chapman: Book 14]]
* [[Book 15|Chapman: Book 15]]
* [[Book 16|Chapman: Book 16]]
* [[Book 17|Chapman: Book 17]]
* [[Book 18|Chapman: Book 18]]
* [[Book 19|Chapman: Book 19]]
* [[Book 20|Chapman: Book 20]]
* [[Book 21|Chapman: Book 21]]
* [[Book 22|Chapman: Book 22]]
* [[Book 23|Chapman: Book 23]]
* [[Book 24|Chapman: Book 24]]
* [[“So wrought divine Ulysses”|Chapman: “So wrought divine Ulysses”]]
* [[To the Ruins of Troy and Greece|Chapman: To the Ruins of Troy and Greece]]
* [[Ad Deum|Chapman: Ad Deum]]
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"""
//Troy rac’d, Greece wrack’d, who mourns? Ye both may boast,//
//Else th’ Iliads and Odysseys had been lost!//
"""
[[Denton J. Snider (1895)|Snider: Homer's Odyssey]]
''Argument''
//In a council of the Gods, Minerva calls their attention to Ulysses, still a wanderer. They resolve to grant him a safe return to Ithaca. Minerva descends to encourage Telemachus, and in the form of Mentes directs him in what manner to proceed. Throughout this book the extravagance and profligacy of the suitors are occasionally suggested.//
"""
Muse make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed
And genius versatile, who far and wide
A Wand’rer, after Ilium overthrown,
Discover’d various cities, and the mind
And manners learn’d of men, in lands remote.
He num’rous woes on Ocean toss’d, endured,
Anxious to save himself, and to conduct
His followers to their home; yet all his care
Preserved them not; they perish’d self-destroy’d
By their own fault; infatuate! who devoured [10]
The oxen of the all-o’erseeing Sun,
And, punish’d for that crime, return’d no more.
Daughter divine of Jove, these things record,
As it may please thee, even in our ears.
The rest, all those who had perdition ’scaped
By war or on the Deep, dwelt now at home;
Him only, of his country and his wife
Alike desirous, in her hollow grots
Calypso, Goddess beautiful, detained
Wooing him to her arms. But when, at length, [20]
(Many a long year elapsed) the year arrived
Of his return (by the decree of heav’n)
To Ithaca, not even then had he,
Although surrounded by his people, reach’d
The period of his suff’rings and his toils.
Yet all the Gods, with pity moved, beheld
His woes, save Neptune; He alone with wrath
Unceasing and implacable pursued
Godlike Ulysses to his native shores.
But Neptune, now, the Æthiopians fought, [30]
(The Æthiopians, utmost of mankind,
These Eastward situate, those toward the West)
Call’d to an hecatomb of bulls and lambs.
There sitting, pleas’d he banqueted; the Gods
In Jove’s abode, meantime, assembled all,
’Midst whom the Sire of heav’n and earth began.
For he recall’d to mind Ægisthus slain
By Agamemnon’s celebrated son
Orestes, and retracing in his thought
That dread event, the Immortals thus address’d. [40]
Alas! how prone are human-kind to blame
The Pow’rs of Heav’n! From us, they say, proceed
The ills which they endure, yet more than Fate
Herself inflicts, by their own crimes incur.
So now Ægisthus, by no force constrained
Of Destiny, Atrides’ wedded wife
Took to himself, and him at his return
Slew, not unwarn’d of his own dreadful end
By us: for we commanded Hermes down
The watchful Argicide, who bade him fear [50]
Alike, to slay the King, or woo the Queen.
For that Atrides’ son Orestes, soon
As grown mature, and eager to assume
His sway imperial, should avenge the deed.
So Hermes spake, but his advice moved not
Ægisthus, on whose head the whole arrear
Of vengeance heap’d, at last, hath therefore fall’n.
Whom answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.
Oh Jove, Saturnian Sire, o’er all supreme!
And well he merited the death he found; [60]
So perish all, who shall, like him, offend.
But with a bosom anguish-rent I view
Ulysses, hapless Chief! who from his friends
Remote, affliction hath long time endured
In yonder wood-land isle, the central boss
Of Ocean. That retreat a Goddess holds,
Daughter of sapient Atlas, who the abyss
Knows to its bottom, and the pillars high
Himself upbears which sep’rate earth from heav’n.
His daughter, there, the sorrowing Chief detains, [70]
And ever with smooth speech insidious seeks
To wean his heart from Ithaca; meantime
Ulysses, happy might he but behold
The smoke ascending from his native land,
Death covets. Canst thou not, Olympian Jove!
At last relent? Hath not Ulysses oft
With victims slain amid Achaia’s fleet
Thee gratified, while yet at Troy he fought?
How hath he then so deep incensed thee, Jove?
To whom, the cloud-assembler God replied. [80]
What word hath pass’d thy lips, Daughter belov’d?
Can I forget Ulysses? Him forget
So noble, who in wisdom all mankind
Excels, and who hath sacrific’d so oft
To us whose dwelling is the boundless heav’n?
Earth-circling Neptune—He it is whose wrath
Pursues him ceaseless for the Cyclops’ sake
Polypheme, strongest of the giant race,
Whom of his eye Ulysses hath deprived.
For Him, Thoösa bore, Nymph of the sea [90]
From Phorcys sprung, by Ocean’s mighty pow’r
Impregnated in caverns of the Deep.
E’er since that day, the Shaker of the shores,
Although he slay him not, yet devious drives
Ulysses from his native isle afar.
Yet come—in full assembly his return
Contrive we now, both means and prosp’rous end;
So Neptune shall his wrath remit, whose pow’r
In contest with the force of all the Gods
Exerted single, can but strive in vain. [100]
To whom Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed.
Oh Jupiter! above all Kings enthroned!
If the Immortals ever-blest ordain
That wise Ulysses to his home return,
Dispatch we then Hermes the Argicide,
Our messenger, hence to Ogygia’s isle,
Who shall inform Calypso, nymph divine,
Of this our fixt resolve, that to his home
Ulysses, toil-enduring Chief, repair.
Myself will hence to Ithaca, meantime, [110]
His son to animate, and with new force
Inspire, that (the Achaians all convened
In council,) he may, instant, bid depart
The suitors from his home, who, day by day,
His num’rous flocks and fatted herds consume.
And I will send him thence to Sparta forth,
And into sandy Pylus, there to hear
(If hear he may) some tidings of his Sire,
And to procure himself a glorious name.
This said, her golden sandals to her feet [120]
She bound, ambrosial, which o’er all the earth
And o’er the moist flood waft her fleet as air,
Then, seizing her strong spear pointed with brass,
In length and bulk, and weight a matchless beam,
With which the Jove-born Goddess levels ranks
Of Heroes, against whom her anger burns,
From the Olympian summit down she flew,
And on the threshold of Ulysses’ hall
In Ithaca, and within his vestibule
Apparent stood; there, grasping her bright spear, [130]
Mentes^^[[1|Cowper: Footnote 1]]^^ she seem’d, the hospitable Chief
Of Taphos’ isle—she found the haughty throng
The suitors; they before the palace gate
With iv’ry cubes sported, on num’rous hides
Reclined of oxen which themselves had slain.
The heralds and the busy menials there
Minister’d to them; these their mantling cups
With water slaked; with bibulous sponges those
Made clean the tables, set the banquet on,
And portioned out to each his plenteous share. [140]
Long ere the rest Telemachus himself
Mark’d her, for sad amid them all he sat,
Pourtraying in deep thought contemplative
His noble Sire, and questioning if yet
Perchance the Hero might return to chase
From all his palace that imperious herd,
To his own honour lord of his own home.
Amid them musing thus, sudden he saw
The Goddess, and sprang forth, for he abhorr’d
To see a guest’s admittance long delay’d; [150]
Approaching eager, her right hand he seized,
The brazen spear took from her, and in words
With welcome wing’d Minerva thus address’d.
Stranger, all hail! to share our cordial love
Thou com’st; the banquet finish’d, thou shalt next
Inform me wherefore thou hast here arrived.
So saying, toward the spacious hall he moved,
Follow’d by Pallas, and, arriving soon
Beneath the lofty roof, placed her bright spear
Within a pillar’s cavity, long time [160]
The armoury where many a spear had stood,
Bright weapons of his own illustrious Sire.
Then, leading her toward a footstool’d throne
Magnificent, which first he overspread
With linen, there he seated her, apart
From that rude throng, and for himself disposed
A throne of various colours at her side,
Lest, stunn’d with clamour of the lawless band,
The new-arrived should loth perchance to eat,
And that more free he might the stranger’s ear [170]
With questions of his absent Sire address,
And now a maiden charg’d with golden ew’r,
And with an argent laver, pouring first
Pure water on their hands, supplied them, next,
With a resplendent table, which the chaste
Directress of the stores furnish’d with bread
And dainties, remnants of the last regale.
Then, in his turn, the sewer^^[[2|Cowper: Footnote 2]]^^ with sav’ry meats,
Dish after dish, served them, of various kinds,
And golden cups beside the chargers placed, [180]
Which the attendant herald fill’d with wine.
Ere long, in rush’d the suitors, and the thrones
And couches occupied, on all whose hands
The heralds pour’d pure water; then the maids
Attended them with bread in baskets heap’d,
And eager they assail’d the ready feast.
At length, when neither thirst nor hunger more
They felt unsatisfied, to new delights
Their thoughts they turn’d, to song and sprightly dance,
Enlivening sequel of the banquet’s joys. [190]
An herald, then, to Phemius’ hand consign’d
His beauteous lyre; he through constraint regaled
The suitors with his song, and while the chords
He struck in prelude to his pleasant strains,
Telemachus his head inclining nigh
To Pallas’ ear, lest others should his words
Witness, the blue-eyed Goddess thus bespake.
My inmate and my friend! far from my lips
Be ev’ry word that might displease thine ear!
The song—the harp,—what can they less than charm [200]
These wantons? who the bread unpurchased eat
Of one whose bones on yonder continent
Lie mould’ring, drench’d by all the show’rs of heaven,
Or roll at random in the billowy deep.
Ah! could they see him once to his own isle
Restored, both gold and raiment they would wish
Far less, and nimbleness of foot instead.
But He, alas! hath by a wretched fate,
Past question perish’d, and what news soe’er
We hear of his return, kindles no hope [210]
In us, convinced that he returns no more.
But answer undissembling; tell me true;
Who art thou? whence? where stands thy city? where
Thy father’s mansion? In what kind of ship
Cam’st thou? Why steer’d the mariners their course
To Ithaca, and of what land are they?
For that on foot thou found’st us not, is sure.
This also tell me, hast thou now arrived
New to our isle, or wast thou heretofore
My father’s guest? Since many to our house [220]
Resorted in those happier days, for he
Drew pow’rful to himself the hearts of all.
Then Pallas thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.
I will with all simplicity of truth
Thy questions satisfy. Behold in me
Mentes, the offspring of a Chief renown’d
In war, Anchialus; and I rule, myself,
An island race, the Taphians oar-expert.
With ship and mariners I now arrive,
Seeking a people of another tongue [230]
Athwart the gloomy flood, in quest of brass
For which I barter steel, ploughing the waves
To Temesa. My ship beneath the woods
Of Neïus, at yonder field that skirts
Your city, in the haven Rhethrus rides.
We are hereditary guests; our Sires
Were friends long since; as, when thou seest him next,
The Hero old Laertes will avouch,
Of whom, I learn, that he frequents no more
The city now, but in sequester’d scenes [240]
Dwells sorrowful, and by an antient dame
With food and drink supplied oft as he feels
Refreshment needful to him, while he creeps
Between the rows of his luxuriant vines.
But I have come drawn hither by report,
Which spake thy Sire arrived, though still it seems
The adverse Gods his homeward course retard.
For not yet breathless lies the noble Chief,
But in some island of the boundless flood
Resides a prisoner, by barbarous force [250]
Of some rude race detained reluctant there.
And I will now foreshow thee what the Gods
Teach me, and what, though neither augur skill’d
Nor prophet, I yet trust shall come to pass.
He shall not, henceforth, live an exile long
From his own shores, no, not although in bands
Of iron held, but will ere long contrive
His own return; for in expedients, framed
With wond’rous ingenuity, he abounds.
But tell me true; art thou, in stature such, [260]
Son of himself Ulysses? for thy face
And eyes bright-sparkling, strongly indicate
Ulysses in thee. Frequent have we both
Conversed together thus, thy Sire and I,
Ere yet he went to Troy, the mark to which
So many Princes of Achaia steer’d.
Him since I saw not, nor Ulysses me.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Stranger! I tell thee true; my mother’s voice
Affirms me his, but since no mortal knows [270]
His derivation, I affirm it not.
Would I had been son of some happier Sire,
Ordain’d in calm possession of his own
To reach the verge of life. But now, report
Proclaims me his, whom I of all mankind
Unhappiest deem.—Thy question is resolved.
Then answer thus Pallas blue-eyed return’d.
From no ignoble race, in future days,
The Gods shall prove thee sprung, whom so endow’d
With ev’ry grace Penelope hath borne. [280]
But tell me true. What festival is this?
This throng—whence are they? wherefore hast thou need
Of such a multitude? Behold I here
A banquet, or a nuptial? for these
Meet not by contribution^^[[3|Cowper: Footnote 3]]^^ to regale,
With such brutality and din they hold
Their riotous banquet! a wise man and good
Arriving, now, among them, at the sight
Of such enormities would much be wroth.
To whom replied Telemachus discrete. [290]
Since, stranger! thou hast ask’d, learn also this.
While yet Ulysses, with his people dwelt,
His presence warranted the hope that here
Virtue should dwell and opulence; but heav’n
Hath cast for us, at length, a diff’rent lot,
And he is lost, as never man before.
For I should less lament even his death,
Had he among his friends at Ilium fall’n,
Or in the arms of his companions died,
Troy’s siege accomplish’d. Then his tomb the Greeks [300]
Of ev’ry tribe had built, and for his son,
He had immortal glory atchieved; but now,
By harpies torn inglorious, beyond reach
Of eye or ear he lies; and hath to me
Grief only, and unceasing sighs bequeath’d.
Nor mourn I for his sake alone; the Gods
Have plann’d for me still many a woe beside;
For all the rulers of the neighbour isles,
Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d
Zacynthus, others also, rulers here [310]
In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek
In marriage, and my household stores consume.
But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr’d,
Refuses absolute, nor yet consents
To end them; they my patrimony waste
Meantime, and will not long spare even me.
To whom, with deep commiseration pang’d,
Pallas replied. Alas! great need hast thou
Of thy long absent father to avenge
These num’rous wrongs; for could he now appear [320]
There, at yon portal, arm’d with helmet, shield,
And grasping his two spears, such as when first
I saw him drinking joyous at our board,
From Ilus son of Mermeris, who dwelt
In distant Ephyre, just then return’d,
(For thither also had Ulysses gone
In his swift bark, seeking some pois’nous drug
Wherewith to taint his brazen arrows keen,
Which drug through fear of the eternal Gods
Ilus refused him, and my father free [330]
Gave to him, for he loved him past belief)
Could now, Ulysses, clad in arms as then,
Mix with these suitors, short his date of life
To each, and bitter should his nuptials prove.
But these events, whether he shall return
To take just vengeance under his own roof,
Or whether not, lie all in the Gods lap.
Meantime I counsel thee, thyself to think
By what means likeliest thou shalt expel
These from thy doors. Now mark me: close attend. [340]
To-morrow, summoning the Grecian Chiefs
To council, speak to them, and call the Gods
To witness that solemnity. Bid go
The suitors hence, each to his own abode.
Thy mother—if her purpose be resolved
On marriage, let her to the house return
Of her own potent father, who, himself,
Shall furnish forth her matrimonial rites,
And ample dow’r, such as it well becomes
A darling daughter to receive, bestow. [350]
But hear me now; thyself I thus advise.
The prime of all thy ships preparing, mann’d
With twenty rowers, voyage hence to seek
Intelligence of thy long-absent Sire.
Some mortal may inform thee, or a word,^^[[4|Cowper: Footnote 4]]^^
Perchance, by Jove directed (safest source
Of notice to mankind) may reach thine ear.
First voyaging to Pylus, there enquire
Of noble Nestor; thence to Sparta tend,
To question Menelaus amber-hair’d, [360]
Latest arrived of all the host of Greece.
There should’st thou learn that still thy father lives,
And hope of his return, although
Distress’d, thou wilt be patient yet a year.
But should’st thou there hear tidings that he breathes
No longer, to thy native isle return’d,
First heap his tomb; then with such pomp perform
His funeral rites as his great name demands,
And make thy mother’s spousals, next, thy care.
These duties satisfied, delib’rate last [370]
Whether thou shalt these troublers of thy house
By stratagem, or by assault, destroy.
For thou art now no child, nor longer may’st
Sport like one. Hast thou not the proud report
Heard, how Orestes hath renown acquired
With all mankind, his father’s murtherer
Ægisthus slaying, the deceiver base
Who slaughter’d Agamemnon? Oh my friend!
(For with delight thy vig’rous growth I view,
And just proportion) be thou also bold, [380]
And merit praise from ages yet to come.
But I will to my vessel now repair,
And to my mariners, whom, absent long,
I may perchance have troubled. Weigh thou well
My counsel; let not my advice be lost.
To whom Telemachus discrete replied.
Stranger! thy words bespeak thee much my friend,
Who, as a father teaches his own son,
Hast taught me, and I never will forget.
But, though in haste thy voyage to pursue, [390]
Yet stay, that in the bath refreshing first
Thy limbs now weary, thou may’st sprightlier seek
Thy gallant bark, charged with some noble gift
Of finish’d workmanship, which thou shalt keep
As my memorial ever; such a boon
As men confer on guests whom much they love.
Then Pallas thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.
Retard me not, for go I must; the gift
Which liberal thou desirest to bestow,
Give me at my return, that I may bear [400]
The treasure home; and, in exchange, thyself
Expect some gift equivalent from me.
She spake, and as with eagle-wings upborne,
Vanish’d incontinent, but him inspired
With daring fortitude, and on his heart
Dearer remembrance of his Sire impress’d
Than ever. Conscious of the wond’rous change,
Amazed he stood, and, in his secret thought
Revolving all, believed his guest a God.
The youthful Hero to the suitors then [410]
Repair’d; they silent, listen’d to the song
Of the illustrious Bard: he the return
Deplorable of the Achaian host
From Ilium by command of Pallas, sang.
Penelope, Icarius’ daughter, mark’d
Meantime the song celestial, where she sat
In the superior palace; down she came,
By all the num’rous steps of her abode;
Not sole, for two fair handmaids follow’d her.
She then, divinest of her sex, arrived [420]
In presence of that lawless throng, beneath
The portal of her stately mansion stood,
Between her maidens, with her lucid veil
Her lovely features mantling. There, profuse
She wept, and thus the sacred bard bespake.
Phemius! for many a sorrow-soothing strain
Thou know’st beside, such as exploits record
Of Gods and men, the poet’s frequent theme;
Give them of those a song, and let themselves
Their wine drink noiseless; but this mournful strain [430]
Break off, unfriendly to my bosom’s peace,
And which of all hearts nearest touches mine,
With such regret my dearest Lord I mourn,
Rememb’ring still an husband praised from side
To side, and in the very heart of Greece.
Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.
My mother! wherefore should it give thee pain
If the delightful bard that theme pursue
To which he feels his mind impell’d? the bard
Blame not, but rather Jove, who, as he wills, [440]
Materials for poetic art supplies.
No fault is his, if the disastrous fate
He sing of the Achaians, for the song
Wins ever from the hearers most applause
That has been least in use. Of all who fought
At Troy, Ulysses hath not lost, alone,
His day of glad return; but many a Chief
Hath perish’d also. Seek thou then again
Thy own apartment, spindle ply and loom,
And task thy maidens; management belongs [450]
To men of joys convivial, and of men
Especially to me, chief ruler here.
She heard astonish’d; and the prudent speech
Reposing of her son deep in her heart,
Again with her attendant maidens sought
Her upper chamber. There arrived, she wept
Her lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed
Her weary lids in dewy sleep profound.
Then echoed through the palace dark-bedimm’d
With evening shades the suitors boist’rous roar, [460]
For each the royal bed burn’d to partake,
Whom thus Telemachus discrete address’d.
All ye my mother’s suitors, though addict
To contumacious wrangling fierce, suspend
Your clamour, for a course to me it seems
More decent far, when such a bard as this,
Godlike, for sweetness, sings, to hear his song.
To-morrow meet we in full council all,
That I may plainly warn you to depart
From this our mansion. Seek ye where ye may [470]
Your feasts; consume your own; alternate feed
Each at the other’s cost; but if it seem
Wisest in your account and best, to eat
Voracious thus the patrimonial goods
Of one man, rend’ring no account of all,^^[[5|Cowper: Footnote 5]]^^
Bite to the roots; but know that I will cry
Ceaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope
That Jove, for retribution of the wrong,
Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, there
To bleed, and of your blood ask no account.^^[[5|Cowper: Footnote 5]]^^ [480]
He ended, and each gnaw’d his lip, aghast
At his undaunted hardiness of speech.
Then thus Antinoüs spake, Eupithes’ son.
Telemachus! the Gods, methinks, themselves
Teach thee sublimity, and to pronounce
Thy matter fearless. Ah forbid it, Jove!
That one so eloquent should with the weight
Of kingly cares in Ithaca be charged,
A realm, by claim hereditary, thine.
Then prudent thus Telemachus replied. [490]
Although my speech Antinoüs may, perchance,
Provoke thee, know that I am not averse
From kingly cares, if Jove appoint me such.
Seems it to thee a burthen to be fear’d
By men above all others? trust me, no,
There is no ill in royalty; the man
So station’d, waits not long ere he obtain
Riches and honour. But I grant that Kings
Of the Achaians may no few be found
In sea-girt Ithaca both young and old, [500]
Of whom since great Ulysses is no more,
Reign whoso may; but King, myself, I am
In my own house, and over all my own
Domestics, by Ulysses gained for me.
To whom Eurymachus replied, the son
Of Polybus. What Grecian Chief shall reign
In sea-girt Ithaca, must be referr’d
To the Gods’ will, Telemachus! meantime
Thou hast unquestionable right to keep
Thy own, and to command in thy own house. [510]
May never that man on her shores arrive,
While an inhabitant shall yet be left
In Ithaca, who shall by violence wrest
Thine from thee. But permit me, noble Sir!
To ask thee of thy guest. Whence came the man?
What country claims him? Where are to be found
His kindred and his patrimonial fields?
Brings he glad tidings of thy Sire’s approach
Homeward? or came he to receive a debt
Due to himself? How swift he disappear’d! [520]
Nor opportunity to know him gave
To those who wish’d it; for his face and air
Him speak not of Plebeian birth obscure.
Whom answered thus Telemachus discrete.
Eurymachus! my father comes no more.
I can no longer now tidings believe,
If such arrive; nor he’d I more the song
Of sooth-sayers whom my mother may consult.
But this my guest hath known in other days
My father, and he came from Taphos, son [530]
Of brave Anchialus, Mentes by name,
And Chief of the sea-practis’d Taphian race.
So spake Telemachus, but in his heart
Knew well his guest a Goddess from the skies.
Then they to dance and heart-enlivening song
Turn’d joyous, waiting the approach of eve,
And dusky evening found them joyous still.
Then each, to his own house retiring, sought
Needful repose. Meantime Telemachus
To his own lofty chamber, built in view [540]
Of the wide hall, retired; but with a heart
In various musings occupied intense.
Sage Euryclea, bearing in each hand
A torch, preceded him; her sire was Ops,
Pisenor’s son, and, in her early prime,
At his own cost Laertes made her his,
Paying with twenty beeves her purchase-price,
Nor in less honour than his spotless wife
He held her ever, but his consort’s wrath
Fearing, at no time call’d her to his bed. [550]
She bore the torches, and with truer heart
Loved him than any of the female train,
For she had nurs’d him in his infant years.
He open’d his broad chamber-valves, and sat
On his couch-side: then putting off his vest
Of softest texture, placed it in the hands
Of the attendant dame discrete, who first
Folding it with exactest care, beside
His bed suspended it, and, going forth,
Drew by its silver ring the portal close, [560]
And fasten’d it with bolt and brace secure.
There lay Telemachus, on finest wool
Reposed, contemplating all night his course
Prescribed by Pallas to the Pylian shore.
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses, in pursuit of his narrative, relates his arrival at the island of Æolus, his departure thence, and the unhappy occasion of his return thither. The monarch of the winds dismisses him at last with much asperity. He next tells of his arrival among the Læstrygonians, by whom his whole fleet, together with their crews, are destroyed, his own ship and crew excepted. Thence he is driven to the island of Circe. By her the half of his people are transformed into swine. Assisted by Mercury, he resists her enchantments himself, and prevails with the Goddess to recover them to their former shape. In consequence of Circe’s instructions, after having spent a complete year in her palace, he prepares for a voyage to the infernal regions.//
"""
We came to the Æolian isle; there dwells
Æolus, son of Hippotas, belov’d
By the Immortals, in an isle afloat.
A brazen wall impregnable on all sides
Girds it, and smooth its rocky coast ascends.
His children, in his own fair palace born,
Are twelve; six daughters, and six blooming sons.
He gave his daughters to his sons to wife;
They with their father hold perpetual feast
And with their royal mother, still supplied [10]
With dainties numberless; the sounding dome
Is fill’d with sav’ry odours all the day,
And with their consorts chaste at night they sleep
On stateliest couches with rich arras spread.
Their city and their splendid courts we reach’d.
A month complete he, friendly, at his board
Regaled me, and enquiry made minute
Of Ilium’s fall, of the Achaian fleet,
And of our voyage thence. I told him all.
But now, desirous to embark again, [20]
I ask’d dismission home, which he approved,
And well provided for my prosp’rous course.
He gave me, furnish’d by a bullock slay’d
In his ninth year, a bag; ev’ry rude blast
Which from its bottom turns the Deep, that bag
Imprison’d held; for him Saturnian Jove
Hath officed arbiter of all the winds,
To rouse their force or calm them, at his will.
He gave me them on board my bark, so bound
With silver twine that not a breath escaped, [30]
Then order’d gentle Zephyrus to fill
Our sails propitious. Order vain, alas!
So fatal proved the folly of my friends.
Nine days continual, night and day we sail’d,
And on the tenth my native land appear’d.
Not far remote my Ithacans I saw
Fires kindling on the coast; but me with toil
Worn, and with watching, gentle sleep subdued;
For constant I had ruled the helm, nor giv’n
That charge to any, fearful of delay. [40]
Then, in close conference combined, my crew
Each other thus bespake—He carries home
Silver and gold from Æolus received,
Offspring of Hippotas, illustrious Chief—
And thus a mariner the rest harangued.
Ye Gods! what city or what land soe’er
Ulysses visits, how is he belov’d
By all, and honour’d! many precious spoils
He homeward bears from Troy; but we return,
(We who the self-same voyage have perform’d) [50]
With empty hands. Now also he hath gain’d
This pledge of friendship from the King of winds.
But come—be quick—search we the bag, and learn
What stores of gold and silver it contains.
So he, whose mischievous advice prevailed.
They loos’d the bag; forth issued all the winds,
And, caught by tempests o’er the billowy waste,
Weeping they flew, far, far from Ithaca.
I then, awaking, in my noble mind
Stood doubtful, whether from my vessel’s side [60]
Immersed to perish in the flood, or calm
To endure my sorrows, and content to live.
I calm endured them; but around my head
Winding my mantle, lay’d me down below,
While adverse blasts bore all my fleet again
To the Æolian isle; then groan’d my people.
We disembark’d and drew fresh water there,
And my companions, at their galley’s sides
All seated, took repast; short meal we made,
When, with an herald and a chosen friend, [70]
I sought once more the hall of Æolus.
Him banqueting with all his sons we found,
And with his spouse; we ent’ring, on the floor
Of his wide portal sat, whom they amazed
Beheld, and of our coming thus enquired.
Return’d? Ulysses! by what adverse Pow’r
Repuls’d hast thou arrived? we sent thee hence
Well-fitted forth to reach thy native isle,
Thy palace, or what place soe’er thou would’st.
So they—to whom, heart-broken, I replied. [80]
My worthless crew have wrong’d me, nor alone
My worthless crew, but sleep ill-timed, as much.
Yet heal, O friends, my hurt; the pow’r is yours!
So I their favour woo’d. Mute sat the sons,
But thus their father answer’d. Hence—be gone—
Leave this our isle, thou most obnoxious wretch
Of all mankind. I should, myself, transgress,
Receiving here, and giving conduct hence
To one detested by the Gods as thou.
Away—for hated by the Gods thou com’st. [90]
So saying, he sent me from his palace forth,
Groaning profound; thence, therefore, o’er the Deep
We still proceeded sorrowful, our force
Exhausting ceaseless at the toilsome oar,
And, through our own imprudence, hopeless now
Of other furth’rance to our native isle.
Six days we navigated, day and night,
The briny flood, and on the seventh reach’d
The city erst by Lamus built sublime,
Proud Læstrygonia, with the distant gates. [100]
The herdsman, there, driving his cattle home,^^[[38|Cowper: Footnote 38]]^^
Summons the shepherd with his flocks abroad.
The sleepless there might double wages earn,
Attending, now, the herds, now, tending sheep,
For the night-pastures, and the pastures grazed
By day, close border, both, the city-walls.
To that illustrious port we came, by rocks
Uninterrupted flank’d on either side
Of tow’ring height, while prominent the shores
And bold, converging at the haven’s mouth [110]
Leave narrow pass. We push’d our galleys in,
Then moor’d them side by side; for never surge
There lifts its head, or great or small, but clear
We found, and motionless, the shelter’d flood.
Myself alone, staying my bark without,
Secured her well with hawsers to a rock
At the land’s point, then climb’d the rugged steep,
And spying stood the country. Labours none
Of men or oxen in the land appear’d,
Nor aught beside saw we, but from the earth [120]
Smoke rising; therefore of my friends I sent
Before me two, adding an herald third,
To learn what race of men that country fed.
Departing, they an even track pursued
Made by the waggons bringing timber down
From the high mountains to the town below.
Before the town a virgin bearing forth
Her ew’r they met, daughter of him who ruled
The Læstrygonian race, Antiphatas.
Descending from the gate, she sought the fount [130]
Artacia; for their custom was to draw
From that pure fountain for the city’s use.
Approaching they accosted her, and ask’d
What King reign’d there, and over whom he reign’d.
She gave them soon to know where stood sublime
The palace of her Sire; no sooner they
The palace enter’d, than within they found,
In size resembling an huge mountain-top,
A woman, whom they shudder’d to behold.
She forth from council summon’d quick her spouse [140]
Antiphatas, who teeming came with thoughts
Of carnage, and, arriving, seized at once
A Greecian, whom, next moment, he devoured.
With headlong terrour the surviving two
Fled to the ships. Then sent Antiphatas
His voice through all the town, and on all sides,
Hearing that cry, the Læstrygonians flock’d
Numberless, and in size resembling more
The giants than mankind. They from the rocks
Cast down into our fleet enormous stones, [150]
A strong man’s burthen each; dire din arose
Of shatter’d galleys and of dying men,
Whom spear’d like fishes to their home they bore,
A loathsome prey. While them within the port
They slaughter’d, I, (the faulchion at my side
Drawn forth) cut loose the hawser of my ship,
And all my crew enjoin’d with bosoms laid
Prone on their oars, to fly the threaten’d woe.
They, dreading instant death tugg’d resupine
Together, and the galley from beneath [160]
Those beetling^^[[39|Cowper: Footnote 39]]^^ rocks into the open sea
Shot gladly; but the rest all perish’d there.
Proceeding thence, we sigh’d, and roamed the waves,
Glad that we lived, but sorrowing for the slain.
We came to the Ææan isle; there dwelt
The awful Circe, Goddess amber-hair’d,
Deep-skill’d in magic song, sister by birth
Of the all-wise Æætes; them the Sun,
Bright luminary of the world, begat
On Perse, daughter of Oceanus. [170]
Our vessel there, noiseless, we push’d to land
Within a spacious haven, thither led
By some celestial Pow’r. We disembark’d,
And on the coast two days and nights entire
Extended lay, worn with long toil, and each
The victim of his heart-devouring woes.
Then, with my spear and with my faulchion arm’d,
I left the ship to climb with hasty steps
An airy height, thence, hoping to espie
Some works of man, or hear, perchance, a voice. [180]
Exalted on a rough rock’s craggy point
I stood, and on the distant plain, beheld
Smoke which from Circe’s palace through the gloom
Of trees and thickets rose. That smoke discern’d,
I ponder’d next if thither I should haste,
Seeking intelligence. Long time I mused,
But chose at last, as my discreter course,
To seek the sea-beach and my bark again,
And, when my crew had eaten, to dispatch
Before me, others, who should first enquire. [190]
But, ere I yet had reach’d my gallant bark,
Some God with pity viewing me alone
In that untrodden solitude, sent forth
An antler’d stag, full-sized, into my path.
His woodland pastures left, he sought the stream,
For he was thirsty, and already parch’d
By the sun’s heat. Him issuing from his haunt,
Sheer through the back beneath his middle spine,
I wounded, and the lance sprang forth beyond.
Moaning he fell, and in the dust expired. [200]
Then, treading on his breathless trunk, I pluck’d
My weapon forth, which leaving there reclined,
I tore away the osiers with my hands
And fallows green, and to a fathom’s length
Twisting the gather’d twigs into a band,
Bound fast the feet of my enormous prey,
And, flinging him athwart my neck, repair’d
Toward my sable bark, propp’d on my lance,
Which now to carry shoulder’d as before
Surpass’d my pow’r, so bulky was the load. [210]
Arriving at the ship, there I let fall
My burthen, and with pleasant speech and kind,
Man after man addressing, cheer’d my crew.
My friends! we suffer much, but shall not seek
The shades, ere yet our destined hour arrive.
Behold a feast! and we have wine on board—
Pine not with needless famine! rise and eat.
I spake; they readily obey’d, and each
Issuing at my word abroad, beside
The galley stood, admiring, as he lay, [220]
The stag, for of no common bulk was he.
At length, their eyes gratified to the full
With that glad spectacle, they laved their hands,
And preparation made of noble cheer.
That day complete, till set of sun, we spent
Feasting deliciously without restraint,
And quaffing generous wine; but when the sun
Went down, and darkness overshadow’d all,
Extended, then, on Ocean’s bank we lay;
And when Aurora, daughter of the dawn, [230]
Look’d rosy forth, convening all my crew
To council, I arose, and thus began.
My fellow-voyagers, however worn
With num’rous hardships, hear! for neither West
Know ye, nor East, where rises, or where sets
The all-enlight’ning sun. But let us think,
If thought perchance may profit us, of which
Small hope I see; for when I lately climb’d
Yon craggy rock, plainly I could discern
The land encompass’d by the boundless Deep. [240]
The isle is flat, and in the midst I saw
Dun smoke ascending from an oaken bow’r.
So I, whom hearing, they all courage lost,
And at remembrance of Antiphatas
The Læstrygonian, and the Cyclops’ deeds,
Ferocious feeder on the flesh of man,
Mourn’d loud and wept, but tears could nought avail.
Then numb’ring man by man, I parted them
In equal portions, and assign’d a Chief
To either band, myself to these, to those [250]
Godlike Eurylochus. This done, we cast
The lots into the helmet, and at once
Forth sprang the lot of bold Eurylochus.
He went, and with him of my people march’d
Twenty and two, all weeping; nor ourselves
Wept less, at separation from our friends.
Low in a vale, but on an open spot,
They found the splendid house of Circe, built
With hewn and polish’d stones; compass’d she dwelt
By lions on all sides and mountain-wolves [260]
Tamed by herself with drugs of noxious pow’rs.
Nor were they mischievous, but as my friends
Approach’d, arising on their hinder feet,
Paw’d them in blandishment, and wagg’d the tail.
As, when from feast he rises, dogs around
Their master fawn, accustom’d to receive
The sop conciliatory from his hand,
Around my people, so, those talon’d wolves
And lions fawn’d. They, terrified, that troop
Of savage monsters horrible beheld. [270]
And now, before the Goddess’ gates arrived,
They heard the voice of Circe singing sweet
Within, while, busied at the loom, she wove
An ample web immortal, such a work
Transparent, graceful, and of bright design
As hands of Goddesses alone produce.
Thus then Polites, Prince of men, the friend
Highest in my esteem, the rest bespake.
Ye hear the voice, comrades, of one who weaves
An ample web within, and at her task [280]
So sweetly chaunts that all the marble floor
Re-echoes; human be she or divine
I doubt, but let us call, that we may learn.
He ceas’d; they call’d; soon issuing at the sound,
The Goddess open’d wide her splendid gates,
And bade them in; they, heedless, all complied,
All save Eurylochus, who fear’d a snare.
She, introducing them, conducted each
To a bright throne, then gave them Pramnian wine,
With grated cheese, pure meal, and honey new, [290]
But medicated with her pois’nous drugs
Their food, that in oblivion they might lose
The wish of home. She gave them, and they drank,—
When, smiting each with her enchanting wand,
She shut them in her sties. In head, in voice,
In body, and in bristles they became
All swine, yet intellected as before,
And at her hand were dieted alone
With acorns, chestnuts, and the cornel-fruit,
Food grateful ever to the grovelling swine. [300]
Back flew Eurylochus toward the ship,
To tell the woeful tale; struggling to speak,
Yet speechless, there he stood, his heart transfixt
With anguish, and his eyes deluged with tears.
Me boding terrours occupied. At length,
When, gazing on him, all had oft enquired,
He thus rehearsed to us the dreadful change.
Renown’d Ulysses! as thou bad’st, we went
Through yonder oaks; there, bosom’d in a vale,
But built conspicuous on a swelling knoll [310]
With polish’d rock, we found a stately dome.
Within, some Goddess or some woman wove
An ample web, carolling sweet the while.
They call’d aloud; she, issuing at the voice,
Unfolded, soon, her splendid portals wide,
And bade them in. Heedless they enter’d, all,
But I remain’d, suspicious of a snare.
Ere long the whole band vanish’d, none I saw
Thenceforth, though, seated there, long time I watch’d.
He ended; I my studded faulchion huge [320]
Athwart my shoulder cast, and seized my bow,
Then bade him lead me thither by the way
Himself had gone; but with both hands my knees
He clasp’d, and in wing’d accents sad exclaim’d.
My King! ah lead me not unwilling back,
But leave me here; for confident I judge
That neither thou wilt bring another thence,
Nor come thyself again. Haste—fly we swift
With these, for we, at least, may yet escape.
So he, to whom this answer I return’d. [330]
Eurylochus! abiding here, eat thou
And drink thy fill beside the sable bark;
I go; necessity forbids my stay.
So saying, I left the galley and the shore.
But ere that awful vale ent’ring, I reach’d
The palace of the sorceress, a God
Met me, the bearer of the golden wand,
Hermes. He seem’d a stripling in his prime,
His cheeks cloath’d only with their earliest down,
For youth is then most graceful; fast he lock’d [340]
His hand in mine, and thus, familiar, spake.
Unhappy! whither, wand’ring o’er the hills,
Stranger to all this region, and alone,
Go’st thou? Thy people—they within the walls
Are shut of Circe, where as swine close-pent
She keeps them. Comest thou to set them free?
I tell thee, never wilt thou thence return
Thyself, but wilt be prison’d with the rest.
Yet hearken—I will disappoint her wiles,
And will preserve thee. Take this precious drug; [350]
Possessing this, enter the Goddess’ house
Boldly, for it shall save thy life from harm.
Lo! I reveal to thee the cruel arts
Of Circe; learn them. She will mix for thee
A potion, and will also drug thy food
With noxious herbs; but she shall not prevail
By all her pow’r to change thee; for the force
Superior of this noble plant, my gift,
Shall baffle her. Hear still what I advise.
When she shall smite thee with her slender rod, [360]
With faulchion drawn and with death-threat’ning looks
Rush on her; she will bid thee to her bed
Affrighted; then beware. Decline not thou
Her love, that she may both release thy friends,
And may with kindness entertain thyself.
But force her swear the dreaded oath of heav’n
That she will other mischief none devise
Against thee, lest she strip thee of thy might,
And, quenching all thy virtue, make thee vile.
So spake the Argicide, and from the earth [370]
That plant extracting, placed it in my hand,
Then taught me all its pow’rs. Black was the root,
Milk-white the blossom; Moly is its name
In heav’n; not easily by mortal man
Dug forth, but all is easy to the Gods.
Then, Hermes through the island-woods repair’d
To heav’n, and I to Circe’s dread abode,
In gloomy musings busied as I went.
Within the vestibule arrived, where dwelt
The beauteous Goddess, staying there my steps, [380]
I call’d aloud; she heard me, and at once
Issuing, threw her splendid portals wide,
And bade me in. I follow’d, heart-distress’d.
Leading me by the hand to a bright throne
With argent studs embellish’d, and beneath
Footstool’d magnificent, she made me sit.
Then mingling for me in a golden cup
My bev’rage, she infused a drug, intent
On mischief; but when I had drunk the draught
Unchanged, she smote me with her wand, and said. [390]
Hence—seek the sty. There wallow with thy friends.
She spake; I drawing from beside my thigh
My faulchion keen, with death-denouncing looks
Rush’d on her; she with a shrill scream of fear
Ran under my rais’d arm, seized fast my knees,
And in wing’d accents plaintive thus began.
Who? whence? thy city and thy birth declare.
Amazed I see thee with that potion drench’d,
Yet uninchanted; never man before
Once pass’d it through his lips, and liv’d the same; [400]
But in thy breast a mind inhabits, proof
Against all charms. Come then—I know thee well.
Thou art Ulysses artifice-renown’d,
Of whose arrival here in his return
From Ilium, Hermes of the golden wand
Was ever wont to tell me. Sheath again
Thy sword, and let us, on my bed reclined,
Mutual embrace, that we may trust thenceforth
Each other, without jealousy or fear.
The Goddess spake, to whom I thus replied. [410]
O Circe! canst thou bid me meek become
And gentle, who beneath thy roof detain’st
My fellow-voyagers transform’d to swine?
And, fearing my escape, invit’st thou me
Into thy bed, with fraudulent pretext
Of love, that there, enfeebling by thy arts
My noble spirit, thou may’st make me vile?
No—trust me—never will I share thy bed
Till first, O Goddess, thou consent to swear
The dread all-binding oath, that other harm [420]
Against myself thou wilt imagine none.
I spake. She swearing as I bade, renounced
All evil purpose, and (her solemn oath
Concluded) I ascended, next, her bed
Magnificent. Meantime, four graceful nymphs
Attended on the service of the house,
Her menials, from the fountains sprung and groves,
And from the sacred streams that seek the sea.
Of these, one cast fine linen on the thrones,
Which, next, with purple arras rich she spread; [430]
Another placed before the gorgeous seats
Bright tables, and set on baskets of gold.
The third, an argent beaker fill’d with wine
Delicious, which in golden cups she served;
The fourth brought water, which she warm’d within
An ample vase, and when the simm’ring flood
Sang in the tripod, led me to a bath,
And laved me with the pleasant stream profuse
Pour’d o’er my neck and body, till my limbs
Refresh’d, all sense of lassitude resign’d. [440]
When she had bathed me, and with limpid oil
Anointed me, and cloathed me in a vest
And mantle, next, she led me to a throne
Of royal state, with silver studs emboss’d,
And footstool’d soft beneath; then came a nymph
With golden ewer charged and silver bowl,
Who pour’d pure water on my hands, and placed
The polish’d board before me, which with food
Various, selected from her present stores,
The cat’ress spread, then, courteous, bade me eat. [450]
But me it pleas’d not; with far other thoughts
My spirit teem’d, on vengeance more intent.
Soon, then, as Circe mark’d me on my seat
Fast-rooted, sullen, nor with outstretch’d hands
Deigning to touch the banquet, she approach’d,
And in wing’d accents suasive thus began.
Why sits Ulysses like the Dumb, dark thoughts
His only food? loaths he the touch of meat,
And taste of wine? Thou fear’st, as I perceive,
Some other snare, but idle is that fear, [460]
For I have sworn the inviolable oath.
She ceas’d, to whom this answer I return’d.
How can I eat? what virtuous man and just,
O Circe! could endure the taste of wine
Or food, till he should see his prison’d friends
Once more at liberty? If then thy wish
That I should eat and drink be true, produce
My captive people; let us meet again.
So I; then Circe, bearing in her hand
Her potent rod, went forth, and op’ning wide [470]
The door, drove out my people from the sty,
In bulk resembling brawns of the ninth year.
They stood before me; she through all the herd
Proceeding, with an unctuous antidote
Anointed each, and at the wholesome touch
All shed the swinish bristles by the drug
Dread Circe’s former magic gift, produced.
Restored at once to manhood, they appear’d
More vig’rous far, and sightlier than before.
They knew me, and with grasp affectionate [480]
Hung on my hand. Tears follow’d, but of joy,
And with loud cries the vaulted palace rang.
Even the awful Goddess felt, herself,
Compassion, and, approaching me, began.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Hence to the shore, and to thy gallant bark;
First, hale her safe aground, then, hiding all
Your arms and treasures in the caverns, come
Thyself again, and hither lead thy friends.
So spake the Goddess, and my gen’rous mind [490]
Persuaded; thence repairing to the beach,
I sought my ship; arrived, I found my crew
Lamenting miserably, and their cheeks
With tears bedewing ceaseless at her side.
As when the calves within some village rear’d
Behold, at eve, the herd returning home
From fruitful meads where they have grazed their fill,
No longer in the stalls contain’d, they rush
With many a frisk abroad, and, blaring oft,
With one consent, all dance their dams around, [500]
So they, at sight of me, dissolved in tears
Of rapt’rous joy, and each his spirit felt
With like affections warm’d as he had reach’d
Just then his country, and his city seen,
Fair Ithaca, where he was born and rear’d.
Then in wing’d accents tender thus they spake.
Noble Ulysses! thy appearance fills
Our soul with transports, such as we should feel
Arrived in safety on our native shore.
Speak—say how perish’d our unhappy friends? [510]
So they; to whom this answer mild I gave.
Hale we our vessel first ashore, and hide
In caverns all our treasures and our arms,
Then, hasting hence, follow me, and ere long
Ye shall behold your friends, beneath the roof
Of Circe banqueting and drinking wine
Abundant, for no dearth attends them there.
So I; whom all with readiness obey’d,
All save Eurylochus; he sought alone
To stay the rest, and, eager, interposed. [520]
Ah whither tend we, miserable men?
Why covet ye this evil, to go down
To Circe’s palace? she will change us all
To lions, wolves or swine, that we may guard
Her palace, by necessity constrain’d.
So some were pris’ners of the Cyclops erst,
When, led by rash Ulysses, our lost friends
Intruded needlessly into his cave,
And perish’d by the folly of their Chief.
He spake, whom hearing, occupied I stood [530]
In self-debate, whether, my faulchion keen
Forth-drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,
To tumble his lopp’d head into the dust,
Although he were my kinsman in the bonds
Of close affinity; but all my friends
As with one voice, thus gently interposed.
Noble Ulysses! we will leave him here
Our vessel’s guard, if such be thy command,
But us lead thou to Circe’s dread abode.
So saying, they left the galley, and set forth [540]
Climbing the coast; nor would Eurylochus
Beside the hollow bark remain, but join’d
His comrades by my dreadful menace awed.
Meantime the Goddess, busily employ’d,
Bathed and refresh’d my friends with limpid oil,
And clothed them. We, arriving, found them all
Banqueting in the palace; there they met;
These ask’d, and those rehearsed the wond’rous tale,
And, the recital made, all wept aloud
Till the wide dome resounded. Then approach’d [550]
The graceful Goddess, and address’d me thus.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Provoke ye not each other, now, to tears.
I am not ignorant, myself, how dread
Have been your woes both on the fishy Deep,
And on the land by force of hostile pow’rs.
But come—Eat now, and drink ye wine, that so
Your freshen’d spirit may revive, and ye
Courageous grow again, as when ye left
The rugged shores of Ithaca, your home. [560]
For now, through recollection, day by day,
Of all your pains and toils, ye are become
Spiritless, strengthless, and the taste forget
Of pleasure, such have been your num’rous woes.
She spake, whose invitation kind prevail’d,
And won us to her will. There, then, we dwelt
The year complete, fed with delicious fare
Day after day, and quaffing gen’rous wine.
But when (the year fulfill’d) the circling hours
Their course resumed, and the successive months [570]
With all their tedious days were spent, my friends,
Summoning me abroad, thus greeted me.
Sir! recollect thy country, if indeed
The fates ordain thee to revisit safe
That country, and thy own glorious abode.
So they; whose admonition I receiv’d
Well-pleas’d. Then, all the day, regaled we sat
At Circe’s board with sav’ry viands rare,
And quaffing richest wine; but when, the sun
Declining, darkness overshadow’d all, [580]
Then, each within the dusky palace took
Custom’d repose, and to the Goddess’ bed
Magnificent ascending, there I urged
My earnest suit, which gracious she receiv’d,
And in wing’d accents earnest thus I spake.
O Circe! let us prove thy promise true;
Dismiss us hence. My own desires, at length,
Tend homeward vehement, and the desires
No less of all my friends, who with complaints
Unheard by thee, wear my sad heart away. [590]
So I; to whom the Goddess in return.
Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses famed
For deepest wisdom! dwell not longer here,
Thou and thy followers, in my abode
Reluctant; but your next must be a course
Far diff’rent; hence departing, ye must seek
The dreary house of Ades and of dread
Persephone there to consult the Seer
Theban Tiresias, prophet blind, but blest
With faculties which death itself hath spared. [600]
To him alone, of all the dead, Hell’s Queen
Gives still to prophesy, while others flit
Mere forms, the shadows of what once they were.
She spake, and by her words dash’d from my soul
All courage; weeping on the bed I sat,
Reckless of life and of the light of day.
But when, with tears and rolling to and fro
Satiate, I felt relief, thus I replied.
O Circe! with what guide shall I perform
This voyage, unperform’d by living man? [610]
I spake, to whom the Goddess quick replied.
Brave Laertiades! let not the fear
To want a guide distress thee. Once on board,
Your mast erected, and your canvas white
Unfurl’d, sit thou; the breathing North shall waft
Thy vessel on. But when ye shall have cross’d
The broad expanse of Ocean, and shall reach
The oozy shore, where grow the poplar groves
And fruitless willows wan of Proserpine,
Push thither through the gulphy Deep thy bark, [620]
And, landing, haste to Pluto’s murky abode.
There, into Acheron runs not alone
Dread Pyriphlegethon, but Cocytus loud,
From Styx derived; there also stands a rock,
At whose broad base the roaring rivers meet.
There, thrusting, as I bid, thy bark ashore,
O Hero! scoop the soil, op’ning a trench
Ell-broad on ev’ry side; then pour around
Libation consecrate to all the dead,
First, milk with honey mixt, then luscious wine, [630]
Then water, sprinkling, last, meal over all.
Next, supplicate the unsubstantial forms
Fervently of the dead, vowing to slay,
(Return’d to Ithaca) in thy own house,
An heifer barren yet, fairest and best
Of all thy herds, and to enrich the pile
With delicacies such as please the shades;
But, in peculiar, to Tiresias vow
A sable ram, noblest of all thy flocks.
When thus thou hast propitiated with pray’r [640]
All the illustrious nations of the dead,
Next, thou shalt sacrifice to them a ram
And sable ewe, turning the face of each
Right toward Erebus, and look thyself,
Meantime, askance toward the river’s course.
Souls num’rous, soon, of the departed dead
Will thither flock; then, strenuous urge thy friends,
Flaying the victims which thy ruthless steel
Hath slain, to burn them, and to sooth by pray’r
Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine. [650]
While thus is done, thou seated at the foss,
Faulchion in hand, chace thence the airy forms
Afar, nor suffer them to approach the blood,
Till with Tiresias thou have first conferr’d.
Then, glorious Chief! the Prophet shall himself
Appear, who will instruct thee, and thy course
Delineate, measuring from place to place
Thy whole return athwart the fishy flood.
While thus she spake, the golden dawn arose,
When, putting on me my attire, the nymph [660]
Next, cloath’d herself, and girding to her waist
With an embroider’d zone her snowy robe
Graceful, redundant, veil’d her beauteous head.
Then, ranging the wide palace, I aroused
My followers, standing at the side of each—
Up! sleep no longer! let us quick depart,
For thus the Goddess hath, herself, advised.
So I, whose early summons my brave friends
With readiness obey’d. Yet even thence
I brought not all my crew. There was a youth, [670]
Youngest of all my train, Elpenor; one
Not much in estimation for desert
In arms, nor prompt in understanding more,
Who overcharged with wine, and covetous
Of cooler air, high on the palace-roof
Of Circe slept, apart from all the rest.
Awaken’d by the clamour of his friends
Newly arisen, he also sprang to rise,
And in his haste, forgetful where to find
The deep-descending stairs, plunged through the roof. [680]
With neck-bone broken from the vertebræ
Outstretch’d he lay; his spirit sought the shades.
Then, thus to my assembling friends I spake.
Ye think, I doubt not, of an homeward course,
But Circe points me to the drear abode
Of Proserpine and Pluto, to consult
The spirit of Tiresias, Theban seer.
I ended, and the hearts of all alike
Felt consternation; on the earth they sat
Disconsolate, and plucking each his hair, [690]
Yet profit none of all their sorrow found.
But while we sought my galley on the beach
With tepid tears bedewing, as we went,
Our cheeks, meantime the Goddess to the shore
Descending, bound within the bark a ram
And sable ewe, passing us unperceived.
For who hath eyes that can discern a God
Going or coming, if he shun the view?
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses relates to Alcinoüs his voyage to the infernal regions, his conference there with the prophet Tiresias concerning his return to Ithaca, and gives him an account of the heroes, heroines, and others whom he saw there.//
"""
Arriving on the shore, and launching, first,
Our bark into the sacred Deep, we set
Our mast and sails, and stow’d secure on board
The ram and ewe, then, weeping, and with hearts
Sad and disconsolate, embark’d ourselves.
And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine,
Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,
Pleasant companion of our course, and we
(The decks and benches clear’d) untoiling sat,
While managed gales sped swift the bark along. [10]
All day, with sails distended, e’er the Deep
She flew, and when the sun, at length, declined,
And twilight dim had shadow’d all the ways,
Approach’d the bourn of Ocean’s vast profound.
The city, there, of the Cimmerians stands
With clouds and darkness veil’d, on whom the sun
Deigns not to look with his beam-darting eye,
Or when he climbs the starry arch, or when
Earthward he slopes again his west’ring wheels,^^[[40|Cowper: Footnote 40]]^^
But sad night canopies the woeful race. [20]
We haled the bark aground, and, landing there
The ram and sable ewe, journey’d beside
The Deep, till we arrived where Circe bade.
Here, Perimedes’ son Eurylochus
Held fast the destined sacrifice, while I
Scoop’d with my sword the soil, op’ning a trench
Ell-broad on ev’ry side, then pour’d around
Libation consecrate to all the dead,
First, milk with honey mixt, then luscious wine,
Then water, sprinkling, last, meal over all. [30]
This done, adoring the unreal forms
And shadows of the dead, I vow’d to slay,
(Return’d to Ithaca) in my own abode,
An heifer barren yet, fairest and best
Of all my herds, and to enrich the pile
With delicacies, such as please the shades.
But, in peculiar, to the Theban seer
I vow’d a sable ram, largest and best
Of all my flocks. When thus I had implored
With vows and pray’r, the nations of the dead, [40]
Piercing the victims next, I turn’d them both
To bleed into the trench; then swarming came
From Erebus the shades of the deceased,
Brides, youths unwedded, seniors long with woe
Oppress’d, and tender girls yet new to grief.
Came also many a warrior by the spear
In battle pierced, with armour gore-distain’d,
And all the multitude around the foss
Stalk’d shrieking dreadful; me pale horror seized.
I next, importunate, my people urged, [50]
Flaying the victims which myself had slain,
To burn them, and to supplicate in pray’r
Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine.
Then down I sat, and with drawn faulchion chased
The ghosts, nor suffer’d them to approach the blood,
Till with Tiresias I should first confer.
The spirit, first, of my companion came,
Elpenor; for no burial honours yet
Had he received, but we had left his corse
In Circe’s palace, tombless, undeplored, [60]
Ourselves by pressure urged of other cares.
Touch’d with compassion seeing him, I wept,
And in wing’d accents brief him thus bespake.
Elpenor! how cam’st thou into the realms
Of darkness? Hast thou, though on foot, so far
Outstripp’d my speed, who in my bark arrived?
So I, to whom with tears he thus replied.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Fool’d by some dæmon and the intemp’rate bowl,
I perish’d in the house of Circe; there [70]
The deep-descending steps heedless I miss’d,
And fell precipitated from the roof.
With neck-bone broken from the vertebræ
Outstretch’d I lay; my spirit sought the shades.
But now, by those whom thou hast left at home,
By thy Penelope, and by thy fire,
The gentle nourisher of thy infant growth,
And by thy only son Telemachus
I make my suit to thee. For, sure, I know
That from the house of Pluto safe return’d, [80]
Thou shalt ere long thy gallant vessel moor
At the Ææan isle. Ah! there arrived
Remember me. Leave me not undeplored
Nor uninhumed, lest, for my sake, the Gods
In vengeance visit thee; but with my arms
(What arms soe’er I left) burn me, and raise
A kind memorial of me on the coast,
Heap’d high with earth; that an unhappy man
May yet enjoy an unforgotten name.
Thus do at my request, and on my hill [90]
Funereal, plant the oar with which I row’d,
While yet I lived a mariner of thine.
He spake, to whom thus answer I return’d.
Poor youth! I will perform thy whole desire.
Thus we, there sitting, doleful converse held,
With outstretch’d faulchion, I, guarding the blood,
And my companion’s shadowy semblance sad
Meantime discoursing me on various themes.
The soul of my departed mother, next,
Of Anticleia came, daughter of brave [100]
Autolycus; whom, when I sought the shores
Of Ilium, I had living left at home.
Seeing her, with compassion touch’d, I wept,
Yet even her, (although it pain’d my soul)
Forbad, relentless, to approach the blood,
Till with Tiresias I should first confer.
Then came the spirit of the Theban seer
Himself, his golden sceptre in his hand,
Who knew me, and, enquiring, thus began.
Why, hapless Chief! leaving the cheerful day, [110]
Arriv’st thou to behold the dead, and this
Unpleasant land? but, from the trench awhile
Receding, turn thy faulchion keen away,
That I may drink the blood, and tell thee truth.
He spake; I thence receding, deep infix’d
My sword bright-studded in the sheath again.
The noble prophet then, approaching, drank
The blood, and, satisfied, address’d me thus.
Thou seek’st a pleasant voyage home again,
Renown’d Ulysses! but a God will make [120]
That voyage difficult; for, as I judge,
Thou wilt not pass by Neptune unperceiv’d,
Whose anger follows thee, for that thou hast
Deprived his son Cyclops of his eye.
At length, however, after num’rous woes
Endur’d, thou may’st attain thy native isle,
If thy own appetite thou wilt controul
And theirs who follow thee, what time thy bark
Well-built, shall at Thrinacia’s shore arrive,^^[[41|Cowper: Footnote 41]]^^
Escaped from perils of the gloomy Deep. [130]
There shall ye find grazing the flocks and herds
Of the all-seeing and all-hearing Sun,
Which, if attentive to thy safe return,
Thou leave unharm’d, though after num’rous woes,
Ye may at length arrive in Ithaca.
But if thou violate them, I denounce
Destruction on thy ship and all thy band,
And though thyself escape, late shalt thou reach
Thy home and hard-bested,^^[[42|Cowper: Footnote 42]]^^ in a strange bark,
All thy companions lost; trouble beside [140]
Awaits thee there, for thou shalt find within
Proud suitors of thy noble wife, who waste
Thy substance, and with promis’d spousal gifts
Ceaseless solicit her to wed; yet well
Shalt thou avenge all their injurious deeds.
That once perform’d, and ev’ry suitor slain
Either by stratagem, or face to face,
In thy own palace, bearing, as thou go’st,
A shapely oar, journey, till thou hast found
A people who the sea know not, nor eat [150]
Food salted; they trim galley crimson prow’d
Have ne’er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar,
With which the vessel wing’d scuds o’er the waves.
Well thou shalt know them; this shall be the sign—
When thou shalt meet a trav’ler, who shall name
The oar on thy broad shoulder borne, a van,^^[[43|Cowper: Footnote 43]]^^
There, deep infixing it within the soil,
Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,
A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek
Thy home again, and sacrifice at home [160]
An hecatomb to the Immortal Gods,
Adoring each duly, and in his course.
So shalt thou die in peace a gentle death,
Remote from Ocean; it shall find thee late,
In soft serenity of age, the Chief
Of a blest people.—I have told thee truth.
He spake, to whom I answer thus return’d.
Tiresias! thou, I doubt not, hast reveal’d
The ordinance of heav’n. But tell me, Seer!
And truly. I behold my mother’s shade; [170]
Silent she sits beside the blood, nor word
Nor even look vouchsafes to her own son.
How shall she learn, prophet, that I am her’s?
So I, to whom Tiresias quick replied.
The course is easy. Learn it, taught by me.
What shade soe’er, by leave of thee obtain’d,
Shall taste the blood, that shade will tell thee truth;
The rest, prohibited, will all retire.
When thus the spirit of the royal Seer
Had his prophetic mind reveal’d, again [180]
He enter’d Pluto’s gates; but I unmoved
Still waited till my mother’s shade approach’d;
She drank the blood, then knew me, and in words
Wing’d with affection, plaintive, thus began.
My son! how hast thou enter’d, still alive,
This darksome region? Difficult it is
For living man to view the realms of death.
Broad rivers roll, and awful floods between,
But chief, the Ocean, which to pass on foot,
Or without ship, impossible is found. [190]
Hast thou, long wand’ring in thy voyage home
From Ilium, with thy ship and crew arrived,
Ithaca and thy consort yet unseen?
She spake, to whom this answer I return’d.
My mother! me necessity constrain’d
To Pluto’s dwelling, anxious to consult
Theban Tiresias; for I have not yet
Approach’d Achaia, nor have touch’d the shore
Of Ithaca, but suff’ring ceaseless woe
Have roam’d, since first in Agamemnon’s train [200]
I went to combat with the sons of Troy.
But speak, my mother, and the truth alone;
What stroke of fate slew //thee//? Fell’st thou a prey
To some slow malady? or by the shafts
Of gentle Dian suddenly subdued?
Speak to me also of my ancient Sire,
And of Telemachus, whom I left at home;
Possess I still unalienate and safe
My property, or hath some happier Chief
Admittance free into my fortunes gain’d, [210]
No hope subsisting more of my return?
The mind and purpose of my wedded wife
Declare thou also. Dwells she with our son
Faithful to my domestic interests,
Or is she wedded to some Chief of Greece?
I ceas’d, when thus the venerable shade.
Not so; she faithful still and patient dwells
Thy roof beneath; but all her days and nights
Devoting sad to anguish and to tears.
Thy fortunes still are thine; Telemachus [220]
Cultivates, undisturb’d, thy land, and sits
At many a noble banquet, such as well
Beseems the splendour of his princely state,
For all invite him; at his farm retired
Thy father dwells, nor to the city comes,
For aught; nor bed, nor furniture of bed,
Furr’d cloaks or splendid arras he enjoys,
But, with his servile hinds all winter sleeps
In ashes and in dust at the hearth-side,
Coarsely attired; again, when summer comes, [230]
Or genial autumn, on the fallen leaves
In any nook, not curious where, he finds
There, stretch’d forlorn, nourishing grief, he weeps
Thy lot, enfeebled now by num’rous years.
So perish’d I; such fate I also found;
Me, neither the right-aiming arch’ress struck,
Diana, with her gentle shafts, nor me
Distemper slew, my limbs by slow degrees
But sure, bereaving of their little life, [240]
But long regret, tender solicitude,
And recollection of thy kindness past,
These, my Ulysses! fatal proved to me.
She said; I, ardent wish’d to clasp the shade
Of my departed mother; thrice I sprang
Toward her, by desire impetuous urged,
And thrice she flitted from between my arms,
Light as a passing shadow or a dream.
Then, pierced by keener grief, in accents wing’d
With filial earnestness I thus replied. [250]
My mother, why elud’st thou my attempt
To clasp thee, that ev’n here, in Pluto’s realm,
We might to full satiety indulge
Our grief, enfolded in each other’s arms?
Hath Proserpine, alas! only dispatch’d
A shadow to me, to augment my woe?
Then, instant, thus the venerable form.
Ah, son! thou most afflicted of mankind!
On thee, Jove’s daughter, Proserpine, obtrudes
No airy semblance vain; but such the state [260]
And nature is of mortals once deceased.
For they nor muscle have, nor flesh, nor bone;
All those (the spirit from the body once
Divorced) the violence of fire consumes,
And, like a dream, the soul flies swift away.
But haste thou back to light, and, taught thyself
These sacred truths, hereafter teach thy spouse.
Thus mutual we conferr’d. Then, thither came,
Encouraged forth by royal Proserpine,
Shades female num’rous, all who consorts, erst, [270]
Or daughters were of mighty Chiefs renown’d.
About the sable blood frequent they swarm’d.
But I, consid’ring sat, how I might each
Interrogate, and thus resolv’d. My sword
Forth drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,
Firm I prohibited the ghosts to drink
The blood together; they successive came;
Each told her own distress; I question’d all.
There, first, the high-born Tyro I beheld;
She claim’d Salmoneus as her sire, and wife [280]
Was once of Cretheus, son of Æolus.
Enamour’d of Enipeus, stream divine,
Loveliest of all that water earth, beside
His limpid current she was wont to stray,
When Ocean’s God, (Enipeus’ form assumed)
Within the eddy-whirling river’s mouth
Embraced her; there, while the o’er-arching flood,
Uplifted mountainous, conceal’d the God
And his fair human bride, her virgin zone
He loos’d, and o’er her eyes sweet sleep diffused. [290]
His am’rous purpose satisfied, he grasp’d
Her hand, affectionate, and thus he said.
Rejoice in this my love, and when the year
Shall tend to consummation of its course,
Thou shalt produce illustrious twins, for love
Immortal never is unfruitful love.
Rear them with all a mother’s care; meantime,
Hence to thy home. Be silent. Name it not.
For I am Neptune, Shaker of the shores.
So saying, he plunged into the billowy Deep. [300]
She pregnant grown, Pelias and Neleus bore,
Both, valiant ministers of mighty Jove.
In wide-spread Iäolchus Pelias dwelt,
Of num’rous flocks possess’d; but his abode
Amid the sands of Pylus Neleus chose.
To Cretheus wedded next, the lovely nymph
Yet other sons, Æson and Pheres bore,
And Amythaon of equestrian fame.
I, next, the daughter of Asopus saw,
Antiope; she gloried to have known [310]
Th’ embrace of Jove himself, to whom she brought
A double progeny, Amphion named
And Zethus; they the seven-gated Thebes
Founded and girded with strong tow’rs, because,
Though puissant Heroes both, in spacious Thebes
Unfenced by tow’rs, they could not dwell secure.
Alcmena, next, wife of Amphitryon
I saw; she in the arms of sov’reign Jove
The lion-hearted Hercules conceiv’d,
And, after, bore to Creon brave in fight [320]
His daughter Megara, by the noble son
Unconquer’d of Amphitryon espoused.
The beauteous Epicaste^^[[44|Cowper: Footnote 44]]^^ saw I then,
Mother of Oedipus, who guilt incurr’d
Prodigious, wedded, unintentional,
To her own son; his father first he slew,
Then wedded her, which soon the Gods divulged.
He, under vengeance of offended heav’n,
In pleasant Thebes dwelt miserable, King
Of the Cadmean race; she to the gates [330]
Of Ades brazen-barr’d despairing went,
Self-strangled by a cord fasten’d aloft
To her own palace-roof, and woes bequeath’d
(Such as the Fury sisters execute
Innumerable) to her guilty son.
There also saw I Chloris, loveliest fair,
Whom Neleus woo’d and won with spousal gifts
Inestimable, by her beauty charm’d
She youngest daughter was of Iasus’ son,
Amphion, in old time a sov’reign prince [340]
In Minuëian Orchomenus,
And King of Pylus. Three illustrious sons
She bore to Neleus, Nestor, Chromius,
And Periclymenus the wide-renown’d,
And, last, produced a wonder of the earth,
Pero, by ev’ry neighbour prince around
In marriage sought; but Neleus her on none
Deign’d to bestow, save only on the Chief
Who should from Phylace drive off the beeves
(Broad-fronted, and with jealous care secured) [350]
Of valiant Iphicles. One undertook
That task alone, a prophet high in fame,
Melampus; but the Fates fast bound him there
In rig’rous bonds by rustic hands imposed.
At length (the year, with all its months and days
Concluded, and the new-born year begun)
Illustrious Iphicles releas’d the seer,
Grateful for all the oracles resolved,^^[[45|Cowper: Footnote 45]]^^
Till then obscure. So stood the will of Jove.
Next, Leda, wife of Tyndarus I saw, [360]
Who bore to Tyndarus a noble pair,
Castor the bold, and Pollux cestus-famed.
They pris’ners in the fertile womb of earth,
Though living, dwell, and even there from Jove
High priv’lege gain; alternate they revive
And die, and dignity partake divine.
The comfort of Aloëus, next, I view’d,
Iphimedeia; she th’ embrace profess’d
Of Neptune to have shared, to whom she bore
Two sons; short-lived they were, but godlike both, [370]
Otus and Ephialtes far-renown’d.
Orion sole except, all-bounteous Earth
Ne’er nourish’d forms for beauty or for size
To be admired as theirs; in his ninth year
Each measur’d, broad, nine cubits, and the height
Was found nine ells of each. Against the Gods
Themselves they threaten’d war, and to excite
The din of battle in the realms above.
To the Olympian summit they essay’d
To heave up Ossa, and to Ossa’s crown [380]
Branch-waving Pelion; so to climb the heav’ns.
Nor had they failed, maturer grown in might,
To accomplish that emprize, but them the son^^[[46|Cowper: Footnote 46]]^^
Of radiant-hair’d Latona and of Jove
Slew both, ere yet the down of blooming youth
Thick-sprung, their cheeks or chins had tufted o’er.
Phædra I also there, and Procris saw,
And Ariadne for her beauty praised,
Whose sire was all-wise Minos. Theseus her
From Crete toward the fruitful region bore [390]
Of sacred Athens, but enjoy’d not there,
For, first, she perish’d by Diana’s shafts
In Dia, Bacchus witnessing her crime.^^[[47|Cowper: Footnote 47]]^^
Mæra and Clymene I saw beside,
And odious Eriphyle, who received
The price in gold of her own husband’s life.
But all the wives of Heroes whom I saw,
And all their daughters can I not relate;
Night, first, would fail; and even now the hour
Calls me to rest either on board my bark, [400]
Or here; meantime, I in yourselves confide,
And in the Gods to shape my conduct home.
He ceased; the whole assembly silent sat,
Charm’d into ecstacy by his discourse
Throughout the twilight hall, till, at the last,
Areta iv’ry arm’d them thus bespake.
Phæacians! how appears he in your eyes
This stranger, graceful as he is in port,
In stature noble, and in mind discrete?
My guest he is, but ye all share with me [410]
That honour; him dismiss not, therefore, hence
With haste, nor from such indigence withhold
Supplies gratuitous; for ye are rich,
And by kind heav’n with rare possessions blest.
The Hero, next, Echeneus spake, a Chief
Now ancient, eldest of Phæacia’s sons.
Your prudent Queen, my friends, speaks not beside
Her proper scope, but as beseems her well.
Her voice obey; yet the effect of all
Must on Alcinoüs himself depend. [420]
To whom Alcinoüs, thus, the King, replied.
I ratify the word. So shall be done,
As surely as myself shall live supreme
O’er all Phæacia’s maritime domain.
Then let the guest, though anxious to depart,
Wait till the morrow, that I may complete
The whole donation. His safe conduct home
Shall be the gen’ral care, but mine in Chief,
To whom dominion o’er the rest belongs.
Him answer’d, then, Ulysses ever-wise. [430]
Alcinoüs! Prince! exalted high o’er all
Phæacia’s sons! should ye solicit, kind,
My stay throughout the year, preparing still
My conduct home, and with illustrious gifts
Enriching me the while, ev’n that request
Should please me well; the wealthier I return’d,
The happier my condition; welcome more
And more respectable I should appear
In ev’ry eye to Ithaca restored.
To whom Alcinoüs answer thus return’d. [440]
Ulysses! viewing thee, no fears we feel
Lest thou, at length, some false pretender prove,
Or subtle hypocrite, of whom no few
Disseminated o’er its face the earth
Sustains, adepts in fiction, and who frame
Fables, where fables could be least surmised.
Thy phrase well turn’d, and thy ingenuous mind
Proclaim //thee// diff’rent far, who hast in strains
Musical as a poet’s voice, the woes
Rehears’d of all thy Greecians, and thy own. [450]
But say, and tell me true. Beheld’st thou there
None of thy followers to the walls of Troy
Slain in that warfare? Lo! the night is long—
A night of utmost length; nor yet the hour
Invites to sleep. Tell me thy wond’rous deeds,
For I could watch till sacred dawn, could’st thou
So long endure to tell me of thy toils.
Then thus Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Alcinoüs! high exalted over all
Phæacia’s sons! the time suffices yet [460]
For converse both and sleep, and if thou wish
To hear still more, I shall not spare to unfold
More pitiable woes than these, sustain’d
By my companions, in the end destroy’d;
Who, saved from perils of disast’rous war
At Ilium, perish’d yet in their return,
Victims of a pernicious woman’s crime.^^[[48|Cowper: Footnote 48]]^^
Now, when chaste Proserpine had wide dispers’d
Those female shades, the spirit sore distress’d
Of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, appear’d; [470]
Encircled by a throng, he came; by all
Who with himself beneath Ægisthus’ roof
Their fate fulfill’d, perishing by the sword.
He drank the blood, and knew me; shrill he wail’d
And querulous; tears trickling bathed his cheeks,
And with spread palms, through ardour of desire
He sought to enfold me fast, but vigour none,
Or force, as erst, his agile limbs inform’d.
I, pity-moved, wept at the sight, and him,
In accents wing’d by friendship, thus address’d. [480]
Ah glorious son of Atreus, King of men!
What hand inflicted the all-numbing stroke
Of death on thee? Say, didst thou perish sunk
By howling tempests irresistible
Which Neptune raised, or on dry land by force
Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off
Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away,
Or fighting for Achaia’s daughters, shut
Within some city’s bulwarks close besieged?
I ceased, when Agamemnon thus replied. [490]
Ulysses, noble Chief, Laertes’ son
For wisdom famed! I neither perish’d sunk
By howling tempests irresistible
Which Neptune raised, nor on dry land received
From hostile multitudes the fatal blow,
But me Ægisthus slew; my woeful death
Confed’rate with my own pernicious wife
He plotted, with a show of love sincere
Bidding me to his board, where as the ox
Is slaughter’d at his crib, he slaughter’d //me//. [500]
Such was my dreadful death; carnage ensued
Continual of my friends slain all around,
Num’rous as boars bright-tusk’d at nuptial feast,
Or feast convivial of some wealthy Chief.
Thou hast already witness’d many a field
With warriors overspread, slain one by one,
But that dire scene had most thy pity moved,
For we, with brimming beakers at our side,
And underneath full tables bleeding lay.
Blood floated all the pavement. Then the cries [510]
Of Priam’s daughter sounded in my ears
Most pitiable of all. Cassandra’s cries,
Whom Clytemnestra close beside me slew.
Expiring as I lay, I yet essay’d
To grasp my faulchion, but the trayt’ress quick
Withdrew herself, nor would vouchsafe to close
My languid eyes, or prop my drooping chin
Ev’n in the moment when I sought the shades.
So that the thing breathes not, ruthless and fell
As woman once resolv’d on such a deed [520]
Detestable, as my base wife contrived,
The murther of the husband of her youth.
I thought to have return’d welcome to all,
To my own children and domestic train;
But she, past measure profligate, hath poured
Shame on herself, on women yet unborn,
And even on the virtuous of her sex.
He ceas’d, to whom, thus, answer I return’d.
Gods! how severely hath the thund’rer plagued
The house of Atreus even from the first, [530]
By female counsels! we for Helen’s sake
Have num’rous died, and Clytemnestra framed,
While thou wast far remote, this snare for thee!
So I, to whom Atrides thus replied.
Thou, therefore, be not pliant overmuch
To woman; trust her not with all thy mind,
But half disclose to her, and half conceal.
Yet, from thy consort’s hand no bloody death,
My friend, hast thou to fear; for passing wise
Icarius’ daughter is, far other thoughts, [540]
Intelligent, and other plans, to frame.
Her, going to the wars we left a bride
New-wedded, and thy boy hung at her breast,
Who, man himself, consorts ere now with men
A prosp’rous youth; his father, safe restored
To his own Ithaca, shall see him soon,
And //he// shall clasp his father in his arms
As nature bids; but me, my cruel one
Indulged not with the dear delight to gaze
On my Orestes, for she slew me first. [550]
But listen; treasure what I now impart.^^[[49|Cowper: Footnote 49]]^^
Steer secret to thy native isle; avoid
Notice; for woman merits trust no more.
Now tell me truth. Hear ye in whose abode
My son resides? dwells he in Pylus, say,
Or in Orchomenos, or else beneath
My brother’s roof in Sparta’s wide domain?
For my Orestes is not yet a shade.
So he, to whom I answer thus return’d.
Atrides, ask not me. Whether he live, [560]
Or have already died, I nothing know;
Mere words are vanity, and better spared.
Thus we discoursing mutual stood, and tears
Shedding disconsolate. The shade, meantime,
Came of Achilles, Peleus’ mighty son;
Patroclus also, and Antilochus
Appear’d, with Ajax, for proportion just
And stature tall, (Pelides sole except)
Distinguish’d above all Achaia’s sons.
The soul of swift Æacides at once [570]
Knew me, and in wing’d accents thus began.
Brave Laertiades, for wiles renown’d!
What mightier enterprise than all the past
Hath made thee here a guest? rash as thou art!
How hast thou dared to penetrate the gloom
Of Ades, dwelling of the shadowy dead,
Semblances only of what once they were?
He spake, to whom I, answ’ring, thus replied.
O Peleus’ son! Achilles! bravest far
Of all Achaia’s race! I here arrived [580]
Seeking Tiresias, from his lips to learn,
Perchance, how I might safe regain the coast
Of craggy Ithaca; for tempest-toss’d
Perpetual, I have neither yet approach’d
Achaia’s shore, or landed on my own.
But as for thee, Achilles! never man
Hath known felicity like thine, or shall,
Whom living we all honour’d as a God,
And who maintain’st, here resident, supreme
Controul among the dead; indulge not then, [590]
Achilles, causeless grief that thou hast died.
I ceased, and answer thus instant received.
Renown’d Ulysses! think not death a theme
Of consolation; I had rather live
The servile hind for hire, and eat the bread
Of some man scantily himself sustain’d,
Than sov’reign empire hold o’er all the shades.
But come—speak to me of my noble boy;
Proceeds he, as he promis’d, brave in arms,
Or shuns he war? Say also, hast thou heard [600]
Of royal Peleus? shares he still respect
Among his num’rous Myrmidons, or scorn
In Hellas and in Phthia, for that age
Predominates in his enfeebled limbs?
For help is none in me; the glorious sun
No longer sees me such, as when in aid
Of the Achaians I o’erspread the field
Of spacious Troy with all their bravest slain.
Oh might I, vigorous as then, repair^^[[50|Cowper: Footnote 50]]^^
For one short moment to my father’s house, [610]
They all should tremble; I would shew an arm,
Such as should daunt the fiercest who presumes
To injure //him//, or to despise his age.
Achilles spake, to whom I thus replied.
Of noble Peleus have I nothing heard;
But I will tell thee, as thou bidd’st, the truth
Unfeign’d of Neoptolemus thy son;
For him, myself, on board my hollow bark
From Scyros to Achaia’s host convey’d.
Oft as in council under Ilium’s walls [620]
We met, he ever foremost was in speech,
Nor spake erroneous; Nestor and myself
Except, no Greecian could with him compare.
Oft, too, as we with battle hemm’d around
Troy’s bulwarks, from among the mingled crowd
Thy son sprang foremost into martial act,
Inferior in heroic worth to none.
Beneath him num’rous fell the sons of Troy
In dreadful fight, nor have I pow’r to name
Distinctly all, who by his glorious arm [630]
Exerted in the cause of Greece, expired.
Yet will I name Eurypylus, the son
Of Telephus, an Hero whom his sword
Of life bereaved, and all around him strew’d
The plain with his Cetean warriors, won
To Ilium’s side by bribes to women giv’n.^^[[51|Cowper: Footnote 51]]^^
Save noble Memnon only, I beheld
No Chief at Ilium beautiful as he.
Again, when we within the horse of wood
Framed by Epeüs sat, an ambush chos’n [640]
Of all the bravest Greeks, and I in trust
Was placed to open or to keep fast-closed
The hollow fraud; then, ev’ry Chieftain there
And Senator of Greece wiped from his cheeks
The tears, and tremors felt in ev’ry limb;
But never saw I changed to terror’s hue
//His// ruddy cheek, no tears wiped //he// away,
But oft he press’d me to go forth, his suit
With pray’rs enforcing, griping hard his hilt
And his brass-burthen’d spear, and dire revenge [650]
Denouncing, ardent, on the race of Troy.
At length, when we had sack’d the lofty town
Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils
He safe embark’d, neither by spear or shaft
Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion’s edge,
As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt
Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.
So I; then striding large, the spirit thence
Withdrew of swift Æacides, along
The hoary mead pacing,^^[[52|Cowper: Footnote 52]]^^ with joy elate 660
That I had blazon’d bright his son’s renown.
The other souls of men by death dismiss’d
Stood mournful by, sad uttering each his woes;
The soul alone I saw standing remote
Of Telamonian Ajax, still incensed
That in our public contest for the arms
Worn by Achilles, and by Thetis thrown
Into dispute, my claim had strongest proved,
Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.
Disastrous victory! which I could wish [670]
Not to have won, since for that armour’s sake
The earth hath cover’d Ajax, in his form
And martial deeds superior far to all
The Greecians, Peleus’ matchless son except.
I, seeking to appease him, thus began.
O Ajax, son of glorious Telamon!
Canst thou remember, even after death,
Thy wrath against me, kindled for the sake
Of those pernicious arms? arms which the Gods
Ordain’d of such dire consequence to Greece, [680]
Which caused thy death, our bulwark! Thee we mourn
With grief perpetual, nor the death lament
Of Peleus’ son, Achilles, more than thine.
Yet none is blameable; Jove evermore
With bitt’rest hate pursued Achaia’s host,
And he ordain’d thy death. Hero! approach,
That thou may’st hear the words with which I seek
To sooth thee; let thy long displeasure cease!
Quell all resentment in thy gen’rous breast!
I spake; nought answer’d he, but sullen join’d [690]
His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was,
I had prevail’d even on him to speak,
Or had, at least, accosted him again,
But that my bosom teem’d with strong desire
Urgent, to see yet others of the dead.
There saw I Minos, offspring famed of Jove;
His golden sceptre in his hand, he sat
Judge of the dead; they, pleading each in turn,
His cause, some stood, some sat, filling the house
Whose spacious folding-gates are never closed. [700]
Orion next, huge ghost, engaged my view,
Droves urging o’er the grassy mead, of beasts
Which he had slain, himself, on the wild hills,
With strong club arm’d of ever-during brass.
There also Tityus on the ground I saw
Extended, offspring of the glorious earth;
Nine acres he o’erspread, and, at his side
Station’d, two vultures on his liver prey’d,
Scooping his entrails; nor sufficed his hands
To fray them thence; for he had sought to force [710]
Latona, illustrious concubine of Jove,
What time the Goddess journey’d o’er the rocks
Of Pytho into pleasant Panopeus.
Next, suff’ring grievous torments, I beheld
Tantalus; in a pool he stood, his chin
Wash’d by the wave; thirst-parch’d he seem’d, but found
Nought to assuage his thirst; for when he bow’d
His hoary head, ardent to quaff, the flood
Vanish’d absorb’d, and, at his feet, adust
The soil appear’d, dried, instant, by the Gods. [720]
Tall trees, fruit-laden, with inflected heads
Stoop’d to him, pomegranates, apples bright,
The luscious fig, and unctuous olive smooth;
Which when with sudden grasp he would have seized,
Winds hurl’d them high into the dusky clouds.
There, too, the hard-task’d Sisyphus I saw,
Thrusting before him, strenuous, a vast rock.^^[[53|Cowper: Footnote 53]]^^
With hands and feet struggling, he shoved the stone
Up to a hill-top; but the steep well-nigh
Vanquish’d, by some great force repulsed,^^[[54|Cowper: Footnote 54]]^^ the mass 730
Rush’d again, obstinate, down to the plain.
Again, stretch’d prone, severe he toiled, the sweat
Bathed all his weary limbs, and his head reek’d.
The might of Hercules I, next, survey’d;
His semblance; for himself their banquet shares
With the Immortal Gods, and in his arms
Enfolds neat-footed Hebe, daughter fair
Of Jove, and of his golden-sandal’d spouse.
Around him, clamorous as birds, the dead
Swarm’d turbulent; he, gloomy-brow’d as night, [740]
With uncased bow and arrow on the string
Peer’d terrible from side to side, as one
Ever in act to shoot; a dreadful belt
He bore athwart his bosom, thong’d with gold.
There, broider’d shone many a stupendous form,
Bears, wild boars, lions with fire-flashing eyes,
Fierce combats, battles, bloodshed, homicide.
The artist, author of that belt, none such
Before, produced, or after. Me his eye
No sooner mark’d, than knowing me, in words [750]
By sorrow quick suggested, he began.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,
Thou also, with some arduous labour, such
As in the realms of day I once endured.
Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes
Immense sustain’d, subjected to a King
Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands
Enjoin’d me many a terrible exploit.
He even bade me on a time lead hence [760]
The dog, that task believing above all
Impracticable; yet from Ades him
I dragg’d reluctant into light, by aid
Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.
So saying, he penetrated deep again
The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved
There stood expecting, curious, other shades
To see of Heroes in old time deceased.
And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom
I wish’d, I had beheld, Pirithoüs [770]
And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,
But nations, first, numberless of the dead
Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,
Lest awful Proserpine should thither send
The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr’d!
I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade
My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.
Down the Oceanus^^[[55|Cowper: Footnote 55]]^^ the current bore
My galley, winning, at the first, her way [780]
With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses, pursuing his narrative, relates his return from the shades to Circe’s island, the precautions given him by that Goddess, his escape from the Sirens, and from Scylla and Charybdis; his arrival in Sicily, where his companions, having slain and eaten the oxen of the Sun, are afterward shipwrecked and lost; and concludes the whole with an account of his arrival, alone, on the mast of his vessel, at the island of Calypso.//
"""
And now, borne seaward from the river-stream
Of the Oceanus, we plow’d again
The spacious Deep, and reach’d th’ Ææan isle,
Where, daughter of the dawn, Aurora takes
Her choral sports, and whence the sun ascends.
We, there arriving, thrust our bark aground
On the smooth beach, then landed, and on shore
Reposed, expectant of the sacred dawn.
But soon as day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d
Look’d forth again, sending my friends before, [10]
I bade them bring Elpenor’s body down
From the abode of Circe to the beach.
Then, on the utmost headland of the coast
We timber fell’d, and, sorrowing o’er the dead,
His fun’ral rites water’d with tears profuse.
The dead consumed, and with the dead his arms,
We heap’d his tomb, and the sepulchral post
Erecting, fix’d his shapely oar aloft.
Thus, punctual, we perform’d; nor our return
From Ades knew not Circe, but attired [20]
In haste, ere long arrived, with whom appear’d
Her female train with plenteous viands charged,
And bright wine rosy-red. Amidst us all
Standing, the beauteous Goddess thus began.
Ah miserable! who have sought the shades
Alive! while others of the human race
Die only once, appointed twice to die!
Come—take ye food; drink wine; and on the shore
All day regale, for ye shall hence again
At day-spring o’er the Deep; but I will mark [30]
Myself your future course, nor uninform’d
Leave you in aught, lest, through some dire mistake,
By sea or land new mis’ries ye incur.
The Goddess spake, whose invitation kind
We glad accepted; thus we feasting sat
Till set of sun, and quaffing richest wine;
But when the sun went down and darkness fell,
My crew beside the hawsers slept, while me
The Goddess by the hand leading apart,
First bade me sit, then, seated opposite, [40]
Enquired, minute, of all that I had seen,
And I, from first to last, recounted all.
Then, thus the awful Goddess in return.
Thus far thy toils are finish’d. Now attend!
Mark well my words, of which the Gods will sure
Themselves remind thee in the needful hour.
First shalt thou reach the Sirens; they the hearts
Enchant of all who on their coast arrive.
The wretch, who unforewarn’d approaching, hears
The Sirens’ voice, his wife and little-ones [50]
Ne’er fly to gratulate his glad return,
But him the Sirens sitting in the meads
Charm with mellifluous song, while all around
The bones accumulated lie of men
Now putrid, and the skins mould’ring away.
But, pass them thou, and, lest thy people hear
Those warblings, ere thou yet approach, fill all
Their ears with wax moulded between thy palms;
But as for thee—thou hear them if thou wilt.
Yet let thy people bind thee to the mast [60]
Erect, encompassing thy feet and arms
With cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,
So shalt thou, raptur’d, hear the Sirens’ song.
But if thou supplicate to be released,
Or give such order, then, with added cords
Let thy companions bind thee still the more.
When thus thy people shall have safely pass’d
The Sirens by, think not from me to learn
What course thou next shalt steer; two will occur;
Delib’rate chuse; I shall describe them both. [70]
Here vaulted rocks impend, dash’d by the waves
Immense of Amphitrite azure-eyed;
The blessed Gods those rocks, Erratic, call.
Birds cannot pass them safe; no, not the doves
Which his ambrosia bear to Father Jove,
But even of those doves the slipp’ry rock
Proves fatal still to one, for which the God
Supplies another, lest the number fail.
No ship, what ship soever there arrives,
Escapes them, but both mariners and planks [80]
Whelm’d under billows of the Deep, or, caught
By fiery tempests, sudden disappear.
Those rocks the billow-cleaving bark alone
The Argo, further’d by the vows of all,
Pass’d safely, sailing from Ææta’s isle;
Nor she had pass’d, but surely dash’d had been
On those huge rocks, but that, propitious still
To Jason, Juno sped her safe along.
These rocks are two; one lifts his summit sharp
High as the spacious heav’ns, wrapt in dun clouds [90]
Perpetual, which nor autumn sees dispers’d
Nor summer, for the sun shines never there;
No mortal man might climb it or descend,
Though twice ten hands and twice ten feet he own’d,
For it is levigated as by art.
Down scoop’d to Erebus, a cavern drear
Yawns in the centre of its western side;
Pass it, renown’d Ulysses! but aloof
So far, that a keen arrow smartly sent
Forth from thy bark should fail to reach the cave. [100]
There Scylla dwells, and thence her howl is heard
Tremendous; shrill her voice is as the note
Of hound new-whelp’d, but hideous her aspect,
Such as no mortal man, nor ev’n a God
Encount’ring her, should with delight survey.
Her feet are twelve, all fore-feet; six her necks
Of hideous length, each clubb’d into a head
Terrific, and each head with fangs is arm’d
In triple row, thick planted, stored with death.
Plunged to her middle in the hollow den [110]
She lurks, protruding from the black abyss
Her heads, with which the rav’ning monster dives
In quest of dolphins, dog-fish, or of prey
More bulky, such as in the roaring gulphs
Of Amphitrite without end abounds.
It is no seaman’s boast that e’er he slipp’d
Her cavern by, unharm’d. In ev’ry mouth
She bears upcaught a mariner away.
The other rock, Ulysses, thou shalt find
Humbler, a bow-shot only from the first; [120]
On this a wild fig grows broad-leav’d, and here
Charybdis dire ingulphs the sable flood.
Each day she thrice disgorges, and each day
Thrice swallows it. Ah! well forewarn’d, beware
What time she swallows, that thou come not nigh,
For not himself, Neptune, could snatch thee thence.
Close passing Scylla’s rock, shoot swift thy bark
Beyond it, since the loss of six alone
Is better far than shipwreck made of all.
So Circe spake, to whom I thus replied. [130]
Tell me, O Goddess, next, and tell me true!
If, chance, from fell Charybdis I escape,
May I not also save from Scylla’s force
My people; should the monster threaten them?
I said, and quick the Goddess in return.
Unhappy! can exploits and toils of war
Still please thee? yield’st not to the Gods themselves?
She is no mortal, but a deathless pest,
Impracticable, savage, battle-proof.
Defence is vain; flight is thy sole resource. [140]
For should’st thou linger putting on thy arms
Beside the rock, beware, lest darting forth
Her num’rous heads, she seize with ev’ry mouth
A Greecian, and with others, even thee.
Pass therefore swift, and passing, loud invoke
Cratais, mother of this plague of man,
Who will forbid her to assail thee more.
Thou, next, shalt reach Thrinacia; there, the beeves
And fatted flocks graze num’rous of the Sun;
Sev’n herds; as many flocks of snowy fleece; [150]
Fifty in each; they breed not, neither die,
Nor are they kept by less than Goddesses,
Lampetia fair, and Phäethusa, both
By nymph Neæra to Hyperion borne.
Them, soon as she had train’d them to an age
Proportion’d to that charge, their mother sent
Into Thrinacia, there to dwell and keep
Inviolate their father’s flocks and herds.
If, anxious for a safe return, thou spare
Those herds and flocks, though after much endured, [160]
Ye may at last your Ithaca regain;
But should’st thou violate them, I foretell
Destruction of thy ship and of thy crew,
And though thyself escape, thou shalt return
Late, in ill plight, and all thy friends destroy’d.
She ended, and the golden morning dawn’d.
Then, all-divine, her graceful steps she turn’d
Back through the isle, and, at the beach arrived,
I summon’d all my followers to ascend
The bark again, and cast the hawsers loose. [170]
They, at my voice, embarking, fill’d in ranks
The seats, and rowing, thresh’d the hoary flood.
And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine,
Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,
Pleasant companion of our course, and we
(The decks and benches clear’d) untoiling sat,
While managed gales sped swift the bark along.
Then, with dejected heart, thus I began.
Oh friends! (for it is needful that not one
Or two alone the admonition hear [180]
Of Circe, beauteous prophetess divine)
To all I speak, that whether we escape
Or perish, all may be, at least, forewarn’d.
She bids us, first, avoid the dang’rous song
Of the sweet Sirens and their flow’ry meads.
Me only she permits those strains to hear;
But ye shall bind me with coercion strong
Of cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,
And by no struggles to be loos’d of mine.
But should I supplicate to be released [190]
Or give such order, then, with added cords
Be it your part to bind me still the more.
Thus with distinct precaution I prepared
My people; rapid in her course, meantime,
My gallant bark approach’d the Sirens’ isle,
For brisk and favourable blew the wind.
Then fell the wind suddenly, and serene
A breathless calm ensued, while all around
The billows slumber’d, lull’d by pow’r divine.
Up-sprang my people, and the folded sails [200]
Bestowing in the hold, sat to their oars,
Which with their polish’d blades whiten’d the Deep.
I, then, with edge of steel sev’ring minute
A waxen cake, chafed it and moulded it
Between my palms; ere long the ductile mass
Grew warm, obedient to that ceaseless force,
And to Hyperion’s all-pervading beams.
With that soft liniment I fill’d the ears
Of my companions, man by man, and they
My feet and arms with strong coercion bound [210]
Of cordage to the mast-foot well secured.
Then down they sat, and, rowing, thresh’d the brine.
But when with rapid course we had arrived
Within such distance as a voice may reach,
Not unperceived by them the gliding bark
Approach’d, and, thus, harmonious they began.
Ulysses, Chief by ev’ry tongue extoll’d,
Achaia’s boast, oh hither steer thy bark!
Here stay thy course, and listen to our lay!
These shores none passes in his sable ship [220]
Till, first, the warblings of our voice he hear,
Then, happier hence and wiser he departs.
All that the Greeks endured, and all the ills
Inflicted by the Gods on Troy, we know,
Know all that passes on the boundless earth.
So they with voices sweet their music poured
Melodious on my ear, winning with ease
My heart’s desire to listen, and by signs
I bade my people, instant, set me free.
But they incumbent row’d, and from their seats [230]
Eurylochus and Perimedes sprang
With added cords to bind me still the more.
This danger past, and when the Sirens’ voice,
Now left remote, had lost its pow’r to charm,
Then, my companions freeing from the wax
Their ears, deliver’d me from my restraint.
The island left afar, soon I discern’d
Huge waves, and smoke, and horrid thund’rings heard.
All sat aghast; forth flew at once the oars
From ev’ry hand, and with a clash the waves [240]
Smote all together; check’d, the galley stood,
By billow-sweeping oars no longer urged,
And I, throughout the bark, man after man
Encouraged all, addressing thus my crew.
We meet not, now, my friends, our first distress.
This evil is not greater than we found
When the huge Cyclops in his hollow den
Imprison’d us, yet even thence we ’scaped,
My intrepidity and fertile thought
Opening the way; and we shall recollect [250]
These dangers also, in due time, with joy.
Come, then—pursue my counsel. Ye your seats
Still occupying, smite the furrow’d flood
With well-timed strokes, that by the will of Jove
We may escape, perchance, this death, secure.
To thee the pilot thus I speak, (my words
Mark thou, for at thy touch the rudder moves)
This smoke, and these tumultuous waves avoid;
Steer wide of both; yet with an eye intent
On yonder rock, lest unaware thou hold [260]
Too near a course, and plunge us into harm.
So I; with whose advice all, quick, complied.
But Scylla I as yet named not, (that woe
Without a cure) lest, terrified, my crew
Should all renounce their oars, and crowd below.
Just then, forgetful of the strict command
Of Circe not to arm, I cloath’d me all
In radiant armour, grasp’d two quiv’ring spears,
And to the deck ascended at the prow,
Expecting earliest notice there, what time [270]
The rock-bred Scylla should annoy my friends.
But I discern’d her not, nor could, although
To weariness of sight the dusky rock
I vigilant explored. Thus, many a groan
Heaving, we navigated sad the streight,
For here stood Scylla, while Charybdis there
With hoarse throat deep absorb’d the briny flood.
Oft as she vomited the deluge forth,
Like water cauldron’d o’er a furious fire
The whirling Deep all murmur’d, and the spray [280]
On both those rocky summits fell in show’rs.
But when she suck’d the salt wave down again,
Then, all the pool appear’d wheeling about
Within, the rock rebellow’d, and the sea
Drawn off into that gulph disclosed to view
The oozy bottom. Us pale horror seized.
Thus, dreading death, with fast-set eyes we watch’d
Charybdis; meantime, Scylla from the bark
Caught six away, the bravest of my friends.
With eyes, that moment, on my ship and crew [290]
Retorted, I beheld the legs and arms
Of those whom she uplifted in the air;
On me they call’d, my name, the last, last time
Pronouncing then, in agony of heart.
As when from some bold point among the rocks
The angler, with his taper rod in hand,
Casts forth his bait to snare the smaller fry,
He swings away remote his guarded line,^^[[56|Cowper: Footnote 56]]^^
Then jerks his gasping prey forth from the Deep,
So Scylla them raised gasping to the rock, [300]
And at her cavern’s mouth devour’d them loud-
Shrieking, and stretching forth to me their arms
In sign of hopeless mis’ry. Ne’er beheld
These eyes in all the seas that I have roam’d,
A sight so piteous, nor in all my toils.
From Scylla and Charybdis dire escaped,
We reach’d the noble island of the Sun
Ere long, where bright Hyperion’s beauteous herds
Broad-fronted grazed, and his well-batten’d flocks.
I, in the bark and on the sea, the voice [310]
Of oxen bellowing in hovels heard,
And of loud-bleating sheep; then dropp’d the word
Into my memory of the sightless Seer,
Theban Tiresias, and the caution strict
Of Circe, my Ææan monitress,
Who with such force had caution’d me to avoid
The island of the Sun, joy of mankind.
Thus then to my companions, sad, I spake.
Hear ye, my friends! although long time distress’d,
The words prophetic of the Theban seer [320]
And of Ææan Circe, whose advice
Was oft repeated to me to avoid
This island of the Sun, joy of mankind.
There, said the Goddess, dread your heaviest woes,
Pass the isle, therefore, scudding swift away.
I ceased; they me with consternation heard,
And harshly thus Eurylochus replied.
Ulysses, ruthless Chief! no toils impair
Thy strength, of senseless iron thou art form’d,
Who thy companions weary and o’erwatch’d [330]
Forbidd’st to disembark on this fair isle,
Where now, at last, we might with ease regale.
Thou, rash, command’st us, leaving it afar,
To roam all night the Ocean’s dreary waste;
But winds to ships injurious spring by night,
And how shall we escape a dreadful death
If, chance, a sudden gust from South arise
Or stormy West, that dash in pieces oft
The vessel, even in the Gods’ despight?
Prepare we rather now, as night enjoins, [340]
Our evening fare beside the sable bark,
In which at peep of day we may again
Launch forth secure into the boundless flood.
He ceas’d, whom all applauded. Then I knew
That sorrow by the will of adverse heav’n
Approach’d, and in wing’d accents thus replied.
I suffer force, Eurylochus! and yield
O’er-ruled by numbers. Come, then, swear ye all
A solemn oath, that should we find an herd
Or num’rous flock, none here shall either sheep [350]
Or bullock slay, by appetite profane
Seduced, but shall the viands eat content
Which from immortal Circe we received.
I spake; they readily a solemn oath
Sware all, and when their oath was fully sworn,
Within a creek where a fresh fountain rose
They moor’d the bark, and, issuing, began
Brisk preparation of their evening cheer.
But when nor hunger now nor thirst remain’d
Unsated, recollecting, then, their friends [360]
By Scylla seized and at her cave devour’d,
They mourn’d, nor ceased to mourn them, till they slept.
The night’s third portion come, when now the stars
Had travers’d the mid-sky, cloud-gath’rer Jove
Call’d forth a vehement wind with tempest charged,
Menacing earth and sea with pitchy clouds
Tremendous, and the night fell dark from heav’n.
But when Aurora, daughter of the day,
Look’d rosy forth, we haled, drawn inland more,
Our bark into a grot, where nymphs were wont [370]
Graceful to tread the dance, or to repose.
Convening there my friends, I thus began.
My friends! food fails us not, but bread is yet
And wine on board. Abstain we from the herds,
Lest harm ensue; for ye behold the flocks
And herds of a most potent God, the Sun!
Whose eye and watchful ear none may elude.
So saying, I sway’d the gen’rous minds of all.
A month complete the South wind ceaseless blew,
Nor other wind blew next, save East and South, [380]
Yet they, while neither food nor rosy wine
Fail’d them, the herds harm’d not, through fear to die.
But, our provisions failing, they employed
Whole days in search of food, snaring with hooks
Birds, fishes, of what kind soe’er they might.
By famine urged. I solitary roam’d
Meantime the isle, seeking by pray’r to move
Some God to shew us a deliv’rance thence.
When, roving thus the isle, I had at length
Left all my crew remote, laving my hands [390]
Where shelter warm I found from the rude blast,
I supplicated ev’ry Pow’r above;
But they my pray’rs answer’d with slumbers soft
Shed o’er my eyes, and with pernicious art
Eurylochus, the while, my friends harangued.
My friends! afflicted as ye are, yet hear
A fellow-suff’rer. Death, however caused,
Abhorrence moves in miserable man,
But death by famine is a fate of all
Most to be fear’d. Come—let us hither drive [400]
And sacrifice to the Immortal Pow’rs
The best of all the oxen of the Sun,
Resolving thus—that soon as we shall reach
Our native Ithaca, we will erect
To bright Hyperion an illustrious fane,
Which with magnificent and num’rous gifts
We will enrich. But should he chuse to sink
Our vessel, for his stately beeves incensed,
And should, with him, all heav’n conspire our death,
I rather had with open mouth, at once, [410]
Meeting the billows, perish, than by slow
And pining waste here in this desert isle.
So spake Eurylochus, whom all approved.
Then, driving all the fattest of the herd
Few paces only, (for the sacred beeves
Grazed rarely distant from the bark) they stood
Compassing them around, and, grasping each
Green foliage newly pluck’d from saplings tall,
(For barley none in all our bark remain’d)
Worshipp’d the Gods in pray’r. Pray’r made, they slew
And flay’d them, and the thighs with double fat [421]
Investing, spread them o’er with slices crude.
No wine had they with which to consecrate
The blazing rites, but with libation poor
Of water hallow’d the interior parts.
Now, when the thighs were burnt, and each had shared
His portion of the maw, and when the rest
All-slash’d and scored hung roasting at the fire,
Sleep, in that moment, suddenly my eyes
Forsaking, to the shore I bent my way. [430]
But ere the station of our bark I reach’d,
The sav’ry steam greeted me. At the scent
I wept aloud, and to the Gods exclaim’d.
Oh Jupiter, and all ye Pow’rs above!
With cruel sleep and fatal ye have lull’d
My cares to rest, such horrible offence
Meantime my rash companions have devised.
Then, flew long-stoled Lampetia to the Sun
At once with tidings of his slaughter’d beeves,
And he, incensed, the Immortals thus address’d. [440]
Jove, and ye everlasting Pow’rs divine!
Avenge me instant on the crew profane
Of Laertiades; Ulysses’ friends
Have dared to slay my beeves, which I with joy
Beheld, both when I climb’d the starry heav’ns,
And when to earth I sloped my “westring wheels,”
But if they yield me not amercement due
And honourable for my loss, to Hell
I will descend and give the ghosts my beams.
Then, thus the cloud-assembler God replied. [450]
Sun! shine thou still on the Immortal Pow’rs,
And on the teeming earth, frail man’s abode.
My candent bolts can in a moment reach
And split their flying bark in the mid-sea.
These things Calypso told me, taught, herself,
By herald Hermes, as she oft affirm’d.
But when, descending to the shore, I reach’d
At length my bark, with aspect stern and tone
I reprimanded them, yet no redress
Could frame, or remedy—the beeves were dead. [460]
Soon follow’d signs portentous sent from heav’n.
The skins all crept, and on the spits the flesh
Both roast and raw bellow’d, as with the voice
Of living beeves. Thus my devoted friends
Driving the fattest oxen of the Sun,
Feasted six days entire; but when the sev’nth
By mandate of Saturnian Jove appeared,
The storm then ceased to rage, and we, again
Embarking, launch’d our galley, rear’d the mast,
And gave our unfurl’d canvas to the wind. [470]
The island left afar, and other land
Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,
Right o’er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove
Hung a cærulean cloud, dark’ning the Deep.
Not long my vessel ran, for, blowing wild,
Now came shrill Zephyrus; a stormy gust
Snapp’d sheer the shrouds on both sides; backward fell
The mast, and with loose tackle strew’d the hold;
Striking the pilot in the stern, it crush’d
His scull together; he a diver’s plunge [480]
Made downward, and his noble spirit fled.
Meantime, Jove thund’ring, hurl’d into the ship
His bolts; she, smitten by the fires of Jove,
Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill’d she reek’d,
And o’er her sides headlong my people plunged
Like sea-mews, interdicted by that stroke
Of wrath divine to hope their country more.
But I, the vessel still paced to and fro,
Till, fever’d by the boist’rous waves, her sides
Forsook the keel now left to float alone. [490]
Snapp’d where it join’d the keel the mast had fall’n,
But fell encircled with a leathern brace,
Which it retain’d; binding with this the mast
And keel together, on them both I sat,
Borne helpless onward by the dreadful gale.
And now the West subsided, and the South
Arose instead, with mis’ry charged for me,
That I might measure back my course again
To dire Charybdis. All night long I drove,
And when the sun arose, at Scylla’s rock [500]
Once more, and at Charybdis’ gulph arrived.
It was the time when she absorb’d profound
The briny flood, but by a wave upborne
I seized the branches fast of the wild-fig.^^[[57|Cowper: Footnote 57]]^^
To which, bat-like, I clung; yet where to fix
My foot secure found not, or where to ascend,
For distant lay the roots, and distant shot
The largest arms erect into the air,
O’ershadowing all Charybdis; therefore hard
I clench’d the boughs, till she disgorg’d again [510]
Both keel and mast. Not undesired by me
They came, though late; for at what hour the judge,
After decision made of num’rous strifes^^[[58|Cowper: Footnote 58]]^^
Between young candidates for honour, leaves
The forum for refreshment’ sake at home,
Then was it that the mast and keel emerged.
Deliver’d to a voluntary fall,
Fast by those beams I dash’d into the flood,
And seated on them both, with oary palms
Impell’d them; nor the Sire of Gods and men [520]
Permitted Scylla to discern me more,
Else had I perish’d by her fangs at last.
Nine days I floated thence, and, on the tenth
Dark night, the Gods convey’d me to the isle
Ogygia, habitation of divine
Calypso, by whose hospitable aid
And assiduity, my strength revived.
But wherefore this? ye have already learn’d
That hist’ry, thou and thy illustrious spouse;
I told it yesterday, and hate a tale [530]
Once amply told, then, needless, traced again.
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses, having finished his narrative, and received additional presents from the Phæacians, embarks; he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca, and in his sleep is landed on that island. The ship that carried him is in her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.//
//Minerva meets him on the shore, enables him to recollect his country, which, till enlightened by her, he believed to be a country strange to him, and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors. The Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus, and Ulysses, by her aid disguised like a beggar, proceeds towards the cottage of Eumæus.//
"""
He ceas’d; the whole assembly silent sat,
Charm’d into ecstacy with his discourse
Throughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.
Ulysses, since beneath my brazen dome
Sublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,
Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustain
By tempests tost, though much to woe inured.
To you, who daily in my presence quaff
Your princely meed of gen’rous wine and hear
The sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak. [10]
The robes, wrought gold, and all the other gifts
To this our guest, by the Phæacian Chiefs
Brought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.
But come—present ye to the stranger, each,
An ample tripod also, with a vase
Of smaller size, for which we will be paid
By public impost; for the charge of all
Excessive were by one alone defray’d.
So spake Alcinoüs, and his counsel pleased;
Then, all retiring, sought repose at home. [20]
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy forth, each hasted to the bark
With his illustrious present, which the might
Of King Alcinoüs, who himself her sides
Ascended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,
Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil’d
In rowing, some Phæacian of the crew.
The palace of Alcinoüs seeking next,
Together, they prepared a new regale.
For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might^^[[59|Cowper: Footnote 59]]^^ 30
Of King Alcinoüs slew an ox to Jove
Saturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.
The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partook
The noble feast; meantime, the bard divine
Sang, sweet Demodocus, the people’s joy.
But oft Ulysses to the radiant sun
Turn’d wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,
Nor longer, now, patient of dull delay.
As when some hungry swain whose sable beeves
Have through the fallow dragg’d his pond’rous plow [40]
All day, the setting sun views with delight
For supper’ sake, which with tir’d feet he seeks,
So welcome to Ulysses’ eyes appear’d
The sun-set of that eve; directing, then,
His speech to maritime Phæacia’s sons,
But to Alcinoüs chiefly, thus he said.
Alcinoüs, o’er Phæacia’s realm supreme!
Libation made, dismiss ye me in peace,
And farewell all! for what I wish’d, I have,
Conductors hence, and honourable gifts [50]
With which heav’n prosper me! and may the Gods
Vouchsafe to me, at my return, to find
All safe, my spotless consort and my friends!
May ye, whom here I leave, gladden your wives
And see your children blest, and may the pow’rs
Immortal with all good enrich you all,
And from calamity preserve the land!
He ended, they unanimous, his speech
Applauded loud, and bade dismiss the guest
Who had so wisely spoken and so well. [60]
Then thus Alcinoüs to his herald spake.
Pontonoüs! charging high the beaker, bear
To ev’ry guest beneath our roof the wine,
That, pray’r preferr’d to the eternal Sire,
We may dismiss our inmate to his home.
Then, bore Pontonoüs to ev’ry guest
The brimming cup; they, where they sat, perform’d
Libation due; but the illustrious Chief
Ulysses, from his seat arising, placed
A massy goblet in Areta’s hand, [70]
To whom in accents wing’d, grateful, he said.
Farewell, O Queen, a long farewell, till age
Arrive, and death, the appointed lot of all!
I go; but be this people, and the King
Alcinoüs, and thy progeny, thy joy
Yet many a year beneath this glorious roof!
So saying, the Hero through the palace-gate
Issued, whom, by Alcinoüs’ command,
The royal herald to his vessel led.
Three maidens also of Areta’s train [80]
His steps attended; one, the robe well-bleach’d
And tunic bore; the corded coffer, one;
And food the third, with wine of crimson hue.
Arriving where the galley rode, each gave
Her charge to some brave mariner on board,
And all was safely stow’d. Meantime were spread
Linen and arras on the deck astern,
For his secure repose. And now the Chief
Himself embarking, silent lay’d him down.
Then, ev’ry rower to his bench repair’d; [90]
They drew the loosen’d cable from its hold
In the drill’d rock, and, resupine, at once
With lusty strokes upturn’d the flashing waves.
//His// eye-lids, soon, sleep, falling as a dew,
Closed fast, death’s simular, in sight the same.
She, as four harness’d stallions o’er the plain
Shooting together at the scourge’s stroke,
Toss high their manes, and rapid scour along,
So mounted she the waves, while dark the flood
Roll’d after her of the resounding Deep. [100]
Steady she ran and safe, passing in speed
The falcon, swiftest of the fowls of heav’n;
With such rapidity she cut the waves,
An hero bearing like the Gods above
In wisdom, one familiar long with woe
In fight sustain’d, and on the perilous flood,
Though sleeping now serenely, and resign’d
To sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.
The brightest star of heav’n, precursor chief
Of day-spring, now arose, when at the isle [110]
(Her voyage soon perform’d) the bark arrived.
There is a port sacred in Ithaca
To Phorcys, hoary ancient of the Deep,
Form’d by converging shores, prominent both
And both abrupt, which from the spacious bay
Exclude all boist’rous winds; within it, ships
(The port once gain’d) uncabled ride secure.
An olive, at the haven’s head, expands
Her branches wide, near to a pleasant cave
Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named [120]
The Naiads. In that cave beakers of stone
And jars are seen; bees lodge their honey there;
And there, on slender spindles of the rock
The nymphs of rivers weave their wond’rous robes.
Perennial springs water it, and it shows
A twofold entrance; ingress one affords
To mortal man, which Northward looks direct,
But holier is the Southern far; by that
No mortal enters, but the Gods alone.
Familiar with that port before, they push’d [130]
The vessel in; she, rapid, plow’d the sands
With half her keel, such rowers urged her on.
Descending from the well-bench’d bark ashore,
They lifted forth Ulysses first, with all
His splendid couch complete, then, lay’d him down
Still wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.
His treasures, next, by the Phæacian Chiefs
At his departure given him as the meed
Due to his wisdom, at the olive’s foot
They heap’d, without the road, lest, while he slept [140]
Some passing traveller should rifle them.
Then homeward thence they sped. Nor Ocean’s God
His threats forgot denounced against divine
Ulysses, but with Jove thus first advised.
Eternal Sire! I shall no longer share
Respect and reverence among the Gods,
Since, now, Phæacia’s mortal race have ceas’d
To honour me, though from myself derived.
It was my purpose, that by many an ill
Harass’d, Ulysses should have reach’d his home, [150]
Although to intercept him, whose return
Thyself had promis’d, ne’er was my intent.
But him fast-sleeping swiftly o’er the waves
They have conducted, and have set him down
In Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich’d,
With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;
Much treasure! more than he had home convey’d
Even had he arrived with all his share
Allotted to him of the spoils of Troy.
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied. [160]
What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,
Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the Gods
Will ne’er despise; dangerous were the deed
To cast dishonour on a God by birth
More ancient, and more potent far than they.
But if, profanely rash, a mortal man
Should dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrong
Some future day is ever in thy pow’r.
Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.
Him answer’d, then, the Shaker of the shores. [170]
Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soon
Perform, as thou hast said, but that I watch
Thy mind continual, fearful to offend.
My purpose is, now to destroy amid
The dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,
Return’d from safe conveyance of her freight;
So shall they waft such wand’rers home no more,
And she shall hide their city, to a rock
Transform’d of mountainous o’ershadowing size.
Him, then, Jove answer’d, gath’rer of the clouds. [180]
Perform it, O my brother, and the deed
Thus done, shall best be done—What time the people
Shall from the city her approach descry,
Fix her to stone transform’d, but still in shape
A gallant bark, near to the coast, that all
May wonder, seeing her transform’d to stone
Of size to hide their city from the view.
These words once heard, the Shaker of the shores
Instant to Scheria, maritime abode
Of the Phæacians, went. Arrived, he watch’d. [190]
And now the flying bark full near approach’d,
When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palm
Depress’d her at a stroke, and she became
Deep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.
Phæacia’s ship-ennobled sons meantime
Conferring stood, and thus, in accents wing’d,
Th’ amazed spectator to his fellow spake.
Ah! who hath sudden check’d the vessel’s course
Homeward? this moment she was all in view.
Thus they, unconscious of the cause, to whom [200]
Alcinoüs, instructing them, replied.
Ye Gods! a prophecy now strikes my mind
With force, my father’s. He was wont to say—
Neptune resents it, that we safe conduct
Natives of ev’ry region to their home.
He also spake, prophetic, of a day
When a Phæacian gallant bark, return’d
After conveyance of a stranger hence,
Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changed
To a huge mountain, cover all the town. [210]
So spake my father, all whose words we see
This day fulfill’d. Thus, therefore, act we all
Unanimous; henceforth no longer bear
The stranger home, when such shall here arrive;
And we will sacrifice, without delay,
Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,
He will commiserate us, and forbear
To hide our town behind a mountain’s height.
He spake, they, terrified, the bulls prepared.
Thus all Phæacia’s Senators and Chiefs [220]
His altar compassing, in pray’r adored
The Ocean’s God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,
Unconscious where; stretch’d on his native soil
He lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.
For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloud
Drew dense around him, that, ere yet agnized
By others, he might wisdom learn from her,
Neither to citizens, nor yet to friends
Reveal’d, nor even to his own espoused,
Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs [230]
Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.
All objects, therefore, in the Hero’s eyes
Seem’d alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,
Heav’n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.
Arising, fixt he stood, his native soil
Contemplating, till with expanded palms
Both thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.
Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?
Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,
Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods? [240]
Where now shall I secrete these num’rous stores?
Where wander I, myself? I would that still
Phæacians own’d them, and I had arrived
In the dominions of some other King
Magnanimous, who would have entertain’d
And sent me to my native home secure!
Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,
Nor can I leave it here, lest it become
Another’s prey. Alas! Phæacia’s Chiefs
Not altogether wise I deem or just, [250]
Who have misplaced me in another land,
Promis’d to bear me to the pleasant shores
Of Ithaca, but have not so perform’d.
Jove, guardian of the suppliant’s rights, who all
Transgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,
Avenge me on the treach’rous race!—but hold—
I will revise my stores, so shall I know
If they have left me here of aught despoiled.
So saying, he number’d carefully the gold,
The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes, [260]
But nothing miss’d of all. Then he bewail’d
His native isle, with pensive steps and slow
Pacing the border of the billowy flood,
Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach’d,
In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fair
In feature, such as are the sons of Kings;
A sumptuous mantle o’er his shoulders hung
Twice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,
And a smooth javelin glitter’d in his hand.
Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps [270]
Turn’d brisk toward her, whom he thus address’d.
Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I first
Encounter in this land unknown, all hail!
Come not with purposes of harm to me!
These save, and save me also. I prefer
To thee, as to some God, my pray’r, and clasp
Thy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,
What land? what people? who inhabit here?
Is this some isle delightful, or a shore
Of fruitful main-land sloping to the sea? [280]
Then Pallas, thus, Goddess cærulean-eyed.
Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dwelt
Far distant hence, if of this land thou ask.
It is not, trust me, of so little note,
But known to many, both to those who dwell
Toward the sun-rise, and to others placed
Behind it, distant in the dusky West.
Rugged it is, not yielding level course
To the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,
However small, but rich in wheat and wine; [290]
Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,
But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,
Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.
Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a name
Known ev’n at Troy, a city, by report,
At no small distance from Achaia’s shore.
The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring Chief
Ulysses, happy in his native land,
(So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove)
In accents wing’d her answ’ring, utter’d prompt [300]
Not truth, but figments to truth opposite,
For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.
O’er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete^^[[60|Cowper: Footnote 60]]^^
I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems,
I have, myself, with these my stores arrived;
Not richer stores than, flying thence, I left
To my own children; for from Crete I fled
For slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,
Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speed
Could equal throughout all that spacious isle. [310]
His purpose was to plunder me of all
My Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woe
I had in battle and by storms endured,
For that I would not gratify his Sire,
Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,
But led a diff’rent band. Him from the field
Returning homeward, with my brazen spear
I smote, in ambush waiting his return
At the road-side, with a confed’rate friend.
Unwonted darkness over all the heav’ns [320]
That night prevailed, nor any eye of man
Observed us, but, unseen, I slew the youth.
No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of life
I had bereft him, than I sought a ship
Mann’d by renown’d Phæacians, whom with gifts
Part of my spoils, and by requests, I won.
I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,
Or in fair Elis by th’ Epeans ruled,
But they, reluctant, were by violent winds
Driv’n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none. [330]
Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,
And with much difficulty push’d the ship
Into safe harbour, nor was mention made
Of food by any, though all needed food,
But, disembark’d in haste, on shore we lay.
I, weary, slept profound, and they my goods
Forth heaving from the bark, beside me placed
The treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,
Then, reimbarking, to the populous coast
Steer’d of Sidonia, and me left forlorn. [340]
He ceased; then smiled Minerva azure-eyed
And stroaked his cheek, in form a woman now,
Beauteous, majestic, in all elegant arts
Accomplish’d, and with accents wing’d replied.
Who passes thee in artifice well-framed
And in imposture various, need shall find
Of all his policy, although a God.
Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou art
And subtle, from the wiles which thou hast lov’d
Since thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech [350]
Delusive, even in thy native land?
But come, dismiss we these ingenious shifts
From our discourse, in which we both excel;
For thou of all men in expedients most
Abound’st and eloquence, and I, throughout
All heav’n have praise for wisdom and for art.
And know’st thou not thine Athenæan aid,
Pallas, Jove’s daughter, who in all thy toils
Assist thee and defend? I gave thee pow’r
T’ engage the hearts of all Phæacia’s sons, [360]
And here arrive ev’n now, counsels to frame
Discrete with thee, and to conceal the stores
Giv’n to thee by the rich Phæacian Chiefs
On my suggestion, at thy going thence.
I will inform thee also what distress
And hardship under thy own palace-roof
Thou must endure; which, since constraint enjoins,
Bear patiently, and neither man apprize
Nor woman that thou hast arrived forlorn
And vagabond, but silent undergo [370]
What wrongs soever from the hands of men.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
O Goddess! thou art able to elude,
Wherever met, the keenest eye of man,
For thou all shapes assum’st; yet this I know
Certainly, that I ever found thee kind,
Long as Achaia’s Heroes fought at Troy;
But when (the lofty tow’rs of Priam laid
In dust) we re-embark’d, and by the will
Of heav’n Achaia’s fleet was scatter’d wide, [380]
Thenceforth, O daughter wise of Jove, I thee
Saw not, nor thy appearance in my ship
Once mark’d, to rid me of my num’rous woes,
But always bearing in my breast a heart
With anguish riv’n, I roam’d, till by the Gods
Relieved at length, and till with gracious words
Thyself didst in Phæacia’s opulent land
Confirm my courage, and becam’st my guide.
But I adjure thee in thy father’s name—
O tell me truly, (for I cannot hope [390]
That I have reach’d fair Ithaca; I tread
Some other soil, and thou affirm’st it mine
To mock me merely, and deceive) oh say—
Am I in Ithaca? in truth, at home?
Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.
Such caution in thy breast always prevails
Distrustful; but I know thee eloquent,
With wisdom and with ready thought endued,
And cannot leave thee, therefore, thus distress’d
For what man, save Ulysses, new-return’d [400]
After long wand’rings, would not pant to see
At once his home, his children, and his wife?
But thou preferr’st neither to know nor ask
Concerning them, till some experience first
Thou make of her whose wasted youth is spent
In barren solitude, and who in tears
Ceaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.
I ne’er was ignorant, but well foreknew
That not till after loss of all thy friends
Thou should’st return; but loth I was to oppose [410]
Neptune, my father’s brother, sore incensed
For his son’s sake deprived of sight by thee.
But, I will give thee proof—come now—survey
These marks of Ithaca, and be convinced.
This is the port of Phorcys, sea-born sage;
That, the huge olive at the haven’s head;
Fast by it, thou behold’st the pleasant cove
Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named
The Naiads; this the broad-arch’d cavern is
Where thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs [420]
Many a whole hecatomb; and yonder stands
The mountain Neritus with forests cloath’d.
So saying, the Goddess scatter’d from before
His eyes all darkness, and he knew the land.
Then felt Ulysses, Hero toil-inured,
Transport unutterable, seeing plain
Once more his native isle. He kiss’d the glebe,
And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador’d.
Nymphs, Naiads, Jove’s own daughters! I despair’d
To see you more, whom yet with happy vows [430]
I now can hail again. Gifts, as of old,
We will hereafter at your shrines present,
If Jove-born Pallas, huntress of the spoils,
Grant life to me, and manhood to my son.
Then Pallas, blue-eyed progeny of Jove.
Take courage; trouble not thy mind with thoughts
Now needless. Haste—delay not—far within
This hallow’d cave’s recess place we at once
Thy precious stores, that they may thine remain,
Then muse together on thy wisest course. [440]
So saying, the Goddess enter’d deep the cave
Caliginous, and its secret nooks explored
From side to side; meantime, Ulysses brought
All his stores into it, the gold, the brass,
And robes magnificent, his gifts received
From the Phæacians; safe he lodg’d them all,
And Pallas, daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d,
Closed fast, herself, the cavern with a stone.
Then, on the consecrated olive’s root
Both seated, they in consultation plann’d [450]
The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,
And Pallas, blue-eyed Goddess, thus began.
Laertes’ noble son, Ulysses! think
By what means likeliest thou shalt assail
Those shameless suitors, who have now controuled
Three years thy family, thy matchless wife
With language amorous and with spousal gifts
Urging importunate; but she, with tears
Watching thy wish’d return, hope gives to all
By messages of promise sent to each, [460]
Framing far other purposes the while.
Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.
Ah, Agamemnon’s miserable fate
Had surely met me in my own abode,
But for thy gracious warning, pow’r divine!
Come then—Devise the means; teach me, thyself,
The way to vengeance, and my soul inspire
With daring fortitude, as when we loos’d
Her radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.
Would’st thou with equal zeal, O Pallas! aid [470]
Thy servant here, I would encounter thrice
An hundred enemies, let me but perceive
Thy dread divinity my prompt ally.
Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.
And such I will be; not unmark’d by me,
(Let once our time of enterprize arrive)
Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge,
Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealth
Shall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor.
But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so [480]
That none shall know thee! I will parch the skin
On thy fair body; I will cause thee shed
Thy wavy locks; I will enfold thee round
In such a kirtle as the eyes of all
Shall loath to look on; and I will deform
With blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst;
So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife,
And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home,
Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou first
Thy swine-herd’s mansion; he, alike, intends [490]
Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy son
And thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swain
Tending his herd; they feed beneath the rock
Corax, at side of Arethusa’s fount,
On acorns dieted, nutritious food
To them, and drinking of the limpid stream.
There waiting, question him of thy concerns,
While I from Sparta praised for women fair
Call home thy son Telemachus, a guest
With Menelaus now, whom to consult [500]
In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,
Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
And why, alas! all-knowing as thou art,
Him left’st thou ignorant? was it that he,
He also, wand’ring wide the barren Deep,
Might suffer woe, while these devour his wealth?
Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.
Grieve thou not much for him. I sent him forth
Myself, that there arrived, he might acquire [510]
Honour and fame. No suff’rings finds he there,
But in Atrides’ palace safe resides,
Enjoying all abundance. Him, in truth,
The suitors watch close ambush’d on the Deep,
Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,
But shall not as I judge, till of themselves
The earth hide some who make thee, now, a prey.
So saying, the Goddess touch’d him with a wand.
At once o’er all his agile limbs she parch’d
The polish’d skin; she wither’d to the root [520]
His wavy locks; and cloath’d him with the hide
Deform’d of wrinkled age; she charged with rheums
His eyes before so vivid, and a cloak
And kirtle gave him, tatter’d, both, and foul,
And smutch’d with smoak; then, casting over all
An huge old deer-skin bald, with a long staff
She furnish’d him, and with a wallet patch’d
On all sides, dangling by a twisted thong.
Thus all their plan adjusted, diff’rent ways
They took, and she, seeking Ulysses’ son, [530]
To Lacedæmon’s spacious realm repair’d.
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses arriving at the house of Eumæus, is hospitably entertained, and spends the night there.//
"""
Leaving the haven-side, he turn’d his steps
Into a rugged path, which over hills
Mantled with trees led him to the abode
By Pallas mention’d of his noble friend^^[[61|Cowper: Footnote 61]]^^
The swine-herd, who of all Ulysses’ train
Watch’d with most diligence his rural stores.
Him sitting in the vestibule he found
Of his own airy lodge commodious, built
Amidst a level lawn. That structure neat
Eumæus, in the absence of his Lord, [10]
Had raised, himself, with stones from quarries hewn,
Unaided by Laertes or the Queen.
With tangled thorns he fenced it safe around,
And with contiguous stakes riv’n from the trunks
Of solid oak black-grain’d hemm’d it without.
Twelve penns he made within, all side by side,
Lairs for his swine, and fast-immured in each
Lay fifty pregnant females on the floor.
The males all slept without, less num’rous far,
Thinn’d by the princely wooers at their feasts [20]
Continual, for to them he ever sent
The fattest of his saginated charge.
Three hundred, still, and sixty brawns remained.
Four mastiffs in adjoining kennels lay,
Resembling wild-beasts nourish’d at the board
Of the illustrious steward of the styes.
Himself sat fitting sandals to his feet,
Carved from a stain’d ox-hide. Four hinds he kept,
Now busied here and there; three in the penns
Were occupied; meantime, the fourth had sought [30]
The city, whither, for the suitors’ use,
With no good will, but by constraint, he drove
A boar, that, sacrificing to the Gods,
Th’ imperious guests might on his flesh regale.
Soon as those clamorous watch-dogs the approach
Saw of Ulysses, baying loud, they ran
Toward him; he, as ever, well-advised,
Squatted, and let his staff fall from his hand.
Yet foul indignity he had endured
Ev’n there, at his own farm, but that the swain, [40]
Following his dogs in haste, sprang through the porch
To his assistance, letting fall the hide.
With chiding voice and vollied stones he soon
Drove them apart, and thus his Lord bespake.
Old man! one moment more, and these my dogs
Had, past doubt, worried thee, who should’st have proved,
So slain, a source of obloquy to me.
But other pangs the Gods, and other woes
To me have giv’n, who here lamenting sit
My godlike master, and his fatted swine [50]
Nourish for others’ use, while he, perchance,
A wand’rer in some foreign city, seeks
Fit sustenance, and none obtains, if still
Indeed he live, and view the light of day.
But, old friend! follow me into the house,
That thou, at least, with plenteous food refresh’d,
And cheer’d with wine sufficient, may’st disclose
Both who thou art, and all that thou hast borne.
So saying, the gen’rous swine-herd introduced
Ulysses, and thick bundles spread of twigs [60]
Beneath him, cover’d with the shaggy skin
Of a wild goat, of which he made his couch
Easy and large; the Hero, so received,
Rejoiced, and thus his gratitude express’d.
Jove grant thee and the Gods above, my host,
For such beneficence thy chief desire!
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
My guest! I should offend, treating with scorn
The stranger, though a poorer should arrive
Than ev’n thyself; for all the poor that are, [70]
And all the strangers are the care of Jove.
Little, and with good will, is all that lies
Within my scope; no man can much expect
From servants living in continual fear
Under young masters; for the Gods, no doubt,
Have intercepted my own Lord’s return,
From whom great kindness I had, else, received,
With such a recompense as servants gain
From gen’rous masters, house and competence,
And lovely wife from many a wooer won, [80]
Whose industry should have requited well
His goodness, with such blessing from the Gods
As now attends me in my present charge.
Much had I, therefore, prosper’d, had my Lord
Grown old at home; but he hath died—I would
That the whole house of Helen, one and all,
Might perish too, for she hath many slain
Who, like my master, went glory to win
For Agamemnon in the fields of Troy.
So saying, he girdled, quick, his tunic close, [90]
And, issuing, sought the styes; thence bringing two
Of the imprison’d herd, he slaughter’d both,
Singed them, and slash’d and spitted them, and placed
The whole well-roasted banquet, spits and all,
Reeking before Ulysses; last, with flour
He sprinkled them, and filling with rich wine
His ivy goblet, to his master sat
Opposite, whom inviting thus he said.
Now, eat, my guest! such as a servant may
I set before thee, neither large of growth [100]
Nor fat; the fatted—those the suitors eat,
Fearless of heav’n, and pitiless of man.
Yet deeds unjust as theirs the blessed Gods
Love not; they honour equity and right.
Even an hostile band when they invade
A foreign shore, which by consent of Jove
They plunder, and with laden ships depart,
Even they with terrours quake of wrath divine.
But these are wiser; these must sure have learn’d
From some true oracle my master’s death, [110]
Who neither deign with decency to woo,
Nor yet to seek their homes, but boldly waste
His substance, shameless, now, and sparing nought.
Jove ne’er hath giv’n us yet the night or day
When with a single victim, or with two
They would content them, and his empty jars
Witness how fast the squand’rers use his wine.
Time was, when he was rich indeed; such wealth
No Hero own’d on yonder continent,
Nor yet in Ithaca; no twenty Chiefs [120]
Could match with all their treasures his alone;
I tell thee their amount. Twelve herds of his
The mainland graze;^^[[62|Cowper: Footnote 62]]^^ as many flocks of sheep;
As many droves of swine; and hirelings there
And servants of his own seed for his use,
As many num’rous flocks of goats; his goats,
(Not fewer than eleven num’rous flocks)
Here also graze the margin of his fields
Under the eye of servants well-approved,
And ev’ry servant, ev’ry day, brings home [130]
The goat, of all his flock largest and best.
But as for me, I have these swine in charge,
Of which, selected with exactest care
From all the herd, I send the prime to them.
He ceas’d, meantime Ulysses ate and drank
Voracious, meditating, mute, the death
Of those proud suitors. His repast, at length,
Concluded, and his appetite sufficed,
Eumæus gave him, charged with wine, the cup
From which he drank himself; he, glad, received [140]
The boon, and in wing’d accents thus began.
My friend, and who was he, wealthy and brave
As thou describ’st the Chief, who purchased thee?
Thou say’st he perish’d for the glory-sake
Of Agamemnon. Name him; I, perchance,
May have beheld the Hero. None can say
But Jove and the inhabitants of heav’n
That I ne’er saw him, and may not impart
News of him; I have roam’d through many a clime.
To whom the noble swine-herd thus replied. [150]
Alas, old man! no trav’ler’s tale of him
Will gain his consort’s credence, or his son’s;
For wand’rers, wanting entertainment, forge
Falsehoods for bread, and wilfully deceive.
No wand’rer lands in Ithaca, but he seeks
With feign’d intelligence my mistress’ ear;
She welcomes all, and while she questions each
Minutely, from her lids lets fall the tear
Affectionate, as well beseems a wife
Whose mate hath perish’d in a distant land. [160]
Thou could’st thyself, no doubt, my hoary friend!
(Would any furnish thee with decent vest
And mantle) fabricate a tale with ease;
Yet sure it is that dogs and fowls, long since,
His skin have stript, or fishes of the Deep
Have eaten him, and on some distant shore
Whelm’d in deep sands his mould’ring bones are laid.
So hath he perish’d; whence, to all his friends,
But chiefly to myself, sorrow of heart;
For such another Lord, gentle as he, [170]
Wherever sought, I have no hope to find,
Though I should wander even to the house
Of my own father. Neither yearns my heart
So feelingly (though that desiring too)
To see once more my parents and my home,
As to behold Ulysses yet again.
Ah stranger; absent as he is, his name
Fills me with rev’rence, for he lov’d me much,
Cared for me much, and, though we meet no more,
Holds still an elder brother’s part in me. [180]
Him answer’d, then, the Hero toil-inured.
My friend! since his return, in thy account,
Is an event impossible, and thy mind
Always incredulous that hope rejects,
I shall not slightly speak, but with an oath—
Ulysses comes again; and I demand
No more, than that the boon such news deserves,
Be giv’n me soon as he shall reach his home.
Then give me vest and mantle fit to wear,
Which, ere that hour, much as I need them both, [190]
I neither ask, nor will accept from thee.
For him whom poverty can force aside
From truth—I hate him as the gates of hell.
Be Jove, of all in heav’n, my witness first,
Then, this thy hospitable board, and, last,
The household Gods of the illustrious Chief
Himself, Ulysses, to whose gates I go,
That all my words shall surely be fulfill’d.
In this same year Ulysses shall arrive,
Ere, this month closed, another month succeed, [200]
He shall return, and punish all who dare
Insult his consort and his noble son.
To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
Old friend! that boon thou wilt ne’er earn from me;
Ulysses comes no more. But thou thy wine
Drink quietly, and let us find, at length,
Some other theme; recall not this again
To my remembrance, for my soul is grieved
Oft as reminded of my honour’d Lord.
Let the oath rest, and let Ulysses come [210]
Ev’n as myself, and as Penelope,
And as his ancient father, and his son
Godlike Telemachus, all wish he may.
Ay—there I feel again—nor cease to mourn
His son Telemachus; who, when the Gods
Had giv’n him growth like a young plant, and I
Well hoped that nought inferior he should prove
In person or in mind to his own sire,
Hath lost, through influence human or divine,
I know not how, his sober intellect, [220]
And after tidings of his sire is gone
To far-famed Pylus; his return, meantime,
In ambush hidden the proud suitors wait,
That the whole house may perish of renown’d
Arcesias, named in Ithaca no more.
But whether he have fallen or ’scaped, let him
Rest also, whom Saturnian Jove protect!
But come, my ancient guest! now let me learn
Thy own afflictions; answer me in truth.
Who, and whence art thou? in what city born? [230]
Where dwell thy parents; in what kind of ship
Cam’st thou? the mariners, why brought they thee
To Ithaca? and of what land are they?
For, that on foot thou found’st us not, is sure.
Him answer’d, then, Ulysses, ever-wise.
I will with truth resolve thee; and if here
Within thy cottage sitting, we had wine
And food for many a day, and business none
But to regale at ease while others toiled,
I could exhaust the year complete, my woes [240]
Rehearsing, nor, at last, rehearse entire
My sorrows by the will of heav’n sustained.
I boast me sprung from ancestry renown’d
In spacious Crete; son of a wealthy sire,
Who other sons train’d num’rous in his house,
Born of his wedded wife; but he begat
Me on his purchased concubine, whom yet
Dear as his other sons in wedlock born
Castor Hylacides esteem’d and lov’d,
For him I boast my father. Him in Crete, [250]
While yet he liv’d, all reverenc’d as a God,
So rich, so prosp’rous, and so blest was he
With sons of highest praise. But death, the doom
Of all, him bore to Pluto’s drear abode,
And his illustrious sons among themselves
Portion’d his goods by lot; to me, indeed,
They gave a dwelling, and but little more,
Yet, for my virtuous qualities, I won
A wealthy bride, for I was neither vain
Nor base, forlorn as thou perceiv’st me now. [260]
But thou canst guess, I judge, viewing the straw
What once was in the ear. Ah! I have borne
Much tribulation; heap’d and heavy woes.
Courage and phalanx-breaking might had I
From Mars and Pallas; at what time I drew,
(Planning some dread exploit) an ambush forth
Of our most valiant Chiefs, no boding fears
Of death seized //me//, but foremost far of all
I sprang to fight, and pierced the flying foe.
Such was I once in arms. But household toils [270]
Sustain’d for children’s sake, and carking cares
T’ enrich a family, were not for me.
My pleasures were the gallant bark, the din
Of battle, the smooth spear and glitt’ring shaft,
Objects of dread to others, but which me
The Gods disposed to love and to enjoy.
Thus diff’rent minds are diff’rently amused;
For ere Achaia’s fleet had sailed to Troy,
Nine times was I commander of an host
Embark’d against a foreign foe, and found [280]
In all those enterprizes great success.
From the whole booty, first, what pleased me most
Chusing, and sharing also much by lot
I rapidly grew rich, and had thenceforth
Among the Cretans rev’rence and respect.
But when loud-thund’ring Jove that voyage dire
Ordain’d, which loos’d the knees of many a Greek,
Then, to Idomeneus and me they gave
The charge of all their fleet, which how to avoid
We found not, so importunate the cry [290]
Of the whole host impell’d us to the task.
There fought we nine long years, and in the tenth
(Priam’s proud city pillag’d) steer’d again
Our galleys homeward, which the Gods dispersed.
Then was it that deep-planning Jove devised
For me much evil. One short month, no more,
I gave to joys domestic, in my wife
Happy, and in my babes, and in my wealth,
When the desire seiz’d me with sev’ral ships
Well-rigg’d, and furnish’d all with gallant crews, [300]
To sail for Ægypt; nine I fitted forth,
To which stout mariners assembled fast.
Six days the chosen partners of my voyage
Feasted, to whom I num’rous victims gave
For sacrifice, and for their own regale.
Embarking on the sev’nth from spacious Crete,
Before a clear breeze prosp’rous from the North
We glided easily along, as down
A river’s stream; nor one of all my ships
Damage incurr’d, but healthy and at ease [310]
We sat, while gales well-managed urged us on.
The fifth day thence, smooth-flowing Nile we reach’d,
And safe I moor’d in the Ægyptian stream.
Then, charging all my mariners to keep
Strict watch for preservation of the ships,
I order’d spies into the hill-tops; but they
Under the impulse of a spirit rash
And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur’d fields
Pillaged of the Ægyptians, captive led
Their wives and little ones, and slew the men. [320]
Soon was the city alarm’d, and at the cry
Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,
With horse and foot, and with the gleam of arms
Filling the plain. Then Jove with panic dread
Struck all my people; none found courage more
To stand, for mischiefs swarm’d on ev’ry side.
There, num’rous by the glittering spear we fell
Slaughter’d, while others they conducted thence
Alive to servitude. But Jove himself
My bosom with this thought inspired, (I would [330]
That, dying, I had first fulfill’d my fate
In Ægypt, for new woes were yet to come!)
Loosing my brazen casque, and slipping off
My buckler, there I left them on the field,
Then cast my spear away, and seeking, next,
The chariot of the sov’reign, clasp’d his knees,
And kiss’d them. He, by my submission moved,
Deliver’d me, and to his chariot-seat
Raising, convey’d me weeping to his home.
With many an ashen spear his warriors sought [340]
To slay me, (for they now grew fiery wroth)
But he, through fear of hospitable Jove,
Chief punisher of wrong, saved me alive.
Sev’n years I there abode, and much amass’d
Among the Ægyptians, gifted by them all;
But, in the eighth revolving year, arrived
A shrewd Phœnician, in all fraud adept,
Hungry, and who had num’rous harm’d before,
By whom I also was cajoled, and lured
T’ attend him to Phœnicia, where his house [350]
And his possessions lay; there I abode
A year complete his inmate; but (the days
And months accomplish’d of the rolling year,
And the new seasons ent’ring on their course)
To Lybia then, on board his bark, by wiles
He won me with him, partner of the freight
Profess’d, but destin’d secretly to sale,
That he might profit largely by my price.
Not unsuspicious, yet constrain’d to go,
With this man I embark’d. A cloudless gale [360]
Propitious blowing from the North, our ship
Ran right before it through the middle sea,
In the offing over Crete; but adverse Jove
Destruction plann’d for them and death the while.
For, Crete now left afar, and other land
Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,
Right o’er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove
A cloud cærulean hung, dark’ning the Deep.
Then, thund’ring oft, he hurl’d into the bark
His bolts; she smitten by the fires of Jove, [370]
Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill’d she reek’d,
And, o’er her sides precipitated, plunged
Like gulls the crew, forbidden by that stroke
Of wrath divine to hope their country more.
But Jove himself, when I had cast away
All hope of life, conducted to my arms
The strong tall mast, that I might yet escape.
Around that beam I clung, driving before
The stormy blast. Nine days complete I drove,
And, on the tenth dark night, the rolling flood [380]
Immense convey’d me to Thesprotia’s shore.
There me the Hero Phidon, gen’rous King
Of the Thesprotians, freely entertained;
For his own son discov’ring me with toil
Exhausted and with cold, raised me, and thence
Led me humanely to his father’s house,
Who cherish’d me, and gave me fresh attire.
There heard I of Ulysses, whom himself
Had entertain’d, he said, on his return
To his own land; he shew’d me also gold, [390]
Brass, and bright steel elab’rate, whatsoe’er
Ulysses had amass’d, a store to feed
A less illustrious family than his
To the tenth generation, so immense
His treasures in the royal palace lay.
Himself, he said, was to Dodona gone,
There, from the tow’ring oaks of Jove to ask
Counsel divine, if openly to land
(After long absence) in his opulent realm
Of Ithaca, be best, or in disguise. [400]
To me the monarch swore, in his own hall
Pouring libation, that the ship was launch’d,
And the crew ready for his conduct home.
But me he first dismiss’d, for, as it chanced,
A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound
To green Dulichium’s isle. He bade the crew
Bear me to King Acastus with all speed;
But them far other thoughts pleased more, and thoughts
Of harm to me, that I might yet be plunged
In deeper gulphs of woe than I had known. [410]
For, when the billow-cleaving bark had left
The land remote, framing, combined, a plot
Against my liberty, they stripp’d my vest
And mantle, and this tatter’d raiment foul
Gave me instead, which thy own eyes behold.
At even-tide reaching the cultur’d coast
Of Ithaca, they left me bound on board
With tackle of the bark, and quitting ship
Themselves, made hasty supper on the shore.
But me, meantime, the Gods easily loos’d [420]
By their own pow’r, when, with wrapper vile
Around my brows, sliding into the sea
At the ship’s stern, I lay’d me on the flood.
With both hands oaring thence my course, I swam
Till past all ken of theirs; then landing where
Thick covert of luxuriant trees I mark’d,
Close couchant down I lay; they mutt’ring loud,
Paced to and fro, but deeming farther search
Unprofitable, soon embark’d again.
Thus baffling all their search with ease, the Gods [430]
Conceal’d and led me thence to the abode
Of a wise man, dooming me still to live.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply,
Alas! my most compassionable guest!
Thou hast much moved me by this tale minute
Of thy sad wand’rings and thy num’rous woes.
But, speaking of Ulysses, thou hast pass’d
All credence; I at least can give thee none.
Why, noble as thou art, should’st thou invent
Palpable falsehoods? as for the return [440]
Of my regretted Lord, myself I know
That had he not been hated by the Gods
Unanimous, he had in battle died
At Troy, or (that long doubtful war, at last,
Concluded,) in his people’s arms at home.
Then universal Greece had raised his tomb,
And he had even for his son atchiev’d
Immortal glory; but alas! by beaks
Of harpies torn, unseemly sight, he lies.
Here is my home the while; I never seek [450]
The city, unless summon’d by discrete
Penelope to listen to the news
Brought by some stranger, whencesoe’er arrived.
Then, all, alike inquisitive, attend,
Both who regret the absence of our King,
And who rejoice gratuitous to gorge
His property; but as for me, no joy
Find I in list’ning after such reports,
Since an Ætolian cozen’d me, who found
(After long wand’ring over various lands [460]
A fugitive for blood) my lone retreat.
Him warm I welcom’d, and with open arms
Receiv’d, who bold affirm’d that he had seen
My master with Idomeneus at Crete
His ships refitting shatter’d by a storm,
And that in summer with his godlike band
He would return, bringing great riches home,
Or else in autumn. And thou ancient guest
Forlorn! since thee the Gods have hither led,
Seek not to gratify me with untruths [470]
And to deceive me, since for no such cause
I shall respect or love thee, but alone
By pity influenced, and the fear of Jove.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Thou hast, in truth, a most incredulous mind,
Whom even with an oath I have not moved,
Or aught persuaded. Come then—let us make
In terms express a cov’nant, and the Gods
Who hold Olympus, witness to us both!
If thy own Lord at this thy house arrive, [480]
Thou shalt dismiss me decently attired
In vest and mantle, that I may repair
Hence to Dulichium, whither I would go.
But, if thy Lord come not, then, gath’ring all
Thy servants, headlong hurl me from a rock,
That other mendicants may fear to lie.
To whom the generous swine-herd in return.
Yes, stranger! doubtless I should high renown
Obtain for virtue among men, both now
And in all future times, if, having first [490]
Invited thee, and at my board regaled,
I, next, should slay thee; then my pray’rs would mount,
Past question, swiftly to Saturnian Jove.
But the hour calls to supper, and, ere long,
The partners of my toils will come prepared
To spread the board with no unsav’ry cheer.
Thus they conferr’d. And now the swains arrived,
Driving their charge, which fast they soon enclosed
Within their customary penns, and loud
The hubbub was of swine prison’d within. [500]
Then call’d the master to his rustic train.
Bring ye the best, that we may set him forth
Before my friend from foreign climes arrived,
With whom ourselves will also feast, who find
The bright-tusk’d multitude a painful charge,
While others, at no cost of theirs, consume
Day after day, the profit of our toils.
So saying, his wood for fuel he prepared,
And dragging thither a well-fatted brawn
Of the fifth year his servants held him fast [510]
At the hearth-side. Nor failed the master swain
T’ adore the Gods, (for wise and good was he)
But consecration of the victim, first,
Himself performing, cast into the fire
The forehead bristles of the tusky boar,
Then pray’d to all above, that, safe, at length,
Ulysses might regain his native home.
Then lifting an huge shive that lay beside
The fire, he smote the boar, and dead he fell,
Next, piercing him, and scorching close his hair, [520]
They carv’d him quickly, and Eumæus spread
Thin slices crude taken from ev’ry limb
O’er all his fat, then other slices cast,
Sprinkling them first with meal, into the fire.
The rest they slash’d and scored, and roasted well,
And placed it, heap’d together, on the board.
Then rose the good Eumæus to his task
Of distribution, for he understood
The hospitable entertainer’s part.
Sev’n-fold partition of the banquet made, [530]
He gave, with previous pray’r, to Maia’s son^^[[63|Cowper: Footnote 63]]^^
And to the nymphs one portion of the whole,
Then served his present guests, honouring first
Ulysses with the boar’s perpetual chine;
By that distinction just his master’s heart
He gratified, and thus the Hero spake.
Eumæus! be thou as belov’d of Jove
As thou art dear to me, whom, though attired
So coarsely, thou hast served with such respect!
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply. [540]
Eat, noble stranger! and refreshment take
Such as thou may’st; God^^[[64|Cowper: Footnote 64]]^^ gives, and God denies
At his own will, for He is Lord of all.
He said, and to the everlasting Gods
The firstlings sacrificed of all, then made
Libation, and the cup placed in the hands
Of city-spoiler Laertiades
Sitting beside his own allotted share.
Meantime, Mesaulius bread dispensed to all,
Whom, in the absence of his Lord, himself [550]
Eumæus had from Taphian traders bought
With his own proper goods, at no expence
Either to old Laertes or the Queen.
And now, all stretch’d their hands toward the feast
Reeking before them, and when hunger none
Felt more or thirst, Mesaulius clear’d the board.
Then, fed to full satiety, in haste
Each sought his couch. Black came a moonless night,
And Jove all night descended fast in show’rs,
With howlings of the ever wat’ry West. [560]
Ulysses, at that sound, for trial sake
Of his good host, if putting off his cloak
He would accommodate him, or require
That service for him at some other hand,
Addressing thus the family, began.
Hear now, Eumæus, and ye other swains
His fellow-lab’rers! I shall somewhat boast,
By wine befool’d, which forces ev’n the wise
To carol loud, to titter and to dance,
And words to utter, oft, better suppress’d. [570]
But since I have begun, I shall proceed,
Prating my fill. Ah might those days return
With all the youth and strength that I enjoy’d,
When in close ambush, once, at Troy we lay!
Ulysses, Menelaus, and myself
Their chosen coadjutor, led the band.
Approaching to the city’s lofty wall
Through the thick bushes and the reeds that gird
The bulwarks, down we lay flat in the marsh,
Under our arms, then Boreas blowing loud, [580]
A rueful night came on, frosty and charged
With snow that blanch’d us thick as morning rime,
And ev’ry shield with ice was crystall’d o’er.
The rest with cloaks and vests well cover’d, slept
Beneath their bucklers; I alone my cloak,
Improvident, had left behind, no thought
Conceiving of a season so severe;
Shield and belt, therefore, and nought else had I.
The night, at last, nigh spent, and all the stars
Declining in their course, with elbow thrust [590]
Against Ulysses’ side I roused the Chief,
And thus address’d him ever prompt to hear.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
I freeze to death. Help me, or I am lost.
No cloak have I; some evil dæmon, sure,
Beguil’d me of all prudence, that I came
Thus sparely clad; I shall, I must expire.
So I; he, ready as he was in arms
And counsel both, the remedy at once
Devised, and thus, low-whisp’ring, answer’d me. [600]
Hush! lest perchance some other hear—He said,
And leaning on his elbow, spake aloud.
My friends! all hear—a monitory dream
Hath reach’d me, for we lie far from the ships.
Haste, therefore, one of you, with my request
To Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, our Chief,
That he would reinforce us from the camp.
He spake, and at the word, Andræmon’s son
Thoas arose, who, casting off his cloak,
Ran thence toward the ships, and folded warm [610]
Within it, there lay I till dawn appear’d.
Oh for the vigour of such youth again!
Then, some good peasant here, either for love
Or for respect, would cloak a man like me,
Whom, now, thus sordid in attire ye scorn.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
My ancient guest! I cannot but approve
Thy narrative, nor hast thou utter’d aught
Unseemly, or that needs excuse. No want
Of raiment, therefore, or of aught beside [620]
Needful to solace penury like thine,
Shall harm thee here; yet, at the peep of dawn
Gird thy own tatters to thy loins again;
For //we// have no great store of cloaks to boast,
Or change of vests, but singly one for each.
But when Ulysses’ son shall once arrive,
He will himself with vest and mantle both
Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would’st.
So saying, he rose, and nearer made his couch
To the hearth-side, spreading it thick with skins [630]
Of sheep and goats; then lay the Hero down,
O’er whom a shaggy mantle large he threw,
Which oft-times served him with a change, when rough
The winter’s blast and terrible arose.
So was Ulysses bedded, and the youths
Slept all beside him; but the master-swain
Chose not his place of rest so far remote
From his rude charge, but to the outer court
With his nocturnal furniture, repair’d,
Gladd’ning Ulysses’ heart that one so true [640]
In his own absence kept his rural stores.
Athwart his sturdy shoulders, first, he flung
His faulchion keen, then wrapp’d him in a cloak
Thick-woven, winter-proof; he lifted, next,
The skin of a well-thriven goat, in bulk
Surpassing others, and his javelin took
Sharp-pointed, with which dogs he drove and men.
Thus arm’d, he sought his wonted couch beneath
A hollow rock where the herd slept, secure
From the sharp current of the Northern blast. [650]
"""
''Argument''
//Telemachus, admonished by Minerva, takes leave of Menelaus, but ere he sails, is accosted by Theoclymenos, a prophet of Argos, whom at his earnest request he takes on board. In the meantime Eumæus relates to Ulysses the means by which he came to Ithaca. Telemachus arriving there, gives orders for the return of his bark to the city, and repairs himself to Eumæus.//
"""
Meantime to Lacedæmon’s spacious vale
Minerva went, that she might summon thence
Ulysses’ glorious son to his own home.
Arrived, she found Telemachus reposed
And Nestor’s son beneath the vestibule
Of Menelaus, mighty Chief; she saw
Pisistratus in bands of gentle sleep
Fast-bound, but not Telemachus; his mind
No rest enjoy’d, by filial cares disturb’d
Amid the silent night, when, drawing near [10]
To his couch side, the Goddess thus began.
Thou canst no longer prudently remain
A wand’rer here, Telemachus! thy home
Abandon’d, and those haughty suitors left
Within thy walls; fear lest, partition made
Of thy possessions, they devour the whole,
And in the end thy voyage bootless prove.
Delay not; from brave Menelaus ask
Dismission hence, that thou may’st find at home
Thy spotless mother, whom her brethren urge [20]
And her own father even now to wed
Eurymachus, in gifts and in amount
Of proffer’d dow’r superior to them all.
Some treasure, else, shall haply from thy house
Be taken, such as thou wilt grudge to spare.
For well thou know’st how woman is disposed;
Her whole anxiety is to encrease
His substance whom she weds; no care hath she
Of her first children, or remembers more
The buried husband of her virgin choice. [30]
Returning then, to her of all thy train
Whom thou shalt most approve, the charge commit
Of thy concerns domestic, till the Gods
Themselves shall guide thee to a noble wife.
Hear also this, and mark it. In the frith
Samos the rude, and Ithaca between,
The chief of all her suitors thy return
In vigilant ambush wait, with strong desire
To slay thee, ere thou reach thy native shore,
But shall not, as I judge, till the earth hide [40]
Many a lewd reveller at thy expence.
Yet, steer thy galley from those isles afar,
And voyage make by night; some guardian God
Shall save thee, and shall send thee prosp’rous gales.
Then, soon as thou attain’st the nearest shore
Of Ithaca, dispatching to the town
Thy bark with all thy people, seek at once
The swine-herd; for Eumæus is thy friend.
There sleep, and send him forth into the town
With tidings to Penelope, that safe [50]
Thou art restored from Pylus home again.
She said, and sought th’ Olympian heights sublime.
Then, with his heel shaking him, he awoke
The son of Nestor, whom he thus address’d.
Rise, Nestor’s son, Pisistratus! lead forth
The steeds, and yoke them. We must now depart.
To whom the son of Nestor thus replied.
Telemachus! what haste soe’er we feel,
We can by no means prudently attempt
To drive by night, and soon it will be dawn. [60]
Stay, therefore, till the Hero, Atreus’ son,
Spear-practis’d Menelaus shall his gifts
Place in the chariot, and with kind farewell
Dismiss thee; for the guest in mem’ry holds
Through life, the host who treats him as a friend.
Scarce had he spoken, when the golden dawn
Appearing, Menelaus, from the side
Of beauteous Helen ris’n, their bed approach’d,
Whose coming when Telemachus perceived,
Cloathing himself hastily in his vest [70]
Magnificent, and o’er his shoulders broad
Casting his graceful mantle, at the door
He met the Hero, whom he thus address’d.
Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!
Dismiss me hence to Ithaca again,
My native isle, for I desire to go.
Him answer’d Menelaus famed in arms.
Telemachus! I will not long delay
Thy wish’d return. I disapprove alike
The host whose assiduity extreme [80]
Distresses, and whose negligence offends;
The middle course is best; alike we err,
Him thrusting forth whose wish is to remain,
And hind’ring the impatient to depart.
This only is true kindness—To regale
The present guest, and speed him when he would.
Yet stay, till thou shalt see my splendid gifts
Placed in thy chariot, and till I command
My women from our present stores to spread
The table with a plentiful repast. [90]
For both the honour of the guest demands,
And his convenience also, that he eat
Sufficient, ent’ring on a length of road.
But if through Hellas thou wilt take thy way
And traverse Argos, I will, then, myself
Attend thee; thou shalt journey with my steeds
Beneath thy yoke, and I will be thy guide
To many a city, whence we shall not go
Ungratified, but shall in each receive
Some gift at least, tripod, or charger bright, [100]
Or golden chalice, or a pair of mules.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Atrides, Menelaus, Chief renown’d!
I would at once depart, (for guardian none
Of my possessions have I left behind)
Lest, while I seek my father, I be lost
Myself, or lose what I should grudge to spare.
Which when the valiant Menelaus heard,
He bade his spouse and maidens spread the board
At once with remnants of the last regale. [110]
Then Eteoneus came, Boetheus’ son
Newly aris’n, for nigh at hand he dwelt,
Whom Menelaus bade kindle the fire
By which to dress their food, and he obey’d.
He next, himself his fragrant chamber sought,
Not sole, but by his spouse and by his son
Attended, Megapenthes. There arrived
Where all his treasures lay, Atrides, first,
Took forth, himself, a goblet, then consign’d
To his son’s hand an argent beaker bright. [120]
Meantime, beside her coffers Helen stood
Where lay her variegated robes, fair works
Of her own hand. Producing one, in size
And in magnificence the chief, a star
For splendour, and the lowest placed of all,
Loveliest of her sex, she bore it thence.
Then, all proceeding through the house, they sought
Telemachus again, whom reaching, thus
The Hero of the golden locks began.
May Jove the Thunderer, dread Juno’s mate, [130]
Grant thee, Telemachus! such voyage home
As thy own heart desires! accept from all
My stores selected as the richest far
And noblest gift for finish’d beauty—This.
I give thee wrought elaborate a cup,
Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.
It is the work of Vulcan, which to me
The Hero Phædimus imparted, King
Of the Sidonians, when, on my return,
Beneath his roof I lodg’d. I make it thine. [140]
So saying, the Hero, Atreus’ son, the cup
Placed in his hands, and Megapenthes set
Before him, next, the argent beaker bright;
But lovely Helen drawing nigh, the robe
Presented to him, whom she thus address’d.
I also give thee, oh my son, a gift,
Which seeing, thou shalt think on her whose hands
Wrought it; a present on thy nuptial day
For thy fair spouse; meantime, repose it safe
In thy own mother’s keeping. Now, farewell! [150]
Prosp’rous and happy be thy voyage home!
She ceas’d, and gave it to him, who the gift
Accepted glad, and in the chariot-chest
Pisistratus the Hero all disposed,
Admiring them the while. They, following, next,
The Hero Menelaus to his hall
Each on his couch or on his throne reposed.
A maiden, then, with golden ewer charged
And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands,
And spread the polish’d table, which with food [160]
Various, selected from her present stores,
The mistress of the household charge supplied.
Boetheus’ son stood carver, and to each
His portion gave, while Megapenthes, son
Of glorious Menelaus, serv’d the cup.
Then, all with outstretch’d hands the feast assail’d,
And when nor hunger more nor thirst of wine
They felt, Telemachus and Nestor’s son
Yoked the swift steeds, and, taking each his seat
In the resplendent chariot, drove at once [170]
Right through the sounding portico abroad.
But Menelaus, Hero amber-hair’d,
A golden cup bearing with richest wine
Replete in his right hand, follow’d them forth,
That not without libation first perform’d
They might depart; he stood before the steeds,
And drinking first, thus, courteous, them bespake.
Health to you both, young friends! and from my lips
Like greeting bear to Nestor, royal Chief,
For he was ever as a father kind [180]
To me, while the Achaians warr’d at Troy.
To whom Telemachus discrete replied.
And doubtless, so we will; at our return
We will report to him, illustrious Prince!
Thy ev’ry word. And oh, I would to heav’n
That reaching Ithaca, I might at home
Ulysses hail as sure, as I shall hence
Depart, with all benevolence by thee
Treated, and rich in many a noble gift.
While thus he spake, on his right hand appear’d [190]
An eagle; in his talons pounced he bore
A white-plumed goose domestic, newly ta’en
From the house-court. Ran females all and males
Clamorous after him; but he the steeds
Approaching on the right, sprang into air.
That sight rejoicing and with hearts reviv’d
They view’d, and thus Pisistratus his speech
Amid them all to Menelaus turn’d.
Now, Menelaus, think, illustrious Chief!
If us, this omen, or thyself regard. [200]
While warlike Menelaus musing stood
What answer fit to frame, Helen meantime,
His spouse long-stoled preventing him, began.
Hear me; for I will answer as the Gods
Teach me, and as I think shall come to pass.
As he, descending from his place of birth
The mountains, caught our pamper’d goose away,
So shall Ulysses, after many woes
And wand’rings to his home restored, avenge
His wrongs, or even now is at his home [210]
For all those suitors sowing seeds of woe.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Oh grant it Jove, Juno’s high-thund’ring mate!
So will I, there arrived, with vow and pray’r
Thee worship, as thou wert, thyself, divine.
He said, and lash’d the coursers; fiery they
And fleet, sprang through the city to the plain.
All day the yoke on either side they shook,
Journeying swift; and now the setting sun
To gloomy evening had resign’d the roads, [220]
When they to Pheræ came, and in the house
Of good Diocles slept, their lib’ral host,
Whose sire Orsilochus from Alpheus sprang.
But when Aurora, daughter of the Dawn,
Look’d rosy from the East, yoking their steeds,
They in the sumptuous chariot sat again.
Forth through the vestibule they drove, and through
The sounding portico, when Nestor’s son
Plied brisk the scourge, and willing flew the steeds.
Thus whirl’d along, soon they approach’d the gates [230]
Of Pylus, when Telemachus, his speech
Turning to his companion, thus began.
How, son of Nestor! shall I win from thee
Not promise only, but performance kind
Of my request? we are not bound alone
To friendship by the friendship of our sires,
But by equality of years, and this
Our journey shall unite us still the more.
Bear me not, I intreat thee, noble friend!
Beyond the ship, but drop me at her side, [240]
Lest ancient Nestor, though against my will,
Detain me in his palace through desire
To feast me, for I dread the least delay.
He spake; then mused Pisistratus how best
He might effect the wishes of his friend,
And thus at length resolved; turning his steeds
With sudden deviation to the shore
He sought the bark, and placing in the stern
Both gold and raiment, the illustrious gifts
Of Menelaus, thus, in accents wing’d [250]
With ardour, urged Telemachus away.
Dispatch, embark, summon thy crew on board,
Ere my arrival notice give of thine
To the old King; for vehement I know
His temper, neither will he let thee hence,
But, hasting hither, will himself enforce
Thy longer stay, that thou may’st not depart
Ungifted; nought will fire his anger more.
So saying, he to the Pylian city urged
His steeds bright-maned, and at the palace-gate [260]
Arrived of Nestor speedily; meantime
Telemachus exhorted thus his crew.
My gallant friends! set all your tackle, climb
The sable bark, for I would now return.
He spake; they heard him gladly, and at once
All fill’d the benches. While his voyage he
Thus expedited, and beside the stern
To Pallas sacrifice perform’d and pray’d,
A stranger, born remote, who had escaped
From Argos, fugitive for blood, a seer [270]
And of Melampus’ progeny, approach’d.
Melampus, in old time, in Pylus dwelt,
Mother of flocks, alike for wealth renown’d
And the magnificence of his abode.
He, flying from the far-famed Pylian King,
The mighty Neleus^^[[65|Cowper: Footnote 65]]^^, migrated at length
Into another land, whose wealth, the while,
Neleus by force possess’d a year complete.
Meantime, Melampus in the house endured
Of Phylacus imprisonment and woe, [280]
And burn’d with wrath for Neleus’ daughter sake
By fell Erynnis kindled in his heart.
But, ’scaping death, he drove the lowing beeves
From Phylace to Pylus, well avenged
His num’rous injuries at Neleus’ hands
Sustain’d, and gave into his brother’s arms
King Neleus’ daughter fair, the promis’d bride.
To Argos steed-renown’d he journey’d next,
There destin’d to inhabit and to rule
Multitudes of Achaians. In that land [290]
He married, built a palace, and became
Father of two brave sons, Antiphates
And Mantius; to Antiphates was born
The brave Oïcleus; from Oïcleus sprang
Amphiaraüs, demagogue renown’d,
Whom with all tenderness, and as a friend
Alike the Thund’rer and Apollo prized;
Yet reach’d he not the bounds of hoary age.
But by his mercenary consort’s arts^^[[66|Cowper: Footnote 66]]^^
Persuaded, met his destiny at Thebes. [300]
He ’gat Alcmæon and Amphilocus.
Mantius was also father of two sons,
Clytus and Polyphides. Clytus pass’d
From earth to heav’n, and dwells among the Gods,
Stol’n by Aurora for his beauty’s sake.
But (brave Amphiaraüs once deceased)
Phœbus exalted Polyphides far
Above all others in the prophet’s part.
He, anger’d by his father, roam’d away
To Hyperesia, where he dwelt renown’d [310]
Throughout all lands the oracle of all.
His son, named Theoclymenus, was he
Who now approach’d; he found Telemachus
Libation off’ring in his bark, and pray’r,
And in wing’d accents ardent him address’d.
Ah, friend! since sacrificing in this place
I find thee, by these sacred rites and those
Whom thou ador’st, and by thy own dear life,
And by the lives of these thy mariners
I beg true answer; hide not what I ask. [320]
Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
I will inform thee, stranger! and will solve
Thy questions with much truth. I am by birth
Ithacan, and Ulysses was my sire.
But he hath perish’d by a woeful death,
And I, believing it, with these have plow’d
The ocean hither, int’rested to learn
A father’s fate long absent from his home.
Then answer’d godlike Theoclymenus. [330]
I also am a wand’rer, having slain
A man of my own tribe; brethren and friends
Num’rous had he in Argos steed-renown’d,
And pow’rful are the Achaians dwelling there.
From them, through terrour of impending death,
I fly, a banish’d man henceforth for ever.
Ah save a suppliant fugitive! lest death
O’ertake me, for I doubt not their pursuit.
Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.
I shall not, be assured, since thou desir’st [340]
To join me, chace thee from my bark away.
Follow me, therefore, and with us partake,
In Ithaca, what best the land affords.
So saying, he at the stranger’s hand received
His spear, which on the deck he lay’d, then climb’d
Himself the bark, and, seated in the stern,
At his own side placed Theoclymenus.
They cast the hawsers loose; then with loud voice
Telemachus exhorted all to hand
The tackle, whom the sailors prompt obey’d. [350]
The tall mast heaving, in its socket deep
They lodg’d it, and its cordage braced secure,
Then, straining at the halyards, hoised the sail.
Fair wind, and blowing fresh through æther pure
Minerva sent them, that the bark might run
Her nimblest course through all the briny way.
Now sank the sun, and dusky ev’ning dimm’d
The waves, when, driven by propitious Jove,
His bark stood right for Pheræ; thence she stretch’d
To sacred Elis where the Epeans rule, [360]
And through the sharp Echinades he next
Steer’d her, uncertain whether fate ordain’d
His life or death, surprizal or escape.
Meantime Ulysses and the swine-herd ate
Their cottage-mess, and the assistant swains
Theirs also; and when hunger now and thirst
Had ceased in all, Ulysses thus began,
Proving the swine-herd, whether friendly still,
And anxious for his good, he would intreat
His stay, or thence hasten him to the town. [370]
Eumæus, and all ye his servants, hear!
It is my purpose, lest I wear thee out,
Thee and thy friends, to seek at early dawn
The city, there to beg—But give me first
Needful instructions, and a trusty guide
Who may conduct me thither; there my task
Must be to roam the streets; some hand humane
Perchance shall give me a small pittance there,
A little bread, and a few drops to drink.
Ulysses’ palace I shall also seek, [380]
And to discrete Penelope report
My tidings; neither shall I fail to mix
With those imperious suitors, who, themselves
Full-fed, may spare perhaps some boon to me.
Me shall they find, in whatsoe’er they wish
Their ready servitor, for (understand
And mark me well) the herald of the skies,
Hermes, from whom all actions of mankind
Their grace receive and polish, is my friend,
So that in menial offices I fear [390]
No rival, whether I be called to heap
The hearth with fuel, or dry wood to cleave,
To roast, to carve, or to distribute wine,
As oft the poor are wont who serve the great.
To whom, Eumæus! at those words displeased,
Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thought
Possess thee, stranger? surely thy resolve
Is altogether fixt to perish there,
If thou indeed hast purposed with that throng
To mix, whose riot and outrageous acts [400]
Of violence echo through the vault of heav’n.
None, such as thou, serve //them//; their servitors
Are youths well-cloak’d, well-vested; sleek their heads,
And smug their countenances; such alone
Are their attendants, and the polish’d boards
Groan overcharg’d with bread, with flesh, with wine.
Rest here content; for neither me nor these
Thou weariest aught, and when Ulysses’ son
Shall come, he will with vest and mantle fair
Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would’st. [410]
To whom Ulysses, toil-inured.
I wish thee, O Eumæus! dear to Jove
As thou art dear to me, for this reprieve
Vouchsafed me kind, from wand’ring and from woe!
No worse condition is of mortal man
Than his who wanders; for the poor man, driv’n
By woe and by misfortune homeless forth,
A thousand mis’ries, day by day, endures.
Since thou detain’st me, then, and bidd’st me wait
His coming, tell me if the father still [420]
Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence,
He left so nearly on the verge of life?
And lives his mother? or have both deceased
Already, and descended to the shades?
To whom the master swine-herd thus replied.
I will inform thee, and with strictest truth,
Of all that thou hast ask’d. Laertes lives,
But supplication off’ring to the Gods
Ceaseless, to free him from a weary life,
So deeply his long-absent son he mourns, [430]
And the dear consort of his early youth,
Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath brought
Old age on him, or ere its date arrived.
She died of sorrow for her glorious son,
And died deplorably;^^[[67|Cowper: Footnote 67]]^^ may never friend
Of mine, or benefactor die as she!
While yet she liv’d, dejected as she was,
I found it yet some solace to converse
With her, who rear’d me in my childish days,
Together with her lovely youngest-born [440]
The Princess Ctimena; for side by side
We grew, and I, scarce honour’d less than she.
But soon as our delightful prime we both
Attain’d, to Samos her they sent, a bride,
And were requited with rich dow’r; but me
Cloath’d handsomely with tunic and with vest,
And with fair sandals furnish’d, to the field
She order’d forth, yet loved me still the more.
I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav’n
Prospers the work on which I here attend; [450]
Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and hence
Refresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee.
But kindness none experience I, or can,
From fair Penelope (my mistress now)
In word or action, so is the house curs’d
With that lewd throng. Glad would the servants be
Might they approach their mistress, and receive
Advice from her; glad too to eat and drink,
And somewhat bear each to his rural home,
For perquisites are ev’ry servant’s joy. [460]
Then answer thus, Ulysses wise return’d.
Alas! good swain, Eumæus, how remote
From friends and country wast thou forced to roam
Ev’n in thy infancy! But tell me true.
The city where thy parents dwelt, did foes
Pillage it? or did else some hostile band
Surprizing thee alone, on herd or flock
Attendant, bear thee with them o’er the Deep,
And sell thee at this Hero’s house, who pay’d
Doubtless for //thee// no sordid price or small? [470]
To whom the master swine-herd in reply.
Stranger! since thou art curious to be told
My story, silent listen, and thy wine
At leisure quaff. The nights are longest now,
And such as time for sleep afford, and time
For pleasant conf’rence; neither were it good
That thou should’st to thy couch before thy hour,
Since even sleep is hurtful, in excess.
Whoever here is weary, and desires
Early repose, let him depart to rest, [480]
And, at the peep of day, when he hath fed
Sufficiently, drive forth my master’s herd;
But we with wine and a well-furnish’d board
Supplied, will solace mutually derive
From recollection of our sufferings past;
For who hath much endured, and wander’d far,
Finds the recital ev’n of sorrow sweet.
Now hear thy question satisfied; attend!
There is an island (thou hast heard, perchance,
Of such an isle) named Syria;^^[[68|Cowper: Footnote 68]]^^ it is placed 490
Above Ortigia, and a dial owns^^[[69|Cowper: Footnote 69]]^^
True to the tropic changes of the year.
No great extent she boasts, yet is she rich
In cattle and in flocks, in wheat and wine.
No famine knows that people, or disease
Noisome, of all that elsewhere seize the race
Of miserable man; but when old age
Steals on the citizens, Apollo, arm’d
With silver bow and bright Diana come,
Whose gentle shafts dismiss them soon to rest. [500]
Two cities share between them all the isle,
And both were subject to my father’s sway
Ctesius Ormenides, a godlike Chief.
It chanced that from Phœnicia, famed for skill
In arts marine, a vessel thither came
By sharpers mann’d, and laden deep with toys.
Now, in my father’s family abode
A fair Phœnician, tall, full-sized, and skill’d
In works of elegance, whom they beguiled.
While she wash’d linen on the beach, beside [510]
The ship, a certain mariner of those
Seduced her; for all women, ev’n the wise
And sober, feeble prove by love assail’d.
Who was she, he enquired, and whence? nor she
Scrupled to tell at once her father’s home.
I am of Sidon,^^[[70|Cowper: Footnote 70]]^^ famous for her works
In brass and steel; daughter of Arybas,
Who rolls in affluence; Taphian pirates thence
Stole me returning from the field, from whom
This Chief procured me at no little cost. [520]
Then answer thus her paramour return’d.
Wilt thou not hence to Sidon in our ship,
That thou may’st once more visit the abode
Of thy own wealthy parents, and themselves?
For still they live, and still are wealthy deem’d.
To whom the woman. Even that might be,
Would ye, ye seamen, by a solemn oath
Assure me of a safe conveyance home.
Then sware the mariners as she required,
And, when their oath was ended, thus again [530]
The woman of Phœnicia them bespake.
Now, silence! no man, henceforth, of you all
Accost me, though he meet me on the road,
Or at yon fountain; lest some tattler run
With tidings home to my old master’s ear,
Who, with suspicion touch’d, may //me// confine
In cruel bonds, and death contrive for //you//.
But be ye close; purchase your stores in haste;
And when your vessel shall be freighted full,
Quick send me notice, for I mean to bring [540]
What gold soever opportune I find,
And will my passage cheerfully defray
With still another moveable. I nurse
The good man’s son, an urchin shrewd, of age
To scamper at my side; him will I bring,
Whom at some foreign market ye shall prove
Saleable at what price soe’er ye will.
So saying, she to my father’s house return’d.
They, there abiding the whole year, their ship
With purchased goods freighted of ev’ry kind, [550]
And when, her lading now complete, she lay
For sea prepared, their messenger arrived
To summon down the woman to the shore.
A mariner of theirs, subtle and shrewd,
Then, ent’ring at my father’s gate, produced
A splendid collar, gold with amber strung.
My mother (then at home) with all her maids
Handling and gazing on it with delight,
Proposed to purchase it, and he the nod
Significant, gave unobserv’d, the while, [560]
To the Phœnician woman, and return’d.
She, thus informed, leading me by the hand
Went forth, and finding in the vestibule
The cups and tables which my father’s guests
Had used, (but they were to the forum gone
For converse with their friends assembled there)
Convey’d three cups into her bosom-folds,
And bore them off, whom I a thoughtless child
Accompanied, at the decline of day,
When dusky evening had embrown’d the shore. [570]
We, stepping nimbly on, soon reach’d the port
Renown’d, where that Phœnician vessel lay.
They shipp’d us both, and all embarking cleav’d
Their liquid road, by favourable gales,
Jove’s gift, impell’d. Six days we day and night
Continual sailed, but when Saturnian Jove
Now bade the sev’nth bright morn illume the skies,
Then, shaft-arm’d Dian struck the woman dead.
At once she pitch’d headlong into the bilge
Like a sea-coot, whence heaving her again, [580]
The seamen gave her to be fishes’ food,
And I survived to mourn her. But the winds
And rolling billows them bore to the coast
Of Ithaca, where with his proper goods
Laertes bought me. By such means it chanced
That e’er I saw the isle in which I dwell.
To whom Ulysses, glorious Chief, replied.
Eumæus! thou hast moved me much, thy woes
Enumerating thus at large. But Jove
Hath neighbour’d all thy evil with this good, [590]
That after num’rous sorrows thou hast reach’d
The house of a kind master, at whose hands
Thy sustenance is sure, and here thou lead’st
A tranquil life; but I have late arrived,
City after city of the world explored.
Thus mutual they conferr’d, nor leisure found
Save for short sleep, by morning soon surprized.
Meantime the comrades of Telemachus
Approaching land, cast loose the sail, and lower’d
Alert the mast, then oar’d the vessel in. [600]
The anchors heav’d aground,^^[[71|Cowper: Footnote 71]]^^ and hawsers tied
Secure, themselves, forth-issuing on the shore,
Breakfast prepared, and charged their cups with wine.
When neither hunger now, nor thirst remained
Unsatisfied, Telemachus began.
Push ye the sable bark without delay
Home to the city. I will to the field
Among my shepherds, and, (my rural works
Survey’d,) at eve will to the town return.
To-morrow will I set before you wine [610]
And plenteous viands, wages of your toil.
To whom the godlike Theoclymenus.
Whither must I, my son? who, of the Chiefs
Of rugged Ithaca, shall harbour me?
Shall I to thine and to thy mother’s house?
Then thus Telemachus, discrete, replied.
I would invite thee to proceed at once
To our abode, since nought should fail thee there
Of kind reception, but it were a course
Now not adviseable; for I must myself, [620]
Be absent, neither would my mother’s eyes
Behold thee, so unfrequent she appears
Before the suitors, shunning whom, she sits
Weaving continual at the palace-top.
But I will name to thee another Chief
Whom thou may’st seek, Eurymachus, the son
Renown’d of prudent Polybus, whom all
The people here reverence as a God.
Far noblest of them all is he, and seeks
More ardent than his rivals far, to wed [630]
My mother, and to fill my father’s throne.
But, He who dwells above, Jove only knows
If some disastrous day be not ordain’d
For them, or ere those nuptials shall arrive.
While thus he spake, at his right hand appear’d,
Messenger of Apollo, on full wing,
A falcon; in his pounces clench’d he bore
A dove, which rending, down he pour’d her plumes
Between the galley and Telemachus.
Then, calling him apart, the prophet lock’d [640]
His hand in his, and thus explain’d the sign.
Not undirected by the Gods his flight
On our right hand, Telemachus! this hawk
Hath wing’d propitious; soon as I perceived
I knew him ominous—In all the isle
No family of a more royal note
Than yours is found, and yours shall still prevail.
Whom thus Telemachus answer’d discrete.
Grant heav’n, my guest! that this good word of thine
Fail not, and soon thou shalt such bounty share [650]
And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,
Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.
Then, to Piræus thus, his friend approved.
Piræus, son of Clytius! (for of all
My followers to the shore of Pylus, none
More prompt than thou hath my desires perform’d)
Now also to thy own abode conduct
This stranger, whom with hospitable care
Cherish and honour till myself arrive.
To whom Piræus answer’d, spear-renown’d. [660]
Telemachus! however long thy stay,
Punctual I will attend him, and no want
Of hospitality shall he find with me.
So saying, he climb’d the ship, then bade the crew
Embarking also, cast the hawsers loose,
And each, obedient, to his bench repair’d.
Meantime Telemachus his sandals bound,
And lifted from the deck his glitt’ring spear.
Then, as Telemachus had bidden them,
Son of divine Ulysses, casting loose [670]
The hawsers, forth they push’d into the Deep
And sought the city, while with nimble pace
Proceeding thence, Telemachus attain’d
The cottage soon where good Eumæus slept,
The swine-herd, faithful to his num’rous charge.
"""
''Argument''
//Telemachus dispatches Eumæus to the city to inform Penelope of his safe return from Pylus; during his absence, Ulysses makes himself known to his son. The suitors, having watched for Telemachus in vain, arrive again at Ithaca.//
"""
It was the hour of dawn, when in the cot
Kindling fresh fire, Ulysses and his friend
Noble Eumæus dress’d their morning fare,
And sent the herdsmen with the swine abroad.
Seeing Telemachus, the watchful dogs
Bark’d not, but fawn’d around him. At that sight,
And at the sound of feet which now approach’d,
Ulysses in wing’d accents thus remark’d.
Eumæus! certain, either friend of thine
Is nigh at hand, or one whom well thou know’st; [10]
Thy dogs bark not, but fawn on his approach
Obsequious, and the sound of feet I hear.
Scarce had he ceased, when his own son himself
Stood in the vestibule. Upsprang at once
Eumæus wonder-struck, and from his hand
Let fall the cups with which he was employ’d
Mingling rich wine; to his young Lord he ran,
His forehead kiss’d, kiss’d his bright-beaming eyes
And both his hands, weeping profuse the while,
As when a father folds in his embrace [20]
Arrived from foreign lands in the tenth year
His darling son, the offspring of his age,
His only one, for whom he long hath mourn’d,
So kiss’d the noble peasant o’er and o’er
Godlike Telemachus, as from death escaped,
And in wing’d accents plaintive thus began.
Light of my eyes, thou com’st; it is thyself,
Sweetest Telemachus! I had no hope
To see thee more, once told that o’er the Deep
Thou hadst departed for the Pylian coast. [30]
Enter, my precious son; that I may sooth
My soul with sight of thee from far arrived,
For seldom thou thy feeders and thy farm
Visitest, in the city custom’d much
To make abode, that thou may’st witness there
The manners of those hungry suitors proud.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
It will be so. There is great need, my friend!
But here, for thy sake, have I now arrived,
That I may look on thee, and from thy lips [40]
Learn if my mother still reside at home,
Or have become spouse of some other Chief,
Leaving untenanted Ulysses’ bed
To be by noisome spiders webb’d around.
To whom the master swine-herd in return.
Not so, she, patient still as ever, dwells
Beneath thy roof, but all her cheerless days
Despairing wastes, and all her nights in tears.
So saying, Eumæus at his hand received
His brazen lance, and o’er the step of stone [50]
Enter’d Telemachus, to whom his sire
Relinquish’d, soon as he appear’d, his seat,
But him Telemachus forbidding, said—
Guest, keep thy seat; our cottage will afford
Some other, which Eumæus will provide.
He ceased, and he, returning at the word,
Reposed again; then good Eumæus spread
Green twigs beneath, which, cover’d with a fleece,
Supplied Ulysses’ offspring with a seat.
He, next, disposed his dishes on the board [60]
With relicts charged of yesterday; with bread,
Alert, he heap’d the baskets; with rich wine
His ivy cup replenish’d; and a seat
Took opposite to his illustrious Lord
Ulysses. They toward the plenteous feast
Stretch’d forth their hands, (and hunger now and thirst
Both satisfied) Telemachus, his speech
Addressing to their gen’rous host, began.
Whence is this guest, my father? How convey’d
Came he to Ithaca? What country boast [70]
The mariners with whom he here arrived?
For, that on foot he found us not, is sure.
To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
I will with truth answer thee, O my son!
He boasts him sprung from ancestry renown’d
In spacious Crete, and hath the cities seen
Of various lands, by fate ordain’d to roam.
Ev’n now, from a Thesprotian ship escaped,
He reach’d my cottage—but he is thy own;
I yield him to thee; treat him as thou wilt; [80]
He is thy suppliant, and depends on thee.
Then thus, Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Thy words, Eumæus, pain my very soul.
For what security can I afford
To any in my house? myself am young,
Nor yet of strength sufficient to repel
An offer’d insult, and my mother’s mind
In doubtful balance hangs, if, still with me
An inmate, she shall manage my concerns,
Attentive only to her absent Lord [90]
And her own good report, or shall espouse
The noblest of her wooers, and the best
Entitled by the splendour of his gifts.
But I will give him, since I find him lodg’d
A guest beneath thy roof, tunic and cloak,
Sword double-edged, and sandals for his feet,
With convoy to the country of his choice.
Still, if it please thee, keep him here thy guest,
And I will send him raiment, with supplies
Of all sorts, lest he burthen thee and thine. [100]
But where the suitors come, there shall not he
With my consent, nor stand exposed to pride
And petulance like theirs, lest by some sneer
They wound him, and through him, wound also me;
For little is it that the boldest can
Against so many; numbers will prevail.
Him answer’d then Ulysses toil-inured.
Oh amiable and good! since even I
Am free to answer thee, I will avow
My heart within me torn by what I hear [110]
Of those injurious suitors, who the house
Infest of one noble as thou appear’st.
But say—submittest thou to their controul
Willingly, or because the people, sway’d
By some response oracular, incline
Against thee? Thou hast brothers, it may chance,
Slow to assist thee—for a brother’s aid
Is of importance in whatever cause.
For oh that I had youth as I have will,
Or that renown’d Ulysses were my sire, [120]
Or that himself might wander home again.
Whereof hope yet remains! then might I lose
My head, that moment, by an alien’s hand,
If I would fail, ent’ring Ulysses’ gate,
To be the bane and mischief of them all.
But if alone to multitudes opposed
I should perchance be foiled; nobler it were
With my own people, under my own roof
To perish, than to witness evermore
Their unexampled deeds, guests shoved aside, [130]
Maidens dragg’d forcibly from room to room,
Casks emptied of their rich contents, and them
Indulging glutt’nous appetite day by day
Enormous, without measure, without end.
To whom, Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Stranger! thy questions shall from me receive
True answer. Enmity or hatred none
Subsists the people and myself between,
Nor have I brothers to accuse, whose aid
Is of importance in whatever cause, [140]
For Jove hath from of old with single heirs
Our house supplied; Arcesias none begat
Except Laertes, and Laertes none
Except Ulysses, and Ulysses me
Left here his only one, and unenjoy’d.
Thence comes it that our palace swarms with foes;
For all the rulers of the neighbour isles,
Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d
Zacynthus, others also rulers here
In craggy Ithaca, my mother seek [150]
In marriage, and my household stores consume.
But neither she those nuptial rites abhorr’d
Refuses absolute, nor yet consents
To end them; they my patrimony waste
Meantime, and will destroy me also soon,
As I expect, but heav’n disposes all.
Eumæus! haste, my father! bear with speed
News to Penelope that I am safe,
And have arrived from Pylus; I will wait
Till thou return; and well beware that none [160]
Hear thee beside, for I have many foes.
To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st
To one intelligent. But say beside,
Shall I not also, as I go, inform
Distress’d Laertes? who while yet he mourn’d
Ulysses only, could o’ersee the works,
And dieted among his menials oft
As hunger prompted him, but now, they say,
Since thy departure to the Pylian shore, [170]
He neither eats as he was wont, nor drinks,
Nor oversees his hinds, but sighing sits
And weeping, wasted even to the bone.
Him then Telemachus answer’d discrete.
Hard though it be, yet to his tears and sighs
Him leave we now. We cannot what we would.
For, were the ordering of all events
Referr’d to our own choice, our first desire
Should be to see my father’s glad return.
But once thy tidings told, wander not thou [180]
In quest of Him, but hither speed again.
Rather request my mother that she send
Her household’s governess without delay
Privately to him; she shall best inform
The ancient King that I have safe arrived.
He said, and urged him forth, who binding on
His sandals, to the city bent his way.
Nor went Eumæus from his home unmark’d
By Pallas, who in semblance of a fair
Damsel, accomplish’d in domestic arts, [190]
Approaching to the cottage’ entrance, stood
Opposite, by Ulysses plain discern’d,
But to his son invisible; for the Gods
Appear not manifest alike to all.
The mastiffs saw her also, and with tone
Querulous hid themselves, yet bark’d they not.
She beckon’d him abroad. Ulysses saw
The sign, and, issuing through the outer court,
Approach’d her, whom the Goddess thus bespake.
Laertes’ progeny, for wiles renown’d! [200]
Disclose thyself to thy own son, that, death
Concerting and destruction to your foes,
Ye may the royal city seek, nor long
Shall ye my presence there desire in vain,
For I am ardent to begin the fight.
Minerva spake, and with her rod of gold
Touch’d him; his mantle, first, and vest she made
Pure as new-blanch’d; dilating, next, his form,
She gave dimensions ampler to his limbs;
Swarthy again his manly hue became, [210]
Round his full face, and black his bushy chin.
The change perform’d, Minerva disappear’d,
And the illustrious Hero turn’d again
Into the cottage; wonder at that sight
Seiz’d on Telemachus; askance he look’d,
Awe-struck, not unsuspicious of a God,
And in wing’d accents eager thus began.
Thou art no longer, whom I lately saw,
Nor are thy cloaths, nor is thy port the same.
Thou art a God, I know, and dwell’st in heav’n. [220]
Oh, smile on us, that we may yield thee rites
Acceptable, and present thee golden gifts
Elaborate; ah spare us, Pow’r divine!
To whom Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.
I am no God. Why deem’st thou me divine?
I am thy father, for whose sake thou lead’st
A life of woe, by violence oppress’d.
So saying, he kiss’d his son, while from his cheeks
Tears trickled, tears till then, perforce restrained.
Telemachus, (for he believed him not [230]
His father yet) thus, wond’ring, spake again.
My father, said’st thou? no. Thou art not He,
But some Divinity beguiles my soul
With mock’ries to afflict me still the more;
For never mortal man could so have wrought
By his own pow’r; some interposing God
Alone could render thee both young and old,
For old thou wast of late, and foully clad,
But wear’st the semblance, now, of those in heav’n!
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. [240]
Telemachus! it is not well, my son!
That thou should’st greet thy father with a face
Of wild astonishment, and stand aghast.
Ulysses, save myself, none comes, be sure.
Such as thou seest, after ten thousand woes
Which I have borne, I visit once again
My native country in the twentieth year.
This wonder Athenæan Pallas wrought,
She cloath’d me even with what form she would,
For so she can. Now poor I seem and old, [250]
Now young again, and clad in fresh attire.
The Gods who dwell in yonder heav’n, with ease
Dignify or debase a mortal man.
So saying, he sat. Then threw Telemachus
His arms around his father’s neck, and wept.
Desire intense of lamentation seized
On both; soft murmurs utt’ring, each indulged
His grief, more frequent wailing than the bird,
(Eagle, or hook-nail’d vulture) from whose nest
Some swain hath stol’n her yet unfeather’d young. [260]
So from their eyelids they big drops distill’d
Of tend’rest grief, nor had the setting sun
Cessation of their weeping seen, had not
Telemachus his father thus address’d.
What ship convey’d thee to thy native shore,
My father! and what country boast the crew?
For, that on foot thou not arriv’dst, is sure.
Then thus divine Ulysses toil-inured.
My son! I will explicit all relate.
Conducted by Phæacia’s maritime sons [270]
I came, a race accustom’d to convey
Strangers who visit them across the Deep.
Me, o’er the billows in a rapid bark
Borne sleeping, on the shores of Ithaca
They lay’d; rich gifts they gave me also, brass,
Gold in full bags, and beautiful attire,
Which, warn’d from heav’n, I have in caves conceal’d.
By Pallas prompted, hither I repair’d
That we might plan the slaughter of our foes,
Whose numbers tell me now, that I may know [280]
How pow’rful, certainly, and who they are,
And consultation with my dauntless heart
May hold, if we be able to contend
Ourselves with all, or must have aid beside.
Then, answer thus his son, discrete, return’d.
My father! thy renown hath ever rung
In thy son’s ears, and by report thy force
In arms, and wisdom I have oft been told.
But terribly thou speak’st; amazement-fixt
I hear; can two a multitude oppose, [290]
And valiant warriors all? for neither ten
Are they, nor twenty, but more num’rous far.
Learn, now, their numbers. Fifty youths and two
Came from Dulichium; they are chosen men,
And six attendants follow in their train;
From Samos twenty youths and four arrive,
Zacynthus also of Achaia’s sons
Sends twenty more, and our own island adds,
Herself, her twelve chief rulers; Medon, too,
Is there the herald, and the bard divine, [300]
With other two, intendants of the board.
Should we within the palace, we alone,
Assail them all, I fear lest thy revenge
Unpleasant to thyself and deadly prove,
Frustrating thy return. But recollect—
Think, if thou canst, on whose confed’rate arm
Strenuous on our behalf we may rely.
To him replied his patient father bold.
I will inform thee. Mark. Weigh well my words.
Will Pallas and the everlasting Sire [310]
Alone suffice? or need we other aids?
Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.
Good friends indeed are they whom thou hast named,
Though throned above the clouds; for their controul
Is universal both in earth and heav’n.
To whom Ulysses, toil-worn Chief renown’d.
Not long will they from battle stand aloof,
When once, within my palace, in the strength
Of Mars, to sharp decision we shall urge
The suitors. But thyself at early dawn [320]
Our mansion seek, that thou may’st mingle there
With that imperious throng; me in due time
Eumæus to the city shall conduct,
In form a miserable beggar old.
But should they with dishonourable scorn
Insult me, thou unmov’d my wrongs endure,
And should they even drag me by the feet
Abroad, or smite me with the spear, thy wrath
Refraining, gently counsel them to cease
From such extravagance; but well I know [330]
That cease they will not, for their hour is come.
And mark me well; treasure what now I say
Deep in thy soul. When Pallas shall, herself,
Suggest the measure, then, shaking my brows,
I will admonish thee; thou, at the sign,
Remove what arms soever in the hall
Remain, and in the upper palace safe
Dispose them; should the suitors, missing them,
Perchance interrogate thee, then reply
Gently—I have removed them from the smoke; [340]
For they appear no more the arms which erst
Ulysses, going hence to Ilium, left,
But smirch’d and sullied by the breath of fire.
This weightier reason (thou shalt also say)
Jove taught me; lest, intoxicate with wine,
Ye should assault each other in your brawls,
Shaming both feast and courtship; for the view
Itself of arms incites to their abuse.
Yet leave two faulchions for ourselves alone,
Two spears, two bucklers, which with sudden force [350]
Impetuous we will seize, and Jove all-wise
Their valour shall, and Pallas, steal away.
This word store also in remembrance deep—
If mine in truth thou art, and of my blood,
Then, of Ulysses to his home returned
Let none hear news from thee, no, not my sire
Laertes, nor Eumæus, nor of all
The menials any, or ev’n Penelope,
That thou and I, alone, may search the drift
Of our domestic women, and may prove [360]
Our serving-men, who honours and reveres
And who contemns us both, but chiefly thee
So gracious and so worthy to be loved.
Him then thus answer’d his illustrious son.
Trust me, my father! thou shalt soon be taught
That I am not of drowsy mind obtuse.
But this I think not likely to avail
Or thee or me; ponder it yet again;
For tedious were the task, farm after farm
To visit of those servants, proving each, [370]
And the proud suitors merciless devour
Meantime thy substance, nor abstain from aught.
Learn, if thou wilt, (and I that course myself
Advise) who slights thee of the female train,
And who is guiltless; but I would not try
From house to house the men, far better proved
Hereafter, if in truth by signs from heav’n
Inform’d, thou hast been taught the will of Jove.
Thus they conferr’d. The gallant bark, meantime,
Reach’d Ithaca, which from the Pylian shore [380]
Had brought Telemachus with all his band.
Within the many-fathom’d port arrived
His lusty followers haled her far aground,
Then carried thence their arms, but to the house
Of Clytius the illustrious gifts convey’d.
Next to the royal mansion they dispatch’d
An herald charg’d with tidings to the Queen,
That her Telemachus had reach’d the cot
Of good Eumæus, and the bark had sent
Home to the city; lest the matchless dame [390]
Should still deplore the absence of her son.
They, then, the herald and the swine-herd, each
Bearing like message to his mistress, met,
And at the palace of the godlike Chief
Arriving, compass’d by the female throng
Inquisitive, the herald thus began.
Thy son, O Queen! is safe; ev’n now return’d.
Then, drawing nigh to her, Eumæus told
His message also from her son received,
And, his commission punctually discharged, [400]
Leaving the palace, sought his home again.
Grief seized and anguish, at those tidings, all
The suitors; issuing forth, on the outside
Of the high wall they sat, before the gate,
When Polybus’ son, Eurymachus, began.
My friends! his arduous task, this voyage, deem’d
By us impossible, in our despight
Telemachus hath atchieved. Haste! launch we forth
A sable bark, our best, which let us man
With mariners expert, who, rowing forth [410]
Swiftly, shall summon our companions home.
Scarce had he said, when turning where he sat,
Amphinomus beheld a bark arrived
Just then in port; he saw them furling sail,
And seated with their oars in hand; he laugh’d
Through pleasure at that sight, and thus he spake.
Our message may be spared. Lo! they arrive.
Either some God inform’d them, or they saw,
Themselves, the vessel of Telemachus
Too swiftly passing to be reach’d by theirs. [420]
He spake; they, rising, hasted to the shore.
Alert they drew the sable bark aground,
And by his servant each his arms dispatch’d
To his own home. Then, all, to council those
Assembling, neither elder of the land
Nor youth allow’d to join them, and the rest
Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, thus bespake.
Ah! how the Gods have rescued him! all day
Perch’d on the airy mountain-top, our spies
Successive watch’d; and, when the sun declined, [430]
We never slept on shore, but all night long
Till sacred dawn arose, plow’d the abyss,
Hoping Telemachus, that we might seize
And slay him, whom some Deity hath led,
In our despight, safe to his home again.
But frame we yet again means to destroy
Telemachus; ah—let not Him escape!
For end of this our task, while he survives,
None shall be found, such prudence he displays
And wisdom, neither are the people now [440]
Unanimous our friends as heretofore.
Come, then—prevent him, ere he call the Greeks
To council; for he will not long delay,
But will be angry, doubtless, and will tell
Amid them all, how we in vain devised
His death, a deed which they will scarce applaud,
But will, perhaps, punish and drive us forth
From our own country to a distant land.—
Prevent him, therefore, quickly; in the field
Slay him, or on the road; so shall his wealth [450]
And his possessions on ourselves devolve
Which we will share equally, but his house
Shall be the Queen’s, and his whom she shall wed.
Yet, if not so inclined, ye rather chuse
That he should live and occupy entire
His patrimony, then, no longer, here
Assembled, let us revel at his cost,
But let us all with spousal gifts produced
From our respective treasures, woo the Queen,
Leaving her in full freedom to espouse [460]
Who proffers most, and whom the fates ordain.
He ceased; the assembly silent sat and mute.
Then rose Amphinomus amid them all,
Offspring renown’d of Nisus, son, himself,
Of King Aretias. He had thither led
The suitor train who from the pleasant isle
Corn-clad of green Dulichium had arrived,
And by his speech pleased far beyond them all
Penelope, for he was just and wise,
And thus, well-counselling the rest, began. [470]
Not I, my friends! far be the thought from me
To slay Telemachus! it were a deed
Momentous, terrible, to slay a prince.
First, therefore, let us counsel ask of heav’n,
And if Jove’s oracle that course approve,
I will encourage you, and will myself
Be active in his death; but if the Gods
Forbid it, then, by my advice, forbear.
So spake Amphinomus, whom all approved.
Arising then, into Ulysses’ house [480]
They went, where each his splendid seat resumed.
A novel purpose occupied, meantime,
Penelope; she purposed to appear
Before her suitors, whose design to slay
Telemachus she had from Medon learn’d,
The herald, for his ear had caught the sound.
Toward the hall with her attendant train
She moved, and when, most graceful of her sex,
Where sat the suitors she arrived, between
The columns standing of the stately dome, [490]
And covering with her white veil’s lucid folds
Her features, to Antinoüs thus she spake.
Antinoüs, proud, contentious, evermore
To mischief prone! the people deem thee wise
Past thy compeers, and in all grace of speech
Pre-eminent, but such wast never thou.
Inhuman! why is it thy dark design
To slay Telemachus? and why with scorn
Rejectest thou the suppliant’s pray’r,^^[[72|Cowper: Footnote 72]]^^ which Jove
Himself hath witness’d? Plots please not the Gods. [500]
Know’st not that thy own father refuge found
Here, when he fled before the people’s wrath
Whom he had irritated by a wrong
Which, with a band of Taphian robbers joined,
He offer’d to the Thesprots, our allies?
They would have torn his heart, and would have laid
All his delights and his possessions waste,
But my Ulysses slaked the furious heat
Of their revenge, whom thou requitest now
Wasting his goods, soliciting his wife, [510]
Slaying his son, and filling me with woe.
But cease, I charge thee, and bid cease the rest.
To whom the son of Polybus replied,
Eurymachus.—Icarius’ daughter wise!
Take courage, fair Penelope, and chace
These fears unreasonable from thy mind!
The man lives not, nor shall, who while I live,
And faculty of sight retain, shall harm
Telemachus, thy son. For thus I say,
And thus will I perform; his blood shall stream [520]
A sable current from my lance’s point
That moment; for the city-waster Chief
Ulysses, oft, me placing on his knees,
Hath fill’d my infant grasp with sav’ry food,
And giv’n me ruddy wine. I, therefore, hold
Telemachus of all men most my friend,
Nor hath he death to fear from hand of ours.
Yet, if the Gods shall doom him, die he must.
So he encouraged her, who yet, himself,
Plotted his death. She, re-ascending, sought [530]
Her stately chamber, and, arriving there,
Deplored with tears her long-regretted Lord
Till Athenæan Pallas azure-eyed
Dews of soft slumber o’er her lids diffused.
And now, at even-tide, Eumæus reach’d
Ulysses and his son. A yearling swine
Just slain they skilfully for food prepared,
When Pallas, drawing nigh, smote with her wand
Ulysses, at the stroke rend’ring him old,
And his apparel sordid as before, [540]
Lest, knowing him, the swain at once should seek
Penelope, and let the secret forth.
Then foremost him Telemachus address’d.
Noble Eumæus! thou art come; what news
Bring’st from the city? Have the warrior band
Of suitors, hopeless of their ambush, reach’d
The port again, or wait they still for me?
To whom Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
No time for such enquiry, nor to range,
Curious, the streets had I, but anxious wish’d [550]
To make my message known, and to return.
But, as it chanced, a nimble herald sent
From thy companions, met me on the way,
Who reach’d thy mother first. Yet this I know,
For this I saw. Passing above the town
Where they have piled a way-side hill of stones
To Mercury, I beheld a gallant bark
Ent’ring the port; a bark she was of ours,
The crew were num’rous, and I mark’d her deep-
Laden with shields and spears of double edge. [560]
Theirs I conjectured her, and could no more.
He spake, and by Eumæus unperceived,
Telemachus his father eyed and smiled.
Their task accomplish’d, and the table spread,
They ate, nor any his due portion miss’d,
And hunger, now, and thirst both sated, all
To rest repair’d, and took the gift of sleep.
"""
''Argument''
//Telemachus returns to the city, and relates to his mother the principal passages of his voyage; Ulysses, conducted by Eumæus, arrives there also, and enters among the suitors, having been known only by his old dog Argus, who dies at his feet. The curiosity of Penelope being excited by the account which Eumæus gives her of Ulysses, she orders him immediately into her presence, but Ulysses postpones the interview till evening, when the suitors having left the palace, there shall be no danger of interruption. Eumæus returns to his cottage.//
"""
Now look’d Aurora from the East abroad,
When the illustrious offspring of divine
Ulysses bound his sandals to his feet;
He seiz’d his sturdy spear match’d to his gripe,
And to the city meditating quick
Departure now, the swine-herd thus bespake.
Father! I seek the city, to convince
My mother of my safe return, whose tears,
I judge, and lamentation shall not cease
Till her own eyes behold me. But I lay [10]
On thee this charge. Into the city lead,
Thyself, this hapless guest, that he may beg
Provision there, a morsel and a drop
From such as may, perchance, vouchsafe the boon.
I cannot, vext and harass’d as I am,
Feed all, and should the stranger take offence,
The worse for him. Plain truth is my delight.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Nor is it my desire to be detained.
Better the mendicant in cities seeks [20]
His dole, vouchsafe it whosoever may,
Than in the villages. I am not young,
Nor longer of an age that well accords
With rural tasks, nor could I all perform
That it might please a master to command.
Go then, and when I shall have warm’d my limbs
Before the hearth, and when the risen sun
Shall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant’s task
Shall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd’st,
For this is a vile garb; the frosty air [30]
Of morning would benumb me thus attired,
And, as ye say, the city is remote.
He ended, and Telemachus in haste
Set forth, his thoughts all teeming as he went
With dire revenge. Soon in the palace-courts
Arriving, he reclined his spear against
A column, and proceeded to the hall.
Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived,
While on the variegated seats she spread
Their fleecy cov’ring; swift with tearful eyes [40]
She flew to him, and the whole female train
Of brave Ulysses swarm’d around his son,
Clasping him, and his forehead and his neck
Kissing affectionate; then came, herself,
As golden Venus or Diana fair,
Forth from her chamber to her son’s embrace,
The chaste Penelope; with tears she threw
Her arms around him, his bright-beaming eyes
And forehead kiss’d, and with a murmur’d plaint
Maternal, in wing’d accents thus began. [50]
Thou hast return’d, light of my eyes! my son!
My lov’d Telemachus! I had no hope
To see thee more when once thou hadst embark’d
For Pylus, privily, and with no consent
From me obtain’d, news seeking of thy sire.
But haste; unfold. Declare what thou hast seen.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Ah mother! let my sorrows rest, nor me
From death so lately ’scaped afflict anew,
But, bathed and habited in fresh attire, [60]
With all the maidens of thy train ascend
To thy superior chamber, there to vow
A perfect hecatomb to all the Gods,
When Jove shall have avenged our num’rous wrongs.
I seek the forum, there to introduce
A guest, my follower from the Pylian shore,
Whom sending forward with my noble band,
I bade Piræus to his own abode
Lead him, and with all kindness entertain
The stranger, till I should myself arrive. [70]
He spake, nor flew his words useless away.
She, bathed and habited in fresh attire,
Vow’d a full hecatomb to all the Gods,
Would Jove but recompense her num’rous wrongs.
Then, spear in hand, went forth her son, two dogs
Fleet-footed following him. O’er all his form
Pallas diffused a dignity divine,
And ev’ry eye gazed on him as he pass’d.
The suitors throng’d him round, joy on their lips
And welcome, but deep mischief in their hearts. [80]
He, shunning all that crowd, chose to himself
A seat, where Mentor sat, and Antiphus,
And Halytherses, long his father’s friends
Sincere, who of his voyage much enquired.
Then drew Piræus nigh, leading his guest
Toward the forum; nor Telemachus
Stood long aloof, but greeted his approach,
And was accosted by Piræus thus.
Sir! send thy menial women to bring home
The precious charge committed to my care, [90]
Thy gifts at Menelaus’ hands received.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Piræus! wait; for I not yet foresee
The upshot. Should these haughty ones effect
My death, clandestine, under my own roof,
And parcel my inheritance by lot,
I rather wish those treasures thine, than theirs.
But should I with success plan for them all
A bloody death, then, wing’d with joy, thyself
Bring home those presents to thy joyful friend. [100]
So saying, he led the anxious stranger thence
Into the royal mansion, where arrived,
Each cast his mantle on a couch or throne,
And plung’d his feet into a polish’d bath.
There wash’d and lubricated with smooth oils,
From the attendant maidens each received
Tunic and shaggy mantle. Thus attired,
Forth from the baths they stepp’d, and sat again.
A maiden, next, with golden ewer charged,
And silver bowl, pour’d water on their hands, [110]
And spread the polish’d table, which with food
Of all kinds, remnants of the last regale,
The mistress of the household charge supplied.
Meantime, beside a column of the dome
His mother, on a couch reclining, twirl’d
Her slender threads. They to the furnish’d board
Stretch’d forth their hands, and, hunger now and thirst
Both satisfied, Penelope began.
Telemachus! I will ascend again,
And will repose me on my woeful bed; [120]
For such it hath been, and with tears of mine
Ceaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses went
With Atreus’ sons to Troy. For not a word
Thou would’st vouchsafe me till our haughty guests
Had occupied the house again, of all
That thou hast heard (if aught indeed thou hast)
Of thy long-absent father’s wish’d return.
Her answer’d then Telemachus discrete.
Mother, at thy request I will with truth
Relate the whole. At Pylus shore arrived [130]
We Nestor found, Chief of the Pylian race.
Receiving me in his august abode,
He entertain’d me with such welcome kind
As a glad father shews to his own son
Long-lost and newly found; so Nestor me,
And his illustrious offspring, entertain’d,
But yet assured me that he nought had heard
From mortal lips of my magnanimous sire,
Whether alive or dead; with his own steeds
He sent me, and with splendid chariot thence [140]
To spear-famed Menelaus, Atreus’ son.
There saw I Helen, by the Gods’ decree
Auth’ress of trouble both to Greece and Troy.
The Hero Menelaus then enquired
What cause had urged me to the pleasant vale
Of Lacedæmon; plainly I rehearsed
The occasion, and the Hero thus replied.
Ye Gods! they are ambitious of the bed
Of a brave man, however base themselves.
But, as it chances when the hart hath laid [150]
Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to rest
In some resistless lion’s den, she roams,
Meantime, the hills, and in the grassy vales
Feeds heedless, but the lion to his lair
Returning soon, both her and hers destroys,
So shall thy father, brave Ulysses, them.
Jove! Pallas! and Apollo! oh that such
As erst in well-built Lesbos, where he strove
With Philomelides, whom wrestling, flat
He threw, when all Achaia’s sons rejoiced, [160]
Ulysses, now, might mingle with his foes!
Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs,
But thy enquiries neither indirect
Will I evade, nor give thee false reply,
But all that from the Ancient of the Deep^^[[73|Cowper: Footnote 73]]^^
I have received will utter, hiding nought.
The God declared that he had seen thy sire
In a lone island, sorrowing, and detain’d
An inmate in the grotto of the nymph
Calypso, wanting also means by which [170]
To reach the country of his birth again,
For neither gallant barks nor friends had he
To speed his passage o’er the boundless waves.
So Menelaus spake, the spear-renown’d.
My errand thus accomplish’d, I return’d—
And by the Gods with gales propitious blest,
Was wafted swiftly to my native shore.
He spake, and tumult in his mother’s heart
So speaking, raised. Consolatory, next,
The godlike Theoclymenus began. [180]
Consort revered of Laertiades!
Little the Spartan knew, but list to me,
For I will plainly prophesy and sure.
Be Jove of all in heav’n my witness first,
Then this thy hospitable board, and, last,
The household Gods of the illustrious Chief
Ulysses, at whose hearth I have arrived,^^[[74|Cowper: Footnote 74]]^^
That, even now, within his native isle
Ulysses somewhere sits, or creeps obscure,
Witness of these enormities, and seeds [190]
Sowing of dire destruction for his foes;
So sure an augury, while on the deck
Reclining of the gallant bark, I saw,
And with loud voice proclaim’d it to thy son.
Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.
Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thine
Fail not! then shalt thou soon such bounty share
And friendship at my hands, that at first sight
Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.
Thus they conferr’d. Meantime the suitors hurl’d [200]
The quoit and lance on the smooth area spread
Before Ulysses’ gate, the custom’d scene
Of their contentions, sports, and clamours rude.
But when the hour of supper now approach’d,
And from the pastures on all sides the sheep
Came with their wonted drivers, Medon then
(For he of all the heralds pleas’d them most,
And waited at the board) them thus address’d.
Enough of play, young princes! ent’ring now
The house, prepare we sedulous our feast, [210]
Since in well-timed refreshment harm is none.
He spake, whose admonition pleas’d. At once
All, rising, sought the palace; there arrived,
Each cast his mantle off, which on his throne
Or couch he spread, then, brisk, to slaughter fell
Of many a victim; sheep and goats and brawns
They slew, all fatted, and a pastur’d ox,
Hast’ning the banquet; nor with less dispatch
Ulysses and Eumæus now prepared
To seek the town, when thus the swain began. [220]
My guest! since thy fixt purpose is to seek
This day the city as my master bade,
Though I, in truth, much rather wish thee here
A keeper of our herds, yet, through respect
And rev’rence of his orders, whose reproof
I dread, for masters seldom gently chide,
I would be gone. Arise, let us depart,
For day already is far-spent, and soon
The air of even-tide will chill thee more.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. [230]
It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st
To one intelligent. Let us depart,
And lead, thyself, the way; but give me, first,
(If thou have one already hewn) a staff
To lean on, for ye have described the road
Rugged, and ofttimes dang’rous to the foot.
So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his back
He cast, suspended by a leathern twist,
Eumæus gratified him with a staff,
And forth they went, leaving the cottage kept [240]
By dogs and swains. He city-ward his King
Led on, in form a squalid beggar old,
Halting, and in unseemly garb attired.
But when, slow-travelling the craggy way,
They now approach’d the town, and had attain’d
The marble fountain deep, which with its streams
Pellucid all the citizens supplied,
(Ithacus had that fountain framed of old
With Neritus and Polyctor, over which
A grove of water-nourish’d alders hung [250]
Circular on all sides, while cold the rill
Ran from the rock, on whose tall summit stood
The altar of the nymphs, by all who pass’d
With sacrifice frequented, still, and pray’r)
Melantheus, son of Dolius, at that fount
Met them; the chosen goats of ev’ry flock,
With two assistants, from the field he drove,
The suitors’ supper. He, seeing them both,
In surly accent boorish, such as fired
Ulysses with resentment, thus began. [260]
Ay—this is well—The villain leads the vile—
Thus evermore the Gods join like to like.
Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither would’st conduct
This morsel-hunting mendicant obscene,
Defiler base of banquets? many a post
Shall he rub smooth that props him while he begs
Lean alms, sole object of his low pursuit,
Who ne’er to sword or tripod yet aspired.
Would’st thou afford him to me for a guard
Or sweeper of my stalls, or to supply [270]
My kids with leaves, he should on bulkier thewes
Supported stand, though nourish’d but with whey.
But no such useful arts hath he acquired,
Nor likes he work, but rather much to extort
From others food for his unsated maw.
But mark my prophecy, for it is true,
At famed Ulysses’ house should he arrive,
His sides shall shatter many a footstool hurl’d
Against them by the offended princes there.
He spake, and drawing nigh, with his rais’d foot, [280]
Insolent as he was and brutish, smote
Ulysses’ haunch, yet shook not from his path
The firm-set Chief, who, doubtful, mused awhile
Whether to rush on him, and with his staff
To slay him, or uplifting him on high,
Downward to dash him headlong; but his wrath
Restraining, calm he suffer’d the affront.
Him then Eumæus with indignant look
Rebuking, rais’d his hands, and fervent pray’d.
Nymphs of the fountains, progeny of Jove! [290]
If e’er Ulysses on your altar burn’d
The thighs of fatted lambs or kidlings, grant
This my request. O let the Hero soon,
Conducted by some Deity, return!
So shall he quell that arrogance which safe
Thou now indulgest, roaming day by day
The city, while bad shepherds mar the flocks.
To whom the goat-herd answer thus return’d
Melantheus. Marvellous! how rare a speech
The subtle cur hath framed! whom I will send [300]
Far hence at a convenient time on board
My bark, and sell him at no little gain.
I would, that he who bears the silver bow
As sure might pierce Telemachus this day
In his own house, or that the suitors might,
As that same wand’rer shall return no more!
He said, and them left pacing slow along,
But soon, himself, at his Lord’s house arrived;
There ent’ring bold, he with the suitors sat
Opposite to Eurymachus, for him [310]
He valued most. The sewers his portion placed
Of meat before him, and the maiden, chief
Directress of the household gave him bread.
And now, Ulysses, with the swain his friend
Approach’d, when, hearing the harmonious lyre,
Both stood, for Phemius had begun his song.
He grasp’d the swine-herd’s hand, and thus he said.
This house, Eumæus! of Ulysses seems
Passing magnificent, and to be known
With ease for his among a thousand more. [320]
One pile supports another, and a wall
Crested with battlements surrounds the court;
Firm, too, the folding doors all force of man
Defy; but num’rous guests, as I perceive,
Now feast within; witness the sav’ry steam
Fast-fuming upward, and the sounding harp,
Divine associate of the festive board.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
Thou hast well-guess’d; no wonder, thou art quick
On ev’ry theme; but let us well forecast [330]
This business. Wilt thou, ent’ring first, thyself,
The splendid mansion, with the suitors mix,
Me leaving here? or shall I lead the way
While thou remain’st behind? yet linger not,
Lest, seeing thee without, some servant strike
Or drive thee hence. Consider which were best.
Him answer’d, then, the patient Hero bold.
It is enough. I understand. Thou speak’st
To one intelligent. Lead thou the way
Me leaving here, for neither stripes nor blows [340]
To me are strange. Much exercised with pain
In fight and on the Deep, I have long since
Learn’d patience. Follow, next, what follow may!
But, to suppress the appetite, I deem
Impossible; the stomach is a source
Of ills to man, an avaricious gulph
Destructive, which to satiate, ships are rigg’d,
Seas travers’d, and fierce battles waged remote.
Thus they discoursing stood; Argus the while,
Ulysses’ dog, uplifted where he lay [350]
His head and ears erect. Ulysses him
Had bred long since, himself, but rarely used,
Departing, first, to Ilium. Him the youths
In other days led frequent to the chace
Of wild goat, hart and hare; but now he lodg’d
A poor old cast-off, of his Lord forlorn,
Where mules and oxen had before the gate
Much ordure left, with which Ulysses’ hinds
Should, in due time, manure his spacious fields.
There lay, with dog-devouring vermin foul [360]
All over, Argus; soon as he perceived
Long-lost Ulysses nigh, down fell his ears
Clapp’d close, and with his tail glad sign he gave
Of gratulation, impotent to rise
And to approach his master as of old.
Ulysses, noting him, wiped off a tear
Unmark’d, and of Eumæus quick enquired.
I can but wonder seeing such a dog
Thus lodg’d, Eumæus! beautiful in form
He is, past doubt, but whether he hath been [370]
As fleet as fair I know not; rather such
Perchance as masters sometimes keep to grace
Their tables, nourish’d more for shew than use.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
He is the dog of one dead far remote.
But had he now such feat-performing strength
As when Ulysses left him, going hence
To Ilium, in one moment thou shouldst mark,
Astonish’d, his agility and force.
He never in the sylvan deep recess [380]
The wild beast saw that ’scaped him, and he track’d
Their steps infallible; but he hath now
No comfort, for (the master dead afar)
The heedless servants care not for his dog.
Domestics, missing once their Lord’s controul,
Grow wilful, and refuse their proper tasks;
For whom Jove dooms to servitude, he takes
At once the half of that man’s worth away.
He said, and, ent’ring at the portal, join’d
The suitors. Then his destiny released [390]
Old Argus, soon as he had lived to see
Ulysses in the twentieth year restored.
Godlike Telemachus, long ere the rest,
Marking the swine-herd’s entrance, with a nod
Summon’d him to approach. Eumæus cast
His eye around, and seeing vacant there
The seat which the dispenser of the feast
Was wont to occupy while he supplied
The num’rous guests, planted it right before
Telemachus, and at his table sat, [400]
On which the herald placed for him his share
Of meat, and from the baskets gave him bread.
Soon after //him//, Ulysses enter’d slow
The palace, like a squalid beggar old,
Staff-propp’d, and in loose tatters foul attired.
Within the portal on the ashen sill
He sat, and, seeming languid, lean’d against
A cypress pillar by the builder’s art
Polish’d long since, and planted at the door.
Then took Telemachus a loaf entire [410]
Forth from the elegant basket, and of flesh
A portion large as his two hands contained,
And, beck’ning close the swine-herd, charged him thus.
These to the stranger; whom advise to ask
Some dole from ev’ry suitor; bashful fear
Ill suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.
He spake; Eumæus went, and where he sat
Arriving, in wing’d accents thus began.
Telemachus, oh stranger, sends thee these,
And counsels thee to importune for more [420]
The suitors, one by one; for bashful fear
Ill suits the mendicant by want oppress’d.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Jove, King of all, grant ev’ry good on earth
To kind Telemachus, and the complete
Accomplishment of all that he desires!
He said, and with both hands outspread, the mess
Receiving as he sat, on his worn bag
Disposed it at his feet. Long as the bard
Chaunted, he ate, and when he ceas’d to eat, [430]
Then also ceas’d the bard divine to sing.
And now ensued loud clamour in the hall
And tumult, when Minerva, drawing nigh
To Laertiades, impell’d the Chief
Crusts to collect, or any pittance small
At ev’ry suitor’s hand, for trial’s sake
Of just and unjust; yet deliv’rance none
From evil she design’d for any there.
From left to right^^[[75|Cowper: Footnote 75]]^^ his progress he began
Petitioning, with outstretch’d hands, the throng, [440]
As one familiar with the beggar’s art.
They, pitying, gave to him, but view’d him still
With wonder, and enquiries mutual made
Who, and whence was he? Then the goat-herd rose
Melanthius, and th’ assembly thus address’d.
Hear me, ye suitors of th’ illustrious Queen!
This guest, of whom ye ask, I have beheld
Elsewhere; the swine-herd brought him; but himself
I know not, neither who nor whence he is.
So he; then thus Antinoüs stern rebuked [450]
The swine-herd. Ah, notorious as thou art,
Why hast thou shewn this vagabond the way
Into the city? are we not enough
Infested with these troublers of our feasts?
Deem’st it a trifle that such numbers eat
At thy Lord’s cost, and hast thou, therefore, led
This fellow hither, found we know not where?
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
Antinoüs! though of high degree, thou speak’st
Not wisely. What man to another’s house [460]
Repairs to invite him to a feast, unless
He be of those who by profession serve
The public, prophet, healer of disease,
Ingenious artist, or some bard divine
Whose music may exhilarate the guests?
These, and such only, are in ev’ry land
Call’d to the banquet; none invites the poor,
Who much consume, and no requital yield.
But thou of all the suitors roughly treat’st
Ulysses’ servants most, and chiefly me; [470]
Yet thee I heed not, while the virtuous Queen
Dwells in this palace, and her godlike son.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Peace! answer not verbose a man like him.
Antinoüs hath a tongue accustom’d much
To tauntings, and promotes them in the rest.
Then, turning to Antinoüs, quick he said—
Antinoüs! as a father for his son
Takes thought, so thou for me, who bidd’st me chase
The stranger harshly hence; but God forbid!^^[[76|Cowper: Footnote 76]]^^ 480
Impart to him. I grudge not, but myself
Exhort thee to it; neither, in this cause,
Fear thou the Queen, or in the least regard
Whatever menial throughout all the house
Of famed Ulysses. Ah! within thy breast
Dwells no such thought; thou lov’st not to impart
To others, but to gratify thyself.
To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d.
High-soaring and intemp’rate in thy speech
How hast thou said, Telemachus? Would all [490]
As much bestow on him, he should not seek
Admittance here again three months to come.
So saying, he seized the stool which, banqueting,
He press’d with his nice feet, and from beneath
The table forth advanced it into view.
The rest all gave to him, with bread and flesh
Filling his wallet, and Ulysses, now,
Returning to his threshold, there to taste
The bounty of the Greeks, paused in his way
Beside Antinoüs, whom he thus address’d. [500]
Kind sir! vouchsafe to me! for thou appear’st
Not least, but greatest of the Achaians here,
And hast a kingly look. It might become
Thee therefore above others to bestow,
So should I praise thee wheresoe’er I roam.
I also lived the happy owner once
Of such a stately mansion, and have giv’n
To num’rous wand’rers (whencesoe’er they came)
All that they needed; I was also served
By many, and enjoy’d all that denotes [510]
The envied owner opulent and blest.
But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reduced
My all to nothing, prompting me, in league
With rovers of the Deep, to sail afar
To Ægypt, for my sure destruction there.
Within th’ Ægyptian stream my barks well-oar’d
I station’d, and, enjoining strict my friends
To watch them close-attendant at their side,
Commanded spies into the hill-tops; but they,
Under the impulse of a spirit rash [520]
And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur’d fields
Pillaged of the Ægyptians, captive led
Their wives and little-ones, and slew the men.
Ere long, the loud alarm their city reach’d.
Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,
With horse and foot and with the gleam of arms
Filling the plain. Then Jove with panic dread
Struck all my people; none found courage more
To stand, for mischiefs swarm’d on ev’ry side.
There, num’rous by the glitt’ring spear we fell [530]
Slaughter’d, while others they conducted thence
Alive to servitude; but me they gave
To Dmetor, King in Cyprus, Jasus’ son;
He entertained me liberally, and thence
This land I reach’d, but poor and woe-begone.
Then answer thus Antinoüs harsh return’d.
What dæmon introduced this nuisance here,
This troubler of our feast? stand yonder, keep
Due distance from my table, or expect
To see an Ægypt and a Cyprus worse [540]
Than those, bold mendicant and void of shame!
Thou hauntest each, and, inconsid’rate, each
Gives to thee, because gifts at other’s cost
Are cheap, and, plentifully serv’d themselves,
They squander, heedless, viands not their own.
To whom Ulysses while he slow retired.
Gods! how illib’ral with that specious form!
Thou wouldst not grant the poor a grain of salt
From thy own board, who at another’s fed
So nobly, canst thou not spare a crust to me. [550]
He spake; then raged Antinoüs still the more,
And in wing’d accents, louring, thus replied.
Take such dismission now as thou deserv’st,
Opprobrious! hast thou dared to scoff at me?
So saying, he seized his stool, and on the joint
Of his right shoulder smote him; firm as rock
He stood, by no such force to be displaced,
But silent shook his brows, and dreadful deeds
Of vengeance ruminating, sought again
His seat the threshold, where his bag full-charged [560]
He grounded, and the suitors thus address’d.
Hear now, ye suitors of the matchless Queen,
My bosom’s dictates. Trivial is the harm,
Scarce felt, if, fighting for his own, his sheep
Perchance, or beeves, a man receive a blow.
But me Antinoüs struck for that I ask’d
Food from him merely to appease the pangs
Of hunger, source of num’rous ills to man.
If then the poor man have a God t’ avenge
His wrongs, I pray to him that death may seize [570]
Antinoüs, ere his nuptial hour arrive!
To whom Antinoüs answer thus return’d,
Son of Eupithes. Either seated there
Or going hence, eat, stranger, and be still;
Lest for thy insolence, by hand or foot
We drag thee forth, and thou be flay’d alive.
He ceased, whom all indignant heard, and thus
Ev’n his own proud companions censured him.
Antinoüs! thou didst not well to smite
The wretched vagabond. O thou art doom’d [580]
For ever, if there be a God in heav’n;^^[[77|Cowper: Footnote 77]]^^
For, in similitude of strangers oft,
The Gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,
Repair to populous cities, where they mark
The outrageous and the righteous deeds of men.
So they, for whose reproof he little cared.
But in his heart Telemachus that blow
Resented, anguish-torn, yet not a tear
He shed, but silent shook his brows, and mused
Terrible things. Penelope, meantime, [590]
Told of the wand’rer so abused beneath
Her roof, among her maidens thus exclaim’d.
So may Apollo, glorious archer, smite
Thee also. Then Eurynome replied,
Oh might our pray’rs prevail, none of them all
Should see bright-charioted Aurora more.
Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.
Nurse! they are odious all, for that alike
All teem with mischief; but Antinoüs’ looks
Remind me ever of the gloom of death. [600]
A stranger hath arrived who, begging, roams
The house, (for so his penury enjoins)
The rest have giv’n him, and have fill’d his bag
With viands, but Antinoüs hath bruised
His shoulder with a foot-stool hurl’d at him.
While thus the Queen conversing with her train
In her own chamber sat, Ulysses made
Plenteous repast. Then, calling to her side
Eumæus, thus she signified her will.
Eumæus, noble friend! bid now approach [610]
Yon stranger. I would speak with him, and ask
If he has seen Ulysses, or have heard
Tidings, perchance, of the afflicted Chief,
For much a wand’rer by his garb he seems.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
Were those Achaians silent, thou shouldst hear,
O Queen! a tale that would console thy heart.
Three nights I housed him, and within my cot
Three days detain’d him, (for his ship he left
A fugitive, and came direct to me) [620]
But half untold his hist’ry still remains.
As when his eye one fixes on a bard
From heav’n instructed in such themes as charm
The ear of mortals, ever as he sings
The people press, insatiable, to hear,
So, in my cottage, seated at my side,
That stranger with his tale enchanted me.
Laertes, he affirms, hath been his guest
Erewhile in Crete, where Minos’ race resides,
And thence he hath arrived, after great loss, [630]
A suppliant to the very earth abased;
He adds, that in Thesprotia’s neighbour realm
He of Ulysses heard, both that he lives,
And that he comes laden with riches home.
To whom Penelope, discrete, replied.
Haste; call him. I would hear, myself, his tale.
Meantime, let these, or in the palace gate
Sport jocular, or here; their hearts are light,
For their possessions are secure; //their// wine
None drinks, or eats //their// viands, save their own, [640]
While my abode, day after day, themselves
Haunting, my beeves and sheep and fatted goats
Slay for the banquet, and my casks exhaust
Extravagant, whence endless waste ensues;
For no such friend as was Ulysses once
Have I to expel the mischief. But might he
Revisit once his native shores again,
Then, aided by his son, he should avenge,
Incontinent, the wrongs which now I mourn.
Then sneezed Telemachus with sudden force, [650]
That all the palace rang; his mother laugh’d,
And in wing’d accents thus the swain bespake.
Haste—bid him hither—hear’st thou not the sneeze
Propitious of my son? oh might it prove
A presage of inevitable death
To all these revellers! may none escape!
Now mark me well. Should the event his tale
Confirm, at my own hands he shall receive
Mantle and tunic both for his reward.
She spake; he went, and where Ulysses sat [660]
Arriving, in wing’d accents thus began.
Penelope, my venerable friend!
Calls thee, the mother of Telemachus.
Oppress’d by num’rous troubles, she desires
To ask thee tidings of her absent Lord.
And should the event verify thy report,
Thy meed shall be (a boon which much thou need’st)
Tunic and mantle; but she gives no more;
Thy sustenance thou must, as now, obtain,^^[[78|Cowper: Footnote 78]]^^
Begging it at their hands who chuse to give. [670]
Then thus Ulysses, Hero toil-inured.
Eumæus! readily I can relate
Truth, and truth only, to the prudent Queen
Icarius’ daughter; for of him I know
Much, and have suff’red sorrows like his own.
But dread I feel of this imperious throng
Perverse, whose riot and outrageous acts
Of violence echo through the vault of heav’n.
And, even now, when for no fault of mine
Yon suitor struck me as I pass’d, and fill’d [680]
My flesh with pain, neither Telemachus
Nor any interposed to stay his arm.
Now, therefore, let Penelope, although
Impatient, till the sun descend postpone
Her questions; then she may enquire secure
When comes her husband, and may nearer place
My seat to the hearth-side, for thinly clad
Thou know’st I am, whose aid I first implored.
He ceas’d; at whose reply Eumæus sought
Again the Queen, but ere he yet had pass’d [690]
The threshold, thus she greeted his return.
Com’st thou alone, Eumæus? why delays
The invited wand’rer? dreads he other harm?
Or sees he aught that with a bashful awe
Fills him? the bashful poor are poor indeed.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply.
He hath well spoken; none who would decline
The rudeness of this contumelious throng
Could answer otherwise; thee he entreats
To wait till sun-set, and that course, O Queen, [700]
Thou shalt thyself far more commodious find,
To hold thy conf’rence with the guest, alone.
Then answer thus Penelope return’d.
The stranger, I perceive, is not unwise,
Whoe’er he be, for on the earth are none
Proud, insolent, and profligate as these.
So spake the Queen. Then (all his message told)
The good Eumæus to the suitors went
Again, and with his head inclined toward
Telemachus, lest others should his words [710]
Witness, in accents wing’d him thus address’d.
Friend and kind master! I return to keep
My herds, and to attend my rural charge,
Whence we are both sustain’d. Keep thou, meantime,
All here with vigilance, but chiefly watch
For thy own good, and save //thyself// from harm;
For num’rous here brood mischief, whom the Gods
Exterminate, ere yet their plots prevail!
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
So be it, father! and (thy evening-mess [720]
Eaten) depart; to-morrow come again,
Bringing fair victims hither; I will keep,
I and the Gods, meantime, all here secure.
He ended; then resumed once more the swain
His polish’d seat, and, both with wine and food
Now satiate, to his charge return’d, the court
Leaving and all the palace throng’d with guests;
They (for it now was evening) all alike
Turn’d jovial to the song and to the dance.
"""
''Argument''
//The beggar Irus arrives at the palace; a combat takes place between him and Ulysses, in which Irus is by one blow vanquished. Penelope appears to the suitors, and having reminded them of the presents which she had a right to expect from them, receives a gift from each. Eurymachus, provoked by a speech of Ulysses, flings a foot-stool at him, which knocks down the cup-bearer; a general tumult is the consequence, which continues, till by the advice of Telemachus, seconded by Amphinomus, the suitors retire to their respective homes.//
"""
Now came a public mendicant, a man
Accustom’d, seeking alms, to roam the streets
Of Ithaca; one never sated yet
With food or drink; yet muscle had he none,
Or strength of limb, though giant-built in show.
Arnæus was the name which at his birth
His mother gave him, but the youthful band
Of suitors, whom as messenger he served,
All named him Irus. He, arriving, sought
To drive Ulysses forth from his own home, [10]
And in rough accents rude him thus rebuked.
Forth from the porch, old man! lest by the foot
I drag thee quickly forth. Seest not how all
Wink on me, and by signs give me command
To drag thee hence? nor is it aught but shame
That checks me. Yet arise, lest soon with fists
Thou force me to adjust our diff’rence.
To whom Ulysses, low’ring dark, replied.
Peace, fellow! neither word nor deed of mine
Wrongs thee, nor feel I envy at the boon, [20]
However plentiful, which thou receiv’st.
The sill may hold us both; thou dost not well
To envy others; thou appear’st like me
A vagrant; plenty is the gift of heav’n.
But urge me not to trial of our fists,
Lest thou provoke me, and I stain with blood
Thy bosom and thy lips, old as I am.
So, my attendance should to-morrow prove
More tranquil here; for thou should’st leave, I judge,
Ulysses’ mansion, never to return. [30]
Then answer’d Irus, kindling with disdain.
Gods! with what volubility of speech
The table-hunter prates, like an old hag
Collied with chimney-smutch! but ah beware!
For I intend thee mischief, and to dash
With both hands ev’ry grinder from thy gums,
As men untooth a pig pilf’ring the corn.
Come—gird thee, that all here may view the strife—
But how wilt thou oppose one young as I?
Thus on the threshold of the lofty gate [40]
They, wrangling, chafed each other, whose dispute
The high-born youth Antinoüs mark’d; he laugh’d
Delighted, and the suitors thus address’d.
Oh friends! no pastime ever yet occurr’d
Pleasant as this which, now, the Gods themselves
Afford us. Irus and the stranger brawl
As they would box. Haste—let us urge them on.
He said; at once loud-laughing all arose;
The ill-clad disputants they round about
Encompass’d, and Antinoüs thus began. [50]
Attend ye noble suitors to my voice.
Two paunches lie of goats here on the fire,
Which fill’d with fat and blood we set apart
For supper; he who conquers, and in force
Superior proves, shall freely take the paunch
Which he prefers, and shall with us thenceforth
Feast always; neither will we here admit
Poor man beside to beg at our repasts.
He spake, whom all approved; next, artful Chief
Ulysses thus, dissembling, them address’d. [60]
Princes! unequal is the strife between
A young man and an old with mis’ry worn;
But hunger, always counsellor of ill,
Me moves to fight, that many a bruise received,
I may be foil’d at last. Now swear ye all
A solemn oath, that none, for Irus’ sake
Shall, interposing, smite me with his fist
Clandestine, forcing me to yield the prize.
He ceas’d, and, as he bade, all present swore
A solemn oath; then thus, amid them all [70]
Standing, Telemachus majestic spake.
Guest! if thy courage and thy manly mind
Prompt thee to banish this man hence, no force
Fear thou beside, for who smites thee, shall find
Yet other foes to cope with; I am here
In the host’s office, and the royal Chiefs
Eurymachus and Antinoüs, alike
Discrete, accord unanimous with me.
He ceas’d, whom all approved. Then, with his rags
Ulysses braced for decency his loins [80]
Around, but gave to view his brawny thighs
Proportion’d fair, and stripp’d his shoulders broad,
His chest and arms robust; while, at his side,
Dilating more the Hero’s limbs and more
Minerva stood; the assembly with fixt eyes
Astonish’d gazed on him, and, looking full
On his next friend, a suitor thus remark’d.
Irus shall be in Irus found no more.
He hath pull’d evil on himself. What thewes
And what a haunch the senior’s tatters hid! [90]
So he—meantime in Irus’ heart arose
Horrible tumult; yet, his loins by force
Girding, the servants dragg’d him to the fight
Pale, and his flesh all quiv’ring as he came;
Whose terrors thus Antinoüs sharp rebuked.
Now, wherefore liv’st, and why wast ever born
Thou mountain-mass of earth! if such dismay
Shake thee at thought of combat with a man
Ancient as he, and worn with many woes?
But mark, I threaten not in vain; should he [100]
O’ercome thee, and in force superior prove,
To Echetus thou go’st; my sable bark
Shall waft thee to Epirus, where he reigns
Enemy of mankind; of nose and ears
He shall despoil thee with his ruthless steel,
And tearing by the roots the parts away^^[[79|Cowper: Footnote 79]]^^
That mark thy sex, shall cast them to the dogs.
He said; //His// limbs new terrors at that sound
Shook under him; into the middle space
They led him, and each raised his hands on high. [110]
Then doubtful stood Ulysses toil-inured,
Whether to strike him lifeless to the earth
At once, or fell him with a managed blow.
To smite with managed force at length he chose
As wisest, lest, betray’d by his own strength,
He should be known. With elevated fists
Both stood; him Irus on the shoulder struck,
But he his adversary on the neck
Pash’d close beneath his ear; he split the bones,
And blood in sable streams ran from his mouth. [120]
With many an hideous yell he dropp’d, his teeth
Chatter’d, and with his heels he drumm’d the ground.
The wooers, at that sight, lifting their hands
In glad surprize, laugh’d all their breath away.
Then, through the vestibule, and right across
The court, Ulysses dragg’d him by the foot
Into the portico, where propping him
Against the wall, and giving him his staff,
In accents wing’d he bade him thus farewell.
There seated now, dogs drive and swine away, [130]
Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controul
O’er other guests and mendicants, lest harm
Reach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this.
So saying, his tatter’d wallet o’er his back
He threw suspended by its leathern twist,
And tow’rd the threshold turning, sat again,
They laughing ceaseless still, the palace-door
Re-enter’d, and him, courteous, thus bespake.
Jove, and all Jove’s assessors in the skies
Vouchsafe thee, stranger, whatsoe’er it be, [140]
Thy heart’s desire! who hast our ears reliev’d
From that insatiate beggar’s irksome tone.
Soon to Epirus he shall go dispatch’d
To Echetus the King, pest of mankind.
So they, to whose propitious words the Chief
Listen’d delighted. Then Antinoüs placed
The paunch before him, and Amphinomus
Two loaves, selected from the rest; he fill’d
A goblet also, drank to him, and said,
My father, hail! O stranger, be thy lot [150]
Hereafter blest, though adverse now and hard!
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
To me, Amphinomus, endued thou seem’st
With much discretion, who art also son
Of such a sire, whose fair report I know,
Dulichian Nysus, opulent and good.
Fame speaks thee his, and thou appear’st a man
Judicious; hear me, therefore; mark me well.
Earth nourishes, of all that breathe or creep,
No creature weak as man; for while the Gods [160]
Grant him prosperity and health, no fear
Hath he, or thought, that he shall ever mourn;
But when the Gods with evils unforeseen
Smite him, he bears them with a grudging mind;
For such as the complexion of his lot
By the appointment of the Sire of all,
Such is the colour of the mind of man.
I, too, have been familiar in my day
With wealth and ease, but I was then self-will’d,
And many wrong’d, embolden’d by the thought [170]
Of my own father’s and my brethren’s pow’r.
Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but each
Use modestly what gift soe’er of heav’n.
So do not these. These ever bent I see
On deeds injurious, the possessions large
Consuming, and dishonouring the wife
Of one, who will not, as I judge, remain
Long absent from his home, but is, perchance,
Ev’n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the Gods
Steal hence in time! ah, meet not his return [180]
To his own country! for they will not part,
(He and the suitors) without blood, I think,
If once he enter at these gates again!
He ended, and, libation pouring, quaff’d
The generous juice, then in the prince’s hand
Replaced the cup; he, pensive, and his head
Inclining low, pass’d from him; for his heart
Forboded ill; yet ’scaped not even he,
But in the snare of Pallas caught, his life
To the heroic arm and spear resign’d [190]
Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length,
The seat whence he had ris’n, he sat again.
Minerva then, Goddess, cærulean-eyed,
Prompted Icarius’ daughter to appear
Before the suitors; so to expose the more
Their drift iniquitous, and that herself
More bright than ever in her husband’s eyes
Might shine, and in her son’s. Much mirth she feign’d,^^[[80|Cowper: Footnote 80]]^^
And, bursting into laughter, thus began.
I wish, Eurynome! (who never felt [200]
That wish till now) though I detest them all,
To appear before the suitors, in whose ears
I will admonish, for his good, my son,
Not to associate with that lawless crew
Too much, who speak him fair, but foul intend.
Then answer thus Eurynome return’d.
My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well.
Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then give
To thy dear son such counsel as thou wilt
Without reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks [210]
Sullied with tears, for profit none accrues
From grief like thine, that never knows a change.
And he is now bearded, and hath attained
That age which thou wast wont with warmest pray’r
To implore the Gods that he might live to see.
Her answer’d then Penelope discrete.
Persuade not me, though studious of my good,
To bathe, Eurynome! or to anoint
My face with oil; for all my charms the Gods
Inhabitants of Olympus then destroy’d, [220]
When he, embarking, left me. Go, command
Hippodamia and Autonöe
That they attend me to the hall, and wait
Beside me there; for decency forbids
That I should enter to the men, alone.
She ceas’d, and through the house the ancient dame
Hasted to summon whom she had enjoin’d.
But Pallas, Goddess of the azure eyes,
Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleep
Around Icarius’ daughter; on her couch [230]
Reclining, soon as she reclin’d, she dozed,
And yielded to soft slumber all her frame.
Then, that the suitors might admire her more,
The glorious Goddess cloath’d her, as she lay,
With beauty of the skies; her lovely face
She with ambrosia purified, with such
As Cytherea chaplet-crown’d employs
Herself, when in the eye-ensnaring dance
She joins the Graces; to a statelier height
Beneath her touch, and ampler size she grew, [240]
And fairer than the elephantine bone
Fresh from the carver’s hand. These gifts conferr’d
Divine, the awful Deity retired.
And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrived
Her handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound,
She wiped away a tear, and thus she said.
Me gentle sleep, sad mourner as I am,
Hath here involved. O would that by a death
As gentle chaste Diana would herself
This moment set me free, that I might waste [250]
My life no longer in heart-felt regret
Of a lamented husband’s various worth
And virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he!
She said, and through her chambers’ stately door
Issuing, descended; neither went she sole,
But with those two fair menials of her train.
Arriving, most majestic of her sex,
In presence of the num’rous guests, beneath
The portal of the stately dome she stood
Between her maidens, with her lucid veil [260]
Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev’ry knee
Trembled, and ev’ry heart with am’rous heat
Dissolv’d, her charms all coveting alike,
While to Telemachus her son she spake.
Telemachus! thou art no longer wise
As once thou wast, and even when a child.
For thriven as thou art, and at full size
Arrived of man, so fair proportion’d, too,
That ev’n a stranger, looking on thy growth
And beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born, [270]
Yet is thy intellect still immature.
For what is this? why suffer’st thou a guest
To be abused in thy own palace? how?
Know’st not that if the stranger seated here
Endure vexation, the disgrace is thine?
Her answer’d, then, Telemachus discrete.
I blame thee not, my mother, that thou feel’st
Thine anger moved; yet want I not a mind
Able to mark and to discern between
Evil and good, child as I lately was, [280]
Although I find not promptitude of thought
Sufficient always, overaw’d and check’d
By such a multitude, all bent alike
On mischief, of whom none takes part with me.
But Irus and the stranger have not fought,
Urged by the suitors, and the stranger prov’d
Victorious; yes—heav’n knows how much I wish
That, (in the palace some, some in the court)
The suitors all sat vanquish’d, with their heads
Depending low, and with enfeebled limbs, [290]
Even as that same Irus, while I speak,
With chin on bosom propp’d at the hall-gate
Sits drunkard-like, incapable to stand
Erect, or to regain his proper home.
So they; and now addressing to the Queen
His speech, Eurymachus thus interposed.
O daughter of Icarius! could all eyes
Throughout Iäsian Argos^^[[81|Cowper: Footnote 81]]^^ view thy charms,
Discrete Penelope! more suitors still
Assembling in thy courts would banquet here [300]
From morn to eve; for thou surpassest far
In beauty, stature, worth, all womankind.
To whom replied Penelope discrete.
The Gods, Eurymachus! reduced to nought
My virtue, beauty, stature, when the Greeks,
Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy.
Could he, returning, my domestic charge
Himself intend, far better would my fame
Be so secured, and wider far diffused.
But I am wretched now, such storms the Gods [310]
Of woe have sent me. When he left his home,
Clasping my wrist with his right hand, he said.
My love! for I imagine not that all
The warrior Greeks shall safe from Troy return,
Since fame reports the Trojans brave in fight,
Skill’d in the spear, mighty to draw the bow,
And nimble vaulters to the backs of steeds
High-mettled, which to speediest issue bring
The dreadful struggle of all-wasting war—
I know not, therefore, whether heav’n intend [320]
My safe return, or I must perish there.
But manage thou at home. Cherish, as now,
While I am absent, or more dearly still
My parents, and what time our son thou seest
Mature, then wed; wed even whom thou wilt,
And hence to a new home.—Such were his words,
All which shall full accomplishment ere long
Receive. The day is near, when hapless I,
Lost to all comfort by the will of Jove,
Must meet the nuptials that my soul abhors. [330]
But this thought now afflicts me, and my mind
Continual haunts. Such was not heretofore
The suitors’ custom’d practice; all who chose
To engage in competition for a wife
Well-qualitied and well-endow’d, produced
From their own herds and fatted flocks a feast
For the bride’s friends, and splendid presents made,
But never ate as ye, at others’ cost.
She ceased; then brave Ulysses toil-inured
Rejoiced that, soothing them, she sought to draw [340]
From each some gift, although on other views,
And more important far, himself intent.
Then thus Antinoüs, Eupithes’ son.
Icarius’ daughter wise! only accept
Such gifts as we shall bring, for gifts demand
That grace, nor can be decently refused;
But to our rural labours, or elsewhere
Depart not we, till first thy choice be made
Of the Achaian, chief in thy esteem.
Antinoüs spake, whose answer all approved. [350]
Then each dispatch’d his herald who should bring
His master’s gift. Antinoüs’ herald, first
A mantle of surpassing beauty brought,
Wide, various, with no fewer clasps adorn’d
Than twelve, all golden, and to ev’ry clasp
Was fitted opposite its eye exact.
Next, to Eurymachus his herald bore
A necklace of wrought gold, with amber rich
Bestudded, ev’ry bead bright as a sun.
Two servants for Eurydamas produced [360]
Ear-pendants fashion’d with laborious art,
Broad, triple-gemm’d, of brilliant light profuse.
The herald of Polyctor’s son, the prince
Pisander, brought a collar to his Lord,
A sumptuous ornament. Each Greecian gave,
And each a gift dissimilar from all.
Then, loveliest of her sex, turning away,
She sought her chamber, whom her maidens fair
Attended, charged with those illustrious gifts.
Then turn’d, they all to dance and pleasant song [370]
Joyous, expecting the approach of ev’n.
Ere long the dusky evening came, and them
Found sporting still. Then, placing in the hall
Three hearths that should illumine wide the house,
They compass’d them around with fuel-wood
Long-season’d and new-split, mingling the sticks
With torches. The attendant women watch’d
And fed those fires by turns, to whom, himself,
Their unknown Sov’reign thus his speech address’d.
Ye maidens of the long-regretted Chief [380]
Ulysses! to the inner-courts retire,
And to your virtuous Queen, that following there
Your sev’ral tasks, spinning and combing wool,
Ye may amuse her; I, meantime, for these
Will furnish light, and should they chuse to stay
Till golden morn appear, they shall not tire
My patience aught, for I can much endure.
He said; they, titt’ring, on each other gazed.
But one, Melantho with the blooming cheeks,
Rebuked him rudely. Dolius was her sire, [390]
But by Penelope she had been reared
With care maternal, and in infant years
Supplied with many a toy; yet even she
Felt not her mistress’ sorrows in her heart,
But, of Eurymachus enamour’d, oft
His lewd embraces met; she, with sharp speech
Reproachful, to Ulysses thus replied.
Why—what a brainsick vagabond art thou!
Who neither wilt to the smith’s forge retire
For sleep, nor to the public portico, [400]
But here remaining, with audacious prate
Disturb’st this num’rous company, restrain’d
By no respect or fear; either thou art
With wine intoxicated, or, perchance,
Art always fool, and therefore babblest now.
Say, art thou drunk with joy that thou hast foiled
The beggar Irus? Tremble, lest a man
Stronger than Irus suddenly arise,
Who on thy temples pelting thee with blows
Far heavier than his, shall drive thee hence [410]
With many a bruise, and foul with thy own blood.
To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.
Snarler! Telemachus shall be inform’d
This moment of thy eloquent harangue,
That he may hew thee for it, limb from limb.
So saying, he scared the women; back they flew
Into the house, but each with falt’ring knees
Through dread, for they believ’d his threats sincere.
He, then illumin’d by the triple blaze,
Watch’d close the lights, busy from hearth to hearth, [420]
But in his soul, meantime, far other thoughts
Revolved, tremendous, not conceived in vain.
Nor Pallas (that they might exasp’rate more
Laertes’ son) permitted to abstain
From heart-corroding bitterness of speech
Those suitors proud, of whom Eurymachus,
Offspring of Polybus, while thus he jeer’d
Ulysses, set the others in a roar.
Hear me, ye suitors of the illustrious Queen!
I shall promulge my thought. This man, methinks, [430]
Not unconducted by the Gods, hath reach’d
Ulysses’ mansion, for to me the light
Of yonder torches altogether seems
His own, an emanation from his head,
Which not the smallest growth of hair obscures.
He ended; and the city-waster Chief
Himself accosted next. Art thou disposed
To serve me, friend! would I afford thee hire,
A labourer at my farm? thou shalt not want
Sufficient wages; thou may’st there collect [440]
Stones for my fences, and may’st plant my oaks,
For which I would supply thee all the year
With food, and cloaths, and sandals for thy feet.
But thou hast learn’d less creditable arts,
Nor hast a will to work, preferring much
By beggary from others to extort
Wherewith to feed thy never-sated maw.
Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.
Forbear, Eurymachus; for were we match’d
In work against each other, thou and I, [450]
Mowing in spring-time, when the days are long,
I with my well-bent sickle in my hand,
Thou arm’d with one as keen, for trial sake
Of our ability to toil unfed
Till night, grass still sufficing for the proof.—
Or if, again, it were our task to drive
Yoked oxen of the noblest breed, sleek-hair’d,
Big-limb’d, both batten’d to the full with grass,
Their age and aptitude for work the same
Not soon to be fatigued, and were the field [460]
In size four acres, with a glebe through which
The share might smoothly slide, then should’st thou see
How strait my furrow should be cut and true.—
Or should Saturnian Jove this day excite
Here, battle, or elsewhere, and were I arm’d
With two bright spears and with a shield, and bore
A brazen casque well-fitted to my brows,
Me, then, thou should’st perceive mingling in fight
Amid the foremost Chiefs, nor with the crime
Of idle beggary should’st upbraid me more. [470]
But thou art much a railer, one whose heart
Pity moves not, and seem’st a mighty man
And valiant to thyself, only because
Thou herd’st with few, and those of little worth.
But should Ulysses come, at his own isle
Again arrived, wide as these portals are,
To thee, at once, too narrow they should seem
To shoot thee forth with speed enough abroad.
He ceased—then tenfold indignation fired
Eurymachus; he furrow’d deep his brow [480]
With frowns, and in wing’d accents thus replied.
Wretch, I shall roughly handle thee anon,
Who thus with fluent prate presumptuous dar’st
Disturb this num’rous company, restrain’d
By no respect or fear. Either thou art
With wine intoxicated, or, perchance,
Art always fool, and therefore babblest now;
Or thou art frantic haply with delight
That thou hast foil’d yon vagabond obscure.
So saying, he seized a stool; but to the knees [490]
Ulysses flew of the Dulichian Prince
Amphinomus, and sat, fearing incensed
Eurymachus; he on his better hand
Smote full the cup-bearer; on the hall-floor
Loud rang the fallen beaker, and himself
Lay on his back clamouring in the dust.
Strait through the dusky hall tumult ensued
Among the suitors, of whom thus, a youth,
With eyes directed to the next, exclaim’d.
Would that this rambling stranger had elsewhere [500]
Perish’d, or ever he had here arrived,
Then no such uproar had he caused as this!
This doth the beggar; he it is for whom
We wrangle thus, and may despair of peace
Or pleasure more; now look for strife alone.
Then in the midst Telemachus upstood
Majestic, and the suitors thus bespake.
Sirs! ye are mad, and can no longer eat
Or drink in peace; some dæmon troubles you.
But since ye all have feasted, to your homes [510]
Go now, and, at your pleasure, to your beds;
Soonest were best, but I thrust no man hence.
He ceased; they gnawing stood their lips, aghast
With wonder that Telemachus in his speech
Such boldness used. Then rose Amphinomus,
Brave son of Nisus offspring of the King
Aretus, and the assembly thus address’d.
My friends! let none with contradiction thwart
And rude reply words rational and just;
Assault no more the stranger, nor of all [520]
The servants of renown’d Ulysses here
Harm any. Come. Let the cup-bearer fill
To all, that due libation made, to rest
We may repair at home, leaving the Prince
To accommodate beneath his father’s roof
The stranger, for he is the Prince’s guest.
He ended, whose advice none disapproved.
The Hero Mulius then, Dulichian-born,
And herald of Amphinomus, the cup
Filling, dispensed it, as he stood, to all; [530]
They, pouring forth to the Immortals, quaff’d
The luscious bev’rage, and when each had made
Libation, and such measure as he would
Of wine had drunk, then all to rest retired.
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses and Telemachus remove the arms from the hall to an upper-chamber. The Hero then confers with Penelope, to whom he gives a fictitious narrative of his adventures. Euryclea, while bathing Ulysses, discovers him by a scar on his knee, but he prevents her communication of that discovery to Penelope.//
"""
They went, but left the noble Chief behind
In his own house, contriving by the aid
Of Pallas, the destruction of them all,
And thus, in accents wing’d, again he said.
My son! we must remove and safe dispose
All these my well-forged implements of war;
And should the suitors, missing them, enquire
Where are they? thou shalt answer smoothly thus—
I have convey’d them from the reach of smoke,
For they appear no more the same which erst [10]
Ulysses, going hence to Ilium, left,
So smirch’d and sullied by the breath of fire.
This weightier reason (thou shalt also say)
Some God suggested to me,—lest, inflamed
With wine, ye wound each other in your brawls,
Shaming both feast and courtship; for the view
Itself of arms incites to their abuse.
He ceased, and, in obedience to his will,
Calling the ancient Euryclea forth,
His nurse, Telemachus enjoin’d her thus. [20]
Go—shut the women in; make fast the doors
Of their apartment, while I safe dispose
Elsewhere, my father’s implements of war,
Which, during his long absence, here have stood
Till smoke hath sullied them. For I have been
An infant hitherto, but, wiser grown,
Would now remove them from the breath of fire.
Then thus the gentle matron in return.
Yes truly—and I wish that now, at length,
Thou would’st assert the privilege of thy years, [30]
My son, thyself assuming charge of all,
Both house and stores; but who shall bear the light?
Since they, it seems, who would, are all forbidden.
To whom Telemachus discrete replied.
This guest; for no man, from my table fed,
Come whence he may; shall be an idler here.
He ended, nor his words flew wing’d away,
But Euryclea bolted every door.
Then, starting to the task, Ulysses caught,
And his illustrious son, the weapons thence, [40]
Helmet, and bossy shield, and pointed spear,
While Pallas from a golden lamp illumed
The dusky way before them. At that sight
Alarm’d, the Prince his father thus address’d.
Whence—whence is this, my father? I behold
A prodigy! the walls of the whole house,
The arches, fir-tree beams, and pillars tall
Shine in my view, as with the blaze of fire!
Some Pow’r celestial, doubtless, is within.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. [50]
Soft! ask no questions. Give no vent to thought,
Such is the custom of the Pow’rs divine.
Hence, thou, to bed. I stay, that I may yet
Both in thy mother and her maidens move
More curiosity; yes—she with tears
Shall question me of all that I have seen.
He ended, and the Prince, at his command,
Guided by flaming torches, sought the couch
Where he was wont to sleep, and there he slept
On that night also, waiting the approach [60]
Of sacred dawn. Thus was Ulysses left
Alone, and planning sat in solitude,
By Pallas’ aid, the slaughter of his foes.
At length, Diana-like, or like herself,
All golden Venus, (her apartment left)
Enter’d Penelope. Beside the hearth
Her women planted her accustom’d seat
With silver wreathed and ivory. That throne
Icmalius made, artist renown’d, and join’d
A footstool to its splendid frame beneath, [70]
Which ever with an ample fleece they spread.
There sat discrete Penelope; then came
Her beautiful attendants from within,
Who cleared the litter’d bread, the board, and cups
From which the insolent companions drank.
They also raked the embers from the hearths
Now dim, and with fresh billets piled them high,
Both for illumination and for warmth.
Then yet again Melantho with rude speech
Opprobrious, thus, assail’d Ulysses’ ear. [80]
Guest—wilt thou trouble us throughout the night
Ranging the house? and linger’st thou a spy
Watching the women? Hence—get thee abroad
Glad of such fare as thou hast found, or soon
With torches beaten we will thrust thee forth.
To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied.
Petulant woman! wherefore thus incensed
Inveigh’st thou against me? is it because
I am not sleek? because my garb is mean?
Because I beg? thanks to necessity— [90]
I would not else. But such as I appear,
Such all who beg and all who wander are.
I also lived the happy owner once
Of such a stately mansion, and have giv’n
To num’rous wand’rers, whencesoe’er they came,
All that they needed; I was also served
By many, and enjoy’d all that denotes
The envied owner opulent and blest.
But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reduced
My all to nothing. Therefore well beware [100]
Thou also, mistress, lest a day arrive
When all these charms by which thou shin’st among
Thy sister-menials, fade; fear, too, lest her
Thou should’st perchance irritate, whom thou serv’st,
And lest Ulysses come, of whose return
Hope yet survives; but even though the Chief
Have perish’d, as ye think, and comes no more,
Consider yet his son, how bright the gifts
Shine of Apollo in the illustrious Prince
Telemachus; no woman, unobserved [110]
By him, can now commit a trespass here;
His days of heedless infancy are past.
He ended, whom Penelope discrete
O’erhearing, her attendant sharp rebuked.
Shameless, audacious woman! known to me
Is thy great wickedness, which with thy life
Thou shalt atone; for thou wast well aware,
(Hearing it from myself) that I design’d
To ask this stranger of my absent Lord,
For whose dear sake I never cease to mourn. [120]
Then to her household’s governess she said.
Bring now a seat, and spread it with a fleece,
Eurynome! that, undisturb’d, the guest
May hear and answer all that I shall ask.
She ended. Then the matron brought in haste
A polish’d seat, and spread it with a fleece,
On which the toil-accustom’d Hero sat,
And thus the chaste Penelope began.
Stranger! my first enquiry shall be this—
Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom? [130]
Then answer thus Ulysses, wise, return’d.
O Queen! uncensurable by the lips
Of mortal man! thy glory climbs the skies
Unrivall’d, like the praise of some great King
Who o’er a num’rous people and renown’d
Presiding like a Deity, maintains
Justice and truth. The earth, under his sway,
Her produce yields abundantly; the trees
Fruit-laden bend; the lusty flocks bring forth;
The Ocean teems with finny swarms beneath [140]
His just controul, and all the land is blest.
Me therefore, question of what else thou wilt
In thy own palace, but forbear to ask
From whom I sprang, and of my native land,
Lest thou, reminding me of those sad themes,
Augment my woes; for I have much endured;
Nor were it seemly, in another’s house,
To pass the hours in sorrow and in tears,
Wearisome when indulg’d with no regard
To time or place; thy train (perchance thyself) [150]
Would blame me, and I should reproach incur
As one tear-deluged through excess of wine.
Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.
The immortal Gods, O stranger, then destroy’d
My form, my grace, my beauty, when the Greeks
Whom my Ulysses follow’d, sail’d to Troy.
Could he, returning, my domestic charge
Himself intend, far better would my fame
Be so secured, and wider far diffused.
But I am wretched now, such storms of woe [160]
The Gods have sent me; for as many Chiefs
As hold dominion in the neighbour isles
Samos, Dulichium, and the forest-crown’d
Zacynthus; others, also, rulers here
In pleasant Ithaca, me, loth to wed,
Woo ceaseless, and my household stores consume.
I therefore, neither guest nor suppliant heed,
Nor public herald more, but with regret
Of my Ulysses wear my soul away.
They, meantime, press my nuptials, which by art [170]
I still procrastinate. Some God the thought
Suggested to me, to commence a robe
Of amplest measure and of subtlest woof,
Laborious task; which done, I thus address’d them.
Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief
Ulysses is no more, enforce not now
My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first
A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads be marr’d)
Which for the ancient Hero I prepare
Laertes, looking for the mournful hour [180]
When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest.
Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,
Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.
Such was my speech; they, unsuspicious all,
With my request complied. Thenceforth, all day
I wove the ample web, and, by the aid
Of torches, ravell’d it again at night.
Three years by artifice I thus their suit
Eluded safe; but when the fourth arrived,
And the same season after many moons [190]
And fleeting days return’d, passing my train
Who had neglected to release the dogs,
They came, surprized and reprimanded me.
Thus, through necessity, not choice, at last
I have perform’d it, in my own despight.
But no escape from marriage now remains,
Nor other subterfuge for me; meantime
My parents urge my nuptials, and my son
(Of age to note it) with disgust observes
His wealth consumed; for he is now become [200]
Adult, and abler than myself to rule
The house, a Prince distinguish’d by the Gods,
Yet, stranger, after all, speak thy descent;
Say whence thou art; for not of fabulous birth
Art thou, nor from the oak, nor from the rock.
Her answer’d then Ulysses, ever-wise.
O spouse revered of Laertiades!
Resolv’st thou still to learn from whom I sprang?
Learn then; but know that thou shalt much augment
My present grief, natural to a man [210]
Who hath, like me, long exiled from his home
Through various cities of the sons of men
Wander’d remote, and num’rous woes endured.
Yet, though it pain me, I will tell thee all.
There is a land amid the sable flood
Call’d Crete; fair, fruitful, circled by the sea.
Num’rous are her inhabitants, a race
Not to be summ’d, and ninety towns she boasts.
Diverse their language is; Achaians some,
And some indigenous are; Cydonians there, [220]
Crest-shaking Dorians, and Pelasgians dwell.
One city in extent the rest exceeds,
Cnossus; the city in which Minos reign’d,
Who, ever at a nine years’ close, conferr’d
With Jove himself; from him my father sprang
The brave Deucalion; for Deucalion’s sons
Were two, myself and King Idomeneus.
To Ilium he, on board his gallant barks,
Follow’d the Atridæ. I, the youngest-born,
By my illustrious name, Æthon, am known, [230]
But he ranks foremost both in worth and years.
There I beheld Ulysses, and within
My walls receiv’d him; for a violent wind
Had driv’n him from Malea (while he sought
The shores of Troy) to Crete. The storm his barks
Bore into the Amnisus, for the cave
Of Ilythia known, a dang’rous port,
And which with difficulty he attain’d.
He, landing, instant to the city went,
Seeking Idomeneus; his friend of old, [240]
As he affirm’d, and one whom much he lov’d.
But //he// was far remote, ten days advanced,
Perhaps eleven, on his course to Troy.
Him, therefore, I conducted to my home,
Where hospitably, and with kindest care
I entertain’d him, (for I wanted nought)
And for himself procured and for his band,—
By public contribution, corn, and wine,
And beeves for food, that all might be sufficed.
Twelve days his noble Greecians there abode, [250]
Port-lock’d by Boreas blowing with a force
Resistless even on the land, some God
So roused his fury; but the thirteenth day
The wind all fell, and they embark’d again.
With many a fiction specious, as he sat,
He thus her ear amused; she at the sound
Melting, with fluent tears her cheeks bedew’d;
And as the snow by Zephyrus diffused,
Melts on the mountain tops, when Eurus breathes,
And fills the channels of the running streams, [260]
So melted she, and down her lovely cheeks
Pour’d fast the tears, him mourning as remote
Who sat beside her. Soft compassion touch’d
Ulysses of his consort’s silent woe;
His eyes as they had been of steel or horn,
Moved not, yet artful, he suppress’d his tears,
And she, at length with overflowing grief
Satiate, replied, and thus enquired again.
Now, stranger, I shall prove thee, as I judge,
If thou, indeed, hast entertain’d in Crete [270]
My spouse and his brave followers, as thou say’st.
Describe his raiment and himself; his own
Appearance, and the appearance of his friends.
Then her Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise.
Hard is the task, O Queen! (so long a time
Hath since elaps’d) to tell thee. Twenty years
Have pass’d since he forsook my native isle,
Yet, from my best remembrance, I will give
A likeness of him, such as now I may.
A double cloak, thick-piled, Mœonian dyed, [280]
The noble Chief had on; two fast’nings held
The golden clasp, and it display’d in front
A well-wrought pattern with much art design’d.
An hound between his fore-feet holding fast
A dappled fawn, gaped eager on his prey.
All wonder’d, seeing, how in lifeless gold
Express’d, the dog with open mouth her throat
Attempted still, and how the fawn with hoofs
Thrust trembling forward, struggled to escape.
That glorious mantle much I noticed, soft [290]
To touch, as the dried garlick’s glossy film;
Such was the smoothness of it, and it shone
Sun-bright; full many a maiden, trust me, view’d
The splendid texture with admiring eyes.
But mark me now; deep treasure in thy mind
This word. I know not if Ulysses wore
That cloak at home, or whether of his train
Some warrior gave it to him on his way,
Or else some host of his; for many loved
Ulysses, and with him might few compare. [300]
I gave to him, myself, a brazen sword,
A purple cloak magnificent, and vest
Of royal length, and when he sought his bark,
With princely pomp dismiss’d him from the shore.
An herald also waited on the Chief,
Somewhat his Senior; him I next describe.
His back was bunch’d, his visage swarthy, curl’d
His poll, and he was named Eurybates;
A man whom most of all his followers far
Ulysses honour’d, for their minds were one. [310]
He ceased; she recognising all the proofs
Distinctly by Ulysses named, was moved
Still more to weep, till with o’erflowing grief
Satiate, at length she answer’d him again.
Henceforth, O stranger, thou who hadst before
My pity, shalt my rev’rence share and love,
I folded for him (with these hands) the cloak
Which thou describ’st, produced it when he went,
And gave it to him; I that splendid clasp
Attach’d to it myself, more to adorn [320]
My honour’d Lord, whom to his native land
Return’d secure I shall receive no more.
In such an evil hour Ulysses went
To that bad city never to be named.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Consort revered of Laertiades!
No longer let anxiety impair
Thy beauteous form, nor any grief consume
Thy spirits more for thy Ulysses’ sake.
And yet I blame thee not; a wife deprived [330]
Of her first mate to whom she had produced
Fair fruit of mutual love, would mourn his loss,
Although he were inferior far to thine,
Whom fame affirms the semblance of the Gods.
But cease to mourn. Hear me. I will relate
A faithful tale, nor will from thee withhold
Such tidings of Ulysses living still,
And of his safe return, as I have heard
Lately, in yon neighb’ring opulent land
Of the Thesprotians. He returns enrich’d [340]
With many precious stores from those obtain’d
Whom he hath visited; but he hath lost,
Departing from Thrinacia’s isle, his bark
And all his lov’d companions in the Deep,
For Jove was adverse to him, and the Sun,
Whose beeves his followers slew. They perish’d all
Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel
Bestriding of his bark, the waves at length
Cast forth on the Phæacian’s land, a race
Allied to heav’n, who rev’renced like a God [350]
Thy husband, honour’d him with num’rous gifts,
And willing were to have convey’d him home.
Ulysses, therefore, had attained long since
His native shore, but that he deem’d it best
To travel far, that he might still amass
More wealth; so much Ulysses all mankind
Excels in policy, and hath no peer.
This information from Thesprotia’s King
I gain’d, from Phidon; to myself he swore,
Libation off’ring under his own roof, [360]
That both the bark was launch’d, and the stout crew
Prepared, that should conduct him to his home.
But me he first dismiss’d; for, as it chanced,
A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound
To corn-enrich’d Dulichium. All the wealth
He shew’d me by the Chief amass’d, a store
To feed the house of yet another Prince
To the tenth generation; so immense
His treasures were within that palace lodg’d.
Himself he said was to Dodona gone, [370]
Counsel to ask from the oracular oaks
Sublime of Jove, how safest he might seek,
After long exile thence, his native land,
If openly were best, or in disguise.
Thus, therefore, he is safe, and at his home
Well-nigh arrived, nor shall his country long
Want him. I swear it with a solemn oath.
First Jove be witness, King and Lord of all!
Next these domestic Gods of the renown’d
Ulysses, in whose royal house I sit, [380]
That thou shalt see my saying all fulfill’d.
Ulysses shall this self-same year return,
This self-same month, ere yet the next begin.
Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.
Grant heav’n, my guest, that this good word of thine
Fail not! then, soon shalt thou such bounty share
And friendship at my hands, that, at first sight,
Whoe’er shall meet thee shall pronounce thee blest.
But ah! my soul forebodes how it will prove;
Neither Ulysses will return, nor thou [390]
Receive safe conduct hence; for we have here
None, such as once Ulysses was, to rule
His household with authority, and to send
With honourable convoy to his home
The worthy guest, or to regale him here.
Give him the bath, my maidens; spread his couch
With linen soft, with fleecy gaberdines^^[[82|Cowper: Footnote 82]]^^
And rugs of splendid hue, that he may lie
Waiting, well-warm’d, the golden morn’s return.
Attend him also at the peep of day [400]
With bath and unction, that, his seat resumed
Here in the palace, he may be prepared
For breakfast with Telemachus; and woe
To him who shall presume to incommode
Or cause him pain; that man shall be cashier’d
Hence instant, burn his anger as it may.
For how, my honour’d inmate! shalt thou learn
That I in wisdom œconomic aught
Pass other women, if unbathed, unoiled,
Ill-clad, thou sojourn here? man’s life is short, [410]
Whoso is cruel, and to cruel arts
Addict, on him all men, while yet he lives,
Call plagues and curses down, and after death
Scorn and proverbial mock’ries hunt his name.
But men, humane themselves, and giv’n by choice
To offices humane, from land to land
Are rumour’d honourably by their guests,
And ev’ry tongue is busy in their praise.
Her answer’d then, Ulysses, ever-wise.
Consort revered of Laertiades! [420]
Warm gaberdines and rugs of splendid hue
To me have odious been, since first the sight
Of Crete’s snow-mantled mountain-tops I lost,
Sweeping the billows with extended oars.
No; I will pass, as I am wont to pass
The sleepless night; for on a sordid couch
Outstretch’d, full many a night have I reposed
Till golden-charioted Aurora dawn’d.
Nor me the foot-bath pleases more; my foot
Shall none of all thy ministring maidens touch, [430]
Unless there be some ancient matron grave
Among them, who hath pangs of heart endured
Num’rous, and keen as I have felt myself;
Her I refuse not. She may touch my feet.
Him answer’d then prudent Penelope.
Dear guest! for of all trav’llers here arrived
From distant regions, I have none received
Discrete as thou, or whom I more have lov’d,
So just thy matter is, and with such grace
Express’d. I have an ancient maiden grave, [440]
The nurse who at my hapless husband’s birth
Receiv’d him in her arms, and with kind care
Maternal rear’d him; she shall wash thy feet,
Although decrepid. Euryclea, rise!
Wash one coeval with thy Lord; for such
The feet and hands, it may be, are become
Of my Ulysses now; since man beset
With sorrow once, soon wrinkled grows and old.
She said, then Euryclea with both hands
Cov’ring her face, in tepid tears profuse [450]
Dissolved, and thus in mournful strains began.
Alas! my son, trouble for thy dear sake
Distracts me. Jove surely of all mankind
Thee hated most, though ever in thy heart
Devoutly giv’n; for never mortal man
So many thighs of fatted victims burn’d,
And chosen hecatombs produced as thou
To Jove the Thund’rer, him entreating still
That he would grant thee a serene old age,
And to instruct, thyself, thy glorious son. [460]
Yet thus the God requites thee, cutting off
All hope of thy return—oh ancient sir!
Him too, perchance, where’er he sits a guest
Beneath some foreign roof, the women taunt,
As all these shameless ones have taunted thee,
Fearing whose mock’ry thou forbidd’st their hands
This office, which Icarius’ daughter wise
To me enjoins, and which I, glad perform.
Yes, I will wash thy feet; both for her sake
And for thy own,—for sight of thee hath raised [470]
A tempest in my mind. Hear now the cause!
Full many a guest forlorn we entertain,
But never any have I seen, whose size,
The fashion of whose foot and pitch of voice,
Such likeness of Ulysses show’d, as thine.
To whom Ulysses, ever-shrewd, replied.
Such close similitude, O ancient dame!
As thou observ’st between thy Lord and me,
All, who have seen us both, have ever found.
He said; then taking the resplendent vase [480]
Allotted always to that use, she first
Infused cold water largely, then, the warm.
Ulysses (for beside the hearth he sat)
Turn’d quick his face into the shade, alarm’d
Lest, handling him, she should at once remark
His scar, and all his stratagem unveil.
She then, approaching, minister’d the bath
To her own King, and at first touch discern’d
That token, by a bright-tusk’d boar of old
Impress’d, what time he to Parnassus went [490]
To visit there Autolycus and his sons,
His mother’s noble sire, who all mankind
In furtive arts and fraudful oaths excell’d.^^[[83|Cowper: Footnote 83]]^^
For such endowments he by gift receiv’d
From Hermes’ self, to whom the thighs of kids
He offer’d and of lambs, and, in return,
The watchful Hermes never left his side.
Autolycus arriving in the isle
Of pleasant Ithaca, the new-born son
Of his own daughter found, whom on his knees [500]
At close of supper Euryclea placed,
And thus the royal visitant address’d.
Thyself, Autolycus! devise a name
For thy own daughter’s son, by num’rous pray’rs
Of thine and fervent, from the Gods obtained.
Then answer thus Autolycus return’d.
My daughter and my daughter’s spouse! the name
Which I shall give your boy, that let him bear.
Since after provocation and offence
To numbers giv’n of either sex, I come, [510]
Call him Ulysses;^^[[84|Cowper: Footnote 84]]^^ and when, grown mature,
He shall Parnassus visit, the abode
Magnificent in which his mother dwelt,
And where my treasures lie, from my own stores
I will enrich and send him joyful home.
Ulysses, therefore, that he might obtain
Those princely gifts, went thither. Him arrived,
With right-hand gratulation and with words
Of welcome kind, Autolycus received,
Nor less his offspring; but the mother most [520]
Of his own mother clung around his neck,
Amphithea; she with many a fervent kiss
His forehead press’d, and his bright-beaming eyes.
Then bade Autolycus his noble sons
Set forth a banquet. They, at his command,
Led in a fatted ox of the fifth year,
Which slaying first, they spread him carved abroad,
Then scored his flesh, transfixed it with the spits,
And roasting all with culinary skill
Exact, gave each his portion. Thus they sat [530]
Feasting all day, and till the sun declined,
But when the sun declined, and darkness fell,
Each sought his couch, and took the gift of sleep.
Then, soon as day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d
Aurora look’d abroad, forth went the hounds,
And, with the hounds Ulysses, and the youths,
Sons of Autolycus, to chase the boar.
Arrived at the Parnassian mount, they climb’d
His bushy sides, and to his airy heights
Ere long attain’d. It was the pleasant hour [540]
When from the gently-swelling flood profound
The sun, emerging, first smote on the fields.
The hunters reach’d the valley; foremost ran,
Questing, the hounds; behind them, swift, the sons
Came of Autolycus, with whom advanced
The illustrious Prince Ulysses, pressing close
The hounds, and brandishing his massy spear.
There, hid in thickest shades, lay an huge boar.
That covert neither rough winds blowing moist
Could penetrate, nor could the noon-day sun [550]
Smite through it, or fast-falling show’rs pervade,
So thick it was, and underneath the ground
With litter of dry foliage strew’d profuse.
Hunters and dogs approaching him, his ear
The sound of feet perceived; upridging high
His bristly back and glaring fire, he sprang
Forth from the shrubs, and in defiance stood
Near and right opposite. Ulysses, first,
Rush’d on him, elevating his long spear
Ardent to wound him; but, preventing quick [560]
His foe, the boar gash’d him above the knee.
Much flesh, assailing him oblique, he tore
With his rude tusk, but to the Hero’s bone
Pierced not; Ulysses //his// right shoulder reach’d;
And with a deadly thrust impell’d the point
Of his bright spear through him and far beyond.
Loud yell’d the boar, sank in the dust, and died.
Around Ulysses, then, the busy sons
Throng’d of Autolycus; expert they braced
The wound of the illustrious hunter bold, [570]
With incantation staunched the sable blood,
And sought in haste their father’s house again,
Whence, heal’d and gratified with splendid gifts
They sent him soon rejoicing to his home,
Themselves rejoicing also. Glad their son
His parents saw again, and of the scar
Enquired, where giv’n, and how? He told them all,
How to Parnassus with his friends he went,
Sons of Autolycus to hunt, and how
A boar had gash’d him with his iv’ry tusk. [580]
That scar, while chafing him with open palms,
The matron knew; she left his foot to fall;
Down dropp’d his leg into the vase; the brass
Rang, and o’ertilted by the sudden shock,
Poured forth the water, flooding wide the floor.
//Her// spirit joy at once and sorrow seized;
Tears fill’d her eyes; her intercepted voice
Died in her throat; but to Ulysses’ beard
Her hand advancing, thus, at length, she spake.
Thou art himself, Ulysses. Oh my son! [590]
Dear to me, and my master as thou art,
I knew thee not, till I had touch’d the scar.
She said, and to Penelope her eyes
Directed, all impatient to declare
Her own Ulysses even then at home.
But she, nor eye nor ear for aught that pass’d
Had then, her fixt attention so entire
Minerva had engaged. Then, darting forth
His arms, the Hero with his right-hand close
Compress’d her throat, and nearer to himself [600]
Drawing her with his left, thus caution’d her.
Why would’st thou ruin me? Thou gav’st me milk
Thyself from thy own breast. See me return’d
After long suff’rings, in the twentieth year,
To my own land. But since (some God the thought
Suggesting to thee) thou hast learn’d the truth,
Silence! lest others learn it from thy lips.
For this I say, nor shall the threat be vain;
If God vouchsafe to me to overcome
The haughty suitors, when I shall inflict [610]
Death on the other women of my house,
Although my nurse, thyself shalt also die.
Him answer’d Euryclea then, discrete.
My son! oh how could so severe a word
Escape thy lips? my fortitude of mind
Thou know’st, and even now shalt prove me firm
As iron, secret as the stubborn rock.
But hear and mark me well. Should’st thou prevail,
Assisted by a Pow’r divine, to slay
The haughty suitors, I will then, myself, [620]
Give thee to know of all the female train
Who have dishonour’d thee, and who respect.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
My nurse, it were superfluous; spare thy tongue
That needless task. I can distinguish well
Myself, between them, and shall know them all;
But hold thy peace. Hush! leave it with the Gods.
So he; then went the ancient matron forth,
That she might serve him with a second bath,
For the whole first was spilt. Thus, laved at length, [630]
And smooth’d with oil, Ulysses nearer pull’d
His seat toward the glowing hearth to enjoy
More warmth, and drew his tatters o’er the scar.
Then, prudent, thus Penelope began.
One question, stranger, I shall yet propound,
Though brief, for soon the hour of soft repose
Grateful to all, and even to the sad
Whom gentle sleep forsakes not, will arrive.
But heav’n to me immeasurable woe
Assigns,—whose sole delight is to consume [640]
My days in sighs, while here retired I sit,
Watching my maidens’ labours and my own;
But (night return’d, and all to bed retired)
I press mine also, yet with deep regret
And anguish lacerated, even there.
As when at spring’s first entrance, her sweet song
The azure-crested nightingale renews,
Daughter of Pandarus; within the grove’s
Thick foliage perch’d, she pours her echoing voice
Now deep, now clear, still varying the strain [650]
With which she mourns her Itylus, her son
By royal Zethus, whom she, erring, slew,^^[[85|Cowper: Footnote 85]]^^
So also I, by soul-distressing doubts
Toss’d ever, muse if I shall here remain
A faithful guardian of my son’s affairs,
My husband’s bed respecting, and not less
My own fair fame, or whether I shall him
Of all my suitors follow to his home
Who noblest seems, and offers richest dow’r.
My son while he was infant yet, and own’d [660]
An infant’s mind, could never give consent
That I should wed and leave him; but at length,
Since he hath reached the stature of a man,
He wishes my departure hence, the waste
Viewing indignant by the suitors made.
But I have dream’d. Hear, and expound my dream.
My geese are twenty, which within my walls
I feed with sodden wheat; they serve to amuse
Sometimes my sorrow. From the mountains came
An eagle, huge, hook-beak’d, brake all their necks, [670]
And slew them; scatter’d on the palace-floor
They lay, and he soar’d swift into the skies.
Dream only as it was, I wept aloud,
Till all my maidens, gather’d by my voice,
Arriving, found me weeping still, and still
Complaining, that the eagle had at once
Slain all my geese. But, to the palace-roof
Stooping again, he sat, and with a voice
Of human sound, forbad my tears, and said—
Courage! O daughter of the far-renown’d [680]
Icarius! no vain dream thou hast beheld,
But, in thy sleep, a truth. The slaughter’d geese
Denote thy suitors. I who have appear’d
An eagle in thy sight, am yet indeed
Thy husband, who have now, at last, return’d,
Death, horrid death designing for them all.
He said; then waking at the voice, I cast
An anxious look around, and saw my geese
Beside their tray, all feeding as before.
Her then Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise. [690]
O Queen! it is not possible to miss
Thy dream’s plain import, since Ulysses’ self
Hath told thee the event; thy suitors all
Must perish; not one suitor shall escape.
To whom Penelope discrete replied.
Dreams are inexplicable, O my guest!
And oft-times mere delusions that receive
No just accomplishment. There are two gates
Through which the fleeting phantoms pass; of horn
Is one, and one of ivory.^^[[86|Cowper: Footnote 86]]^^ Such dreams 700
As through the thin-leaf’d iv’ry portal come
Sooth, but perform not, utt’ring empty sounds;
But such as through the polish’d horn escape,
If, haply seen by any mortal eye,
Prove faithful witnesses, and are fulfill’d.
But through those gates my wond’rous dream, I think,
Came not; thrice welcome were it else to me
And to my son. Now mark my words; attend.
This is the hated morn that from the house
Removes me of Ulysses. I shall fix, [710]
This day, the rings for trial to them all
Of archership; Ulysses’ custom was
To plant twelve spikes, all regular arranged^^[[87|Cowper: Footnote 87]]^^
Like galley-props, and crested with a ring,
Then standing far remote, true in his aim
He with his whizzing shaft would thrid them all.
This is the contest in which now I mean
To prove the suitors; him, who with most ease
Shall bend the bow, and shoot through all the rings,
I follow, this dear mansion of my youth [720]
Leaving, so fair, so fill’d with ev’ry good,
Though still to love it even in my dreams.
Her answer’d then Ulysses, ever-wise.
Consort revered of Laertiades!
Postpone not this contention, but appoint
Forthwith the trial; for Ulysses here
Will sure arrive, ere they, (his polish’d bow
Long tamp’ring) shall prevail to stretch the nerve,
And speed the arrow through the iron rings.
To whom Penelope replied discrete. [730]
Would’st thou with thy sweet converse, O my guest!
Here sooth me still, sleep ne’er should influence
These eyes the while; but always to resist
Sleep’s pow’r is not for man, to whom the Gods
Each circumstance of his condition here
Fix universally. Myself will seek
My own apartment at the palace-top,
And there will lay me down on my sad couch,
For such it hath been, and with tears of mine
Ceaseless bedew’d, e’er since Ulysses went [740]
To that bad city, never to be named.
There will I sleep; but sleep thou here below,
Either, thyself, preparing on the ground
Thy couch, or on a couch by these prepared.
So saying, she to her splendid chamber thence
Retired, not sole, but by her female train
Attended; there arrived, she wept her spouse,
Her lov’d Ulysses, till Minerva dropp’d
The balm of slumber on her weary lids.
"""
''Argument''
//Telemachus having convened an assembly of the Greecians, publicly calls on the Suitors to relinquish the house of Ulysses. During the continuance of the Council he has much to suffer from the petulance of the Suitors, from whom, having informed them of his design to undertake a voyage in hope to obtain news of Ulysses, he asks a ship, with all things necessary for the purpose. He is refused, but is afterwards furnished with what he wants by Minerva, in the form of Mentor. He embarks in the evening without the privity of his mother, and the Goddess sails with him.//
"""
Aurora, rosy daughter of the dawn,
Now ting’d the East, when habited again,
Uprose Ulysses’ offspring from his bed.
Athwart his back his faulchion keen he flung,
His sandals bound to his unsullied feet,
And, godlike, issued from his chamber-door.
At once the clear-voic’d heralds he enjoin’d
To call the Greeks to council; they aloud
Gave forth the summons, and the throng began.
When all were gather’d, and the assembly full, [10]
Himself, his hand arm’d with a brazen spear,
Went also; nor alone he went; his hounds
Fleet-footed follow’d him, a faithful pair.
O’er all his form Minerva largely shed
Majestic grace divine, and, as he went,
The whole admiring concourse gaz’d on him,
The seniors gave him place, and down he sat
On his paternal Throne. Then grave arose
The Hero, old Ægyptius; bow’d with age
Was he, and by experience deep-inform’d. [20]
His son had with Ulysses, godlike Chief,
On board his fleet to steed-fam’d Ilium gone,
The warrior Antiphus, whom in his cave
The savage Cyclops slew, and on his flesh
At ev’ning made obscene his last regale.
Three sons he had beside, a suitor one,
Eurynomus; the other two, employ
Found constant managing their Sire’s concerns.
Yet he forgat not, father as he was
Of these, his absent eldest, whom he mourn’d [30]
Ceaseless, and thus his speech, weeping, began.
Hear me, ye men of Ithaca, my friends!
Nor council here nor session hath been held
Since great Ulysses left his native shore.
Who now convenes us? what especial need
Hath urged him, whether of our youth he be,
Or of our senators by age matured?
Have tidings reach’d him of our host’s return,
Which here he would divulge? or brings he aught
Of public import on a diff’rent theme? [40]
I deem him, whosoe’er he be, a man
Worthy to prosper, and may Jove vouchsafe
The full performance of his chief desire!
He ended, and Telemachus rejoiced
In that good omen. Ardent to begin,
He sat not long, but, moving to the midst,
Received the sceptre from Pisenor’s hand,
His prudent herald, and addressing, next,
The hoary Chief Ægyptius, thus began.
Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself [50]
Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands,
Who hath convened this council. I, am He.
I am in chief the suff’rer. Tidings none
Of the returning host I have received,
Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught
Of public import on a different theme,
But my own trouble, on my own house fall’n,
And two-fold fall’n. One is, that I have lost
A noble father, who, as fathers rule
Benign their children, govern’d once yourselves; [60]
The other, and the more alarming ill,
With ruin threatens my whole house, and all
My patrimony with immediate waste.
Suitors, (their children who in this our isle
Hold highest rank) importunate besiege
My mother, though desirous not to wed,
And rather than resort to her own Sire
Icarius, who might give his daughter dow’r,
And portion her to whom he most approves,
(A course which, only named, moves their disgust) [70]
They chuse, assembling all within my gates
Daily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goats
Their banquet, and to drink without restraint
My wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours;
For I have no Ulysses to relieve
Me and my family from this abuse.
Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas!
Too feeble should be found, and yet to learn
How best to use the little force we own;
Else, had I pow’r, I would, myself, redress [80]
The evil; for it now surpasses far
All suff’rance, now they ravage uncontroul’d,
Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more.
Oh be ashamed^^[[6|Cowper: Footnote 6]]^^ yourselves; blush at the thought
Of such reproach as ye shall sure incur
From all our neighbour states, and fear beside
The wrath of the Immortals, lest they call
Yourselves one day to a severe account.
I pray you by Olympian Jove, by her
Whose voice convenes all councils, and again [90]
Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease,
That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wear
My days in solitary grief away,
Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire,
Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong’d,
Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me,
Inciting these to plague me. Better far
Were my condition, if yourselves consumed
My substance and my revenue; from you
I might obtain, perchance, righteous amends [100]
Hereafter; you I might with vehement suit
O’ercome, from house to house pleading aloud
For recompense, till I at last prevail’d.
But now, with darts of anguish ye transfix
My inmost soul, and I have no redress.
He spake impassion’d, and to earth cast down
His sceptre, weeping. Pity at that sight
Seiz’d all the people; mute the assembly sat
Long time, none dared to greet Telemachus
With answer rough, till of them all, at last, [110]
Antinoüs, sole arising, thus replied.
Telemachus, intemp’rate in harangue,
High-sounding orator! it is thy drift
To make us all odious; but the offence
Lies not with us the suitors; she alone
Thy mother, who in subtlety excels,
And deep-wrought subterfuge, deserves the blame.
It is already the third year, and soon
Shall be the fourth, since with delusive art
Practising on their minds, she hath deceived [120]
The Greecians; message after message sent
Brings hope to each, by turns, and promise fair,
But she, meantime, far otherwise intends.
Her other arts exhausted all, she framed
This stratagem; a web of amplest size
And subtlest woof beginning, thus she spake.
Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief
Ulysses is no more, press not as yet
My nuptials, wait till I shall finish, first,
A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay) [130]
Which for the antient Hero I prepare,
Laertes, looking for the mournful hour
When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;
Else I the censure dread of all my sex,
Should he, so wealthy, want at last a shroud.
So spake the Queen, and unsuspicious, we
With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day
She wove the ample web, and by the aid
Of torches ravell’d it again at night.
Three years by such contrivance she deceived [140]
The Greecians; but when (three whole years elaps’d)
The fourth arriv’d, then, conscious of the fraud,
A damsel of her train told all the truth,
And her we found rav’ling the beauteous work.
Thus, through necessity she hath, at length,
Perform’d the task, and in her own despight.
Now therefore, for the information clear
Of thee thyself, and of the other Greeks,
We answer. Send thy mother hence, with charge
That him she wed on whom her father’s choice [150]
Shall fall, and whom she shall, herself, approve.
But if by long procrastination still
She persevere wearing our patience out,
Attentive only to display the gifts
By Pallas so profusely dealt to her,
Works of surpassing skill, ingenious thought,
And subtle shifts, such as no beauteous Greek
(For aught that we have heard) in antient times
E’er practised, Tyro, or Alcemena fair,
Or fair Mycene, of whom none in art [160]
E’er match’d Penelope, although we yield
To this her last invention little praise,
Then know, that these her suitors will consume
So long thy patrimony and thy goods,
As she her present purpose shall indulge,
With which the Gods inspire her. Great renown
She to herself insures, but equal woe
And devastation of thy wealth to thee;
For neither to our proper works at home
Go we, of that be sure, nor yet elsewhere, [170]
Till him she wed, to whom she most inclines.
Him prudent, then, answer’d Telemachus.
Antinoüs! it is not possible
That I should thrust her forth against her will,
Who both produced and reared me. Be he dead,
Or still alive, my Sire is far remote,
And should I, voluntary, hence dismiss
My mother to Icarius, I must much
Refund, which hardship were and loss to me.
So doing, I should also wrath incur [180]
From my offended Sire, and from the Gods
Still more; for she, departing, would invoke
Erynnis to avenge her, and reproach
Beside would follow me from all mankind.
That word I, therefore, never will pronounce.
No, if ye judge your treatment at her hands
Injurious to you, go ye forth yourselves,
Forsake my mansion; seek where else ye may
Your feasts; consume your own; alternate feed
Each at the other’s cost. But if it seem [190]
Wisest in your account and best to eat
Voracious thus the patrimonial goods
Of one man, rend’ring no account of all,
Bite to the roots; but know that I will cry
Ceaseless to the eternal Gods, in hope
That Jove, in retribution of the wrong,
Shall doom you, where ye have intruded, there
To bleed, and of your blood ask no account.
So spake Telemachus, and while he spake,
The Thund’rer from a lofty mountain-top [200]
Turn’d off two eagles; on the winds, awhile,
With outspread pinions ample side by side
They floated; but, ere long, hov’ring aloft,
Right o’er the midst of the assembled Chiefs
They wheel’d around, clang’d all their num’rous plumes,
And with a downward look eyeing the throng,
Death boded, ominous; then rending each
The other’s face and neck, they sprang at once
Toward the right, and darted through the town.
Amazement universal, at that sight, [210]
Seized the assembly, and with anxious thought
Each scann’d the future; amidst whom arose
The Hero Halitherses, antient Seer,
Offspring of Mastor; for in judgment he
Of portents augural, and in forecast
Unerring, his coevals all excell’d,
And prudent thus the multitude bespake.
Ye men of Ithaca, give ear! hear all!
Though chief my speech shall to the suitors look,
For, on their heads devolved, comes down the woe. [220]
Ulysses shall not from his friends, henceforth,
Live absent long, but, hasting to his home,
Comes even now, and as he comes, designs
A bloody death for these, whose bitter woes
No few shall share, inhabitants with us
Of pleasant Ithaca; but let us frame
Effectual means maturely to suppress
Their violent deeds, or rather let themselves
Repentant cease; and soonest shall be best.
Not inexpert, but well-inform’d I speak [230]
The future, and the accomplishment announce
Of all which when Ulysses with the Greeks
Embark’d for Troy, I to himself foretold.
I said that, after many woes, and loss
Of all his people, in the twentieth year,
Unknown to all, he should regain his home,
And my prediction shall be now fulfill’d.
Him, then, Eurymachus thus answer’d rough
The son of Polybus. Hence to thy house,
Thou hoary dotard! there, prophetic, teach [240]
Thy children to escape woes else to come.
Birds num’rous flutter in the beams of day,
Not all predictive. Death, far hence remote
Hath found Ulysses, and I would to heav’n
That, where he died, thyself had perish’d too.
Thou hadst not then run o’er with prophecy
As now, nor provocation to the wrath
Giv’n of Telemachus, in hope to win,
Perchance, for thine some favour at his hands.
But I to //thee// foretell, skilled as thou art [250]
In legends old, (nor shall my threat be vain)
That if by artifice thou move to wrath
A younger than thyself, no matter whom,
Woe first the heavier on himself shall fall,
Nor shalt thou profit him by thy attempt,
And we will charge thee also with a mulct,
Which thou shalt pay with difficulty, and bear
The burthen of it with an aching heart.
As for Telemachus, I him advise,
Myself, and press the measure on his choice [260]
Earnestly, that he send his mother hence
To her own father’s house, who shall, himself,
Set forth her nuptial rites, and shall endow
His daughter sumptuously, and as he ought.
For this expensive wooing, as I judge,
Till then shall never cease; since we regard
No man—no—not Telemachus, although
In words exub’rant; neither fear we aught
Thy vain prognostics, venerable sir!
But only hate thee for their sake the more. [270]
Waste will continue and disorder foul
Unremedied, so long as she shall hold
The suitors in suspense, for, day by day,
Our emulation goads us to the strife,
Nor shall we, going hence, seek to espouse
Each his own comfort suitable elsewhere.
To whom, discrete, Telemachus replied.
Eurymachus, and ye the suitor train
Illustrious, I have spoken: ye shall hear
No more this supplication urged by me. [280]
The Gods, and all the Greeks, now know the truth.
But give me instantly a gallant bark
With twenty rowers, skill’d their course to win
To whatsoever haven; for I go
To sandy Pylus, and shall hasten thence
To Lacedemon, tidings to obtain
Of my long-absent Sire, or from the lips
Of man, or by a word from Jove vouchsafed
Himself, best source of notice to mankind.
If, there inform’d that still my father lives, [290]
I hope conceive of his return, although
Distress’d, I shall be patient yet a year.
But should I learn, haply, that he survives
No longer, then, returning, I will raise
At home his tomb, will with such pomp perform
His fun’ral rites, as his great name demands,
And give my mother’s hand to whom I may.
This said, he sat, and after him arose
Mentor, illustrious Ulysses’ friend,
To whom, embarking thence, he had consign’d [300]
All his concerns, that the old Chief might rule
His family, and keep the whole secure.
Arising, thus the senior, sage, began.
Hear me, ye Ithacans! be never King
Henceforth, benevolent, gracious, humane
Or righteous, but let every sceptred hand
Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,
Since none of all his people, whom he sway’d
With such paternal gentleness and love,
Remembers the divine Ulysses more! [310]
That the imperious suitors thus should weave
The web of mischief and atrocious wrong,
I grudge not; since at hazard of their heads
They make Ulysses’ property a prey,
Persuaded that the Hero comes no more.
But much the people move me; how ye sit
All mute, and though a multitude, yourselves,
Opposed to few, risque not a single word
To check the license of these bold intruders!
Then thus Liocritus, Evenor’s son. [320]
Injurious Mentor! headlong orator!
How dar’st thou move the populace against
The suitors? Trust me they should find it hard,
Numerous as they are, to cope with us,
A feast the prize. Or should the King himself
Of Ithaca, returning, undertake
T’ expell the jovial suitors from his house,
Much as Penelope his absence mourns,
His presence should afford her little joy;
For fighting sole with many, he should meet [330]
A dreadful death. Thou, therefore, speak’st amiss.
As for Telemachus, let Mentor him
And Halytherses furnish forth, the friends
Long valued of his Sire, with all dispatch;
Though him I judge far likelier to remain
Long-time contented an enquirer here,
Than to perform the voyage now proposed.
Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in haste
The council, and the scattered concourse sought
Their sev’ral homes, while all the suitors flock’d [340]
Thence to the palace of their absent King.
Meantime, Telemachus from all resort
Retiring, in the surf of the gray Deep
First laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray’d.
O Goddess! who wast yesterday a guest
Beneath my roof, and didst enjoin me then
A voyage o’er the sable Deep in quest
Of tidings of my long regretted Sire!
Which voyage, all in Ithaca, but most
The haughty suitors, obstinate impede, [350]
Now hear my suit and gracious interpose!
Such pray’r he made; then Pallas, in the form,
And with the voice of Mentor, drawing nigh,
In accents wing’d, him kindly thus bespake.
Telemachus! thou shalt hereafter prove
Nor base, nor poor in talents. If, in truth,
Thou have received from heav’n thy father’s force
Instill’d into thee, and resemblest him
In promptness both of action and of speech,
Thy voyage shall not useless be, or vain. [360]
But if Penelope produced thee not
His son, I, then, hope not for good effect
Of this design which, ardent, thou pursuest.
Few sons their fathers equal; most appear
Degenerate; but we find, though rare, sometimes
A son superior even to his Sire.
And since thyself shalt neither base be found
Nor spiritless, nor altogether void
Of talents, such as grace thy royal Sire,
I therefore hope success of thy attempt. [370]
Heed not the suitors’ projects; neither wise
Are they, nor just, nor aught suspect the doom
Which now approaches them, and in one day
Shall overwhelm them all. No long suspense
Shall hold thy purposed enterprise in doubt,
Such help from me, of old thy father’s friend,
Thou shalt receive, who with a bark well-oar’d
Will serve thee, and myself attend thee forth.
But haste, join thou the suitors, and provide,
In sep’rate vessels stow’d, all needful stores, [380]
Wine in thy jars, and flour, the strength of man,
In skins close-seam’d. I will, meantime, select
Such as shall voluntary share thy toils.
In sea-girt Ithaca new ships and old
Abound, and I will chuse, myself, for thee
The prime of all, which without more delay
We will launch out into the spacious Deep.
Thus Pallas spake, daughter of Jove; nor long,
So greeted by the voice divine, remain’d
Telemachus, but to his palace went [390]
Distress’d in heart. He found the suitors there
Goats slaying in the hall, and fatted swine
Roasting; when with a laugh Antinoüs flew
To meet him, fasten’d on his hand, and said,
Telemachus, in eloquence sublime,
And of a spirit not to be controul’d!
Give harbour in thy breast on no account
To after-grudge or enmity, but eat,
Far rather, cheerfully as heretofore,
And freely drink, committing all thy cares [400]
To the Achaians, who shall furnish forth
A gallant ship and chosen crew for thee,
That thou may’st hence to Pylus with all speed,
Tidings to learn of thy illustrious Sire.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Antinoüs! I have no heart to feast
With guests so insolent, nor can indulge
The pleasures of a mind at ease, with you.
Is’t not enough, suitors, that ye have used
My noble patrimony as your own [410]
While I was yet a child? now, grown mature,
And competent to understand the speech
Of my instructors, feeling, too, a mind
Within me conscious of augmented pow’rs,
I will attempt your ruin, be assured,
Whether at Pylus, or continuing here.
I go, indeed, (nor shall my voyage prove
Of which I speak, bootless or vain) I go
An humble passenger, who neither bark
Nor rowers have to boast my own, denied [420]
That honour (so ye judg’d it best) by you.
He said, and from Antinoüs’ hand his own
Drew sudden. Then their delicate repast
The busy suitors on all sides prepar’d,
Still taunting as they toil’d, and with sharp speech
Sarcastic wantoning, of whom a youth,
Arrogant as his fellows, thus began.
I see it plain, Telemachus intends
Our slaughter; either he will aids procure
From sandy Pylus, or will bring them arm’d [430]
From Sparta; such is his tremendous drift.
Even to fruitful Ephyre, perchance,
He will proceed, seeking some baneful herb
Which cast into our cup, shall drug us all.
To whom some haughty suitor thus replied.
Who knows but that himself, wand’ring the sea
From all his friends and kindred far remote,
May perish like Ulysses? Whence to us
Should double toil ensue, on whom the charge
To parcel out his wealth would then devolve, [440]
And to endow his mother with the house
For his abode whom she should chance to wed.
So sported they; but he, ascending sought
His father’s lofty chamber, where his heaps
He kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,
And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.
There many a cask with season’d nectar fill’d
The grape’s pure juice divine, beside the wall
Stood orderly arranged, waiting the hour
(Should e’er such hour arrive) when, after woes [450]
Num’rous, Ulysses should regain his home.
Secure that chamber was with folding doors
Of massy planks compact, and night and day,
Within it antient Euryclea dwelt,
Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,
Whom, thither call’d, Telemachus address’d.
Nurse! draw me forth sweet wine into my jars,
Delicious next to that which thou reserv’st
For our poor wand’rer; if escaping death
At last, divine Ulysses e’er return. [460]
Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also meal
Well mill’d (full twenty measures) into skins
Close-seam’d, and mention what thou dost to none.
Place them together; for at even-tide
I will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,
Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.
For hence to Sparta will I take my course,
And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear
(If hear I may) of my lov’d Sire’s return.
He ceas’d, then wept his gentle nurse that sound [470]
Hearing, and in wing’d accents thus replied.
My child! ah, wherefore hath a thought so rash
Possess’d thee? whither, only and belov’d,
Seek’st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!
To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;
Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown,
And thou no sooner shalt depart, than these
Will plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.
No, stay with us who love thee. Need is none
That thou should’st on the barren Deep distress [480]
Encounter, roaming without hope or end.
Whom, prudent, thus answer’d Telemachus.
Take courage, nurse! for not without consent
Of the Immortals I have thus resolv’d.
But swear, that till eleven days be past,
Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learn
Herself my going, thou wilt not impart
Of this my purpose to my mother’s ear,
Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair’d.
He ended, and the antient matron swore [490]
Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill’d
With wine the vessels and the skins with meal,
And he, returning, join’d the throng below.
Then Pallas, Goddess azure-eyed, her thoughts
Elsewhere directing, all the city ranged
In semblance of Telemachus, each man
Exhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seek
The gallant ship, and from Noëmon, son
Renown’d of Phronius, ask’d, herself, a bark,
Which soon as ask’d, he promis’d to supply. [500]
Now set the sun, and twilight dimm’d the ways,
When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,
He gave her all her furniture, oars, arms
And tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,
Then moor’d her in the bottom of the bay.
Meantime, his mariners in haste repair’d
Down to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.
And now on other purposes intent,
The Goddess sought the palace, where with dews
Of slumber drenching ev’ry suitor’s eye, [510]
She fool’d the drunkard multitude, and dash’d
The goblets from their idle hands away.
They through the city reeled, happy to leave
The dull carousal, when the slumb’rous weight
Oppressive on their eye-lids once had fall’n.
Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor’s form
And with the voice of Mentor, summoning
Telemachus abroad, him thus bespake.
Telemachus! already at their oars
Sit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait [520]
Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.
This said, Minerva led him thence, whom he
With nimble steps follow’d, and on the shore
Arrived, found all his mariners prepared,
Whom thus the princely voyager address’d.
Haste, my companions! bring we down the stores
Already sorted and set forth; but nought
My mother knows, or any of her train
Of this design, one matron sole except.
He spake, and led them; they, obedient, brought [530]
All down, and, as Ulysses’ son enjoin’d,
Within the gallant bark the charge bestow’d.
Then, led by Pallas, went the prince on board,
Where down they sat, the Goddess in the stern,
And at her side Telemachus. The crew
Cast loose the hawsers, and embarking, fill’d
The benches. Blue-eyed Pallas from the West
Call’d forth propitious breezes; fresh they curled
The sable Deep, and, sounding, swept the waves.
He loud-exhorting them, his people bade [540]
Hand, brisk, the tackle; they, obedient, reared
The pine-tree mast, which in its socket deep
They lodg’d, then strain’d the cordage, and with thongs
Well-twisted, drew the shining sail aloft.
A land-breeze fill’d the canvas, and the flood
Roar’d as she went against the steady bark
That ran with even course her liquid way.
The rigging, thus, of all the galley set,
Their beakers crowning high with wine, they hail’d
The ever-living Gods, but above all [550]
Minerva, daughter azure-eyed of Jove.
Thus, all night long the galley, and till dawn
Had brighten’d into day, cleaved swift the flood.
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses, doubting whether he shall destroy or not the women servants who commit lewdness with the suitors, resolves at length to spare them for the present. He asks an omen from Jupiter, and that he would grant him also to hear some propitious words from the lips of one in the family. His petitions are both answered. Preparation is made for the feast. Whilst the suitors sit at table, Pallas smites them with a horrid frenzy. Theoclymenus, observing the strange effects of it, prophesies their destruction, and they deride his prophecy.//
"""
But in the vestibule the Hero lay
On a bull’s-hide undress’d, o’er which he spread
The fleece of many a sheep slain by the Greeks,
And, cover’d by the household’s governess
With a wide cloak, composed himself to rest.
Yet slept he not, but meditating lay
Woe to his enemies. Meantime, the train
Of women, wonted to the suitors’ arms,
Issuing all mirth and laughter, in his soul
A tempest raised of doubts, whether at once [10]
To slay, or to permit them yet to give
Their lusty paramours one last embrace.
As growls the mastiff standing on the start
For battle, if a stranger’s foot approach
Her cubs new-whelp’d—so growl’d Ulysses’ heart,
While wonder fill’d him at their impious deeds.
But, smiting on his breast, thus he reproved
The mutinous inhabitant within.
Heart! bear it. Worse than this thou didst endure
When, uncontroulable by force of man, [20]
The Cyclops thy illustrious friends devour’d.
Thy patience then fail’d not, till prudence found
Deliv’rance for thee on the brink of fate.
So disciplined the Hero his own heart,
Which, tractable, endured the rigorous curb,
And patient; yet he turn’d from side to side.
As when some hungry swain turns oft a maw
Unctuous and sav’ry on the burning coals,
Quick expediting his desired repast,
So he from side to side roll’d, pond’ring deep [30]
How likeliest with success he might assail
Those shameless suitors; one to many opposed.
Then, sudden from the skies descending, came
Minerva in a female form; her stand
Above his head she took, and thus she spake.
Why sleep’st thou not, unhappiest of mankind?
Thou art at home; here dwells thy wife, and here
Thy son; a son, whom all might wish their own.
Then her Ulysses answer’d, ever-wise.
O Goddess! true is all that thou hast said, [40]
But, not without anxiety, I muse
How, single as I am, I shall assail
Those shameless suitors who frequent my courts
Daily; and always their whole multitude.
This weightier theme I meditate beside;
Should I, with Jove’s concurrence and with thine
Prevail to slay them, how shall I escape,
Myself, at last?^^[[88|Cowper: Footnote 88]]^^ oh Goddess, weigh it well.
Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.
Oh faithless man! a man will in his friend [50]
Confide, though mortal, and in valour less
And wisdom than himself; but I who keep
Thee in all difficulties, am divine.
I tell thee plainly. Were we hemm’d around
By fifty troops of shouting warriors bent
To slay thee, thou should’st yet securely drive
The flocks away and cattle of them all.
But yield to sleep’s soft influence; for to lie
All night thus watchful, is, itself, distress.
Fear not. Deliv’rance waits, not far remote. [60]
So saying, she o’er Ulysses’ eyes diffused
Soft slumbers, and when sleep that sooths the mind
And nerves the limbs afresh had seized him once,
To the Olympian summit swift return’d.
But his chaste spouse awoke; she weeping sat
On her soft couch, and, noblest of her sex,
Satiate at length with tears, her pray’r address’d
First to Diana of the Pow’rs above.
Diana, awful progeny of Jove!
I would that with a shaft this moment sped [70]
Into my bosom, thou would’st here conclude
My mournful life! or, oh that, as it flies,
Snatching me through the pathless air, a storm
Would whelm me deep in Ocean’s restless tide!
So, when the Gods their parents had destroy’d,
Storms suddenly the beauteous daughters snatch’d^^[[89|Cowper: Footnote 89]]^^
Of Pandarus away; them left forlorn
Venus with curds, with honey and with wine
Fed duly; Juno gave them to surpass
All women in the charms of face and mind, [80]
With graceful stature eminent the chaste
Diana bless’d them, and in works of art
Illustrious, Pallas taught them to excel.
But when the foam-sprung Goddess to the skies
A suitress went on their behalf, to obtain
Blest nuptials for them from the Thund’rer Jove,
(For Jove the happiness, himself, appoints,
And the unhappiness of all below)
Meantime, the Harpies ravishing away
Those virgins, gave them to the Furies Three, [90]
That they might serve them. O that me the Gods
Inhabiting Olympus so would hide
From human eyes for ever, or bright-hair’d
Diana pierce me with a shaft, that while
Ulysses yet engages all my thoughts,
My days concluded, I might ’scape the pain
Of gratifying some inferior Chief!
This is supportable, when (all the day
To sorrow giv’n) the mourner sleeps at night;
For sleep, when it hath once the eyelids veil’d, [100]
All reminiscence blots of all alike,
Both good and ill; but me the Gods afflict
Not seldom ev’n in dreams, and at my side,
This night again, one lay resembling him;
Such as my own Ulysses when he join’d
Achaia’s warriors; my exulting heart
No airy dream believed it, but a truth.
While thus she spake, in orient gold enthroned
Came forth the morn; Ulysses, as she wept,
Heard plain her lamentation; him that sound [110]
Alarm’d; he thought her present, and himself
Known to her. Gath’ring hastily the cloak
His cov’ring, and the fleeces, them he placed
Together on a throne within the hall,
But bore the bull’s-hide forth into the air.
Then, lifting high his hands to Jove, he pray’d.
Eternal Sire! if over moist and dry
Ye have with good-will sped me to my home
After much suff’ring, grant me from the lips
Of some domestic now awake, to hear [120]
Words of propitious omen, and thyself
Vouchsafe me still some other sign abroad.
Such pray’r he made, and Jove omniscient heard.
Sudden he thunder’d from the radiant heights
Olympian; glad, Ulysses heard the sound.
A woman, next, a labourer at the mill
Hard by, where all the palace-mills were wrought,
Gave him the omen of propitious sound.
Twelve maidens, day by day, toil’d at the mills,
Meal grinding, some, of barley, some, of wheat, [130]
Marrow of man.^^[[90|Cowper: Footnote 90]]^^ The rest (their portion ground)
All slept; she only from her task as yet
Ceas’d not, for she was feeblest of them all;
She rested on her mill, and thus pronounced
The happy omen by her Lord desired.
Jove, Father, Governor of heav’n and earth!
Loud thou hast thunder’d from the starry skies
By no cloud veil’d; a sign propitious, giv’n
To whom I know not; but oh grant the pray’r
Of a poor bond-woman! appoint their feast [140]
This day, the last that in Ulysses’ house
The suitors shall enjoy, for whom I drudge,
With aching heart and trembling knees their meal
Grinding continual. Feast they here no more!
She ended, and the list’ning Chief received
With equal joy both signs; for well he hoped
That he should punish soon those guilty men.
And now the other maidens in the hall
Assembling, kindled on the hearth again
Th’ unwearied blaze; then, godlike from his couch [150]
Arose Telemachus, and, fresh-attired,
Athwart his shoulders his bright faulchion slung,
Bound his fair sandals to his feet, and took
His sturdy spear pointed with glitt’ring brass;
Advancing to the portal, there he stood,
And Euryclea thus, his nurse, bespake.
Nurse! have ye with respectful notice serv’d
Our guest? or hath he found a sordid couch
E’en where he might? for, prudent though she be,
My mother, inattentive oft, the worse [160]
Treats kindly, and the better sends away.
Whom Euryclea answer’d, thus, discrete.
Blame not, my son! who merits not thy blame.
The guest sat drinking till he would no more,
And ate, till, question’d, he replied—Enough.
But when the hour of sleep call’d him to rest,
She gave commandment to her female train
To spread his couch. Yet he, like one forlorn,
And, through despair, indiff’rent to himself,
Both bed and rugs refused, and in the porch [170]
On skins of sheep and on an undress’d hide
Reposed, where we threw cov’ring over him.
She ceas’d, and, grasping his bright-headed spear,
Forth went the Prince attended, as he went,
By his fleet hounds; to the assembled Greeks
In council with majestic gait he moved,
And Euryclea, daughter wise of Ops,
Pisenor’s son, call’d to the serving-maids.
Haste ye! be diligent! sweep the palace-floor
And sprinkle it; then give the sumptuous seats [180]
Their purple coverings. Let others cleanse
With sponges all the tables, wash and rince
The beakers well, and goblets rich-emboss’d;
Run others to the fountain, and bring thence
Water with speed. The suitors will not long
Be absent, but will early come to-day,
For this day is a public festival.^^[[91|Cowper: Footnote 91]]^^
So she; whom all, obedient, heard; forth went
Together, twenty to the crystal fount,
While in their sev’ral provinces the rest [190]
Bestirr’d them brisk at home. Then enter’d all
The suitors, and began cleaving the wood.
Meantime, the women from the fountain came,
Whom soon the swine-herd follow’d, driving three
His fattest brawns; them in the spacious court
He feeding left, and to Ulysses’ side
Approaching, courteously bespake the Chief.
Guest! look the Greecians on thee with respect
At length, or still disdainful as before?
Then, answer thus Ulysses wise return’d. [200]
Yes—and I would that vengeance from the Gods
Might pay their insolence, who in a house
Not theirs, dominion exercise, and plan
Unseemly projects, shameless as they are!
Thus they conferr’d; and now Melanthius came
The goat-herd, driving, with the aid of two
His fellow-swains, the fattest of his goats
To feast the suitors. In the sounding porch
The goats he tied, then, drawing near, in terms
Reproachful thus assail’d Ulysses’ ear. [210]
How, stranger? persever’st thou, begging, still
To vex the suitors? wilt thou not depart?
Scarce shall we settle this dispute, I judge,
Till we have tasted each the other’s fist;
Thou art unreasonable thus to beg
Here always—have the Greeks no feasts beside?
He spake, to whom Ulysses answer none
Return’d, but shook his brows, and, silent, framed
Terrible purposes. Then, third, approach’d
Chief o’er the herds, Philœtius; fatted goats [220]
He for the suitors brought, with which he drove
An heifer; (ferry-men had pass’d them o’er,
Carriers of all who on their coast arrive)
He tied them in the sounding porch, then stood
Beside the swine-herd, to whom thus he said.
Who is this guest, Eumæus, here arrived
So lately? from what nation hath he come?
What parentage and country boasts the man?
I pity him, whose figure seems to speak
Royalty in him. Heav’n will surely plunge [230]
The race of common wand’rers deep in woe,
If thus it destine even Kings to mourn.
He ceas’d; and, with his right hand, drawing nigh,
Welcom’d Ulysses, whom he thus bespake.
Hail venerable guest! and be thy lot
Prosp’rous at least hereafter, who art held
At present in the bonds of num’rous ills.
Thou, Jupiter, of all the Gods, art most
Severe, and spar’st not to inflict distress
Even on creatures from thyself derived.^^[[92|Cowper: Footnote 92]]^^ 240
I had no sooner mark’d thee, than my eyes
Swam, and the sweat gush’d from me at the thought
Of dear Ulysses; for if yet he live
And see the sun, such tatters, I suppose,
He wears, a wand’rer among human-kind.
But if already with the dead he dwell
In Pluto’s drear abode, oh then, alas
For kind Ulysses! who consign’d to me,
While yet a boy, his Cephalenian herds,
And they have now encreas’d to such a store [250]
Innumerable of broad-fronted beeves,
As only care like mine could have produced.
These, by command of others, I transport
For their regale, who neither heed his son,
Nor tremble at the anger of the Gods,
But long have wish’d ardently to divide
And share the substance of our absent Lord.
Me, therefore, this thought occupies, and haunts
My mind not seldom; while the heir survives
It were no small offence to drive his herds [260]
Afar, and migrate to a foreign land;
Yet here to dwell, suff’ring oppressive wrongs
While I attend another’s beeves, appears
Still less supportable; and I had fled,
And I had served some other mighty Chief
Long since, (for patience fails me to endure
My present lot) but that I cherish still
Some hope of my ill-fated Lord’s return,
To rid his palace of those lawless guests.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. [270]
Herdsman! since neither void of sense thou seem’st,
Nor yet dishonest, but myself am sure
That thou art owner of a mind discrete,
Hear therefore, for I swear! bold I attest
Jove and this hospitable board, and these
The Lares^^[[93|Cowper: Footnote 93]]^^ of the noble Chief, whose hearth
Protects me now, that, ere thy going hence,
Ulysses surely shall have reach’d his home,
And thou shalt see him, if thou wilt, thyself,
Slaying the suitors who now lord it here. [280]
Him answer’d then the keeper of his beeves.
Oh stranger! would but the Saturnian King
Perform that word, thou should’st be taught (thyself
Eye-witness of it) what an arm is mine.
Eumæus also ev’ry power of heav’n
Entreated, that Ulysses might possess
His home again. Thus mutual they conferr’d.
Meantime, in conf’rence close the suitors plann’d
Death for Telemachus; but while they sat
Consulting, on their left the bird of Jove [290]
An eagle soar’d, grasping a tim’rous dove.
Then, thus, Amphinomus the rest bespake.
Oh friends! our consultation how to slay
Telemachus, will never smoothly run
To its effect; but let us to the feast.
So spake Amphinomus, whose counsel pleased.
Then, all into the royal house repaired,
And on the thrones and couches throwing off
Their mantles, slew the fatted goats, the brawns,
The sheep full-sized, and heifer of the herd. [300]
The roasted entrails first they shared, then fill’d
The beakers, and the swine-herd placed the cups,
Philœtius, chief intendant of the beeves,
Served all with baskets elegant of bread,
While all their cups Melanthius charged with wine,
And they assail’d at once the ready feast.
Meantime Telemachus, with forecast shrewd,
Fast by the marble threshold, but within
The spacious hall his father placed, to whom
A sordid seat he gave and scanty board. [310]
A portion of the entrails, next, he set
Before him, fill’d a golden goblet high,
And thus, in presence of them all, began.
There seated now, drink as the suitors drink.
I will, myself, their biting taunts forbid,
And violence. This edifice is mine,
Not public property; my father first
Possess’d it, and my right from him descends.
Suitors! controul your tongues, nor with your hands
Offend, lest contest fierce and war ensue. [320]
He ceas’d: they gnawing, sat, their lips, aghast
With wonder that Telemachus in his speech
Such boldness used. Then spake Eupithes’ son,
Antinoüs, and the assembly thus address’d.
Let pass, ye Greeks! the language of the Prince,
Harsh as it is, and big with threats to us.
Had Jove permitted, his orations here,
Although thus eloquent, ere now had ceased.
So spake Antinoüs, whom Ulysses’ son
Heard unconcern’d. And now the heralds came [330]
In solemn pomp, conducting through the streets
A sacred hecatomb, when in the grove
Umbrageous of Apollo, King shaft-arm’d,
The assembled Greecians met. The sav’ry roast
Finish’d, and from the spits withdrawn, each shared
His portion of the noble feast, and such
As they enjoy’d themselves the attendants placed
Before Ulysses, for the Hero’s son
Himself, Telemachus, had so enjoined.
But Pallas (that they might exasp’rate more [340]
Ulysses) suffer’d not the suitor Chiefs
To banquet, guiltless of heart-piercing scoffs
Malign. There was a certain suitor named
Ctesippus, born in Samos; base of mind
Was he and profligate, but, in the wealth
Confiding of his father, woo’d the wife
Of long-exiled Ulysses. From his seat
The haughty suitors thus that man address’d.
Ye noble suitors, I would speak; attend!
The guest is served; he hath already shared [350]
Equal with us; nor less the laws demand
Of hospitality; for neither just
It were nor decent, that a guest, received
Here by Telemachus, should be denied
His portion of the feast. Come then—myself
Will give to him, that he may also give
To her who laved him in the bath, or else
To whatsoever menial here he will.
So saying, he from a basket near at hand
Heav’d an ox-foot, and with a vig’rous arm [360]
Hurl’d it. Ulysses gently bow’d his head,
Shunning the blow, but gratified his just
Resentment with a broad sardonic smile^^[[94|Cowper: Footnote 94]]^^
Of dread significance. He smote the wall.
Then thus Telemachus rebuked the deed.
Ctesippus, thou art fortunate; the bone
Struck not the stranger, for he shunn’d the blow;
Else, I had surely thrust my glitt’ring lance
Right through thee; then, no hymenæal rites
Of thine should have employ’d thy father here, [370]
But thy funereal. No man therefore treat
Me with indignity within these walls,
For though of late a child, I can discern
Now, and distinguish between good and ill.
Suffice it that we patiently endure
To be spectators daily of our sheep
Slaughter’d, our bread consumed, our stores of wine
Wasted; for what can one to all opposed?
Come then—persist no longer in offence
And hostile hate of me; or if ye wish [380]
To slay me, pause not. It were better far
To die, and I had rather much be slain,
Than thus to witness your atrocious deeds
Day after day; to see our guests abused,
With blows insulted, and the women dragg’d
With a licentious violence obscene
From side to side of all this fair abode.
He said, and all sat silent, till at length
Thus Agelaüs spake, Diastor’s son.
My friends! let none with contradiction thwart [390]
And rude reply, words rational and just;
Assault no more the stranger, nor of all
The servants of renown’d Ulysses here
Harm any. My advice, both to the Queen
And to Telemachus, shall gentle be,
May it but please them. While the hope survived
Within your bosoms of the safe return
Of wise Ulysses to his native isle,
So long good reason was that she should use
Delay, and hold our wooing in suspence; [400]
For had Ulysses come, that course had proved
Wisest and best; but that he comes no more
Appears, now, manifest. Thou, therefore, Prince!
Seeking thy mother, counsel her to wed
The noblest, and who offers richest dow’r,
That thou, for thy peculiar, may’st enjoy
Thy own inheritance in peace and ease,
And she, departing, find another home.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
I swear by Jove, and by my father’s woes, [410]
Who either hath deceased far from his home,
Or lives a wand’rer, that I interpose
No hindrance to her nuptials. Let her wed
Who offers most, and even whom she will.
But to dismiss her rudely were a deed
Unfilial—That I dare not—God forbid!
So spake Telemachus. Then Pallas struck
The suitors with delirium; wide they stretch’d
Their jaws with unspontaneous laughter loud;
Their meat dripp’d blood; tears fill’d their eyes, and dire
Presages of approaching woe, their hearts. [421]
Then thus the prophet Theoclymenus.^^[[95|Cowper: Footnote 95]]^^
Ah miserable men! what curse is this
That takes you now? night wraps itself around
Your faces, bodies, limbs; the palace shakes
With peals of groans—and oh, what floods ye weep!
I see the walls and arches dappled thick
With gore; the vestibule is throng’d, the court
On all sides throng’d with apparitions grim
Of slaughter’d men sinking into the gloom [430]
Of Erebus; the sun is blotted out
From heav’n, and midnight whelms you premature.
He said, they, hearing, laugh’d; and thus the son
Of Polybus, Eurymachus replied.
This wand’rer from a distant shore hath left
His wits behind. Hoa there! conduct him hence
Into the forum; since he dreams it night
Already, teach him there that it is day.
Then answer’d godlike Theoclymenus.
I have no need, Eurymachus, of guides [440]
To lead me hence, for I have eyes and ears,
The use of both my feet, and of a mind
In no respect irrational or wild.
These shall conduct me forth, for well I know
That evil threatens you, such, too, as none
Shall ’scape of all the suitors, whose delight
Is to insult the unoffending guest
Received beneath this hospitable roof.
He said, and, issuing from the palace, sought
Piræus’ house, who gladly welcom’d him. [450]
Then all the suitors on each other cast
A look significant, and, to provoke
Telemachus the more, fleer’d at his guests.
Of whom a youth thus, insolent began.
No living wight, Telemachus, had e’er
Guests such as thine. Witness, we know not who,
This hungry vagabond, whose means of life
Are none, and who hath neither skill nor force
To earn them, a mere burthen on the ground.
Witness the other also, who upstarts [460]
A prophet suddenly. Take my advice;
I counsel wisely; send them both on board
Some gallant bark to Sicily for sale;
Thus shall they somewhat profit thee at last.
So spake the suitors, whom Telemachus
Heard unconcern’d, and, silent, look’d and look’d
Toward his father, watching still the time
When he should punish that licentious throng.
Meantime, Icarius’ daughter, who had placed
Her splendid seat opposite, heard distinct [470]
Their taunting speeches. They, with noisy mirth,
Feasted deliciously, for they had slain
Many a fat victim; but a sadder feast
Than, soon, the Goddess and the warrior Chief
Should furnish for them, none shall ever share.
Of which their crimes had furnish’d first the cause.
"""
''Argument''
//Penelope proposes to the suitors a contest with the bow, herself the prize. They prove unable to bend the bow; when Ulysses having with some difficulty possessed himself of it, manages it with the utmost ease, and dispatches his arrow through twelve rings erected for the trial.//
"""
Minerva, now, Goddess cærulean-eyed,
Prompted Icarius’ daughter, the discrete
Penelope, with bow and rings to prove
Her suitors in Ulysses’ courts, a game
Terrible in conclusion to them all.
First, taking in her hand the brazen key
Well-forged, and fitted with an iv’ry grasp,
Attended by the women of her train
She sought her inmost chamber, the recess
In which she kept the treasures of her Lord, [10]
His brass, his gold, and steel elaborate.
Here lay his stubborn bow, and quiver fill’d
With num’rous shafts, a fatal store. That bow
He had received and quiver from the hand
Of godlike Iphitus Eurytides,
Whom, in Messenia,^^[[96|Cowper: Footnote 96]]^^ in the house he met
Of brave Orsilochus. Ulysses came
Demanding payment of arrearage due
From all that land; for a Messenian fleet
Had borne from Ithaca three hundred sheep, [20]
With all their shepherds; for which cause, ere yet
Adult, he voyaged to that distant shore,
Deputed by his sire, and by the Chiefs
Of Ithaca, to make the just demand.
But Iphitus had thither come to seek
Twelve mares and twelve mule colts which he had lost,
A search that cost him soon a bloody death.
For, coming to the house of Hercules
The valiant task-performing son of Jove,
He perish’d there, slain by his cruel host [30]
Who, heedless of heav’n’s wrath, and of the rights
Of his own board, first fed, then slaughter’d him;
For in //his// house the mares and colts were hidden.
He, therefore, occupied in that concern,
Meeting Ulysses there, gave him the bow
Which, erst, huge Eurytus had borne, and which
Himself had from his dying sire received.
Ulysses, in return, on him bestowed
A spear and sword, pledges of future love
And hospitality; but never more [40]
They met each other at the friendly board,
For, ere that hour arrived, the son of Jove
Slew his own guest, the godlike Iphitus.
Thus came the bow into Ulysses’ hands,
Which, never in his gallant barks he bore
To battle with him, (though he used it oft
In times of peace) but left it safely stored
At home, a dear memorial of his friend.
Soon as, divinest of her sex, arrived
At that same chamber, with her foot she press’d [50]
The oaken threshold bright, on which the hand
Of no mean architect had stretch’d the line,
Who had erected also on each side
The posts on which the splendid portals hung,
She loos’d the ring and brace, then introduced
The key, and aiming at them from without,^^[[97|Cowper: Footnote 97]]^^
Struck back the bolts. The portals, at that stroke,
Sent forth a tone deep as the pastur’d bull’s,
And flew wide open. She, ascending, next,
The elevated floor on which the chests [60]
That held her own fragrant apparel stood,
With lifted hand aloft took down the bow
In its embroider’d bow-case safe enclosed.
Then, sitting there, she lay’d it on her knees,
Weeping aloud, and drew it from the case.
Thus weeping over it long time she sat,
Till satiate, at the last, with grief and tears,
Descending by the palace steps she sought
Again the haughty suitors, with the bow
Elastic, and the quiver in her hand [70]
Replete with pointed shafts, a deadly store.
Her maidens, as she went, bore after her
A coffer fill’d with prizes by her Lord,
Much brass and steel; and when at length she came,
Loveliest of women, where the suitors sat,
Between the pillars of the stately dome
Pausing, before her beauteous face she held
Her lucid veil, and by two matrons chaste
Supported, the assembly thus address’d.
Ye noble suitors hear, who rudely haunt [80]
This palace of a Chief long absent hence,
Whose substance ye have now long time consumed,
Nor palliative have yet contrived, or could,
Save your ambition to make me a bride—
Attend this game to which I call you forth.
Now suitors! prove yourselves with this huge bow
Of wide-renown’d Ulysses; he who draws
Easiest the bow, and who his arrow sends
Through twice six rings, he takes me to his home,
And I must leave this mansion of my youth [90]
Plenteous, magnificent, which, doubtless, oft
I shall remember even in my dreams.
So saying, she bade Eumæus lay the bow
Before them, and the twice six rings of steel.
He wept, received them, and obey’d; nor wept
The herdsman less, seeing the bow which erst
His Lord had occupied; when at their tears
Indignant, thus, Antinoüs began.
Ye rural drones, whose purblind eyes see not
Beyond the present hour, egregious fools! [100]
Why weeping trouble ye the Queen, too much
Before afflicted for her husband lost?
Either partake the banquet silently,
Or else go weep abroad, leaving the bow,
That stubborn test, to us; for none, I judge,
None here shall bend this polish’d bow with ease,
Since in this whole assembly I discern
None like Ulysses, whom myself have seen
And recollect, though I was then a boy.
He said, but in his heart, meantime, the hope [110]
Cherish’d, that he should bend, himself, the bow,
And pass the rings; yet was he destin’d first
Of all that company to taste the steel
Of brave Ulysses’ shaft, whom in that house
He had so oft dishonour’d, and had urged
So oft all others to the like offence.
Amidst them, then, the sacred might arose
Of young Telemachus, who thus began.
Saturnian Jove questionless hath deprived
Me of all reason. My own mother, fam’d [120]
For wisdom as she is, makes known to all
Her purpose to abandon this abode
And follow a new mate, while, heedless, I
Trifle and laugh as I were still a child.
But come, ye suitors! since the prize is such,
A woman like to whom none can be found
This day in all Achaia; on the shores
Of sacred Pylus; in the cities proud
Of Argos or Mycenæ; or even here
In Ithaca; or yet within the walls [130]
Of black Epirus; and since this yourselves
Know also, wherefore should I speak her praise?
Come then, delay not, waste not time in vain
Excuses, turn not from the proof, but bend
The bow, that thus the issue may be known.
I also will, myself, that task essay;
And should I bend the bow, and pass the rings,
Then shall not my illustrious mother leave
Her son forlorn, forsaking this abode
To follow a new spouse, while I remain [140]
Disconsolate, although of age to bear,
Successful as my sire, the prize away.
So saying, he started from his seat, cast off
His purple cloak, and lay’d his sword aside,
Then fix’d, himself, the rings, furrowing the earth
By line, and op’ning one long trench for all,
And stamping close the glebe. Amazement seized
All present, seeing with how prompt a skill
He executed, though untaught, his task.
Then, hasting to the portal, there he stood. [150]
Thrice, struggling, he essay’d to bend the bow,
And thrice desisted, hoping still to draw
The bow-string home, and shoot through all the rings.^^[[98|Cowper: Footnote 98]]^^
And now the fourth time striving with full force
He had prevail’d to string it, but his sire
Forbad his eager efforts by a sign.
Then thus the royal youth to all around—
Gods! either I shall prove of little force
Hereafter, and for manly feats unapt,
Or I am yet too young, and have not strength [160]
To quell the aggressor’s contumely. But come—
(For ye have strength surpassing mine) try ye
The bow, and bring this contest to an end.
He ceas’d, and set the bow down on the floor,
Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth
That lined the wall; the arrow next he placed,
Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn,
And to the seat, whence he had ris’n, return’d.
Then thus Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs spake.
My friends! come forth successive from the right,^^[[99|Cowper: Footnote 99]]^^ 170
Where he who ministers the cup begins.
So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.
Then, first, Leiodes, Œnop’s son, arose.
He was their soothsayer, and ever sat
Beside the beaker, inmost of them all.
To him alone, of all, licentious deeds
Were odious, and, with indignation fired,
He witness’d the excesses of the rest.
He then took foremost up the shaft and bow,
And, station’d at the portal, strove to bend [180]
But bent it not, fatiguing, first, his hands
Delicate and uncustom’d to the toil.
He ceased, and the assembly thus bespake.
My friends, I speed not; let another try;
For many Princes shall this bow of life
Bereave, since death more eligible seems,
Far more, than loss of her, for whom we meet
Continual here, expecting still the prize.
Some suitor, haply, at this moment, hopes
That he shall wed whom long he hath desired, [190]
Ulysses’ wife, Penelope; let him
Essay the bow, and, trial made, address
His spousal offers to some other fair
Among the long-stoled Princesses of Greece,
This Princess leaving his, whose proffer’d gifts
Shall please her most, and whom the Fates ordain.
He said, and set the bow down on the floor,
Reclining it against the shaven pannels smooth
That lined the wall; the arrow, next, he placed,
Leaning against the bow’s bright-polish’d horn, [200]
And to the seat whence he had ris’n return’d.
Then him Antinoüs, angry, thus reproved.
What word, Leiodes, grating to our ears
Hath scap’d thy lips? I hear it with disdain.
Shall this bow fatal prove to many a Prince,
Because thou hast, thyself, too feeble proved
To bend it? no. Thou wast not born to bend
The unpliant bow, or to direct the shaft,
But here are nobler who shall soon prevail.
He said, and to Melanthius gave command, [210]
The goat-herd. Hence, Melanthius, kindle fire;
Beside it place, with fleeces spread, a form
Of length commodious; from within procure
A large round cake of suet next, with which
When we have chafed and suppled the tough bow
Before the fire, we will again essay
To bend it, and decide the doubtful strife.
He ended, and Melanthius, kindling fire
Beside it placed, with fleeces spread, a form
Of length commodious; next, he brought a cake [220]
Ample and round of suet from within,
With which they chafed the bow, then tried again
To bend, but bent it not; superior strength
To theirs that task required. Yet two, the rest
In force surpassing, made no trial yet,
Antinoüs, and Eurymachus the brave.
Then went the herdsman and the swine-herd forth
Together; after whom, the glorious Chief
Himself the house left also, and when all
Without the court had met, with gentle speech [230]
Ulysses, then, the faithful pair address’d.
Herdsman! and thou, Eumæus! shall I keep
A certain secret close, or shall I speak
Outright? my spirit prompts me, and I will.
What welcome should Ulysses at your hands
Receive, arriving suddenly at home,
Some God his guide; would ye the suitors aid,
Or would ye aid Ulysses? answer true.
Then thus the chief intendant of his herds.
Would Jove but grant me my desire, to see [240]
Once more the Hero, and would some kind Pow’r,
Restore him, I would shew thee soon an arm
Strenuous to serve him, and a dauntless heart.
Eumæus, also, fervently implored
The Gods in pray’r, that they would render back
Ulysses to his home. He, then, convinced
Of their unfeigning honesty, began.
Behold him! I am he myself, arrived
After long suff’rings in the twentieth year!
I know how welcome to yourselves alone [250]
Of all my train I come, for I have heard
None others praying for my safe return.
I therefore tell you truth; should heav’n subdue
The suitors under me, ye shall receive
Each at my hands a bride, with lands and house
Near to my own, and ye shall be thenceforth
Dear friends and brothers of the Prince my son.
Lo! also this indisputable proof
That ye may know and trust me. View it here.
It is the scar which in Parnassus erst [260]
(Where with the sons I hunted of renown’d
Autolycus) I from a boar received.
So saying, he stripp’d his tatters, and unveil’d
The whole broad scar; then, soon as they had seen
And surely recognized the mark, each cast
His arms around Ulysses, wept, embraced
And press’d him to his bosom, kissing oft
His brows and shoulders, who as oft their hands
And foreheads kiss’d, nor had the setting sun
Beheld them satisfied, but that himself [270]
Ulysses thus admonished them, and said.
Cease now from tears, lest any, coming forth,
Mark and report them to our foes within.
Now, to the hall again, but one by one,
Not all at once, I foremost, then yourselves,
And this shall be the sign. Full well I know
That, all unanimous, they will oppose
Deliv’ry of the bow and shafts to me;
But thou, (proceeding with it to my seat)
Eumæus, noble friend! shalt give the bow [280]
Into my grasp; then bid the women close
The massy doors, and should they hear a groan
Or other noise made by the Princes shut
Within the hall, let none set step abroad,
But all work silent. Be the palace-door
Thy charge, my good Philœtius! key it fast
Without a moment’s pause, and fix the brace.^^[[100|Cowper: Footnote 100]]^^
He ended, and, returning to the hall,
Resumed his seat; nor stay’d his servants long
Without, but follow’d their illustrious Lord. [290]
Eurymachus was busily employ’d
Turning the bow, and chafing it before
The sprightly blaze, but, after all, could find
No pow’r to bend it. Disappointment wrung
A groan from his proud heart, and thus he said.
Alas! not only for myself I grieve,
But grieve for all. Nor, though I mourn the loss
Of such a bride, mourn I that loss alone,
(For lovely Greecians may be found no few
In Ithaca, and in the neighbour isles) [300]
But should we so inferior prove at last
To brave Ulysses, that no force of ours
Can bend his bow, we are for ever shamed.
To whom Antinoüs, thus, Eupithes’ son.
Not so; (as even thou art well-assured
Thyself, Eurymachus!) but Phœbus claims
This day his own. Who then, on such a day,
Would strive to bend it? Let it rather rest.
And should we leave the rings where now they stand,
I trust that none ent’ring Ulysses’ house [310]
Will dare displace them. Cup-bearer, attend!
Serve all with wine, that, first, libation made,
We may religiously lay down the bow.
Command ye too Melanthius, that he drive
Hither the fairest goats of all his flocks
At dawn of day, that burning first, the thighs
To the ethereal archer, we may make
New trial, and decide, at length, the strife.
So spake Antinoüs, and his counsel pleased.
The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands, [320]
While youths crown’d high the goblets which they bore
From right to left, distributing to all.
When each had made libation, and had drunk
Till well sufficed, then, artful to effect
His shrewd designs, Ulysses thus began.
Hear, O ye suitors of the illustrious Queen,
My bosom’s dictates. But I shall entreat
Chiefly Eurymachus and the godlike youth
Antinoüs, whose advice is wisely giv’n.
Tamper no longer with the bow, but leave [330]
The matter with the Gods, who shall decide
The strife to-morrow, fav’ring whom they will.
Meantime, grant //me// the polish’d bow, that I
May trial make among you of my force,
If I retain it still in like degree
As erst, or whether wand’ring and defect
Of nourishment have worn it all away.
He said, whom they with indignation heard
Extreme, alarm’d lest he should bend the bow,
And sternly thus Antinoüs replied. [340]
Desperate vagabond! ah wretch deprived
Of reason utterly! art not content?
Esteem’st it not distinction proud enough
To feast with us the nobles of the land?
None robs thee of thy share, thou witnessest
Our whole discourse, which, save thyself alone,
No needy vagrant is allow’d to hear.
Thou art befool’d by wine, as many have been,
Wide-throated drinkers, unrestrain’d by rule.
Wine in the mansion of the mighty Chief [350]
Pirithoüs, made the valiant Centaur mad
Eurytion, at the Lapithæan feast.^^[[101|Cowper: Footnote 101]]^^
He drank to drunkenness, and being drunk,
Committed great enormities beneath
Pirithoüs’ roof, and such as fill’d with rage
The Hero-guests; who therefore by his feet
Dragg’d him right through the vestibule, amerced
Of nose and ears, and he departed thence
Provoked to frenzy by that foul disgrace,
Whence war between the human kind arose [360]
And the bold Centaurs—but he first incurred
By his ebriety that mulct severe.
Great evil, also, if thou bend the bow,
To thee I prophesy; for thou shalt find
Advocate or protector none in all
This people, but we will dispatch thee hence
Incontinent on board a sable bark
To Echetus, the scourge of human kind,
From whom is no escape. Drink then in peace,
And contest shun with younger men than thou. [370]
Him answer’d, then, Penelope discrete.
Antinoüs! neither seemly were the deed
Nor just, to maim or harm whatever guest
Whom here arrived Telemachus receives.
Canst thou expect, that should he even prove
Stronger than ye, and bend the massy bow,
He will conduct me hence to his own home,
And make me his own bride? No such design
His heart conceives, or hope; nor let a dread
So vain the mind of any overcloud [380]
Who banquets here, since it dishonours me.
So she; to whom Eurymachus reply’d,
Offspring of Polybus. O matchless Queen!
Icarius’ prudent daughter! none suspects
That thou wilt wed with him; a mate so mean
Should ill become thee; but we fear the tongues
Of either sex, lest some Achaian say
Hereafter, (one inferior far to us)
Ah! how unworthy are they to compare
With him whose wife they seek! to bend his bow [390]
Pass’d all their pow’r, yet this poor vagabond,
Arriving from what country none can tell,
Bent it with ease, and shot through all the rings.
So will they speak, and so shall we be shamed.
Then answer, thus, Penelope return’d.
No fair report, Eurymachus, attends
Their names or can, who, riotous as ye,
The house dishonour, and consume the wealth
Of such a Chief. Why shame ye thus //yourselves//?
The guest is of athletic frame, well form’d, [400]
And large of limb; he boasts him also sprung
From noble ancestry. Come then—consent—
Give him the bow, that we may see the proof;
For thus I say, and thus will I perform;
Sure as he bends it, and Apollo gives
To him that glory, tunic fair and cloak
Shall be his meed from me, a javelin keen
To guard him against men and dogs, a sword
Of double edge, and sandals for his feet,
And I will send him whither most he would. [410]
Her answer’d then prudent Telemachus.
Mother—the bow is mine; and, save myself,
No Greek hath right to give it, or refuse.
None who in rock-bound Ithaca possess
Dominion, none in the steed-pastured isles
Of Elis, if I chose to make the bow
His own for ever, should that choice controul.
But thou into the house repairing, ply
Spindle and loom, thy province, and enjoin
Diligence to thy maidens; for the bow [420]
Is man’s concern alone, and shall be mine
Especially, since I am master here.
She heard astonish’d, and the prudent speech
Reposing of her son deep in her heart,
Withdrew; then mounting with her female train
To her superior chamber, there she wept
Her lost Ulysses, till Minerva bathed
With balmy dews of sleep her weary lids.
And now the noble swine-herd bore the bow
Toward Ulysses, but with one voice all [430]
The suitors, clamorous, reproved the deed,
Of whom a youth, thus, insolent exclaim’d.
Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither bear’st the bow,
Delirious wretch? the hounds that thou hast train’d
Shall eat thee at thy solitary home
Ere long, let but Apollo prove, at last,
Propitious to us, and the Pow’rs of heav’n.
So they, whom hearing he replaced the bow
Where erst it stood, terrified at the sound
Of such loud menaces; on the other side [440]
Telemachus as loud assail’d his ear.
Friend! forward with the bow; or soon repent
That thou obey’dst the many. I will else
With huge stones drive thee, younger as I am,
Back to the field. My strength surpasses thine.
I would to heav’n that I in force excell’d
As far, and prowess, every suitor here!
So would I soon give rude dismission hence
To some, who live but to imagine harm.
He ceased, whose words the suitors laughing heard. [450]
And, for their sake, in part their wrath resign’d
Against Telemachus; then through the hall
Eumæus bore, and to Ulysses’ hand
Consign’d the bow; next, summoning abroad
The ancient nurse, he gave her thus in charge.
It is the pleasure of Telemachus,
Sage Euryclea! that thou key secure
The doors; and should you hear, perchance, a groan
Or other noise made by the Princes shut
Within the hall, let none look, curious, forth, [460]
But each in quietness pursue her work.
So he; nor flew his words useless away,
But she, incontinent, shut fast the doors.
Then, noiseless, sprang Philœtius forth, who closed
The portals also of the palace-court.
A ship-rope of Ægyptian reed, it chanced,
Lay in the vestibule; with that he braced
The doors securely, and re-entring fill’d
Again his seat, but watchful, eyed his Lord.
He, now, assaying with his hand the bow, [470]
Made curious trial of it ev’ry way,
And turn’d it on all sides, lest haply worms
Had in its master’s absence drill’d the horn.
Then thus a suitor to his next remark’d.
He hath an eye, methinks, exactly skill’d
In bows, and steals them; or perhaps, at home,
Hath such himself, or feels a strong desire
To make them; so inquisitive the rogue
Adept in mischief, shifts it to and fro!
To whom another, insolent, replied. [480]
I wish him like prosperity in all
His efforts, as attends his effort made
On this same bow, which he shall never bend.
So they; but when the wary Hero wise
Had made his hand familiar with the bow
Poising it and examining—at once—
As when in harp and song adept, a bard
Unlab’ring strains the chord to a new lyre,
The twisted entrails of a sheep below
With fingers nice inserting, and above, [490]
With such facility Ulysses bent
His own huge bow, and with his right hand play’d
The nerve, which in its quick vibration sang
Clear as the swallow’s voice. Keen anguish seized
The suitors, wan grew ev’ry cheek, and Jove
Gave him his rolling thunder for a sign.
That omen, granted to him by the son
Of wily Saturn, with delight he heard.
He took a shaft that at the table-side
Lay ready drawn; but in his quiver’s womb [500]
The rest yet slept, by those Achaians proud
To be, ere long, experienced. True he lodg’d
The arrow on the centre of the bow,
And, occupying still his seat, drew home
Nerve and notch’d arrow-head; with stedfast sight
He aimed and sent it; right through all the rings
From first to last the steel-charged weapon flew
Issuing beyond, and to his son he spake.
Thou need’st not blush, young Prince, to have received
A guest like me; neither my arrow swerved, [510]
Nor labour’d I long time to draw the bow;
My strength is unimpair’d, not such as these
In scorn affirm it. But the waning day
Calls us to supper, after which succeeds^^[[102|Cowper: Footnote 102]]^^
Jocund variety, the song, the harp,
With all that heightens and adorns the feast.
He said, and with his brows gave him the sign.
At once the son of the illustrious Chief
Slung his keen faulchion, grasp’d his spear, and stood
Arm’d bright for battle at his father’s side. [520]
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses, with some little assistance from Telemachus, Eumæus and Philœtius, slays all the suitors, and twelve of the female servants who had allowed themselves an illicit intercourse with them, are hanged. Melanthius also is punished with miserable mutilation.//
"""
Then, girding up his rags, Ulysses sprang
With bow and full-charged quiver to the door;
Loose on the broad stone at his feet he pour’d
His arrows, and the suitors, thus, bespake.
This prize, though difficult, hath been atchieved.
Now for another mark which never man
Struck yet, but I will strike it if I may,
And if Apollo make that glory mine.
He said, and at Antinoüs aimed direct
A bitter shaft; he, purposing to drink, [10]
Both hands advanced toward the golden cup
Twin-ear’d, nor aught suspected death so nigh.
For who, at the full banquet, could suspect
That any single guest, however brave,
Should plan his death, and execute the blow?
Yet him Ulysses with an arrow pierced
Full in the throat, and through his neck behind
Started the glitt’ring point. Aslant he droop’d;
Down fell the goblet, through his nostrils flew
The spouted blood, and spurning with his foot [20]
The board, he spread his viands in the dust.
Confusion, when they saw Antinoüs fall’n,
Seized all the suitors; from the thrones they sprang,
Flew ev’ry way, and on all sides explored
The palace-walls, but neither sturdy lance
As erst, nor buckler could they there discern,
Then, furious, to Ulysses thus they spake.
Thy arrow, stranger, was ill-aimed; a man
Is no just mark. Thou never shalt dispute
Prize more. Inevitable death is thine. [30]
For thou hast slain a Prince noblest of all
In Ithaca, and shalt be vultures’ food.
Various their judgments were, but none believed
That he had slain him wittingly, nor saw
Th’ infatuate men fate hov’ring o’er them all.
Then thus Ulysses, louring dark, replied.
O dogs! not fearing aught my safe return
From Ilium, ye have shorn my substance close,
Lain with my women forcibly, and sought,
While yet I lived, to make my consort yours, [40]
Heedless of the inhabitants of heav’n
Alike, and of the just revenge of man.
But death is on the wing; death for you all.
He said; their cheeks all faded at the sound,
And each with sharpen’d eyes search’d ev’ry nook
For an escape from his impending doom,
Till thus, alone, Eurymachus replied.
If thou indeed art he, the mighty Chief
Of Ithaca return’d, thou hast rehears’d
With truth the crimes committed by the Greeks [50]
Frequent, both in thy house and in thy field.
But he, already, who was cause of all,
Lies slain, Antinoüs; he thy palace fill’d
With outrage, not solicitous so much
To win the fair Penelope, but thoughts
Far diff’rent framing, which Saturnian Jove
Hath baffled all; to rule, himself, supreme
In noble Ithaca, when he had kill’d
By an insidious stratagem thy son.
But he is slain. Now therefore, spare thy own, [60]
Thy people; public reparation due
Shall sure be thine, and to appease thy wrath
For all the waste that, eating, drinking here
We have committed, we will yield thee, each,
Full twenty beeves, gold paying thee beside
And brass, till joy shall fill thee at the sight,
However just thine anger was before.
To whom Ulysses, frowning stern, replied,
Eurymachus, would ye contribute each
His whole inheritance, and other sums [70]
Still add beside, ye should not, even so,
These hands of mine bribe to abstain from blood,
Till ev’ry suitor suffer for his wrong.
Ye have your choice. Fight with me, or escape
(Whoever may) the terrours of his fate,
But ye all perish, if my thought be true.
He ended, they with trembling knees and hearts
All heard, whom thus Eurymachus address’d.
To your defence, my friends! for respite none
Will he to his victorious hands afford, [80]
But, arm’d with bow and quiver, will dispatch
Shafts from the door till he have slain us all.
Therefore to arms—draw each his sword—oppose
The tables to his shafts, and all at once
Rush on him; that, dislodging him at least
From portal and from threshold, we may give
The city on all sides a loud alarm,
So shall this archer soon have shot his last.
Thus saying, he drew his brazen faulchion keen
Of double edge, and with a dreadful cry [90]
Sprang on him; but Ulysses with a shaft
In that same moment through his bosom driv’n
Transfix’d his liver, and down dropp’d his sword.
He, staggering around his table, fell
Convolv’d in agonies, and overturn’d
Both food and wine; his forehead smote the floor;
Woe fill’d his heart, and spurning with his heels
His vacant seat, he shook it till he died.
Then, with his faulchion drawn, Amphinomus
Advanced to drive Ulysses from the door, [100]
And fierce was his assault; but, from behind,
Telemachus between his shoulders fix’d
A brazen lance, and urged it through his breast.
Full on his front, with hideous sound, he fell.
Leaving the weapon planted in his spine
Back flew Telemachus, lest, had he stood
Drawing it forth, some enemy, perchance,
Should either pierce him with a sudden thrust
Oblique, or hew him with a downright edge.
Swift, therefore, to his father’s side he ran, [110]
Whom reaching, in wing’d accents thus he said.
My father! I will now bring thee a shield,
An helmet, and two spears; I will enclose
Myself in armour also, and will give
Both to the herdsmen and Eumæus arms
Expedient now, and needful for us all.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Run; fetch them, while I yet have arrows left,
Lest, single, I be justled from the door.
He said, and, at his word, forth went the Prince, [120]
Seeking the chamber where he had secured
The armour. Thence he took four shields, eight spears,
With four hair-crested helmets, charged with which
He hasted to his father’s side again,
And, arming first himself, furnish’d with arms
His two attendants. Then, all clad alike
In splendid brass, beside the dauntless Chief
Ulysses, his auxiliars firm they stood.
He, while a single arrow unemploy’d
Lay at his foot, right-aiming, ever pierced [130]
Some suitor through, and heaps on heaps they fell.
But when his arrows fail’d the royal Chief,
His bow reclining at the portal’s side
Against the palace-wall, he slung, himself,
A four-fold buckler on his arm, he fix’d
A casque whose crest wav’d awful o’er his brows
On his illustrious head, and fill’d his gripe
With two stout spears, well-headed both, with brass.
There was a certain postern in the wall^^[[103|Cowper: Footnote 103]]^^
At the gate-side, the customary pass [140]
Into a narrow street, but barr’d secure.
Ulysses bade his faithful swine-herd watch
That egress, station’d near it, for it own’d
One sole approach; then Agelaüs loud
Exhorting all the suitors, thus exclaim’d.
Oh friends, will none, ascending to the door
Of yonder postern, summon to our aid
The populace, and spread a wide alarm?
So shall this archer soon have shot his last.
To whom the keeper of the goats replied [150]
Melanthius. Agelaüs! Prince renown’d!
That may not be. The postern and the gate^^[[104|Cowper: Footnote 104]]^^
Neighbour too near each other, and to force
The narrow egress were a vain attempt;
One valiant man might thence repulse us all.
But come—myself will furnish you with arms
Fetch’d from above; for there, as I suppose,
(And not elsewhere) Ulysses and his son
Have hidden them, and there they shall be found.
So spake Melanthius, and, ascending, sought [160]
Ulysses’ chambers through the winding stairs
And gall’ries of the house. Twelve bucklers thence
He took, as many spears, and helmets bright
As many, shagg’d with hair, then swift return’d
And gave them to his friends. Trembled the heart
Of brave Ulysses, and his knees, at sight
Of his opposers putting armour on,
And shaking each his spear; arduous indeed
Now seem’d his task, and in wing’d accents brief
Thus to his son Telemachus he spake. [170]
Either some woman of our train contrives
Hard battle for us, furnishing with arms
The suitors, or Melanthius arms them all.
Him answer’d then Telemachus discrete.
Father, this fault was mine, and be it charged
On none beside; I left the chamber-door
Unbarr’d, which, more attentive than myself,
Their spy perceived. But haste, Eumæus, shut
The chamber-door, observing well, the while,
If any women of our train have done [180]
This deed, or whether, as I more suspect,
Melanthius, Dolius’ son, have giv’n them arms.
Thus mutual they conferr’d; meantime, again
Melanthius to the chamber flew in quest
Of other arms. Eumæus, as he went,
Mark’d him, and to Ulysses’ thus he spake.
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Behold, the traytor, whom ourselves supposed,
Seeks yet again the chamber! Tell me plain,
Shall I, should I superior prove in force, [190]
Slay him, or shall I drag him thence to thee,
That he may suffer at thy hands the doom
Due to his treasons perpetrated oft
Against thee, here, even in thy own house?
Then answer thus Ulysses shrewd return’d.
I, with Telemachus, will here immew
The lordly suitors close, rage as they may.
Ye two, the while, bind fast Melanthius’ hands
And feet behind his back, then cast him bound
Into the chamber, and (the door secured) [200]
Pass underneath his arms a double chain,
And by a pillar’s top weigh him aloft
Till he approach the rafters, there to endure,
Living long time, the mis’ries he hath earned.
He spake; they prompt obey’d; together both
They sought the chamber, whom the wretch within
Heard not, exploring ev’ry nook for arms.
They watching stood the door, from which, at length,
Forth came Melanthius, bearing in one hand
A casque, and in the other a broad shield [210]
Time-worn and chapp’d with drought, which in his youth
Warlike Laertes had been wont to bear.
Long time neglected it had lain, till age
Had loosed the sutures of its bands. At once
Both, springing on him, seized and drew him in
Forcibly by his locks, then cast him down
Prone on the pavement, trembling at his fate.
With painful stricture of the cord his hands
They bound and feet together at his back,
As their illustrious master had enjoined, [220]
Then weigh’d him with a double chain aloft
By a tall pillar to the palace-roof,
And thus, deriding him, Eumæus spake.
Now, good Melanthius, on that fleecy bed
Reclined, as well befits thee, thou wilt watch
All night, nor when the golden dawn forsakes
The ocean stream, will she escape thine eye,
But thou wilt duly to the palace drive
The fattest goats, a banquet for thy friends.
So saying, he left him in his dreadful sling. [230]
Then, arming both, and barring fast the door,
They sought brave Laertiades again.
And now, courageous at the portal stood
Those four, by numbers in the interior house
Opposed of adversaries fierce in arms,
When Pallas, in the form and with the voice
Approach’d of Mentor, whom Laertes’ son
Beheld, and joyful at the sight, exclaim’d.
Help, Mentor! help—now recollect a friend
And benefactor, born when thou wast born. [240]
So he, not unsuspicious that he saw
Pallas, the heroine of heav’n. Meantime
The suitors fill’d with menaces the dome,
And Agelaüs, first, Damastor’s son,
In accents harsh rebuked the Goddess thus.
Beware, oh Mentor! that he lure thee not
To oppose the suitors and to aid himself,
For thus will we. Ulysses and his son
Both slain, in vengeance of thy purpos’d deeds
Against us, we will slay //thee// next, and thou [250]
With thy own head shalt satisfy the wrong.
Your force thus quell’d in battle, all thy wealth
Whether in house or field, mingled with his,
We will confiscate, neither will we leave
Or son of thine, or daughter in thy house
Alive, nor shall thy virtuous consort more
Within the walls of Ithaca be seen.
He ended, and his words with wrath inflamed
Minerva’s heart the more; incensed, she turn’d
Towards Ulysses, whom she thus reproved. [260]
Thou neither own’st the courage nor the force,
Ulysses, now, which nine whole years thou showd’st
At Ilium, waging battle obstinate
For high-born Helen, and in horrid fight
Destroying multitudes, till thy advice
At last lay’d Priam’s bulwark’d city low.
Why, in possession of thy proper home
And substance, mourn’st thou want of pow’r t’oppose
The suitors? Stand beside me, mark my deeds,
And thou shalt own Mentor Alcimides [270]
A valiant friend, and mindful of thy love.
She spake; nor made she victory as yet
Entire his own, proving the valour, first,
Both of the sire and of his glorious son,
But, springing in a swallow’s form aloft,
Perch’d on a rafter of the splendid roof.
Then, Agelaüs animated loud
The suitors, whom Eurynomus also roused,
Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus,
And Polyctorides, Pisander named, [280]
And Polybus the brave; for noblest far
Of all the suitor-chiefs who now survived
And fought for life were these. The bow had quell’d
And shafts, in quick succession sent, the rest.
Then Agelaüs, thus, harangued them all.
We soon shall tame, O friends, this warrior’s might,
Whom Mentor, after all his airy vaunts
Hath left, and at the portal now remain
Themselves alone. Dismiss not therefore, all,
Your spears together, but with six alone [290]
Assail them first; Jove willing, we shall pierce
Ulysses, and subduing him, shall slay
With ease the rest; their force is safely scorn’d.
He ceas’d; and, as he bade, six hurl’d the spear
Together; but Minerva gave them all
A devious flight; one struck a column, one
The planks of the broad portal, and a third^^[[105|Cowper: Footnote 105]]^^
Flung right his ashen beam pond’rous with brass
Against the wall. Then (ev’ry suitor’s spear
Eluded) thus Ulysses gave the word— [300]
Now friends! I counsel you that ye dismiss
Your spears at //them//, who, not content with past
Enormities, thirst also for our blood.
He said, and with unerring aim, all threw
Their glitt’ring spears. Ulysses on the ground
Stretch’d Demoptolemus; Euryades
Fell by Telemachus; the swine-herd slew
El[)a]tus; and the keeper of the beeves
Pisander; in one moment all alike
Lay grinding with their teeth the dusty floor. [310]
Back flew the suitors to the farthest wall,
On whom those valiant four advancing, each
Recover’d, quick, his weapon from the dead.
Then hurl’d the desp’rate suitors yet again
Their glitt’ring spears, but Pallas gave to each
A frustrate course; one struck a column, one
The planks of the broad portal, and a third
Flung full his ashen beam against the wall.
Yet pierced Amphimedon the Prince’s wrist,
But slightly, a skin-wound, and o’er his shield [320]
Ctesippus reach’d the shoulder of the good
Eumæus, but his glancing weapon swift
O’erflew the mark, and fell. And now the four,
Ulysses, dauntless Hero, and his friends
All hurl’d their spears together in return,
Himself Ulysses, city-waster Chief,
Wounded Eurydamas; Ulysses’ son
Amphimedon; the swine-herd Polybus;
And in his breast the keeper of the beeves
Ctesippus, glorying over whom, he cried. [330]
Oh son of Polytherses! whose delight
Hath been to taunt and jeer, never again
Boast foolishly, but to the Gods commit
Thy tongue, since they are mightier far than thou.
Take this—a compensation for thy pledge
Of hospitality, the huge ox-hoof,
Which while he roam’d the palace, begging alms,
Ulysses at thy bounteous hand received.
So gloried he; then, grasping still his spear,
Ulysses pierced Damastor’s son, and, next, [340]
Telemachus, enforcing his long beam
Sheer through his bowels and his back, transpierced
Leiocritus, he prostrate smote the floor.
Then, Pallas from the lofty roof held forth
Her host-confounding Ægis o’er their heads,
With’ring their souls with fear. They through the hall
Fled, scatter’d as an herd, which rapid-wing’d
The gad-fly dissipates, infester fell
Of beeves, when vernal suns shine hot and long.
But, as when bow-beak’d vultures crooked-claw’d^^[[106|Cowper: Footnote 106]]^^ [350]
Stoop from the mountains on the smaller fowl;
Terrified at the toils that spread the plain
The flocks take wing, they, darting from above,
Strike, seize, and slay, resistance or escape
Is none, the fowler’s heart leaps with delight,
So they, pursuing through the spacious hall
The suitors, smote them on all sides, their heads
Sounded beneath the sword, with hideous groans
The palace rang, and the floor foamed with blood.
Then flew Leiodes to Ulysses’ knees, [360]
Which clasping, in wing’d accents thus he cried.
I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect
My suit, and spare me! Never have I word
Injurious spoken, or injurious deed
Attempted ’gainst the women of thy house,
But others, so transgressing, oft forbad.
Yet they abstain’d not, and a dreadful fate
Due to their wickedness have, therefore, found.
But I, their soothsayer alone, must fall,
Though unoffending; such is the return [370]
By mortals made for benefits received!
To whom Ulysses, louring dark, replied.
Is that thy boast? Hast thou indeed for these
The seer’s high office fill’d? Then, doubtless, oft
Thy pray’r hath been that distant far might prove
The day delectable of my return,
And that my consort might thy own become
To bear thee children; wherefore thee I doom
To a dire death which thou shalt not avoid.
So saying, he caught the faulchion from the floor [380]
Which Agelaüs had let fall, and smote
Leiodes, while he kneel’d, athwart his neck
So suddenly, that ere his tongue had ceased
To plead for life, his head was in the dust.
But Phemius, son of Terpius, bard divine,
Who, through compulsion, with his song regaled
The suitors, a like dreadful death escaped.
Fast by the postern, harp in hand, he stood,
Doubtful if, issuing, he should take his seat
Beside the altar of Hercæan Jove,^^[[107|Cowper: Footnote 107]]^^ 390
Where oft Ulysses offer’d, and his sire,
Fat thighs of beeves, or whether he should haste,
An earnest suppliant, to embrace his knees.
That course, at length, most pleased him; then, between
The beaker and an argent-studded throne
He grounded his sweet lyre, and seizing fast
The Hero’s knees, him, suppliant, thus address’d.
I clasp thy knees, Ulysses! oh respect
My suit, and spare me. Thou shalt not escape
Regret thyself hereafter, if thou slay [400]
Me, charmer of the woes of Gods and men.
Self-taught am I, and treasure in my mind
Themes of all argument from heav’n inspired,
And I can sing to thee as to a God.
Ah, then, behead me not. Put ev’n the wish
Far from thee! for thy own beloved son
Can witness, that not drawn by choice, or driv’n
By stress of want, resorting to thine house
I have regaled these revellers so oft,
But under force of mightier far than I. [410]
So he; whose words soon as the sacred might
Heard of Telemachus, approaching quick
His father, thus, humane, he interposed.
Hold, harm not with the vengeful faulchion’s edge
This blameless man; and we will also spare
Medon the herald, who hath ever been
A watchful guardian of my boyish years,
Unless Philœtius have already slain him,
Or else Eumæus, or thyself, perchance,
Unconscious, in the tumult of our foes. [420]
He spake, whom Medon hearing (for he lay
Beneath a throne, and in a new-stript hide
Enfolded, trembling with the dread of death)
Sprang from his hiding-place, and casting off
The skin, flew to Telemachus, embraced
His knees, and in wing’d accents thus exclaim’d.
Prince! I am here—oh, pity me! repress
Thine own, and pacify thy father’s wrath,
That he destroy not me, through fierce revenge
Of their iniquities who have consumed [430]
His wealth, and, in their folly scorn’d his son.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied,
Smiling complacent. Fear not; my own son
Hath pleaded for thee. Therefore (taught thyself
That truth) teach others the superior worth
Of benefits with injuries compared.
But go ye forth, thou and the sacred bard,
That ye may sit distant in yonder court
From all this carnage, while I give command,
Myself, concerning it, to those within. [440]
He ceas’d; they going forth, took each his seat
Beside Jove’s altar, but with careful looks
Suspicious, dreading without cease the sword.
Meantime Ulysses search’d his hall, in quest
Of living foes, if any still survived
Unpunish’d; but he found them all alike
Welt’ring in dust and blood; num’rous they lay
Like fishes when they strew the sinuous shore
Of Ocean, from the grey gulph drawn aground
In nets of many a mesh; they on the sands [450]
Lie spread, athirst for the salt wave, till hot
The gazing sun dries all their life away;
So lay the suitors heap’d, and thus at length
The prudent Chief gave order to his son.
Telemachus! bid Euryclea come
Quickly, the nurse, to whom I would impart
The purpose which now occupies me most.
He said; obedient to his sire, the Prince
Smote on the door, and summon’d loud the nurse.
Arise thou ancient governess of all [460]
Our female menials, and come forth; attend
My father; he hath somewhat for thine ear.
So he; nor flew his words useless away,
For, throwing wide the portal, forth she came,
And, by Telemachus conducted, found
Ere long Ulysses amid all the slain,
With blood defiled and dust; dread he appear’d
As from the pastur’d ox newly-devoured
The lion stalking back; his ample chest
With gory drops and his broad cheeks are hung, [470]
Tremendous spectacle! such seem’d the Chief,
Blood-stain’d all over. She, the carnage spread
On all sides seeing, and the pools of blood,
Felt impulse forcible to publish loud
That wond’rous triumph; but her Lord repress’d
The shout of rapture ere it burst abroad,
And in wing’d accents thus his will enforced.
Silent exult, O ancient matron dear!
Shout not, be still. Unholy is the voice
Of loud thanksgiving over slaughter’d men. [480]
Their own atrocious deeds and the Gods’ will
Have slain all these; for whether noble guest
Arrived or base, they scoff’d at all alike,
And for their wickedness have, therefore, died.
But say; of my domestic women, who
Have scorn’d me, and whom find’st thou innocent?
To whom good Euryclea thus replied.
My son! I will declare the truth; thou keep’st
Female domestics fifty in thy house,
Whom we have made intelligent to comb [490]
The fleece, and to perform whatever task.
Of these, twice six have overpass’d the bounds
Of modesty, respecting neither me,
Nor yet the Queen; and thy own son, adult
So lately, no permission had from her
To regulate the women of her train.
But I am gone, I fly with what hath pass’d
To the Queen’s ear, who nought suspects, so sound
She sleeps, by some divinity composed.
Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise returned. [500]
Hush, and disturb her not. Go. Summon first
Those wantons, who have long deserved to die.
He ceas’d; then issued forth the ancient dame
To summon those bad women, and, meantime,
Calling his son, Philœtius, and Eumæus,
Ulysses in wing’d accents thus began.
Bestir ye, and remove the dead; command
Those women also to your help; then cleanse
With bibulous sponges and with water all
The seats and tables; when ye shall have thus [510]
Set all in order, lead those women forth,
And in the centre of the spacious court,
Between the scull’ry and the outer-wall
Smite them with your broad faulchions till they lose
In death the mem’ry of their secret loves
Indulged with wretches lawless as themselves.
He ended, and the damsels came at once
All forth, lamenting, and with tepid tears
Show’ring the ground; with mutual labour, first,
Bearing the bodies forth into the court, [520]
They lodged them in the portico; meantime
Ulysses, stern, enjoin’d them haste, and, urged
By sad necessity, they bore all out.
With sponges and with water, next, they cleansed
The thrones and tables, while Telemachus
Beesom’d the floor, Eumæus in that work
Aiding him and the keeper of the beeves,
And those twelve damsels bearing forth the soil.
Thus, order giv’n to all within, they, next,
Led forth the women, whom they shut between [530]
The scull’ry and the outer-wall in close
Durance, from which no pris’ner could escape,
And thus Telemachus discrete began.
An honourable death is not for these
By my advice, who have so often heap’d
Reproach on mine and on my mother’s head,
And held lewd commerce with the suitor-train.
He said, and noosing a strong galley-rope
To an huge column, led the cord around
The spacious dome, suspended so aloft [540]
That none with quiv’ring feet might reach the floor.
As when a flight of doves ent’ring the copse,
Or broad-wing’d thrushes, strike against the net
Within, ill rest, entangled, there they find,
So they, suspended by the neck, expired
All in one line together. Death abhorr’d!
With restless feet awhile they beat the air,
Then ceas’d. And now through vestibule and hall
They led Melanthius forth. With ruthless steel
They pared away his ears and nose, pluck’d forth [550]
His parts of shame, destin’d to feed the dogs,
And, still indignant, lopp’d his hands and feet.
Then, laving each his feet and hands, they sought
Again Ulysses; all their work was done,
And thus the Chief to Euryclea spake.
Bring blast-averting sulphur, nurse, bring fire!
That I may fumigate my walls; then bid
Penelope with her attendants down,
And summon all the women of her train.
But Euryclea, thus, his nurse, replied. [560]
My son! thou hast well said; yet will I first
Serve thee with vest and mantle. Stand not here
In thy own palace cloath’d with tatters foul
And beggarly—she will abhor the sight.
Then answer thus Ulysses wise return’d.
Not so. Bring fire for fumigation first.
He said; nor Euryclea his lov’d nurse
Longer delay’d, but sulphur brought and fire,
When he with purifying steams, himself,
Visited ev’ry part, the banquet-room, [570]
The vestibule, the court. Ranging meantime
His house magnificent, the matron call’d
The women to attend their Lord in haste,
And they attended, bearing each a torch.
Then gather’d they around him all, sincere
Welcoming his return; with close embrace
Enfolding him, each kiss’d his brows, and each
His shoulders, and his hands lock’d fast in hers.
He, irresistible the impulse felt
To sigh and weep, well recognizing all. [580]
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses with some difficulty, convinces Penelope of his identity, who at length, overcome by force of evidence, receives him to her arms with transport. He entertains her with a recital of his adventures, and in his narration the principal events of the poem are recapitulated. In the morning, Ulysses, Telemachus, the herdsman and the swine-herd depart into the country.//
"""
And now, with exultation loud the nurse
Again ascended, eager to apprize
The Queen of her Ulysses’ safe return;
Joy braced her knees, with nimbleness of youth
She stepp’d, and at her ear, her thus bespake.
Arise, Penelope! dear daughter, see
With thy own eyes thy daily wish fulfill’d.
Ulysses is arrived; hath reach’d at last
His native home, and all those suitors proud
Hath slaughter’d, who his family distress’d, [10]
His substance wasted, and controul’d his son.
To whom Penelope discrete replied.
Dear nurse! the Gods have surely ta’en away
Thy judgment; they transform the wise to fools,
And fools conduct to wisdom, and have marr’d
Thy intellect, who wast discrete before.
Why wilt thou mock me, wretched as I am,
With tales extravagant? and why disturb
Those slumbers sweet that seal’d so fast mine eyes?
For such sweet slumbers have I never known [20]
Since my Ulysses on his voyage sail’d
To that bad city never to be named.
Down instant to thy place again—begone—
For had another of my maidens dared
Disturb my sleep with tidings wild as these,
I had dismiss’d her down into the house
More roughly; but thine age excuses //thee//.
To whom the venerable matron thus.
I mock thee not, my child; no—he is come—
Himself, Ulysses, even as I say, [30]
That stranger, object of the scorn of all.
Telemachus well knew his sire arrived,
But prudently conceal’d the tidings, so
To insure the more the suitors’ punishment.
So Euryclea she transported heard,
And springing from the bed, wrapp’d in her arms
The ancient woman shedding tears of joy,
And in wing’d accents ardent thus replied.
Ah then, dear nurse inform me! tell me true!
Hath he indeed arriv’d as thou declar’st? [40]
How dared he to assail alone that band
Of shameless ones, for ever swarming here?
Then Euryclea, thus, matron belov’d.
I nothing saw or knew; but only heard
Groans of the wounded; in th’ interior house
We trembling sat, and ev’ry door was fast.
Thus all remain’d till by his father sent,
Thy own son call’d me forth. Going, I found
Ulysses compass’d by the slaughter’d dead.
They cover’d wide the pavement, heaps on heaps. [50]
It would have cheer’d thy heart to have beheld
Thy husband lion-like with crimson stains
Of slaughter and of dust all dappled o’er;
Heap’d in the portal, at this moment, lie
Their bodies, and he fumigates, meantime,
The house with sulphur and with flames of fire,
And hath, himself, sent me to bid thee down.
Follow me, then, that ye may give your hearts
To gladness, both, for ye have much endured;
But the event, so long your soul’s desire, [60]
Is come; himself hath to his household Gods
Alive return’d, thee and his son he finds
Unharm’d and at your home, nor hath he left
Unpunish’d one of all his enemies.
Her answer’d, then, Penelope discrete.
Ah dearest nurse! indulge not to excess
This dang’rous triumph. Thou art well apprized
How welcome his appearance here would prove
To all, but chief, to me, and to his son,
Fruit of our love. But these things are not so; [70]
Some God, resentful of their evil deeds,
And of their biting contumely severe,
Hath slain those proud; for whether noble guest
Arrived or base, alike they scoff’d at all,
And for their wickedness have therefore died.
But my Ulysses distant far, I know,
From Greece hath perish’d, and returns no more.
To whom thus Euryclea, nurse belov’d.
What word my daughter had escaped thy lips,
Who thus affirm’st thy husband, now within [80]
And at his own hearth-side, for ever lost?
Canst thou be thus incredulous? Hear again—
I give thee yet proof past dispute, his scar
Imprinted by a wild-boar’s iv’ry tusk.
Laving him I remark’d it, and desired,
Myself, to tell thee, but he, ever-wise,
Compressing with both hands my lips, forbad.
Come, follow me. My life shall be the pledge.
If I deceive thee, kill me as thou wilt.
To whom Penelope, discrete, replied. [90]
Ah, dearest nurse, sagacious as thou art,
Thou little know’st to scan the counsels wise
Of the eternal Gods. But let us seek
My son, however, that I may behold
The suitors dead, and him by whom they died.
So saying, she left her chamber, musing much
In her descent, whether to interrogate
Her Lord apart, or whether to imprint,
At once, his hands with kisses and his brows.
O’erpassing light the portal-step of stone [100]
She enter’d. He sat opposite, illumed
By the hearth’s sprightly blaze, and close before
A pillar of the dome, waiting with eyes
Downcast, till viewing him, his noble spouse
Should speak to him; but she sat silent long,
Her faculties in mute amazement held.
By turns she riveted her eyes on his,
And, seeing him so foul attired, by turns
She recognized him not; then spake her son
Telemachus, and her silence thus reprov’d. [110]
My mother! ah my hapless and my most
Obdurate mother! wherefore thus aloof
Shunn’st thou my father, neither at his side
Sitting affectionate, nor utt’ring word?
Another wife lives not who could endure
Such distance from her husband new-return’d
To his own country in the twentieth year,
After much hardship; but thy heart is still
As ever, less impressible than stone,
To whom Penelope, discrete, replied. [120]
I am all wonder, O my son; my soul
Is stunn’d within me; pow’r to speak to him
Or to interrogate him have I none,
Or ev’n to look on him; but if indeed
He be Ulysses, and have reach’d his home,
I shall believe it soon, by proof convinced
Of signs known only to himself and me.
She said; then smiled the Hero toil-inured,
And in wing’d accents thus spake to his son.
Leave thou, Telemachus, thy mother here [130]
To sift and prove me; she will know me soon
More certainly; she sees me ill-attired
And squalid now; therefore she shews me scorn,
And no belief hath yet that I am he.
But we have need, thou and myself, of deep
Deliberation. If a man have slain
One only citizen, who leaves behind
Few interested to avenge his death,
Yet, flying, he forsakes both friends and home;
But we have slain the noblest Princes far [140]
Of Ithaca, on whom our city most
Depended; therefore, I advise thee, think!
Him, prudent, then answer’d Telemachus.
Be that thy care, my father! for report
Proclaims //thee// shrewdest of mankind, with whom
In ingenuity may none compare.
Lead thou; to follow thee shall be our part
With prompt alacrity; nor shall, I judge,
Courage be wanting to our utmost force.
Thus then replied Ulysses, ever-wise. [150]
To me the safest counsel and the best
Seems this. First wash yourselves, and put ye on
Your tunics; bid ye, next, the maidens take
Their best attire, and let the bard divine
Harping melodious play a sportive dance,
That, whether passenger or neighbour near,
All may imagine nuptials held within.
So shall not loud report that we have slain
All those, alarm the city, till we gain
Our woods and fields, where, once arriv’d, such plans [160]
We will devise, as Jove shall deign to inspire.
He spake, and all, obedient, in the bath
First laved themselves, then put their tunics on;
The damsels also dress’d, and the sweet bard,
Harping melodious, kindled strong desire
In all, of jocund song and graceful dance.
The palace under all its vaulted roof
Remurmur’d to the feet of sportive youths
And cinctured maidens, while no few abroad,
Hearing such revelry within, remark’d— [170]
The Queen with many wooers, weds at last.
Ah fickle and unworthy fair! too frail
Always to keep inviolate the house
Of her first Lord, and wait for his return.
So spake the people; but they little knew
What had befall’n. Eurynome, meantime,
With bath and unction serv’d the illustrious Chief
Ulysses, and he saw himself attired
Royally once again in his own house.
Then, Pallas over all his features shed [180]
Superior beauty, dignified his form
With added amplitude, and pour’d his curls
Like hyacinthine flow’rs down from his brows.
As when some artist by Minerva made
And Vulcan, wise to execute all tasks
Ingenious, borders silver with a wreath
Of gold, accomplishing a graceful work,
Such grace the Goddess o’er his ample chest
Copious diffused, and o’er his manly brows.
He, godlike, stepping from the bath, resumed [190]
His former seat magnificent, and sat
Opposite to the Queen, to whom he said.
Penelope! the Gods to thee have giv’n
Of all thy sex, the most obdurate heart.
Another wife lives not who could endure
Such distance from her husband new-return’d
To his own country in the twentieth year,
After such hardship. But prepare me, nurse,
A bed, for solitary I must sleep,
Since she is iron, and feels not for me. [200]
Him answer’d then prudent Penelope.
I neither magnify thee, sir! nor yet
Depreciate thee, nor is my wonder such
As hurries me at once into thy arms,
Though my remembrance perfectly retains,
Such as he was, Ulysses, when he sail’d
On board his bark from Ithaca—Go, nurse,
Prepare his bed, but not within the walls
Of his own chamber built with his own hands.
Spread it without, and spread it well with warm [210]
Mantles, with fleeces, and with richest rugs.
So spake she, proving him,^^[[108|Cowper: Footnote 108]]^^ and not untouch’d
With anger at that word, thus he replied.
Penelope, that order grates my ear.
Who hath displaced my bed? The task were hard
E’en to an artist; other than a God
None might with ease remove it; as for man,
It might defy the stoutest in his prime
Of youth, to heave it to a different spot.
For in that bed elaborate, a sign, [220]
A special sign consists; I was myself
The artificer; I fashion’d it alone.
Within the court a leafy olive grew
Lofty, luxuriant, pillar-like in girth.
Around this tree I built, with massy stones
Cemented close, my chamber, roof’d it o’er,
And hung the glutinated portals on.
I lopp’d the ample foliage and the boughs,
And sev’ring near the root its solid bole,
Smooth’d all the rugged stump with skilful hand, [230]
And wrought it to a pedestal well squared
And modell’d by the line. I wimbled, next,
The frame throughout, and from the olive-stump
Beginning, fashion’d the whole bed above
Till all was finish’d, plated o’er with gold,
With silver, and with ivory, and beneath
Close interlaced with purple cordage strong.
Such sign I give thee. But if still it stand
Unmoved, or if some other, sev’ring sheer
The olive from its bottom, have displaced [240]
My bed—that matter is best known to thee.
He ceas’d; she, conscious of the sign so plain
Giv’n by Ulysses, heard with flutt’ring heart
And fault’ring knees that proof. Weeping she ran
Direct toward him, threw her arms around
The Hero, kiss’d his forehead, and replied.
Ah my Ulysses! pardon me—frown not—
Thou, who at other times hast ever shewn
Superior wisdom! all our griefs have flow’d
From the Gods’ will; they envied us the bliss [250]
Of undivided union sweet enjoy’d
Through life, from early youth to latest age.
No. Be not angry now; pardon the fault
That I embraced thee not as soon as seen,
For horror hath not ceased to overwhelm
My soul, lest some false alien should, perchance,
Beguile me, for our house draws num’rous such.
Jove’s daughter, Argive Helen, ne’er had given
Free entertainment to a stranger’s love,
Had she foreknown that the heroic sons [260]
Of Greece would bring her to her home again.
But heav’n incited her to that offence,
Who never, else, had even in her thought
Harbour’d the foul enormity, from which
Originated even our distress.
But now, since evident thou hast described
Our bed, which never mortal yet beheld,
Ourselves except and Actoris my own
Attendant, giv’n me when I left my home
By good Icarius, and who kept the door, [270]
Though hard to be convinced, at last I yield.
So saying, she awaken’d in his soul
Pity and grief; and folding in his arms
His blameless consort beautiful, he wept.
Welcome as land appears to those who swim,
Whose gallant bark Neptune with rolling waves
And stormy winds hath sunk in the wide sea,
A mariner or two, perchance, escape
The foamy flood, and, swimming, reach the land,
Weary indeed, and with incrusted brine [280]
All rough, but oh, how glad to climb the coast!
So welcome in her eyes Ulysses seem’d,
Around whose neck winding her snowy arms,
She clung as she would loose him never more.
Thus had they wept till rosy-finger’d morn
Had found them weeping, but Minerva check’d
Night’s almost finish’d course, and held, meantime,
The golden dawn close pris’ner in the Deep,
Forbidding her to lead her coursers forth,
Lampus and Phaëton that furnish light [290]
To all the earth, and join them to the yoke.
Then thus, Ulysses to Penelope.
My love; we have not yet attain’d the close
Of all our sufferings, but unmeasured toil
Arduous remains, which I must still atchieve.
For so the spirit of the Theban seer
Inform’d me, on that day, when to enquire
Of mine and of my people’s safe return
I journey’d down to Pluto’s drear abode.
But let us hence to bed, there to enjoy [300]
Tranquil repose. My love, make no delay.
Him answer’d then prudent Penelope.
Thou shalt to bed at whatsoever time
Thy soul desires, since the immortal Gods
Give thee to me and to thy home again.
But, thou hast spoken from the seer of Thebes
Of arduous toils yet unperform’d; declare
What toils? Thou wilt disclose them, as I judge,
Hereafter, and why not disclose them now?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. [310]
Ah conversant with woe! why would’st thou learn
That tale? but I will tell it thee at large.
Thou wilt not hear with joy, nor shall myself
With joy rehearse it; for he bade me seek
City after city, bearing, as I go,
A shapely oar, till I shall find, at length,
A people who the sea know not, nor eat
Food salted; they trim galley crimson-prow’d
Have ne’er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar
With which the vessel wing’d scuds o’er the waves. [320]
He gave me also this authentic sign,
Which I will tell thee. In what place soe’er
I chance to meet a trav’ler who shall name
The oar on my broad shoulder borne, a van;^^[[109|Cowper: Footnote 109]]^^
He bade me, planting it on the same spot,
Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,
A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek
My home again, and sacrifice at home
An hecatomb to the immortal Gods
Inhabitants of the expanse above. [330]
So shall I die, at length, the gentlest death
Remote from Ocean; it shall find me late,
In soft serenity of age, the Chief
Of a blest people.—Thus he prophesied.
Him answer’d then Penelope discrete.
If heav’n appoint thee in old age a lot
More tranquil, hope thence springs of thy escape
Some future day from all thy threaten’d woes.
Such was their mutual conf’rence sweet; meantime
Eurynome and Euryclea dress’d [340]
Their bed by light of the clear torch, and when
Dispatchful they had spread it broad and deep,
The ancient nurse to her own bed retired.
Then came Eurynome, to whom in trust
The chambers appertain’d, and with a torch
Conducted them to rest; she introduced
The happy pair, and went; transported they
To rites connubial intermitted long,
And now recover’d, gave themselves again.^^[[110|Cowper: Footnote 110]]^^
Meantime, the Prince, the herdsman, and the good [350]
Eumæus, giving rest each to his feet,
Ceased from the dance; they made the women cease
Also, and to their sev’ral chambers all
Within the twilight edifice repair’d.
At length, with conjugal endearment both
Satiate, Ulysses tasted and his spouse
The sweets of mutual converse. She rehearsed,
Noblest of women, all her num’rous woes
Beneath that roof sustain’d, while she beheld
The profligacy of the suitor-throng, [360]
Who in their wooing had consumed his herds
And fatted flocks, and drawn his vessels dry;
While brave Ulysses, in his turn, to her
Related his successes and escapes,
And his afflictions also; he told her all;
She listen’d charm’d, nor slumber on his eyes
Fell once, or ere he had rehearsed the whole.
Beginning, he discoursed, how, at the first
He conquer’d in Ciconia, and thence reach’d
The fruitful shores of the Lotophagi; [370]
The Cyclops’ deeds he told her next, and how
He well avenged on him his slaughter’d friends
Whom, pitiless, the monster had devour’d.
How to the isle of Æolus he came,
Who welcom’d him and safe dismiss’d him thence,
Although not destin’d to regain so soon
His native land; for o’er the fishy deep
Loud tempests snatch’d him sighing back again.
How, also at Telepylus he arrived,
Town of the Læstrygonians, who destroyed [380]
His ships with all their mariners, his own
Except, who in his sable bark escaped.
Of guileful Circe too he spake, deep-skill’d
In various artifice, and how he reach’d
With sails and oars the squalid realms of death,
Desirous to consult the prophet there
Theban Tiresias, and how there he view’d
All his companions, and the mother bland
Who bare him, nourisher of his infant years.
How, next he heard the Sirens in one strain [390]
All chiming sweet, and how he reach’d the rocks
Erratic, Scylla and Charybdis dire,
Which none secure from injury may pass.
Then, how the partners of his voyage slew
The Sun’s own beeves, and how the Thund’rer Jove
Hurl’d down his smoky bolts into his bark,
Depriving him at once of all his crew,
Whose dreadful fate he yet, himself, escaped.
How to Ogygia’s isle he came, where dwelt
The nymph Calypso, who, enamour’d, wish’d [400]
To espouse him, and within her spacious grot
Detain’d, and fed, and promis’d him a life
Exempt for ever from the sap of age,
But him moved not. How, also, he arrived
After much toil, on the Phæacian coast,
Where ev’ry heart revered him as a God,
And whence, enriching him with brass and gold,
And costly raiment first, they sent him home.
At this last word, oblivious slumber sweet
Fell on him, dissipating all his cares. [410]
Meantime, Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed,
On other thoughts intent, soon as she deem’d
Ulysses with connubial joys sufficed,
And with sweet sleep, at once from Ocean rous’d
The golden-axled chariot of the morn
To illumine earth. Then from his fleecy couch
The Hero sprang, and thus his spouse enjoined.
Oh consort dear! already we have striv’n
Against our lot, till wearied with the toil,
My painful absence, thou with ceaseless tears [420]
Deploring, and myself in deep distress
Withheld reluctant from my native shores
By Jove and by the other pow’rs of heav’n.
But since we have in this delightful bed
Met once again, watch thou and keep secure
All my domestic treasures, and ere long
I will replace my num’rous sheep destroy’d
By those imperious suitors, and the Greeks
Shall add yet others till my folds be fill’d.
But to the woodlands go I now—to see [430]
My noble father, who for my sake mourns
Continual; as for thee, my love, although
I know thee wise, I give thee thus in charge.
The sun no sooner shall ascend, than fame
Shall wide divulge the deed that I have done,
Slaying the suitors under my own roof.
Thou, therefore, with thy maidens, sit retired
In thy own chamber at the palace-top,
Nor question ask, nor, curious, look abroad.
He said, and cov’ring with his radiant arms [440]
His shoulders, called Telemachus; he roused
Eumæus and the herdsman too, and bade
All take their martial weapons in their hand.
Not disobedient they, as he enjoin’d,
Put armour on, and issued from the gates
Ulysses at their head. The earth was now
Enlighten’d, but Minerva them in haste
Led forth into the fields, unseen by all.
"""
''Argument''
//Mercury conducts the souls of the suitors down to Ades. Ulysses discovers himself to Laertes, and quells, by the aid of Minerva, an insurrection of the people resenting the death of the suitors.//
"""
And now Cyllenian Hermes summon’d forth
The spirits of the suitors; waving wide
The golden wand of pow’r to seal all eyes
In slumber, and to ope them wide again,
He drove them gibb’ring down into the shades,^^[[111|Cowper: Footnote 111]]^^
As when the bats within some hallow’d cave
Flit squeaking all around, for if but one
Fall from the rock, the rest all follow him,
In such connexion mutual they adhere,
So, after bounteous Mercury, the ghosts, [10]
Troop’d downward gibb’ring all the dreary way.^^[[111|Cowper: Footnote 111]]^^
The Ocean’s flood and the Leucadian rock,
The Sun’s gate also and the land of Dreams
They pass’d, whence, next, into the meads they came
Of Asphodel, by shadowy forms possess’d,
Simulars of the dead. They found the souls
Of brave Pelides there, and of his friend
Patroclus, of Antilochus renown’d,
And of the mightier Ajax, for his form
And bulk (Achilles sole except) of all [20]
The sons of the Achaians most admired.
These waited on Achilles. Then, appear’d
The mournful ghost of Agamemnon, son
Of Atreus, compass’d by the ghosts of all
Who shared his fate beneath Ægisthus’ roof,
And him the ghost of Peleus’ son bespake.
Atrides! of all Heroes we esteem’d
Thee dearest to the Gods, for that thy sway
Extended over such a glorious host
At Ilium, scene of sorrow to the Greeks. [30]
But Fate, whose ruthless force none may escape
Of all who breathe, pursued thee from the first.
Thou should’st have perish’d full of honour, full
Of royalty, at Troy; so all the Greeks
Had rais’d thy tomb, and thou hadst then bequeath’d
Great glory to thy son; but Fate ordain’d
A death, oh how deplorable! for thee.
To whom Atrides’ spirit thus replied.
Blest son of Peleus, semblance of the Gods,
At Ilium, far from Argos, fall’n! for whom [40]
Contending, many a Trojan, many a Chief
Of Greece died also, while in eddies whelm’d
Of dust thy vastness spread the plain,^^[[112|Cowper: Footnote 112]]^^ nor thee
The chariot aught or steed could int’rest more!
All day we waged the battle, nor at last
Desisted, but for tempests sent from Jove.
At length we bore into the Greecian fleet
Thy body from the field; there, first, we cleansed
With tepid baths and oil’d thy shapely corse,
Then placed thee on thy bier, while many a Greek [50]
Around thee wept, and shore his locks for thee.
Thy mother, also, hearing of thy death
With her immortal nymphs from the abyss
Arose and came; terrible was the sound
On the salt flood; a panic seized the Greeks,
And ev’ry warrior had return’d on board
That moment, had not Nestor, ancient Chief,
Illumed by long experience, interposed,
His counsels, ever wisest, wisest proved
Then also, and he thus address’d the host. [60]
Sons of Achaia; fly not; stay, ye Greeks!
Thetis arrives with her immortal nymphs
From the abyss, to visit her dead son.
So he; and, by his admonition stay’d,
The Greeks fled not. Then, all around thee stood
The daughters of the Ancient of the Deep,
Mourning disconsolate; with heav’nly robes
They clothed thy corse, and all the Muses nine
Deplored thee in full choir with sweetest tones
Responsive, nor one Greecian hadst thou seen [70]
Dry-eyed, such grief the Muses moved in all.
Full sev’nteen days we, day and night, deplored
Thy death, both Gods in heav’n and men below,
But, on the eighteenth day, we gave thy corse
Its burning, and fat sheep around thee slew
Num’rous, with many a pastur’d ox moon-horn’d.
We burn’d thee clothed in vesture of the Gods,
With honey and with oil feeding the flames
Abundant, while Achaia’s Heroes arm’d,
Both horse and foot, encompassing thy pile, [80]
Clash’d on their shields, and deaf’ning was the din.
But when the fires of Vulcan had at length
Consumed thee, at the dawn we stored thy bones
In unguent and in undiluted wine;
For Thetis gave to us a golden vase
Twin-ear’d, which she profess’d to have received
From Bacchus, work divine of Vulcan’s hand.
Within that vase, Achilles, treasured lie
Thine and the bones of thy departed friend
Patroclus, but a sep’rate urn we gave [90]
To those of brave Antilochus, who most
Of all thy friends at Ilium shared thy love
And thy respect, thy friend Patroclus slain.
Around both urns we piled a noble tomb,
(We warriors of the sacred Argive host)
On a tall promontory shooting far
Into the spacious Hellespont, that all
Who live, and who shall yet be born, may view
Thy record, even from the distant waves.
Then, by permission from the Gods obtain’d, [100]
To the Achaian Chiefs in circus met
Thetis appointed games. I have beheld
The burial rites of many an Hero bold,
When, on the death of some great Chief, the youths
Girding their loins anticipate the prize,
But sight of those with wonder fill’d me most,
So glorious past all others were the games
By silver-footed Thetis giv’n for thee,
For thou wast ever favour’d of the Gods.
Thus, hast thou not, Achilles! although dead, [110]
Foregone thy glory, but thy fair report
Is universal among all mankind;
But, as for me, what recompense had I,
My warfare closed? for whom, at my return,
Jove framed such dire destruction by the hands
Of fell Ægisthus and my murth’ress wife.
Thus, mutual, they conferr’d; meantime approach’d,
Swift messenger of heav’n, the Argicide,
Conducting thither all the shades of those
Slain by Ulysses. At that sight amazed [120]
Both moved toward them. Agamemnon’s shade
Knew well Amphimedon, for he had been
Erewhile his father’s guest in Ithaca,
And thus the spirit of Atreus’ son began.
Amphimedon! by what disastrous chance,
Coœvals as ye seem, and of an air
Distinguish’d all, descend ye to the Deeps?
For not the chosen youths of a whole town
Should form a nobler band. Perish’d ye sunk
Amid vast billows and rude tempests raised [130]
By Neptune’s pow’r? or on dry land through force
Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off
Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away?
Or fighting for your city and your wives?
Resolve me? I was once a guest of yours.
Remember’st not what time at your abode
With godlike Menelaus I arrived,
That we might win Ulysses with his fleet
To follow us to Troy? scarce we prevail’d
At last to gain the city-waster Chief, [140]
And, after all, consumed a whole month more
The wide sea traversing from side to side.
To whom the spirit of Amphimedon.
Illustrious Agamemnon, King of men!
All this I bear in mind, and will rehearse
The manner of our most disastrous end.
Believing brave Ulysses lost, we woo’d
Meantime his wife; she our detested suit
Would neither ratify nor yet refuse,
But, planning for us a tremendous death, [150]
This novel stratagem, at last, devised.
Beginning, in her own recess, a web
Of slend’rest thread, and of a length and breadth
Unusual, thus the suitors she address’d.
Princes, my suitors! since the noble Chief
Ulysses is no more, enforce not yet
My nuptials; wait till I shall finish first
A fun’ral robe (lest all my threads decay)
Which for the ancient Hero I prepare,
Laertes, looking for the mournful hour [160]
When fate shall snatch him to eternal rest;
Else, I the censure dread of all my sex,
Should he so wealthy, want at last a shroud.
So spake the Queen; we, unsuspicious all,
With her request complied. Thenceforth, all day
She wove the ample web, and by the aid
Of torches ravell’d it again at night.
Three years she thus by artifice our suit
Eluded safe, but when the fourth arrived,
And the same season, after many moons [170]
And fleeting days, return’d, a damsel then
Of her attendants, conscious of the fraud,
Reveal’d it, and we found her pulling loose
The splendid web. Thus, through constraint, at length,
She finish’d it, and in her own despight.
But when the Queen produced, at length, her work
Finish’d, new-blanch’d, bright as the sun or moon,
Then came Ulysses, by some adverse God
Conducted, to a cottage on the verge
Of his own fields, in which his swine-herd dwells; [180]
There also the illustrious Hero’s son
Arrived soon after, in his sable bark
From sandy Pylus borne; they, plotting both
A dreadful death for all the suitors, sought
Our glorious city, but Ulysses last,
And first Telemachus. The father came
Conducted by his swine-herd, and attired
In tatters foul; a mendicant he seem’d,
Time-worn, and halted on a staff. So clad,
And ent’ring on the sudden, he escaped [190]
All knowledge even of our eldest there,
And we reviled and smote him; he although
Beneath his own roof smitten and reproach’d,
With patience suffer’d it awhile, but roused
By inspiration of Jove Ægis-arm’d
At length, in concert with his son convey’d
To his own chamber his resplendent arms,
There lodg’d them safe, and barr’d the massy doors
Then, in his subtlety he bade the Queen
A contest institute with bow and rings [200]
Between the hapless suitors, whence ensued
Slaughter to all. No suitor there had pow’r
To overcome the stubborn bow that mock’d
All our attempts; and when the weapon huge
At length was offer’d to Ulysses’ hands,
With clamour’d menaces we bade the swain
Withhold it from him, plead he as he might;
Telemachus alone with loud command,
Bade give it him, and the illustrious Chief
Receiving in his hand the bow, with ease [210]
Bent it, and sped a shaft through all the rings.
Then, springing to the portal steps, he pour’d
The arrows forth, peer’d terrible around,
Pierced King Antinoüs, and, aiming sure
His deadly darts, pierced others after him,
Till in one common carnage heap’d we lay.
Some God, as plain appear’d, vouchsafed them aid,
Such ardour urged them, and with such dispatch
They slew us on all sides; hideous were heard
The groans of dying men fell’d to the earth [220]
With head-strokes rude, and the floor swam with blood.
Such, royal Agamemnon! was the fate
By which we perish’d, all whose bodies lie
Unburied still, and in Ulysses’ house,
For tidings none have yet our friends alarm’d
And kindred, who might cleanse from sable gore
Our clotted wounds, and mourn us on the bier,
Which are the rightful privilege of the dead.
Him answer’d, then, the shade of Atreus’ son.
Oh happy offspring of Laertes! shrewd [230]
Ulysses! matchless valour thou hast shewn
Recov’ring thus thy wife; nor less appears
The virtue of Icarius’ daughter wise,
The chaste Penelope, so faithful found
To her Ulysses, husband of her youth.
His glory, by superior merit earn’d,
Shall never die, and the immortal Gods
Shall make Penelope a theme of song
Delightful in the ears of all mankind.
Not such was Clytemnestra, daughter vile [240]
Of Tyndarus; she shed her husband’s blood,
And shall be chronicled in song a wife
Of hateful memory, by whose offence
Even the virtuous of her sex are shamed.
Thus they, beneath the vaulted roof obscure
Of Pluto’s house, conferring mutual stood.
Meantime, descending from the city-gates,
Ulysses, by his son and by his swains
Follow’d, arrived at the delightful farm
Which old Laertes had with strenuous toil [250]
Himself long since acquired. There stood his house
Encompass’d by a bow’r in which the hinds
Who served and pleased him, ate, and sat, and slept.
An ancient woman, a Sicilian, dwelt
There also, who in that sequester’d spot
Attended diligent her aged Lord.
Then thus Ulysses to his followers spake.
Haste now, and, ent’ring, slay ye of the swine
The best for our regale; myself, the while,
Will prove my father, if his eye hath still [260]
Discernment of me, or if absence long
Have worn the knowledge of me from his mind.
He said, and gave into his servants’ care
His arms; they swift proceeded to the house,
And to the fruitful grove himself as swift
To prove his father. Down he went at once
Into the spacious garden-plot, but found
Nor Dolius there, nor any of his sons
Or servants; they were occupied elsewhere,
And, with the ancient hind himself, employ’d [270]
Collecting thorns with which to fence the grove.
In that umbrageous spot he found alone
Laertes, with his hoe clearing a plant;
Sordid his tunic was, with many a patch
Mended unseemly; leathern were his greaves,
Thong-tied and also patch’d, a frail defence
Against sharp thorns, while gloves secured his hands
From briar-points, and on his head he bore
A goat-skin casque, nourishing hopeless woe.
No sooner then the Hero toil-inured [280]
Saw him age-worn and wretched, than he paused
Beneath a lofty pear-tree’s shade to weep.
There standing much he mused, whether, at once,
Kissing and clasping in his arms his sire,
To tell him all, by what means he had reach’d
His native country, or to prove him first.
At length, he chose as his best course, with words
Of seeming strangeness to accost his ear,
And, with that purpose, moved direct toward him.
He, stooping low, loosen’d the earth around [290]
A garden-plant, when his illustrious son
Now, standing close beside him, thus began.
Old sir! thou art no novice in these toils
Of culture, but thy garden thrives; I mark
In all thy ground no plant, fig, olive, vine,
Pear-tree or flow’r-bed suff’ring through neglect.
But let it not offend thee if I say
That thou neglect’st thyself, at the same time
Oppress’d with age, sun-parch’d and ill-attired.
Not for thy inactivity, methinks, [300]
Thy master slights thee thus, nor speaks thy form
Or thy surpassing stature servile aught
In thee, but thou resemblest more a King.
Yes—thou resemblest one who, bathed and fed,
Should softly sleep; such is the claim of age.
But tell me true—for whom labourest thou,
And whose this garden? answer me beside,
For I would learn; have I indeed arrived
In Ithaca, as one whom here I met
Ev’n now assured me, but who seem’d a man [310]
Not overwise, refusing both to hear
My questions, and to answer when I ask’d
Concerning one in other days my guest
And friend, if he have still his being here,
Or have deceas’d and journey’d to the shades.
For I will tell thee; therefore mark. Long since
A stranger reach’d my house in my own land,
Whom I with hospitality receiv’d,
Nor ever sojourn’d foreigner with me
Whom I lov’d more. He was by birth, he said, [320]
Ithacan, and Laertes claim’d his sire,
Son of Arcesias. Introducing him
Beneath my roof, I entertain’d him well,
And proved by gifts his welcome at my board.
I gave him seven talents of wrought gold,
A goblet, argent all, with flow’rs emboss’d,
Twelve single cloaks, twelve carpets, mantles twelve
Of brightest lustre, with as many vests,
And added four fair damsels, whom he chose
Himself, well born and well accomplish’d all. [330]
Then thus his ancient sire weeping replied.
Stranger! thou hast in truth attain’d the isle
Of thy enquiry, but it is possess’d
By a rude race, and lawless. Vain, alas!
Were all thy num’rous gifts; yet hadst thou found
Him living here in Ithaca, with gifts
Reciprocated he had sent thee hence,
Requiting honourably in his turn
Thy hospitality. But give me quick
Answer and true. How many have been the years [340]
Since thy reception of that hapless guest
My son? for mine, my own dear son was he.
But him, far distant both from friends and home,
Either the fishes of the unknown Deep
Have eaten, or wild beasts and fowls of prey,
Nor I, or she who bare him, was ordain’d
To bathe his shrouded body with our tears,
Nor his chaste wife, well-dow’r’d Penelope
To close her husband’s eyes, and to deplore
His doom, which is the privilege of the dead. [350]
But tell me also thou, for I would learn,
Who art thou? whence? where born? and sprung from whom?
The bark in which thou and thy godlike friends
Arrived, where is she anchor’d on our coast?
Or cam’st thou only passenger on board
Another’s bark, who landed thee and went?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
I will with all simplicity relate
What thou hast ask’d. Of Alybas am I,
Where in much state I dwell, son of the rich [360]
Apheidas royal Polypemon’s son,
And I am named Eperitus; by storms
Driven from Sicily I have arrived,
And yonder, on the margin of the field
That skirts your city, I have moor’d my bark.
Five years have pass’d since thy Ulysses left,
Unhappy Chief! my country; yet the birds
At his departure hovered on the right,
And in that sign rejoicing, I dismiss’d
Him thence rejoicing also, for we hoped [370]
To mix in social intercourse again,
And to exchange once more pledges of love.
He spake; then sorrow as a sable cloud
Involved Laertes; gath’ring with both hands
The dust, he pour’d it on his rev’rend head
With many a piteous groan. Ulysses’ heart
Commotion felt, and his stretch’d nostrils throbb’d
With agony close-pent, while fixt he eyed
His father; with a sudden force he sprang
Toward him, clasp’d, and kiss’d him, and exclaim’d. [380]
My father! I am he. Thou seest thy son
Absent these twenty years at last return’d.
But bid thy sorrow cease; suspend henceforth
All lamentation; for I tell thee true,
(And the occasion bids me briefly tell thee)
I have slain all the suitors at my home,
And all their taunts and injuries avenged.
Then answer thus Laertes quick return’d.
If thou hast come again, and art indeed
My son Ulysses, give me then the proof [390]
Indubitable, that I may believe.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
View, first, the scar which with his iv’ry tusk
A wild boar gave me, when at thy command
And at my mother’s, to Autolycus
Her father, on Parnassus, I repair’d
Seeking the gifts which, while a guest of yours,
He promis’d should be mine. Accept beside
This proof. I will enum’rate all the trees
Which, walking with thee in this cultured spot [400]
(Boy then) I begg’d, and thou confirm’dst my own.
We paced between them, and thou mad’st me learn
The name of each. Thou gav’st me thirteen pears,^^[[113|Cowper: Footnote 113]]^^
Ten apples,^^[[113|Cowper: Footnote 113]]^^ thirty figs,113 and fifty ranks
Didst promise me of vines, their alleys all
Corn-cropp’d between. There, oft as sent from Jove
The influences of the year descend,
Grapes of all hues and flavours clust’ring hang.
He said; Laertes, conscious of the proofs
Indubitable by Ulysses giv’n, [410]
With fault’ring knees and fault’ring heart both arms
Around him threw. The Hero toil-inured
Drew to his bosom close his fainting sire,
Who, breath recov’ring, and his scatter’d pow’rs
Of intellect, at length thus spake aloud.
Ye Gods! oh then your residence is still
On the Olympian heights, if punishment
At last hath seized on those flagitious men.
But terrour shakes me, lest, incensed, ere long
All Ithaca flock hither, and dispatch [420]
Swift messengers with these dread tidings charged
To ev’ry Cephallenian state around.
Him answer’d then Ulysses ever-wise.
Courage! fear nought, but let us to the house
Beside the garden, whither I have sent
Telemachus, the herdsman, and the good
Eumæus to prepare us quick repast.
So they conferr’d, and to Laertes’ house
Pass’d on together; there arrived, they found
Those three preparing now their plenteous feast, [430]
And mingling sable wine; then, by the hands
Of his Sicilian matron, the old King
Was bathed, anointed, and attired afresh,
And Pallas, drawing nigh, dilated more
His limbs, and gave his whole majestic form
Encrease of amplitude. He left the bath.
His son, amazed as he had seen a God
Alighted newly from the skies, exclaim’d.
My father! doubtless some immortal Pow’r
Hath clothed thy form with dignity divine. [440]
Then thus replied his venerable sire.
Jove! Pallas! Phœbus! oh that I possess’d
Such vigour now, as when in arms I took
Nericus, continental city fair,
With my brave Cephallenians! oh that such
And arm’d as then, I yesterday had stood
Beside thee in thy palace, combating
Those suitors proud, then had I strew’d the floor
With num’rous slain, to thy exceeding joy.
Such was their conference; and now, the task [450]
Of preparation ended, and the feast
Set forth, on couches and on thrones they sat,
And, ranged in order due, took each his share.
Then, ancient Dolius, and with him, his sons
Arrived toil-worn, by the Sicilian dame
Summon’d, their cat’ress, and their father’s kind
Attendant ever in his eve of life.
They, seeing and recalling soon to mind
Ulysses, in the middle mansion stood
Wond’ring, when thus Ulysses with a voice [460]
Of some reproof, but gentle, them bespake.
Old servant, sit and eat, banishing fear
And mute amazement; for, although provoked
By appetite, we have long time abstain’d,
Expecting ev’ry moment thy return.
He said; then Dolius with expanded arms
Sprang right toward Ulysses, seized his hand,
Kiss’d it, and in wing’d accents thus replied.
Oh master ever dear! since thee the Gods
Themselves in answer to our warm desires, [470]
Have, unexpectedly, at length restored,
Hail, and be happy, and heav’n make thee such!
But say, and truly; knows the prudent Queen
Already thy return, or shall we send
Ourselves an herald with the joyful news?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
My ancient friend, thou may’st release thy mind
From that solicitude; she knows it well.
So he; then Dolius to his glossy seat
Return’d, and all his sons gath’ring around [480]
Ulysses, welcom’d him and grasp’d his hand,
Then sat beside their father; thus beneath
Laertes’ roof they, joyful, took repast.
But Fame with rapid haste the city roam’d
In ev’ry part, promulging in all ears
The suitors’ horrid fate. No sooner heard
The multitude that tale, than one and all
Groaning they met and murmuring before
Ulysses’ gates. Bringing the bodies forth,
They buried each his friend, but gave the dead [490]
Of other cities to be ferried home
By fishermen on board their rapid barks.
All hasted then to council; sorrow wrung
Their hearts, and, the assembly now convened,
Arising first Eupithes spake, for grief
Sat heavy on his soul, grief for the loss
Of his Antinoüs by Ulysses slain
Foremost of all, whom mourning, thus he said.
My friends! no trivial fruits the Greecians reap
Of this man’s doings. //Those// he took with him [500]
On board his barks, a num’rous train and bold,
Then lost his barks, lost all his num’rous train,
And //these//, our noblest, slew at his return.
Come therefore—ere he yet escape by flight
To Pylus or to noble Elis, realm
Of the Epeans, follow him; else shame
Attends us and indelible reproach.
If we avenge not on these men the blood
Of our own sons and brothers, farewell then
All that makes life desirable; my wish [510]
Henceforth shall be to mingle with the shades.
Oh then pursue and seize them ere they fly.
Thus he with tears, and pity moved in all.
Then, Medon and the sacred bard whom sleep
Had lately left, arriving from the house
Of Laertiades, approach’d; amid
The throng they stood; all wonder’d seeing them,
And Medon, prudent senior, thus began.
Hear me, my countrymen! Ulysses plann’d
With no disapprobation of the Gods [520]
The deed that ye deplore. I saw, myself,
A Pow’r immortal at the Hero’s side,
In semblance just of Mentor; now the God,
In front apparent, led him on, and now,
From side to side of all the palace, urged
To flight the suitors; heaps on heaps they fell.
He said; then terrour wan seiz’d ev’ry cheek,
And Halitherses, Hero old, the son
Of Mastor, who alone among them all
Knew past, and future, prudent, thus began. [530]
Now, O ye men of Ithaca! my words
Attentive hear! by your own fault, my friends,
This deed hath been perform’d; for when myself
And noble Mentor counsell’d you to check
The sin and folly of your sons, ye would not.
Great was their wickedness, and flagrant wrong
They wrought, the wealth devouring and the wife
Dishonouring of an illustrious Chief
Whom they deem’d destined never to return.
But hear my counsel. Go not, lest ye draw [540]
Disaster down and woe on your own heads.
He ended; then with boist’rous roar (although
Part kept their seats) upsprang the multitude,
For Halitherses pleased them not, they chose
Eupithes’ counsel rather; all at once
To arms they flew, and clad in dazzling brass
Before the city form’d their dense array.
Leader infatuate at their head appear’d
Eupithes, hoping to avenge his son
Antinoüs, but was himself ordain’d [550]
To meet his doom, and to return no more.
Then thus Minerva to Saturnian Jove.
Oh father! son of Saturn! Jove supreme!
Declare the purpose hidden in thy breast.
Wilt thou that this hostility proceed,
Or wilt thou grant them amity again?
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.
Why asks my daughter? didst thou not design
Thyself, that brave Ulysses coming home
Should slay those profligates? act as thou wilt, [560]
But thus I counsel, since the noble Chief
Hath slain the suitors, now let peace ensue
Oath-bound, and reign Ulysses evermore!
The slaughter of their brethren and their sons
To strike from their remembrance, shall be ours.
Let mutual amity, as at the first,
Unite them, and let wealth and peace abound.
So saying, he animated to her task
Minerva prompt before, and from the heights
Olympian down to Ithaca she flew. [570]
Meantime Ulysses (for their hunger now
And thirst were sated) thus address’d his hinds.
Look ye abroad, lest haply they approach.
He said, and at his word, forth went a son
Of Dolius; at the gate he stood, and thence
Beholding all that multitude at hand,
In accents wing’d thus to Ulysses spake.
They come—they are already arrived—arm all!
Then, all arising, put their armour on,
Ulysses with his three, and the six sons [580]
Of Dolius; Dolius also with the rest,
Arm’d and Laertes, although silver-hair’d,
Warriors perforce. When all were clad alike
In radiant armour, throwing wide the gates
They sallied, and Ulysses led the way.
Then Jove’s own daughter Pallas, in the form
And with the voice of Mentor, came in view,
Whom seeing Laertiades rejoiced,
And thus Telemachus, his son, bespake.
Now, oh my son! thou shalt observe, untold [590]
By me, where fight the bravest. Oh shame not
Thine ancestry, who have in all the earth
Proof given of valour in all ages past.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
My father! if thou wish that spectacle,
Thou shalt behold thy son, as thou hast said,
In nought dishonouring his noble race.
Then was Laertes joyful, and exclaim’d,
What sun hath ris’n to-day?^^[[114|Cowper: Footnote 114]]^^ oh blessed Gods!
My son and grandson emulous dispute [600]
The prize of glory, and my soul exults.
He ended, and Minerva drawing nigh
To the old King, thus counsell’d him. Oh friend
Whom most I love, son of Arcesias! pray’r
Preferring to the virgin azure-eyed,
And to her father Jove, delay not, shake
Thy lance in air, and give it instant flight.
So saying, the Goddess nerved his arm anew.
He sought in pray’r the daughter dread of Jove,
And, brandishing it, hurl’d his lance; it struck [610]
Eupithes, pierced his helmet brazen-cheek’d
That stay’d it not, but forth it sprang beyond,
And with loud clangor of his arms he fell.
Then flew Ulysses and his noble son
With faulchion and with spear of double edge
To the assault, and of them all had left
None living, none had to his home return’d,
But that Jove’s virgin daughter with a voice
Of loud authority thus quell’d them all.
Peace, O ye men of Ithaca! while yet [620]
The field remains undeluged with your blood.
So she, and fear at once paled ev’ry cheek.
All trembled at the voice divine; their arms
Escaping from the grasp fell to the earth,
And, covetous of longer life, each fled
Back to the city. Then Ulysses sent
His voice abroad, and with an eagle’s force
Sprang on the people; but Saturnian Jove,
Cast down, incontinent, his smouldring bolt
At Pallas’ feet, and thus the Goddess spake. [630]
Laertes’ noble son, for wiles renown’d!
Forbear; abstain from slaughter; lest thyself
Incur the anger of high thund’ring Jove.
So Pallas, whom Ulysses, glad, obey’d.
Then faithful covenants of peace between
Both sides ensued, ratified in the sight
Of Pallas progeny of Jove, who seem’d,
In voice and form, the Mentor known to all.
"""
''Argument''
//Telemachus arriving at Pylus, enquires of Nestor concerning Ulysses. Nestor relates to him all that he knows or has heard of the Greecians since their departure from the siege of Troy, but not being able to give him any satisfactory account of Ulysses, refers him to Menelaus. At evening Minerva quits Telemachus, but discovers herself in going. Nestor sacrifices to the Goddess, and the solemnity ended, Telemachus sets forth for Sparta in one of Nestor’s chariots, and accompanied by Nestor’s son, Pisistratus.//
"""
The sun, emerging from the lucid waves,
Ascended now the brazen vault with light
For the inhabitants of earth and heav’n,
When in their bark at Pylus they arrived,
City of Neleus. On the shore they found
The people sacrificing; bulls they slew
Black without spot, to Neptune azure-hair’d.
On ranges nine of seats they sat; each range
Received five hundred, and to each they made
Allotment equal of nine sable bulls. [10]
The feast was now begun; these eating sat
The entrails, those stood off’ring to the God
The thighs, his portion, when the Ithacans
Push’d right ashore, and, furling close the sails,
And making fast their moorings, disembark’d.
Forth came Telemachus, by Pallas led,
Whom thus the Goddess azure-eyed address’d.
Telemachus! there is no longer room
For bashful fear, since thou hast cross’d the flood
With purpose to enquire what land conceals [20]
Thy father, and what fate hath follow’d him.
Advance at once to the equestrian Chief
Nestor, within whose bosom lies, perhaps,
Advice well worthy of thy search; entreat
Himself, that he will tell thee only truth,
Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.
To whom Telemachus discrete replied.
Ah Mentor! how can I advance, how greet
A Chief like him, unpractis’d as I am
In manag’d phrase? Shame bids the youth beware [30]
How he accosts the man of many years.
But him the Goddess answer’d azure-eyed,
Telemachus! Thou wilt, in part, thyself
Fit speech devise, and heav’n will give the rest;
For thou wast neither born, nor hast been train’d
To manhood, under unpropitious Pow’rs.
So saying, Minerva led him thence, whom he
With nimble steps attending, soon arrived
Among the multitude. There Nestor sat,
And Nestor’s sons, while, busily the feast [40]
Tending, his num’rous followers roasted, some,
The viands, some, transfix’d them with the spits.
They seeing guests arrived, together all
Advanced, and, grasping courteously their hands,
Invited them to sit; but first, the son
Of Nestor, young Pisistratus, approach’d,
Who, fast’ning on the hands of both, beside
The banquet placed them, where the beach was spread
With fleeces, and where Thrasymedes sat
His brother, and the hoary Chief his Sire. [50]
To each a portion of the inner parts
He gave, then fill’d a golden cup with wine,
Which, tasted first, he to the daughter bore
Of Jove the Thund’rer, and her thus bespake.
Oh guest! the King of Ocean now adore!
For ye have chanced on Neptune’s festival;
And, when thou hast, thyself, libation made
Duly, and pray’r, deliver to thy friend
The gen’rous juice, that he may also make
Libation; for he, doubtless, seeks, in prayer [60]
The Immortals, of whose favour all have need.
But, since he younger is, and with myself
Coeval, first I give the cup to thee.
He ceas’d, and to her hand consign’d the cup,
Which Pallas gladly from a youth received
So just and wise, who to herself had first
The golden cup presented, and in pray’r
Fervent the Sov’reign of the Seas adored.
Hear, earth-encircler Neptune! O vouchsafe
To us thy suppliants the desired effect [70]
Of this our voyage; glory, first, bestow
On Nestor and his offspring both, then grant
To all the Pylians such a gracious boon
As shall requite their noble off’ring well.
Grant also to Telemachus and me
To voyage hence, possess’d of what we sought
When hither in our sable bark we came.
So Pallas pray’d, and her own pray’r herself
Accomplish’d. To Telemachus she gave
The splendid goblet next, and in his turn [80]
Like pray’r Ulysses’ son also preferr’d.
And now (the banquet from the spits withdrawn)
They next distributed sufficient share
To each, and all were sumptuously regaled.
At length, (both hunger satisfied and thirst)
Thus Nestor, the Gerenian Chief, began.
Now with more seemliness we may enquire,
After repast, what guests we have received.
Our guests! who are ye? Whence have ye the waves
Plough’d hither? Come ye to transact concerns [90]
Commercial, or at random roam the Deep
Like pirates, who with mischief charged and woe
To foreign States, oft hazard life themselves?
Him answer’d, bolder now, but still discrete,
Telemachus. For Pallas had his heart
With manly courage arm’d, that he might ask
From Nestor tidings of his absent Sire,
And win, himself, distinction and renown.
Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!
Thou askest whence we are. I tell thee whence. [100]
From Ithaca, by the umbrageous woods
Of Neritus o’erhung, by private need,
Not public, urged, we come. My errand is
To seek intelligence of the renown’d
Ulysses; of my noble father, prais’d
For dauntless courage, whom report proclaims
Conqueror, with thine aid, of sacred Troy.
We have already learn’d where other Chiefs
Who fought at Ilium, died; but Jove conceals
Even the death of my illustrious Sire [110]
In dull obscurity; for none hath heard
Or confident can answer, where he dy’d;
Whether he on the continent hath fall’n
By hostile hands, or by the waves o’erwhelm’d
Of Amphitrite, welters in the Deep.
For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I beg
That thou would’st tell me his disast’rous end,
If either thou beheld’st that dread event
Thyself, or from some wanderer of the Greeks
Hast heard it: for my father at his birth [120]
Was, sure, predestin’d to no common woes.
Neither through pity, or o’erstrain’d respect
Flatter me, but explicit all relate
Which thou hast witness’d. If my noble Sire
E’er gratified thee by performance just
Of word or deed at Ilium, where ye fell
So num’rous slain in fight, oh, recollect
Now his fidelity, and tell me true.
Then Nestor thus Gerenian Hero old.
Young friend! since thou remind’st me, speaking thus, [130]
Of all the woes which indefatigable
We sons of the Achaians there sustain’d,
Both those which wand’ring on the Deep we bore
Wherever by Achilles led in quest
Of booty, and the many woes beside
Which under royal Priam’s spacious walls
We suffer’d, know, that there our bravest fell.
There warlike Ajax lies, there Peleus’ son;
There, too, Patroclus, like the Gods themselves
In council, and my son beloved there, [140]
Brave, virtuous, swift of foot, and bold in fight,
Antilochus. Nor are these sorrows all;
What tongue of mortal man could all relate?
Should’st thou, abiding here, five years employ
Or six, enquiring of the woes endured
By the Achaians, ere thou should’st have learn’d
The whole, thou would’st depart, tir’d of the tale.
For we, nine years, stratagems of all kinds
Devised against them, and Saturnian Jove
Scarce crown’d the difficult attempt at last. [150]
There, no competitor in wiles well-plann’d
Ulysses found, so far were all surpass’d
In shrewd invention by thy noble Sire,
If thou indeed art his, as sure thou art,
Whose sight breeds wonder in me, and thy speech
His speech resembles more than might be deem’d
Within the scope of years so green as thine.
There, never in opinion, or in voice
Illustrious Ulysses and myself
Divided were, but, one in heart, contrived [160]
As best we might, the benefit of all.
But after Priam’s lofty city sack’d,
And the departure of the Greeks on board
Their barks, and when the Gods had scatter’d them,
Then Jove imagin’d for the Argive host
A sorrowful return; for neither just
Were all, nor prudent, therefore many found
A fate disast’rous through the vengeful ire
Of Jove-born Pallas, who between the sons
Of Atreus sharp contention interposed. [170]
They both, irregularly, and against
Just order, summoning by night the Greeks
To council, of whom many came with wine
Oppress’d, promulgated the cause for which
They had convened the people. Then it was
That Menelaus bade the general host
Their thoughts bend homeward o’er the sacred Deep,
Which Agamemnon in no sort approved.
His counsel was to slay them yet at Troy,
That so he might assuage the dreadful wrath [180]
Of Pallas, first, by sacrifice and pray’r.
Vain hope! he little thought how ill should speed
That fond attempt, for, once provok’d, the Gods
Are not with ease conciliated again.
Thus stood the brothers, altercation hot
Maintaining, till at length, uprose the Greeks
With deaf’ning clamours, and with diff’ring minds.
We slept the night, but teeming with disgust
Mutual, for Jove great woe prepar’d for all.
At dawn of day we drew our gallies down [190]
Into the sea, and, hasty, put on board
The spoils and female captives. Half the host,
With Agamemnon, son of Atreus, stay’d
Supreme commander, and, embarking, half
Push’d forth. Swift course we made, for Neptune smooth’d
The waves before us of the monstrous Deep.
At Tenedos arriv’d, we there perform’d
Sacrifice to the Gods, ardent to reach
Our native land, but unpropitious Jove,
Not yet designing our arrival there, [200]
Involved us in dissension fierce again.
For all the crews, followers of the King,
Thy noble Sire, to gratify our Chief,
The son of Atreus, chose a diff’rent course,
And steer’d their oary barks again to Troy.
But I, assured that evil from the Gods
Impended, gath’ring all my gallant fleet,
Fled thence in haste, and warlike Diomede
Exhorting his attendants, also fled.
At length, the Hero Menelaus join’d [210]
Our fleets at Lesbos; there he found us held
In deep deliberation on the length
Of way before us, whether we should steer
Above the craggy Chios to the isle
Psyria, that island holding on our left,
Or under Chios by the wind-swept heights
Of Mimas. Then we ask’d from Jove a sign,
And by a sign vouchsafed he bade us cut
The wide sea to Eubœa sheer athwart,
So soonest to escape the threat’ned harm. [220]
Shrill sang the rising gale, and with swift prows
Cleaving the fishy flood, we reach’d by night
Geræstus, where arrived, we burn’d the thighs
Of num’rous bulls to Neptune, who had safe
Conducted us through all our perilous course.
The fleet of Diomede in safety moor’d
On the fourth day at Argos, but myself
Held on my course to Pylus, nor the wind
One moment thwarted us, or died away,
When Jove had once commanded it to blow. [230]
Thus, uninform’d, I have arrived, my son!
Nor of the Greecians, who are saved have heard,
Or who have perish’d; but what news soe’er
I have obtain’d, since my return, with truth
I will relate, nor aught conceal from thee.
The spear-famed Myrmidons, as rumour speaks,
By Neoptolemus, illustrious son
Of brave Achilles led, have safe arrived;
Safe, Philoctetes, also son renown’d
Of Pæas; and Idomeneus at Crete [240]
Hath landed all his followers who survive
The bloody war, the waves have swallow’d none.
Ye have yourselves doubtless, although remote,
Of Agamemnon heard, how he return’d,
And how Ægisthus cruelly contrived
For him a bloody welcome, but himself
Hath with his own life paid the murth’rous deed.
Good is it, therefore, if a son survive
The slain, since Agamemnon’s son hath well
Avenged his father’s death, slaying, himself, [250]
Ægisthus, foul assassin of his Sire.
Young friend! (for pleas’d thy vig’rous youth I view,
And just proportion) be thou also bold,
That thine like his may be a deathless name.
Then, prudent, him answer’d Telemachus.
Oh Nestor, Neleus’ son, glory of Greece!
And righteous was that vengeance; //his// renown
Achaia’s sons shall far and wide diffuse,
To future times transmitting it in song.
Ah! would that such ability the Gods [260]
Would grant to me, that I, as well, the deeds
Might punish of our suitors, whose excess
Enormous, and whose bitter taunts I feel
Continual, object of their subtle hate.
But not for me such happiness the Gods
Have twined into my thread; no, not for me
Or for my father. Patience is our part.
To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied.
Young friend! (since thou remind’st me of that theme)
Fame here reports that num’rous suitors haunt [270]
Thy palace for thy mother’s sake, and there
Much evil perpetrate in thy despight.
But say, endur’st thou willing their controul
Imperious, or because the people, sway’d
By some response oracular, incline
Against thee? But who knows? the time may come
When to his home restored, either alone,
Or aided by the force of all the Greeks,
Ulysses may avenge the wrong; at least,
Should Pallas azure-eyed thee love, as erst [280]
At Troy, the scene of our unnumber’d woes,
She lov’d Ulysses (for I have not known
The Gods assisting so apparently
A mortal man, as him Minerva there)
Should Pallas view thee also with like love
And kind solicitude, some few of those
Should dream, perchance, of wedlock never more.
Then answer thus Telemachus return’d.
That word’s accomplishment I cannot hope;
It promises too much; the thought alone [290]
O’erwhelms me; an event so fortunate
Would, unexpected on my part, arrive,
Although the Gods themselves should purpose it.
But Pallas him answer’d cærulean-eyed.
Telemachus! what word was that which leap’d
The iv’ry guard^^[[7|Cowper: Footnote 7]]^^ that should have fenced it in?
A God, so willing, could with utmost ease
Save any man, howe’er remote. Myself,
I had much rather, many woes endured,
Revisit home, at last, happy and safe, [300]
Than, sooner coming, die in my own house,
As Agamemnon perish’d by the arts
Of base Ægisthus and the subtle Queen.
Yet not the Gods themselves can save from death
All-levelling, the man whom most they love,
When Fate ordains him once to his last sleep.
To whom Telemachus, discrete, replied.
Howe’er it interest us, let us leave
This question, Mentor! He, I am assured,
Returns no more, but hath already found [310]
A sad, sad fate by the decree of heav’n.
But I would now interrogate again
Nestor, and on a different theme, for him
In human rights I judge, and laws expert,
And in all knowledge beyond other men;
For he hath govern’d, as report proclaims,
Three generations; therefore in my eyes
He wears the awful impress of a God.
Oh Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me true;
What was the manner of Atrides’ death, [320]
Wide-ruling Agamemnon? Tell me where
Was Menelaus? By what means contrived
Ægisthus to inflict the fatal blow,
Slaying so much a nobler than himself?
Had not the brother of the Monarch reach’d
Achaian Argos yet, but, wand’ring still
In other climes, his long absence gave
Ægisthus courage for that bloody deed?
Whom answer’d the Gerenian Chief renown’d.
My son! I will inform thee true; meantime [330]
Thy own suspicions border on the fact.
Had Menelaus, Hero, amber hair’d,
Ægisthus found living at his return
From Ilium, never on //his// bones the Greeks
Had heap’d a tomb, but dogs and rav’ning fowls
Had torn him lying in the open field
Far from the town, nor him had woman wept
Of all in Greece, for he had foul transgress’d.
But we, in many an arduous task engaged,
Lay before Ilium; he, the while, secure [340]
Within the green retreats of Argos, found
Occasion apt by flatt’ry to delude
The spouse of Agamemnon; she, at first,
(The royal Clytemnestra) firm refused
The deed dishonourable (for she bore
A virtuous mind, and at her side a bard
Attended ever, whom the King, to Troy
Departing, had appointed to the charge.)
But when the Gods had purposed to ensnare
Ægisthus, then dismissing far remote [350]
The bard into a desart isle, he there
Abandon’d him to rav’ning fowls a prey,
And to his own home, willing as himself,
Led Clytemnestra. Num’rous thighs he burn’d
On all their hallow’d altars to the Gods,
And hung with tap’stry, images, and gold
Their shrines, his great exploit past hope atchiev’d.
We (Menelaus and myself) had sailed
From Troy together, but when we approach’d
Sunium, headland of th’ Athenian shore, [360]
There Phœbus, sudden, with his gentle shafts
Slew Menelaus’ pilot while he steer’d
The volant bark, Phrontis, Onetor’s son,
A mariner past all expert, whom none
In steerage match’d, what time the tempest roar’d.
Here, therefore, Menelaus was detained,
Giving his friend due burial, and his rites
Funereal celebrating, though in haste
Still to proceed. But when, with all his fleet
The wide sea traversing, he reach’d at length [370]
Malea’s lofty foreland in his course,
Rough passage, then, and perilous he found.
Shrill blasts the Thund’rer pour’d into his sails,
And wild waves sent him mountainous. His ships
There scatter’d, some to the Cydonian coast
Of Crete he push’d, near where the Jardan flows.
Beside the confines of Gortyna stands,
Amid the gloomy flood, a smooth rock, steep
Toward the sea, against whose leftward point
Phæstus by name, the South wind rolls the surge [380]
Amain, which yet the rock, though small, repells.
Hither with part he came, and scarce the crews
Themselves escaped, while the huge billows broke
Their ships against the rocks; yet five he saved,
Which winds and waves drove to the Ægyptian shore.
Thus he, provision gath’ring as he went
And gold abundant, roam’d to distant lands
And nations of another tongue. Meantime,
Ægisthus these enormities at home
Devising, slew Atrides, and supreme [390]
Rul’d the subjected land; sev’n years he reign’d
In opulent Mycenæ, but the eighth
From Athens brought renown’d Orestes home
For his destruction, who of life bereaved
Ægisthus base assassin of his Sire.
Orestes, therefore, the funereal rites
Performing to his shameless mother’s shade
And to her lustful paramour, a feast
Gave to the Argives; on which self-same day
The warlike Menelaus, with his ships [400]
All treasure-laden to the brink, arrived.
And thou, young friend! from thy forsaken home
Rove not long time remote, thy treasures left
At mercy of those proud, lest they divide
And waste the whole, rend’ring thy voyage vain.
But hence to Menelaus is the course
To which I counsel thee; for he hath come
Of late from distant lands, whence to escape
No man could hope, whom tempests first had driv’n
Devious into so wide a sea, from which [410]
Themselves the birds of heaven could not arrive
In a whole year, so vast is the expanse.
Go, then, with ship and shipmates, or if more
The land delight thee, steeds thou shalt not want
Nor chariot, and my sons shall be thy guides
To noble Lacedemon, the abode
Of Menelaus; ask from him the truth,
Who will not lye, for he is passing wise.
While thus he spake, the sun declined, and night
Approaching, blue-eyed Pallas interposed. [420]
O antient King! well hast thou spoken all.
But now delay not. Cut ye forth the tongues,^^[[8|Cowper: Footnote 8]]^^
And mingle wine, that (Neptune first invoked
With due libation, and the other Gods)
We may repair to rest; for even now
The sun is sunk, and it becomes us not
Long to protract a banquet to the Gods
Devote, but in fit season to depart.
So spake Jove’s daughter; they obedient heard.
The heralds, then, pour’d water on their hands, [430]
And the attendant youths, filling the cups,
Served them from left to right. Next all the tongues
They cast into the fire, and ev’ry guest
Arising, pour’d libation to the Gods.
Libation made, and all with wine sufficed,
Godlike Telemachus and Pallas both
Would have return’d, incontinent, on board,
But Nestor urged them still to be his guests.
Forbid it, Jove, and all the Pow’rs of heav’n!
That ye should leave me to repair on board [440]
Your vessel, as I were some needy wretch
Cloakless and destitute of fleecy stores
Wherewith to spread the couch soft for myself,
Or for my guests. No. I have garments warm
An ample store, and rugs of richest dye;
And never shall Ulysses’ son belov’d,
My frend’s own son, sleep on a galley’s plank
While I draw vital air; grant also, heav’n,
That, dying, I may leave behind me sons
Glad to accommodate whatever guest! [450]
Him answer’d then Pallas cærulean-eyed.
Old Chief! thou hast well said, and reason bids
Telemachus thy kind commands obey.
Let //him// attend thee hence, that he may sleep
Beneath thy roof, but I return on board
Myself, to instruct my people, and to give
All needful orders; for among them none
Is old as I, but they are youths alike,
Coevals of Telemachus, with whom
They have embark’d for friendship’s sake alone. [460]
I therefore will repose myself on board
This night, and to the Caucons bold in arms
Will sail to-morrow, to demand arrears
Long time unpaid, and of no small amount.
But, since he is become thy guest, afford
My friend a chariot, and a son of thine
Who shall direct his way, nor let him want
Of all thy steeds the swiftest and the best.
So saying, the blue-eyed Goddess as upborne
On eagle’s wings, vanish’d; amazement seized [470]
The whole assembly, and the antient King
O’erwhelmed with wonder at that sight, the hand
Grasp’d of Telemachus, whom he thus bespake.
My friend! I prophesy that thou shalt prove
Nor base nor dastard, whom, so young, the Gods
Already take in charge; for of the Pow’rs
Inhabitants of heav’n, none else was this
Than Jove’s own daughter Pallas, who among
The Greecians honour’d most thy gen’rous Sire.
But thou, O Queen! compassionate us all, [480]
Myself, my sons, my comfort; give to each
A glorious name, and I to thee will give
For sacrifice an heifer of the year,
Broad-fronted, one that never yet hath borne
The yoke, and will incase her horns with gold.
So Nestor pray’d, whom Pallas gracious heard.
Then the Gerenian warrior old, before
His sons and sons in law, to his abode
Magnificent proceeded: they (arrived
Within the splendid palace of the King) [490]
On thrones and couches sat in order ranged,
Whom Nestor welcom’d, charging high the cup
With wine of richest sort, which she who kept
That treasure, now in the eleventh year
First broach’d, unsealing the delicious juice.
With this the hoary Senior fill’d a cup,
And to the daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d
Pouring libation, offer’d fervent pray’r.
When all had made libation, and no wish
Remain’d of more, then each to rest retired, [500]
And Nestor the Gerenian warrior old
Led thence Telemachus to a carved couch
Beneath the sounding portico prepared.
Beside him he bade sleep the spearman bold,
Pisistratus, a gallant youth, the sole
Unwedded in his house of all his sons.
Himself in the interior palace lay,
Where couch and cov’ring for her antient spouse
The consort Queen had diligent prepar’d.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn, [510]
Had tinged the East, arising from his bed,
Gerenian Nestor issued forth, and sat
Before his palace-gate on the white stones
Resplendent as with oil, on which of old
His father Neleus had been wont to sit,
In council like a God; but he had sought,
By destiny dismiss’d long since, the shades.
On those stones therefore now, Nestor himself,
Achaia’s guardian, sat, sceptre in hand,
Where soon his num’rous sons, leaving betimes [520]
The place of their repose, also appeared,
Echephron, Stratius, Perseus, Thrasymedes,
Aretus and Pisistratus. They placed
Godlike Telemachus at Nestor’s side,
And the Gerenian Hero thus began.
Sons be ye quick—execute with dispatch
My purpose, that I may propitiate first
Of all the Gods Minerva, who herself
Hath honour’d manifest our hallow’d feast.
Haste, one, into the field, to order thence [530]
An ox, and let the herdsman drive it home.
Another, hasting to the sable bark
Of brave Telemachus, bring hither all
His friends, save two, and let a third command
Laerceus, that he come to enwrap with gold
The victim’s horns. Abide ye here, the rest,
And bid my female train (for I intend
A banquet) with all diligence provide
Seats, stores of wood, and water from the rock.
He said, whom instant all obey’d. The ox [540]
Came from the field, and from the gallant ship
The ship-mates of the brave Telemachus;
Next, charged with all his implements of art,
His mallet, anvil, pincers, came the smith
To give the horns their gilding; also came
Pallas herself to her own sacred rites.
Then Nestor, hoary warrior, furnish’d gold,
Which, hammer’d thin, the artist wrapp’d around
The victim’s horns, that seeing him attired
So costly, Pallas might the more be pleased. [550]
Stratius and brave Echephron introduced
The victim by his horns; Aretus brought
A laver in one hand, with flow’rs emboss’d,
And in his other hand a basket stored
With cakes, while warlike Thrasymedes, arm’d
With his long-hafted ax, prepared to smite
The ox, and Perseus to receive the blood.
The hoary Nestor consecrated first
Both cakes and water, and with earnest pray’r
To Pallas, gave the forelock to the flames. [560]
When all had worshipp’d, and the broken cakes
Sprinkled, then godlike Thrasymedes drew
Close to the ox, and smote him. Deep the edge
Enter’d, and senseless on the floor he fell.
Then Nestor’s daughters, and the consorts all
Of Nestor’s sons, with his own consort, chaste
Eurydice, the daughter eldest-born
Of Clymenus, in one shrill orison
Vocif’rous join’d, while they, lifting the ox,
Held him supported firmly, and the prince [570]
Of men, Pisistratus, his gullet pierced.
Soon as the sable blood had ceased, and life
Had left the victim, spreading him abroad,
With nice address they parted at the joint
His thighs, and wrapp’d them in the double cawl,
Which with crude slices thin they overspread.
Nestor burn’d incense, and libation pour’d
Large on the hissing brands, while him beside,
Busy with spit and prong, stood many a youth
Train’d to the task. The thighs consumed, each took
His portion of the maw, then, slashing well [581]
The remnant, they transpierced it with the spits
Neatly, and held it reeking at the fire.
Meantime the youngest of the daughters fair
Of Nestor, beauteous Polycaste, laved,
Anointed, and in vest and tunic cloathed
Telemachus, who, so refresh’d, stepp’d forth
From the bright laver graceful as a God,
And took his seat at antient Nestor’s side.
The viands dress’d, and from the spits withdrawn, [590]
They sat to share the feast, and princely youths
Arising, gave them wine in cups of gold.
When neither hunger now nor thirst remain’d
Unsated, thus Gerenian Nestor spake.
My sons, arise, lead forth the sprightly steeds,
And yoke them, that Telemachus may go.
So spake the Chief, to whose commands his sons,
Obedient, yoked in haste the rapid steeds,
And the intendant matron of the stores
Disposed meantime within the chariot, bread [600]
And wine, and dainties, such as princes eat.
Telemachus into the chariot first
Ascended, and beside him, next, his place
Pisistratus the son of Nestor took,
Then seiz’d the reins, and lash’d the coursers on.
They, nothing loth, into the open plain
Flew, leaving lofty Pylus soon afar.
Thus, journeying, they shook on either side
The yoke all day, and now the setting sun
To dusky evening had resign’d the roads, [610]
When they to Pheræ came, and the abode
Reach’d of Diocles, whose illustrious Sire
Orsilochus from Alpheus drew his birth,
And there, with kindness entertain’d, they slept.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy from the East, yoking the steeds,
They in their sumptuous chariot sat again.
The son of Nestor plied the lash, and forth
Through vestibule and sounding portico
The royal coursers, not unwilling, flew. [620]
A corn-invested land receiv’d them next,
And there they brought their journey to a close,
So rapidly they moved; and now the sun
Went down, and even-tide dimm’d all the ways.
"""
''Argument''
//Telemachus, with Pisistratus, arrives at the palace of Menelaus, from whom he receives some fresh information concerning the return of the Greecians, and is in particular told on the authority of Proteus, that his father is detained by Calypso. The suitors, plotting against the life of Telemachus, lie in wait to intercept him in his return to Ithaca. Penelope being informed of his departure, and of their designs to slay him, becomes inconsolable, but is relieved by a dream sent to her from Minerva.//
"""
In hollow Lacedæmon’s spacious vale
Arriving, to the house they drove direct
Of royal Menelaus; him they found
In his own palace, all his num’rous friends
Regaling at a nuptial banquet giv’n
Both for his daughter and the prince his son.
His daughter to renown’d Achilles’ heir
He sent, to whom he had at Troy engaged
To give her, and the Gods now made her his.
With chariots and with steeds he sent her forth [10]
To the illustrious city where the prince,
Achilles’ offspring, ruled the Myrmidons.
But to his son he gave a Spartan fair,
Alector’s daughter; from an handmaid sprang
That son to Menelaus in his age,
Brave Megapenthes; for the Gods no child
To Helen gave, made mother, once, of her
Who vied in perfect loveliness of form
With golden Venus’ self, Hermione.
Thus all the neighbour princes and the friends [20]
Of noble Menelaus, feasting sat
Within his spacious palace, among whom
A sacred bard sang sweetly to his harp,
While, in the midst, two dancers smote the ground
With measur’d steps responsive to his song.
And now the Heroes, Nestor’s noble son
And young Telemachus arrived within
The vestibule, whom, issuing from the hall,
The noble Eteoneus of the train
Of Menelaus, saw; at once he ran [30]
Across the palace to report the news
To his Lord’s ear, and, standing at his side,
In accents wing’d with haste thus greeted him.
Oh Menelaus! Heav’n descended Chief!
Two guests arrive, both strangers, but the race
Of Jove supreme resembling each in form.
Say, shall we loose, ourselves, their rapid steeds,
Or hence dismiss them to some other host?
But Menelaus, Hero golden-hair’d,
Indignant answer’d him. Boethe’s son! [40]
Thou wast not, Eteoneus, heretofore,
A babbler, who now pratest as a child.
We have ourselves arrived indebted much
To hospitality of other men,
If Jove shall, even here, some pause at last
Of woe afford us. Therefore loose, at once,
Their steeds, and introduce them to the feast.
He said, and, issuing, Eteoneus call’d
The brisk attendants to his aid, with whom
He loos’d their foaming coursers from the yoke. [50]
Them first they bound to mangers, which with oats
And mingled barley they supplied, then thrust
The chariot sidelong to the splendid wall.^^[[9|Cowper: Footnote 9]]^^
Themselves he, next, into the royal house
Conducted, who survey’d, wond’ring, the abode
Of the heav’n-favour’d King; for on all sides
As with the splendour of the sun or moon
The lofty dome of Menelaus blazed.
Satiate, at length, with wonder at that sight,
They enter’d each a bath, and by the hands [60]
Of maidens laved, and oil’d, and cloath’d again
With shaggy mantles and resplendent vests,
Sat both enthroned at Menelaus’ side.
And now a maiden charged with golden ew’r,
And with an argent laver, pouring first
Pure water on their hands, supplied them next
With a bright table, which the maiden, chief
In office, furnish’d plenteously with bread
And dainties, remnants of the last regale.
Then came the sew’r, who with delicious meats [70]
Dish after dish, served them, and placed beside
The chargers cups magnificent of gold,
When Menelaus grasp’d their hands, and said.
Eat and rejoice, and when ye shall have shared
Our nuptial banquet, we will then inquire
Who are ye both, for, certain, not from those
Whose generation perishes are ye,
But rather of some race of sceptred Chiefs
Heav’n-born; the base have never sons like you.
So saying, he from the board lifted his own [80]
Distinguish’d portion, and the fatted chine
Gave to his guests; the sav’ry viands they
With outstretch’d hands assail’d, and when the force
No longer now of appetite they felt,
Telemachus, inclining close his head
To Nestor’s son, lest others should his speech
Witness, in whisper’d words him thus address’d.
Dearest Pisistratus, observe, my friend!
How all the echoing palace with the light
Of beaming brass, of gold and amber shines [90]
Silver and ivory! for radiance such
Th’ interior mansion of Olympian Jove
I deem. What wealth, how various, how immense
Is here! astonish’d I survey the sight!
But Menelaus, golden-hair’d, his speech
O’erhearing, thus in accents wing’d replied
My children! let no mortal man pretend
Comparison with Jove; for Jove’s abode
And all his stores are incorruptible.
But whether mortal man with me may vie [100]
In the display of wealth, or whether not,
This know, that after many toils endured,
And perilous wand’rings wide, in the eighth year
I brought my treasures home. Remote I roved
To Cyprus, to Phœnice, to the shores
Of Ægypt; Æthiopia’s land I reach’d,
Th’ Erembi, the Sidonians, and the coasts
Of Lybia, where the lambs their foreheads shew
At once with horns defended, soon as yean’d.
There, thrice within the year the flocks produce, [110]
Nor master, there, nor shepherd ever feels
A dearth of cheese, of flesh, or of sweet milk
Delicious, drawn from udders never dry.
While, thus, commodities on various coasts
Gath’ring I roam’d, another, by the arts
Of his pernicious spouse aided, of life
Bereav’d my brother privily, and when least
He fear’d to lose it. Therefore little joy
To me results from all that I possess.
Your fathers (be those fathers who they may) [120]
These things have doubtless told you; for immense
Have been my suff’rings, and I have destroy’d
A palace well inhabited and stored
With precious furniture in ev’ry kind;
Such, that I would to heav’n! I own’d at home
Though but the third of it, and that the Greeks
Who perish’d then, beneath the walls of Troy
Far from steed-pastured Argos, still survived.
Yet while, sequester’d here, I frequent mourn
My slaughter’d friends, by turns I sooth my soul [130]
With tears shed for them, and by turns again
I cease; for grief soon satiates free indulged.
But of them all, although I all bewail,
None mourn I so as one, whom calling back
To memory, I both sleep and food abhor.
For, of Achaia’s sons none ever toiled
Strenuous as Ulysses; but his lot
Was woe, and unremitting sorrow mine
For his long absence, who, if still he live,
We know not aught, or be already dead. [140]
Him doubtless, old Laertes mourns, and him
Discrete Penelope, nor less his son
Telemachus, born newly when he sail’d.
So saying, he kindled in him strong desire
To mourn his father; at his father’s name
Fast fell his tears to ground, and with both hands
He spread his purple cloak before his eyes;
Which Menelaus marking, doubtful sat
If he should leave him leisure for his tears,
Or question him, and tell him all at large. [150]
While thus he doubted, Helen (as it chanced)
Leaving her fragrant chamber, came, august
As Dian, goddess of the golden bow.
Adrasta, for her use, set forth a throne,
Alcippe with soft arras cover’d it,
And Philo brought her silver basket, gift
Of fair Alcandra, wife of Polybus,
Whose mansion in Ægyptian Thebes is rich
In untold treasure, and who gave, himself,
Ten golden talents, and two silver baths [160]
To Menelaus, with two splendid tripods
Beside the noble gifts which, at the hand
Of his illustrious spouse, Helen receiv’d;
A golden spindle, and a basket wheel’d,
Itself of silver, and its lip of gold.
That basket Philo, her own handmaid, placed
At beauteous Helen’s side, charged to the brim
With slender threads, on which the spindle lay
With wool of purple lustre wrapp’d around.
Approaching, on her foot-stool’d throne she sat, [170]
And, instant, of her royal spouse enquired.
Know we, my Menelaus, dear to Jove!
These guests of ours, and whence they have arrived?
Erroneous I may speak, yet speak I must;
In man or woman never have I seen
Such likeness to another (wonder-fixt
I gaze) as in this stranger to the son
Of brave Ulysses, whom that Hero left
New-born at home, when (shameless as I was)
For my unworthy sake the Greecians sailed [180]
To Ilium, with fierce rage of battle fir’d.
Then Menelaus, thus, the golden-hair’d.
I also such resemblance find in him
As thou; such feet, such hands, the cast of eye^^[[10|Cowper: Footnote 10]]^^
Similar, and the head and flowing locks.
And even now, when I Ulysses named,
And his great sufferings mention’d, in my cause,
The bitter tear dropp’d from his lids, while broad
Before his eyes his purple cloak he spread.
To whom the son of Nestor thus replied. [190]
Atrides! Menelaus! Chief renown’d!
He is in truth his son, as thou hast said,
But he is modest, and would much himself
Condemn, if, at his first arrival here,
He should loquacious seem and bold to thee,
To whom we listen, captived by thy voice,
As if some God had spoken. As for me,
Nestor, my father, the Gerenian Chief
Bade me conduct him hither, for he wish’d
To see thee, promising himself from thee [200]
The benefit of some kind word or deed.
For, destitute of other aid, he much
His father’s tedious absence mourns at home.
So fares Telemachus; his father strays
Remote, and, in his stead, no friend hath he
Who might avert the mischiefs that he feels.
To whom the Hero amber-hair’d replied.
Ye Gods! the offspring of indeed a friend
Hath reach’d my house, of one who hath endured
Arduous conflicts num’rous for my sake; [210]
And much I purpos’d, had Olympian Jove
Vouchsaf’d us prosp’rous passage o’er the Deep,
To have receiv’d him with such friendship here
As none beside. In Argos I had then
Founded a city for him, and had rais’d
A palace for himself; I would have brought
The Hero hither, and his son, with all
His people, and with all his wealth, some town
Evacuating for his sake, of those
Ruled by myself, and neighb’ring close my own. [220]
Thus situate, we had often interchanged
Sweet converse, nor had other cause at last
Our friendship terminated or our joys,
Than death’s black cloud o’ershadowing him or me.
But such delights could only envy move
Ev’n in the Gods, who have, of all the Greeks,
Amerc’d //him// only of his wish’d return.
So saying, he kindled the desire to weep
In ev’ry bosom. Argive Helen wept
Abundant, Jove’s own daughter; wept as fast [230]
Telemachus and Menelaus both;
Nor Nestor’s son with tearless eyes remain’d,
Calling to mind Antilochus^^[[11|Cowper: Footnote 11]]^^ by the son12
Illustrious of the bright Aurora slain,
Rememb’ring whom, in accents wing’d he said.
Atrides! antient Nestor, when of late
Conversing with him, we remember’d thee,
Pronounced thee wise beyond all human-kind.
Now therefore, let not even my advice
Displease thee. It affords me no delight [240]
To intermingle tears with my repast,
And soon, Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Will tinge the orient. Not that I account
Due lamentation of a friend deceased
Blameworthy, since, to sheer the locks and weep,
Is all we can for the unhappy dead.
I also have my grief, call’d to lament
One, not the meanest of Achaia’s sons,
My brother; him I cannot but suppose
To thee well-known, although unknown to me [250]
Who saw him never;^^[[13|Cowper: Footnote 13]]^^ but report proclaims
Antilochus superior to the most,
In speed superior, and in feats of arms.
To whom, the Hero of the yellow locks.
O friend belov’d! since nought which thou hast said
Or recommended now, would have disgraced
A man of years maturer far than thine,
(For wise thy father is, and such art thou,
And easy is it to discern the son
Of such a father, whom Saturnian Jove [260]
In marriage both and at his birth ordain’d
To great felicity; for he hath giv’n
To Nestor gradually to sink at home
Into old age, and, while he lives, to see
His sons past others wise, and skill’d in arms)
The sorrow into which we sudden fell
Shall pause. Come—now remember we the feast;
Pour water on our hands, for we shall find,
(Telemachus and I) no dearth of themes
For mutual converse when the day shall dawn. [270]
He ended; then, Asphalion, at his word,
Servant of glorious Menelaus, poured
Pure water on their hands, and they the feast
Before them with keen appetite assail’d.
But Jove-born Helen otherwise, meantime,
Employ’d, into the wine of which they drank
A drug infused, antidote to the pains
Of grief and anger, a most potent charm
For ills of ev’ry name. Whoe’er his wine
So medicated drinks, he shall not pour [280]
All day the tears down his wan cheek, although
His father and his mother both were dead,
Nor even though his brother or his son
Had fall’n in battle, and before his eyes.
Such drugs Jove’s daughter own’d, with skill prepar’d,
And of prime virtue, by the wife of Thone,
Ægyptian Polydamna, giv’n her.
For Ægypt teems with drugs, yielding no few
Which, mingled with the drink, are good, and many
Of baneful juice, and enemies to life. [290]
There ev’ry man in skill medicinal
Excels, for they are sons of Pæon all.
That drug infused, she bade her servant pour
The bev’rage forth, and thus her speech resumed.
Atrides! Menelaus! dear to Jove!
These also are the sons of Chiefs renown’d,
(For Jove, as pleases him, to each assigns
Or good or evil, whom all things obey)
Now therefore, feasting at your ease reclin’d,
Listen with pleasure, for myself, the while, [300]
Will matter seasonable interpose.
I cannot all rehearse, nor even name,
(Omitting none) the conflicts and exploits
Of brave Ulysses; but with what address
Successful, one atchievement he perform’d
At Ilium, where Achaia’s sons endured
Such hardship, will I speak. Inflicting wounds
Dishonourable on himself, he took
A tatter’d garb, and like a serving-man
Enter’d the spacious city of your foes. [310]
So veil’d, some mendicant he seem’d, although
No Greecian less deserved that name than he.
In such disguise he enter’d; all alike
Misdeem’d him; me alone he not deceived
Who challeng’d him, but, shrewd, he turn’d away.
At length, however, when I had myself
Bathed him, anointed, cloath’d him, and had sworn
Not to declare him openly in Troy
Till he should reach again the camp and fleet,
He told me the whole purpose of the Greeks. [320]
Then, (many a Trojan slaughter’d,) he regain’d
The camp, and much intelligence he bore
To the Achaians. Oh what wailing then
Was heard of Trojan women! but my heart
Exulted, alter’d now, and wishing home;
For now my crime committed under force
Of Venus’ influence I deplored, what time
She led me to a country far remote,
A wand’rer from the matrimonial bed,
From my own child, and from my rightful Lord [330]
Alike unblemish’d both in form and mind.
Her answer’d then the Hero golden-hair’d.
Helen! thou hast well spoken. All is true.
I have the talents fathom’d and the minds
Of num’rous Heroes, and have travell’d far
Yet never saw I with these eyes in man
Such firmness as the calm Ulysses own’d;
None such as in the wooden horse he proved,
Where all our bravest sat, designing woe
And bloody havoc for the sons of Troy. [340]
Thou thither cam’st, impell’d, as it should seem,
By some divinity inclin’d to give
Victory to our foes, and with thee came
Godlike Deiphobus. Thrice round about
The hollow ambush, striking with thy hand
Its sides thou went’st, and by his name didst call
Each prince of Greece feigning his consort’s voice.
Myself with Diomede, and with divine
Ulysses, seated in the midst, the call
Heard plain and loud; we (Diomede and I) [350]
With ardour burn’d either to quit the horse
So summon’d, or to answer from within.
But, all impatient as we were, Ulysses
Controul’d the rash design; so there the sons
Of the Achaians silent sat and mute,
And of us all Anticlus would alone
Have answer’d; but Ulysses with both hands
Compressing close his lips, saved us, nor ceased
Till Pallas thence conducted thee again.
Then thus, discrete, Telemachus replied. [360]
Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d!
Hard was his lot whom these rare qualities
Preserved not, neither had his dauntless heart
Been iron, had he scaped his cruel doom.
But haste, dismiss us hence, that on our beds
Reposed, we may enjoy sleep, needful now.
He ceas’d; then Argive Helen gave command
To her attendant maidens to prepare
Beds in the portico with purple rugs
Resplendent, and with arras, overspread, [370]
And cover’d warm with cloaks of shaggy pile.
Forth went the maidens, bearing each a torch,
And spread the couches; next, the herald them
Led forth, and in the vestibule the son
Of Nestor and the youthful Hero slept,
Telemachus; but in the interior house
Atrides, with the loveliest of her sex
Beside him, Helen of the sweeping stole.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Glow’d in the East, then from his couch arose [380]
The warlike Menelaus, fresh attir’d;
His faulchion o’er his shoulders slung, he bound
His sandals fair to his unsullied feet,
And like a God issuing, at the side
Sat of Telemachus, to whom he spake.
Hero! Telemachus! what urgent cause
Hath hither led thee, to the land far-famed
Of Lacedæmon o’er the spacious Deep?
Public concern or private? Tell me true.
To whom Telemachus discrete replied. [390]
Atrides! Menelaus! prince renown’d!
News seeking of my Sire, I have arrived.
My household is devour’d, my fruitful fields
Are desolated, and my palace fill’d
With enemies, who while they mutual wage
Proud competition for my mother’s love,
My flocks continual slaughter, and my beeves.
For this cause, at thy knees suppliant, I beg
That thou wouldst tell me his disastrous end,
If either thou beheld’st with thine own eyes [400]
His death, or from some wand’rer of the Greeks
Hast heard it; for no common woes, alas!
Was he ordain’d to share ev’n from the womb.
Neither through pity or o’erstrain’d respect
Flatter me, but explicit all relate
Which thou hast witness’d. If my noble Sire
E’er gratified thee by performance just
Of word or deed at Ilium, where ye fell
So num’rous slain in fight, oh recollect
Now his fidelity, and tell me true! [410]
Then Menelaus, sighing deep, replied.
Gods! their ambition is to reach the bed
Of a brave man, however base themselves.
But as it chances, when the hart hath lay’d
Her fawns new-yean’d and sucklings yet, to rest
Within some dreadful lion’s gloomy den,
She roams the hills, and in the grassy vales
Feeds heedless, till the lion, to his lair
Return’d, destroys her and her little-ones,
So them thy Sire shall terribly destroy. [420]
Jove, Pallas and Apollo! oh that such
As erst in well-built Lesbos, where he strove
With Philomelides, and threw him flat,
A sight at which Achaia’s sons rejoic’d,
Such, now, Ulysses might assail them all!
Short life and bitter nuptials should be theirs.
But thy enquiries neither indirect
Will I evade, nor give thee false reply,
But all that from the Antient of the Deep^^[[14|Cowper: Footnote 14]]^^
I have receiv’d will utter, hiding nought. [430]
As yet the Gods on Ægypt’s shore detained
Me wishing home, angry at my neglect
To heap their altars with slain hecatombs.
For they exacted from us evermore
Strict rev’rence of their laws. There is an isle
Amid the billowy flood, Pharos by name,
In front of Ægypt, distant from her shore
Far as a vessel by a sprightly gale
Impell’d, may push her voyage in a day.
The haven there is good, and many a ship [440]
Finds wat’ring there from riv’lets on the coast.
There me the Gods kept twenty days, no breeze
Propitious granting, that might sweep the waves,
And usher to her home the flying bark.
And now had our provision, all consumed,
Left us exhausted, but a certain nymph
Pitying saved me. Daughter fair was she
Of mighty Proteus, Antient of the Deep,
Idothea named; her most my sorrows moved;
She found me from my followers all apart [450]
Wand’ring (for they around the isle, with hooks
The fishes snaring roamed, by famine urged)
And standing at my side, me thus bespake.
Stranger! thou must be ideot born, or weak
At least in intellect, or thy delight
Is in distress and mis’ry, who delay’st
To leave this island, and no egress hence
Canst find, although thy famish’d people faint.
So spake the Goddess, and I thus replied.
I tell thee, whosoever of the Pow’rs [460]
Divine thou art, that I am prison’d here
Not willingly, but must have, doubtless, sinn’d
Against the deathless tenants of the skies.
Yet say (for the Immortals all things know)
What God detains me, and my course forbids
Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep?
So I; to whom the Goddess all-divine.
Stranger! I will inform thee true. A seer
Oracular, the Antient of the Deep,
Immortal Proteus, the Ægyptian, haunts [470]
These shores, familiar with all Ocean’s gulphs,
And Neptune’s subject. He is by report
My father; him if thou art able once
To seize and bind, he will prescribe the course
With all its measured distances, by which
Thou shalt regain secure thy native shores.
He will, moreover, at thy suit declare,
Thou favour’d of the skies! what good, what ill
Hath in thine house befall’n, while absent thou
Thy voyage difficult perform’st and long. [480]
She spake, and I replied—Thyself reveal
By what effectual bands I may secure
The antient Deity marine, lest, warn’d
Of my approach, he shun me and escape.
Hard task for mortal hands to bind a God!
Then thus Idothea answer’d all-divine.
I will inform thee true. Soon as the sun
Hath climb’d the middle heav’ns, the prophet old,
Emerging while the breezy zephyr blows,
And cover’d with the scum of ocean, seeks [490]
His spacious cove, in which outstretch’d he lies.
The phocæ^^[[15|Cowper: Footnote 15]]^^ also, rising from the waves,
Offspring of beauteous Halosydna, sleep
Around him, num’rous, and the fishy scent
Exhaling rank of the unfathom’d flood.
Thither conducting thee at peep of day
I will dispose thee in some safe recess,
But from among thy followers thou shalt chuse
The bravest three in all thy gallant fleet.
And now the artifices understand [500]
Of the old prophet of the sea. The sum
Of all his phocæ numb’ring duly first,
He will pass through them, and when all by fives
He counted hath, will in the midst repose
Content, as sleeps the shepherd with his flock.
When ye shall see him stretch’d, then call to mind
That moment all your prowess, and prevent,
Howe’er he strive impatient, his escape.
All changes trying, he will take the form
Of ev’ry reptile on the earth, will seem [510]
A river now, and now devouring fire;
But hold him ye, and grasp him still the more.
And when himself shall question you, restored
To his own form in which ye found him first
Reposing, then from farther force abstain;
Then, Hero! loose the Antient of the Deep,
And ask him, of the Gods who checks thy course
Hence to thy country o’er the fishy flood.
So saying, she plunged into the billowy waste.
I then, in various musings lost, my ships [520]
Along the sea-beach station’d sought again,
And when I reach’d my galley on the shore
We supp’d, and sacred night falling from heav’n,
Slept all extended on the ocean-side.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy forth, pensive beside the shore
I walk’d of Ocean, frequent to the Gods
Praying devout, then chose the fittest three
For bold assault, and worthiest of my trust.
Meantime the Goddess from the bosom wide [530]
Of Ocean rising, brought us thence four skins
Of phocæ, and all newly stript, a snare
Contriving subtle to deceive her Sire.
Four cradles in the sand she scoop’d, then sat
Expecting us, who in due time approach’d;
She lodg’d us side by side, and over each
A raw skin cast. Horrible to ourselves
Proved that disguise whom the pernicious scent
Of the sea-nourish’d phocæ sore annoy’d;
For who would lay him down at a whale’s side? [540]
But she a potent remedy devised
Herself to save us, who the nostrils sooth’d
Of each with pure ambrosia thither brought
Odorous, which the fishy scent subdued.
All morning, patient watchers, there we lay;
And now the num’rous phocæ from the Deep
Emerging, slept along the shore, and he
At noon came also, and perceiving there
His fatted monsters, through the flock his course
Took regular, and summ’d them; with the first [550]
He number’d us, suspicion none of fraud
Conceiving, then couch’d also. We, at once,
Loud-shouting flew on him, and in our arms
Constrain’d him fast; nor the sea-prophet old
Call’d not incontinent his shifts to mind.
First he became a long-maned lion grim,
Then dragon, panther then, a savage boar,
A limpid stream, and an o’ershadowing tree.
We persevering held him, till at length
The Antient of the Deep, skill’d as he is [560]
In wiles, yet weary, question’d me, and said.
Oh Atreus’ son, by what confed’rate God
Instructed liest thou in wait for me,
To seize and hold me? what is thy desire?
So He; to whom thus answer I return’d.
Old Seer! thou know’st; why, fraudful, should’st thou ask?
It is because I have been prison’d long
Within this isle, whence I have sought in vain
Deliv’rance, till my wonted courage fails.
Yet say (for the Immortals all things know) [570]
What God detains me, and my course forbids
Hence to my country o’er the fishy Deep?
So I; when thus the old one of the waves.
But thy plain duty^^[[16|Cowper: Footnote 16]]^^ was to have adored
Jove, first, in sacrifice, and all the Gods,
That then embarking, by propitious gales
Impell’d, thou might’st have reach’d thy country soon.
For thou art doom’d ne’er to behold again
Thy friends, thy palace, or thy native shores,
Till thou have seen once more the hallow’d flood [580]
Of Ægypt, and with hecatombs adored
Devout, the deathless tenants of the skies.
Then will they speed thee whither thou desir’st.
He ended, and my heart broke at his words,
Which bade me pass again the gloomy gulph
To Ægypt; tedious course, and hard to atchieve!
Yet, though in sorrow whelm’d, I thus replied.
Old prophet! I will all thy will perform.
But tell me, and the truth simply reveal;
Have the Achaians with their ships arrived [590]
All safe, whom Nestor left and I, at Troy?
Or of the Chiefs have any in their barks,
Or in their followers’ arms found a dire death
Unlook’d for, since that city’s siege we closed?
I spake, when answer thus the God return’d.
Atrides, why these questions? Need is none
That thou should’st all my secrets learn, which once
Reveal’d, thou would’st not long dry-eyed remain.
Of those no few have died, and many live;
But leaders, two alone, in their return [600]
Have died (thou also hast had war to wage)
And one, still living, roams the boundless sea.
Ajax,^^[[17|Cowper: Footnote 17]]^^ surrounded by his galleys, died.
Him Neptune, first, against the bulky rocks
The Gyræ drove, but saved him from the Deep;
Nor had he perish’d, hated as he was
By Pallas, but for his own impious boast
In frenzy utter’d that he would escape
The billows, even in the Gods’ despight.
Neptune that speech vain-glorious hearing, grasp’d [610]
His trident, and the huge Gyræan rock
Smiting indignant, dash’d it half away;
Part stood, and part, on which the boaster sat
When, first, the brainsick fury seiz’d him, fell,
Bearing him with it down into the gulphs
Of Ocean, where he drank the brine, and died.
But thy own brother in his barks escaped
That fate, by Juno saved; yet when, at length,
He should have gain’d Malea’s craggy shore,
Then, by a sudden tempest caught, he flew [620]
With many a groan far o’er the fishy Deep
To the land’s utmost point, where once his home
Thyestes had, but where Thyestes’ son
Dwelt then, Ægisthus. Easy lay his course
And open thence, and, as it pleased the Gods,
The shifted wind soon bore them to their home.
He, high in exultation, trod the shore
That gave him birth, kiss’d it, and, at the sight,
The welcome sight of Greece, shed many a tear.
Yet not unseen he landed; for a spy, [630]
One whom the shrewd Ægisthus had seduced
By promise of two golden talents, mark’d
His coming from a rock where he had watch’d
The year complete, lest, passing unperceived,
The King should reassert his right in arms.
Swift flew the spy with tidings to this Lord,
And He, incontinent, this project framed
Insidious. Twenty men, the boldest hearts
Of all the people, from the rest he chose,
Whom he in ambush placed, and others charged [640]
Diligent to prepare the festal board.
With horses, then, and chariots forth he drove
Full-fraught with mischief, and conducting home
The unsuspicious King, amid the feast
Slew him, as at his crib men slay an ox.
Nor of thy brother’s train, nor of his train
Who slew thy brother, one survived, but all,
Welt’ring in blood together, there expired.
He ended, and his words beat on my heart
As they would break it. On the sands I sat [650]
Weeping, nor life nor light desiring more.
But when I had in dust roll’d me, and wept
To full satiety, mine ear again
The oracle of Ocean thus address’d.
Sit not, O son of Atreus! weeping here
Longer, for remedy can none be found;
But quick arising, trial make, how best
Thou shalt, and soonest, reach thy home again.
For either him still living thou shalt find,
Or ere thou come, Orestes shall have slain [660]
The traytor, and thine eyes shall see his tomb.
He ceas’d, and I, afflicted as I was,
Yet felt my spirit at that word refresh’d,
And in wing’d accents answer thus return’d.
Of these I am inform’d; but name the third
Who, dead or living, on the boundless Deep
Is still detain’d; I dread, yet wish to hear.
So I; to whom thus Proteus in return.
Laertes’ son, the Lord of Ithaca—
Him in an island weeping I beheld, [670]
Guest of the nymph Calypso, by constraint
Her guest, and from his native land withheld
By sad necessity; for ships well-oar’d,
Or faithful followers hath he none, whose aid
Might speed him safely o’er the spacious flood.
But, Menelaus dear to Jove! thy fate
Ordains not thee the stroke of death to meet
In steed-fam’d Argos, but far hence the Gods
Will send thee to Elysium, and the earth’s
Extremest bounds; (there Rhadamanthus dwells, [680]
The golden-hair’d, and there the human kind
Enjoy the easiest life; no snow is there,
No biting winter, and no drenching show’r,
But zephyr always gently from the sea
Breathes on them to refresh the happy race)
For that fair Helen is by nuptial bands
Thy own, and thou art son-in-law of Jove.
So saying, he plunged into the billowy waste,
I then, with my brave comrades to the fleet
Return’d, deep-musing as I went, and sad. [690]
No sooner had I reach’d my ship beside
The ocean, and we all had supp’d, than night
From heav’n fell on us, and, at ease reposed
Along the margin of the sea, we slept.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy forth, drawing our galleys down
Into the sacred Deep, we rear’d again
The mast, unfurl’d the sail, and to our seats
On board returning, thresh’d the foamy flood.
Once more, at length, within the hallow’d stream [700]
Of Ægypt mooring, on the shore I slew
Whole hecatombs, and (the displeasure thus
Of the immortal Gods appeased) I reared
To Agamemnon’s never-dying fame
A tomb, and finishing it, sail’d again
With such a gale from heaven vouchsafed, as sent
My ships swift-scudding to the shores of Greece.
But come—eleven days wait here, or twelve
A guest with me, when I will send thee hence
Nobly, and honour’d with illustrious gifts, [710]
With polish’d chariot, with three princely steeds,
And with a gorgeous cup, that to the Gods
Libation pouring ever while thou liv’st
From that same cup, thou may’st remember me.
Him, prudent, then answer’d Telemachus.
Atrides, seek not to detain me here
Long time; for though contented I could sit
The year beside thee, nor regret my home
Or parents, (so delightful thy discourse
Sounds in my ear) yet, even now, I know, [720]
That my attendants to the Pylian shore
Wish my return, whom thou thus long detain’st.
What boon soe’er thou giv’st me, be it such
As I may treasur’d keep; but horses none
Take I to Ithaca; them rather far
Keep thou, for thy own glory. Thou art Lord
Of an extended plain, where copious springs
The lotus, herbage of all savours, wheat,
Pulse, and white barley of luxuriant growth.
But Ithaca no level champaign owns, [730]
A nursery of goats, and yet a land
Fairer than even pastures to the eye.
No sea-encircled isle of ours affords
Smooth course commodious and expanse of meads,
But my own Ithaca transcends them all!
He said; the Hero Menelaus smiled,
And stroaking tenderly his cheek, replied.
Dear youth! thy speech proclaims thy noble blood.
I can with ease supply thee from within
With what shall suit thee better, and the gift [740]
Of all that I possess which most excels
In beauty, and the noblest shall be thine.
I give thee, wrought elaborate, a cup
Itself all silver, bound with lip of gold.
It is the work of Vulcan, which to me
The Hero Phædimus imparted, King
Of the Sidonians, when on my return
His house received me. That shall be thy own.
Thus they conferr’d; and now the busy train
Of menials culinary,^^[[18|Cowper: Footnote 18]]^^ at the gate 750
Enter’d of Menelaus, Chief renown’d;
They brought him sheep, with heart-ennobling wine,
While all their wives, their brows with frontlets bound,
Came charg’d with bread. Thus busy they prepared
A banquet in the mansion of the King.
Meantime, before Ulysses’ palace gate
The suitors sported with the quoit and spear
On the smooth area, customary scene
Of all their strife and angry clamour loud.
There sat Antinoüs, and the godlike youth [760]
Eurymachus, superior to the rest
And Chiefs among them, to whom Phronius’ son
Noëmon drawing nigh, with anxious mien
Question’d Antinoüs, and thus began.
Know we, Antinoüs! or know we not,
When to expect Telemachus at home
Again from Pylus? in my ship he went,
Which now I need, that I may cross the sea
To Elis, on whose spacious plain I feed
Twelve mares, each suckling a mule-colt as yet [770]
Unbroken, but of which I purpose one
To ferry thence, and break him into use.
He spake, whom they astonish’d heard; for him
They deem’d not to Nelëian Pylus gone,
But haply into his own fields, his flocks
To visit, or the steward of his swine.
Then thus, Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, spake.
Say true. When sail’d he forth? of all our youth,
Whom chose he for his followers? his own train
Of slaves and hirelings? hath he pow’r to effect [780]
This also? Tell me too, for I would learn—
Took he perforce thy sable bark away,
Or gav’st it to him at his first demand?
To whom Noëmon, Phronius’ son, replied.
I gave it voluntary; what could’st thou,
Should such a prince petition for thy bark
In such distress? Hard were it to refuse.
Brave youths (our bravest youths except yourselves)
Attend him forth; and with them I observed
Mentor embarking, ruler o’er them all, [790]
Or, if not him, a God; for such he seem’d.
But this much moves my wonder. Yester-morn
I saw, at day-break, noble Mentor here,
Whom shipp’d for Pylus I had seen before.
He ceas’d; and to his father’s house return’d;
They, hearing, sat aghast. Their games meantime
Finish’d, the suitors on their seats reposed,
To whom Eupithes’ son, Antinoüs, next,
Much troubled spake; a black storm overcharged
His bosom, and his vivid eyes flash’d fire. [800]
Ye Gods, a proud exploit is here atchieved,
This voyage of Telemachus, by us
Pronounced impracticable; yet the boy
In downright opposition to us all,
Hath headlong launched a ship, and, with a band
Selected from our bravest youth, is gone.
He soon will prove more mischievous, whose pow’r
Jove wither, ere we suffer its effects!
But give me a swift bark with twenty rowers,
That, watching his return within the streights [810]
Of rocky Samos and of Ithaca,
I may surprise him; so shall he have sail’d
To seek his Sire, fatally for himself.
He ceased and loud applause heard in reply,
With warm encouragement. Then, rising all,
Into Ulysses’ house at once they throng’d.
Nor was Penelope left uninformed
Long time of their clandestine plottings deep,
For herald Medon told her all, whose ear
Their councils caught while in the outer-court [820]
He stood, and they that project framed within.
Swift to Penelope the tale he bore,
Who as he pass’d the gate, him thus address’d.
For what cause, herald! have the suitors sent
Thee foremost? Wou’d they that my maidens lay
Their tasks aside, and dress the board for them?
Here end their wooing! may they hence depart
Never, and may the banquet now prepared,
This banquet prove your last!^^[[19|Cowper: Footnote 19]]^^ who in such throngs
Here meeting, waste the patrimony fair [830]
Of brave Telemachus; ye never, sure,
When children, heard how gracious and how good
Ulysses dwelt among your parents, none
Of all his people, or in word or deed
Injuring, as great princes oft are wont,
By favour influenc’d now, now by disgust.
He no man wrong’d at any time; but plain
Your wicked purpose in your deeds appears,
Who sense have none of benefits conferr’d.
Then Medon answer’d thus, prudent, return’d. [840]
Oh Queen! may the Gods grant this prove the worst.
But greater far and heavier ills than this
The suitors plan, whose counsels Jove confound!
Their base desire and purpose are to slay
Telemachus on his return; for he,
To gather tidings of his Sire is gone
To Pylus, or to Sparta’s land divine.
He said; and where she stood, her trembling knees
Fail’d under her, and all her spirits went.
Speechless she long remain’d, tears filled her eyes, [850]
And inarticulate in its passage died
Her utt’rance, till at last with pain she spake.
Herald! why went my son? he hath no need
On board swift ships to ride, which are to man
His steeds that bear him over seas remote.
Went he, that, with himself, his very name
Might perish from among mankind for ever?
Then answer, thus, Medon the wise return’d.
I know not whether him some God impell’d
Or his own heart to Pylus, there to hear [860]
News of his Sire’s return, or by what fate
At least he died, if he return no more.
He said, and traversing Ulysses’ courts,
Departed; she with heart consuming woe
O’erwhelm’d, no longer could endure to take
Repose on any of her num’rous seats,
But on the threshold of her chamber-door
Lamenting sat, while all her female train
Around her moan’d, the antient and the young,
Whom, sobbing, thus Penelope bespake. [870]
Hear me, ye maidens! for of women born
Coeval with me, none hath e’er received
Such plenteous sorrow from the Gods as I,
Who first my noble husband lost, endued
With courage lion-like, of all the Greeks
The Chief with ev’ry virtue most adorn’d,
A prince all-excellent, whose glorious praise
Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused.
And now, my darling son,—him storms have snatch’d
Far hence inglorious, and I knew it not. [880]
Ah treach’rous servants! conscious as ye were
Of his design, not one of you the thought
Conceived to wake me when he went on board.
For had but the report once reach’d my ear,
He either had not gone (how much soe’er
He wish’d to leave me) or had left me dead.
But haste ye,—bid my antient servant come,
Dolion, whom (when I left my father’s house
He gave me, and whose office is to attend
My num’rous garden-plants) that he may seek [890]
At once Laertes, and may tell him all,
Who may contrive some remedy, perchance,
Or fit expedient, and shall come abroad
To weep before the men who wish to slay
Even the prince, godlike Ulysses’ son.
Then thus the gentle Euryclea spake,
Nurse of Telemachus. Alas! my Queen!
Slay me, or spare, deal with me as thou wilt,
I will confess the truth. I knew it all.
I gave him all that he required from me. [900]
Both wine and bread, and, at his bidding, swore
To tell thee nought in twelve whole days to come,
Or till, enquiry made, thou should’st thyself
Learn his departure, lest thou should’st impair
Thy lovely features with excess of grief.
But lave thyself, and, fresh attired, ascend
To thy own chamber, there, with all thy train,
To worship Pallas, who shall save, thenceforth,
Thy son from death, what ills soe’er he meet.
Add not fresh sorrows to the present woes [910]
Of the old King, for I believe not yet
Arcesias’ race entirely by the Gods
Renounced, but trust that there shall still be found
Among them, who shall dwell in royal state,
And reap the fruits of fertile fields remote.
So saying, she hush’d her sorrow, and her eyes
No longer stream’d. Then, bathed and fresh attired,
Penelope ascended with her train
The upper palace, and a basket stored
With hallow’d cakes off’ring, to Pallas pray’d. [920]
Hear matchless daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d!
If ever wise Ulysses offer’d here
The thighs of fatted kine or sheep to thee,
Now mindful of his piety, preserve
His darling son, and frustrate with a frown
The cruelty of these imperious guests!
She said, and wept aloud, whose earnest suit
Pallas received. And now the spacious hall
And gloomy passages with tumult rang
And clamour of that throng, when thus, a youth, [930]
Insolent as his fellows, dared to speak.
Much woo’d and long, the Queen at length prepares
To chuse another mate,^^[[20|Cowper: Footnote 20]]^^ and nought suspects
The bloody death to which her son is doom’d.
So he; but they, meantime, themselves remain’d
Untaught, what course the dread concern elsewhere
Had taken, whom Antinoüs thus address’d.
Sirs! one and all, I counsel you, beware
Of such bold boasting unadvised; lest one
O’erhearing you, report your words within. [940]
No—rather thus, in silence, let us move
To an exploit so pleasant to us all.
He said, and twenty chose, the bravest there,
With whom he sought the galley on the shore,
Which drawing down into the deep, they placed
The mast and sails on board, and, sitting, next,
Each oar in order to its proper groove,
Unfurl’d and spread their canvas to the gale.
Their bold attendants, then, brought them their arms,
And soon as in deep water they had moor’d [950]
The ship, themselves embarking, supp’d on board,
And watch’d impatient for the dusk of eve.
But when Penelope, the palace stairs
Remounting, had her upper chamber reach’d,
There, unrefresh’d with either food or wine,
She lay’d her down, her noble son the theme
Of all her thoughts, whether he should escape
His haughty foes, or perish by their hands.
Num’rous as are the lion’s thoughts, who sees,
Not without fear, a multitude with toils [960]
Encircling him around, such num’rous thoughts
Her bosom occupied, till sleep at length
Invading her, she sank in soft repose.
Then Pallas, teeming with a new design,
Set forth an airy phantom in the form
Of fair Iphthima, daughter of the brave
Icarius, and Eumelus’ wedded wife
In Pheræ. Shaped like her the dream she sent
Into the mansion of the godlike Chief
Ulysses, with kind purpose to abate [970]
The sighs and tears of sad Penelope.
Ent’ring the chamber-portal, where the bolt
Secured it, at her head the image stood,
And thus, in terms compassionate, began.
Sleep’st thou, distress’d Penelope? The Gods,
Happy in everlasting rest themselves,
Forbid thy sorrows. Thou shalt yet behold
Thy son again, who hath by no offence
Incurr’d at any time the wrath of heav’n.
To whom, sweet-slumb’ring in the shadowy gate [980]
By which dreams pass, Penelope replied.
What cause, my sister, brings thee, who art seen
Unfrequent here, for that thou dwell’st remote?
And thou enjoin’st me a cessation too
From sorrows num’rous, and which, fretting, wear
My heart continual; first, my spouse I lost
With courage lion-like endow’d, a prince
All-excellent, whose never-dying praise
Through Hellas and all Argos flew diffused;
And now my only son, new to the toils [990]
And hazards of the sea, nor less untaught
The arts of traffic, in a ship is gone
Far hence, for whose dear cause I sorrow more
Than for his Sire himself, and even shake
With terror, lest he perish by their hands
To whom he goes, or in the stormy Deep;
For num’rous are his foes, and all intent
To slay him, ere he reach his home again.
Then answer thus the shadowy form return’d.
Take courage; suffer not excessive dread [1000]
To overwhelm thee, such a guide he hath
And guardian, one whom many wish their friend,
And ever at their side, knowing her pow’r,
Minerva; she compassionates thy griefs,
And I am here her harbinger, who speak
As thou hast heard by her own kind command.
Then thus Penelope the wise replied.
Oh! if thou art a goddess, and hast heard
A Goddess’ voice, rehearse to me the lot
Of that unhappy one, if yet he live [1010]
Spectator of the cheerful beams of day,
Or if, already dead, he dwell below.
Whom answer’d thus the fleeting shadow vain.
I will not now inform thee if thy Lord
Live, or live not. Vain words are best unspoken.
So saying, her egress swift beside the bolt
She made, and melted into air. Upsprang
From sleep Icarius’ daughter, and her heart
Felt heal’d within her, by that dream distinct
Visited in the noiseless night serene. [1020]
Meantime the suitors urged their wat’ry way,
To instant death devoting in their hearts
Telemachus. There is a rocky isle
In the mid sea, Samos the rude between
And Ithaca, not large, named Asteris.
It hath commodious havens, into which
A passage clear opens on either side,
And there the ambush’d Greeks his coming watch’d.
"""
''Argument''
//Mercury bears to Calypso a command from Jupiter that she dismiss Ulysses. She, after some remonstrances, promises obedience, and furnishes him with instruments and materials, with which he constructs a raft. He quits Calypso’s island; is persecuted by Neptune with dreadful tempests, but by the assistance of a sea nymph, after having lost his raft, is enabled to swim to Phæacia.//
"""
Aurora from beside her glorious mate
Tithonus now arose, light to dispense
Through earth and heav’n, when the assembled Gods
In council sat, o’er whom high-thund’ring Jove
Presided, mightiest of the Pow’rs above.
Amid them, Pallas on the num’rous woes
Descanted of Ulysses, whom she saw
With grief, still prison’d in Calypso’s isle.
Jove, Father, hear me, and ye other Pow’rs
Who live for ever, hear! Be never King [10]
Henceforth to gracious acts inclined, humane,
Or righteous, but let ev’ry sceptred hand
Rule merciless, and deal in wrong alone,
Since none of all his people whom he sway’d
With such paternal gentleness and love
Remembers, now, divine Ulysses more.
He, in yon distant isle a suff’rer lies
Of hopeless sorrow, through constraint the guest
Still of the nymph Calypso, without means
Or pow’r to reach his native shores again, [20]
Alike of gallant barks and friends depriv’d,
Who might conduct him o’er the spacious Deep.
Nor is this all, but enemies combine
To slay his son ere yet he can return
From Pylus, whither he hath gone to learn
There, or in Sparta, tidings of his Sire.
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.
What word hath pass’d thy lips, daughter belov’d?
Hast thou not purpos’d that arriving soon
At home, Ulysses shall destroy his foes? [30]
Guide thou, Telemachus, (for well thou canst)
That he may reach secure his native coast,
And that the suitors baffled may return.
He ceas’d, and thus to Hermes spake, his son.
Hermes! (for thou art herald of our will
At all times) to yon bright-hair’d nymph convey
Our fix’d resolve, that brave Ulysses thence
Depart, uncompanied by God or man.
Borne on a corded raft, and suff’ring woe
Extreme, he on the twentieth day shall reach, [40]
Not sooner, Scherie the deep-soil’d, possess’d
By the Phæacians, kinsmen of the Gods.
They, as a God shall reverence the Chief,
And in a bark of theirs shall send him thence
To his own home, much treasure, brass and gold
And raiment giving him, to an amount
Surpassing all that, had he safe return’d,
He should by lot have shared of Ilium’s spoil.
Thus Fate appoints Ulysses to regain
His country, his own palace, and his friends. [50]
He ended, nor the Argicide refused,
Messenger of the skies; his sandals fair,
Ambrosial, golden, to his feet he bound,
Which o’er the moist wave, rapid as the wind,
Bear him, and o’er th’ illimitable earth,
Then took his rod with which, at will, all eyes
He closes soft, or opes them wide again.
So arm’d, forth flew the valiant Argicide.
Alighting on Pieria, down he stoop’d
To Ocean, and the billows lightly skimm’d [60]
In form a sew-mew, such as in the bays
Tremendous of the barren Deep her food
Seeking, dips oft in brine her ample wing.
In such disguise o’er many a wave he rode,
But reaching, now, that isle remote, forsook
The azure Deep, and at the spacious grot,
Where dwelt the amber-tressed nymph arrived,
Found her within. A fire on all the hearth
Blazed sprightly, and, afar-diffused, the scent
Of smooth-split cedar and of cypress-wood [70]
Odorous, burning, cheer’d the happy isle.
She, busied at the loom, and plying fast
Her golden shuttle, with melodious voice
Sat chaunting there; a grove on either side,
Alder and poplar, and the redolent branch
Wide-spread of Cypress, skirted dark the cave.
There many a bird of broadest pinion built
Secure her nest, the owl, the kite, and daw
Long-tongued, frequenter of the sandy shores.
A garden-vine luxuriant on all sides [80]
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Stray’d all around, and ev’ry where appear’d
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o’er
With violets; it was a scene to fill
A God from heav’n with wonder and delight.
Hermes, Heav’n’s messenger, admiring stood
That sight, and having all survey’d, at length
Enter’d the grotto; nor the lovely nymph [90]
Him knew not soon as seen, for not unknown
Each to the other the Immortals are,
How far soever sep’rate their abodes.
Yet found he not within the mighty Chief
Ulysses; he sat weeping on the shore,
Forlorn, for there his custom was with groans
Of sad regret t’ afflict his breaking heart.
Looking continual o’er the barren Deep.
Then thus Calypso, nymph divine, the God
Question’d, from her resplendent throne august. [100]
Hermes! possessor of the potent rod!
Who, though by me much reverenc’d and belov’d,
So seldom com’st, say, wherefore comest now?
Speak thy desire; I grant it, if thou ask
Things possible, and possible to me.
Stay not, but ent’ring farther, at my board
Due rites of hospitality receive.
So saying, the Goddess with ambrosial food
Her table cover’d, and with rosy juice
Nectareous charged the cup. Then ate and drank [110]
The argicide and herald of the skies,
And in his soul with that repast divine
Refresh’d, his message to the nymph declared.
Questionest thou, O Goddess, me a God?
I tell thee truth, since such is thy demand.
Not willing, but by Jove constrain’d, I come.
For who would, voluntary, such a breadth
Enormous measure of the salt expanse,
Where city none is seen in which the Gods
Are served with chosen hecatombs and pray’r? [120]
But no divinity may the designs
Elude, or controvert, of Jove supreme.
He saith, that here thou hold’st the most distrest
Of all those warriors who nine years assail’d
The city of Priam, and, (that city sack’d)
Departed in the tenth; but, going thence,
Offended Pallas, who with adverse winds
Opposed their voyage, and with boist’rous waves.
Then perish’d all his gallant friends, but him
Billows and storms drove hither; Jove commands [130]
That thou dismiss him hence without delay,
For fate ordains him not to perish here
From all his friends remote, but he is doom’d
To see them yet again, and to arrive
At his own palace in his native land.
He said; divine Calypso at the sound
Shudder’d, and in wing’d accents thus replied.
Ye are unjust, ye Gods, and envious past
All others, grudging if a Goddess take
A mortal man openly to her arms! [140]
So, when the rosy-finger’d Morning chose
Orion, though ye live yourselves at ease,
Yet ye all envied her, until the chaste
Diana from her golden throne dispatch’d
A silent shaft, which slew him in Ortygia.
So, when the golden-tressed Ceres, urged
By passion, took Iäsion to her arms
In a thrice-labour’d fallow, not untaught
Was Jove that secret long, and, hearing it,
Indignant, slew him with his candent bolt. [150]
So also, O ye Gods, ye envy me
The mortal man, my comfort. Him I saved
Myself, while solitary on his keel
He rode, for with his sulph’rous arrow Jove
Had cleft his bark amid the sable Deep.
Then perish’d all his gallant friends, but him
Billows and storms drove hither, whom I lov’d
Sincere, and fondly destin’d to a life
Immortal, unobnoxious to decay.
But since no Deity may the designs [160]
Elude or controvert of Jove supreme,
Hence with him o’er the barren Deep, if such
The Sov’reign’s will, and such his stern command.
But undismiss’d he goes by me, who ships
Myself well-oar’d and mariners have none
To send with him athwart the spacious flood;
Yet freely, readily, my best advice
I will afford him, that, escaping all
Danger, he may regain his native shore.
Then Hermes thus, the messenger of heav’n. [170]
Act as thou say’st, fearing the frown of Jove,
Lest, if provoked, he spare not even thee.
So saying, the dauntless Argicide withdrew,
And she (Jove’s mandate heard) all-graceful went,
Seeking the brave Ulysses; on the shore
She found him seated; tears succeeding tears
Delug’d his eyes, while, hopeless of return,
Life’s precious hours to eating cares he gave
Continual, with the nymph now charm’d no more.
Yet, cold as she was am’rous, still he pass’d [180]
His nights beside her in the hollow grot,
Constrain’d, and day by day the rocks among
Which lined the shore heart-broken sat, and oft
While wistfully he eyed the barren Deep,
Wept, groaned, desponded, sigh’d, and wept again.
Then, drawing near, thus spake the nymph divine.
Unhappy! weep not here, nor life consume
In anguish; go; thou hast my glad consent.
Arise to labour; hewing down the trunks
Of lofty trees, fashion them with the ax [190]
To a broad raft, which closely floor’d above,
Shall hence convey thee o’er the gloomy Deep.
Bread, water, and the red grape’s cheering juice
Myself will put on board, which shall preserve
Thy life from famine; I will also give
New raiment for thy limbs, and will dispatch
Winds after thee to waft thee home unharm’d,
If such the pleasure of the Gods who dwell
In yonder boundless heav’n, superior far
To me, in knowledge and in skill to judge. [200]
She ceas’d; but horror at that sound the heart
Chill’d of Ulysses, and in accents wing’d
With wonder, thus the noble Chief replied.
Ah! other thoughts than of my safe return
Employ thee, Goddess, now, who bid’st me pass
The perilous gulph of Ocean on a raft,
That wild expanse terrible, which even ships
Pass not, though form’d to cleave their way with ease,
And joyful in propitious winds from Jove.
No—let me never, in despight of thee, [210]
Embark on board a raft, nor till thou swear,
O Goddess! the inviolable oath,
That future mischief thou intend’st me none.
He said; Calypso, beauteous Goddess, smiled,
And, while she spake, stroaking his cheek, replied.
Thou dost asperse me rudely, and excuse
Of ignorance hast none, far better taught;
What words were these? How could’st thou thus reply?
Now hear me Earth, and the wide Heav’n above!
Hear, too, ye waters of the Stygian stream [220]
Under the earth (by which the blessed Gods
Swear trembling, and revere the awful oath!)
That future mischief I intend thee none.
No, my designs concerning thee are such
As, in an exigence resembling thine,
Myself, most sure, should for myself conceive.
I have a mind more equal, not of steel
My heart is form’d, but much to pity inclined.
So saying, the lovely Goddess with swift pace
Led on, whose footsteps he as swift pursued. [230]
Within the vaulted cavern they arrived,
The Goddess and the man; on the same throne
Ulysses sat, whence Hermes had aris’n,
And viands of all kinds, such as sustain
The life of mortal man, Calypso placed
Before him, both for bev’rage and for food.
She opposite to the illustrious Chief
Reposed, by her attendant maidens served
With nectar and ambrosia. They their hands
Stretch’d forth together to the ready feast, [240]
And when nor hunger more nor thirst remain’d
Unsated, thus the beauteous nymph began.
Laertes’ noble son, for wisdom famed
And artifice! oh canst thou thus resolve
To seek, incontinent, thy native shores?
I pardon thee. Farewell! but could’st thou guess
The woes which fate ordains thee to endure
Ere yet thou reach thy country, well-content
Here to inhabit, thou would’st keep my grot
And be immortal, howsoe’er thy wife [250]
Engage thy ev’ry wish day after day.
Yet can I not in stature or in form
Myself suspect inferior aught to her,
Since competition cannot be between
Mere mortal beauties, and a form divine.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Awful Divinity! be not incensed.
I know that my Penelope in form
And stature altogether yields to thee,
For she is mortal, and immortal thou, [260]
From age exempt; yet not the less I wish
My home, and languish daily to return.
But should some God amid the sable Deep
Dash me again into a wreck, my soul
Shall bear //that// also; for, by practice taught,
I have learned patience, having much endured
By tempest and in battle both. Come then
This evil also! I am well prepared.
He ended, and the sun sinking, resign’d
The earth to darkness. Then in a recess [270]
Interior of the cavern, side by side
Reposed, they took their amorous delight.
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy forth, Ulysses then in haste
Put on his vest and mantle, and, the nymph
Her snowy vesture of transparent woof,
Graceful, redundant; to her waist she bound
Her golden zone, and veil’d her beauteous head,
Then, musing, plann’d the noble Chief’s return.
She gave him, fitted to the grasp, an ax [280]
Of iron, pond’rous, double-edg’d, with haft
Of olive-wood, inserted firm, and wrought
With curious art. Then, placing in his hand
A polish’d adze, she led, herself, the way
To her isles’ utmost verge, where tallest trees
But dry long since and sapless stood, which best
Might serve his purposes, as buoyant most,
The alder, poplar, and cloud-piercing fir.
To that tall grove she led and left him there,
Seeking her grot again. Then slept not He, [290]
But, swinging with both hands the ax, his task
Soon finish’d; trees full twenty to the ground
He cast, which, dext’rous, with his adze he smooth’d,
The knotted surface chipping by a line.
Meantime the lovely Goddess to his aid
Sharp augres brought, with which he bored the beams,
Then, side by side placing them, fitted each
To other, and with long cramps join’d them all.
Broad as an artist, skill’d in naval works,
The bottom of a ship of burthen spreads, [300]
Such breadth Ulysses to his raft assign’d.
He deck’d her over with long planks, upborne
On massy beams; He made the mast, to which
He added suitable the yard;—he framed
Rudder and helm to regulate her course,
With wicker-work he border’d all her length
For safety, and much ballast stow’d within.
Meantime, Calypso brought him for a sail
Fittest materials, which he also shaped,
And to his sail due furniture annex’d [310]
Of cordage strong, foot-ropes, and ropes aloft,
Then heav’d her down with levers to the Deep.
He finish’d all his work on the fourth day,
And on the fifth, Calypso, nymph divine,
Dismiss’d him from her isle, but laved him first,
And cloath’d him in sweet-scented garments new.
Two skins the Goddess also placed on board,
One charg’d with crimson wine, and ampler one
With water, nor a bag with food replete
Forgot, nutritious, grateful to the taste, [320]
Nor yet, her latest gift, a gentle gale
And manageable, which Ulysses spread,
Exulting, all his canvas to receive.
Beside the helm he sat, steering expert,
Nor sleep fell ever on his eyes that watch’d
Intent the Pleiads, tardy in decline
Bootes, and the Bear, call’d else the Wain,
Which, in his polar prison circling, looks
Direct toward Orion, and alone
Of these sinks never to the briny Deep. [330]
That star the lovely Goddess bade him hold
Continual on his left through all his course.
Ten days and sev’n, he, navigating, cleav’d
The brine, and on the eighteenth day, at length,
The shadowy mountains of Phæacia’s land
Descried, where nearest to his course it lay
Like a broad buckler on the waves afloat.
But Neptune, now returning from the land
Of Ethiopia, mark’d him on his raft
Skimming the billows, from the mountain-tops [340]
Of distant Solyma.^^[[21|Cowper: Footnote 21]]^^ With tenfold wrath
Inflamed that sight he view’d, his brows he shook,
And thus within himself, indignant, spake.
So then—new counsels in the skies, it seems,
Propitious to Ulysses, have prevail’d
Since Æthiopia hath been my abode.
He sees Phæacia nigh, where he must leap
The bound’ry of his woes; but ere that hour
Arrive, I will ensure him many a groan.
So saying, he grasp’d his trident, gather’d dense [350]
The clouds and troubled ocean; ev’ry storm
From ev’ry point he summon’d, earth and sea
Darkening, and the night fell black from heav’n.
The East, the South, the heavy-blowing West,
And the cold North-wind clear, assail’d at once
His raft, and heaved on high the billowy flood.
All hope, all courage, in that moment, lost,
The Hero thus within himself complain’d.
Wretch that I am, what destiny at last
Attends me! much I fear the Goddess’ words [360]
All true, which threaten’d me with num’rous ills
On the wide sea, ere I should reach my home.
Behold them all fulfill’d! with what a storm
Jove hangs the heav’ns, and agitates the Deep!
The winds combined beat on me. Now I sink!
Thrice blest, and more than thrice, Achaia’s sons
At Ilium slain for the Atridæ’ sake!
Ah, would to heav’n that, dying, I had felt
That day the stroke of fate, when me the dead
Achilles guarding, with a thousand spears [370]
Troy’s furious host assail’d! Funereal rites
I then had shared, and praise from ev’ry Greek,
Whom now the most inglorious death awaits.
While thus he spake, a billow on his head
Bursting impetuous, whirl’d the raft around,
And, dashing from his grasp the helm, himself
Plunged far remote. Then came a sudden gust
Of mingling winds, that in the middle snapp’d
His mast, and, hurried o’er the waves afar,
Both sail and sail-yard fell into the flood. [380]
Long time submerged he lay, nor could with ease
The violence of that dread shock surmount,
Or rise to air again, so burthensome
His drench’d apparel proved; but, at the last,
He rose, and, rising, sputter’d from his lips
The brine that trickled copious from his brows.
Nor, harass’d as he was, resign’d he yet
His raft, but buffetting the waves aside
With desp’rate efforts, seized it, and again
Fast seated on the middle deck, escaped. [390]
Then roll’d the raft at random in the flood,
Wallowing unwieldy, toss’d from wave to wave.
As when in autumn, Boreas o’er the plain
Conglomerated thorns before him drives,
They, tangled, to each other close adhere,
So her the winds drove wild about the Deep.
By turns the South consign’d her to be sport
For the rude North-wind, and, by turns, the East
Yielded her to the worrying West a prey.
But Cadmus’ beauteous daughter (Ino once, [400]
Now named Leucothea) saw him; mortal erst
Was she, and trod the earth,^^[[22|Cowper: Footnote 22]]^^ but nymph become
Of Ocean since, in honours shares divine.
She mark’d his anguish, and, while toss’d he roam’d,
Pitied Ulysses; from the flood, in form
A cormorant, she flew, and on the raft
Close-corded perching, thus the Chief address’d.
Alas! unhappy! how hast thou incensed
So terribly the Shaker of the shores,
That he pursues thee with such num’rous ills? [410]
Sink thee he cannot, wish it as he may.
Thus do (for I account thee not unwise)
Thy garments putting off, let drive thy raft
As the winds will, then, swimming, strive to reach
Phæacia, where thy doom is to escape.
Take this. This ribbon bind beneath thy breast,
Celestial texture. Thenceforth ev’ry fear
Of death dismiss, and, laying once thy hands
On the firm continent, unbind the zone,
Which thou shalt cast far distant from the shore [420]
Into the Deep, turning thy face away.
So saying, the Goddess gave into his hand
The wond’rous zone, and, cormorant in form,
Plunging herself into the waves again
Headlong, was hidden by the closing flood.
But still Ulysses sat perplex’d, and thus
The toil-enduring Hero reason’d sad.
Alas! I tremble lest some God design
T’ ensnare me yet, bidding me quit the raft.
But let me well beware how I obey [430]
Too soon that precept, for I saw the land
Of my foretold deliv’rance far remote.
Thus, therefore, will I do, for such appears
My wiser course. So long as yet the planks
Mutual adhere, continuing on board
My raft, I will endure whatever woes,
But when the waves shall shatter it, I will swim,
My sole resource then left. While thus he mused,
Neptune a billow of enormous bulk
Hollow’d into an overwhelming arch [440]
On high up-heaving, smote him. As the wind
Tempestuous, falling on some stubble-heap,
The arid straws dissipates ev’ry way,
So flew the timbers. He, a single beam
Bestriding, oar’d it onward with his feet,
As he had urged an horse. His raiment, then,
Gift of Calypso, putting off, he bound
His girdle on, and prone into the sea
With wide-spread palms prepar’d for swimming, fell.
Shore-shaker Neptune noted him; he shook [450]
His awful brows, and in his heart he said,
Thus, suff’ring many mis’ries roam the flood,
Till thou shalt mingle with a race of men
Heav’n’s special favourites; yet even there
Fear not that thou shalt feel thy sorrows light.
He said, and scourging his bright steeds, arrived
At Ægæ, where his glorious palace stands.
But other thoughts Minerva’s mind employ’d
Jove’s daughter; ev’ry wind binding beside,
She lull’d them, and enjoin’d them all to sleep, [460]
But roused swift Boreas, and the billows broke
Before Ulysses, that, deliver’d safe
From a dire death, the noble Chief might mix
With maritime Phæacia’s sons renown’d.
Two nights he wander’d, and two days, the flood
Tempestuous, death expecting ev’ry hour;
But when Aurora, radiant-hair’d, had brought
The third day to a close, then ceas’d the wind,
And breathless came a calm; he, nigh at hand
The shore beheld, darting acute his sight [470]
Toward it, from a billow’s tow’ring top.
Precious as to his children seems the life
Of some fond father through disease long time
And pain stretch’d languid on his couch, the prey
Of some vindictive Pow’r, but now, at last,
By gracious heav’n to ease and health restored,
So grateful to Ulysses’ sight appear’d
Forests and hills. Impatient with his feet
To press the shore, he swam; but when within
Such distance as a shout may fly, he came, [480]
The thunder of the sea against the rocks
Then smote his ear; for hoarse the billows roar’d
On the firm land, belch’d horrible abroad,
And the salt spray dimm’d all things to his view.
For neither port for ships nor shelt’ring cove
Was there, but the rude coast a headland bluff
Presented, rocks and craggy masses huge.
Then, hope and strength exhausted both, deep-groan’d
The Chief, and in his noble heart complain’d.
Alas! though Jove hath given me to behold, [490]
Unhoped, the land again, and I have pass’d,
Furrowing my way, these num’rous waves, there seems
No egress from the hoary flood for me.
Sharp stones hem in the waters; wild the surge
Raves ev’ry where; and smooth the rocks arise;
Deep also is the shore, on which my feet
No standing gain, or chance of safe escape.
What if some billow catch me from the Deep
Emerging, and against the pointed rocks
Dash me conflicting with its force in vain? [500]
But should I, swimming, trace the coast in search
Of sloping beach, haven or shelter’d creek,
I fear lest, groaning, I be snatch’d again
By stormy gusts into the fishy Deep,
Or lest some monster of the flood receive
Command to seize me, of the many such
By the illustrious Amphitrite bred;
For that the mighty Shaker of the shores
Hates me implacable, too well I know.
While such discourse within himself he held, [510]
A huge wave heav’d him on the rugged coast,
Where flay’d his flesh had been, and all his bones
Broken together, but for the infused
Good counsel of Minerva azure-eyed.
With both hands suddenly he seized the rock,
And, groaning, clench’d it till the billow pass’d.
So baffled he that wave; but yet again
The refluent flood rush’d on him, and with force
Resistless dash’d him far into the sea.
As pebbles to the hollow polypus [520]
Extracted from his stony bed, adhere,
So he, the rough rocks clasping, stripp’d his hands
Raw, and the billows now whelm’d him again.
Then had the hapless Hero premature
Perish’d, but for sagacity inspired
By Pallas azure-eyed. Forth from the waves
Emerging, where the surf burst on the rocks,
He coasted (looking landward as he swam)
The shore, with hope of port or level beach.
But when, still swimming, to the mouth he came [530]
Of a smooth-sliding river, there he deem’d
Safest th’ ascent, for it was undeform’d
By rocks, and shelter’d close from ev’ry wind.
He felt the current, and thus, ardent, pray’d.
O hear, whate’er thy name, Sov’reign, who rul’st
This river! at whose mouth, from all the threats
Of Neptune ’scap’d, with rapture I arrive.
Even the Immortal Gods the wand’rer’s pray’r
Respect, and such am I, who reach, at length,
Thy stream, and clasp thy knees, after long toil. [540]
I am thy suppliant. Oh King! pity me.
He said; the river God at once repress’d
His current, and it ceas’d; smooth he prepared
The way before Ulysses, and the land
Vouchsafed him easy at his channel’s mouth.
There, once again he bent for ease his limbs
Both arms and knees, in conflict with the floods
Exhausted; swoln his body was all o’er,
And from his mouth and nostrils stream’d the brine.
Breathless and speechless, and of life well nigh [550]
Bereft he lay, through dreadful toil immense.
But when, revived, his dissipated pow’rs
He recollected, loosing from beneath
His breast the zone divine, he cast it far
Into the brackish stream, and a huge wave
Returning bore it downward to the sea,
Where Ino caught it. Then, the river’s brink
Abandoning, among the rushes prone
He lay, kiss’d oft the soil, and sighing, said,
Ah me! what suff’rings must I now sustain, [560]
What doom, at last, awaits me? If I watch
This woeful night, here, at the river’s side,
What hope but that the frost and copious dews,
Weak as I am, my remnant small of life
Shall quite extinguish, and the chilly air
Breath’d from the river at the dawn of day?
But if, ascending this declivity
I gain the woods, and in some thicket sleep,
(If sleep indeed can find me overtoil’d
And cold-benumb’d) then I have cause to fear [570]
Lest I be torn by wild beasts, and devour’d.
Long time he mused, but, at the last, his course
Bent to the woods, which not remote he saw
From the sea-brink, conspicuous on a hill.
Arrived, between two neighbour shrubs he crept,
Both olives, this the fruitful, that the wild;
A covert, which nor rough winds blowing moist
Could penetrate, nor could the noon-day sun
Smite through it, or unceasing show’rs pervade,
So thick a roof the ample branches form’d [580]
Close interwoven; under these the Chief
Retiring, with industrious hands a bed
Collected broad of leaves, which there he found
Abundant strew’d, such store as had sufficed
Two travellers or three for cov’ring warm,
Though winter’s roughest blasts had rag’d the while.
That bed with joy the suff’ring Chief renown’d
Contemplated, and occupying soon
The middle space, hillock’d it high with leaves.
As when some swain hath hidden deep his torch [590]
Beneath the embers, at the verge extreme
Of all his farm, where, having neighbours none,
He saves a seed or two of future flame
Alive, doom’d else to fetch it from afar,
So with dry leaves Ulysses overspread
His body, on whose eyes Minerva pour’d
The balm of sleep copious, that he might taste
Repose again, after long toil severe.
"""
''Argument''
//Minerva designing an interview between the daughter of Alcinoüs and Ulysses, admonishes her in a dream to carry down her clothes to the river, that she may wash them, and make them ready for her approaching nuptials. That task performed, the Princess and her train amuse themselves with play; by accident they awake Ulysses; he comes forth from the wood, and applies himself with much address to Nausicaa, who compassionating his distressed condition, and being much affected by the dignity of his appearance, interests himself in his favour, and conducts him to the city.//
"""
There then the noble suff’rer lay, by sleep
Oppress’d and labour; meantime, Pallas sought
The populous city of Phæacia’s sons.
They, in old time, in Hypereia dwelt
The spacious, neighbours of a giant race
The haughty Cyclops, who, endued with pow’r
Superior, troubled them with frequent wrongs.
Godlike Nausithoüs then arose, who thence
To Scheria led them, from all nations versed
In arts of cultivated life, remote; [10]
With bulwarks strong their city he enclosed,
Built houses for them, temples to the Gods,
And gave to each a portion of the soil.
But he, already by decree of fate
Had journey’d to the shades, and in his stead
Alcinoüs, by the Gods instructed, reign’d.
To his abode Minerva azure-eyed
Repair’d, neglecting nought which might advance
Magnanimous Ulysses’ safe return.
She sought the sumptuous chamber where, in form [20]
And feature perfect as the Gods, the young
Nausicaa, daughter of the King, reposed.
Fast by the pillars of the portal lay
Two damsels, one on either side, adorn’d
By all the Graces, and the doors were shut.
Soft as a breathing air, she stole toward
The royal virgin’s couch, and at her head
Standing, address’d her. Daughter she appear’d
Of Dymas, famed for maritime exploits,
Her friend and her coeval; so disguised [30]
Cærulean-eyed Minerva thus began.
Nausicaa! wherefore hath thy mother borne
A child so negligent? Thy garments share,
Thy most magnificent, no thought of thine.
Yet thou must marry soon, and must provide
Robes for thyself, and for thy nuptial train.
Thy fame, on these concerns, and honour stand;
These managed well, thy parents shall rejoice.
The dawn appearing, let us to the place
Of washing, where thy work-mate I will be [40]
For speedier riddance of thy task, since soon
The days of thy virginity shall end;
For thou art woo’d already by the prime
Of all Phæacia, country of thy birth.
Come then—solicit at the dawn of day
Thy royal father, that he send thee forth
With mules and carriage for conveyance hence
Of thy best robes, thy mantles and thy zones.
Thus, more commodiously thou shalt perform
The journey, for the cisterns lie remote. [50]
So saying, Minerva, Goddess azure-eyed,
Rose to Olympus, the reputed seat
Eternal of the Gods, which never storms
Disturb, rains drench, or snow invades, but calm
The expanse and cloudless shines with purest day.
There the inhabitants divine rejoice
For ever, (and her admonition giv’n)
Cærulean-eyed Minerva thither flew.
Now came Aurora bright-enthroned, whose rays
Awaken’d fair Nausicaa; she her dream [60]
Remember’d wond’ring, and her parents sought
Anxious to tell them. Them she found within.
Beside the hearth her royal mother sat,
Spinning soft fleeces with sea-purple dyed
Among her menial maidens, but she met
Her father, whom the Nobles of the land
Had summon’d, issuing abroad to join
The illustrious Chiefs in council. At his side
She stood, and thus her filial suit preferr’d.
Sir!^^[[23|Cowper: Footnote 23]]^^ wilt thou lend me of the royal wains 70
A sumpter-carriage? for I wish to bear
My costly cloaths but sullied and unfit
For use, at present, to the river side.
It is but seemly that thou should’st repair
Thyself to consultation with the Chiefs
Of all Phæacia, clad in pure attire;
And my own brothers five, who dwell at home,
Two wedded, and the rest of age to wed,
Are all desirous, when they dance, to wear
Raiment new bleach’d; all which is my concern. [80]
So spake Nausicaa; for she dared not name
Her own glad nuptials to her father’s ear,
Who, conscious yet of all her drift, replied.
I grudge thee neither mules, my child, nor aught
That thou canst ask beside. Go, and my train
Shall furnish thee a sumpter-carriage forth
High-built, strong-wheel’d, and of capacious size.
So saying, he issued his command, whom quick
His grooms obey’d. They in the court prepared
The sumpter-carriage, and adjoin’d the mules. [90]
And now the virgin from her chamber, charged
With raiment, came, which on the car she placed,
And in the carriage-chest, meantime, the Queen,
Her mother, viands of all kinds disposed,
And fill’d a skin with wine. Nausicaa rose
Into her seat; but, ere she went, received
A golden cruse of oil from the Queen’s hand
For unction of herself, and of her maids.
Then, seizing scourge and reins, she lash’d the mules.
They trampled loud the soil, straining to draw [100]
Herself with all her vesture; nor alone
She went, but follow’d by her virgin train.
At the delightful rivulet arrived
Where those perennial cisterns were prepared
With purest crystal of the fountain fed
Profuse, sufficient for the deepest stains,
Loosing the mules, they drove them forth to browze
On the sweet herb beside the dimpled flood.
The carriage, next, light’ning, they bore in hand
The garments down to the unsullied wave, [110]
And thrust them heap’d into the pools, their task
Dispatching brisk, and with an emulous haste.
When they had all purified, and no spot
Could now be seen, or blemish more, they spread
The raiment orderly along the beach
Where dashing tides had cleansed the pebbles most,
And laving, next, and smoothing o’er with oil
Their limbs, all seated on the river’s bank,
They took repast, leaving the garments, stretch’d
In noon-day fervour of the sun, to dry. [120]
Their hunger satisfied, at once arose
The mistress and her train, and putting off
Their head-attire, play’d wanton with the ball,
The princess singing to her maids the while.
Such as shaft-arm’d Diana roams the hills,
Täygetus sky-capt, or Erymanth,
The wild boar chasing, or fleet-footed hind,
All joy; the rural nymphs, daughters of Jove,
Sport with her, and Latona’s heart exults;
She high her graceful head above the rest [130]
And features lifts divine, though all be fair,
With ease distinguishable from them all;
So, all her train, she, virgin pure, surpass’d.
But when the hour of her departure thence
Approach’d (the mules now yoked again, and all
Her elegant apparel folded neat)
Minerva azure-eyed mused how to wake
Ulysses, that he might behold the fair
Virgin, his destin’d guide into the town.
The Princess, then, casting the ball toward [140]
A maiden of her train, erroneous threw
And plunged it deep into the dimpling stream.
All shrieked; Ulysses at the sound awoke,
And, sitting, meditated thus the cause.
Ah me! what mortal race inhabit here?
Rude are they, contumacious and unjust?
Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods?
So shrill the cry and feminine of nymphs
Fills all the air around, such as frequent
The hills, clear fountains, and herbaceous meads. [150]
Is this a neighbourhood of men endued
With voice articulate? But what avails
To ask; I will myself go forth and see.
So saying, divine Ulysses from beneath
His thicket crept, and from the leafy wood
A spreading branch pluck’d forcibly, design’d
A decent skreen effectual, held before.
So forth he went, as goes the lion forth,
The mountain-lion, conscious of his strength,
Whom winds have vex’d and rains; fire fills his eyes, [160]
And whether herds or flocks, or woodland deer
He find, he rends them, and, adust for blood,
Abstains not even from the guarded fold,
Such sure to seem in virgin eyes, the Chief,
All naked as he was, left his retreat,
Reluctant, by necessity constrain’d.
Him foul with sea foam horror-struck they view’d,
And o’er the jutting shores fled all dispersed.
Nausicaa alone fled not; for her
Pallas courageous made, and from her limbs, [170]
By pow’r divine, all tremour took away.
Firm she expected him; he doubtful stood,
Or to implore the lovely maid, her knees
Embracing, or aloof standing, to ask
In gentle terms discrete the gift of cloaths,
And guidance to the city where she dwelt.
Him so deliberating, most, at length,
This counsel pleas’d; in suppliant terms aloof
To sue to her, lest if he clasp’d her knees,
The virgin should that bolder course resent. [180]
Then gentle, thus, and well-advised he spake.
Oh Queen! thy earnest suppliant I approach.
Art thou some Goddess, or of mortal race?
For if some Goddess, and from heaven arrived,
Diana, then, daughter of mighty Jove
I deem thee most, for such as hers appear
Thy form, thy stature, and thy air divine.
But if, of mortal race, thou dwell below,
Thrice happy then, thy parents I account,
And happy thrice thy brethren. Ah! the joy [190]
Which always for thy sake, their bosoms fill,
When thee they view, all lovely as thou art,
Ent’ring majestic on the graceful dance.
But him beyond all others blest I deem,
The youth, who, wealthier than his rich compeers,
Shall win and lead thee to his honour’d home.
For never with these eyes a mortal form
Beheld I comparable aught to thine,
In man or woman. Wonder-wrapt I gaze.
Such erst, in Delos, I beheld a palm [200]
Beside the altar of Apollo, tall,
And growing still; (for thither too I sail’d,
And num’rous were my followers in a voyage
Ordain’d my ruin) and as then I view’d
That palm long time amazed, for never grew
So strait a shaft, so lovely from the ground,
So, Princess! thee with wonder I behold,
Charm’d into fixt astonishment, by awe
Alone forbidden to embrace thy knees,
For I am one on whom much woe hath fall’n. [210]
Yesterday I escaped (the twentieth day
Of my distress by sea) the dreary Deep;
For, all those days, the waves and rapid storms
Bore me along, impetuous from the isle
Ogygia; till at length the will of heav’n
Cast me, that I might also here sustain
Affliction on your shore; for rest, I think,
Is not for me. No. The Immortal Gods
Have much to accomplish ere that day arrive.
But, oh Queen, pity me! who after long [220]
Calamities endured, of all who live
Thee first approach, nor mortal know beside
Of the inhabitants of all the land.
Shew me your city; give me, although coarse,
Some cov’ring (if coarse cov’ring //thou// canst give)
And may the Gods thy largest wishes grant,
House, husband, concord! for of all the gifts
Of heav’n, more precious none I deem, than peace
’Twixt wedded pair, and union undissolved;
Envy torments their enemies, but joy [230]
Fills ev’ry virtuous breast, and most their own.
To whom Nausicaa the fair replied.
Since, stranger! neither base by birth thou seem’st,
Nor unintelligent, (but Jove, the King
Olympian, gives to good and bad alike
Prosperity according to his will,
And grief to thee, which thou must patient bear,)
Now, therefore, at our land and city arrived,
Nor garment thou shalt want, nor aught beside
Due to a suppliant guest like thee forlorn. [240]
I will both show thee where our city stands,
And who dwell here. Phæacia’s sons possess
This land; but I am daughter of their King
The brave Alcinoüs, on whose sway depends
For strength and wealth the whole Phæacian race.
She said, and to her beauteous maidens gave
Instant commandment—My attendants, stay!
Why flee ye thus, and whither, from the sight
Of a mere mortal? Seems he in your eyes
Some enemy of ours? The heart beats not, [250]
Nor shall it beat hereafter, which shall come
An enemy to the Phæacian shores,
So dear to the immortal Gods are we.
Remote, amid the billowy Deep, we hold
Our dwelling, utmost of all human-kind,
And free from mixture with a foreign race.
This man, a miserable wand’rer comes,
Whom we are bound to cherish, for the poor
And stranger are from Jove, and trivial gifts
To such are welcome. Bring ye therefore food [260]
And wine, my maidens, for the guest’s regale,
And lave him where the stream is shelter’d most.
She spake; they stood, and by each other’s words
Encouraged, placed Ulysses where the bank
O’erhung the stream, as fair Nausicaa bade,
Daughter of King Alcinoüs the renown’d.
Apparel also at his side they spread,
Mantle and vest, and, next, the limpid oil
Presenting to him in the golden cruse,
Exhorted him to bathe in the clear stream. [270]
Ulysses then the maidens thus bespake.
Ye maidens, stand apart, that I may cleanse,
Myself, my shoulders from the briny surf,
And give them oil which they have wanted long.
But in your presence I bathe not, ashamed
To show myself uncloath’d to female eyes.
He said; they went, and to Nausicaa told
His answer; then the Hero in the stream
His shoulders laved, and loins incrusted rough
With the salt spray, and with his hands the scum [280]
Of the wild ocean from his locks express’d.
Thus wash’d all over, and refresh’d with oil,
He put the garments on, Nausicaa’s gift.
Then Pallas, progeny of Jove, his form
Dilated more, and from his head diffused
His curling locks like hyacinthine flowers.
As when some artist, by Minerva made
And Vulcan wise to execute all tasks
Ingenious, binding with a golden verge
Bright silver, finishes a graceful work, [290]
Such grace the Goddess o’er his ample chest
Copious diffused, and o’er his manly brows.
Retiring, on the beach he sat, with grace
And dignity illumed, where, viewing him,
The virgin Princess, with amazement mark’d
His beauty, and her damsels thus bespake.
My white-arm’d maidens, listen to my voice!
Not hated, sure, by all above, this man
Among Phæacia’s godlike sons arrives.
At first I deem’d him of plebeian sort [300]
Dishonourable, but he now assumes
A near resemblance to the Gods above.
Ah! would to heaven it were my lot to call
Husband, some native of our land like him
Accomplish’d, and content to inhabit here!
Give him, my maidens, food, and give him wine.
She ended; they obedient to her will,
Both wine and food, dispatchful, placed, and glad,
Before Ulysses; he rapacious ate,
Toil-suff’ring Chief, and drank, for he had lived [310]
From taste of aliment long time estranged.
On other thoughts meantime intent, her charge
Of folded vestments neat the Princess placed
Within the royal wain, then yoked the mules,
And to her seat herself ascending, call’d
Ulysses to depart, and thus she spake.
Up, stranger! seek the city. I will lead
Thy steps toward my royal Father’s house,
Where all Phæacia’s Nobles thou shalt see.
But thou (for I account thee not unwise) [320]
This course pursue. While through the fields we pass,
And labours of the rural hind, so long
With my attendants follow fast the mules
And sumpter-carriage. I will be thy guide.
But, once the summit gain’d, on which is built
Our city with proud bulwarks fenced around,
And laved on both sides by its pleasant port
Of narrow entrance, where our gallant barks
Line all the road, each station’d in her place,
And where, adjoining close the splendid fane [330]
Of Neptune, stands the forum with huge stones
From quarries thither drawn, constructed strong,
In which the rigging of their barks they keep,
Sail-cloth and cordage, and make smooth their oars;
(For bow and quiver the Phæacian race
Heed not, but masts and oars, and ships well-poised,
With which exulting they divide the flood)
Then, cautious, I would shun their bitter taunts
Disgustful, lest they mock me as I pass;
For of the meaner people some are coarse [340]
In the extreme, and it may chance that one,
The basest there seeing us shall exclaim—
What handsome stranger of athletic form
Attends the Princess? Where had she the chance
To find him? We shall see them wedded soon.
Either she hath received some vagrant guest
From distant lands, (for no land neighbours ours)
Or by her pray’rs incessant won, some God
Hath left the heav’ns to be for ever hers.
’Tis well if she have found, by her own search, [350]
An husband for herself, since she accounts
The Nobles of Phæacia, who her hand
Solicit num’rous, worthy to be scorn’d—
Thus will they speak, injurious. I should blame
A virgin guilty of such conduct much,
Myself, who reckless of her parents’ will,
Should so familiar with a man consort,
Ere celebration of her spousal rites.
But mark me, stranger! following my advice,
Thou shalt the sooner at my father’s hands [360]
Obtain safe conduct and conveyance home.
Sacred to Pallas a delightful grove
Of poplars skirts the road, which we shall reach
Ere long; within that grove a fountain flows,
And meads encircle it; my father’s farm
Is there, and his luxuriant garden plot;
A shout might reach it from the city-walls.
There wait, till in the town arrived, we gain
My father’s palace, and when reason bids
Suppose us there, then ent’ring thou the town, [370]
Ask where Alcinoüs dwells, my valiant Sire.
Well known is his abode, so that with ease
A child might lead thee to it, for in nought
The other houses of our land the house
Resemble, in which dwells the Hero, King
Alcinoüs. Once within the court received
Pause not, but, with swift pace advancing, seek
My mother; she beside a column sits
In the hearth’s blaze, twirling her fleecy threads
Tinged with sea-purple, bright, magnificent! [380]
With all her maidens orderly behind.
There also stands my father’s throne, on which
Seated, he drinks and banquets like a God.
Pass that; then suppliant clasp my mother’s knees,
So shalt thou quickly win a glad return
To thy own home, however far remote.
Her favour, once, and her kind aid secured,
Thenceforth thou may’st expect thy friends to see,
Thy dwelling, and thy native soil again.
So saying, she with her splendid scourge the mules [390]
Lash’d onward. They (the stream soon left behind)
With even footsteps graceful smote the ground;
But so she ruled them, managing with art
The scourge, as not to leave afar, although
Following on foot, Ulysses and her train.
The sun had now declined, when in that grove
Renown’d, to Pallas sacred, they arrived,
In which Ulysses sat, and fervent thus
Sued to the daughter of Jove Ægis-arm’d.
Daughter invincible of Jove supreme! [400]
Oh, hear me! Hear me now, because when erst
The mighty Shaker of the shores incensed
Toss’d me from wave to wave, thou heard’st me not.
Grant me, among Phæacia’s sons, to find
Benevolence and pity of my woes!
He spake, whose pray’r well-pleas’d the Goddess heard,
But, rev’rencing the brother of her sire,^^[[24|Cowper: Footnote 24]]^^
Appear’d not to Ulysses yet, whom he
Pursued with fury to his native shores.
"""
''Argument''
//Nausicaa returns from the river, whom Ulysses follows. He halts, by her direction, at a small distance from the palace, which at a convenient time he enters. He is well received by Alcinoüs and his Queen; and having related to them the manner of his being cast on the shore of Scheria, and received from Alcinoüs the promise of safe conduct home, retires to rest.//
"""
Such pray’r Ulysses, toil-worn Chief renown’d,
To Pallas made, meantime the virgin, drawn
By her stout mules, Phæacia’s city reach’d,
And, at her father’s house arrived, the car
Stay’d in the vestibule; her brothers five,
All godlike youths, assembling quick around,
Released the mules, and bore the raiment in.
Meantime, to her own chamber she return’d,
Where, soon as she arrived, an antient dame
Eurymedusa, by peculiar charge [10]
Attendant on that service, kindled fire.
Sea-rovers her had from Epirus brought
Long since, and to Alcinoüs she had fall’n
By public gift, for that he ruled, supreme,
Phæacia, and as oft as he harangued
The multitude, was rev’renced as a God.
She waited on the fair Nausicaa, she
Her fuel kindled, and her food prepared.
And now Ulysses from his seat arose
To seek the city, around whom, his guard [20]
Benevolent, Minerva, cast a cloud,
Lest, haply, some Phæacian should presume
T’ insult the Chief, and question whence he came.
But ere he enter’d yet the pleasant town,
Minerva azure-eyed met him, in form
A blooming maid, bearing her pitcher forth.
She stood before him, and the noble Chief
Ulysses, of the Goddess thus enquired.
Daughter! wilt thou direct me to the house
Of brave Alcinoüs, whom this land obeys? [30]
For I have here arrived, after long toil,
And from a country far remote, a guest
To all who in Phæacia dwell, unknown.
To whom the Goddess of the azure-eyes.
The mansion of thy search, stranger revered!
Myself will shew thee; for not distant dwells
Alcinoüs from my father’s own abode:
But hush! be silent—I will lead the way;
Mark no man; question no man; for the sight
Of strangers is unusual here, and cold [40]
The welcome by this people shown to such.
They, trusting in swift ships, by the free grant
Of Neptune traverse his wide waters, borne
As if on wings, or with the speed of thought.
So spake the Goddess, and with nimble pace
Led on, whose footsteps he, as quick, pursued.
But still the seaman-throng through whom he pass’d
Perceiv’d him not; Minerva, Goddess dread,
That sight forbidding them, whose eyes she dimm’d
With darkness shed miraculous around [50]
Her fav’rite Chief. Ulysses, wond’ring, mark’d
Their port, their ships, their forum, the resort
Of Heroes, and their battlements sublime
Fenced with sharp stakes around, a glorious show!
But when the King’s august abode he reach’d,
Minerva azure-eyed, then, thus began.
My father! thou behold’st the house to which
Thou bad’st me lead thee. Thou shalt find our Chiefs
And high-born Princes banqueting within.
But enter fearing nought, for boldest men [60]
Speed ever best, come whencesoe’er they may.
First thou shalt find the Queen, known by her name
Areta; lineal in descent from those
Who gave Alcinoüs birth, her royal spouse.
Neptune begat Nausithoüs, at the first,
On Peribæa, loveliest of her sex,
Latest-born daughter of Eurymedon,
Heroic King of the proud giant race,
Who, losing all his impious people, shared
The same dread fate himself. Her Neptune lov’d, [70]
To whom she bore a son, the mighty prince
Nausithoüs, in his day King of the land.
Nausithoüs himself two sons begat,
Rhexenor and Alcinoüs. Phoebus slew
Rhexenor at his home, a bridegroom yet,
Who, father of no son, one daughter left,
Areta, wedded to Alcinoüs now,
And whom the Sov’reign in such honour holds,
As woman none enjoys of all on earth
Existing, subjects of an husband’s pow’r. [80]
Like veneration she from all receives
Unfeign’d, from her own children, from himself
Alcinoüs, and from all Phæacia’s race,
Who, gazing on her as she were divine,
Shout when she moves in progress through the town.
For she no wisdom wants, but sits, herself,
Arbitress of such contests as arise
Between her fav’rites, and decides aright.
Her count’nance once and her kind aid secured,
Thou may’st thenceforth expect thy friends to see, [90]
Thy dwelling, and thy native soil again.
So Pallas spake, Goddess cærulean-eyed,
And o’er the untillable and barren Deep
Departing, Scheria left, land of delight,
Whence reaching Marathon, and Athens next,
She pass’d into Erectheus’ fair abode.
Ulysses, then, toward the palace moved
Of King Alcinoüs, but immers’d in thought
Stood, first, and paused, ere with his foot he press’d
The brazen threshold; for a light he saw [100]
As of the sun or moon illuming clear
The palace of Phæacia’s mighty King.
Walls plated bright with brass, on either side
Stretch’d from the portal to th’ interior house,
With azure cornice crown’d; the doors were gold
Which shut the palace fast; silver the posts
Rear’d on a brazen threshold, and above,
The lintels, silver, architraved with gold.
Mastiffs, in gold and silver, lined the approach
On either side, by art celestial framed [110]
Of Vulcan, guardians of Alcinoüs’ gate
For ever, unobnoxious to decay.
Sheer from the threshold to the inner house
Fixt thrones the walls, through all their length, adorn’d,
With mantles overspread of subtlest warp
Transparent, work of many a female hand.
On these the princes of Phæacia sat,
Holding perpetual feasts, while golden youths
On all the sumptuous altars stood, their hands
With burning torches charged, which, night by night, [120]
Shed radiance over all the festive throng.
Full fifty female menials serv’d the King
In household offices; the rapid mills
These turning, pulverize the mellow’d grain,
Those, seated orderly, the purple fleece
Wind off, or ply the loom, restless as leaves
Of lofty poplars fluttering in the breeze;
Bright as with oil the new-wrought texture shone.^^[[25|Cowper: Footnote 25]]^^
Far as Phæacian mariners all else
Surpass, the swift ship urging through the floods, [130]
So far in tissue-work the women pass
All others, by Minerva’s self endow’d
With richest fancy and superior skill.
Without the court, and to the gates adjoin’d
A spacious garden lay, fenced all around
Secure, four acres measuring complete.
There grew luxuriant many a lofty tree,
Pomegranate, pear, the apple blushing bright,
The honied fig, and unctuous olive smooth.
Those fruits, nor winter’s cold nor summer’s heat [140]
Fear ever, fail not, wither not, but hang
Perennial, whose unceasing zephyr breathes
Gently on all, enlarging these, and those
Maturing genial; in an endless course
Pears after pears to full dimensions swell,
Figs follow figs, grapes clust’ring grow again
Where clusters grew, and (ev’ry apple stript)
The boughs soon tempt the gath’rer as before.
There too, well-rooted, and of fruit profuse,
His vineyard grows; part, wide-extended, basks, [150]
In the sun’s beams; the arid level glows;
In part they gather, and in part they tread
The wine-press, while, before the eye, the grapes
Here put their blossom forth, there, gather fast
Their blackness. On the garden’s verge extreme
Flow’rs of all hues smile all the year, arranged
With neatest art judicious, and amid
The lovely scene two fountains welling forth,
One visits, into ev’ry part diffus’d,
The garden-ground, the other soft beneath [160]
The threshold steals into the palace-court,
Whence ev’ry citizen his vase supplies.
Such were the ample blessings on the house
Of King Alcinoüs by the Gods bestow’d.
Ulysses wond’ring stood, and when, at length,
Silent he had the whole fair scene admired,
With rapid step enter’d the royal gate.
The Chiefs he found and Senators within
Libation pouring to the vigilant spy
Mercurius, whom with wine they worshipp’d last [170]
Of all the Gods, and at the hour of rest.
Ulysses, toil-worn Hero, through the house
Pass’d undelaying, by Minerva thick
With darkness circumfus’d, till he arrived
Where King Alcinoüs and Areta sat.
Around Areta’s knees his arms he cast,
And, in that moment, broken clear away
The cloud all went, shed on him from above.
Dumb sat the guests, seeing the unknown Chief,
And wond’ring gazed. He thus his suit preferr’d. [180]
Areta, daughter of the Godlike Prince
Rhexenor! suppliant at thy knees I fall,
Thy royal spouse imploring, and thyself,
(After ten thousand toils) and these your guests,
To whom heav’n grant felicity, and to leave
Their treasures to their babes, with all the rights
And honours, by the people’s suffrage, theirs!
But oh vouchsafe me, who have wanted long
And ardent wish’d my home, without delay
Safe conduct to my native shores again! [190]
Such suit he made, and in the ashes sat
At the hearth-side; they mute long time remain’d,
Till, at the last, the antient Hero spake
Echeneus, eldest of Phæacia’s sons,
With eloquence beyond the rest endow’d,
Rich in traditionary lore, and wise
In all, who thus, benevolent, began.
Not honourable to thyself, O King!
Is such a sight, a stranger on the ground
At the hearth-side seated, and in the dust. [200]
Meantime, thy guests, expecting thy command,
Move not; thou therefore raising by his hand
The stranger, lead him to a throne, and bid
The heralds mingle wine, that we may pour
To thunder-bearing Jove, the suppliant’s friend.
Then let the cat’ress for thy guest produce
Supply, a supper from the last regale.
Soon as those words Alcinoüs heard, the King,
Upraising by his hand the prudent Chief
Ulysses from the hearth, he made him sit, [210]
On a bright throne, displacing for his sake
Laodamas his son, the virtuous youth
Who sat beside him, and whom most he lov’d.
And now, a maiden charg’d with golden ew’r
And with an argent laver, pouring, first,
Pure water on his hands, supply’d him, next,
With a resplendent table, which the chaste
Directress of the stores furnish’d with bread
And dainties, remnants of the last regale.
Then ate the Hero toil-inured, and drank, [220]
And to his herald thus Alcinoüs spake.
Pontonoüs! mingling wine, bear it around
To ev’ry guest in turn, that we may pour
To thunder-bearer Jove, the stranger’s friend,
And guardian of the suppliant’s sacred rights.
He said; Pontonoüs, as he bade, the wine
Mingled delicious, and the cups dispensed
With distribution regular to all.
When each had made libation, and had drunk
Sufficient, then, Alcinoüs thus began. [230]
Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, I speak
The dictates of my mind, therefore attend!
Ye all have feasted—To your homes and sleep.
We will assemble at the dawn of day
More senior Chiefs, that we may entertain
The stranger here, and to the Gods perform
Due sacrifice; the convoy that he asks
Shall next engage our thoughts, that free from pain
And from vexation, by our friendly aid
He may revisit, joyful and with speed, [240]
His native shore, however far remote.
No inconvenience let him feel or harm,
Ere his arrival; but, arrived, thenceforth
He must endure whatever lot the Fates
Spun for him in the moment of his birth.
But should he prove some Deity from heav’n
Descended, then the Immortals have in view
Designs not yet apparent; for the Gods
Have ever from of old reveal’d themselves
At our solemnities, have on our seats [250]
Sat with us evident, and shared the feast;
And even if a single traveller
Of the Phæacians meet them, all reserve
They lay aside; for with the Gods we boast
As near affinity as do themselves
The Cyclops, or the Giant race profane.^^[[26|Cowper: Footnote 26]]^^
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Alcinoüs! think not so. Resemblance none
In figure or in lineaments I bear
To the immortal tenants of the skies, [260]
But to the sons of earth; if ye have known
A man afflicted with a weight of woe
Peculiar, let me be with him compared;
Woes even passing his could I relate,
And all inflicted on me by the Gods.
But let me eat, comfortless as I am,
Uninterrupted; for no call is loud
As that of hunger in the ears of man;
Importunate, unreas’nable, it constrains
His notice, more than all his woes beside. [270]
So, I much sorrow feel, yet not the less
Hear I the blatant appetite demand
Due sustenance, and with a voice that drowns
E’en all my suff’rings, till itself be fill’d.
But expedite ye at the dawn of day
My safe return into my native land,
After much mis’ry; and let life itself
Forsake me, may I but once more behold
All that is mine, in my own lofty abode.
He spake, whom all applauded, and advised, [280]
Unanimous, the guest’s conveyance home,
Who had so fitly spoken. When, at length,
All had libation made, and were sufficed,
Departing to his house, each sought repose.
But still Ulysses in the hall remain’d,
Where, godlike King, Alcinoüs at his side
Sat, and Areta; the attendants clear’d
Meantime the board, and thus the Queen white-arm’d,
(Marking the vest and mantle, which he wore
And which her maidens and herself had made) [290]
In accents wing’d with eager haste began.
Stranger! the first enquiry shall be mine;
Who art, and whence? From whom receiv’dst thou these?
Saidst not—I came a wand’rer o’er the Deep?
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Oh Queen! the task were difficult to unfold
In all its length the story of my woes,
For I have num’rous from the Gods receiv’d;
But I will answer thee as best I may.
There is a certain isle, Ogygia, placed [300]
Far distant in the Deep; there dwells, by man
Alike unvisited, and by the Gods,
Calypso, beauteous nymph, but deeply skill’d
In artifice, and terrible in pow’r,
Daughter of Atlas. Me alone my fate
Her miserable inmate made, when Jove
Had riv’n asunder with his candent bolt
My bark in the mid-sea. There perish’d all
The valiant partners of my toils, and I
My vessel’s keel embracing day and night [310]
With folded arms, nine days was borne along.
But on the tenth dark night, as pleas’d the Gods,
They drove me to Ogygia, where resides
Calypso, beauteous nymph, dreadful in pow’r;
She rescued, cherish’d, fed me, and her wish
Was to confer on me immortal life,
Exempt for ever from the sap of age.
But me her offer’d boon sway’d not. Sev’n years
I there abode continual, with my tears
Bedewing ceaseless my ambrosial robes, [320]
Calypso’s gift divine; but when, at length,
(Sev’n years elaps’d) the circling eighth arrived,
She then, herself, my quick departure thence
Advised, by Jove’s own mandate overaw’d,
Which even her had influenced to a change.
On a well-corded raft she sent me forth
With num’rous presents; bread she put and wine
On board, and cloath’d me in immortal robes;
She sent before me also a fair wind
Fresh-blowing, but not dang’rous. Sev’nteen days [330]
I sail’d the flood continual, and descried,
On the eighteenth, your shadowy mountains tall
When my exulting heart sprang at the sight,
All wretched as I was, and still ordain’d
To strive with difficulties many and hard
From adverse Neptune; he the stormy winds
Exciting opposite, my wat’ry way
Impeded, and the waves heav’d to a bulk
Immeasurable, such as robb’d me soon
Deep-groaning, of the raft, my only hope; [340]
For her the tempest scatter’d, and myself
This ocean measur’d swimming, till the winds
And mighty waters cast me on your shore.
Me there emerging, the huge waves had dash’d
Full on the land, where, incommodious most,
The shore presented only roughest rocks,
But, leaving it, I swam the Deep again,
Till now, at last, a river’s gentle stream
Receiv’d me, by no rocks deform’d, and where
No violent winds the shelter’d bank annoy’d. [350]
I flung myself on shore, exhausted, weak,
Needing repose; ambrosial night came on,
When from the Jove-descended stream withdrawn,
I in a thicket lay’d me down on leaves
Which I had heap’d together, and the Gods
O’erwhelm’d my eye-lids with a flood of sleep.
There under wither’d leaves, forlorn, I slept
All the long night, the morning and the noon,
But balmy sleep, at the decline of day,
Broke from me; then, your daughter’s train I heard [360]
Sporting, with whom she also sported, fair
And graceful as the Gods. To her I kneel’d.
She, following the dictates of a mind
Ingenuous, pass’d in her behaviour all
Which even ye could from an age like hers
Have hoped; for youth is ever indiscrete.
She gave me plenteous food, with richest wine
Refresh’d my spirit, taught me where to bathe,
And cloath’d me as thou seest; thus, though a prey
To many sorrows, I have told thee truth. [370]
To whom Alcinoüs answer thus return’d.
My daughter’s conduct, I perceive, hath been
In this erroneous, that she led thee not
Hither, at once, with her attendant train,
For thy first suit was to herself alone.
Thus then Ulysses, wary Chief, replied.
Blame not, O Hero, for so slight a cause
Thy faultless child; she bade me follow them,
But I refused, by fear and awe restrain’d,
Lest thou should’st feel displeasure at that sight [380]
Thyself; for we are all, in ev’ry clime,
Suspicious, and to worst constructions prone.
So spake Ulysses, to whom thus the King.
I bear not, stranger! in my breast an heart
Causeless irascible; for at all times
A temp’rate equanimity is best.
And oh, I would to heav’n, that, being such
As now thou art, and of one mind with me,
Thou would’st accept my daughter, would’st become
My son-in-law, and dwell contented here! [390]
House would I give thee, and possessions too,
Were such thy choice; else, if thou chuse it not,
No man in all Phæacia shall by force
Detain thee. Jupiter himself forbid!
For proof, I will appoint thee convoy hence
To-morrow; and while thou by sleep subdued
Shalt on thy bed repose, they with their oars
Shall brush the placid flood, till thou arrive
At home, or at what place soe’er thou would’st,
Though far more distant than Eubœa lies, [400]
Remotest isle from us, by the report
Of ours, who saw it when they thither bore
Golden-hair’d Rhadamanthus o’er the Deep,
To visit earth-born Tityus. To that isle
They went; they reach’d it, and they brought him thence
Back to Phæacia, in one day, with ease.
Thou also shalt be taught what ships I boast
Unmatch’d in swiftness, and how far my crews
Excel, upturning with their oars the brine.
He ceas’d; Ulysses toil-inur’d his words [410]
Exulting heard, and, praying, thus replied.
Eternal Father! may the King perform
His whole kind promise! grant him in all lands
A never-dying name, and grant to me
To visit safe my native shores again!
Thus they conferr’d; and now Areta bade
Her fair attendants dress a fleecy couch
Under the portico, with purple rugs
Resplendent, and with arras spread beneath,
And over all with cloaks of shaggy pile. [420]
Forth went the maidens, bearing each a torch,
And, as she bade, prepared in haste a couch
Of depth commodious, then, returning, gave
Ulysses welcome summons to repose.
Stranger! thy couch is spread. Hence to thy rest.
So they—Thrice grateful to his soul the thought
Seem’d of repose. There slept Ulysses, then,
On his carv’d couch, beneath the portico,
But in the inner-house Alcinoüs found
His place of rest, and hers with royal state [430]
Prepared, the Queen his consort, at his side.
"""
''Argument''
//The Phæacians consult on the subject of Ulysses. Preparation is made for his departure. Antinoüs entertains them at his table. Games follow the entertainment. Demodocus the bard sings, first the loves of Mars and Venus, then the introduction of the wooden horse into Troy. Ulysses, much affected by his song, is questioned by Alcinoüs, whence, and who he is, and what is the cause of his sorrow.//
"""
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Blush’d in the East, then from his bed arose
The sacred might of the Phæacian King.
Then uprose also, city-waster Chief,
Ulysses, whom the King Alcinoüs
Led forth to council at the ships convened.
There, side by side, on polish’d stones they sat
Frequent; meantime, Minerva in the form
Of King Alcinoüs’ herald ranged the town,
With purpose to accelerate the return [10]
Of brave Ulysses to his native home,
And thus to ev’ry Chief the Goddess spake.
Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, away!
Haste all to council on the stranger held,
Who hath of late beneath Alcinoüs’ roof
Our King arrived, a wand’rer o’er the Deep,
But, in his form, majestic as a God.
So saying, she roused the people, and at once
The seats of all the senate-court were fill’d
With fast-assembling throngs, no few of whom [20]
Had mark’d Ulysses with admiring eyes.
Then, Pallas o’er his head and shoulders broad
Diffusing grace celestial, his whole form
Dilated, and to the statelier height advanced,
That worthier of all rev’rence he might seem
To the Phæacians, and might many a feat
Atchieve, with which they should assay his force.
When, therefore, the assembly now was full,
Alcinoüs, them addressing, thus began.
Phæacian Chiefs and Senators! I speak [30]
The dictates of my mind, therefore attend.
This guest, unknown to me, hath, wand’ring, found
My palace, either from the East arrived,
Or from some nation on our western side.
Safe conduct home he asks, and our consent
Here wishes ratified, whose quick return
Be it our part, as usual, to promote;
For at no time the stranger, from what coast
Soe’er, who hath resorted to our doors,
Hath long complain’d of his detention here. [40]
Haste—draw ye down into the sacred Deep
A vessel of prime speed, and, from among
The people, fifty and two youths select,
Approved the best; then, lashing fast the oars,
Leave her, that at my palace ye may make
Short feast, for which myself will all provide.
Thus I enjoin the crew; but as for those
Of sceptred rank, I bid them all alike
To my own board, that here we may regale
The stranger nobly, and let none refuse. [50]
Call, too, Demodocus, the bard divine,
To share my banquet, whom the Gods have blest
With pow’rs of song delectable, unmatch’d
By any, when his genius once is fired.
He ceas’d, and led the way, whom follow’d all
The sceptred senators, while to the house
An herald hasted of the bard divine.
Then, fifty mariners and two, from all
The rest selected, to the coast repair’d,
And, from her station on the sea-bank, launched [60]
The galley down into the sacred Deep.
They placed the canvas and the mast on board,
Arranged the oars, unfurl’d the shining sail,
And, leaving her in depth of water moor’d,
All sought the palace of Alcinoüs.
There, soon, the portico, the court, the hall
Were fill’d with multitudes of young and old,
For whose regale the mighty monarch slew
Two beeves, twelve sheep, and twice four fatted brawns.
They slay’d them first, then busily their task [70]
Administ’ring, prepared the joyous feast.
And now the herald came, leading with care
The tuneful bard; dear to the muse was he,
Who yet appointed him both good and ill;
Took from him sight, but gave him strains divine.
For him, Pontonoüs in the midst disposed
An argent-studded throne, thrusting it close
To a tall column, where he hung his lyre
Above his head, and taught him where it hung.
He set before him, next, a polish’d board [80]
And basket, and a goblet fill’d with wine
For his own use, and at his own command.
Then, all assail’d at once the ready feast,
And when nor hunger more nor thirst they felt,
Then came the muse, and roused the bard to sing
Exploits of men renown’d; it was a song,
In that day, to the highest heav’n extoll’d.
He sang of a dispute kindled between
The son of Peleus, and Laertes’^^[[27|Cowper: Footnote 27]]^^ son,
Both seated at a feast held to the Gods. [90]
That contest Agamemnon, King of men,
Between the noblest of Achaia’s host
Hearing, rejoiced; for when in Pytho erst
He pass’d the marble threshold to consult
The oracle of Apollo, such dispute
The voice divine had to his ear announced;
For then it was that, first, the storm of war
Came rolling on, ordain’d long time to afflict
Troy and the Greecians, by the will of Jove.
So sang the bard illustrious; then his robe [100]
Of purple dye with both hands o’er his head
Ulysses drew, behind its ample folds
Veiling his face, through fear to be observed
By the Phæacians weeping at the song;
And ever as the bard harmonious ceased,
He wiped his tears, and, drawing from his brows
The mantle, pour’d libation to the Gods.
But when the Chiefs (for they delighted heard
Those sounds) solicited again the bard,
And he renew’d the strain, then cov’ring close [110]
His count’nance, as before, Ulysses wept.
Thus, unperceiv’d by all, the Hero mourn’d,
Save by Alcinoüs; he alone his tears,
(Beside him seated) mark’d, and his deep sighs
O’erhearing, the Phæacians thus bespake.
Phæacia’s Chiefs and Senators, attend!
We have regaled sufficient, and the harp
Heard to satiety, companion sweet
And seasonable of the festive hour.
Now go we forth for honourable proof [120]
Of our address in games of ev’ry kind,
That this our guest may to his friends report,
At home arriv’d, that none like us have learn’d
To leap, to box, to wrestle, and to run.
So saying, he led them forth, whose steps the guests
All follow’d, and the herald hanging high
The sprightly lyre, took by his hand the bard
Demodocus, whom he the self-same way
Conducted forth, by which the Chiefs had gone
Themselves, for that great spectacle prepared. [130]
They sought the forum; countless swarm’d the throng
Behind them as they went, and many a youth
Strong and courageous to the strife arose.
Upstood Acroneus and Ocyalus,
Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, after whom
Anchialus with Anabeesineus
Arose, Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus bold,
Amphialus and Thöon. Then arose,
In aspect dread as homicidal Mars,
Euryalus, and for his graceful form [140]
(After Laodamas) distinguish’d most
Of all Phæacia’s sons, Naubolides.
Three also from Alcinoüs sprung, arose,
Laodamas, his eldest; Halius, next,
His second-born; and godlike Clytoneus.
Of these, some started for the runner’s prize.
They gave the race its limits.^^[[28|Cowper: Footnote 28]]^^ All at once
Along the dusty champaign swift they flew.
But Clytoneus, illustrious youth, outstripp’d
All competition; far as mules surpass [150]
Slow oxen furrowing the fallow ground,
So far before all others he arrived
Victorious, where the throng’d spectators stood.
Some tried the wrestler’s toil severe, in which
Euryalus superior proved to all.
In the long leap Amphialus prevail’d;
Elatreus most successful hurled the quoit,
And at the cestus,^^[[29|Cowper: Footnote 29]]^^ last, the noble son
Of Scheria’s King, Laodamas excell’d.
When thus with contemplation of the games [160]
All had been gratified, Alcinoüs’ son
Laodamas, arising, then address’d.
Friends! ask we now the stranger, if he boast
Proficiency in aught. His figure seems
Not ill; in thighs, and legs, and arms he shews
Much strength, and in his brawny neck; nor youth
Hath left him yet, though batter’d he appears
With num’rous troubles, and misfortune-flaw’d.
Nor know I hardships in the world so sure
To break the strongest down, as those by sea. [170]
Then answer thus Euryalus return’d.
Thou hast well said, Laodamas; thyself
Approaching, speak to him, and call him forth.
Which when Alcinoüs’ noble offspring heard,
Advancing from his seat, amid them all
He stood, and to Ulysses thus began.
Stand forth, oh guest, thou also; prove thy skill
(If any such thou hast) in games like ours,
Which, likeliest, thou hast learn’d; for greater praise
Hath no man, while he lives, than that he know [180]
His feet to exercise and hands aright.
Come then; make trial; scatter wide thy cares,
We will not hold thee long; the ship is launch’d
Already, and the crew stand all prepared.
To whom replied the wily Chief renown’d
Wherefore, as in derision, have ye call’d
Me forth, Laodamas, to these exploits?
No games have I, but many a grief, at heart,
And with far other struggles worn, here sit
Desirous only of conveyance home, [190]
For which both King and people I implore.
Then him Euryalus aloud reproach’d.
I well believ’d it, friend! in thee the guise
I see not of a man expert in feats
Athletic, of which various are perform’d
In ev’ry land; thou rather seem’st with ships
Familiar; one, accustom’d to controul
Some crew of trading mariners; well-learn’d
In stowage, pilotage, and wealth acquired
By rapine, but of no gymnastic pow’rs. [200]
To whom Ulysses, frowning dark, replied.
Thou hast ill spoken, sir, and like a man
Regardless whom he wrongs. Therefore the Gods
Give not endowments graceful in each kind,
Of body, mind, and utt’rance, all to one.
This man in figure less excels, yet Jove
Crowns him with eloquence; his hearers charm’d
Behold him, while with modest confidence
He bears the prize of fluent speech from all,
And in the streets is gazed on as a God! [210]
Another, in his form the Pow’rs above
Resembles, but no grace around his words
Twines itself elegant. So, thou in form
Hast excellence to boast; a God, employ’d
To make a master-piece in human shape,
Could but produce proportions such as thine;
Yet hast thou an untutor’d intellect.
Thou much hast moved me; thy unhandsome phrase
Hath roused my wrath; I am not, as thou say’st,
A novice in these sports, but took the lead [220]
In all, while youth and strength were on my side.
But I am now in bands of sorrow held,
And of misfortune, having much endured
In war, and buffeting the boist’rous waves.
Yet, though with mis’ry worn, I will essay
My strength among you; for thy words had teeth
Whose bite hath pinch’d and pain’d me to the proof.
He said; and mantled as he was, a quoit
Upstarting, seized, in bulk and weight all those
Transcending far, by the Phæacians used. [230]
Swiftly he swung, and from his vig’rous hand
Sent it. Loud sang the stone, and as it flew
The maritime Phæacians low inclined
Their heads beneath it; over all the marks,
And far beyond them, sped the flying rock.
Minerva, in a human form, the cast
Prodigious measur’d, and aloud exclaim’d.
Stranger! the blind himself might with his hands
Feel out the ’vantage here. Thy quoit disdains
Fellowship with a crowd, borne far beyond. [240]
Fear not a losing game; Phæacian none
Will reach thy measure, much less overcast.
She ceased; Ulysses, hardy Chief, rejoiced
That in the circus he had found a judge
So favorable, and with brisker tone,
As less in wrath, the multitude address’d.
Young men, reach this, and I will quickly heave
Another such, or yet a heavier quoit.
Then, come the man whose courage prompts him forth
To box, to wrestle with me, or to run; [250]
For ye have chafed me much, and I decline
No strife with any here, but challenge all
Phæacia, save Laodamas alone.
He is mine host. Who combats with his friend?
To call to proof of hardiment the man
Who entertains him in a foreign land,
Would but evince the challenger a fool,
Who, so, would cripple his own interest there.
As for the rest, I none refuse, scorn none,
But wish for trial of you, and to match [260]
In opposition fair my force with yours.
There is no game athletic in the use
Of all mankind, too difficult for me;
I handle well the polish’d bow, and first
Amid a thousand foes strike whom I mark,
Although a throng of warriors at my side
Imbattled, speed their shafts at the same time.
Of all Achaia’s sons who erst at Troy
Drew bow, the sole who bore the prize from me
Was Philoctetes; I resign it else [270]
To none now nourish’d with the fruits of earth.
Yet mean I no comparison of myself
With men of antient times, with Hercules,
Or with Oechalian Eurytus, who, both,
The Gods themselves in archery defied.
Soon, therefore, died huge Eurytus, ere yet
Old age he reach’d; him, angry to be call’d
To proof of archership, Apollo slew.
But if ye name the spear, mine flies a length
By no man’s arrow reach’d; I fear no foil [280]
From the Phæacians, save in speed alone;
For I have suffer’d hardships, dash’d and drench’d
By many a wave, nor had I food on board
At all times, therefore I am much unstrung.
He spake; and silent the Phæacians sat,
Of whom alone Alcinoüs thus replied.
Since, stranger, not ungraceful is thy speech,
Who hast but vindicated in our ears
Thy question’d prowess, angry that this youth
Reproach’d thee in the presence of us all, [290]
That no man qualified to give his voice
In public, might affront thy courage more;
Now mark me, therefore, that in time to come,
While feasting with thy children and thy spouse,
Thou may’st inform the Heroes of thy land
Even of our proficiency in arts
By Jove enjoin’d us in our father’s days.
We boast not much the boxer’s skill, nor yet
The wrestler’s; but light-footed in the race
Are we, and navigators well-inform’d. [300]
Our pleasures are the feast, the harp, the dance,
Garments for change; the tepid bath; the bed.
Come, ye Phæacians, beyond others skill’d
To tread the circus with harmonious steps,
Come, play before us; that our guest, arrived
In his own country, may inform his friends
How far in seamanship we all excel,
In running, in the dance, and in the song.
Haste! bring ye to Demodocus his lyre
Clear-toned, left somewhere in our hall at home. [310]
So spake the godlike King, at whose command
The herald to the palace quick return’d
To seek the charming lyre. Meantime arose
Nine arbiters, appointed to intend
The whole arrangement of the public games,
To smooth the circus floor, and give the ring
Its compass, widening the attentive throng.
Ere long the herald came, bearing the harp,
With which Demodocus supplied, advanced
Into the middle area, around whom [320]
Stood blooming youths, all skilful in the dance.
With footsteps justly timed all smote at once
The sacred floor; Ulysses wonder-fixt,
The ceaseless play of twinkling^^[[30|Cowper: Footnote 30]]^^ feet admired.
Then, tuning his sweet chords, Demodocus
A jocund strain began, his theme, the loves
Of Mars and Cytherea chaplet-crown’d;
How first, clandestine, they embraced beneath
The roof of Vulcan, her, by many a gift
Seduced, Mars won, and with adult’rous lust [330]
The bed dishonour’d of the King of fire.
The sun, a witness of their amorous sport,
Bore swift the tale to Vulcan; he, apprized
Of that foul deed, at once his smithy sought,
In secret darkness of his inmost soul
Contriving vengeance; to the stock he heav’d
His anvil huge, on which he forged a snare
Of bands indissoluble, by no art
To be untied, durance for ever firm.
The net prepared, he bore it, fiery-wroth, [340]
To his own chamber and his nuptial couch,
Where, stretching them from post to post, he wrapp’d
With those fine meshes all his bed around,
And hung them num’rous from the roof, diffused
Like spiders’ filaments, which not the Gods
Themselves could see, so subtle were the toils.
When thus he had encircled all his bed
On ev’ry side, he feign’d a journey thence
To Lemnos, of all cities that adorn
The earth, the city that he favours most. [350]
Nor kept the God of the resplendent reins
Mars, drowsy watch, but seeing that the famed
Artificer of heav’n had left his home,
Flew to the house of Vulcan, hot to enjoy
The Goddess with the wreath-encircled brows.
She, newly from her potent Sire return’d
The son of Saturn, sat. Mars, ent’ring, seiz’d
Her hand, hung on it, and thus urg’d his suit.
To bed, my fair, and let us love! for lo!
Thine husband is from home, to Lemnos gone, [360]
And to the Sintians, men of barb’rous speech.
He spake, nor she was loth, but bedward too
Like him inclined; so then, to bed they went,
And as they lay’d them down, down stream’d the net
Around them, labour exquisite of hands
By ingenuity divine inform’d.
Small room they found, so prison’d; not a limb
Could either lift, or move, but felt at once
Entanglement from which was no escape.
And now the glorious artist, ere he yet [370]
Had reach’d the Lemnian isle, limping, return’d
From his feign’d journey, for his spy the sun
Had told him all. With aching heart he sought
His home, and, standing in the vestibule,
Frantic with indignation roar’d to heav’n,
And roar’d again, summoning all the Gods.—
Oh Jove! and all ye Pow’rs for ever blest!
Here; hither look, that ye may view a sight
Ludicrous, yet too monstrous to be borne,
How Venus always with dishonour loads [380]
Her cripple spouse, doating on fiery Mars!
And wherefore? for that he is fair in form
And sound of foot, I ricket-boned and weak.
Whose fault is this? Their fault, and theirs alone
Who gave me being; ill-employ’d were they
Begetting me, one, better far unborn.
See where they couch together on my bed
Lascivious! ah, sight hateful to my eyes!
Yet cooler wishes will they feel, I ween,
To press my bed hereafter; here to sleep [390]
Will little please them, fondly as they love.
But these my toils and tangles will suffice
To hold them here, till Jove shall yield me back
Complete, the sum of all my nuptial gifts
Paid to him for the shameless strumpet’s sake
His daughter, as incontinent as fair.
He said, and in the brazen-floor’d abode
Of Jove the Gods assembled. Neptune came
Earth-circling Pow’r; came Hermes friend of man,
And, regent of the far-commanding bow, [400]
Apollo also came; but chaste reserve
Bashful kept all the Goddesses at home.
The Gods, by whose beneficence all live,
Stood in the portal; infinite arose
The laugh of heav’n, all looking down intent
On that shrewd project of the smith divine,
And, turning to each other, thus they said.
Bad works speed ill. The slow o’ertakes the swift.
So Vulcan, tardy as he is, by craft
Hath outstript Mars, although the fleetest far [410]
Of all who dwell in heav’n, and the light-heel’d
Must pay the adult’rer’s forfeit to the lame.
So spake the Pow’rs immortal; then the King
Of radiant shafts thus question’d Mercury.
Jove’s son, heaven’s herald, Hermes, bounteous God!
Would’st //thou// such stricture close of bands endure
For golden Venus lying at thy side?
Whom answer’d thus the messenger of heav’n
Archer divine! yea, and with all my heart;
And be the bands which wind us round about [420]
Thrice these innumerable, and let all
The Gods and Goddesses in heav’n look on,
So I may clasp Vulcan’s fair spouse the while.
He spake; then laugh’d the Immortal Pow’rs again.
But not so Neptune; he with earnest suit
The glorious artist urged to the release
Of Mars, and thus in accents wing’d he said.
Loose him; accept my promise; he shall pay
Full recompense in presence of us all.
Then thus the limping smith far-famed replied. [430]
Earth-circler Neptune, spare me that request.
Lame suitor, lame security.^^[[31|Cowper: Footnote 31]]^^ What bands
Could I devise for thee among the Gods,
Should Mars, emancipated once, escape,
Leaving both debt and durance, far behind?
Him answer’d then the Shaker of the shores.
I tell thee, Vulcan, that if Mars by flight
Shun payment, I will pay, myself, the fine.
To whom the glorious artist of the skies.
Thou must not, canst not, shalt not be refused. [440]
So saying, the might of Vulcan loos’d the snare,
And they, detain’d by those coercive bands
No longer, from the couch upstarting, flew,
Mars into Thrace, and to her Paphian home
The Queen of smiles, where deep in myrtle groves
Her incense-breathing altar stands embow’r’d.
Her there, the Graces laved, and oils diffused
O’er all her form, ambrosial, such as add
Fresh beauty to the Gods for ever young,
And cloath’d her in the loveliest robes of heav’n. [450]
Such was the theme of the illustrious bard.
Ulysses with delight that song, and all
The maritime Phæacian concourse heard.
Alcinoüs, then, (for in the dance they pass’d
All others) call’d his sons to dance alone,
Halius and Laodamas; they gave
The purple ball into their hands, the work
Exact of Polybus; one, re-supine,
Upcast it high toward the dusky clouds,
The other, springing into air, with ease [460]
Received it, ere he sank to earth again.
When thus they oft had sported with the ball
Thrown upward, next, with nimble interchange
They pass’d it to each other many a time,
Footing the plain, while ev’ry youth of all
The circus clapp’d his hands, and from beneath
The din of stamping feet fill’d all the air.
Then, turning to Alcinoüs, thus the wise
Ulysses spake: Alcinoüs! mighty King!
Illustrious above all Phæacia’s sons! [470]
Incomparable are ye in the dance,
Ev’n as thou said’st. Amazement-fixt I stand!
So he, whom hearing, the imperial might
Exulted of Alcinoüs, and aloud
To his oar-skill’d Phæacians thus he spake.
Phæacian Chiefs and Senators, attend!
Wisdom beyond the common stint I mark
In this our guest; good cause in my account,
For which we should present him with a pledge
Of hospitality and love. The Chiefs [480]
Are twelve, who, highest in command, controul
The people, and the thirteenth Chief am I.
Bring each a golden talent, with a vest
Well-bleach’d, and tunic; gratified with these,
The stranger to our banquet shall repair
Exulting; bring them all without delay;
And let Euryalus by word and gift
Appease him, for his speech was unadvised.
He ceas’d, whom all applauded, and at once
Each sent his herald forth to bring the gifts, [490]
When thus Euryalus his Sire address’d.
Alcinoüs! o’er Phæacia’s sons supreme!
I will appease our guest, as thou command’st.
This sword shall be his own, the blade all steel.
The hilt of silver, and the unsullied sheath
Of iv’ry recent from the carver’s hand,
A gift like this he shall not need despise.
So saying, his silver-studded sword he gave
Into his grasp, and, courteous, thus began.
Hail, honour’d stranger! and if word of mine [500]
Have harm’d thee, rashly spoken, let the winds
Bear all remembrance of it swift away!
May the Gods give thee to behold again
Thy wife, and to attain thy native shore,
Whence absent long, thou hast so much endured!
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Hail also thou, and may the Gods, my friend,
Grant thee felicity, and may never want
Of this thy sword touch thee in time to come,
By whose kind phrase appeas’d my wrath subsides! [510]
He ended, and athwart his shoulders threw
The weapon bright emboss’d. Now sank the sun,
And those rich gifts arrived, which to the house
Of King Alcinoüs the heralds bore.
Alcinoüs’ sons receiv’d them, and beside
Their royal mother placed the precious charge.
The King then led the way, at whose abode
Arrived, again they press’d their lofty thrones,
And to Areta thus the monarch spake.
Haste, bring a coffer; bring thy best, and store [520]
A mantle and a sumptuous vest within;
Warm for him, next, a brazen bath, by which
Refresh’d, and viewing in fair order placed
The noble gifts by the Phæacian Lords
Conferr’d on him, he may the more enjoy
Our banquet, and the bard’s harmonious song.
I give him also this my golden cup
Splendid, elaborate; that, while he lives
What time he pours libation forth to Jove
And all the Gods, he may remember me. [530]
He ended, at whose words Areta bade
Her maidens with dispatch place o’er the fire
A tripod ample-womb’d; obedient they
Advanced a laver to the glowing hearth,
Water infused, and kindled wood beneath
The flames encircling bright the bellied vase,
Warm’d soon the flood within. Meantime, the Queen
Producing from her chamber-stores a chest
All-elegant, within it placed the gold,
And raiment, gifts of the Phæacian Chiefs, [540]
With her own gifts, the mantle and the vest,
And in wing’d accents to Ulysses said.
Now take, thyself, the coffer’s lid in charge;
Girdle it quickly with a cord, lest loss
Befall thee on thy way, while thou perchance
Shalt sleep secure on board the sable bark.
Which when Ulysses heard, Hero renown’d,
Adjusting close the lid, he cast a cord
Around it which with many a mazy knot
He tied, by Circe taught him long before. [550]
And now, the mistress of the household charge
Summon’d him to his bath; glad he beheld
The steaming vase, uncustom’d to its use
E’er since his voyage from the isle of fair
Calypso, although, while a guest with her,
Ever familiar with it, as a God.
Laved by attendant damsels, and with oil
Refresh’d, he put his sumptuous tunic on
And mantle, and proceeding from the bath
To the symposium, join’d the num’rous guests; [560]
But, as he pass’d, the Princess all divine
Beside the pillars of the portal, lost
In admiration of his graceful form,
Stood, and in accents wing’d him thus address’d.
Hail, stranger! at thy native home arrived
Remember me, thy first deliv’rer here.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Nausicaa! daughter of the noble King
Alcinoüs! So may Jove, high-thund’ring mate
Of Juno, grant me to behold again [570]
My native land, and my delightful home,
As, even there, I will present my vows
To thee, adoring thee as I adore
The Gods themselves, virgin, by whom I live!
He said, and on his throne beside the King
Alcinoüs sat. And now they portion’d out
The feast to all, and charg’d the cups with wine,
And introducing by his hand the bard
Phæacia’s glory, at the column’s side
The herald placed Demodocus again. [580]
Then, carving forth a portion from the loins
Of a huge brawn, of which uneaten still
Large part and delicate remain’d, thus spake
Ulysses—Herald! bear it to the bard
For his regale, whom I will soon embrace
In spite of sorrow; for respect is due
And veneration to the sacred bard
From all mankind, for that the muse inspires
Herself his song, and loves the tuneful tribe.
He ended, and the herald bore his charge [590]
To the old hero who with joy received
That meed of honour at the bearer’s hand.
Then, all, at once, assail’d the ready feast,
And hunger now, and thirst both satisfied,
Thus to Demodocus Ulysses spake.
Demodocus! I give thee praise above
All mortals, for that either thee the muse
Jove’s daughter teaches, or the King, himself,
Apollo; since thou so record’st the fate,
With such clear method, of Achaia’s host, [600]
Their deeds heroic, and their num’rous toils,
As thou hadst present been thyself, or learnt
From others present there, the glorious tale.
Come, then, proceed; that rare invention sing,
The horse of wood, which by Minerva’s aid
Epeus framed, and which Ulysses erst
Convey’d into the citadel of Troy
With warriors fill’d, who lay’d all Ilium waste.
These things rehearse regular, and myself
Will, instant, publish in the ears of all [610]
Thy fame, reporting thee a bard to whom
Apollo free imparts celestial song.
He ended; then Apollo with full force
Rush’d on Demodocus, and he began
What time the Greeks, first firing their own camp
Steer’d all their galleys from the shore of Troy.
Already, in the horse conceal’d, his band
Around Ulysses sat; for Ilium’s sons
Themselves had drawn it to the citadel.
And there the mischief stood. Then, strife arose [620]
Among the Trojans compassing the horse,
And threefold was the doubt; whether to cleave
The hollow trunk asunder, or updrawn
Aloft, to cast it headlong from the rocks,
Or to permit the enormous image, kept
Entire, to stand an off’ring to the Gods,
Which was their destined course; for Fate had fix’d
Their ruin sure, when once they had received
Within their walls that engine huge, in which
Sat all the bravest Greecians with the fate [630]
Of Ilium charged, and slaughter of her sons.
He sang, how, from the horse effused, the Greeks
Left their capacious ambush, and the town
Made desolate. To others, in his song,
He gave the praise of wasting all beside,
But told how, fierce as Mars, Ulysses join’d
With godlike Menelaus, to the house
Flew of Deiphobus; him there engaged
In direst fight he sang, and through the aid
Of glorious Pallas, conqu’ror over all. [640]
So sang the bard illustrious, at whose song
Ulysses melted, and tear after tear
Fell on his cheeks. As when a woman weeps,
Her husband, who hath fallen in defence
Of his own city and his babes before
The gates; she, sinking, folds him in her arms
And, gazing on him as he pants and dies,
Shrieks at the sight; meantime, the enemy
Smiting her shoulders with the spear to toil
Command her and to bondage far away, [650]
And her cheek fades with horror at the sound;
Ulysses, so, from his moist lids let fall,
The frequent tear. Unnoticed by the rest
Those drops, but not by King Alcinoüs, fell
Who, seated at his side, his heavy sighs
Remark’d, and the Phæacians thus bespake.
Phæacian Chiefs and Senators attend!
Now let Demodocus enjoin his harp
Silence, for not alike grateful to all
His music sounds; during our feast, and since [660]
The bard divine began, continual flow
The stranger’s sorrows, by remembrance caused
Of some great woe which wraps his soul around.
Then, let the bard suspend his song, that all
(As most befits th’ occasion) may rejoice,
Both guest and hosts together; since we make
This voyage, and these gifts confer, in proof
Of hospitality and unfeign’d love,
Judging, with all wise men, the stranger-guest
And suppliant worthy of a brother’s place. [670]
And thou conceal not, artfully reserv’d,
What I shall ask, far better plain declared
Than smother’d close; who art thou? speak thy name,
The name by which thy father, mother, friends
And fellow-citizens, with all who dwell
Around thy native city, in times past
Have known thee; for of all things human none
Lives altogether nameless, whether good
Or whether bad, but ev’ry man receives
Ev’n in the moment of his birth, a name. [680]
Thy country, people, city, tell; the mark
At which my ships, intelligent, shall aim,
That they may bear thee thither; for our ships
No pilot need or helm, as ships are wont,
But know, themselves, our purpose; know beside
All cities, and all fruitful regions well
Of all the earth, and with dark clouds involv’d
Plough rapid the rough Deep, fearless of harm,
(Whate’er betide) and of disast’rous wreck.
Yet thus, long since, my father I have heard [690]
Nausithoüs speaking; Neptune, he would say,
Is angry with us, for that safe we bear
Strangers of ev’ry nation to their home;
And he foretold a time when he would smite
In vengeance some Phæacian gallant bark
Returning after convoy of her charge,
And fix her in the sable flood, transform’d
Into a mountain, right before the town.
So spake my hoary Sire, which let the God
At his own pleasure do, or leave undone. [700]
But tell me truth, and plainly. Where have been
Thy wand’rings? in what regions of the earth
Hast thou arrived? what nations hast thou seen,
What cities? say, how many hast thou found
Harsh, savage and unjust? how many, kind
To strangers, and disposed to fear the Gods?
Say also, from what secret grief of heart
Thy sorrows flow, oft as thou hear’st the fate
Of the Achaians, or of Ilium sung?
That fate the Gods prepared; they spin the thread [710]
Of man’s destruction, that in after days
The bard may make the sad event his theme.
Perish’d thy father or thy brother there?
Or hast thou at the siege of Ilium lost
Father-in-law, or son-in-law? for such
Are next and dearest to us after those
Who share our own descent; or was the dead
Thy bosom-friend, whose heart was as thy own?
For worthy as a brother of our love
The constant friend and the discrete I deem. [720]
"""
''Argument''
//Ulysses discovers himself to the Phæacians, and begins the history of his adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the monster with wine, blinds him while he sleeps, and escapes from him.//
"""
Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.
Alcinoüs! King! illustrious above all
Phæacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hear
A bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.
The world, in my account, no sight affords
More gratifying than a people blest
With cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’d
With guests in order ranged, list’ning to sounds
Melodious, and the steaming tables spread
With plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine [10]
From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around.
No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,
Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groans
And tears, that I may sorrow still the more.
What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,
On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes?
Learn first my name, that even in this land
Remote I may be known, and that escaped
From all adversity, I may requite
Hereafter, this your hospitable care [20]
At my own home, however distant hence.
I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earth
For subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven,
The offspring of Laertes; my abode
Is sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving stands
The mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs,
And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring isles
All populous; thence Samos is beheld,
Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.
Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed [30]
Toward the West, while, situate apart,
Her sister islands face the rising day;
Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sons
Magnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,
Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.
Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grot
Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;
Ææan Circe also, skill’d profound
In potent arts, within her palace long
Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused; [40]
But never could they warp my constant mind.
So much our parents and our native soil
Attract us most, even although our lot
Be fair and plenteous in a foreign land.
But come—my painful voyage, such as Jove
Gave me from Ilium, I will now relate.
From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,
City of the Ciconians; them I slew,
And laid their city waste; whence bringing forth
Much spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it [50]
With equal hand, and each received a share.
Next, I exhorted to immediate flight
My people; but in vain; they madly scorn’d
My sober counsel, and much wine they drank,
And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore.
Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d,
Their neighbours summoning, a mightier host
And braver, natives of the continent,
Expert, on horses mounted, to maintain
Fierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot. [60]
Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rs
At day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove,
Misfortune found us. At the ships we stood
Piercing each other with the brazen spear,
And till the morning brighten’d into noon,
Few as we were, we yet withstood them all;
But, when the sun verged westward, then the Greeks
Fell back, and the Ciconian host prevail’d.
Six warlike Greecians from each galley’s crew
Perish’d in that dread field; the rest escaped. [70]
Thus, after loss of many, we pursued
Our course, yet, difficult as was our flight,
Went not till first we had invoked by name
Our friends, whom the Ciconians had destroy’d.
But cloud-assembler Jove assail’d us soon
With a tempestuous North-wind; earth alike
And sea with storms he overhung, and night
Fell fast from heav’n. Their heads deep-plunging oft
Our gallies flew, and rent, and rent again
Our tatter’d sail-cloth crackled in the wind. [80]
We, fearing instant death, within the barks
Our canvas lodg’d, and, toiling strenuous, reach’d
At length the continent. Two nights we lay
Continual there, and two long days, consumed
With toil and grief; but when the beauteous morn
Bright-hair’d, had brought the third day to a close,
(Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl’d)
Again we sat on board; meantime, the winds
Well managed by the steersman, urged us on.
And now, all danger pass’d, I had attain’d [90]
My native shore, but, doubling in my course
Malea, waves and currents and North-winds
Constrain’d me devious to Cythera’s isle.
Nine days by cruel storms thence was I borne
Athwart the fishy Deep, but on the tenth
Reach’d the Lotophagi, a race sustain’d
On sweetest fruit alone. There quitting ship,
We landed and drew water, and the crews
Beside the vessels took their ev’ning cheer.
When, hasty, we had thus our strength renew’d, [100]
I order’d forth my people to inquire
(Two I selected from the rest, with whom
I join’d an herald, third) what race of men
Might there inhabit. They, departing, mix’d
With the Lotophagi; nor hostile aught
Or savage the Lotophagi devised
Against our friends, but offer’d to their taste
The lotus; of which fruit what man soe’er
Once tasted, no desire felt he to come
With tidings back, or seek his country more, [110]
But rather wish’d to feed on lotus still
With the Lotophagi, and to renounce
All thoughts of home. Them, therefore, I constrain’d
Weeping on board, and dragging each beneath
The benches, bound him there. Then, all in haste,
I urged my people to ascend again
Their hollow barks, lest others also, fed
With fruit of lotus, should forget their home.
They quick embark’d, and on the benches ranged
In order, thresh’d with oars the foamy flood. [120]
Thence, o’er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach’d
The land at length, where, giant-sized^^[[32|Cowper: Footnote 32]]^^ and free
From all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell.
They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough,
But earth unsow’d, untill’d, brings forth for them
All fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grape
Large cluster’d, nourish’d by the show’rs of Jove.
No councils they convene, no laws contrive,
But in deep caverns dwell, found on the heads
Of lofty mountains, judging each supreme [130]
His wife and children, heedless of the rest.
In front of the Cyclopean haven lies
A level island, not adjoining close
Their land, nor yet remote, woody and rude.
There, wild goats breed numberless, by no foot
Of man molested; never huntsman there,
Inured to winter’s cold and hunger, roams
The dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime;
No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known,
But the unseeded and unfurrow’d soil, [140]
Year after year a wilderness by man
Untrodden, food for blatant goats supplies.
For no ships crimson-prow’d the Cyclops own,
Nor naval artizan is there, whose toil
Might furnish them with oary barks, by which
Subsists all distant commerce, and which bear
Man o’er the Deep to cities far remote
Who might improve the peopled isle, that seems
Not steril in itself, but apt to yield,
In their due season, fruits of ev’ry kind. [150]
For stretch’d beside the hoary ocean lie
Green meadows moist, where vines would never fail;
Light is the land, and they might yearly reap
The tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe.
Safe is its haven also, where no need
Of cable is or anchor, or to lash
The hawser fast ashore, but pushing in
His bark, the mariner might there abide
Till rising gales should tempt him forth again.
At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream [160]
Issuing from a cove hemm’d all around
With poplars; down into that bay we steer’d
Amid the darkness of the night, some God
Conducting us; for all unseen it lay,
Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moon
From heav’n to light us, veil’d by pitchy clouds.
Hence, none the isle descried, nor any saw
The lofty surge roll’d on the strand, or ere
Our vessels struck the ground; but when they struck,
Then, low’ring all our sails, we disembark’d, [170]
And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear’d.
Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look’d rosy forth, we with admiring eyes
The isle survey’d, roaming it wide around.
Meantime, the nymphs, Jove’s daughters, roused the goats
Bred on the mountains, to supply with food
The partners of my toils; then, bringing forth
Bows and long-pointed javelins from the ships,
Divided all into three sep’rate bands
We struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey. [180]
Twelve ships attended me, and ev’ry ship
Nine goats received by lot; myself alone
Selected ten. All day, till set of sun,
We eating sat goat’s flesh, and drinking wine
Delicious, without stint; for dearth was none
Of ruddy wine on board, but much remain’d,
With which my people had their jars supplied
What time we sack’d Ciconian Ismarus.
Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-land
Where dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw, [190]
And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks.
Now sank the sun, and (night o’ershadowing all)
We slept along the shore; but when again
The rosy-finger’d daughter of the dawn
Look’d forth, my crews convened, I thus began.
Companions of my course! here rest ye all,
Save my own crew, with whom I will explore
This people, whether wild, they be, unjust,
And to contention giv’n, or well-disposed
To strangers, and a race who fear the Gods. [200]
So speaking, I embark’d, and bade embark
My followers, throwing, quick, the hawsers loose.
They, ent’ring at my word, the benches fill’d
Well-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.
Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we found
At its extremity, fast by the sea,
A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow’d above
With laurels; in that cavern slumb’ring lay
Much cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad court
Enclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn, [210]
With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough.
Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remote
His flocks fed solitary, converse none
Desiring, sullen, savage, and unjust.
Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form,
Resembling less a man by Ceres’ gift
Sustain’d, than some aspiring mountain-crag
Tufted with wood, and standing all alone.
Enjoining, then, my people to abide
Fast by the ship which they should closely guard, [220]
I went, but not without a goat-skin fill’d
With sable wine which I had erst received
From Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priest
Of Phœbus guardian god of Ismarus,
Because, through rev’rence of him, we had saved
Himself, his wife and children; for he dwelt
Amid the grove umbrageous of his God.
He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from him
Sev’n talents I received of beaten gold,
A beaker, argent all, and after these [230]
No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete,
Rich, unadult’rate, drink for Gods; nor knew
One servant, male or female, of that wine
In all his house; none knew it, save himself,
His wife, and the intendant of his stores.
Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slaked
A single cup with twenty from the stream,
And, even then, the beaker breath’d abroad
A scent celestial, which whoever smelt,
Thenceforth no pleasure found it to abstain. [240]
Charged with an ample goat-skin of this wine
I went, and with a wallet well supplied,
But felt a sudden presage in my soul
That, haply, with terrific force endued,
Some savage would appear, strange to the laws
And privileges of the human race.
Few steps convey’d us to his den, but him
We found not; he his flocks pastur’d abroad.
His cavern ent’ring, we with wonder gazed
Around on all; his strainers hung with cheese [250]
Distended wide; with lambs and kids his penns
Close-throng’d we saw, and folded separate
The various charge; the eldest all apart,
Apart the middle-aged, and the new-yean’d
Also apart. His pails and bowls with whey
Swam all, neat vessels into which he milk’d.
Me then my friends first importuned to take
A portion of his cheeses, then to drive
Forth from the sheep-cotes to the rapid bark
His kids and lambs, and plow the brine again. [260]
But me they moved not, happier had they moved!
I wish’d to see him, and to gain, perchance,
Some pledge of hospitality at his hands,
Whose form was such, as should not much bespeak
When he appear’d, our confidence or love.
Then, kindling fire, we offer’d to the Gods,
And of his cheeses eating, patient sat
Till home he trudged from pasture. Charged he came
With dry wood bundled, an enormous load
Fuel by which to sup. Loud crash’d the thorns [270]
Which down he cast before the cavern’s mouth,
To whose interior nooks we trembling flew.
At once he drove into his spacious cave
His batten’d flock, all those which gave him milk,
But all the males, both rams and goats, he left
Abroad, excluded from the cavern-yard.
Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier huge
To his cave’s mouth, he thrust it home. That weight
Not all the oxen from its place had moved
Of twenty and two wains; with such a rock [280]
Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat,
And as he milk’d his ewes and bleating goats
All in their turns, her yeanling gave to each;
Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch,
The half of his new milk, he thrust the curd
Into his wicker sieves, but stored the rest
In pans and bowls—his customary drink.
His labours thus perform’d, he kindled, last,
His fuel, and discerning //us//, enquired,
Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore [290]
Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or bound
To no one port, wander, as pirates use,
At large the Deep, exposing life themselves,
And enemies of all mankind beside?
He ceased; we, dash’d with terrour, heard the growl
Of his big voice, and view’d his form uncouth,
To whom, though sore appall’d, I thus replied.
Of Greece are we, and, bound from Ilium home,
Have wander’d wide the expanse of ocean, sport
For ev’ry wind, and driven from our course, [300]
Have here arrived; so stood the will of Jove.
We boast ourselves of Agamemnon’s train,
The son of Atreus, at this hour the Chief
Beyond all others under heav’n renown’d,
So great a city he hath sack’d and slain
Such num’rous foes; but since we reach, at last,
Thy knees, we beg such hospitable fare,
Or other gift, as guests are wont to obtain.
Illustrious lord! respect the Gods, and us
Thy suitors; suppliants are the care of Jove [310]
The hospitable; he their wrongs resents
And where the stranger sojourns, there is he.
I ceas’d, when answer thus he, fierce, return’d.
Friend! either thou art fool, or hast arrived
Indeed from far, who bidd’st me fear the Gods
Lest they be wroth. The Cyclops little heeds
Jove Ægis-arm’d, or all the Pow’rs of heav’n.
Our race is mightier far; nor shall myself,
Through fear of Jove’s hostility, abstain
From thee or thine, unless my choice be such. [320]
But tell me now. Where touch’d thy gallant bark
Our country, on thy first arrival here?
Remote or nigh? for I would learn the truth.
So spake he, tempting me; but, artful, thus
I answer’d, penetrating his intent.
My vessel, Neptune, Shaker of the shores,
At yonder utmost promontory dash’d
In pieces, hurling her against the rocks
With winds that blew right thither from the sea,
And I, with these alone, escaped alive. [330]
So I, to whom, relentless, answer none
He deign’d, but, with his arms extended, sprang
Toward my people, of whom seizing two
At once, like whelps against his cavern-floor
He dash’d them, and their brains spread on the ground.
These, piece-meal hewn, for supper he prepared,
And, like a mountain-lion, neither flesh
Nor entrails left, nor yet their marrowy bones.
We, viewing that tremendous sight, upraised
Our hands to Jove, all hope and courage lost. [340]
When thus the Cyclops had with human flesh
Fill’d his capacious belly, and had quaff’d
Much undiluted milk, among his flocks
Out-stretch’d immense, he press’d his cavern-floor.
Me, then, my courage prompted to approach
The monster with my sword drawn from the sheath,
And to transfix him where the vitals wrap
The liver; but maturer thoughts forbad.
For so, we also had incurred a death
Tremendous, wanting pow’r to thrust aside [350]
The rocky mass that closed his cavern-mouth
By force of hand alone. Thus many a sigh
Heaving, we watch’d the dawn. But when, at length,
Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d
Look’d forth, then, kindling fire, his flocks he milk’d
In order, and her yeanling kid or lamb
Thrust under each. When thus he had perform’d
His wonted task, two seizing, as before,
He slew them for his next obscene regale.
His dinner ended, from the cave he drove [360]
His fatted flocks abroad, moving with ease
That pond’rous barrier, and replacing it
As he had only closed a quiver’s lid.
Then, hissing them along, he drove his flocks
Toward the mountain, and me left, the while,
Deep ruminating how I best might take
Vengeance, and by the aid of Pallas win
Deathless renown. This counsel pleas’d me most.
Beside the sheep-cote lay a massy club
Hewn by the Cyclops from an olive stock, [370]
Green, but which dried, should serve him for a staff.
To us consid’ring it, that staff appear’d
Tall as the mast of a huge trading bark,
Impell’d by twenty rowers o’er the Deep.
Such seem’d its length to us, and such its bulk.
Part amputating, (an whole fathom’s length)
I gave my men that portion, with command
To shave it smooth. They smooth’d it, and myself,
Shaping its blunt extremity to a point,
Season’d it in the fire; then cov’ring close [380]
The weapon, hid it under litter’d straw,
For much lay scatter’d on the cavern-floor.
And now I bade my people cast the lot
Who of us all should take the pointed brand,
And grind it in his eye when next he slept.
The lots were cast, and four were chosen, those
Whom most I wish’d, and I was chosen fifth.
At even-tide he came, his fleecy flocks
Pasturing homeward, and compell’d them all
Into his cavern, leaving none abroad, [390]
Either through some surmise, or so inclined
By influence, haply, of the Gods themselves.
The huge rock pull’d into its place again
At the cave’s mouth, he, sitting, milk’d his sheep
And goats in order, and her kid or lamb
Thrust under each; thus, all his work dispatch’d,
Two more he seiz’d, and to his supper fell.
I then, approaching to him, thus address’d
The Cyclops, holding in my hands a cup
Of ivy-wood, well-charg’d with ruddy wine. [400]
Lo, Cyclops! this is wine. Take this and drink
After thy meal of man’s flesh. Taste and learn
What precious liquor our lost vessel bore.
I brought it hither, purposing to make
Libation to thee, if to pity inclined
Thou would’st dismiss us home. But, ah, thy rage
Is insupportable! thou cruel one!
Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforth
Will visit //thee//, guilty of such excess?
I ceas’d. He took and drank, and hugely pleas’d^^[[33|Cowper: Footnote 33]]^^ 410
With that delicious bev’rage, thus enquir’d.
Give me again, and spare not. Tell me, too,
Thy name, incontinent, that I may make
Requital, gratifying also thee
With somewhat to thy taste. We Cyclops own
A bounteous soil, which yields //us// also wine
From clusters large, nourish’d by show’rs from Jove;
But this—this is from above—a stream
Of nectar and ambrosia, all divine!
He ended, and received a second draught, [420]
Like measure. Thrice I bore it to his hand,
And, foolish, thrice he drank. But when the fumes
Began to play around the Cyclops’ brain,
With show of amity I thus replied.
Cyclops! thou hast my noble name enquired,
Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,
The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.
My name is Outis,^^[[34|Cowper: Footnote 34]]^^ Outis I am call’d
At home, abroad; wherever I am known.
So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied. [430]
Outis, when I have eaten all his friends,
Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.
He spake, and, downward sway’d, fell resupine,
With his huge neck aslant. All-conqu’ring sleep
Soon seized him. From his gullet gush’d the wine
With human morsels mingled, many a blast
Sonorous issuing from his glutted maw.
Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-wood
Into the embers glowing on the hearth,
I heated it, and cheer’d my friends, the while, [440]
Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.
But when that stake of olive-wood, though green,
Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot,
I bore it to his side. Then all my aids
Around me gather’d, and the Gods infused
Heroic fortitude into our hearts.
They, seizing the hot stake rasp’d to a point,
Bored his eye with it, and myself, advanced
To a superior stand, twirled it about.
As when a shipwright with his wimble bores [450]
Tough oaken timber, placed on either side
Below, his fellow-artists strain the thong
Alternate, and the restless iron spins,
So, grasping hard the stake pointed with fire,
We twirl’d it in his eye; the bubbling blood
Boil’d round about the brand; his pupil sent
A scalding vapour forth that sing’d his brow,
And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.
As when the smith an hatchet or large axe
Temp’ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade [460]
Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel)
So hiss’d his eye around the olive-wood.
The howling monster with his outcry fill’d
The hollow rock, and I, with all my aids,
Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spike
From his burnt socket, mad with anguish, cast
The implement all bloody far away.
Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the name
Of ev’ry Cyclops dwelling in the caves
Around him, on the wind-swept mountain-tops; [470]
They, at his cry flocking from ev’ry part,
Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.
What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!
Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful ear
Of night, and break our slumbers? Fear’st thou lest
Some mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear’st
Thyself to die by cunning or by force?
Them answer’d, then, Polypheme from his cave.
Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.
To whom with accents wing’d his friends without. [480]
If no man^^[[35|Cowper: Footnote 35]]^^ harm thee, but thou art alone,
And sickness feel’st, it is the stroke of Jove,
And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aid
Thy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.
So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh’d
That by the fiction only of a name,
Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.
Then groan’d the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief,
And, fumbling, with stretch’d hands, removed the rock
From his cave’s mouth, which done, he sat him down [490]
Spreading his arms athwart the pass, to stop
Our egress with his flocks abroad; so dull,
It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.
I, pondering what means might fittest prove
To save from instant death, (if save I might)
My people and myself, to ev’ry shift
Inclined, and various counsels framed, as one
Who strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.
To me, thus meditating, this appear’d
The likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were, [500]
Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.
These, silently, with osier twigs on which
The Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound,
Three in one leash; the intermediate rams
Bore each a man, whom the exterior two
Preserved, concealing him on either side.
Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last,
The curl’d back seizing of a ram, (for one
I had reserv’d far stateliest of them all)
Slipp’d underneath his belly, and both hands [510]
Enfolding fast in his exub’rant fleece,
Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.
We, thus disposed, waited with many a sigh
The sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris’n,
Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d
Again appear’d, the males of all his flocks
Rush’d forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk’d,
The wethers bleated, by the load distress’d
Of udders overcharged. Their master, rack’d
With pain intolerable, handled yet [520]
The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood,
But, gross of intellect, suspicion none
Conceiv’d of men beneath their bodies bound.
And now (none left beside) the ram approach’d
With his own wool burthen’d, and with myself,
Whom many a fear molested. Polypheme
The giant stroak’d him as he sat, and said,
My darling ram! why latest of the flock
Com’st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheep
Could leave behind, but stalking at their head, [530]
Thou first was wont to crop the tender grass,
First to arrive at the clear stream, and first
With ready will to seek my sheep-cote here
At evening; but, thy practice chang’d, thou com’st,
Now last of all. Feel’st thou regret, my ram!
Of thy poor master’s eye, by a vile wretch
Bored out, who overcame me first with wine,
And by a crew of vagabonds accurs’d,
Followers of Outis, whose escape from death
Shall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart [540]
Were as my own, and that distinct as I
Thou could’st articulate, so should’st thou tell,
Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.
Then, dash’d against the floor his spatter’d brain
Should fly, and I should lighter feel my harm
From Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.
So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.
When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escaped
Few paces from the cavern and the court,
First, quitting my own ram, I loos’d my friends, [550]
Then, turning seaward many a thriven ewe
Sharp-hoof’d, we drove them swiftly to the ship.
Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we came
From death escaped, but much they mourn’d the dead.
I suffer’d not their tears, but silent shook
My brows, by signs commanding them to lift
The sheep on board, and instant plow the main.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat
Well ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood;
But distant now such length as a loud voice [560]
May reach, I hail’d with taunts the Cyclops’ ear.
Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy cave
With brutal force my followers, thou devour’dst
The followers of no timid Chief, or base,
Vengeance was sure to recompense that deed
Atrocious. Monster! who wast not afraid
To eat the guest shelter’d beneath thy roof!
Therefore the Gods have well requited thee.
I ended; he, exasp’rate, raged the more,
And rending from its hold a mountain-top, [570]
Hurl’d it toward us; at our vessel’s stern
Down came the mass, nigh sweeping in its fall
The rudder’s head. The ocean at the plunge
Of that huge rock, high on its refluent flood
Heav’d, irresistible, the ship to land.
I seizing, quick, our longest pole on board,
Back thrust her from the coast and by a nod
In silence given, bade my companions ply
Strenuous their oars, that so we might escape.
Procumbent,^^[[36|Cowper: Footnote 36]]^^ each obey’d, and when, the flood 580
Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain’d,^^[[37|Cowper: Footnote 37]]^^
Again I hail’d the Cyclops; but my friends
Earnest dissuaded me on ev’ry side.
Ah, rash Ulysses! why with taunts provoke
The savage more, who hath this moment hurl’d
A weapon, such as heav’d the ship again
To land, where death seem’d certain to us all?
For had he heard a cry, or but the voice
Of one man speaking, he had all our heads
With some sharp rock, and all our timbers crush’d [590]
Together, such vast force is in his arm.
So they, but my courageous heart remain’d
Unmoved, and thus again, incensed, I spake.
Cyclops! should any mortal man inquire
To whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow’st,
Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief,
Laertes’ son, native of Ithaca.
I ceas’d, and with a groan thus he replied.
Ah me! an antient oracle I feel
Accomplish’d. Here abode a prophet erst, [600]
A man of noblest form, and in his art
Unrivall’d, Telemus Eurymedes.
He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race,
Grew old among us, and presaged my loss
Of sight, in future, by Ulysses’ hand.
I therefore watch’d for the arrival here,
Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulk
And beauty prais’d, and cloath’d with wond’rous might.
But now—a dwarf, a thing impalpable,
A shadow, overcame me first by wine, [610]
Then quench’d my sight. Come hither, O my guest!
Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheer
Awaits thee, and my pray’rs I will prefer
To glorious Neptune for thy prosp’rous course;
For I am Neptune’s offspring, and the God
Is proud to be my Sire; he, if he please,
And he alone can heal me; none beside
Of Pow’rs immortal, or of men below.
He spake, to whom I answer thus return’d.
I would that of thy life and soul amerced, [620]
I could as sure dismiss thee down to Hell,
As none shall heal thine eye—not even He.
So I; then pray’d the Cyclops to his Sire
With hands uprais’d towards the starry heav’n.
Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair’d!
If I indeed am thine, and if thou boast
Thyself my father, grant that never more
Ulysses, leveller of hostile tow’rs,
Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair,
Behold his native home! but if his fate [630]
Decree him yet to see his friends, his house,
His native country, let him deep distress’d
Return and late, all his companions lost,
Indebted for a ship to foreign aid,
And let affliction meet him at his door.
He spake, and Ocean’s sov’reign heard his pray’r.
Then lifting from the shore a stone of size
Far more enormous, o’er his head he whirl’d
The rock, and his immeasurable force
Exerting all, dismiss’d it. Close behind [640]
The ship, nor distant from the rudder’s head,
Down came the mass. The ocean at the plunge
Of such a weight, high on its refluent flood
Tumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.
But when we reach’d the isle where we had left
Our num’rous barks, and where my people sat
Watching with ceaseless sorrow our return,
We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore,
Then disembark’d, and of the Cyclops’ sheep
Gave equal share to all. To me alone [650]
My fellow-voyagers the ram consign’d
In distribution, my peculiar meed.
Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian Jove
I offer’d on the shore, burning his thighs
In sacrifice; but Jove my hallow’d rites
Reck’d not, destruction purposing to all
My barks, and all my followers o’er the Deep.
Thus, feasting largely, on the shore we sat
Till even-tide, and quaffing gen’rous wine;
But when day fail’d, and night o’ershadow’d all, [660]
Then, on the shore we slept; and when again
Aurora rosy daughter of the Dawn,
Look’d forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin’d
To climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.
They all obedient, took their seats on board
Well-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.
Thus, ’scaping narrowly, we roam’d the Deep
With aching hearts and with diminish’d crews.
"""
<center>
"""
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
COUNTESS DOWAGER SPENCER
THE FOLLOWING TRANSLATION OF THE ODYSSEY, A POEM
THAT EXHIBITS IN THE CHARACTER OF ITS HEROINE
AN EXAMPLE OF ALL DOMESTIC VIRTUE, IS WITH
EQUAL PROPRIETY AND RESPECT INSCRIBED
BY HER LADYSHIP’S MOST DEVOTED
SERVANT, THE AUTHOR.
"""
</center>
We are told that Homer was under obligations to Mentes, who had frequently given him a passage in his ship to different countries which he wished to see, for which reason he has here immortalised him.
The δεσμὸς seems to have been a strap designed to close the only aperture by which the bolt could be displaced, and the door opened.
When Pirithoüs, one of the Lapithæ, married Hippodamia, daughter of Adrastus, he invited the Centaurs to the wedding. The Centaurs, intoxicated with wine, attempted to ravish the wives of the Lapithæ, who in resentment of that insult, slew them.
This is an instance of the Σαρδανιον μαλα τοιον mentioned in Book 20.; such as, perhaps, could not be easily paralleled. I question if there be a passage, either in ancient or modern tragedy, so truly terrible as this seeming levity of Ulysses, in the moment when he was going to begin the slaughter.
If the ancients found it difficult to ascertain clearly the situation of this ορτοθυρη, well may we. The Translator has given it the position which to him appeared most probable.—There seem to have been two of these posterns, one leading to a part from which the town might be alarmed, the other to the chamber to which Telemachus went for armour. There was one, perhaps, on each side of the portal, and they appear to have been at some height above the floor.
The deviation of three only is described, which must be understood, therefore, as instances of the ill success of all.
In this simile we seem to have a curious account of the ancient manner of fowling. The nets (for νεφεα is used in that sense by Aristophanes) were spread on a plain; on an adjoining rising ground were stationed they who had charge of the vultures (such Homer calls them) which were trained to the sport. The alarm being given to the birds below, the vultures were loosed, when if any of them escaped their talons, the nets were ready to enclose them. //See// Eustathius Dacier. Clarke.
So called because he was worshipped within the Ἐρκος or wall that surrounded the court.
The proof consisted in this—that the bed being attached to the stump of an olive tree still rooted, was immovable, and Ulysses having made it himself, no person present, he must needs be apprized of the impossibility of her orders, if he were indeed Ulysses; accordingly, this demonstration of his identity satisfies all her scruples.
See the note on the same passage, Book XI.
Antilochus was his brother.
Aristophanes the grammarian and Aristarchus chose that the Odyssey should end here; but the story is not properly concluded till the tumult occasioned by the slaughter of so many Princes being composed, Ulysses finds himself once more in peaceful possession of his country.
"""
Τρίζουσαι—τετριγῦιαι—the ghosts
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.
Shakspeare.
"""
"""
—Behemoth, biggest born of earth,
Upheav’d his vastness.
Milton.
"""
The fruit is here used for the tree that bore it, as it is in the Greek; the Latins used the same mode of expression, neither is it uncommon in our own language.
Τίς νύ μοι ἡμέρη ἥδε;—So Cicero, who seems to translate it—Proh dii immortales! Quis hic illuxit dies! See Clarke in loco.
END OF THE ODYSSEY
Notes
Note 1.
Bk. x. l. 101-106 (Hom. x. l. 81-86).—It is held now that this passage should be explained by the supposition that the Homeric bards had heard tales of northern latitudes, where, in summer-time, the darkness was so short that evening was followed almost at once by morning. Thus the herdsman coming home in the twilight at one day’s close might meet and hail the shepherd who was starting betimes for the next day’s work.
Line 86 in the Greek ought probably to be translated, “For the paths of night and day are close together,” //i.e.//, the entrance of day follows hard on the entrance of night.
Note 2.
Bk. xi. l. 162, 163 (Hom. xi. l. 134, 135).—
"""
θάνατος δέ τοι ἐξ ἁλὸς αὐτῷ
ἀβληχρὸς μάλα τοῖος ἐλεύσεται.
"""
Others translate, “And from the sea shall thy own death come,” suggesting that Ulysses after all was lost at sea. This is the rendering followed by Tennyson in his poem “Ulysses” (and see Dante, //Inferno//, Canto xxvi.). It is a more natural translation of the Greek, and gives a far more wonderful vista for the close of the Wanderer’s life.
Note 3.
Bk. xix. l. 712 (Hom. xix. l. 573).—The word πελέκεας, for which Cowper gives as a paraphrase “spikes, crested with a ring,” elsewhere means //axes//, and ought so to be translated here. For since Cowper’s day an axe-head of the Mycenæan period has been discovered //with the blade pierced// so as to form a hole through which an arrow could pass. (See Tsountas and Manatt, //The Mycenæan Age//.) Axes of this type were not known to Cowper, and hence the hypothesis in his text. He realised correctly the essential conditions of the feat proposed: the axes must have been set up, one behind the other, in the way he suggested for his ringed stakes.
Note 4.
Bk. xxii. l. 139-162 (Hom. xxii. l. 126-143).—How Melanthius got out of the hall remains a puzzle. Cowper assumes a second postern, but there is no evidence for this, and l. 139 ff. (l. 126 ff. in the Greek) suggest rather strongly that there was only //one//. Unfortunately, the crucial word ῥῶγες which occurs in the line describing Melanthius’ exit is not found elsewhere. “He went up,” the poet says, “through the ῥῶγες of the hall.” Merry suggests that “he scrambled up to the loopholes that were pierced in the wall.” Others suppose that there was a ladder at the inner end of the hall leading to the upper story, and on through passages to the armoury.
In l. 141 (l. 128 in the Greek) the word translated “street” by Cowper is usually rendered “corridor.”
F. M. S.
This web edition published by:
eBooks@Adelaide
The University of Adelaide Library
University of Adelaide
South Australia 5005
The son of Aurora, who slew Antilochus, was Memnon.
Because Pisistratus was born after Antilochus had sailed to Troy.
From the abruptness of this beginning, Virgil, probably, who has copied the story, took the hint of his admired exordium.
"""
Nam quis te, juvenum confidentissime, nostras.
Egit adire domos.
"""
Δαιτυμων—generally signifies the founder of a feast; but we are taught by Eustathius to understand by it, in this place, the persons employed in preparing it.
This transition from the third to the second person belongs to the original, and is considered as a fine stroke of art in the poet, who represents Penelope in the warmth of her resentment, forgetting where she is, and addressing the suitors as if present.
Milton uses the word—Sewers and seneschals.
Mistaking, perhaps, the sound of her voice, and imagining that she sang.—Vide Barnes in loco.
The Solymi were the ancient inhabitants of Pisidia in Asia-Minor.
The Translator finding himself free to chuse between ἀυδηέσσα and ἠδηέσσα, has preferred the latter.
In the Original, she calls him, pappa! a more natural stile of address and more endearing. But ancient as this appellative is, it is also so familiar in modern use, that the Translator feared to hazard it.
"""
Καιροσέων δ’ οθονεων ἀπολείβεται ὑγρον ἔλαιον.
"""
Pope has given no translation of this line in the text of his work, but has translated it in a note. It is variously interpreted by commentators; the sense which is here given of it is that recommended by Eustathius.
The Scholiast explains the passage thus—We resemble the Gods in righteousness as much as the Cyclops and Giants resembled each other in impiety. But in this sense of it there is something intricate and contrary to Homer’s manner. We have seen that they derived themselves from Neptune, which sufficiently justifies the above interpretation.
Agamemnon having inquired at Delphos, at what time the Trojan war would end, was answered that the conclusion of it should happen at a time when a dispute should arise between two of his principal commanders. That dispute occurred at the time here alluded to, Achilles recommending force as most likely to reduce the city, and Ulysses stratagem.
Τοισι δ’ απο νυσοης τετατο δρομος—This expression is by the commentators generally understood to be significant of the effort which they made at starting, but it is not improbable that it relates merely to the measurement of the course, otherwise, καρπαλιμως επετοντο will be tautologous.
Ἔρανος, a convivial meeting, at which every man paid his proportion, at least contributed something; but it seems to have been a meeting at which strict sobriety was observed, else Pallas would not have inferred from the noise and riot of this, that it was not such a one.
The Translator is indebted to Mr Grey for an epithet more expressive of the original (Μαρμαρυγας) than any other, perhaps, in all our language. See the Ode on the Progress of Poetry.
"""
“To brisk notes in cadence beating,
Glance their //many-twinkling// feet”
"""
The original line has received such a variety of interpretations, that a Translator seems free to choose. It has, however, a proverbial turn, which I have endeavoured to preserve, and have adopted the sense of the words which appears best to accord with what immediately follows. Vulcan pleads his own inability to enforce the demand, as a circumstance that made Neptune’s promise unacceptable.
So the Scholium interprets in this place, the word ὑπερθιαλος.
Clarke, who has preserved this name in his marginal version, contends strenuously, and with great reason, that Outis ought not to be translated, and in a passage which he quotes from the //Acta eruditorum//, we see much fault found with Giphanius and other interpreters of Homer for having translated it. It is certain that in Homer the word is declined not as ουτις-τινος which signifies no man, but as ουτις-τιδος making ουτιν in the accusative, consequently as a proper name. It is sufficient that the ambiguity was such as to deceive the friends of the Cyclops. Outis is said by some (perhaps absurdly) to have been a name given to Ulysses on account of his having larger ears than common.
Outis, as a //name// could only denote him who bore it; but as a //noun//, it signifies //no man//, which accounts sufficiently for the ludicrous mistake of his brethren.
"""
προπεσοντες
———Olli certamine summo
Procumbunt.
Virgil
"""
The seeming incongruity of this line with line 560, is reconciled by supposing that Ulysses exerted his voice, naturally loud, in an extraordinary manner on this second occasion. See Clarke.
It is supposed by Eustathius that the pastures being infested by gad flies and other noxious insects in the day-time, they drove their sheep a-field in the morning, which by their wool were defended from them, and their cattle in the evening, when the insects had withdrawn. It is one of the few passages in Homer that must lie at the mercy of conjecture.
The word has the authority of Shakspeare, and signifies overhanging.
Οσσα—a word spoken, with respect to the speaker, casually; but with reference to the inquirer supposed to be sent for his information by the especial appointment and providential favour of the Gods.
The shore of Scilly commonly called Trinacria, but //Euphonicè// by Homer, Thrinacia.
The expression is used by Milton, and signifies—Beset with many difficulties.
Mistaking the oar for a corn-van. A sure indication of his ignorance of maritime concerns.
By the Tragedians called—Jocasta.
Iphicles had been informed by the Oracles that he should have no children till instructed by a prophet how to obtain them; a service which Melampus had the good fortune to render him.
Bacchus accused her to Diana of having lain with Theseus in his temple, and the Goddess punished her with death.
This is surely one of the most natural strokes to be found in any Poet. Convinced, for a moment, by the virtues of Penelope, he mentioned her with respect; but recollecting himself suddenly, involves even her in his general ill opinion of the sex, begotten in him by the crimes of Clytemnestra.
There is in the Original an evident stress laid on the word Νήποινοι, which is used in both places. It was a sort of Lex Talionis which Telemachus hoped might be put in force against them; and that Jove would demand no satisfaction for the lives of those who made him none for the waste of his property.
Another most beautiful stroke of nature. Ere yet Ulysses has had opportunity to answer, the very thought that Peleus may possibly be insulted, fires him, and he takes the whole for granted. Thus is the impetuous character of Achilles sustained to the last moment!
Γυναίων εινεκα δώρων—Priam is said to have influenced by gifts the wife and mother of Eurypylus, to persuade him to the assistance of Troy, he being himself unwilling to engage. The passage through defect of history has long been dark, and commentators have adapted different senses to it, all conjectural. The Ceteans are said to have been a people of Mysia, of which Eurypylus was King.
Κατ’ ασφοδελον λειμωνα—Asphodel was planted on the graves and around the tombs of the deceased, and hence the supposition that the Stygian plain was clothed with asphodel. F.
Βασαζοντα must have this sense interpreted by what follows. To attempt to make the English numbers expressive as the Greek is a labour like that of Sisyphus. The Translator has done what he could.
It is now, perhaps, impossible to ascertain with precision what Homer meant by the word κραταιίς, which he uses only here, and in the next book, where it is the name of Scylla’s dam.—Αναιδης—is also of very doubtful explication.
The two first lines of the following book seem to ascertain the true meaning of the conclusion of this, and to prove sufficiently that by Ὠκεανὸς here Homer could not possibly intend any other than a river. In those lines he tells us in the plainest terms that //the ship left the stream of the river Oceanus, and arrived in the open sea//. Diodorus Siculus informs us that Ὠκεανὸς had been a name anciently given to the Nile. See Clarke.
They passed the line through a pipe of horn, to secure it against the fishes’ bite.
He had therefore held by the fig-tree from sunrise till afternoon.
The reader is to be reminded that this is not an assembly of the suitors only, but a general one, which affords Telemachus an opportunity to apply himself to the feelings of the Ithacans at large.
Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete, as if he meant to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St. Paul—κρητες αει ψευσαι.
Δῖος ὑφορβος.—The swineherd’s was therefore in those days, and in that country, an occupation honourable as well as useful. Barnes deems the epithet δῖος significant of his noble birth. Vide Clarke in loco.
It may be proper to suggest that Ulysses was lord of part of the continent opposite to Ithaca—viz.—of the peninsula Nericus or Leuca, which afterward became an island, and is now called Santa Maura. F.
Θεος—without a relative, and consequently signifying God in the abstract, is not unfrequently found in Homer, though fearing to give offence to serious minds unacquainted with the original, 1 have not always given it that force in the translation. But here, the sentiment is such as fixes the sense intended by the author with a precision that leaves no option. It is observable too, that δυναται γαρ απαντα—is an ascription of power such as the poet never makes to his Jupiter.
Iphyclus the son of Phylacus had seized and detained cattle belonging to Neleus; Neleus ordered his nephew Melampus to recover them, and as security for his obedience seized on a considerable part of his possessions. Melampus attempted the service, failed, and was cast into prison; but at length escaping, accomplished his errand, vanquished Neleus in battle, and carried off his daughter Pero, whom Neleus had promised to the brother of Melampus, but had afterward refused her.
His wife Eryphyle, bribed by Polynices, persuaded him, though aware that death awaited him at that city, to go to Thebes, where he fell accordingly.
She is said to have hanged herself.
Not improbably the isthmus of Syracuse, an island, perhaps, or peninsula at that period, or at least imagined to be such by Homer. The birth of Diana gave fame to Ortygia. F.
Ὅθι τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο—The Translator has rendered the passage according to that interpretation of it to which several of the best expositors incline. Nothing can be so absurd as to suppose that Homer, so correct in his geography, could mean to place a Mediterranean island under the Tropic.
Ερκος οδοντων. Prior, alluding to this expression, ludicrously renders it—
"""
“When words like these in vocal breath
Burst from his twofold hedge of teeth.”
"""
A principal city of Phœnicia.
The anchors were lodged on the shore, not plunged as ours.
Alluding probably to entreaties made to him at some former time by herself and Telemachus, that he would not harm them. Clarke.
The hearth was the altar on which the lares or household-gods were worshipped.
That he might begin auspiciously. Wine was served in the same direction. F.
Here again Θεὸς occurs in the abstract.
"""
Ει δη που τις επουρανιος θεος εσι
"""
Eustathius, and Clarke after him, understand an aposiopesis here, as if the speaker meant to say—what if there should be? or—suppose there should be? But the sentence seems to fall in better with what follows interpreted as above, and it is a sense of the passage not unwarranted by the opinion of other commentators. See Schaufelbergerus.
This seems added by Eumæus to cut off from Ulysses the hope that might otherwise tempt him to use fiction.
Tradition says that Echetus, for a love-affair, condemned his daughter to lose her eyes, and to grind iron barley-grains, while her lover was doomed to suffer what Antinoüs threatens to Irus. F.
It is said to have been customary in the days of Homer, when the Greeks retired from a banquet to their beds, to cut out the tongues of the victims, and offer them to the Gods in particular who presided over conversation.
This seems the sort of laughter intended by the word Αχρειον.
From Iäsus, once King of Peloponnesus.
A gaberdine is a shaggy cloak of coarse but warm materials. Such always make part of Homer’s bed-furniture.
Homer’s morals seem to allow to a good man dissimulation, and even an ambiguous oath, should they be necessary to save him from a villain. Thus in Book XX. Telemachus swears by Zeus, that he does not hinder his mother from marrying whom she pleases of the wooers, though at the same time he is plotting their destruction with his father. F.
In the Greek ὈΔΥΣΣΕΥΣ from the verb ὀδυσσω—Irascor, //1 am angry//.
She intended to slay the son of her husband’s brother Amphion, incited to it by the envy of his wife, who had six children, while herself had only two, but through mistake she slew her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.
The difference of the two substances may perhaps serve to account for the preference given in this case to the gate of horn; horn being transparent, and as such emblematical of truth, while ivory, from its whiteness, promises light, but is, in fact, opaque. F.
The translation here is somewhat pleonastic for the sake of perspicuity; the original is clear in itself, but not to us who have no such practice. Twelve stakes were fixt in the earth, each having a ring at the top; the order in which they stood was so exact, that an arrow sent with an even hand through the first ring, would pass them all.
That is, how shall I escape the vengeance of their kindred?
Aĕdon, Cleothera, Merope.
Hesychius tells us, that the Greecians ornamented with much attention the front wall of their courts for the admiration of passengers.
He is often called—πατηρ ανδρων τε θεων τε.
Household Gods who presided over the hearth.
Who had sought refuge in the ship of Telemachus when he left Sparta, and came with him to Ithaca.
The reader will of course observe, that the whole of this process implies a sort of mechanism very different from that with which we are acquainted.—The translation, I believe, is exact.
This first attempt of Telemachus and the suitors was not an attempt to shoot, but to lodge the bow-string on the opposite horn, the bow having been released at one end, and slackened while it was laid by.
Antinoüs prescribes to them this manner of rising to the trial for the good omen’s sake, the left-hand being held unpropitious.
''Note 1.''
Bk. x. l. 101-106 (Hom. x. l. 81-86).—It is held now that this passage should be explained by the supposition that the Homeric bards had heard tales of northern latitudes, where, in summer-time, the darkness was so short that evening was followed almost at once by morning. Thus the herdsman coming home in the twilight at one day’s close might meet and hail the shepherd who was starting betimes for the next day’s work.
Line 86 in the Greek ought probably to be translated, “For the paths of night and day are close together,” i.e., the entrance of day follows hard on the entrance of night.
''Note 2.''
Bk. xi. l. 162, 163 (Hom. xi. l. 134, 135).—
"""
θάνατος δέ τοι ἐξ ἁλὸς αὐτῷ
ἀβληχρὸς μάλα τοῖος ἐλεύσεται.
"""
Others translate, “And from the sea shall thy own death come,” suggesting that Ulysses after all was lost at sea. This is the rendering followed by Tennyson in his poem “Ulysses” (and see Dante, Inferno, Canto xxvi.). It is a more natural translation of the Greek, and gives a far more wonderful vista for the close of the Wanderer’s life.
''Note 3.''
Bk. xix. l. 712 (Hom. xix. l. 573).—The word πελέκεας, for which Cowper gives as a paraphrase “spikes, crested with a ring,” elsewhere means axes, and ought so to be translated here. For since Cowper’s day an axe-head of the Mycenæan period has been discovered with the blade pierced so as to form a hole through which an arrow could pass. (See Tsountas and Manatt, The Mycenæan Age.) Axes of this type were not known to Cowper, and hence the hypothesis in his text. He realised correctly the essential conditions of the feat proposed: the axes must have been set up, one behind the other, in the way he suggested for his ringed stakes.
''Note 4.''
Bk. xxii. l. 139-162 (Hom. xxii. l. 126-143).—How Melanthius got out of the hall remains a puzzle. Cowper assumes a second postern, but there is no evidence for this, and l. 139 ff. (l. 126 ff. in the Greek) suggest rather strongly that there was only one. Unfortunately, the crucial word ῥῶγες which occurs in the line describing Melanthius’ exit is not found elsewhere. “He went up,” the poet says, “through the ῥῶγες of the hall.” Merry suggests that “he scrambled up to the loopholes that were pierced in the wall.” Others suppose that there was a ladder at the inner end of the hall leading to the upper story, and on through passages to the armoury.
In l. 141 (l. 128 in the Greek) the word translated “street” by Cowper is usually rendered “corridor.”
F. M. S.
@@column-count:2;
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* [[Dedication|Cowper: Dedication]]
* [[Book 1|Cowper: Book 1]]
* [[Book 2|Cowper: Book 2]]
* [[Book 3|Cowper: Book 3]]
* [[Book 4|Cowper: Book 4]]
* [[Book 5|Cowper: Book 5]]
* [[Book 6|Cowper: Book 6]]
* [[Book 7|Cowper: Book 7]]
* [[Book 8|Cowper: Book 8]]
* [[Book 9|Cowper: Book 9]]
* [[Book 10|Cowper: Book 10]]
* [[Book 11|Cowper: Book 11]]
* [[Book 12|Cowper: Book 12]]
* [[Book 13|Cowper: Book 13]]
* [[Book 14|Cowper: Book 14]]
* [[Book 15|Cowper: Book 15]]
* [[Book 16|Cowper: Book 16]]
* [[Book 17|Cowper: Book 17]]
* [[Book 18|Cowper: Book 18]]
* [[Book 19|Cowper: Book 19]]
* [[Book 20|Cowper: Book 20]]
* [[Book 21|Cowper: Book 21]]
* [[Book 22|Cowper: Book 22]]
* [[Book 23|Cowper: Book 23]]
* [[Book 24|Cowper: Book 24]]
* [[Notes|Cowper: Notes]]
@@
@@
@@
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* [[Odyssey Personal Wiki Homepage|http://personal-wikis.davidfisco.com/odyssey]]
* Feedback: [[Email David Fisco|mailto:bulkmail@davidfisco.com?subject=Odyssey+Personal+Wiki+Feedback]]
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Dis-moi, Muse, cet homme subtil qui erra si longtemps, après qu'il eut renversé la citadelle sacrée de Troiè. Et il vit les cités de peuples nombreux, et il connut leur esprit; et, dans son coeur, il endura beaucoup de maux, sur la mer, pour sa propre vie et le retour de ses compagnons Mais il ne les sauva point, contre son désir; et ils périrent par leur impiété, les insensés! ayant mangé les boeufs de Hèlios Hypérionade. Et ce dernier leur ravit l'heure du retour. Dis-moi une partie de ces choses, Déesse, fille de Zeus. Tous ceux qui avaient évité la noire mort, échappés de la guerre et de la mer, étaient rentrés dans leurs demeures; mais Odysseus restait seul, loin de son pays et de sa femme, et la vénérable Nymphe Kalypsô, la très-noble déesse, le retenait dans ses grottes creuses, le désirant pour mari. Et quand le temps vint, après le déroulement des années, où les Dieux voulurent qu'il revît sa demeure en Ithakè, même alors il devait subir des combats au milieu des siens. Et tous les Dieux le prenaient en pitié, excepté Poseidaôn, qui était toujours irrité contre le divin Odysseus, jusqu'à ce qu'il fût rentré dans son pays.
Et Poseidaôn était allé chez les Aithiopiens qui habitent au loin et sont partagés en deux peuples, dont l'un regarde du côté de Hypériôn, au couchant, et l'autre au levant. Et le Dieu y était allé pour une hécatombe de taureaux et d'agneaux. Et comme il se réjouissait, assis à ce repas, les autres Dieux étaient réunis dans la demeure royale de Zeus Olympien. Et le Père des hommes et des Dieux commença de leur parler, se rappelant dans son coeur l'irréprochable Aigisthos que l'illustre Orestès Agamemnonide avait tué. Se souvenant de cela, il dit ces paroles aux Immortels:
— Ah! combien les hommes accusent les Dieux! Ils disent que leurs maux viennent de nous, et, seuls, ils aggravent leur destinée par leur démence. Maintenant, voici qu'Aigisthos, contre le destin, a épousé la femme de l'Atréide et a tué ce dernier, sachant quelle serait sa mort terrible; car nous l'avions prévenu par Herméias, le vigilant tueur d'Argos, de ne point tuer Agamemnôn et de ne point désirer sa femme, de peur que l'Atréide Orestès se vengeât, ayant grandi et désirant revoir son pays. Herméias parla ainsi, mais son conseil salutaire n'a point persuadé l'esprit d'Aigisthos, et, maintenant, celui-ci a tout expié d'un coup.
Et Athènè, la Déesse aux yeux clairs, lui répondit:
— Ô notre Père, Kronide, le plus haut des Rois! celui-ci du moins a été frappé d'une mort juste. Qu'il meure ainsi celui qui agira de même! Mais mon coeur est déchiré au souvenir du brave Odysseus, le malheureux! qui souffre depuis longtemps loin des siens, dans une île, au milieu de la mer, et où en est le centre. Et, dans cette île plantée d'arbres, habite une Déesse, la fille dangereuse d'Atlas, lui qui connaît les profondeurs de la mer, et qui porte les hautes colonnes dressées entre la terre et l'Ouranos. Et sa fille retient ce malheureux qui se lamente et qu'elle flatte toujours de molles et douces paroles, afin qu'il oublie Ithakè; mais il désire revoir la fumée de son pays et souhaite de mourir. Et ton coeur n'est point touché, Olympien, par les sacrifices qu'Odysseus accomplissait pour toi auprès des nefs Argiennes, devant la grande Troiè. Zeus, pourquoi donc es-tu si irrité contre lui?
Et Zeus qui amasse les nuées, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Mon enfant, quelle parole s'est échappée d'entre tes dents? Comment pourrais-je oublier le divin Odysseus, qui, par l'intelligence, est au-dessus de tous les hommes, et qui offrait le plus de sacrifices aux Dieux qui vivent toujours et qui habitent le large Ouranos? Mais Poseidaôn qui entoure la terre est constamment irrité à cause du Kyklôps qu'Odysseus a aveuglé, Polyphèmos tel qu'un Dieu, le plus fort des Kyklôpes. La Nymphe Thoôsa, fille de Phorkyn, maître de la mer sauvage, l'enfanta, s'étant unie à Poseidaôn dans ses grottes creuses. C'est pour cela que Poseidaôn qui secoue la terre, ne tuant point Odysseus, le contraint d'errer loin de son pays. Mais nous, qui sommes ici, assurons son retour; et Poseidaôn oubliera sa colère, car il ne pourra rien, seul, contre tous les dieux immortels.
Et la Déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Ô notre Père, Kronide, le plus haut des Rois! s'il plaît aux Dieux heureux que le sage Odysseus retourne en sa demeure, envoyons le Messager Herméias, tueur d'Argos, dans l'île Ogygiè, afin qu'il avertisse la Nymphe à la belle chevelure que nous avons résolu le retour d'Odysseus à l'âme forte et patiente.
Et moi j'irai à Ithakè, et j'exciterai son fils et lui inspirerai la force, ayant réuni l'agora des Akhaiens chevelus, de chasser tous les Prétendants qui égorgent ses brebis nombreuses et ses boeufs aux jambes torses et aux cornes recourbées. Et je l'enverrai à Spartè et dans la sablonneuse Pylos, afin qu'il s'informe du retour de son père bien-aimé, et qu'il soit très honoré parmi les hommes.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle attacha à ses pieds de belles sandales ambroisiennes, dorées, qui la portaient sur la mer et sur l'immense terre comme le souffle du vent. Et elle prit une forte lance, armée d'un airain aigu, lourde, grande et solide, avec laquelle elle dompte la foule des hommes héroïques contre qui, fille d'un père puissant, elle est irritée. Et, s'étant élancée du faite de l'Olympos, elle descendit au milieu du peuple d'Ithakè, dans le vestibule d'Odysseus, au seuil de la cour, avec la lance d'airain en main, et semblable à un étranger, au chef des Taphiens, à Mentès.
Et elle vit les prétendants insolents qui jouaient aux jetons devant les portes, assis sur la peau des boeufs qu'ils avaient tués eux-mêmes. Et des hérauts et des serviteurs s'empressaient autour d'eux; et les uns mêlaient l'eau et le vin dans les kratères; et les autres lavaient les tables avec les éponges poreuses; et, les ayant dressées, partageaient les viandes abondantes. Et, le premier de tous, le divin Tèlémakhos vit Athènè. Et il était assis parmi les prétendants, le coeur triste, voyant en esprit son brave père revenir soudain, chasser les prétendants hors de ses demeures, ressaisir sa puissance et régir ses biens.
Or, songeant à cela, assis parmi eux, il vit Athènè: et il alla dans le vestibule, indigné qu'un étranger restât longtemps debout à la porte. Et il s'approcha, lui prit la main droite, reçut la lance d'airain et dit ces paroles ailées:
— Salut, Étranger. Tu nous seras ami, et, après le repas, tu nous diras ce qu'il te faut.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il le conduisit, et Pallas Athènè le suivit. Et lorsqu'ils furent entrés dans la haute demeure, il appuya la lance contre une longue colonne, dans un arsenal luisant où étaient déjà rangées beaucoup d'autres lances d'Odysseus à l'âme ferme et patiente. Et il fit asseoir Athènè, ayant mis un beau tapis bien travaillé sur le thrône, et, sous ses pieds, un escabeau. Pour lui-même il plaça auprès d'elle un siège sculpté, loin des prétendants, afin que l'étranger ne souffert point du repas tumultueux, au milieu de convives injurieux, et afin de l'interroger sur son père absent. Et une servante versa, pour les ablutions, de l'eau dans un bassin d'argent, d'une belle aiguière d'or; et elle dressa auprès d'eux une table luisante. Puis, une intendante vénérable apporta du pain et couvrit la table de mets nombreux et réservés; et un découpeur servit les plats de viandes diverses et leur offrit des coupes d'or; et un héraut leur servait souvent du vin.
Et les prétendants insolents entrèrent. Ils s'assirent en ordre sur des sièges et sur des thrônes: et des hérauts versaient de l'eau sur leurs mains; et les servantes entassaient le pain dans les corbeilles, et les jeunes hommes emplissaient de vin les kratères. Puis, les prétendants mirent la main sur les mets; et, quand leur faim et leur soif furent assouvies, ils désirèrent autre chose, la danse et le chant, ornements des repas. Et un héraut mit une très belle kithare aux mains de Phèmios, qui chantait là contre son gré. Et il joua de la kithare et commença de bien chanter.
Mais Tèlémakhos dit à Athènè aux yeux clairs, en penchant la tête, afin que les autres ne pussent entendre:
— Cher Étranger, seras-tu irrité de mes paroles? La kithare et le chant plaisent aisément à ceux-ci, car ils mangent impunément le bien d'autrui, la richesse d'un homme dont les ossements blanchis pourrissent à la pluie, quelque part, sur la terre ferme ou dans les flots de la mer qui les roule. Certes, s'ils le voyaient de retour à Ithakè, tous préféreraient des pieds rapides à l'abondance de l'or et aux riches vêtements! Mais il est mort, subissant une mauvaise destinée; et il ne nous reste plus d'espérance, quand même un des habitants de la terre nous annoncerait son retour, car ce jour n'arrivera jamais.
Mais parle-moi, et réponds sincèrement. Qui es-tu, et de quelle race? Où est ta ville et quels sont tes parents? Sur quelle nef es-tu venu? Quels matelots t'ont conduit à Ithakè, et qui sont- ils? Car je ne pense pas que tu sois venu à pied. Et dis-moi vrai, afin que je sache: viens-tu pour la première fois, ou bien es-tu un hôte de mon père? Car beaucoup d'hommes connaissent notre demeure, et Odysseus aussi visitait les hommes.
Et la Déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Je te dirai des choses sincères. Je me vante d'être Mentès, fils du brave Ankhialos, et je commande aux Taphiens, amis des avirons. Et voici que j'ai abordé ici avec une nef et des compagnons, voguant sur la noire mer vers des hommes qui parlent une langue étrangère, vers Témésè, où je vais chercher de l'airain et où je porte du fer luisant. Et ma nef s'est arrêtée là, près de la campagne, en dehors de la ville, dans le port Rhéitrôs, sous le Néios couvert de bois. Et nous nous honorons d'être unis par l'hospitalité, dès l'origine, et de père en fils. Tu peux aller interroger sur ceci le vieux Laertès, car on dit qu'il ne vient plus à la ville, mais qu'il souffre dans une campagne éloignée, seul avec une vieille femme qui lui sert à manger et à boire, quand il s'est fatigué à parcourir sa terre fertile plantée de vignes. Et je suis venu, parce qu'on disait que ton père était de retour; mais les Dieux entravent sa route. Car le divin Odysseus n'est point encore mort sur la terre; et il vit, retenu en quelque lieu de la vaste mer, dans une île entourée des flots; et des hommes rudes et farouches, ses maîtres, le retiennent par la force.
Mais, aujourd'hui, je te prédirai ce que les immortels m'inspirent et ce qui s'accomplira, bien que je ne sois point un divinateur et que j'ignore les augures. Certes, il ne restera point longtemps loin de la chère terre natale, même étant chargé de liens de fer. Et il trouvera les moyens de revenir, car il est fertile en ruses. Mais parle, et dis-moi sincèrement si tu es le vrai fils d'Odysseus lui-même. Tu lui ressembles étrangement par la tête et la beauté des yeux. Car nous nous sommes rencontrés souvent, avant son départ pour Troiè, où allèrent aussi, sur leurs nefs creuses, les autres chefs Argiens. Depuis ce temps je n'ai plus vu Odysseus, et il ne m'a plus vu.
Et le sage Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Étranger, je te dirai des choses très sincères. Ma mère dit que je suis fils d'Odysseus, mais moi, je n'en sais rien, car nul ne sait par lui-même qui est son père. Que ne suis-je plutôt le fils de quelque homme heureux qui dût vieillir sur ses domaines! Et maintenant, on le dit, c'est du plus malheureux des hommes mortels que je suis né, et c'est ce que tu m'as demandé.
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Les dieux ne t'ont point fait sortir d'une race sans gloire dans la postérité, puisque Pènélopéia t'a enfanté tel que te voilà. Mais parle, et réponds-moi sincèrement. Quel est ce repas? Pourquoi cette assemblée? En avais-tu besoin? Est-ce un festin ou une noce? Car ceci n'est point payé en commun, tant ces convives mangent avec insolence et arrogance dans cette demeure! Tout homme, d'un esprit sensé du moins, s'indignerait de te voir au milieu de ces choses honteuses.
Et le sage Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Étranger, puisque tu m'interroges sur ceci, cette demeure fut autrefois riche et honorée, tant que le héros habita le pays; mais, aujourd'hui, les dieux, source de nos maux, en ont décidé autrement, et ils ont fait de lui le plus ignoré d'entre tous les hommes. Et je ne le pleurerais point ainsi, même le sachant mort, s'il avait été frappé avec ses compagnons, parmi le peuple des Troiens, ou s'il était mort entre des mains amies, après la guerre. Alors les Panakhaiens lui eussent bâti un tombeau, et il eût légué à son fils une grande gloire dans la postérité. Mais, aujourd'hui, les Harpyes l'ont enlevé obscurément, et il est mort, et nul n'a rien su, ni rien appris de lui, et il ne m'a laissé que les douleurs et les lamentations.
Mais je ne gémis point uniquement sur lui, et les Dieux m'ont envoyé d'autres peines amères. Tous ceux qui commandent aux îles, à Doulikios, à Samè, à Zakyntos couverte de bois, et ceux qui commandent dans la rude Ithakè, tous recherchent ma mère et épuisent ma demeure. Et ma mère ne peut refuser des noces odieuses ni mettre fin à ceci; et ces hommes épuisent ma demeure en mangeant, et ils me perdront bientôt aussi.
Et, pleine de pitié, Pallas Athènè lui répondit:
— Ah! sans doute, tu as grand besoin d'Odysseus qui mettrait la main sur ces prétendants injurieux! Car s'il survenait et se tenait debout sur le seuil de la porte, avec le casque et le bouclier et deux piques, tel que je le vis pour la première fois buvant et se réjouissant dans notre demeure, à son retour d'Ephyrè, d'auprès d'Illos Merméridaïde; — car Odysseus était allé chercher là, sur une nef rapide, un poison mortel, pour y tremper ses flèches armées d'une pointe d'airain; et Illos ne voulut point le lui donner, redoutant les dieux qui vivent éternellement, mais mon père, qui l'aimait beaucoup, le lui donna; — si donc Odysseus, tel que je le vis, survenait au milieu des prétendants, leur destinée serait brève et leurs noces seraient amères! Mais il appartient aux dieux de décider s'il reviendra, ou non, les punir dans sa demeure. Je t'exhorte donc à chercher comment tu pourras les chasser d'ici.
Maintenant, écoute, et souviens-toi de mes paroles. Demain, ayant réuni l'agora des héros Akhaiens, parle-leur, et prends les dieux à témoin. Contrains les prétendants de se retirer chez eux. Que ta mère, si elle désire d'autres noces, retourne dans la demeure de son père qui a une grande puissance. Ses proches la marieront et lui donneront une aussi grande dot qu'il convient à une fille bien-aimée. Et je te conseillerai sagement, si tu veux m'en croire. Arme ta meilleure nef de vingt rameurs, et va t'informer de ton père parti depuis si longtemps, afin que quelqu'un des hommes t'en parle, ou que tu entendes un de ces bruits de Zeus qui dispense le mieux la gloire aux hommes.
Rends-toi d'abord à Pylos et interroge le divin Nestôr; puis à Spartè, auprès du blond Ménélaos, qui est revenu le dernier des Akhaiens cuirassés d'airain. Si tu apprends que ton père est vivant et revient, attends encore une année, malgré ta douleur; mais si tu apprends qu'il est mort, ayant cessé d'exister, reviens dans la chère terre natale, pour lui élever un tombeau et célébrer de grandes funérailles comme il convient, et donner ta mère à un mari. Puis, lorsque tu auras fait et achevé tout cela, songe, de l'esprit et du coeur, à tuer les prétendants dans ta demeure, par ruse ou par force. Il ne faut plus te livrer aux choses enfantines, car tu n'en as plus l'âge. Ne sais-tu pas de quelle gloire s'est couvert le divin Orestès parmi les hommes, en tuant le meurtrier de son père illustre, Aigisthos aux ruses perfides? Toi aussi, ami, que voilà grand et beau, sois brave, afin que les hommes futurs te louent. Je vais redescendre vers ma nef rapide et mes compagnons qui s'irritent sans doute de m'attendre. Souviens- toi, et ne néglige point mes paroles.
Et le sage Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Étranger, tu m'as parlé en ami, comme un père à son fils, et je n'oublierai jamais tes paroles. Mais reste, bien que tu sois pressé, afin que t'étant baigné et ayant charmé ton coeur, tu retournes vers ta nef, plein de joie, avec un présent riche et précieux qui te viendra de moi et sera tel que des amis en offrent à leurs hôtes.
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Ne me retiens plus, il faut que je parte. Quand je reviendrai, tu me donneras ce présent que ton coeur me destine, afin que je l'emporte dans ma demeure. Qu'il soit fort beau, et que je puisse t'en offrir un semblable.
Et Athènè aux yeux clairs, ayant ainsi parlé, s'envola et disparut comme un oiseau; mais elle lui laissa au coeur la force et l'audace et le souvenir plus vif de son père. Et lui, le coeur plein de crainte, pensa dans son esprit que c'était un Dieu. Puis, le divin jeune homme s'approcha des Prétendants. Et l'Aoide très illustre chantait, et ils étaient assis, l'écoutant en silence. Et il chantait le retour fatal des Akhaiens, que Pallas Athènè leur avait infligé au sortir de Troiè. Et, de la haute chambre, la fille d'Ikarios, la sage Pènélopéia, entendit ce chant divin, et elle descendit l'escalier élevé, non pas seule, mais suivie de deux servantes. Et quand la divine femme fut auprès des prétendants, elle resta debout contre la porte, sur le seuil de la salle solidement construite, avec un beau voile sur les joues, et les honnêtes servantes se tenaient à ses côtés. Et elle pleura et dit à l'Aoide divin:
— Phèmios, tu sais d'autres chants par lesquels les Aoides célèbrent les actions des hommes et des Dieux. Assis au milieu de ceux-ci, chante-leur une de ces choses, tandis qu'ils boivent du vin en silence; mais cesse ce triste chant qui déchire mon coeur dans ma poitrine, puisque je suis la proie d'un deuil que je ne puis oublier. Car je pleure une tête bien aimée, et je garde le souvenir éternel de l'homme dont la gloire emplit Hellas et Argos.
Et le sage Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ma mère, pourquoi défends-tu que ce doux Aoide nous réjouisse, comme son esprit le lui inspire? Les Aoides ne sont responsables de rien, et Zeus dispense ses dons aux poètes comme il lui plaît. Il ne faut point t'indigner contre celui-ci parce qu'il chante la sombre destinée des Danaens, car les hommes chantent toujours les choses les plus récentes. Aie donc la force d'âme d'écouter. Odysseus n'a point perdu seul, à Troiè, le jour du retour, et beaucoup d'autres y sont morts aussi. Rentre dans ta demeure; continue tes travaux à l'aide de la toile et du fuseau, et remets tes servantes à leur tâche. La parole appartient aux hommes, et surtout à moi qui commande ici.
Étonnée, Pènélopéia s'en retourna chez elle, emportant dans son coeur les sages paroles de son fils. Remontée dans les hautes chambres, avec ses femmes, elle pleura Odysseus, son cher mari, jusqu'à ce que Athènè aux yeux clairs eût répandu un doux sommeil sur ses paupières.
Et les prétendants firent un grand bruit dans la sombre demeure, et tous désiraient partager son lit. Et le sage Tèlémakhos commença de leur parler:
— Prétendants de ma mère, qui avez une insolence arrogante, maintenant réjouissons-nous, mangeons et ne poussons point de clameurs, car il est bien et convenable d'écouter un tel Aoide qui est semblable aux Dieux par sa voix; mais, dès l'aube, rendons- nous tous à l'agora, afin que je vous déclare nettement que vous ayez tous à sortir d'ici. Faites d'autres repas, mangez vos biens en vous recevant tour à tour dans vos demeures; mais s'il vous paraît meilleur de dévorer impunément la subsistance d'un seul homme, dévorez-la. Moi, je supplierai les Dieux qui vivent toujours, afin que Zeus ordonne que votre action soit punie, et vous périrez peut-être sans vengeance dans cette demeure.
Il parla ainsi, et tous, se mordant les lèvres, s'étonnaient que Tèlémakhos parlât avec cette audace. Et Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, certes, les Dieux mêmes t'enseignent à parler haut et avec audace; mais puisse le Kroniôn ne point te faire roi dans Ithakè entourée des flots, bien qu'elle soit ton héritage par ta naissance!
Et le sage Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Antinoos, quand tu t'irriterais contre moi à cause de mes paroles, je voudrais être roi par la volonté de Zeus. Penses-tu qu'il soit mauvais de l'être parmi les hommes? Il n'est point malheureux de régner. On possède une riche demeure, et on est honoré. Mais beaucoup d'autres rois Akhaiens, jeunes et vieux, sont dans Ithakè entourée des flots. Qu'un d'entre eux règne, puisque le divin Odysseus est mort. Moi, du moins, je serai le maître de la demeure et des esclaves que le divin Odysseus a conquis pour moi.
Et Eurymakhos, fils de Polybos, lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, il appartient aux Dieux de décider quel sera l'Akhaien qui régnera dans Ithakè entourée des flots. Pour toi, possède tes biens et commande en ta demeure, et que nul ne te dépouille jamais par violence et contre ton gré, tant que Ithakè sera habitée. Mais je veux, ami, t'interroger sur cet étranger. D'où est-il? De quelle terre se vante-t-il de sortir? Où est sa famille? Où est son pays? Apporte-t-il quelque nouvelle du retour de ton père? Est-il venu réclamer une dette? Il est parti promptement et n'a point daigné se faire connaître. Son aspect, d'ailleurs, n'est point celui d'un misérable.
Et le sage Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Eurymakhos, certes, mon père ne reviendra plus, et je n'en croirais pas la nouvelle, s'il m'en venait; et je ne me soucie point des prédictions que ma mère demande au divinateur qu'elle a appelé dans cette demeure. Mais cet hôte de mes pères est de Taphos; et il se vante d'être Mentès, fils du brave Ankhialos, et il commande aux Taphiens, amis des avirons.
Et Tèlémakhos parla ainsi; mais, dans son coeur, il avait reconnu la déesse immortelle. Donc, les prétendants, se livrant aux danses et au chant, se réjouissaient en attendant le soir, et comme ils se réjouissaient, la nuit survint. Alors, désirant dormir, chacun d'eux rentra dans sa demeure.
Et Tèlémakhos monta dans la chambre haute qui avait été construite pour lui dans une belle cour, et d'où l'on voyait de tous côtés. Et il se coucha, l'esprit plein de pensées. Et la sage Eurykléia portait des flambeaux allumés et elle était fille d'Ops Peisènôride, et Laertès l'avait achetée, dans sa première jeunesse, et payée du prix de vingt boeufs, et il l'honorait dans sa demeure, autant qu'une chaste épouse; mais il ne s'était point uni à elle, pour éviter la colère de sa femme. Elle portait des flambeaux allumés auprès de Tèlémakhos, étant celle qui l'aimait le plus, l'ayant nourri et élevé depuis son enfance. Elle ouvrit les portes de la chambre solidement construite. Et il s'assit sur le lit, ôta sa molle tunique et la remit entre les mains de la vieille femme aux sages conseils. Elle plia et arrangea la tunique avec soin et la suspendit à un clou auprès du lit sculpté. Puis, sortant de la chambre, elle attira la porte par un anneau d'argent dans lequel elle poussa le verrou à l'aide d'une courroie. Et Tèlémakhos, couvert d'une toison de brebis, médita, pendant toute la nuit, le voyage que Athènè lui avait conseillé.
Et nous arrivâmes à l'île Aioliè, où habitait Aiolos Hippotade cher aux dieux immortels. Et un mur d'airain qu'on ne peut rompre entourait l'île entière, et une roche escarpée la bordait de toute part. Douze enfants étaient nés dans la maison royale d'Aiolos: six filles et six fils pleins de jeunesse. Et il unit ses filles à ses fils afin qu'elles fussent les femmes de ceux-ci, et tous prenaient leur repas auprès de leur père bien-aimé et de leur mère vénérable, et de nombreux mets étaient placés devant eux. Pendant le jour, la maison et la cour retentissaient, parfumées; et, pendant la nuit tous dormaient auprès de leurs femmes chastes, sur des tapis et sur des lits sculptés.
Et nous entrâmes dans la ville et dans les belles demeures. Et tout un mois Aiolos m'accueillit, et il m'interrogeait sur Ilios, sur les nefs des Argiens et sur le retour des Akhaiens. Et je lui racontai toutes ces choses comme il convenait. Et quand je lui demandai de me laisser partir et de me renvoyer, il ne me refusa point et il prépara mon retour. Et il me donna une outre, faite de la peau d'un boeuf de neuf ans, dans laquelle il enferma le souffle des vents tempétueux; car le Kroniôn l'avait fait le maître des vents, et lui avait donné de les soulever ou de les apaiser, selon sa volonté. Et, avec un splendide câble d'argent, il l'attacha dans ma nef creuse, afin qu'il n'en sortît aucun souffle. Puis il envoya le seul Zéphyros pour nous emporter, les nefs et nous. Mais ceci ne devait point s'accomplir, car nous devions périr par notre démence.
Et, sans relâche, nous naviguâmes pendant neuf jours et neuf nuits, et au dixième jour la terre de la patrie apparaissait déjà, et nous apercevions les feux des habitants. Et, dans ma fatigue, le doux sommeil me saisit. Et j'avais toujours tenu le gouvernail de la nef, ne l'ayant cédé à aucun de mes compagnons, afin d'arriver promptement dans la terre de la patrie. Et mes compagnons parlèrent entre eux, me soupçonnant d'emporter dans ma demeure de l'or et de l'argent, présents du magnanime Aiolos Hippotade. Et ils se disaient entre eux:
— Dieux! combien Odysseus est aimé de tous les hommes et très honoré de tous ceux dont il aborde la ville et la terre! Il a emporté de Troiè, pour sa part du butin, beaucoup de choses belles et précieuses, et nous rentrons dans nos demeures, les mains vides, après avoir fait tout ce qu'il a fait. Et voici que, par amitié, Aiolos l'a comblé de présents! Mais voyons à la hâte ce qu'il y a dans cette outre, et combien d'or et d'argent on y a renfermé.
Ils parlaient ainsi, et leur mauvais dessein l'emporta. Ils ouvrirent l'outre, et tous les vents en jaillirent. Et aussitôt la tempête furieuse nous emporta sur la mer, pleurants, loin de la terre de la patrie. Et, m'étant réveillé, je délibérai dans mon coeur irréprochable si je devais périr en me jetant de ma nef dans la mer, ou si, restant parmi les vivants, je souffrirais en silence. Je restai et supportai mes maux. Et je gisais caché dans le fond de ma nef, tandis que tous étaient de nouveau emportés par les tourbillons du vent vers l'île Aioliè. Et mes compagnons gémissaient.
Étant descendus sur le rivage, nous puisâmes de l'eau, et mes compagnons prirent aussitôt leur repas auprès des nefs rapides. Après avoir mangé et bu, je choisis un héraut et un autre compagnon, et je me rendis aux illustres demeures d'Aiolos. Et je le trouvai faisant son repas avec sa femme et ses enfants. Et, en arrivant, nous nous assîmes sur le seuil de la porte. Et tous étaient stupéfaits et ils m'interrogèrent:
— Pourquoi es-tu revenu, Odysseus? Quel daimôn t'a porté malheur? N'avions-nous pas assuré ton retour, afin que tu parvinsses dans la terre de ta patrie, dans tes demeures, là où il te plaisait d'arriver?
Ils parlaient ainsi, et je répondis, triste dans le coeur:
— Mes mauvais compagnons m'ont perdu, et, avant eux, le sommeil funeste. Mais venez à mon aide, amis, car vous en avez le pouvoir.
Je parlai ainsi, tâchant de les apaiser par des paroles flatteuses; mais ils restèrent muets, et leur père me répondit:
— Sors promptement de cette île, ô le pire des vivants! Il ne m'est point permis de recueillir ni de reconduire un homme qui est odieux aux dieux heureux. Va! car, certes, si tu es revenu, c'est que tu es odieux aux dieux heureux.
Il parla ainsi, et il me chassa de ses demeures tandis que je soupirais profondément. Et nous naviguions de là, tristes dans le coeur; et l'âme de mes compagnons était accablée par la fatigue cruelle des avirons, car le retour ne nous semblait plus possible, à cause de notre démence. Et nous naviguâmes ainsi six jours et six nuits. Et, le septième jour, nous arrivâmes à la haute ville de Lamos, dans la Laistrygoniè Télépyle. Là, le pasteur qui rentre appelle le pasteur qui sort en l'entendant. Là, le pasteur qui ne dort pas gagne un salaire double, en menant paître les boeufs d'abord, et, ensuite, les troupeaux aux blanches laines, tant les chemins du jour sont proches des chemins de la nuit.
Et nous abordâmes le port illustre entouré d'un haut rocher. Et, des deux côtés, les rivages escarpés se rencontraient, ne laissant qu'une entrée étroite. Et mes compagnons conduisirent là toutes les nefs égales, et ils les amarrèrent, les unes auprès des autres, au fond du port, où jamais le flot ne se soulevait, ni peu, ni beaucoup, et où il y avait une constante tranquillité. Et, moi seul, je retins ma nef noire en dehors, et je l'amarrai aux pointes du rocher. Puis, je montai sur le faîte des écueils, et je ne vis ni les travaux des boeufs, ni ceux des hommes, et je ne vis que de la fumée qui s'élevait de terre. Alors, je choisis deux de mes compagnons et un héraut, et je les envoyai pour savoir quels hommes nourris de pain habitaient cette terre.
Et ils partirent, prenant un large chemin par où les chars portaient à la ville le bois des hautes montagnes. Et ils rencontrèrent devant la ville, allant chercher de l'eau, une jeune vierge, fille du robuste Laistrygôn Antiphatès. Et elle descendait à la fontaine limpide d'Artakiè. Et c'est là qu'on puisait de l'eau pour la ville. S'approchant d'elle, ils lui demandèrent quel était le roi qui commandait à ces peuples; et elle leur montra aussitôt la haute demeure de son père. Étant entrés dans l'illustre demeure, ils y trouvèrent une femme haute comme une montagne, et ils en furent épouvantés. Mais elle appela aussitôt de l'agora l'illustre Antiphatès son mari, qui leur prépara une lugubre destinée, car il saisit un de mes compagnons pour le dévorer. Et les deux autres, précipitant leur fuite, revinrent aux nefs.
Alors, Antiphatès poussa des clameurs par la ville, et les robustes Laistrygones, l'ayant entendu, se ruaient de toutes parts, innombrables, et pareils, non à des hommes, mais à des géants. Et ils lançaient de lourdes pierres arrachées au rocher, et un horrible retentissement s'éleva d'hommes mourants et de nefs écrasées. Et les Laistrygones transperçaient les hommes comme des poissons, et ils emportaient ces tristes mets. Pendant qu'ils les tuaient ainsi dans l'intérieur du port, je tirai de la gaine mon épée aiguë et je coupai les câbles de ma nef noire, et, aussitôt, j'ordonnai à mes compagnons de se courber sur les avirons, afin de fuir notre perte. Et tous ensemble se courbèrent sur les avirons, craignant la mort. Ainsi ma nef gagna la pleine mer, évitant les lourdes pierres mais toutes les autres périrent en ce lieu.
Et nous naviguions loin de là, tristes dans le coeur d'avoir perdu tous nos chers compagnons, bien que joyeux d'avoir évité la mort. Et nous arrivâmes à l'île Aiaiè, et c'est là qu'habitait Kirkè aux beaux cheveux, vénérable et éloquente déesse, soeur du prudent Aiètès. Et tous deux étaient nés de Hèlios qui éclaire les hommes, et leur mère était Persè, qu'engendra Okéanos. Et là, sur le rivage, nous conduisîmes notre nef dans une large rade, et un dieu nous y mena. Puis, étant descendus, nous restâmes là deux jours, l'âme accablée de fatigue et de douleur. Mais quand Éôs aux beaux cheveux amena le troisième jour, prenant ma lance et mon épée aiguë, je quittai la nef et je montai sur une hauteur d'où je pusse voir des hommes et entendre leurs voix. Et, du sommet escarpé où j'étais monté, je vis s'élever de la terre large, à travers une forêt de chênes épais, la fumée des demeures de Kirkè. Puis, je délibérai, dans mon esprit et dans mon coeur, si je partirais pour reconnaître la fumée que je voyais. Et il me parut plus sage de regagner ma nef rapide et le rivage de la mer, de faire prendre le repas à mes compagnons et d'envoyer reconnaître le pays.
Mais, comme, déjà, j'étais près de ma nef, un dieu qui, sans doute, eut compassion de me voir seul, envoya sur ma route un grand cerf au bois élevé qui descendait des pâturages de la forêt pour boire au fleuve, car la force de Hèlios le poussait. Et, comme il s'avançait, je le frappai au milieu de l'épine du dos, et la lame d'airain le traversa, et, en bramant, il tomba dans la poussière et son esprit s'envola. Je m'élançai, et je retirai la lance d'airain de la blessure. Je la laissai à terre, et, arrachant toute sorte de branches pliantes, j'en fis une corde tordue de la longueur d'une brasse, et j'en liai les pieds de l'énorme bête. Et, la portant à mon cou, je descendis vers ma nef, appuyé sur ma lance, car je n'aurais pu retenir un animal aussi grand, d'une seule main, sur mon épaule. Et je le jetai devant la nef, et je ranimai mes compagnons en adressant des paroles flatteuses à chacun d'eux:
— Ô amis, bien que malheureux, nous ne descendrons point dans les demeures d'Aidès avant notre jour fatal. Allons, hors de la nef rapide, songeons à boire et à manger, et ne souffrons point de la faim.
Je parlai ainsi, et ils obéirent à mes paroles, et ils descendirent sur le rivage de la mer, admirant le cerf, et combien il était grand. Et après qu'ils se furent réjouis de le regarder, s'étant lavé les mains, ils préparèrent un excellent repas. Ainsi, tout le jour, jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios, nous restâmes assis, mangeant les chairs abondantes et buvant le vin doux. Et quand Hèlios tomba et que les ombres survinrent, nous nous endormîmes sur le rivage de la mer. Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, alors, ayant convoqué l'agora, je parlai ainsi:
— Écoutez mes paroles et supportez patiemment vos maux, compagnons. Ô amis! nous ne savons, en effet, où est le couchant, où le levant, de quel côté Hèlios se lève sur la terre pour éclairer les hommes, ni de quel côté il se couche. Délibérons donc promptement, s'il est nécessaire; mais je ne le pense pas. Du faîte de la hauteur où j'ai monté, j'ai vu que cette terre est une île que la mer sans bornes environne. Elle est petite, et j'ai vu de la fumée s'élever à travers une forêt de chênes épais.
Je parlai ainsi, et leur cher coeur fut brisé, se souvenant des crimes du Laistrygôn Antiphatès et de la violence du magnanime kyklôps mangeur d'hommes. Et ils pleuraient, répandant des larmes abondantes. Mais il ne servait à rien de gémir. Je divisai mes braves compagnons, et je donnai un chef à chaque troupe. Je commandai l'une, et Eurylokhos semblable à un dieu commanda l'autre. Et les sorts ayant été promptement jetés dans un casque d'airain, ce fut celui du magnanime Eurylokhos qui sortit. Et il partit à la hâte, et en pleurant, avec vingt-deux compagnons, et ils nous laissèrent gémissants.
Et ils trouvèrent, dans une vallée, en un lieu découvert, les demeures de Kirkè, construites en pierres polies. Et tout autour erraient des loups montagnards et des lions. Et Kirkè les avait domptés avec des breuvages perfides; et ils ne se jetaient point sur les hommes, mais ils les approchaient en remuant leurs longues queues, comme des chiens caressant leur maître qui se lève du repas, car il leur donne toujours quelques bons morceaux. Ainsi les loups aux ongles robustes et les lions entouraient, caressants, mes compagnons; et ceux-ci furent effrayés de voir ces bêtes féroces, et ils s'arrêtèrent devant les portes de la déesse aux beaux cheveux. Et ils entendirent Kirkè chantant d'une belle voix dans sa demeure et tissant une grande toile ambroisienne, telle que sont les ouvrages légers, gracieux et brillants des déesses. Alors Polytès, chef des hommes, le plus cher de mes compagnons, et que j'honorais le plus, parla le premier:
— Ô amis, quelque femme, tissant une grande toile, chante d'une belle voix dans cette demeure, et tout le mur en résonne. Est-ce une déesse ou une mortelle? Poussons promptement un cri.
Il les persuada ainsi, et ils appelèrent en criant. Et Kirkè sortit aussitôt, et, ouvrant les belles portes, elle les invita, et tous la suivirent imprudemment. Eurylokhos resta seul dehors, ayant soupçonné une embûche. Et Kirkè, ayant fait entrer mes compagnons, les fit asseoir sur des sièges et sur des thrônes. Et elle mêla, avec du vin de Pramnios, du fromage, de la farine et du miel doux; mais elle mit dans le pain des poisons, afin de leur faire oublier la terre de la patrie. Et elle leur offrit cela, et ils burent, et, aussitôt, les frappant d'une baguette, elle les renferma dans les étables à porcs. Et ils avaient la tête, la voix, le corps et les soies du porc, mais leur esprit était le même qu'auparavant. Et ils pleuraient, ainsi renfermés; et Kirkè leur donna du gland de chêne et du fruit de cornouiller à manger, ce que mangent toujours les porcs qui couchent sur la terre.
Mais Eurylokhos revint à la hâte vers la nef noire et rapide nous annoncer la dure destinée de nos compagnons. Et il ne pouvait parler, malgré son désir, et son coeur était frappé d'une grande douleur, et ses yeux étaient pleins de larmes, et son âme respirait le deuil. Mais, comme nous l'interrogions tous avec empressement, il nous raconta la perte de ses compagnons:
— Nous avons marché à travers la forêt, comme tu l'avais ordonné, illustre Odysseus, et nous avons rencontré, dans une vallée, en un lieu découvert, de belles demeures construites en pierres polies. Là, une déesse, ou une mortelle, chantait harmonieusement en tissant une grande toile. Et mes compagnons l'appelèrent en criant. Aussitôt, elle sortit, et, ouvrant la belle porte, elle les invita, et tous la suivirent imprudemment, et, moi seul, je restai, ayant soupçonné une embûche. Et tous les autres disparurent à la fois, et aucun n'a reparu, bien que je les aie longtemps épiés et attendus.
Il parla ainsi, et je jetai sur mes épaules une grande épée d'airain aux clous d'argent et un arc, et j'ordonnai à Eurylokhos de me montrer le chemin. Mais, ayant saisi mes genoux de ses mains, en pleurant, il me dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ne me ramène point là contre mon gré, ô divin, mais laisse-moi ici. Je sais que tu ne reviendras pas et que tu ne ramèneras aucun de nos compagnons. Fuyons promptement avec ceux-ci, car, sans doute, nous pouvons encore éviter la dure destinée.
Il parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Eurylokhos, reste donc ici, mangeant et buvant auprès de la nef noire et creuse. Moi, j'irai, car une nécessité inexorable me contraint.
Ayant ainsi parlé, je m'éloignai de la mer et de la nef, et traversant les vallées sacrées, j'arrivai à la grande demeure de l'empoisonneuse Kirkè. Et Herméias à la baguette d'or vint à ma rencontre, comme j'approchais de la demeure, et il était semblable à un jeune homme dans toute la grâce de l'adolescence. Et, me prenant la main, il me dit:
— Ô malheureux où vas-tu seul, entre ces collines, ignorant ces lieux. Tes compagnons sont enfermés dans les demeures de Kirkè, et ils habitent comme des porcs des étables bien closes. Viens-tu pour les délivrer? Certes, je ne pense pas que tu reviennes toi- même, et tu resteras là où ils sont déjà. Mais je te délivrerai de ce mal et je te sauverai. Prends ce remède excellent, et le portant avec toi, rends-toi aux demeures de Kirkè, car il éloignera de ta tête le jour fatal. Je te dirai tous les mauvais desseins de Kirkè. Elle te préparera un breuvage et elle mettra les poisons dans le pain, mais elle ne pourra te charmer, car l'excellent remède que je te donnerai ne le permettra pas. Je vais te dire le reste. Quand Kirkè t'aura frappé de sa longue baguette, jette-toi sur elle, comme si tu voulais la tuer. Alors, pleine de crainte, elle t'invitera à coucher avec elle. Ne refuse point le lit d'une déesse, afin quelle délivre tes compagnons et qu'elle te traite toi-même avec bienveillance. Mais ordonne-lui de jurer par le grand serment des dieux heureux, afin qu'elle ne te tende aucune autre embûche, et que, t'ayant mis nu, elle ne t'enlève point ta virilité.
Ayant ainsi parlé, le tueur d'Argos me donna le remède qu'il arracha de terre, et il m'en expliqua la nature. Et sa racine est noire et sa fleur semblable à du lait. Les dieux la nomment môly. Il est difficile aux hommes mortels de l'arracher, mais les dieux peuvent tout. Puis Herméias s'envola vers le grand Olympos, sur l'île boisée, et je marchai vers la demeure de Kirkè, et mon coeur roulait mille pensées tandis que je marchais.
Et, m'arrêtant devant la porte de la déesse aux beaux cheveux, je l'appelai, et elle entendit ma voix, et, sortant aussitôt, elle ouvrit les portes brillantes et elle m'invita. Et, l'ayant suivie, triste dans le coeur, elle me fit entrer, puis asseoir sur un thrône à clous d'argent, et bien travaillé. Et j'avais un escabeau sous les pieds. Aussitôt elle prépara dans une coupe d'or le breuvage que je devais boire, et, méditant le mal dans son esprit, elle y mêla le poison. Après me l'avoir donné, et comme je buvais, elle me frappa de sa baguette et elle me dit:
— Va maintenant dans l'étable à porcs, et couche avec tes compagnons.
Elle parla ainsi, mais je tirai de la gaine mon épée aiguë et je me jetai sur elle comme si je voulais la tuer. Alors, poussant un grand cri, elle se prosterna, saisit mes genoux et me dit ces paroles ailées, en pleurant:
— Qui es-tu parmi les hommes? Où est ta ville? Où sont tes parents? Je suis stupéfaite qu'ayant bu ces poisons tu ne sois pas transformé. Jamais aucun homme, pour les avoir seulement fait passer entre ses dents, n'y a résisté. Tu as un esprit indomptable dans ta poitrine, ou tu es le subtil Odysseus qui devait arriver ici, à son retour de Troiè, sur sa nef noire et rapide, ainsi que Herméias à la baguette d'or me l'avait toujours prédit. Mais, remets ton épée dans sa gaine, et couchons-nous tous deux sur mon lit, afin que nous nous unissions, et que nous nous confiions l'un à l'autre.
Elle parla ainsi, et, lui répondant, je lui dis:
— Ô Kirkè! comment me demandes-tu d'être doux pour toi qui as changé, dans tes demeures, mes compagnons en porcs, et qui me retiens ici moi-même, m'invitant à monter sur ton lit, dans la chambre nuptiale, afin qu'étant nu, tu m'enlèves ma virilité? Certes, je ne veux point monter sur ton lit, à moins que tu ne jures par un grand serment, ô déesse, que tu ne me tendras aucune autre embûche.
Je parlais ainsi, et aussitôt elle jura comme je le lui demandais; et après qu'elle eut juré et prononcé toutes les paroles du serment, alors je montai sur son beau lit. Et les servantes s'agitaient dans la demeure; et elles étaient quatre, et elles prenaient soin de toute chose. Et elles étaient nées des sources des forêts et des fleuves sacrés qui coulent à la mer. L'une d'elles jeta sur les thrônes de belles couvertures pourprées, et, pardessus, de légères toiles de lin. Une autre dressa devant les thrônes des tables d'argent sur lesquelles elle posa des corbeilles d'or. Une troisième mêla le vin doux et mielleux dans un kratère d'argent et distribua des coupes d'or. La quatrième apporta de l'eau et alluma un grand feu sous un grand trépied, et l'eau chauffa. Et quand l'eau eut chauffé dans l'airain brillant, elle me mit au bain, et elle me lava la tête et les épaules avec l'eau doucement versée du grand trépied. Et quand elle m'eut lavé et parfumé d'huile grasse, elle me revêtit d'une tunique et d'un beau manteau. Puis elle me fit asseoir sur un thrône d'argent bien travaillé, et j'avais un escabeau sous mes pieds. Une servante versa, d'une belle aiguière d'or dans un bassin d'argent, de l'eau pour les mains, et dressa devant moi une table polie. Et la vénérable intendante, bienveillante pour tous, apporta du pain qu'elle plaça sur la table ainsi que beaucoup de mets. Et Kirkè m'invita à manger, mais cela ne plut point à mon âme.
Et j'étais assis, ayant d'autres pensées et prévoyant d'autres maux. Et Kirkè, me voyant assis, sans manger, et plein de tristesse, s'approcha de moi et me dit ces paroles ailées:
— Pourquoi, Odysseus, restes-tu ainsi muet et te rongeant le coeur, sans boire et sans manger? Crains-tu quelque autre embûche? Tu ne dois rien craindre, car j'ai juré un grand serment.
Elle parla ainsi, et, lui répondant, je dis:
— Ô Kirkè, quel homme équitable et juste oserait boire et manger, avant que ses compagnons aient été délivrés, et qu'il les ait vus de ses yeux? Si, dans ta bienveillance, tu veux que je boive et que je mange, délivre mes compagnons et que je les voie.
Je parlai ainsi, et Kirkè sortit de ses demeures, tenant une baguette à la main, et elle ouvrit les portes de l'étable à porcs. Elle en chassa mes compagnons semblables à des porcs de neuf ans. Ils se tenaient devant nous, et, se penchant, elle frotta chacun d'eux d'un autre baume, et de leurs membres tombèrent aussitôt les poils qu'avait fait pousser le poison funeste que leur avait donné la vénérable Kirkè; et ils redevinrent des hommes plus jeunes qu'ils n'étaient auparavant, plus beaux et plus grands. Et ils me reconnurent, et tous, me serrant la main, pleuraient de joie, et la demeure retentissait de leurs sanglots. Et la déesse elle-même fut prise de pitié. Puis, la noble déesse, s'approchant de moi, me dit:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, va maintenant vers ta nef rapide et le rivage de la mer. Fais tirer, avant tout, ta nef sur le sable. Cachez ensuite vos richesses et vos armes dans une caverne, et revenez aussitôt, toi-même et tes chers compagnons.
Elle parla ainsi, et mon esprit généreux fut persuadé, et je me hâtai de retourner à ma nef rapide et au rivage de la mer, et je trouvai auprès de ma nef rapide mes chers compagnons gémissant misérablement et versant des larmes abondantes. De même que les génisses, retenues loin de la prairie, s'empressent autour des vaches qui, du pâturage, reviennent à l'étable après s'être rassasiées d'herbes, et vont toutes ensemble au-devant d'elles, sans que les enclos puissent les retenir, et mugissent sans relâche autour de leurs mères; de même, quand mes compagnons me virent de leurs yeux, ils m'entourèrent en pleurant, et leur coeur fut aussi ému que s'ils avaient revu leur patrie et la ville de l'âpre Ithakè, où ils étaient nés et avaient été nourris. Et, en pleurant, ils me dirent ces paroles ailées:
— À ton retour, ô divin! nous sommes aussi joyeux que si nous voyions Ithakè et la terre de la patrie. Mais dis-nous comment sont morts nos compagnons.
Ils parlaient ainsi, et je leur répondis par ces douces paroles:
— Avant tout, tirons la nef sur le rivage, et cachons dans une caverne nos richesses et toutes nos armes. Puis, suivez-moi tous à la hâte, afin de revoir, dans les demeures sacrées de Kirkè, vos compagnons mangeant et buvant et jouissant d'une abondante nourriture. Je parlai ainsi, et ils obéirent promptement à mes paroles; mais le seul Eurylokhos tentait de les retenir, et il leur dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ah! malheureux, où allez-vous? Vous voulez donc subir les maux qui vous attendent dans les demeures de Kirkè, elle qui nous changera en porcs, en loups et en lions, et dont nous garderons de force la demeure? Elle fera comme le kyklops, quand nos compagnons vinrent dans sa caverne, conduits par l'audacieux Odysseus. Et ils y ont péri par sa démence.
Il parla ainsi, et je délibérai dans mon esprit si, ayant tiré ma grande épée de sa gaine, le long de la cuisse, je lui couperais la tête et la jetterais sur le sable, malgré notre parenté; mais tous mes autres compagnons me retinrent par de flatteuses paroles:
— Ô divin! laissons-le, si tu y consens, rester auprès de la nef et la garder. Nous, nous te suivrons à la demeure sacrée de Kirkè.
Ayant ainsi parlé, ils s'éloignèrent de la nef et de la mer, mais Eurylokhos ne resta point auprès de la nef creuse, et il nous suivit, craignant mes rudes menaces. Pendant cela, Kirkè, dans ses demeures, baigna et parfuma d'huile mes autres compagnons, et elle les revêtit de tuniques et de beaux manteaux, et nous les trouvâmes tous faisant leur repas dans les demeures. Et quand ils se furent réunis, ils se racontèrent tous leurs maux, les uns aux autres, et ils pleuraient, et la maison retentissait de leurs sanglots. Et la noble déesse, s'approchant, me dit:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, ne vous livrez pas plus longtemps à la douleur. Je sais moi-même combien vous avez subi de maux sur la mer poissonneuse et combien d'hommes injustes vous ont fait souffrir sur la terre. Mais, mangez et buvez, et ranimez votre coeur dans votre poitrine, et qu'il soit tel qu'il était quand vous avez quitté la terre de l'âpre Ithakè, votre patrie. Cependant, jamais vous n'oublierez vos misères, et votre esprit ne sera jamais plus dans la joie, car vous avez subi des maux innombrables.
Elle parla ainsi, et notre coeur généreux lui obéit. Et nous restâmes là toute une année, mangeant les chairs abondantes et buvant le doux vin. Mais, à la fin de l'année, quand les heures eurent accompli leur tour, quand les mois furent passés et quand les longs jours se furent écoulés, alors, mes chers compagnons m'appelèrent et me dirent:
— Malheureux, souviens-toi de ta patrie, si toutefois il est dans ta destinée de survivre et de rentrer dans ta haute demeure et dans la terre de la patrie.
Ils parlèrent ainsi, et mon coeur généreux fut persuadé. Alors, tout le jour, jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios, nous restâmes assis, mangeant les chairs abondantes et buvant le doux vin. Et quand Hèlios tomba, et quand la nuit vint, mes compagnons s'endormirent dans la demeure obscure. Et moi, étant monté dans le lit splendide de Kirkè, je saisis ses genoux en la suppliant, et la déesse entendit ma voix. Et je lui dis ces paroles ailées:
— Ô Kirkè, tiens la promesse que tu m'as faite de me renvoyer dans ma demeure, car mon âme me pousse, et mes compagnons affligent mon cher coeur et gémissent autour de moi, quand tu n'es pas là.
Je parlai ainsi, et la noble Déesse me répondit aussitôt:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, vous ne resterez pas plus longtemps malgré vous dans ma demeure; mais il faut accomplir un autre voyage et entrer dans la demeure d'Aidès et de l'implacable Perséphonéia, afin de consulter l'âme du Thébain Teirésias, du divinateur aveugle, dont l'esprit est toujours vivant. Perséphonéia n'a accordé qu'à ce seul mort l'intelligence et la pensée. Les autres ne seront que des ombres autour de toi.
Elle parla ainsi, et mon cher coeur fut dissous, et je pleurais, assis sur le lit, et mon âme ne voulait plus vivre, ni voir la lumière de Hèlios. Mais, après avoir pleuré et m'être rassasié de douleur, alors, lui répondant, je lui dis:
— Ô Kirkè, qui me montrera le chemin? Personne n'est jamais arrivé chez Aidés sur une nef noire.
Je parlai ainsi, et la noble déesse me répondit aussitôt:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, n'aie aucun souci pour ta nef. Assieds-toi, après avoir dressé le mât et déployé les blanches voiles; et le souffle de Boréas conduira ta nef. Mais quand tu auras traversé l'Okéanos, jusqu'au rivage étroit et aux bois sacrés de Perséphonéia, où croissent de hauts peupliers et des saules stériles, alors arrête ta nef dans l'Okéanos aux profonds tourbillons, et descends dans la noire demeure d'Aidès, là où coulent ensemble, dans l'Akhérôn, le Pyriphlégéthôn et le Kokytos qui est un courant de l'eau de Styx. Il y a une roche au confluent des deux fleuves retentissants. Tu t'en approcheras, héros, comme je te l'ordonne, et tu creuseras là une fosse d'une coudée dans tous les sens, et, sur elle, tu feras des libations à tous les morts, de lait mielleux d'abord, puis de vin doux, puis enfin d'eau, et tu répandras par-dessus de la farine blanche. Prie alors les têtes vaines des morts et promets, dès que tu seras rentré dans Ithakè, de sacrifier dans tes demeures la meilleure vache stérile que tu posséderas, d'allumer un bûcher formé de choses précieuses, et de sacrifier, à part, au seul Teirésias un bélier entièrement noir, le plus beau de tes troupeaux. Puis, ayant prié les illustres âmes des morts, sacrifie un mâle et une brebis noire, tourne-toi vers l'Érébos, et, te penchant, regarde dans le cours du fleuve, et les innombrables âmes des morts qui ne sont plus accourront. Alors, ordonne et commande à tes compagnons d'écorcher les animaux égorgés par l'airain aigu, de les brûler et de les vouer aux dieux, à l'illustre Aidés et à l'implacable Perséphonéia. Tire ton épée aiguë de sa gaine, le long de ta cuisse, et ne permets pas aux ombres vaines des morts de boire le sang, avant que tu aies entendu Teirésias. Aussitôt le divinateur arrivera, ô chef des peuples, et il te montrera ta route et comment tu la feras pour ton retour, et comment tu traverseras la mer poissonneuse.
Elle parla ainsi, et aussitôt Éôs s'assit sur son thrône d'or. Et Kirkè me revêtit d'une tunique et d'un manteau. Elle-même se couvrit d'une longue robe blanche, légère et gracieuse, ceignit ses reins d'une belle ceinture et mit sur sa tête un voile couleur de feu. Et j'allai par la demeure, excitant mes compagnons, et je dis à chacun d'eux ces douces paroles:
— Ne dormez pas plus longtemps, et chassez le doux sommeil, afin que nous partions, car la vénérable Kirkè me l'a permis.
Je parlai ainsi, et leur coeur généreux fut persuadé. Mais je n'emmenai point tous mes compagnons sains et saufs. Elpènôr, un d'eux, jeune, mais ni très brave, ni intelligent, à l'écart de ses compagnons, s'était endormi au faîte des demeures sacrées de Kirkè, ayant beaucoup bu et recherchant la fraîcheur. Entendant le bruit que faisaient ses compagnons, il se leva brusquement, oubliant de descendre par la longue échelle. Et il tomba du haut du toit, et son cou fut rompu, et son âme descendit chez Aidés. Mais je dis à mes compagnons rassemblés:
— Vous pensiez peut-être que nous partions pour notre demeure et pour la chère terre de la patrie? Mais Kirkè nous ordonne de suivre une autre route, vers la demeure d'Aidès et de l'implacable Perséphonéia, afin de consulter l'âme du Thébain Teirésias.
Je parlai ainsi, et leur cher coeur fut brisé, et ils s'assirent, pleurant et s'arrachant les cheveux. Mais il n'y a nul remède à gémir. Et nous parvînmes à notre nef rapide et au rivage de la mer, en versant des larmes abondantes. Et, pendant ce temps, Kirkè était venue, apportant dans la nef un bélier et une brebis noire; et elle s'était aisément cachée à nos yeux car qui pourrait voir un dieu et le suivre de ses yeux, s'il ne le voulait pas?
Étant arrivés à la mer, nous traînâmes d'abord notre nef à la mer divine. Puis, ayant dressé le mât, avec les voiles blanches de la nef noire, nous y portâmes les victimes offertes. Et, nous-mêmes nous y prîmes place, pleins de tristesse et versant des larmes abondantes. Et Kirkè à la belle chevelure, déesse terrible et éloquente, fit souffler pour nous un vent propice derrière la nef à proue bleue, et ce vent, bon compagnon, gonfla la voile.
Toutes choses étant mises en place sur la nef, nous nous assîmes, et le vent et le pilote nous dirigeaient. Et, tout le jour, les voiles de la nef qui courait sur la mer furent déployées, et Hèlios tomba, et tous les chemins s'emplirent d'ombre. Et la nef arriva aux bornes du profond Okéanos.
Là, étaient le peuple et la ville des Kimmériens, toujours enveloppés de brouillards et de nuées; et jamais le brillant Hèlios ne les regardait de ses rayons, ni quand il montait dans l'Ouranos étoilé, ni quand il descendait de l'Ouranos sur la terre; mais une affreuse nuit était toujours suspendue sur les misérables hommes. Arrivés là, nous arrêtâmes la nef, et, après en avoir retiré les victimes, nous marchâmes le long du cours d'Okéanos, jusqu'à ce que nous fussions parvenus dans la contrée que nous avait indiquée Kirkè. Et Périmèdès et Eurylokhos portaient les victimes.
Alors je tirai mon épée aiguë de sa gaine, le long de ma cuisse, et je creusai une fosse d'une coudée dans tous les sens, et j'y fis des libations pour tous les morts, de lait mielleux d'abord, puis de vin doux, puis enfin d'eau, et, par-dessus, je répandis la farine blanche. Et je priai les têtes vaines des morts, promettant, dès que je serais rentré dans Ithakè, de sacrifier dans mes demeures la meilleure vache stérile que je posséderais, d'allumer un bûcher formé de choses précieuses, et de sacrifier à part, au seul Teirésias, un bélier entièrement noir, le plus beau de mes troupeaux. Puis, ayant prié les générations des morts, j'égorgeai les victimes sur la fosse, et le sang noir y coulait. Et les âmes des morts qui ne sont plus sortaient en foule de l'Érébos. Les nouvelles épouses, les jeunes hommes, les vieillards qui ont subi beaucoup de maux, les tendres vierges ayant un deuil dans l'âme, et les guerriers aux armes sanglantes, blessés par les lances d'airain, tous s'amassaient de toutes parts sur les bords de la fosse, avec un frémissement immense. Et la terreur pâle me saisit.
Alors j'ordonnai à mes compagnons d'écorcher les victimes qui gisaient égorgées par l'airain cruel, de les brûler et de les vouer aux dieux, à l'illustre Aidès et à l'implacable Perséphonéia. Et je m'assis, tenant l'épée aiguë tirée de sa gaine, le long de ma cuisse; et je ne permettais pas aux têtes vaines des morts de boire le sang, avant que j'eusse entendu Teirésias.
La première, vint l'âme de mon compagnon Elpènôr. Et il n'avait point été enseveli dans la vaste terre, et nous avions laissé son cadavre dans les demeures de Kirkè, non pleuré et non enseveli, car un autre souci nous pressait. Et je pleurai en le voyant, et je fus plein de pitié dans le coeur. Et je lui dis ces paroles ailées:
— Elpènôr, comment es-tu venu dans les épaisses ténèbres? Comment as-tu marché plus vite que moi sur ma nef noire?
Je parlai ainsi, et il me répondit en pleurant:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, la mauvaise volonté d'un daimôn et l'abondance du vin m'ont perdu. Dormant sur la demeure de Kirkè, je ne songeai pas à descendre par la longue échelle, et je tombai du haut du toit, et mon cou fut rompu, et je descendis chez Aidès. Maintenant, je te supplie par ceux qui sont loin de toi, par ta femme, par ton père qui t'a nourri tout petit, par Tèlémakhos, l'enfant unique que tu as laissé dans tes demeures! Je sais qu'en sortant de la demeure d'Aidès tu retourneras sur ta nef bien construite à l'île Aiaiè. Là, ô roi, je te demande de te souvenir de moi, et de ne point partir, me laissant non pleuré et non enseveli, de peur que je ne te cause la colère des dieux; mais de me brûler avec toutes mes armes. Élève sur le bord de la mer écumeuse le tombeau de ton compagnon malheureux. Accomplis ces choses, afin qu'on se souvienne de moi dans l'avenir, et plante sur mon tombeau l'aviron dont je me servais quand j'étais avec mes compagnons.
Il parla ainsi, et, lui répondant, je dis:
— Malheureux, j'accomplirai toutes ces choses.
Nous nous parlions ainsi tristement, et je tenais mon épée au- dessus du sang, tandis que, de l'autre côté de la fosse, mon compagnon parlait longuement. Puis, arriva l'âme de ma mère morte, d'Antikléia, fille du magnanime Autolykos, que j'avais laissée vivante en partant pour la sainte Ilios. Et je pleurai en la voyant, le coeur plein de pitié; mais, malgré ma tristesse, je ne lui permis pas de boire le sang avant que j'eusse entendu Teirésias. Et l'âme du Thébain Teirésias arriva, tenant un sceptre d'or, et elle me reconnut et me dit:
— Pourquoi, ô malheureux, ayant quitté la lumière de Hèlios, es- tu venu pour voir les morts et leur pays lamentable? Mais recule de la fosse, écarte ton épée, afin que je boive le sang, et je te dirai la vérité.
Il parla ainsi, et, me reculant, je remis dans la gaine mon épée aux clous d'argent. Et il but le sang noir, et, alors, l'irréprochable divinateur me dit:
— Tu désires un retour très facile, illustre Odysseus, mais un dieu te le rendra difficile; car je ne pense pas que celui qui entoure la terre apaise sa colère dans son coeur, et il est irrité parce que tu as aveuglé son fils. Vous arriverez cependant, après avoir beaucoup souffert, si tu veux contenir ton esprit et celui de tes compagnons. En ce temps, quand ta nef solide aura abordé l'île Thrinakiè, où vous échapperez à la sombre mer, vous trouverez là, paissant, les boeufs et les gras troupeaux de Hèlios qui voit et entend tout. Si vous les laissez sains et saufs, si tu te souviens de ton retour, vous parviendrez tous dans Ithakè, après avoir beaucoup souffert; mais, si tu les blesses, je te prédis la perte de ta nef et de tes compagnons. Tu échapperas seul, et tu reviendras misérablement, ayant perdu ta nef et tes compagnons, sur une nef étrangère. Et tu trouveras le malheur dans ta demeure et des hommes orgueilleux qui consumeront tes richesses, recherchant ta femme et lui offrant des présents. Mais, certes, tu te vengeras de leurs outrages en arrivant. Et, après que tu auras tué les prétendants dans ta demeure, soit par ruse, soit ouvertement avec l'airain aigu, tu partiras de nouveau, et tu iras, portant un aviron léger, jusqu'à ce que tu rencontres des hommes qui ne connaissent point la mer et qui ne salent point ce qu'ils mangent, et qui ignorent les nefs aux proues rouges et les avirons qui sont les ailes des nefs. Et je te dirai un signe manifeste qui ne t'échappera pas. Quand tu rencontreras un autre voyageur qui croira voir un fléau sur ta brillante épaule, alors, plante l'aviron en terre et fais de saintes offrandes au roi Poseidaôn, un bélier, un taureau et un verrat. Et tu retourneras dans ta demeure, et tu feras, selon leur rang, de saintes hécatombes à tous les dieux immortels qui habitent le large Ouranos. Et la douce mort te viendra de la mer et te tuera consumé d'une heureuse vieillesse, tandis qu'autour de toi les peuples seront heureux. Et je t'ai dit, certes, des choses vraies.
Il parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Teirésias, les dieux eux-mêmes, sans doute, ont résolu ces choses. Mais dis-moi la vérité. Je vois l'âme de ma mère qui est morte. Elle se tait et reste loin du sang, et elle n'ose ni regarder son fils, ni lui parler. Dis-moi, ô roi, comment elle me reconnaîtra.
Je parlai ainsi, et il me répondit:
— Je t'expliquerai ceci aisément. Garde mes paroles dans ton esprit. Tous ceux des morts qui ne sont plus, à qui tu laisseras boire le sang, te diront des choses vraies; celui à qui tu refuseras cela s'éloignera de toi.
Ayant ainsi parlé, l'âme du roi Teirésias, après avoir rendu ses oracles, rentra dans la demeure d'Aidès; mais je restai sans bouger jusqu'à ce que ma mère fût venue et eût bu le sang noir. Et aussitôt elle me reconnut, et elle me dit, en gémissant, ces paroles ailées:
— Mon fils, comment es-tu venu sous le noir brouillard, vivant que tu es? Il est difficile aux vivants de voir ces choses. Il y a entre celles-ci et eux de grands fleuves et des courants violents, Okéanos d'abord qu'on ne peut traverser, à moins d'avoir une nef bien construite. Si, maintenant, longtemps errant en revenant de Troiè, tu es venu ici sur ta nef et avec tes compagnons, tu n'as donc point revu Ithakè, ni ta demeure, ni ta femme?
Elle parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Ma mère, la nécessité m'a poussé vers les demeures d'Aidès, afin de demander un oracle à l'âme du Thébain Teirésias. Je n'ai point en effet abordé ni l'Akhaiè, ni notre terre; mais j'ai toujours erré, plein de misères, depuis le jour où j'ai suivi le divin Agamemnôn à Ilios qui nourrit d'excellents chevaux, afin d'y combattre les Troiens. Mais dis-moi la vérité. Comment la kèr de la cruelle mort t'a-t-elle domptée? Est-ce par une maladie? Ou bien Artémis qui se réjouit de ses flèches t'a-t-elle atteinte de ses doux traits? Parle-moi de mon père et de mon fils. Mes biens sont-ils encore entre leurs mains, ou quelque autre parmi les hommes les possède-t-il? Tous, certes, pensent que je ne reviendrai plus. Dis-moi aussi les desseins et les pensées de ma femme que j'ai épousée. Reste-t-elle avec son enfant? Garde-t-elle toutes mes richesses intactes? ou déjà, l'un des premiers Akhaiens l'a-t-il emmenée?
Je parlai ainsi, et, aussitôt, ma mère vénérable me répondit:
— Elle reste toujours dans tes demeures, le coeur affligé, pleurant, et consumant ses jours et ses nuits dans le chagrin. Et nul autre ne possède ton beau domaine; et Tèlémakhos jouit, tranquille, de tes biens, et prend part à de beaux repas, comme il convient à un homme qui rend la justice, car tous le convient. Et ton père reste dans son champ; et il ne vient plus à la ville, et il n'a plus ni lits moelleux, ni manteaux, ni couvertures luisantes. Mais, l'hiver, il dort avec ses esclaves dans les cendres près du foyer, et il couvre son corps de haillons; et quand vient l'été, puis l'automne verdoyant, partout, dans sa vigne fertile, on lui fait un lit de feuilles tombées, et il se couche là, triste; et une grande douleur s'accroît dans son coeur, et il pleure ta destinée, et la dure vieillesse l'accable. Pour moi, je suis morte, et j'ai subi la destinée; mais Artémis habile à lancer des flèches ne m'a point tuée de ses doux traits dans ma demeure, et la maladie ne m'a point saisie, elle qui enlève l'âme du corps affreusement flétri; mais le regret, le chagrin de ton absence, illustre Odysseus, et le souvenir de ta bonté, m'ont privée de la douce vie.
Elle parla ainsi, et je voulus, agité dans mon esprit, embrasser l'âme de ma mère morte. Et je m'élançai trois fois, et mon coeur me poussait à l'embrasser, et trois fois elle se dissipa comme une ombre, semblable à un songe. Et une vive douleur s'accrut dans mon coeur, et je lui dis ces paroles ailées:
— Ma mère, pourquoi ne m'attends-tu pas quand je désire t'embrasser? Même chez Aidès, nous entourant de nos chers bras, nous nous serions rassasiés de deuil! N'es-tu qu'une image que l'illustre Perséphonéia suscite afin que je gémisse davantage?
Je parlai ainsi, et ma mère vénérable me répondit:
— Hélas! mon enfant, le plus malheureux de tous les hommes, Perséphonéia, fille de Zeus, ne se joue point de toi; mais telle est la loi des mortels quand ils sont morts. En effet, les nerfs ne soutiennent plus les chairs et les os, et la force du feu ardent les consume aussitôt que la vie abandonne les os blancs, et l'âme vole comme un songe. Mais retourne promptement à la lumière des vivants, et souviens-toi de toutes ces choses, afin de les redire à Pènélopéia.
Nous parlions ainsi, et les femmes et les filles des héros accoururent, excitées par l'illustre Perséphonéia. Et elles s'assemblaient, innombrables, autour du sang noir. Et je songeais comment je les interrogerais tour à tour; et il me sembla meilleur, dans mon esprit, de tirer mon épée aiguë de la gaine, le long de ma cuisse, et de ne point leur permettre de boire, toutes à la fois, le sang noir. Et elles approchèrent tour à tour, et chacune disait son origine, et je les interrogeais l'une après l'autre.
Et je vis d'abord Tyrô, née d'un noble père, car elle me dit qu'elle était la fille de l'irréprochable Salmoneus et la femme de Krètheus Aioliade. Et elle aimait le divin fleuve Énipeus, qui est le plus beau des fleuves qui coulent sur la terre; et elle se promenait le long des belles eaux de l'Énipeus. Sous la figure de ce dernier, celui qui entoure la terre et qui la secoue sortit des bouches du fleuve tourbillonnant; et une lame bleue, égale en hauteur à une montagne, enveloppa, en se recourbant, le dieu et la femme mortelle. Et il dénoua sa ceinture de vierge, et il répandit sur elle le sommeil. Puis, ayant accompli le travail amoureux, il prit la main de Tyrô et lui dit:
— Réjouis-toi, femme, de mon amour. Dans une année tu enfanteras de beaux enfants, car la couche des immortels n'est point inféconde. Nourris et élève-les. Maintenant, va vers ta demeure, mais prends garde et ne me nomme pas. Je suis pour toi seule Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il plongea dans la mer agitée. Et Tyrô, devenue enceinte, enfanta Péliès et Nèleus, illustres serviteurs du grand Zeus. Et Péliès riche en troupeaux habita la grande Iaolkôs, et Nèleus la sablonneuse Pylos. Puis, la reine des femmes conçut de son mari, Aisôn, Phérès et le dompteur de chevaux Hamythaôr.
Puis, je vis Antiopè, fille d'Aisopos, qui se glorifiait d'avoir dormi dans les bras de Zeus. Elle en eut deux fils, Amphiôn et Zèthos, qui, les premiers, bâtirent Thèbè aux sept portes et l'environnèrent de tours. Car ils n'auraient pu, sans ces tours, habiter la grande Thèbè, malgré leur courage.
Puis, je vis Alkmènè, la femme d'Amphitryôn, qui conçut Hèraklès au coeur de lion dans l'embrassement du magnanime Zeus; puis, Mègarè, fille de l'orgueilleux Krèiôn, et qu'eut pour femme l'Amphitryonade indomptable dans sa force.
Puis, je vis la mère d'Oidipous, la belle Épikastè, qui commit un grand crime dans sa démence, s'étant mariée à son fils. Et celui- ci, ayant tué son père, épousa sa mère. Et les dieux révélèrent ces actions aux hommes. Et Oidipous, subissant de grandes douleurs dans la désirable Thèbè, commanda aux Kadméiones par la volonté cruelle des dieux. Et Épikastè descendit dans les demeures aux portes solides d'Aidès, ayant attaché, saisie de douleur, une corde à une haute poutre, et laissant à son fils les innombrables maux que font souffrir les Érinnyes d'une mère.
Puis, je vis la belle Khlôris qu'autrefois Nèleus épousa pour sa beauté, après lui avoir offert les présents nuptiaux. Et c'était la plus jeune fille d'Amphiôn laside qui commanda autrefois puissamment sur Orkhomènos Minyèénne et sur Pylos. Et elle conçut de lui de beaux enfants, Nestôr, Khromios et l'orgueilleux Périklyménos. Puis, elle enfanta l'illustre Pèrô, l'admiration des hommes qui la suppliaient tous, voulant l'épouser; mais Nèleus ne voulait la donner qu'à celui qui enlèverait de Phylakè les boeufs au large front de la Force Iphikléenne. Seul, un divinateur irréprochable le promit; mais la moire contraire d'un dieu, les rudes liens et les bergers l'en empêchèrent. Cependant, quand les jours et les mois se furent écoulés, et que, l'année achevée, les saisons recommencèrent, alors la force Iphikléenne délivra l'irréprochable divinateur, et le dessein de Zeus s'accomplit.
Puis, je vis Lèdè, femme de Tyndaros. Et elle conçut de Tyndaros des fils excellents, Kastor dompteur de chevaux et Polydeukès formidable par ses poings. La terre nourricière les enferme, encore vivants, et, sous la terre, ils sont honorés par Zeus. Ils vivent l'un après l'autre et meurent de même, et sont également honorés par les dieux.
Puis, je vis Iphimédéia, femme d'Aôleus, et qui disait s'être unie à Poseidaôn. Et elle enfanta deux fils dont la vie fut brève, le héros Otos et l'illustre Éphialtès, et ils étaient les plus grands et les plus beaux qu'eût nourris la terre féconde, après l'illustre Oriôn. Ayant neuf ans, ils étaient larges de neuf coudées, et ils avaient neuf brasses de haut. Et ils menacèrent les immortels de porter dans l'Olympos le combat de la guerre tumultueuse. Et ils tentèrent de poser l'Ossa sur l'Olympos et le Pèlios boisé sur l'Ossa, afin d'atteindre l'Ouranos. Et peut-être eussent-ils accompli leurs menaces, s'ils avaient eu leur puberté; mais le fils de Zeus, qu'enfanta Lètô aux beaux cheveux, les tua tous deux, avant que le duvet fleurit sur leurs joues et qu'une barbe épaisse couvrît leurs mentons.
Puis, je vis Phaidrè, et Prokris, et la belle Ariadnè, fille du sage Minôs, que Thèseus conduisit autrefois de la Krètè dans la terre sacrée des Athénaiens; mais il ne le put pas, car Artémis, sur l'avertissement de Dionysos, retint Ariadnè dans Diè entourée des flots.
Puis, je vis Mairè, et Klyménè, et la funeste Ériphylè qui trahit son mari pour de l'or.
Mais je ne pourrais ni vous dire combien je vis de femmes et de filles de héros, ni vous les nommer avant la fin de la nuit divine. Voici l'heure de dormir, soit dans la nef rapide avec mes compagnons, soit ici; car c'est aux dieux et à vous de prendre soin de mon départ.
Il parla ainsi, et tous restèrent immobiles et pleins de plaisir dans la demeure obscure. Alors, Arètè aux bras blancs parla la première:
— Phaiakiens, que penserons-nous de ce héros, de sa beauté, de sa majesté et de son esprit immuable? Il est, certes, mon hôte, et c'est un honneur que vous partagez tous. Mais ne vous hâtez point de le renvoyer sans lui faire des présents, car il ne possède rien. Par la bonté des Dieux nous avons beaucoup de richesses dans nos demeures.
Alors, le vieux héros Ekhéneus parla ainsi, et c'était le plus vieux des Phaiakiens:
— Ô amis, la reine prudente nous parle selon le sens droit. Obéissez donc. C'est à Alkinoos de parler et d'agir, et nous l'imiterons.
Et Alkinoos dit:
— Je ne puis parler autrement, tant que je vivrai et que je commanderai aux Phaiakiens habiles dans la navigation. Mais que notre hôte reste, malgré son désir de partir, et qu'il attende le matin, afin que je réunisse tous les présents. Le soin de son retour me regarde plus encore que tous les autres, car je commande pour le peuple.
Et le subtil Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Roi Alkinoos, le plus illustre de tout le peuple, si vous m'ordonniez de rester ici toute l'année, tandis que vous prépareriez mon départ et que vous réuniriez de splendides présents, j'y consentirais volontiers; car il vaudrait mieux pour moi rentrer les mains pleines dans ma chère patrie. J'en serais plus aimé et plus honoré de tous ceux qui me verraient de retour dans Ithakè.
Et Alkinoos lui dit:
— Ô Odysseus, certes, nous ne pouvons te soupçonner d'être un menteur et un voleur, comme tant d'autres vagabonds, que nourrit la noire terre, qui ne disent que des mensonges dont nul ne peut rien comprendre. Mais ta beauté, ton éloquence, ce que tu as raconté, d'accord avec l'Aoide, des maux cruels des Akhaiens et des tiens, tout a pénétré en nous. Dis-moi donc et parle avec vérité, si tu as vu quelques-uns de tes illustres compagnons qui t'ont suivi à Ilios et que la destinée a frappés là. La nuit sera encore longue, et le temps n'est point venu de dormir dans nos demeures. Dis-moi donc tes travaux admirables. Certes, je t'écouterai jusqu'au retour de la divine Éôs, si tu veux nous dire tes douleurs.
Et le subtil Odysseus parla ainsi:
— Roi Alkinoos, le plus illustre de tout le peuple, il y a un temps de parler et un temps de dormir; mais, si tu désires m'entendre, certes, je ne refuserai pas de raconter les misères et les douleurs de mes compagnons, de ceux qui ont péri auparavant, ou qui, ayant échappé à la guerre lamentable des Troiens, ont péri au retour par la ruse d'une femme perfide.
Après que la vénérable Perséphonéia eut dispersé çà et là les âmes des femmes, survint l'âme pleine de tristesse de l'Atréide Agamemnôn; et elle était entourée de toutes les âmes de ceux qui avaient subi la destinée et qui avaient péri avec lui dans la demeure d'Aigisthos.
Ayant bu le sang noir, il me reconnut aussitôt, et il pleura, en versant des larmes amères, et il étendit les bras pour me saisir; mais la force qui était en lui autrefois n'était plus, ni la vigueur qui animait ses membres souples. Et je pleurai en le voyant, plein de pitié dans mon coeur, et je lui dis ces paroles ailées:
— Atréide Agamemnôn, roi des hommes, comment la kèr de la dure mort t'a-t-elle dompté? Poseidaôn t'a-t-il dompté dans tes nefs en excitant les immenses souffles des vents terribles, ou des hommes ennemis t'ont-ils frappé sur la terre ferme, tandis que tu enlevais leurs boeufs et leurs beaux troupeaux de brebis, ou bien que tu combattais pour ta ville et pour tes femmes?
Je parlai ainsi, et, aussitôt, il me répondit:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, Poseidaôn ne m'a point dompté sur mes nefs, en excitant les immenses souffles des vents terribles, et des hommes ennemis ne m'ont point frappé sur la terre ferme; mais Aigisthos m'a infligé la kèr et la mort à l'aide de ma femme perfide. M'ayant convié à un repas dans la demeure, il m'a tué comme un boeuf à l'étable. J'ai subi ainsi une très lamentable mort. Et, autour de moi, mes compagnons ont été égorgés comme des porcs aux dents blanches, qui sont tués dans les demeures d'un homme riche et puissant, pour des noces, des festins sacrés ou des repas de fête. Certes, tu t'es trouvé au milieu du carnage de nombreux guerriers, entouré de morts, dans la terrible mêlée; mais tu aurais gémi dans ton coeur de voir cela. Et nous gisions dans les demeures, parmi les kratères et les tables chargées, et toute la salle était souillée de sang. Et j'entendais la voix lamentable de la fille de Priamos, Kassandrè, que la perfide Klytaimnestrè égorgeait auprès de moi. Et comme j'étais étendu mourant, je soulevai mes mains vers mon épée; mais la femme aux yeux de chien s'éloigna et elle ne voulut point fermer mes yeux et ma bouche au moment où je descendais dans la demeure d'Aidès. Rien n'est plus cruel, ni plus impie qu'une femme qui a pu méditer de tels crimes. Ainsi, certes, Klytaimnestrè prépara le meurtre misérable du premier mari qui la posséda, et je péris ainsi, quand je croyais rentrer dans ma demeure, bien accueilli de mes enfants, de mes servantes et de mes esclaves! Mais cette femme, pleine d'affreuses pensées, couvrira de sa honte toutes les autres femmes futures, et même celles qui auront la sagesse en partage.
Il parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Ô dieux! combien, certes, Zeus qui tonne hautement n'a-t-il point haï la race d'Atreus à cause des actions des femmes! Déjà, à cause de Hélénè beaucoup d'entre nous sont morts, et Klytaimnestrè préparait sa trahison pendant que tu étais absent.
Je parlai ainsi, et il me répondit aussitôt:
— C'est pourquoi, maintenant, ne sois jamais trop bon envers ta femme, et ne lui confie point toutes tes pensées, mais n'en dis que quelques-unes et cache-lui en une partie. Mais pour toi, Odysseus, ta perte ne te viendra point de ta femme, car la sage fille d'Ikarios, Pènélopéia, est pleine de prudence et de bonnes pensées dans son esprit. Nous l'avons laissée nouvellement mariée quand nous sommes partis pour la guerre, et son fils enfant était suspendu à sa mamelle; et maintenant celui-ci s'assied parmi les hommes; et il est heureux, car son cher père le verra en arrivant, et il embrassera son père. Pour moi, ma femme n'a point permis à mes yeux de se rassasier de mon fils, et m'a tué auparavant. Mais je te dirai une autre chose; garde mon conseil dans ton esprit: Fais aborder ta nef dans la chère terre de la patrie, non ouvertement, mais en secret; car il ne faut point se confier dans les femmes. Maintenant, parle et dis-moi la vérité. As-tu entendu dire que mon fils fût encore vivant, soit à Orkhoménos, soit dans la sablonneuse Pylos, soit auprès de Ménélaos dans la grande Sparta? En effet, le divin Orestès n'est point encore mort sur la terre.
Il parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Atréide, pourquoi me demandes-tu ces choses? Je ne sais s'il est mort ou vivant. Il ne faut point parler inutilement.
Et nous échangions ainsi de tristes paroles, affligés et répandant des larmes. Et l'âme du Pèlèiade Akhilleus survint, celle de Patroklos, et celle de l'irréprochable Antilokhos, et celle d'Aias qui était le plus grand et le plus beau de tous les Akhaiens, après l'irréprochable Pèléiôn. Et l'âme du rapide Aiakide me reconnut, et, en gémissant, il me dit ces paroles ailées:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, malheureux, comment as-tu pu méditer quelque chose de plus grand que tes autres actions? Comment as-tu osé venir chez Aidés où habitent les images vaines des hommes morts?
Il parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Ô Akhilleus, fils de Pèleus, le plus brave des Akhaiens, je suis venu pour l'oracle de Teirésias, afin qu'il m'apprenne comment je parviendrai dans l'âpre Ithakè, car je n'ai abordé ni l'Akhaiè, ni la terre de ma patrie, et j'ai toujours souffert. Mais toi, Akhilleus, aucun des anciens hommes n'a été, ni aucun des hommes futurs ne sera plus heureux que toi. Vivant, nous, Akhaiens, nous t'honorions comme un dieu, et, maintenant, tu commandes à tous les morts. Tel que te voilà, et bien que mort, ne te plains pas, Akhilleus.
Je parlai ainsi, et il me répondit:
— Ne me parle point de la mort, illustre Odysseus. J'aimerais mieux être un laboureur, et servir, pour un salaire, un homme pauvre et pouvant à peine se nourrir, que de commander à tous les morts qui ne sont plus. Mais parle-moi de mon illustre fils. Combat-il au premier rang, ou non? Dis-moi ce que tu as appris de l'irréprochable Pèleus. Possède-t-il encore les mêmes honneurs parmi les nombreux Myrmidones, ou le méprisent-ils dans Hellas et dans la Phthiè, parce que ses mains et ses pieds sont liés par la vieillesse? En effet, je ne suis plus là pour le défendre, sous la splendeur de Hèlios, tel que j'étais autrefois devant la grande Troiè, quand je domptais les plus braves, en combattant pour les Akhaiens. Si j'apparaissais ainsi, un instant, dans la demeure de mon père, certes, je dompterais de ma force et de mes mains inévitables ceux qui l'outragent ou qui lui enlèvent ses honneurs.
Il parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Certes, je n'ai rien appris de l'irréprochable Pèleus; mais je te dirai toute la vérité, comme tu le désires, sur ton cher fils Néoptolémos. Je l'ai conduit moi-même, sur une nef creuse, de l'île Skyros vers les Akhaiens aux belles knèmides. Quand nous convoquions l'agora devant la ville Troiè, il parlait le premier sans se tromper jamais, et l'illustre Nestôr et moi nous luttions seuls contre lui. Toutes les fois que nous, Akhaiens, nous combattions autour de la ville des Troiens, jamais il ne restait dans la foule des guerriers, ni dans la mêlée; mais il courait en avant, ne le cédant à personne en courage. Et il tua beaucoup de guerriers dans le combat terrible, et je ne pourrais ni les rappeler, ni les nommer tous, tant il en a tué en défendant les Akhaiens. C'est ainsi qu'il tua avec l'airain le héros Tèléphide Eurypylos; et autour de celui-ci de nombreux Kètéiens furent tués à cause des présents des femmes. Et Eurypylos était le plus beau des hommes que j'aie vus, après le divin Memnôn. Et quand nous montâmes, nous, les princes des Akhaiens, dans le cheval qu'avait fait Épéios, c'est à moi qu'ils remirent le soin d'ouvrir ou de fermer cette énorme embûche. Et les autres chefs des Akhaiens versaient des larmes, et les membres de chacun tremblaient; mais lui, je ne le vis jamais ni pâlir, ni trembler, ni pleurer. Et il me suppliait de le laisser sortir du cheval, et il secouait son épée et sa lance lourde d'airain, en méditant la perte des Troiens. Et quand nous eûmes renversé la haute ville de Priamos, il monta, avec une illustre part du butin, sur sa nef, sain et sauf, n'ayant jamais été blessé de l'airain aigu, ni de près ni de loin, comme il arrive toujours dans la guerre, quand Arès mêle furieusement les guerriers.
Je parlai ainsi, et l'âme de l'Aiakide aux pieds rapides s'éloigna, marchant fièrement sur la prairie d'asphodèle, et joyeuse, parce que je lui avais dit que son fils était illustre par son courage.
Et les autres âmes de ceux qui ne sont plus s'avançaient tristement, et chacune me disait ses douleurs; mais, seule, l'âme du Télamoniade Aias restait à l'écart, irritée à cause de la victoire que j'avais remportée sur lui, auprès des nefs, pour les armes d'Akhilleus. La mère vénérable de l'Aiakide les déposa devant tous, et nos juges furent les fils des Troiens et Pallas Athènè. Plût aux dieux que je ne l'eusse point emporté dans cette lutte qui envoya sous la terre une telle tête, Aias, le plus beau et le plus brave des Akhaiens après l'irréprochable Pèléiôn! Et je lui adressai ces douces paroles:
— Aias, fils irréprochable de Télamôn, ne devrais-tu pas, étant mort, déposer ta colère à cause des armes fatales que les dieux nous donnèrent pour la ruine des Argiens? Ainsi, tu as péri, toi qui étais pour eux comme une tour! Et les Akhaiens ne t'ont pas moins pleuré que le Pèlèiade Akhilleus. Et la faute n'en est à personne. Zeus, seul, dans sa haine pour l'armée des Danaens, t'a livré à la moire. Viens, ô roi, écoute ma prière, et dompte ta colère et ton coeur magnanime.
Je parlai ainsi, mais il ne me répondit rien, et il se mêla, dans l'Érébos, aux autres âmes des morts qui ne sont plus. Cependant, il m'eût parlé comme je lui parlais, bien qu'il fût irrité; mais j'aimai mieux, dans mon cher coeur, voir les autres âmes des morts.
Et je vis Minôs, l'illustre fils de Zeus, et il tenait un sceptre d'or, et, assis, il jugeait les morts. Et ils s'asseyaient et se levaient autour de lui, pour défendre leur cause, dans la vaste demeure d'Aidès.
Puis, je vis le grand Oriôn chassant, dans la prairie d'asphodèle, les bêtes fauves qu'il avait tuées autrefois sur les montagnes sauvages, en portant dans ses mains la massue d'airain qui ne se brisait jamais.
Puis, je vis Tityos, le fils de l'illustre Gaia, étendu sur le sol et long de neuf plèthres. Et deux vautours, des deux côtés, fouillaient son foie avec leurs becs; et, de ses mains, il ne pouvait les chasser; car, en effet, il avait outragé par violence Lètô, l'illustre concubine de Zeus, comme elle allait à Pythô, le long du riant Panopeus.
Et je vis Tantalos, subissant de cruelles douleurs, debout dans un lac qui lui baignait le menton. Et il était là, souffrant la soif et ne pouvant boire. Toutes les fois, en effet, que le vieillard se penchait, dans son désir de boire, l'eau décroissait absorbée, et la terre noire apparaissait autour de ses pieds, et un daimôn la desséchait. Et des arbres élevés laissaient pendre leurs fruits sur sa tête, des poires, des grenades, des oranges, des figues douces et des olives vertes. Et toutes les fois que le vieillard voulait les saisir de ses mains, le vent les soulevait jusqu'aux nuées sombres.
Et je vis Sisyphos subissant de grandes douleurs et poussant un immense rocher avec ses deux mains. Et il s'efforçait, poussant ce rocher des mains et des pieds jusqu'au faîte d'une montagne. Et quand il était près d'atteindre ce faîte, alors la force lui manquait, et l'immense rocher roulait jusqu'au bas. Et il recommençait de nouveau, et la sueur coulait de ses membres, et la poussière s'élevait au-dessus de sa tête.
Et je vis la force Hèrakléenne, ou son image, car lui-même est auprès des dieux immortels, jouissant de leurs repas et possédant Hèbè aux beaux talons, fille du magnanime Zeus et de Hèrè aux sandales d'or. Et, autour de la force Hèrakléenne, la rumeur des morts était comme celle des oiseaux, et ils fuyaient de toutes parts.
Et Hèraklès s'avançait, semblable à la nuit sombre, l'arc en main, la flèche sur le nerf, avec un regard sombre, comme un homme qui va lancer un trait. Un effrayant baudrier d'or entourait sa poitrine, et des images admirables y étaient sculptées, des ours, des sangliers sauvages et des lions terribles, des batailles, des mêlées et des combats tueurs d'hommes, car un très habile ouvrier avait fait ce baudrier. Et, m'ayant vu, il me reconnut aussitôt, et il me dit en gémissant ces paroles ailées:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, sans doute tu es misérable et une mauvaise destinée te conduit, ainsi que moi, quand j'étais sous la clarté de Hèlios. J'étais le fils du Kroniôn Zeus, mais je subissais d'innombrables misères, opprimé par un homme qui m'était inférieur et qui me commandait de lourds travaux. Il m'envoya autrefois ici pour enlever le chien Kerbéros, et il pensait que ce serait mon plus cruel travail; mais j'enlevai Kerbéros et je le traînai hors des demeures d'Aidès, car Herméias et Athènè aux yeux clairs m'avaient aidé.
Il parla ainsi, et il rentra dans la demeure d'Aidès. Et moi, je restai là, immobile, afin de voir quelques-uns des hommes héroïques qui étaient morts dans les temps antiques; et peut-être eussé-je vu les anciens héros que je désirais, Thèseus, Peirithoos, illustres enfants des dieux; mais l'innombrable multitude des morts s'agita avec un si grand tumulte que la pâle terreur me saisit, et je craignis que l'illustre Perséphonéia m'envoyât, du Hadès, la tête de l'horrible monstre Gorgônien. Et aussitôt je retournai vers ma nef, et j'ordonnai à mes compagnons d'y monter et de détacher le câble. Et aussitôt ils s'assirent sur les bancs de la nef, et le courant emporta celle-ci sur le fleuve Okéanos, à l'aide de la force des avirons et du vent favorable.
La nef, ayant quitté le fleuve Okéanos, courut sur les flots de la mer, là où Hèlios se lève, où Éôs, née au matin, a ses demeures et ses choeurs, vers l'île Aiaiè. Étant arrivés là, nous tirâmes la nef sur le sable; puis, descendant sur le rivage de la mer, nous nous endormîmes en attendant la divine Éôs.
Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, j'envoyai mes compagnons vers la demeure de Kirkè, afin d'en rapporter le cadavre d'Elpènôr qui n'était plus. Puis, ayant coupé des arbres sur la hauteur du rivage, nous fîmes ses funérailles, tristes et versant d'abondantes larmes. Et quand le cadavre et les armes du mort eurent été brûlés, ayant construit le tombeau surmonté d'une colonne, nous plantâmes l'aviron au sommet. Et ces choses furent faites; mais, en revenant du Hadès, nous ne retournâmes point chez Kirkè. Elle vint elle-même à la hâte, et, avec elle, vinrent ses servantes qui portaient du pain, des chairs abondantes et du vin rouge. Et la noble déesse au milieu de nous, parla ainsi:
— Malheureux, qui, vivants, êtes descendus dans la demeure d'Aidès, vous mourrez deux fois, et les autres hommes ne meurent qu'une fois. Allons! mangez et buvez pendant tout le jour, jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios; et, à la lumière naissante, vous naviguerez, et je vous dirai la route, et je vous avertirai de toute chose, de peur que vous subissiez encore des maux cruels sur la mer ou sur la terre.
Elle parla ainsi, et elle persuada notre âme généreuse. Et, pendant tout le jour, jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios, nous restâmes, mangeant les chairs abondantes et buvant le vin doux. Et, quand Hèlios tomba, le soir survint, et mes compagnons s'endormirent auprès des câbles de la nef. Mais Kirkè, me prenant par la main, me conduisit loin de mes compagnons, et, s'étant couchée avec moi, m'interrogea sur les choses qui m'étaient arrivées. Et je lui racontai tout, et, alors, la vénérable Kirkè me dit:
— Ainsi, tu as accompli tous ces travaux. Maintenant, écoute ce que je vais te dire. Un dieu lui-même fera que tu t'en souviennes. Tu rencontreras d'abord les Seirènes qui charment tous les hommes qui les approchent; mais il est perdu celui qui, par imprudence, écoute leur chant, et jamais sa femme et ses enfants ne le reverront dans sa demeure, et ne se réjouiront. Les Seirènes le charment par leur chant harmonieux, assises dans une prairie, autour d'un grand amas d'ossements d'hommes et de peaux en putréfaction. Navigue rapidement au delà, et bouche les oreilles de tes compagnons avec de la cire molle, de peur qu'aucun d'eux entende. Pour toi, écoute-les, si tu veux; mais que tes compagnons te lient, à l'aide de cordes, dans la nef rapide, debout contre le mât, par les pieds et les mains, avant que tu écoutes avec une grande volupté la voix des Seirènes. Et, si tu pries tes compagnons, si tu leur ordonnes de te délier, qu'ils te chargent de plus de liens encore. Après que vous aurez navigué au delà, je ne puis te dire, des deux voies que tu trouveras, laquelle choisir; mais tu te décideras dans ton esprit. Je te les décrirai cependant. Là, se dressent deux hautes roches, et contre elles retentissent les grands flots d'Amphitrite aux yeux bleus. Les dieux heureux les nomment les Errantes. Et jamais les oiseaux ne volent au delà, pas même les timides colombes qui portent l'ambroisie au père Zeus. Souvent une d'elles tombe sur la roche, mais le père en crée une autre, afin que le nombre en soit complet. Jamais aucune nef, ayant approché ces roches, n'en a échappé; et les flots de la mer et la tempête pleine d'éclairs emportent les bancs de rameurs et les corps des hommes. Et une seule nef, sillonnant la mer, a navigué au delà: Argô, chère à tous les dieux, et qui revenait de la terre d'Aiètès. Et même, elle allait être jetée contre les grandes roches, mais Hèrè la fit passer outre, car Jèsôn lui était cher.
Tels sont ces deux écueils. L'un, de son faîte aigu, atteint le haut Ouranos, et une nuée bleue l'environne sans cesse, et jamais la sérénité ne baigne son sommet, ni en été, ni en automne; et jamais aucun homme mortel ne pourrait y monter ou en descendre, quand il aurait vingt bras et vingt pieds, tant la roche est haute et semblable à une pierre polie. Au milieu de l'écueil il y a une caverne noire dont l'entrée est tournée vers l'Érébos et c'est de cette caverne, illustre Odysseus, qu'il faut approcher ta nef creuse. Un homme dans la force de la jeunesse ne pourrait, de sa nef, lancer une flèche jusque dans cette caverne profonde. Et c'est là qu'habite Skyllè qui pousse des rugissements et dont la voix est aussi forte que celle d'un jeune lion. C'est un monstre prodigieux, et nul n'est joyeux de l'avoir vu, pas même un Dieu. Elle a douze pieds difformes, et six cous sortent longuement de son corps, et à chaque cou est attachée une tête horrible, et dans chaque gueule pleine de la noire mort il y a une triple rangée de dents épaisses et nombreuses. Et elle est plongée dans la caverne creuse jusqu'aux reins; mais elle étend au dehors ses têtes, et, regardant autour de l'écueil, elle saisit les dauphins, les chiens de mer et les autres monstres innombrables qu'elle veut prendre et que nourrit la gémissante Amphitritè. Jamais les marins ne pourront se glorifier d'avoir passé auprès d'elle sains et saufs sur leur nef, car chaque tête enlève un homme hors de la nef à proue bleue. L'autre écueil voisin que tu verras, Odysseus, est moins élevé, et tu en atteindrais le sommet d'un trait. Il y croit un grand figuier sauvage chargé de feuilles, et, sous ce figuier, la divine Kharybdis engloutit l'eau noire. Et elle la revomit trois fois par jour et elle l'engloutit trois fois horriblement. Et si tu arrivais quand elle l'engloutit, celui qui ébranle la terre, lui-même, voudrait te sauver, qu'il ne le pourrait pas. Pousse donc rapidement ta nef le long de Skyllè, car il vaut mieux perdre six hommes de tes compagnons, que de les perdre tous.
Elle parla ainsi, et je lui répondis:
— Parle, déesse, et dis-moi la vérité. Si je puis échapper à la désastreuse Kharybdis, ne pourrai-je attaquer Skyllè, quand elle saisira mes compagnons?
Je parlai ainsi, et la noble Déesse me répondit:
— Malheureux, tu songes donc encore aux travaux de la guerre? Et tu ne veux pas céder, même aux dieux immortels! Mais Skyllè n'est point mortelle, et c'est un monstre cruel, terrible et sauvage, et qui ne peut être combattu. Aucun courage ne peut en triompher. Si tu ne te hâtes point, ayant saisi tes armes près de la roche, je crains que, se ruant de nouveau, elle emporte autant de têtes qu'elle a déjà enlevé d'hommes. Vogue donc rapidement, et invoque Krataïs, mère de Skyllè, qui l'a enfantée pour la perte des hommes, afin qu'elle l'apaise, et que celle-ci ne se précipite point de nouveau. Tu arriveras ensuite à l'île Thrinakiè. Là, paissent les boeufs et les gras troupeaux de Hèlios. Et il a sept troupeaux de boeufs et autant de brebis, cinquante par troupeau. Et ils ne font point de petits, et ils ne meurent point, et leurs pasteurs sont deux nymphes divines, Phaéthousa et Lampétiè, que la divine Néaira a conçues du Hypérionide Hèlios. Et leur mère vénérable les enfanta et les nourrit, et elle les laissa dans l'île Thrinakiè, afin qu'elles habitassent au loin, gardant les brebis paternelles et les boeufs aux cornes recourbées. Si, songeant à ton retour, tu ne touches point à ces troupeaux, vous rentrerez tous dans Ithakè, après avoir beaucoup souffert; mais si tu les blesses, alors je te prédis la perte de ta nef et de tes compagnons. Et tu échapperas seul, mais tu rentreras tard et misérablement dans ta demeure, ayant perdu tous tes compagnons.
Elle parla ainsi, et aussitôt Éôs s'assit sur son thrône d'or, et la noble déesse Kirkè disparut dans l'île. Et, retournant vers ma nef, j'excitai mes compagnons à y monter et à détacher les câbles. Et ils montèrent aussitôt, et ils s'assirent en ordre sur les bancs, et ils frappèrent la blanche mer de leurs avirons. Kirkè aux beaux cheveux, terrible et vénérable déesse, envoya derrière la nef à proue bleue un vent favorable qui emplit la voile; et, toutes choses étant mises en place sur la nef, nous nous assîmes, et le vent et le pilote nous conduisirent. Alors, triste dans le coeur, je dis à mes compagnons:
— Ô amis, il ne faut pas qu'un seul, et même deux seulement d'entre nous, sachent ce que m'a prédit la noble déesse Kirkè; mais il faut que nous le sachions tous, et je vous le dirai. Nous mourrons après, ou, évitant le danger, nous échapperons à la mort et à la kèr. Avant tout, elle nous ordonne de fuir le chant et la prairie des divines Seirènes, et à moi seul elle permet de les écouter; mais liez-moi fortement avec des cordes, debout contre le, mât, afin que j'y reste immobile, et, si je vous supplie et vous ordonne de me délier, alors, au contraire, chargez-moi de plus de liens.
Et je disais cela à mes compagnons, et, pendant ce temps, la nef bien construite approcha rapidement de l'île des Seirènes, tant le vent favorable nous poussait; mais il s'apaisa aussitôt, et il fit silence, et un daimôn assoupit les flots. Alors, mes compagnons, se levant, plièrent les voiles et les déposèrent dans la nef creuse; et, s'étant assis, ils blanchirent l'eau avec leurs avirons polis. Et je coupai, à l'aide de l'airain tranchant, une grande masse ronde de cire, dont je pressai les morceaux dans mes fortes mains; et la cire s'amollit, car la chaleur du roi Hèlios était brûlante, et j'employais une grande force. Et je fermai les oreilles de tous mes compagnons. Et, dans la nef, ils me lièrent avec des cordes, par les pieds et les mains, debout contre le mât. Puis, s'asseyant, ils frappèrent de leurs avirons la mer écumeuse.
Et nous approchâmes à la portée de la voix, et la nef rapide, étant proche, fut promptement aperçue par les Seirènes, et elles chantèrent leur chant harmonieux:
— Viens, ô illustre Odysseus, grande gloire des Akhaiens. Arrête ta nef, afin d'écouter notre voix. Aucun homme n'a dépassé notre île sur sa nef noire sans écouter notre douce voix; puis, il s'éloigne, plein de joie, et sachant de nombreuses choses. Nous savons, en effet, tout ce que les Akhaiens et les Troiens ont subi devant la grande Troiè par la volonté des dieux, et nous savons aussi tout ce qui arrive sur la terre nourricière.
Elles chantaient ainsi, faisant résonner leur belle voix, et mon coeur voulait les entendre; et, en remuant les sourcils, je fis signe à mes compagnons de me détacher; mais ils agitaient plus ardemment les avirons; et, aussitôt, Périmèdès et Eurylokhos, se levant, me chargèrent de plus de liens.
Après que nous les eûmes dépassées et que nous n'entendîmes plus leur voix et leur chant, mes chers compagnons retirèrent la cire de leurs oreilles et me détachèrent; mais, à peine avions-nous laissé l'île, que je vis de la fumée et de grands flots et que j'entendis un bruit immense. Et mes compagnons, frappés de crainte, laissèrent les avirons tomber de leurs mains. Et le courant emportait la nef, parce qu'ils n'agitaient plus les avirons. Et moi, courant çà et là, j'exhortai chacun d'eux par de douces paroles:
— Ô amis, nous n'ignorons pas les maux. N'avons nous pas enduré un mal pire quand le kyklôps nous tenait renfermés dans sa caverne creuse avec une violence horrible? Mais, alors, par ma vertu, par mon intelligence et ma sagesse, nous lui avons échappé. Je ne pense pas que vous l'ayez oublié. Donc, maintenant, faites ce que je dirai; obéissez tous. Vous, assis sur les bancs, frappez de vos avirons les flots profonds de la mer; et toi, pilote, je t'ordonne ceci, retiens-le dans ton esprit, puisque tu tiens le gouvernail de la nef creuse. Dirige-la en dehors de cette fumée et de ce courant, et gagne cet autre écueil. Ne cesse pas d'y tendre avec vigueur, et tu détourneras notre perte.
Je parlai ainsi, et ils obéirent promptement à mes paroles; mais je ne leur dis rien de Skyllè, cette irrémédiable tristesse, de peur qu'épouvantés, ils cessassent de remuer les avirons, pour se cacher tous ensemble dans le fond de la nef. Et alors j'oubliai les ordres cruels de Kirkè qui m'avait recommandé de ne point m'armer. Et, m'étant revêtu de mes armes splendides, et, ayant pris deux, longues lances, je montai sur la proue de la nef d'où je croyais apercevoir d'abord la rocheuse Skyllè apportant la mort à mes compagnons. Mais je ne pus la voir, mes yeux se fatiguaient à regarder de tous les côtés de la roche noire.
Et nous traversions ce détroit en gémissant. D'un côté était Skyllè; et, de l'autre, la divine Kharybdis engloutissait l'horrible eau salée de la mer; et, quand elle la revomissait, celle-ci bouillonnait comme dans un bassin sur un grand feu, et elle la lançait en l'air, et l'eau pleuvait sur les deux écueils. Et, quand elle engloutissait de nouveau l'eau salée de la mer, elle semblait bouleversée jusqu'au fond, et elle rugissait affreusement autour de la roche; et le sable bleu du fond apparaissait, et la pâle terreur saisit mes compagnons. Et nous regardions Kharybdis, car c'était d'elle que nous attendions notre perte; mais, pendant ce temps, Skyllè enleva de la nef creuse six de mes plus braves compagnons. Et, comme je regardais sur la nef, je vis leurs pieds et leurs mains qui passaient dans l'air; et ils m'appelaient dans leur désespoir.
De même qu'un pêcheur, du haut d'un rocher, avec une longue baguette, envoie dans la mer, aux petits poissons, un appât enfermé dans la corne d'un boeuf sauvage, et jette chaque poisson qu'il a pris, palpitant, sur le rocher; de même Skyllè emportait mes compagnons palpitants et les dévorait sur le seuil, tandis qu'ils poussaient des cris et qu'ils tendaient vers moi leurs mains. Et c'était la chose la plus lamentable de toutes celles que j'aie vues dans mes courses sur la mer.
Après avoir fui l'horrible Kharybdis et Skyllè, nous arrivâmes à l'île irréprochable du dieu. Et là étaient les boeufs irréprochables aux larges fronts et les gras troupeaux du Hypérionide Hèlios. Et comme j'étais encore en mer, sur la nef noire, j'entendis les mugissements des boeufs dans les étables et le bêlement des brebis; et la parole du divinateur aveugle, du Thébain Teirésias, me revint à l'esprit, et Kirkè aussi qui m'avait recommandé d'éviter l'île de Hèlios qui charme les hommes. Alors, triste dans mon coeur, je parlai ainsi à mes compagnons:
— Écoutez mes paroles, compagnons, bien qu'accablés de maux, afin que je vous dise les oracles de Teirésias et de Kirkè qui m'a recommandé de fuir promptement l'île de Hèlios qui donne la lumière aux hommes. Elle m'a dit qu'un grand malheur nous menaçait ici. Donc, poussez la nef noire au delà de cette île.
Je parlai ainsi, et leur cher coeur fut brisé. Et, aussitôt, Eurylokhos me répondit par ces paroles funestes:
— Tu es dur pour nous, ô Odysseus! Ta force est grande, et tes membres ne sont jamais fatigués, et tout te semble de fer. Tu ne veux pas que tes compagnons, chargés de fatigue et de sommeil, descendent à terre, dans cette île entourée des flots où nous aurions préparé un repas abondant; et tu ordonnes que nous errions à l'aventure, pendant la nuit rapide, loin de cette île, sur la sombre mer! Les vents de la nuit sont dangereux et perdent les nefs. Qui de nous éviterait la kèr fatale, si, soudainement, survenait une tempête du Notos ou du violent Zéphyros qui perdent le plus sûrement les nefs, même malgré les dieux? Maintenant donc, obéissons à la nuit noire, et préparons notre repas auprès de la nef rapide. Nous y remonterons demain, au matin, et nous fendrons la vaste mer.
Eurylokhos parla ainsi, et mes compagnons l'approuvèrent. Et je vis sûrement qu'un daimôn méditait leur perte. Et je lui dis ces paroles ailées:
— Eurylokhos, vous me faites violence, car je suis seul; mais jure-moi, par un grand serment, que, si nous trouvons quelque troupeau de boeufs ou de nombreuses brebis, aucun de vous, de peur de commettre un crime, ne tuera ni un boeuf, ni une brebis. Mangez tranquillement les vivres que nous a donnés l'immortelle Kirkè.
Je parlai ainsi, et, aussitôt, ils me le jurèrent comme je l'avais ordonné. Et, après qu'ils eurent prononcé toutes les paroles du serment, nous arrêtâmes la nef bien construite, dans un port profond, auprès d'une eau douce; et mes compagnons sortirent de la nef et préparèrent à la hâte leur repas. Puis, après s'être rassasiés de boire et de manger, ils pleurèrent leurs chers compagnons que Skyllè avait enlevés de la nef creuse et dévorés. Et, tandis qu'ils pleuraient, le doux sommeil les saisit. Mais, vers la troisième partie de la nuit, à l'heure où les astres s'inclinent, Zeus qui amasse les nuées excita un vent violent, avec de grands tourbillons; et il enveloppa la terre et la mer de brouillards, et l'obscurité tomba de l'Ouranos.
Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, nous traînâmes la nef à l'abri dans une caverne profonde. Là étaient les belles demeures des nymphes et leurs sièges. Et alors, ayant réuni l'agora, je parlai ainsi:
— Ô amis, il y a dans la nef rapide à boire et à manger. Abstenons-nous donc de ces boeufs, de peur d'un grand malheur. En effet, ce sont les boeufs terribles et les illustres troupeaux d'un dieu, de Hèlios, qui voit et entend tout.
Je parlai ainsi, et leur esprit généreux fut persuadé. Et, tout un mois, le Notos souffla perpétuellement; et aucun des autres vents ne soufflait, que le Notos et l'Euros. Et aussi longtemps que mes compagnons eurent du pain et du vin rouge, ils s'abstinrent des boeufs qu'ils désiraient vivement; mais quand tous les vivres furent épuisés, la nécessité nous contraignant, nous fîmes, à l'aide d'hameçons recourbés, notre proie des poissons et des oiseaux qui nous tombaient entre les mains. Et la faim tourmentait notre ventre.
Alors, je m'enfonçai dans l'île, afin de supplier les dieux, et de voir si un d'entre eux me montrerait le chemin du retour. Et j'allai dans l'île, et, laissant mes compagnons, je lavai mes mains à l'abri du vent, et je suppliai tous les dieux qui habitent le large Olympos. Et ils répandirent le doux sommeil sur mes paupières. Alors, Eurylokhos inspira à mes compagnons un dessein fatal:
— Écoutez mes paroles, compagnons, bien que souffrant beaucoup de maux. Toutes les morts sont odieuses aux misérables hommes, mais mourir par la faim est tout ce qu'il y a de plus lamentable. Allons! saisissons les meilleurs boeufs de Hèlios, et sacrifions- les aux immortels qui habitent le large Ouranos. Si nous rentrons dans Ithakè, dans la terre de la patrie, nous élèverons aussitôt à Hèlios un beau temple où nous placerons toute sorte de choses précieuses; mais, s'il est irrité à cause de ses boeufs aux cornes dressées, et s'il veut perdre la nef, et si les autres dieux y consentent, j'aime mieux mourir en une fois, étouffé par les flots, que de souffrir plus longtemps dans cette île déserte.
Eurylokhos parla ainsi, et tous l'applaudirent. Et, aussitôt, ils entraînèrent les meilleurs boeufs de Hèlios, car les boeufs noirs au large front paissaient non loin de la nef à proue bleue. Et, les entourant, ils les vouèrent aux immortels; et ils prirent les feuilles d'un jeune chêne, car ils n'avaient point d'orge blanche dans la nef. Et, après avoir prié, ils égorgèrent les boeufs et les écorchèrent; puis, ils rôtirent les cuisses recouvertes d'une double graisse, et ils posèrent par-dessus les entrailles crues. Et, n'ayant point de vin pour faire les libations sur le feu du sacrifice, ils en firent avec de l'eau, tandis qu'ils rôtissaient les entrailles. Quand les cuisses furent consumées, ils goûtèrent les entrailles. Puis, ayant coupé le reste en morceaux, ils les traversèrent de broches.
Alors, le doux sommeil quitta mes paupières, et je me hâtai de retourner vers la mer et vers la nef rapide. Mais quand je fus près du lieu où celle-ci avait été poussée, la douce odeur vint au-devant de moi. Et, gémissant, je criai vers les dieux immortels:
— Père Zeus, et vous, dieux heureux et immortels, certes, c'est pour mon plus grand malheur que vous m'avez envoyé ce sommeil fatal. Voici que mes compagnons, restés seuls ici, ont commis un grand crime.
Aussitôt, Lampétiè au large péplos alla annoncer à Hèlios Hypérionide que mes compagnons avaient tué ses boeufs, et le Hypérionide, irrité dans son coeur, dit aussitôt aux autres dieux:
— Père Zeus, et vous, dieux heureux et immortels, vengez-moi des compagnons du Laertiade Odysseus. Ils ont tué audacieusement les boeufs dont je me réjouissais quand je montais à travers l'Ouranos étoilé, et quand je descendais de l'Ouranos sur la terre. Si vous ne me donnez pas une juste compensation pour mes boeufs, je descendrai dans la demeure d'Aidès, et j'éclairerai les morts.
Et Zeus qui amasse les nuées, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Hèlios, éclaire toujours les immortels et les hommes mortels sur la terre féconde. Je brûlerai bientôt de la blanche foudre leur nef fracassée au milieu de la sombre mer.
Et j'appris cela de Kalypsô aux beaux cheveux, qui le savait du messager Herméias.
Étant arrivé à la mer et à ma nef, je fis des reproches violents à chacun de mes compagnons; mais nous ne pouvions trouver aucun remède au mal, car les boeufs étaient déjà tués. Et déjà les prodiges des dieux s'y manifestaient: les peaux rampaient comme des serpents, et les chairs mugissaient autour des broches, cuites ou crues, et on eût dit les voix des boeufs eux-mêmes. Et, pendant six jours, mes chers compagnons mangèrent les meilleurs boeufs de Hèlios, les ayant tués. Quand Zeus amena le septième jour, le vent cessa de souffler par tourbillons. Alors, étant montés sur la nef, nous la poussâmes au large; et, le mât étant dressé, nous déployâmes les blanches voiles. Et nous abandonnâmes l'île, et aucune autre terre n'était en vue, et rien ne se voyait que l'Ouranos et la mer.
Alors le Kroniôn suspendit une nuée épaisse sur la nef creuse qui ne marchait plus aussi vite, et, sous elle, la mer devint toute noire. Et aussitôt le strident Zéphyros souffla avec un grand tourbillon, et la tempête rompit les deux câbles du mât, qui tomba dans le fond de la nef avec tous les agrès. Et il s'abattit sur la poupe, brisant tous les os de la tête du pilote, qui tomba de son banc, semblable à un plongeur. Et son âme généreuse abandonna ses ossements. En même temps, Zeus tonna et lança la foudre sur la nef, et celle-ci, frappée de la foudre de Zeus, tourbillonna et s'emplit de soufre, et mes compagnons furent précipités. Semblables à des corneilles marines, ils étaient emportés par les flots, et un dieu leur refusa le retour. Moi, je marchai sur la nef jusqu'à ce que la force de la tempête eût arraché ses flancs. Et les flots l'emportaient, inerte, çà et là. Le mât avait été rompu à la base, mais une courroie de peau de boeuf y était restée attachée. Avec celle-ci je le liai à la carène, et, m'asseyant dessus, je fus emporté par la violence des vents.
Alors, il est vrai, le Zéphyros apaisa ses tourbillons, mais le Notos survint, m'apportant d'autres douleurs, car, de nouveau, j'étais entraîné vers la funeste Kharybdis. Je fus emporté toute la nuit, et, au lever de Hèlios, j'arrivai auprès de Skyllè et de l'horrible Kharybdis, comme celle-ci engloutissait l'eau salée de la mer. Et je saisis les branches du haut figuier, et j'étais suspendu en l'air comme un oiseau de nuit, ne pouvant appuyer les pieds, ni monter, car les racines étaient loin, et les rameaux immenses et longs ombrageaient Kharybdis; mais je m'y attachai fermement, jusqu'à ce qu'elle eût revomi le mât et la carène. Et ils tardèrent longtemps pour mes désirs.
À l'heure où le juge, afin de prendre son repas, sort de l'agora où il juge les nombreuses contestations des hommes, le mât et la carène rejaillirent de Kharybdis; et je me laissai tomber avec bruit parmi les longues pièces de bois et, m'asseyant dessus, je nageai avec mes mains pour avirons. Et le père des dieux et des hommes ne permit pas à Skyllè de me voir, car je n'aurais pu échapper à la mort. Et je fus emporté pendant neuf jours, et, la dixième nuit, les dieux me poussèrent à l'île Ogygiè, qu'habitait Kalypsô, éloquente et vénérable déesse aux beaux cheveux, qui me recueillit et qui m'aima. Mais pourquoi te dirais-je ceci? Déjà je te l'ai raconté dans ta demeure, à toi et à ta chaste femme; et il m'est odieux de raconter de nouveau les mêmes choses.
Il parla ainsi, et tous, dans les demeures obscures, restaient muets et charmés. Et Alkinoos lui répondit:
— Ô Odysseus, puisque tu es venu dans ma haute demeure d'airain, je ne pense pas que tu erres de nouveau et que tu subisses d'autres maux pour ton retour, car tu en as beaucoup souffert. Et je dis ceci à chacun de vous qui, dans mes demeures, buvez l'honorable vin rouge et qui écoutez l'aoide. Déjà sont enfermés dans le beau coffre les vêtements, et l'or bien travaillé, et tous les présents que les chefs des Phaiakiens ont offerts à notre hôte; mais, allons! que chacun de nous lui donne encore un grand trépied et un bassin. Réunis de nouveau, nous nous ferons aider par tout le peuple, car il serait difficile à chacun de nous de donner autant.
Alkinoos parla ainsi, et ses paroles plurent à tous, et chacun retourna dans sa demeure pour y dormir.
Quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, ils se hâtèrent vers la nef, portant l'airain solide. Et la force sacrée d'Alkinoos déposa les présents dans la nef; et il les rangea lui- même sous les bancs des rameurs, afin que ceux-ci, en se courbant sur les avirons, ne les heurtassent point. Puis, ils retournèrent vers les demeures d'Alkinoos et préparèrent le repas.
Au milieu d'eux, la force sacrée d'Alkinoos égorgea un boeuf pour Zeus Kronide qui amasse les nuées et qui commande à tous. Et ils brûlèrent les cuisses, et ils prirent, charmés, l'illustre repas; et au milieu d'eux chantait le divin aoide Dèmodokos, honoré des peuples. Mais Odysseus tournait souvent la tête vers Hèlios qui éclaire toutes choses, pressé de se rendre à la nef, et désirant son départ. De même que le laboureur désire son repas, quand tout le jour ses boeufs noirs ont traîné la charrue dans le sillon, et qu'il voit enfin la lumière de Hèlios tomber, et qu'il se rend à son repas, les genoux rompus de fatigue; de même Odysseus vit tomber avec joie la lumière de Hèlios, et, aussitôt, il dit aux Phaiakiens habiles aux avirons, et surtout à Alkinoos:
— Roi Alkinoos, le plus illustre de tout le peuple, renvoyez-moi sain et sauf, et faites des libations. Je vous salue tous. Déjà ce que désirait mon cher coeur est accompli; mon retour est décidé, et je possède vos chers présents dont les dieux Ouraniens m'ont fait une richesse. Plaise aux dieux que je retrouve dans ma demeure ma femme irréprochable et mes amis sains et saufs! Pour vous, qui vous réjouissez ici de vos femmes et de vos chers enfants, que les dieux vous donnent la vertu et vous préservent de tout malheur public!
Il parla ainsi, et tous l'applaudirent et décidèrent de renvoyer leur hôte qui parlait toujours si convenablement. Et, alors, la force d'Alkinoos dit au héraut:
— Pontonoos, distribue, du kratère plein, du vin à tous, dans la demeure, afin qu'ayant prié le Père peus, nous renvoyions notre hôte dans sa patrie.
Il parla ainsi, et Pontonoos mêla le vin mielleux et le distribua à tous. Et ils firent des libations aux dieux heureux qui habitent le large Ouranos, mais sans quitter leurs sièges.
Et le divin Odysseus se leva. Et, mettant aux mains d'Arètè une coupe ronde, il dit ces paroles ailées:
— Salut, ô reine! et sois heureuse jusqu'à ce que t'arrivent la vieillesse et la mort qui sont inévitables pour les hommes. Moi, je pars. Toi, réjouis-toi, dans ta demeure, de tes enfants, de tes peuples et du roi Alkinoos.
Ayant ainsi parlé, le divin Odysseus sortit, et la force d'Alkinoos envoya le héraut pour le précéder vers la nef rapide et le rivage de la mer. Et Arètè envoya aussi ses servantes, et l'une portait une blanche khlamide et une tunique, et l'autre un coffre peint, et une troisième du pain et du vin rouge.
Etant arrivés à la nef et à la mer, aussitôt les marins joyeux montèrent sur la nef creuse et y déposèrent le vin et les vivres. Puis ils étendirent sur la poupe de la nef creuse un lit et une toile de lin, afin qu'Odysseus fût mollement couché. Et il entra dans la nef, et il se coucha en silence. Et, s'étant assis en ordre sur les bancs, ils détachèrent le câble de la pierre trouée; puis, se courbant, ils frappèrent la mer de leurs avirons. Et un doux sommeil se répandit sur les paupières d'Odysseus, invincible, très agréable et semblable à la mort.
De même que, dans une plaine, un quadrige d'étalons, excité par les morsures du fouet, dévore rapidement la route, de même la nef était enlevée, et l'eau noire et immense de la mer sonnante se ruait par derrière. Et la nef courait ferme et rapide, et l'épervier, le plus rapide des oiseaux, n'aurait pu la suivre. Ainsi, courant avec vitesse, elle fendait les eaux de la mer, portant un homme ayant des pensées égales à celles des dieux, et qui, en son âme, avait subi des maux innombrables, dans les combats des hommes et sur les mers dangereuses. Et maintenant il dormait en sûreté, oublieux de tout ce qu'il avait souffert.
Et quand la plus brillante des étoiles se leva, celle qui annonce la lumière d'Éôs née au matin, alors la nef qui fendait la mer aborda l'île.
Le port de Phorkys, vieillard de la mer, est sur la côte d'Ithakè. Deux promontoires abrupts l'enserrent et le défendent des vents violents et des grandes eaux; et les nefs à bancs de rameurs, quand elles y sont entrées, y restent sans câbles. À la pointe du port, un olivier aux rameaux épais croit devant l'antre obscur, frais et sacré, des nymphes qu'on nomme naiades. Dans cet antre il y a des kratères et des amphores de pierre où les abeilles font leur miel, et de longs métiers à tisser où les nymphes travaillent des toiles pourprées admirables à voir. Et là sont aussi des sources inépuisables. Et il y a deux entrées, l'une, pour les hommes, vers le Boréas, et l'autre, vers le Notos, pour les dieux. Et jamais les hommes n'entrent par celle-ci, mais seulement les dieux.
Et dès que les Phaiakiens eurent reconnu ce lieu, ils y abordèrent. Et une moitié de la nef s'élança sur la plage, tant elle était vigoureusement poussée par les bras des rameurs. Et ceux-ci, étant sortis de la nef à bancs de rameurs, transportèrent d'abord Odysseus hors de la nef creuse, et, avec lui, le lit brillant et la toile de lin; et ils le déposèrent endormi sur le sable. Et ils transportèrent aussi les choses que lui avaient données les illustres Phaiakiens à son départ, ayant été inspirés par la magnanime Athènè. Et ils les déposèrent donc auprès des racines de l'olivier, hors du chemin, de peur qu'un passant y touchât avant le réveil d'Odysseus. Puis, ils retournèrent vers leurs demeures.
Mais celui qui ébranle la terre n'avait point oublié les menaces qu'il avait faites au divin Odysseus, et il interrogea la pensée de Zeus:
— Père Zeus, je ne serai plus honoré par les dieux immortels, puisque les Phaiakiens ne m'honorent point, eux qui sont cependant de ma race. En effet, je voulais qu'Odysseus souffert encore beaucoup de maux avant de rentrer dans sa demeure, mais je ne lui refusais point entièrement le retour, puisque tu l'as promis et juré. Et voici qu'ils l'ont conduit sur la mer, dormant dans leur nef rapide, et qu'ils l'ont déposé dans Ithakè. Et ils l'ont comblé de riches présents, d'airain, d'or et de vêtements tissés, si nombreux, qu'Odysseus n'en eût jamais rapporté autant de Troiè, s'il en était revenu sain et sauf, avec sa part du butin.
Et Zeus qui amasse les nuées, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Ô dieu! toi qui entoures la terre, qu'as-tu dit? Les immortels ne te mépriseront point, car il serait difficile de mépriser le plus ancien et le plus illustre des dieux; mais si quelque mortel, inférieur en force et en puissance, ne te respecte point, ta vengeance ne sera pas tardive. Fais comme tu le veux et comme il te plaira.
Et Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre lui répondit:
— Je le ferai aussitôt, ainsi que tu le dis, toi qui amasses les nuées, car j'attends ta volonté et je la respecte. Maintenant, je veux perdre la belle nef des Phaiakiens, qui revient de son voyage sur la mer sombre, afin qu'ils s'abstiennent désormais de reconduire les étrangers; et je placerai une grande montagne devant leur ville.
Et Zeus qui amasse les nuées lui répondit:
— Ô Poseidaôn, il me semble que ceci sera pour le mieux. Quand la multitude sortira de la ville pour voir la nef, transforme, près de terre, la nef rapide en un rocher, afin que tous les hommes l'admirent, et place une grande montagne devant leur ville.
Et Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre, ayant entendu cela, s'élança vers Skhériè, où habitaient les Phaiàkiens. Et comme la nef, vigoureusement poussée, arrivait, celui qui ébranle la terre, la frappant de sa main, la transforma en rocher aux profondes racines, et s'éloigna. Et les Phaiakiens illustres par les longs avirons se dirent les uns aux autres:
— O dieux! qui donc a fixé notre nef rapide dans la mer, comme elle revenait vers nos demeures?
Chacun parlait ainsi, et ils ne comprenaient pas comment cela s'était fait. Mais Alkinoos leur dit:
— O dieux! Certes, voici que les anciens oracles de mon père se sont accomplis, car il me disait que Poseidaôn s'irriterait contre nous, parce que nous reconduisions tous les étrangers sains et saufs. Et il me dit qu'une belle nef des Phaiakiens se perdrait à son retour d'un voyage sur la sombre mer, et qu'une grande montagne serait placée devant notre ville. Ainsi parla le vieillard, et les choses se sont accomplies. Allons! faites ce que je vais dire. Ne reconduisons plus les étrangers, quel que soit celui d'entre eux qui vienne vers notre ville. Faisons un sacrifice de douze taureaux choisis à Poseidaôn, afin qu'il nous prenne en pitié et qu'il ne place point cette grande montagne devant notre ville.
Il parla ainsi, et les Phaiakiens craignirent, et ils préparèrent les taureaux. Et les peuples, les chefs et les princes des Phaiakiens suppliaient le roi Poseidaôn, debout autour de l'autel.
Mais le divin Odysseus se réveilla couché sur la terre de la patrie, et il ne la reconnut point, ayant été longtemps éloigné. Et la déesse Pallas Athènè l'enveloppa d'une nuée, afin qu'il restât inconnu et qu'elle l'instruisît de toute chose, et que sa femme, ses concitoyens et ses amis ne le reconnussent point avant qu'il eût réprimé l'insolence des prétendants. Donc, tout lui semblait changé, les chemins, le port, les hautes roches et les arbres verdoyants. Et, se levant, et debout, il regarda la terre de la patrie. Et il pleura, et, se frappant les cuisses de ses deux mains, il dit en gémissant:
— Ô malheureux! Dans quelle terre des hommes suis-je venu? Ceux- ci sont-ils injurieux, cruels et iniques? sont-ils hospitaliers, et leur esprit est-il pieux? où porter toutes ces richesses? où aller moi-même? Plût aux dieux que je fusse resté avec les Phaiakiens! J'aurais trouvé quelque autre roi magnanime qui m'eût aimé et donné des compagnons pour mon retour. Maintenant, je ne sais où porter ces richesses, ni où les laisser, de peur qu'elles soient la proie d'étrangers. O dieux! ils ne sont point, en effet, véridiques ni justes, les princes et les chefs des Phaiakiens qui m'ont conduit dans une terre étrangère, et qui me disaient qu'ils me conduiraient sûrement dans Ithakè! Mais ils ne l'ont point fait. Que Zeus qu'on supplie me venge d'eux, lui qui veille sur les hommes et qui punit ceux qui agissent mal! Mais je compterai mes richesses, et je verrai s'ils ne m'en ont rien enlevé en les transportant hors de la nef creuse.
Ayant parlé ainsi, il compta les beaux trépieds et les bassins, et l'or et les beaux vêtements tissés; mais rien n'en manquait. Et il pleurait la terre de sa patrie, et il se jeta en gémissant sur le rivage de la mer aux bruits sans nombre. Et Athènè s'approcha de lui sous la figure d'un jeune homme pasteur de brebis, tel que sont les fils des rois, ayant un beau vêtement sur ses épaules, des sandales sous ses pieds délicats, et une lance à la main. Et Odysseus, joyeux de la voir, vint à elle, et il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ô ami! puisque je te rencontre le premier en ce lieu, salut! Ne viens pas à moi dans un esprit ennemi. Sauve ces richesses et moi. Je te supplie comme un dieu et je me mets à tes chers genoux. Dis- moi la vérité, afin que je la sache. Quelle est cette terre? Quels hommes l'habitent? Quel est ton peuple? Est-ce une belle île, ou est-ce la côte avancée dans la mer d'une terre fertile?
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Tu es insensé, ô étranger, ou tu viens de loin, puisque tu me demandes quelle est cette terre, car elle n'est point aussi méprisable, et beaucoup la connaissent, soit les peuples qui habitent du côté d'Eôs et de Hèlios, ou du côté de la nuit obscure. Certes, elle est âpre et non faite pour les chevaux; mais elle n'est point stérile, bien que petite. Elle possède beaucoup de froment et beaucoup de vignes, car la pluie et la rosée y abondent. Elle a de bons pâturages pour les chèvres et les vaches, et des forêts de toute sorte d'arbres, et elle est arrosée de sources qui ne tarissent point. C'est ainsi, étranger, que le nom d'Ithakè est parvenu jusqu'à Troiè qu'on dit si éloignée de la terre Akhaienne.
Elle parla ainsi, et le patient et divin Odysseus fut rempli de joie, se réjouissant de sa patrie que nommait Pallas Athènè, la fille de Zeus tempétueux. Et il lui dit en paroles ailées, mais en lui cachant la vérité, car il n'oubliait point son esprit rusé:
— J'avais entendu parler d'Ithakè dans la grande Krètè située au loin sur la mer. Maintenant je suis venu ici avec mes richesses, et j'en ai laissé autant à mes enfants. Je fuis, car j'ai tué le fils bien-aimé d'Idoméneus, Orsilokhos aux pieds rapides, qui, dans la grande Krètè, l'emportait sur tous les hommes par la rapidité de ses pieds. Et je le tuai parce qu'il voulait m'enlever ma part du butin, que j'avais rapportée de Troiè, et pour laquelle j'avais subi mille maux dans les combats des hommes ou en parcourant les mers. Car je ne servais point, pour plaire à son père, dans la plaine Troienne, et je commandais à d'autres guerriers que les siens. Et, dans les champs, m'étant mis en embuscade avec un de mes compagnons, je perçai de ma lance d'airain Orsilokhos qui venait à moi. Et comme la nuit noire couvrait tout l'Ouranos, aucun homme ne nous vit, et je lui arrachai l'âme sans témoin. Et quand je l'eus tué de l'airain aigu, je me rendis aussitôt dans une nef des illustres Phaiakiens, et je les priai de me recevoir, et je leur donnai une part de mes richesses. Je leur demandai de me porter à Pylos ou dans la divine Élis, où commandent les Épéiens; mais la force du vent les en éloigna malgré eux, car ils ne voulaient point me tromper. Et nous sommes venus ici à l'aventure, cette nuit; et nous sommes entrés dans le port; et, sans songer au repas, bien que manquant de forces, nous nous sommes tous couchés en sortant de la nef. Et le doux sommeil m'a saisi, tandis que j'étais fatigué. Et les Phaiakiens, ayant retiré mes richesses de leur nef creuse, les ont déposées sur le sable où j'étais moi-même couché. Puis ils sont partis pour la belle Sidôn et m'ont laissé plein de tristesse.
Il parla ainsi, et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs se mit à rire, et, le caressant de la main, elle prit la figure d'une femme belle et grande et habile aux travaux, et elle lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ô fourbe, menteur, subtil et insatiable de ruses qui te surpasserait en adresse, si ce n'est peut-être un dieu! Tu ne veux donc pas, même sur la terre de ta patrie, renoncer aux ruses et aux paroles trompeuses qui t'ont été chères dès ta naissance? Mais ne parlons pas ainsi. Nous connaissons tous deux ces ruses; et de même que tu l'emportes sur tous les hommes par la sagesse et l'éloquence, ainsi je me glorifie de l'emporter par là sur tous les dieux. N'as-tu donc point reconnu Pallas Athènè, fille de Zeus, moi qui t'assiste toujours dans tous tes travaux et qui te protège? moi qui t'ai rendu cher à tous les Phaiakiens? Viens donc, afin que je te conseille et que je t'aide à cacher les richesses que j'ai inspiré aux illustres Phaiakiens de te donner à ton retour dans tes demeures. Je te dirai les douleurs que tu es destiné à subir dans tes demeures bien construites. Subis-les par nécessité; ne confie à aucun homme ni à aucune femme tes courses et ton arrivée; mais supporte en silence tes maux nombreux et les outrages que te feront les hommes.
Et le subtil Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Il est difficile à un homme qui te rencontre de te reconnaître, ô déesse! même au plus sage; car tu prends toutes les figures. Certes, je sais que tu m'étais bienveillante, quand nous, les fils des Akhaiens, nous combattions devant Troiè; mais quand nous eûmes renversé la haute citadelle de Priamos, nous montâmes sur nos nefs, et un dieu dispersa les Akhaiens. Et, depuis, je ne t'ai point revue, fille de Zeus; et je n'ai point senti ta présence sur ma nef pour éloigner de moi le malheur; mais toujours, le coeur accablé dans ma poitrine, j'ai erré, jusqu'à ce que les dieux m'aient délivré de mes maux. Et tu m'as encouragé par tes paroles chez le riche peuple des Phaiakiens, et tu m'as conduit toi-même à leur ville. Maintenant je te supplie par ton père! Je ne pense point, en effet, être arrivé dans Ithakè, car je vois une terre étrangère, et je pense que tu me parles ainsi pour te jouer de moi et tromper mon esprit. Dis-moi donc sincèrement si je suis arrivé dans ma chère patrie.
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Tu as donc toujours cette pensée dans ta poitrine? Mais je ne puis permettre que tu sois malheureux, car tu es éloquent, intelligent et sage. Un autre homme, de retour après avoir tant erré, désirerait ardemment revoir sa femme et ses enfants dans ses demeures; mais toi, tu ne veux parler et apprendre qu'après avoir éprouvé ta femme qui est assise dans tes demeures, passant les jours et les nuits dans les gémissements et les larmes. Certes, je n'ai jamais craint ce qu'elle redoute, et je savais dans mon esprit que tu reviendrais, ayant perdu tous tes compagnons. Mais je ne pouvais m'opposer au frère de mon père, à Poseidaôn qui était irrité dans son coeur contre toi, parce que tu avais aveuglé son cher fils. Et, maintenant, je te montrerai la terre d'Ithakè, afin que tu croies. Ce port est celui de Phorkys, le Vieillard de la mer, et, à la pointe du port, voici l'olivier épais devant l'antre haut et obscur des nymphes sacrées qu'on nomme naïades. C'est cette caverne où tu sacrifiais aux nymphes de complètes hécatombes. Et voici le mont Nèritos couvert de forêts.
Ayant ainsi parlé, la déesse dissipa la nuée, et la terre apparut. Et le patient et divin Odysseus fut plein de joie, se réjouissant de sa patrie. Et il baisa la terre féconde, et, aussitôt, levant les mains, il supplia les Nymphes:
— Nymphes, naïades, filles de Zeus, je disais que je ne vous reverrais plus! Et, maintenant, je vous salue d'une voix joyeuse. Je vous offrirai des présents, comme autrefois, si la dévastatrice, fille de Zeus, me laisse vivre et fait grandir mon cher fils.
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Prends courage, et que ceci ne t'inquiète point; mais déposons aussitôt tes richesses au fond de l'antre divin, où elles seront en sûreté, et délibérons tous deux sur ce qu'il y a de mieux à faire.
Ayant ainsi parlé, la déesse entra dans la grotte obscure, cherchant un lieu secret; et Odysseus y porta aussitôt l'or et le dur airain, et les beaux vêtements que les Phaiakiens lui avaient donnés. Il les y déposa, et Pallas Athènè, fille de Zeus tempétueux, ferma l'entrée avec une pierre. Puis, tous deux, s'étant assis au pied de l'olivier sacré, méditèrent la perte des prétendants insolents. Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs parla la première:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, songe comment tu mettras la main sur les prétendants insolents qui commandent depuis trois ans dans ta maison, recherchant ta femme divine et lui faisant des présents. Elle attend toujours ton retour, gémissant dans son coeur, et elle donne de l'espoir et elle fait des promesses à chacun d'eux, et elle leur envoie des messagers; mais son esprit a d'autres pensées.
Et le subtil Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— O dieux! je devais donc, comme l'Atréide Agamemnôn, périr d'une mauvaise mort dans mes demeures, si tu ne m'eusses averti à temps, ô déesse! Mais dis-moi comment nous punirons ces hommes. Debout auprès de moi, souffle dans mon coeur une grande audace, comme au jour où nous avons renversé les grandes murailles de Troiè. Si tu restes, pleine d'ardeur, auprès de moi, ô Athènè aux yeux clairs, et si tu m'aides, ô vénérable déesse, je combattrai seul trois cents guerriers.
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Certes, je serai auprès de toi et je ne te perdrai pas de vue, quand nous accomplirons ces choses. Et j'espère que le large pavé sera souillé du sang et de la cervelle de plus d'un de ces prétendants qui mangent tes richesses. Je vais te rendre inconnu à tous les hommes. Je riderai ta belle peau sur tes membres courbés; je ferai tomber tes cheveux blonds de ta tête; je te couvrirai de haillons qui font qu'on se détourne de celui qui les porte; je ternirai tes yeux maintenant si beaux, et tu apparaîtras à tous les prétendants comme un misérable, ainsi qu'à ta femme et au fils que tu as laissés dans tes demeures. Va d'abord trouver le porcher qui garde tes porcs, car il te veut du bien, et il aime ton fils et la sage Pènélopéia. Tu le trouveras surveillant les porcs; et ceux-ci se nourrissent auprès de la roche du Corbeau et de la fontaine Aréthousè, mangeant le gland qui leur plait et buvant l'eau noire. Reste là, et interroge-le avec soin sur toute chose, jusqu'à ce que je revienne de Spartè aux belles femmes, où j'appellerai, ô Odysseus, ton cher fils Tèlémakhos qui est allé dans la grande Lakédaimôn, vers Ménélaos, pour s'informer de toi et apprendre si tu vis encore.
Et le subtil Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Pourquoi ne lui avoir rien dit, toi qui sais tout? Est-ce pour qu'il soit errant et subisse mille maux sur la mer indomptée, tandis que ceux-ci mangent ses richesses?
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Qu'il ne soit point une inquiétude pour toi. Je l'ai conduit là moi-même, afin qu'il se fasse une bonne renommée; mais il ne souffre aucune douleur, et il est assis, tranquille, dans les demeures de l'Atréide, où tout lui est abondamment offert. À la vérité, les jeunes prétendants lui tendent une embûche sur leur nef noire, désirant le tuer avant qu'il rentre dans la terre de sa patrie; mais je ne pense pas que cela soit, et je pense plutôt que la terre recevra auparavant plus d'un de ces prétendants qui mangent tes richesses.
En parlant ainsi, Athènè le toucha d'une baguette et elle dessécha sa belle peau sur ses membres courbés, et elle fit tomber ses blonds cheveux de sa tête. Elle chargea tout son corps de vieillesse; elle ternit ses yeux, si beaux auparavant; elle lui donna un vêtement en haillons, déchiré, sale et souillé de fumée; elle le couvrit ensuite de la grande peau nue d'un cerf rapide, et elle lui donna enfin un bâton et une besace misérable attachée par une courroie tordue.
Ils se séparèrent après s'être ainsi entendus, et Athènè se rendit dans la divine Lakédaimôn, auprès du fils d'Odysseus.
Et Odysseus s'éloigna du port, par un âpre sentier, à travers les bois et les hauteurs, vers le lieu où Athènè lui avait dit qu'il trouverait son divin porcher, qui prenait soin de ses biens plus que tous les serviteurs qu'il avait achetés, lui, le divin Odysseus.
Et il le trouva assis sous le portique, en un lieu découvert où il avait construit de belles et grandes étables autour desquelles on pouvait marcher. Et il les avait construites, pour ses porcs, de pierres superposées et entourées d'une haie épineuse, en l'absence du roi, sans l'aide de sa maîtresse et du vieux Laertès. Et il avait planté au dehors des pieux épais et nombreux, en coeur noir de chêne; et, dans l'intérieur, il avait fait douze parcs à porcs. Dans chacun étaient couchées cinquante femelles pleines; et les mâles couchaient dehors; et ceux-ci étaient beaucoup moins nombreux, car les divins prétendants les diminuaient en les mangeant, et le porcher leur envoyait toujours le plus gras et le meilleur de tous; et il n'y en avait plus que trois cent soixante. Quatre chiens, semblables à des bêtes fauves, et que le prince des porchers nourrissait, veillaient toujours sur les porcs.
Et celui-ci adaptait à ses pieds des sandales qu'il taillait dans la peau d'une vache coloriée. Et trois des autres porchers étaient dispersés, faisant paître leurs porcs; et le quatrième avait été envoyé par nécessité à la ville, avec un porc pour les prétendants orgueilleux, afin que ceux-ci, l'ayant tué, dévorassent sa chair.
Et aussitôt les chiens aboyeurs virent Odysseus, et ils accoururent en hurlant; mais Odysseus s'assit plein de ruse, et le bâton tomba de sa main. Alors il eût subi un indigne traitement auprès de l'étable qui était à lui; mais le porcher accourut promptement de ses pieds rapides; et le cuir lui tomba des mains, et, en criant, il chassa les chiens à coups de pierres, et il dit au roi:
— Ô vieillard, certes, ces chiens allaient te déchirer et me couvrir d'opprobre. Les dieux m'ont fait assez d'autres maux. Je reste ici, gémissant, et pleurant un roi divin, et je nourris ses porcs gras, pour que d'autres que lui les mangent; et peut-être souffre-t-il de la faim, errant parmi les peuples étrangers, s'il vit encore et s'il voit la lumière de Hèlios. Mais suis-moi, et entrons dans l'étable, ô vieillard, afin que, rassasié dans ton âme de nourriture et de vin, tu me dises d'où tu es et quels maux tu as subis.
Ayant ainsi parlé, le divin porcher le précéda dans l'étable, et, l'introduisant, il le fit asseoir sur des branches épaisses qu'il recouvrit de la peau d'une chèvre sauvage et velue. Et, s'étant couché sur cette peau grande et épaisse, Odysseus se réjouit d'être reçu ainsi, et il dit:
— Que Zeus, ô mon hôte, et les autres dieux immortels t'accordent ce que tu désires le plus, car tu me reçois avec bonté.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Etranger, il ne m'est point permis de mépriser même un hôte plus misérable encore, car les étrangers et les pauvres viennent de Zeus, et le présent modique que nous leur faisons lui plaît; car cela seul est au pouvoir d'esclaves toujours tremblants que commandent de jeunes rois. Certes, les dieux s'opposent au retour de celui qui m'aimait et qui m'eût donné un domaine aussi grand qu'un bon roi a coutume d'en donner à son serviteur qui a beaucoup travaillé pour lui et dont un dieu a fait fructifier le labeur; et, aussi, une demeure, une part de ses biens et une femme désirable. Ainsi mon travail a prospéré, et le roi m'eût grandement récompensé, s'il était devenu vieux ici; mais il a péri. Plût aux dieux que la race des Hélénè eût péri entièrement, puisqu'elle a rompu les genoux de tant de guerriers! car mon maître aussi, pour la cause d'Agamemnôn, est allé vers Ilios nourrice de chevaux, afin de combattre les Troiens.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il ceignit sa tunique, qu'il releva, et, allant vers les étables où était enfermé le troupeau de porcs, il prit deux jeunes pourceaux, les égorgea, alluma le feu, les coupa et les traversa de broches, et, les ayant fait rôtir, les offrit à Odysseus, tout chauds autour des broches. Puis, il les couvrit de farine blanche, mêla du vin doux dans une coupe grossière, et, s'asseyant devant Odysseus, il l'exhorta à manger et lui dit:
— Mange maintenant, ô étranger, cette nourriture destinée aux serviteurs, car les prétendants mangent les porcs gras, n'ayant aucune pudeur, ni aucune bonté. Mais les dieux heureux n'aiment pas les actions impies, et ils aiment au contraire la justice et les actions équitables. Même les ennemis barbares qui envahissent une terre étrangère, à qui Zeus accorde le butin, et qui reviennent vers leurs demeures avec des nefs pleines, sentent l'inquiétude et la crainte dans leurs âmes. Mais ceux-ci ont appris sans doute, ayant entendu la voix d'un dieu, la mort fatale d'Odysseus, car ils ne veulent point rechercher des noces légitimes, ni retourner chez eux; mais ils dévorent immodérément, et sans rien épargner, les biens du roi; et, toutes les nuits et tous les jours qui viennent de Zeus, ils sacrifient, non pas une seule victime, mais deux au moins. Et ils puisent et boivent le vin sans mesure. Certes, les richesses de mon maître étaient grandes. Aucun héros n'en avait autant, ni sur la noire terre ferme, ni dans Ithakè elle-même. Vingt hommes n'ont point tant de richesses. Je t'en ferai le compte: douze troupeaux de boeufs sur la terre ferme, autant de brebis, autant de porcs, autant de larges étables de chèvres. Le tout est surveillé par des pasteurs étrangers. Ici, à l'extrémité de l'île, onze grands troupeaux de chèvres paissent sous la garde de bons serviteurs; et chacun de ceux-ci mène tous les jours aux prétendants la meilleure des chèvres engraissées. Et moi, je garde ces porcs et je les protège, mais j'envoie aussi aux prétendants le meilleur et le plus gras.
Il parla ainsi, et Odysseus mangeait les chairs et buvait le vin en silence, méditant le malheur des prétendants. Après qu'il eut mangé et bu et satisfait son âme, Eumaios lui remit pleine de vin la coupe où il avait bu lui-même. Et Odysseus la reçut, et, joyeux dans son coeur, il dit à Eumaios ces paroles ailées:
— O ami, quel est cet homme qui t'a acheté de ses propres richesses, et qui, dis-tu, était si riche et si puissant? Tu dis aussi qu'il a péri pour la cause d'Agamemnôn? Dis-moi son nom, car je le connais peut-être. Zeus et les autres dieux immortels savent, en effet, si je viens vous annoncer que je l'ai vu, car j'ai beaucoup erré.
Et le chef des porchers lui répondit:
— Ô vieillard, aucun voyageur errant et apportant des nouvelles ne persuadera sa femme et son cher fils. Que de mendiants affamés mentent effrontément et ne veulent point dire la vérité! Chaque étranger qui vient parmi le peuple d'Ithakè va trouver ma maîtresse et lui fait des mensonges. Elle les reçoit avec bonté, les traite bien et les interroge sur chaque chose. Puis elle gémit, et les larmes tombent de ses paupières, comme c'est la coutume de la femme dont le mari est mort. Et toi, vieillard, tu inventerais aussitôt une histoire, afin qu'elle te donnât un manteau, une tunique, des vêtements. Mais déjà les chiens rapides et les oiseaux carnassiers ont arraché sa chair de ses os, et il a perdu l'âme; ou les poissons l'ont mangé dans la mer, et ses os gisent sur le rivage, couverts d'un monceau de sable. Il a péri ainsi, laissant à ses amis et à moi de grandes douleurs; car, dans quelque lieu que j'aille, je ne trouverai jamais un autre maître aussi bon, même quand j'irais dans la demeure de mon père et de ma mère, là où je suis né et où ceux-ci m'ont élevé. Et je ne les pleure point tant, et je ne désire point tant les revoir de mes yeux sur la terre de ma patrie, que je ne suis saisi du regret d'Odysseus absent. Et maintenant qu'il n'est point là, ô étranger, je le respecte en le nommant, car il m'aimait beaucoup et prenait soin de moi; c'est pourquoi je l'appelle mon frère aîné, bien qu'il soit absent au loin.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô ami, puisque tu nies mes paroles, et que tu affirmes qu'il ne reviendra pas, ton esprit est toujours incrédule. Cependant, je ne parle point au hasard, et je jure par serment qu'Odysseus reviendra. Qu'on me récompense de cette bonne nouvelle quand il sera rentré dans ses demeures. Je n'accepterai rien auparavant, malgré ma misère; mais, alors seulement, qu'on me donne des vêtements, un manteau et une tunique. Il m'est odieux, non moins que les portes d'Aidès, celui qui, poussé par la misère, parle faussement. Que Zeus, le premier des dieux, le sache! Et cette table hospitalière, et le foyer de l'irréprochable Odysseus où je me suis assis! Certes, toutes les choses que j'annonce s'accompliront. Odysseus arrivera ici dans cette même année, même à la fin de ce mois; même dans peu de jours il rentrera dans sa demeure et il punira chacun de ceux qui outragent sa femme et son illustre fils.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Ô vieillard, je ne te donnerai point cette récompense d'une bonne nouvelle, car jamais Odysseus ne reviendra vers sa demeure. Bois donc en repos; ne parlons plus de cela, et ne me rappelle point ces choses, car je suis triste dans mon coeur quand quelqu'un se souvient de mon glorieux maître. Mais j'accepte ton serment; qu'Odysseus revienne, comme je le désire, ainsi que Pènélopéia, le vieux Laertès et le divin Tèlémakhos. Maintenant, je gémis sur cet enfant, Tèlémakhos, qu'a engendré Odysseus, et que les dieux ont nourri comme une jeune plante. J'espérais que, parmi les hommes, il ne serait inférieur à son père bien-aimé, ni en sagesse, ni en beauté; mais quelqu'un d'entre les immortels, ou d'entre les hommes, a troublé son esprit calme, et il est allé vers la divine Pylos pour s'informer de son père, et les prétendants insolents lui tendent une embuscade au retour, afin que la race du divin Arkeisios périsse entièrement dans Ithakè. Mais laissons-le, soit qu'il périsse, soit qu'il échappe, et que le Kroniôn le couvre de sa main! Pour toi, vieillard, raconte-moi tes malheurs, et parle avec vérité, afin que je t'entende. Qui es- tu? quel est ton peuple? où sont tes parents et ta ville? sur quelle nef es-tu venu? comment des marins t'ont-ils mené à Ithakè? qui sont-ils? car je pense que tu n'es pas venu ici à pied?
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Je te dirai, en effet, ces choses avec vérité; mais, quand même cette nourriture et ton vin doux dureraient un long temps, quand même nous resterions ici, mangeant tranquillement, tandis que d'autres travaillent, il me serait facile, pendant toute une année, de te raconter les douleurs que j'ai subies par la volonté des dieux. Je me glorifie d'être né dans la vaste Krètè et d'être le fils d'un homme riche. Beaucoup d'autres fils lui étaient nés dans ses demeures, d'une femme légitime, et y avaient été élevés. Pour moi, c'est une mère achetée et concubine qui m'a enfanté; mais Kastôr Hylakide m'aima autant que ses enfants légitimes; et je me glorifie d'avoir été engendré par lui qui, autrefois, était honoré comme un dieu par les Krètois, à cause de ses domaines, de ses richesses et de ses fils illustres. Mais les kères de la mort l'emportèrent aux demeures d'Aidès, et ses fils magnanimes partagèrent ses biens et les tirèrent au sort. Et ils m'en donnèrent une très petite part avec sa maison.
Mais, par ma vertu, j'épousai une fille d'hommes très riches, car je n'étais ni insensé, ni lâche. Maintenant tout est flétri en moi, mais, cependant, tu peux juger en regardant le chaume; et, certes, j'ai subi des maux cruels. Arès et Athènè m'avaient donné l'audace et l'intrépidité, et quand, méditant la perte des ennemis, je choisissais des hommes braves pour une embuscade, jamais, en mon coeur courageux, je n'avais la mort devant les yeux; mais, courant aux premiers rangs, je tuais de ma lance celui des guerriers ennemis qui me le cédait en agilité. Tel j'étais dans la guerre; mais les travaux et les soins de la famille, par lesquels on élève les chers enfants, ne me plaisaient point; et j'aimais seulement les nefs armées d'avirons, les combats, les traits aigus et les flèches; et ces armes cruelles qui sont horribles aux autres hommes me plaisaient, car un dieu me les présentait toujours à l'esprit. Ainsi chaque homme se réjouit de choses différentes. En effet, avant que les fils des Akhaiens eussent mis le pied devant Troiè, j'avais neuf fois commandé des guerriers et des nefs rapides contre des peuples étrangers, et tout m'avait réussi. Je choisissais d'abord ma part légitime du butin, et je recevais ensuite beaucoup de dons; et ma maison s'accroissait, et j'étais craint et respecté parmi les Krètois.
Mais quand l'irréprochable Zeus eut décidé cette odieuse expédition qui devait rompre les genoux à tant de héros, alors les peuples nous ordonnèrent, à moi et à l'illustre Idoméneus, de conduire nos nefs à Ilios, et nous ne pûmes nous y refuser à cause des rumeurs menaçantes du peuple. Là, nous, fils des Akhaiens, nous combattîmes pendant neuf années, et, la dixième, ayant saccagé la ville de Priamos, nous revînmes avec nos nefs vers nos demeures; mais un dieu dispersa les Akhaiens. Mais à moi, malheureux, le sage Zeus imposa d'autres maux. Je restai un seul mois dans ma demeure, me réjouissant de mes enfants, de ma femme et de mes richesses; et mon coeur me poussa ensuite à naviguer vers l'Aigyptiè sur mes nefs bien construites, avec de divins compagnons. Et je préparai neuf nefs, et aussitôt les équipages en furent réunis. Pendant six jours mes chers compagnons prirent de joyeux repas, car j'offris beaucoup de sacrifices aux dieux, et, en même temps, des mets à mes hommes. Le septième jour, étant partis de la grande Krètè, nous naviguâmes aisément au souffle propice de Boréas, comme au courant d'un fleuve; et aucune de mes nefs n'avait souffert mais, en repos et sains et saufs, nous restâmes assis et le vent et les pilotes conduisaient les nefs; et, le cinquième jour, nous parvînmes au beau fleuve Aigyptos. Et j'arrêtai mes nefs recourbées dans le fleuve Aigyptos. Là, j'ordonnai à mes chers compagnons de rester auprès des nefs pour les garder, et j'envoyai des éclaireurs pour aller à la découverte. Mais ceux-ci, égarés par leur audace et confiants dans leurs forces, dévastèrent aussitôt les beaux champs des hommes Aigyptiens, entraînant les femmes et les petits enfants et tuant les hommes. Et aussitôt le tumulte arriva jusqu'à la ville. Et les habitants, entendant ces clameurs, accoururent au lever d'Éôs, et toute la plaine se remplit de piétons et de cavaliers et de l'éclat de l'airain. Et le foudroyant Zeus mit mes compagnons en fuite, et aucun d'eux ne soutint l'attaque, et la mort les environna de toutes parts. Là, un grand nombre des nôtres fut tué par l'airain aigu, et les autres furent emmenés vivants pour être esclaves. Mais Zeus lui-même mit cette résolution dans mon esprit. Plût aux dieux que j'eusse dû mourir en Aigyptiè et subir alors ma destinée, car d'autres malheurs m'attendaient. Ayant aussitôt retiré mon casque de ma tête et mon bouclier de mes épaules, et jeté ma lance, je courus aux chevaux du roi, et j'embrassai ses genoux, et il eut pitié de moi, et il me sauva; et, m'ayant fait monter dans son char, il m'emmena dans ses demeures. Certes, ses guerriers m'entouraient, voulant me tuer de leurs lances de frêne, car ils étaient très irrités; mais il m'arracha à eux, craignant la colère de Zeus hospitalier qui châtie surtout les mauvaises actions. Je restai là sept ans, et j'amassai beaucoup de richesses parmi les Aigyptiens, car tous me firent des présents.
Mais vers la huitième année, arriva un homme de la Phoinikiè, plein de mensonges, et qui avait déjà causé beaucoup de maux aux hommes. Et il me persuada par ses mensonges d'aller en Phoinikiè, où étaient sa demeure et ses biens. Et je restai là une année entière auprès de lui. Et quand les jours et les mois se furent écoulés, et que, l'année étant accomplie, les saisons revinrent, il me fit monter sur une nef, sous prétexte d'aller avec lui conduire un chargement en Libyè, mais pour me vendre et retirer de moi un grand prix. Et je le suivis, le soupçonnant, mais contraint. Et la nef, poussée par le souffle propice de Boréas, approchait de la Krètè, quand Zeus médita notre ruine. Et déjà nous avions laissé la Krètè, et rien n'apparaissait plus que l'Ouranos et la mer. Alors, le Kroniôn suspendit une nuée noire sur la nef creuse, et sous cette nuée toute la mer devint noire aussi. Et Zeus tonna, et il lança la foudre sur la nef, qui se renversa, frappée par la foudre de Zeus, et se remplit de fumée. Et tous les hommes furent précipités de la nef, et ils étaient emportés, comme des oiseaux de mer, par les flots, autour de la nef noire, et un dieu leur refusa le retour. Alors Zeus me mit entre les mains le long mât de la nef à proue bleue, afin que je pusse fuir la mort; et l'ayant embrassé, je fus la proie des vents furieux. Et je fus emporté pendant neuf jours, et, dans la dixième nuit noire, une grande lame me jeta sur la terre des Thesprôtes.
Alors le héros Pheidôn, le roi des Thesprôtes, m'accueillit généreusement; car je rencontrai d'abord son cher fils, et celui- ci me conduisit, accablé de froid et de fatigue, et, me soutenant de la main, m'emmena dans les demeures de son père. Et celui-ci me donna des vêtements, un manteau et une tunique. Là, j'entendis parler d'Odysseus. Pheidôn me dit que, lui ayant donné l'hospitalité, il l'avait traité en ami, comme il retournait dans la terre de sa patrie. Et il me montra les richesses qu'avait réunies Odysseus, de l'airain, de l'or et du fer très difficile à travailler, le tout assez abondant pour nourrir jusqu'à sa dixième génération. Et tous ces trésors étaient déposés dans les demeures du roi. Et celui-ci me disait qu'Odysseus était allé à Dôdônè pour apprendre du grand Chêne la volonté de Zeus, et pour savoir comment, depuis longtemps absent, il rentrerait dans la terre d'Ithakè, soit ouvertement, soit en secret. Et Pheidôn me jura, en faisant des libations dans sa demeure, que la nef et les hommes étaient prêts qui devaient conduire Odysseus dans la chère terre de sa patrie. Mais il me renvoya d'abord, profitant d'une nef des Thesprôtes qui allait à Doulikhios. Et il ordonna de me mener au roi Akastos; mais ces hommes prirent une résolution funeste pour moi, afin, sans doute, que je subisse toutes les misères.
Quand la nef fut éloignée de terre, ils songèrent aussitôt à me réduire en servitude; et, m'arrachant mon vêtement, mon manteau et ma tunique, ils jetèrent sur moi ce misérable haillon et cette tunique déchirée, tels que tu les vois. Vers le soir ils parvinrent aux champs de la riante Ithakè, et ils me lièrent aux bancs de la nef avec une corde bien tordue; puis ils descendirent sur le rivage de la mer pour prendre leur repas. Mais les dieux eux-mêmes détachèrent aisément mes liens. Alors, enveloppant ma tête de ce haillon, je descendis à la mer par le gouvernail, et pressant l'eau de ma poitrine et nageant des deux mains, j'abordai très loin d'eux. Et je montai sur la côte, là où croissait un bois de chênes touffus, et je me couchai contre terre, et ils me cherchaient en gémissant; mais, ne me voyant point, ils jugèrent qu'il était mieux de ne plus me chercher; car les dieux m'avaient aisément caché d'eux, et ils m'ont conduit à l'étable d'un homme excellent, puisque ma destinée est de vivre encore.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Etranger très malheureux, certes, tu as fortement ému mon coeur en racontant les misères que tu as subies et tes courses errantes; mais, en parlant d'Odysseus, je pense que tu n'as rien dit de sage, et tu ne me persuaderas point. Comment un homme tel que toi peut-il mentir aussi effrontément? Je sais trop que penser du retour de mon maître. Certes, il est très odieux à tous les dieux, puisqu'ils ne l'ont point dompté par la main des Troiens, ou qu'ils ne lui ont point permis, après la guerre, de mourir entre les bras de ses amis. Car tous les Akhaiens lui eussent élevé un tombeau, et une grande gloire eût été accordée à son fils dans l'avenir. Et maintenant les Harpyes l'ont déchiré sans gloire, et moi, séparé de tous, je reste auprès de mes porcs; et je ne vais point à la ville, si ce n'est quand la sage Pènélopéia m'ordonne d'y aller, quand elle a reçu quelque nouvelle. Et, alors, tous s'empressent de m'interroger, ceux qui s'attristent de la longue absence de leur roi et ceux qui se réjouissent de dévorer impunément ses richesses. Mais il ne m'est point agréable de demander ou de répondre depuis qu'un Aitôlien m'a trompé par ses paroles. Ayant tué un homme, il avait erré en beaucoup de pays, et il vint dans ma demeure, et je le reçus avec amitié. Il me dit qu'il avait vu, parmi les Krètois, auprès d'Idoméneus, mon maître réparant ses nefs que les tempêtes avaient brisées. Et il me dit qu'Odysseus allait revenir, soit cet été, soit cet automne, ramenant de nombreuses richesses avec ses divins compagnons. Et toi, vieillard, qui as subi tant de maux, et que la destinée a conduit vers moi, ne cherche point à me plaire par des mensonges, car je ne t'honorerai, ni ne t'aimerai pour cela, mais par respect pour Zeus hospitalier et par compassion pour toi.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Certes, tu as dans ta poitrine un esprit incrédule, puisque ayant juré par serment, je ne t'ai point persuadé. Mais faisons un pacte, et que les dieux qui habitent l'Olympos soient témoins. Si ton roi revient dans cette demeure, donne-moi des vêtements, un manteau et une tunique, et fais-moi conduire à Doulikhios, ainsi que je le désire; mais si ton roi ne revient pas comme je te le dis, ordonne à tes serviteurs de me jeter du haut d'un grand rocher, afin que, désormais, un mendiant craigne de mentir.
Et le divin porcher lui répondit:
— Étranger, je perdrais ainsi ma bonne renommée et ma vertu parmi les hommes, maintenant et à jamais, moi qui t'ai conduit dans mon étable et qui t'ai offert les dons de l'hospitalité, si je te tuais et si je t'arrachais ta chère âme. Comment supplierais-je ensuite le Kroniôn Zeus? Mais voici l'heure du repas, et mes compagnons vont arriver promptement, afin que nous préparions un bon repas dans l'étable.
Tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, les porcs et les porchers arrivèrent. Et ils enfermèrent les porcs, comme de coutume, pour la nuit, et une immense rumeur s'éleva du milieu des animaux qui allaient à l'enclos. Puis le divin porcher dit à ses compagnons:
— Amenez-moi un porc excellent, afin que je le tue pour cet hôte qui vient de loin, et nous nous en délecterons aussi, nous qui souffrons beaucoup, et qui surveillons les porcs aux dents blanches, tandis que d'autres mangent impunément le fruit de notre travail.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il fendit du bois avec l'airain tranchant. Et les porchers amenèrent un porc très gras ayant cinq ans. Et ils l'étendirent devant le foyer. Mais Eumaios n'oublia point les immortels, car il n'avait que de bonnes pensées; et il jeta d'abord dans le feu les soies de la tête du porc aux dents blanches, et il pria tous les dieux, afin que le subtil Odysseus revint dans ses demeures. Puis, levant les bras, il frappa la victime d'un morceau de chêne qu'il avait réservé, et la vie abandonna le porc. Et les porchers l'égorgèrent, le brûlèrent et le coupèrent par morceaux. Et Eumaios, retirant les entrailles saignantes, qu'il recouvrit de la graisse prise au corps, les jeta dans le feu après les avoir saupoudrées de fleur de farine d'orge. Et les porchers, divisant le reste, traversèrent les viandes de broches, les firent rôtir avec soin et les retirèrent du feu. Puis ils les déposèrent sur des disques. Eumaios se leva, faisant les parts, car il avait des pensées équitables; et il fit en tout sept parts. Il en consacra une aux nymphes et à Hermès, fils de Maiè, et il distribua les autres à chacun; mais il honora Odysseus du dos entier du porc aux dents blanches. Et le héros, le subtil Odysseus, s'en glorifia, et dit à Eumaios:
— Plaise aux dieux, Eumaios, que tu sois toujours cher au père Zeus, puisque, tel que je suis, tu m'as honoré de cette part excellente.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Mange heureusement, mon hôte, et délecte-toi de ces mets tels qu'ils sont. Un dieu nous les a donnés et nous laissera en jouir, s'il le veut; car il peut tout.
Il parla ainsi, et il offrit les prémices aux dieux éternels. Puis, ayant fait des libations avec du vin rouge, il mit une coupe entre les mains d'Odysseus destructeur des citadelles. Et celui-ci s'assit devant le dos du porc; et Mésaulios, que le chef des porchers avait acheté en l'absence de son maître, et sans l'aide de sa maîtresse et du vieux Laertès, distribua les parts. Il l'avait acheté de ses propres richesses à des Taphiens.
Et tous étendirent les mains vers les mets placés devant eux. Et après qu'ils eurent assouvi le besoin de boire et de manger, Mésaulios enleva le pain, et tous, rassasiés de nourriture, allèrent à leurs lits.
Mais la nuit vint, mauvaise et noire; et Zeus plut toute la nuit, et le grand Zéphyros soufflait chargé d'eau. Alors Odysseus parla ainsi, pour éprouver le porcher qui prenait tant de soins de lui, afin de voir si, retirant son propre manteau, il le lui donnerait, ou s'il avertirait un de ses compagnons:
— Écoutez-moi maintenant, toi, Eumaios, et vous, ses compagnons, afin que je vous parle en me glorifiant, car le vin insensé m'y pousse, lui qui excite le plus sage à chanter, à rire, à danser, et à prononcer des paroles qu'il eût été mieux de ne pas dire; mais dès que j'ai commencé à être bavard, je ne puis rien cacher. Plût aux dieux que je fusse jeune et que ma force fût grande, comme au jour où nous tendîmes une embuscade sous Troiè. Les chefs étaient Odysseus et l'Atréide Ménélaos, et je commandais avec eux, car ils m'avaient choisi eux-mêmes. Quand nous fûmes arrivés à la ville, sous la haute muraille, nous nous couchâmes avec nos armes, dans un marais, au milieu de roseaux et de broussailles épaisses. La nuit vint, mauvaise, et le souffle de Boréas était glacé. Puis la neige tomba, froide, et le givre couvrait nos boucliers. Et tous avaient leurs manteaux et leurs tuniques; et ils dormaient tranquilles, couvrant leurs épaules de leurs boucliers. Pour moi, j'avais laissé mon manteau à mes compagnons comme un insensé; mais je n'avais point pensé qu'il dût faire un si grand froid, et je n'avais que mon bouclier et une tunique brillante. Quand vint la dernière partie de la nuit, à l'heure où les astres s'inclinent, ayant touché du coude Odysseus, qui était auprès de moi, je lui dis ces paroles qu'il comprit aussitôt: — Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, je ne vivrai pas longtemps et ce froid me tuera, car je n'ai point de manteau et un daimôn m'a trompé en me persuadant de ne prendre que ma seule tunique; et maintenant il n'y a plus aucun remède.' Je parlai ainsi, et il médita aussitôt un projet dans son esprit, aussi prompt qu'il l'était toujours pour délibérer ou pour combattre. Et il me dit à voix basse: — Tais-toi maintenant, de peur qu'un autre parmi les Akhaiens t'entende.' Il parla ainsi, et, appuyé sur le coude, il dit: — Écoutez-moi, amis. Un songe divin m'a réveillé. Nous sommes loin des nefs; mais qu'un de nous aille prévenir le prince des peuples, l'Atréide Agamemnôn, afin qu'il ordonne à un plus grand nombre de sortir des nefs et de venir ici.' Il parla ainsi, et aussitôt Thoas Andraimonide se leva, jeta son manteau pourpré et courut vers les nefs, et je me couchai oiseusement dans son manteau, jusqu'à la clarté d'Eôs au thrône d'or. plût aux Dieux que je fusse aussi jeune et que ma force fût aussi grande! un des porchers, dans ces étables, me donnerait un manteau, par amitié et par respect pour un homme brave. Mais maintenant, je suis méprisé, à cause des misérables haillons qui me couvrent le corps.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Ô vieillard, tu as raconté une histoire irréprochable, et tu n'auras point dit en vain une parole excellente. C'est pourquoi tu ne manqueras ni d'un manteau, ni d'aucune chose qui convienne à un suppliant malheureux venu de loin; mais, au matin, tu reprendras tes haillons, car ici nous n'avons pas beaucoup de manteaux, ni de tuniques de rechange, et chaque homme n'en a qu'une. Quand le cher fils d'Odysseus sera revenu, il te donnera lui-même des vêtements, un manteau et une tunique, et il te fera conduire où ton coeur désire aller.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il se leva, approcha le feu du lit de peaux de chèvres et de brebis où Odysseus se coucha, et il jeta sur lui un grand et épais manteau de rechange et dont il se couvrait quand les mauvais temps survenaient. Et Odysseus se coucha, et, auprès de lui, les jeunes porchers s'endormirent; mais il ne plut point à Eumaios de reposer dans son lit loin de ses porcs, et il sortit, armé. Et Odysseus se réjouissait qu'il prît tant de soin de ses biens pendant son absence. Et, d'abord, Eumaios mit une épée aiguë autour de ses robustes épaules; puis, il se couvrit d'un épais manteau qui garantissait du vent: et il prit aussi la peau d'une grande chèvre, et il saisit une lance aiguë pour se défendre des chiens et des hommes; et il alla dormir où dormaient ses porcs, sous une pierre creuse, à l'abri de Boréas.
Et Pallas Athènè se rendit dans la grande Lakédaimôn, vers l'illustre fils du magnanime Odysseus, afin de l'avertir et de l'exciter au retour. Et elle trouva Tèlémakhos et l'illustre fils de Nestôr dormant sous le portique de la demeure de l'illustre Ménélaos. Et le Nestoride dormait paisiblement; mais le doux sommeil ne saisissait point Tèlémakhos, et il songeait à son père, dans son esprit, pendant la nuit solitaire. Et Athènè aux yeux clairs, se tenant près de lui, parla ainsi:
— Tèlémakhos, il ne serait pas bien de rester plus longtemps loin de ta demeure et de tes richesses laissées en proie à des hommes insolents qui dévoreront et se partageront tes biens; car tu aurais fait un voyage inutile. Excite donc très promptement l'illustre Ménélaos à te renvoyer, afin que tu retrouves ton irréprochable mère dans tes demeures. Déjà son père et ses frères lui ordonnent d'épouser Eurymakhos, car il l'emporte sur tous les prétendants par les présents qu'il offre et la plus riche dot qu'il promet. Prends garde que, contre son gré, elle emporte ces richesses de ta demeure. Tu sais, en effet, quelle est l'âme d'une femme; elle veut toujours enrichir la maison de celui qu'elle épouse. Elle ne se souvient plus de ses premiers enfants ni de son premier mari mort, et elle n'y songe plus. Quand tu seras de retour, confie donc, jusqu'à ce que les dieux t'aient donné une femme vénérable, toutes tes richesses à la meilleure de tes servantes. Mais je te dirai autre chose. Garde mes paroles dans ton esprit. Les plus braves des prétendants te tendent une embuscade dans le détroit d'Ithakè et de la stérile Samos, désirant te tuer avant que tu rentres dans ta patrie; mais je ne pense pas qu'ils le fassent, et, auparavant, la terre enfermera plus d'un de ces prétendants qui mangent tes biens. Conduis ta nef bien construite loin des îles, et navigue la nuit. Celui des immortels qui veille sur toi t'enverra un vent favorable. Et dès que tu seras arrivé au rivage d'Ithakè, envoie la nef et tous tes compagnons à la ville, et va d'abord chez le porcher qui garde tes porcs et qui t'aime. Dors chez lui, et envoie-le à la ville annoncer à l'irréprochable Pènélopéia que tu la salues et que tu reviens de Pylos.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle remonta dans le haut Olympos. Et Tèlémakhos éveilla le Nestoride de son doux sommeil en le poussant du pied, et il lui dit:
— Lève-toi, Nestoride Peisistratos, et lie au char les chevaux au sabot massif afin que nous partions.
Et le Nestoride Peisistratos lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, nous ne pouvons, quelque hâte que nous ayons, partir dans la nuit ténébreuse. Bientôt Eôs paraîtra. Attendons au matin et jusqu'à ce que le héros Atréide Ménélaos illustre par sa lance ait placé ses présents dans le char et t'ait renvoyé avec des paroles amies. Un hôte se souvient toujours d'un homme aussi hospitalier qui l'a reçu avec amitié.
Il parla ainsi, et aussitôt Éôs s'assit sur son thrône d'or, et le brave Ménélaos s'approcha d'eux, ayant quitté le lit où était Hélénè aux beaux cheveux. Et dès que le cher fils du divin Odysseus l'eut reconnu, il se hâta de se vêtir de sa tunique brillante, et, jetant un grand manteau sur ses épaules, il sortit du portique, et dit à Ménélaos:
— Divin Atréide Ménélaos, prince des peuples, renvoie-moi dès maintenant dans la chère terre de la patrie, car voici que je désire en mon âme revoir ma demeure.
Et le brave Ménélaos lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, je ne te retiendrai pas plus longtemps, puisque tu désires t'en retourner. Je m'irrite également contre un homme qui aime ses hôtes outre mesure ou qui les hait. Une conduite convenable est la meilleure. Il est mal de renvoyer un hôte qui veut rester, ou de retenir celui qui veut partir; mais il faut le traiter avec amitié s'il veut rester, ou le renvoyer s'il veut partir. Reste cependant jusqu'à ce que j'aie placé sur ton char de beaux présents que tu verras de tes yeux, et je dirai aux servantes de préparer un repas abondant dans mes demeures à l'aide des mets qui s'y trouvent. Il est honorable, glorieux et utile de parcourir une grande étendue de pays après avoir mangé. Si tu veux parcourir Hellas et Argos, je mettrai mes chevaux sous le joug et je te conduirai vers les villes des hommes, et aucun d'eux ne nous renverra outrageusement, mais chacun te donnera quelque chose, ou un trépied d'airain, ou un bassin, ou deux mulets, ou une coupe d'or.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Divin Atréide Ménélaos, prince des peuples, je veux rentrer dans nos demeures, car je n'ai laissé derrière moi aucun gardien de mes richesses, et je crains, ou de périr en cherchant mon divin père, ou, loin de mes demeures, de perdre mes richesses.
Et le brave Ménélaos, l'ayant entendu, ordonna aussitôt à sa femme et à ses servantes de préparer dans les demeures un repas abondant, à l'aide des mets qui s'y trouvaient. Et alors le Boèthoide Etéônteus, qui sortait de son lit et qui n'habitait pas loin du roi, arriva près de lui. Et le brave Ménélaos lui ordonna d'allumer du feu et de faire rôtir les viandes. Et le Boèthoide obéit dès qu'il eut entendu. Et Ménélaos rentra dans sa chambre nuptiale parfumée, et Hélénè et Mégapenthès allaient avec lui. Quand ils furent arrivés là où les choses précieuses étaient enfermées, l'Atréide prit une coupe ronde, et il ordonna à son fils Mégapenthès d'emporter un kratère d'argent. Et Hélénè s'arrêta devant un coffre où étaient enfermés les vêtements aux couleurs variées qu'elle avait travaillés elle-même. Et Hélénè, la divine femme, prit un péplos, le plus beau de tous par ses couleurs diverses, et le plus grand, et qui resplendissait comme une étoile; et il était placé sous tous les autres. Et ils retournèrent par les demeures jusqu'à ce qu'ils fussent arrivés auprès de Tèlémakhos. Et le brave Ménélaos lui dit:
— Tèlémakhos, que Zeus, le puissant mari de Hèrè, accomplisse le retour que tu désires dans ton âme! De tous mes trésors qui sont enfermés dans ma demeure je te donnerai le plus beau et le plus précieux, ce kratère bien travaillé, d'argent massif, et dont les bords sont enrichis d'or. C'est l'ouvrage de Hèphaistos, et l'illustre héros, roi des Sidônes, me l'offrit, quand il me reçut dans sa demeure, à mon retour; et, moi, je veux te l'offrir.
Ayant ainsi parlé, le héros Atréide lui mit la coupe ronde entre les mains; et le robuste Mégapenthès posa devant lui le splendide kratère d'argent, et Hélénè, tenant le péplos à la main, s'approcha et lui dit:
— Et moi aussi, cher enfant, je te ferai ce présent, ouvrage des mains de Hélénè, afin que tu le donnes à la femme bien-aimée que tu épouseras. Jusque-là, qu'il reste auprès de ta chère mère. En quittant notre demeure pour la terre de ta patrie, réjouis-toi de mon souvenir.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle lui mit le péplos entre les mains, et il le reçut avec joie. Et le héros Peisistratros plaça les présents dans une corbeille, et il les admirait dans son âme. Puis, le blond Ménélaos les conduisit dans les demeures où ils s'assirent sur des sièges et sur des thrônes. Et une servante versa, d'une belle aiguière d'or dans un bassin d'argent, de l'eau pour laver leurs mains; et, devant eux, elle dressa la table polie. Et l'irréprochable intendante, pleine de grâce pour tous, couvrit la table de pain et de mets nombreux; et le Boèthoide coupait les viandes et distribuait les parts, et le fils de l'illustre Ménélaos versait le vin. Et tous étendirent les mains vers les mets placés devant eux.
Après qu'ils eurent assouvi la faim et la soif, Télémakhos et l'illustre fils de Nestôr, ayant mis les chevaux sous le joug, montèrent sur le beau char et sortirent du vestibule et du portique sonore. Et le blond Ménélaos Atréide allait avec eux, portant à la main une coupe d'or pleine de vin doux, afin de faire une libation avant le départ. Et, se tenant devant les chevaux, il parla ainsi:
— Salut, ô jeunes hommes! Portez mon salut au prince des peuples Nestôr, qui était aussi doux qu'un père pour moi, quand les fils des Akhaiens combattaient devant Troiè.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ô divin, nous répéterons toutes tes paroles à Nestôr. Plaise aux dieux que, de retour dans Ithakè et dans la demeure d'Odysseus, je puisse dire avec quelle amitié tu m'as reçu, toi dont j'emporte les beaux et nombreux présents.
Et tandis qu'il parlait ainsi, un aigle s'envola à sa droite, portant dans ses serres une grande oie blanche domestique. Les hommes et les femmes le poursuivaient avec des cris; et l'aigle, s'approchant, passa à la droite des chevaux. Et tous, l'ayant vu, se réjouirent dans leurs âmes; et le Nestoride Peisistratos dit le premier:
— Décide, divin Ménélaos, prince des peuples, si un dieu nous envoie ce signe, ou à toi.
Il parla ainsi, et Ménélaos cher à Arès songeait comment il répondrait sagement; mais Hélénè au large péplos le devança et dit:
— Écoutez-moi, et je prophétiserai ainsi que les immortels me l'inspirent, et je pense que ceci s'accomplira. De même que l'aigle, descendu de la montagne où est sa race et où sont ses petits, a enlevé l'oie dans les demeures, ainsi Odysseus, après avoir beaucoup souffert et beaucoup erré, reviendra dans sa maison et se vengera. Peut-être déjà est-il dans sa demeure, apportant la mort aux prétendants.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Puisse Zeus, le tonnant mari de Hèrè, le vouloir ainsi, et, désormais, je t'adresserai des prières comme à une déesse.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il fouetta les chevaux, et ceux-ci s'élancèrent rapidement par la ville et la plaine. Et, ce jour entier, ils coururent tous deux sous le joug. Et Hèlios tomba, et tous les chemins devinrent sombres.
Et ils arrivèrent à Phèra, dans la demeure de Diokleus, fils d'Orsilokhos que l'Alphéios avait engendré. Et ils y dormirent la nuit, car il leur offrit l'hospitalité. Mais quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, ils attelèrent leurs chevaux, et, montant sur leur beau char, ils sortirent du vestibule et du portique sonore. Et ils excitèrent les chevaux du fouet, et ceux- ci couraient avec ardeur. Et ils parvinrent bientôt à la haute ville de Pylos. Alors Tèlémakhos dit au fils de Nestôr:
— Nestoride, comment accompliras-tu ce que tu m'as promis? Nous nous glorifions d'être hôtes à jamais, à cause de l'amitié de nos pères, de notre âge qui est le même, et de ce voyage qui nous unira plus encore. Ô divin, ne me conduis pas plus loin que ma nef, mais laisse-moi ici, de peur que le vieillard me retienne malgré moi dans sa demeure, désirant m'honorer; car il est nécessaire que je parte très promptement.
Il parla ainsi, et le Nestoride délibéra dans son esprit comment il accomplirait convenablement sa promesse. Et, en délibérant, ceci lui sembla la meilleure résolution. Il tourna les chevaux du côté de la nef rapide et du rivage de la mer. Et il déposa les présents splendides sur la poupe de la nef, les vêtements et l'or que Ménélaos avait donnés, et il dit à Tèlémakhos ces paroles ailées:
— Maintenant, monte à la hâte et presse tous tes compagnons, avant que je rentre à la maison et que j'avertisse le vieillard. Car je sais dans mon esprit et dans mon coeur quelle est sa grande âme. Il ne te renverrait pas, et, lui-même, il viendrait ici te chercher, ne voulant pas que tu partes les mains vides. Et, certes, il sera très irrité.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il poussa les chevaux aux belles crinières vers la ville des Pyliens, et il parvint rapidement à sa demeure.
Et aussitôt Tèlémakhos excita ses compagnons:
— Compagnons, préparez les agrès de la nef noire, montons-y et faisons notre route.
Il parla ainsi, et, dès qu'ils l'eurent entendu, ils montèrent sur la nef et s'assirent sur les bancs. Et, tandis qu'ils se préparaient, il suppliait Athènè à l'extrémité de la nef. Et voici qu'un étranger survint, qui, ayant tué un homme, fuyait Argos; et c'était un divinateur de la race de Mélampous. Et celui-ci habitait autrefois Pylos nourrice de brebis, et il était riche parmi les Pyliens, et il possédait de belles demeures; mais il s'enfuit loin de sa patrie vers un autre peuple, par crainte du magnanime Nèleus, le plus illustre des vivants, qui lui avait retenu de force ses nombreuses richesses pendant une année, tandis que lui-même était chargé de liens et subissait de nouvelles douleurs dans la demeure de Phylas; car il avait outragé Iphiklès, à cause de la fille de Nèleus, poussé par la cruelle déesse Érinnys. Mais il évita la mort, ayant chassé les boeufs mugissants de Phylakè à Pylos et s'étant vengé de l'outrage du divin Nèleus; et il conduisit vers son frère la jeune fille qu'il avait épousée, et sa destinée fut d'habiter parmi les Argiens qu'il commanda. Là, il s'unit à sa femme et bâtit une haute demeure.
Et il engendra deux fils robustes, Antiphatès et Mantios. Antiphatès engendra le magnanime Oikleus, et Oikleus engendra Amphiaraos, sauveur du peuple, que Zeus tempétueux et Apollon aimèrent au-dessus de tous. Mais il ne parvint pas au seuil de la vieillesse, et il périt à Thèbè, trahi par sa femme que des présents avaient séduite. Et deux fils naquirent de lui, Alkmaôn et Amphilokhos. Et Mantios engendra Polypheideus et Klitos. Mais Éôs au thrône d'or enleva Klitos à cause de sa beauté et le mit parmi les immortels. Et, quand Amphiaraos fut mort, Apollon rendit le magnanime Polypheideus le plus habile des divinateurs. Et celui-ci, irrité contre son père, se retira dans la Hypérèsiè, où il habita, prophétisant pour tous les hommes. Et ce fut son fils qui survint, et il se nommait Théoklyménos. Et, s'arrêtant auprès de Tèlémakhos, qui priait et faisait des libations à l'extrémité de la nef noire, il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ô ami, puisque je te trouve faisant des libations en ce lieu, je te supplie par ces libations, par le dieu invoqué, par ta propre tête et par tes compagnons, dis-moi la vérité et ne me cache rien. Qui es-tu? D'où viens-tu? Où est ta ville? Où sont tes parents?
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Etranger, je te dirai la vérité. Ma famille est d'Ithakè et mon père est Odysseus, s'il vit encore; mais déjà sans doute il a péri d'une mort lamentable. Je suis venu ici, avec mes compagnons et ma nef noire, pour m'informer de mon père depuis longtemps absent.
Et le divin Théoklyménos lui répondit:
— Moi, je fuis loin de ma patrie, ayant tué un homme. Ses frères et ses compagnons nombreux habitent Argos nourrice de chevaux et commandent aux Akhaiens. Je fuis leur vengeance et la kèr noire, puisque ma destinée est d'errer parmi les hommes. Laisse-moi monter sur ta nef, puisque je viens en suppliant, de peur qu'ils me tuent, car je pense qu'ils me poursuivent.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Certes, je ne te chasserai point de ma nef égale. Suis-moi; nous t'accueillerons avec amitié et de notre mieux.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il prit la lance d'airain de Théoklyménos et il la déposa sur le pont de la nef aux deux rangs d'avirons; et il y monta lui-même, et il s'assit sur la poupe, et il y fit asseoir Théoklyménos auprès de lui. Et ses compagnons détachèrent le câble, et il leur ordonna d'appareiller, et ils se hâtèrent d'obéir. Ils dressèrent le mât de sapin sur le pont creux et ils le soutinrent avec des cordes, et ils déployèrent les blanches voiles tenues ouvertes à l'aide de courroies. Athènè aux yeux clairs leur envoya un vent propice qui soufflait avec force, et la nef courait rapidement sur l'eau salée de la mer. Hèlios tomba et tous les chemins devinrent sombres. Et la nef, poussée par un vent propice de Zeus, dépassa Phéras et la divine Élis où commandent les Épéiens. Puis Tèlémakhos s'engagea entre les îles rocheuses, se demandant s'il éviterait la mort ou s'il serait fait captif.
Mais Odysseus et le divin porcher et les autres pâtres prenaient de nouveau leur repas dans l'étable; et quand ils eurent assouvi la faim et la soif, alors Odysseus dit au porcher, afin de voir s'il l'aimait dans son coeur, s'il voudrait le retenir dans l'étable ou s'il l'engagerait à se rendre à la ville:
— Écoutez-moi, Eumaios, et vous, ses compagnons. Je désire aller au matin à la ville, afin d'y mendier et de ne plus vous être à charge. Donnez-moi donc un bon conseil et un conducteur qui me mène. J'irai, errant çà et là, par nécessité, afin qu'on m'accorde à boire et à manger. Et j'entrerai dans la demeure du divin Odysseus, pour en donner des nouvelles à la sage Pènélopéia. Et je me mêlerai aux prétendants insolents, afin qu'ils me donnent à manger, car ils ont des mets en abondance. Je ferai même aussitôt au milieu d'eux tout ce qu'ils m'ordonneront. Car je te le dis, écoute-moi et retiens mes paroles dans ton esprit: par la faveur du messager Herméias qui honore tous les travaux des hommes, aucun ne pourrait lutter avec moi d'adresse pour allumer du feu, fendre le bois sec et l'amasser afin qu'il brûle bien, préparer le repas, verser le vin et s'acquitter de tous les soins que les pauvres rendent aux riches.
Et le porcher Eumaios, très irrité, lui répondit:
— Hélas! mon hôte, quel dessein a conçu ton esprit? Certes, si tu désires te mêler à la foule des prétendants, c'est que tu veux périr. Leur insolence et leur violence sont montées jusqu'à l'Ouranos de fer. Leurs serviteurs ne te ressemblent pas; ce sont des jeunes hommes vêtus de beaux manteaux et de belles tuniques, beaux de tête et de visage, qui chargent les tables polies de pain, de viandes et de vins. Reste ici; aucun ne se plaint de ta présence, ni moi, ni mes compagnons. Dès que le cher fils d'Odysseus sera revenu, il te donnera une tunique et un manteau, et il te fera reconduire là où ton âme t'ordonne d'aller.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Plaise aux dieux, Eumaios, que tu sois aussi cher au père Zeus qu'à moi, puisque tu as mis fin à mes courses errantes et à mes peines; car il n'est rien de pire pour les hommes que d'errer ainsi, et celui d'entre eux qui vagabonde subit l'inquiétude et la douleur et les angoisses d'un ventre affamé. Maintenant, puisque tu me retiens et que tu m'ordonnes d'attendre Tèlémakhos, parle- moi de la mère du divin Odysseus, et de son père qu'il a laissé en partant sur le seuil de la vieillesse. Vivent-ils encore sous la splendeur de Hèlios, ou sont-ils morts et dans les demeures d'Aidès?
Et le chef des porchers lui répondit:
— Mon hôte, je te dirai la vérité. Laertès vit encore, mais il supplie toujours Zeus, dans ses demeures, d'enlever son âme de son corps, car il gémit très amèrement sur son fils qui est absent, et sur sa femme qu'il avait épousée vierge; et la mort de celle-ci l'accable surtout de tristesse et lui fait sentir l'horreur de la vieillesse. Elle est morte d'une mort lamentable par le regret de son illustre fils. Ainsi, bientôt, mourra ici quiconque m'a aimé. Aussi longtemps qu'elle a vécu, malgré sa douleur, elle aimait à me questionner et à m'interroger; car elle m'avait élevé elle- même, avec son illustre fille Klyménè au large péplos, qu'elle avait enfantée la dernière. Elle m'éleva avec sa fille et elle m'honora non moins que celle-ci. Mais, quand nous fûmes arrivés tous deux à la puberté, Klyménè fut mariée à un Samien qui donna de nombreux présents à ses parents. Et alors Antikléia me donna un manteau, une tunique, de belles sandales, et elle m'envoya aux champs, et elle m'aima plus encore dans son coeur. Et, maintenant, je suis privé de tous ces biens; mais les dieux ont fécondé mon travail, et, par eux, j'ai mangé et bu, et j'ai donné aux suppliants vénérables. Cependant, il m'est amer de ne plus entendre les paroles de ma maîtresse; mais le malheur et des hommes insolents sont entrés dans sa demeure, et les serviteurs sont privés de parler ouvertement à leur maîtresse, de l'interroger, de manger et de boire avec elle et de rapporter aux champs les présents qui réjouissent l'âme des serviteurs.
Et le patient Odysseus lui répondit:
— O dieux! ainsi, porcher Eumaios, tu as été enlevé tout jeune à ta patrie et à tes parents. Raconte-moi tout, et dis la vérité. La ville aux larges rues a-t-elle été détruite où habitaient ton père et ta mère vénérable, ou des hommes ennemis t'ont-ils saisi, tandis que tu étais auprès de tes brebis ou de tes boeufs, transporté dans leur nef et vendu dans les demeures d'un homme qui donna de toi un bon prix?
Et le chef des porchers lui répondit:
— Etranger, puisque tu m'interroges sur ces choses, écoute en silence et réjouis-toi de boire ce vin en repos. Les nuits sont longues et laissent le temps de dormir et le temps d'être charmé par les récits. Il ne faut pas que tu dormes avant l'heure, car beaucoup de sommeil fait du mal. Si le coeur et l'âme d'un d'entre ceux-ci lui ordonnent de dormir, qu'il sorte; et, au lever d'Éôs, après avoir mangé, il conduira les porcs du maître. Pour nous, mangeant et buvant dans l'étable, nous nous charmerons par le souvenir de nos douleurs; car l'homme qui a beaucoup souffert et beaucoup erré est charmé par le souvenir de ses douleurs. Je vais donc te répondre, puisque tu m'interroges.
Il y a une île qu'on nomme Syrè, au-dessous d'Ortygiè, du côté où Hèlios tourne. Elle est moins grande, mais elle est agréable et produit beaucoup de boeufs, de brebis, de vin et de froment; et jamais la famine n'afflige son peuple, ni aucune maladie ne frappe les mortels misérables hommes. Quand les générations ont vieilli dans leur ville, Apollôn à l'arc d'argent et Artémis surviennent et les tuent de leurs flèches illustres. Il y a deux villes qui se sont partagé tout le pays, et mon père Ktèsios Orménide, semblable aux immortels, commandait à toutes deux, quand survinrent des Phoinikes illustres par leurs nefs, habiles et rusés, amenant sur leur nef noire mille choses frivoles. Il y avait dans la demeure de mon père une femme de Phoinikiè, grande, belle et habile aux beaux ouvrages des mains. Et les Phoinikes rusés la séduisirent. Tandis qu'elle allait laver, un d'eux, dans la nef creuse, s'unit à elle par l'amour qui trouble l'esprit des femmes luxurieuses, même de celles qui sont sages. Et il lui demanda ensuite qui elle était et, d'où elle venait; et, aussitôt, elle lui parla de la haute demeure de son père:
— Je me glorifie d'être de Sidôn riche en airain, et je suis la fille du riche Arybas. Des pirates Taphiens m'ont enlevée dans les champs, transportée ici dans les demeures de Ktèsios qui leur a donné de moi un bon prix.
Et l'homme lui répondit:
— Certes, si tu voulais revenir avec nous vers tes demeures, tu reverrais la haute maison de ton père et de ta mère, et eux-mêmes, car ils vivent encore et sont riches.
Et la femme lui répondit:
— Que cela soit, si les marins veulent me jurer par serment qu'ils me reconduiront saine et sauve.
Elle parla ainsi, et tous le lui jurèrent, et, après qu'ils eurent juré et prononcé toutes les paroles du serment, la femme leur dit encore:
— Maintenant, qu'aucun de vous, me rencontrant, soit dans la rue, soit à la fontaine, ne me parle, de peur qu'on le dise au vieillard; car, me soupçonnant, il me chargerait de liens et méditerait votre mort. Mais gardez mes paroles dans votre esprit, et hâtez-vous d'acheter des vivres. Et quand la nef sera chargée de provisions, qu'un messager vienne promptement m'avertir dans la demeure. Je vous apporterai tout l'or qui me tombera sous les mains, et même je vous ferai, selon mon désir, un autre présent. J'élève, en effet, dans les demeures, le fils de Ktèsios, un enfant remuant et courant dehors. Je le conduirai dans la nef, et vous en aurez un grand prix en le vendant à des étrangers.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle rentra dans nos belles demeures. Et les Phoinikes restèrent toute une année auprès de nous, rassemblant de nombreuses richesses dans leur nef creuse. Et quand celle-ci fut pleine, ils envoyèrent à la femme un messager pour lui annoncer qu'ils allaient partir. Et ce messager plein de ruses vint à la demeure de mon père avec un collier d'or orné d'émaux. Et ma mère vénérable et toutes les servantes se passaient ce collier de mains en mains et l'admiraient, et elles lui offrirent un prix; mais il ne répondit rien; et, ayant fait un signe à la femme, il retourna vers la nef. Alors, la femme, me prenant par la main, sortit de la demeure. Et elle trouva dans le vestibule des coupes d'or sur les tables des convives auxquels mon père avait offert un repas. Et ceux-ci s'étaient rendus à l'agora du peuple. Elle saisit aussitôt trois coupes qu'elle cacha dans son sein, et elle sortit, et je la suivis sans songer à rien. Hèlios tomba, et tous les chemins devinrent sombres; et nous arrivâmes promptement au port où était la nef rapide des Phoinikes qui, nous ayant mis dans la nef, y montèrent et sillonnèrent les chemins humides; et Zeus leur envoya un vent propice. Et nous naviguâmes pendant six jours et six nuits; mais quand le Kroniôn Zeus amena le septième jour, Artémis, qui se réjouit de ses flèches, tua la femme, qui tomba avec bruit dans la sentine comme une poule de mer et les marins la jetèrent pour être mangée par les poissons et par les phoques, et je restai seul, gémissant dans mon coeur. Et le vent et le flot poussèrent les Phoinikes jusqu'à Ithakè, où Laertès m'acheta de ses propres richesses. Et c'est ainsi que j'ai vu de mes yeux cette terre.
Et le divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Eumaios, certes, tu as profondément ému mon coeur en me racontant toutes les douleurs que tu as déjà subies: mais Zeus a mêlé pour toi le bien au mal, puisque tu es entré, après avoir beaucoup souffert, dans la demeure d'un homme excellent qui t'a donné abondamment à boire et à manger, et chez qui ta vie est paisible; mais moi, je ne suis arrivé ici qu'après avoir erré à travers de nombreuses villes des hommes!
Et ils se parlaient ainsi. Puis ils s'endormirent, mais peu de temps; et, aussitôt, Éôs au beau thrône parut.
Pendant ce temps les compagnons de Tèlémakhos, ayant abordé, plièrent les voiles et abattirent le mât et conduisirent la nef dans le port, à force d'avirons. Puis, ils jetèrent les ancres et lièrent les câbles. Puis, étant sortis de la nef, ils préparèrent leur repas sur le rivage de la mer et mêlèrent le vin rouge. Et quand ils eurent assouvi la faim et la soif, le prudent Tèlémakhos leur dit:
— Conduisez la nef noire à la ville; moi, j'irai vers mes champs et mes bergers. Ce soir, je m'en reviendrai après avoir vu les travaux des champs; et demain, au matin, je vous offrirai, pour ce voyage, un bon repas de viandes et de vin doux.
Et, alors, le divin Théoklyménos lui dit:
— Et moi, cher enfant, où irai-je? Quel est celui des hommes qui commandent dans l'âpre Ithakè dont je dois gagner la demeure? Dois-je me rendre auprès de ta mère, dans ta propre maison?
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Je ne te dirais point de te rendre à une autre demeure que la mienne, et les dons hospitaliers ne t'y manqueraient pas; mais ce serait le pire pour toi. Je serais absent, et ma mère ne te verrait point, car elle tisse la toile, loin des prétendants, dans la chambre supérieure; mais je t'indiquerai un autre homme vers qui tu iras, Eurymakhos, illustre fils du prudent Polybos, que les Ithakèsiens regardent comme un dieu. C'est de beaucoup l'homme le plus illustre, et il désire ardemment épouser ma mère et posséder les honneurs d'Odysseus. Mais l'olympien Zeus qui habite l'aithèr sait s'ils ne verront pas tous leur dernier jour avant leurs noces.
Il parlait ainsi quand un épervier, rapide messager d'Apollôn, vola à sa droite, tenant entre ses serres une colombe dont il répandait les plumes entre la nef et Tèlémakhos. Alors Théoklyménos, entraînant celui-ci loin de ses compagnons, le prit par la main et lui dit:
— Tèlémakhos, cet oiseau ne vole point à ta droite sans qu'un dieu l'ait voulu. Je reconnais, l'ayant regardé, que c'est un signe augural. Il n'y a point de race plus royale que la vôtre dans Ithakè, et vous y serez toujours puissants.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit aussitôt:
— Plaise aux dieux, étranger, que ta parole s'accomplisse! Je t'aimerai, et je te ferai de nombreux présents, et nul ne pourra se dire plus heureux que toi.
Il parla ainsi, et il dit à son fidèle compagnon Peiraios:
— Peiraios Klytide, tu m'es le plus cher des compagnons qui m'ont suivi à Pylos. Conduis maintenant cet étranger dans ta demeure; aie soin de lui et honore-le jusqu'à ce que je revienne.
Et Peiraios illustre par sa lance lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, quand même tu devrais rester longtemps ici, j'aurai soin de cet étranger, et rien ne lui manquera de ce qui est dû à un hôte.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il entra dans la nef, et il ordonna à ses compagnons d'y monter et de détacher les câbles. Et Tèlémakhos, ayant lié de belles sandales à ses pieds, prit sur le pont de la nef une lance solide et brillante à pointe d'airain. Et, tandis que ses compagnons détachaient les câbles et naviguaient vers la ville, comme l'avait ordonné Tèlémakhos, le cher fils du divin Odysseus, les pieds du jeune homme le portaient rapidement vers l'étable où étaient enfermés ses nombreux porcs auprès desquels dormait le porcher fidèle et attaché à ses maîtres.
Au lever d'Éôs, Odysseus et le divin porcher préparèrent le repas, et ils allumèrent le feu, et ils envoyèrent les pâtres avec les troupeaux de porcs. Alors les chiens aboyeurs n'aboyèrent pas à l'approche de Tèlémakhos, mais ils remuaient la queue. Et le divin Odysseus, les ayant vus remuer la queue et ayant entendu un bruit de pas, dit à Eumaios ces paroles ailées:
— Eumaios, certes, un de tes compagnons approche, ou un homme bien connu, car les chiens n'aboient point, et ils remuent la queue, et j'entends un bruit de pas.
Il avait à peine ainsi parlé, quand son cher fils s'arrêta sous le portique. Et le porcher stupéfait s'élança, et le vase dans lequel il mêlait le vin rouge tomba de ses mains; et il courut au-devant du maître, et il baisa sa tête, ses beaux yeux et ses mains, et il versait des larmes, comme un père plein de tendresse qui revient d'une terre lointaine, dans la dixième année, et qui embrasse son fils unique, engendré dans sa vieillesse, et pour qui il a souffert bien des maux. Ainsi le porcher couvrait de baisers le divin Tèlémakhos; et il l'embrassait comme s'il eût échappé à la mort, et il lui dit, en pleurant, ces paroles ailées:
— Tu es donc revenu, Tèlémakhos, douce lumière. Je pensais que je ne te reverrais plus, depuis ton départ pour Pylos. Hâte-toi d'entrer, cher enfant, afin que je me délecte à te regarder, toi qui reviens de loin. Car tu ne viens pas souvent dans tes champs et vers tes pâtres; mais tu restes loin d'eux, et il te plaît de surveiller la multitude funeste des prétendants.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Qu'il en soit comme tu le désires, père. C'est pour toi que je suis venu, afin de te voir de mes yeux et de t'entendre, et pour que tu me dises si ma mère est restée dans nos demeures, ou si quelqu'un l'a épousée. Certes, peut-être le lit d'Odysseus, étant abandonné, reste-t-il en proie aux araignées immondes.
Et le chef des porchers lui répondit:
— Ta mère est restée, avec un coeur patient, dans tes demeures; elle pleure nuit et jour, accablée de chagrins.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il prit sa lance d'airain. Et Tèlémakhos entra et passa le seuil de pierre. Et son père Odysseus voulut lui céder sa place; mais Tèlémakhos le retint et lui dit:
— Assieds-toi, ô étranger. Je trouverai un autre siège dans cette étable, et voici un homme qui me le préparera.
Il parla ainsi, et Odysseus se rassit, et le porcher amassa des branches vertes et mit une peau par-dessus, et le cher fils d'Odysseus s'y assit. Puis le porcher plaça devant eux des plateaux de chairs rôties que ceux qui avaient mangé la veille avaient laissées. Et il entassa à la hâte du pain dans des corbeilles, et il mêla le vin rouge dans un vase grossier, et il s'assit en face du divin Odysseus. Puis, ils étendirent les mains vers la nourriture placée devant eux. Et, après qu'ils eurent assouvi la faim et la soif, Tèlémakhos dit au divin porcher:
— Dis-moi, père, d'où vient cet étranger? Comment des marins l'ont-ils amené à Ithakè? Qui se glorifie-t-il d'être? Car je ne pense pas qu'il soit venu ici à pied.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Certes, mon enfant, je te dirai la vérité. Il se glorifie d'être né dans la grande Krètè. Il dit qu'en errant il a parcouru de nombreuses villes des hommes, et, sans doute, un dieu lui a fait cette destinée. Maintenant, s'étant échappé d'une nef de marins Thesprôtes, il est venu dans mon étable, et je te le confie. Fais de lui ce que tu veux. Il dit qu'il est ton suppliant.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Eumaios, certes, tu as prononcé une parole douloureuse. Comment le recevrais-je dans ma demeure? Je suis jeune et je ne pourrais réprimer par la force de mes mains un homme qui l'outragerait le premier. L'esprit de ma mère hésite, et elle ne sait si, respectant le lit de son mari et la voix du peuple, elle restera dans sa demeure pour en prendre soin, ou si elle suivra le plus illustre d'entre les Akhaiens qui l'épousera et lui fera de nombreux présents. Mais, certes, puisque cet étranger est venu dans ta demeure, je lui donnerai de beaux vêtements, un manteau et une tunique, une épée à double tranchant et des sandales, et je le renverrai où son coeur désire aller. Si tu y consens, garde-le dans ton étable. J'enverrai ici des vêtements et du pain, afin qu'il mange et qu'il ne soit point à charge à toi et à tes compagnons. Mais je ne le laisserai point approcher des prétendants, car ils ont une grande insolence, de peur qu'ils l'outragent, ce qui me serait une amère douleur. Que pourrait faire l'homme le plus vigoureux contre un si grand nombre? Ils seront toujours les plus forts.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô ami, certes, puisqu'il m'est permis de répondre, mon coeur est déchiré de t'entendre dire que les prétendants, malgré toi, et tel que te voilà, commettent de telles iniquités dans tes demeures. Dis-moi si tu leur cèdes volontairement, ou si les peuples, obéissant aux dieux, te haïssent? Accuses-tu tes frères? Car c'est sur leur appui qu'il faut compter, quand une dissension publique s'élève. Plût aux dieux que je fusse jeune comme toi, étant plein de courage, ou que je fusse le fils irréprochable d'Odysseus, ou lui-même, et qu'il revînt, car tout espoir n'en est point perdu! Je voudrais qu'un ennemi me coupât la tête, si je ne partais aussitôt pour la demeure du Laertiade Odysseus, pour être leur ruine à tous! Et si, étant seul, leur multitude me domptait, j'aimerais mieux être tué dans mes demeures que de voir ces choses honteuses: mes hôtes maltraités, mes servantes misérablement violées dans mes belles demeures, mon vin épuisé, mes vivres dévorés effrontément, et cela pour un dessein inutile qui ne s'accomplira point!
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Étranger, je te dirai la vérité. Le peuple n'est point irrité contre moi, et je n'accuse point de frères sur l'appui desquels il faut compter, quand une dissension publique s'élève. Le Kroniôn n'a donné qu'un seul fils à chaque génération de toute notre race. Arkeisios n'a engendré que le seul Laertès, et Laertès n'a engendré que le seul Odysseus, et Odysseus n'a engendré que moi dans ses demeures où il m'a laissé et où il n'a point été caressé par moi. Et, maintenant, de nombreux ennemis sont dans ma demeure. Ceux qui dominent dans les îles, à Doulikhios, à Samè, à Zakynthos couverte de bois, et ceux qui dominent dans l'âpre Ithakè, tous recherchent ma mère et ruinent ma maison. Et ma mère ne refuse ni n'accepte ces noces odieuses; et tous mangent mes biens, ruinent ma maison, et bientôt ils me tueront moi-même. Mais, certes, ces choses sont sur les genoux des dieux. Va, père Eumaios, et dis à la prudente Pènélopéia que je suis sauvé et revenu de Pylos. Je resterai ici. Reviens, n'ayant parlé qu'à elle seule; et qu'aucun des autres Akhaiens ne t'entende, car tous méditent ma perte.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— J'entends et je comprends ce que tu m'ordonnes de faire. Mais dis-moi la vérité, et si, dans ce même voyage, je porterai cette nouvelle à Laertès qui est malheureux. Auparavant, bien que gémissant sur Odysseus, il surveillait les travaux, et, quand son âme le lui ordonnait, il buvait et mangeait avec ses serviteurs dans sa maison; mais depuis que tu es parti sur une nef pour Pylos, on dit qu'il ne boit ni ne mange et qu'il ne surveille plus les travaux, mais qu'il reste soupirant et gémissant, et que son corps se dessèche autour de ses os.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Cela est très triste; mais cependant ne va pas à lui malgré sa douleur. Si les destinées pouvaient être choisies par les hommes, nous nous choisirions le jour du retour de mon père. Reviens donc après avoir parlé à ma mère, et ne t'éloigne pas vers Laertès et vers ses champs; mais dis à ma mère d'envoyer promptement, et en secret, l'intendante annoncer mon retour au vieillard.
Il parla ainsi, excitant le porcher qui attacha ses sandales à ses pieds et partit pour la ville. Mais le porcher Eumaios ne cacha point son départ à Athènè, et celle-ci apparut, semblable à une femme belle, grande et habile aux beaux ouvrages. Et elle s'arrêta sur le seuil de l'étable, étant visible seulement à Odysseus; et Tèlémakhos ne la vit pas, car les dieux ne se manifestent point à tous les hommes. Et Odysseus et les chiens la virent, et les chiens n'aboyèrent point, mais ils s'enfuirent en gémissant au fond de l'étable. Alors Athènè fit un signe avec ses sourcils, et le divin Odysseus le comprit, et, sortant, il se rendit au-delà du grand mur de l'étable; et il s'arrêta devant Athènè, qui lui dit:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, parle maintenant à ton fils et ne lui cache rien, afin de préparer le carnage et la mort des prétendants et d'aller à la ville. Je ne serai pas longtemps loin de vous et j'ai hâte de combattre.
Athènè parla ainsi, et elle le frappa de sa baguette d'or. Et elle le couvrit des beaux vêtements qu'il portait auparavant, et elle le grandit et le rajeunit; et ses joues devinrent plus brillantes, et sa barbe devint noire. Et Athènè, ayant fait cela, disparut.
Alors Odysseus rentra dans l'étable, et son cher fils resta stupéfait devant lui; et il détourna les yeux, craignant que ce fût un dieu, et il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Étranger, tu m'apparais tout autre que tu étais auparavant; tu as d'autres vêtements et ton corps n'est plus le même. Si tu es un des dieux qui habitent le large Ouranos, apaise-toi. Nous t'offrirons de riches sacrifices et nous te ferons des présents d'or. Épargne-nous.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Je ne suis point un des dieux. Pourquoi me compares-tu aux dieux? Je suis ton père, pour qui tu soupires et pour qui tu as subi de nombreuses douleurs et les outrages des hommes.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il embrassa son fils, et ses larmes coulèrent de ses joues sur la terre, car il les avait retenues jusque-là. Mais Tèlémakhos, ne pouvant croire que ce fût son père, lui dit de nouveau:
— Tu n'es pas mon père Odysseus, mais un dieu qui me trompe, afin que je soupire et que je gémisse davantage. Jamais un homme mortel ne pourrait, dans son esprit, accomplir de telles choses, si un dieu, survenant, ne le faisait, aisément, et comme il le veut, paraître jeune ou vieux. Certes, tu étais vieux, il y a peu de temps, et vêtu misérablement, et voici que tu es semblable aux dieux qui habitent le large Ouranos.
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, il n'est pas bien à toi, devant ton cher père, d'être tellement surpris et de rester stupéfait. Jamais plus un autre Odysseus ne reviendra ici. C'est moi qui suis Odysseus et qui ai souffert des maux innombrables, et qui reviens, après vingt années, dans la terre de la patrie. C'est la dévastatrice Athènè qui a fait ce prodige. Elle me fait apparaître tel qu'il lui plaît, car elle le peut. Tantôt elle me rend semblable à un mendiant, tantôt à un homme jeune ayant de beaux vêtements sur son corps; car il est facile aux dieux qui habitent le large Ouranos de glorifier un homme mortel ou de le rendre misérable.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il s'assit. Alors Tèlémakhos embrassa son brave père en versant des larmes. Et le désir de pleurer les saisit tous les deux, et ils pleuraient abondamment, comme les aigles aux cris stridents, ou les vautours aux serres recourbées, quand les pâtres leur ont enlevé leurs petits avant qu'ils pussent voler. Ainsi, sous leurs sourcils, ils versaient des larmes. Et, avant qu'ils eussent cessé de pleurer, la lumière de Hèlios fût tombée, si Tèlémakhos n'eût dit aussitôt à son père:
— Père, quels marins t'ont conduit sur leur nef dans Ithakè? Quels sont-ils? Car je ne pense pas que tu sois venu ici à pied.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, je te dirai la vérité. Les illustres marins Phaiakiens m'ont amené, car ils ont coutume de reconduire tous les hommes qui viennent chez eux. M'ayant amené, à travers la mer, dormant sur leur nef rapide, ils m'ont déposé sur la terre d'Ithakè; et ils m'ont donné en abondance des présents splendides, de l'airain, de l'or et de beaux vêtements. Par le conseil des dieux toutes ces choses sont déposées dans une caverne; et je suis venu ici, averti par Athènè, afin que nous délibérions sur le carnage de nos ennemis. Dis-moi donc le nombre des prétendants, pour que je sache combien d'hommes braves ils sont; et je verrai, dans mon coeur irréprochable, si nous devons les combattre seuls, ou si nous chercherons un autre appui.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ô père, certes, j'ai appris ta grande gloire, et je sais que tu es très brave et plein de sagesse; mais tu as dit une grande parole, et la stupeur me saisit, car deux hommes seuls ne peuvent lutter contre tant de robustes guerriers. Les prétendants ne sont pas seulement dix, ou deux fois dix, mais ils sont beaucoup plus, et je vais te dire leur nombre, afin que tu le saches. Il y a d'abord cinquante-deux jeunes hommes choisis de Doulikhios, suivis de six serviteurs; puis vingt-quatre de Samè; puis vingt jeunes Akhaiens de Zakynthos; puis les douze plus braves, qui sont d'Ithakè. Avec ceux-ci se trouvent Médôn, héraut et aoide divin, et deux serviteurs habiles à préparer les repas. Si nous les attaquons tous ainsi réunis, vois si tu ne souffriras point amèrement et terriblement de leur violence. Mais tu peux appeler à notre aide un allié qui nous secoure d'un coeur empressé.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Je te le dis. Écoute-moi avec attention. Vois si Athènè et son père Zeus suffiront, et si je dois appeler un autre allié à l'aide.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ceux que tu nommes sont les meilleurs alliés. Ils sont assis dans les hautes nuées, et ils commandent aux hommes et aux dieux immortels.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ils ne seront pas longtemps éloignés, dans la rude mêlée, quand la force d'Arès décidera entre nous et les prétendants dans nos demeures. Mais toi, dès le lever d'Éôs, retourne à la maison et parle aux prétendants insolents. Le porcher me conduira ensuite à la ville, semblable à un vieux mendiant. S'ils m'outragent dans nos demeures, que ton cher coeur supporte avec patience mes souffrances. Même s'ils me traînaient par les pieds hors de la maison, même s'ils me frappaient de leurs armes, regarde tout patiemment. Par des paroles flatteuses, demande-leur seulement de cesser leurs outrages. Mais ils ne t'écouteront point, car leur jour fatal est proche. Quand Athènè aux nombreux conseils aura averti mon esprit, je te ferai signe de la tête, et tu me comprendras. Transporte alors dans le réduit de la chambre haute toutes les armes d'Arès qui sont dans la grande salle. Et si les prétendants t'interrogent sur cela, dis-leur en paroles flatteuses: «Je les ai mises à l'abri de la fumée, car elles ne sont plus telles qu'elles étaient autrefois, quand Odysseus les laissa à son départ pour Troiè; mais elles sont souillées par la grande vapeur du feu. Puis, le Kroniôn m'a inspiré une autre pensée meilleure, et je crains qu'excités par le vin, et une querelle s'élevant parmi vous, vous vous blessiez les uns les autres et vous souilliez le repas et vos noces futures, car le fer attire l'homme.» Tu laisseras pour nous seuls deux épées, deux lances, deux boucliers, que nous puissions saisir quand nous nous jetterons sur eux. Puis, Pallas Athènè et le très sage Zeus leur troubleront l'esprit. Maintenant, je te dirai autre chose. Retiens ceci dans ton esprit. Si tu es de mon sang, que nul ne sache qu'Odysseus est revenu, ni Laertès, ni le porcher, ni aucun des serviteurs, ni Pènélopéia elle-même. Que seuls, toi, et moi, nous connaissions l'esprit des servantes et des serviteurs, afin de savoir quel est celui qui nous honore et qui nous respecte dans son coeur, et celui qui n'a point souci de nous et qui te méprise.
Et son illustre fils lui répondit:
— Ô père, certes, je pense que tu connaîtras bientôt mon courage, car je ne suis ni paresseux ni mou; mais je pense aussi que ceci n'est pas aisé pour nous deux, et je te demande d'y songer. Tu serais longtemps à éprouver chaque serviteur en parcourant les champs, tandis que les prétendants, tranquilles dans tes demeures, dévorent effrontément tes richesses et n'en épargnent rien. Mais tâche de reconnaître les servantes qui t'outragent et celles qui sont fidèles. Cependant, il ne faut pas éprouver les serviteurs dans les demeures. Fais-le plus tard, si tu as vraiment quelque signe de Zeus tempétueux.
Et tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, la nef bien construite qui avait porté Tèlémakhos et tous ses compagnons à Pylos était arrivée à Ithakè et entra dans le port profond. Là, ils traînèrent la nef noire à terre. Puis, les magnanimes serviteurs enlevèrent tous les agrès et portèrent aussitôt les splendides présents dans les demeures de Klytios. Puis, ils envoyèrent un messager à la demeure d'Odysseus, afin d'annoncer à la prudente Pènélopéia que Tèlémakhos était allé aux champs, après avoir ordonné de conduire la nef à la ville, et pour que l'illustre reine, rassurée, ne versât plus de larmes. Et leur messager et le divin porcher se rencontrèrent, chargés du même message pour la noble femme. Mais quand ils furent arrivés à la demeure du divin roi, le héraut dit, au milieu des servantes:
— Ton cher fils, ô reine, est arrivé.
Et le porcher, s'approchant de Pènélopéia, lui répéta tout ce que son cher fils avait ordonné de lui dire. Et, après avoir accompli son message, il se hâta de rejoindre ses porcs, et il quitta les cours et la demeure.
Et les prétendants, attristés et soucieux dans l'âme, sortirent de la demeure et s'assirent auprès du grand mur de la cour, devant les portes. Et, le premier, Eurymakhos, fils de Polybos, leur dit:
— Ô amis, certes, une audacieuse entreprise a été accomplie, ce voyage de Tèlémakhos, que nous disions qu'il n'accomplirait pas. Traînons donc à la mer une solide nef noire et réunissons très promptement des rameurs qui avertiront nos compagnons de revenir à la hâte.
Il n'avait pas achevé de parler, quand Amphinomos, tourné vers la mer, vit une nef entrer dans le port profond. Et les marins, ayant serré les voiles, ne se servaient que des avirons. Alors, il se mit à rire, et il dit aux prétendants:
— N'envoyons aucun message. Les voici entrés. Ou quelque dieu les aura avertis, ou ils ont vu revenir l'autre nef et n'ont pu l'atteindre.
Il parla ainsi, et tous, se levant, coururent au rivage de la mer. Et aussitôt les marins traînèrent la nef noire à terre, et les magnanimes serviteurs enlevèrent tous les agrès. Puis ils se rendirent tous à l'agora; et ils ne laissèrent s'asseoir ni les jeunes, ni les vieux. Et Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, leur dit:
— Ô amis, les dieux ont préservé cet homme de tout mal. Tous les jours, de nombreuses sentinelles étaient assises sur les hauts rochers battus des vents. Même à la chute de Hèlios, jamais nous n'avons dormi à terre; mais, naviguant sur la nef rapide, nous attendions la divine Éôs, épiant Tèlémakhos afin de le tuer au passage. Mais quelque Dieu l'a reconduit dans sa demeure. Délibérons donc ici sur sa mort. Il ne faut pas que Tèlémakhos nous échappe, car je ne pense pas que, lui vivant, nous accomplissions notre dessein. Il est, en effet, plein de sagesse et d'intelligence, et, déjà, les peuples ne nous sont pas favorables. Hâtons-nous avant qu'il réunisse les Akhaiens à l'agora, car je ne pense pas qu'il tarde à le faire. Il excitera leur colère, et il dira, se levant au milieu de tous, que nous avons médité de le tuer, mais que nous ne l'avons point rencontré. Et, l'ayant entendu, ils n'approuveront point ce mauvais dessein. Craignons qu'ils méditent notre malheur, qu'ils nous chassent dans nos demeures, et que nous soyons contraints de fuir chez des peuples étrangers. Prévenons Tèlémakhos en le tuant loin de la ville, dans les champs, ou dans le chemin. Nous prendrons sa vie et ses richesses que nous partagerons également entre nous, et nous donnerons cette demeure à sa mère, quel que soit celui qui l'épousera. Si mes paroles ne vous plaisent pas, si vous voulez qu'il vive et conserve ses biens paternels, ne consumons pas, assemblés ici, ses chères richesses; mais que chacun de nous, retiré dans sa demeure, recherche Pènélopéia à l'aide de présents, et celui-là l'épousera qui lui fera le plus de présents et qui l'obtiendra par le sort.
Il parla ainsi, et tous restèrent muets. Et, alors, Amphinomos, l'illustre fils du roi Nisos Arètiade, leur parla. C'était le chef des prétendants venus de Doulikhios herbue et fertile en blé, et il plaisait plus que les autres à Pènélopéia par ses paroles et ses pensées. Et il leur parla avec prudence, et il leur dit:
— Ô amis, je ne veux point tuer Tèlémakhos. Il est terrible de tuer la race des rois. Mais interrogeons d'abord les desseins des dieux. Si les lois du grand Zeus nous approuvent, je tuerai moi- même Tèlémakhos et j'exciterai les autres à m'imiter; mais si les dieux nous en détournent, je vous engagerai à ne rien entreprendre.
Amphinomos parla ainsi, et ce qu'il avait dit leur plut. Et, aussitôt, ils se levèrent et entrèrent dans la demeure d'Odysseus, et ils s'assirent sur des thrônes polis. Et, alors, la prudente Pènélopéia résolut de paraître devant les prétendants très injurieux. En effet, elle avait appris la mort destinée à son fils dans les demeures. Le héraut Médôn, qui savait leurs desseins, les lui avait dits. Et elle se hâta de descendre dans la grande salle avec ses femmes. Et quand la noble femme se fut rendue auprès des prétendants, elle s'arrêta sur le seuil de la belle salle, avec un beau voile sur les joues. Et elle réprimanda Antinoos et lui dit:
— Antinoos, injurieux et mauvais, on dit que tu l'emportes sur tes égaux en âge, parmi le peuple d'Ithakè, par ta sagesse et par tes paroles. Mais tu n'es point ce qu'on dit. Insensé! Pourquoi médites-tu le meurtre et la mort de Tèlémakhos? Tu ne te soucies point des prières des suppliants; mais Zeus n'est-il pas leur témoin? C'est une pensée impie que de méditer la mort d'autrui. Ne sais-tu pas que ton père s'est réfugié ici, fuyant le peuple qui était très irrité contre lui? Avec des pirates Taphiens, il avait pillé les Thesprôtes qui étaient nos amis, et le peuple voulait le tuer, lui déchirer le coeur et dévorer ses nombreuses richesses. Mais Odysseus les en empêcha et les retint. Et voici que, maintenant, tu ruines honteusement sa maison, tu recherches sa femme, tu veux tuer son fils et tu m'accables moi-même de douleurs! Je t'ordonne de t'arrêter et de faire que les autres s'arrêtent.
Et Eurymakhos, fils de Polybos, lui répondit:
— Fille d'Ikarios, sage Pènélopéia, reprends courage et n'aie point ces inquiétudes dans ton esprit. L'homme n'existe point et n'existera jamais qui, moi vivant et les yeux ouverts, portera la main sur ton fils Tèlémakhos. Je le dis, en effet, et ma parole s'accomplirait: aussitôt son sang noir ruissellerait autour de ma lance. Souvent, le destructeur de citadelles Odysseus, me faisant asseoir sur ses genoux, m'a offert de ses mains de la chair rôtie et du vin rouge. C'est pourquoi Tèlémakhos m'est le plus cher de tous les hommes. Je l'invite à ne point craindre la mort de la part des prétendants mais on ne peut l'éviter de la part d'un dieu.
Il parla ainsi, la rassurant, et il méditait la mort de Tèlémakhos. Et Pènélopéia remonta dans la haute chambre splendide, où elle pleura son cher mari Odysseus, jusqu'à ce que Athènè aux yeux clairs eut répandu le doux sommeil sur ses paupières.
Et, vers le soir, le divin porcher revint auprès d'Odysseus et de son fils. Et ceux-ci, sacrifiant un porc d'un an, préparaient le repas dans l'étable. Mais Athènè s'approchant du Laertiade Odysseus, et le frappant de sa baguette, l'avait de nouveau rendu vieux. Et elle lui avait couvert le corps de haillons, de peur que le porcher, le reconnaissant, allât l'annoncer à la prudente Pènélopéia qui oublierait peut-être sa prudence.
Et, le premier, Tèlémakhos lui dit:
— Tu es revenu, divin Eumaios! Que dit-on dans la ville? Les prétendants insolents sont-ils de retour de leur embuscade, ou sont-ils encore à m'épier au passage?
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Je ne me suis point inquiété de cela en traversant la ville, car mon coeur m'a ordonné de revenir très promptement ici, après avoir porté mon message; mais j'ai rencontré un héraut rapide envoyé par tes compagnons, et qui a, le premier, parlé à ta mère. Mais je sais ceci, et mes yeux l'ont vu: étant hors de la ville, sur la colline de Herméias, j'ai vu une nef rapide entrer dans le port. Elle portait beaucoup d'hommes, et elle était chargée de boucliers et de lances à deux pointes. Je pense que c'étaient les prétendants eux-mêmes, mais je n'en sais rien.
Il parla ainsi, et la force sacrée de Tèlémakhos se mit à rire en regardant son père à l'insu du porcher. Et, après avoir terminé leur travail, ils préparèrent le repas, et ils mangèrent, et aucun, dans son âme, ne fut privé d'une part égale. Et, quand ils eurent assouvi la soif et la faim, ils se couchèrent et s'endormirent.
Quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, Tèlémakhos, le cher fils du divin Odysseus, attacha de belles sandales à ses pieds, saisit une lance solide qui convenait à ses mains, et, prêt à partir pour la ville, il dit au porcher:
— Père, je vais à la ville, afin que ma mère me voie, car je ne pense pas qu'elle cesse, avant de me revoir, de pleurer et de gémir. Et je t'ordonne ceci. Mène à la ville ce malheureux étranger afin qu'il y mendie sa nourriture. Celui qui voudra lui donner à manger et à boire le fera. Je ne puis, accablé moi-même de douleurs, supporter tous les hommes. Si cet étranger s'en irrite, ceci sera plus cruel pour lui; mais, certes, j'aime à parler sincèrement.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô ami, je ne désire point être retenu ici. Il vaut mieux mendier sa nourriture à la ville qu'aux champs. Me donnera qui voudra. Je ne veux point rester davantage dans tes étables afin d'obéir à tous les ordres d'un chef. Va donc, et celui-ci me conduira, comme tu le lui ordonnes, dès que je me serai réchauffé au feu et que la chaleur sera venue: car, n'ayant que ces haillons, je crains que le froid du matin me saisisse, et on dit que la ville est loin d'ici.
Il parla ainsi, et Tèlémakhos sortit de l'étable et marcha rapidement en méditant la perte des prétendants. Puis, étant arrivé aux demeures bien peuplées, il appuya sa lance contre une haute colonne, et il entra, passant le seuil de pierre. Et, aussitôt, la nourrice Eurykléia, qui étendait des peaux sur les thrônes bien travaillés, le vit la première. Et elle s'élança, fondant en larmes. Et les autres servantes du patient Odysseus se rassemblèrent autour de lui, et elles l'entouraient de leurs bras, baisant sa tête et ses épaules. Et la sage Pènélopéia sortit à la hâte de la chambre nuptiale, semblable à Artémis ou à Aphroditè d'or. Et, en pleurant, elle jeta ses bras autour de son cher fils, et elle baisa sa tête et ses beaux yeux, et elle lui dit, en gémissant, ces paroles ailées:
— Tu es donc revenu, Tèlémakhos, douce lumière. Je pensais ne plus te revoir depuis que tu es allé sur une nef à Pylos, en secret et contre mon gré, afin de t'informer de ton cher père. Mais dis-moi promptement ce que tu as appris.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ma mère, n'excite point mes larmes et ne remue point mon coeur dans ma poitrine, à moi qui viens d'échapper à la mort. Mais baigne ton corps, prends des vêtements frais, monte avec tes servantes dans les chambres hautes et voue à tous les dieux de complètes hécatombes que tu sacrifieras si Zeus m'accorde de me venger. Pour moi, je vais à l'agora, où je vais chercher un hôte qui m'a suivi quand je suis revenu. Je l'ai envoyé en avant avec mes divins compagnons, et j'ai ordonné à Peiraios de l'emmener dans sa demeure, de prendre soin de lui et de l'honorer jusqu'à ce que je vinsse.
Il parla ainsi, et sa parole ne fut pas vaine. Et Pénèlopéia baigna son corps, prit des vêtements frais, monta avec ses servantes dans les chambres hautes et voua à tous les dieux de complètes hécatombes qu'elle devait leur sacrifier si Zeus accordait à son fils de se venger.
Tèlémakhos sortit ensuite de sa demeure, tenant sa lance. Et deux chiens aux pieds rapides le suivaient, et Athènè répandit sur lui une grâce divine. Tous les peuples l'admiraient au passage; et les prétendants insolents s'empressèrent autour de lui, le félicitant à l'envi, mais, au fond de leur âme, méditant son malheur. Et il se dégagea de leur multitude et il alla s'asseoir là où étaient Mentôr, Antiphos et Halithersès, qui étaient d'anciens amis de son père. Il s'assit là, et ils l'interrogèrent sur chaque chose. Et Peiraios illustre par sa lance vint à eux, conduisant son hôte à l'agora, à travers la ville. Et Tèlémakhos ne tarda pas à se tourner du côté de l'étranger. Mais Peiraios dit le premier:
— Tèlémakhos, envoie promptement des servantes à ma demeure, afin que je te remette les présents que t'a faits Ménélaos.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Peiraios, nous ne savons comment tourneront les choses. Si les prétendants insolents me tuent en secret dans mes demeures et se partagent mes biens paternels, je veux que tu possèdes ces présents, et j'aime mieux que tu en jouisses qu'eux. Si je leur envoie la kèr et la mort, alors tu me les rapporteras, joyeux, dans mes demeures, et je m'en réjouirai.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il conduisit vers sa demeure son hôte malheureux. Et dès qu'ils furent arrivés ils déposèrent leurs manteaux sur des sièges et sur des thrônes, et ils se baignèrent dans des baignoires polies. Et, après que les servantes les eurent baignés et parfumés d'huile, elles les couvrirent de tuniques et de riches manteaux, et ils s'assirent sur des thrônes. Une servante leur versa de l'eau, d'une belle aiguière d'or dans un bassin d'argent, pour se laver les mains, et elle dressa devant eux une table polie que la vénérable intendante, pleine de bienveillance pour tous, couvrit de pain qu'elle avait apporté et de nombreux mets. Et Pènélopéia s'assit en face d'eux, à l'entrée de la salle, et, se penchant de son siège, elle filait des laines fines. Puis, ils étendirent les mains vers les mets placés devant eux; et, après qu'ils eurent assouvi la soif et la faim, la prudente Pènélopéia leur dit la première:
— Tèlémakhos, je remonterai dans ma chambre nuptiale et je me coucherai sur le lit plein de mes soupirs et arrosé de mes larmes depuis le jour où Odysseus est allé à Ilios avec les Atréides, et tu ne veux pas, avant l'entrée des prétendants insolents dans cette demeure, me dire tout ce que tu as appris sur le retour de ton père!
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ma mère, je vais te dire la vérité. Nous sommes allés à Pylos, auprès du prince des peuples Nestôr. Et celui-ci m'a reçu dans ses hautes demeures, et il m'a comblé de soins, comme un père accueille son fils récemment arrivé après une longue absence. C'est ainsi que lui et ses illustres fils m'ont accueilli. Mais il m'a dit qu'aucun des hommes terrestres ne lui avait rien appris du malheureux Odysseus mort ou vivant. Et il m'a envoyé avec un char et des chevaux vers l'Atréide Ménélaos, illustre par sa lance. Et là j'ai vu l'Argienne Hélénè, pour qui tant d'Argiens et de Troiens ont souffert par la volonté des dieux. Et le brave Ménélaos m'a demandé aussitôt pourquoi je venais dans la divine Lakédaimôn; et je lui ai dit la vérité, et, alors, il m'a répondu ainsi:
— Ô dieux! certes, des lâches veulent coucher dans le lit d'un brave! Ainsi une biche a déposé dans le repaire d'un lion robuste ses faons nouveau-nés et qui tettent, tandis qu'elle va paître sur les hauteurs ou dans les vallées herbues; et voici que le lion, rentrant dans son repaire, tue misérablement tous les faons. Ainsi Odysseus leur fera subir une mort misérable. Plaise au père Zeus, à Athènè, à Apollôn, qu'Odysseus se mêle aux prétendants, tel qu'il était dans Lesbos bien bâtie, quand, se levant pour lutter contre le Philomèléide, il le terrassa rudement! Tous les Akhaiens s'en réjouirent. La vie des prétendants serait brève et leurs noces seraient amères. Mais les choses que tu me demandes en me suppliant, je te les dirai sans te rien cacher, telles que me les a dites le Vieillard véridique de la mer. Je te les dirai toutes et je ne te cacherai rien. Il m'a dit qu'il avait vu Odysseus subissant de cruelles douleurs dans l'île et dans les demeures de la nymphe Kalypsô, qui le retient de force. Et il ne pouvait regagner la terre de sa patrie. Il n'avait plus, en effet, de nefs armées d'avirons, ni de compagnons pour le reconduire sur le large dos de la mer.
— C'est ainsi que m'a parlé l'Atréide Ménélaos, illustre par sa lance. Puis, je suis parti, et les immortels m'ont envoyé un vent propice et m'ont ramené promptement dans la terre de la patrie.
Il parla ainsi, et l'âme de Pènélopéia fut émue dans sa poitrine. Et le divin Théoklyménos leur dit:
— Ô vénérable femme du Laertiade Odysseus, certes, Tèlémakhos ne sait pas tout. Écoute donc mes paroles. Je te prédirai des choses vraies et je ne te cacherai rien. Que Zeus, le premier des dieux, le sache! et cette table hospitalière, et la maison du brave Odysseus où je suis venu! Certes, Odysseus est déjà dans la terre de la patrie. Caché ou errant, il s'informe des choses funestes qui se passent et il prépare la perte des prétendants. Tel est le signe que j'ai vu sur la nef et que j'ai révélé à Tèlémakhos.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Plaise aux dieux, étranger, que tes paroles s'accomplissent! Tu connaîtras alors mon amitié, et je te ferai de nombreux présents, et chacun te dira un homme heureux.
Et c'est ainsi qu'ils se parlaient. Et les prétendants, devant la demeure d'Odysseus, sur le beau pavé, là où ils avaient coutume d'être insolents, se réjouissaient en lançant les disques et les traits. Mais quand le temps de prendre le repas fut venu, et quand les troupeaux arrivèrent de tous côtés des champs avec ceux qui les amenaient ordinairement, alors Médôn, qui leur plaisait le plus parmi les hérauts et qui mangeait avec eux, leur dit:
— Jeunes hommes, puisque vous avez charmé votre âme par ces jeux, entrez dans la demeure, afin que nous préparions le repas. Il est bon de prendre son repas quand le temps en est venu.
Il parla ainsi, et tous se levèrent et entrèrent dans la maison. Et quand ils furent entrés, ils déposèrent leurs manteaux sur les sièges et sur les thrônes. Puis, ils égorgèrent les grandes brebis et les chèvres grasses. Et ils égorgèrent aussi les porcs gras et une génisse indomptée, et ils préparèrent le repas.
Pendant ce temps, Odysseus et le divin porcher se disposaient à se rendre des champs à la ville, et le chef des porchers, le premier, parla ainsi:
— Etranger, allons! puisque tu désires aller aujourd'hui à la ville, comme mon maître l'a ordonné. Certes, j'aurais voulu te faire gardien des étables; mais je respecte mon maître et je crains qu'il s'irrite, et les menaces des maîtres sont à redouter. Allons donc maintenant. Le jour s'incline déjà, et le froid est plus vif vers le soir.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— J'entends et je comprends, et je ferai avec intelligence ce que tu ordonnes. Allons, et conduis-moi, et donne-moi un bâton, afin que je m'appuie, puisque tu dis que le chemin est difficile.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il jeta sur ses épaules sa misérable besace pleine de trous et fermée par une courroie tordue. Et Eumaios lui donna un bâton à son goût, et ils partirent, laissant les chiens et les porchers garder les étables. Et Eumaios conduisait ainsi vers la ville son roi semblable à un vieux et misérable mendiant, appuyé sur un bâton et couvert de haillons.
En avançant sur la route difficile, ils approchèrent de la ville et de la fontaine aux belles eaux courantes où venaient puiser les citoyens. Ithakos, Nèritos et Polyktôr l'avaient construite, et, tout autour, il y avait un bois sacré de peupliers rafraîchis par l'eau qui coulait en cercle régulier. Et l'eau glacée tombait aussi de la cime d'une roche, et, au-dessous, il y avait un autel des nymphes où sacrifiaient tous les voyageurs.
Ce fut là que Mélanthios, fils de Dolios, les rencontra tous deux. Il conduisait les meilleures chèvres de ses troupeaux pour les repas des prétendants, et deux bergers le suivaient. Alors, ayant vu Odysseus et Eumaios, il les insulta grossièrement et honteusement, et il remua l'âme d'Odysseus:
— Voici qu'un misérable conduit un autre misérable, et c'est ainsi qu'un dieu réunit les semblables! Ignoble porcher, où mènes- tu ce mendiant vorace, vile calamité des repas, qui usera ses épaules en s'appuyant à toutes les portes, demandant des restes et non des épées et des bassins. Si tu me le donnais, j'en ferais le gardien de mes étables, qu'il nettoierait. Il porterait le fourrage aux chevaux, et buvant au moins du petit lait, il engraisserait. Mais, sans doute, il ne sait faire que le mal, et il ne veut point travailler, et il aime mieux, parmi le peuple, mendier pour repaître son ventre insatiable. Je te dis ceci, et ma parole s'accomplira: s'il entre dans les demeures du divin Odysseus, les escabeaux des hommes voleront autour de sa tête par la demeure, le frapperont et lui meurtriront les flancs.
Ayant ainsi parlé, l'insensé se rua et frappa Odysseus à la cuisse, mais sans pouvoir l'ébranler sur le chemin. Et Odysseus resta immobile, délibérant s'il lui arracherait l'âme d'un coup de bâton, ou si, le soulevant de terre, il lui écraserait la tête contre le sol. Mais il se contint dans son âme. Et le porcher, ayant vu cela, s'indigna, et il dit en levant les mains:
— Nymphes Krèniades, filles de Zeus, si jamais Odysseus a brûlé pour vous les cuisses grasses et odorantes des agneaux et des chevreaux, accomplissez mon voeu. Que ce héros revienne et qu'une divinité le conduise! Certes, alors, ô Mélanthios, il troublerait les joies que tu goûtes en errant sans cesse, plein d'insolence, par la ville, tandis que de mauvais bergers perdent les troupeaux.
Et le chevrier Mélanthios lui répondit:
— Ô dieux! Que dit ce chien rusé? Mais bientôt je le conduirai moi-même, sur une nef noire, loin d'Ithakè, et un grand prix m'en reviendra. Plût aux dieux qu'Apollôn à l'arc d'argent tuât aujourd'hui Tèlémakhos dans ses demeures, ou qu'il fût tué par les prétendants, aussi vrai qu'Odysseus, au loin, a perdu le jour du retour!
Ayant ainsi parlé, il les laissa marcher en silence, et, les devançant, il parvint rapidement aux demeures du roi. Et il y entra aussitôt, et il s'assit parmi les prétendants, auprès d'Eurymakhos qui l'aimait beaucoup. Et on lui offrit sa part des viandes, et la vénérable intendante lui apporta du pain à manger.
Alors, Odysseus et le divin porcher, étant arrivés, s'arrêtèrent; et le son de la kithare creuse vint jusqu'à eux, car Phèmios commençait à chanter au milieu des prétendants. Et Odysseus, ayant prit la main du porcher, lui dit:
— Eumaios, certes, voici les belles demeures d'Odysseus. Elles sont faciles à reconnaître au milieu de toutes les autres, tant elles en sont différentes. La cour est ornée de murs et de pieux, et les portes à deux battants sont solides. Aucun homme ne pourrait les forcer. Je comprends que beaucoup d'hommes prennent là leur repas, car l'odeur s'en élève, et la kithare résonne, elle dont les dieux ont fait le charme des repas.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Tu as tout compris aisément, car tu es très intelligent; mais délibérons sur ce qu'il faut faire. Ou tu entreras le premier dans les riches demeures, au milieu des prétendants, et je resterai ici; ou, si tu veux rester, j'irai devant. Mais ne tarde pas dehors, de peur qu'on te frappe et qu'on te chasse. Je t'engage à te décider.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Je sais, je comprends, et je ferai avec intelligence ce que tu dis. Va devant, et je resterai ici. J'ai l'habitude des blessures, et mon âme est patiente sous les coups, car j'ai subi bien des maux sur la mer et dans la guerre. Advienne que pourra. Il ne m'est point possible de cacher la faim cruelle qui ronge mon ventre et qui fait souffrir tant de maux aux hommes, et qui pousse sur la mer indomptée les nefs à bancs de rameurs pour apporter le malheur aux ennemis.
Et ils se parlaient ainsi, et un chien, qui était couché là, leva la tête et dressa les oreilles. C'était Argos, le chien du malheureux Odysseus qui l'avait nourri lui-même autrefois, et qui n'en jouit pas, étant parti pour la sainte Ilios. Les jeunes hommes l'avaient autrefois conduit à la chasse des chèvres sauvages, des cerfs et des lièvres; et, maintenant, en l'absence de son maître, il gisait, délaissé, sur l'amas de fumier de mulets et de boeufs qui était devant les portes, et y restait jusqu'à ce que les serviteurs d'Odysseus l'eussent emporté pour engraisser son grand verger. Et le chien Argos gisait là, rongé de vermine. Et, aussitôt, il reconnut Odysseus qui approchait, et il remua la queue et dressa les oreilles; mais il ne put pas aller au-devant de son maître, qui, l'ayant vu, essuya une larme, en se cachant aisément d'Eumaios. Et, aussitôt, il demanda à celui-ci:
— Eumaios, voici une chose prodigieuse. Ce chien gisant sur ce fumier a un beau corps. Je ne sais si, avec cette beauté, il a été rapide à la course, ou si c'est un de ces chiens que les hommes nourrissent à leur table et que les rois élèvent à cause de leur beauté.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— C'est le chien d'un homme mort au loin. S'il était encore, par les formes et les qualités, tel qu'Odysseus le laissa en allant à Troiè, tu admirerais sa rapidité et sa force. Aucune bête fauve qu'il avait aperçue ne lui échappait dans les profondeurs des bois, et il était doué d'un flair excellent. Maintenant les maux l'accablent. Son maître est mort loin de sa patrie, et les servantes négligentes ne le soignent point. Les serviteurs, auxquels leurs maîtres ne commandent plus, ne veulent plus agir avec justice, car le retentissant Zeus ôte à l'homme la moitié de sa vertu, quand il le soumet à la servitude.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il entra dans la riche demeure, qu'il traversa pour se rendre au milieu des illustres prétendants. Et, aussitôt, la kèr de la noire mort saisit Argos comme il venait de revoir Odysseus après la vingtième année.
Et le divin Tèlémakhos vit, le premier, Eumaios traverser la demeure, et il lui fit signe pour l'appeler promptement à lui. Et le porcher, ayant regardé, prit le siège vide du découpeur qui servait alors les viandes abondantes aux prétendants, et qui les découpait pour les convives. Et Eumaios, portant ce siège devant la table de Tèlémakhos, s'y assit. Et un héraut lui offrit une part des mets et du pain pris dans une corbeille.
Et, après lui, Odysseus entra dans la demeure, semblable à un misérable et vieux mendiant, appuyé sur un bâton et couvert de vêtements en haillons. Et il s'assit sur le seuil de frêne, en dedans des portes, et il s'adossa contre le montant de cyprès qu'un ouvrier avait autrefois habilement poli et dressé avec le cordeau. Alors, Tèlémakhos, ayant appelé le porcher, prit un pain entier dans la belle corbeille, et des viandes, autant que ses mains purent en prendre, et dit:
— Porte ceci, et donne-le à l'étranger, et ordonne lui de demander à chacun des prétendants. La honte n'est pas bonne à l'indigent.
Il parla ainsi, et le porcher, l'ayant entendu, s'approcha d'Odysseus et lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Tèlémakhos, ô étranger, te donne ceci, et il t'ordonne de demander à chacun des prétendants. Il dit que la honte n'est pas bonne à l'indigent.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Roi Zeus! accorde-moi que Tèlémakhos soit heureux entre tous les hommes, et que tout ce qu'il désire s'accomplisse!
Il parla ainsi, et, prenant la nourriture des deux mains, il la posa à ses pieds sur sa besace trouée, et il mangea pendant que le divin aoide chantait dans les demeures. Mais le divin aoide se tut, et les prétendants élevèrent un grand tumulte, et Athènè, s'approchant du Laertiade Odysseus, l'excita à demander aux prétendants, afin de reconnaître ceux qui étaient justes et ceux qui étaient iniques. Mais aucun d'eux ne devait être sauvé de la mort. Et Odysseus se hâta de prier chacun d'eux en commençant par la droite et en tendant les deux mains, comme ont coutume les mendiants. Et ils lui donnaient, ayant pitié de lui, et ils s'étonnaient, et ils se demandaient qui il était et d'où il venait. Alors, le chevrier Mélanthios leur dit:
— Écoutez-moi, prétendants de l'illustre reine, je parlerai de cet étranger que j'ai déjà vu. C'est assurément le porcher qui l'a conduit ici; mais je ne sais où il est né.
Il parla ainsi, et Antinoos réprimanda le porcher par ces paroles:
— Ô porcher, pourquoi as-tu conduit cet homme à la ville? N'avons-nous pas assez de vagabonds et de mendiants, calamité des repas? Trouves-tu qu'il ne suffit pas de ceux qui sont réunis ici pour dévorer les biens de ton maître, que tu aies encore appelé celui-ci?
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Antinoos, tu ne dis pas de bonnes paroles, bien que tu sois illustre. Quel homme peut appeler un étranger, afin qu'il vienne de loin, s'il n'est de ceux qui sont habiles, un divinateur, un médecin, un ouvrier qui taille le bois, ou un grand aoide qui charme en chantant? Ceux-là sont illustres parmi les hommes sur la terre immense. Mais personne n'appelle un mendiant, s'il ne désire se nuire à soi-même. Tu es le plus dur des prétendants pour les serviteurs d'Odysseus, et surtout pour moi; mais je n'en ai nul souci, tant que la sage Pènélopéia et le divin Tèlémakhos vivront dans leurs demeures.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui dit:
— Tais-toi, et ne lui réponds point tant de paroles. Antinoos a coutume de chercher querelle par des paroles injurieuses et d'exciter tous les autres.
Il parla ainsi, et il dit ensuite à Antinoos ces paroles ailées:
— Antinoos, tu prends soin de moi comme un père de son fils, toi qui ordonnes impérieusement à un étranger de sortir de ma demeure! mais qu'un dieu n'accomplisse point cet ordre. Donne à cet homme. Je ne t'en blâmerai point. Je te l'ordonne même. Tu n'offenseras ainsi ni ma mère, ni aucun des serviteurs qui sont dans la demeure du divin Odysseus. Mais telle n'est point la pensée que tu as dans ta poitrine, et tu aimes mieux manger davantage toi-même que de donner à un autre.
Et Antinoos lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, agorète orgueilleux et plein de colère, qu'as-tu dit? Si tous les prétendants lui donnaient autant que moi, il serait retenu loin de cette demeure pendant trois mois au moins.
Il parla ainsi, saisissant et montrant l'escabeau sur lequel il appuyait ses pieds brillants sous la table. Mais tous les autres donnèrent à Odysseus et emplirent sa besace de viandes et de pain. Et déjà Odysseus s'en retournait pour goûter les dons des Akhaiens, mais il s'arrêta auprès d'Antinoos et lui dit:
— Donne-moi, ami, car tu ne parais pas le dernier des Akhaiens mais plutôt le premier d'entre eux, et tu es semblable à un roi. Il t'appartient de me donner plus abondamment que les autres, et je te louerai sur la terre immense. En effet, moi aussi, autrefois, j'ai habité une demeure parmi les hommes; j'ai été riche et heureux, et j'ai souvent donné aux étrangers, quels qu'ils fussent et quelle que fût leur misère. Je possédais de nombreux serviteurs et tout ce qui fait vivre heureux et fait dire qu'on est riche; mais Zeus Kroniôn a tout détruit, car telle a été sa volonté. Il m'envoya avec des pirates vagabonds dans l'Aigyptiè lointaine, afin que j'y périsse. Le cinquième jour j'arrêtai mes nefs à deux rangs d'avirons dans le fleuve Aigyptos. Alors j'ordonnai à mes chers compagnons de rester auprès des nefs pour les garder, et j'envoyai des éclaireurs pour aller à la découverte. Mais ceux-ci, égarés par leur audace et confiants dans leurs forces, dévastèrent aussitôt les beaux champs des hommes Aigyptiens, entraînant les femmes et les petits enfants et tuant les hommes. Et aussitôt le tumulte arriva jusqu'à la ville, et les habitants, entendant ces clameurs, accoururent au lever d'Éôs, et toute la plaine se remplit de piétons et de cavaliers et de l'éclat de l'airain. Et le foudroyant Zeus mit mes compagnons en fuite, et aucun d'eux ne soutint l'attaque, et la mort les environna de toutes parts. Là, un grand nombre des nôtres fut tué par l'airain aigu, et les autres furent emmenés vivants pour être esclaves. Et les Aigyptiens me donnèrent à Dmètôrlaside, qui commandait à Kypros, et il m'y emmena, et de là je suis venu ici, après avoir beaucoup souffert.
Et Antinoos lui répondit:
— Quel dieu a conduit ici cette peste, cette calamité des repas? Tiens-toi au milieu de la salle, loin de ma table, si tu ne veux voir bientôt une Aigyptiè et une Kypros amères, aussi sûrement que tu es un audacieux et impudent mendiant. Tu t'arrêtes devant chacun, et ils te donnent inconsidérément, rien ne les empêchant de donner ce qui ne leur appartient pas, car ils ont tout en abondance.
Et le subtil Odysseus dit en s'en retournant:
— Ô dieux! Tu n'as pas les pensées qui conviennent à ta beauté; et à celui qui te le demanderait dans ta propre demeure tu ne donnerais pas même du sel, toi qui, assis maintenant à une table étrangère, ne peux supporter la pensée de me donner un peu de pain, quand tout abonde ici.
Il parla ainsi, et Antinoos fut grandement irrité dans son coeur, et, le regardant d'un oeil sombre, il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Je ne pense pas que tu sortes sain et sauf de cette demeure, puisque tu as prononcé cet outrage.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il saisit son escabeau et en frappa l'épaule droite d'Odysseus à l'extrémité du dos. Mais Odysseus resta ferme comme une pierre, et le trait d'Antinoos ne l'ébranla pas. Il secoua la tête en silence, en méditant la mort du prétendant. Puis, il retourna s'asseoir sur le seuil, posa à terre sa besace pleine et dit aux prétendants:
— Écoutez-moi, prétendants de l'illustre reine, afin que je dise ce que mon coeur m'ordonne dans ma poitrine. Il n'y a ni douleur, ni honte, quand un homme est frappé, combattant pour ses biens, soit des boeufs, soit de grasses brebis; mais Antinoos m'a frappé parce que mon ventre est rongé par la faim cruelle qui cause tant de maux aux hommes. Donc, s'il est des dieux et des Érinnyes pour les mendiants, Antinoos, avant ses noces, rencontrera la mort.
Et Antinoos, le fils d'Eupeithès, lui dit:
— Mange en silence, étranger, ou sors, de peur que, parlant comme tu le fais, les jeunes hommes te traînent, à travers la demeure, par les pieds ou par les bras, et te mettent en pièces.
Il parla ainsi, mais tous les autres le blâmèrent rudement, et un des jeunes hommes insolents lui dit:
— Antinoos, tu as mal fait de frapper ce malheureux vagabond. Insensé! si c'était un des dieux Ouraniens? Car les dieux, qui prennent toutes les formes, errent souvent par les villes, semblables à des étrangers errants, afin de reconnaître la justice ou l'iniquité des hommes.
Les prétendants parlèrent ainsi, mais leurs paroles ne touchèrent point Antinoos. Et une grande douleur s'éleva dans le coeur de Tèlémakhos à cause du coup qui avait été porté. Cependant, il ne versa point de larmes, mais il secoua la tête en silence, en méditant la mort du prétendant. Et la prudente Pènélopéia, ayant appris qu'un étranger avait été frappé dans la demeure, dit à ses servantes:
— Puisse Apollôn illustre par son arc frapper ainsi Antinoos!
Et Eurynomè l'intendante lui répondit:
— Si nous pouvions accomplir nos propres voeux, aucun de ceux-ci ne verrait le retour du beau matin.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui dit:
— Nourrice, tous me sont ennemis, car ils méditent le mal; mais Antinoos, plus que tous, est pour moi semblable à la noire kèr. Un malheureux étranger mendie dans la demeure, demandant à chacun, car la nécessité le presse, et tous lui donnent; mais Antinoos le frappe d'un escabeau à l'épaule droite!
Elle parla ainsi au milieu de ses servantes. Et le divin Odysseus acheva son repas, et Pènélopéia fit appeler le divin porcher et lui dit:
— Va, divin Eumaios, et ordonne à l'étranger de venir, afin que je le salue et l'interroge. Peut-être qu'il a entendu parler du malheureux Odysseus, ou qu'il l'a vu de ses yeux, car il semble lui-même avoir beaucoup erré.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Plût aux dieux, reine, que tous les Akhaiens fissent silence et qu'il charmât ton cher coeur de ses paroles! Je l'ai retenu dans l'étable pendant trois nuits et trois jours, car il était d'abord venu vers moi après s'être enfui d'une nef. Et il n'a point achevé de dire toute sa destinée malheureuse. De même qu'on révère un aoide instruit par les dieux à chanter des paroles douces aux hommes, et qu'on ne veut jamais cesser de l'écouter quand il chante, de même celui-ci m'a charmé dans mes demeures. Il dit qu'il est un hôte paternel d'Odysseus et qu'il habitait la Krètè où commande la race de Minôs. Après avoir subi beaucoup de maux, errant çà et là, il est venu ici. Il dit qu'il a entendu parler d'Odysseus chez le riche peuple des Thesprôtes, et qu'il vit encore, et qu'il rapporte de nombreuses richesses dans sa demeure.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Va! Appelle-le, afin qu'il parle devant moi. Les prétendants se réjouissent, assis les uns devant les portes, les autres dans la demeure, car leur esprit est joyeux. Leurs richesses restent intactes dans leurs maisons, leur pain et leur vin doux, dont se nourrissent leurs serviteurs seulement. Mais, tous les jours, dans notre demeure, ils tuent nos boeufs, nos brebis et nos chèvres grasses, et ils les mangent, et ils boivent notre vin rouge impunément, et ils ont déjà consumé beaucoup de richesses. Il n'y a point ici d'homme tel qu'Odysseus pour chasser cette ruine hors de la demeure. Mais si Odysseus revenait et abordait la terre de la patrie, bientôt, avec son fils, il aurait réprimé les insolences de ces hommes.
Elle parla ainsi, et Tèlémakhos éternua très fortement, et toute la maison en retentit. Et Pènélopéia se mit à rire, et, aussitôt, elle dit à Eumaios ces paroles ailées:
— Va! Appelle cet étranger devant moi. Ne vois-tu pas que mon fils a éternué comme j'achevais de parler? Que la mort de tous les prétendants s'accomplisse ainsi, et que nul d'entre eux n'évite la kèr et la mort! Mais je te dirai ceci; retiens-le dans ton esprit: si je reconnais que cet étranger me dit la vérité, je lui donnerai de beaux vêtements, un manteau et une tunique.
Elle parla ainsi, et le porcher, l'ayant entendue, s'approcha d'Odysseus et lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Père étranger, la sage Pènélopéia, la mère de Tèlémakhos, t'appelle. Son âme lui ordonne de t'interroger sur son mari, bien qu'elle subisse beaucoup de douleurs. Si elle reconnaît que tu lui as dit la vérité, elle te donnera un manteau et une tunique dont tu as grand besoin; et tu demanderas ton pain parmi le peuple, et tu satisferas ta faim, et chacun te donnera s'il le veut.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus lui répondit:
— Eumaios, je dirai bientôt toute la vérité à la fille d'Ikarios, la très sage Pènélopéia. Je sais toute la destinée d'Odysseus, et nous avons subi les mêmes maux. Mais je crains la multitude des prétendants insolents. Leur orgueil et leur violence sont montés jusqu'à l'Ouranos de fer. Voici qu'un d'entre eux, comme je traversais innocemment la salle, m'ayant frappé, m'a fait un grand mal. Et Tèlémakhos n'y a point pris garde, ni aucun autre. Donc, maintenant, engage Pènélopéia, malgré sa hâte, à attendre dans ses demeures jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios. Alors, tandis que je serai assis auprès du foyer, elle m'interrogera sur le jour du retour de son mari. Je n'ai que des vêtements en haillons; tu le sais, puisque c'est toi que j'ai supplié le premier.
Il parla ainsi, et le porcher le quitta après l'avoir entendu. Et, dès qu'il parut sur le seuil, Pènélopéia lui dit:
— Tu ne l'amènes pas, Eumaios? Pourquoi refuse-t-il? Craint-il quelque outrage, ou a-t-il honte? La honte n'est pas bonne à l'indigent.
Et le porcher Eumaios lui répondit:
— Il parle comme il convient et comme chacun pense. Il veut éviter l'insolence des prétendants orgueilleux. Mais il te prie d'attendre jusqu'au coucher de Hèlios. Il te sera ainsi plus facile, ô reine, de parler seule à cet étranger et de l'écouter.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Cet étranger, quel qu'il soit, ne semble point sans prudence; et, en effet, aucun des plus injurieux parmi les hommes mortels n'a médité plus d'iniquités que ceux-ci.
Elle parla ainsi, et le divin porcher retourna dans l'assemblée des prétendants, après avoir tout dit. Et, penchant la tête vers Tèlémakhos, afin que les autres ne l'entendissent pas, il dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ô ami, je pars, afin d'aller garder tes porcs et veiller sur tes richesses et les miennes. Ce qui est ici te regarde. Mais conserve-toi et songe dans ton âme à te préserver. De nombreux Akhaiens ont de mauvais desseins, mais que Zeus les perde avant qu'ils nous nuisent!
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Il en sera ainsi, père. Mais pars avant la nuit. Reviens demain, au matin, et amène les belles victimes. C'est aux immortels et à moi de nous inquiéter de tout le reste.
Il parla ainsi, et le porcher s'assit de nouveau sur le siège poli, et là il contenta son âme en buvant et en mangeant; puis, se hâtant de retourner vers ses porcs, il laissa les cours et la demeure pleines de convives qui se charmaient par la danse et le chant, car déjà le soir était venu.
Et il vint un mendiant qui errait par la ville et qui mendiait dans Ithakè. Et il était renommé par son ventre insatiable, car il mangeait et buvait sans cesse; mais il n'avait ni force, ni courage, bien qu'il fût beau et grand. Il se nommait Arnaios, et c'était le nom que sa mère vénérable lui avait donné à sa naissance; mais les jeunes hommes le nommaient tous Iros, parce qu'il faisait volontiers les messages, quand quelqu'un le lui ordonnait. Et dès qu'il fut arrivé, il voulut chasser Odysseus de sa demeure, et, en l'injuriant, il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Sors du portique, vieillard, de peur d'être traîné aussitôt par les pieds. Ne comprends-tu pas que tous me font signe et m'ordonnent de te traîner dehors? Cependant, j'ai pitié de toi. Lève-toi donc, de peur qu'il y ait de la discorde entre nous et que nous en venions aux mains.
Et le subtil Odysseus, le regardant d'un oeil sombre, lui dit:
— Malheureux! Je ne te fais aucun mal, je ne te dis rien, et je ne t'envie pas à cause des nombreux dons que tu pourras recevoir. Ce seuil nous servira à tous deux. Il ne faut pas que tu sois envieux d'un étranger, car tu me sembles un vagabond comme moi, et ce sont les dieux qui distribuent les richesses. Ne me provoque donc pas aux coups et n'éveille pas ma colère, de peur que je souille de sang ta poitrine et tes lèvres, bien que je sois vieux. Demain je n'en serai que plus tranquille, et je ne pense pas que tu reviennes après cela dans la demeure du Laertiade Odysseus.
Et le mendiant Iros, irrité, lui dit:
— Ô dieux! comme ce mendiant parle avec facilité, semblable à une vieille enfumée. Mais je vais le maltraiter en le frappant des deux mains, et je ferai tomber toutes ses dents de ses mâchoires, comme celles d'un sanglier mangeur de moissons! Maintenant, ceins- toi, et que tous ceux-ci nous voient combattre. Mais comment lutteras-tu contre un homme jeune?
Ainsi, devant les hautes portes, sur le seuil poli, ils se querellaient de toute leur âme. Et la force sacrée d'Antinoos les entendit, et, se mettant à rire, il dit aux prétendants:
— Ô amis! jamais rien de tel n'est arrivé. Quel plaisir un dieu nous envoie dans cette demeure! L'étranger et Iros se querellent et vont en venir aux coups. Mettons-les promptement aux mains.
Il parla ainsi, et tous se levèrent en riant, et ils se réunirent autour des mendiants en haillons, et Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, leur dit:
— Écoutez-moi, illustres prétendants, afin que je parle. Des poitrines de chèvres sont sur le feu, pour le repas, et pleines de sang et de graisse. Celui qui sera vainqueur et le plus fort choisira la part qu'il voudra. Il assistera toujours à nos repas, et nous ne laisserons aucun autre mendiant demander parmi nous.
Ainsi parla Antinoos, et ses paroles plurent à tous. Mais le subtil Odysseus parla ainsi, plein de ruse:
— Ô amis, il n'est pas juste qu'un vieillard flétri par la douleur lutte contre un homme jeune; mais la faim, mauvaise conseillère, me pousse à me faire couvrir de plaies. Cependant, jurez tous par un grand serment qu'aucun de vous, pour venir en aide à Iros, ne me frappera de sa forte main, afin que je sois dompté.
Il parla ainsi, et tous jurèrent comme il l'avait demandé. Et la force sacrée de Tèlémakhos lui dit:
— Étranger, si ton coeur et ton âme courageuse t'invitent à chasser cet homme, ne crains aucun des Akhaiens. Celui qui te frapperait aurait à combattre contre plusieurs, car je t'ai donné l'hospitalité, et deux rois prudents, Eurymakhos et Antinoos, m'approuvent.
Il parla ainsi, et tous l'approuvèrent. Et Odysseus ceignit ses parties viriles avec ses haillons, et il montra ses cuisses belles et grandes, et ses larges épaules, et sa poitrine et ses bras robustes. Et Athènè, s'approchant de lui, augmenta les membres du prince des peuples. Et tous les prétendants furent très surpris, et ils se dirent les uns aux autres:
— Certes, bientôt Iros ne sera plus Iros, et il aura ce qu'il a cherché. Quelles cuisses montre ce vieillard en retirant ses haillons!
Ils parlèrent ainsi, et l'âme de Iros fut troublée; mais les serviteurs, après l'avoir ceint de force, le conduisirent, et toute sa chair tremblait sur ses os. Et Antinoos le réprimanda et lui dit:
— Puisses-tu n'être jamais né, n'étant qu'un fanfaron, puisque tu trembles, plein de crainte, devant un vieillard flétri par la misère! Mais je te dis ceci, et ma parole s'accomplira: si celui- ci est vainqueur et le plus fort, je t'enverrai sur la terre ferme, jeté dans une nef noire, chez le roi Ékhétos, le plus féroce de tous les hommes, qui te coupera le nez et les oreilles avec l'airain tranchant, qui t'arrachera les parties viriles et les donnera, sanglantes, à dévorer aux chiens.
Il parla ainsi, et une plus grande terreur fit trembler la chair d'Iros. Et on le conduisit au milieu, et tous deux levèrent leurs bras. Alors, le patient et divin Odysseus délibéra s'il le frapperait de façon à lui arracher l'âme d'un seul coup, ou s'il ne ferait que l'étendre contre terre. Et il jugea que ceci était le meilleur, de ne le frapper que légèrement de peur que les Akhaiens le reconnussent.
Tous deux ayant levé les bras, Iros le frappa à l'épaule droite; mais Odysseus le frappa au cou, sous l'oreille, et brisa ses os, et un sang noir emplit sa bouche, et il tomba dans la poussière en criant, et ses dents furent arrachées, et il battit la terre de ses pieds. Les prétendants insolents, les bras levés, mouraient de rire. Mais Odysseus le traîna par un pied, à travers le portique, jusque dans la cour et jusqu'aux portes, et il l'adossa contre le mur de la cour, lui mit un bâton à la main, et lui adressa ces paroles ailées:
— Maintenant, reste là, et chasse les chiens et les porcs, et ne te crois plus le maître des étrangers et des mendiants, misérable! de peur d'un mal pire.
Il parla ainsi, et, jetant sur son épaule sa pauvre besace pleine de trous suspendue à une courroie tordue, il revint s'asseoir sur le seuil. Et tous les prétendants rentrèrent en riant, et ils lui dirent:
— Que Zeus et les autres dieux immortels, étranger, t'accordent ce que tu désires le plus et ce qui est cher à ton coeur! car tu empêches cet insatiable de mendier. Nous l'enverrons bientôt sur la terre ferme, chez le roi Ékhétos, le plus féroce de tous les hommes.
Ils parlaient ainsi, et le divin Odysseus se réjouit de leur voeu. Et Antinoos plaça devant lui une large poitrine de chèvre pleine de sang et de graisse. Et Amphinomos prit dans une corbeille deux pains qu'il lui apporta, et, l'honorant d'une coupe d'or, il lui dit:
— Salut, père Étranger. Que la richesse que tu possédais te soit rendue, car, maintenant, tu es accablé de beaucoup de maux.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Amphinomos, tu me sembles plein de prudence, et tel que ton père, car j'ai appris par la renommée que Nisos était à Doulikhios un homme honnête et riche. On dit que tu es né de lui, et tu sembles un homme sage. Je te dis ceci; écoute et comprends-moi. Rien n'est plus misérable que l'homme parmi tout ce qui respire ou rampe sur la terre, et qu'elle nourrit. Jamais, en effet, il ne croit que le malheur puisse l'accabler un jour, tant que les dieux lui conservent la force et que ses genoux se meuvent; mais quand les dieux heureux lui ont envoyé les maux, il ne veut pas les subir d'un coeur patient. Tel est l'esprit des hommes terrestres, semblable aux jours changeants qu'amène le père des hommes et des dieux. Moi aussi, autrefois, j'étais heureux parmi les guerriers, et j'ai commis beaucoup d'actions injustes, dans ma force et dans ma violence, me fiant à l'aide de mon père et de mes frères. C'est pourquoi qu'aucun homme ne soit inique, mais qu'il accepte en silence les dons des dieux. Je vois les prétendants, pleins de pensées iniques, consumant les richesses et outrageant la femme d'un homme qui, je le dis, ne sera pas longtemps éloigné de ses amis et de la terre de la patrie. Qu'un daimôn te ramène dans ta demeure, de peur qu'il te rencontre quand il reviendra dans la chère terre de la patrie. Ce ne sera pas, en effet, sans carnage, que tout se décidera entre les prétendants et lui, quand il reviendra dans ses demeures.
Il parla ainsi, et, faisant une libation, il but le vin doux et remit la coupe entre les mains du prince des peuples. Et celui-ci, le coeur déchiré et secouant la tête, allait à travers la salle, car, en effet, son âme prévoyait des malheurs. Mais cependant il ne devait pas éviter la kèr, et Athènè l'empêcha de partir, afin qu'il fût tué par les mains et par la lance de Tèlémakhos. Et il alla s'asseoir de nouveau sur le thrône d'où il s'était levé.
Alors, la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs mit dans l'esprit de la fille d'Ikarios, de la prudente Pènélopéia, d'apparaître aux prétendants, afin que leur coeur fût transporté, et qu'elle-même fût plus honorée encore par son mari et par son fils. Pènélopéia se mit donc à rire légèrement, et elle dit:
— Eurynomè, voici que mon âme m'excite maintenant à apparaître aux prétendants odieux. Je dirai à mon fils une parole qui lui sera très utile. Je lui conseillerai de ne point se mêler aux prétendants insolents qui lui parlent avec amitié et méditent sa mort.
Et Eurynomè l'intendante lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, ce que tu dis est sage; fais-le. Donne ce conseil à ton fils, et ne lui cache rien. Lave ton corps et parfume tes joues avec de l'huile, et ne sors pas avec un visage sillonné de larmes, car rien n'est pire que de pleurer continuellement. En effet, ton fils est maintenant tel que tu suppliais ardemment les dieux qu'il devint.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Eurynomè, ne me parle point, tandis que je gémis, de laver et de parfumer mon corps. Les dieux qui habitent l'Olympos m'ont ravi ma splendeur, du jour où Odysseus est parti sur ses nefs creuses. Mais ordonne à Autonoè et à Hippodamia de venir, afin de m'accompagner dans les demeures. Je ne veux point aller seule au milieu des hommes, car j'en aurais honte.
Elle parla ainsi, et la vieille femme sortit de la maison afin d'avertir les servantes et qu'elles vinssent à la hâte.
Et, alors, la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs eut une autre pensée, et elle répandit le doux sommeil sur la fille d'Ikarios. Et celle- ci s'endormit, penchée en arrière, et sa force l'abandonna sur le lit de repos. Et, alors, la noble déesse lui fit des dons immortels, afin qu'elle fût admirée des Akhaiens. Elle purifia son visage avec de l'ambroisie, de même que Kythéréia à la belle couronne se parfume, quand elle se rend aux choeurs charmants des Kharites. Elle la fit paraître plus grande, plus majestueuse, et elle la rendit plus blanche que l'ivoire récemment travaillé. Cela fait, la noble déesse s'éloigna, et les deux servantes aux bras blancs, ayant été appelées, arrivèrent de la maison, et le doux sommeil quitta Pènélopéia. Et elle pressa ses joues avec ses mains, et elle s'écria:
— Certes, malgré mes peines, le doux sommeil m'a enveloppée. Puisse la chaste Artémis m'envoyer une mort aussi douce! Je ne consumerais plus ma vie à gémir dans mon coeur, regrettant mon cher mari qui avait toutes les vertus et qui était le plus illustre des Akhaiens.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle descendit des chambres splendides. Et elle n'était point seule, car deux servantes la suivaient. Et quand la divine femme arriva auprès des prétendants, elle s'arrêta sur le seuil de la salle richement ornée, ayant un beau voile sur les joues. Et les servantes prudentes se tenaient à ses côtés. Et les genoux des prétendants furent rompus, et leur coeur fut transporté par l'amour, et ils désiraient ardemment dormir avec elle dans leurs lits. Mais elle dit à son fils Tèlémakhos:
— Tèlémakhos, ton esprit n'est pas ferme, ni ta pensée. Quand tu étais encore enfant, tu avais des pensées plus sérieuses; mais, aujourd'hui que tu es grand et parvenu au terme de la puberté, et que chacun dit que tu es le fils d'un homme heureux, et que l'étranger admire ta grandeur et ta beauté, ton esprit n'est plus équitable, ni ta pensée. Comment as-tu permis qu'une telle action mauvaise ait été commise dans tes demeures et qu'un hôte ait été ainsi outragé? Qu'arrivera-t-il donc, si un étranger assis dans nos demeures souffre un tel outrage? La honte et l'opprobre seront pour toi parmi les hommes.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ma mère, je ne te blâme point de t'irriter; mais je comprends et je sais dans mon âme ce qui est juste ou injuste. Il y a peu de temps j'étais encore enfant, et je ne puis avoir une égale prudence en toute chose. Ces hommes, assis les uns auprès des autres, méditent ma perte et je n'ai point de soutiens. Mais le combat de l'étranger et d'Iros ne s'est point terminé selon le désir des prétendants, et notre hôte l'a emporté par sa force. Plaise au père Zeus, à Athènè, à Apollôn, que les prétendants, domptés dans nos demeures, courbent bientôt la tête, les uns sous le portique, les autres dans la demeure, et que leurs forces soient rompues; de même qu'Iros est assis devant les portes extérieures, baissant la tête comme un homme ivre et ne pouvant ni se tenir debout, ni revenir à sa place accoutumée, parce que ses forces sont rompues.
Et ils se parlaient ainsi. Eurymakhos dit à Pènélopéia:
— Fille d'Ikarios, sage Pènélopéia, si tous les Akhaiens de l'Argos d'Iasos te voyaient, demain, d'autres nombreux prétendants viendraient s'asseoir à nos repas dans ces demeures, car tu l'emportes sur toutes les femmes par la beauté, la majesté et l'intelligence.
Et la sage Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Eurymakhos, certes, les immortels m'ont enlevé ma vertu et ma beauté depuis que les Argiens sont partis pour Ilios, et qu'Odysseus est parti avec eux; mais s'il revenait et gouvernait ma vie, ma renommée serait meilleure et je serais plus belle. Maintenant je suis affligée, tant un daimôn ennemi m'a envoyé de maux. Quand Odysseus quitta la terre de la patrie, il me prit la main droite et il me dit:
— Ô femme, je ne pense pas que les Akhaiens aux belles knèmides reviennent tous sains et saufs de Troiè. On dit, en effet, que les Troiens sont de braves guerriers, lanceurs de piques et de flèches, et bons conducteurs de chevaux rapides qui décident promptement de la victoire dans la mêlée du combat furieux. Donc, je ne sais si un dieu me sauvera, ou si je mourrai là, devant Troiè. Mais toi, prends soin de toute chose, et souviens-toi, dans mes demeures, de mon père et de ma mère, comme maintenant, et plus encore quand je serai absent. Puis, quand tu verras ton fils arrivé à la puberté, épouse celui que tu choisiras et abandonne ta demeure. Il parla ainsi, et toutes ces choses sont accomplies, et la nuit viendra où je subirai d'odieuses noces, car Zeus m'a ravi le bonheur. Cependant, une douleur amère a saisi mon coeur et mon âme, et vous ne suivez pas la coutume ancienne des prétendants. Ceux qui voulaient épouser une noble femme, fille d'un homme riche, et qui se la disputaient, amenaient dans sa demeure des boeufs et de grasses brebis, et ils offraient à la jeune fille des repas et des présents splendides, et ils ne dévoraient pas impunément les biens d'autrui.
Elle parla ainsi, et le patient et divin Odysseus se réjouit parce qu'elle attirait leurs présents et charmait leur âme par de douces paroles, tandis qu'elle avait d'autres pensées.
Et Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, lui répondit:
— Fille d'Ikarios, sage Pènélopéia, accepte les présents que chacun des Akhaiens voudra apporter ici. Il n'est pas convenable de refuser des présents, et nous ne retournerons point à nos travaux et nous ne ferons aucune autre chose avant que tu aies épousé celui des Akhaiens que tu préféreras.
Antinoos parla ainsi, et ses paroles furent approuvées de tous. Et chacun envoya un héraut pour apporter les présents. Et celui d'Antinoos apporta un très beau péplos aux couleurs variées et orné de douze anneaux d'or où s'attachaient autant d'agrafes recourbées. Et celui d'Eurymakhos apporta un riche collier d'or et d'ambre étincelant, et semblable à Hèlios. Et les deux serviteurs d'Eurydamas des boucles d'oreilles merveilleuses et bien travaillées et resplendissantes de grâce. Et le serviteur de Peisandros Polyktoride apporta un collier, très riche ornement. Et les hérauts apportèrent aux autres Akhaiens d'aussi beaux présents. Et la noble femme remonta dans les chambres hautes, tandis que les servantes portaient ces présents magnifiques.
Mais les prétendants restèrent jusqu'à ce que le soir fût venu, se charmant par la danse et le chant. Et le soir sombre survint tandis qu'ils se charmaient ainsi. Aussitôt, ils dressèrent trois lampes dans les demeures, afin d'en être éclairés, et ils disposèrent, autour, du bois depuis fort longtemps desséché et récemment fendu à l'aide de l'airain. Puis ils enduisirent les torches. Et les servantes du subtil Odysseus les allumaient tour à tour; mais le patient et divin Odysseus leur dit:
— Servantes du roi Odysseus depuis longtemps absent, rentrez dans la demeure où est la reine vénérable. Réjouissez-la, assises dans la demeure; tournez les fuseaux et préparez les laines. Seul j'allumerai ces torches pour les éclairer tous. Et, même s'ils voulaient attendre la brillante Éôs, ils ne me lasseraient point, car je suis plein de patience.
Il parla ainsi, et les servantes se mirent à rire, se regardant les unes les autres. Et Mélanthô aux belles joues lui répondit injurieusement. Dolios l'avait engendrée, et Pènélopéia l'avait nourrie et élevée comme sa fille et entourée de délices; mais elle ne prenait point part à la douleur de Pènélopéia, et elle s'était unie d'amour à Eurymakhos, et elle l'aimait; et elle adressa ces paroles injurieuses à Odysseus:
— Misérable étranger, tu es privé d'intelligence, puisque tu ne veux pas aller dormir dans la demeure de quelque ouvrier, ou dans quelque bouge, et puisque tu dis ici de vaines paroles au milieu de nombreux héros et sans rien craindre. Certes, le vin te trouble l'esprit, ou il est toujours tel, et tu ne prononces que de vaines paroles. Peut-être es-tu fier d'avoir vaincu le vagabond Iros? Mais crains qu'un plus fort qu'Iros se lève bientôt, qui t'accablera de ses mains robustes et qui te chassera d'ici souillé de sang.
Et le subtil Odysseus, la regardant d'un oeil sombre, lui répondit:
— Chienne! je vais répéter à Tèlémakhos ce que tu oses dire, afin qu'ici même il te coupe en morceaux!
Il parla ainsi, et il épouvanta les servantes; et elles s'enfuirent à travers la demeure, tremblantes de terreur et croyant qu'il disait vrai. Et il alluma les torches, se tenant debout et les surveillant toutes; mais il méditait dans son esprit d'autres desseins qui devaient s'accomplir. Et Athènè ne permit pas que les prétendants insolents cessassent de l'outrager, afin que la colère entrât plus avant dans le coeur du Laertiade Odysseus. Alors, Eurymakhos, fils de Polybos, commença de railler Odysseus, excitant le rire de ses compagnons:
— Ecoutez-moi, prétendants de l'illustre reine, afin que je dise ce que mon coeur m'ordonne dans ma poitrine. Cet homme n'est pas venu dans la demeure d'Odysseus sans qu'un dieu l'ait voulu. La splendeur des torches me semble sortir de son corps et de sa tête, où il n'y a plus absolument de cheveux.
Il parla ainsi, et il dit au destructeur de citadelles Odysseus:
— Étranger, si tu veux servir pour un salaire, je t'emmènerai à l'extrémité de mes champs. Ton salaire sera suffisant. Tu répareras les haies et tu planteras les arbres. Je te donnerai une nourriture abondante, des vêtements et des sandales. Mais tu ne sais faire que le mal; tu ne veux point travailler, et tu aimes mieux mendier parmi le peuple afin de satisfaire ton ventre insatiable.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Eurymakhos, plût aux dieux que nous pussions lutter en travaillant, au printemps, quand les jours sont longs, promenant, tous deux à jeun, la faux recourbée dans un pré, et jusqu'au soir, tant qu'il y aura de l'herbe à couper! Plût aux dieux que j'eusse à conduire deux grands boeufs gras, rassasiés de fourrage, et de force égale, dans un vaste champ de quatre arpents! Tu verrais alors si je saurais tracer un profond sillon et faire obéir la glèbe à la charrue. Si le Kroniôn excitait une guerre, aujourd'hui même, et si j'avais un bouclier, deux lances, et un casque d'airain autour des tempes, tu me verrais alors mêlé aux premiers combattants et tu ne m'outragerais plus en me raillant parce que j'ai faim. Mais tu m'outrages dans ton insolence, et ton esprit est cruel, et tu te crois grand et brave parce que tu es mêlé à un petit nombre de lâches. Mais si Odysseus revenait et abordait la terre de la patrie, aussitôt ces larges portes seraient trop étroites pour ta fuite, tandis que tu te sauverais hors du portique.
Il parla ainsi, et Eurymakhos fut très irrité dans son coeur, et, le regardant d'un oeil sombre, il dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ah! misérable, certes je vais t'accabler de maux, puisque tu prononces de telles paroles au milieu de nombreux héros, et sans rien craindre. Certes, le vin te trouble l'esprit, ou il est toujours tel, et c'est pour cela que tu prononces de vaines paroles. Peut-être es-tu fier parce que tu as vaincu le mendiant Iros?
Comme il parlait ainsi, il saisit un escabeau; mais Odysseus s'assit aux genoux d'Amphinomos de Doulikhios pour échapper à Eurymakhos, qui atteignit à la main droite l'enfant qui portait à boire, et l'urne tomba en résonnant, et lui-même, gémissant, se renversa dans la poussière. Et les prétendants, en tumulte dans les demeures sombres, se disaient les uns aux autres:
— Plût aux dieux que cet étranger errant eût péri ailleurs et ne fût point venu nous apporter tant de trouble! Voici que nous nous querellons pour un mendiant, et que la joie de nos repas est détruite parce que le mal l'emporte!
Et la force sacrée de Tèlémakhos leur dit:
— Malheureux, vous devenez insensés. Ne mangez ni ne buvez davantage, car quelque dieu vous excite. Allez dormir, rassasiés, dans vos demeures, quand votre coeur vous l'ordonnera, car je ne contrains personne.
Il parla ainsi, et tous se mordirent les lèvres, admirant Tèlémakhos parce qu'il avait parlé avec audace.
Alors, Amphinomos, l'illustre fils du roi Nisos Arètiade, leur dit:
— Ô amis, qu'aucun ne réponde par des paroles irritées à cette juste réprimande. Ne frappez ni cet étranger, ni aucun des serviteurs qui sont dans la maison du divin Odysseus. Allons! que le verseur de vin distribue les coupes, afin que nous fassions des libations et que nous allions dormir dans nos demeures. Laissons cet étranger ici, aux soins de Tèlémakhos qui l'a reçu dans sa chère demeure.
Il parla ainsi, et ses paroles furent approuvées de tous. Et le héros Moulios, héraut de Doulikhios et serviteur d'Amphinomos, mêla le vin dans le kratère et le distribua comme il convenait. Et tous firent des libations aux dieux heureux et burent le vin doux. Et, après avoir fait des libations et bu autant que leur âme le désirait, ils se hâtèrent d'aller dormir, chacun dans sa demeure.
Mais le divin Odysseus resta dans la demeure, méditant avec Athènè la mort des prétendants. Et, aussitôt, il dit à Tèlémakhos ces paroles ailées:
— Tèlémakhos, il faut transporter toutes les armes guerrières hors de la salle, et, quand les prétendants te les demanderont, les tromper par ces douces paroles: — Je les ai mises à l'abri de la fumée, car elles ne sont pas telles qu'elles étaient autrefois, quand Odysseus les laissa à son départ pour Troiè; mais elles sont souillées par la grande vapeur du feu. Puis, le Kroniôn m'a inspiré une autre pensée meilleure, et je crains qu'excités par le vin, et une querelle s'élevant parmi vous, vous vous blessiez les uns les autres et vous souilliez le repas et vos noces futures, car le fer attire l'homme.
Il parla ainsi, et Tèlémakhos obéit à son cher père et, ayant appelé la nourrice Eurykléia, il lui dit:
— Nourrice, enferme les femmes dans les demeures, jusqu'à ce que j'aie transporté dans la chambre nuptiale les belles armes de mon père, qui ont été négligées et que la fumée a souillées pendant l'absence de mon père, car j'étais encore enfant. Maintenant, je veux les transporter là où la vapeur du feu n'ira pas.
Et la chère nourrice Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Plaise aux dieux, mon enfant, que tu aies toujours la prudence de prendre soin de la maison et de conserver toutes tes richesses! Mais qui t'accompagnera en portant une lumière, puisque tu ne veux pas que les servantes t'éclairent?
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ce sera cet étranger. Je ne le laisserai pas sans rien faire, puisqu'il a mangé à ma table, bien qu'il vienne de loin.
Il parla ainsi, et sa parole ne fut point vaine. Et Eurykléia ferma les portes des grandes demeures. Puis, Odysseus et son illustre fils se hâtèrent de transporter les casques, les boucliers bombés et les lances aiguës. Et Pallas Athènè portant devant eux une lanterne d'or, les éclairait vivement; et, alors, Tèlémakhos dit aussitôt à son père:
— Ô père, certes, je vois de mes yeux un grand prodige! Voici que les murs de la demeure, et ses belles poutres, et ses solives de sapin, et ses hautes colonnes, brillent comme un feu ardent. Certes, un des dieux qui habitent le large Ouranos est entré ici.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Tais-toi, et retiens ton esprit, et ne m'interroge pas. Telle est la coutume des dieux qui habitent l'Olympos. Toi, va dormir. Je resterai ici, afin d'éprouver les servantes et ta mère. Dans sa douleur elle va m'interroger sur beaucoup de choses.
Il parla ainsi, et Tèlémakhos sortit de la salle, et il monta, éclairé par les torches flambantes, dans la chambre où il avait coutume de dormir. Là, il s'endormit, en attendant le matin; et le divin Odysseus resta dans la demeure, méditant avec Athènè la mort des prétendants.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia, semblable à Artémis ou à Aphroditè d'or, sortit de sa chambre nuptiale. Et les servantes placèrent pour elle, devant le feu, le thrône où elle s'asseyait. Il était d'ivoire et d'argent, et travaillé au tour. Et c'était l'ouvrier Ikmalios qui l'avait fait autrefois, ainsi qu'un escabeau pour appuyer les pieds de la reine, et qui était recouvert d'une grande peau. Ce fut là que s'assit la prudente Pènélopéia.
Alors, les femmes aux bras blancs vinrent de la demeure, et elles emportèrent les pains nombreux, et les tables, et les coupes dans lesquelles les prétendants insolents avaient bu. Et elles jetèrent à terre le feu des torches, et elles amassèrent, par-dessus, du bois qui devait les éclairer et les chauffer. Et, alors, Mélanthô injuria de nouveau Odysseus:
— Étranger, te voilà encore qui erres dans la demeure, épiant les femmes! Sors d'ici, misérable, après t'être rassasié, ou je te frapperai de ce tison!
Et le sage Odysseus, la regardant d'un oeil sombre, lui dit:
— Malheureuse! pourquoi m'outrager avec fureur? Est-ce parce que je suis vêtu de haillons et que je mendie parmi le peuple, comme la nécessité m'y contraint? Tels sont les mendiants et les vagabonds. Et moi aussi, autrefois, j'étais heureux, et j'habitais une riche demeure, et je donnais aux vagabonds, quels qu'ils fussent et quels que fussent leurs besoins. Et j'avais de nombreux serviteurs et tout ce qui rend heureux et fait appeler un homme riche; mais le Kroniôn Zeus m'a tout enlevé, le voulant ainsi. C'est pourquoi, femme, crains de perdre un jour la beauté dont tu es ornée parmi les servantes; crains que ta maîtresse irritée te punisse, ou qu'Odysseus revienne, car tout espoir n'est pas perdu. Mais s'il a péri, et s'il ne doit plus revenir, son fils Tèlémakhos le remplace par la volonté d'Apollôn, et rien de ce que font les femmes dans les demeures ne lui échappera, car rien n'est plus au-dessus de son âge.
Il parla ainsi, et la prudente Pènélopéia, l'ayant entendu, réprimanda sa servante et lui dit:
— Chienne audacieuse, tu ne peux me cacher ton insolence effrontée que tu payeras de ta tête, car tu sais bien, m'ayant entendue toi-même, que je veux, étant très affligée, interroger cet étranger sur mon mari.
Elle parla ainsi, et elle dit à l'intendante Eurynomè:
— Eurynomè, approche un siège et recouvre-le d'une peau afin que cet étranger, s'étant assis, m'écoute et me réponde, car je veux l'interroger.
Elle parla ainsi, et Eurynomè approcha à la hâte un siège poli qu'elle recouvrit d'une peau, et le patient et divin Odysseus s'y assit, et la prudente Pènélopéia lui dit:
— Étranger, je t'interrogerai d'abord sur toi-même. Qui es-tu? D'où viens-tu? Où sont ta ville et tes parents?
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô femme, aucune des mortelles qui sont sur la terre immense ne te vaut, et, certes, ta gloire est parvenue jusqu'au large Ouranos, telle que la gloire d'un roi irréprochable qui, vénérant les dieux, commande à de nombreux et braves guerriers et répand la justice. Et par lui la terre noire produit l'orge et le blé, et les arbres sont lourds de fruits, et les troupeaux multiplient, et la mer donne des poissons, et, sous ses lois équitables, les peuples sont heureux et justes. C'est pourquoi, maintenant, dans ta demeure, demande-moi toutes les autres choses, mais non ma race et ma patrie. N'emplis pas ainsi mon âme de nouvelles douleurs en me faisant souvenir, car je suis très affligé, et je ne veux pas pleurer et gémir dans une maison étrangère, car il est honteux de pleurer toujours. Peut-être qu'une de tes servantes m'outragerait, ou que tu t'irriterais toi-même, disant que je pleure ainsi ayant l'esprit troublé par le vin.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Étranger, certes, les dieux m'ont ravi ma vertu et ma beauté du jour où les Argiens sont partis pour Ilios, et, avec eux, mon mari Odysseus. S'il revenait et gouvernait ma vie, ma gloire serait plus grande et plus belle. Mais, maintenant, je gémis, tant un daimôn funeste m'a accablée de maux. Voici que ceux qui dominent dans les îles, à Doulikhios, à Samè, à Zakynthos couverte de bois, et ceux qui habitent l'âpre Ithakè elle-même, tous me recherchent malgré moi et ruinent ma maison. Et je ne prends plus soin des étrangers, ni des suppliants, ni des hérauts qui agissent en public; mais je regrette Odysseus et je gémis dans mon cher coeur. Et les prétendants hâtent mes noces, et je médite des ruses. Et, d'abord, un dieu m'inspira de tisser dans mes demeures une grande toile, large et fine, et je leur dis aussitôt: — Jeunes hommes, mes prétendants, puisque le divin Odysseus est mort, cessez de hâter mes noces, jusqu'à ce que j'aie achevé, pour que mes fils ne restent pas inutiles, ce linceul du héros Laertès, quand la moire mauvaise, de la mort inexorable l'aura saisi, afin qu'aucune des femmes akhaiennes ne puisse me reprocher devant tout le peuple qu'un homme qui a possédé tant de biens ait été enseveli sans linceul.' — Je parlai ainsi, et leur coeur généreux fut persuadé; et alors, pendant le jour, je tissais la grande toile, et pendant la nuit, ayant allumé des torches, je la défaisais. Ainsi, pendant trois ans, je cachai ma ruse et trompai les Akhaiens; mais quand vint la quatrième année, et quand les saisons recommencèrent, après le cours des mois et des jours nombreux, alors avertis par mes chiennes de servantes, ils me surprirent et me menacèrent, et, contre ma volonté, je fus contrainte d'achever ma toile. Et, maintenant, je ne puis plus éviter mes noces, ne trouvant plus aucune ruse. Et mes parents m'exhortent à me marier, et mon fils supporte avec peine que ceux-ci dévorent ses biens, auxquels il tient; car c'est aujourd'hui un homme, et il peut prendre soin de sa maison, et Zeus lui a donné la gloire. Mais toi, étranger, dis- moi ta race et ta patrie, car tu ne sors pas du chêne et du rocher des histoires antiques.
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô femme vénérable du Laertiade Odysseus, ne cesseras-tu point de m'interroger sur mes parents? Je te répondrai donc, bien que tu renouvelles ainsi mes maux innombrables; mais c'est là la destinée d'un homme depuis longtemps absent de la patrie, tel que moi qui ai erré parmi les villes des hommes, étant accablé de maux. Je te dirai cependant ce que tu me demandes.
La Krètè est une terre qui s'élève au milieu de la sombre mer, belle et fertile, où habitent d'innombrables hommes et où il y a quatre-vingt-dix villes. On y parle des langages différents, et on y trouve des Akhaiens, de magnanimes Krètois indigènes, des Kydônes, trois tribus de Dôriens et les divins Pélasges. Sur eux tous domine la grande ville de Knôssos, où régna Minôs qui s'entretenait tous les neuf ans avec le grand Zeus, et qui fut le père du magnanime Deukaliôn mon père. Et Deukaliôn nous engendra, moi et le roi Idoméneus. Et Idoméneus alla, sur ses nefs à proues recourbées, à Ilios, avec les Atréides. Mon nom illustre est Aithôn, et j'étais le plus jeune. Idoméneus était l'aîné et le plus brave. Je vis alors Odysseus et je lui offris les dons hospitaliers. En effet, comme il allait à Ilios, la violence du vent l'avait poussé en Krètè, loin du promontoire Maléien, dans Amnisos où est la caverne des Ilithyies; et, dans ce port difficile, à peine évita-t-il la tempête. Arrivé à la ville, il demanda Idoméneus, qu'il appelait son hôte cher et vénérable. Mais Éôs avait reparu pour la dixième ou onzième fois depuis que, sur ses nefs à proue recourbée, Idoméneus était parti pour Ilios. Alors, je conduisis Odysseus dans mes demeures, et je le reçus avec amitié, et je le comblai de soins à l'aide des richesses que je possédais et je lui donnai, ainsi qu'à ses compagnons, de la farine, du vin rouge, et des boeufs à tuer, jusqu'à ce que leur âme fût rassasiée. Et les divins Akhaiens restèrent là douze jours, car le grand et tempétueux Boréas soufflait et les arrêtait, excité par quelque daimôn. Mais le vent tomba le treizième jour, et ils partirent.
Il parlait ainsi, disant ces nombreux mensonges semblables à la vérité; et Pènélopéia, en l'écoutant, pleurait, et ses larmes ruisselaient sur son visage, comme la neige ruisselle sur les hautes montagnes, après que Zéphyros l'a amoncelée et que l'Euros la fond en torrents qui emplissent les fleuves. Ainsi les belles joues de Pènélopéia ruisselaient de larmes tandis qu'elle pleurait son mari. Et Odysseus était plein de compassion en voyant pleurer sa femme; mais ses yeux, comme la corne et le fer, restaient immobiles sous ses paupières, et il arrêtait ses larmes par prudence. Et après qu'elle se fut rassasiée de larmes et de deuil, Pènélopéia, lui répondant, dit de nouveau:
— Maintenant, étranger, je pense que je vais t'éprouver, et je verrai si, comme tu le dis, tu as reçu dans tes demeures mon mari et ses divins compagnons. Dis-moi quels étaient les vêtements qui le couvraient, quel il était lui-même, et quels étaient les compagnons qui le suivaient.
Et le sage Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Ô femme, il est bien difficile, après tant de temps, de te répondre, car voici la vingtième année qu'Odysseus est venu dans ma patrie et qu'il en est parti. Cependant, je te dirai ce dont je me souviens dans mon esprit. Le divin Odysseus avait un double manteau de laine pourprée qu'attachait une agrafe d'or à deux tuyaux, et ornée, par-dessus, d'un chien qui tenait sous ses pattes de devant un jeune cerf tremblant. Et tous admiraient, s'étonnant que ces deux animaux fussent d'or, ce chien qui voulait étouffer le faon, et celui-ci qui, palpitant sous ses pieds, voulait s'enfuir. Et je vis aussi sur le corps d'Odysseus une tunique splendide. Fine comme une pelure d'oignon, cette tunique brillait comme Hèlios. Et, certes, toutes les femmes l'admiraient. Mais, je te le dis, et retiens mes paroles dans ton esprit: je ne sais si Odysseus portait ces vêtements dans sa demeure, ou si quelqu'un de ses compagnons les lui avait donnés comme il montait sur sa nef rapide, ou bien quelqu'un d'entre ses hôtes, car Odysseus était aimé de beaucoup d'hommes, et peu d'Akhaiens étaient semblables à lui. Je lui donnai une épée d'airain, un double et grand manteau pourpré et une tunique longue, et je le conduisis avec respect sur sa nef à bancs de rameurs. Un héraut, un peu plus âgé que lui, le suivait, et je te dirai quel il était. Il avait les épaules hautes, la peau brune et les cheveux crépus, et il se nommait Eurybatès, et Odysseus l'honorait entre tous ses compagnons, parce qu'il était plein de sagesse.
Il parla ainsi, et le désir de pleurer saisit Pènélopéia, car elle reconnut ces signes certains que lui décrivait Odysseus. Et, après qu'elle se fut rassasiée de larmes et de deuil, elle dit de nouveau:
— Maintenant, ô mon hôte, auparavant misérable, tu seras aimé et honoré dans mes demeures. J'ai moi-même donné à Odysseus ces vêtements que tu décris et qui étaient pliés dans ma chambre nuptiale, et j'y ai attaché cette agrafe brillante. Mais je ne le verrai plus de retour dans la chère terre de la patrie! C'est par une mauvaise destinée qu'Odysseus, montant dans sa nef creuse, est parti pour cette Troiè fatale qu'on ne devrait plus nommer.
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô femme vénérable du Laertiade Odysseus, ne flétris point ton beau visage et ne te consume point dans ton coeur à pleurer. Cependant, je ne te blâme en rien. Quelle femme pleurerait un jeune mari dont elle a conçu des enfants, après s'être unie d'amour à lui, plus que tu dois pleurer Odysseus qu'on dit semblable aux dieux? Mais cesse de gémir et écoute-moi. Je te dirai la vérité et je ne te cacherai rien. J'ai entendu parler du retour d'Odysseus chez le riche peuple des Thesprôtes où il a paru vivant, et il rapporte de nombreuses richesses qu'il a amassées parmi beaucoup de peuples; mais il a perdu ses chers compagnons et sa nef creuse, dans la noire mer, en quittant Thrinakiè. Zeus et Hèlios étaient irrités, parce que ses compagnons avaient tué les boeufs de Hèlios; et ils ont tous péri dans la mer tumultueuse. Mais la mer a jeté Odysseus, attaché à la carène de sa nef, sur la côte des Phaiakiens qui descendent des dieux. Et ils l'ont honoré comme un dieu, et ils lui ont fait de nombreux présents, et ils ont voulu le ramener sain et sauf dans sa demeure. Odysseus serait donc déjà revenu depuis longtemps, mais il lui a semblé plus utile d'amasser d'autres richesses en parcourant beaucoup de terres; car il sait un plus grand nombre de ruses que tous les hommes mortels, et nul ne pourrait lutter contre lui. Ainsi me parla Pheidôn, le roi des Thesprôtes. Et il me jura, en faisant des libations dans sa demeure, que la nef et les hommes étaient prêts qui devaient reconduire Odysseus dans la chère terre de sa patrie. Mais il me renvoya d'abord, profitant d'une nef des Thesprôtes qui allait à Doulikhios fertile en blé. Et il me montra les richesses qu'avait réunies Odysseus, de l'airain, de l'or et du fer très difficile à travailler, le tout assez abondant pour nourrir jusqu'à sa dixième génération. Et il me disait qu'Odysseus était allé à Dôdônè pour apprendre du grand chêne la volonté de Zeus, et pour savoir comment, depuis longtemps absent, il rentrerait dans la terre d'Ithakè, soit ouvertement, soit en secret. Ainsi Odysseus est sauvé, et il viendra bientôt, et, désormais, il ne sera pas longtemps éloigné de ses amis et de sa patrie. Et je te ferai un grand serment: Qu'ils le sachent, Zeus, le meilleur et le plus grand des dieux, et la demeure du brave Odysseus où je suis arrivé! Tout s'accomplira comme je le dis. Odysseus reviendra avant la fin de cette année, avant la fin de ce mois, dans quelques jours.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Plaise aux dieux, étranger, que tes paroles s'accomplissent! Je te prouverais aussitôt mon amitié par de nombreux présents et chacun te dirait heureux; mais je sens dans mon coeur que jamais Odysseus ne reviendra dans sa demeure et que ce n'est point lui qui te renverra. Il n'y a point ici de chefs tels qu'Odysseus parmi les hommes, si jamais il en a existé, qui congédient les étrangers après les avoir accueillis et honorés. Maintenant, servantes, baignez notre hôte, et préparez son lit avec des manteaux et des couvertures splendides, afin qu'il ait chaud en attendant Éôs au thrône d'or. Puis, au matin, baignez et parfumez- le, afin qu'assis dans la demeure, il prenne son repas auprès de Tèlémakhos. Il arrivera malheur à celui d'entre eux qui l'outragera. Et qu'il ne soit soumis à aucun travail, quel que soit celui qui s'en irrite. Comment, ô étranger, reconnaîtrais-tu que je l'emporte sur les autres femmes par l'intelligence et par la sagesse, si, manquant de vêtements, tu t'asseyais en haillons au repas dans les demeures? La vie des hommes est brève. Celui qui est injuste et commet des actions mauvaises, les hommes le chargent d'imprécations tant qu'il est vivant, et ils le maudissent quand il est mort; mais celui qui est irréprochable et qui a fait de bonnes actions, les étrangers répandent au loin sa gloire, et tous les hommes le louent.
Et le sage Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Ô femme vénérable du Laertiade Odysseus, les beaux vêtements et les couvertures splendides me sont odieux, depuis que, sur ma nef aux longs avirons, j'ai quitté les montagnes neigeuses de la Krètè. Je me coucherai, comme je l'ai déjà fait pendant tant de nuits sans sommeil, sur une misérable couche, attendant la belle et divine Éôs. Les bains de pieds non plus ne me plaisent point, et aucune servante ne me touchera les pieds, à moins qu'il n'y en ait une, vieille et prudente, parmi elles, et qui ait autant souffert que moi. Je n'empêche point celle-ci de me laver les pieds.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Cher hôte, aucun homme n'est plus sage que toi de tous les étrangers amis qui sont venus dans cette demeure, car tout ce que tu dis est plein de sagesse. J'ai ici une femme âgée et très prudente qui nourrit et qui éleva autrefois le malheureux Odysseus, et qui l'avait reçu dans ses bras quand sa mère l'eut enfanté. Elle lavera tes pieds, bien qu'elle soit faible. Viens, lève-toi, prudente Eurykléia; lave les pieds de cet étranger qui a l'âge de ton maître. Peut-être que les pieds et les mains d'Odysseus ressemblent aux siens, car les hommes vieillissent vite dans le malheur.
Elle parla ainsi, et la vieille femme cacha son visage dans ses mains, et elle versa de chaudes larmes et elle dit ces paroles lamentables:
— Hélas! je suis sans force pour te venir en aide, ô mon enfant! Assurément Zeus te hait entre tous les hommes, bien que tu aies un esprit pieux. Aucun homme n'a brûlé plus de cuisses grasses à Zeus qui se réjouit de la foudre, ni d'aussi complètes hécatombes. Tu le suppliais de te laisser parvenir à une pleine vieillesse et de te laisser élever ton fils illustre, et voici qu'il t'a enlevé le jour du retour! Peut-être aussi que d'autres femmes l'outragent, quand il entre dans les illustres demeures où parviennent les étrangers, comme ces chiennes-ci t'outragent toi-même. Tu fuis leurs injures et leurs paroles honteuses, et tu ne veux point qu'elles te lavent; et la fille d'Ikarios, la prudente Pènélopéia, m'ordonne de le faire, et j'y consens. C'est pourquoi je laverai tes pieds, pour l'amour de Pènélopéia et de toi, car mon coeur est ému de tes maux. Mais écoute ce que je vais dire: de tous les malheureux étrangers qui sont venus ici, aucun ne ressemble plus que toi à Odysseus. Tu as son corps, sa voix et ses pieds.
Et le sage Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Ô vieille femme, en effet, tous ceux qui nous ont vus tous deux de leurs yeux disent que nous nous ressemblons beaucoup. Tu as parlé avec sagesse.
Il parla ainsi, et la vieille femme prit un bassin splendide dans lequel on lavait les pieds, et elle y versa beaucoup d'eau froide, puis de l'eau chaude. Et Odysseus s'assit devant le foyer, en se tournant vivement du côté de l'ombre, car il craignit aussitôt, dans son esprit, qu'en le touchant elle reconnût sa cicatrice et que tout fût découvert. Eurykléia, s'approchant de son roi, lava ses pieds, et aussitôt elle reconnut la cicatrice de la blessure qu'un sanglier lui avait faite autrefois de ses blanches dents sur le Parnèsos, quand il était allé chez Autolykos et ses fils. Autolykos était l'illustre père de sa mère, et il surpassait tous les hommes pour faire du butin et de faux serments. Un dieu lui avait fait ce don, Herméias, pour qui il brûlait des chairs d'agneaux et de chevreaux et qui l'accompagnait toujours. Et Autolykos étant venu chez le riche peuple d'Ithakè, il trouva le fils nouveau-né de sa fille. Et Eurykléia, après le repas, posa l'enfant sur les chers genoux d'Autolykos et lui dit:
— Autolykos, donne toi-même un nom au cher fils de ta fille, puisque tu l'as appelé par tant de voeux.
Et Autolykos lui répondit:
— Mon gendre et ma fille, donnez-lui le nom que je vais dire. Je suis venu ici très irrité contre un grand nombre d'hommes et de femmes sur la face de la terre nourricière. Que son nom soit donc Odysseus. Quand il sera parvenu à la puberté, qu'il vienne sur le Parnèsos, dans la grande demeure de son aïeul maternel où sont mes richesses, et je lui en ferai de nombreux présents, et je le renverrai plein de joie.
Et, à cause de ces paroles, Odysseus y alla, afin de recevoir de nombreux présents. Et Autolykos et les fils d'Autolykos le saluèrent des mains et le reçurent avec de douces paroles. Amphithéè, la mère de sa mère, l'embrassa, baisant sa tête et ses deux beaux yeux. Et Autolykos ordonna à ses fils illustres de préparer le repas. Aussitôt, ceux-ci obéirent et amenèrent un taureau de cinq ans qu'ils écorchèrent. Puis, le préparant, ils le coupèrent en morceaux qu'ils embrochèrent, firent rôtir avec soin et distribuèrent. Et tout le jour, jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios, ils mangèrent, et nul dans son âme ne manqua d'une part égale. Quand Hèlios tomba et que les ténèbres survinrent, ils se couchèrent et s'endormirent, mais quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, les fils d'Autolykos et leurs chiens partirent pour la chasse, et le divin Odysseus alla avec eux. Et ils gravirent le haut Parnèsos couvert de bois, et ils pénétrèrent bientôt dans les gorges battues des vents. Hèlios, à peine sorti du cours profond d'Okéanos, frappait les campagnes, quand les chasseurs parvinrent dans une vallée. Et les chiens les précédaient, flairant une piste; et derrière eux venaient les fils d'Autolykos, et, avec eux, après les chiens, le divin Odysseus marchait agitant une longue lance.
Là, dans le bois épais, était couché un grand sanglier. Et la violence humide des vents ne pénétrait point ce hallier, et le splendide Hèlios ne le perçait point de ses rayons, et la pluie n'y tombait point, tant il était épais; et le sanglier était couché là, sous un monceau de feuilles. Et le bruit des hommes et des chiens parvint jusqu'à lui, et, quand les chasseurs arrivèrent, il sortit du hallier à leur rencontre, les soies hérissées sur le cou et le feu dans les yeux, et il s'arrêta près des chasseurs. Alors, le premier, Odysseus, levant sa longue lance, de sa forte main, se rua, désirant le percer; mais le sanglier, le prévenant, le blessa au genou d'un coup oblique de ses défenses et enleva profondément les chairs, mais sans arriver jusqu'à l'os. Et Odysseus le frappa à l'épaule droite, et la pointe de la lance brillante le traversa de part en part, et il tomba étendu dans la poussière, et son âme s'envola. Aussitôt les chers fils d'Autolykos, s'empressant autour de la blessure de l'irréprochable et divin Odysseus, la bandèrent avec soin et arrêtèrent le sang noir par une incantation; puis, ils rentrèrent aux demeures de leur cher père. Et Autolykos et les fils d'Autolykos, ayant guéri Odysseus et lui ayant fait de riches présents, le renvoyèrent plein de joie dans sa chère Ithakè. Là, son père et sa mère vénérable se réjouirent de son retour et l'interrogèrent sur chaque chose et sur cette blessure qu'il avait reçue. Et il leur raconta qu'un sanglier l'avait blessé de ses défenses blanches, à la chasse, où il était allé sur le Parnèsos avec les fils d'Autolykos.
Et voici que la vieille femme, touchant de ses mains cette cicatrice, la reconnut et laissa retomber le pied dans le bassin d'airain qui résonna et se renversa, et toute l'eau fut répandue à terre. Et la joie et la douleur envahirent à la fois l'âme d'Eurykléia, et ses yeux s'emplirent de larmes, et sa voix fut entrecoupée; et, saisissant le menton d'Odysseus, elle lui dit:
— Certes, tu es Odysseus mon cher enfant! Je ne t'ai point reconnu avant d'avoir touché tout mon maître.
Elle parla ainsi, et elle fit signe des yeux à Pènélopéia pour lui faire entendre que son cher mari était dans la demeure; mais, du lieu où elle était, Pènélopéia ne put la voir ni la comprendre, car Athènè avait détourné son esprit. Alors, Odysseus, serrant de la main droite la gorge d'Eurykléia, et l'attirant à lui de l'autre main, lui dit:
— Nourrice, pourquoi veux-tu me perdre, toi qui m'as nourri toi- même de ta mamelle? Maintenant, voici qu'ayant subi bien des maux, j'arrive après vingt ans dans la terre de la patrie. Mais, puisque tu m'as reconnu, et qu'un dieu te l'a inspiré, tais-toi, et que personne ne t'entende, car je te le dis, et ma parole s'accomplira: Si un dieu tue par mes mains les prétendants insolents, je ne t'épargnerai même pas, bien que tu sois ma nourrice, quand je tuerai les autres servantes dans mes demeures.
Et la prudente Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, quelle parole s'échappe d'entre tes dents? Tu sais que mon âme est constante et ferme. Je me tairai comme la pierre ou le fer. Mais je te dirai autre chose; garde mes paroles dans ton esprit: Si un dieu dompte par tes mains les prétendants insolents, je t'indiquerai dans les demeures les femmes qui te méprisent et celles qui sont innocentes.
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Nourrice, pourquoi me les indiquerais-tu? Il n'en est pas besoin. J'en jugerai moi-même et je les reconnaîtrai. Garde le silence et remets le reste aux dieux.
Il parla ainsi, et la vieille femme traversa la salle pour rapporter un autre bain de pieds, car toute l'eau s'était répandue. Puis, ayant lavé et parfumé Odysseus, elle approcha son siège du feu, afin qu'il se chauffât, et elle cacha la cicatrice sous les haillons. Et la sage Pènélopéia dit de nouveau:
— Étranger, je t'interrogerai encore quelques instants; car l'heure du sommeil est douce, et le sommeil lui-même est doux pour le malheureux. Pour moi, un dieu m'a envoyé une grande affliction. Le jour, du moins, je surveille en pleurant les travaux des servantes de cette maison et je charme ainsi ma douleur; mais quand la nuit vient et quand le sommeil saisit tous les hommes, je me couche sur mon lit, et, autour de mon coeur impénétrable, les pensées amères irritent mes peines. Ainsi que la fille de Pandaros, la verte Aèdôn, chante, au retour du printemps, sous les feuilles épaisses des arbres, d'où elle répand sa voix sonore, pleurant son cher fils Itylos qu'engendra le roi Zéthoios, et qu'elle tua autrefois, dans sa démence, avec l'airain; ainsi mon âme est agitée çà et là, hésitant si je dois rester auprès de mon fils, garder avec soin mes richesses, mes servantes et ma haute demeure, et respecter le lit de mon mari et la voix du peuple, ou si je dois me marier, parmi les Akhaiens qui me recherchent dans mes demeures, à celui qui est le plus noble et qui m'offrira le plus de présents. Tant que mon fils est resté enfant et sans raison, je n'ai pu ni me marier, ni abandonner la demeure de mon mari; mais voici qu'il est grand et parvenu à la puberté, et il me supplie de quitter ces demeures, irrité qu'il est à cause de ses biens que dévorent les Akhaiens. Mais écoute, et interprète moi ce songe. Vingt oies, sortant de l'eau, mangent du blé dans ma demeure, et je les regarde, joyeuse. Et voici qu'un grand aigle au bec recourbé, descendu d'une haute montagne, tombe sur leurs cous et les tue. Et elles restent toutes amassées dans les demeures, tandis que l'aigle s'élève dans l'aithèr divin. Et je pleure et je gémis dans mon songe: et les Akhaiennes aux beaux cheveux se réunissent autour de moi qui gémis amèrement parce que l'aigle a tué mes oies. Mais voici qu'il redescend sur le faîte de la demeure, et il me dit avec une voix d'homme:
— Rassure-toi, fille de l'illustre Ikarios; ceci n'est point un songe, mais une chose heureuse qui s'accomplira. Les oies sont les prétendants, et moi, qui semble un aigle, je suis ton mari qui suis revenu pour infliger une mort honteuse à tous les prétendants. Il parle ainsi, et le sommeil me quitte, et, les cherchant des yeux, je vois mes oies qui mangent le blé dans le bassin comme auparavant.
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô femme, personne ne pourrait expliquer ce songe autrement; et certes, Odysseus lui-même t'a dit comment il s'accomplira. La perte des prétendants est manifeste, et aucun d'entre eux n'évitera les kères et la mort.
Et la sage Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Étranger, certes, les songes sont difficiles à expliquer, et tous ne s'accomplissent point pour les hommes. Les songes sortent par deux portes, l'une de corne et l'autre d'ivoire. Ceux qui sortent de l'ivoire bien travaillé trompent par de vaines paroles qui ne s'accomplissent pas; mais ceux qui sortent par la porte de corne polie disent la vérité aux hommes qui les voient. Je ne pense pas que celui-ci sorte de là et soit heureux pour moi et mon fils. Voici venir le jour honteux qui m'emmènera de la demeure d'Odysseus, car je vais proposer une épreuve. Odysseus avait dans ses demeures des haches qu'il rangeait en ordre comme des mâts de nefs, et, debout, il les traversait de loin d'une flèche. Je vais proposer cette épreuve aux prétendants. Celui qui, de ses mains, tendra le plus facilement l'arc et qui lancera une flèche à travers les douze anneaux des haches, celui-là je le suivrai loin de cette demeure si belle, qui a vu ma jeunesse, qui est pleine d'abondance, et dont je me souviendrai, je pense, même dans mes songes!
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô femme vénérable du Laertiade Odysseus, ne retarde pas davantage cette épreuve dans tes demeures. Le prudent Odysseus reviendra avant qu'ils aient tendu le nerf, tiré l'arc poli et envoyé la flèche à travers le fer.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Si tu voulais, étranger, assis à côté de moi, me charmer dans mes demeures, le sommeil ne se répandrait pas sur mes paupières; mais les hommes ne peuvent rester sans sommeil, et les immortels, sur la terre féconde, ont fait la part de toute chose aux mortels. Certes, je remonterai donc dans la haute chambre, et je me coucherai sur mon lit plein d'affliction et arrosé de mes larmes depuis le jour où Odysseus est parti pour cette Ilios fatale qu'on ne devrait plus nommer. Je me coucherai là; et toi, couche dans cette salle, sur la terre ou sur le lit qu'on te fera.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle monta dans sa haute chambre splendide, mais non pas seule, car deux servantes la suivaient. Et quand elle eut monté avec les servantes dans la haute chambre, elle pleura Odysseus, son cher mari, jusqu'à ce que Athènè aux yeux clairs eût répandu le doux sommeil sur ses paupières.
Quand Eôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, le cher fils d'Odysseus quitta son lit. Et il se vêtit, et il suspendit une épée à ses épaules, et il attacha de belles sandales à ses pieds brillants, et, semblable à un dieu, il se hâta de sortir de sa chambre. Aussitôt, il ordonna aux hérauts à la voix éclatante de convoquer les Akhaiens chevelus à l'agora. Et ils les convoquèrent, et ceux-ci se réunirent rapidement. Et quand ils furent réunis, Tèlémakhos se rendit à l'agora, tenant à la main une lance d'airain. Et il n'était point seul, mais deux chiens rapides le suivaient. Et Pallas avait répandu sur lui une grâce divine, et les peuples l'admiraient tandis qu'il s'avançait. Et il s'assit sur le siège de son père, que les vieillards lui cédèrent.
Et, aussitôt parmi eux, le héros Aigyptios parla le premier. Il était courbé par la vieillesse et il savait beaucoup de choses. Et son fils bien-aimé, le brave Antiphos, était parti, sur les nefs creuses, avec le divin Odysseus, pour Ilios, nourrice de beaux chevaux; mais le féroce Kyklôps l'avait tué dans sa caverne creuse, et en avait fait son dernier repas. Il lui restait trois autres fils, et un d'entre eux, Eurynomos, était parmi les prétendants. Les deux autres s'occupaient assidûment des biens paternels. Mais Aigyptios gémissait et se lamentait, n'oubliant point Antiphos. Et il parla ainsi en pleurant, et il dit:
— Écoutez maintenant, Ithakèsiens, ce que je vais dire. Nous n'avons jamais réuni l'agora, et nous ne nous y sommes point assis depuis que le divin Odysseus est parti sur ses nefs creuses. Qui nous rassemble ici aujourd'hui? Quelle nécessité le presse? Est-ce quelqu'un d'entre les jeunes hommes ou d'entre les vieillards? A- t-il reçu quelque nouvelle de l'armée, et veut-il nous dire hautement ce qu'il a entendu le premier? Ou désire-t-il parler de choses qui intéressent tout le peuple? Il me semble plein de justice. Que Zeus soit propice à son dessein, quel qu'il soit.
Il parla ainsi, et le cher fils d'Odysseus se réjouit de cette louange, et il ne resta pas plus longtemps assis, dans son désir de parler. Et il se leva au milieu de l'agora, et le sage héraut Peisènôr lui mit le sceptre en main. Et, se tournant vers Aigyptios, il lui dit:
— Ô vieillard, il n'est pas loin, et, dès maintenant, tu peux le voir, celui qui a convoqué le peuple, car une grande douleur m'accable. Je n'ai reçu aucune nouvelle de l'armée que je puisse vous rapporter hautement après l'avoir apprise le premier, et je n'ai rien à dire qui intéresse tout le peuple; mais j'ai à parler de mes propres intérêts et du double malheur tombé sur ma demeure; car, d'une part, j'ai perdu mon père irréprochable, qui autrefois vous commandait, et qui, pour vous aussi, était doux comme un père; et, d'un autre côté, voici maintenant, — et c'est un mal pire qui détruira bientôt ma demeure et dévorera tous mes biens, - - que des prétendants assiègent ma mère contre sa volonté. Et ce sont les fils bien-aimés des meilleurs d'entre ceux qui siègent ici. Et ils ne veulent point se rendre dans la demeure d'Ikarios, père de Pènélopéia, qui dotera sa fille et la donnera à qui lui plaira davantage. Et ils envahissent tous les jours notre demeure, tuant mes boeufs, mes brebis et mes chèvres grasses, et ils en font des repas magnifiques, et ils boivent mon vin noir effrontément et dévorent tout. Il n'y a point ici un homme tel qu'Odysseus qui puisse repousser cette ruine loin de ma demeure, et je ne puis rien, moi qui suis inhabile et sans force guerrière. Certes, je le ferais si j'en avais la force, car ils commettent des actions intolérables, et ma maison périt honteusement.
Indignez-vous donc, vous-mêmes. Craignez les peuples voisins qui habitent autour d'Ithakè, et la colère des dieux qui puniront ces actions iniques. Je vous supplie, par Zeus Olympien, ou par Thémis qui réunit ou qui disperse les agoras des hommes, venez à mon aide, amis, et laissez-moi subir au moins ma douleur dans la solitude. Si jamais mon irréprochable père Odysseus a opprimé les Akhaiens aux belles knèmides, et si, pour venger leurs maux, vous les excitez contre moi, consumez plutôt vous-mêmes mes biens et mes richesses; car, alors, peut-être verrions-nous le jour de l'expiation. Nous pourrions enfin nous entendre devant tous, expliquant les choses jusqu'à ce qu'elles soient résolues.
Il parla ainsi, irrité, et il jeta son sceptre contre terre en versant des larmes, et le peuple fut rempli de compassion, et tous restaient dans le silence, et nul n'osait répondre aux paroles irritées de Tèlémakhos. Et Antinoos seul, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Tèlémakhos, agorète orgueilleux et plein de colère, tu as parlé en nous outrageant, et tu veux nous couvrir d'une tache honteuse. Les prétendants Akhaiens ne t'ont rien fait. C'est plutôt ta mère, qui, certes, médite mille ruses. Voici déjà la troisième année, et bientôt la quatrième, qu'elle se joue du coeur des Akhaiens. Elle les fait tous espérer, promet à chacun, envoie des messages et médite des desseins contraires. Enfin, elle a ourdi une autre ruse dans son esprit. Elle a tissé dans ses demeures une grande toile, large et fine, et nous a dit:
— Jeunes hommes, mes prétendants, puisque le divin Odysseus est mort, cessez de hâter mes noces jusqu'à ce que j'aie achevé, pour que mes fils ne restent pas inutiles, ce linceul du héros Laertès, quand la Moire mauvaise de la mort inexorable l'aura saisi, afin qu'aucune des femmes Akhaiennes ne puisse me reprocher, devant tout le peuple, qu'un homme qui a possédé tant de biens ait été enseveli sans linceul.
Elle parla ainsi, et notre coeur généreux fut aussitôt persuadé. Et, alors, pendant le jour, elle tissait la grande toile, et, pendant la nuit, ayant allumé les torches, elle la défaisait. Ainsi, trois ans, elle cacha sa ruse et trompa les Akhaiens; mais quand vint la quatrième année, et quand les saisons recommencèrent, une de ses femmes, sachant bien sa ruse, nous la dit. Et nous la trouvâmes défaisant sa belle toile. Mais, contre sa volonté, elle fut contrainte de l'achever. Et c'est ainsi que les prétendants te répondent, afin que tu le saches dans ton esprit, et que tous les Akhaiens le sachent aussi. Renvoie ta mère et ordonne-lui de se marier à celui que son père choisira et qui lui plaira à elle-même. Si elle a abusé si longtemps les fils des Akhaiens, c'est qu'elle songe, dans son coeur, à tous les dons que lui a faits Athènè, à sa science des travaux habiles, à son esprit profond, à ses ruses. Certes, nous n'avons jamais entendu dire rien de semblable des Akhaiennes aux belles chevelures, qui vécurent autrefois parmi les femmes anciennes, Tyrô, Alkmènè et Mykènè aux beaux cheveux. Nulle d'entre elles n'avait des arts égaux à ceux de Pènélopéia; mais elle n'en use pas avec droiture. Donc, les prétendants consumeront tes troupeaux et tes richesses tant qu'elle gardera le même esprit que les dieux mettent maintenant dans sa poitrine. À la vérité, elle remportera une grande gloire, mais il ne t'en restera que le regret de tes biens dissipés; car nous ne retournerons point à nos travaux, et nous n'irons point en quelque autre lieu, avant qu'elle ait épousé celui des Akhaiens qu'elle choisira.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Antinoos, je ne puis renvoyer de ma demeure, contre son gré, celle qui m'a enfanté et qui m'a nourri. Mon père vit encore quelque part sur la terre, ou bien il est mort, et il me sera dur de rendre de nombreuses richesses à Ikarios, si je renvoie ma mère. J'ai déjà subi beaucoup de maux à cause de mon père, et les dieux m'en enverront d'autres après que ma mère, en quittant ma demeure, aura supplié les odieuses Érinnyes, et ce sont les hommes qui la vengeront. Et c'est pourquoi je ne prononcerai point une telle parole. Si votre coeur s'en indigne, sortez de ma demeure, songez à d'autres repas, mangez vos propres biens en des festins réciproques. Mais s'il vous semble meilleur et plus équitable de dévorer impunément la subsistance d'un seul homme, faites! Moi, j'invoquerai les dieux éternels. Et si jamais Zeus permet qu'un juste retour vous châtie, vous périrez sans vengeance dans ma demeure.
Tèlémakhos parla ainsi, et Zeus qui regarde au loin fit voler du haut sommet d'un mont deux aigles qui s'enlevèrent au souffle du vent, et, côte à côte, étendirent leurs ailes. Et quand ils furent parvenus au-dessus de l'agora bruyante, secouant leurs plumes épaisses, ils en couvrirent toutes les têtes, en signe de mort. Et, de leurs serres, se déchirant la tête et le cou, ils s'envolèrent sur la droite à travers les demeures et la ville des Ithakèsiens. Et ceux-ci, stupéfaits, voyant de leurs yeux ces aigles, cherchaient dans leur esprit ce qu'ils présageaient. Et le vieux héros Halithersès Mastoride leur parla. Et il l'emportait sur ses égaux en âge pour expliquer les augures et les destinées. Et, très-sage, il parla ainsi au milieu de tous:
— Écoutez maintenant, Ithakèsiens, ce que je vais dire. Ce signe s'adresse plus particulièrement aux prétendants. Un grand danger est suspendu sur eux, car Odysseus ne restera pas longtemps encore loin de ses amis; mais voici qu'il est quelque part près d'ici et qu'il prépare aux prétendants la Kèr et le carnage. Et il arrivera malheur à beaucoup parmi ceux qui habitent l'illustre Ithakè. Voyons donc, dès maintenant, comment nous éloignerons les Prétendants, à moins qu'ils se retirent d'eux-mêmes, et ceci leur serait plus salutaire. Je ne suis point, en effet, un divinateur inexpérimenté, mais bien instruit; car je pense qu'elles vont s'accomplir les choses que j'ai prédites à Odysseus quand les Argiens partirent pour Ilios, et que le subtil Odysseus les commandait. Je dis qu'après avoir subi une foule de maux et perdu tous ses compagnons, il reviendrait dans sa demeure vers la vingtième année. Et voici que ces choses s'accomplissent.
Et Eurymakhos, fils de Polybos, lui répondit:
— Ô Vieillard, va dans ta maison faire des prédictions à tes enfants, de peur qu'il leur arrive malheur dans l'avenir; mais ici je suis de beaucoup meilleur divinateur que toi. De nombreux oiseaux volent sous les rayons de Hèlios, et tous ne sont pas propres aux augures. Certes, Odysseus est mort au loin, et plût aux dieux que tu fusses mort comme lui! Tu ne proférerais pas tant de prédictions vaines, et tu n'exciterais pas ainsi Tèlémakhos déjà irrité, avec l'espoir sans doute qu'il t'offrira un présent dans sa maison. Mais je te le dis, et ceci s'accomplira: Si, le trompant par ta science ancienne et tes paroles, tu pousses ce jeune homme à la colère, tu lui seras surtout funeste; car tu ne pourras rien contre nous; et nous t'infligerons, ô vieillard, une amende que tu déploreras dans ton coeur, la supportant avec peine; et ta douleur sera accablante.
Moi, je conseillerai à Tèlémakhos d'ordonner que sa mère retourne chez Ikarios, afin que les siens célèbrent ses noces et lui fassent une dot illustre, telle qu'il convient d'en faire à une fille bien-aimée. Je ne pense pas qu'avant cela les fils des Akhaiens restent en repos et renoncent à l'épouser; car nous ne craignons personne, ni, certes, Tèlémakhos, bien qu'il parle beaucoup; et nous n'avons nul souci, ô Vieillard, de tes vaines prédictions, et tu ne nous en seras que plus odieux. Les biens de Tèlémakhos seront de nouveau consumés, et ce sera ainsi tant que Pènélopéia retiendra les Akhaiens par l'espoir de ses noces. Et, en effet, c'est à cause de sa vertu que nous attendons de jour en jour, en nous la disputant, et que nous n'irons point chercher ailleurs d'autres épouses.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Eurymakhos, et tous, tant que vous êtes, illustres prétendants, je ne vous supplierai ni ne vous parlerai plus longtemps. Les dieux et tous les Akhaiens savent maintenant ces choses. Mais donnez-moi promptement une nef rapide et vingt compagnons qui fendent avec moi les chemins de la mer. J'irai à Spartè et dans la sablonneuse Pylos m'informer du retour de mon père depuis longtemps absent. Ou quelqu'un d'entre les hommes m'en parlera, ou j'entendrai la renommée de Zeus qui porte le plus loin la gloire des hommes. Si j'entends dire que mon père est vivant et revient, j'attendrai encore une année, bien qu'affligé. Si j'entends dire qu'il est mort et ne doit plus reparaître, je reviendrai dans la chère terre de la patrie, je lui élèverai un tombeau, je célébrerai d'illustres funérailles, telles qu'il convient, et je donnerai ma mère à un mari.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il s'assit. Et au milieu d'eux se leva Mentôr, qui était le compagnon de l'irréprochable Odysseus. Et celui-ci, comme il partait, lui confia toute sa maison, lui remit ses biens en garde et voulut qu'on obéisse au vieillard. Et, au milieu d'eux, plein de sagesse, il parla et dit:
— Écoutez-moi maintenant, Ithakèsiens, quoi que je dise. Craignez qu'un roi porte-sceptre ne soit plus jamais ni bienveillant, ni doux, et qu'il ne médite plus de bonnes actions dans son esprit, mais qu'il soit cruel désormais et veuille l'iniquité, puisque nul ne se souvient du divin Odysseus parmi les peuples auxquels il commandait aussi doux qu'un père. Je ne reproche point aux prétendants orgueilleux de commettre des actions violentes dans un esprit inique, car ils jouent leurs têtes en consumant la demeure d'Odysseus qu'ils pensent ne plus revoir. Maintenant, c'est contre tout le peuple que je m'irrite, contre vous qui restez assis en foule et qui n'osez point parler, ni réprimer les prétendants peu nombreux, bien que vous soyez une multitude.
Et l'Euènoride Leiôkritos lui répondit:
— Mentôr, injurieux et stupide, qu'as-tu dit? Tu nous exhortes à nous retirer! Certes, il serait difficile de chasser violemment du festin tant de jeunes hommes. Même si l'Ithakèsien Odysseus, survenant lui-même, songeait dans son esprit à chasser les illustres prétendants assis au festin dans sa demeure, certes, sa femme, bien qu'elle le désire ardemment, ne se réjouirait point alors de le revoir, car il rencontrerait une mort honteuse, s'il combattait contre un si grand nombre. Tu n'as donc point bien parlé. Allons! dispersons-nous, et que chacun retourne à ses travaux. Mentôr et Halithersès prépareront le voyage de Tèlémakhos, puisqu'ils sont dès sa naissance ses amis paternels. Mais je pense qu'il restera longtemps ici, écoutant des nouvelles dans Ithakè, et qu'il n'accomplira point son dessein.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il rompit aussitôt l'agora, et ils se dispersèrent, et chacun retourna vers sa demeure. Et les prétendants se rendirent à la maison du divin Odysseus.
Et Tèlémakhos s'éloigna sur le rivage de la mer, et, plongeant ses mains dans la blanche mer, il supplia Athènè:
— Entends-moi, déesse qui es venue hier dans ma demeure, et qui m'as ordonné d'aller sur une nef, à travers la mer sombre, m'informer de mon père depuis longtemps absent. Et voici que les Akhaiens m'en empêchent, et surtout les orgueilleux prétendants.
Il parla ainsi en priant, et Athènè parut auprès de lui, semblable à Mentôr par l'aspect et par la voix, et elle lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Tèlemakhos, tu ne seras ni un lâche, ni un insensé, si l'excellent esprit de ton père est en toi, tel qu'il le possédait pour parler et pour agir, et ton voyage ne sera ni inutile, ni imparfait. Si tu n'étais le fils d'Odysseus et de Pènélopéia, je n'espérerais pas que tu pusses accomplir ce que tu entreprends, car peu de fils sont semblables à leur père. La plupart sont moindres, peu son meilleurs que leurs parents. Mais tu ne seras ni un lâche, ni un insensé, puisque l'intelligence d'Odysseus est restée en toi, et tu dois espérer accomplir ton dessein. C'est pourquoi oublie les projets et les résolutions des prétendants insensés, car ils ne sont ni prudents, ni équitables, et ils ne songent point à la mort et à la kèr noire qui vont les faire périr tous en un seul jour. Ne tarde donc pas plus longtemps à faire ce que tu as résolu. Moi qui suis le compagnon de ton père, je te préparerai une nef rapide et je t'accompagnerai.
Mais retourne à ta demeure te mêler aux prétendants. Apprête nos vivres; enferme le vin dans les amphores, et, dans les outres épaisses, la farine, moelle des hommes. Moi, je te réunirai des compagnons volontaires parmi le peuple. Il y a beaucoup de nefs, neuves et vieilles, dans Ithakè entourée des flots. Je choisirai la meilleure de toutes, et nous la conduirons, bien armée, sur la mer vaste.
Ainsi parla Athènè, fille de Zeus; et Tèlémakhos ne tarda pas plus longtemps, dès qu'il eut entendu la voix de la Déesse. Et, le coeur triste, il se hâta de retourner dans sa demeure. Et il trouva les prétendants orgueilleux dépouillant les chèvres et faisant rôtir les porcs gras dans la cour. Et Antinoos, en riant, vint au-devant de Tèlémakhos; et, lui prenant la main, il lui parla ainsi:
— Tèlémakhos, agorète orgueilleux et plein de colère, qu'il n'y ait plus dans ton coeur ni soucis, ni mauvais desseins. Mange et bois en paix comme auparavant. Les Akhaiens agiront pour toi. Ils choisiront une nef et des rameurs, afin que tu ailles promptement à la divine Pylos t'informer de ton illustre père.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Antinoos, il ne m'est plus permis de m'asseoir au festin et de me réjouir en paix avec vous, orgueilleux! N'est-ce pas assez, prétendants, que vous ayez déjà dévoré mes meilleures richesses, tandis que j'étais enfant? Maintenant, je suis plus grand, et j'ai écouté les conseils des autres hommes, et la colère a grandi dans mon coeur. Je tenterai donc de vous apporter la kèr fatale, soit en allant à Pylos, soit ici, par le peuple. Certes, je partirai, et mon voyage ne sera point inutile. J'irai sur une nef louée, puisque je n'ai moi-même ni nef, ni rameurs, et qu'il vous a plu de m'en réduire là.
Ayant parlé, il arracha vivement sa main de la main d'Antinoos. Et les Prétendants préparaient le repas dans la maison. Et ces jeunes hommes orgueilleux poursuivaient Tèlémakhos de paroles outrageantes et railleuses:
— Certes, voici que Tèlémakhos médite notre destruction, soit qu'il ramène des alliés de la sablonneuse Pylos, soit qu'il en ramène de Spartè. Il le désire du moins avec ardeur. Peut-être aussi veut-il aller dans la fertile terre d'Ephyrè, afin d'en rapporter des poisons mortels qu'il jettera dans nos kratères pour nous tuer tous.
Et un autre de ces jeunes hommes orgueilleux disait:
— Qui sait si, une fois parti sur sa nef creuse, il ne périra pas loin des siens, ayant erré comme Odysseus? Il nous donnerait ainsi un plus grand travail. Nous aurions à partager ses biens, et nous donnerions cette demeure à sa mère et à celui qu'elle épouserait.
Ils parlaient ainsi. Et Tèlémakhos monta dans la haute chambre de son père, où étaient amoncelés l'or et l'airain, et les vêtements dans les coffres, et l'huile abondante et parfumée. Et là aussi étaient des muids de vieux vin doux. Et ils étaient rangés contre le mur, enfermant la boisson pure et divine réservée à Odysseus quand il reviendrait dans sa patrie, après avoir subi beaucoup de maux. Et les portes étaient bien fermées au double verrou, et une femme les surveillait nuit et jour avec une active vigilance; et c'était Eurykléia, fille d'Ops Peisènôride. Et Tèlémakhos, l'ayant appelée dans la chambre, lui dit:
— Nourrice, puise dans les amphores le plus doux de ces vins parfumés que tu conserves dans l'attente d'un homme très- malheureux, du divin Odysseus, s'il revient jamais, ayant évité la kèr et la mort. Emplis douze vases et ferme-les de leurs couvercles. Verse de la farine dans des outres bien cousues, et qu'il y en ait vingt mesures. Que tu le saches seule, et réunis toutes ces provisions, je les prendrai à la nuit, quand ma mère sera retirée dans sa chambre, désirant son lit. Je vais à Spartè et à la sablonneuse Pylos pour m'informer du retour de mon père bien-aimé.
Il parla ainsi, et sa chère nourrice Eurykléia gémit, et, se lamentant, elle dit ces paroles ailées:
— Pourquoi, cher enfant, as-tu cette pensée? Tu veux aller à travers tant de pays, ô fils unique et bien-aimé? Mais le divin Odysseus est mort, loin de la terre de la patrie, chez un peuple inconnu. Et les prétendants te tendront aussitôt des pièges, et tu périras par ruse, et ils partageront tes biens. Reste donc ici auprès des tiens! Il ne faut pas que tu subisses des maux et que tu erres sur la mer indomptée.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Rassure-toi, nourrice; ce dessein n'est point sans l'avis d'un dieu. Mais jure que tu ne diras rien à ma chère mère avant onze ou douze jours, à moins qu'elle me demande ou qu'elle sache que je suis parti, de peur qu'en pleurant elle blesse son beau corps.
Il parla ainsi, et la vieille femme jura le grand serment des dieux. Et, après avoir juré et accompli les formes du serment, elle puisa aussitôt le vin dans les amphores et versa la farine dans les outres bien cousues.
Et Tèlémakhos, entrant dans sa demeure, se mêla aux Prétendants. Alors la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs songea à d'autres soins. Et, semblable à Tèlémakhos, elle marcha par la ville, parlant aux hommes qu'elle avait choisis et leur ordonnant de se réunir à la nuit sur une nef rapide. Elle avait demandé cette nef rapide à Noèmôn, le cher fils de Phronios, et celui-ci la lui avait confiée très-volontiers. Et Hèlios tomba, et tous les chemins se couvrirent d'ombre. Alors Athènè lança à la mer la nef rapide et y déposa les agrès ordinaires aux nefs bien pontées. Puis, elle la plaça à l'extrémité du port. Et, autour de la nef, se réunirent tous les excellents compagnons, et la déesse exhortait chacun d'eux.
Alors la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs songea à d'autres soins. Se hâtant d'aller à la demeure du divin Odysseus, elle y répandit le doux sommeil sur les Prétendants. Elle les troubla tandis qu'ils buvaient, et fit tomber les coupes de leurs mains. Et ils s'empressaient de retourner par la ville pour se coucher, et, à peine étaient-ils couchés, le sommeil ferma leurs paupières. Et la Déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs, ayant appelé Tèlémakhos hors de la maison, lui parla ainsi, ayant pris l'aspect et la voix de Mentôr:
— Tèlémakhos, déjà tes compagnons aux belles knèmides sont assis, l'aviron aux mains, prêts à servir ton ardeur. Allons, et ne tardons pas plus longtemps à faire route.
Ayant ainsi parlé, Pallas Athènè le précéda aussitôt, et il suivit en hâte les pas de la déesse; et, parvenus à la mer et à la nef, ils trouvèrent leurs compagnons chevelus sur le rivage. Et le divin Tèlémakhos leur dit:
— Venez, amis. Emportons les provisions qui sont préparées dans ma demeure. Ma mère et ses femmes ignorent tout. Ma nourrice seule est instruite.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il les précéda et ils le suivirent. Et ils transportèrent les provisions dans la nef bien pontée, ainsi que le leur avait ordonné le cher fils d'Odysseus. Et Tèlémakhos monta dans la nef, conduit par Athènè qui s'assit à la poupe. Et auprès d'elle s'assit Tèlémakhos. Et ses compagnons détachèrent le câble et se rangèrent sur les bancs de rameurs. Et Athènè aux yeux clairs fit souffler un vent favorable, Zéphyros, qui les poussait en résonnant sur la mer sombre. Puis, Tèlémakhos ordonna à ses compagnons de dresser le mât, et ils lui obéirent. Et ils dressèrent le mât de sapin sur sa base creuse et ils le fixèrent avec des câbles. Puis, ils déployèrent les voiles blanches retenues par des courroies, et le vent les gonfla par le milieu. Et le flot pourpré résonnait le long de la carène de la nef qui marchait et courait sur la mer, faisant sa route. Puis, ayant lié la mâture sur la nef rapide et noire, ils se levèrent debout, avec des kratères pleins de vin, faisant des libations aux Dieux éternels et surtout à la fille aux yeux clairs de Zeus. Et, toute la nuit, jusqu'au jour, la Déesse fit route avec eux.
Et le divin Odysseus se coucha dans le vestibule, et il étendit une peau de boeuf encore saignante, et, pardessus, les nombreuses peaux de brebis que les Akhaiens avaient sacrifiées; et Eurykléia jeta un manteau sur lui, quand il se fut couché. C'est là qu'Odysseus était couché, méditant dans son esprit la mort des prétendants, et plein de vigilance.
Et les femmes qui s'étaient depuis longtemps livrées aux prétendants sortirent de la maison, riant entre elles et songeant à la joie. Alors, le coeur d'Odysseus s'agita dans sa poitrine, et il délibérait dans son âme, si, se jetant sur elles, il les tuerait toutes, ou s'il les laisserait pour la dernière fois s'unir aux prétendants insolents. Et son coeur aboyait dans sa poitrine, comme une chienne qui tourne autour de ses petits aboie contre un inconnu et désire le combattre. Ainsi son coeur aboyait dans sa poitrine contre ces outrages; et, se frappant la poitrine, il réprima son coeur par ces paroles:
— Souffre encore, ô mon coeur! Tu as subi des maux pires le jour où le kyklôps indomptable par sa force mangea mes braves compagnons. Tu le supportas courageusement, jusqu'à ce que ma prudence t'eût retiré de la caverne où tu pensais mourir.
Il parla ainsi, apaisant son cher coeur dans sa poitrine, et son coeur s'apaisa et patienta. Mais Odysseus se retournait çà et là. De même qu'un homme tourne et retourne, sur un grand feu ardent, un ventre plein de graisse et de sang, de même il s'agitait d'un côté et de l'autre, songeant comment, seul contre une multitude, il mettrait la main sur les prétendants insolents. Et voici qu'Athènè, étant descendue de l'Ouranos, s'approcha de lui, semblable à une femme, et, se tenant près de sa tête, lui dit ces paroles:
— Pourquoi veilles-tu, ô le plus malheureux de tous les hommes? Cette demeure est la tienne, ta femme est ici, et ton fils aussi, lui que chacun désirerait pour fils.
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit:
— Certes, déesse, tu as parlé très sagement, mais je songe dans mon âme comment je mettrai la main sur les prétendants insolents, car je suis seul, et ils se réunissent ici en grand nombre. Et j'ai une autre pensée plus grande dans mon esprit. Serai-je tué par la volonté de Zeus et par la tienne? Échapperai-je? Je voudrais le savoir de toi.
Et la déesse aux yeux clairs, Athènè, lui répondit:
— Insensé! Tout homme a confiance dans le plus faible de ses compagnons, qui n'est qu'un mortel, et de peu de sagesse. Mais moi, je suis déesse, et je t'ai protégé dans tous tes travaux, et je te le dis hautement: Quand même cinquante armées d'hommes parlant des langues diverses nous entoureraient pour te tuer avec l'épée, tu n'en ravirais pas moins leurs boeufs et leurs grasses brebis. Dors donc. Il est cruel de veiller toute la nuit. Bientôt tu échapperas à tous tes maux.
Elle parla ainsi et répandit le sommeil sur ses paupières. Puis, la noble déesse remonta dans l'Olympos, dès que le sommeil eut saisi Odysseus, enveloppant ses membres et apaisant les peines de son coeur. Et sa femme se réveilla; et elle pleurait, assise sur son lit moelleux. Et, après qu'elle se fut rassasiée de larmes, la noble femme supplia d'abord la vénérable déesse Artémis, fille de Zeus:
— Artémis, vénérable déesse, fille de Zeus, plût aux dieux que tu m'arrachasses l'âme, à l'instant même, avec tes flèches, ou que les tempêtes pussent m'emporter par les routes sombres et me jeter dans les courants du rapide Okéanos! Ainsi, les tempêtes emportèrent autrefois les filles de Pandaros. Les dieux avaient fait mourir leurs parents et elles étaient restées orphelines dans leurs demeures, et la divine Aphroditè les nourrissait de fromage, de miel doux et de vin parfumé. Hèrè les doua, plus que toutes les autres femmes, de beauté et de prudence, et la chaste Artémis d'une haute taille, et Athènè leur enseigna à faire de beaux ouvrages. Alors, la divine Aphroditè monta dans le haut Olympos, afin de demander, pour ces vierges, d'heureuses noces à Zeus qui se réjouit de la foudre et qui connaît les bonnes et les mauvaises destinées des hommes mortels. Et, pendant ce temps, les Harpyes enlevèrent ces vierges et les donnèrent aux odieuses Érinnyes pour les servir. Que les Olympiens me perdent ainsi! Qu'Artémis aux beaux cheveux me frappe, afin que je revoie au moins Odysseus sous la terre odieuse, plutôt que réjouir l'âme d'un homme indigne! On peut supporter son mal, quand, après avoir pleuré tout le jour, le coeur gémissant, on dort la nuit; car le sommeil, ayant fermé leurs paupières, fait oublier à tous les hommes les biens et les maux. Mais l'insomnie cruelle m'a envoyé un daimôn qui a couché cette nuit auprès de moi, semblable à ce qu'était Odysseus quand il partit pour l'armée. Et mon coeur était consolé, pensant que ce n'était point un songe, mais la vérité.
Elle parla ainsi, et, aussitôt, Éôs au thrône d'or apparut. Et le divin Odysseus entendit la voix de Pènélopéia qui pleurait. Et il pensa et il lui vint à l'esprit que, placée au-dessus de sa tête, elle l'avait reconnu. C'est pourquoi, ramassant le manteau et les toisons sur lesquelles il était couché, il les plaça sur le thrône dans la salle; et, jetant dehors la peau de boeuf, il leva les mains et supplia Zeus:
— Père Zeus! si, par la volonté des dieux, tu m'as ramené dans ma patrie, à travers la terre et la mer, et après m'avoir accablé de tant de maux, fais qu'un de ceux qui s'éveillent dans cette demeure dise une parole heureuse, et, qu'au dehors, un de tes signes m'apparaisse.
Il parla ainsi en priant, et le très sage Zeus l'entendit, et, aussitôt, il tonna du haut de l'Olympos éclatant et par-dessus les nuées, et le divin Odysseus s'en réjouit. Et, aussitôt, une femme occupée à moudre éleva la voix dans la maison. Car il y avait non loin de là douze meules du prince des peuples, et autant de servantes les tournaient, préparant l'huile et la farine, moelle des hommes. Et elles s'étaient endormies, après avoir moulu le grain, et l'une d'elles n'avait pas fini, et c'était la plus faible de toutes. Elle arrêta sa meule et dit une parole heureuse pour le roi:
— Père Zeus, qui commandes aux dieux et aux hommes, certes, tu as tonné fortement du haut de l'Ouranos étoilé où il n'y a pas un nuage. C'est un de tes signes à quelqu'un. Accomplis donc mon souhait, à moi, malheureuse: Que les prétendants, en ce jour et pour la dernière fois, prennent le repas désirable dans la demeure d'Odysseus! Ils ont rompu mes genoux sous ce dur travail de moudre leur farine; qu'ils prennent aujourd'hui leur dernier repas!
Elle parla ainsi, et le divin Odysseus se réjouit de cette parole heureuse et du tonnerre de Zeus, et il se dit qu'il allait punir les coupables. Et les autres servantes se rassemblaient dans les belles demeures d'Odysseus, et elles allumèrent un grand feu dans le foyer. Et le divin Tèlémakhos se leva de son lit et se couvrit de ses vêtements. Il suspendit une épée à ses épaules et il attacha de belles sandales à ses pieds brillants; puis, il saisit une forte lance à pointe d'airain, et, s'arrêtant, comme il passait le seuil, il dit à Eurykléia:
— Chère nourrice, comment avez-vous honoré l'étranger dans la demeure? Lui avez-vous donné un lit et de la nourriture, ou gît-il négligé? Car ma mère est souvent ainsi, bien que prudente; elle honore inconsidérément le moindre des hommes et renvoie le plus méritant sans honneurs.
Et la prudente Eurykléia lui répondit:
— N'accuse point ta mère innocente, mon enfant. L'étranger s'est assis et il a bu du vin autant qu'il l'a voulu; mais il a refusé de manger davantage quand ta mère l'invitait elle-même. Elle a ordonné aux servantes de préparer son lit; mais lui, comme un homme plein de soucis et malheureux, a refusé de dormir dans un lit, sous des couvertures; et il s'est couché, dans le vestibule, sur une peau de boeuf encore saignante et sur des peaux de brebis; et nous avons jeté un manteau par-dessus.
Elle parla ainsi, et Tèlémakhos sortit de la demeure, tenant sa lance à la main. Et deux chiens rapides le suivaient. Et il se hâta vers l'agora des Akhaiens aux belles knèmides. Et Eurykléia, fille d'Ops Peisènoride, la plus noble des femmes, dit aux servantes:
— Allons! hâtez-vous! Balayez la salle, arrosez-la, jetez des tapis pourprés sur les beaux thrônes, épongez les tables, purifiez les kratères et les coupes rondes; et qu'une partie d'entre vous aille puiser de l'eau à la fontaine et revienne aussitôt. Les prétendants ne tarderont pas à arriver, et ils viendront dès le matin, car c'est une fête pour tous.
Elle parla ainsi, et les servantes, l'ayant entendue, lui obéirent. Et les unes allèrent à la fontaine aux eaux noires, et les autres travaillaient avec ardeur dans la maison. Puis, les prétendants insolents entrèrent; et ils se mirent à fendre du bois. Et les servantes revinrent de la fontaine, et, après elles, le porcher qui amenait trois de ses meilleurs porcs. Et il les laissa manger dans l'enceinte des haies. Puis il adressa à Odysseus ces douces paroles:
— Étranger, les Akhaiens te traitent-ils mieux, ou t'outragent- ils comme auparavant?
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Puissent les dieux, Eumaios, châtier leur insolence, car ils commettent des actions outrageantes et honteuses dans une demeure étrangère, et ils n'ont plus la moindre pudeur.
Et, comme ils se parlaient ainsi, le chevrier Mélanthios s'approcha d'eux, conduisant, pour le repas des prétendants, les meilleures chèvres de tous ses troupeaux, et deux bergers le suivaient. Et il attacha les chèvres sous le portique sonore, et il dit à Odysseus, en l'injuriant de nouveau:
— Étranger, es-tu encore ici à importuner les hommes en leur demandant avec insistance? Ne passeras-tu point les portes? Je ne pense pas que nous nous séparions avant que tu aies éprouvé nos mains, car tu demandes à satiété, et il y a d'autres repas parmi les Akhaiens.
Il parla ainsi, et le prudent Odysseus ne répondit rien, et il resta muet, mais secouant la tête et méditant sa vengeance. Puis, arriva Philoitios, chef des bergers, conduisant aux prétendants une génisse stérile et des chèvres grasses. Des bateliers, de ceux qui faisaient passer les hommes, l'avaient amené. Il attacha les animaux sous le portique sonore, et, s'approchant du porcher, il lui dit:
— Porcher, quel est cet étranger nouvellement venu dans notre demeure? D'où est-il? Quelle est sa race et quelle est sa patrie? Le malheureux! certes, il est semblable à un roi: mais les dieux accablent les hommes qui errent sans cesse, et ils destinent les rois eux-mêmes au malheur.
Il parla ainsi, et, tendant la main droite à Odysseus, il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Salut, père étranger! Que la richesse t'arrive bientôt, car maintenant, tu es accablé de maux! Père Zeus, aucun des dieux n'est plus cruel que toi, car tu n'as point pitié des hommes que tu as engendrés toi-même pour être accablés de misères et d'amères douleurs! La sueur me coule, et mes yeux se remplissent de larmes en voyant cet étranger, car je me souviens d'Odysseus, et je pense qu'il erre peut-être parmi les hommes, couvert de semblables haillons, s'il vit encore et s'il voit la lumière de Hèlios. Mais, s'il est mort et s'il est dans les demeures d'Aidès, je gémirai toujours au souvenir de l'irréprochable Odysseus qui m'envoya, tout jeune, garder ses boeufs chez le peuple des Képhalléniens. Et maintenant ils sont innombrables, et aucun autre ne possède une telle race de boeufs aux larges fronts. Et les prétendants m'ordonnent de les leur amener pour qu'ils les mangent; et ils ne s'inquiètent point du fils d'Odysseus dans cette demeure, et ils ne respectent ni ne craignent les dieux, et ils désirent avec ardeur partager les biens d'un roi absent depuis longtemps. Cependant, mon coeur hésite dans ma chère poitrine. Ce serait une mauvaise action, Tèlémakhos étant vivant, de m'en aller chez un autre peuple, auprès d'hommes étrangers, avec mes boeufs; et, d'autre part, il est dur de rester ici, gardant mes boeufs pour des étrangers et subissant mille maux. Déjà, depuis longtemps, je me serais enfui vers quelque roi éloigné, car, ici, rien n'est tolérable; mais je pense que ce malheureux reviendra peut-être et dispersera les prétendants dans ses demeures.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Bouvier, tu ne ressembles ni à un méchant homme, ni à un insensé, et je reconnais que ton esprit est plein de prudence. C'est pourquoi je te le jure par un grand serment: que Zeus, le premier des dieux, le sache! Et cette table hospitalière, et cette demeure du brave Odysseus où je suis venu! Toi présent, Odysseus reviendra ici, et tu le verras de tes yeux, si tu le veux, tuer les prétendants qui oppriment ici.
— Étranger, puisse le Kroniôn accomplir tes paroles! Tu sauras alors à qui appartiendront ma force et mes mains.
Et Eumaios suppliait en même temps tous les dieux de ramener le très sage Odysseus dans ses demeures.
Et tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, les prétendants préparaient le meurtre et la mort de Tèlémakhos. Mais, en ce moment, un aigle vola à leur gauche, tenant une colombe tremblante.
Alors Amphinomos leur dit:
— Ô amis, notre dessein de tuer Tèlémakhos ne s'accomplira pas. Ne songeons plus qu'au repas.
Ainsi parla Amphinomos, et sa parole leur plut. Puis, entrant dans la demeure du divin Odysseus, ils déposèrent leurs manteaux sur les sièges et sur les thrônes, ils sacrifièrent les grandes brebis, les chèvres grasses, les porcs et la génisse indomptée. Et ils distribuèrent les entrailles rôties. Puis ils mêlèrent le vin dans les kratères; et le porcher distribuait les coupes, et Philoitios, le chef des bouviers, distribuait le pain dans de belles corbeilles, et Mélanthios versait le vin. Et ils étendirent les mains vers les mets placés devant eux. Mais Tèlémakhos vit asseoir Odysseus, qui méditait des ruses, auprès du seuil de pierre, dans la salle, sur un siège grossier, et il plaça devant lui, sur une petite table, une part des entrailles. Puis, il versa du vin dans une coupe d'or, et il lui dit:
— Assieds-toi là, parmi les hommes, et bois du vin. J'écarterai moi-même, loin de toi, les outrages de tous les prétendants, car cette demeure n'est pas publique; c'est la maison d'Odysseus, et il l'a construite pour moi. Et vous, prétendants, retenez vos injures et vos mains, de peur que la discorde se manifeste ici.
Il parla ainsi, et tous, mordant leurs lèvres, admiraient Tèlémakhos et comme il avait parlé avec audace. Et Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, leur dit:
— Nous avons entendu, Akhaiens, les paroles sévères de Tèlémakhos, car il nous a rudement menacés. Certes, le Kroniôn Zeus ne l'a point permis; mais, sans cela, nous l'aurions déjà fait taire dans cette demeure, bien qu'il soit un habile agorète.
Ainsi parla Antinoos, et Tèlémakhos ne s'en inquiéta point. Et les hérauts conduisirent à travers la ville l'hécatombe sacrée, et les Akhaiens chevelus se réunirent dans le bois épais de l'archer Apollôn.
Et, après avoir rôti les chairs supérieures, les prétendants distribuèrent les parts et prirent leur repas illustre; et, comme l'avait ordonné Tèlémakhos, le cher fils du divin Odysseus, les serviteurs apportèrent à celui-ci une part égale à celles de tous les autres convives; mais Athènè ne voulut pas que les prétendants cessassent leurs outrages, afin qu'une plus grande colère entrât dans le coeur du Laertiade Odysseus. Et il y avait parmi les prétendants un homme très inique. Il se nommait Ktèsippos, et il avait sa demeure dans Samè. Confiant dans les richesses de son père, il recherchait la femme d'Odysseus absent depuis longtemps. Et il dit aux prétendants insolents:
— Écoutez-moi, illustres prétendants. Déjà cet étranger a reçu une part égale à la nôtre, comme il convient, car il ne serait ni bon, ni juste de priver les hôtes de Tèlémakhos, quels que soient, ceux qui entrent dans sa demeure. Mais moi aussi, je lui ferai un présent hospitalier, afin que lui-même donne un salaire aux baigneurs ou aux autres serviteurs qui sont dans la maison du divin Odysseus.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il saisit dans une corbeille un pied de boeuf qu'il lança d'une main vigoureuse; mais Odysseus l'évita en baissant la tête, et il sourit sardoniquement dans son âme; et le pied de boeuf frappa le mur bien construit. Alors Tèlémakhos réprimanda ainsi Ktèsippos:
— Ktèsippos, certes, il vaut beaucoup mieux pour toi que tu n'aies point frappé mon hôte, et qu'il ait lui-même évité ton trait, car, certes, je t'eusse frappé de ma lance aiguë au milieu du corps, et, au lieu de tes noces, ton père eût fait ton sépulcre. C'est pourquoi qu'aucun de vous ne montre son insolence dans ma demeure, car je comprends et je sais quelles sont les bonnes et les mauvaises actions, et je ne suis plus un enfant. J'ai longtemps souffert et regardé ces violences, tandis que mes brebis étaient égorgées, et que mon vin était épuisé, et que mon pain était mangé car il est difficile à un seul de s'opposer à plusieurs mais ne m'outragez pas davantage. Si vous avez le désir de me tuer avec l'airain, je le veux bien, et il vaut mieux que je meure que de voir vos honteuses actions, mes hôtes chassés et mes servantes indignement violées dans mes belles demeures.
Il parla ainsi, et tous restèrent muets. Et le Damastoride Agélaos dit enfin:
— Ô amis, à cette parole juste, il ne faut point répondre injurieusement, ni frapper cet étranger, ou quelqu'un des serviteurs qui sont dans les demeures du divin Odysseus; mais je parlerai doucement à Tèlémakhos et à sa mère; puissé-je plaire au coeur de tous deux. Aussi longtemps que votre âme dans vos poitrines a espéré le retour du très sage Odysseus en sa demeure, nous n'avons eu aucune colère de ce que vous reteniez, les faisant attendre, les prétendants dans vos demeures. Puisque Odysseus devait revenir, cela valait mieux en effet. Maintenant il est manifeste qu'il ne reviendra plus. Va donc à ta mère et dis-lui qu'elle épouse le plus illustre d'entre nous, et celui qui lui fera le plus de présents. Tu jouiras alors des biens paternels, mangeant et buvant; et ta mère entrera dans la maison d'un autre.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Agélaos, non, par Zeus et par les douleurs de mon pere qui est mort ou qui erre loin d'Ithakè, non, je ne m'oppose point aux noces de ma mère, et je l'engage à épouser celui qu'elle choisira et qui lui fera le plus de présents; mais je crains de la chasser de cette demeure par des paroles rigoureuses, de peur qu'un dieu n'accomplisse pas ceci.
Ainsi parla Tèlémakhos, et Pallas Athènè excita un rire immense parmi les prétendants, et elle troubla leur esprit, et ils riaient avec des mâchoires contraintes, et ils mangeaient les chairs crues, et leurs yeux se remplissaient de larmes, et leur âme pressentait le malheur. Alors, le divin Théoklyménos leur dit:
— Ah! malheureux! quel malheur allez-vous subir! Vos têtes, vos visages, vos genoux sont enveloppés par la nuit; vous sanglotez, vos joues sont couvertes de larmes; ces colonnes et ces murailles sont souillées de sang; le portique et la cour sont pleins d'ombres qui se hâtent vers les ténèbres de l'Érébos; Hèlios périt dans l'Ouranos, et le brouillard fatal s'avance!
Il parla ainsi, et tous se mirent à rire de lui; et Eurymakhos, fils de Polybos, dit le premier:
— Tu es insensé, étranger récemment arrivé! Chassez-le aussitôt de cette demeure, et qu'il aille à l'agora, puisqu'il prend le jour pour la nuit.
Et le divin Théoklyménos lui répondit:
— Eurymakhos, n'ordonne point de me chasser d'ici. Il me suffit de mes yeux, de mes oreilles, de mes pieds et de l'esprit équitable qui est dans ma poitrine. Je sortirai d'ici, car je devine le malheur qui est suspendu sur vous; et nul d'entre vous n'y échappera, ô prétendants, hommes injurieux qui commettez des actions iniques dans la demeure du divin Odysseus!
Ayant ainsi parlé, il sortit des riches demeures et retourna chez Peiraios qui l'avait accueilli avec bienveillance. Et les prétendants, se regardant les uns les autres, irritaient Tèlémakhos en raillant ses hôtes. Et l'un de ces jeunes hommes insolents dit:
— Tèlémakhos, aucun donneur d'hospitalité n'est plus à plaindre que toi. Tu as encore, il est vrai, ce vagabond affamé, privé de pain et de vin, sans courage et qui ne sait rien faire, inutile fardeau de la terre, mais l'autre est allé prophétiser ailleurs. Écoute-moi; ceci est pour le mieux; jetons tes deux hôtes sur une nef et envoyons-les aux Sikèles. Chacun vaudra un bon prix.
Ainsi parlaient les prétendants, et Tèlémakhos ne s'inquiéta point de leurs paroles; mais il regardait son père, en silence, attendant toujours qu'il mît la main sur les prétendants insolents.
Et la fille d'Ikarios, la sage Pènélopéia, accoudée sur son beau thrône, écoutait les paroles de chacun d'eux dans les demeures. Et ils riaient joyeusement en continuant leur repas, car ils avaient déjà beaucoup mangé.
Mais, bientôt, jamais fête ne devait leur être plus funeste que celle que leur préparaient une déesse et un homme brave, car, les premiers, ils avaient commis de honteuses actions.
Alors, la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs inspira à la fille d'Ikarios, à la prudente Pènélopéia, d'apporter aux prétendants l'arc et le fer brillant, pour l'épreuve qui, dans les demeures d'Odysseus, devait être le commencement du carnage. Elle gravit la longue échelle de la maison, tenant à la main la belle clef recourbée, d'airain et à poignée d'ivoire; et elle se hâta de monter avec ses servantes dans la chambre haute où étaient renfermés les trésors du roi, l'airain, l'or et le fer difficile à travailler. Là, se trouvaient l'arc recourbé, le carquois porte- flèches et les flèches terribles qui le remplissaient. Iphitos Eurythide, de Lakédaimôn, semblable aux immortels, les avait donnés à Odysseus, l'ayant rencontré à Messènè, dans la demeure du brave Orsilokhos, où Odysseus était venu pour une réclamation de tout le peuple qui l'en avait chargé. En effet, les Messèniens avaient enlevé d'Ithakè, sur leurs nefs, trois cents brebis et leurs bergers. Et, pour cette réclamation, Odysseus était venu, tout jeune encore, car son père et les autres vieillards l'avaient envoyé. Et Iphitos était venu de son côté, cherchant douze cavales qu'il avait perdues et autant de mules patientes, et qui, toutes, devaient lui attirer la mort; car, s'étant rendu auprès du magnanime fils de Zeus, Héraklès, illustre par ses grands travaux, celui-ci le tua dans ses demeures, bien qu'il fût son hôte. Et il le tua indignement, sans respecter ni les dieux, ni la table où il l'avait fait asseoir, et il retint ses cavales aux sabots vigoureux. Ce fut en cherchant celles-ci qu'Iphitos rencontra Odysseus et qu'il lui donna cet arc qu'avait porté le grand Eurytos et qu'il laissa en mourant à son fils dans ses hautes demeures. Et Odysseus donna à celui-ci une épée aiguë et une forte lance. Ce fut le commencement d'une triste amitié, et qui ne fut pas longue, car ils ne se reçurent point à leurs tables, et le fils de Zeus tua auparavant l'Eurytide Iphitos semblable aux immortels. Et le divin Odysseus se servait de cet arc à Ithakè, mais il ne l'emporta point sur ses nefs noires en partant pour la guerre, et il le laissa dans ses demeures, en mémoire de son cher hôte.
Et quand la noble femme fut arrivée à la chambre haute, elle monta sur le seuil de chêne qu'autrefois un ouvrier habile avait poli et ajusté au cordeau, et auquel il avait adapté des battants et de brillantes portes. Elle détacha aussitôt la courroie de l'anneau, fit entrer la clef et ouvrit les verrous. Et, semblables à un taureau qui mugit en paissant dans un pré, les belles portes résonnèrent, frappées par la clef, et s'ouvrirent aussitôt.
Et Pènélopéia monta sur le haut plancher où étaient les coffres qui renfermaient les vêtements parfumés, et elle détacha du clou l'arc et le carquois brillant. Et, s'asseyant là, elle les posa sur ses genoux, et elle pleura amèrement. Et, après s'être rassasiée de larmes et de deuil, elle se hâta d'aller à la grande salle, vers les prétendants insolents, tenant à la main l'arc recourbé et le carquois porte-flèches et les flèches terribles qui le remplissaient. Et les servantes portaient le coffre où étaient le fer et l'airain des jeux du roi.
Et la noble femme, étant arrivée auprès des prétendants, s'arrêta sur le seuil de la belle salle, un voile léger sur ses joues et deux servantes à ses côtés. Et, aussitôt, elle parla aux prétendants et elle leur dit:
— Écoutez-moi, illustres prétendants qui, pour manger et boire sans cesse, avez envahi la maison d'un homme absent depuis longtemps, et qui dévorez ses richesses, sans autre prétexte que celui de m'épouser. Voici, ô prétendants, l'épreuve qui vous est proposée. Je vous apporte le grand arc du divin Odysseus. Celui qui, de ses mains, tendra le plus facilement cet arc et lancera une flèche à travers les douze haches, je le suivrai, et il me conduira loin de cette demeure qui a vu ma jeunesse, qui est belle et pleine d'abondance, et dont je me souviendrai, je pense, même dans mes songes.
Elle parla ainsi et elle ordonna au porcher Eumaios de porter aux prétendants l'arc et le fer brillant. Et Eumaios les prit en pleurant et les porta; et le bouvier pleura aussi en voyant l'arc du roi. Et Antinoos les réprimanda et leur dit:
— Rustres stupides, qui ne pensez qu'au jour le jour, pourquoi pleurez-vous, misérables, et remuez-vous ainsi dans sa poitrine l'âme de cette femme qui est en proie à la douleur, depuis qu'elle a perdu son cher mari? Mangez en silence, ou' allez pleurer dehors et laissez ici cet arc. Ce sera pour les prétendants une épreuve difficile, car je ne pense pas qu'on tende aisément cet arc poli. Il n'y a point ici un seul homme tel que Odysseus. Je l'ai vu moi- même, et je m'en souviens, mais j'étais alors un enfant.
Il parla ainsi, et il espérait, dans son âme, tendre l'arc et lancer une flèche à travers le fer; mais il devait, certes, goûter le premier une flèche partie des mains de l'irréprochable Odysseus qu'il avait déjà outragé dans sa demeure et contre qui il avait excité tous ses compagnons. Alors, la force sacrée de Tèlémakhos parla ainsi:
— Ô dieux! Certes, le Kroniôn Zeus m'a rendu insensé. Voici que ma chère mère, bien que très prudente, dit qu'elle va suivre un autre homme et quitter cette demeure! Et voici que je ris et que je me réjouis dans mon esprit insensé! Tentez donc, ô prétendants, l'épreuve proposée! Il n'est point de telle femme dans la terre Akhaienne, ni dans la sainte Pylos, ni dans Argos, ni dans Mykènè, ni dans Ithakè, ni dans la noire Épeiros. Mais vous le savez, qu'est-il besoin de louer ma mère? Allons, ne retardez pas l'épreuve; hâtez-vous de tendre cet arc, afin que nous voyions qui vous êtes. Moi-même je ferai l'épreuve de cet arc; et, si je le tends, si je lance une flèche à travers le fer, ma mère vénérable, à moi qui gémis, ne quittera point ces demeures avec un autre homme et ne m'abandonnera point, moi qui aurai accompli les nobles jeux de mon père!
Il parla ainsi, et, se levant, il retira son manteau pourpré et son épée aiguë de ses épaules, puis, ayant creusé un long fossé, il dressa en ligne les anneaux des haches, et il pressa la terre tout autour. Et tous furent stupéfaits de son adresse, car il ne l'avait jamais vu faire. Puis, se tenant debout sur le seuil, il essaya l'arc. Trois fois il faillit le tendre, espérant tirer le nerf et lancer une flèche à travers le fer, et trois fois la force lui manqua. Et comme il le tentait une quatrième fois, Odysseus lui fit signe et le retint malgré son désir. Alors la force sacrée de Tèlémakhos parla ainsi:
— Ô dieux! ou je ne serai jamais qu'un homme sans force, ou je suis trop jeune encore et je n'ai point la vigueur qu'il faudrait pour repousser un guerrier qui m'attaquerait. Allons! vous qui m'êtes supérieurs par la force, essayez cet arc et terminons cette épreuve.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il déposa l'arc sur la terre, debout et appuyé contre les battants polis de la porte, et il mit la flèche aiguë auprès de l'arc au bout recourbé; puis, il retourna s'asseoir sur le thrône qu'il avait quitté. Et Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, dit aux prétendants:
— Compagnons, levez-vous tous, et avancez, l'un après l'autre, dans l'ordre qu'on suit en versant le vin.
Ainsi parla Antinoos, et ce qu'il avait dit leur plut. Et Leiôdès, fils d'Oinops, se leva le premier. Et il était leur sacrificateur, et il s'asseyait toujours le plus près du beau kratère. Il n'aimait point les actions iniques et il s'irritait sans cesse contre les prétendants. Et il saisit le premier l'arc et le trait rapide. Et, debout sur le seuil, il essaya l'arc; mais il ne put le tendre et il se fatigua vainement les bras. Alors, il dit aux prétendants:
— Ô amis, je ne tendrai point cet arc; qu'un autre le prenne. Cet arc doit priver de leur coeur et de leur âme beaucoup de braves guerriers, car il vaut mieux mourir que de nous retirer vivants, n'ayant point accompli ce que nous espérions ici. Qu'aucun n'espère donc plus, dans son âme, épouser Pènélopéia, la femme d'Odysseus. Après avoir éprouvé cet arc, chacun de vous verra qu'il lui faut rechercher quelque autre femme parmi les Akhaiennes aux beaux péplos, et à laquelle il fera des présents. Pènélopéia épousera ensuite celui qui lui fera le plus de présents et à qui elle est destinée.
Il parla ainsi, et il déposa l'arc appuyé contre les battants polis de la porte, et il mit la flèche aiguë auprès de l'arc au bout recourbé. Puis, il retourna s'asseoir sur le thrône qu'il avait quitté. Alors, Antinoos le réprimanda et lui dit:
— Leiôdès, quelle parole s'est échappée d'entre tes dents? Elle est mauvaise et funeste, et je suis irrité de l'avoir entendue. Cet arc doit priver de leur coeur et de leur âme beaucoup de braves guerriers, parce que tu n'as pu le tendre! Ta mère vénérable ne t'a point enfanté pour tendre les arcs, mais, bientôt, d'autres prétendants illustres tendront celui-ci.
Il parla ainsi et il donna cet ordre au chevrier Mélanthios:
— Mélanthios, allume promptement du feu dans la demeure et place devant le feu un grand siège couvert de peaux. Apporte le large disque de graisse qui est dans la maison, afin que les jeunes hommes, l'ayant fait chauffer, en amollissent cet arc, et que nous terminions cette épreuve.
Il parla ainsi, et aussitôt Mélanthios alluma un grand feu, et il plaça devant le feu un siège couvert de peaux; et les jeunes hommes, ayant chauffé le large disque de graisse qui était dans la maison, en amollirent l'arc, et ils ne purent le tendre, car ils étaient de beaucoup trop faibles. Et il ne restait plus qu'Antinoos et le divin Eurymakhos, chefs des prétendants et les plus braves d'entre eux.
Alors, le porcher et le bouvier du divin Odysseus sortirent ensemble de la demeure, et le divin Odysseus sortit après eux. Et quand ils furent hors des portes, dans la cour, Odysseus, précipitant ses paroles, leur dit:
— Bouvier, et toi, porcher, vous dirai-je quelque chose et ne vous cacherai-je rien? Mon âme, en effet, m'ordonne de parler. Viendriez-vous en aide à Odysseus s'il revenait brusquement et si un dieu le ramenait? À qui viendriez-vous en aide, aux prétendants ou à Odysseus? Dites ce que votre coeur et votre âme vous ordonnent de dire.
Et le bouvier lui répondit:
— Père Zeus! Plût aux dieux que mon voeu fût accompli! Plût aux dieux que ce héros revînt et qu'un dieu le ramenât, tu saurais alors à qui appartiendraient ma force et mes bras!
Et, de même, Eumaios supplia tous les dieux de ramener le prudent Odysseus dans sa demeure. Alors, celui-ci connut quelle était leur vraie pensée, et, leur parlant de nouveau, il leur dit:
— Je suis Odysseus. Après avoir souffert des maux innombrables, je reviens dans la vingtième année sur la terre de la patrie. Je sais que, seuls parmi les serviteurs, vous avez désiré mon retour; car je n'ai entendu aucun des autres prier pour que je revinsse dans ma demeure. Je vous dirai donc ce qui sera. Si un dieu dompte par mes mains les prétendants insolents, je vous donnerai à tous deux des femmes, des richesses et des demeures bâties auprès des miennes, et vous serez pour Tèlémakhos des compagnons et des frères. Mais je vous montrerai un signe manifeste, afin que vous me reconnaissiez bien et que vous soyez persuadés dans votre âme: cette blessure qu'un sanglier me fit autrefois de ses blanches dents, quand j'allai sur le Parnèsos avec les fils d'Autolykos.
Il parla ainsi, et entrouvrant ses haillons, il montra la grande blessure. Et, dès qu'ils l'eurent vue, aussitôt ils la reconnurent. Et ils pleurèrent, entourant le prudent Odysseus de leurs bras, et ils baisèrent sa tête et ses épaules. Et, de même, Odysseus baisa leurs têtes et leurs épaules. Et la lumière de Hèlios fût tombée tandis qu'ils pleuraient, si Odysseus ne les eût arrêtés et ne leur eût dit:
— Cessez de pleurer et de gémir, de peur que, sortant de la demeure, quelqu'un vous voie et le dise; mais rentrez l'un après l'autre, et non ensemble. Je rentre le premier; venez ensuite. Maintenant, écoutez ceci: les prétendants insolents ne permettront point, tous, tant qu'ils sont, qu'on me donne l'arc et le carquois; mais toi, divin Eumaios, apporte-moi l'arc à travers la salle, remets-le dans mes mains, et dis aux servantes de fermer les portes solides de la demeure. Si quelqu'un entend, de la cour, des gémissements et du tumulte, qu'il y reste et s'occupe tranquillement de son travail. Et toi, divin Philoitios, je t'ordonne de fermer les portes de la cour et d'en assujettir les barrières et d'en pousser les verrous.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il rentra dans la grande salle et il s'assit sur le siège qu'il avait quitté. Puis, les deux serviteurs du divin Odysseus rentrèrent. Et déjà Eurymakhos tenait l'arc dans ses mains, le chauffant de tous les côtés à la splendeur du feu; mais il ne put le tendre, et son illustre coeur soupira profondément, et il dit, parlant ainsi:
— Ô dieux! certes, je ressens une grande douleur pour moi et pour tous. Je ne gémis pas seulement à cause de mes noces, bien que j'en sois attristé, car il y a beaucoup d'autres Akhaiennes dans Ithakè entourée des flots et dans les autres villes; mais je gémis que nous soyons tellement inférieurs en force au divin Odysseus que nous ne puissions tendre son arc. Ce sera notre honte dans l'avenir.
Et Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, lui répondit:
— Eurymakhos, ceci ne sera point. Songes-y toi-même. C'est aujourd'hui parmi le peuple la fête sacrée d'un dieu; qui pourrait tendre un arc? Laissons-le en repos, et que les anneaux des haches restent dressés. Je ne pense pas que quelqu'un les enlève dans la demeure du Laertiade Odysseus. Allons! que celui qui verse le vin emplisse les coupes, afin que nous fassions des libations, après avoir déposé cet arc. Ordonnez au chevrier Mélanthios d'amener demain les meilleures chèvres de tous ses troupeaux, afin qu'ayant brûlé leurs cuisses pour Apollôn illustre par son arc, nous tentions de nouveau et nous terminions l'épreuve.
Ainsi parla Antinoos, et ce qu'il avait dit leur plut. Et les hérauts leur versèrent de l'eau sur les mains, et les jeunes hommes couronnèrent de vin les kratères et le distribuèrent entre tous à coupes pleines. Et, après qu'ils eurent fait des libations et bu autant que leur âme le désirait, le prudent Odysseus, méditant des ruses, leur dit:
— Écoutez-moi, prétendants de l'illustre reine, afin que je dise ce que mon coeur m'ordonne dans ma poitrine. Je prie surtout Eurymakhos et le roi Antinoos, car ce dernier a parlé comme il convenait. Laissez maintenant cet arc, et remettez le reste aux dieux. Demain un dieu donnera la victoire à qui il voudra: mais donnez-moi cet arc poli, afin que je fasse devant vous l'épreuve de mes mains et de ma force, et que je voie si j'ai encore la force d'autrefois dans mes membres courbés, ou si mes courses errantes et la misère me l'ont enlevée.
Il parla ainsi, et tous furent très irrités, craignant qu'il tendît l'arc poli. Et Antinoos le réprimanda ainsi et lui dit:
— Ah! misérable étranger, ne te reste-t-il plus le moindre sens? Ne te plaît-il plus de prendre tranquillement ton repas à nos tables? Es-tu privé de nourriture? N'entends-tu pas nos paroles? Jamais aucun autre étranger ou mendiant ne nous a écoutés ainsi. Le doux vin te trouble, comme il trouble celui qui en boit avec abondance et non convenablement. Certes, ce fut le vin qui troubla l'illustre centaure Eurythiôn, chez les Lapithes, dans la demeure du magnanime Peirithoos. Il troubla son esprit avec le vin, et, devenu furieux, il commit des actions mauvaises dans la demeure de Peirithoos. Et la douleur saisit alors les héros, et ils le traînèrent hors du portique, et ils lui coupèrent les oreilles avec l'airain cruel, et les narines. Et, l'esprit égaré, il s'en alla, emportant son supplice et son coeur furieux. Et c'est de là que s'éleva la guerre entre les centaures et les hommes; mais ce fut d'abord Eurythiôn qui, étant ivre, trouva son malheur. Je te prédis un châtiment aussi grand si tu tends cet arc. Tu ne supplieras plus personne dans cette demeure, car nous t'enverrons aussitôt sur une nef noire au roi Ékhétos, le plus féroce de tous les hommes. Et là tu ne te sauveras pas. Bois donc en repos et ne lutte point contre des hommes plus jeunes que toi.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia parla ainsi:
— Antinoos, il n'est ni bon ni juste d'outrager les hôtes de Tèlémakhos, quel que soit celui qui entre dans ses demeures. Crois-tu que si cet étranger, confiant dans ses forces, tendait le grand arc d'Odysseus, il me conduirait dans sa demeure et ferait de moi sa femme? Lui-même ne l'espère point dans son esprit. Qu'aucun de vous, prenant ici son repas, ne s'inquiète de ceci, car cette pensée n'est point convenable.
Et Eurymakhos, fils de Polybos, lui répondit:
— Fille d'Ikarios, prudente Pènélopéia, nous ne croyons point que cet homme t'épouse, car cette pensée ne serait point convenable; mais nous craignons la rumeur des hommes et des femmes. Le dernier des Akhaiens dirait: — Certes, ce sont les pires des hommes qui recherchent la femme d'un homme irréprochable, car ils n'ont pu tendre son arc poli, tandis qu'un mendiant vagabond a tendu aisément l'arc et lancé une flèche à travers le fer. — En parlant ainsi, il nous couvrirait d'opprobre.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Eurymakhos, ils ne peuvent s'illustrer parmi le peuple ceux qui méprisent et ruinent la maison d'un homme brave. Pourquoi vous êtes-vous couverts d'opprobre vous-mêmes? Cet étranger est grand et fort, et il se glorifie d'être d'une bonne race. Donnez-lui donc l'arc d'Odysseus, afin que nous voyions ce qu'il en fera. Et je le dis, et ma parole s'accomplira: s'il tend l'arc et si Apollôn lui accorde cette gloire, je le couvrirai de beaux vêtements, d'un manteau et d'une tunique, et je lui donnerai une lance aiguë pour qu'il se défende des chiens et des hommes, et une épée à deux tranchants. Et je lui donnerai aussi des sandales, et je le renverrai là où son coeur et son âme lui ordonnent d'aller.
Et, alors, le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ma mère, aucun des Akhaiens ne peut m'empêcher de donner ou de refuser cet arc à qui je voudrai, ni aucun de ceux qui dominent dans l'âpre Ithakè ou qui habitent Élis où paissent les chevaux. Aucun d'entre eux ne m'arrêtera si je veux donner cet arc à mon hôte. Mais rentre dans ta chambre haute et prends souci de tes travaux, de la toile et du fuseau. Ordonne aux servantes de reprendre leur tâche. Tout le reste regarde les hommes, et surtout moi qui commande dans cette demeure.
Et Pènélopéia, surprise, rentra dans la maison, songeant en son âme aux paroles prudentes de son fils. Puis, étant montée dans la chambre haute, avec ses servantes, elle pleura son cher mari Odysseus jusqu'à ce que Athènè aux yeux clairs eût répandu le doux sommeil sur ses paupières.
Alors le divin porcher prit l'arc recourbé et l'emporta. Et les prétendants firent un grand tumulte dans la salle, et l'un de ces jeunes hommes insolents dit:
— Où portes-tu cet arc, immonde porcher? vagabond! Bientôt les chiens rapides que tu nourris te mangeront au milieu de tes porcs, loin des hommes, si Apollôn et les autres dieux immortels nous sont propices.
Ils parlèrent ainsi, et Eumaios déposa l'arc là où il était, plein de crainte, parce qu'ils le menaçaient en foule dans la demeure. Mais, d'un autre côté, Tèlémakhos cria en le menaçant:
— Père! porte promptement l'arc plus loin, et n'obéis pas à tout le monde, de peur que, bien que plus jeune que toi, je te chasse à coups de pierres vers tes champs, car je suis le plus fort. Plût aux dieux que je fusse aussi supérieur par la force de mes bras aux prétendants qui sont ici! car je les chasserais aussitôt honteusement de ma demeure où ils commettent des actions mauvaises.
Il parla ainsi, et tous les prétendants se mirent à rire de lui et cessèrent d'être irrités. Et le porcher, traversant la salle, emporta l'arc et le remit aux mains du subtil Odysseus. Et aussitôt il appela la nourrice Eurykléia:
— Tèlémakhos t'ordonne, ô prudente Eurykléia, de fermer les portes solides de la maison. Si quelqu'un des nôtres entend, de la cour, des gémissements ou du tumulte, qu'il y reste et s'occupe tranquillement de son travail.
Il parla ainsi, et sa parole ne fut point vaine, et Eurykléia ferma les portes de la belle demeure. Et Philoitios, sautant dehors, ferma aussi les portes de la cour. Et il y avait, sous le portique, un câble d'écorce de nef à bancs de rameurs, et il en lia les portes. Puis, rentrant dans la salle, il s'assit sur le siège qu'il avait quitté, et il regarda Odysseus. Mais celui-ci, tournant l'arc de tous côtés, examinait çà et là si les vers n'avaient point rongé la corne en l'absence du maître. Et les prétendants se disaient les uns aux autres en le regardant:
— Certes, celui-ci est un admirateur ou un voleur d'arcs. Peut- être en a-t-il de semblables dans sa demeure, ou veut-il en faire? Comme ce vagabond plein de mauvais desseins le retourne entre ses mains.
Et l'un de ces jeunes hommes insolents dit aussi:
— Plût aux dieux que cet arc lui portât malheur, aussi sûrement qu'il ne pourra le tendre!
Ainsi parlaient les prétendants; mais le subtil Odysseus, ayant examiné le grand arc, le tendit aussi aisément qu'un homme, habile à jouer de la kithare et à chanter, tend, à l'aide d'une cheville, une nouvelle corde faite de l'intestin tordu d'une brebis. Ce fut ainsi qu'Odysseus, tenant le grand arc, tendit aisément de la main droite le nerf, qui résonna comme le cri de l'hirondelle. Et une amère douleur saisit les prétendants, et ils changèrent tous de couleur, et Zeus, manifestant un signe, tonna fortement, et le patient et divin Odysseus se réjouit de ce que le fils du subtil Kronos lui eût envoyé ce signe. Et il saisit une flèche rapide qui, retirée du carquois, était posée sur la table, tandis que toutes les autres étaient restées dans le carquois creux jusqu'à ce que les Akhaiens les eussent essayées. Puis, saisissant la poignée de l'arc, il tira le nerf sans quitter son siège; et visant le but, il lança la flèche, lourde d'airain, qui ne s'écarta point et traversa tous les anneaux des haches. Alors, il dit à Tèlémakhos:
— Tèlémakhos, l'étranger assis dans tes demeures ne te fait pas honte. Je ne me suis point écarté du but, et je ne me suis point longtemps fatigué à tendre cet arc. Ma vigueur est encore entière, et les prétendants ne me mépriseront plus. Mais voici l'heure pour les Akhaiens de préparer le repas pendant qu'il fait encore jour; puis ils se charmeront des sons de la kithare et du chant, qui sont les ornements des repas.
Il parla ainsi et fit un signe avec ses sourcils, et Télémakhos, le cher fils du divin Odysseus, ceignit une épée aiguë, saisit une lance, et, armé de l'airain splendide, se plaça auprès du siège d'Odysseus.
Alors, le subtil Odysseus, se dépouillant de ses haillons, et tenant dans ses mains l'arc et le carquois plein de flèches, sauta du large seuil, répandit les flèches rapides à ses pieds et dit aux prétendants:
— Voici que cette épreuve tout entière est accomplie. Maintenant, je viserai un autre but qu'aucun homme n'a jamais touché. Qu'Apollôn me donne la gloire de l'atteindre!
Il parla ainsi, et il dirigea la flèche amère contre Antinoos. Et celui-ci allait soulever à deux mains une belle coupe d'or à deux anses afin de boire du vin, et la mort n'était point présente à son esprit. Et, en effet, qui eût pensé qu'un homme, seul au milieu de convives nombreux, eût osé, quelle que fût sa force, lui envoyer la mort et la kèr noire? Mais Odysseus le frappa de sa flèche à la gorge, et la pointe traversa le cou délicat. Il tomba à la renverse, et la coupe s'échappa de sa main inerte, et un jet de sang sortit de sa narine, et il repoussa des pieds la table, et les mets roulèrent épars sur la terre, et le pain et la chair rôtie furent souillés. Les prétendants frémirent dans la demeure quand ils virent l'homme tomber. Et, se levant en tumulte de leurs siéges, ils regardaient de tous côtés sur les murs sculptés, cherchant à saisir des boucliers et des lances, et ils crièrent à Odysseus en paroles furieuses:
— Étranger, tu envoies traîtreusement tes flèches contre les hommes! Tu ne tenteras pas d'autres épreuves, car voici que ta destinée terrible va s'accomplir. Tu viens de tuer le plus illustre des jeunes hommes d'Ithakè, et les vautours te mangeront ici!
Ils parlaient ainsi, croyant qu'il avait tué involontairement, et les insensés ne devinaient pas que les kères de la mort étaient sur leurs têtes. Et, les regardant d'un oeil sombre, le subtil Odysseus leur dit:
— Chiens! vous ne pensiez pas que je reviendrais jamais du pays des Troiens dans ma demeure. Et vous dévoriez ma maison, et vous couchiez de force avec mes servantes, et, moi vivant, vous recherchiez ma femme, ne redoutant ni les dieux qui habitent le large Ouranos, ni le blâme des hommes qui viendront! Maintenant, les kères de la mort vont vous saisir tous!
Il parla ainsi, et la terreur les prit, et chacun regardait de tous côtés, cherchant par où il fuirait la noire destinée. Et, seul, Eurymakhos, lui répondant, dit:
— S'il est vrai que tu sois Odysseus l'Ithakèsien revenu ici, tu as bien parlé en disant que les Akhaiens ont commis des actions iniques dans tes demeures et dans tes champs. Mais le voici gisant celui qui a été cause de tout. C'est Antinoos qui a été cause de tout, non parce qu'il désirait ses noces, mais ayant d'autres desseins que le Kroniôn ne lui a point permis d'accomplir. Il voulait régner sur le peuple d'Ithakè bien bâtie et tendait des embûches à ton fils pour le tuer. Maintenant qu'il a été tué justement, aie pitié de tes concitoyens. Bientôt nous t'apaiserons devant le peuple. Nous te payerons tout ce que nous avons bu et mangé dans tes demeures. Chacun de nous t'amènera vingt boeufs, de l'airain et de l'or, jusqu'à ce que ton âme soit satisfaite. Mais avant que cela soit fait, ta colère est juste.
Et, le regardant d'un oeil sombre, le prudent Odysseus lui dit:
— Eurymakhos, même si vous m'apportiez tous vos biens paternels et tout ce que vous possédez maintenant, mes mains ne s'abstiendraient pas du carnage avant d'avoir châtié l'insolence de tous les prétendants. Choisissez, ou de me combattre, ou de fuir, si vous le pouvez, la kèr et la mort. Mais je ne pense pas qu'aucun de vous échappe à la noire destinée.
Il parla ainsi, et leurs genoux à tous furent rompus. Et Eurymakhos, parlant une seconde fois, leur dit:
— Ô amis, cet homme ne retiendra pas ses mains inévitables, ayant saisi l'arc poli et le carquois, et tirant ses flèches du seuil de la salle, jusqu'à ce qu'il nous ait tués tous. Souvenons-nous donc de combattre; tirez vos épées, opposez les tables aux flèches rapides, jetons-nous tous sur lui, et nous le chasserons du seuil et des portes, et nous irons par la ville, soulevant un grand tumulte, et, bientôt, cet homme aura tiré sa dernière flèche.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il tira son épée aiguë à deux tranchants, et se rua sur Odysseus en criant horriblement; mais le divin Odysseus le prévenant, lança une flèche et le perça dans la poitrine auprès de la mamelle, et le trait rapide s'enfonça dans le foie. Et l'épée tomba de sa main contre terre, et il tournoya près d'une table, dispersant les mets et les coupes pleines: et lui-même se renversa en se tordant et en gémissant, et il frappa du front la terre, repoussant un thrône de ses deux pieds, et l'obscurité se répandit sur ses yeux.
Alors Amphinomos se rua sur le magnanime Odysseus, après avoir tiré son épée aiguë, afin de l'écarter des portes; mais Tèlémakhos le prévint en le frappant dans le dos, entre les épaules, et la lance d'airain traversa la poitrine; et le prétendant tomba avec bruit et frappa la terre du front. Et Tèlémakhos revint à la hâte, ayant laissé sa longue lance dans le corps d'Amphinomos, car il craignait qu'un des Akhaiens l'atteignît, tandis qu'il l'approcherait, et le frappât de l'épée sur sa tête penchée. Et, en courant, il revint promptement auprès de son cher père, et il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ô père, je vais t'apporter un bouclier et deux lances et un casque d'airain adapté à tes tempes. Moi-même je m'armerai, ainsi que le porcher et le bouvier, car il vaut mieux nous armer.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Apporte-les en courant; tant que j'aurai des flèches pour combattre, ils ne m'éloigneront pas des portes, bien que je sois seul.
Il parla ainsi, et Tèlémakhos obéit à son cher père, et il se hâta de monter dans la chambre haute où étaient les armes illustres, et il saisit quatre boucliers, huit lances et quatre casques épais d'airain, et il revint en les portant, et il rejoignit promptement son cher père. Lui-même, le premier, il se couvrit d'airain, et, les deux serviteurs s'étant aussi couverts de belles armes, ils entourèrent le sage et subtil Odysseus. Et, tant que celui-ci eut des flèches, il en perça sans relâche les prétendants, qui tombaient amoncelés dans la salle. Mais après que toutes les flèches eurent quitté le roi qui les lançait, il appuya son arc debout contre les murs splendides de la salle solide, jeta sur ses épaules un bouclier à quatre lames, posa sur sa tête un casque épais à crinière de cheval, et sur lequel s'agitait une aigrette, et il saisit deux fortes lances armées d'airain.
Il y avait dans le mur bien construit de la salle, auprès du seuil supérieur, une porte qui donnait issue au dehors et que fermaient deux ais solides. Et Odysseus ordonna au divin porcher de se tenir auprès de cette porte pour la garder, car il n'y avait que cette issue. Et alors Agélaos dit aux prétendants:
— Ô amis, quelqu'un ne pourrait-il pas monter à cette porte, afin de parler au peuple et d'exciter un grand tumulte? Cet homme aurait bientôt lancé son dernier trait.
Et le chevrier Mélanthios lui dit:
— Cela ne se peut, divin Agélaos. L'entrée de la belle porte de la cour est étroite et difficile à passer, et un seul homme vigoureux nous arrêterait tous. Mais je vais vous apporter des armes de la chambre haute; c'est là, je pense, et non ailleurs, qu'Odysseus et son illustre fils les ont déposées.
Ayant ainsi parlé, le chevrier Mélanthios monta dans la chambre haute d'Odysseus par les échelles de la salle. Là, il prit douze boucliers, douze lances et autant de casques d'airain à crinières épaisses, et, se hâtant de les apporter, il les donna aux prétendants. Et quand Odysseus les vit s'armer et brandir de longues lances dans leurs mains, ses genoux et son cher coeur furent rompus, et il sentit la difficulté de son oeuvre, et il dit à Tèlémakhos ces paroles ailées:
— Tèlémakhos, voici qu'une des femmes de la maison, ou Mélanthios, nous expose à un danger terrible.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ô père, c'est moi qui ai failli, et aucun autre n'est cause de ceci, car j'ai laissé ouverte la porte solide de la chambre haute, et la sentinelle des prétendants a été plus vigilante que moi. Va, divin Eumaios, ferme la porte de la chambre haute, et vois si c'est une des femmes qui a fait cela, ou Mélanthios, fils de Dolios, comme je le pense.
Et, tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, le chevrier Mélanthios retourna de nouveau à la chambre haute pour y chercher des armes, et le divin porcher le vit, et, aussitôt, s'approchant d'Odysseus, il lui dit:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, ce méchant homme que nous soupçonnions retourne dans la chambre haute. Dis-moi la vérité; le tuerai-je, si je suis le plus fort, ou te l'amènerai-je pour qu'il expie toutes les actions exécrables qu'il a commises dans ta demeure?
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Certes, Tèlémakhos et moi nous contiendrons les prétendants insolents, malgré leur fureur. Vous, liez-lui les pieds et les mains, jetez-le dans la chambre, et, avant de fermer les portes derrière vous, enchaînez-le et suspendez-le à une haute colonne, afin que, vivant longtemps, il subisse de cruelles douleurs.
Il parla ainsi, et ils entendirent et obéirent. Et ils allèrent promptement à la chambre haute, se cachant de Mélanthios qui y était entré et qui cherchait des armes dans le fond. Ils s'arrêtèrent des deux côtés du seuil, et, quand le chevrier Mélanthios revint, tenant d'une main un beau casque, et, de l'autre, un large bouclier antique que le héros Laertès portait dans sa jeunesse, et qui gisait là depuis longtemps et dont les courroies étaient rongées; alors ils se jetèrent sur lui et le traînèrent dans la chambre par les cheveux, l'ayant renversé gémissant contre terre. Et ils lui lièrent les pieds et les mains avec une corde bien tressée ainsi que l'avait ordonné le patient et divin Odysseus, fils de Laertès; puis, l'ayant enchaîné, ils le suspendirent à une haute colonne, près des poutres. Et le porcher Eumaios lui dit en le raillant:
— Maintenant, Mélanthios, tu vas faire sentinelle toute la nuit, couché dans ce lit moelleux, comme il est juste. Éôs au thrône d'or ne t'échappera pas quand elle sortira des flots d'Okéanos, à l'heure où tu amènes tes chèvres aux prétendants pour préparer leur repas.
Et ils le laissèrent là, cruellement attaché. Puis, s'étant armés, ils fermèrent les portes brillantes, et, pleins de courage, ils retournèrent auprès du sage et subtil Odysseus. Et ils étaient quatre sur le seuil, et dans la salle il y avait de nombreux et braves guerriers. Et Athènè, la fille de Zeus, approcha, ayant la figure et la voix de Mentôr. Et Odysseus, joyeux de la voir, lui dit:
— Mentôr, éloigne de nous le danger et souviens-toi de ton cher compagnon qui t'a comblé de biens, car tu es de mon âge.
Il parla ainsi, pensant bien que c'était la protectrice Athènè. Et les prétendants, de leur côté, poussaient des cris menaçants dans la salle, et, le premier, le Damastoride Agélaos réprimanda Athènè:
— Mentôr, qu'Odysseus ne te persuade pas de combattre les prétendants, et de lui venir en aide. Je pense que notre volonté s'accomplira quand nous aurons tué le père et le fils. Tu seras tué avec eux, si tu songes à les aider, et tu le payeras de ta tête. Quand nous aurons dompté vos fureurs avec l'airain, nous confondrons tes richesses avec celles d'Odysseus, et nous ne laisserons vivre dans tes demeures ni tes fils, ni tes filles, ni ta femme vénérable!
Il parla ainsi et Athènè s'en irrita davantage, et elle réprimanda Odysseus en paroles irritées:
— Odysseus, tu n'as plus ni la vigueur, ni le courage que tu avais quand tu combattis neuf ans, chez les Troiens, pour Hélénè aux bras blancs née d'un père divin. Tu as tué, dans la rude mêlée, de nombreux guerriers, et c'est par tes conseils que la ville aux larges rues de Priamos a été prise. Pourquoi, maintenant que tu es revenu dans tes demeures, au milieu de tes richesses, cesses-tu d'être brave en face des prétendants? Allons, cher! tiens-toi près de moi; regarde-moi combattre, et vois si, contre tes ennemis, Mentôr Alkimide reconnaît le bien que tu lui as fait!
Elle parla ainsi, mais elle ne lui donna pas encore la victoire, voulant éprouver la force et le courage d'Odysseus et de son illustre fils; et ayant pris la forme d'une hirondelle, elle alla se poser en volant sur une poutre de la salle splendide.
Mais le Damastoride Agélaos, Eurynomos, Amphimédôn, Dèmoptolémos, Peisandros Polyktoride et le brave Polybos excitaient les prétendants. C'étaient les plus courageux de ceux qui vivaient encore et qui combattaient pour leur vie, car l'arc et les flèches avaient dompté les autres. Et Agélaos leur dit:
— Ô amis, cet homme va retenir ses mains inévitables. Déjà Mentôr qui était venu proférant de vaines bravades les a laissés seuls sur le seuil de la porte. C'est pourquoi lancez tous ensemble vos longues piques. Allons! lançons-en six d'abord. Si Zeus nous accorde de frapper Odysseus et nous donne cette gloire, nous aurons peu de souci des autres, si celui-là tombe.
Il parla ainsi, et tous lancèrent leurs piques avec ardeur, comme il l'avait ordonné; mais Athènè les rendit inutiles; l'une frappa le seuil de la salle, l'autre la porte solide, et l'autre le mur. Et, après qu'ils eurent évité les piques des prétendants, le patient et divin Odysseus dit à ses compagnons:
— Ô amis, c'est à moi maintenant et à vous. Lançons nos piques dans la foule des prétendants, qui, en nous tuant, veulent mettre le comble aux maux qu'ils ont déjà causés.
Il parla ainsi, et tous lancèrent leurs piques aiguës, Odysseus contre Dèmoptolémos, Tèlémakhos contre Euryadès, le porcher contre Élatos et le bouvier contre Peisandros, et tous les quatre mordirent la terre, et les prétendants se réfugièrent dans le fond de la salle, et les vainqueurs se ruèrent en avant et arrachèrent leurs piques des cadavres.
Alors les prétendants lancèrent de nouveau leurs longues piques avec une grande force; mais Athènè les rendit inutiles; l'une frappa le seuil, l'autre la porte solide, et l'autre le mur. Amphimédôn effleura la main de Tèlémakhos, et la pointe d'airain enleva l'épiderme. Ktèsippos atteignit l'épaule d'Eumaios par- dessus le bouclier, mais la longue pique passa par-dessus et tomba sur la terre. Alors, autour du sage et subtil Odysseus, ils lancèrent de nouveau leurs piques aiguës dans la foule des prétendants, et le destructeur de citadelles Odysseus perça Eurydamas; Tèlémakhos, Amphimédôn; le porcher, Polybos; et le bouvier perça Ktèsippos dans la poitrine et il lui dit en se glorifiant:
— Ô Polytherside, ami des injures, il faut cesser de parler avec arrogance et laisser faire les dieux, car ils sont les plus puissants. Voici le salaire du coup que tu as donné au divin Odysseus tandis qu'il mendiait dans sa demeure.
Le gardien des boeufs aux pieds flexibles parla ainsi, et de sa longue pique Odysseus perça le Damastoride, et Tèlémakhos frappa d'un coup de lance dans le ventre l'Évenôride Leiôkritos. L'airain le traversa, et, tombant sur la face, il frappa la terre du front.
Alors, Athènè tueuse d'hommes agita l'Aigide au faîte de la salle, et les prétendants furent épouvantés, et ils se dispersèrent dans la salle comme un troupeau de boeufs que tourmente, au printemps, quand les jours sont longs, un taon aux couleurs variées. De même que des vautours aux ongles et aux becs recourbés, descendus des montagnes, poursuivent les oiseaux effrayés qui se dispersent, de la plaine dans les nuées, et les tuent sans qu'ils puissent se sauver par la fuite, tandis que les laboureurs s'en réjouissent; de même, Odysseus et ses compagnons se ruaient par la demeure sur les prétendants et les frappaient de tous côtés; et un horrible bruit de gémissements et de coups s'élevait, et la terre ruisselait de sang.
Et Léiôdès s'élança, et, saisissant les genoux d'Odysseus, il le supplia en paroles ailées:
— Je te supplie, Odysseus! Écoute, prends pitié de moi! je te le jure, jamais je n'ai, dans tes demeures, dit une parole outrageante aux femmes, ni commis une action inique, et j'arrêtais les autres prétendants quand ils en voulaient commettre; mais ils ne m'obéissaient point et ne s'abstenaient point de violences, et c'est pourquoi ils ont subi une honteuse destinée en expiation de leur folie. Mais moi, leur sacrificateur, qui n'ai rien fait, mourrai-je comme eux? Ainsi, à l'avenir, les bonnes actions n'auront plus de récompense!
Et, le regardant d'un oeil sombre, le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Si, comme tu le dis, tu as été leur sacrificateur, n'as-tu pas souvent souhaité que mon retour dans la patrie n'arrivât jamais? N'as-tu pas souhaité ma femme bien-aimée et désiré qu'elle enfantât des fils de toi? C'est pourquoi tu n'éviteras pas la lugubre mort!
Ayant ainsi parlé, il saisit à terre, de sa main vigoureuse, l'épée qu'Agélaos tué avait laissée tomber, et il frappa Léiôdès au milieu du cou, et, comme celui-ci parlait encore, sa tête roula dans la poussière.
Et l'aoide Terpiade Phèmios évita la noire kèr, car il chantait de force au milieu des prétendants. Et il se tenait debout près de la porte, tenant en main sa kithare sonore; et il hésitait dans son esprit s'il sortirait de la demeure pour s'asseoir dans la cour auprès de l'autel du grand Zeus, là où Laertès et Odysseus avaient brûlé de nombreuses cuisses de boeufs, ou s'il supplierait Odysseus en se jetant à ses genoux. Et il lui sembla meilleur d'embrasser les genoux du Laertiade Odysseus. C'est pourquoi il déposa à terre sa kithare creuse, entre le kratère et le thrône aux clous d'argent, et, s'élançant vers Odysseus, il saisit ses genoux et il le supplia en paroles ailées:
— Je te supplie, Odysseus! Écoute, et prends pitié de moi! Une grande douleur te saisirait plus tard, si tu tuais un aoide qui chante les dieux et les hommes. Je me suis instruit moi-même, et un dieu a mis tous les chants dans mon esprit. Je veux te chanter toi-même comme un dieu, c'est pourquoi, ne m'égorge donc pas. Tèlémakhos, ton cher fils, te dira que ce n'a été ni volontairement, ni par besoin, que je suis venu dans ta demeure pour y chanter après le repas des prétendants. Étant nombreux et plus puissants, ils m'y ont amené de force.
Il parla ainsi, et la force sacrée de Tèlémakhos l'entendit, et, aussitôt, s'approchant de son père, il lui dit:
— Arrête; ne frappe point de l'airain un innocent. Nous sauverons aussi le héraut Médôn, qui, depuis que j'étais enfant, a toujours pris soin de moi dans notre demeure, si toutefois Philoitios ne l'a point tué, ou le porcher, ou s'il ne t'a point rencontré tandis que tu te ruais dans la salle.
Il parla ainsi, et le prudent Médôn l'entendit. Épouvanté, et fuyant la kèr noire, il s'était caché sous son thrône et s'était enveloppé de la peau récemment enlevée d'un boeuf. Aussitôt, il se releva; et, rejetant la peau du boeuf, et s'élançant vers Tèlémakhos, il saisit ses genoux et le supplia en paroles ailées:
— Ô ami, je suis encore ici. Arrête! Dis à ton père qu'il n'accable point ma faiblesse de sa force et de l'airain aigu, étant encore irrité contre les prétendants qui ont dévoré ses richesses dans ses demeures et qui t'ont méprisé comme des insensés.
Et le sage Odysseus lui répondit en souriant:
— Prends courage, puisque déjà Tèlémakhos t'a sauvé, afin que tu saches dans ton âme et que tu dises aux autres qu'il vaut mieux faire le bien que le mal. Mais sortez tous deux de la maison et asseyez-vous dans la cour, loin du carnage, toi et l'illustre aoide, tandis que j'achèverai de faire ici ce qu'il faut.
Il parla ainsi, et tous deux sortirent de la maison, et ils s'assirent auprès de l'autel du grand Zeus, regardant de tous côtés et attendant un nouveau carnage.
Alors, Odysseus examina toute la salle, afin de voir si quelqu'un des prétendants vivait encore et avait évité la noire kèr. Mais il les vit tous étendus dans le sang et dans la poussière, comme des poissons que des pêcheurs ont retirés dans un filet de la côte écumeuse de la mer profonde. Tous sont répandus sur le sable, regrettant les eaux de la mer, et Hèlios Phaéthôn leur arrache l'âme. Ainsi les prétendants étaient répandus, les uns sur les autres.
Et le prudent Odysseus dit à Tèlémakhos:
— Tèlémakhos, hâte-toi, appelle la nourrice Eurykléia, afin que je lui dise ce que j'ai dans l'âme.
Il parla ainsi, et Tèlémakhos obéit à son cher père, et, ayant ouvert la porte, il appela la nourrice Eurykléia:
— Viens, ô vieille femme née autrefois, toi qui surveilles les servantes dans nos demeures, viens en hâte. Mon père t'appelle pour te dire quelque chose.
Il parla ainsi, et ses paroles ne furent point vaines. Eurykléia ouvrit les portes de la grande demeure, et se hâta de suivre Tèlémakhos qui la précédait. Et elle trouva Odysseus au milieu des cadavres, souillé de sang et de poussière, comme un lion sorti, la nuit, de l'enclos, après avoir mangé un boeuf, et dont la poitrine et les mâchoires sont ensanglantées, et dont l'aspect est terrible. Ainsi Odysseus avait les pieds et les mains souillés. Et dès qu'Eurykléia eut vu ces cadavres et ces flots de sang, elle commença à hurler de joie, parce qu'elle vit qu'une grande oeuvre était accomplie. Mais Odysseus la contint et lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Vieille femme, réjouis-toi dans ton âme et ne hurle pas. Il n'est point permis d'insulter des hommes morts. La moire des dieux et leurs actions impies ont dompté ceux-ci. Ils n'honoraient aucun de ceux qui venaient à eux, parmi les hommes terrestres, ni le bon, ni le mauvais. C'est pourquoi ils ont subi une mort honteuse, à cause de leurs violences. Mais, allons! indique-moi les femmes qui sont dans cette demeure, celles qui m'ont outragé et celles qui n'ont point failli.
Et la chère nourrice Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, je te dirai la vérité. Tu as dans tes demeures cinquante femmes que nous avons instruites aux travaux, à tendre les laines et à supporter la servitude. Douze d'entre elles se sont livrées à l'impudicité. Elles ne m'honorent point, ni Pènélopéia elle-même. Quant à Tèlémakhos, qui, il y a peu de temps, était encore enfant, sa mère ne lui a point permis de commander aux femmes. Mais je vais monter dans la haute chambre splendide et tout dire à Pènélopéia, à qui un dieu a envoyé le sommeil.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ne l'éveille pas encore. Ordonne aux femmes de venir ici, et d'abord celles qui ont commis de mauvaises actions.
Il parla ainsi, et la vieille femme sortit de la salle pour avertir les femmes et les presser de venir. Et Odysseus, ayant appelé à lui Tèlémakhos, le bouvier et le porcher, leur dit ces paroles ailées:
— Commencez à emporter les cadavres et donnez des ordres aux femmes. Puis, avec de l'eau et des éponges poreuses purifiez les beaux thrônes et les tables. Après que vous aurez tout rangé dans la salle, conduisez les femmes, hors de la demeure, entre le dôme et le mur de la cour, et frappez-les de vos longues épées aiguës, jusqu'à ce qu'elles aient toutes rendu l'âme et oublié Aphroditè qu'elles goûtaient en secret, en se livrant en secret aux prétendants.
Il parla ainsi, et toutes les femmes arrivèrent en gémissant lamentablement et en versant des larmes. D'abord, s'aidant les unes les autres, elles emportèrent les cadavres, qu'elles déposèrent sous le portique de la cour. Et Odysseus leur commandait, et les pressait, et les forçait d'obéir. Puis, elles purifièrent les beaux thrônes et les tables avec de l'eau et des éponges poreuses. Et Tèlémakhos, le bouvier et le porcher nettoyaient avec des balais le pavé de la salle, et les servantes emportaient les souillures et les déposaient hors des portes. Puis, ayant tout rangé dans la salle, ils conduisirent les servantes, hors de la demeure, entre le dôme et le mur de la cour, les renfermant dans ce lieu étroit d'où on ne pouvait s'enfuir. Et, alors, le prudent Tèlémakhos parla ainsi le premier:
— Je n'arracherai point, par une mort non honteuse, l'âme de ces femmes qui répandaient l'opprobre sur ma tête et sur celle de ma mère et qui couchaient avec les prétendants.
Il parla ainsi, et il suspendit le câble d'une nef noire au sommet d'une colonne, et il le tendit autour du dôme, de façon à ce qu'aucune d'entre elles ne touchât des pieds la terre. De même que les grives aux ailes ployées et les colombes se prennent dans un filet, au milieu des buissons de l'enclos où elles sont entrées, et y trouvent un lit funeste; de même ces femmes avaient le cou serré dans des lacets, afin de mourir misérablement, et leurs pieds ne s'agitèrent point longtemps.
Puis, ils emmenèrent Mélanthios, par le portique, dans la cour. Et, là, ils lui coupèrent, avec l'airain, les narines et les oreilles, et ils lui arrachèrent les parties viriles, qu'ils jetèrent à manger toutes sanglantes aux chiens; et, avec la même fureur, ils lui coupèrent les pieds et les mains, et, leur tâche étant accomplie, ils rentrèrent dans la demeure d'Odysseus. Et, alors, celui-ci dit à la chère nourrice Eurykléia:
— Vieille femme, apporte-moi du soufre qui guérit les maux, et apporte aussi du feu, afin que je purifie la maison. Ordonne à Pènélopéia de venir ici avec ses servantes. Que toutes les servantes viennent ici.
Et la chère nourrice Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Certes, mon enfant, tu as bien parlé; mais je vais t'apporter des vêtements, un manteau et une tunique. Ne reste pas dans tes demeures, tes larges épaules ainsi couvertes de haillons, car ce serait honteux.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Apporte d'abord du feu dans cette salle.
Il parla ainsi, et la chère nourrice Eurykléia lui obéit. Elle apporta du feu et du soufre, et Odysseus purifia la maison, la salle et la cour. Puis, la vieille femme remonta dans les belles demeures d'Odysseus pour appeler les femmes et les presser de venir. Et elles entrèrent dans la salle ayant des torches en mains. Et elles entouraient et saluaient Odysseus, prenant ses mains et baisant sa tête et ses épaules. Et il fut saisi du désir de pleurer, car, dans son âme, il les reconnut toutes.
Et la vieille femme, montant dans la chambre haute, pour dire à sa maîtresse que son cher mari était revenu, était pleine de joie, et ses genoux étaient fermes, et ses pieds se mouvaient rapidement. Et elle se pencha sur la tête de sa maîtresse, et elle lui dit:
— Lève-toi, Pènélopéia, chère enfant, afin de voir de tes yeux ce que tu désires tous les jours. Odysseus est revenu; il est rentré dans sa demeure, bien que tardivement, et il a tué les prétendants insolents qui ruinaient sa maison, mangeaient ses richesses et violentaient son fils.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Chère nourrice, les dieux t'ont rendue insensée, eux qui peuvent troubler l'esprit du plus sage et rendre sage le plus insensé. Ils ont troublé ton esprit qui, auparavant, était plein de prudence. Pourquoi railles-tu mon coeur déjà si affligé, en disant de telles choses? Pourquoi m'arraches-tu au doux sommeil qui m'enveloppait, fermant mes yeux sous mes chères paupières? Je n'avais jamais tant dormi depuis le jour où Odysseus est parti pour cette Ilios fatale qu'on ne devrait plus nommer. Va! redescends. Si quelque autre de mes femmes était venue m'annoncer cette nouvelle et m'arracher au sommeil, je l'aurais aussitôt honteusement chassée dans les demeures; mais ta vieillesse te garantit de cela.
Et la chère nourrice Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Je ne me raille point de toi, chère enfant; il est vrai qu'Odysseus est revenu et qu'il est rentré dans sa maison, comme je te l'ai dit. C'est l'étranger que tous outrageaient dans cette demeure. Tèlémakhos le savait déjà, mais il cachait par prudence les desseins de son père, afin qu'il châtiât les violences de ces hommes insolents.
Elle parla ainsi, et Pènélopéia, joyeuse, sauta de son lit, embrassa la vieille femme, et, versant des larmes sous ses paupières, lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ah! si tu m'as dit la vérité, chère nourrice, et si Odysseus est rentré dans sa demeure, comment, étant seul, a-t-il pu mettre la main sur les prétendants insolents qui se réunissaient toujours ici?
Et la chère nourrice Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Je n'ai rien vu, je n'ai rien entendu, si ce n'est les gémissements des hommes égorgés. Nous étions assises au fond des chambres, et les portes solides nous retenaient, jusqu'à ce que ton fils Tèlémakhos m'appelât, car son père l'avait envoyé m'appeler. Je trouvai ensuite Odysseus debout au milieu des cadavres qui gisaient amoncelés sur le pavé; et tu te serais réjouie dans ton âme de le voir souillé de sang et de poussière, comme un lion. Maintenant, ils sont tous entassés sous les portiques, et Odysseus purifie la belle salle, à l'aide d'un grand feu allumé; et il m'a envoyée t'appeler. Suis-moi, afin que vous charmiez tous deux vos chers coeurs par la joie, car vous avez subi beaucoup de maux. Maintenant, vos longs désirs sont accomplis. Odysseus est revenu dans sa demeure, il vous a retrouvés, toi et ton fils; et les prétendants qui l'avaient outragé, il les a tous punis dans ses demeures.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Chère nourrice, ne te glorifie pas en te raillant? Tu sais combien il nous comblerait tous de joie en reparaissant ici, moi surtout et le fils que nous avons engendré; mais les paroles que tu as dites ne sont point vraies. L'un d'entre les immortels a tué les prétendants insolents, irrité de leur violente insolence et de leurs actions iniques; car ils n'honoraient aucun des hommes terrestres, ni le bon, ni le méchant, de tous ceux qui venaient vers eux. C'est pourquoi ils ont subi leur destinée fatale, à cause de leurs iniquités; mais, loin de l'Akhaiè, Odysseus a perdu l'espoir de retour, et il est mort.
Et la chère nourrice Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, quelle parole s'est échappée d'entre tes dents? Quand ton mari, que tu pensais ne jamais revoir à son foyer, est revenu dans sa demeure, ton esprit est toujours incrédule? Mais, écoute; je te révélerai un signe très manifeste: j'ai reconnu, tandis que je le lavais; la cicatrice de cette blessure qu'un sanglier lui fit autrefois de ses blanches dents. Je voulais te le dire, mais il m'a fermé la bouche avec les mains, et il ne m'a point permis de parler, dans un esprit prudent. Suis-moi, je me livrerai à toi, si je t'ai trompée, et tu me tueras d'une mort honteuse.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Chère nourrice, bien que tu saches beaucoup de choses, il t'est difficile de comprendre les desseins des dieux non engendrés. Mais allons vers mon fils, afin que je voie les prétendants morts et celui qui les a tués.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle descendit de la chambre haute, hésitant dans son coeur si elle interrogerait de loin son cher mari, ou si elle baiserait aussitôt sa tête et ses mains. Après être entrée et avoir passé le seuil de pierre, elle s'assit en face d'Odysseus, près de l'autre mur, dans la clarté du feu. Et Odysseus était assis près d'une haute colonne, et il regardait ailleurs, attendant que son illustre femme, l'ayant vu, lui parlât. Mais elle resta longtemps muette, et la stupeur saisit son coeur. Et plus elle le regardait attentivement, moins elle le reconnaissait sous ses vêtements en haillons.
Alors Tèlémakhos la réprimanda et lui dit:
— Ma mère, malheureuse mère au coeur cruel! Pourquoi restes-tu ainsi loin de mon père? Pourquoi ne t'assieds-tu point auprès de lui afin de lui parler et de l'interroger? Il n'est aucune autre femme qui puisse, avec un coeur inébranlable, rester ainsi loin d'un mari qui, après avoir subi tant de maux, revient dans la vingtième année sur la terre de la patrie. Ton coeur est plus dur que la pierre.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, mon âme est stupéfaite dans ma poitrine, et je ne puis ni parler, ni interroger, ni regarder son visage. Mais s'il est vraiment Odysseus, revenu dans sa demeure, certes, nous nous reconnaîtrons mieux entre nous. Nous avons des signes que tous ignorent et que nous connaissons seuls.
Elle parla ainsi, et le patient et divin Odysseus sourit, et il dit aussitôt à Tèlémakhos ces paroles ailées:
— Tèlémakhos, laisse ta mère m'éprouver dans nos demeures, peut- être alors me reconnaîtra-t-elle mieux. Maintenant, parce que je suis souillé et couvert de haillons, elle me méprise et me méconnaît. Mais délibérons, afin d'agir pour le mieux. Si quelqu'un, parmi le peuple, a tué même un homme qui n'a point de nombreux vengeurs, il fuit, abandonnant ses parents et sa patrie. Or, nous avons tué l'élite de la ville, les plus illustres des jeunes hommes d'Ithakè. C'est pourquoi je t'ordonne de réfléchir sur cela.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Décide toi-même, cher père. On dit que tu es le plus sage des hommes et qu'aucun des hommes mortels ne peut lutter en sagesse contre toi. Nous t'obéirons avec joie, et je ne pense pas manquer de courage, tant que je conserverai mes forces.
Et le patient Odysseus lui répondit:
— Je te dirai donc ce qui me semble pour le mieux. Lavez-vous d'abord et prenez des vêtements propres, et ordonnez aux servantes de prendre d'autres vêtements dans les demeures. Puis le divin aoide, tenant sa kithare sonore, nous entraînera à la danse joyeuse, afin que chacun, écoutant du dehors ou passant par le chemin, pense qu'on célèbre ici des noces. Il ne faut pas que le bruit du meurtre des prétendants se répande par la ville, avant que nous ayons gagné nos champs plantés d'arbres. Là, nous délibérerons ensuite sur ce que l'olympien nous inspirera d'utile.
Il parla ainsi, et tous, l'ayant entendu, obéirent. Ils se lavèrent d'abord et prirent des vêtements propres; et les femmes se parèrent, et le divin aoide fit vibrer sa kithare sonore et leur inspira le désir du doux chant et de la danse joyeuse, et la grande demeure résonna sous les pieds des hommes qui dansaient et des femmes aux belles ceintures. Et chacun disait, les entendant, hors des demeures:
— Certes, quelqu'un épouse la reine recherchée par tant de prétendants. La malheureuse! Elle n'a pu rester dans la grande demeure de son premier mari jusqu'à ce qu'il revint.
Chacun parlait ainsi, ne sachant pas ce qui avait été fait. Et l'intendante Eurynomè lava le magnanime Odysseus dans sa demeure et le parfuma d'huile; puis elle le couvrit d'un manteau et d'une tunique. Et Athènè répandit la beauté sur sa tête, afin qu'il parût plus grand et plus majestueux, et elle fit tomber de sa tête des cheveux semblables aux fleurs d'hyacinthe. Et, de même qu'un habile ouvrier, que Hèphaistos et Pallas Athènè ont instruit, mêle l'or à l'argent et accomplit avec art des travaux charmants, de même Athènè répandit la grâce sur la tête et sur les épaules d'Odysseus, et il sortit du bain, semblable par la beauté aux immortels, et il s'assit de nouveau sur le thrône qu'il avait quitté, et, se tournant vers sa femme, il lui dit:
— Malheureuse! Parmi toutes les autres femmes, les dieux qui ont des demeures Olympiennes t'ont donné un coeur dur. Aucune autre femme ne resterait aussi longtemps loin d'un mari qui, après avoir tant souffert, revient, dans la vingtième année, sur la terre de la patrie. Allons, nourrice, étends mon lit, afin que je dorme, car, assurément, cette femme a un coeur de fer dans sa poitrine!
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Malheureux! je ne te glorifie, ni ne te méprise mais je ne te reconnais point encore, me souvenant trop de ce que tu étais quand tu partis d'Ithakè sur ta nef aux longs avirons. Va, Eurykléia, étends, hors de la chambre nuptiale, le lit compact qu'Odysseus a construit lui-même, et jette sur le lit dressé des tapis, des peaux et des couvertures splendides.
Elle parla ainsi, éprouvant son mari; mais Odysseus, irrité, dit à sa femme douée de prudence:
— Ô femme! quelle triste parole as-tu dite? Qui donc a transporté mon lit? Aucun homme vivant, même plein de jeunesse, n'a pu, à moins qu'un dieu lui soit venu en aide, le transporter, et même le mouvoir aisément. Et le travail de ce lit est un signe certain, car je l'ai fait moi-même, sans aucun autre. Il y avait, dans l'enclos de la cour, un olivier au large feuillage, verdoyant et plus épais qu'une colonne. Tout autour, je bâtis ma chambre nuptiale avec de lourdes pierres; je mis un toit par-dessus, et je la fermai de portes solides et compactes. Puis, je coupai les rameaux feuillus et pendants de l'olivier, et je tranchai au- dessus des racines le tronc de l'olivier, et je le polis soigneusement avec l'airain, et m'aidant du cordeau. Et, l'ayant troué avec une tarière, j'en fis la base du lit que je construisis au-dessus et que j'ornai d'or, d'argent et d'ivoire, et je tendis au fond la peau pourprée et splendide d'un boeuf. Je te donne ce signe certain; mais je ne sais, ô femme, si mon lit est toujours au même endroit, ou si quelqu'un l'a transporté, après avoir tranché le tronc de l'olivier, au-dessus des racines.
Il parla ainsi, et le cher coeur et les genoux de Pènélopéia défaillirent tandis qu'elle reconnaissait les signes certains que lui révélait Odysseus. Et elle pleura quand il eut décrit les choses comme elles étaient; et jetant ses bras au cou d'Odysseus, elle baisa sa tête et lui dit:
— Ne t'irrite point contre moi, Odysseus, toi, le plus prudent des hommes! Les dieux nous ont accablés de maux; ils nous ont envié la joie de jouir ensemble de notre jeunesse et de parvenir ensemble au seuil de la vieillesse. Mais ne t'irrite point contre moi et ne me blâme point de ce que, dès que je t'ai vu, je ne t'ai point embrassé. Mon âme, dans ma chère poitrine, tremblait qu'un homme, venu ici, me trompât par ses paroles; car beaucoup méditent des ruses mauvaises. L'Argienne Hélénè, fille de Zeus, ne se fût point unie d'amour à un étranger, si elle eût su que les braves fils des Akhaiens dussent un jour la ramener en sa demeure, dans la chère terre de la patrie. Mais un dieu la poussa à cette action honteuse, et elle ne chassa point de son coeur cette pensée funeste et terrible qui a été la première cause de son malheur et du nôtre. Maintenant tu mas révélé les signes certains de notre lit, qu'aucun homme n'a jamais vu. Nous seuls l'avons vu, toi, moi et ma servante Aktoris que me donna mon père quand je vins ici et qui gardait les portes de notre chambre nuptiale. Enfin, tu as persuadé mon coeur, bien qu'il fût plein de méfiance.
Elle parla ainsi, et le désir de pleurer saisit Odysseus, et il pleurait en serrant dans ses bras sa chère femme si prudente.
De même que la terre apparaît heureusement aux nageurs dont Poseidaôn a perdu dans la mer la nef bien construite, tandis qu'elle était battue par le vent et par l'eau noire; et peu ont échappé à la mer écumeuse, et, le corps souillé d'écume, ils montent joyeux sur la côte, ayant évité la mort; de même la vue de son mari était douce à Pènélopéia qui ne pouvait détacher ses bras blancs du cou d'Odysseus. Et Éôs aux doigts rosés eût reparu, tandis qu'ils pleuraient, si la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs n'avait eu une autre pensée.
Elle retint la longue nuit sur l'horizon et elle garda dans l'Okéanos Éôs au thrône d'or, et elle ne lui permit pas de mettre sous le joug ses chevaux rapides qui portent la lumière aux hommes, Lampos et Phaéthôn qui amènent Éôs. Alors, le prudent Odysseus dit à sa femme:
— Ô femme, nous n'en avons pas fini avec toutes nos épreuves, mais un grand et difficile travail me reste qu'il me faut accomplir, ainsi que me l'a appris l'âme de Teirésias le jour où je descendis dans la demeure d'Aidès pour l'interroger sur mon retour et sur celui de mes compagnons. Mais viens, allons vers notre lit, ô femme, et goûtons ensemble le doux sommeil.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Nous irons bientôt vers notre lit, puisque tu le désires dans ton âme, et puisque les dieux t'ont laissé revenir vers ta demeure bien bâtie et dans la terre de ta patrie. Mais puisque tu le sais et qu'un dieu te l'a appris, dis-moi quelle sera cette dernière épreuve. Je la connaîtrais toujours plus tard, et rien n'empêche que je la sache maintenant.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Malheureuse! pourquoi, en me priant ardemment, me forces-tu de parler? Mais je te dirai tout et ne te cacherai rien. Ton âme ne se réjouira pas, et moi-même je ne me réjouirai pas, car il m'a ordonné de parcourir encore de nombreuses villes des hommes, portant un aviron léger, jusqu'à ce que je rencontre des hommes qui ne connaissent point la mer, et qui ne salent point ce qu'ils mangent, et qui ignorent les nefs aux proues rouges et les avirons qui sont les ailes des nefs. Et il m'a révélé un signe certain que je ne te cacherai point. Quand j'aurai rencontré un autre voyageur qui croira voir un fléau sur ma brillante épaule, alors je devrai planter l'aviron en terre et faire de saintes offrandes au roi Poseidaôn, un bélier, un taureau et un verrat. Et il m'a ordonné, revenu dans ma demeure, de faire de saintes offrandes aux dieux immortels qui habitent le large Ouranos. Et une douce mort me viendra de la mer et me tuera dans une heureuse vieillesse, tandis qu'autour de moi les peuples seront heureux. Et il m'a dit ces choses qui seront accomplies.
Et la prudente Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Si les dieux te réservent une vieillesse heureuse, tu as l'espoir d'échapper à ces maux.
Et tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, Eurynomè et la nourrice préparaient, à la splendeur des torches, le lit fait de vêtements moelleux. Et, après qu'elles eurent dressé à la hâte le lit épais, la vieille femme rentra pour dormir, et Eurynomè, tenant une torche à la main, les précédait, tandis qu'ils allaient vers le lit. Et les ayant conduits dans la chambre nuptiale, elle se retira, et joyeux, ils se couchèrent dans leur ancien lit. Et alors, Tèlémakhos, le bouvier, le porcher et les femmes cessèrent de danser, et tous allèrent dormir dans les demeures sombres.
Et après qu'Odysseus et Pènélopéia se furent charmés par l'amour, ils se charmèrent encore par leurs paroles. Et la noble femme dit ce qu'elle avait souffert dans ses demeures au milieu de la multitude funeste des prétendants qui, à cause d'elle, égorgeaient ses boeufs et ses grasses brebis, et buvaient tout le vin des tonneaux.
Et le divin Odysseus dit les maux qu'il avait faits aux hommes et ceux qu'il avait subis lui-même. Et il dit tout, et elle se réjouissait de l'entendre, et le sommeil n'approcha point de ses paupières avant qu'il eût achevé.
Il dit d'abord comment il avait dompté les Kikônes, puis comment il était arrivé dans la terre fertile des hommes lôtophages. Et il dit ce qu'avait fait le kyklôps, et comment il l'avait châtié d'avoir mangé sans pitié ses braves compagnons; et comment il était venu chez Aiolos qui l'avait accueilli et renvoyé avec bienveillance, et comment la destinée ne lui permit pas de revoir encore la chère terre de la patrie, et la tempête qui, de nouveau, l'avait emporté, gémissant, sur la mer poissonneuse.
Et il dit comment il avait abordé la Laistrygoniè Tèlèpyle où avaient péri ses nefs et tous ses compagnons, et d'où lui seul s'était sauvé sur sa nef noire. Puis, il raconta les ruses de Kirkè, et comment il était allé dans la vaste demeure d'Aidès, afin d'interroger l'âme du Thébain Teirésias, et où il avait vu tous ses compagnons et la mère qui l'avait conçu et nourri tout enfant.
Et il dit comment il avait entendu la voix des Seirènes harmonieuses, et comment il avait abordé les roches errantes, l'horrible Kharybdis et Skillè, que les hommes ne peuvent fuir sains et saufs; et comment ses compagnons avaient tué les boeufs de Hèlios, et comment Zeus qui tonne dans les hauteurs avait frappé sa nef rapide de la blanche foudre et abîmé tous ses braves compagnons, tandis que lui seul évitait les kères mauvaises.
Et il raconta comment il avait abordé l'île Ogygiè, où la Nymphe Kalypsô l'avait retenu dans ses grottes creuses, le désirant pour mari, et l'avait aimé, lui promettant qu'elle le rendrait immortel et le mettrait à l'abri de la vieillesse; et comment elle n'avait pu fléchir son âme dans sa poitrine.
Et il dit comment il avait abordé chez les Phaiakiens, après avoir beaucoup souffert; et comment, l'ayant honoré comme un dieu, ils l'avaient reconduit sur une nef dans la chère terre de la patrie, après lui avoir donné de l'or, de l'airain et de nombreux vêtements. Et quand il eut tout dit, le doux sommeil enveloppa ses membres et apaisa les inquiétudes de son âme.
Alors, la déesse aux yeux clairs, Athènè, eut d'autres pensées; et, quand elle pensa qu'Odysseus s'était assez charmé par l'amour et par le sommeil, elle fit sortir de l'Okéanos la fille au thrône d'or du matin, afin qu'elle apportât la lumière aux hommes. Et Odysseus se leva de son lit moelleux, et il dit à sa femme:
— Ô femme, nous sommes tous deux rassasiés d'épreuves, toi en pleurant ici sur mon retour difficile, et moi en subissant les maux que m'ont faits Zeus et les autres dieux qui m'ont si longtemps retenu loin de la terre de la patrie. Maintenant, puisque, tous deux, nous avons retrouvé ce lit désiré, il faut que je prenne soin de nos richesses dans notre demeure. Pour remplacer les troupeaux que les prétendants insolents ont dévorés, j'irai moi-même en enlever de nombreux, et les Akhaiens nous en donneront d'autres, jusqu'à ce que les étables soient pleines. Mais je pars pour mes champs plantés d'arbres, afin de voir mon père illustre qui gémit sans cesse sur moi. Femme, malgré ta prudence, je t'ordonne ceci: en même temps que Hèlios montera, le bruit se répandra de la mort des prétendants que j'ai tués dans nos demeures. Monte donc dans la chambre haute avec tes servantes, et que nul ne te voie, ni ne t'interroge.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il couvrit ses épaules de ses belles armes, et il éveilla Tèlémakhos, le bouvier et le porcher, et il leur ordonna de saisir les armes guerrières; et ils lui obéirent en hâte et se couvrirent d'airain. Puis, ils ouvrirent les portes et sortirent, et Odysseus les précédait. Et déjà la lumière était répandue sur la terre, mais Athènè, les ayant enveloppés d'un brouillard, les conduisit promptement hors de la ville.
Le Kyllénien Hermès évoqua les âmes des prétendants. Et il tenait dans ses mains la belle baguette d'or avec laquelle il charme, selon sa volonté, les yeux des hommes, ou il éveille ceux qui dorment. Et, avec cette baguette, il entraînait les âmes qui le suivaient, frémissantes.
De même que les chauves-souris, au fond d'un antre divin, volent en criant quand l'une d'elles tombe du rocher où leur multitude est attachée et amassée, de même les âmes allaient, frémissantes, et le bienveillant Herméias marchait devant elles vers les larges chemins. Et elles arrivèrent au cours d'Okéanos et à la Roche Blanche, et elles passèrent la porte de Hèlios et le peuple des songes, et elles parvinrent promptement à la prairie d'Asphodèle où habitent les âmes, images des morts. Et elles y trouvèrent l'âme du Pèlèiade Akhilleus et celle de Patroklos, et celle de l'irréprochable Antilokhos, et celle d'Aias, qui était le plus grand et le plus beau de tous les Danaens après l'irréprochable Pèléiôn. Et tous s'empressaient autour de celui-ci, quand vint l'âme dolente de l'Atréide Agamemnôn, suivie des âmes de tous ceux qui, ayant été tuées dans la demeure d'Aigisthos, avaient subi leur destinée. Et l'âme du Pèléiôn dit la première:
— Atréide, nous pensions que tu étais, parmi tous les héros, le plus cher à Zeus qui se réjouit de la foudre, car tu commandais à des hommes nombreux et braves, sur la terre des Troiens, où les Akhaiens ont subi tant de maux. Mais la moire fatale devait te saisir le premier, elle qu'aucun homme ne peut fuir, dès qu'il est né. Plût aux dieux que, comblé de tant d'honneurs, tu eusses subi la destinée et la mort sur la terre des Troiens! Tous les Akhaiens eussent élevé ta tombe, et tu eusses laissé à ton fils une grande gloire dans l'avenir; mais voici qu'une mort misérable t'était réservée.
Et l'âme de l'Atréide lui répondit:
— Heureux fils de Pèleus, Akhilleus semblable aux dieux, tu es mort devant Troiè, loin d'Argos, et les plus braves d'entre les fils des Troiens et des Akhaiens se sont entre-tués en combattant pour toi. Et tu étais couché, en un tourbillon de poussière, grand, sur un grand espace, oublieux des chevaux. Et nous combattîmes tout le jour, et nous n'eussions point cessé de combattre si Zeus ne nous eût apaisés par une tempête. Après t'avoir emporté de la mêlée vers les nefs, nous te déposâmes sur un lit, ayant lavé ton beau corps avec de l'eau chaude et l'ayant parfumé d'huile. Et, autour de toi, les Danaens répandaient des larmes amères et coupaient leurs cheveux. Alors, ta mère sortit des eaux avec les immortelles marines, pour apprendre la nouvelle, car notre voix était allée jusqu'au fond de la mer. Et une grande terreur saisit tous les Akhaiens, et ils se fussent tous rués dans les nefs creuses, si un homme plein d'une sagesse ancienne, Nestôr, ne les eût retenus. Et il vit ce qu'il y avait de mieux à faire, et, dans sa sagesse, il les harangua et leur dit:
— Arrêtez, Argiens! Ne fuyez pas, fils des Akhaiens! Une mère sort des eaux avec les immortelles marines, afin de voir son fils qui est mort.
Il parla ainsi, et les magnanimes Akhaiens cessèrent de craindre. Et les filles du vieillard de la mer pleuraient autour de toi en gémissant lamentablement, et elles te couvrirent de vêtements immortels. Les neuf muses, alternant leurs belles voix, se lamentaient; et aucun des Argiens ne resta sans pleurer, tant la muse harmonieuse remuait leur âme. Et nous avons pleuré dix-sept jours et dix-sept nuits, dieux immortels et hommes mortels; et, le dix-huitième jour, nous t'avons livré au feu, et nous avons égorgé autour de toi un grand nombre de brebis grasses et de boeufs noirs. Et tu as été brûlé dans des vêtements divins, ayant été parfumé d'huile épaisse et de miel doux; et les héros Akhaiens se sont rués en foule autour de ton bûcher, piétons et cavaliers, avec un grand tumulte. Et, après que la flamme de Hèphaistos t'eut consumé, nous rassemblâmes tes os blancs, ô Akhilleus, les lavant dans le vin pur et l'huile; et ta mère donna une urne d'or qu'elle dit être un présent de Dionysos et l'oeuvre de l'illustre Hèphaistos. C'est dans cette urne que gisent tes os blancs, ô Akhilleus, mêlés à ceux du Mènoitiade Patroklos, et auprès d'Antilokhos que tu honorais le plus entre tous tes compagnons depuis la mort de Patroklos. Et, au-dessus de ces restes, l'armée sacrée des Argiens t'éleva un grand et irréprochable tombeau sur un haut promontoire du large Hellespontos, afin qu'il fût aperçu de loin, sur la mer, par les hommes qui vivent maintenant et par les hommes futurs. Et ta mère, les ayant obtenus des dieux, déposa de magnifiques prix des jeux au milieu des illustres Argiens. Déjà je m'étais trouvé aux funérailles d'un grand nombre de héros, quand, sur le tombeau d'un roi, les jeunes hommes se ceignent et se préparent aux jeux; mais tu aurais admiré par-dessus tout, dans ton âme, les prix que la déesse Thétis aux pieds d'argent déposa sur la terre pour les jeux; car tu étais cher aux dieux. Ainsi, Akhilleus, bien que tu sois mort, ton nom n'est point oublié, et, entre tous les hommes, ta gloire sera toujours grande. Mais moi, qu'ai-je gagné à échapper à la guerre? À mon retour, Zeus me gardait une mort lamentable par les mains d'Aigisthos et de ma femme perfide.
Et tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, le messager tueur d'Argos s'approcha d'eux, conduisant les âmes des prétendants domptés par Odysseus. Et tous, dès qu'ils les virent, allèrent, étonnés, au- devant d'eux. Et l'âme de l'Atréide Agamemnôn reconnut l'illustre Amphimédôn, fils de Mélantheus, car il avait été son hôte dans Ithakè. Et l'âme de l'Atréide lui dit la première:
— Amphimédôn, quel malheur avez-vous subi pour venir dans la terre noire, tous illustres et du même âge? On ne choisirait pas autrement les premiers d'une ville. Poseidaôn vous a-t-il domptés sur vos nefs, en soulevant les vents furieux et les grands flots, ou des ennemis vous ont-ils tués sur la terre tandis que vous enleviez leurs boeufs et leurs beaux troupeaux de brebis? ou êtes- vous morts en combattant pour votre ville et pour vos femmes? Réponds-moi, car j'ai été ton hôte. Ne te souviens-tu pas que je vins dans tes demeures, avec le divin Ménélaos, afin d'exciter Odysseus à nous suivre à Ilios sur les nefs aux solides bancs de rameurs? Tout un mois nous traversâmes la vaste mer, et nous pûmes à peine persuader le dévastateur de villes Odysseus.
Et l'âme d'Amphimédôn lui répondit:
— Illustre roi des hommes, Atréide Agamemnôn, je me souviens de toutes ces choses, et je te dirai avec vérité la fin malheureuse de notre vie. Nous étions les prétendants de la femme d'Odysseus absent depuis longtemps. Elle ne repoussait ni n'accomplissait des noces odieuses, mais elle nous préparait la mort et la kèr noire. Et elle médita une autre ruse dans son esprit, et elle se mit à tisser dans sa demeure une grande toile, large et fine, et elle nous dit aussitôt:
— Jeunes hommes, mes prétendants, puisque le divin Odysseus est mort, cessez de hâter mes noces jusqu'à ce que j'aie achevé, pour que mes fils ne restent pas inutiles, ce linceul du héros Laertès, quand la moire mauvaise, de la mort inexorable l'aura saisi; afin qu'aucune des femmes Akhaiennes ne puisse me reprocher, devant tout le peuple, qu'un homme qui a possédé tant de biens ait été enseveli sans linceul.
Elle parla ainsi, et notre coeur généreux fut persuadé aussitôt. Et, alors, pendant le jour, elle tissait la grande toile, et, pendant la nuit, ayant allumé les torches, elle la défaisait. Ainsi, trois ans, elle cacha sa ruse et trompa les Akhaiens; mais, quand vint la quatrième année, et quand les mois et les jours furent écoulés, une de ses femmes, sachant bien sa ruse, nous la dit. Et nous la trouvâmes, défaisant sa belle toile; mais, contre sa volonté, elle fut contrainte de l'achever. Et elle acheva donc cette grande toile semblable en éclat à Hèlios et à Sélènè. Mais voici qu'un daimôn ennemi ramena de quelque part Odysseus, à l'extrémité de ses champs, là où habitait son porcher. Là aussi vint le cher fils du divin Odysseus, de retour sur sa nef noire de la sablonneuse Pylos. Et ils méditèrent la mort des prétendants, et ils vinrent à l'illustre ville, et Odysseus vint le dernier, car Tèlémakhos le précédait. Le porcher conduisait Odysseus couvert de haillons, semblable à un vieux mendiant et courbé sur un bâton. Il arriva soudainement, et aucun de nous, et même des plus âgés, ne le reconnut. Et nous l'outragions de paroles injurieuses et de coups; mais il supporta longtemps, dans ses demeures, et avec patience, les injures et les coups. Et, quand l'esprit de Zeus tempétueux l'eut excité, il enleva les belles armes, à l'aide de Tèlémakhos, et il les déposa dans la haute chambre, dont il ferma les verrous. Puis il ordonna à sa femme pleine de ruses d'apporter aux prétendants l'arc et le fer brillant pour l'épreuve qui devait nous faire périr misérablement et qui devait être l'origine du meurtre. Et aucun de nous ne put tendre le nerf de l'arc solide, car nous étions beaucoup trop faibles. Mais quand le grand arc arriva aux mains d'Odysseus, alors nous fîmes entendre des menaces pour qu'on ne le lui donnât pas, bien qu'il le demandât vivement. Le seul Tèlémakhos le voulut en l'excitant, et le patient et divin Odysseus, ayant saisi l'arc, le tendit facilement et envoya une flèche à travers le fer. Puis, debout sur le seuil, il répandit à ses pieds les flèches rapides et il perça le roi Antinoos. Alors, regardant de tous côtés, il lança ses traits mortels aux autres prétendants qui tombaient tous amoncelés et nous reconnûmes qu'un d'entre les dieux l'aidait. Et aussitôt son fils et ses deux serviteurs, s'appuyant sur sa force, tuaient çà et là, et d'affreux gémissements s'élevaient, et la terre ruisselait de sang. C'est ainsi que nous avons péri, ô Agamemnôn! Nos cadavres négligés gisent encore dans les demeures d'Odysseus, et nos amis ne le savent point dans nos maisons, eux qui, ayant lavé le sang noir de nos blessures, nous enseveliraient en gémissant, car tel est l'honneur des morts.
Et l'âme de l'Atréide lui répondit:
— Heureux fils de Laertès, prudent Odysseus, certes, tu possèdes une femme d'une grande vertu, et l'esprit est sage de l'irréprochable Pènélopéia, fille d'Ikarios, qui n'a point oublié le héros Odysseus qui l'avait épousée vierge. C'est pourquoi la gloire de sa vertu ne périra pas, et les immortels inspireront aux hommes terrestres des chants gracieux en l'honneur de la sage Pènélopéia. Mais la fille de Tyndaros n'a point agi ainsi, ayant tué le mari qui l'avait épousée vierge. Aussi un chant odieux la rappellera parmi les hommes et elle répandra sa renommée honteuse sur toutes les femmes, même sur celles qui seront vertueuses!
Tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, debout dans les demeures d'Aidès, sous les ténèbres de la terre, Odysseus et ses compagnons, étant sortis de la ville, parvinrent promptement au beau verger de Laertès, et que lui-même avait acheté autrefois, après avoir beaucoup souffert. Là était, sa demeure entourée de sièges sur lesquels s'asseyaient, mangeaient et dormaient les serviteurs qui travaillaient pour lui. Là était aussi une vieille femme Sikèle qui, dans les champs, loin de la ville, prenait soin du vieillard. Alors Odysseus dit aux deux pasteurs et à son fils:
— Entrez maintenant dans la maison bien bâtie et tuez, pour le repas, un porc, le meilleur de tous. Moi, j'éprouverai mon père, afin de voir s'il me reconnaîtra dès qu'il m'aura vu, ou s'il me méconnaîtra quand j'aurai marché longtemps près de lui.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il remit ses armes guerrières aux serviteurs, qui entrèrent promptement dans la maison. Et, descendant le grand verger, il ne trouva ni Dolios, ni aucun de ses fils, ni aucun des serviteurs. Et ceux-ci étaient allés rassembler des épines pour enclore le verger, et le vieillard les avait précédés.
Et Odysseus trouva son père seul dans le verger, arrachant les herbes et vêtu d'une sordide tunique, déchirée et trouée. Et il avait lié autour de ses jambes, pour éviter les écorchures, des knèmides de cuir déchirées; et il avait des gants aux mains pour se garantir des buissons, et, sur la tête, un casque de peau de chèvre qui rendait son air plus misérable.
Et le patient et divin Odysseus, ayant vu son père accablé de vieillesse et plein d'une grande douleur, versa des larmes, debout sous un haut poirier. Et il hésita dans son esprit et dans son coeur s'il embrasserait son père en lui disant comment il était revenu dans la terre de la patrie, ou s'il l'interrogerait d'abord pour l'éprouver. Et il pensa qu'il était préférable de l'éprouver par des paroles mordantes. Pensant ainsi, le divin Odysseus alla vers lui comme il creusait, la tête baissée, un fossé autour d'un arbre. Alors, le divin Odysseus, s'approchant, lui parla ainsi:
— Ô vieillard, tu n'es point inhabile à cultiver un verger. Tout est ici bien soigné, l'olivier, la vigne, le figuier, le poirier. Aucune portion de terre n'est négligée dans ce verger. Mais je te le dirai, et n'en sois point irrité dans ton âme: tu ne prends point les mêmes soins de toi. Tu subis à la fois la triste vieillesse et les vêtements sales et honteux qui te couvrent. Ton maître ne te néglige point ainsi sans doute à cause de ta paresse, car ton aspect n'est point servile, et par ta beauté et ta majesté tu es semblable à un roi. Tu es tel que ceux qui, après le bain et le repas, dorment sur un lit moelleux, selon la coutume des vieillards. Mais dis-moi la vérité. De qui es-tu le serviteur? De qui cultives-tu le verger? Dis-moi la vérité, afin que je la sache: suis-je parvenu à Ithakè, ainsi que me l'a dit un homme que je viens de rencontrer et qui est insensé, car il n'a su ni m'écouter, ni me répondre, quand je lui ai demandé si mon hôte est encore vivant ou s'il est mort et descendu dans les demeures d'Aidès. Mais je te le dis; écoute et comprends-moi. Je donnai autrefois l'hospitalité, sur la chère terre de la patrie, à un homme qui était venu dans ma demeure, le premier, entre tous les étrangers errants. Il disait qu'il était né à Ithakè et que son père était Laertès Arkeisiade. L'ayant conduit dans ma demeure, je le reçus avec tendresse. Et il y avait beaucoup de richesses dans ma demeure, et je lui fis de riches présents hospitaliers, car je lui donnai sept talents d'or bien travaillé, un kratère fleuri en argent massif, douze manteaux simples, autant de tapis, douze autres beaux manteaux et autant de tuniques, et, par surcroît, quatre femmes qu'il choisit lui-même, belles et très habiles à tous les ouvrages.
Et son père lui répondit en pleurant:
— Étranger, certes, tu es dans la contrée sur laquelle tu m'interroges; mais des hommes iniques et injurieux l'oppriment, et les nombreux présents que tu viens de dire sont perdus. Si tu eusses rencontré ton hôte dans Ithakè, il t'eût congédié après t'avoir donné l'hospitalité et t'avoir comblé d'autant de présents qu'il en a reçu de toi, comme c'est la coutume. Mais dis-moi la vérité: combien y a-t-il d'années que tu as reçu ton hôte malheureux? C'était mon fils, si jamais quelque chose a été! Le malheureux! Loin de ses amis et de sa terre natale, ou les poissons l'ont mangé dans la mer, ou, sur la terre, il a été déchiré par les bêtes féroces et par les oiseaux, et ni sa mère, ni son père, nous qui l'avons engendré, ne l'avons pleuré et enseveli. Et sa femme si richement dotée, la sage Pènélopéia n'a point pleuré, sur le lit funèbre, son mari bien-aimé, et elle ne lui a point fermé les yeux, car tel est l'honneur des morts! Mais dis-moi la vérité, afin que je la sache. Qui es-tu parmi les hommes? Où sont ta ville et tes parents? Où s'est arrêtée la nef rapide qui t'a conduit ici ainsi que tes divins compagnons? Es-tu venu, comme un marchand, sur une nef étrangère, et, t'ayant débarqué, ont-ils continué leur route?
Et le prudent Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Certes, je te dirai toute la vérité. Je suis d'Alybas, où j'ai mes demeures illustres; je suis le fils du roi Apheidas Polypèmonide, et mon nom est Épèritos. Un daimôn m'a poussé ici, malgré moi, des côtes de Sikaniè, et ma nef s'est arrêtée, loin de la ville, sur le rivage. Voici la cinquième année qu'Odysseus a quitté ma patrie. Certes, comme il partait, des oiseaux apparurent à sa droite, et je le renvoyai, m'en réjouissant, et lui-même en était joyeux quand il partit. Et nous espérions, dans notre âme, nous revoir et nous faire de splendides présents.
Il parla ainsi, et la sombre nuée de la douleur enveloppa Laertès, et, avec de profonds gémissements, il couvrit à deux mains sa tête blanche de poussière. Et l'âme d'Odysseus fut émue, et un trouble violent monta jusqu'à ses narines en voyant ainsi son cher père; et il le prit dans ses bras en s'élançant, et il le baisa et lui dit:
— Père! Je suis celui que tu attends, et je reviens après vingt ans dans la terre de la patrie. Mais cesse de pleurer et de gémir, car, je te le dis, il faut que nous nous hâtions. J'ai tué les prétendants dans nos demeures, châtiant leurs indignes outrages et leurs mauvaises actions.
Et Laertès lui répondit:
— Si tu es Odysseus mon fils de retour ici, donne moi un signe manifeste qui me persuade.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Vois d'abord de tes yeux cette blessure qu'un sanglier me fit de ses blanches dents, sur le Parnèsos, quand vous m'aviez envoyé, toi et ma mère vénérable, auprès d'Autolykos le cher père de ma mère, afin de prendre les présents qu'il m'avait promis quand il vint ici. Mais écoute, et je te dirai encore les arbres de ton verger bien cultivé, ceux que tu m'as donnés autrefois, comme je te les demandais, étant enfant et te suivant à travers le verger. Et nous allions parmi les arbres et tu me nommais chacun d'entre eux, et tu me donnas treize poiriers, dix pommiers et quarante figuiers; et tu me dis que tu me donnerais cinquante sillons de vignes portant des fruits et dont les grappes mûrissent quand les saisons de Zeus pèsent sur elles.
Il parla ainsi, et les genoux et le cher coeur de Laertès défaillirent tandis qu'il reconnaissait les signes manifestes que lui donnait Odysseus. Et il jeta ses bras autour de son cher fils, et le patient et divin Odysseus le reçut inanimé. Enfin, il respira, et, rassemblant ses esprits, il lui parla ainsi:
— Père Zeus, et vous, dieux! certes, vous êtes encore dans le grand Olympos, si vraiment les prétendants ont payé leurs outrages! Mais, maintenant, je crains dans mon âme que tous les Ithakèsiens se ruent promptement ici et qu'ils envoient des messagers à toutes les villes des Képhallèniens.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Prends courage, et ne t'inquiète point de ceci dans ton âme. Mais allons vers la demeure qui est auprès du verger. C'est là que j'ai envoyé Tèlémakhos, le bouvier et le porcher, afin de préparer promptement le repas.
Ayant ainsi parlé, ils allèrent vers les belles demeures, où ils trouvèrent Tèlémakhos, le bouvier et le porcher, coupant les chairs abondantes et mêlant le vin rouge. Cependant la servante Sikèle lava et parfuma d'huile le magnanime Laertès dans sa demeure, et elle jeta un beau manteau autour de lui, et Athènè, s'approchant, fortifia les membres du prince des peuples et elle le fit paraître plus grand et plus majestueux qu'auparavant. Et il sortit du bain, et son cher fils l'admira, le voyant semblable aux dieux immortels, et il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ô père, certes, un des dieux éternels te fait ainsi paraître plus irréprochable par la beauté et la majesté.
Et le prudent Laertès lui répondit:
— Que n'a-t-il plu au père Zeus, à Athènè, à Apollôn, que je fusse hier, dans nos demeures, tel que j'étais quand je pris, sur la terre ferme, commandant aux Képhallèniens, la ville bien bâtie de Nérikos! Les épaules couvertes de mes armes, j'eusse chassé les prétendants et rompu les genoux d'un grand nombre d'entre eux dans nos demeures, et tu t'en fusses réjoui dans ton âme.
Et ils se parlaient ainsi, et, cessant leur travail, ils préparèrent le repas, et ils s'assirent en ordre sur les sièges et sur les thrônes, et ils allaient prendre leur repas, quand le vieux Dolios arriva avec ses fils fatigués de leurs travaux; car la vieille mère Sikèle, qui les avait nourris et qui prenait soin du vieillard depuis que l'âge l'accablait, était allée les appeler. Ils aperçurent Odysseus et ils le reconnurent dans leur âme, et ils s'arrêtèrent, stupéfaits, dans la demeure. Mais Odysseus, les rassurant, leur dit ces douces paroles:
— Ô vieillard, assieds-toi au repas et ne sois plus stupéfait. Nous vous avons longtemps attendus dans les demeures, prêts à mettre la main sur les mets.
Il parla ainsi, et Dolios, les deux bras étendus, s'élança; et saisissant les mains d'Odysseus, il les baisa, et il lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ô ami, puisque tu es revenu vers nous qui te désirions et qui pensions ne plus te revoir, c'est que les dieux t'ont conduit. Salut! Réjouis-toi, et que les dieux te rendent heureux! Mais dis- moi la vérité, afin que je la sache. La prudente Pènélopéia sait- elle que tu es revenu, ou lui enverrons-nous un message?
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Ô vieillard, elle le sait! Pourquoi t'inquiéter de ces choses?
Il parla ainsi, et il s'assit de nouveau sur son siège poli. Et, autour de l'illustre Odysseus, les fils de Dolios, de la même façon, saluèrent leur maître par leurs paroles et baisèrent ses mains. Ensuite ils s'assirent auprès de Dolios leur père.
Tandis qu'ils mangeaient ainsi dans la demeure, Ossa se répandit par la ville, annonçant la kèr et la mort lamentable des prétendants. Et, à cette nouvelle, tous accoururent de tous côtés, avec tumulte et en gémissant, devant la demeure d'Odysseus. Et ils emportèrent les morts, chacun dans sa demeure, et ils les ensevelirent; et ceux des autres villes, ils les firent reconduire, les ayant déposés sur des nefs rapides. Puis, affligés dans leur coeur, ils se réunirent à l'agora. Et quand ils furent réunis en foule, Eupeithès se leva et parla au milieu d'eux. Et une douleur intolérable était dans son coeur à cause de son fils Antinoos que le divin Odysseus avait tué le premier. Et il parla ainsi, versant des larmes à cause de son fils:
— Ô amis, certes, cet homme a fait un grand mal aux Akhaiens. Tous ceux, nombreux et braves, qu'il a emmenés sur ses nefs, il les a perdus; et il a perdu aussi les nefs creuses, et il a perdu ses peuples, et voici qu'à son retour il a tué les plus braves des Képhallèniens. Allons! Avant qu'il fuie rapidement à Pylos ou dans la divine Élis où dominent les Épéiens, allons! car nous serions à jamais méprisés, et les hommes futurs se souviendraient de notre honte, si nous ne vengions le meurtre de nos fils et de nos frères. Il ne me serait plus doux de vivre, et j'aimerais mieux descendre aussitôt chez les morts. Allons! de peur que, nous prévenant, ils s'enfuient.
Il parla ainsi en pleurant, et la douleur saisit tous les Akhaiens. Mais, alors, Médôn et le divin aoide s'approchèrent d'eux, étant sortis de la demeure d'Odysseus, dès que le sommeil les eut quittés. Et ils s'arrêtèrent au milieu de l'agora. Et tous furent saisis de stupeur, et le prudent Médôn leur dit:
— Écoutez-moi, Ithakèsiens. Odysseus n'a point accompli ces choses sans les dieux immortels. Moi-même j'ai vu un dieu immortel qui se tenait auprès d'Odysseus, sous la figure de Mentôr. Certes, un dieu immortel apparaissait, tantôt devant Odysseus, excitant son audace, et tantôt s'élançant dans la salle, troublant les prétendants, et ceux-ci tombaient amoncelés.
Il parla ainsi, et la terreur blême les saisit tous. Et le vieux héros Halithersès Mastoride, qui savait les choses passées et futures, plein de prudence, leur parla ainsi:
— Écoutez-moi, Ithakèsiens, quoi que je dise. C'est par votre iniquité, amis, que ceci est arrivé. En effet, vous ne m'avez point obéi, ni à Mentôr prince des peuples, en réprimant les violences de vos fils qui ont commis avec fureur des actions mauvaises, consumant les richesses et insultant la femme d'un vaillant homme qu'ils disaient ne devoir plus revenir. Et, maintenant que cela est arrivé, faites ce que je vous dis: ne partez pas, de peur qu'il vous arrive malheur.
Il parla ainsi, et les uns se ruèrent avec un grand tumulte, et les autres restèrent en grand nombre, car les paroles de Halithersès ne leur plurent point et ils obéirent à Eupeithès. Et aussitôt ils se jetèrent sur leurs armes, et, s'étant couverts de l'airain splendide, réunis, ils traversèrent la grande ville. Et Eupeithès était le chef de ces insensés, et il espérait venger le meurtre de son fils; mais sa destinée n'était point de revenir, mais de subir la kèr.
Alors Athènè dit à Zeus Kroniôn:
— Notre père, Kronide, le plus puissant des rois, réponds-moi: que cache ton esprit? Exciteras-tu la guerre lamentable et la rude mêlée, ou rétabliras-tu la concorde entre les deux partis?
Et Zeus qui amasse les nuées lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, pourquoi m'interroges-tu sur ces choses? N'en as-tu point décidé toi-même dans ton esprit, de façon qu'Odysseus, à son retour, se venge de ses ennemis? Fais selon ta volonté; mais je te dirai ce qui est convenable. Maintenant que le divin Odysseus a puni les prétendants, qu'ayant scellé une alliance sincère, il règne toujours. Nous enverrons à ceux-ci l'oubli du meurtre de leurs fils et de leurs frères, et ils s'aimeront les uns les autres comme auparavant, dans la paix et dans l'abondance.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il excita Athènè déjà pleine d'ardeur et qui se rua du faîte de l'Olympos. Et quand ceux qui prenaient leur repas eurent chassé la faim, le patient et divin Odysseus leur dit, le premier:
— Qu'un de vous sorte et voie si ceux qui doivent venir approchent.
Il parla ainsi, et un des fils de Dolios sortit, comme il l'ordonnait; et, debout sur le seuil, il vit la foule qui approchait. Et aussitôt il dit à Odysseus ces paroles ailées:
— Les voici, armons-nous promptement.
Il parla ainsi, et tous se jetèrent sur leurs armes, Odysseus et ses trois compagnons et les six fils de Dolios. Et avec eux, Laertès et Dolios s'armèrent, quoique ayant les cheveux blancs, mais contraints de combattre.
Et, s'étant couverts de l'airain splendide, ils ouvrirent les portes et sortirent, et Odysseus les conduisait. Et la fille de Zeus, Athènè, vint à eux, semblable à Mentôr par la figure et la voix. Et le patient et divin Odysseus, l'ayant vue, se réjouit, et il dit aussitôt à son cher fils Tèlémakhos:
— Tèlémakhos, voici qu'il faut te montrer, en combattant toi-même les guerriers. C'est là que les plus braves se reconnaissent. Ne déshonorons pas la race de nos aïeux, qui, sur toute la terre, l'a emporté par sa force et son courage.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Tu verras, si tu le veux, cher père, que je ne déshonorerai point ta race.
Il parla ainsi, et Laertès s'en réjouit et dit:
— Quel jour pour moi, dieux amis! Certes, je suis plein de joie; mon fils et mon petit-fils luttent de vertu.
Et Athènè aux yeux clairs, s'approchant, lui dit:
— Arkeisiade, le plus cher de mes compagnons, supplie le père Zeus et sa fille aux yeux clairs, et, aussitôt, envoie ta longue lance, l'ayant brandie avec force.
Ayant ainsi parlé, Pallas Athènè lui inspira une grande force, et il pria la fille du grand Zeus, et il envoya sa longue lance brandie avec force. Et il frappa le casque d'airain d'Eupeithès, qui ne résista point, et l'airain le traversa. Et Eupeithès tomba avec bruit, et ses armes résonnèrent sur lui. Et Odysseus et son illustre fils se ruèrent sur les premiers combattants, les frappant de leurs épées et de lances à deux pointes. Et ils les eussent tous tués et privés du retour, si Athènè, la fille de Zeus tempétueux, n'eût arrêté tout le peuple en criant:
— Cessez la guerre lamentable, Ithakèsiens, et séparez-vous promptement sans carnage.
Ainsi parla Athènè, et la terreur blême les saisit, et leurs armes, échappées de leurs mains, tombèrent à terre, au cri de la déesse; et tous, pour sauver leur vie, s'enfuirent vers la ville. Et le patient et divin Odysseus, avec des clameurs terribles, se rua comme l'aigle qui vole dans les hauteurs. Alors le Kronide lança la foudre enflammée qui tomba devant la fille aux yeux clairs d'un père redoutable. Et, alors, Athènè aux yeux clairs dit à Odysseus:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, arrête, cesse la discorde de la guerre intestine, de peur que le Kronide Zeus qui tonne au loin s'irrite contre toi.
Ainsi parla Athènè, et il lui obéit, plein de joie dans son coeur. Et Pallas Athènè, fille de Zeus tempétueux, et semblable par la figure et par la voix à Mentôr, scella pour toujours l'alliance entre les deux partis.
Hèlios, quittant son beau lac, monta dans l'Ouranos d'airain, afin de porter la lumière aux immortels et aux hommes mortels sur la terre féconde. Et ils arrivèrent à Pylos, la citadelle bien bâtie de Nèleus. Et les Pyliens, sur le rivage de la mer, faisaient des sacrifices de taureaux entièrement noirs à Poseidaôn aux cheveux bleus. Et il y avait neuf rangs de sièges, et sur chaque rang cinq cents hommes étaient assis, et devant chaque rang il y avait neuf taureaux égorgés. Et ils goûtaient les entrailles et ils brûlaient les cuisses pour le dieu, quand ceux d'Ithakè entrèrent dans le port, serrèrent les voiles de la nef égale, et, l'ayant amarrée, en sortirent. Et Tèlémakhos sortit aussi de la nef, conduit par Athènè. Et, lui parlant la première, la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui dit:
— Tèlémakhos, il ne te convient plus d'être timide, maintenant que tu as traversé la mer pour l'amour de ton père, afin de t'informer quelle terre le renferme, et quelle a été sa destinée. Allons! va droit au dompteur de chevaux Nestôr, et voyons quelle pensée il cache dans sa poitrine. Supplie-le de te dire la vérité. Il ne mentira pas, car il est plein de sagesse.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Mentôr, comment l'aborder et comment le saluer? Je n'ai point l'expérience des sages discours, et un jeune homme a quelque honte d'interroger un vieillard.
Et Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, tu y songeras dans ton esprit, ou un dieu te l'inspirera, car je ne pense pas que tu sois né et que tu aies été élevé sans la bienveillance des dieux.
Ayant ainsi parlé, Pallas Athènè le précéda rapidement et il suivit aussitôt la déesse. Et ils parvinrent à l'assemblée où siégeaient les hommes Pyliens. Là était assis Nestôr avec ses fils, et, tout autour, leurs compagnons préparaient le repas, faisaient rôtir les viandes et les embrochaient. Et dès qu'ils eurent vu les étrangers, ils vinrent tous à eux, les accueillant du geste, et ils les firent asseoir. Et le Nestôride Peisistratos, s'approchant le premier, les prit l'un et l'autre par la main et leur fit place au repas, sur des peaux moelleuses qui couvraient le sable marin, auprès de son frère Thrasymèdès et de son père. Puis, il leur offrit des portions d'entrailles, versa du vin dans une coupe d'or, et, la présentant à Pallas Athènè, fille de Zeus tempétueux, il lui dit:
— Maintenant, ô mon hôte, supplie le roi Poseidaôn. Ce festin auquel vous venez tous deux prendre part est à lui. Après avoir fait des libations et imploré le dieu, comme il convient, donne cette coupe de vin doux à ton compagnon, afin qu'il fasse à son tour des libations. Je pense qu'il supplie aussi les immortels. Tous les hommes ont besoin des dieux. Mais il est plus jeune que toi et semble être de mon âge, c'est pourquoi je te donne d'abord cette coupe d'or.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il lui mit aux mains la coupe de vin doux, et Athènè se réjouit de la sagesse et de l'équité du jeune homme, parce qu'il lui avait offert d'abord la coupe d'or. Et aussitôt elle supplia le roi Poseidaôn:
— Entends-moi, Poseidaôn qui contient la terre! Ne nous refuse pas, à nous qui t'en supplions, d'accomplir notre dessein. Glorifie d'abord Nestôr et ses fils, et sois aussi favorable à tous les Pyliens en récompense de cette illustre hécatombe. Fais, enfin, que Tèlémakhos et moi nous retournions, ayant accompli l'oeuvre pour laquelle nous sommes venus sur une nef noire et rapide.
Elle pria ainsi, exauçant elle-même ses voeux. Et elle donna la belle coupe ronde à Tèlémakhos, et le cher fils d'Odysseus supplia aussi le dieu. Et dès que les Pyliens eurent rôti les chairs supérieures, ils les retirèrent du feu, et, les distribuant par portions, ils célébrèrent le festin splendide. Et dès qu'ils eurent assouvi le besoin de boire et de manger, le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr leur parla ainsi:
— Maintenant, nous pouvons demander qui sont nos hôtes, puisqu'ils sont rassasiés de nourriture. Ô nos hôtes, qui êtes-vous? Naviguez-vous pour quelque trafic, ou bien, à l'aventure, comme des pirates qui, jouant leur vie, portent le malheur aux étrangers?
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit avec assurance, car Athènè avait mis la fermeté dans son coeur, afin qu'il s'informât de son père absent et qu'une grande gloire lui fût acquise par là parmi les hommes:
— Ô Nestôr Nèlèiade, grande gloire des Akhaiens, tu demandes d'où nous sommes, et je puis te le dire. Nous venons d'Ithakè, sous le Nèios, pour un intérêt privé, et non public, que je t'apprendrai. Je cherche à entendre parler de l'immense gloire de mon père, le divin et patient Odysseus qui, autrefois, dit-on, combattant avec toi, a renversé la ville des Troiens. Nous avons su dans quel lieu chacun de ceux qui combattaient contre les Troiens a subi la mort cruelle; mais le Kroniôn, au seul Odysseus, a fait une mort ignorée; et aucun ne peut dire où il a péri, s'il a été dompté sur la terre ferme par des hommes ennemis, ou dans la mer, sous les écumes d'Amphitrite. C'est pour lui que je viens, à tes genoux, te demander de me dire, si tu le veux, quelle a été sa mort cruelle, soit que tu l'aies vue de tes yeux, soit que tu l'aies apprise de quelque voyageur; car sa mère l'a enfanté pour être très malheureux. Ne me flatte point d'espérances vaines, par compassion; mais parle-moi ouvertement, je t'en supplie, si jamais mon père, l'excellent Odysseus, soit par ses paroles, soit par ses actions, a tenu les promesses qu'il t'avait faites, chez le peuple des Troiens, où vous, Akhaiens, avez subi tant de maux. Souviens- t'en maintenant, et dis-moi la vérité.
Et le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr lui répondit:
— Ô ami, tu me fais souvenir des maux que nous, fils indomptables des Akhaiens, nous avons subis chez le peuple Troien, soit en poursuivant notre proie, sur nos nefs, à travers la mer sombre, et conduits par Akhilleus, soit en combattant autour de la grande ville du roi Priamos, là où tant de guerriers excellents ont été tués. C'est là que gisent le brave Aias, et Akhilleus, et Patroklos semblable aux dieux par la sagesse, et mon fils bien- aimé Antilokhos, robuste et irréprochable, habile à la course et courageux combattant. Et nous avons subi bien d'autres maux, et nul, parmi les hommes mortels, ne pourrait les raconter tous. Et tu pourrais rester ici et m'interroger pendant cinq ou six ans, que tu retournerais, plein de tristesse, dans la terre de la patrie, avant de connaître tous les maux subis par les divins Akhaiens. Et, pendant neuf ans, nous avons assiégé Troiè par mille ruses, et le Kroniôn ne nous donna la victoire qu'avec peine. Là, nul n'égala jamais le divin Odysseus par la sagesse, car ton père l'emportait sur tous par ses ruses sans nombre, si vraiment tu es son fils.
Mais l'admiration me saisit en te regardant. Tes paroles sont semblables aux siennes, et on ne te croirait pas si jeune, tant tu sais parler comme lui. Là-bas, jamais le divin Odysseus et moi, dans l'agora ou dans le conseil, nous n'avons parlé différemment; et nous donnions aux Akhaiens les meilleurs avis, ayant le même esprit et la même sagesse.
Enfin, après avoir renversé la haute citadelle de Priamos, nous partîmes sur nos nefs, et un dieu dispersa les Akhaiens. Déjà Zeus, sans doute, préparait, dans son esprit, un triste retour aux Akhaiens; car tous n'étaient point prudents et justes, et une destinée terrible était réservée à beaucoup d'entre eux, à cause de la colère d'Athènè aux yeux clairs qui a un père effrayant, et qui jeta la discorde entre les deux Atréides. Et ceux-ci avaient convoqué tous les Akhaiens à l'agora, sans raison et contre l'usage, au coucher de Hèlios, et les fils des Akhaiens y vinrent, alourdis par le vin, et les Atréides leur expliquèrent pourquoi ils avaient convoqué le peuple. Alors Ménélaos leur ordonna de songer au retour sur le vaste dos de la mer; mais cela ne plut point à Agamemnôn, qui voulait retenir le peuple et sacrifier de saintes hécatombes, afin d'apaiser la violente colère d'Athènè. Et l'insensé ne savait pas qu'il ne pourrait l'apaiser, car l'esprit des Dieux éternels ne change point aussi vite. Et tandis que les Atréides, debout, se disputaient avec d'âpres paroles, tous les Akhaiens aux belles knèmides se levèrent, dans une grande clameur, pleins de résolutions contraires.
Et nous dormîmes pendant la nuit, méditant un dessein fatal, car Zeus préparait notre plus grand malheur. Et, au matin, traînant nos nefs à la mer divine, nous y déposâmes notre butin et les femmes aux ceintures dénouées. Et la moitié de l'armée resta auprès du Roi Atréide Agamemnôn; et nous, partant sur nos nefs, nous naviguions. Un dieu apaisa la mer où vivent les monstres, et, parvenus promptement à Ténédos, nous fîmes des sacrifices aux dieux, désirant revoir nos demeures. Mais Zeus irrité, nous refusant un prompt retour, excita de nouveau une fatale dissension. Et quelques-uns, remontant sur leurs nefs à double rang d'avirons, et parmi eux était le roi Odysseus plein de prudence, retournèrent vers l'Atréide Agamemnôn, afin de lui complaire.
Pour moi, ayant réuni les nefs qui me suivaient, je pris la fuite, car je savais quels malheurs préparait le dieu. Et le brave fils de Tydeus, excitant ses compagnons, prit aussi la fuite; et le blond Ménélaos nous rejoignit plus tard à Lesbos, où nous délibérions sur la route à suivre. Irions-nous par le nord de l'âpre Khios, ou vers l'île Psyriè, en la laissant à notre gauche, ou par le sud de Khios, vers Mimas battue des vents? Ayant supplié Zeus de nous montrer un signe, il nous le montra et nous ordonna de traverser le milieu de la mer d'Euboia, afin d'éviter notre perte. Et un vent sonore commença de souffler; et nos nefs, ayant parcouru rapidement les chemins poissonneux, arrivèrent dans la nuit à Géraistos; et là, après avoir traversé la grande mer, nous brûlâmes pour Poseidaôn de nombreuses cuisses de taureaux.
Le quatrième jour, les nefs égales et les compagnons du dompteur de chevaux Tydéide Diomèdès s'arrêtèrent dans Argos, mais je continuai ma route vers Pylos, et le vent ne cessa pas depuis qu'un dieu lui avait permis de souffler. C'est ainsi que je suis arrivé, cher fils, ne sachant point quels sont ceux d'entre les Akhaiens qui se sont sauvés ou qui ont péri. Mais ce que j'ai appris, tranquille dans mes demeures, il est juste que tu en sois instruit, et je ne te le cacherai point. On dit que l'illustre fils du magnanime Akhilleus a ramené en sûreté les Myrmidones habiles à manier la lance. Philoktètès, l'illustre fils de Paian, a aussi ramené les siens, et Idoméneus a reconduit dans la Krètè ceux de ses compagnons qui ont échappé à la guerre, et la mer ne lui en a ravi aucun. Tu as entendu parler de l'Atréide, bien qu'habitant au loin; et tu sais comment il revint, et comment Aigisthos lui infligea une mort lamentable. Mais le meurtrier est mort misérablement, tant il est bon qu'un homme laisse un fils qui le venge. Et Orestès a tiré vengeance d'Aigisthos qui avait tué son illustre père. Et toi, ami, que je vois si beau et si grand, sois brave, afin qu'on parle bien de toi parmi les hommes futurs.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ô Nestôr Nèlèiade, grande gloire des Akhaiens, certes, Orestès a tiré une juste vengeance, et tous les Akhaiens l'en glorifient, et les hommes futurs l'en glorifieront. Plût aux dieux que j'eusse la force de faire expier aux prétendants les maux qu'ils me font et l'opprobre dont ils me couvrent. Mais les dieux ne nous ont point destinés à être honorés, mon père et moi, et, maintenant, il me faut tout subir avec patience.
Et le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr lui répondit:
— Ô ami, ce que tu me dis m'a été rapporté, que de nombreux prétendants, à cause de ta mère, t'opprimaient dans ta demeure. Mais, dis-moi, souffres-tu ces maux sans résistance, ou bien les peuples, obéissant à l'oracle d'un dieu, t'ont-ils pris en haine! Qui sait si Odysseus ne châtiera pas un jour leur iniquité violente, seul, ou aidé de tous les Akhaiens? Qu'Athènè aux yeux clairs puisse t'aimer autant qu'elle aimait le glorieux Odysseus, chez le peuple des Troiens, où, nous, Akhaiens, nous avons subi tant de maux! Non, je n'ai jamais vu les Dieux aimer aussi manifestement un homme que Pallas Athènè aimait Odysseus. Si elle voulait t'aimer ainsi et te protéger, chacun des prétendants oublierait bientôt ses désirs de noces!
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Ô vieillard, je ne pense pas que ceci arrive jamais. Les grandes choses que tu prévois me troublent et me jettent dans la stupeur. Elles tromperaient mes espérances, même si les dieux le voulaient.
Alors, Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, lui répondit:
— Tèlémakhos, quelle parole s'est échappée d'entre tes dents! Un dieu peut aisément sauver un homme, même de loin. J'aimerais mieux, après avoir subi de nombreuses douleurs, revoir le jour du retour et revenir dans ma demeure, plutôt que de périr à mon arrivée, comme Agamemnôn par la perfidie d'Aigisthos et de Klytaimnestrè. Cependant, les dieux eux-mêmes ne peuvent éloigner de l'homme qu'ils aiment la mort commune à tous, quand la Moire fatale de la rude mort doit les saisir.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Mentôr, n'en parlons pas plus longtemps, malgré notre tristesse. Odysseus ne reviendra jamais, et déjà les dieux immortels lui ont infligé la mort et la noire kèr. Maintenant, je veux interroger Nestôr, car il l'emporte sur tous par l'intelligence et par la justice. Ô Nestôr Nèlèiade, dis-moi la vérité; comment a péri l'Atréide Agamemnôn qui commandait au loin? Quelle mort lui préparait le perfide Aigisthos? Certes, il a tué un homme qui lui était bien supérieur. Où était Ménélaos? Non dans l'Argos Akhaïque, sans doute; et il errait au loin parmi les hommes, et Aigisthos, en son absence, a commis le meurtre.
Et le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr lui répondit:
— Certes, mon enfant, je te dirai la vérité sur ces choses, et tu les sauras, telles qu'elles sont arrivées. Si le blond Ménélaos Atréide, à son retour de Troiè, avait trouvé, dans ses demeures, Aigisthos vivant, sans doute celui-ci eût péri, et n'eût point été enseveli, et les chiens et les oiseaux carnassiers l'eussent mangé, gisant dans la plaine, loin d'Argos; et aucune Akhaienne ne l'eût pleuré, car il avait commis un grand crime. En effet, tandis que nous subissions devant Ilios des combats sans nombre, lui, tranquille en une retraite, dans Argos nourrice de chevaux, séduisait par ses paroles l'épouse Agamemnonienne. Et certes, la divine Klytaimnestrè repoussa d'abord cette action indigne, car elle obéissait à ses bonnes pensées; et auprès d'elle était un Aoide à qui l'Atréide, en partant pour Troiè, avait confié la garde de l'Épouse.
Mais quand la moire des dieux eut décidé que l'Aoide mourrait, on jeta celui-ci dans une île déserte et on l'y abandonna pour être déchiré par les oiseaux carnassiers. Alors, ayant tous deux les mêmes désirs, Aigisthos conduisit Klytaimnestrè dans sa demeure. Et il brûla de nombreuses cuisses sur les autels des dieux, et il y suspendit de nombreux ornements et des vêtements d'or, parce qu'il avait accompli le grand dessein qu'il n'eût jamais osé espérer dans son âme. Et nous naviguions loin de Troiè, l'Atréide et moi, ayant l'un pour l'autre la même amitié. Mais, comme nous arrivions à Sounios, sacré promontoire des Athènaiens, Phoibos Apollôn tua soudainement de ses douces flèches le pilote de Ménélaos, Phrontis Onètoride, au moment où il tenait le gouvernail de la nef qui marchait. Et c'était le plus habile de tous les hommes à gouverner une nef, aussi souvent que soufflaient les tempêtes. Et Ménélaos, bien que pressé de continuer sa course, s'arrêta en ce lieu pour ensevelir son compagnon et célébrer ses funérailles.
Puis, reprenant son chemin à travers la mer sombre, sur ses nefs creuses, il atteignit le promontoire Maléien. Alors Zeus à la grande voix, s'opposant à sa marche, répandit le souffle des vents sonores qui soulevèrent les grands flots pareils à des montagnes. Et les nefs se séparèrent, et une partie fut poussée en Krètè, où habitent les Kydônes, sur les rives du Iardanos. Mais il y a, sur les côtes de Gortyna, une roche escarpée et plate qui sort de la mer sombre. Là, le Notos pousse les grands flots vers Phaistos, à la gauche du promontoire; et cette roche, très petite, rompt les grands flots. C'est là qu'ils vinrent, et les hommes évitèrent à peine la mort; et les flots fracassèrent les nefs contre les rochers, et le vent et la mer poussèrent cinq nefs aux proues bleues vers le fleuve Aigyptos.
Et Ménélaos, amassant beaucoup de richesses et d'or, errait parmi les hommes qui parlent une langue étrangère. Pendant ce temps, Aigisthos accomplissait dans ses demeures son lamentable dessein, en tuant l'Atréide et en soumettant son peuple. Et il commanda sept années dans la riche Mykènè. Et, dans la huitième année, le divin Orestès revint d'Athéna, et il tua le meurtrier de son père, le perfide Aigisthos, qui avait tué son illustre père.
Et, quand il l'eut tué, il offrit aux Argiens le repas funéraire de sa malheureuse mère et du lâche Aigisthos. Et ce jour-là, arriva le brave Ménélaos, apportant autant de richesses que sa nef en pouvait contenir. Mais toi, ami, ne reste pas plus longtemps éloigné de ta maison, ayant ainsi laissé dans tes demeures tant d'hommes orgueilleux, de peur qu'ils consument tes biens et se partagent tes richesses, car tu aurais fait un voyage inutile. Je t'exhorte cependant à te rendre auprès de Ménélaos. Il est récemment arrivé de pays étrangers, d'où il n'espérait jamais revenir; et les tempêtes l'ont poussé à travers la grande mer que les oiseaux ne pourraient traverser dans l'espace d'une année, tant elle est vaste et horrible. Va maintenant avec ta nef et tes compagnons; ou, si tu veux aller par terre, je te donnerai un char et des chevaux, et mes fils te conduiront dans la divine Lakédaimôn où est le blond Ménélaos, afin que tu le pries de te dire la vérité. Et il ne te dira pas de mensonges, car il est très-sage.
Il parla ainsi, et Hèlios descendit, et les ténèbres arrivèrent.
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui dit:
— Vieillard, tu as parlé convenablement. Mais tranchez les langues des victimes, et mêlez le vin, afin que nous fassions des libations à Poseidaôn et aux autres immortels. Puis, nous songerons à notre lit, car voici l'heure. Déjà la lumière est sous l'horizon, et il ne convient pas de rester plus longtemps au festin des dieux; mais il faut nous retirer.
La fille de Zeus parla ainsi, et tous obéirent à ses paroles. Et les hérauts leur versèrent de l'eau sur les mains, et les jeunes hommes couronnèrent les kratères de vin et les distribuèrent entre tous à pleines coupes. Et ils jetèrent les langues dans le feu. Et ils firent, debout, des libations; et, après avoir fait des libations et bu autant que leur coeur le désirait, alors, Athènè et Tèlémakhos voulurent tous deux retourner à leur nef creuse.
Mais, aussitôt, Nestôr les retint et leur dit:
— Que Zeus et tous les autres dieux immortels me préservent de vous laisser retourner vers votre nef rapide, en me quittant, comme si j'étais un homme pauvre qui n'a dans sa maison ni vêtements ni tapis, afin que ses hôtes y puissent dormir mollement! Certes, je possède beaucoup de vêtements et de beaux tapis. Et jamais le cher fils du héros Odysseus ne passera la nuit dans sa nef tant que je vivrai, et tant que mes enfants habiteront ma maison royale et y recevront les étrangers qui viennent dans ma demeure.
Et la déesse Athènè aux yeux clairs lui répondit:
— Tu as bien parlé, cher vieillard. Il convient que tu persuades Tèlémakhos, afin que tout soit pour le mieux. Il te suivra donc pour dormir dans ta demeure, et je retournerai vers notre nef noire pour donner des ordres à nos compagnons, car je me glorifie d'être le plus âgé d'entre eux. Ce sont des jeunes hommes, du même âge que le magnanime Tèlémakhos, et ils l'ont suivi par amitié. Je dormirai dans la nef noire et creuse, et, dès le matin, j'irai vers les magnanimes Kaukônes, pour une somme qui m'est due et qui n'est pas médiocre. Quand Tèlémakhos sera dans ta demeure, envoie- le sur le char, avec ton fils, et donne-lui tes chevaux les plus rapides et les plus vigoureux.
Ayant ainsi parlé, Athènè aux yeux clairs disparut semblable à un aigle, et la stupeur saisit tous ceux qui la virent. Et le vieillard, l'ayant vue de ses yeux, fut plein d'admiration, et il prit la main de Tèlémakhos et il lui dit ces paroles:
— Ô ami, tu ne seras ni faible ni lâche, puisque les dieux eux- mêmes te conduisent, bien que tu sois si jeune. C'est là un des habitants des demeures Olympiennes, la fille de Zeus, la dévastatrice Tritogénéia, qui honorait ton père excellent entre tous les Argiens. C'est pourquoi, ô reine, sois-moi favorable! Donne-nous une grande gloire, à moi, à mes fils et à ma vénérable épouse, et je te sacrifierai une génisse d'un an, au front large, indomptée, et que nul autre n'a soumise au joug; et je te la sacrifierai après avoir répandu de l'or sur ses cornes.
Il parla ainsi, et Pallas-Athènè l'entendit.
Et le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr, en tête de ses fils et de ses gendres, retourna vers sa belle demeure. Et quand ils furent arrivés à l'illustre demeure du roi, ils s'assirent en ordre sur des gradins et sur des thrônes. Et le vieillard mêla pour eux un kratère de vin doux, âgé de onze ans, dont une servante ôta le couvercle. Et le vieillard, ayant mêlé le vin dans le kratère, supplia Athènè, faisant des libations à la fille de Zeus tempétueux. Et chacun d'eux, ayant fait des libations et bu autant que son coeur le désirait, retourna dans sa demeure pour y dormir. Et le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr fit coucher Tèlémakhos, le cher fils du divin Odysseus, en un lit sculpté, sous le portique sonore, auprès du brave Peisistratos, le plus jeune des fils de la maison royale. Et lui-même s'endormit au fond de sa haute demeure, là où l'épouse lui avait préparé un lit.
Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr se leva de son lit. Puis, étant sorti, il s'assit sur les pierres polies, blanches et brillantes comme de l'huile, qui étaient devant les hautes portes, et sur lesquelles s'asseyait autrefois Nèleus semblable aux dieux par la sagesse. Mais celui- ci, dompté par la Kèr, était descendu chez Aidés. Et, maintenant, le Gérennien Nestôr, rempart des Akhaiens, s'asseyait à sa place, tenant le sceptre. Et ses fils, sortant des chambres nuptiales, se réunirent autour de lui: Ekhéphrôn, et Stratios, et Perseus, et Arètos, et le divin Thrasymèdès. Et le héros Peisistratos vint le sixième. Et ils firent approcher Tèlémakhos semblable à un dieu, et le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr commença de leur parler:
— Mes chers enfants, satisfaites promptement mon désir, afin que je me rende favorable, avant tous les dieux, Athènè qui s'est montrée ouvertement à moi au festin sacré de Poseidaôn. Que l'un de vous aille dans la campagne chercher une génisse que le bouvier amènera, et qu'il revienne à la hâte. Un autre se rendra à la nef noire du magnanime Tèlémakhos, et il amènera tous ses compagnons, et il n'en laissera que deux. Un autre ordonnera au fondeur d'or Laerkeus de venir répandre de l'or sur les cornes de la génisse; et les autres resteront auprès de moi. Ordonnez aux servantes de préparer un festin sacré dans la demeure, et d'apporter des sièges, du bois et de l'eau pure.
Il parla ainsi, et tous lui obéirent. La génisse vint de la campagne, et les compagnons du magnanime Tèlémakhos vinrent de la nef égale et rapide. Et l'ouvrier vint, portant dans ses mains les instruments de son art, l'enclume, le maillet et la tenaille, avec lesquels il travaillait l'or. Et Athènè vint aussi, pour jouir du sacrifice. Et le vieux cavalier Nestôr donna de l'or, et l'ouvrier le répandit et le fixa sur les cornes de la génisse, afin que la déesse se réjouît en voyant cet ornement. Stratios et le divin Ekhéphrôn amenèrent la génisse par les cornes, et Arètos apporta, de la chambre nuptiale, dans un bassin fleuri, de l'eau pour leurs mains, et une servante apporta les orges dans une corbeille. Et le brave Thrasymèdès se tenait prêt à tuer la génisse, avec une hache tranchante à la main, et Perseus tenait un vase pour recevoir le sang. Alors, le vieux cavalier Nestôr répandit l'eau et les orges, et supplia Athènè, en jetant d'abord dans le feu quelques poils arrachés de la tête.
Et, après qu'ils eurent prié et répandu les orges, aussitôt, le noble Thrasymèdès, fils de Nestôr, frappa, et il trancha d'un coup de hache les muscles du cou; et les forces de la génisse furent rompues. Et les filles, les belles-filles et la vénérable épouse de Nestôr, Eurydikè, l'aînée des filles de Klyménos, hurlèrent toutes.
Puis, relevant la génisse qui était largement étendue, ils la soutinrent, et Peisistratos, chef des hommes, l'égorgea. Et un sang noir s'échappa de sa gorge, et le souffle abandonna ses os. Aussitôt ils la divisèrent. Les cuisses furent coupées, selon le rite, et recouvertes de graisse des deux côtés. Puis, on déposa, par-dessus, les entrailles saignantes. Et le vieillard les brûlait sur du bois, faisant des libations de vin rouge. Et les jeunes hommes tenaient en mains des broches à cinq pointes. Les cuisses étant consumées, ils goûtèrent les entrailles; puis, divisant les chairs avec soin, ils les embrochèrent et les rôtirent, tenant en mains les broches aiguës.
Pendant ce temps, la belle Polykastè, la plus jeune des filles de Nestôr Nèlèiade, baigna Tèlémakhos et, après l'avoir baigné et parfumé d'une huile grasse, elle le revêtit d'une tunique et d'un beau manteau. Et il sortit du bain, semblable par sa beauté aux Immortels. Et le prince des peuples vint s'asseoir auprès de Nestôr.
Les autres, ayant rôti les chairs, les retirèrent du feu et s'assirent au festin. Et les plus illustres, se levant, versaient du vin dans les coupes d'or. Et quand ils eurent assouvi la soif et la faim, le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr commença de parler au milieu d'eux:
— Mes enfants, donnez promptement à Tèlémakhos des chevaux au beau poil, et liez-les au char, afin qu'il fasse son voyage.
Il parla ainsi, et, l'ayant entendu, ils lui obéirent aussitôt. Et ils lièrent promptement au char deux chevaux rapides. Et la servante intendante y déposa du pain et du vin et tous les mets dont se nourrissent les rois élevés par Zeus. Et Tèlémakhos monta dans le beau char, et, auprès de lui, le Nestoride Peisistratos, chef des hommes, monta aussi et prit les rênes en mains. Puis, il fouetta les chevaux, et ceux-ci s'élancèrent avec ardeur dans la plaine, laissant derrière eux la ville escarpée de Pylos. Et, tout le jour, ils secouèrent le joug qui les retenait des deux côtés.
Alors, Hèlios tomba, et les chemins s'emplirent d'ombre. Et ils arrivèrent à Phèra, dans la demeure de Diokleus, fils d'Orthilokhos que l'Alphéios engendra. Là, ils passèrent la nuit, et Diokleus leur fit les dons de l'hospitalité.
Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, ils attelèrent les chevaux et montèrent sur le beau char, et ils sortirent du vestibule et du portique sonore. Et Peisistratos fouetta les chevaux, qui s'élancèrent ardemment dans la plaine fertile. Et ils achevèrent leur route, tant les chevaux rapides couraient avec vigueur. Et Hèlios tomba de nouveau, et les chemins s'emplirent d'ombre.
Et ils parvinrent à la vaste et creuse Lakédaimôn. Et ils se dirigèrent vers la demeure du glorieux Ménélaos, qu'ils trouvèrent célébrant dans sa demeure, au milieu de nombreux convives, les noces de son fils et de sa fille irréprochable qu'il envoyait au fils du belliqueux Akhilleus. Dès longtemps, devant Troiè, il l'avait promise et fiancée, et les dieux accomplissaient leurs noces, et Ménélaos l'envoyait, avec un char et des chevaux, vers l'illustre ville des Myrmidones, auxquels commandait le fils d'Akhilleus.
Et il mariait une Spartiate, fille d'Alektôr, à son fils, le robuste Mégapenthès, que, dans sa vieillesse, il avait eu d'une captive. Car les dieux n'avaient plus accordé d'enfants à Hélènè depuis qu'elle avait enfanté sa fille gracieuse, Hermionè, semblable à Aphroditè d'or.
Et les voisins et les compagnons du glorieux Ménélaos étaient assis au festin, dans la haute et grande demeure; et ils se réjouissaient, et un Aoide divin chantait au milieu d'eux, en jouant de la flûte, et deux danseurs bondissaient au milieu d'eux, aux sons du chant.
Et le héros Tèlémakhos et l'illustre fils de Nestôr s'arrêtèrent, eux et leurs chevaux, dans le vestibule de la maison. Et le serviteur familier du glorieux Ménélaos, Etéôneus, accourant et les ayant vus, alla rapidement les annoncer dans les demeures du prince des peuples. Et, se tenant debout auprès de lui, il dit ces paroles ailées:
— Ménélaos, nourri par Zeus, voici deux étrangers qui semblent être de la race du grand Zeus. Dis-moi s'il faut dételer leurs chevaux rapides, ou s'il faut les renvoyer vers quelqu'autre qui les reçoive.
Et le blond Ménélaos lui répondit en gémissant:
— Étéôneus Boèthoide, tu n'étais pas insensé avant ce moment, et voici que tu prononces comme un enfant des paroles sans raison. Nous avons souvent reçu, en grand nombre, les présents de l'hospitalité chez des hommes étrangers, avant de revenir ici. Que Zeus nous affranchisse de nouvelles misères dans l'avenir! Mais délie les chevaux de nos hôtes et conduis-les eux-mêmes à ce festin.
Il parla ainsi, et Etéôneus sortit à la hâte des demeures, et il ordonna aux autres serviteurs fidèles de le suivre. Et ils délièrent les chevaux suant sous le joug, et ils les attachèrent aux crèches, en plaçant devant eux l'orge blanche et l'épeautre mêlés. Et ils appuyèrent le char contre le mur poli. Puis, ils conduisirent les étrangers dans la demeure divine.
Et ceux-ci regardaient, admirant la demeure du roi nourrisson de Zeus. Et la splendeur de la maison du glorieux Ménélaos était semblable à celle de Hèlios et de Sélénè. Et quand ils furent rassasiés de regarder, ils entrèrent, pour se laver, dans des baignoires polies. Et après que les servantes les eurent lavés et parfumés d'huile, et revêtus de tuniques et de manteaux moelleux, ils s'assirent sur des thrônes auprès de l'Atréide Ménélaos. Et une servante, pour laver leurs mains, versa de l'eau, d'une belle aiguière d'or, dans un bassin d'argent; et elle dressa devant eux une table polie; et la vénérable intendante, pleine de bienveillance, y déposa du pain et des mets nombreux. Et le découpeur leur offrit les plateaux couverts de viandes différentes, et il posa devant eux des coupes d'or. Et le blond Ménélaos, leur donnant la main droite, leur dit:
— Mangez et réjouissez-vous. Quand vous serez rassasiés de nourriture, nous vous demanderons qui vous êtes parmi les hommes. Certes, la race de vos aïeux n'a point failli, et vous êtes d'une race de rois porte-sceptres nourris par Zeus, car jamais des lâches n'ont enfanté de tels fils.
Il parla ainsi, et, saisissant de ses mains le dos gras d'une génisse, honneur qu'on lui avait fait à lui-même, il le plaça devant eux. Et ceux-ci étendirent les mains vers les mets offerts. Et quand ils eurent assouvi le besoin de manger et de boire, Tèlémakhos dit au fils de Nestôr, en approchant la tête de la sienne, afin de n'être point entendu:
— Vois, Nestoride, très-cher à mon coeur, la splendeur de l'airain et la maison sonore, et l'or, et l'émail, et l'argent et l'ivoire. Sans doute, telle est la demeure de l'olympien Zeus, tant ces richesses sont nombreuses. L'admiration me saisit en les regardant.
Et le blond Ménélaos, ayant compris ce qu'il disait, leur adressa ces paroles ailées:
— Chers enfants, aucun vivant ne peut lutter contre Zeus, car ses demeures et ses richesses sont immortelles. Il y a des hommes plus ou moins riches que moi; mais j'ai subi bien des maux, et j'ai erré sur mes nefs pendant huit années, avant de revenir. Et j'ai vu Kypros et la Phoinikè, et les Aigyptiens, et les Aithiopiens, et les Sidônes, et les Érembes, et la Libyè où les agneaux sont cornus et où les brebis mettent bas trois fois par an. Là, ni le roi ni le berger ne manquent de fromage, de viandes et de lait doux, car ils peuvent traire le lait pendant toute l'année. Et tandis que j'errais en beaucoup de pays, amassant des richesses, un homme tuait traîtreusement mon frère, aidé par la ruse d'une femme perfide. Et je règne, plein de tristesse malgré mes richesses. Mais vous devez avoir appris ces choses de vos pères, quels qu'ils soient. Et j'ai subi des maux nombreux, et j'ai détruit une ville bien peuplée qui renfermait des trésors précieux. Plût aux dieux que j'en eusse trois fois moins dans mes demeures, et qu'ils fussent encore vivants les héros qui ont péri devant la grande Troiè, loin d'Argos où paissent les beaux chevaux! Et je pleure et je gémis sur eux tous. Souvent, assis dans mes demeures, je me plais à m'attrister en me souvenant, et tantôt je cesse de gémir, car la lassitude du deuil arrive promptement.
Mais, bien qu'attristé, je les regrette moins tous ensemble qu'un seul d'entre eux, dont le souvenir interrompt mon sommeil et chasse ma faim; car Odysseus a supporté plus de travaux que tous les Akhaiens. Et d'autres douleurs lui étaient réservées dans l'avenir; et une tristesse incurable me saisit à cause de lui qui est depuis si longtemps absent. Et nous ne savons s'il est vivant ou mort; et le vieux Laertès le pleure, et la sage Pènélopéia, et Tèlémakhos qu'il laissa tout enfant dans ses demeures.
Il parla ainsi, et il donna à Tèlémakhos le désir de pleurer à cause de son père; et, entendant parler de son père, il se couvrit les yeux de son manteau pourpré, avec ses deux mains, et il répandit des larmes hors de ses paupières. Et Ménélaos le reconnut, et il délibéra dans son esprit et dans son coeur s'il le laisserait se souvenir le premier de son père, ou s'il l'interrogerait en lui disant ce qu'il pensait.
Pendant qu'il délibérait ainsi dans son esprit et dans son coeur, Hélénè sortit de la haute chambre nuptiale parfumée, semblable à Artémis qui porte un arc d'or. Aussitôt Adrestè lui présenta un beau siège, Alkippè apporta un tapis de laine moelleuse, et Phylô lui offrit une corbeille d'argent que lui avait donnée Alkandrè, femme de Polybos, qui habitait dans Thèbè Aigyptienne, où de nombreuses richesses étaient renfermées dans les demeures. Et Polybos donna à Ménélaos deux baignoires d'argent, et deux trépieds, et dix talents d'or; et Alkandrè avait aussi offert de beaux présents à Hélénè: Une quenouille d'or et une corbeille d'argent massif dont la bordure était d'or. Et la servante Phylô la lui apporta, pleine de fil préparé, et, par-dessus, la quenouille chargée de laine violette. Hélénè s'assit, avec un escabeau sous les pieds, et aussitôt elle interrogea ainsi son époux:
— Savons-nous, divin Ménélaos, qui sont ces hommes qui se glorifient d'être entrés dans notre demeure? Mentirai-je ou dirai- je la vérité? Mon esprit me l'ordonne. Je ne pense pas avoir jamais vu rien de plus ressemblant, soit un homme, soit une femme; et l'admiration me saisit tandis que je regarde ce jeune homme, tant il est semblable au fils du magnanime Odysseus, à Tèlémakhos qu'il laissa tout enfant dans sa demeure, quand pour moi, chienne, les Akhaiens vinrent à Troiè, portant la guerre audacieuse.
Et le blond Ménélaos, lui répondant, parla ainsi;
— Je reconnais comme toi, femme, que ce sont là les pieds, les mains, l'éclair des yeux, la tête et les cheveux d'Odysseus. Et voici que je me souvenais de lui et que je me rappelais combien de misères il avait patiemment subies pour moi. Mais ce jeune homme répand de ses paupières des larmes amères, couvrant ses yeux de son manteau pourpré.
Et le Nestoride Peisistratos lui répondit:
Atréide Ménélaos, nourri par Zeus, prince des peuples, certes, il est le fils de celui que tu dis. Mais il est sage, et il pense qu'il ne serait pas convenable, dès son arrivée, de prononcer des paroles téméraires devant toi dont nous écoutons la voix comme celle d'un dieu. Le cavalier Gérennien Nestôr m'a ordonné de l'accompagner. Et il désire te voir, afin que tu le conseilles ou que tu l'aides; car il subit beaucoup de maux, à cause de son père absent, dans sa demeure où il a peu de défenseurs. Cette destinée est faite à Tèlémakhos, et son père est absent, et il n'a personne, parmi son peuple, qui puisse détourner de lui les calamités.
Et le blond Ménélaos, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Ô dieux! certes, le fils d'un homme que j'aime est entré dans ma demeure, d'un héros qui, pour ma cause, a subi tant de combats. J'avais résolu de l'honorer entre tous les Akhaiens, si l'olympien Zeus qui tonne au loin nous eût donné de revenir sur la mer et sur nos nefs rapides. Et je lui aurais élevé une ville dans Argos, et je lui aurais bâti une demeure; et il aurait transporté d'Ithakè ses richesses et sa famille et tout son peuple dans une des villes où je commande et qui aurait été quittée par ceux qui l'habitent. Et, souvent, nous nous fussions visités tour à tour, nous aimant et nous charmant jusqu'à ce que la noire nuée de la mort nous eût enveloppés. Mais, sans doute, un dieu nous a envié cette destinée, puisque, le retenant seul et malheureux, il lui refuse le retour.
Il parla ainsi, et il excita chez tous le désir de pleurer. Et l'Argienne Hélénè, fille de Zeus, pleurait; et Tèlémakhos pleurait aussi, et l'Atréide Ménélaos; et le fils de Nestôr avait les yeux pleins de larmes, et il se souvenait dans son esprit de l'irréprochable Antilokhos que l'illustre fils de la splendide Éôs avait tué et, se souvenant, il dit en paroles ailées:
— Atréide, souvent le vieillard Nestôr m'a dit, quand nous nous souvenions de toi dans ses demeures, et quand nous nous entretenions, que tu l'emportais sur tous par ta sagesse. C'est pourquoi, maintenant, écoute-moi. Je ne me plais point à pleurer après le repas; mais nous verserons des larmes quand Éôs née au matin reviendra. Il faut pleurer ceux qui ont subi leur destinée. C'est là, certes, la seule récompense des misérables mortels de couper pour eux sa chevelure et de mouiller ses joues de larmes. Mon frère aussi est mort, et il n'était pas le moins brave des Argiens, tu le sais. Je n'en ai pas été témoin, et je ne l'ai point vu, mais on dit qu'Antilokhos l'emportait sur tous, quand il courait et quand il combattait.
Et le blond Ménélaos lui répondit:
— Ô cher, tu parles comme un homme sage et plus âgé que toi parlerait et agirait, comme le fils d'un sage père. On reconnaît facilement l'illustre race d'un homme que le Kroniôn a honoré, qu'il a bien marié et qui est bien né. C'est ainsi qu'il a accordé tous les jours à Nestôr de vieillir en paix dans sa demeure, au milieu de fils sages et qui excellent par la lance. Mais retenons les pleurs qui viennent de nous échapper. Souvenons-nous de notre repas et versons de l'eau sur nos mains. Tèlémakhos et moi, demain matin, nous parlerons et nous nous entretiendrons.
Il parla ainsi, et Asphaliôn, fidèle serviteur de l'illustre Ménélaos, versa de l'eau sur leurs mains, et tous étendirent les mains vers les mets placés devant eux.
Et alors Hélénè, fille de Zeus, eut une autre pensée, et, aussitôt, elle versa dans le vin qu'ils buvaient un baume, le népenthès, qui donne l'oubli des maux. Celui qui aurait bu ce mélange ne pourrait plus répandre des larmes de tout un jour, même si sa mère et son père étaient morts, même si on tuait devant lui par l'airain son frère ou son fils bien-aimé, et s'il le voyait de ses yeux. Et la fille de Zeus possédait cette liqueur excellente que lui avait donnée Polydamna, femme de Thôs, en Aigyptiè, terre fertile qui produit beaucoup de baumes, les uns salutaires et les autres mortels. Là tous les médecins sont les plus habiles d'entre les hommes, et ils sont de la race de Paièôn. Après l'avoir préparé, Hélénè ordonna de verser le vin, et elle parla ainsi:
— Atréide Ménélaos, nourrisson de Zeus, certes, ceux-ci sont fils d'hommes braves, mais Zeus dispense comme il le veut le bien et le mal, car il peut tout. C'est pourquoi, maintenant, mangeons, assis dans nos demeures, et charmons-nous par nos paroles. Je vous dirai des choses qui vous plairont. Cependant, je ne pourrai raconter, ni même rappeler tous les combats du patient Odysseus, tant cet homme brave a fait et supporté de travaux chez le peuple des Troiens, là où les Akhaiens ont été accablés de misères. Se couvrant lui-même de plaies honteuses, les épaules enveloppées de vils haillons et semblable à un esclave, il entra dans la vaste ville des guerriers ennemis, s'étant fait tel qu'un mendiant, et bien différent de ce qu'il était auprès des nefs des Akhaiens. C'est ainsi qu'il entra dans la ville des Troiens, inconnu de tous. Seule, je le reconnus et je l'interrogeais mais il me répondit avec ruse. Puis, je le baignai et je le parfumais d'huile, et je le couvris de vêtements, et je jurais un grand serment, promettant de ne point révéler Odysseus aux Troiens avant qu'il fût retourné aux nefs rapides et aux tentes. Et alors il me découvrit tous les projets des Akhaiens. Et, après avoir tué avec le long airain un grand nombre de Troiens, il retourna vers les Argiens, leur rapportant beaucoup de secrets. Et les Troiennes gémissaient lamentablement; mais mon esprit se réjouissait, car déjà j'avais dans mon coeur le désir de retourner vers ma demeure, et je pleurais sur la mauvaise destinée qu'Aphroditè m'avait faite, quand elle me conduisit, en me trompant, loin de la chère terre de la patrie, et de ma fille, et de la chambre nuptiale, et d'un mari qui n'est privé d'aucun don, ni d'intelligence, ni de beauté.
Et le blond Ménélaos, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Tu as dit toutes ces choses, femme, comme il convient. Certes, j'ai connu la pensée et la sagesse de beaucoup de héros, et j'ai parcouru beaucoup de pays, mais je n'ai jamais vu de mes yeux un coeur tel que celui du patient Odysseus, ni ce que ce vaillant homme fit et affronta dans le cheval bien travaillé où nous étions tous entrés, nous, les princes des Argiens, afin de porter le meurtre et la kèr aux Troiens. Et tu vins là, et sans doute un dieu te l'ordonna qui voulut accorder la gloire aux Troiens, et Dèiphobos semblable à un dieu te suivait. Et tu fis trois fois le tour de l'embûche creuse, en la frappant; et tu nommais les princes des Danaens en imitant la voix des femmes de tous les Argiens; et nous, moi, Diomèdès et le divin Odysseus, assis au milieu, nous écoutions ta voix. Et Diomèdès et moi nous voulions sortir impétueusement plutôt que d'écouter de l'intérieur, mais Odysseus nous arrêta et nous retint malgré notre désir. Et les autres fils des Akhaiens restaient muets, et Antiklos, seul, voulut te répondre: mais Odysseus lui comprima la bouche de ses mains robustes, et il sauva tous les Akhaiens; et il le contint ainsi jusqu'à ce que Pallas Athènè t'eût éloignée.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Atréide Ménélaos, nourrisson de Zeus, prince des peuples, cela est triste, mais ces actions n'ont point éloigné de lui la mauvaise mort, et même si son coeur eût été de fer. Mais conduis- nous à nos lits, afin que nous jouissions du doux sommeil.
Il parla ainsi, et l'Argienne Hélénè ordonna aux servantes de préparer les lits sous le portique, d'amasser des vêtements beaux et pourprés, de les couvrir de tapis et de recouvrir ceux-ci de laines épaisses. Et les servantes sortirent des demeures, portant des torches dans leurs mains, et elles étendirent les lits, et un héraut conduisit les hôtes. Et le héros Tèlémakhos et l'illustre fils de Nestôr s'endormirent sous le portique de la maison. Et l'Atréide s'endormit au fond de la haute demeure, et Hélénè au large péplos, la plus belle des femmes, se coucha auprès de lui.
Mais quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, le brave Ménélaos se leva de son lit, mit ses vêtements, suspendit une épée aiguë autour de ses épaules et attacha de belles sandales à ses pieds luisants. Et, semblable à un dieu, sortant de la chambre nuptiale, il s'assit auprès de Tèlémakhos et il lui parla:
— Héros Tèlémakhos, quelle nécessité t'a poussé vers la divine Lakédaimôn, sur le large dos de la mer? Est-ce un intérêt public ou privé? Dis-le-moi avec vérité.
Et le prudent Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Atréide Ménélaos, nourrisson de Zeus, prince des peuples, je viens afin que tu me dises quelque chose de mon père. Ma maison est ruinée, mes riches travaux périssent. Ma demeure est pleine d'hommes ennemis qui égorgent mes brebis grasses et mes boeufs aux pieds flexibles et aux fronts sinueux. Ce sont les prétendants de ma mère, et ils ont une grande insolence. C'est pourquoi, maintenant, je viens à tes genoux, afin que, me parlant de la mort lamentable de mon père, tu me dises si tu l'as vue de tes yeux, ou si tu l'as apprise d'un voyageur. Certes, une mère malheureuse l'a enfanté. Ne me trompe point pour me consoler, et par pitié; mais raconte-moi franchement tout ce que tu as vu. Je t'en supplie, si jamais mon père, le brave Odysseus, par la parole ou par l'action, a tenu ce qu'il avait promis, chez le peuple des Troiens, où les Akhaiens ont subi tant de misères, souviens-t'en et dis-moi la vérité.
Et, avec un profond soupir, le blond Ménélaos lui répondit:
— Ô dieux! certes, des lâches veulent coucher dans le lit d'un brave! Ainsi une biche a déposé dans le repaire d'un lion robuste ses faons nouveau-nés et qui tètent, tandis qu'elle va paître sur les hauteurs ou dans les vallées herbues; et voici que le lion, rentrant dans son repaire, tue misérablement tous les faons. Ainsi Odysseus leur fera subir une mort misérable. Plaise au père Zeus, à Athènè, à Apollôn, qu'Odysseus se mêle aux Prétendants tel qu'il était dans Lesbos bien bâtie, quand se levant pour lutter contre le Philomèléide, il le terrassa rudement. Tous les Akhaiens s'en réjouirent. La vie des Prétendants serait brève et leurs noces seraient amères! Mais les choses que tu me demandes en me suppliant, je te les dirai sans te rien cacher, telles que me les a dites le Vieillard véridique de la mer. Je te les dirai toutes et je ne te cacherai rien.
Malgré mon désir du retour, les dieux me retinrent en Aigyptiè, parce que je ne leur avais point offert les hécatombes qui leur étaient dues. Les Dieux, en effet, ne veulent point que nous oubliions leurs commandements. Et il y a une île, au milieu de la mer onduleuse, devant l'Aigyptiè, et on la nomme Pharos, et elle est éloignée d'autant d'espace qu'une nef creuse, que le vent sonore pousse en poupe, peut en franchir en un jour entier. Et dans cette île il y a un port excellent d'où, après avoir puisé une eau profonde, on traîne à la mer les nefs égales. Là, les dieux me retinrent vingt jours, et les vents marins ne soufflèrent point qui mènent les nefs sur le large dos de la mer. Et mes vivres étaient déjà épuisés, et l'esprit de mes hommes était abattu, quand une déesse me regarda et me prit en pitié, la fille du Vieillard de la mer, de l'illustre Prôteus, Eidothéè. Et je touchai son âme, et elle vint au-devant de moi tandis que j'étais seul, loin de mes compagnons qui, sans cesse, erraient autour de l'île, pêchant à l'aide des hameçons recourbés, car la faim tourmentait leur ventre. Et, se tenant près de moi, elle parla ainsi:
— Tu es grandement insensé, ô étranger, ou tu as perdu l'esprit, ou tu restes ici volontiers et tu te plais à souffrir, car, certes, voici longtemps que tu es retenu dans l'île, et tu ne peux trouver aucune fin à cela, et le coeur de tes compagnons s'épuise.
Elle parla ainsi, et, lui répondant aussitôt, je dis:
— Je te dirai avec vérité, qui que tu sois entre les déesses, que je ne reste point volontairement ici; mais je dois avoir offensé les Immortels qui habitent le large Ouranos. Dis-moi donc, car les dieux savent tout, quel est celui des immortels qui me retarde en route et qui s'oppose à ce que je retourne en fendant la mer poissonneuse.
Je parlais ainsi, et, aussitôt, l'illustre déesse me répondit:
— Ô étranger, je te répondrai avec vérité. C'est ici qu'habite le véridique Vieillard de la mer, l'immortel Prôteus Aigyptien qui connaît les profondeurs de toute la mer et qui est esclave de Poseidaôn. On dit qu'il est mon père et qu'il m'a engendrée. Si tu peux le saisir par ruse, il te dira ta route et comment tu retourneras à travers la mer poissonneuse; et, de plus, il te dira, ô enfant de Zeus, si tu le veux, ce qui est arrivé dans tes demeures, le bien et le mal, pendant ton absence et ta route longue et difficile.
Elle parla ainsi, et, aussitôt, je lui répondis:
— Maintenant, explique-moi les ruses du Vieillard, de peur que, me voyant, il me prévienne et m'échappe, car un dieu est difficile à dompter pour un homme mortel.
Je parlais ainsi, et, aussitôt, l'illustre déesse me répondit:
— Ô étranger, je te répondrai avec vérité. Quand Hèlios atteint le milieu de l'Ouranos, alors le véridique Vieillard marin sort de la mer, sous le souffle de Zéphyros, et couvert d'une brume épaisse. Étant sorti, il s'endort sous les grottes creuses. Autour de lui, les phoques sans pieds de la belle Halosydnè, sortant aussi de la blanche mer, s'endorment, innombrables, exhalant l'âcre odeur de la mer profonde. Je te conduirai là, au lever de la lumière, et je t'y placerai comme il convient, et tu choisiras trois de tes compagnons parmi les plus braves qui sont sur tes nefs aux bancs de rameurs. Maintenant, je te dirai toutes les ruses du Vieillard.
D'abord il comptera et il examinera les phoques; puis, les ayant séparés par cinq, il se couchera au milieu d'eux comme un berger au milieu d'un troupeau de brebis. Dès que vous le verrez presque endormi, alors souvenez-vous de votre courage et de votre force, et retenez-le malgré son désir de vous échapper, et ses efforts. Il se fera semblable à toutes les choses qui sont sur la terre, aux reptiles, à l'eau, au feu ardent; mais retenez-le vigoureusement et serrez-le plus fort. Mais quand il t'interrogera lui-même et que tu le verras tel qu'il était endormi, n'use plus de violence et lâche le Vieillard. Puis, ô Héros, demande-lui quel dieu t'afflige, et il te dira comment retourner à travers la mer poissonneuse.
Elle parla ainsi et sauta dans la mer agitée. Et je retournai vers mes nefs, là où elles étaient tirées sur la plage, et mon coeur agitait de nombreuses pensées tandis que j'allais. Puis, étant arrivé à ma nef et à la mer, nous préparâmes le repas, et la nuit divine survint, et alors nous nous endormîmes sur le rivage de la mer.
Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, je marchais vers le rivage de la mer large, en suppliant les dieux; et je conduisais trois de mes compagnons, me confiant le plus dans leur courage. Pendant ce temps, la déesse, étant sortie du large sein de la mer, en apporta quatre peaux de phoques récemment écorchés, et elle prépara une ruse contre son père. Et elle s'était assise, nous attendant, après avoir creusé des lits dans le sable marin. Et nous vînmes auprès d'elle. Et elle nous plaça et couvrit chacun de nous d'une peau. C'était une embuscade très dure, car l'odeur affreuse des phoques nourris dans la mer nous affligeait cruellement. Qui peut en effet coucher auprès d'un monstre marin? Mais la déesse nous servit très utilement, et elle mit dans les narines de chacun de nous l'ambroisie au doux parfum qui chassa l'odeur des bêtes marines. Et nous attendîmes, d'un esprit patient, toute la durée du matin. Enfin, les phoques sortirent, innombrables, de la mer, et vinrent se coucher en ordre le long du rivage. Et, vers midi, le Vieillard sortit de la mer, rejoignit les phoques gras, les compta, et nous les premiers parmi eux, ne se doutant point de la ruse; puis, il se coucha lui-même. Aussitôt, avec des cris, nous nous jetâmes sur lui en l'entourant de nos bras; mais le Vieillard n'oublia pas ses ruses adroites, et il se changea d'abord en un lion à longue crinière, puis en dragon, en panthère, en grand sanglier, en eau, en arbre au vaste feuillage. Et nous le tenions avec vigueur et d'un coeur ferme; mais quand le Vieillard plein de ruses se vit réduit, alors il m'interrogea et il me dit:
— Qui d'entre les dieux, fils d'Atreus, t'a instruit, afin que tu me saisisses malgré moi? Que désires-tu?
Il parla ainsi, et, lui répondant, je lui dis:
— Tu le sais, Vieillard. Pourquoi me tromper en m'interrogeant? Depuis longtemps déjà je suis retenu dans cette île, et je ne puis trouver fin à cela, et mon coeur s'épuise. Dis-moi donc, car les dieux savent tout, quel est celui des immortels qui me détourne de ma route et qui m'empêche de retourner à travers la mer poissonneuse?
Je parlai ainsi, et lui, me répondant, dit:
— Avant tout, tu devais sacrifier à Zeus et aux autres dieux, afin d'arriver très promptement dans ta patrie, en naviguant sur la noire mer. Ta destinée n'est point de revoir tes amis ni de regagner ta demeure bien construite et la terre de la patrie, avant que tu ne sois retourné vers les eaux du fleuve Aigyptos tombé de Zeus, et que tu n'aies offert de sacrées hécatombes aux dieux immortels qui habitent le large Ouranos. Alors les dieux t'accorderont la route que tu désires.
Il parla ainsi, et, aussitôt, mon cher coeur se brisa parce qu'il m'ordonnait de retourner en Aigyptiè, à travers la noire mer, par un chemin long et difficile. Mais, lui répondant, je parlai ainsi:
— Je ferai toutes ces choses, Vieillard, ainsi que tu me le recommandes; mais dis-moi, et réponds avec vérité, s'ils sont revenus sains et saufs avec leurs nefs tous les Akhaiens que Nestôr et moi nous avions laissés en partant de Troiè, ou si quelqu'un d'entre eux a péri d'une mort soudaine, dans sa nef, ou dans les bras de ses amis, après la guerre?
Je parlai ainsi, et, me répondant, il dit:
— Atréide, ne m'interroge point, car il ne te convient pas de connaître ma pensée, et je ne pense pas que tu restes longtemps sans pleurer, après avoir tout entendu. Beaucoup d'Akhaiens ont été domptés, beaucoup sont vivants. Tu as vu toi-même les choses de la guerre. Deux chefs des Akhaiens cuirassés d'airain ont péri au retour; un troisième est vivant et retenu au milieu de la mer large. Aias a été dompté sur sa nef aux longs avirons. Poseidaôn le conduisit d'abord vers les grandes roches de Gyras et le sauva de la mer; et sans doute il eût évité la mort, bien que haï d'Athènè, s'il n'eût dit une parole impie et s'il n'eût commis une action mauvaise. Il dit que, malgré les dieux, il échapperait aux grands flots de la mer. Et Poseidaôn entendit cette parole orgueilleuse, et, aussitôt, de sa main robuste saisissant le trident, il frappa la roche de Gyras et la fendit en deux; et une partie resta debout, et l'autre, sur laquelle Aias s'était réfugié, tomba et l'emporta dans la grande mer onduleuse. C'est ainsi qu'il périt, ayant bu l'eau salée.
Ton frère évita la mort et il s'échappa sur sa nef creuse, et la vénérable Hèrè le sauva; mais à peine avait-il vu le haut cap des Maléiens, qu'une tempête, l'ayant saisi, l'emporta, gémissant, à l'extrémité du pays où Thyestès habitait autrefois, et où habitait alors le Thyestade Aigisthos. Là, le retour paraissait sans danger, et les dieux firent changer les vents et regagnèrent leurs demeures. Et Agamemnôn, joyeux, descendit sur la terre de la patrie, et il la baisait, et il versait des larmes abondantes parce qu'il l'avait revue avec joie. Mais une sentinelle le vit du haut d'un rocher où le traître Aigisthos l'avait placée, lui ayant promis en récompense deux talents d'or. Et, de là, elle veillait depuis toute une année, de peur que l'Atréide arrivât en secret et se souvint de sa force et de son courage. Et elle se hâta d'aller l'annoncer, dans ses demeures, au prince des peuples. Aussitôt Aigisthos médita une embûche rusée, et il choisit, parmi le peuple, vingt hommes très braves, et il les plaça en embuscade, et, d'un autre côté, il ordonna de préparer un repas. Et lui-même il invita, méditant de honteuses actions, le prince des peuples Agamemnôn à le suivre avec ses chevaux et ses chars. Et il mena ainsi à la mort l'Atréide imprudent, et il le tua pendant le repas, comme on égorge un boeuf à l'étable. Et aucun des compagnons d'Agamemnôn ne fut sauvé, ni même ceux d'Aigisthos; et tous furent égorgés dans la demeure royale.
Il parla ainsi, et ma chère âme fut brisée aussitôt, et je pleurais couché sur le sable, et mon coeur ne voulait plus vivre ni voir la lumière de Hèlios. Mais, après que je me fus rassasié de pleurer, le véridique Vieillard de la mer me dit:
— Ne pleure point davantage, ni plus longtemps, sans agir, fils d'Atreus, car il n'y a en cela nul remède; mais tente plutôt très promptement de regagner la terre de la patrie. Ou tu saisiras Aigisthos encore vivant, ou Orestès, te prévenant, l'aura tué, et tu seras présent au repas funèbre.
Il parla ainsi, et, dans ma poitrine, mon coeur et mon esprit généreux, quoique tristes, se réjouirent de nouveau, et je lui dis ces paroles ailées:
— Je connais maintenant la destinée de ceux-ci mais nomme-moi le troisième, celui qui, vivant ou mort, est retenu au milieu de la mer large. Je veux le connaître, quoique plein de tristesse.
Je parlai ainsi, et, me répondant, il dit:
— C'est le fils de Laertès qui avait ses demeures dans Ithakè. Je l'ai vu versant des larmes abondantes dans l'île et dans les demeures de la nymphe Kalypsô qui le retient de force; et il ne peut regagner la terre de la patrie. Il n'a plus en effet de nefs armées d'avirons ni de compagnons qui puissent le reconduire sur le large dos de la mer. Pour toi, ô divin Ménélaos, ta destinée n'est point de subir la Moire et la mort dans Argos nourrice de chevaux; mais les dieux t'enverront dans la prairie Élysienne, aux bornes de la terre, là où est le blond Rhadamanthos. Là, il est très facile aux hommes de vivre. Ni neige, ni longs hivers, ni pluie; mais toujours le Fleuve Okéanos envoie les douces haleines de Zéphyros, afin de rafraîchir les hommes. Et ce sera ta destinée, parce que tu possèdes Hélénè et que tu es gendre de Zeus.
— Il parla ainsi, et il plongea dans la mer écumeuse. Et je retournai vers mes nefs avec mes divins compagnons. Et mon coeur agitait de nombreuses pensées tandis que je marchais. Étant arrivés à ma nef et à la mer, nous préparâmes le repas, et la nuit solitaire survint, et nous nous endormîmes sur le rivage de la mer. Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, nous traînâmes nos nefs à la mer divine. Puis, dressant les mâts et déployant les voiles des nefs égales, mes compagnons s'assirent sur les bancs de rameurs, et tous, assis en ordre, frappèrent de leurs avirons la mer écumeuse. Et j'arrêtai de nouveau mes nefs dans le fleuve Aigyptos tombé de Zeus, et je sacrifiais de saintes hécatombes. Et, après avoir apaisé la colère des dieux qui vivent toujours, j'élevai un tombeau à Agamemnôn, afin que sa gloire se répandît au loin. Ayant accompli ces choses, je retournai, et les dieux m'envoyèrent un vent propice et me ramenèrent promptement dans la chère patrie. Maintenant, reste dans mes demeures jusqu'au onzième ou au douzième jour; et, alors, je te renverrai dignement, et je te ferai des présents splendides, trois chevaux et un beau char; et je te donnerai aussi une belle coupe afin que tu fasses des libations aux dieux immortels et que tu te souviennes toujours de moi.
Et le sage Tèlémakhos lui répondit:
— Atréide, ne me retiens pas ici plus longtemps. Certes, je consumerais toute une année assis auprès de toi, que je n'aurais le regret ni de ma demeure, ni de mes parents, tant je suis profondément charmé de tes paroles et de tes discours; mais déjà je suis un souci pour mes compagnons dans la divine Pylos, et tu me retiens longtemps ici. Mais que le don, quel qu'il soit, que tu désires me faire, puisse être emporté et conservé. Je ne conduirai point de chevaux dans Ithakè, et je te les laisserai ici dans l'abondance. Car tu possèdes de vastes plaines où croissent abondamment le lotos, le souchet et le froment, et l'avoine et l'orge. Dans Itakhè il n'y a ni routes pour les chars, ni prairies; elle nourrit plutôt les chèvres que les chevaux et plaît mieux aux premières. Aucune des îles qui s'inclinent à la mer n'est grande, ni munie de prairies, et Ithakè par-dessus toutes.
Il parla ainsi, et le brave Ménélaos rit, et il lui prit la main, et il lui dit:
— Tu es d'un bon sang, cher enfant, puisque tu parles ainsi. Je changerai ce présent, car je le puis. Parmi tous les trésors qui sont dans ma demeure je te donnerai le plus beau et le plus précieux. Je te donnerai un beau kratère tout en argent et dont les bords sont ornés d'or. C'est l'ouvrage de Hèphaistos, et le héros illustre, roi des Sidônes, quand il me reçut dans sa demeure, à mon retour, me le donna; et je veux te le donner.
Et ils se parlaient ainsi, et les convives revinrent dans la demeure du roi divin. Et ils amenaient des brebis, et ils apportaient le vin qui donne la vigueur; et les épouses aux belles bandelettes apportaient le pain. Et ils préparaient ainsi le repas dans la demeure.
Mais les prétendants, devant la demeure d'Odysseus, se plaisaient à lancer les disques à courroies de peau de chèvre sur le pavé orné où ils déployaient d'habitude leur insolence. Antinoos et Eurymakhos semblable à un Dieu y étaient assis, et c'étaient les chefs des prétendants et les plus braves d'entre eux. Et Noèmôn, fils de Phronios, s'approchant d'eux, dit à Antinoos:
— Antinoos, savons-nous, ou non, quand Tèlémakhos revient de la sablonneuse Pylos? Il est parti, emmenant ma nef dont j'ai besoin pour aller dans la grande Élis, où j'ai douze cavales et de patients mulets encore indomptés dont je voudrais mettre quelques- uns sous le joug.
Il parla ainsi, et tous restèrent stupéfaits, car ils ne pensaient pas que Tèlémakhos fût parti pour la Nèléienne Pylos, mais ils croyaient qu'il était dans les champs, auprès des brebis ou du berger. Et, aussitôt, Antinoos, fils d'Eupeithès, lui dit:
— Dis-moi avec vérité quand il est parti, et quels jeunes hommes choisis dans Ithakè l'ont suivi. Sont-ce des mercenaires ou ses esclaves? Ils ont donc pu faire ce voyage! Dis-moi ceci avec vérité, afin que je sache s'il t'a pris ta nef noire par force et contre ton gré, ou si, t'ayant persuadé par ses paroles, tu la lui as donnée volontairement.
Et le fils de Phronios, Noèmôn, lui répondit:
— Je la lui ai donnée volontairement. Comment aurais-je fait autrement? Quand un tel homme, ayant tant de soucis, adresse une demande, il est difficile de refuser. Les jeunes hommes qui l'ont suivi sont des nôtres et les premiers du peuple, et j'ai reconnu que leur chef était Mentôr, ou un dieu qui est tout semblable à lui; car j'admire ceci: j'ai vu le divin Mentôr, hier, au matin, et cependant il était parti sur la nef pour Pylos!
Ayant ainsi parlé, il regagna la demeure de son père. Et l'esprit généreux des deux hommes fut troublé. Et les prétendants s'assirent ensemble, se reposant de leurs jeux. Et le fils d'Eupeithès, Antinoos, leur parla ainsi, plein de tristesse, et une noire colère emplissait son coeur, et ses yeux étaient comme des feux flambants:
— Ô dieux! voici une grande action orgueilleusement accomplie, ce départ de Tèlémakhos! Nous disions qu'il n'en serait rien, et cet enfant est parti témérairement, malgré nous, et il a traîné une nef à la mer, après avoir choisi les premiers parmi le peuple! Il a commencé, et il nous réserve des calamités, à moins que Zeus ne rompe ses forces avant qu'il nous porte malheur. Mais donnez-moi promptement une nef rapide et vingt compagnons, afin que je lui tende une embuscade à son retour, dans le détroit d'Ithakè et de l'âpre Samos; et, à cause de son père, il aura couru la mer pour sa propre ruine.
Il parla ainsi, et tous l'applaudirent et donnèrent des ordres, et aussitôt ils se levèrent pour entrer dans la demeure d'Odysseus.
Mais Pènélopéia ne fut pas longtemps sans connaître leurs paroles et ce qu'ils agitaient dans leur esprit, et le héraut Médôn, qui les avait entendus, le lui dit, étant au seuil de la cour, tandis qu'ils ourdissaient leur dessein à l'intérieur. Et il se hâta d'aller l'annoncer par les demeures à Pènélopéia. Et comme il paraissait sur le seuil, Pènélopéia lui dit:
— Héraut, pourquoi les illustres prétendants t'envoient-ils? Est- ce pour dire aux servantes du divin Odysseus de cesser de travailler afin de préparer leur repas? Si, du moins, ils ne me recherchaient point en mariage, s'ils ne s'entretenaient point ici ni ailleurs, si, enfin, ils prenaient ici leur dernier repas! Vous qui vous êtes rassemblés pour consumer tous les biens et la richesse du sage Tèlémakhos, n'avez-vous jamais entendu dire par vos pères, quand vous étiez enfants, quel était Odysseus parmi vos parents? Il n'a jamais traité personne avec iniquité, ni parlé injurieusement en public, bien que ce soit le droit des rois divins de haïr l'un et d'aimer l'autre; mais lui n'a jamais violenté un homme. Et votre mauvais esprit et vos indignes actions apparaissent, et vous n'avez nulle reconnaissance des bienfaits reçus.
Et Médôn plein de sagesse lui répondit:
Plût aux dieux, reine, que tu subisses maintenant tes pires malheurs! mais les prétendants méditent un dessein plus pernicieux. Que le Kroniôn ne l'accomplisse pas! Ils veulent tuer Tèlémakhos avec l'airain aigu, à son retour dans sa demeure; car il est parti, afin de s'informer de son père, pour la sainte Pylos et la divine Lakédaimôn.
Il parla ainsi, et les genoux de Pènélopéia et son cher coeur furent brisés, et longtemps elle resta muette, et ses yeux s'emplirent de larmes, et sa tendre voix fut haletante, et, lui répondant, elle dit enfin:
— Héraut, pourquoi mon enfant est-il parti? Où était la nécessité de monter sur les nefs rapides qui sont pour les hommes les chevaux de la mer et qui traversent les eaux immenses? Veut-il que son nom même soit oublié parmi les hommes?
Et Médôn plein de sagesse lui répondit
— Je ne sais si un dieu l'a poussé, ou s'il est allé de lui-même vers Pylos, afin de s'informer si son père revient ou s'il est mort.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il sortit de la demeure d'Odysseus. Et une douleur déchirante enveloppa l'âme de Pènélopéia, et elle ne put même s'asseoir sur ses sièges, quoiqu'ils fussent nombreux dans la maison; mais elle s'assit sur le seuil de la belle chambre nuptiale, et elle gémit misérablement, et, de tous côtés, les servantes jeunes et vieilles, qui étaient dans la demeure, gémissaient aussi.
Et Pènélopéia leur dit en pleurant:
— Écoutez, amies! les Olympiens m'ont accablée de maux entre toutes les femmes nées et nourries avec moi. J'ai perdu d'abord mon brave mari au coeur de lion, ayant toutes les vertus parmi les Danaens, illustre, et dont la gloire s'est répandue dans la grande Hellas et tout Argos; et maintenant voici que les tempêtes ont emporté obscurément mon fils bien-aimé loin de ses demeures, sans que j'aie appris son départ! Malheureuses! aucune de vous n'a songé dans son esprit à me faire lever de mon lit, bien que sachant, certes, qu'il allait monter sur une nef creuse et noire. Si j'avais su qu'il se préparait à partir, ou il serait resté malgré son désir, ou il m'eût laissée morte dans cette demeure. Mais qu'un serviteur appelle le vieillard Dolios, mon esclave, que mon père me donna quand je vins ici, et qui cultive mon verger, afin qu'il aille dire promptement toutes ces choses à Laertès, et que celui-ci prenne une résolution dans son esprit, et vienne en deuil au milieu de ce peuple qui veut détruire sa race et celle du divin Odysseus.
Et la bonne nourrice Eurykléia lui répondit:
— Chère nymphe, tue-moi avec l'airain cruel ou garde-moi dans ta demeure! Je ne te cacherai rien. Je savais tout, et je lui ai porté tout ce qu'il m'a demandé, du pain et du vin. Et il m'a fait jurer un grand serment que je ne te dirais rien avant le douzième jour, si tu ne le demandais pas, ou si tu ignorais son départ. Et il craignait qu'en pleurant tu blessasses ton beau corps. Mais baigne-toi et revêts de purs vêtements, et monte dans la haute chambre avec tes femmes. Là, supplie Athènè, fille de Zeus tempétueux, afin qu'elle sauve Tèlémakhos de la mort. N'afflige point un vieillard. Je ne pense point que la race de l'Arkeisiade soit haïe des dieux heureux. Mais Odysseus ou Tèlémakhos possèdera encore ces hautes demeures et ces champs fertiles.
Elle parla ainsi, et la douleur de Pènélopéia cessa, et ses larmes s'arrêtèrent. Elle se baigna, se couvrit de purs vêtements, et, montant dans la chambre haute avec ses femmes, elle répandit les orges sacrées d'une corbeille et supplia Athènè:
— Entends-moi, fille indomptée de Zeus tempétueux. Si jamais, dans ses demeures, le subtil Odysseus a brûlé pour toi les cuisses grasses des boeufs et des agneaux, souviens-t'en et garde-moi mon cher fils. Romps le mauvais dessein des insolents prétendants. Elle parla ainsi en gémissant, et la déesse entendit sa prière.
Et les prétendants s'agitaient tumultueusement dans les salles déjà noires. Et chacun de ces jeunes hommes insolents disait:
— Déjà la reine, désirée par beaucoup, prépare, certes, nos noces, et elle ne sait pas que le meurtre de son fils est proche.
Chacun d'eux parlait ainsi, mais elle connaissait leurs desseins, et Antinoos leur dit:
— Insensés! cessez tous ces paroles téméraires, de peur qu'on les répète à Pènélopéia; mais levons-nous, et accomplissons en silence ce que nous avons tous approuvé dans notre esprit.
Il parla ainsi, et il choisit vingt hommes très braves qui se hâtèrent vers le rivage de la mer et la nef rapide. Et ils traînèrent d'abord la nef à la mer, établirent le mât et les voiles dans la nef noire, et lièrent comme il convenait les avirons avec des courroies. Puis, ils tendirent les voiles blanches, et leurs braves serviteurs leur apportèrent des armes. Enfin, s'étant embarqués, ils poussèrent la nef au large et ils prirent leur repas, en attendant la venue de Hespéros.
Mais, dans la chambre haute, la sage Pènélopéia s'était couchée, n'ayant mangé ni bu, et se demandant dans son esprit si son irréprochable fils éviterait la mort, ou s'il serait dompté par les orgueilleux prétendants. Comme un lion entouré par une foule d'hommes s'agite, plein de crainte, dans le cercle perfide, de même le doux sommeil saisit Pènélopéia tandis qu'elle roulait en elle-même toutes ces pensées. Et elle s'endormit, et toutes ses peines disparurent.
Alors la déesse aux yeux clairs, Athènè, eut une autre pensée, et elle forma une image semblable à Iphthimè, à la fille du magnanime Ikarios, qu'Eumèlos qui habitait Phérè avait épousée. Et Athènè l'envoya dans la demeure du divin Odysseus, afin d'apaiser les peines et les larmes de Pènélopéia qui se lamentait et pleurait. Et l'image entra dans la chambre nuptiale le long de la courroie du verrou, et, se tenant au-dessus de sa tête, elle lui dit:
— Tu dors, Pènélopéia, affligée dans ton cher coeur; mais les dieux qui vivent toujours ne veulent pas que tu pleures, ni que tu sois triste, car ton fils reviendra, n'ayant jamais offensé les dieux.
Et la sage Pènélopéia, doucement endormie aux portes des Songes, lui répondit:
— Ô soeur, pourquoi es-tu venue ici, où je ne t'avais encore jamais vue, tant la demeure est éloignée où tu habites? Pourquoi m'ordonnes-tu d'apaiser les maux et les peines qui me tourmentent dans l'esprit et dans l'âme? J'ai perdu d'abord mon brave mari au coeur de lion, ayant toutes les vertus parmi les Danaens, illustre, et dont la gloire s'est répandue dans la grande Hellas et tout Argos; et, maintenant, voici que mon fils bien-aimé est parti sur une nef creuse, l'insensé! sans expérience des travaux et des discours. Et je pleure sur lui plus que sur son père; et je tremble, et je crains qu'il souffre chez le peuple vers lequel il est allé, ou sur la mer. De nombreux ennemis lui tendent des embûches et veulent le tuer avant qu'il revienne dans la terre de la patrie.
Et la vague image lui répondit:
— Prends courage, et ne redoute rien dans ton esprit. Il a une compagne telle que les autres hommes en souhaiteraient volontiers, car elle peut tout. C'est Pallas Athènè, et elle a compassion de tes gémissements, et, maintenant, elle m'envoie te le dire.
Et la sage Pènélopéia lui répondit:
— Si tu es déesse, et si tu as entendu la voix de la déesse, parle-moi du malheureux Odysseus. Vit-il encore quelque part, et voit-il la lumière de Hèlios, ou est-il mort et dans les demeures d'Aidès?
Et la vague image lui répondit:
— Je ne te dirai rien de lui. Est-il vivant ou mort?
Il ne faut point parler de vaines paroles.
En disant cela, elle s'évanouit le long du verrou dans un souffle de vent. Et la fille d'Ikarios se réveilla, et son cher coeur se réjouit parce qu'un songe véridique lui était survenu dans l'ombre de la nuit.
Et les prétendants naviguaient sur les routes humides, méditant dans leur esprit le meurtre cruel de Tèlémakhos. Et il y a une île au milieu de la mer pleine de rochers, entre Ithakè et l'âpre Samos, Astéris, qui n'est pas grande, mais où se trouvent pour les nefs des ports ayant une double issue. C'est là que s'arrêtèrent les Akhaiens embusqués.
Eôs sortait du lit de l'illustre Tithôn, afin de porter la lumière aux Immortels et aux mortels. Et les dieux étaient assis en conseil, et au milieu d'eux était Zeus qui tonne dans les hauteurs et dont la puissance est la plus grande. Et Athènè leur rappelait les nombreuses traverses d'Odysseus. Et elle se souvenait de lui avec tristesse parce qu'il était retenu dans les demeures d'une Nymphe:
— Père Zeus, et vous, dieux heureux qui vivez toujours, craignez qu'un roi porte-sceptre ne soit plus jamais ni doux, ni clément, mais que, loin d'avoir des pensées équitables, il soit dur et injuste, si nul ne se souvient du divin Odysseus parmi ceux sur lesquels il a régné comme un père plein de douceur. Voici qu'il est étendu, subissant des peines cruelles, dans l'île et dans les demeures de la Nymphe Kalypsô qui le retient de force, et il ne peut retourner dans la terre de la patrie, car il n'a ni nefs armées d'avirons, ni compagnons, qui puissent le conduire sur le vaste dos de la mer. Et voici maintenant qu'on veut tuer son fils bien-aimé à son retour dans ses demeures, car il est parti, afin de s'informer de son père, pour la divine Pylos et l'illustre Lakédaimôn.
Et Zeus qui amasse les nuées lui répondit:
— Mon enfant, quelle parole s'est échappée d'entre tes dents? N'as-tu point délibéré toi-même dans ton esprit pour qu'Odysseus revint et se vengeât? Conduis Tèlémakhos avec soin, car tu le peux, afin qu'il retourne sain et sauf dans la terre de la patrie, et les prétendants reviendront sur leur nef.
Il parla ainsi, et il dit à Herméias, son cher fils:
— Herméias, qui es le messager des dieux, va dire à la Nymphe aux beaux cheveux que nous avons résolu le retour d'Odysseus. Qu'elle le laisse partir. Sans qu'aucun dieu ou qu'aucun homme mortel le conduise, sur un radeau uni par des liens, seul, et subissant de nouvelles douleurs, il parviendra le vingtième jour à la fertile Skhériè, terre des Phaiakiens qui descendent des Dieux. Et les Phaiakiens, dans leur esprit, l'honoreront comme un dieu, et ils le renverront sur une nef dans la chère terre de la patrie, et ils lui donneront en abondance de l'airain, de l'or et des vêtements, de sorte qu'Odysseus n'en eût point rapporté autant de Troiè, s'il était revenu sain et sauf, ayant reçu sa part du butin. Ainsi sa destinée est de revoir ses amis et de rentrer dans sa haute demeure et dans la terre de la patrie.
Il parla ainsi, et le messager-tueur d'Argos obéit. Et il attacha aussitôt à ses pieds de belles sandales, immortelles et d'or, qui le portaient, soit au-dessus de la mer, soit au-dessus de la terre immense, pareil au souffle du vent. Et il prit aussi la baguette à l'aide de laquelle il charme les yeux des hommes, ou il les réveille, quand il le veut. Tenant cette baguette dans ses mains, le puissant Tueur d'Argos, s'envolant vers la Piériè, tomba de l'Aithèr sur la mer et s'élança, rasant les flots, semblable à la mouette qui, autour des larges golfes de la mer indomptée, chasse les poissons et plonge ses ailes robustes dans l'écume salée. Semblable à cet oiseau, Hermès rasait les flots innombrables.
Et, quand il fut arrivé à l'île lointaine, il passa de la mer bleue sur la terre, jusqu'à la vaste grotte que la nymphe aux beaux cheveux habitait, et où il la trouva. Et un grand feu brûlait au foyer, et l'odeur du cèdre et du thuia ardents parfumait toute l'île. Et la nymphe chantait d'une belle voix, tissant une toile avec une navette d'or. Et une forêt verdoyante environnait la grotte, l'aune, le peuplier et le cyprès odorant, où les oiseaux qui déploient leurs ailes faisaient leurs nids: les chouettes, les éperviers et les bavardes corneilles de mer qui s'inquiètent toujours des flots. Et une jeune vigne, dont les grappes mûrissaient, entourait la grotte, et quatre cours d'eau limpide, tantôt voisins, tantôt allant çà et là, faisaient verdir de molles prairies de violettes et d'aches. Même si un immortel s'en approchait, il admirerait et serait charmé dans son esprit. Et le puissant messager-tueur d'Argos s'arrêta et, ayant tout admiré dans son esprit, entra aussitôt dans la vaste grotte.
Et l'illustre déesse Kalypsô le reconnut, car les dieux immortels ne sont point inconnus les uns aux autres, même quand ils habitent, chacun, une demeure lointaine. Et Hermès ne vit pas dans la grotte le magnanime Odysseus, car celui-ci pleurait, assis sur le rivage; et, déchirant son coeur de sanglots et de gémissements, il regardait la mer agitée et versait des larmes. Mais l'illustre déesse Kalypsô interrogea Herméias, étant assise sur un thrône splendide:
— Pourquoi es-tu venu vers moi, Herméias à la baguette d'or, vénérable et cher, que je n'ai jamais vu ici? Dis ce que tu désires. Mon coeur m'ordonne de te satisfaire, si je le puis et si cela est possible. Mais suis-moi, afin que je t'offre les mets hospitaliers.
Ayant ainsi parlé, la déesse dressa une table en la couvrant d'ambroisie et mêla le rouge nektar. Et le messager-tueur d'Argos but et mangea, et quand il eut achevé son repas et satisfait son âme, il dit à la déesse:
— Tu me demandes pourquoi un dieu vient vers toi, déesse; je te répondrai avec vérité, comme tu le désires. Zeus m'a ordonné de venir, malgré moi, car qui parcourrait volontiers les immenses eaux salées où il n'y a aucune ville d'hommes mortels qui font des sacrifices aux dieux et leur offrent de saintes hécatombes? Mais il n'est point permis à tout autre dieu de résister à la volonté de Zeus tempétueux. On dit qu'un homme est auprès de toi, le plus malheureux de tous les hommes qui ont combattu pendant neuf ans autour de la ville de Priamos, et qui l'ayant saccagée dans la dixième année, montèrent sur leurs nefs pour le retour. Et ils offensèrent Athènè, qui souleva contre eux le vent, les grands flots et le malheur. Et tous les braves compagnons d'Odysseus périrent, et il fut lui-même jeté ici par le vent et les flots. Maintenant, Zeus t'ordonne de le renvoyer très promptement, car sa destinée n'est point de mourir loin de ses amis, mais de les revoir et de rentrer dans sa haute demeure et dans la terre de la patrie.
Il parla ainsi, et l'illustre déesse Kalypsô frémit, et, lui répondant, elle dit en paroles ailées:
— Vous êtes injustes, ô dieux, et les plus jaloux des autres dieux, et vous enviez les déesses qui dorment ouvertement avec les hommes qu'elles choisissent pour leurs chers maris. Ainsi, quand Éôs aux doigts rosés enleva Oriôn, vous fûtes jaloux d'elle, ô dieux qui vivez toujours, jusqu'à ce que la chaste Artémis au thrône d'or eût tué Oriôn de ses douces flèches, dans Ortygiè; ainsi, quand Dèmètèr aux beaux cheveux, cédant à son âme, s'unit d'amour à Iasiôn sur une terre récemment labourée, Zeus, l'ayant su aussitôt, le tua en le frappant de la blanche foudre; ainsi, maintenant, vous m'enviez, ô dieux, parce que je garde auprès de moi un homme mortel que j'ai sauvé et recueilli seul sur sa carène, après que Zeus eut fendu d'un jet de foudre sa nef rapide au milieu de la mer sombre. Tous ses braves compagnons avaient péri, et le vent et les flots l'avaient poussé ici. Et je l'aimai et je le recueillis, et je me promettais de le rendre immortel et de le mettre pour toujours à l'abri de la vieillesse. Mais il n'est point permis à tout autre dieu de résister à la volonté de Zeus tempétueux. Puisqu'il veut qu'Odysseus soit de nouveau errant sur la mer agitée, soit; mais je ne le renverrai point moi-même, car je n'ai ni nefs armées d'avirons, ni compagnons qui le reconduisent sur le vaste dos de la mer. Je lui révélerai volontiers et ne lui cacherai point ce qu'il faut faire pour qu'il parvienne sain et sauf dans la terre de la patrie.
Et le messager tueur d'Argos lui répondit aussitôt:
— Renvoie-le dès maintenant, afin d'éviter la colère de Zeus, et de peur qu'il s'enflamme contre toi à l'avenir.
Ayant ainsi parlé, le puissant Tueur d'Argos s'envola, et la vénérable nymphe, après avoir reçu les ordres de Zeus, alla vers le magnanime Odysseus. Et elle le trouva assis sur le rivage, et jamais ses yeux ne tarissaient de larmes, et sa douce vie se consumait à gémir dans le désir du retour, car la nymphe n'était point aimée de lui. Certes, pendant la nuit, il dormait contre sa volonté dans la grotte creuse, sans désir, auprès de celle qui le désirait; mais, le jour, assis sur les rochers et sur les rivages, il déchirait son coeur par les larmes, les gémissements et les douleurs, et il regardait la mer indomptée en versant des larmes.
Et l'illustre déesse, s'approchant, lui dit:
— Malheureux, ne te lamente pas plus longtemps ici, et ne consume point ta vie, car je vais te renvoyer promptement. Va! fais un large radeau avec de grands arbres tranchés par l'airain, et pose par-dessus un banc très élevé, afin qu'il te porte sur la mer sombre. Et j'y placerai moi-même du pain, de l'eau et du vin rouge qui satisferont ta faim, et je te donnerai des vêtements, et je t'enverrai un vent propice afin que tu parviennes sain et sauf dans la terre de la patrie, si les dieux le veulent ainsi qui habitent le large Ouranos et qui sont plus puissants que moi par l'intelligence et la sagesse.
Elle parla ainsi, et le patient et divin Odysseus frémit et il lui dit en paroles ailées:
— Certes, tu as une autre pensée, déesse, que celle de mon départ, puisque tu m'ordonnes de traverser sur un radeau les grandes eaux de la mer, difficiles et effrayantes, et que traversent à peine les nefs égales et rapides se réjouissant du souffle de Zeus. Je ne monterai point, comme tu le veux, sur un radeau, à moins que tu ne jures par le grand serment des dieux que tu ne prépares point mon malheur et ma perte.
Il parla ainsi, et l'illustre déesse Kalypsô rit, et elle le caressa de la main, et elle lui répondit:
— Certes, tu es menteur et rusé, puisque tu as pensé et parlé ainsi. Que Gaia le sache, et le large Ouranos supérieur, et l'eau souterraine de Styx, ce qui est le plus grand et le plus terrible serment des dieux heureux, que je ne prépare ni ton malheur, ni ta perte. Je t'ai offert et conseillé ce que je tenterais pour moi- même, si la nécessité m'y contraignait. Mon esprit est équitable, et je n'ai point dans ma poitrine un coeur de fer, mais compatissant.
Ayant ainsi parlé, l'illustre déesse le précéda promptement, et il allait sur les traces de la déesse. Et tous deux parvinrent à la grotte creuse. Et il s'assit sur le thrône d'où s'était levé Herméias et la Nymphe plaça devant lui les choses que les hommes mortels ont coutume de manger et de boire. Elle-même s'assit auprès du divin Odysseus, et les servantes placèrent devant elle l'ambroisie et le nektar. Et tous deux étendirent les mains vers les mets placés devant eux; et quand ils eurent assouvi la faim et la soif, l'illustre déesse Kalypsô commença de parler:
— Divin Laertiade, subtil Odysseus, ainsi, tu veux donc retourner dans ta demeure et dans la chère terre de la patrie? Cependant, reçois mon salut. Si tu savais dans ton esprit combien de maux il est dans ta destinée de subir avant d'arriver à la terre de la patrie, certes, tu resterais ici avec moi, dans cette demeure, et tu serais immortel, bien que tu désires revoir ta femme que tu regrettes tous les jours. Et certes, je me glorifie de ne lui être inférieure ni par la beauté, ni par l'esprit, car les mortelles ne peuvent lutter de beauté avec les immortelles.
Et le subtil Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Vénérable déesse, ne t'irrite point pour cela contre moi. Je sais en effet que la sage Pènélopéia t'est bien inférieure en beauté et majesté. Elle est mortelle, et tu ne connaîtras point la vieillesse; et, cependant, je veux et je désire tous les jours revoir le moment du retour et regagner ma demeure. Si quelque dieu m'accable encore de maux sur la sombre mer, je les subirai avec un coeur patient. J'ai déjà beaucoup souffert sur les flots et dans la guerre; que de nouvelles misères m'arrivent, s'il le faut.
Il parla ainsi, et Hèlios tomba et les ténèbres survinrent; et tous deux, se retirant dans le fond de la grotte creuse, se charmèrent par l'amour, couchés ensemble. Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, aussitôt Odysseus revêtit sa tunique et son manteau, et la nymphe se couvrit d'une grande robe blanche, légère et gracieuse; et elle mit autour de ses reins une belle ceinture d'or, et, sur sa tête, un voile. Enfin, préparant le départ du magnanime Odysseus, elle lui donna une grande hache d'airain, bien en main, à deux tranchants et au beau manche fait de bois d'olivier. Et elle lui donna ensuite une doloire aiguisée. Et elle le conduisit à l'extrémité de l'île où croissaient de grands arbres, des aunes, des peupliers et des pins qui atteignaient l'Ouranos, et dont le bois sec flotterait plus légèrement. Et, lui ayant montré le lieu où les grands arbres croissaient, l'illustre déesse Kalypsô retourna dans sa demeure.
Et aussitôt Odysseus trancha les arbres et fit promptement son travail. Et il en abattit vingt qu'il ébrancha, équarrit et aligna au cordeau. Pendant ce temps l'illustre déesse Kalypsô apporta des tarières; et il perça les bois et les unit entre eux, les liant avec des chevilles et des cordes. Aussi grande est la cale d'une nef de charge que construit un excellent ouvrier, aussi grand était le radeau construit par Odysseus. Et il éleva un pont qu'il fit avec des ais épais; et il tailla un mât auquel il attacha l'antenne. Puis il fit le gouvernail, qu'il munit de claies de saule afin qu'il résistât au choc des flots; puis il amassa un grand lest. Pendant ce temps, l'illustre déesse Kalypsô apporta de la toile pour faire les voiles, et il les fit habilement et il les lia aux antennes avec des cordes. Puis il conduisit le radeau à la mer large, à l'aide de leviers. Et le quatrième jour tout le travail était achevé; et le cinquième jour la divine Kalypsô le renvoya de l'île, l'ayant baigné et couvert de vêtements parfumés. Et la déesse mit sur le radeau une outre de vin noir, puis une outre plus grande pleine d'eau, puis elle lui donna, dans un sac de cuir, une grande quantité de vivres fortifiants, et elle lui envoya un vent doux et propice.
Et le divin Odysseus, joyeux, déploya ses voiles au vent propice; et, s'étant assis à la barre, il gouvernait habilement, sans que le sommeil fermât ses paupières. Et il contemplait les Plèiades, et le Bouvier qui se couchait, et l'Ourse qu'on nomme le Chariot, et qui tourne en place en regardant Oriôn, et, seule, ne touche point les eaux de l'Okéanos. L'illustre déesse Kalypsô lui avait ordonné de naviguer en la laissant toujours à gauche. Et, pendant dix-sept jours, il fit route sur la mer, et, le dix-huitième, apparurent les monts boisés de la terre des Phaiakiens. Et cette terre était proche, et elle lui apparaissait comme un bouclier sur la mer sombre.
Et le puissant qui ébranle la terre revenait du pays des Aithiopiens, et du haut des montagnes des Solymes, il vit de loin Odysseus traversant la mer; et son coeur s'échauffa violemment, et secouant la tête, il dit dans son esprit:
— Ô dieux! les immortels ont décidé autrement d'Odysseus tandis que j'étais chez les Aithiopiens. Voici qu'il approche de la terre des Phaiakiens, où sa destinée est qu'il rompe la longue chaîne de misères qui l'accablent. Mais je pense qu'il va en subir encore.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il amassa les nuées et souleva la mer. Et il saisit de ses mains son trident et il déchaîna la tempête de tous les vents. Et il enveloppa de nuages la terre et la mer, et la nuit se rua de l'Ouranos. Et l'Euros et le Notos soufflèrent, et le violent Zéphyros et l'impétueux Boréas, soulevant de grandes lames. Et les genoux d'Odysseus et son cher coeur furent brisés, et il dit avec tristesse dans son esprit magnanime:
— Ah! malheureux que je suis! Que va-t-il m'arriver? Je le crains, la déesse ne m'a point trompé quand elle m'a dit que je subirais des maux nombreux sur la mer, avant de parvenir à la terre de la patrie. Certes, voici que ses paroles s'accomplissent. De quelles nuées Zeus couronne le large Ouranos! La mer est soulevée, les tempêtes de tous les vents sont déchaînées, et voici ma ruine suprême. Trois et quatre fois heureux les Danaens qui sont morts autrefois, devant la grande Troiè, pour plaire aux Atréides! Plût aux dieux que j'eusse subi ma destinée et que je fusse mort le jour où les Troiens m'assiégeaient de leurs lances d'airain autour du cadavre d'Akhilleus! Alors on eût accompli mes funérailles, et les Akhaiens eussent célébré ma gloire. Maintenant ma destinée est de subir une mort obscure!
Il parla ainsi, et une grande lame, se ruant sur lui, effrayante, renversa le radeau. Et Odysseus en fut enlevé, et le gouvernail fut arraché de ses mains; et la tempête horrible des vents confondus brisa le mât par le milieu; et l'antenne et la voile furent emportées à la mer; et Odysseus resta longtemps sous l'eau, ne pouvant émerger de suite, à cause de l'impétuosité de la mer. Et il reparut enfin, et les vêtements que la divine Kalypsô lui avait donnés étaient alourdis, et il vomit l'eau salée, et l'écume ruisselait de sa tête. Mais, bien qu'affligé, il n'oublia point le radeau, et, nageant avec vigueur à travers les flots, il le ressaisit, et, se sauvant de la mort, il s'assit. Et les grandes lames impétueuses emportaient le radeau çà et là. De même que l'automnal Boréas chasse par les plaines les feuilles desséchées, de même les vents chassaient çà et là le radeau sur la mer. Tantôt l'Euros le cédait à Zéphyros afin que celui-ci l'entraînât, tantôt le Notos le cédait à Boréas.
Et la fille de Kadmos, Inô aux beaux talons, qui autrefois était mortelle, le vit. Maintenant elle se nomme Leukothéè et partage les honneurs des dieux dans les flots de la mer. Et elle prit en pitié Odysseus errant et accablé de douleurs. Et elle émergea de l'abîme, semblable à un plongeon, et, se posant sur le radeau, elle dit à Odysseus
— Malheureux! pourquoi Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre est-il si cruellement irrité contre toi, qu'il t'accable de tant de maux? Mais il ne te perdra pas, bien qu'il le veuille. Fais ce que je vais te dire, car tu ne me sembles pas manquer de sagesse. Ayant rejeté tes vêtements, abandonne le radeau aux vents et nage de tes bras jusqu'à la terre des Phaiakiens, où tu dois être sauvé. Prends cette bandelette immortelle, étends-la sur ta poitrine et ne crains plus ni la douleur, ni la mort. Dès que tu auras saisi le rivage de tes mains, tu la rejetteras au loin dans la sombre mer en te détournant.
La déesse, ayant ainsi parlé, lui donna la bandelette puis elle se replongea dans la mer tumultueuse, semblable à un plongeon, et le flot noir la recouvrit. Mais le patient et divin Odysseus hésitait, et il dit, en gémissant, dans son esprit magnanime:
— Hélas! je crains qu'un des immortels ourdisse une ruse contre moi en m'ordonnant de me jeter hors du radeau; mais je ne lui obéirai pas aisément, car cette terre est encore très éloignée où elle dit que je dois échapper à la mort; mais je ferai ceci, et il me semble que c'est le plus sage: aussi longtemps que ces pièces de bois seront unies par leurs liens, je resterai ici et je subirai mon mal patiemment, et dès que la mer aura rompu le radeau, je nagerai, car je ne pourrai rien faire de mieux.
Tandis qu'il pensait ainsi dans son esprit et dans son coeur, Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre souleva une lame immense, effrayante, lourde et haute, et il la jeta sur Odysseus. De même que le vent qui souffle avec violence disperse un monceau de pailles sèches qu'il emporte çà et là, de même la mer dispersa les longues poutres, et Odysseus monta sur une d'entre elles comme sur un cheval qu'on dirige. Et il dépouilla les vêtements que la divine Kalypsô lui avait donnés, et il étendit aussitôt sur sa poitrine la bandelette de Leukothéè; puis, s'allongeant sur la mer, il étendit les bras, plein du désir de nager. Et le puissant qui ébranle la terre le vit, et secouant la tête, il dit dans son esprit:
— Va! subis encore mille maux, errant sur la mer, jusqu'à ce que tu abordes ces hommes nourris par Zeus; mais j'espère que tu ne te riras plus de mes châtiments. Ayant ainsi parlé, il poussa ses chevaux aux belles crinières et parvint à Aigas, où sont ses demeures illustres.
Mais Athènè, la fille de Zeus, eut d'autres pensées. Elle rompit le cours des vents, et elle leur ordonna de cesser et de s'endormir. Et elle excita, seul, le rapide Boréas, et elle refréna les flots, jusqu'à ce que le divin Odysseus, ayant évité la kèr et la mort, se fût mêlé aux Phaiakiens habiles aux travaux de la mer.
Et, pendant deux nuits et deux jours, Odysseus erra par les flots sombres, et son coeur vit souvent la mort; mais quand Éôs aux beaux cheveux amena le troisième jour, le vent s'apaisa, et la sérénité tranquille se fit; et, se soulevant sur la mer, et regardant avec ardeur, il vit la terre toute proche. De même qu'à des fils est rendue la vie désirée d'un père qui, en proie à un dieu contraire, a longtemps subi de grandes douleurs, mais que les dieux ont enfin délivré de son mal, de même la terre et les bois apparurent joyeusement à Odysseus. Et il nageait s'efforçant de fouler de ses pieds cette terre. Mais, comme il n'en était éloigné que de la portée de la voix, il entendit le son de la mer contre les rochers. Et les vastes flots se brisaient, effrayants, contre la côte aride, et tout était enveloppé de l'écume de la mer. Et il n'y avait là ni ports, ni abris pour les nefs, et le rivage était hérissé d'écueils et de rochers. Alors, les genoux et le cher coeur d'Odysseus furent brisés, et, gémissant, il dit dans son esprit magnanime:
— Hélas! Zeus m'a accordé de voir une terre inespérée, et je suis arrivé ici, après avoir sillonné les eaux, et je ne sais comment sortir de la mer profonde. Les rochers aigus se dressent, les flots impétueux écument de tous côtés et la côte est escarpée. La profonde mer est proche, et je ne puis appuyer mes pieds nulle part, ni échapper à mes misères, et peut-être le grand flot va-t- il me jeter contre ces roches, et tous mes efforts seront vains. Si je nage encore, afin de trouver ailleurs une plage heurtée par les eaux, ou un port, je crains que la tempête me saisisse de nouveau et me rejette, malgré mes gémissements, dans la haute mer poissonneuse; ou même qu'un dieu me livre à un monstre marin, de ceux que l'illustre Amphitritè nourrit en grand nombre. Je sais, en effet, combien l'illustre qui ébranle la terre est irrité contre moi.
Tandis qu'il délibérait ainsi dans son esprit et dans son coeur, une vaste lame le porta vers l'âpre rivage, et il y eût déchiré sa peau et brisé ses os, si Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, ne l'eût inspiré. Emporté en avant, de ses deux mains il saisit la roche et il l'embrassa en gémissant jusqu'à ce que le flot immense se fût déroulé, et il se sauva ainsi; mais le reflux, se ruant sur lui, le frappa et le remporta en mer. De même que les petites pierres restent, en grand nombre, attachées aux articulations creuses du polypode arraché de son abri, de même la peau de ses mains vigoureuses s'était déchirée au rocher, et le flot vaste le recouvrit. Là, enfin, le malheureux Odysseus eût péri malgré la destinée, si Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, ne l'eût inspiré sagement. Il revint sur l'eau, et, traversant les lames qui le poussaient à la côte, il nagea, examinant la terre et cherchant s'il trouverait quelque part une plage heurtée par les flots, ou un port. Et quand il fut arrivé, en nageant, à l'embouchure d'un fleuve au beau cours, il vit que cet endroit était excellent et mis à l'abri du vent par des roches égales. Et il examina le cours du fleuve, et, dans son esprit, il dit en suppliant:
— Entends-moi, ô roi, qui que tu sois! Je viens à toi en te suppliant avec ardeur, et fuyant hors de la mer la colère de Poseidaôn. Celui qui vient errant est vénérable aux dieux immortels et aux hommes. Tel je suis maintenant en abordant ton cours, car je t'approche après avoir subi de nombreuses misères. Prends pitié, ô roi! Je me glorifie d'être ton suppliant.
Il parla ainsi, et le fleuve s'apaisa, arrêtant son cours et les flots; et il se fit tranquille devant Odysseus, et il le recueillit à son embouchure. Et les genoux et les bras vigoureux du Laertiade étaient rompus, et son cher coeur était accablé par la mer. Tout son corps était gonflé, et l'eau salée remplissait sa bouche et ses narines. Sans haleine et sans voix, il gisait sans force, et une violente fatigue l'accablait. Mais, ayant respiré et recouvré l'esprit, il détacha la bandelette de la déesse et la jeta dans le fleuve, qui l'emporta à la mer, où Inô la saisit aussitôt de ses chères mains. Alors Odysseus, s'éloignant du fleuve, se coucha dans les joncs. Et il baisa la terre et dit en gémissant dans son esprit magnanime:
— Hélas! que va-t-il m'arriver et que vais-je souffrir, si je passe la nuit dangereuse dans le fleuve? Je crains que la mauvaise fraîcheur et la rosée du matin achèvent d'affaiblir mon âme. Le fleuve souffle en effet, au matin, un air froid. Si je montais sur la hauteur, vers ce bois ombragé, je m'endormirais sous les arbustes épais, et le doux sommeil me saisirait, à moins que le froid et la fatigue s'y opposent. Mais je crains d'être la proie des bêtes fauves.
Ayant ainsi délibéré, il vit que ceci était pour le mieux, et il se hâta vers la forêt qui se trouvait sur la hauteur, près de la côte. Et il aperçut deux arbustes entrelacés, dont l'un était un olivier sauvage et l'autre un olivier. Et là, ni la violence humide des vents, ni Hèlios étincelant de rayons, ni la pluie ne pénétrait, tant les rameaux entrelacés étaient touffus. Et Odysseus s'y coucha, après avoir amassé un large lit de feuilles, et si abondant, que deux ou trois hommes s'y seraient blottis par le temps d'hiver le plus rude. Et le patient et divin Odysseus, joyeux de voir ce lit, se coucha au milieu, en se couvrant de l'abondance des feuilles. De même qu'un berger, à l'extrémité d'une terre où il n'a aucun voisin, recouvre ses tisons de cendre noire et conserve ainsi le germe du feu, afin de ne point aller le chercher ailleurs; de même Odysseus était caché sous les feuilles, et Athènè répandit le sommeil sur ses yeux et ferma ses paupières, pour qu'il se reposât promptement de ses rudes travaux.
Ainsi dormait là le patient et divin Odysseus, dompté par le sommeil et par la fatigue, tandis qu'Athènè se rendait à la ville et parmi le peuple des hommes Phaiakiens qui habitaient autrefois la grande Hypériè, auprès des kyklôpes insolents qui les opprimaient, étant beaucoup plus forts qu'eux. Et Nausithoos, semblable à un dieu, les emmena de là et les établit dans l'île de Skhériè, loin des autres hommes. Et il bâtit un mur autour de la ville, éleva des demeures, construisit les temples des dieux et partagea les champs. Mais, déjà, dompté par la kèr, il était descendu chez Aidés. Et maintenant régnait Alkinoos, instruit dans la sagesse par les dieux. Et Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, se rendait à sa demeure, méditant le retour du magnanime Odysseus. Et elle entra promptement dans la chambre ornée où dormait la jeune vierge semblable aux Immortelles par la grâce et la beauté, Nausikaa, fille du magnanime Alkinoos. Et deux servantes, belles comme les Kharites, se tenaient des deux côtés du seuil, et les portes brillantes étaient fermées.
Athènè, comme un souffle du vent, approcha du lit de la jeune vierge, et, se tenant au-dessus de sa tête, lui parla, semblable à la fille de l'illustre marin Dymas, laquelle était du même âge qu'elle, et qu'elle aimait. Semblable à cette jeune fille, Athènè aux yeux clairs parla ainsi:
— Nausikaa, pourquoi ta mère t'a-t-elle enfantée si négligente? En effet, tes belles robes gisent négligées, et tes noces approchent où il te faudra revêtir les plus belles et en offrir à ceux qui te conduiront. La bonne renommée, parmi les hommes, vient des beaux vêtements, et le père et la mère vénérable s'en réjouissent. Allons donc laver tes robes, au premier lever du jour, et je te suivrai et t'aiderai, afin que nous finissions promptement, car tu ne seras plus longtemps vierge. Déjà les premiers du peuple te recherchent, parmi tous les Phaiakiens d'où sort ta race. Allons! demande à ton illustre père, dès le matin, qu'il fasse préparer les mulets et le char qui porteront les ceintures, les péplos et les belles couvertures. Il est mieux que tu montes aussi sur le char que d'aller à pied, car les lavoirs sont très éloignés de la ville.
Ayant ainsi parlé, Athènè aux yeux clairs retourna dans l'Olympos, où sont toujours, dit-on, les solides demeures des dieux, que le vent n'ébranle point, où la pluie ne coule point, dont la neige n'approche point, mais où la sérénité vole sans nuage et qu'enveloppe une splendeur éclatante dans laquelle les dieux heureux se réjouissent sans cesse. C'est là que remonta la déesse aux yeux clairs, après qu'elle eut parlé à la jeune vierge.
Et aussitôt la brillante Éôs se leva et réveilla Nausikaa au beau péplos, qui admira le songe qu'elle avait eu. Et elle se hâta d'aller par les demeures, afin de prévenir ses parents, son cher père et sa mère, qu'elle trouva dans l'intérieur. Et sa mère était assise au foyer avec ses servantes, filant la laine teinte de pourpre marine; et son père sortait avec les rois illustres, pour se rendre au conseil où l'appelaient les nobles Phaiakiens. Et, s'arrêtant près de son cher père, elle lui dit:
— Cher père, ne me feras-tu point préparer un char large et élevé, afin que je porte au fleuve et que je lave nos beaux vêtements qui gisent salis? Il te convient, en effet, à toi qui t'assieds au conseil parmi les premiers, de porter de beaux vêtements. Tu as cinq fils dans ta maison royale; deux sont mariés, et trois sont encore des jeunes hommes florissants. Et ceux-ci veulent aller aux danses, couverts de vêtements propres et frais, et ces soins me sont réservés.
Elle parla ainsi, n'osant nommer à son cher père ses noces fleuries; mais il la comprit et il lui répondit:
— Je ne te refuserai, mon enfant, ni des mulets, ni autre chose. Va, et mes serviteurs te prépareront un char large et élevé propre à porter une charge.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il commanda aux serviteurs, et ils obéirent. Ils firent sortir un char rapide et ils le disposèrent, et ils mirent les mulets sous le joug et les lièrent au char. Et Nausikaa apporta de sa chambre ses belles robes, et elle les déposa dans le char. Et sa mère enfermait d'excellents mets dans une corbeille, et elle versa du vin dans une outre de peau de chèvre. La jeune vierge monta sur le char, et sa mère lui donna dans une fiole d'or une huile liquide, afin qu'elle se parfumât avec ses femmes. Et Nausikaa saisit le fouet et les belles rênes, et elle fouetta les mulets afin qu'ils courussent; et ceux-ci, faisant un grand bruit, s'élancèrent, emportant les vêtements et Nausikaa, mais non pas seule, car les autres femmes allaient avec elle.
Et quand elles furent parvenues au cours limpide du fleuve, là où étaient les lavoirs pleins toute l'année, car une belle eau abondante y débordait, propre à laver toutes les choses souillées, elles délièrent les mulets du char, et elles les menèrent vers le fleuve tourbillonnant, afin qu'ils pussent manger les douces herbes. Puis, elles saisirent de leurs mains, dans le char, les vêtements qu'elles plongèrent dans l'eau profonde, les foulant dans les lavoirs et disputant de promptitude. Et, les ayant lavés et purifiés de toute souillure, elles les étendirent en ordre sur les rochers du rivage que la mer avait baignés. Et s'étant elles- mêmes baignées et parfumées d'huile luisante, elles prirent leur repas sur le bord du fleuve. Et les vêtements séchaient à la splendeur de Hèlios.
Après que Nausikaa et ses servantes eurent mangé, elles jouèrent à la balle, ayant dénoué les bandelettes de leur tête. Et Nausikaa aux beaux bras commença une mélopée. Ainsi Artémis marche sur les montagnes, joyeuse de ses flèches, et, sur le Tèygétos escarpé ou l'Érymanthos, se réjouit des sangliers et des cerfs rapides. Et les nymphes agrestes, filles de Zeus tempétueux, jouent avec elle, et Lètô se réjouit dans son coeur. Artémis les dépasse toutes de la tête et du front, et on la reconnaît facilement, bien qu'elles soient toutes belles. Ainsi la jeune vierge brillait au milieu de ses femmes.
Mais quand il fallut plier les beaux vêtements, atteler les mulets et retourner vers la demeure, alors Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, eut d'autres pensées, et elle voulut qu'Odysseus se réveillât et vît la vierge aux beaux yeux, et qu'elle le conduisît à la ville des Phaiakiens. Alors, la jeune reine jeta une balle à l'une de ses femmes, et la balle s'égara et tomba dans le fleuve profond. Et toutes poussèrent de hautes clameurs, et le divin Odysseus s'éveilla. Et, s'asseyant, il délibéra dans son esprit et dans son coeur:
— Hélas! à quels hommes appartient cette terre où je suis venu? Sont-ils injurieux, sauvages, injustes, ou hospitaliers, et leur esprit craint-il les dieux? J'ai entendu des clameurs de jeunes filles. Est-ce la voix des nymphes qui habitent le sommet des montagnes et les sources des fleuves et les marais herbus, ou suis-je près d'entendre la voix des hommes? Je m'en assurerai et je verrai.
Ayant ainsi parlé, le divin Odysseus sortit du milieu des arbustes, et il arracha de sa main vigoureuse un rameau épais afin de voiler sa nudité sous les feuilles. Et il se hâta, comme un lion des montagnes, confiant dans ses forces, marche à travers les pluies et les vents. Ses yeux luisent ardemment, et il se jette sur les boeufs, les brebis ou les cerfs sauvages, car son ventre le pousse à attaquer les troupeaux et à pénétrer dans leur solide demeure. Ainsi Odysseus parut au milieu des jeunes filles aux beaux cheveux, tout nu qu'il était, car la nécessité ly contraignait. Et il leur apparut horrible et souillé par l'écume de la mer, et elles s'enfuirent, çà et là, sur les hauteurs du rivage. Et, seule, la fille d'Alkinoos resta, car Athènè avait mis l'audace dans son coeur et chassé la crainte de ses membres. Elle resta donc seule en face d'Odysseus.
Et celui-ci délibérait, ne sachant s'il supplierait la vierge aux beaux yeux, en saisissant ses genoux, ou s'il la prierait de loin, avec des paroles flatteuses, de lui donner des vêtements et de lui montrer la ville. Et il vit qu'il valait mieux la supplier de loin par des paroles flatteuses, de peur que, s'il saisissait ses genoux, la s'irritât dans son esprit. Et, aussitôt, il lui adressa la vierge ce discours flatteur et adroit:
— Je te supplie, ô reine, que tu sois déesse ou mortelle! si tu es déesse, de celles qui habitent le large Ouranos, tu me sembles Artémis, fille du grand Zeus, par la beauté, la stature et la grâce; si tu es une des mortelles qui habitent sur la terre, trois fois heureux ton père et ta mère vénérable! trois fois heureux tes frères! Sans doute leur âme est pleine de joie devant ta grâce, quand ils te voient te mêler aux choeurs dansants! Mais plus heureux entre tous celui qui, te comblant de présents d'hyménée, te conduira dans sa demeure! Jamais, en effet, je n'ai vu de mes yeux un homme aussi beau, ni une femme aussi belle, et je suis saisi d'admiration. Une fois, à Dèlos, devant l'autel d'Apollôn, je vis une jeune tige de palmier. J'étais allé là, en effet, et un peuple nombreux m'accompagnait dans ce voyage qui devait me porter malheur. Et, en voyant ce palmier, je restai longtemps stupéfait dans l'âme qu'un arbre aussi beau fût sorti de terre. Ainsi je t'admire, Ô femme, et je suis stupéfait, et je tremble de saisir tes genoux, car je suis en proie à une grande douleur. Hier, après vingt jours, je me suis enfin échappé de la sombre mer. Pendant ce temps-là, les flots et les rapides tempêtes m'ont entraîné de l'île d'Ogygiè, et voici qu'un dieu m'a poussé ici, afin que j'y subisse encore peut-être d'autres maux, car je ne pense pas en avoir vu la fin, et les dieux vont sans doute m'en accabler de nouveau. Mais, ô reine, aie pitié de moi, car c'est vers toi, la première, que je suis venu, après avoir subi tant de misères. Je ne connais aucun des hommes qui habitent cette ville et cette terre. Montre-moi la ville et donne moi quelque lambeau pour me couvrir, si tu as apporté ici quelque enveloppe de vêtements. Que les dieux t'accordent autant de choses que tu en désires: un mari, une famille et une heureuse concorde; car rien n'est plus désirable et meilleur que la concorde à l'aide de laquelle on gouverne sa famille. Le mari et l'épouse accablent ainsi leurs ennemis de douleurs et leurs amis de joie, et eux-mêmes sont heureux.
Et Nausikaa aux bras blancs lui répondit:
— Étranger, car, certes, tu n'es semblable ni à un lâche, ni à un insensé, Zeus Olympien dispense la richesse aux hommes, aux bons et aux méchants, à chacun, comme il veut. C'est lui qui t'a fait cette destinée, et il faut la subir patiemment. Maintenant, étant venu vers notre terre et notre ville, tu ne manqueras ni de vêtements, ni d'aucune autre des choses qui conviennent à un malheureux qui vient en suppliant. Et je te montrerai la ville et je te dirai le nom de notre peuple. Les Phaiakiens habitent cette ville et cette terre, et moi, je suis la fille du magnanime Alkinoos, qui est le premier parmi les Phaiakiens par le pouvoir et la puissance.
Elle parla ainsi et commanda à ses servantes aux belles chevelures:
— Venez près de moi, servantes. Où fuyez-vous pour avoir vu cet homme? Pensez-vous que ce soit quelque ennemi? Il n'y a point d'homme vivant, et il ne peut en être un seul qui porte la guerre sur la terre des Phaiakiens, car nous sommes très chers aux dieux immortels, et nous habitons aux extrémités de la mer onduleuse, et nous n'avons aucun commerce avec les autres hommes. Mais si quelque malheureux errant vient ici, il nous faut le secourir, car les hôtes et les mendiants viennent de Zeus, et le don, même modique, qu'on leur fait, lui est agréable. C'est pourquoi, servantes, donnez à notre hôte à manger et à boire, et lavez-le dans le fleuve, à l'abri du vent.
Elle parla ainsi, et les servantes s'arrêtèrent et s'exhortèrent l'une l'autre, et elles conduisirent Odysseus à l'abri du vent, comme l'avait ordonné Nausikaa, fille du magnanime Alkinoos, et elles placèrent auprès de lui des vêtements, un manteau et une tunique, et elles lui donnèrent l'huile liquide dans la fiole d'or, et elles lui commandèrent de se laver dans le courant du fleuve. Mais alors le divin Odysseus leur dit:
— Servantes, éloignez-vous un peu, afin que je lave l'écume de mes épaules et que je me parfume d'huile, car il y a longtemps que mon corps manque d'onction. Je ne me laverai point devant vous, car je crains, par respect, de me montrer nu au milieu de jeunes filles aux beaux cheveux.
Il parla ainsi, et, se retirant, elles rapportèrent ces paroles à la vierge Nausikaa.
Et le divin Odysseus lava dans le fleuve l'écume salée qui couvrait son dos, ses flancs et ses épaules; et il purifia sa tête des souillures de la mer indomptée. Et, après s'être entièrement baigné et parfumé d'huile, il se couvrit des vêtements que la jeune vierge lui avait donnés. Et Athènè, fille de Zeus, le fit paraître plus grand et fit tomber de sa tête sa chevelure bouclée semblable aux fleurs d'hyacinthe. De même un habile ouvrier qui répand de l'or sur de l'argent, et que Hèphaistos et Pallas Athènè ont instruit, achève de brillantes oeuvres avec un art accompli, de même Athènè répandit la grâce sur sa tête et sur ses épaules. Et il s'assit ensuite à l'écart, sur le rivage de la mer, resplendissant de beauté et de grâce. Et la vierge, l'admirant, dit à ses servantes aux beaux cheveux:
— Écoutez-moi, servantes aux bras blancs, afin que je dise quelque chose. Ce n'est pas malgré tous les dieux qui habitent l'Olympos que cet homme divin est venu chez les Phaiakiens. Il me semblait d'abord méprisable, et maintenant il est semblable aux dieux qui habitent le large Ouranos. Plût aux dieux qu'un tel homme fût nommé mon mari, qu'il habitât ici et qu'il lui plût d'y rester! Mais, vous, servantes, offrez à notre hôte à boire et à manger.
Elle parla ainsi, et les servantes l'entendirent et lui obéirent; et elles offrirent à Odysseus à boire et à manger. Et le divin Odysseus buvait et mangeait avec voracité, car il y avait longtemps qu'il n'avait pris de nourriture. Mais Nausikaa aux bras blancs eut d'autres pensées; elle posa les vêtements pliés dans le char, y monta après avoir attelé les mulets aux sabots massifs, et, exhortant Odysseus, elle lui dit:
— Lève-toi, étranger, afin d'aller à la ville et que je te conduise à la demeure de mon père prudent, où je pense que tu verras les premiers d'entre les Phaiakiens. Mais fais ce que je vais te dire, car tu me sembles plein de sagesse: aussi longtemps que nous irons à travers les champs et les travaux des hommes, marche rapidement avec les servantes, derrière les mulets et le char, et, moi, je montrerai le chemin; mais quand nous serons arrivés à la ville, qu'environnent de hautes tours et que partage en deux un beau port dont l'entrée est étroite, où sont conduites les nefs, chacune à une station sûre, et devant lequel est le beau temple de Poseidaôn dans l'agora pavée de grandes pierres taillées; — et là aussi sont les armements des noires nefs, les cordages et les antennes et les avirons qu'on polit, car les arcs et les carquois n'occupent point les Phaiakiens, mais seulement les mâts, et les avirons des nefs, et les nefs égales sur lesquelles ils traversent joyeux la mer pleine d'écume; — évite alors leurs amères paroles, de peur qu'un d'entre eux me blâme en arrière, car ils sont très insolents, et que le plus méchant, nous rencontrant, dise peut-être: — Quel est cet étranger grand et beau qui suit Nausikaa? Où l'a-t-elle trouvé? Certes, il sera son mari. Peut-être l'a-t-elle reçu avec bienveillance, comme il errait hors de sa nef conduite par des hommes étrangers, car aucuns n'habitent près d'ici; ou peut-être encore un dieu qu'elle a supplié ardemment est-il descendu de l'Ouranos, et elle le possédera tous les jours. Elle a bien fait d'aller au-devant d'un mari étranger, car, certes, elle dédaigne les Phaiakiens illustres et nombreux qui la recherchent! — Ils parleraient ainsi, et leurs paroles seraient honteuses pour moi. Je blâmerais moi-même celle qui, à l'insu de son cher père et de sa mère, irait seule parmi les hommes avant le jour des noces.
Écoute donc mes paroles, étranger, afin d'obtenir de mon père des compagnons et un prompt retour. Nous trouverons auprès du chemin un beau bois de peupliers consacré à Athènè. Une source en coule et une prairie l'entoure, et là sont le verger de mon père et ses jardins florissants, éloignés de la ville d'une portée de voix. Il faudra t'arrêter là quelque temps, jusqu'à ce que nous soyons arrivées à la ville et à la maison de mon père. Dès que tu penseras que nous y sommes parvenues, alors, marche vers la ville des Phaiakiens et cherche les demeures de mon père, le magnanime Alkinoos. Elles sont faciles à reconnaître, et un enfant pourrait y conduire; car aucune des maisons des Phaiakiens n'est telle que la demeure du héros Alkinoos. Quand tu seras entré dans la cour, traverse promptement la maison royale afin d'arriver jusqu'à ma mère. Elle est assise à son foyer, à la splendeur du feu, filant une laine pourprée admirable à voir. Elle est appuyée contre une colonne et ses servantes sont assises autour d'elle. Et, à côté d'elle, est le thrône de mon père, où il s'assied, pour boire du vin, semblable à un immortel. En passant devant lui, embrasse les genoux de ma mère, afin que, joyeux, tu voies promptement le jour du retour, même quand tu serais très loin de ta demeure. En effet, si ma mère t'est bienveillante dans son âme, tu peux espérer revoir tes amis, et rentrer dans ta demeure bien bâtie et dans la terre de la patrie.
Ayant ainsi parlé, elle frappa les mulets du fouet brillant, et les mulets, quittant rapidement les bords du fleuve, couraient avec ardeur et en trépignant. Et Nausikaa les guidait avec art des rênes et du fouet, de façon que les servantes et Odysseus suivissent à pied. Et Hèlios tomba, et ils parvinrent au bois sacré d'Athènè, où le divin Odysseus s'arrêta. Et, aussitôt, il supplia la fille du magnanime Zeus:
— Entends-moi, fille indomptée de Zeus tempêtueux! Exauce-moi maintenant, puisque tu ne m'as point secouru quand l'illustre qui entoure la terre m'accablait. Accorde-moi d'être le bien venu chez les Phaiakiens, et qu'ils aient pitié.
Il parla ainsi en suppliant, et Pallas Athènè l'entendit, mais elle ne lui apparut point, respectant le frère de son père; car il devait être violemment irrité contre le divin Odysseus jusqu'à ce que celui-ci fût arrivé dans la terre de la patrie.
Tandis que le patient et divin Odysseus suppliait ainsi Athènè, la vigueur des mulets emportait la jeune vierge vers la ville. Et quand elle fut arrivée aux illustres demeures de son père, elle s'arrêta dans le vestibule; et, de tous côtés, ses frères, semblables aux immortels, s'empressèrent autour d'elle, et ils détachèrent les mulets du char, et ils portèrent les vêtements dans la demeure. Puis la vierge rentra dans sa chambre où la vieille servante épirote Eurymédousa alluma du feu. Des nefs à deux rangs d'avirons l'avaient autrefois amenée du pays des épirotes, et on l'avait donnée en récompense à Alkinoos, parce qu'il commandait à tous les Phaiakiens et que le peuple l'écoutait comme un dieu. Elle avait allaité Nausikaa aux bras blancs dans la maison royale, et elle allumait son feu et elle préparait son repas.
Et, alors, Odysseus se leva pour aller à la ville, et Athènè, pleine de bienveillance pour lui, l'enveloppa d'un épais brouillard, de peur qu'un des Phaiakiens insolents, le rencontrant, l'outrageât par ses paroles et lui demandât qui il était. Mais, quand il fut entré dans la belle ville, alors Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, sous la figure d'une jeune vierge portant une urne, s'arrêta devant lui, et le divin Odysseus l'interrogea:
— Ô mon enfant, ne pourrais-tu me montrer la demeure du héros Alkinoos qui commande parmi les hommes de ce pays? Je viens ici, d'une terre lointaine et étrangère, comme un hôte, ayant subi beaucoup de maux, et je ne connais aucun des hommes qui habitent cette ville et cette terre.
Et la déesse aux yeux clairs, Athènè, lui répondit:
— Hôte vénérable, je te montrerai la demeure que tu me demandes, car elle est auprès de celle de mon père irréprochable. Mais viens en silence, et je t'indiquerai le chemin. Ne parle point et n'interroge aucun de ces hommes, car ils n'aiment point les étrangers et ils ne reçoivent point avec amitié quiconque vient de loin. Confiants dans leurs nefs légères et rapides, ils traversent les grandes eaux, et celui qui ébranle la terre leur a donné des nefs rapides comme l'aile des oiseaux et comme la pensée.
Ayant ainsi parlé, Pallas Athènè le précéda promptement, et il marcha derrière la déesse, et les illustres navigateurs Phaiakiens ne le virent point tandis qu'il traversait la ville au milieu d'eux, car Athènè, la vénérable déesse aux beaux cheveux, ne le permettait point, ayant enveloppé Odysseus d'un épais brouillard, dans sa bienveillance pour lui. Et Odysseus admirait le port, les nefs égales, l'agora des héros et les longues murailles fortifiées de hauts pieux, admirables à voir. Et, quand ils furent arrivés à l'illustre demeure du roi, Athènè, la déesse aux yeux clairs, lui parla d'abord:
— Voici, hôte, mon père, la demeure que tu m'as demandé de te montrer. Tu trouveras les rois, nourrissons de Zeus, prenant leur repas. Entre, et ne crains rien dans ton âme. D'où qu'il vienne, l'homme courageux est celui qui accomplit le mieux tout ce qu'il fait. Va d'abord à la reine, dans la maison royale. Son nom est Arètè, et elle le mérite, et elle descend des mêmes parents qui ont engendré le roi Alkinoos. Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre engendra Nausithoos que conçut Périboia, la plus belle des femmes et la plus jeune fille du magnanime Eurymédôn qui commanda autrefois aux fiers géants. Mais il perdit son peuple impie et périt lui-même. Poseidaôn s'unit à Périboia, et il engendra le magnanime Nausithoos qui commanda aux Phaiakiens. Et Nausithoos engendra Rhèxènôr et Alkinoos. Apollôn à l'arc d'argent frappa le premier qui venait de se marier dans la maison royale et qui ne laissa point de fils, mais une fille unique, Arètè, qu'épousa Alkinoos. Et il l'a honorée plus que ne sont honorées toutes les autres femmes qui, sur la terre, gouvernent leur maison sous la puissance de leurs maris. Et elle est honorée par ses chers enfants non moins que par Alkinoos, ainsi que par les peuples, qui la regardent comme une déesse et qui recueillent ses paroles quand elle marche par la ville. Elle ne manque jamais de bonnes pensées dans son esprit, et elle leur est bienveillante, et elle apaise leurs différends. Si elle t'est favorable dans son âme, tu peux espérer revoir tes amis et rentrer dans ta haute demeure et dans la terre de la patrie.
Ayant ainsi parlé, Athènè aux yeux clairs s'envola sur la mer indomptée, et elle abandonna l'aimable Skhériè, et elle arriva à Marathôn, et, étant parvenue dans Athéna aux larges rues, elle entra dans la forte demeure d'Erekhtheus.
Et Odysseus se dirigea vers l'illustre maison d'Alkinoos, et il s'arrêta, l'âme pleine de pensées, avant de fouler le pavé d'airain. En effet, la haute demeure du magnanime Alkinoos resplendissait comme Hèlios ou Sélènè. De solides murs d'airain, des deux côtés du seuil, enfermaient la cour intérieure, et leur pinacle était d'émail. Et des portes d'or fermaient la solide demeure, et les poteaux des portes étaient d'argent sur le seuil d'airain argenté, et, au-dessus, il y avait une corniche d'or, et, des deux côtés, il y avait des chiens d'or et d'argent que Hèphaistos avait faits très habilement, afin qu'ils gardassent la maison du magnanime Alkinoos, étant immortels et ne devant point vieillir. Dans la cour, autour du mur, des deux côtés, étaient des thrônes solides, rangés jusqu'à l'entrée intérieure et recouverts de légers péplos, ouvrage des femmes. Là, siégeaient les princes des Phaiakiens, mangeant et buvant toute l'année. Et des figures de jeunes hommes, en or, se dressaient sur de beaux autels, portant aux mains des torches flambantes qui éclairaient pendant la nuit les convives dans la demeure. Et cinquante servantes habitaient la maison, et les unes broyaient sous la meule le grain mûr, et les autres, assises, tissaient les toiles et tournaient la quenouille agitée comme les feuilles du haut peuplier, et une huile liquide distillait de la trame des tissus. Autant les Phaiakiens étaient les plus habiles de tous les hommes pour voguer en mer sur une nef rapide, autant leurs femmes l'emportaient pour travailler les toiles, et Athènè leur avait accordé d'accomplir de très beaux et très habiles ouvrages. Et, au delà de la cour, auprès des portes, il y avait un grand jardin de quatre arpents, entouré de tous côtés par une haie. Là, croissaient de grands arbres florissants qui produisaient, les uns la poire et la grenade, les autres les belles oranges, les douces figues et les vertes olives. Et jamais ces fruits ne manquaient ni ne cessaient, et ils duraient tout l'hiver et tout l'été, et Zéphyros, en soufflant, faisait croître les uns et mûrir les autres; la poire succédait à la poire, la pomme mûrissait après la pomme, et la grappe après la grappe, et la figue après la figue. Là, sur la vigne fructueuse, le raisin séchait, sous l'ardeur de Hèlios, en un lieu découvert, et, là, il était cueilli et foulé; et, parmi les grappes, les unes perdaient leurs fleurs tandis que d'autres mûrissaient. Et à la suite du jardin, il y avait un verger qui produisait abondamment toute l'année. Et il y avait deux sources, dont l'une courait à travers tout le jardin, tandis que l'autre jaillissait sous le seuil de la cour, devant la haute demeure, et les citoyens venaient y puiser de l'eau. Et tels étaient les splendides présents des dieux dans la demeure d'Alkinoos.
Le patient et divin Odysseus, s'étant arrêté, admira toutes ces choses, et, quand il les eut admirées, il passa rapidement le seuil de la demeure. Et il trouva les princes et les chefs des Phaiakiens faisant des libations au vigilant tueur d'Argos, car ils finissaient par lui, quand ils songeaient à gagner leurs lits. Et le divin et patient Odysseus, traversa la demeure, enveloppé de l'épais brouillard que Pallas Athènè avait répandu autour de lui, et il parvint à Arètè et au roi Alkinoos. Et Odysseus entoura de ses bras les genoux d'Arètè, et le brouillard divin tomba. Et, à sa vue, tous restèrent muets dans la demeure, et ils l'admiraient. Mais Odysseus fit cette prière:
— Arètè, fille du divin Rhèxènôr, je viens à tes genoux, et vers ton mari et vers ses convives, après avoir beaucoup souffert. Que les dieux leur accordent de vivre heureusement, et de laisser à leurs enfants les biens qui sont dans leurs demeures et les récompenses que le peuple leur a données! Mais préparez mon retour, afin que j'arrive promptement dans ma patrie, car il y a longtemps que je subis de nombreuses misères, loin de mes amis.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il s'assit dans les cendres du foyer, devant le feu, et tous restaient muets. Enfin, le vieux héros Ekhénèos parla ainsi. C'était le plus âgé de tous les Phaiakiens, et il savait beaucoup de choses anciennes, et il l'emportait sur tous par son éloquence. Plein de sagesse, il parla ainsi au milieu de tous:
— Alkinoos, il n'est ni bon, ni convenable pour toi, que ton hôte soit assis dans les cendres du foyer. Tes convives attendent tous ta décision. Mais hâte-toi; fais asseoir ton hôte sur un thrône orné de clous d'argent, et commande aux hérauts de verser du vin, afin que nous fassions des libations à Zeus foudroyant qui accompagne les suppliants vénérables. Pendant ce temps, l'économe offrira à ton hôte les mets qui sont dans la demeure.
Dès que la force sacrée d'Alkinoos eut entendu ces paroles, il prit par la main le sage et subtil Odysseus, et il le fit lever du foyer, et il le fit asseoir sur un thrône brillant d'où s'était retiré son fils, le brave Laodamas, qui siégeait à côté de lui et qu'il aimait le plus. Une servante versa de l'eau dune belle aiguière d'or dans un bassin d'argent, pour qu'il lavât ses mains, et elle dressa devant lui une table polie. Et la vénérable économe, gracieuse pour tous, apporta le pain et de nombreux mets. Et le sage et divin Odysseus buvait et mangeait. Alors Alkinoos dit à un héraut:
— Pontonoos, mêle le vin dans le kratère et distribue-le à tous dans la demeure, afin que nous fassions des libations à Zeus foudroyant qui accompagne les suppliants vénérables.
Il parla ainsi, et Pontonoos mêla le doux vin, et il le distribua en goûtant d'abord à toutes les coupes. Et ils firent des libations, et ils burent autant que leur âme le désirait, et Alkinoos leur parla ainsi:
— Écoutez-moi, princes et chefs des Phaiakiens, afin que je dise ce que mon coeur m'inspire dans ma poitrine. Maintenant que le repas est achevé, allez dormir dans vos demeures. Demain matin, ayant convoqué les vieillards, nous exercerons l'hospitalité envers notre hôte dans ma maison, et nous ferons de justes sacrifices aux dieux; puis nous songerons au retour de notre hôte, afin que, sans peine et sans douleur, et par nos soins, il arrive plein de joie dans la terre de sa patrie, quand même elle serait très lointaine. Et il ne subira plus ni maux, ni misères, jusqu'à ce qu'il ait foulé sa terre natale. Là, il subira ensuite la destinée que les lourdes Moires lui ont filée dès l'instant où sa mère l'enfanta. Qui sait s'il n'est pas un des immortels descendu de l'Ouranos? Les dieux auraient ainsi médité quelque autre dessein; car ils se sont souvent, en effet, manifestés à nous, quand nous leur avons offert d'illustres hécatombes, et ils se sont assis à nos repas, auprès de nous et comme nous; et si un voyageur Phaiakien les rencontre seul sur sa route, ils ne se cachent point de lui, car nous sommes leurs parents, de même que les kyklôpes et la race sauvage des géants.
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Alkinoos, que d'autres pensées soient dans ton esprit. Je ne suis point semblable aux immortels qui habitent le large Ouranos ni par l'aspect, ni par la démarche; mais je ressemble aux hommes mortels, de ceux que vous savez être le plus accablés de misères. C'est à ceux-ci que je suis semblable par mes maux. Et les douleurs infinies que je pourrais raconter, certes, je les ai toutes souffertes par la volonté des dieux. Mais laissez-moi prendre mon repas malgré ma tristesse; car il n'est rien de pire qu'un ventre affamé, et il ne se laisse pas oublier par l'homme le plus affligé et dont l'esprit est le plus tourmenté d'inquiétudes. Ainsi, j'ai dans l'âme un grand deuil, et la faim et la soif m'ordonnent de manger et de boire et de me rassasier, quelques maux que j'aie subis. Mais hâtez-vous, dès qu'Eôs reparaîtra, de me renvoyer, malheureux que je suis, dans ma patrie, afin qu'après avoir tant souffert, la vie ne me quitte pas sans que j'aie revu mes biens, mes serviteurs et ma haute demeure!
Il parla ainsi, et tous l'applaudirent, et ils s'exhortaient à reconduire leur hôte, parce qu'il avait parlé convenablement. Puis, ayant fait des libations et bu autant que leur âme le désirait, ils allèrent dormir, chacun dans sa demeure. Mais le divin Odysseus resta, et, auprès de lui, Arètè et le divin Alkinoos s'assirent, et les servantes emportèrent les vases du repas. Et Arètè aux bras blancs parla la première, ayant reconnu le manteau, la tunique, les beaux vêtements qu'elle avait faits elle-même avec ses femmes. Et elle dit à Odysseus ces paroles ailées:
— Mon hôte, je t'interrogerai la première. Qui es-tu? D'où viens- tu? Qui t'a donné ces vêtements? Ne dis-tu pas qu'errant sur la mer, tu es venu ici?
Et le prudent Odysseus lui répondit:
— Il me serait difficile, reine, de raconter de suite tous les maux dont les dieux Ouraniens m'ont accablé; mais je te dirai ce que tu me demandes d'abord. Il y a au milieu de la mer une île, Ogygiè, qu'habite Kalypsô, déesse dangereuse, aux beaux cheveux, fille rusée d'Atlas; et aucun des Dieux ni des hommes mortels n'habite avec elle. Un daimôn m'y conduisit seul, malheureux que j'étais! car Zeus, d'un coup de la blanche foudre, avait fendu en deux ma nef rapide au milieu de la noire mer où tous mes braves compagnons périrent. Et moi, serrant de mes bras la carène de ma nef au double rang d'avirons, je fus emporté pendant neuf jours, et, dans la dixième nuit noire, les dieux me poussèrent dans l'île Ogygiè, où habitait Kalypsô, la déesse dangereuse aux beaux cheveux. Et elle m'accueillit avec bienveillance, et elle me nourrit, et elle me disait qu'elle me rendrait immortel et qu'elle m'affranchirait pour toujours de la vieillesse; mais elle ne put persuader mon coeur dans ma poitrine.
Et je passai là sept années, et je mouillais de mes larmes les vêtements immortels que m'avait donnés Kalypsô. Mais quand vint la huitième année, alors elle me pressa elle-même de m'en retourner, soit par ordre de Zeus, soit que son coeur eût changé. Elle me renvoya sur un radeau lié de cordes, et elle me donna beaucoup de pain et de vin, et elle me couvrit de vêtements divins, et elle me suscita un vent propice et doux. Je naviguais pendant dix-sept jours, faisant ma route sur la mer, et, le dix-huitième jour, les montagnes ombragées de votre terre m'apparurent, et mon cher coeur fut joyeux. Malheureux! j'allais être accablé de nouvelles et nombreuses misères que devait m'envoyer Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre.
Et il excita les vents, qui m'arrêtèrent en chemin; et il souleva la mer immense, et il voulut que les flots, tandis que je gémissais, accablassent le radeau, que la tempête dispersa; et je nageai, fendant les eaux, jusqu'à ce que le vent et le flot m'eurent porté à terre, où la mer me jeta d'abord contre de grands rochers, puis me porta en un lieu plus favorable; car je nageai de nouveau jusqu'au fleuve, à un endroit accessible, libre de rochers et à l'abri du vent. Et je raffermis mon esprit, et la nuit divine arriva. Puis, étant sorti du fleuve tombé de Zeus, je me couchai sous les arbustes, où j'amassai des feuilles, et un dieu m'envoya un profond sommeil. Là, bien qu'affligé dans mon cher coeur, je dormis toute la nuit jusqu'au matin et tout le jour. Et Hèlios tombait, et le doux sommeil me quitta. Et j'entendis les servantes de ta fille qui jouaient sur le rivage, et je la vis elle-même, au milieu de toutes, semblable aux immortelles. Je la suppliais, et elle montra une sagesse excellente bien supérieure à celle qu'on peut espérer d'une jeune fille, car la jeunesse, en effet, est toujours imprudente. Et elle me donna aussitôt de la nourriture et du vin rouge, et elle me fit baigner dans le fleuve, et elle me donna des vêtements. Je t'ai dit toute la vérité, malgré mon affliction.
Et Alkinoos, lui répondant, lui dit:
— Mon hôte, certes, ma fille n'a point agi convenablement, puisqu'elle ne t'a point conduit, avec ses servantes, dans ma demeure, car tu l'avais suppliée la première.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Héros, ne blâme point, à cause de moi, la jeune vierge irréprochable. Elle m'a ordonné de la suivre avec ses femmes, mais je ne l'ai point voulu, craignant de t'irriter si tu avais vu cela; car nous, race des hommes, sommes soupçonneux sur la terre.
Et Alkinoos, lui répondant, dit:
— Mon hôte, mon cher coeur n'a point coutume de s'irriter sans raison dans ma poitrine, et les choses équitables sont toujours les plus puissantes sur moi. Plaise au père Zeus, à Athènè, à Apollôn, que, tel que tu es, et sentant en toutes choses comme moi, tu veuilles rester, épouser ma fille, être appelé mon gendre! Je te donnerais une demeure et des biens, si tu voulais rester. Mais aucun des Phaiakiens ne te retiendra malgré toi, car ceci ne serait point agréable au père Zeus. Afin que tu le saches bien, demain je déciderai ton retour.
Jusque-là, dors, dompté par le sommeil; et mes hommes profiteront du temps paisible, afin que tu parviennes dans ta patrie et dans ta demeure, ou partout où il te plaira d'aller, même par-delà l'Euboiè, que ceux de notre peuple qui l'ont vue disent la plus lointaine des terres, quand ils y conduisirent le blond Rhadamanthos, pour visiter Tityos, le fils de Gaia. Ils y allèrent et en revinrent en un seul jour. Tu sauras par toi-même combien mes nefs et mes jeunes hommes sont habiles à frapper la mer de leurs avirons.
Il parla ainsi, et le subtil et divin Odysseus, plein de joie, fit cette supplication:
— Père Zeus! qu'il te plaise qu'Alkinoos accomplisse ce qu'il promet, et que sa gloire soit immortelle sur la terre féconde si je rentre dans ma patrie!
Et tandis qu'ils se parlaient ainsi, Arètè ordonna aux servantes aux bras blancs de dresser un lit sous le portique, d'y mettre plusieurs couvertures pourprées, et d'étendre par-dessus des tapis et des manteaux laineux. Et les servantes sortirent de la demeure en portant des torches flambantes; et elles dressèrent un beau lit à la hâte, et, s'approchant d'Odysseus, elles lui dirent:
— Lève-toi, notre hôte, et va dormir: ton lit est préparé.
Elles parlèrent ainsi, et il lui sembla doux de dormir. Et ainsi le divin et patient Odysseus s'endormit dans un lit profond, sous le portique sonore. Et Alkinoos dormait aussi au fond de sa haute demeure. Et, auprès de lui, la Reine, ayant préparé le lit, se coucha.
Quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, la force sacrée d'Alkinoos se leva de son lit, et le dévastateur de citadelles, le divin et subtil Odysseus se leva aussi; et la Force sacrée d'Alkinoos le conduisit à l'agora des Phaiakiens, auprès des nefs. Et, dès leur arrivée, ils s'assirent l'un près de l'autre sur des pierres polies. Et Pallas Athènè parcourait la ville, sous la figure d'un héraut prudent d'Alkinoos; et, méditant le retour du magnanime Odysseus, elle abordait chaque homme et lui disait:
— Princes et chefs des Phaiakiens, allez à l'agora, afin d'entendre l'étranger qui est arrivé récemment dans la demeure du sage Alkinoos, après avoir erré sur la mer. Il est semblable aux immortels.
Ayant parlé ainsi, elle excitait l'esprit de chacun, et bientôt l'agora et les sièges furent pleins d'hommes rassemblés; et ils admiraient le fils prudent de Laertès, car Athènè avait répandu une grâce divine sur sa tête et sur ses épaules, et l'avait rendu plus grand et plus majestueux, afin qu'il parût plus agréable, plus fier et plus vénérable aux Phaiakiens et qu'il accomplît toutes les choses par lesquelles ils voudraient l'éprouver. Et, après que tous se furent réunis, Alkinoos leur parla ainsi:
— Écoutez-moi, princes et chefs des Phaiakiens, afin que je dise ce que mon coeur m'inspire dans ma poitrine. Je ne sais qui est cet étranger errant qui est venu dans ma demeure, soit du milieu des hommes qui sont du côté d'Éôs, soit de ceux qui habitent du côté de Hespéros. Il nous demande d'aider à son prompt retour. Nous le reconduirons, comme cela est déjà arrivé pour d'autres; car aucun homme entré dans ma demeure n'a jamais pleuré longtemps ici, désirant son retour. Allons! tirons à la mer divine une nef noire et neuve, et que cinquante-deux jeunes hommes soient choisis dans le peuple parmi les meilleurs de tous. Liez donc à leurs bancs les avirons de la nef, et préparons promptement dans ma demeure un repas que je vous offre. Les jeunes hommes accompliront mes ordres, et vous tous, rois porteurs de sceptres, venez dans ma belle demeure, afin que nous honorions notre hôte dans la maison royale. Que nul ne refuse, et appelez le divin aoide Dèmodokos, car un dieu lui a donné le chant admirable qui charme, quand son âme le pousse à chanter.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il marcha devant, et les porteurs de sceptres le suivaient, et un héraut courut vers le divin aoide. Et cinquante-deux jeunes hommes, choisis dans le peuple, allèrent, comme Alkinoos l'avait ordonné, sur le rivage de la mer indomptée. Étant arrivés à la mer et à la nef, ils traînèrent la noire nef à la mer profonde, dressèrent le mât, préparèrent les voiles, lièrent les avirons avec des courroies, et, faisant tout comme il convenait, étendirent les blanches voiles et poussèrent la nef au large. Puis, ils se rendirent à la grande demeure du sage Alkinoos. Et le portique, et la salle, et la demeure étaient pleins d'hommes rassemblés, et les jeunes hommes et les vieillards étaient nombreux.
Et Alkinoos tua pour eux douze brebis, huit porcs aux blanches dents et deux boeufs aux pieds flexibles. Et ils les écorchèrent, et ils préparèrent le repas agréable.
Et le héraut vint, conduisant le divin aoide. La Muse l'aimait plus que tous, et elle lui avait donné de connaître le bien et le mal, et, l'ayant privé des yeux, elle lui avait accordé le chant admirable. Le héraut plaça pour lui, au milieu des convives, un thrône aux clous d'argent, appuyé contre une longue colonne; et, au-dessus de sa tête, il suspendit la kithare sonore, et il lui montra comment il pourrait la prendre. Puis, il dressa devant lui une belle table et il y mit une corbeille et une coupe de vin, afin qu'il bût autant de fois que son âme le voudrait. Et tous étendirent les mains vers les mets placés devant eux.
Après qu'ils eurent assouvi leur faim et leur soif, la Muse excita l'aoide à célébrer la gloire des hommes par un chant dont la renommée était parvenue jusqu'au large Ourancs. Et c'était la querelle d'Odysseus et du Pèléide Akhilleus, quand ils se querellèrent autrefois en paroles violentes dans un repas offert aux dieux. Et le roi des hommes, Agamemnôn, se réjouissait dans son âme parce que les premiers d'entre les Akhaiens se querellaient. En effet, la prédiction s'accomplissait que lui avait faite Phoibos Apollôn, quand, dans la divine Pythô, il avait passé le seuil de pierre pour interroger l'oracle; et alors se préparaient les maux des Troiens et des Danaens, par la volonté du grand Zeus.
Et l'illustre aoide chantait ces choses, mais Odysseus ayant saisi de ses mains robustes son grand manteau pourpré, l'attira sur sa tête et en couvrit sa belle face, et il avait honte de verser des larmes devant les Phaiakiens. Mais quand le divin aoide cessait de chanter, lui-même cessait de pleurer, et il écartait son manteau, et, prenant une coupe ronde, il faisait des libations aux dieux. Puis, quand les princes des Phaiakiens excitaient l'aoide à chanter de nouveau, car ils étaient charmés de ses paroles, de nouveau Odysseus pleurait, la tête cachée. Il se cachait de tous en versant des larmes; mais Alkinoos le vit, seul, étant assis auprès de lui, et il l'entendit gémir, et aussitôt il dit aux Phaiakiens habiles à manier les avirons:
— Écoutez-moi, princes et chefs des Phaiakiens. Déjà nous avons satisfait notre âme par ce repas et par les sons de la kithare qui sont la joie des repas. Maintenant, sortons, et livrons-nous à tous les jeux, afin que notre hôte raconte à ses amis, quand il sera retourné dans sa patrie, combien nous l'emportons sur les autres hommes au combat des poings, à la lutte, au saut et à la course.
Ayant ainsi parlé, il marcha le premier et tous le suivirent. Et le héraut suspendit la kithare sonore à la colonne, et, prenant Dèmodokos par la main, il le conduisit hors des demeures, par le même chemin qu'avaient pris les princes des Phaiakiens afin d'admirer les jeux. Et ils allèrent à l'agora, et une foule innombrable suivait. Puis, beaucoup de robustes jeunes hommes se levèrent, Akronéôs, Okyalos, Élatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, Ankhialos, Érethmeus, Ponteus, Prôteus, Thoôn, Anabèsinéôs, Amphialos, fils de Polinéos Tektonide, et Euryalos semblable au tueur d'hommes Arès, et Naubolidès qui l'emportait par la force et la beauté sur tous les Phaiakiens, après l'irréprochable Laodamas. Et les trois fils de l'irréprochable Alkinoos se levèrent aussi, Laodamas, Halios et le divin Klytonèos.
Et ils combattirent d'abord à la course, et ils s'élancèrent des barrières, et, tous ensemble, ils volaient rapidement, soulevant la poussière de la plaine. Mais celui qui les devançait de plus loin était l'irréprochable Klytonèos. Autant les mules qui achèvent un sillon ont franchi d'espace, autant il les précédait, les laissant en arrière, quand il revint devant le peuple. Et d'autres engagèrent le combat de la lutte, et dans ce combat Euryalos l'emporta sur les plus vigoureux. Et Amphialos fut vainqueur en sautant le mieux, et Élatreus fut le plus fort au disque, et Laodamas, l'illustre fils d'Alkinoos, au combat des poings. Mais, après qu'ils eurent charmé leur âme par ces combats, Laodamas, fils d'Alkinoos, parla ainsi:
— Allons, amis, demandons à notre hôte s'il sait aussi combattre. Certes, il ne semble point sans courage. Il a des cuisses et des bras et un cou très vigoureux, et il est encore jeune, bien qu'il ait été affaibli par beaucoup de malheurs; car je pense qu'il n'est rien de pire que la mer pour épuiser un homme, quelque vigoureux qu'il soit.
Et Euryalos lui répondit:
— Laodamas, tu as bien parlé. Maintenant, va, provoque-le, et rapporte-lui nos paroles.
Et l'illustre fils d'Alkinoos, ayant écouté ceci, s'arrêta au milieu de l'arène et dit à Odysseus:
— Allons, hôte, mon père, viens tenter nos jeux, si tu y es exercé comme il convient que tu le sois. Il n'y a point de plus grande gloire pour les hommes que celle d'être brave par les pieds et par les bras. Viens donc, et chasse la tristesse de ton âme. Ton retour n'en subira pas un long retard, car déjà ta nef est traînée à la mer et tes compagnons sont prêts à partir.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Laodamas, pourquoi me provoques-tu à combattre? Les douleurs remplissent mon âme plus que le désir des jeux. J'ai déjà subi beaucoup de maux et supporté beaucoup de travaux, et maintenant, assis dans votre agora, j'implore mon retour, priant le roi et tout le peuple.
Et Euryalos, lui répondant, l'outragea ouvertement:
— Tu parais, mon hôte, ignorer tous les jeux où s'exercent les hommes, et tu ressembles à un chef de matelots marchands qui, sur une nef de charge, n'a souci que de gain et de provisions, plutôt qu'à un athlète.
Et le subtil Odysseus, avec un sombre regard, lui dit:
— Mon hôte, tu n'as point parlé convenablement, et tu ressembles à un homme insolent. Les dieux ne dispensent point également leurs dons à tous les hommes, la beauté, la prudence ou l'éloquence. Souvent un homme n'a point de beauté, mais un dieu l'orne par la parole, et tous sont charmés devant lui, car il parle avec assurance et une douce modestie, et il domine l'agora, et, quand il marche par la ville, on le regarde comme un dieu. Un autre est semblable aux dieux par sa beauté, mais il ne lui a point été accordé de bien parler. Ainsi, tu es beau, et un dieu ne t'aurait point formé autrement, mais tu manques d'intelligence, et, comme tu as mal parlé, tu as irrité mon coeur dans ma chère poitrine. Je n'ignore point ces combats, ainsi que tu le dis. J'étais entre les premiers, quand je me confiais dans ma jeunesse et dans la vigueur de mes bras. Maintenant, je suis accablé de misères et de douleurs, ayant subi de nombreux combats parmi les hommes ou en traversant les flots dangereux. Mais, bien que j'aie beaucoup souffert, je tenterai ces jeux, car ta parole m'a mordu, et tu m'as irrité par ce discours.
Il parla ainsi, et, sans rejeter son manteau, s'élançant impétueusement, il saisit une pierre plus grande, plus épaisse, plus lourde que celle dont les Phaiakiens avaient coutume de se servir dans les jeux, et, l'ayant fait tourbillonner, il la jeta d'une main vigoureuse. Et la pierre rugit, et tous les Phaiakiens habiles à manier les avirons courbèrent la tête sous l'impétuosité de la pierre qui vola bien au delà des marques de tous les autres. Et Athènè accourut promptement, et, posant une marque, elle dit, ayant pris la figure d'un homme:
— Même un aveugle, mon hôte, pourrait reconnaître ta marque en la touchant, car elle n'est point mêlée à la foule des autres, mais elle est bien au delà. Aie donc confiance, car aucun des Phaiakiens n'atteindra là, loin de te dépasser.
Elle parla ainsi, et le patient et divin Odysseus fut joyeux, et il se réjouissait d'avoir dans l'agora un compagnon bienveillant. Et il dit avec plus de douceur aux Phaiakiens:
— Maintenant, jeunes hommes, atteignez cette pierre. Je pense que je vais bientôt en jeter une autre aussi loin, et même au delà. Mon âme et mon coeur m'excitent à tenter tous les autres combats. Que chacun de vous se fasse ce péril, car vous m'avez grandement irrité. Au ceste, à la lutte, à la course, je ne refuse aucun des Phaiakiens, sauf le seul Laodamas. Il est mon hôte. Qui pourrait combattre un ami? L'insensé seul et l'homme de nulle valeur le disputent à leur hôte dans les jeux, au milieu d'un peuple étranger, et ils s'avilissent ainsi. Mais je n'en récuse ni n'en repousse aucun autre. Je n'ignore aucun des combats qui se livrent parmi les hommes. Je sais surtout tendre un arc récemment poli, et le premier j'atteindrais un guerrier lançant des traits dans la foule des hommes ennemis, même quand de nombreux compagnons l'entoureraient et tendraient l'arc contre moi. Le seul Philoktètès l'emportait sur moi par son arc, chez le peuple des Troiens, toutes les fois que les Akhaiens lançaient des flèches. Mais je pense être maintenant le plus habile de tous les mortels qui se nourrissent de pain sur la terre. Certes, je ne voudrais point lutter contre les anciens héros, ni contre Héraklès, ni contre Eurytos l'Oikhalien, car ils luttaient, comme archers, même avec les dieux. Le grand Eurytos mourut tout jeune, et il ne vieillit point dans ses demeures. En effet, Apollôn irrité le tua, parce qu'il l'avait provoqué au combat de l'arc. Je lance la pique aussi bien qu'un autre lance une flèche. Seulement, je crains qu'un des Phaiakiens me surpasse à la course, ayant été affaibli par beaucoup de fatigues au milieu des flots, car je ne possédais pas une grande quantité de vivres dans ma nef, et mes chers genoux sont rompus.
Il parla ainsi, et tous restèrent muets, et le seul Alkinoos lui répondit:
— Mon hôte, tes paroles me plaisent. Ta force veut prouver la vertu qui te suit partout, étant irrité, car cet homme t'a défié; mais aucun n'oserait douter de ton courage, si du moins il n'a point perdu le jugement. Maintenant, comprends bien ce que je vais dire, afin que tu parles favorablement de nos héros quand tu prendras tes repas dans tes demeures, auprès de ta femme et de tes enfants, et que tu te souviennes de notre vertu et des travaux dans lesquels Zeus nous a donné d'exceller dès le temps de nos ancêtres. Nous ne sommes point les plus forts au ceste, ni des lutteurs irréprochables, mais nous courons rapidement et nous excellons sur les nefs. Les repas nous sont chers, et la kithare et les danses, et les vêtements renouvelés, les bains chauds et les lits. Allons! vous qui êtes les meilleurs danseurs Phaiakiens, dansez, afin que notre hôte, de retour dans sa demeure, dise à ses amis combien nous l'emportons sur tous les autres hommes dans la science de la mer, par la légèreté des pieds, à la danse et par le chant. Que quelqu'un apporte aussitôt à Dèmodokos sa kithare sonore qui est restée dans nos demeures.
Alkinoos semblable à un dieu parla ainsi, et un héraut se leva pour rapporter la kithare harmonieuse de la maison royale. Et les neuf chefs des jeux, élus par le sort, se levèrent, car c'étaient les régulateurs de chaque chose dans les jeux. Et ils aplanirent la place du choeur, et ils disposèrent un large espace. Et le héraut revint, apportant la kithare sonore à Dèmodokos; et celui- ci se mit au milieu, et autour de lui se tenaient les jeunes adolescents habiles à danser. Et ils frappaient de leurs pieds le choeur divin, et Odysseus admirait la rapidité de leurs pieds, et il s'en étonnait dans son âme.
Mais l'aoide commença de chanter admirablement l'amour d'Arès et d'Aphroditè à la belle couronne, et comment ils s'unirent dans la demeure de Hèphaistos. Arès fit de nombreux présents, et il déshonora le lit du roi Hèphaistos. Aussitôt Hèlios, qui les avait vus s'unir, vint l'annoncer à Hèphaistos, qui entendit là une cruelle parole. Puis, méditant profondément sa vengeance, il se hâta d'aller à sa forge, et, dressant une grande enclume, il forgea des liens qui ne pouvaient être ni rompus, ni dénoués. Ayant achevé cette trame pleine de ruse, il se rendit dans la chambre nuptiale où se trouvait son cher lit. Et il suspendit de tous côtés, en cercle, ces liens qui tombaient des poutres autour du lit comme les toiles de l'araignée, et que nul ne pouvait voir, pas même les dieux heureux. Ce fut ainsi qu'il ourdit sa ruse. Et, après avoir enveloppé le lit, il feignit d'aller à Lemnos, ville bien bâtie, celle de toutes qu'il aimait le mieux sur la terre. Arès au frein d'or le surveillait, et quand il vit partir l'illustre ouvrier Hèphaistos, il se hâta, dans son désir d'Aphroditè à la belle couronne, de se rendre à la demeure de l'illustre Hèphaistos. Et Aphroditè, revenant de voir son tout- puissant père Zeus, était assise. Et Arès entra dans la demeure, et il lui prit la main, et il lui dit:
— Allons, chère, dormir sur notre lit. Hèphaistos n'est plus ici; il est allé à Lemnos, chez les Sintiens au langage barbare.
Il parla ainsi, et il sembla doux à la déesse de lui céder, et ils montèrent sur le lit pour y dormir, et, aussitôt, les liens habilement disposés par le subtil Hèphaistos les enveloppèrent. Et ils ne pouvaient ni mouvoir leurs membres, ni se lever, et ils reconnurent alors qu'ils ne pouvaient fuir. Et l'illustre boiteux des deux pieds approcha, car il était revenu avant d'arriver à la terre de Lemnos, Hèlios ayant veillé pour lui et l'ayant averti.
Et il rentra dans sa demeure, affligé en sa chère poitrine. Il s'arrêta sous le vestibule, et une violente colère le saisit, et il cria horriblement, et il fit que tous les dieux l'entendirent:
— Père Zeus, et vous, dieux heureux qui vivez toujours, venez voir des choses honteuses et intolérables. Moi qui suis boiteux, la fille de Zeus, Aphroditè, me déshonore, et elle aime le pernicieux Arès parce qu'il est beau et qu'il ne boite pas. Si je suis laid, certes, je n'en suis pas cause, mais la faute en est à mon père et à ma mère qui n'auraient pas dû m'engendrer. Voyez comme ils sont couchés unis par l'amour. Certes, en les voyant sur ce lit, je suis plein de douleur, mais je ne pense pas qu'ils tentent d'y dormir encore, bien qu'ils s'aiment beaucoup; et ils ne pourront s'unir, et mon piège et mes liens les retiendront jusqu'à ce que son père m'ait rendu toute la dot que je lui ai livrée à cause de sa fille aux yeux de chien, parce qu'elle était belle.
Il parla ainsi, et tous les dieux se rassemblèrent dans la demeure d'airain. Poseidaôn qui entoure la terre vint, et le très utile Herméias vint aussi, puis le royal archer Apollôn. Les déesses, par pudeur, restèrent seules dans leurs demeures. Et les dieux qui dispensent les biens étaient debout dans le vestibule. Et un rire immense s'éleva parmi les dieux heureux quand ils virent l'ouvrage du prudent Hèphaistos; et, en le regardant, ils disaient entre eux:
— Les actions mauvaises ne valent pas la vertu. Le plus lent a atteint le rapide. Voici que Hèphaistos, bien que boiteux, a saisi, par sa science Arès, qui est le plus rapide de tous les dieux qui habitent l'Olympos, et c'est pourquoi il se fera payer une amende.
Ils se parlaient ainsi entre eux. Et le roi Apollôn, fils de Zeus, dit à Herméias:
— Messager Herméias, fils de Zeus, qui dispense les biens, certes, tu voudrais sans doute être enveloppé de ces liens indestructibles, afin de coucher dans ce lit, auprès d'Aphroditè d'or?
Et le messager Herméias lui répondit aussitôt:
— Plût aux dieux, ô royal archer Apollôn, que cela arrivât, et que je fusse enveloppé de liens trois fois plus inextricables, et que tous les dieux et les déesses le vissent, pourvu que je fusse couché auprès d'Aphroditè d'or!
Il parla, ainsi, et le rire des dieux immortels éclata. Mais Poseidaôn ne riait pas, et il suppliait l'illustre Hèphaistos de délivrer Arès, et il lui disait ces paroles ailées:
— Délivre-le, et je te promets qu'il te satisfera, ainsi que tu le désires, et comme il convient entre dieux immortels.
Et l'illustre ouvrier Hèphaistos lui répondit:
— Poseidaôn qui entoures la terre, ne me demande point cela. Les cautions des mauvais sont mauvaises. Comment pourrais-je te contraindre, parmi les dieux immortels, si Arès échappait à sa dette et à mes liens?
Et Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre lui répondit:
— Hèphaistos, si Arès, reniant sa dette, prend la fuite, je te la payerai moi-même.
Et l'illustre boiteux des deux pieds lui répondit:
— Il ne convient point que je refuse ta parole, et cela ne sera point.
Ayant ainsi parlé, la force de Hèphaistos rompit les liens. Et tous deux, libres des liens inextricables, s'envolèrent aussitôt, Arès dans la Thrèkè, et Aphroditè qui aime les sourires dans Kypros, à Paphos où sont ses bois sacrés et ses autels parfumés. Là, les Kharites la baignèrent et la parfumèrent d'une huile ambroisienne, comme il convient aux dieux immortels, et elles la revêtirent de vêtements précieux, admirables à voir.
Ainsi chantait l'illustre aoide, et, dans son esprit, Odysseus se réjouissait de l'entendre, ainsi que tous les Phaiakiens habiles à manier les longs avirons des nefs.
Et Alkinoos ordonna à Halios et à Laodamas de danser seuls, car nul ne pouvait lutter avec eux. Et ceux-ci prirent dans leurs mains une belle boule pourprée que le sage Polybos avait faite pour eux. Et l'un, courbé en arrière, la jetait vers les sombres nuées, et l'autre la recevait avant qu'elle eût touché la terre devant lui. Après avoir ainsi admirablement joué de la boule, ils dansèrent alternativement sur la terre féconde; et tous les jeunes hommes, debout dans l'agora, applaudirent, et un grand bruit s'éleva. Alors, le divin Odysseus dit à Alkinoos:
— Roi Alkinoos, le plus illustre de tout le peuple, certes, tu m'as annoncé les meilleurs danseurs, et cela est manifeste. L'admiration me saisit en les regardant.
Il parla ainsi, et la force sacrée d'Alkinoos fut remplie de joie, et il dit aussitôt aux Phaiakiens qui aiment les avirons:
— Écoutez, princes et chefs des Phaiakiens. Notre hôte me semble plein de sagesse. Allons! Il convient de lui offrir les dons hospitaliers. Douze rois illustres, douze princes, commandent ce peuple, et moi, je suis le treizième. Apportez-lui, chacun, un manteau bien lavé, une tunique et un talent d'or précieux. Et, aussitôt, nous apporterons tous ensemble ces présents, afin que notre hôte, les possédant, siège au repas, l'âme pleine de joie. Et Euryalos l'apaisera par ses paroles, puisqu'il n'a point parlé convenablement.
Il parla ainsi, et tous, ayant applaudi, ordonnèrent qu'on apportât les présents, et chacun envoya un héraut. Et Euryalos, répondant à Alkinoos, parla ainsi:
— Roi Alkinoos, le plus illustre de tout le peuple, j'apaiserai notre hôte, comme tu me l'ordonnes, et je lui donnerai cette épée d'airain, dont la poignée est d'argent et dont la gocine est d'ivoire récemment travaillé. Ce don sera digne de notre hôte.
En parlant ainsi, il mit l'épée aux clous d'argent entre les mains d'Odysseus, et il lui dit en paroles ailées:
— Salut, hôte, mon père! si j'ai dit une parole mauvaise, que les tempêtes l'emportent! Que les dieux t'accordent de retourner dans ta patrie et de revoir ta femme, car tu as longtemps souffert loin de tes amis.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Et toi, ami, je te salue. Que les dieux t'accordent tous les biens. Puisses-tu n'avoir jamais le regret de cette épée que tu me donnes en m'apaisant par tes paroles.
Il parla ainsi, et il suspendit l'épée aux clous d'argent autour de ses épaules. Puis, Hèlios tomba, et les splendides présents furent apportés, et les hérauts illustres les déposèrent dans la demeure d'Alkinoos; et les irréprochables fils d'Alkinoos, les ayant reçus, les placèrent devant leur mère vénérable. Et la force sacrée d'Alkinoos commanda aux Phaiakiens de venir dans sa demeure, et ils s'assirent sur des thrônes élevés, et la force d'Alkinoos dit à Arètè:
— Femme, apporte un beau coffre, le plus beau que tu aies, et tu y renfermeras un manteau bien lavé et une tunique. Qu'on mette un vase sur le feu, et que l'eau chauffe, afin que notre hôte, s'étant baigné, contemple les présents que lui ont apportés les irréprochables Phaiakiens, et qu'il se réjouisse du repas, en écoutant le chant de l'aoide. Et moi, je lui donnerai cette belle coupe d'or, afin qu'il se souvienne de moi tous les jours de sa vie, quand il fera, dans sa demeure, des libations à Zeus et aux autres dieux.
Il parla ainsi, et Arètè ordonna aux servantes de mettre promptement un grand vase sur le feu. Et elles mirent sur le feu ardent le grand vase pour le bain: et elles y versèrent de l'eau, et elles allumèrent le bois par-dessous. Et le feu enveloppa le vase à trois pieds, et l'eau chauffa.
Et, pendant ce temps, Arètè descendit, de sa chambre nuptiale, pour son hôte, un beau coffre, et elle y plaça les présents splendides, les vêtements et l'or que les Phaiakiens lui avaient donnés. Elle-même y déposa un manteau et une belle tunique, et elle dit à Odysseus ces paroles ailées:
— Vois toi-même ce couvercle, et ferme-le d'un noeud, afin que personne, en route, ne puisse te dérober quelque chose, car tu dormiras peut-être d'un doux sommeil dans la nef noire.
Ayant entendu cela, le patient et divin Odysseus ferma aussitôt le couvercle à l'aide d'un noeud inextricable que la vénérable Kirkè lui avait enseigné autrefois. Puis, l'intendante l'invita à se baigner, et il descendit dans la baignoire, et il sentit, plein de joie, l'eau chaude, car il y avait longtemps qu'il n'avait usé de ces soins, depuis qu'il avait quitté la demeure de Kalypsô aux beaux cheveux, où ils lui étaient toujours donnés comme à un dieu. Et les servantes, l'ayant baigné, le parfumèrent d'huile et le revêtirent d'une tunique et d'un beau manteau; et, sortant du bain, il revint au milieu des hommes buveurs de vin. Et Nausikaa, qui avait reçu des dieux la beauté, s'arrêta sur le seuil de la demeure bien construite, et, regardant Odysseus qu'elle admirait, elle lui dit ces paroles ailées:
— Salut, mon hôte! Plaise aux dieux, quand tu seras dans la terre de la patrie, que tu te souviennes de moi à qui tu dois la vie.
Et le subtil Odysseus lui répondit:
— Nausikaa, fille du magnanime Alkinoos, si, maintenant, Zeus, le retentissant époux de Hèrè, m'accorde de voir le jour du retour et de rentrer dans ma demeure, là, certes, comme à une déesse, je t'adresserai des voeux tous les jours de ma vie, car tu m'as sauvé, ô vierge!
Il parla ainsi, et il s'assit sur un thrône auprès du roi Alkinoos. Et les hommes faisaient les parts et mélangeaient le vin. Et un héraut vint, conduisant l'aoide harmonieux, Dèmodokos vénérable au peuple, et il le plaça au milieu des convives, appuyé contre une haute colonne. Alors Odysseus, coupant la plus forte part du dos d'un porc aux blanches dents, et qui était enveloppée de graisse, dit au héraut:
— Prends, héraut, et offre, afin, qu'il la mange, cette chair à Dèmodokos. Moi aussi je l'aime, quoique je sois affligé. Les aoides sont dignes d'honneur et de respect parmi tous les hommes terrestres, car la Muse leur a enseigné le chant, et elle aime la race des aoides.
Il parla ainsi, et le héraut déposa le mets aux mains du héros Dèmodokos, et celui-ci le reçut, plein de joie. Et tous étendirent les mains vers la nourriture placée devant eux. Et, après qu'ils se furent rassasiés de boire et de manger, le subtil Odysseus dit à Dèmodokos:
— Dèmodokos, je t'honore plus que tous les hommes mortels, soit que la Muse, fille de Zeus, t'ait instruit, soit Apollôn. Tu as admirablement chanté la destinée des Akhaiens, et tous les maux qu'ils ont endurés, et toutes les fatigues qu'ils ont subies, comme si toi-même avais été présent, ou comme si tu avais tout appris d'un Argien. Mais chante maintenant le cheval de bois qu'Épéios fit avec l'aide d'Athènè, et que le divin Odysseus conduisit par ses ruses dans la citadelle, tout rempli d'hommes qui renversèrent Ilios. Si tu me racontes exactement ces choses, je déclarerai à tous les hommes qu'un dieu t'a doué avec bienveillance du chant divin.
Il parla ainsi, et l'Aoide, inspiré par un Dieu, commença de chanter. Et il chanta d'abord comment les Argiens, étant montés sur les nefs aux bancs de rameurs, s'éloignèrent après avoir mis le feu aux tentes. Mais les autres Akhaiens étaient assis déjà auprès de l'illustre Odysseus, enfermés dans le cheval, au milieu de l'agora des Troiens. Et ceux-ci, eux-mêmes, avaient traîné le cheval dans leur citadelle. Et là, il se dressait, tandis qu'ils proféraient mille paroles, assis autour de lui. Et trois desseins leur plaisaient, ou de fendre ce bois creux avec l'airain tranchant, ou de le précipiter d'une hauteur sur les rochers, ou de le garder comme une vaste offrande aux dieux. Ce dernier dessein devait être accompli, car leur destinée était de périr, après que la ville eut reçu dans ses murs le grand cheval de bois où étaient assis les princes des Akhaiens, devant porter le meurtre et la kèr aux Troiens. Et Dèmodokos chanta comment les fils des Akhaiens, s'étant précipités du cheval, leur creuse embuscade, saccagèrent la ville. Puis, il chanta la dévastation de la ville escarpée, et Odysseus et le divin Ménélaos semblable à Arès assiégeant la demeure de Dèiphobos, et le très rude combat qui se livra en ce lieu, et comment ils vainquirent avec l'aide de la magnanime Athènè.
L'illustre aoide chantait ces choses, et Odysseus défaillait, et, sous ses paupières, il arrosait ses joues de larmes. De même qu'une femme entoure de ses bras et pleure son mari bien aimé tombé devant sa ville et son peuple, laissant une mauvaise destinée à sa ville et à ses enfants; et de même que, le voyant mort et encore palpitant, elle se jette sur lui en hurlant, tandis que les ennemis, lui frappant le dos et les épaules du bois de leurs lances, l'emmènent en servitude afin de subir le travail et la douleur, et que ses jours sont flétris par un très misérable désespoir; de même Odysseus versait des larmes amères sous ses paupières, en les cachant à tous les autres convives. Et le seul Alkinoos, étant assis auprès de lui, s'en aperçut, et il l'entendit gémir profondément, et aussitôt il dit aux Phaiakiens habiles dans la science de la mer:
— Écoutez, princes et chefs des Phaiakiens, et que Dèmodokos fasse taire sa kithare sonore. Ce qu'il chante ne plaît pas également à tous. Dès le moment où nous avons achevé le repas et où le divin aoide a commencé de chanter, notre hôte n'a point cessé d'être en proie à un deuil cruel, et la douleur a envahi son coeur. Que Dèmodokos cesse donc, afin que, nous et notre hôte, nous soyons tous également satisfaits. Ceci est de beaucoup le plus convenable. Nous avons préparé le retour de notre hôte vénérable et des présents amis que nous lui avons offerts parce que nous l'aimons. Un hôte, un suppliant, est un frère pour tout homme qui peut encore s'attendrir dans l'âme.
C'est pourquoi, étranger, ne me cache rien, par ruse, de tout ce que je vais te demander, car il est juste que tu parles sincèrement. Dis-moi comment se nommaient ta mère, ton père, ceux qui habitaient ta ville, et tes voisins. Personne, en effet, parmi les hommes, lâches ou illustres, n'a manqué de nom, depuis qu'il est né. Les parents qui nous ont engendrés nous en ont donné à tous. Dis-moi aussi ta terre natale, ton peuple et ta ville, afin que nos nefs qui pensent t'y conduisent; car elles n'ont point de pilotes, ni de gouvernails, comme les autres nefs, mais elles pensent comme les hommes, et elles connaissent les villes et les champs fertiles de tous les hommes, et elles traversent rapidement la mer, couvertes de brouillards et de nuées, sans jamais craindre d'être maltraitées ou de périr. Cependant j'ai entendu autrefois mon père Nausithoos dire que Poseidaôn s'irriterait contre nous, parce que nous reconduisons impunément tous les étrangers. Et il disait qu'une solide nef des Phaiakiens périrait au retour d'un voyage sur la mer sombre, et qu'une grande montagne serait suspendue devant notre ville. Ainsi parlait le vieillard. Peut- être ces choses s'accompliront-elles, peut-être n'arriveront-elles point. Ce sera comme il plaira au dieu.
Mais parle, et dis-nous dans quels lieux tu as erré, les pays que tu as vus, et les villes bien peuplées et les hommes, cruels et sauvages, ou justes et hospitaliers et dont l'esprit plaît aux dieux. Dis pourquoi tu pleures en écoutant la destinée des Argiens, des Danaens et d'Ilios! Les dieux eux-mêmes ont fait ces choses et voulu la mort de tant de guerriers, afin qu'on les chantât dans les jours futurs. Un de tes parents est-il mort devant Ilios? Était-ce ton gendre illustre ou ton beau-père, ceux qui nous sont le plus chers après notre propre sang? Est-ce encore un irréprochable compagnon? Un sage compagnon, en effet, n'est pas moins qu'un frère.
Et le subtil Odysseus, lui répondant, parla ainsi:
— Roi Alkinoos, le plus illustre de tout le peuple, il est doux d'écouter un aoide tel que celui-ci, semblable aux dieux par la voix. Je ne pense pas que rien soit plus agréable. La joie saisit tout ce peuple, et tes convives, assis en rang dans ta demeure, écoutent l'aoide. Et les tables sont chargées de pain et de chairs, et l'échanson, puisant le vin dans le kratère, en remplit les coupes et le distribue. Il m'est très doux, dans l'âme, de voir cela. Mais tu veux que je dise mes douleurs lamentables, et je n'en serai que plus affligé. Que dirai-je d'abord? Comment continuer? comment finir? car les dieux Ouraniens m'ont accablé de maux innombrables. Et maintenant je dirai d'abord mon nom, afin que vous le sachiez et me connaissiez, et, qu'ayant évité la cruelle mort, je sois votre hôte, bien qu'habitant une demeure lointaine.
Je suis Odysseus Laertiade, et tous les hommes me connaissent par mes ruses, et ma gloire est allée jusqu'à l'Ouranos. J'habite la très illustre Ithakè, où se trouve le mont Nèritos aux arbres battus des vents. Et plusieurs autres îles sont autour, et voisines, Doulikhios, et Samè, et Zakynthos couverte de forêts. Et Ithakè est la plus éloignée de la terre ferme et sort de la mer du côté de la nuit; mais les autres sont du côté d'Éôs et de Hèlios. Elle est âpre, mais bonne nourrice de jeunes hommes, et il n'est point d'autre terre qu'il me soit plus doux de contempler. Certes, la noble déesse Kalypsô m'a retenu dans ses grottes profondes, me désirant pour mari; et, de même, Kirkè, pleine de ruses, m'a retenu dans sa demeure, en l'île Aiaiè, me voulant aussi pour mari; mais elles n'ont point persuadé mon coeur dans ma poitrine, tant rien n'est plus doux que la patrie et les parents pour celui qui, loin des siens, habite même une riche demeure dans une terre étrangère. Mais je te raconterai le retour lamentable que me fit Zeus à mon départ de Troiè.
D'Ilios le vent me poussa chez les Kikônes, à Ismaros. Là, je dévastai la ville et j'en tuai les habitants; et les femmes et les abondantes dépouilles enlevées furent partagées, et nul ne partit privé par moi d'une part égale. Alors, j'ordonnai de fuir d'un pied rapide, mais les insensés n'obéirent pas. Et ils buvaient beaucoup de vin, et ils égorgeaient sur le rivage les brebis et les boeufs noirs aux pieds flexibles.
Et, pendant ce temps, des Kikônes fugitifs avaient appelé d'autres Kikônes, leurs voisins, qui habitaient l'intérieur des terres. Et ceux-ci étaient nombreux et braves, aussi habiles à combattre sur des chars qu'à pied, quand il le fallait. Et ils vinrent aussitôt, vers le matin, en aussi grand nombre que les feuilles et les fleurs printanières. Alors la mauvaise destinée de Zeus nous accabla, malheureux, afin que nous subissions mille maux. Et ils nous combattirent auprès de nos nefs rapides; et des deux côtés nous nous frappions de nos lances d'airain. Tant que dura le matin et que la lumière sacrée grandit, malgré leur multitude, le combat fut soutenu par nous; mais quand Hèlios marqua le moment de délier les boeufs, les Kikônes domptèrent les Akhaiens, et six de mes compagnons aux belles knèmides furent tués par nef, et les autres échappèrent à la mort et à la kèr.
Et nous naviguions loin de là, joyeux d'avoir évité la mort et tristes dans le coeur d'avoir perdu nos chers compagnons; et mes nefs armées d'avirons des deux côtés ne s'éloignèrent pas avant que nous eussions appelé trois fois chacun de nos compagnons tués sur la plage par les Kikônes. Et Zeus qui amasse les nuées souleva Boréas et une grande tempête, et il enveloppa de nuées la terre et la mer, et la nuit se rua de l'Ouranos.
Et les nefs étaient emportées hors de leur route, et la force du vent déchira les voiles en trois ou quatre morceaux; et, craignant la mort, nous les serrâmes dans les nefs. Et celles-ci, avec de grands efforts, furent tirées sur le rivage, où, pendant deux nuits et deux jours, nous restâmes gisants, accablés de fatigue et de douleur. Mais quand Éôs aux beaux cheveux amena le troisième jour, ayant dressé les mâts et déployé les blanches voiles, nous nous assîmes sur les bancs, et le vent et les pilotes nous conduisirent; et je serais arrivé sain et sauf dans la terre de la patrie, si la mer et le courant du cap Maléien et Boréas ne m'avaient porté par delà Kythèrè. Et nous fûmes entraînés, pendant neuf jours, par les vents contraires, sur la mer poissonneuse: mais, le dixième jour, nous abordâmes la terre des Lotophages qui se nourrissent d'une fleur. Là, étant montés sur le rivage, et ayant puisé de l'eau, mes compagnons prirent leur repas auprès des nefs rapides. Et, alors, je choisis deux de mes compagnons, et le troisième fut un héraut, et je les envoyai afin d'apprendre quels étaient les hommes qui vivaient sur cette terre.
Et ceux-là, étant partis, rencontrèrent les Lotophages, et les Lotophages ne leur firent aucun mal, mais ils leur offrirent le lotos à manger. Et dès qu'ils eurent mangé le doux lotos, ils ne songèrent plus ni à leur message, ni au retour; mais, pleins d'oubli, ils voulaient rester avec les Lotophages et manger du lotos. Et, les reconduisant aux nefs, malgré leurs larmes, je les attachai sous les bancs des nefs creuses; et j'ordonnai à mes chers compagnons de se hâter de monter dans nos nefs rapides, de peur qu'en mangeant le lotos, ils oubliassent le retour.
Et ils y montèrent, et, s'asseyant en ordre sur les bancs de rameurs, ils frappèrent de leurs avirons la blanche mer, et nous naviguâmes encore, tristes dans le coeur.
Et nous parvînmes à la terre des kyklopes orgueilleux et sans lois qui, confiants dans les dieux immortels, ne plantent point de leurs mains et ne labourent point. Mais, n'étant ni semées, ni cultivées, toutes les plantes croissent pour eux, le froment et l'orge, et les vignes qui leur donnent le vin de leurs grandes grappes que font croître les pluies de Zeus. Et les agoras ne leur sont point connues, ni les coutumes; et ils habitent le faîte des hautes montagnes, dans de profondes cavernes, et chacun d'eux gouverne sa femme et ses enfants, sans nul souci des autres.
Une petite île est devant le port de la terre des kyklopes, ni proche, ni éloignée. Elle est couverte de forêts où se multiplient les chèvres sauvages. Et la présence des hommes ne les a jamais effrayées, car les chasseurs qui supportent les douleurs dans les bois et les fatigues sur le sommet des montagnes ne parcourent point cette île. On n'y fait point paître de troupeaux et on n'y laboure point; mais elle n'est ni ensemencée ni labourée; elle manque d'habitants et elle ne nourrit que des chèvres bêlantes. En effet, les kyklopes n'ont point de nefs peintes en rouge, et ils n'ont point de onstructeurs de nefs à bancs de rameurs qui les portent vers les villes des hommes, comme ceux-ci traversent la mer les uns vers les autres, afin que, sur ces nefs, ils puissent venir habiter cette île. Mais celle-ci n'est pas stérile, et elle produirait toutes choses selon les saisons. Il y a de molles prairies arrosées sur le bord de la blanche mer, et des vignes y croîtraient abondamment, et cette terre donnerait facilement des moissons, car elle est très grasse. Son port est sûr, et on n'y a besoin ni de cordes, ni d'ancres jetées, ni de lier les câbles; et les marins peuvent y rester aussi longtemps que leur âme le désire et attendre le vent. Au fond du port, une source limpide coule sous une grotte, et l'aune croît autour.
C'est là que nous fûmes poussés, et un dieu nous y conduisit pendant une nuit obscure, car nous ne pouvions rien voir. Et un épais brouillard enveloppait les nefs, et Séléné ne luisait point dans l'Ouranos, étant couverte de nuages. Et aucun de nous ne vit l'île de ses yeux, ni les grandes lames qui roulaient vers le rivage, avant que nos nefs aux bancs de rameurs n'y eussent abordé. Alors nous serrâmes toutes les voiles et nous descendîmes sur le rivage de la mer, puis, nous étant endormis, nous attendîmes la divine Eôs.
Quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, admirant l'île, nous la parcourûmes. Et les nymphes, filles de Zeus tempétueux, firent lever les chèvres montagnardes, afin que mes compagnons pussent faire leur repas. Et, aussitôt, on retira des nefs les arcs recourbés et les lances à longues pointes d'airain, et, divisés en trois corps, nous lançâmes nos traits, et un dieu nous donna une chasse abondante. Douze nefs me suivaient, et à chacune le sort accorda neuf chèvres, et dix à la mienne. Ainsi, tout le jour, jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios, nous mangeâmes, assis, les chairs abondantes, et nous bûmes le vin rouge; mais il en restait encore dans les nombreuses amphores que nous avions enlevées de la citadelle sacrée des Kikônes. Et nous apercevions la fumée sur la terre prochaine des kyklopes, et nous entendions leur voix, et celle des brebis et des chèvres. Et quand Hèlios tomba, la nuit survint, et nous nous endormîmes sur le rivage de la mer. Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, ayant convoqué l'agora, je dis à tous mes compagnons:
— Restez ici, mes chers compagnons. Moi, avec ma nef et mes rameurs, j'irai voir quels sont ces hommes, s'ils sont injurieux, sauvages et injustes, ou s'ils sont hospitaliers et craignant les dieux.
Ayant ainsi parlé, je montai sur ma nef et j'ordonnai à mes compagnons d'y monter et de détacher le câble. Et ils montèrent, et, assis en ordre sur les bancs de rameurs, ils frappèrent la blanche mer de leurs avirons.
Quand nous fûmes parvenus à cette terre prochaine, nous vîmes, à son extrémité, une haute caverne ombragée de lauriers, près de la mer. Et là, reposaient de nombreux troupeaux de brebis et de chèvres. Auprès, il y avait un enclos pavé de pierres taillées et entouré de grands pins et de chênes aux feuillages élevés. Là habitait un homme géant qui, seul et loin de tous, menait paître ses troupeaux, et ne se mêlait point aux autres, mais vivait à l'écart, faisant le mal. Et c'était un monstre prodigieux, non semblable à un homme qui mange le pain, mais au faite boisé d'une haute montagne, qui se dresse, seul, au milieu des autres sommets.
Et alors j'ordonnai à mes chers compagnons de rester auprès de la nef et de la garder. Et j'en choisis douze des plus braves, et je partis, emportant une outre de peau de chèvre, pleine d'un doux vin noir que m'avait donné Maron, fils d'Euanthéos, sacrificateur d'Apollôn, et qui habitait Ismaros, parce que nous l'avions épargné avec sa femme et ses enfants, par respect. Et il habitait dans le bois sacré de Phoibos Apollôn: il me fit de beaux présents, car il me donna sept talents d'or bien travaillés, un kratère d'argent massif, et, dans douze amphores, un vin doux, pur et divin, qui n'était connu dans sa demeure ni de ses serviteurs, ni de ses servantes, mais de lui seul, de sa femme et de l'intendante. Toutes les fois qu'on buvait ce doux vin rouge, on y mêlait, pour une coupe pleine, vingt mesures d'eau, et son arôme parfumait encore le kratère, et il eût été dur de s'en abstenir. Et j'emportai une grande outre pleine de ce vin, et des vivres dans un sac, car mon âme courageuse m'excitait à m'approcher de cet homme géant, doué d'une grande force, sauvage, ne connaissant ni la justice ni les lois.
Et nous arrivâmes rapidement à son antre, sans l'y trouver, car il paissait ses troupeaux dans les gras pâturages; et nous entrâmes, admirant tout ce qu'on voyait là. Les claies étaient chargées de fromages, et les étables étaient pleines d'agneaux et de chevreaux, et ceux-ci étaient renfermés en ordre et séparés, les plus jeunes d'un côté, et les nouveau-nés de l'autre. Et tous les vases à traire étaient pleins, dans lesquels la crème flottait sur le petit lait. Et mes compagnons me suppliaient d'enlever les fromages et de retourner, en chassant rapidement vers la nef les agneaux et les chevreaux hors des étables, et de fuir sur l'eau salée. Et je ne le voulus point, et, certes, cela eût été le plus sage; mais je désirais voir cet homme, afin qu'il me fit les présents hospitaliers. Bientôt sa vue ne devait pas être agréable à mes compagnons.
Alors, ranimant le feu et mangeant les fromages, nous l'attendîmes, assis. Et il revint du pâturage, et il portait un vaste monceau de bois sec, afin de préparer son repas, et il le jeta à l'entrée de la caverne, avec retentissement. Et nous nous cachâmes, épouvantés, dans le fond de l'antre. Et il poussa dans la caverne large tous ceux de ses gras troupeaux qu'il devait traire, laissant dehors les mâles, béliers et boucs, dans le haut enclos. Puis, soulevant un énorme bloc de pierre, si lourd que vingt-deux chars solides, à quatre roues, n'auraient pu le remuer, il le mit en place. Telle était la pierre immense qu'il plaça contre la porte. Puis, s'asseyant, il commença de traire les brebis et les chèvres bêlantes, comme il convenait, et il mit les petits sous chacune d'elles. Et il fit cailler aussitôt la moitié du lait blanc qu'il déposa dans des corbeilles tressées, et il versa l'autre moitié dans les vases, afin de la boire en mangeant et qu'elle lui servît pendant son repas. Et quand il eut achevé tout ce travail à la hâte, il alluma le feu, nous aperçut et nous dit:
— Ô étrangers, qui êtes-vous? D'où venez-vous sur la mer? Est-ce pour un trafic, ou errez-vous sans but, comme des pirates qui vagabondent sur la mer, exposant leurs âmes au danger et portant les calamités aux autres hommes?
Il parla ainsi, et notre cher coeur fut épouvanté au son de la voix du monstre et à sa vue. Mais, lui répondant ainsi, je dis:
— Nous sommes des Akhaiens venus de Troiè, et nous errons entraînés par tous les vents sur les vastes flots de la mer, cherchant notre demeure par des routes et des chemins inconnus. Ainsi Zeus l'a voulu. Et nous nous glorifions d'être les guerriers de l'Atréide Agamemnôn, dont la gloire, certes, est la plus grande sous l'Ouranos. En effet, il a renversé une vaste ville et dompté des peuples nombreux. Et nous nous prosternons, en suppliants, à tes genoux, pour que tu nous sois hospitalier, et que tu nous fasses les présents qu'on a coutume de faire à des hôtes. Ô excellent, respecte les dieux, car nous sommes tes suppliants, et Zeus est le vengeur des suppliants et des étrangers dignes d'être reçus comme des hôtes vénérables.
Je parlai ainsi, et il me répondit avec un coeur farouche:
— Tu es insensé, ô étranger, et tu viens de loin, toi qui m'ordonnes de craindre les Dieux et de me soumettre à eux. Les kyklopes ne se soucient point de Zeus tempétueux, ni des dieux heureux, car nous sommes plus forts qu'eux. Pour éviter la colère de Zeus, je n'épargnerai ni toi, ni tes compagnons, à moins que mon âme ne me l'ordonne. Mais dis-moi où tu as laissé, pour venir ici, ta nef bien construite. Est-ce loin ou près? que je le sache.
Il parla ainsi, me tentant; mais il ne put me tromper, car je savais beaucoup de choses, et je lui répondis ces paroles rusées:
— Poseidaôn qui ébranle la terre a brisé ma nef poussée contre les rochers d'un promontoire à l'extrémité de votre terre, et le vent l'a jetée hors de la mer et, avec ceux-ci, j'ai échappé à la mort.
Je parlai ainsi, et, dans son coeur farouche, il ne me répondit rien; mais, en se ruant, il étendit les mains sur mes compagnons, et il en saisit deux et les écrasa contre terre comme des petits chiens. Et leur cervelle jaillit et coula sur la terre. Et, les coupant membre à membre, il prépara son repas. Et il les dévora comme un lion montagnard, et il ne laissa ni leurs entrailles, ni leurs chairs, ni leurs os pleins de moelle. Et nous, en gémissant, nous levions nos mains vers Zeus, en face de cette chose affreuse, et le désespoir envahit notre âme.
Quand le kyklôps eut empli son vaste ventre en mangeant les chairs humaines et en buvant du lait sans mesure, il s'endormit étendu au milieu de l'antre, parmi ses troupeaux. Et je voulus, dans mon coeur magnanime, tirant mon épée aiguë de la gaine et me jetant sur lui, le frapper à la poitrine, là où les entrailles entourent le foie; mais une autre pensée me retint. En effet, nous aurions péri de même d'une mort affreuse, car nous n'aurions pu mouvoir de nos mains le lourd rocher qu'il avait placé devant la haute entrée. C'est pourquoi nous attendîmes en gémissant la divine Éôs.
Quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, il alluma le feu et se mit à traire ses illustres troupeaux. Et il plaça les petits sous leurs mères. Puis, ayant achevé tout ce travail à la hâte, il saisit de nouveau deux de mes compagnons et prépara son repas. Et dès qu'il eut mangé, écartant sans peine la grande pierre, il poussa hors de l'antre ses gras troupeaux. Et il remit le rocher en place, comme le couvercle d'un carquois. Et il mena avec beaucoup de bruit ses gras troupeaux sur la montagne.
Et je restai, méditant une action terrible et cherchant comment je me vengerais et comment Athènè exaucerait mon voeu. Et ce dessein me sembla le meilleur dans mon esprit. La grande massue du kyklôps gisait au milieu de l'enclos, un olivier vert qu'il avait coupé afin de s'y appuyer quand il serait sec. Et ce tronc nous semblait tel qu'un mât de nef de charge à vingt avirons qui fend les vastes flots. Telles étaient sa longueur et son épaisseur. J'en coupai environ une brasse que je donnai à mes compagnons, leur ordonnant de l'équarrir. Et ils l'équarrirent, et je taillai le bout de l'épieu en pointe, et je le passai dans le feu ardent pour le durcir; puis je le cachai sous le fumier qui était abondamment répandu dans toute la caverne, et j'ordonnai à mes compagnons de tirer au sort ceux qui le soulèveraient avec moi pour l'enfoncer dans l'oeil du kyklôps quand le doux sommeil l'aurait saisi. Ils tirèrent au sort, qui marqua ceux mêmes que j'aurais voulu prendre. Et ils étaient quatre, et j'étais le cinquième, car ils m'avaient choisi.
Le soir, le kyklôps revint, ramenant ses troupeaux du pâturage; et, aussitôt, il les poussa tous dans la vaste caverne et il n'en laissa rien dans l'enclos, soit par défiance, soit qu'un dieu le voulût ainsi. Puis, il plaça l'énorme pierre devant l'entrée, et, s'étant assis, il se mit à traire les brebis et les chèvres bêlantes. Puis, il mit les petits sous leurs mères. Ayant achevé tout ce travail à la hâte, il saisit de nouveau deux de mes compagnons et prépara son repas. Alors, tenant dans mes mains une coupe de vin noir, je m'approchai du kyklôps et je lui dis:
— Kyklôps, prends et bois ce vin après avoir mangé des chairs humaines, afin de savoir quel breuvage renfermait notre nef. Je t'en rapporterais de nouveau, si, me prenant en pitié, tu me renvoyais dans ma demeure: mais tu es furieux comme on ne peut l'être davantage. Insensé! Comment un seul des hommes innombrables pourra-t-il t'approcher désormais, puisque tu manques d'équité?
Je parlai ainsi, et il prit et but plein de joie; puis, ayant bu le doux breuvage, il m'en demanda de nouveau:
— Donne-m'en encore, cher, et dis-moi promptement ton nom, afin que je te fasse un présent hospitalier dont tu te réjouisses. La terre féconde rapporte aussi aux kyklopes un vin généreux, et les pluies de Zeus font croître nos vignes; mais celui-ci est fait de nektar et d'ambroisie.
Il parla ainsi, et de nouveau je lui donnai ce vin ardent. Et je lui en offris trois fois, et trois fois il le but dans sa démence. Mais dès que le vin eut troublé son esprit, alors je lui parlai ainsi en paroles flatteuses:
— Kyklôps, tu me demandes mon nom illustre. Je te le dirai, et tu me feras le présent hospitalier que tu m'as promis. Mon nom est Personne. Mon père et ma mère et tous mes compagnons me nomment Personne.
Je parlai ainsi, et, dans son âme farouche, il me répondit:
— Je mangerai Personne après tous ses compagnons, tous les autres avant lui. Ceci sera le présent hospitalier que je te ferai.
Il parla ainsi, et il tomba à la renverse, et il gisait, courbant son cou monstrueux, et le sommeil qui dompte tout le saisit, et de sa gorge jaillirent le vin et des morceaux de chair humaine; et il vomissait ainsi, plein de vin. Aussitôt je mis l'épieu sous la cendre, pour l'échauffer; et je rassurai mes compagnons, afin qu'épouvantés, ils ne m'abandonnassent pas. Puis, comme l'épieu d'olivier, bien que vert, allait s'enflammer dans le feu, car il brûlait violemment, alors je le retirai du feu. Et mes compagnons étaient autour de moi, et un daimôn nous inspira un grand courage. Ayant saisi l'épieu d'olivier aigu par le bout, ils l'enfoncèrent dans l'oeil du kyklôps, et moi, appuyant dessus, je le tournais, comme un constructeur de nefs troue le bois avec une tarière, tandis que ses compagnons la fixent des deux côtés avec une courroie, et qu'elle tourne sans s'arrêter. Ainsi nous tournions l'épieu enflammé dans son oeil. Et le sang chaud en jaillissait, et la vapeur de la pupille ardente brûla ses paupières et son sourcil; et les racines de l'oeil frémissaient, comme lorsqu'un forgeron plonge une grande hache ou une doloire dans l'eau froide, et qu'elle crie, stridente, ce qui donne la force au fer. Ainsi son oeil faisait un bruit strident autour de l'épieu d'olivier. Et il hurla horriblement, et les rochers en retentirent. Et nous nous enfuîmes épouvantés. Et il arracha de son oeil l'épieu souillé de beaucoup de sang, et, plein de douleur, il le rejeta. Alors, à haute voix, il appela les kyklopes qui habitaient autour de lui les cavernes des promontoires battus des vents. Et, entendant sa voix, ils accoururent de tous côtés, et, debout autour de l'antre, ils lui demandaient pourquoi il se plaignait:
— Pourquoi, Polyphèmos, pousses-tu de telles clameurs dans la nuit divine et nous réveilles-tu? Souffres-tu? Quelque mortel a-t- il enlevé tes brebis? Quelqu'un veut-il te tuer par force ou par ruse?
Et le robuste Polyphèmos leur répondit du fond de son antre:
— Ô amis, qui me tue par ruse et non par force? Personne.
Et ils lui répondirent en paroles ailées:
— Certes, nul ne peut te faire violence, puisque tu es seul. On ne peut échapper aux maux qu'envoie le grand Zeus. Supplie ton père, le roi Poseidaôn.
Ils parlèrent ainsi et s'en allèrent. Et mon cher coeur rit, parce que mon nom les avait trompés, ainsi que ma ruse irréprochable.
Mais le kyklôps, gémissant et plein de douleurs, tâtant avec les mains, enleva le rocher de la porte, et, s'asseyant là, étendit les bras, afin de saisir ceux de nous qui voudraient sortir avec les brebis. Il pensait, certes, que j'étais insensé. Aussitôt, je songeai à ce qu'il y avait de mieux à faire pour sauver mes compagnons et moi-même de la mort. Et je méditai ces ruses et ce dessein, car il s'agissait de la vie, et un grand danger nous menaçait. Et ce dessein me parut le meilleur dans mon esprit.
Les mâles des brebis étaient forts et laineux, beaux et grands, et ils avaient une laine de couleur violette. Je les attachai par trois avec l'osier tordu sur lequel dormait le kyklôps monstrueux et féroce. Celui du milieu portait un homme, et les deux autres, de chaque côté, cachaient mes compagnons. Et il y avait un bélier, le plus grand de tous. J'embrassai son dos, suspendu sous son ventre, et je saisis fortement de mes mains sa laine très épaisse, dans un esprit patient. Et c'est ainsi qu'en gémissant nous attendîmes la divine Éôs.
Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, alors le kyklôps poussa les mâles des troupeaux au pâturage. Et les femelles bêlaient dans les étables, car il n'avait pu les traire et leurs mamelles étaient lourdes. Et lui, accablé de douleurs, tâtait le dos de tous les béliers qui passaient devant lui, et l'insensé ne s'apercevait point que mes compagnons étaient liés sous le ventre des béliers laineux. Et celui qui me portait dans sa laine épaisse, alourdi, sortit le dernier, tandis que je roulais mille pensées. Et le robuste Polyphèmos, le tâtant, lui dit:
— Bélier paresseux, pourquoi sors-tu le dernier de tous de mon antre? Auparavant, jamais tu ne restais derrière les autres, mais, le premier, tu paissais les tendres fleurs de l'herbe, et, le premier, marchant avec fierté, tu arrivais au cours des fleuves, et, le premier, le soir, tu rentrais à l'enclos. Maintenant, te voici le dernier. Regrettes-tu l'oeil de ton maître qu'un méchant homme a arraché, à l'aide de ses misérables compagnons, après m'avoir dompté l'âme par le vin, Personne, qui n'échappera pas, je pense, à la mort? Plût aux dieux que tu pusses entendre, parler, et me dire où il se dérobe à ma force! Aussitôt sa cervelle écrasée coulerait çà et là dans la caverne, et mon coeur se consolerait des maux que m'a faits ce misérable Personne!
Ayant ainsi parlé, il laissa sortir le bélier. À peine éloignés de peu d'espace de l'antre et de l'enclos, je quittai le premier le bélier et je détachai mes compagnons. Et nous poussâmes promptement hors de leur chemin les troupeaux chargés de graisse, jusqu'à ce que nous fussions arrivés à notre nef. Et nos chers compagnons nous revirent, nous du moins qui avions échappé à la mort, et ils nous regrettaient; aussi ils gémissaient, et ils pleuraient les autres. Mais, par un froncement de sourcils, je leur défendis de pleurer, et j'ordonnai de pousser promptement les troupeaux laineux dans la nef, et de fendre l'eau salée. Et aussitôt ils s'embarquèrent, et, s'asseyant en ordre sur les bancs de rameurs, ils frappèrent la blanche mer de leurs avirons. Mais quand nous fûmes éloignés de la distance où porte la voix, alors je dis au kyklôps ces paroles outrageantes:
— Kyklôps, tu n'as pas mangé dans ta caverne creuse, avec une grande violence, les compagnons d'un homme sans courage, et le châtiment devait te frapper, malheureux! toi qui n'as pas craint de manger tes hôtes dans ta demeure. C'est pourquoi Zeus et les autres dieux t'ont châtié.
Je parlai ainsi, et il entra aussitôt dans une plus violente fureur, et, arrachant la cime d'une grande montagne, il la lança. Et elle tomba devant notre nef à noire proue, et l'extrémité de la poupe manqua être brisée, et la mer nous inonda sous la chute de ce rocher qui la fit refluer vers le rivage, et le flot nous remporta jusqu'à toucher le bord. Mais, saisissant un long pieu, je repoussai la nef du rivage, et, d'un signe de tête, j'ordonnai à mes compagnons d'agiter les avirons afin d'échapper à la mort, et ils se courbèrent sur les avirons. Quand nous nous fûmes une seconde fois éloignés à la même distance, je voulus encore parler au kyklôps, et tous mes compagnons s'y opposaient par des paroles suppliantes:
— Malheureux! pourquoi veux-tu irriter cet homme sauvage? Déjà, en jetant ce rocher dans la mer, il a ramené notre nef contre terre, où, certes, nous devions périr; et s'il entend tes paroles ou le son de ta voix, il pourra briser nos têtes et notre nef sous un autre rocher qu'il lancera, tant sa force est grande.
Ils parlaient ainsi, mais ils ne persuadèrent point mon coeur magnanime, et je lui parlai de nouveau injurieusement:
— Kyklôps, si quelqu'un parmi les hommes mortels t'interroge sur la perte honteuse de ton oeil, dis-lui qu'il a été arraché par le dévastateur de citadelles Odysseus, fils de Laertès, et qui habite dans Ithakè.
Je parlai ainsi, et il me répondit en gémissant:
— Ô dieux! voici que les anciennes prédictions qu'on m'a faites se sont accomplies. Il y avait ici un excellent et grand divinateur, Tèlémos Eurymide, qui l'emportait sur tous dans la divination, et qui vieillit en prophétisant au milieu des kyklopes. Et il me dit que toutes ces choses s'accompliraient qui me sont arrivées, et que je serais privé de la vue par Odysseus. Et je pensais que ce serait un homme grand et beau qui viendrait ici, revêtu d'une immense force. Et c'est un homme de rien, petit et sans courage, qui m'a privé de mon oeil après m'avoir dompté avec du vin! Viens ici, Odysseus, afin que je te fasse les présents de l'hospitalité. Je demanderai à l'illustre qui ébranle la terre de te reconduire. Je suis son fils, et il se glorifie d'être mon père, et il me guérira, s'il le veut, et non quelque autre des dieux immortels ou des hommes mortels.
Il parla ainsi et je lui répondis:
— Plût aux dieux que je t'eusse arraché l'âme et la vie, et envoyé dans la demeure d'Aidès aussi sûrement que celui qui ébranle la terre ne guérira point ton oeil.
Je parlais ainsi, et, aussitôt, il supplia le roi Poseidaôn, en étendant les mains vers l'Ouranos étoilé:
— Entends-moi, Poseidaôn aux cheveux bleus, qui contiens la terre! Si je suis ton fils, et si tu te glorifies d'être mon père, fais que le dévastateur de citadelles, Odysseus, fils de Laertès, et qui habite dans Ithakè, ne retourne jamais dans sa patrie. Mais si sa destinée est de revoir ses amis et de rentrer dans sa demeure bien construite et dans la terre de sa patrie, qu'il n'y parvienne que tardivement, après avoir perdu tous ses compagnons, et sur une nef étrangère, et qu'il souffre encore en arrivant dans sa demeure!
Il pria ainsi, et l'illustre aux cheveux bleus l'entendit.
Puis, il souleva un plus lourd rocher, et, le faisant tourner, il le jeta avec une immense force. Et il tomba à l'arrière de la nef à proue bleue, manquant d'atteindre l'extrémité du gouvernail, et la mer se souleva sous le coup; mais le flot, cette fois, emporta la nef et la poussa vers l'île; et nous parvînmes bientôt là où étaient les autres nefs à bancs de rameurs. Et nos compagnons y étaient assis, pleurant et nous attendant toujours. Ayant abordé, nous tirâmes la nef sur le sable et nous descendîmes sur le rivage de la mer.
Et nous partageâmes les troupeaux du kyklôps, après les avoir retirés de la nef creuse, et nul ne fut privé d'une part égale. Et mes compagnons me donnèrent le bélier, outre ma part, et après le partage. Et, l'ayant sacrifié sur le rivage à Zeus Kronide qui amasse les noires nuées et qui commande à tous, je brûlai ses cuisses. Mais Zeus ne reçut point mon sacrifice; mais, plutôt, il songeait à perdre toutes mes nefs à bancs de rameurs et tous mes chers compagnons.
Et nous nous reposâmes là, tout le jour, jusqu'à la chute de Hèlios, mangeant les chairs abondantes et buvant le doux vin. Et quand Hèlios tomba et que les ombres survinrent, nous dormîmes sur le rivage de la mer.
Et quand Éôs aux doigts rosés, née au matin, apparut, je commandai à mes compagnons de s'embarquer et de détacher les câbles. Et, aussitôt, ils s'embarquèrent, et, s'asseyant en ordre sur les bancs, ils frappèrent la blanche mer de leurs avirons. Et, de là, nous naviguâmes, tristes dans le coeur, bien que joyeux d'avoir échappé à la mort, car nous avions perdu nos chers compagnons.
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* [[Chant 1|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 1]]
* [[Chant 2|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 2]]
* [[Chant 3|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 3]]
* [[Chant 4|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 4]]
* [[Chant 5|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 5]]
* [[Chant 6|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 6]]
* [[Chant 7|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 7]]
* [[Chant 8|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 8]]
* [[Chant 9|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 9]]
* [[Chant 10|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 10]]
* [[Chant 11|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 11]]
* [[Chant 12|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 12]]
* [[Chant 13|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 13]]
* [[Chant 14|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 14]]
* [[Chant 15|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 15]]
* [[Chant 16|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 16]]
* [[Chant 17|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 17]]
* [[Chant 18|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 18]]
* [[Chant 19|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 19]]
* [[Chant 20|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 20]]
* [[Chant 21|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 21]]
* [[Chant 22|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 22]]
* [[Chant 23|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 23]]
* [[Chant 24|Leconte de Lisle: Chant 24]]
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''Argument.''
''Minerva’s Descent to Ithaca.''
//The poem opens within forty eight days of the arrival of Ulysses in his dominions. He had now remained seven years in the Island of Calypso, when the gods assembled in council, proposed the method of his departure from thence and his return to his native country. For this purpose it is concluded to send Mercury to Calypso, and Pallas immediately descends to Ithaca. She holds a conference with Telemachus, in the shape of Mantes, king of Taphians; in which she advises him to take a journey in quest of his father Ulysses, to Pylos and Sparta, where Nestor and Menelaus yet reigned; then, after having visibly displayed her divinity, disappears. The suitors of Penelope make great entertainments, and riot in her palace till night. Phemius sings to them the return of the Grecians, till Penelope puts a stop to the song. Some words arise between the suitors and Telemachus, who summons the council to meet the day following.//
"""
The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d,
Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound;
Who, when his arms had wrought the destined fall
Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall,
Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray’d,
Their manners noted, and their states survey’d,
On stormy seas unnumber’d toils he bore,
Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore:
Vain toils! their impious folly dared to prey
On herds devoted to the god of day;
The god vindictive doom’d them never more
(Ah, men unbless’d!) to touch that natal shore.
Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate,
Celestial Muse! and to our world relate.
"""
"""
Now at their native realms the Greeks arrived;
All who the wars of ten long years survived;
And ‘scaped the perils of the gulfy main.
Ulysses, sole of all the victor train,
An exile from his dear paternal coast,
Deplored his absent queen and empire lost.
Calypso in her caves constrain’d his stay,
With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay;
In vain-for now the circling years disclose
The day predestined to reward his woes.
At length his Ithaca is given by fate,
Where yet new labours his arrival wait;
At length their rage the hostile powers restrain,
All but the ruthless monarch of the main.
But now the god, remote, a heavenly guest,
In AEthiopia graced the genial feast
(A race divided, whom with sloping rays
The rising and descending sun surveys);
There on the world’s extremest verge revered
With hecatombs and prayer in pomp preferr’d,
Distant he lay: while in the bright abodes
Of high Olympus, Jove convened the gods:
The assembly thus the sire supreme address’d,
AEgysthus’ fate revolving in his breast,
Whom young Orestes to the dreary coast
Of Pluto sent, a blood-polluted ghost.
"""
"""
“Perverse mankind! whose wills, created free,
Charge all their woes on absolute degree;
All to the dooming gods their guilt translate,
And follies are miscall’d the crimes of fate.
When to his lust AEgysthus gave the rein,
Did fate, or we, the adulterous act constrain?
Did fate, or we, when great Atrides died,
Urge the bold traitor to the regicide?
Hermes I sent, while yet his soul remain’d
Sincere from royal blood, and faith profaned;
To warn the wretch, that young Orestes, grown
To manly years, should re-assert the throne.
Yet, impotent of mind, and uncontroll’d,
He plunged into the gulf which Heaven foretold.”
"""
"""
Here paused the god; and pensive thus replies
Minerva, graceful with her azure eyes:
"""
"""
“O thou! from whom the whole creation springs,
The source of power on earth derived to kings!
His death was equal to the direful deed;
So may the man of blood be doomed to bleed!
But grief and rage alternate wound my breast
For brave Ulysses, still by fate oppress’d.
Amidst an isle, around whose rocky shore
The forests murmur, and the surges roar,
The blameless hero from his wish’d-for home
A goddess guards in her enchanted dome;
(Atlas her sire, to whose far-piercing eye
The wonders of the deep expanded lie;
The eternal columns which on earth he rears
End in the starry vault, and prop the spheres).
By his fair daughter is the chief confined,
Who soothes to dear delight his anxious mind;
Successless all her soft caresses prove,
To banish from his breast his country’s love;
To see the smoke from his loved palace rise,
While the dear isle in distant prospect lies,
With what contentment could he close his eyes!
And will Omnipotence neglect to save
The suffering virtue of the wise and brave?
Must he, whose altars on the Phrygian shore
With frequent rites, and pure, avow’d thy power,
Be doom’d the worst of human ills to prove,
Unbless’d, abandon’d to the wrath of Jove?”
"""
"""
“Daughter! what words have pass’d thy lips unweigh’d!
(Replied the Thunderer to the martial maid;)
Deem not unjustly by my doom oppress’d,
Of human race the wisest and the best.
Neptune, by prayer repentant rarely won,
Afflicts the chief, to avenge his giant son,
Whose visual orb Ulysses robb’d of light;
Great Polypheme, of more than mortal might?
Him young Thousa bore (the bright increase
Of Phorcys, dreaded in the sounds and seas);
Whom Neptune eyed with bloom of beauty bless’d,
And in his cave the yielding nymph compress’d
For this the god constrains the Greek to roam,
A hopeless exile from his native home,
From death alone exempt — but cease to mourn;
Let all combine to achieve his wish’d return;
Neptune atoned, his wrath shall now refrain,
Or thwart the synod of the gods in vain.”
"""
"""
“Father and king adored!” Minerva cried,
“Since all who in the Olympian bower reside
Now make the wandering Greek their public care,
Let Hermes to the Atlantic isle repair;
Bid him, arrived in bright Calypso’s court,
The sanction of the assembled powers report:
That wise Ulysses to his native land
Must speed, obedient to their high command.
Meantime Telemachus, the blooming heir
Of sea-girt Ithaca, demands my care;
’Tis mine to form his green, unpractised years
In sage debates; surrounded with his peers,
To save the state, and timely to restrain
The bold intrusion of the suitor-train;
Who crowd his palace, and with lawless power
His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour.
To distant Sparta, and the spacious waste
Of Sandy Pyle, the royal youth shall haste.
There, warm with filial love, the cause inquire
That from his realm retards his god-like sire;
Delivering early to the voice of fame
The promise of a green immortal name.”
"""
"""
She said: the sandals of celestial mould,
Fledged with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold,
Surround her feet: with these sublime she sails
The aerial space, and mounts the winged gales;
O’er earth and ocean wide prepared to soar,
Her dreaded arm a beamy javelin bore,
Ponderous and vast: which, when her fury burns,
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o’erturns.
From high Olympus prone her flight she bends,
And in the realms of Ithaca descends,
Her lineaments divine, the grave disguise
Of Mentes’ form conceal’d from human eyes
(Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian land);
A glittering spear waved awful in her hand.
There in the portal placed, the heaven-born maid
Enormous riot and misrule survey’d.
On hides of beeves, before the palace gate
(Sad spoils of luxury), the suitors sate.
With rival art, and ardour in their mien,
At chess they vie, to captivate the queen;
Divining of their loves. Attending nigh,
A menial train the flowing bowl supply.
Others, apart, the spacious hall prepare,
And form the costly feast with busy care.
There young Telemachus, his bloomy face
Glowing celestial sweet, with godlike grace
Amid the circle shines: but hope and fear
(Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear.
Now, imaged in his mind, he sees restored
In peace and joy the people’s rightful lord;
The proud oppressors fly the vengeful sword.
While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell’d,
The stranger guest the royal youth beheld;
Grieved that a visitant so long should wait
Unmark’d, unhonour’d, at a monarch’s gate;
Instant he flew with hospitable haste,
And the new friend with courteous air embraced.
“Stranger, whoe’er thou art, securely rest,
Affianced in my faith, a ready guest;
Approach the dome, the social banquet share,
And then the purpose of thy soul declare.”
"""
"""
Thus affable and mild, the prince precedes,
And to the dome the unknown celestial leads.
The spear receiving from the hand, he placed
Against a column, fair with sculpture graced;
Where seemly ranged in peaceful order stood
Ulysses’ arms now long disused to blood.
He led the goddess to the sovereign seat,
Her feet supported with a stool of state
(A purple carpet spread the pavement wide);
Then drew his seat, familiar, to her side;
Far from the suitor-train, a brutal crowd,
With insolence, and wine, elate and loud:
Where the free guest, unnoted, might relate,
If haply conscious, of his father’s fate.
The golden ewer a maid obsequious brings,
Replenish’d from the cool, translucent springs;
With copious water the bright vase supplies
A silver laver of capacious size;
They wash. The tables in fair order spread,
They heap the glittering canisters with bread:
Viands of various kinds allure the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast!
Delicious wines the attending herald brought;
The gold gave lustre to the purple draught.
Lured with the vapour of the fragrant feast,
In rush’d the suitors with voracious haste;
Marshall’d in order due, to each a sewer
Presents, to bathe his hands, a radiant ewer.
Luxurious then they feast. Observant round
Gay stripling youths the brimming goblets crown’d.
The rage of hunger quell’d, they all advance
And form to measured airs the mazy dance;
To Phemius was consign’d the chorded lyre,
Whose hand reluctant touch’d the warbling wire;
Phemius, whose voice divine could sweetest sing
High strains responsive to the vocal string.
"""
"""
Meanwhile, in whispers to his heavenly guest
His indignation thus the prince express’d:
"""
"""
“Indulge my rising grief, whilst these (my friend)
With song and dance the pompous revel end.
Light is the dance, and doubly sweet the lays,
When for the dear delight another pays.
His treasured stores those cormarants consume,
Whose bones, defrauded of a regal tomb
And common turf, lie naked on the plain,
Or doom’d to welter in the whelming main.
Should he return, that troop so blithe and bold,
With purple robes inwrought, and stiff with gold,
Precipitant in fear would wing their flight,
And curse their cumbrous pride’s unwieldy weight.
But ah, I dream!-the appointed hour is fled.
And hope, too long with vain delusion fed,
Deaf to the rumour of fallacious fame,
Gives to the roll of death his glorious name!
With venial freedom let me now demand
Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land;
Sincere from whence began thy course, recite,
And to what ship I owe the friendly freight?
Now first to me this visit dost thou deign,
Or number’d in my father’s social train?
All who deserved his choice he made his own,
And, curious much to know, he far was known.”
"""
"""
“My birth I boast (the blue-eyed virgin cries)
From great Anchialus, renown’d and wise;
Mentes my name; I rule the Taphian race,
Whose bounds the deep circumfluent waves embrace;
A duteous people, and industrious isle,
To naval arts inured, and stormy toil.
Freighted with iron from my native land,
I steer my voyage to the Brutian strand
To gain by commerce, for the labour’d mass,
A just proportion of refulgent brass.
Far from your capital my ship resides
At Reitorus, and secure at anchor rides;
Where waving groves on airy Neign grow,
Supremely tall and shade the deeps below.
Thence to revisit your imperial dome,
An old hereditary guest I come;
Your father’s friend. Laertes can relate
Our faith unspotted, and its early date;
Who, press’d with heart-corroding grief and years,
To the gay court a rural shed pretors,
Where, sole of all his train, a matron sage
Supports with homely fond his drooping age,
With feeble steps from marshalling his vines
Returning sad, when toilsome day declines.
"""
"""
“With friendly speed, induced by erring fame,
To hail Ulysses’ safe return I came;
But still the frown of some celestial power
With envious joy retards the blissful hour.
Let not your soul be sunk in sad despair;
He lives, he breathes this heavenly vital air,
Among a savage race, whose shelfy bounds
With ceaseless roar the foaming deep surrounds.
The thoughts which roll within my ravish’d breast,
To me, no seer, the inspiring gods suggest;
Nor skill’d nor studious, with prophetic eye
To judge the winged omens of the sky.
Yet hear this certain speech, nor deem it vain;
Though adamantine bonds the chief restrain,
The dire restraint his wisdom will defeat,
And soon restore him to his regal seat.
But generous youth! sincere and free declare,
Are you, of manly growth, his royal heir?
For sure Ulysses in your look appears,
The same his features, if the same his years.
Such was that face, on which I dwelt with joy
Ere Greece assembled stemm’d the tides to Troy;
But, parting then for that detested shore,
Our eyes, unhappy? never greeted more.”
"""
"""
“To prove a genuine birth (the prince replies)
On female truth assenting faith relies.
Thus manifest of right, I build my claim
Sure-founded on a fair maternal fame,
Ulysses’ son: but happier he, whom fate
Hath placed beneath the storms which toss the great!
Happier the son, whose hoary sire is bless’d
With humble affluence, and domestic rest!
Happier than I, to future empire born,
But doom’d a father’s wretch’d fate to mourn!”
"""
"""
To whom, with aspect mild, the guest divine:
“Oh true descendant of a sceptred line!
The gods a glorious fate from anguish free
To chaste Penelope’s increase decree.
But say, yon jovial troops so gaily dress’d,
Is this a bridal or a friendly feast?
Or from their deed I rightlier may divine,
Unseemly flown with insolence and wine?
Unwelcome revellers, whose lawless joy
Pains the sage ear, and hurts the sober eye.”
"""
"""
“Magnificence of old (the prince replied)
Beneath our roof with virtue could reside;
Unblamed abundance crowned the royal board,
What time this dome revered her prudent lord;
Who now (so Heaven decrees) is doom’d to mourn,
Bitter constraint, erroneous and forlorn.
Better the chief, on Ilion’s hostile plain,
Had fall’n surrounded with his warlike train;
Or safe return’d, the race of glory pass’d,
New to his friends’ embrace, and breathed his last!
Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes would raise,
Historic marbles to record his praise;
His praise, eternal on the faithful stone,
Had with transmissive honour graced his son.
Now snatch’d by harpies to the dreary coast.
Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost;
Vanish’d at once! unheard of, and unknown!
And I his heir in misery alone.
Nor for a dear lost father only flow
The filial tears, but woe succeeds to woe
To tempt the spouseless queen with amorous wiles
Resort the nobles from the neighbouring isles;
From Samos, circled with the Ionian main,
Dulichium, and Zacynthas’ sylvan reign;
Ev’n with presumptuous hope her bed to ascend,
The lords of Ithaca their right pretend.
She seems attentive to their pleaded vows,
Her heart detesting what her ear allows.
They, vain expectants of the bridal hour,
My stores in riotous expense devour.
In feast and dance the mirthful months employ,
And meditate my doom to crown their joy.”
"""
"""
With tender pity touch’d, the goddess cried:
“Soon may kind Heaven a sure relief provide,
Soon may your sire discharge the vengeance due,
And all your wrongs the proud oppressors rue!
Oh! in that portal should the chief appear,
Each hand tremendous with a brazen spear,
In radiant panoply his limbs incased
(For so of old my fathers court he graced,
When social mirth unbent his serious soul,
O’er the full banquet, and the sprightly bowl);
He then from Ephyre, the fair domain
Of Ilus, sprung from Jason’s royal strain,
Measured a length of seas, a toilsome length, in vain.
For, voyaging to learn the direful art
To taint with deadly drugs the barbed dart;
Observant of the gods, and sternly just,
Ilus refused to impart the baneful trust;
With friendlier zeal my father’s soul was fired,
The drugs he knew, and gave the boon desired.
Appear’d he now with such heroic port,
As then conspicuous at the Taphian court;
Soon should you boasters cease their haughty strife,
Or each atone his guilty love with life.
But of his wish’d return the care resign,
Be future vengeance to the powers divine.
My sentence hear: with stern distaste avow’d,
To their own districts drive the suitor-crowd;
When next the morning warms the purple east,
Convoke the peerage, and the gods attest;
The sorrows of your inmost soul relate;
And form sure plans to save the sinking state.
Should second love a pleasing flame inspire,
And the chaste queen connubial rights require;
Dismiss’d with honour, let her hence repair
To great Icarius, whose paternal care
Will guide her passion, and reward her choice
With wealthy dower, and bridal gifts of price.
Then let this dictate of my love prevail:
Instant, to foreign realms prepare to sail,
To learn your father’s fortunes; Fame may prove,
Or omen’d voice (the messenger of Jove),
Propitious to the search. Direct your toil
Through the wide ocean first to sandy Pyle;
Of Nestor, hoary sage, his doom demand:
Thence speed your voyage to the Spartan strand;
For young Atrides to the Achaian coast
Arrived the last of all the victor host.
If yet Ulysses views the light, forbear,
Till the fleet hours restore the circling year.
But if his soul hath wing’d the destined flight,
Inhabitant of deep disastrous night;
Homeward with pious speed repass the main,
To the pale shade funereal rites ordain,
Plant the fair column o’er the vacant grave,
A hero’s honours let the hero have.
With decent grief the royal dead deplored,
For the chaste queen select an equal lord.
Then let revenge your daring mind employ,
By fraud or force the suitor train destroy,
And starting into manhood, scorn the boy.
Hast thou not heard how young Orestes, fired
With great revenge, immortal praise acquired?
His virgin-sword AEgysthus’ veins imbrued;
The murderer fell, and blood atoned for blood.
O greatly bless’d with every blooming grace!
With equal steps the paths of glory trace;
Join to that royal youth’s your rival name,
And shine eternal in the sphere of fame.
But my associates now my stay deplore,
Impatient on the hoarse-resounding shore.
Thou, heedful of advice, secure proceed;
My praise the precept is, be thine the deed.
"""
"""
“The counsel of my friend (the youth rejoin’d)
Imprints conviction on my grateful mind.
So fathers speak (persuasive speech and mild)
Their sage experience to the favourite child.
But, since to part, for sweet refection due,
The genial viands let my train renew;
And the rich pledge of plighted faith receive,
Worthy the air of Ithaca to give.”
"""
"""
“Defer the promised boon (the goddess cries,
Celestial azure brightening in her eyes),
And let me now regain the Reithrian port;
From Temese return’d, your royal court
I shall revisit, and that pledge receive;
And gifts, memorial of our friendship, leave.”
"""
"""
Abrupt, with eagle-speed she cut the sky;
Instant invisible to mortal eye.
Then first he recognized the ethereal guest;
Wonder and joy alternate fire his breast;
Heroic thoughts, infused, his heart dilate;
Revolving much his father’s doubtful fate.
At length, composed, he join’d the suitor-throng;
Hush’d in attention to the warbled song.
His tender theme the charming lyrist chose.
Minerva’s anger, and the dreadful woes
Which voyaging from Troy the victors bore,
While storms vindictive intercept the store.
The shrilling airs the vaulted roof rebounds,
Reflecting to the queen the silver sounds.
With grief renew’d the weeping fair descends;
Their sovereign’s step a virgin train attends:
A veil, of richest texture wrought, she wears,
And silent to the joyous hall repairs.
There from the portal, with her mild command,
Thus gently checks the minstrel’s tuneful hand:
"""
"""
“Phemius! let acts of gods, and heroes old,
What ancient bards in hall and bower have told,
Attemper’d to the lyre, your voice employ;
Such the pleased ear will drink with silent joy.
But, oh! forbear that dear disastrous name,
To sorrow sacred, and secure of fame;
My bleeding bosom sickens at the sound,
And every piercing note inflicts a wound.”
"""
"""
“Why, dearest object of my duteous love,
(Replied the prince,) will you the bard reprove?
Oft, Jove’s ethereal rays (resistless fire)
The chanters soul and raptured song inspire
Instinct divine? nor blame severe his choice,
Warbling the Grecian woes with heart and voice;
For novel lays attract our ravish’d ears;
But old, the mind with inattention hears:
Patient permit the sadly pleasing strain;
Familiar now with grief, your tears refrain,
And in the public woe forget your own;
You weep not for a perish’d lord alone.
What Greeks new wandering in the Stygian gloom,
Wish your Ulysses shared an equal doom!
Your widow’d hours, apart, with female toil
And various labours of the loom beguile;
There rule, from palace-cares remote and free;
That care to man belongs, and most to me.”
"""
"""
Mature beyond his years, the queen admires
His sage reply, and with her train retires.
Then swelling sorrows burst their former bounds,
With echoing grief afresh the dome resounds;
Till Pallas, piteous of her plaintive cries,
In slumber closed her silver-streaming eyes.
"""
"""
Meantime, rekindled at the royal charms,
Tumultuous love each beating bosom warms;
Intemperate rage a wordy war began;
But bold Telemachus assumed the man.
“Instant (he cried) your female discord end,
Ye deedless boasters! and the song attend;
Obey that sweet compulsion, nor profane
With dissonance the smooth melodious strain.
Pacific now prolong the jovial feast;
But when the dawn reveals the rosy east,
I, to the peers assembled, shall propose
The firm resolve, I here in few disclose;
No longer live the cankers of my court;
All to your several states with speed resort;
Waste in wild riot what your land allows,
There ply the early feast, and late carouse.
But if, to honour lost, ’tis still decreed
For you my bowl shall flow, my flock shall bleed;
Judge and revenge my right, impartial Jove!
By him and all the immortal thrones above
(A sacred oath), each proud oppressor slain,
Shall with inglorious gore this marble stain.”
"""
"""
Awed by the prince, thus haughty, bold, and young,
Rage gnaw’d the lip, and wonder chain’d the tongue.
Silence at length the gay Antinous broke,
Constrain’d a smile, and thus ambiguous spoke:
“What god to your untutor’d youth affords
This headlong torrent of amazing words?
May Jove delay thy reign, and cumber late
So bright a genius with the toils of state!”
"""
"""
“Those toils (Telemachus serene replies)
Have charms, with all their weight, t’allure the wise.
Fast by the throne obsequious fame resides,
And wealth incessant rolls her golden tides.
Nor let Antinous rage, if strong desire
Of wealth and fame a youthful bosom fire:
Elect by Jove, his delegate of sway,
With joyous pride the summons I’d obey.
Whene’er Ulysses roams the realm of night,
Should factious power dispute my lineal right,
Some other Greeks a fairer claim may plead;
To your pretence their title would precede.
At least, the sceptre lost, I still should reign
Sole o’er my vassals, and domestic train.”
"""
"""
To this Eurymachus: “To Heaven alone
Refer the choice to fill the vacant throne.
Your patrimonial stores in peace possess;
Undoubted, all your filial claim confess:
Your private right should impious power invade,
The peers of Ithaca would arm in aid.
But say, that stranger guest who late withdrew,
What and from whence? his name and lineage shew.
His grave demeanour and majestic grace
Speak him descended of non vulgar race:
Did he some loan of ancient right require,
Or came forerunner of your sceptr’d sire?”
"""
"""
“Oh son of Polybus!” the prince replies,
“No more my sire will glad these longing eyes;
The queen’s fond hope inventive rumour cheers,
Or vain diviners’ dreams divert her fears.
That stranger-guest the Taphian realm obeys,
A realm defended with encircling seas.
Mentes, an ever-honour’d name, of old
High in Ulysses’ social list enroll’d.”
"""
"""
Thus he, though conscious of the ethereal guest,
Answer’d evasive of the sly request.
Meantime the lyre rejoins the sprightly lay;
Love-dittied airs, and dance, conclude the day
But when the star of eve with golden light
Adorn’d the matron brow of sable night,
The mirthful train dispersing quit the court,
And to their several domes to rest resort.
A towering structure to the palace join’d;
To this his steps the thoughtful prince inclined:
In his pavilion there, to sleep repairs;
The lighted torch, the sage Euryclea bears
(Daughter of Ops, the just Pisenor’s son,
For twenty beeves by great Laertes won;
In rosy prime with charms attractive graced,
Honour’d by him, a gentle lord and chaste,
With dear esteem: too wise, with jealous strife
To taint the joys of sweet connubial life.
Sole with Telemachus her service ends,
A child she nursed him, and a man attends).
Whilst to his couch himself the prince address’d,
The duteous dame received the purple vest;
The purple vest with decent care disposed,
The silver ring she pull’d, the door reclosed,
The bolt, obedient to the silken cord,
To the strong staple’s inmost depth restored,
Secured the valves. There, wrapped in silent shade,
Pensive, the rules the goddess gave he weigh’d;
Stretch’d on the downy fleece, no rest he knows,
And in his raptured soul the vision glows.
"""
''Argument.''
''Adventures with Aeolus, the Laestrygons, and Circe.''
//Ulysses arrives at the island of AEolus, who gives him prosperous winds, and incloses the adverse ones in a bag, which his companions untying, they are driven back again and rejected. Then they sail to the Laestrygons, where they lose eleven ships, and, with only one remaining, proceed to the island of Circe. Eurylochus is sent first with some companions, all which, except Eurylochus, are transformed into swine. Ulysses then undertakes the adventure, and, by the help of Mercury, who gives him the herb Moly, overcomes the enchantress, and procures the restoration of his men. After a year’s stay with her, he prepares, at her instigation, for his voyage to the infernal shades.//
"""
“AT length we reach’d AEolias’s sea-girt shore,
Where great Hippotades the sceptre bore,
A floating isle! high-raised by toil divine,
Strong walls of brass the rocky coast confine.
Six blooming youths, in private grandeur bred,
And six fair daughters, graced the royal bed;
These sons their sisters wed, and all remain
Their parents’ pride, and pleasure of their reign.
All day they feast, all day the bowls flow round,
And joy and music through the isle resound;
At night each pair on splendid carpets lay,
And crown’d with love the pleasures of the day.
This happy port affords our wandering fleet
A month’s reception, and a safe retreat.
Full oft the monarch urged me to relate
The fall of Ilion, and the Grecian fate;
Full oft I told: at length for parting moved;
The king with mighty gifts my suit approved.
The adverse winds in leathern bags he braced,
Compress’d their force, and lock’d each struggling blast.
For him the mighty sire of gods assign’d
The tempest’s lood, the tyrant of the wind;
His word alone the listening storms obey,
To smooth the deep, or swell the foamy sea.
These in my hollow ship the monarch hung,
Securely fetter’d by a silver thong:
But Zephyrus exempt, with friendly gales
He charged to fill, and guide the swelling sails:
Rare gift! but O, what gift to fools avails!
"""
"""
“Nine prosperous days we plied the labouring oar;
The tenth presents our welcome native shore:
The hills display the beacon’s friendly light,
And rising mountains gain upon our sight.
Then first my eyes, by watchful toils oppress’d,
Complied to take the balmy gifts of rest:
Then first my hands did from the rudder part
(So much the love of home possess’d my heart):
When lo! on board a fond debate arose;
What rare device those vessels might inclose?
What sum, what prize from AEolus I brought?
Whilst to his neighbour each express’d his thought:
"""
"""
“‘Say, whence ye gods, contending nations strive
Who most shall please, who most our hero give?
Long have his coffers groan’d with Trojan spoils:
Whilst we, the wretched partners of his toils,
Reproach’d by want, our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.
Now AEolus, ye see, augments his store:
But come, my friends, these mystic gifts explore,’
They said: and (oh cursed fate!) the thongs unbound!
The gushing tempest sweeps the ocean round;
Snatch’d in the whirl, the hurried navy flew,
The ocean widen’d and the shores withdrew.
Roused from my fatal sleep I long debate
If still to live, or desperate plunge to fate;
Thus doubting, prostrate on the deck I lay,
Till all the coward thoughts of death gave way.
"""
"""
“Meanwhile our vessels plough the liquid plain,
And soon the known AEolian coast regain;
Our groan the rocks remurmur’d to the main.
We leap’d on shore, and with a scanty feast
Our thirst and hunger hastily repress’d;
That done, two chosen heralds straight attend
Our second progress to my royal friend;
And him amidst his jovial sons we found;
The banquet steaming, and the goblets crown’d;
There humbly stoop’d with conscious shame and awe,
Nor nearer than the gate presumed to draw.
But soon his sons their well-known guest descried,
And starting from their couches loudly cried:
‘Ulysses here! what demon could’st thou meet
To thwart thy passage, and repel thy fleet?
Wast thou not furnish’d by our choicest care
For Greece, for home and all thy soul held dear?’
Thus they, In silence long my fate I mourn’d;
At length these words with accents low return’d:
‘Me, lock’d in sleep, my faithless crew bereft
Of all the blessing of your godlike gift!
But grant, oh grant, our loss we may retrieve;
A favour you, and you alone can give.’
"""
"""
“Thus I with art to move their pity tried,
And touch’d the youths; but their stern sire replied:
‘Vile wretch, begone! this instant I command
Thy fleet accursed to leave our hallow’d land.
His baneful suit pollutes these bless’d abodes,
Whose fate proclaims him hateful to the gods.’
"""
"""
“Thus fierce he said: we sighing went our way,
And with desponding hearts put off to sea.
The sailors spent with toils their folly mourn,
But mourn in vain; no prospect of return
Six days and nights a doubtful course we steer,
The next proud Lamos’ stately towers appear,
And Laestrygonia’s gates arise distinct in air.
The shepherd, quitting here at night the plain,
Calls, to succeed his cares, the watchful swain;
But he that scorns the chains of sleep to wear,
And adds the herdsman’s to the shepherd’s care,
So near the pastures, and so short the way,
His double toils may claim a double pay,
And join the labours of the night and day.
"""
"""
“Within a long recess a bay there lies,
Edged round with cliffs high pointing to the skies;
The jutting shores that swell on either side
Contract its mouth, and break the rushing tide.
Our eager sailors seize the fair retreat,
And bound within the port their crowded fleet:
For here retired the sinking billows sleep,
And smiling calmness silver’d o’er the deep.
I only in the bay refused to moor,
And fix’d without, my halsers to the shore.
"""
"""
“From thence we climb’d a point, whose airy brow
Commands the prospect of the plains below;
No tracks of beasts, or signs of men, we found,
But smoky volumes rolling from the ground.
Two with our herald thither we command,
With speed to learn what men possess’d the land.
They went, and kept the wheel’s smooth-beaten road
Which to the city drew the mountain wood;
When lo! they met, beside a crystal spring,
The daughter of Antiphates the king;
She to Artacia’s silver streams came down;
(Artacia’s streams alone supply the town);
The damsel they approach, and ask’d what race
The people were? who monarch of the place?
With joy the maid the unwary strangers heard
And show’d them where the royal dome appear’d.
They went; but as they entering saw the queen
Of size enormous, and terrific mien
(Not yielding to some bulky mountain’s height),
A sudden horror struck their aching sight.
Swift at her call her husband scour’d away
To wreak his hunger on the destined prey;
One for his food the raging glutton slew,
But two rush’d out, and to the navy flew.
"""
"""
“Balk’d of his prey, the yelling monster flies,
And fills the city with his hideous cries;
A ghastly band of giants hear the roar,
And, pouring down the mountains, crowd the shore.
Fragments they rend from off the craggy brow
And dash the ruins on the ships below;
The crackling vessels burst; hoarse groans arise,
And mingled horrors echo to the skies;
The men like fish, they struck upon the flood,
And cramm’d their filthy throats with human food.
Whilst thus their fury rages at the bay,
My sword our cables cut, I call’d to weigh;
And charged my men, as they from fate would fly,
Each nerve to strain, each bending oar to ply.
The sailors catch the word, their oars they seize,
And sweep with equal strokes the smoky seas;
Clear of the rocks the impatient vessel flies;
Whilst in the port each wretch encumber’d dies.
With earnest haste my frighted sailors press,
While kindling transports glow’d at our success;
But the sad fate that did our friends destroy,
Cool’d every breast, and damp’d the rising joy.
"""
"""
“Now dropp’d our anchors in the Aeaean bay,
Where Circe dwelt, the daughter of the Day!
Her mother Perse, of old Ocean’s strain,
Thus from the Lun descended, and the Main
(From the same lineage stern Aeaetes came,
The far-famed brother of the enchantress dame);
Goddess, the queen, to whom the powers belong
Of dreadful magic and commanding song.
Some god directing to this peaceful bay
Silent we came, and melancholy lay,
Spent and o’erwatch’d. Two days and nights roll’d on,
And now the third succeeding morning shone.
I climb’d a cliff, with spear and sword in hand,
Whose ridge o’erlook’d a shady length of land;
To learn if aught of mortal works appear,
Or cheerful voice of mortal strike the ear?
From the high point I mark’d, in distant view,
A stream of curling smoke ascending blue,
And spiry tops, the tufted trees above,
Of Circe’s palace bosom’d in the grove.
"""
"""
“Thither to haste, the region to explore,
Was first my thought: but speeding back to shore
I deem’d it best to visit first my crew,
And send our spies the dubious coast to view.
As down the hill I solitary go,
Some power divine, who pities human woe,
Sent a tall stag, descending from the wood,
To cool his fervour in the crystal flood;
Luxuriant on the wave-worn bank he lay,
Stretch’d forth and panting in the sunny ray.
I launch’d my spear, and with a sudden wound
Transpierced his back, and fix’d him to the ground.
He falls, and mourns his fate with human cries:
Through the wide wound the vital spirit flies.
I drew, and casting on the river’s side
The bloody spear, his gather’d feet I tied
With twining osiers which the bank supplied.
An ell in length the pliant wisp I weaved,
And the huge body on my shoulders heaved:
Then leaning on my spear with both my hands,
Upbore my load, and press’d the sinking sands
With weighty steps, till at the ship I threw
The welcome burden, and bespoke my crew:
"""
"""
“‘Cheer up, my friends! it is not yet our fate
To glide with ghosts through Pluto’s gloomy gate.
Food in the desert land, behold! is given!
Live, and enjoy the providence of heaven.’
"""
"""
“The joyful crew survey his mighty size,
And on the future banquet feast their eyes,
As huge in length extended lay the beast;
Then wash their hands, and hasten to the feast.
There, till the setting sun roll’d down the light,
They sate indulging in the genial rite.
When evening rose, and darkness cover’d o’er
The face of things, we slept along the shore.
But when the rosy morning warm’d the east,
My men I summon’d, and these words address’d:
“‘Followers and friends, attend what I propose:
Ye sad companions of Ulysses’ woes!
We know not here what land before us lies,
Or to what quarter now we turn our eyes,
Or where the sun shall set, or where shall rise.
Here let us think (if thinking be not vain)
If any counsel, any hope remain.
Alas! from yonder promontory’s brow
I view’d the coast, a region flat and low;
An isle encircled with the boundless flood;
A length of thickets, and entangled wood.
Some smoke I saw amid the forest rise,
And all around it only seas and skies!’
"""
"""
“With broken hearts my sad companions stood,
Mindful of Cyclops and his human food,
And horrid Laestrygons, the men of blood.
Presaging tears apace began to rain;
But tears in mortal miseries are vain.
In equal parts I straight divide my band,
And name a chief each party to command;
I led the one, and of the other side
Appointed brave Eurylochus the guide.
Then in the brazen helm the lots we throw,
And fortune casts Eurylochus to go;
He march’d with twice eleven in his train;
Pensive they march, and pensive we remain.
"""
"""
“The palace in a woody vale they found,
High raised of stone; a shaded space around;
Where mountain wolves and brindled lions roam,
(By magic tamed,) familiar to the dome.
With gentle blandishment our men they meet,
And wag their tails, and fawning lick their feet.
As from some feast a man returning late,
His faithful dogs all meet him at the gate,
Rejoicing round, some morsel to receive,
(Such as the good man ever used to give,)
Domestic thus the grisly beasts drew near;
They gaze with wonder not unmix’d with fear.
Now on the threshold of the dome they stood,
And heard a voice resounding through the wood:
Placed at her loom within, the goddess sung;
The vaulted roofs and solid pavement rung.
O’er the fair web the rising figures shine,
Immortal labour! worthy hands divine.
Polites to the rest the question moved
(A gallant leader, and a man I loved):
"""
"""
“‘What voice celestial, chanting to the loom
(Or nymph, or goddess), echoes from the room?
Say, shall we seek access?’ With that they call;
And wide unfold the portals of the hall.
"""
"""
“The goddess, rising, asks her guests to stay,
Who blindly follow where she leads the way.
Eurylochus alone of all the band,
Suspecting fraud, more prudently remain’d.
On thrones around with downy coverings graced,
With semblance fair, the unhappy men she placed.
Milk newly press’d, the sacred flour of wheat,
And honey fresh, and Pramnian wines the treat:
But venom’d was the bread, and mix’d the bowl,
With drugs of force to darken all the soul:
Soon in the luscious feast themselves they lost,
And drank oblivion of their native coast.
Instant her circling wand the goddess waves,
To hogs transforms them, and the sty receives.
No more was seen the human form divine;
Head, face, and members, bristle into swine:
Still cursed with sense, their minds remain alone,
And their own voice affrights them when they groan.
Meanwhile the goddess in disdain bestows
The mast and acorn, brutal food! and strows
The fruits and cornel, as their feast, around;
Now prone and grovelling on unsavoury ground.
"""
"""
“Eurylochus, with pensive steps and slow.
Aghast returns; the messenger of woe,
And bitter fate. To speak he made essay,
In vain essay’d, nor would his tongue obey.
His swelling heart denied the words their way:
But speaking tears the want of words supply,
And the full soul bursts copious from his eye.
Affrighted, anxious for our fellows’ fates,
We press to hear what sadly he relates:
"""
"""
“We went, Ulysses! (such was thy command)
Through the lone thicket and the desert land.
A palace in a woody vale we found
Brown with dark forests, and with shades around.
A voice celestial echoed through the dome,
Or nymph or goddess, chanting to the loom.
Access we sought, nor was access denied:
Radiant she came: the portals open’d wide:
The goddess mild invites the guests to stay:
They blindly follow where she leads the way.
I only wait behind of all the train:
I waited long, and eyed the doors in vain:
The rest are vanish’d, none repass’d the gate,
And not a man appears to tell their fate.’
"""
"""
“I heard, and instant o’er my shoulder flung
The belt in which my weighty falchion hung
(A beamy blade): then seized the bended bow,
And bade him guide the way, resolved to go.
He, prostrate falling, with both hands embraced
My knees, and weeping thus his suit address’d:
"""
"""
“‘O king, beloved of Jove, thy servant spare,
And ah, thyself the rash attempt forbear!
Never, alas! thou never shalt return,
Or see the wretched for whose loss we mourn.
With what remains from certain ruin fly,
And save the few not fated yet to die.’
"""
"""
“I answer’d stern: ‘Inglorious then remain,
Here feast and loiter, and desert thy train.
Alone, unfriended, will I tempt my way;
The laws of fate compel, and I obey.’
This said, and scornful turning from the shore
My haughty step, I stalk’d the valley o’er.
Till now approaching nigh the magic bower,
Where dwelt the enchantress skill’d in herbs of power,
A form divine forth issued from the wood
(Immortal Hermes with the golden rod)
In human semblance. On his bloomy face
Youth smiled celestial, with each opening grace.
He seized my hand, and gracious thus began:
‘Ah whither roam’st thou, much-enduring man?
O blind to fate! what led thy steps to rove
The horrid mazes of this magic grove?
Each friend you seek in yon enclosure lies,
All lost their form, and habitants of sties.
Think’st thou by wit to model their escape?
Sooner shalt thou, a stranger to thy shape,
Fall prone their equal: first thy danger know,
Then take the antidote the gods bestow.
The plant I give through all the direful bower
Shall guard thee, and avert the evil hour.
Now hear her wicked arts: Before thy eyes
The bowl shall sparkle, and the banquet rise;
Take this, nor from the faithless feast abstain,
For temper’d drugs and poison shall be vain.
Soon as she strikes her wand, and gives the word,
Draw forth and brandish thy refulgent sword,
And menace death: those menaces shall move
Her alter’d mind to blandishment and love.
Nor shun the blessing proffer’d to thy arms,
Ascend her bed, and taste celestial charms;
So shall thy tedious toils a respite find,
And thy lost friends return to human kind.
But swear her first by those dread oaths that tie
The powers below, the blessed in the sky;
Lest to thee naked secret fraud be meant,
Or magic bind thee cold and impotent.
"""
"""
“Thus while he spoke, the sovereign plant he drew
Where on the all-bearing earth unmark’d it grew,
And show’d its nature and its wondrous power:
Black was the root, but milky white the flower;
Moly the name, to mortals hard to find,
But all is easy to the ethereal kind.
This Hermes gave, then, gliding off the glade,
Shot to Olympus from the woodland shade.
While, full of thought, revolving fates to come,
I speed my passage to the enchanted dome.
Arrived, before the lofty gates I stay’d;
The lofty gates the goddess wide display’d;
She leads before, and to the feast invites;
I follow sadly to the magic rites.
Radiant with starry studs, a silver seat
Received my limbs: a footstool eased my feet,
She mix’d the potion, fraudulent of soul;
The poison mantled in the golden bowl.
I took, and quaff’d it, confident in heaven.
Then waved the wand, and then the word was given.
‘Hence to thy fellows! (dreadful she began:)
Go, be a beast!’— I heard, and yet was man.
"""
"""
“Then, sudden whirling, like a waving flame,
My beamy falchion, I assault the dame.
Struck with unusual fear, she trembling cries,
She faints, she falls; she lifts her weeping eyes.
"""
"""
“‘What art thou? say! from whence, from whom you came?
O more than human! tell thy race, thy name.
Amazing strength, these poisons to sustain!
Not mortal thou, nor mortal is thy brain.
Or art thou he, the man to come (foretold
By Hermes, powerful with the wand of gold),
The man from Troy, who wander’d ocean round;
The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d,
Ulysses? Oh! thy threatening fury cease;
Sheathe thy bright sword, and join our hands in peace!
Let mutual joys our mutual trust combine,
And love, and love-born confidence, be thine.’
"""
"""
“‘And how, dread Circe! (furious I rejoin)
Can love, and love-born confidence, be mine,
Beneath thy charms when my companions groan,
Transform’d to beasts, with accents not their own?
O thou of fraudful heart, shall I be led
To share thy feast-rites, or ascend thy bed;
That, all unarm’d, thy vengeance may have vent,
And magic bind me, cold and impotent?
Celestial as thou art, yet stand denied;
Or swear that oath by which the gods are tied,
Swear, in thy soul no latent frauds remain,
Swear by the vow which never can be vain.’
"""
"""
“The goddess swore: then seized my hand, and led
To the sweet transports of the genial bed.
Ministrant to the queen, with busy care
Four faithful handmaids the soft rites prepare;
Nymphs sprung from fountains, or from shady woods,
Or the fair offspring of the sacred floods.
One o’er the couches painted carpets threw,
Whose purple lustre glow’d against the view:
White linen lay beneath. Another placed
The silver stands, with golden flaskets graced:
With dulcet beverage this the beaker crown’d,
Fair in the midst, with gilded cups around:
That in the tripod o’er the kindled pile
The water pours; the bubbling waters boil;
An ample vase receives the smoking wave;
And, in the bath prepared, my limbs I lave:
Reviving sweets repair the mind’s decay,
And take the painful sense of toil away.
A vest and tunic o’er me next she threw,
Fresh from the bath, and dropping balmy dew;
Then led and placed me on the sovereign seat,
With carpets spread; a footstool at my feet.
The golden ewer a nymph obsequious brings,
Replenish’d from the cool translucent springs;
With copious water the bright vase supplies
A silver laver of capacious size.
I wash’d. The table in fair order spread,
They heap the glittering canisters with bread:
Viands of various kinds allure the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast!
Circe in vain invites the feast to share;
Absent I ponder, and absorb’d in care;
While scenes of woe rose anxious in my breast,
The queen beheld me, and these words address’d:
"""
"""
“‘Why sits Ulysses silent and apart,
Some hoard of grief close harbour’d at his heart
Untouch’d before thee stand the cates divine,
And unregarded laughs the rosy wine.
Can yet a doubt or any dread remain,
When sworn that oath which never can be vain?’
"""
"""
“I answered: ‘Goddess! human is my breast,
By justice sway’d, by tender pity press’d:
Ill fits it me, whose friends are sunk to beasts,
To quaff thy bowls, or riot in thy feasts.
Me would’st thou please? for them thy cares employ,
And them to me restore, and me to joy.’
"""
"""
“With that she parted: in her potent hand
She bore the virtue of the magic wand.
Then, hastening to the sties, set wide the door,
Urged forth, and drove the bristly herd before;
Unwieldy, out they rush’d with general cry,
Enormous beasts, dishonest to the eye.
Now touch’d by counter-charms they change again,
And stand majestic, and recall’d to men.
Those hairs of late that bristled every part,
Fall off, miraculous effect of art!
Till all the form in full proportion rise,
More young, more large, more graceful to my eyes.
They saw, they knew me, and with eager pace
Clung to their master in a long embrace:
Sad, pleasing sight! with tears each eye ran o’er,
And sobs of joy re-echoed through the bower;
E’en Circe wept, her adamantine heart
Felt pity enter, and sustain’d her part.
"""
"""
“‘Son of Laertes! (then the queen began)
Oh much-enduring, much experienced man!
Haste to thy vessel on the sea-beat shore,
Unload thy treasures, and the galley moor;
Then bring thy friends, secure from future harms,
And in our grottoes stow thy spoils and arms,’
"""
"""
“She said. Obedient to her high command
I quit the place, and hasten to the strand,
My sad companions on the beach I found,
Their wistful eyes in floods of sorrow drown’d.
"""
"""
“As from fresh pastures and the dewy field
(When loaded cribs their evening banquet yield)
The lowing herds return; around them throng
With leaps and bounds their late imprison’d young,
Rush to their mothers with unruly joy,
And echoing hills return the tender cry:
So round me press’d, exulting at my sight,
With cries and agonies of wild delight,
The weeping sailors; nor less fierce their joy
Than if return’d to Ithaca from Troy.
‘Ah master! ever honour’d, ever dear!
(These tender words on every side I hear)
What other joy can equal thy return?
Not that loved country for whose sight we mourn,
The soil that nursed us, and that gave us breath:
But ah! relate our lost companions’ death.’
"""
"""
“I answer’d cheerful: ‘Haste, your galley moor,
And bring our treasures and our arms ashore:
Those in yon hollow caverns let us lay,
Then rise, and follow where I lead the way.
Your fellows live; believe your eyes, and come
To taste the joys of Circe’s sacred dome.’
"""
"""
“With ready speed the joyful crew obey:
Alone Eurylochus persuades their stay.
"""
"""
“‘Whither (he cried), ah whither will ye run?
Seek ye to meet those evils ye should shun?
Will you the terrors of the dome explore,
In swine to grovel, or in lions roar,
Or wolf-like howl away the midnight hour
In dreadful watch around the magic bower?
Remember Cyclops, and his bloody deed;
The leader’s rashness made the soldiers bleed.’
"""
"""
“I heard incensed, and first resolved to speed
My flying falchion at the rebel’s head.
Dear as he was, by ties of kindred bound,
This hand had stretch’d him breathless on the ground.
But all at once my interposing train
For mercy pleaded, nor could plead in vain.
‘Leave here the man who dares his prince desert,
Leave to repentance and his own sad heart,
To guard the ship. Seek we the sacred shades
Of Circe’s palace, where Ulysses leads.’
"""
"""
“This with one voice declared, the rising train
Left the black vessel by the murmuring main.
Shame touch’d Eurylochus’ alter’d breast:
He fear’d my threats, and follow’d with the rest.
"""
"""
“Meanwhile the goddess, with indulgent cares
And social joys, the late transform’d repairs;
The bath, the feast, their fainting soul renews:
Rich in refulgent robes, and dropping balmy dews:
Brightening with joy, their eager eyes behold,
Each other’s face, and each his story told;
Then gushing tears the narrative confound,
And with their sobs the vaulted roof resound.
When hush’d their passion, thus the goddess cries:
‘Ulysses, taught by labours to be wise,
Let this short memory of grief suffice.
To me are known the various woes ye bore.
In storms by sea, in perils on the shore;
Forget whatever was in Fortune’s power,
And share the pleasures of this genial hour.
Such be your mind as ere ye left your coast,
Or learn’d to sorrow for a country lost.
Exiles and wanderers now, where’er ye go,
Too faithful memory renews your woe:
The cause removed, habitual griefs remain,
And the soul saddens by the use of pain.’
"""
"""
“Her kind entreaty moved the general breast;
Tired with long toil, we willing sunk to rest.
We plied the banquet, and the bowl we crown’d,
Till the full circle of the year came round.
But when the seasons following in their train,
Brought back the months, the days, and hours again;
As from a lethargy at once they rise,
And urge their chief with animating cries:
"""
"""
“‘Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot?
And is the name of Ithaca forgot?
Shall never the dear land in prospect rise,
Or the loved palace glitter in our eyes?
“Melting I heard; yet till the sun’s decline
Prolong’d the feast, and quaff’d the rosy wine
But when the shades came on at evening hour,
And all lay slumbering in the dusky bower,
I came a suppliant to fair Circe’s bed,
The tender moment seized, and thus I said:
‘Be mindful, goddess! of thy promise made;
Must sad Ulysses ever be delay’d?
Around their lord my sad companions mourn,
Each breast beats homeward, anxious to return:
If but a moment parted from thy eyes,
Their tears flow round me, and my heart complies.’
"""
"""
“‘Go then (she cried), ah go! yet think, not I,
Not Circe, but the Fates, your wish deny.
Ah, hope not yet to breathe thy native air!
Far other journey first demands thy care;
To tread the uncomfortable paths beneath,
And view the realms of darkness and of death.
There seek the Theban bard, deprived of sight;
Within, irradiate with prophetic light;
To whom Persephone, entire and whole,
Gave to retain the unseparated soul:
The rest are forms, of empty ether made;
Impassive semblance, and a flitting shade.’
"""
"""
“Struck at the word, my very heart was dead:
Pensive I sate: my tears bedew’d the bed:
To hate the light and life my soul begun,
And saw that all was grief beneath the sun:
Composed at length the gushing tears suppress’d,
And my toss’d limbs now wearied into rest.
‘How shall I tread (I cried), ah, Circe! say,
The dark descent, and who shall guide the way?
Can living eyes behold the realms below?
What bark to waft me, and what wind to blow?’
"""
"""
“‘Thy fated road (the magic power replied),
Divine Ulysses! ask no mortal guide.
Rear but the mast, the spacious sail display,
The northern winds shall wing thee on thy way.
Soon shalt thou reach old Ocean’s utmost ends,
Where to the main the shelving shore descends;
The barren trees of Proserpine’s black woods,
Poplars and willows trembling o’er the floods:
There fix thy vessel in the lonely bay,
And enter there the kingdoms void of day,
Where Phlegethon’s loud torrents, rushing down,
Hiss in the flaming gulf of Acheron;
And where, slow rolling from the Stygian bed,
Cocytus’ lamentable waters spread:
Where the dark rock o’erhangs the infernal lake,
And mingling streams eternal murmurs make.
First draw thy falchion, and on every side
Trench the black earth a cubit long and wide:
To all the shades around libations pour,
And o’er the ingredients strew the hallow’d flour:
New wine and milk, with honey temper’d bring,
And living water from the crystal spring.
Then the wan shades and feeble ghosts implore,
With promised offerings on thy native shore;
A barren cow, the stateliest of the isle,
And heap’d with various wealth, a blazing pile:
These to the rest; but to the seer must bleed
A sable ram, the pride of all thy breed.
These solemn vows and holy offerings paid
To all the phantom nations of the dead,
Be next thy care the sable sheep to place
Full o’er the pit, and hellward turn their face:
But from the infernal rite thine eye withdraw,
And back to Ocean glance with reverend awe.
Sudden shall skim along the dusky glades
Thin airy shoals, and visionary shades.
Then give command the sacrifice to haste,
Let the flay’d victims in the flame be cast,
And sacred vows and mystic song applied
To grisly Pluto and his gloomy bride.
Wide o’er the pool thy falchion waved around
Shall drive the spectres from unbidden ground:
The sacred draught shall all the dead forbear,
Till awful from the shades arise the seer.
Let him, oraculous, the end, the way,
The turns of all thy future fate display,
Thy pilgrimage to come, and remnant of thy day.’
"""
"""
“So speaking, from the ruddy orient shone
The morn, conspicuous on her golden throne.
The goddess with a radiant tunic dress’d
My limbs, and o’er me cast a silken vest.
Long flowing robes, of purest white, array
The nymph, that added lustre to the day:
A tiar wreath’d her head with many a fold;
Her waist was circled with a zone of gold.
Forth issuing then, from place to place I flew;
Rouse man by man, and animate my crew.
‘Rise, rise, my mates! ’tis Circe gives command:
Our journey calls us; haste, and quit the land.’
All rise and follow, yet depart not all,
For Fate decreed one wretched man to fall.
"""
"""
“A youth there was, Elpenor was he named,
Not much for sense, nor much for courage famed:
The youngest of our band, a vulgar soul,
Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl.
He, hot and careless, on a turret’s height
With sleep repair’d the long debauch of night:
The sudden tumult stirred him where he lay,
And down he hasten’d, but forgot the way;
Full headlong from the roof the sleeper fell,
And snapp’d the spinal joint, and waked in hell.
"""
"""
“The rest crowd round me with an eager look;
I met them with a sigh, and thus bespoke:
‘Already, friends! ye think your toils are o’er,
Your hopes already touch your native shore:
Alas! far otherwise the nymph declares,
Far other journey first demands our cares;
To tread the uncomfortable paths beneath,
The dreary realms of darkness and of death;
To seek Tiresias’ awful shade below,
And thence our fortunes and our fates to know.’
"""
"""
“My sad companions heard in deep despair;
Frantic they tore their manly growth of hair;
To earth they fell: the tears began to rain;
But tears in mortal miseries are vain,
Sadly they fared along the sea-beat shore;
Still heaved their hearts, and still their eyes ran o’er.
The ready victims at our bark we found,
The sable ewe and ram together bound.
For swift as thought the goddess had been there,
And thence had glided, viewless as the air:
The paths of gods what mortal can survey?
Who eyes their motion? who shall trace their way?”
"""
''Argument.''
''The Descent into Hell.''
//Ulysses continues his narration. How he arrived at the land of the Cimmerians, and what ceremonies he performed to invoke the dead. The manner of his descent, and the apparition of the shades: his conversation with Elpenor, and with Tiresias, who informs him in a prophetic manner of his fortunes to come. He meets his mother Anticles, from whom he learns the state of his family. He sees the shades of the ancient heroines, afterwards of the heroes, and converses in particular with Agamemnon and Achilles. Ajax keeps at a sullen distance, and disdains to answer him. He then beholds Tityus, Tantalus, Sisyphus, Hercules; till he is deterred from further curiosity by the apparition of horrid spectres, and the cries of the wicked in torments.//
"""
“Now to the shores we bend, a mournful train,
Climb the tall bark, and launch into the main;
At once the mast we rear, at once unbind
The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind;
Then pale and pensive stand, with cares oppress’d,
And solemn horror saddens every breast.
A freshening breeze the magic power supplied,
While the wing’d vessel flew along the tide;
Our oars we shipp’d; all day the swelling sails
Full from the guiding pilot catch’d the gales.
"""
"""
“Now sunk the sun from his aerial height,
And o’er the shaded billows rush’d the night;
When lo! we reach’d old Ocean’s utmost bounds,
Where rocks control his waves with ever-during mounds.
"""
"""
“There in a lonely land, and gloomy cells,
The dusky nation of Cimmeria dwells;
The sun ne’er views the uncomfortable seats,
When radiant he advances, or retreats:
Unhappy race! whom endless night invades,
Clouds the dull air, and wraps them round in shades.
"""
"""
“The ship we moor on these obscure abodes;
Disbark the sheep, an offering to the gods;
And, hellward bending, o’er the beach descry
The doleful passage to the infernal sky.
The victims, vow’d to each Tartarian power,
Eurylochus and Perimedes bore.
"""
"""
“Here open’d hell, all hell I here implored,
And from the scabbard drew the shining sword:
And trenching the black earth on every side,
A cavern form’d, a cubit long and wide.
New wine, with honey-temper’d milk, we bring,
Then living waters from the crystal spring:
O’er these was strew’d the consecrated flour,
And on the surface shone the holy store.
"""
"""
“Now the wan shades we hail, the infernal gods,
To speed our course, and waft us o’er the floods:
So shall a barren heifer from the stall
Beneath the knife upon your altars fall;
So in our palace, at our safe return,
Rich with unnumber’d gifts the pile shall burn;
So shall a ram, the largest of the breed,
Black as these regions, to Tiresias bleed.
"""
"""
“Thus solemn rites and holy vows we paid
To all the phantom-nations of the dead;
Then died the sheep: a purple torrent flow’d,
And all the caverns smoked with streaming blood.
When lo! appear’d along the dusky coasts,
Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts:
Fair, pensive youths, and soft enamour’d maids;
And wither’d elders, pale and wrinkled shades;
Ghastly with wounds the forms of warriors slain
Stalk’d with majestic port, a martial train:
These and a thousand more swarm’d o’er the ground,
And all the dire assembly shriek’d around.
Astonish’d at the sight, aghast I stood,
And a cold fear ran shivering through my blood;
Straight I command the sacrifice to haste,
Straight the flay’d victims to the flames are cast,
And mutter’d vows, and mystic song applied
To grisly Pluto, and his gloomy bride.
"""
"""
“Now swift I waved my falchion o’er the blood;
Back started the pale throngs, and trembling stood,
Round the black trench the gore untasted flows,
Till awful from the shades Tiresias rose.
"""
"""
“There wandering through the gloom I first survey’d,
New to the realms of death, Elpenor’s shade:
His cold remains all naked to the sky
On distant shores unwept, unburied lie.
Sad at the sight I stand, deep fix’d in woe,
And ere I spoke the tears began to flow.
"""
"""
“‘O say what angry power Elpenor led
To glide in shades, and wander with the dead?
How could thy soul, by realms and seas disjoin’d,
Outfly the nimble sail, and leave the lagging wind?
"""
"""
“The ghost replied: ‘To hell my doom I owe,
Demons accursed, dire ministers of woe!
My feet, through wine unfaithful to their weight,
Betray’d me tumbling from a towery height:
Staggering I reel’d, and as I reel’d I fell,
Lux’d the neck-joint — my soul descends to hell.
But lend me aid, I now conjure thee lend,
By the soft tie and sacred name of friend!
By thy fond consort! by thy father’s cares!
By loved Telemachus’ blooming years?
For well I know that soon the heavenly powers
Will give thee back to-day, and Circe’s shores:
There pious on my cold remains attend,
There call to mind thy poor departed friend.
The tribute of a tear is all I crave,
And the possession of a peaceful grave.
But if, unheard, in vain compassion plead,
Revere the gods. The gods avenge the dead!
A tomb along the watery margin raise,
The tomb with manly arms and trophies grace,
To show posterity Elpenor was.
There high in air, memorial of my name,
Fix the smooth oar, and bid me live to fame.’
"""
"""
“To whom with tears: ‘These rites, O mournful shade,
Due to thy ghost, shall to thy ghost be paid.’
"""
"""
“Still as I spoke the phantom seem’d to moan,
Tear follow’d tear, and groan succeeded groan.
But, as my waving sword the blood surrounds,
The shade withdrew, and mutter’d empty sounds.
"""
"""
“There as the wondrous visions I survey’d,
All pale ascends my royal mother’s shade:
A queen, to Troy she saw our legions pass;
Now a thin form is all Anticlea was!
Struck at the sight I melt with filial woe,
And down my cheek the pious sorrows flow,
Yet as I shook my falchion o’er the blood,
Regardless of her son the parent stood.
"""
"""
“When lo! the mighty Theban I behold,
To guide his steps he bore a staff of gold;
Awful he trod; majestic was his look!
And from his holy lips these accents broke:
"""
"""
“‘Why, mortal, wanderest thou from cheerful day,
To tread the downward, melancholy way?
What angry gods to these dark regions led
Thee, yet alive, companion of the deed?
But sheathe thy poniard, while my tongue relates
Heaven’s steadfast purpose, and thy future fates.’
"""
"""
“While yet he spoke, the prophet I obey’d,
And in the scabbard plunged the glittering blade:
Eager he quaff’d the gore, and then express’d
Dark things to come, the counsels of his breast.
"""
"""
“Weary of light, Ulysses here explores
A prosperous voyage to his native shores;
But know — by me unerring Fates disclose
New trains of dangers, and new scenes of woes.
I see, I see, thy bark by Neptune toss’d,
For injured Cyclops, and his eyeball lost!
Yet to thy woes the gods decree an end,
If Heaven thou please: and how to please attend
Where on Trinacrian rocks the ocean roars,
Graze numerous herds along the verdant shores;
Though hunger press, yet fly the dangerous prey,
The herds are sacred to the god of day,
Who all surveys with his extensive eye,
Above, below, on earth, and in the sky!
Rob not the god; and so propitious gales
Attend thy voyage, and impel thy sails:
But, if his herds ye seize, beneath the waves
I see thy friends o’erwhelm’d in liquid graves!
The direful wreck Ulysses scarce survives!
Ulysses at his country scarce arrives!
Strangers thy guides! nor there thy labours end;
New foes arise; domestic ills attend!
There foul adulterers to thy bride resort,
And lordly gluttons riot in thy court.
But vengeance hastes amain! These eyes behold
The deathful scene, princes on princes roll’d!
That done, a people far from sea explore,
Who ne’er knew salt, or heard the billows roar,
Or saw gay vessel stem the watery plain,
A painted wonder flying on the main!
Bear on thy back an oar: with strange amaze
A shepherd meeting thee, the oar surveys,
And names a van: there fix it on the plain,
To calm the god that holds the watery reign;
A threefold offering to his altar bring,
A bull, a ram, a boar; and hail the ocean king.
But home return’d, to each ethereal power
Slay the due victim in the genial hour:
So peaceful shalt thou end thy blissful days,
And steal thyself from life by slow decays:
Unknown to pain, in age resign thy breath,
When late stern Neptune points the shaft with death:
To the dark grave retiring as to rest,
Thy people blessing, by thy people bless’d!
"""
"""
“Unerring truths, O man, my lips relate;
This is thy life to come, and this is fate.’
"""
"""
“To whom unmoved: ‘If this the gods prepare,
What Heaven ordains the wise with courage bear.
But say, why yonder on the lonely strands,
Unmindful of her son, Anticlea stands?
Why to the ground she bends her downcast eye?
Why is she silent, while her son is nigh?
The latent cause, O sacred seer, reveal!’
"""
"""
“‘Nor this (replies the seer) will I conceal.
Know, to the spectres that thy beverage taste,
The scenes of life recur, and actions past:
They, seal’d with truth, return the sure reply;
The rest, repell’d, a train oblivious fly.’
"""
"""
“The phantom-prophet ceased, and sunk from sight,
To the black palace of eternal night.
"""
"""
“Still in the dark abodes of death I stood,
When near Anticlea moved, and drank the blood.
Straight all the mother in her soul awakes,
And, owning her Ulysses, thus she speaks;
‘Comest thou, my son, alive, to realms beneath,
The dolesome realms of darkness and of death!
Comest thou alive from pure, ethereal day?
Dire is the region, dismal is the way!
Here lakes profound, there floods oppose their waves,
There the wide sea with all his billows raves!
Or (since to dust proud Troy submits her towers)
Comest thou a wanderer from the Phrygian shores?
Or say, since honour call’d thee to the field,
Hast thou thy Ithaca, thy bride, beheld?’
"""
"""
“‘Source of my life,’ I cried, ‘from earth I fly
To seek Tiresias in the nether sky,
To learn my doom; for, toss’d from woe to woe,
In every land Ulysses finds a foe:
Nor have these eyes beheld my native shores,
Since in the dust proud Troy submits her towers.
"""
"""
“‘But, when thy soul from her sweet mansion fled,
Say, what distemper gave thee to the dead?
Has life’s fair lamp declined by slow decays,
Or swift expired it in a sudden blaze?
Say, if my sire, good old Laertes, lives?
If yet Telemachus, my son, survives?
Say, by his rule is my dominion awed,
Or crush’d by traitors with an iron rod?
Say, if my spouse maintains her royal trust;
Though tempted, chaste, and obstinately just?
Or if no more her absent lord she wails,
But the false woman o’er the wife prevails?’
"""
"""
“Thus I, and thus the parent-shade returns:
‘Thee, ever thee, thy faithful consort mourns:
Whether the night descends or day prevails,
Thee she by night, and thee by day bewails.
Thee in Telemachus thy realm obeys;
In sacred groves celestial rites he pays,
And shares the banquet in superior state,
Graced with such honours as become the great
Thy sire in solitude foments his care:
The court is joyless, for thou art not there!
No costly carpets raise his hoary head,
No rich embroidery shines to grace his bed;
Even when keen winter freezes in the skies,
Rank’d with his slaves, on earth the monarch lies:
Deep are his sighs, his visage pale, his dress
The garb of woe and habit of distress.
And when the autumn takes his annual round,
The leafy honours scattering on the ground,
Regardless of his years, abroad he lies,
His bed the leaves, his canopy the skies.
Thus cares on cares his painful days consume,
And bow his age with sorrow to the tomb!
"""
"""
“‘For thee, my son, I wept my life away;
For thee through hell’s eternal dungeons stray:
Nor came my fate by lingering pains and slow,
Nor bent the silver-shafted queen her bow;
No dire disease bereaved me of my breath;
Thou, thou, my son, wert my disease and death;
Unkindly with my love my son conspired,
For thee I lived, for absent thee expired.’
"""
"""
“Thrice in my arms I strove her shade to bind,
Thrice through my arms she slipp’d like empty wind,
Or dreams, the vain illusions of the mind.
Wild with despair, I shed a copious tide
Of flowing tears, and thus with sighs replied:
"""
"""
“‘Fliest thou, loved shade, while I thus fondly mourn!
Turn to my arms, to my embraces turn!
Is it, ye powers that smile at human harms!
Too great a bliss to weep within her arms?
Or has hell’s queen an empty image sent,
That wretched I might e’en my joys lament?’
"""
"""
“‘O son of woe,’ the pensive shade rejoin’d;
‘O most inured to grief of all mankind!
“’Tis not the queen of hell who thee deceives;
All, all are such, when life the body leaves:
No more the substance of the man remains,
Nor bounds the blood along the purple veins:
These the funereal flames in atoms bear,
To wander with the wind in empty air:
While the impassive soul reluctant flies,
Like a vain dream, to these infernal skies.
But from the dark dominions speed the way,
And climb the steep ascent to upper day:
To thy chaste bride the wondrous story tell,
The woes, the horrors, and the laws of hell.’
"""
"""
“Thus while she spoke, in swarms hell’s empress brings
Daughters and wives of heroes and of kings;
Thick and more thick they gather round the blood,
Ghost thronged on ghost (a dire assembly) stood!
Dauntless my sword I seize: the airy crew,
Swift as it flash’d along the gloom, withdrew;
Then shade to shade in mutual forms succeeds,
Her race recounts, and their illustrious deeds.
"""
"""
“Tyro began, whom great Salmoneus bred;
The royal partner of famed Cretheus’ bed.
For fair Enipeus, as from fruitful urns
He pours his watery store, the virgin burns;
Smooth flows the gentle stream with wanton pride,
And in soft mazes rolls a silver tide.
As on his banks the maid enamour’d roves,
The monarch of the deep beholds and loves;
In her Enipeus’ form and borrow’d charms
The amorous god descends into her arms:
Around, a spacious arch of waves he throws,
And high in air the liquid mountain rose;
Thus in surrounding floods conceal’d, he proves
The pleasing transport, and completes his loves.
Then, softly sighing, he the fair address’d,
And as he spoke her tender hand he press’d.
‘Hail, happy nymph! no vulgar births are owed
To the prolific raptures of a god:
Lo! when nine times the moon renews her horn,
Two brother heroes shall from thee be born;
Thy early care the future worthies claim,
To point them to the arduous paths of fame;
But in thy breast the important truth conceal,
Nor dare the secret of a god reveal:
For know, thou Neptune view’st! and at my nod
Earth trembles, and the waves confess their god.’
"""
"""
“He added not, but mounting spurn’d the plain,
Then plunged into the chambers of the main,
"""
"""
“Now in the time’s full process forth she brings
Jove’s dread vicegerents in two future kings;
O’er proud Iolcos Pelias stretch’d his reign,
And godlike Neleus ruled the Pylian plain:
Then, fruitful, to her Cretheus’ royal bed
She gallant Pheres and famed Aeson bred;
From the same fountain Amythaon rose,
Pleased with the din of scar; and noble shout of foes.
"""
"""
“There moved Antiope, with haughty charms,
Who bless’d the almighty Thunderer in her arms:
Hence sprung Amphion, hence brave Zethus came,
Founders of Thebes, and men of mighty name;
Though bold in open field, they yet surround
The town with walls, and mound inject on mound;
Here ramparts stood, there towers rose high in air,
And here through seven wide portals rush’d the war.
"""
"""
“There with soft step the fair Alcmena trod,
Who bore Alcides to the thundering god:
And Megara, who charm’d the son of Jove,
And soften’d his stern soul to tender love.
"""
"""
“Sullen and sour, with discontented mien,
Jocasta frown’d, the incestuous Theban queen;
With her own son she join’d in nuptial bands,
Though father’s blood imbrued his murderous hands
The gods and men the dire offence detest,
The gods with all their furies rend his breast;
In lofty Thebes he wore the imperial crown,
A pompous wretch! accursed upon a throne.
The wife self-murder’d from a beam depends,
And her foul soul to blackest hell descends;
Thence to her son the choicest plagues she brings,
And the fiends haunt him with a thousand stings.
"""
"""
“And now the beauteous Chloris I descry,
A lovely shade, Amphion’s youngest joy!
With gifts unnumber’d Neleus sought her arms,
Nor paid too dearly for unequall’d charms;
Great in Orchomenos, in Pylos great,
He sway’d the sceptre with imperial state.
Three gallant sons the joyful monarch told,
Sage Nestor, Periclimenus the bold,
And Chromius last; but of the softer race,
One nymph alone, a myracle of grace.
Kings on their thrones for lovely Pero burn;
The sire denies, and kings rejected mourn.
To him alone the beauteous prize he yields,
Whose arm should ravish from Phylacian fields
The herds of Iphyclus, detain’d in wrong;
Wild, furious herds, unconquerably strong!
This dares a seer, but nought the seer prevails,
In beauty’s cause illustriously he fails;
Twelve moons the foe the captive youth detains
In painful dungeons, and coercive chains;
The foe at last from durance where he lay,
His heart revering, give him back to day;
Won by prophetic knowledge, to fulfil
The steadfast purpose of the Almighty will.
"""
"""
“With graceful port advancing now I spied,
Leda the fair, the godlike Tyndar’s bride:
Hence Pollux sprung, who wields the furious sway
The deathful gauntlet, matchless in the fray;
And Castor, glorious on the embattled plain,
Curbs the proud steeds, reluctant to the rein:
By turns they visit this ethereal sky,
And live alternate, and alternate die:
In hell beneath, on earth, in heaven above,
Reign the twin-gods, the favourite sons of Jove.
"""
"""
“There Ephimedia trod the gloomy plain,
Who charm’d the monarch of the boundless main:
Hence Ephialtes, hence stern Otus sprung,
More fierce than giants, more than giants strong;
The earth o’erburden’d groan’d beneath their weight,
None but Orion e’er surpassed their height:
The wondrous youths had scarce nine winters told,
When high in air, tremendous to behold,
Nine ells aloft they rear’d their towering head,
And full nine cubits broad their shoulders spread.
Proud of their strength, and more than mortal size,
The gods they challenge, and affect the skies:
Heaved on Olympus tottering Ossa stood;
On Ossa, Pelion nods with all his wood.
Such were they youths I had they to manhood grown
Almighty Jove had trembled on his throne,
But ere the harvest of the beard began
To bristle on the chin, and promise man,
His shafts Apollo aim’d; at once they sound,
And stretch the giant monsters o’er the ground.
"""
"""
“There mournful Phaedra with sad Procris moves,
Both beauteous shades, both hapless in their loves;
And near them walk’d with solemn pace and slow,
Sad Adriadne, partner of their woe:
The royal Minos Ariadne bred,
She Theseus loved, from Crete with Theseus fled:
Swift to the Dian isle the hero flies,
And towards his Athens bears the lovely prize;
There Bacchus with fierce rage Diana fires,
The goddess aims her shaft, the nymph expires.
"""
"""
“There Clymene and Mera I behold,
There Eriphyle weeps, who loosely sold
Her lord, her honour, for the lust of gold.
But should I all recount, the night would fail,
Unequal to the melancholy tale:
And all-composing rest my nature craves,
Here in the court, or yonder on the waves;
In you I trust, and in the heavenly powers,
To land Ulysses on his native shores.”
"""
"""
He ceased; but left so charming on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seem’d to hear,
Till, rising up, Arete silence broke,
Stretch’d out her snowy hand, and thus she spoke:
"""
"""
“What wondrous man heaven sends us in our guest;
Through all his woes the hero shines confess’d;
His comely port, his ample frame express
A manly air, majestic in distress.
He, as my guest, is my peculiar care:
You share the pleasure, then in bounty share
To worth in misery a reverence pay,
And with a generous hand reward his stay;
For since kind heaven with wealth our realm has bless’d,
Give it to heaven by aiding the distress’d.”
"""
"""
Then sage Echeneus, whose grave reverend brow
The hand of time had silvered o’er with snow,
Mature in wisdom rose: “Your words (he cries)
Demand obedience, for your words are wise.
But let our king direct the glorious way
To generous acts; our part is to obey.”
"""
"""
“While life informs these limbs (the king replied),
Well to deserve, be all my cares employed:
But here this night the royal guest detain,
Till the sun flames along the ethereal plain.
Be it my task to send with ample stores
The stranger from our hospitable shores:
Tread you my steps! ’Tis mine to lead the race,
The first in glory, as the first in place.”
"""
"""
To whom the prince: “This night with joy I stay
O monarch great in virtue as in sway!
If thou the circling year my stay control,
To raise a bounty noble as thy soul;
The circling year I wait, with ampler stores
And fitter pomp to hail my native shores:
Then by my realms due homage would be paid;
For wealthy kings are loyally obeyed!”
"""
"""
“O king! for such thou art, and sure thy blood
Through veins (he cried) of royal fathers flow’d:
Unlike those vagrants who on falsehood live,
Skill’d in smooth tales, and artful to deceive;
Thy better soul abhors the liar’s part,
Wise is thy voice, and noble is thy heart.
Thy words like music every breast control,
Steal through the ear, and win upon the soul;
soft, as some song divine, thy story flows,
Nor better could the Muse record thy woes.
"""
"""
“But say, upon the dark and dismal coast,
Saw’st thou the worthies of the Grecian host?
The godlike leaders who, in battle slain,
Fell before Troy, and nobly press’d the plain?
And lo! a length of night behind remains,
The evening stars still mount the ethereal plains.
Thy tale with raptures I could hear thee tell,
Thy woes on earth, the wondrous scenes in hell,
Till in the vault of heaven the stars decay.
And the sky reddens with the rising day.”
"""
"""
“O worthy of the power the gods assign’d
(Ulysses thus replies), a king in mind:
Since yet the early hour of night allows
Time for discourse, and time for soft repose,
If scenes of misery can entertain,
Woes I unfold, of woes a dismal train.
Prepare to heir of murder and of blood;
Of godlike heroes who uninjured stood
Amidst a war of spears in foreign lands,
Yet bled at home, and bled by female hands.
"""
"""
“Now summon’d Proserpine to hell’s black hall
The heroine shades: they vanish’d at her call.
When lo! advanced the forms of heroes slain
By stern AEgysthus, a majestic train:
And, high above the rest Atrides press’d the plain.
He quaff’d the gore; and straight his soldier knew,
And from his eyes pour’d down the tender dew:
His arms he stretch’d; his arms the touch deceive,
Nor in the fond embrace, embraces give:
His substance vanish’d, and his strength decay’d,
Now all Atrides is an empty shade.
"""
"""
“Moved at the sight, I for a apace resign’d
To soft affliction all my manly mind;
At last with tears: ‘O what relentless doom,
Imperial phantom, bow’d thee to the tomb?
Say while the sea, and while the tempest raves,
Has Fate oppress’d thee in the roaring waves,
Or nobly seized thee in the dire alarms
Of war and slaughter, and the clash of arms?’
"""
"""
“The ghost returns: ‘O chief of human kind
For active courage and a patient mind;
Nor while the sea, nor while the tempest raves
Has Fate oppress’d me on the roaring waves!
Nor nobly seized me in the dire alarms
Of war and slaughter, and the clash of arms
Stabb’d by a murderous hand Atrides died,
A foul adulterer, and a faithless bride;
E’en in my mirth, and at the friendly feast,
O’er the full bowl, the traitor stabb’d his guest;
Thus by the gory arm of slaughter falls
The stately ox, and bleeds within the stalls.
But not with me the direful murder ends,
These, these expired! their crime, they were my friends:
Thick as the boars, which some luxurious lord
Kills for the feast, to crown the nuptial board.
When war has thunder’d with its loudest storms,
Death thou hast seen in all her ghastly forms:
In duel met her on the listed ground,
When hand to hand they wound return for wound;
But never have the eyes astonish’d view’d
So vile a deed, so dire a scene of blood.
E’en in the flow of joy, when now the bowl
Glows in our veins, and opens every soul,
We groan, we faint; with blood the doom is dyed.
And o’er the pavement floats the dreadful tide —
Her breast all gore, with lamentable cries,
The bleeding innocent Cassandra dies!
Then though pale death froze cold in every vein,
My sword I strive to wield, but strive in vain;
Nor did my traitress wife these eyelids close,
Or decently in death my limbs compose.
O woman, woman, when to ill thy mind
Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend:
And such was mine! who basely plunged her sword
Through the fond bosom where she reign’d adored!
Alas! I hoped the toils of war o’ercome,
To meet soft quiet and repose at home;
Delusive hope! O wife, thy deeds disgrace
The perjured sex, and blacken all the race;
And should posterity one virtuous find,
Name Clytemnestra, they will curse the kind.’
"""
"""
“Oh injured shade (I cried) what mighty woes
To thy imperial race from woman rose!
By woman here thou tread’st this mournful strand,
And Greece by woman lies a desert land.’
"""
"""
“‘Warn’d by my ills beware, (the shade replies,)
Nor trust the sex that is so rarely wise;
When earnest to explore thy secret breast,
Unfold some trifle, but conceal the rest.
But in thy consort cease to fear a foe,
For thee she feels sincerity of woe;
When Troy first bled beneath the Grecian arms,
She shone unrivall’d with a blaze of charms;
Thy infant son her fragrant bosom press’d,
Hung at her knee, or wanton’d at her breast;
But now the years a numerous train have ran;
The blooming boy is ripen’d into man;
Thy eyes shall see him burn with noble fire,
The sire shall bless his son, the son his sire;
But my Orestes never met these eyes,
Without one look the murder’d father dies;
Then from a wretched friend this wisdom learn,
E’en to thy queen disguised, unknown, return;
For since of womankind so few are just,
Think all are false, nor e’en the faithful trust.
"""
"""
“‘But, say, resides my son in royal port,
In rich Orchomenos, or Sparta’s court?
Or say in Pyle? for yet he views the light,
Nor glides a phantom through the realms of night.’
"""
"""
“Then I: ‘Thy suit is vain, nor can I say
If yet he breathes in realms of cheerful day;
Or pale or wan beholds these nether skies;
Truth I revere; for wisdom never lies.’
"""
"""
“Thus in a tide of tears our sorrows flow,
And add new horror to the realms of woe;
Till side by side along the dreary coast
Advanced Achilles’ and Patroclus’ ghost,
A friendly pair! near these the Pylian stray’d,
And towering Ajax, an illustrious shade!
War was his joy, and pleased with loud alarms,
None but Pelides brighter shone in arms.
"""
"""
“Through the thick gloom his friend Achilles knew,
And as he speaks the tears descend in dew.
"""
"""
“‘Comest thou alive to view the Stygian bounds,
Where the wan spectres walk eternal rounds;
Nor fear’st the dark and dismal waste to tread,
Throng’d with pale ghosts, familiar with the dead?’
"""
"""
“To whom with sighs: ‘I pass these dreadful gates
To seek the Theban, and consult the Fates;
For still, distress’d, I rove from coast to coast,
Lost to my friends, and to my country lost.
But sure the eye of Time beholds no name
So bless’d as thine in all the rolls of fame;
Alive we hail’d thee with our guardian gods,
And dead thou rulest a king in these abodes.’
"""
"""
“‘Talk not of ruling in this dolorous gloom,
Nor think vain words (he cried) can ease my doom.
Rather I’d choose laboriously to bear
A weight of woes, and breathe the vital air,
A slave to some poor hind that toils for bread,
Than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead.
But say, if in my steps my son proceeds,
And emulates his godlike father’s deeds?
If at the clash of arms, and shout of foes,
Swells his bold heart, his bosom nobly glows?
Say if my sire, the reverend Peleus, reigns,
Great in his Phthia, and his throne maintains;
Or, weak and old, my youthful arm demands,
To fix the sceptre steadfast in his hands?
O might the lamp of life rekindled burn,
And death release me from the silent urn!
This arm, that thunder’d o’er the Phrygian plain,
And swell’d the ground with mountains of the slain,
Should vindicate my injured father’s fame,
Crush the proud rebel, and assert his claim.’
"""
"""
“‘Illustrious shade (I cried), of Peleus’ fates
No circumstance the voice of Fame relates:
But hear with pleased attention the renown,
The wars and wisdom of thy gallant son.
With me from Scyros to the field of fame
Radiant in arms the blooming hero came.
When Greece assembled all her hundred states,
To ripen counsels, and decide debates,
Heavens! how he charm’d us with a flow of sense,
And won the heart with manly eloquence!
He first was seen of all the peers to rise,
The third in wisdom, where they all were wise!
But when, to try the fortune of the day,
Host moved toward host in terrible array,
Before the van, impatient for the fight,
With martial port he strode, and stern delight:
Heaps strew’d on heaps beneath his falchion groan’d,
And monuments of dead deform’d the ground.
The time would fail should I in order tell
What foes were vanquish’d, and what numbers fell:
How, lost through love, Eurypylus was slain,
And round him bled his bold Cetaean train.
To Troy no hero came of nobler line,
Or if of nobler, Memnon, it was thine.
"""
"""
“When Ilion in the horse received her doom,
And unseen armies ambush’d in its womb,
Greece gave her latent warriors to my care,
’Twas mine on Troy to pour the imprison’d war:
Then when the boldest bosom beat with fear,
When the stern eyes of heroes dropp’d a tear,
Fierce in his look his ardent valour glow’d,
Flush’d in his cheek, or sallied in his blood;
Indignant in the dark recess he stands,
Pants for the battle, and the war demands:
His voice breathed death, and with a martial air
He grasp’d his sword, and shook his glittering spear.
And when the gods our arms with conquest crown’d,
When Troy’s proud bulwarks smoked upon the ground,
Greece, to reward her soldier’s gallant toils,
Heap’d high his navy with unnumber’d spoils.
"""
"""
“Thus great in glory, from the din of war
Safe he return’d, without one hostile scar;
Though spears in iron tempests rain’d around,
Yet innocent they play’d, and guiltless of a wound.’
"""
"""
“While yet I spoke, the shade with transport glow’d,
Rose in his majesty, and nobler trod;
With haughty stalk he sought the distant glades
Of warrior kings, and join’d the illustrious shades.
"""
"""
“Now without number ghost by ghost arose,
All wailing with unutterable woes.
Alone, apart, in discontented mood,
A gloomy shade the sullen Ajax stood;
For ever sad, with proud disdain he pined,
And the lost arms for ever stung his mind;
Though to the contest Thetis gave the laws,
And Pallas, by the Trojans, judged the cause.
O why was I victorious in the strife?
O dear bought honour with so brave a life!
With him the strength of war, the soldier’s pride,
Our second hope to great Achilles, died!
Touch’d at the sight from tears I scarce refrain,
And tender sorrow thrills in every vein;
Pensive and sad I stand, at length accost
With accents mild the inexorable ghost:
‘Still burns thy rage? and can brave souls resent
E’en after death? Relent, great shade, relent!
Perish those arms which by the gods’ decree
Accursed our army with the loss of thee!
With thee we fall; Greece wept thy hapless fates,
And shook astonish’d through her hundred states;
Not more, when great Achilles press’d the ground,
And breathed his manly spirit through the wound.
O deem thy fall not owed to man’s decree,
Jove hated Greece, and punish’d Greece in thee!
Turn then; oh peaceful turn, thy wrath control,
And calm the raging tempest of thy soul.’
"""
"""
“While yet I speak, the shade disdains to stay,
In silence turns, and sullen stalks away.
"""
"""
“Touch’d at his sour retreat, through deepest night,
Through hell’s black bounds I had pursued his flight,
And forced the stubborn spectre to reply;
But wondrous visions drew my curious eye.
High on a throne, tremendous to behold,
Stern Minos waves a mace of burnish’d gold;
Around ten thousand thousand spectres stand
Through the wide dome of Dis, a trembling band
Still as they plead, the fatal lots he rolls,
Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls.
"""
"""
“The huge Orion, of portentous size,
Swift through the gloom a giant-hunter flies:
A ponderous mace of brass with direful sway
Aloft he whirls, to crush the savage prey!
Stern beasts in trains that by his truncheon fell,
Now grisly forms, shoot o’er the lawns of hell.
"""
"""
“There Tityus large and long, in fetters bound,
O’erspreads nine acres of infernal ground;
Two ravenous vultures, furious for their food,
Scream o’er the fiend, and riot in his blood,
Incessant gore the liver in his breast,
The immortal liver grows, and gives the immortal feast.
For as o’er Panope’s enamell’d plains
Latona journey’d to the Pythian fanes,
With haughty love the audacious monster strove
To force the goddess, and to rival Jove.
"""
"""
“There Tantalus along the Stygian bounds
Pours out deep groans (with groans all hell resounds);
E’en in the circling floods refreshment craves,
And pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves;
When to the water he his lip applies,
Back from his lip the treacherous water flies.
Above, beneath, around his hapless head,
Trees of all kinds delicious fruitage spread;
There figs, sky-dyed, a purple hue disclose,
Green looks the olive, the pomegranate glows.
There dangling pears exalting scents unfold.
And yellow apples ripen into gold;
The fruit he strives to seize; but blasts arise,
Toss it on high, and whirl it to the skies.
"""
"""
“I turn’d my eye, and as I turn’d survey’d
A mournful vision! the Sisyphian shade;
With many a weary step, and many a groan,
Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone;
The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,
Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.
Again the restless orb his toil renews,
Dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews.
"""
"""
“Now I the strength of Hercules behold,
A towering spectre of gigantic mould,
A shadowy form! for high in heaven’s abodes
Himself resides, a god among the gods;
There in the bright assemblies of the skies.
He nectar quaffs, and Hebe crowns his joys.
Here hovering ghosts, like fowl, his shade surround,
And clang their pinions with terrific sound;
Gloomy as night he stands, in act to throw
The aerial arrow from the twanging bow.
Around his breast a wondrous zone is roll’d,
Where woodland monsters grin in fretted gold;
There sullen lions sternly seem to roar,
The bear to growl to foam the tusky boar;
There war and havoc and destruction stood,
And vengeful murder red with human blood.
Thus terribly adorned the figures shine,
Inimitably wrought with skill divine.
The mighty good advanced with awful look,
And, turning his grim visage, sternly spoke:
"""
"""
“‘O exercise in grief! by arts refined;
O taught to bear the wrongs of base mankind!
Such, such was I! Still toss’d from care to care,
While in your world I drew the vital air!
E’en I, who from the Lord of Thunders rose,
Bore toils and dangers, and a weight of woes;
To a base monarch still a slave confined,
(The hardest bondage to a generous mind!)
Down to these worlds I trod the dismal way,
And dragg’d the three-mouth’d dog to upper day
E’en hell I conquer’d, through the friendly aid
Of Maia’s offspring, and the martial maid.
"""
"""
“Thus he, nor deign’d for our reply to stay,
But, turning, stalk’d with giant-strides away.
"""
"""
“Curious to view the kings of ancient days,
The mighty dead that live in endless praise,
Resolved I stand; and haply had survey’d
The godlike Theseus, and Pirithous’ shade;
But swarms of spectres rose from deepest hell,
With bloodless visage, and with hideous yell.
They scream, they shriek; and groans and dismal sounds
Stun my scared ears, and pierce hell’s utmost bounds.
No more my heart the dismal din sustains,
And my cold blood hangs shivering in my veins;
Lest Gorgon, rising from the infernal lakes,
With horrors arm’d, and curls of hissing snakes,
Should fix me stiffen’d at the monstrous sight,
A stony image, in eternal night!
Straight from the direful coast to purer air
I speed my flight, and to my mates repair.
My mates ascend the ship; they strike their oars;
The mountains lessen, and retreat the shores;
Swift o’er the waves we fly; the freshening gales
Sing through the shrouds, and stretch the swelling sails.”
"""
''Argument.''
''The Sirene, Scylla, and Charybdis.''
//He relates how, after his return from the shades, he was sent by Circe on his voyage, by the coast of the Sirens, and by the strait of Scylla and Charybdis: the manner in which he escaped those dangers: how, being cast on the island Trinacria, his companions destroyed the oxen of the Sun: the vengeance that followed; how all perished by shipwreck except himself, who, swimming on the mast of the ship, arrived on the island of Calypso. With which his narration concludes.//
"""
“Thus o’er the rolling surge the vessel flies,
Till from the waves the AEaean hills arise.
Here the gay Morn resides in radiant bowers,
Here keeps here revels with the dancing Hours;
Here Phoebus, rising in the ethereal way,
Through heaven’s bright portals pours the beamy day.
At once we fix our halsers on the land.
At once descend, and press the desert sand:
There, worn and wasted, lose our cares in sleep,
To the hoarse murmurs of the rolling deep.
"""
"""
“Soon as the morn restored the day, we paid
Sepulchral honours to Elpenor’s shade.
Now by the axe the rushing forest bends,
And the huge pile along the shore ascends.
Around we stand, a melancholy train,
And a loud groan re-echoes from the main.
Fierce o’er the pyre, by fanning breezes spread,
The hungry flames devour the silent dead.
A rising tomb, the silent dead to grace,
Fast by the roarings of the main we place;
The rising tomb a lofty column bore,
And high above it rose the tapering oar.
"""
"""
“Meantime the goddess our return survey’d
From the pale ghosts and hell’s tremendous shade.
Swift she descends: a train of nymphs divine
Bear the rich viands and the generous wine:
In act to speak the power of magic stands,
And graceful thus accosts the listening bands;
"""
"""
“‘O sons of woe? decreed by adverse fates
Alive to pass through hell’s eternal gates!
All, soon or late, are doom’d that path to tread;
More wretched you! twice number’d with the dead!
This day adjourn your cares, exalt your souls,
Indulge the taste, and drain the sparkling bowls;
And when the morn unveils her saffron ray,
Spread your broad sails, and plough the liquid way:
Lo, I this night, your faithful guide, explain
Your woes by land, your dangers on the main.’
"""
"""
“The goddess spoke. In feasts we waste the day,
Till Phoebus downward plunged his burning ray;
Then sable night ascends, and balmy rest
Seals every eye, and calms the troubled breast.
Then curious she commands me to relate
The dreadful scenes of Pluto’s dreary state.
She sat in silence while the tale I tell,
The wondrous visions and the laws of hell.
"""
"""
“Then thus: ‘The lot of man the gods dispose;
These ills are past: now hear thy future woes
O prince attend; some favouring power be kind,
And print the important story on thy mind!
"""
"""
“‘Next, where the Sirens dwells, you plough the seas;
Their song is death, and makes destruction please.
Unblest the man, whom music wins to stay
Nigh the cursed shore and listen to the lay.
No more that wretch shall view the joys of life
His blooming offspring, or his beauteous wife!
In verdant meads they sport; and wide around
Lie human bones that whiten all the ground:
The ground polluted floats with human gore,
And human carnage taints the dreadful shore
Fly swift the dangerous coast: let every ear
Be stopp’d against the song! ’tis death to hear!
Firm to the mast with chains thyself be bound,
Nor trust thy virtue to the enchanting sound.
If, mad with transport, freedom thou demand,
Be every fetter strain’d, and added band to band.
"""
"""
“‘These seas o’erpass’d, be wise! but I refrain
To mark distinct thy voyage o’er the main:
New horrors rise! let prudence be thy guide,
And guard thy various passage through the tide.
"""
"""
“‘High o’er the main two rocks exalt their brow,’
The boiling billows thundering roll below;
Through the vast waves the dreadful wonders move,
Hence named Erratic by the gods above.
No bird of air, no dove of swiftest wing,
That bears ambrosia to the ethereal king,
Shuns the dire rocks: in vain she cuts the skies;
The dire rocks meet, and crush her as she flies:
Not the fleet bark, when prosperous breezes play,
Ploughs o’er that roaring surge its desperate way;
O’erwhelm’d it sinks: while round a smoke expires,
And the waves flashing seem to burn with fires.
Scarce the famed Argo pass’d these raging floods,
The sacred Argo, fill’d with demigods!
E’en she had sunk, but Jove’s imperial bride
Wing’d her fleet sail, and push’d her o’er the tide.
"""
"""
“‘High in the air the rock its summit shrouds
In brooding tempests, and in rolling clouds;
Loud storms around, and mists eternal rise,
Beat its bleak brow, and intercept the skies.
When all the broad expansion, bright with day,
Glows with the autumnal or the summer ray,
The summer and the autumn glow in vain,
The sky for ever lowers, for ever clouds remain.
Impervious to the step of man it stands,
Though borne by twenty feet, though arm’d with twenty hands;
Smooth as the polish of the mirror rise
The slippery sides, and shoot into the skies.
Full in the centre of this rock display’d,
A yawning cavern casts a dreadful shade:
Nor the fleet arrow from the twanging bow,
Sent with full force, could reach the depth below.
Wide to the west the horrid gulf extends,
And the dire passage down to hell descends.
O fly the dreadful sight! expand thy sails,
Ply the strong oar, and catch the nimble gales;
Here Scylla bellows from the dire abodes,
Tremendous pest, abhorr’d by man and gods!
Hideous her voice, and with less terrors roar
The whelps of lions in the midnight hour.
Twelve feet, deform’d and foul, the fiend dispreads;
Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads;
Her jaws grin dreadful with three rows of teeth;
Jaggy they stand, the gaping den of death;
Her parts obscene the raging billows hide;
Her bosom terribly o’erlooks the tide.
When stung with hunger she embroils the flood,
The sea-dog and the dolphin are her food;
She makes the huge leviathan her prey,
And all the monsters of the watery way;
The swiftest racer of the azure plain
Here fills her sails, and spreads her oars in vain;
Fell Scylla rises, in her fury roars,
At once six mouths expands, at once six men devours.
"""
"""
“‘Close by, a rock of less enormous height
Breaks the wild waves, and forms a dangerous strait;
Full on its crown a fig’s green branches rise,
And shoot a leafy forest to the skies;
Beneath, Charybdis holds her boisterous reign
‘Midst roaring whirlpools, and absorbs the main;
Thrice in her gulfs the boiling seas subside,
Thrice in dire thunders she refunds the tide.
Oh, if thy vessel plough the direful waves,
When seas retreating roar within her caves,
Ye perish all! though he who rules the main
Lends his strong aid, his aid he lends in vain.
Ah, shun the horrid gulf! by Scylla fly.
’Tis better six to lose, than all to die.’
"""
"""
“I then: ‘O nymph propitious to my prayer,
Goddess divine, my guardian power, declare,
Is the foul fiend from human vengeance freed?
Or, if I rise in arms, can Scylla bleed?’
"""
"""
“Then she: ‘O worn by toils, O broke in fight,
Still are new toils and war thy dire delight?
Will martial flames for ever fire thy mind,
And never, never be to Heaven resign’d?
How vain thy efforts to avenge the wrong!
Deathless the pest! impenetrably strong!
Furious and fell, tremendous to behold!
E’en with a look she withers all the bold!
She mocks the weak attempts of human might;
Oh, fly her rage! thy conquest is thy flight.
If but to seize thy arms thou make delay,
Again thy fury vindicates her prey;
Her six mouths yawn, and six are snatch’d away.
From her foul wound Crataeis gave to air
This dreadful pest! To her direct thy prayer,
To curb the monster in her dire abodes,
And guard thee through the tumult of the floods.
Thence to Trinacria’s shore you bend your way,
Where graze thy herds, illustrious source of day!
Seven herds, seven flocks enrich the sacred plains,
Each herd, each flock full fifty heads contains;
The wondrous kind a length of age survey,
By breed increase not, nor by death decay.
Two sister goddesses possess the plain,
The constant guardian of the woolly train;
Lampetie fair, and Phaethusa young,
From Phoebus and the bright Neaea sprung;
Here, watchful o’er the flocks, in shady bowers
And flowery meads, they waste the joyous hours.
Rob not the gods! and so propitious gales
Attend thy voyage, and impel thy sails;
But if thy impious hands the flocks destroy,
The gods, the gods avenge it, and ye die!
’Tis thine alone (thy friends and navy lost)
Through tedious toils to view thy native coast.’
"""
"""
She ceased: and now arose the morning ray;
Swift to her dome the goddess held her way.
Then to my mates I measured back the plain,
Climb’d the tall bark, and rush’d into the main;
Then, bending to the stroke, their oars they drew
To their broad breasts, and swift the galley flew.
Up sprung a brisker breeze; with freshening gales
The friendly goddess stretch’d the swelling sails;
We drop our oars; at ease the pilot guides;
The vessel light along the level glides.
When, rising sad and slow, with pensive look,
Thus to the melancholy train I spoke:
"""
"""
“‘O friends, oh ever partners of my woes,
Attend while I what Heaven foredooms disclose.
Hear all! Fate hangs o’er all; on you it lies
To live or perish! to be safe, be wise!
"""
"""
“‘In flowery meads the sportive Sirens play,
Touch the soft lyre, and tune the vocal lay;
Me, me alone, with fetters firmly bound,
The gods allow to hear the dangerous sound.
Hear and obey; if freedom I demand,
Be every fetter strain’d, be added band to band.’
"""
"""
“While yet I speak the winged galley flies,
And lo! the Siren shores like mists arise.
Sunk were at once the winds; the air above,
And waves below, at once forgot to move;
Some demon calm’d the air and smooth’d the deep,
Hush’d the loud winds, and charm’d the waves to sleep.
Now every sail we furl, each oar we ply;
Lash’d by the stroke, the frothy waters fly.
The ductile wax with busy hands I mould,
And cleft in fragments, and the fragments roll’d;
The aerial region now grew warm with day,
The wax dissolved beneath the burning ray;
Then every ear I barr’d against the strain,
And from access of frenzy lock’d the brain.
Now round the masts my mates the fetters roll’d,
And bound me limb by limb with fold on fold.
Then bending to the stroke, the active train
Plunge all at once their oars, and cleave the main.
"""
"""
“While to the shore the rapid vessel flies,
Our swift approach the Siren choir descries;
Celestial music warbles from their tongue,
And thus the sweet deluders tune the song:
"""
"""
“‘Oh stay, O pride of Greece! Ulysses, stay!
Oh cease thy course, and listen to our lay!
Blest is the man ordain’d our voice to hear,
The song instructs the soul, and charms the ear.
Approach! thy soul shall into raptures rise!
Approach! and learn new wisdom from the wise!
We know whate’er the kings of mighty name
Achieved at Ilion in the field of fame;
Whate’er beneath the sun’s bright journey lies.
Oh stay, and learn new wisdom from the wise!’
"""
"""
“Thus the sweet charmers warbled o’er the main;
My soul takes wing to meet the heavenly strain;
I give the sign, and struggle to be free;
Swift row my mates, and shoot along the sea;
New chains they add, and rapid urge the way,
Till, dying off, the distant sounds decay;
Then scudding swiftly from the dangerous ground,
The deafen’d ear unlock’d, the chains unbound.
"""
"""
“Now all at once tremendous scenes unfold;
Thunder’d the deeps, the smoky billows roll’d!
Tumultuous waves embroil the bellowing flood,
All trembling, deafen’d, and aghast we stood!
No more the vessel plough’d the dreadful wave,
Fear seized the mighty, and unnerved the brave;
Each dropp’d his oar; but swift from man to man
With looks serene I turn’d, and thus began:
‘O friends! O often tried in adverse storms!
With ills familiar in more dreadful forms!
Deep in the dire Cyclopean den you lay,
Yet safe return’d — Ulysses led the way.
Learn courage hence, and in my care confide;
Lo! still the same Ulysses is your guide.
Attend my words! your oars incessant ply;
Strain every nerve, and bid the vessel fly.
If from yon jostling rocks and wavy war
Jove safety grants, he grants it to your care.
And thou, whose guiding hand directs our way,
Pilot, attentive listen and obey!
Bear wide thy course, nor plough those angry waves
Where rolls yon smoke, yon tumbling ocean raves;
Steer by the higher rock; lest whirl’d around
We sink, beneath the circling eddy drown’d.’
While yet I speak, at once their oars they seize,
Stretch to the stroke, and brush the working seas.
Cautious the name of Scylla I suppress’d;
That dreadful sound had chill’d the boldest breast.
"""
"""
“Meantime, forgetful of the voice divine,
All dreadful bright my limbs in armour shine;
High on the deck I take my dangerous stand,
Two glittering javelins lighten in my hand;
Prepared to whirl the whizzing spear I stay,
Till the fell fiend arise to seize her prey.
Around the dungeon, studious to behold
The hideous pest, my labouring eyes I roll’d;
In vain! the dismal dungeon, dark as night,
Veils the dire monster, and confounds the sight.
"""
"""
“Now through the rocks, appall’d with deep dismay,
We bend our course, and stem the desperate way;
Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms,
And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms.
When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves,
The rough rock roars, tumultuous boil the waves;
They toss, they foam, a wild confusion raise,
Like waters bubbling o’er the fiery blaze;
Eternal mists obscure the aerial plain,
And high above the rock she spouts the main;
When in her gulfs the rushing sea subsides,
She drains the ocean with the refluent tides;
The rock re-bellows with a thundering sound;
Deep, wondrous deep, below appears the ground.
"""
"""
“Struck with despair, with trembling hearts we view’d
The yawning dungeon, and the tumbling flood;
When lo! fierce Scylla stoop’d to seize her prey,
Stretch’d her dire jaws, and swept six men away.
Chiefs of renown! loud-echoing shrieks arise;
I turn, and view them quivering in the skies;
They call, and aid with outstretch’d arms implore;
In vain they call! those arms are stretch’d no more.
As from some rock that overhangs the flood
The silent fisher casts the insidious food,
With fraudful care he waits the finny prize,
And sudden lifts it quivering to the skies:
So the foul monster lifts her prey on high,
So pant the wretches struggling in the sky;
In the wide dungeon she devours her food,
And the flesh trembles while she churns the blood.
Worn as I am with griefs, with care decay’d,
Never, I never scene so dire survey’d!
My shivering blood, congeal’d, forgot to flow;
Aghast I stood, a monument of woe!
"""
"""
“Now from the rocks the rapid vessel flies,
And the hoarse din like distant thunder dies;
To Sol’s bright isle our voyage we pursue,
And now the glittering mountains rise to view.
There, sacred to the radiant god of day,
Graze the fair herds, the flocks promiscuous stray:
Then suddenly was heard along the main
To low the ox, to blest the woolly train.
Straight to my anxious thoughts the sound convey’d
The words of Circe and the Theban shade;
Warn’d by their awful voice these shores to shun,
With cautious fears oppress’d I thus begun:
"""
"""
“‘O friends! O ever exorcised in care!
Hear Heaven’s commands, and reverence what ye hear!
To fly these shores the prescient Theban shade
And Circe warn! Oh be their voice obey’d
Some mighty woe relentless Heaven forebodes:
Fly these dire regions, and revere the gods!’
"""
"""
“While yet I spoke, a sudden sorrow ran
Through every breast, and spread from man to man,
Till wrathful thus Eurylochus began:
"""
"""
“‘O cruel thou! some Fury sure has steel’d
That stubborn soul, by toil untaught to yield!
From sleep debarr’d, we sink from woes to woes:
And cruel’ enviest thou a short repose?
Still must we restless rove, new seas explore,
The sun descending, and so near the shore?
And lo! the night begins her groomy reign,
And doubles all the terrors of the main:
Oft in the dead of night loud winds rise,
Lash the wild surge, and bluster in the skies.
Oh, should the fierce south-west his rage display,
And toss with rising storms the watery way,
Though gods descend from heaven’s aerial plain
To lend us aid, the gods descend in vain.
Then while the night displays her awful shade,
Sweet time of slumber! be the night obey’
Haste ye to land! and when the morning ray
Sheds her bright beam, pursue the destined way.’
A sudden joy in every bosom rose:
So will’d some demon, minister of woes!
"""
"""
“To whom with grief: ‘O swift to be undone!
Constrain’d I act what wisdom bids me shun.
But yonder herbs and yonder flocks forbear;
Attest the heavens, and call the gods to hear:
Content, an innocent repast display,
By Circe given, and fly the dangerous prey.’
"""
"""
‘Thus I: and while to shore the vessel flies,
With hands uplifted they attest the skies:
Then, where a fountain’s gurgling waters play,
They rush to land, and end in feasts the day:
They feed; they quaff; and now (their hunger fled)
Sigh for their friends devour’d, and mourn the dead;
Nor cease the tears’ till each in slumber shares
A sweet forgetfulness of human cares.
Now far the night advanced her gloomy reign,
And setting stars roll’d down the azure plain:
When at the voice of Jove wild whirlwinds rise,
And clouds and double darkness veil the skies;
The moon, the stars, the bright ethereal host
Seem as extinct, and all their splendours lost:
The furious tempest roars with dreadful sound:
Air thunders, rolls the ocean, groans the ground.
All night it raged: when morning rose to land
We haul’d our bark, and moor’d it on the strand,
Where in a beauteous grotto’s cool recess
Dance the green Nerolds of the neighbouring seas.
"""
"""
“There while the wild winds whistled o’er the main,
Thus careful I address’d the listening train:
"""
"""
“‘O friends, be wise! nor dare the flocks destroy
Of these fair pastures: if ye touch, ye die.
Warn’d by the high command of Heaven, be awed:
Holy the flocks, and dreadful is the god!
That god who spreads the radiant beams of light,
And views wide earth and heaven’s unmeasured height.’
"""
"""
“And now the moon had run her monthly round,
The south-east blustering with a dreadful sound:
Unhurt the beeves, untouch’d the woolly train,
Low through the grove, or touch the flowery plain:
Then fail’d our food: then fish we make our prey,
Or fowl that screaming haunt the watery way.
Till now from sea or flood no succour found,
Famine and meagre want besieged us round.
Pensive and pale from grove to grove I stray’d,
From the loud storms to find a sylvan shade;
There o’er my hands the living wave I pour;
And Heaven and Heaven’s immortal thrones implore,
To calm the roarings of the stormy main,
And guide me peaceful to my realms again.
Then o’er my eyes the gods soft slumbers shed,
While thus Eurylochus arising said:
"""
"""
“‘O friends, a thousand ways frail mortals lead
To the cold tomb, and dreadful all to tread;
But dreadful most, when by a slow decay
Pale hunger wastes the manly strength away.
Why cease ye then to implore the powers above,
And offer hecatombs to thundering Jove?
Why seize ye not yon beeves, and fleecy prey?
Arise unanimous; arise and slay!
And if the gods ordain a safe return,
To Phoebus shrines shall rise, and altars burn.
But should the powers that o’er mankind preside
Decree to plunge us in the whelming tide,
Better to rush at once to shades below
Than linger life away, and nourish woe.’
"""
"""
“Thus he: the beeves around securely stray,
When swift to ruin they invade the prey;
They seize, they kill! — but for the rite divine.
The barley fail’d, and for libations wine.
Swift from the oak they strip the shady pride;
And verdant leaves the flowery cake supplied.
"""
"""
“With prayer they now address the ethereal train,
Slay the selected beeves, and flay the slain;
The thighs, with fat involved, divide with art,
Strew’d o’er with morsels cut from every part.
Water, instead of wine, is brought in urns,
And pour’d profanely as the victim burns.
The thighs thus offer’d, and the entrails dress’d,
They roast the fragments, and prepare the feast.
"""
"""
“’Twas then soft slumber fled my troubled brain;
Back to the bark I speed along the main.
When lo! an odour from the feast exhales,
Spreads o’er the coast and scents the tainted gales;
A chilly fear congeal’d my vital blood,
And thus, obtesting Heaven, I mourn’d aloud;
"""
"""
“‘O sire of men and gods, immortal Jove!
O all ye blissful powers that reign above!
Why were my cares beguiled in short repose?
O fatal slumber, paid with lasting woes!
A deed so dreadful all the gods alarms,
Vengeance is on the wing, and Heaven in arms!’
"""
"""
“Meantime Lampetie mounts the aerial way,
And kindles into rage the god of day;
"""
"""
“‘Vengeance, ye powers (he cries), and then whose hand
Aims the red bolt, and hurls the writhen brand!
Slain are those herds which I with pride survey,
When through the ports of heaven I pour the day,
Or deep in ocean plunge the burning ray.
Vengeance, ye gods! or I the skies forego,
And bear the lamp of heaven to shades below.’
"""
"""
“To whom the thundering Power: ‘O source of day
Whose radiant lamp adorns the azure way,
Still may thy beams through heaven’s bright portal rise,
The joy of earth, the glory of the skies:
Lo! my red arm I bare, my thunders guide,
To dash the offenders in the whelming tide.’
"""
"""
“To fair Calypso, from the bright abodes,
Hermes convey’d these counsels of the gods.
"""
"""
“Meantime from man to man my tongue exclaims,
My wrath is kindled, and my soul in flames.
In vain! I view perform’d the direful deed,
Beeves, slain in heaps, along the ocean bleed.
"""
"""
“Now heaven gave signs of wrath: along the ground
Crept the raw hides, and with a bellowing sound
Roar’d the dead limbs; the burning entrails groan’d.
Six guilty days my wretched mates employ
In impious feasting, and unhallowed joy;
The seventh arose, and now the sire of gods
Rein’d the rough storms; and calm’d the tossing floods:
With speed the bark we climb; the spacious sails.
Loosed from the yards invite the impelling gales.
Past sight of shore, along the surge we bound,
And all above is sky, and ocean all around;
When lo! a murky cloud the thunderer forms
Full o’er our heads, and blackens heaven with storms.
Night dwells o’er all the deep: and now outflies
The gloomy west, and whistles in the skies.
The mountain-billows roar! the furious blast
Howls o’er the shroud, and rends it from the mast:
The mast gives way, and, crackling as it bends,
Tears up the deck; then all at once descends:
The pilot by the tumbling ruin slain,
Dash’d from the helm, falls headlong in the main.
Then Jove in anger bids his thunders roll,
And forky lightnings flash from pole to pole:
Fierce at our heads his deadly bolt he aims,
Red with uncommon wrath, and wrapp’d in flames:
Full on the bark it fell; now high, now low,
Toss’d and retoss’d, it reel’d beneath the blow;
At once into the main the crew it shook:
Sulphurous odours rose, and smouldering smoke.
Like fowl that haunt the floods, they sink, they rise,
Now lost, now seen, with shrieks and dreadful cries;
And strive to gain the bark, but Jove denies.
Firm at the helm I stand, when fierce the main
Rush’d with dire noise, and dash’d the sides in twain;
Again impetuous drove the furious blast,
Snapp’d the strong helm, and bore to sea the mast.
Firm to the mast with cords the helm I bind,
And ride aloft, to Providence resign’d,
Through tumbling billows and a war of wind.
“Now sunk the west, and now a southern breeze,
More dreadful than the tempest lash’d the seas;
For on the rocks it bore where Scylla raves,
And dire Charybdis rolls her thundering waves.
All night I drove; and at the dawn of day,
Fast by the rocks beheld the desperate way;
Just when the sea within her gulfs subsides,
And in the roaring whirlpools rush the tides,
Swift from the float I vaulted with a bound,
The lofty fig-tree seized, and clung around;
So to the beam the bat tenacious clings,
And pendent round it clasps his leather wings.
High in the air the tree its boughs display’d,
And o’er the dungeon cast a dreadful shade;
All unsustain’d between the wave and sky,
Beneath my feet the whirling billows fly.
What time the judge forsakes the noisy bar
To take repast, and stills the wordy war,
Charybdis, rumbling from her inmost caves,
The mast refunded on her refluent waves.
Swift from the tree, the floating mass to gain,
Sudden I dropp’d amidst the flashing main;
Once more undaunted on the ruin rode,
And oar’d with labouring arms along the flood.
Unseen I pass’d by Scylla’s dire abodes.
So Jove decreed (dread sire of men and gods).
Then nine long days I plow’d the calmer seas,
Heaved by the surge, and wafted by the breeze.
Weary and wet the Ogygian shores I gain,
When the tenth sun descended to the main.
There, in Calypso’s ever-fragrant bowers,
Refresh’d I lay, and joy beguiled the hours.
“My following fates to thee, O king, are known,
And the bright partner of thy royal throne.
Enough: in misery can words avail?
And what so tedious as a twice-told tale?”
"""
''Argument.''
''The Arrival of Ulysses in Ithaca.''
//Ulysses takes his leave of Alcinous and Arete, and embarks in the evening. Next morning the ship arrives at Ithaca; where the sailors, as Ulysses is yet sleeping, lay him on the shore with all his treasures. On their return, Neptune changes their ship into a rock. In the meantime Ulysses, awaking, knows not his native Ithaca, by reason of a mist which Pallas had cast around him. He breaks into loud lamentations; till the goddess appearing to him in the form of a shepherd, discovers the country to him, and points out the particular places. He then tells a feigned story of his adventures, upon which she manifests herself, and they consult together of the measures to be taken to destroy the suitors. To conceal his return, and disguise his person the more effectually, she changes him into the figure of an old beggar.//
"""
He ceased; but left so pleasing on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seem’d to hear.
A pause of silence hush’d the shady rooms:
The grateful conference then the king resumes:
"""
"""
“Whatever toils the great Ulysses pass’d,
Beneath this happy roof they end at last;
No longer now from shore to shore to roam,
Smooth seas and gentle winds invite him home.
But hear me, princes! whom these walls inclose,
For whom my chanter sings: and goblet flows
With wine unmix’d (an honour due to age,
To cheer the grave, and warm the poet’s rage);
Though labour’d gold and many a dazzling vest
Lie heap’d already for our godlike guest;
Without new treasures let him not remove,
Large, and expressive of the public love:
Each peer a tripod, each a vase bestow,
A general tribute, which the state shall owe.”
"""
"""
This sentence pleased: then all their steps address’d
To separate mansions, and retired to rest.
"""
"""
Now did the rosy-finger’d morn arise,
And shed her sacred light along the skies.
Down to the haven and the ships in haste
They bore the treasures, and in safety placed.
The king himself the vases ranged with care;
Then bade his followers to the feast prepare.
A victim ox beneath the sacred hand
Of great Alcinous falls, and stains the sand.
To Jove the Eternal (power above all powers!
Who wings the winds, and darkens heaven with showers)
The flames ascend: till evening they prolong
The rites, more sacred made by heavenly song;
For in the midst, with public honours graced,
Thy lyre divine, Demodocus! was placed.
All, but Ulysses, heard with fix’d delight;
He sate, and eyed the sun, and wish’d the night;
Slow seem’d the sun to move, the hours to roll,
His native home deep-imaged in his soul.
As the tired ploughman, spent with stubborn toil,
Whose oxen long have torn the furrow’d soil,
Sees with delight the sun’s declining ray,
When home with feeble knees he bends his way
To late repast (the day’s hard labour done);
So to Ulysses welcome set the sun;
Then instant to Alcinous and the rest
(The Scherian states) he turn’d, and thus address’d:
"""
"""
“O thou, the first in merit and command!
And you the peers and princes of the land!
May every joy be yours! nor this the least,
When due libation shall have crown’d the feast,
Safe to my home to send your happy guest.
Complete are now the bounties you have given,
Be all those bounties but confirm’d by Heaven!
So may I find, when all my wanderings cease,
My consort blameless, and my friends in peace.
On you be every bliss; and every day,
In home-felt joys, delighted roll away;
Yourselves, your wives, your long-descending race,
May every god enrich with every grace!
Sure fix’d on virtue may your nation stand,
And public evil never touch the land!”
"""
"""
His words well weigh’d, the general voice approved
Benign, and instant his dismission moved,
The monarch to Pontonus gave the sign.
To fill the goblet high with rosy wine;
“Great Jove the Father first (he cried) implore;’
Then send the stranger to his native shore.”
"""
"""
The luscious wine the obedient herald brought;
Around the mansion flow’d the purple draught;
Each from his seat to each immortal pours,
Whom glory circles in the Olympian bowers
Ulysses sole with air majestic stands,
The bowl presenting to Arete’s hands;
Then thus: “O queen, farewell! be still possess’d
Of dear remembrance, blessing still and bless’d!
Till age and death shall gently call thee hence,
(Sure fate of every mortal excellence!)
Farewell! and joys successive ever spring
To thee, to thine, the people, and the king!”
"""
"""
Thus he: then parting prints the sandy shore
To the fair port: a herald march’d before,
Sent by Alcinous; of Arete’s train
Three chosen maids attend him to the main;
This does a tunic and white vest convey,
A various casket that, of rich inlay,
And bread and wine the third. The cheerful mates
Safe in the hollow poop dispose the cates;
Upon the deck soft painted robes they spread
With linen cover’d, for the hero’s bed.
He climbed the lofty stern; then gently press’d
The swelling couch, and lay composed to rest.
"""
"""
Now placed in order, the Phaeacian train
Their cables loose, and launch into the main;
At once they bend, and strike their equal oars,
And leave the sinking hills and lessening shores.
While on the deck the chief in silence lies,
And pleasing slumbers steal upon his eyes.
As fiery coursers in the rapid race
Urged by fierce drivers through the dusty space,
Toss their high heads, and scour along the plain,
So mounts the bounding vessel o’er the main.
Back to the stern the parted billows flow,
And the black ocean foams and roars below.
"""
"""
Thus with spread sails the winged galley flies;
Less swift an eagle cuts the liquid skies;
Divine Ulysses was her sacred load,
A man, in wisdom equal to a god!
Much danger, long and mighty toils he bore,
In storms by sea, and combats on the shore;
All which soft sleep now banish’d from his breast,
Wrapp’d in a pleasing, deep, and death-like rest.
"""
"""
But when the morning-star with early ray
Flamed in the front of heaven, and promised day;
Like distant clouds the mariner descries
Fair Ithaca’s emerging hills arise.
Far from the town a spacious port appears,
Sacred to Phorcys’ power, whose name it bears;
Two craggy rocks projecting to the main,
The roaring wind’s tempestuous rage restrain;
Within the waves in softer murmurs glide,
And ships secure without their halsers ride.
High at the head a branching olive grows,
And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady boughs.
Beneath, a gloomy grotto’s cool recess
Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas,
Where bowls and urns were form’d of living stone,
And massy beams in native marble shone,
On which the labours of the nymphs were roll’d,
Their webs divine of purple mix’d with gold.
Within the cave the clustering bees attend
Their waxen works, or from the roof depend.
Perpetual waters o’er the pavement glide;
Two marble doors unfold on either side;
Sacred the south, by which the gods descend;
But mortals enter at the northern end.
Thither they bent, and haul’d their ship to land
(The crooked keel divides the yellow sand).
Ulysses sleeping on his couch they bore,
And gently placed him on the rocky shore.
His treasures next, Alcinous’ gifts, they laid
In the wild olive’s unfrequented shade,
Secure from theft; then launch’d the bark again,
Resumed their oars, and measured back the main,
Nor yet forgot old Ocean’s dread supreme,
The vengeance vow’d for eyeless Polypheme.
Before the throne of mighty Jove lie stood,
And sought the secret counsels of the god.
"""
"""
“Shall then no more, O sire of gods! be mine
The rights and honours of a power divine?
Scorn’d e’en by man, and (oh severe disgrace!)
By soft Phaeacians, my degenerate race!
Against yon destined head in vain I swore,
And menaced vengeance, ere he reach’d his shore;
To reach his natal shore was thy decree;
Mild I obey’d, for who shall war with thee?
Behold him landed, careless and asleep,
From all the eluded dangers of the deep;
Lo where he lies, amidst a shining store
Of brass, rich garments, and refulgent ore;
And bears triumphant to his native isle
A prize more worth than Ilion’s noble spoil.”
"""
"""
To whom the Father of the immortal powers,
Who swells the clouds, and gladdens earth with showers,
“Can mighty Neptune thus of man complain?
Neptune, tremendous o’er the boundless main!
Revered and awful e’en in heaven’s abodes,
Ancient and great! a god above the gods!
If that low race offend thy power divine
(Weak, daring creatures!) is not vengeance thine?
Go, then, the guilty at thy will chastise.”
He said. The shaker of the earth replies:
"""
"""
“This then, I doom: to fix the gallant ship,
A mark of vengeance on the sable deep;
To warn the thoughtless, self-confiding train,
No more unlicensed thus to brave the main.
Full in their port a Shady hill shall rise,
If such thy will.”—” We will it (Jove replies).
E’en when with transport blackening all the strand,
The swarming people hail their ship to land,
Fix her for ever, a memorial stone:
Still let her seem to sail, and seem alone.
The trembling crowds shall see the sudden shade
Of whelming mountains overhang their head!”
"""
"""
With that the god whose earthquakes rock the ground
Fierce to Phaeacia cross’d the vast profound.
Swift as a swallow sweeps the liquid way,
The winged pinnace shot along the sea.
The god arrests her with a sudden stroke,
And roots her down an everlasting rock.
Aghast the Scherians stand in deep surprise;
All press to speak, all question with their eyes.
What hands unseen the rapid bark restrain!
And yet it swims, or seems to swim, the main!
Thus they, unconscious of the deed divine;
Till great Alcinous, rising, own’d the sign.
"""
"""
“Behold the long predestined day I (he cries;)
O certain faith of ancient prophecies
These ears have heard my royal sire disclose
A dreadful story, big with future woes;
How, moved with wrath, that careless we convey
Promiscuous every guest to every bay,
Stern Neptune raged; and how by his command
Firm rooted in the surge a ship should stand
(A monument of wrath); and mound on mound
Should hide our walls, or whelm beneath the ground.
"""
"""
“The Fates have follow’d as declared the seer.
Be humbled, nations! and your monarch hear.
No more unlicensed brave the deeps, no more
With every stranger pass from shore to shore;
On angry Neptune now for mercy call;
To his high name let twelve black oxen fall.
So may the god reverse his purposed will,
Nor o’er our city hang the dreadful hill.”
"""
"""
The monarch spoke: they trembled and obey’d,
Forth on the sands the victim oxen led;
The gathered tribes before the altars stand,
And chiefs and rulers, a majestic band.
The king of ocean all the tribes implore;
The blazing altars redden all the shore.
"""
"""
Meanwhile Ulysses in his country lay,
Released from sleep, and round him might survey
The solitary shore and rolling sea.
Yet had his mind through tedious absence lost
The dear resemblance of his native coast;
Besides, Minerva, to secure her care,
Diffused around a veil of thickened air;
For so the gods ordain’d to keep unseen
His royal person from his friends and queen;
Till the proud suitors for their crimes afford
An ample vengeance to their injured lord.
"""
"""
Now all the land another prospect bore,
Another port appear’d, another shore.
And long-continued ways, and winding floods,
And unknown mountains, crown’d with unknown woods
Pensive and slow, with sudden grief oppress’d,
The king arose, and beat his careful breast,
Cast a long look o’er all the coast and main,
And sought, around, his native realm in vain;
Then with erected eyes stood fix’d in woe,
And as he spoke, the tears began to flow.
"""
"""
“Ye gods (he cried), upon what barren coast,
In what new region, is Ulysses toss’d?
Possess’d by wild barbarians, fierce in arms?
Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?
Where shall this treasure now in safely be?
And whither, whither its sad owner fly?
Ah, why did I Alcinous’ grace implore?
Ah, why forsake Phaeacia’s happy shore?
Some juster prince perhaps had entertain’d,
And safe restored me to my native land.
Is this the promised, long-expected coast,
And this the faith Phaeacia’s rulers boast?
O righteous gods! of all the great, how few
Are just to Heaven, and to their promise true!
But he, the power to whose all-seeing eyes
The deeds of men appear without disguise,
’Tis his alone to avenge the wrongs I bear;
For still the oppress’d are his peculiar care.
To count these presents, and from thence to prove,
Their faith is mine; the rest belongs to Jove.”
"""
"""
Then on the sands he ranged his wealthy store,
The gold, the vests, the tripods number’d o’er:
All these he found, but still in error lost,
Disconsolate he wanders on the coast,
Sighs for his country, and laments again
To the deaf rocks, and hoarse-resounding main.
When lo! the guardian goddess of the wise,
Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes;
In show a youthful swain, of form divine,
Who seem’d descended from some princely line.
A graceful robe her slender body dress’d;
Around her shoulders flew the waving vest;
Her decent hand a shining javelin bore,
And painted sandals on her feet she wore.
To whom the king: “Whoe’er of human race
Thou art, that wanderest in this desert place,
With joy to thee, as to some god I bend,
To thee my treasures and myself commend.
O tell a wretch in exile doom’d to stray,
What air I breathe, what country I survey?
The fruitful continent’s extremest bound,
Or some fair isle which Neptune’s arms surround?
"""
"""
“From what far clime (said she) remote from fame
Arrivest thou here, a stranger to our name?
Thou seest an island, not to those unknown
Whose hills are brighten’d by the rising sun,
Nor those that placed beneath his utmost reign
Behold him sinking in the western main.
The rugged soil allows no level space
For flying chariots, or the rapid race;
Yet, not ungrateful to the peasant’s pain,
Suffices fulness to the swelling grain;
The loaded trees their various fruits produce,
And clustering grapes afford a generous juice;
Woods crown our mountains, and in every grove
The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove;
Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field,
And rising springs eternal verdure yield.
E’en to those shores is Ithaca renown’d,
Where Troy’s majestic ruins strew the ground.”
"""
"""
At this, the chief with transport was possess’d;
His panting heart exulted in his breast;
Yet, well dissembling his untimely joys,
And veiling truth in plausible disguise,
Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold,
His ready tale the inventive hero told:
"""
"""
“Oft have I heard in Crete this island’s name;
For ’twas from Crete, my native soil, I came,
Self-banished thence. I sail’d before the wind,
And left my children and my friends behind.
From fierce Idomeneus’ revenge I flew,
Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew
(With brutal force he seized my Trojan prey,
Due to the toils of many a bloody day).
Unseen I ‘scaped, and favour’d by the night,
In a Phoenician vessel took my flight,
For Pyle or Elis bound; but tempests toss’d
And raging billows drove us on your coast.
In dead of night an unknown port we gain’d;
Spent with fatigue, and slept secure on land.
But ere the rosy morn renew’d the day,
While in the embrace of pleasing sleep I lay,
Sudden, invited by auspicious gales,
They land my goods, and hoist their flying sails.
Abandon’d here, my fortune I deplore
A hapless exile on a foreign shore,”
"""
"""
Thus while he spoke, the blue-eyed maid began
With pleasing smiles to view the godlike man;
Then changed her form: and now, divinely bright,
Jove’s heavenly daughter stood confess’d to sight;
Like a fair virgin in her beauty’s bloom,
Skill’d in the illustrious labours of the loom.
"""
"""
“O still the same Ulysses! (she rejoin’d,)
In useful craft successfully refined!
Artful in speech, in action, and in mind!
Sufficed it not, that, thy long labours pass’d,
Secure thou seest thy native shore at last?
But this to me? who, like thyself, excel
In arts of counsel and dissembling well;
To me? whose wit exceeds the powers divine,
No less than mortals are surpass’d by thine.
Know’st thou not me; who made thy life my care,
Through ten years’ wandering, and through ten years’ war;
Who taught thee arts, Alcinous to persuade,
To raise his wonder, and engage his aid;
And now appear, thy treasures to protect,
Conceal thy person, thy designs direct,
And tell what more thou must from Fate expect;
Domestic woes far heavier to be borne!
The pride of fools, and slaves’ insulting scorn?
But thou be silent, nor reveal thy state;
Yield to the force of unresisted Fate,
And bear unmoved the wrongs of base mankind,
The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind.”
"""
"""
“Goddess of wisdom! (Ithacus replies,)
He who discerns thee must be truly wise,
So seldom view’d and ever in disguise!
When the bold Argives led their warring powers,
Against proud Ilion’s well-defended towers,
Ulysses was thy care, celestial maid!
Graced with thy sight, and favoured with thy aid.
But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay,
And bound for Greece we plough’d the watery way;
Our fleet dispersed, and driven from coast to coast,
Thy sacred presence from that hour I lost;
Till I beheld thy radiant form once more,
And heard thy counsels on Phaeacia’s shore.
But, by the almighty author of thy race,
Tell me, oh tell, is this my native place?
For much I fear, long tracts of land and sea
Divide this coast from distant Ithaca;
The sweet delusion kindly you impose,
To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my woes.”
"""
"""
Thus he. The blue-eyed goddess thus replies;
“How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!
Who, versed in fortune, fear the flattering show,
And taste not half the bliss the gods bestow.
The more shall Pallas aid thy just desires,
And guard the wisdom which herself inspires.
Others long absent from their native place,
Straight seek their home, and fly with eager pace
To their wives’ arms, and children’s dear embrace.
Not thus Ulysses; he decrees to prove
His subjects’ faith, and queen’s suspected love;
Who mourn’d her lord twice ten revolving years,
And wastes the days in grief, the nights in tears.
But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy lost)
Once more ’twas given thee to behold thy coast;
Yet how could I with adverse Fate engage,
And mighty Neptune’s unrelenting rage?
Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore
The pleasing prospect of thy native shore.
Bebold the port of Phorcys! fenced around
With rocky mountains, and with olives crown’d,
Behold the gloomy grot! whose cool recess
Delights the Nereids of the neighbouring seas;
Whose now-neglected altars in thy reign
Blush’d with the blood of sheep and oxen slain,
Behold! where Neritus the clouds divides,
And shakes the waving forests on his sides.”
"""
"""
So spake the goddess; and the prospect clear’d,
The mists dispersed, and all the coast appeared.
The king with joy confess’d his place of birth,
And on his knees salutes his mother earth;
Then, with his suppliant hands upheld in air,
Thus to the sea-green sisters sends his prayer;
"""
"""
“All hail! ye virgin daughters of the main!
Ye streams, beyond my hopes, beheld again!
To you once more your own Ulysses bows;
Attend his transports, and receive his vows!
If Jove prolong my days, and Pallas crown
The growing virtues of my youthful son,
To you shall rites divine be ever paid,
And grateful offerings on your altars laid.”
"""
"""
Thus then Minerva: “From that anxious breast
Dismiss those cares, and leave to heaven the rest.
Our task be now thy treasured stores to save,
Deep in the close recesses of the cave;
Then future means consult.” She spoke, and trod
The shady grot, that brighten’d with the god.
The closest caverns of the grot she sought;
The gold, the brass, the robes, Ulysses brought;
These in the secret gloom the chief disposed;
The entrance with a rock the goddess closed.
"""
"""
Now, seated in the olive’s sacred shade,
Confer the hero and the martial maid.
The goddess of the azure eyes began:
“Son of Laertes! much-experienced man!
The suitor-train thy earliest care demand,
Of that luxurious race to rid the land;
Three years thy house their lawless rule has seen,
And proud addresses to the matchless queen.
But she thy absence mourns from day to day,
And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away;
Elusive of the bridal hour, she gives
Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.”
"""
"""
To this Ulysses: “O celestial maid!
Praised be thy counsel, and thy timely aid;
Else had I seen my native walls in vain,
Like great Atrides, just restored and slain.
Vouchsafe the means of vengeance to debate,
And plan with all thy arts the scene of fate.
Then, then be present, and my soul inspire,
As when we wrapp’d Troy’s heaven-built walls in fire.
Though leagued against me hundred heroes stand.
Hundreds shall fall, if Pallas aid my hand.”
"""
"""
She answer’d: “In the dreadful day of fight
Know, I am with thee, strong in all my might.
If thou but equal to thyself be found,
What gasping numbers then shall press the ground!
What human victims stain the feastful floor!
How wide the pavements float with guilty gore!
It fits thee now to wear a dark disguise,
And secret walk unknown to mortal eyes.
For this, my hand shall wither every grace,
And every elegance of form and face;
O’er thy smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread,
Turn hoar the auburn honours of thy head;
Disfigure every limb with coarse attire,
And in thy eyes extinguish all the fire;
Add all the wants and the decays of life;
Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy wife;
From the loathed object every sight shall turn,
And the blind suitors their destruction scorn.
"""
"""
“Go first the master of thy herds to find,
True to his charge, a loyal swain and kind;
For thee he sighs; and to the loyal heir
And chaste Penelope extends his care.
At the Coracian rock he now resides,
Where Arethusa’s sable water glides;
The sable water and the copious mast
Swell the fat herd; luxuriant, large repast!
With him rest peaceful in the rural cell,
And all you ask his faithful tongue shall tell.
Me into other realms my cares convey,
To Sparta, still with female beauty gay;
For know, to Sparta thy loved offspring came,
To learn thy fortunes from the voice of Fame.”
"""
"""
At this the father, with a father’s care:
“Must he too suffer? he, O goddess! bear
Of wanderings and of woes a wretched share?
Through the wild ocean plough the dangerous way,
And leave his fortunes and his house a prey?
Why would’st not thou, O all-enlighten’d mind!
Inform him certain, and protect him, kind?”
"""
"""
To whom Minerva: “Be thy soul at rest;
And know, whatever heaven ordains is best.
To fame I sent him, to acquire renown;
To other regions is his virtue known;
Secure he sits, near great Atrides placed;
With friendships strengthen’d, and with honours graced,
But lo! an ambush waits his passage o’er;
Fierce foes insidious intercept the shore;
In vain; far sooner all the murderous brood
This injured land shall fatten with their blood.”
"""
"""
She spake, then touch’d him with her powerful wand:
The skin shrunk up, and wither’d at her hand;
A swift old age o’er all his members spread;
A sudden frost was sprinkled on his head;
Nor longer in the heavy eye-ball shined
The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind.
His robe, which spots indelible besmear,
In rags dishonest flutters with the air:
A stag’s torn hide is lapp’d around his reins;
A rugged staff his trembling hand sustains;
And at his side a wretched scrip was hung,
Wide-patch’d, and knotted to a twisted thong.
So looked the chief, so moved: to mortal eyes
Object uncouth! a man of miseries!
While Pallas, cleaving the wild fields of air,
To Sparta flies, Telemachus her care.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Conversation with Eumaeus.''
//Ulysses arrives in disguise at the house of Eumaeus, where he is received, entertained, and lodged with the utmost hospitality. The several discourses of that faithful old servant, with the feigned story told by Ulysses to conceal himself, and other conversations on various subjects, take up this entire book.//
"""
But he, deep-musing, o’er the mountains stray’d
Through mazy thickets of the woodland shade,
And cavern’d ways, the shaggy coast along
With cliffs and nodding forests overhung.
Eumaeus at his sylvan lodge he sought,
A faithful servant, and without a fault.
Ulysses found him busied as he sate
Before the threshold of his rustic gate;
Around the mansion in a circle shone
A rural portico of rugged stone
(In absence of his lord with honest toil
His own industrious hands had raised the pile).
The wall was stone from neighbouring quarries borne,
Encircled with a fence of native thorn,
And strong with pales, by many a weary stroke
Of stubborn labour hewn from heart of oak:
Frequent and thick. Within the space were rear’d
Twelve ample cells, the lodgments of his herd.
Full fifty pregnant females each contain’d;
The males without (a smaller race) remain’d;
Doom’d to supply the suitors’ wasteful feast,
A stock by daily luxury decreased;
Now scarce four hundred left. These to defend,
Four savage dogs, a watchful guard, attend.
Here sat Eumaeus, and his cares applied
To form strong buskins of well-season’d hide.
Of four assistants who his labour share,
Three now were absent on the rural care;
The fourth drove victims to a suitor train:
But he, of ancient faith, a simple swain,
Sigh’d, while he furnish’d the luxurious board,
And wearied Heaven with wishes for his lord.
"""
"""
Soon as Ulysses near the inclosure drew,
With open mouths the furious mastiffs flew:
Down sat the sage, and cautious to withstand,
Let fall the offensive truncheon from his hand.
Sudden, the master runs; aloud he calls;
And from his hasty hand the leather falls:
With showers of stones he drives then far away:
The scattering dogs around at distance bay.
"""
"""
“Unhappy stranger! (thus the faithful swain
Began with accent gracious and humane),
What sorrow had been mine, if at my gate
Thy reverend age had met a shameful fate!
Enough of woes already have I known;
Enough my master’s sorrows and my own.
While here (ungrateful task!) his herds I feed,
Ordain’d for lawless rioters to bleed!
Perhaps, supported at another’s board!
Far from his country roams my hapless lord;
Or sigh’d in exile forth his latest breath,
Now cover’d with the eternal shade of death!
"""
"""
“But enter this my homely roof, and see
Our woods not void of hospitality.
Then tell me whence thou art, and what the share
Of woes and wanderings thou wert born to bear.”
"""
"""
He said, and, seconding the kind request,
With friendly step precedes his unknown guest.
A shaggy goat’s soft hide beneath him spread,
And with fresh rushes heap’d an ample bed;
Jove touch’d the hero’s tender soul, to find
So just reception from a heart so kind:
And “Oh, ye gods! with all your blessings grace
(He thus broke forth) this friend of human race!”
"""
"""
The swain replied: “It never was our guise
To slight the poor, or aught humane despise:
For Jove unfold our hospitable door,
’Tis Jove that sends the stranger and the poor,
Little, alas! is all the good I can
A man oppress’d, dependent, yet a man:
Accept such treatment as a swain affords,
Slave to the insolence of youthful lords!
Far hence is by unequal gods removed
That man of bounties, loving and beloved!
To whom whate’er his slave enjoys is owed,
And more, had Fate allow’d, had been bestow’d:
But Fate condemn’d him to a foreign shore;
Much have I sorrow’d, but my Master more.
Now cold he lies, to death’s embrace resign’d:
Ah, perish Helen! perish all her kind!
For whose cursed cause, in Agamemnon’s name,
He trod so fatally the paths of fame.”
"""
"""
His vest succinct then girding round his waist,
Forth rush’d the swain with hospitable haste.
Straight to the lodgments of his herd he run,
Where the fat porkers slept beneath the sun;
Of two, his cutlass launch’d the spouting blood;
These quarter’d, singed, and fix’d on forks of wood,
All hasty on the hissing coals he threw;
And smoking, back the tasteful viands drew.
Broachers and all then an the board display’d
The ready meal, before Ulysses laid
With flour imbrown’d; next mingled wine yet new,
And luscious as the bees’ nectareous dew:
Then sate, companion of the friendly feast,
With open look; and thus bespoke his guest:
“Take with free welcome what our hands prepare,
Such food as falls to simple servants’ share;
The best our lords consume; those thoughtless peers,
Rich without bounty, guilty without fears;
Yet sure the gods their impious acts detest,
And honour justice and the righteous breast.
Pirates and conquerors of harden’d mind,
The foes of peace, and scourges of mankind,
To whom offending men are made a prey
When Jove in vengeance gives a land away;
E’en these, when of their ill-got spoils possess’d,
Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast:
Some voice of God close whispering from within,
‘Wretch! this is villainy, and this is sin.’
But these, no doubt, some oracle explore,
That tells, the great Ulysses is no more.
Hence springs their confidence, and from our sighs
Their rapine strengthens, and their riots rise:
Constant as Jove the night and day bestows,
Bleeds a whole hecatomb, a vintage flows.
None match’d this hero’s wealth, of all who reign
O’er the fair islands of the neighbouring main.
Nor all the monarchs whose far-dreaded sway
The wide-extended continents obey:
First, on the main land, of Ulysses’ breed
Twelve herds, twelve flocks, on ocean’s margin feed;
As many stalls for shaggy goats are rear’d;
As many lodgments for the tusky herd;
Two foreign keepers guard: and here are seen
Twelve herds of goats that graze our utmost green;
To native pastors is their charge assign’d,
And mine the care to feed the bristly kind;
Each day the fattest bleeds of either herd,
All to the suitors’ wasteful board preferr’d.”
Thus he, benevolent: his unknown guest
With hunger keen devours the savoury feast;
While schemes of vengeance ripen in his breast.
Silent and thoughtful while the board he eyed,
Eumaeus pours on high the purple tide;
The king with smiling looks his joy express’d,
And thus the kind inviting host address’d:
"""
"""
“Say now, what man is he, the man deplored,
So rich, so potent, whom you style your lord?
Late with such affluence and possessions bless’d,
And now in honour’s glorious bed at rest.
Whoever was the warrior, he must be
To fame no stranger, nor perhaps to me:
Who (so the gods and so the Fates ordain’d)
Have wander’d many a sea, and many a land.”
"""
"""
“Small is the faith the prince and queen ascribe
(Replied Eumaeus) to the wandering tribe.
For needy strangers still to flattery fly,
And want too oft betrays the tongue to lie.
Each vagrant traveller, that touches here,
Deludes with fallacies the royal ear,
To dear remembrance makes his image rise,
And calls the springing sorrows from her eyes.
Such thou mayst be. But he whose name you crave
Moulders in earth, or welters on the wave,
Or food for fish or dogs his relics lie,
Or torn by birds are scatter’d through the sky.
So perish’d he: and left (for ever lost)
Much woe to all, but sure to me the most.
So mild a master never shall I find;
Less dear the parents whom I left behind,
Less soft my mother, less my father kind.
Not with such transport would my eyes run o’er,
Again to hail them in their native shore,
As loved Ulysses once more to embrace,
Restored and breathing in his natal place.
That name for ever dread, yet ever dear,
E’en in his absence I pronounce with fear:
In my respect, he bears a prince’s part;
But lives a very brother in my heart.”
"""
"""
Thus spoke the faithful swain, and thus rejoin’d
The master of his grief, the man of patient mind:
“Ulysses, friend! shall view his old abodes
(Distrustful as thou art), nor doubt the gods.
Nor speak I rashly, but with faith averr’d,
And what I speak attesting Heaven has heard.
If so, a cloak and vesture be my meed:
Till his return no title shall I plead,
Though certain be my news, and great my need.
Whom want itself can force untruths to tell,
My soul detests him as the gates of hell.
"""
"""
“Thou first be witness, hospitable Jove!
And every god inspiring social love!
And witness every household power that waits,
Guard of these fires, and angel of these gates!
Ere the next moon increase or this decay,
His ancient realms Ulysses shall survey,
In blood and dust each proud oppressor mourn,
And the lost glories of his house return.”
"""
"""
“Nor shall that meed be thine, nor ever more
Shall loved Ulysses hail this happy shore.
(Replied Eumaeus): to the present hour
Now turn thy thought, and joys within our power.
From sad reflection let my soul repose;
The name of him awakes a thousand woes.
But guard him, gods! and to these arms restore!
Not his true consort can desire him more;
Not old Laertes, broken with despair:
Not young Telemachus, his blooming heir.
Alas, Telemachus! my sorrows flow
Afresh for thee, my second cause of woe!
Like some fair plant set by a heavenly hand,
He grew, he flourish’d, and he bless’d the land;
In all the youth his father’s image shined,
Bright in his person, brighter in his mind.
What man, or god, deceived his better sense,
Far on the swelling seas to wander hence?
To distant Pylos hapless is he gone,
To seek his father’s fate and find his own!
For traitors wait his way, with dire design
To end at once the great Arcesian line.
But let us leave him to their wills above;
The fates of men are in the hand of Jove.
And now, my venerable guest! declare
Your name, your parents, and your native air:
Sincere from whence begun, your course relate,
And to what ship I owe the friendly freight?”
"""
"""
Thus he: and thus (with prompt invention bold)
The cautious chief his ready story told.
"""
"""
“On dark reserve what better can prevail,
Or from the fluent tongue produce the tale,
Than when two friends, alone, in peaceful place
Confer, and wines and cates the table grace;
But most, the kind inviter’s cheerful face?
Thus might we sit, with social goblets crown’d,
Till the whole circle of the year goes round:
Not the whole circle of the year would close
My long narration of a life of woes.
But such was Heaven’s high will! Know then, I came
From sacred Crete, and from a sire of fame:
Castor Hylacides (that name he bore),
Beloved and honour’d in his native shore;
Bless’d in his riches, in his children more.
Sprung of a handmaid, from a bought embrace,
I shared his kindness with his lawful race:
But when that fate, which all must undergo,
From earth removed him to the shades below,
The large domain his greedy sons divide,
And each was portion’d as the lots decide.
Little, alas! was left my wretched share,
Except a house, a covert from the air:
But what by niggard fortune was denied,
A willing widow’s copious wealth supplied.
My valour was my plea, a gallant mind,
That, true to honour, never lagg’d behind
(The sex is ever to a soldier kind).
Now wasting years my former strength confound,
And added woes have bow’d me to the ground;
Yet by the stubble you may guess the grain,
And mark the ruins of no vulgar man.
Me, Pallas gave to lead the martial storm,
And the fair ranks of battle to deform;
Me, Mars inspired to turn the foe to flight,
And tempt the secret ambush of the night.
Let ghastly Death in all his forms appear,
I saw him not, it was not mine to fear.
Before the rest I raised my ready steel,
The first I met, he yielded, or he fell.
But works of peace my soul disdain’d to bear,
The rural labour, or domestic care.
To raise the mast, the missile dart to wing,
And send swift arrows from the bounding string,
Were arts the gods made grateful to my mind;
Those gods, who turn (to various ends design’d)
The various thoughts and talents of mankind.
Before the Grecians touch’d the Trojan plain,
Nine times commander or by land or main,
In foreign fields I spread my glory far,
Great in the praise, rich in the spoils of war;
Thence charged with riches, as increased in fame,
To Crete return’d, an honourable name.
But when great Jove that direful war decreed,
Which roused all Greece, and made the mighty bleed;
Our states myself and Idomen employ
To lead their fleets, and carry death to Troy.
Nine years we warr’d; the tenth saw Ilion fall;
Homeward we sail’d, but heaven dispersed us all.
One only month my wife enjoy’d my stay;
So will’d the god who gives and takes away.
Nine ships I mann’d, equipp’d with ready stores,
Intent to voyage to the Aegyptian shores;
In feast and sacrifice my chosen train
Six days consum’d; the seventh we plough’d the main.
Crete’s ample fields diminish to our eye;
Before the Boreal blast the vessels fly;
Safe through the level seas we sweep our way;
The steersman governs, and the ships obey.
The fifth fair morn we stem the Aegyptian tide,
And tilting o’er the bay the vessels ride:
To anchor there my fellows I command,
And spies commission to explore the land.
But, sway’d by lust of gain, and headlong will,
The coasts they ravage, and the natives kill.
The spreading clamour to their city flies,
And horse and foot in mingled tumult rise.
The reddening dawn reveals the circling fields,
Horrid with bristly spears, and glancing shields.
Jove thunder’d on their side. Our guilty head
We turn’d to flight; the gathering vengeance spread
On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lie dead.
I then explored my thought, what course to prove
(And sure the thought was dictated by Jove):
Oh, had he left me to that happier doom,
And saved a life of miseries to come!
The radiant helmet from my brows unlaced,
And low on earth my shield and javelin cast,
I meet the monarch with a suppliant’s face,
Approach his chariot, and his knees embrace,
He heard, he saved, he placed me at his side;
My state he pitied, and my tears he dried,
Restrain’d the rage the vengeful foe express’d,
And turn’d the deadly weapons from my breast.
Pious! to guard the hospitable rite,
And fearing Jove, whom mercy’s works delight.
"""
"""
“In Aegypt thus with peace and plenty bless’d,
I lived (and happy still have lived) a guest.
On seven bright years successive blessings wait;
The next changed all the colour of my fate.
A false Phoenician, of insiduous mind,
Versed in vile arts, and foe to humankind,
With semblance fair invites me to his home;
I seized the proffer (ever fond to roam):
Domestic in his faithless roof I stay’d,
Till the swift sun his annual circle made.
To Libya then he mediates the way;
With guileful art a stranger to betray,
And sell to bondage in a foreign land:
Much doubting, yet compell’d I quit the strand,
Through the mid seas the nimble pinnace sails,
Aloof from Crete, before the northern gales:
But when remote her chalky cliffs we lost,
And far from ken of any other coast,
When all was wild expanse of sea and air,
Then doom’d high Jove due vengeance to prepare.
He hung a night of horrors o’er their head
(The shaded ocean blacken’d as it spread):
He launch’d the fiery bolt: from pole to pole
Broad burst the lightnings, deep the thunders roll;
In giddy rounds the whirling ship is toss’d,
An all in clouds of smothering sulphur lost.
As from a hanging rock’s tremendous height,
The sable crows with intercepted flight
Drop endlong; scarr’d, and black with sulphurous hue,
So from the deck are hurl’d the ghastly crew.
Such end the wicked found! but Jove’s intent
Was yet to save the oppress’d and innocent.
Placed on the mast (the last resource of life)
With winds and waves I held unequal strife:
For nine long days the billows tilting o’er,
The tenth soft wafts me to Thesprotia’s shore.
The monarch’s son a shipwreck’d wretch relieved,
The sire with hospitable rites received,
And in his palace like a brother placed,
With gifts of price and gorgeous garments graced
While here I sojourn’d, oft I heard the fame
How late Ulysses to the country came.
How loved, how honour’d in this court he stay’d,
And here his whole collected treasure laid;
I saw myself the vast unnumber’d store
Of steel elaborate, and refulgent ore,
And brass high heap’d amidst the regal dome;
Immense supplies for ages yet to come!
Meantime he voyaged to explore the will
Of Jove, on high Dodona’s holy hill,
What means might best his safe return avail,
To come in pomp, or bear a secret sail?
Full oft has Phidon, whilst he pour’d the wine,
Attesting solemn all the powers divine,
That soon Ulysses would return, declared
The sailors waiting, and the ships prepared.
But first the king dismiss’d me from his shores,
For fair Dulichium crown’d with fruitful stores;
To good Acastus’ friendly care consign’d:
But other counsels pleased the sailors’ mind:
New frauds were plotted by the faithless train,
And misery demands me once again.
Soon as remote from shore they plough the wave,
With ready hands they rush to seize their slave;
Then with these tatter’d rags they wrapp’d me round
(Stripp’d of my own), and to the vessel bound.
At eve, at Ithaca’s delightful land
The ship arriv’d: forth issuing on the sand,
They sought repast; while to the unhappy kind,
The pitying gods themselves my chains unbind.
Soft I descended, to the sea applied
My naked breast, and shot along the tide.
Soon pass’d beyond their sight, I left the flood,
And took the spreading shelter of the wood.
Their prize escaped the faithless pirates mourn’d;
But deem’d inquiry vain, and to their ships return’d.
Screen’d by protecting gods from hostile eyes,
They led me to a good man and a wise,
To live beneath thy hospitable care,
And wait the woes Heaven dooms me yet to bear.”
"""
"""
“Unhappy guest! whose sorrows touch my mind!
(Thus good Eumaeus with a sigh rejoin’d,)
For real sufferings since I grieve sincere,
Check not with fallacies the springing tear:
Nor turn the passion into groundless joy
For him whom Heaven has destined to destroy.
Oh! had he perish’d on some well-fought day,
Or in his friend’s embraces died away!
That grateful Greece with streaming eyes might raise
Historic marbles to record his praise;
His praise, eternal on the faithful stone,
Had with transmissive honours graced his son.
Now, snatch’d by harpies to the dreary coast,
Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost!
While pensive in this solitary den,
Far from gay cities and the ways of men,
I linger life; nor to the court repair,
But when my constant queen commands my care;
Or when, to taste her hospitable board,
Some guest arrives, with rumours of her lord;
And these indulge their want, and those their woe,
And here the tears and there the goblets flow.
By many such have I been warn’d; but chief
By one Aetolian robb’d of all belief,
Whose hap it was to this our roof to roam,
For murder banish’d from his native home.
He swore, Ulysses on the coast of Crete
Stay’d but a season to refit his fleet;
A few revolving months should waft him o’er,
Fraught with bold warriors, and a boundless store
O thou! whom age has taught to understand,
And Heaven has guided with a favouring hand!
On god or mortal to obtrude a lie
Forbear, and dread to flatter as to die.
Nor for such ends my house and heart are free,
But dear respect to Jove, and charity.”
"""
"""
“And why, O swain of unbelieving mind!
(Thus quick replied the wisest of mankind)
Doubt you my oath? yet more my faith to try,
A solemn compact let us ratify,
And witness every power that rules the sky!
If here Ulysses from his labours rest,
Be then my prize a tunic and a vest;
And where my hopes invite me, straight transport
In safety to Dulichium’s friendly court.
But if he greets not thy desiring eye,
Hurl me from yon dread precipice on high:
The due reward of fraud and perjury.”
"""
"""
“Doubtless, O guest! great laud and praise were mine
(Replied the swain, for spotless faith divine),
If after social rites and gifts bestow’d,
I stain’d my hospitable hearth with blood.
How would the gods my righteous toils succeed,
And bless the hand that made a stranger bleed?
No more — the approaching hours of silent night
First claim refection, then to rest invite;
Beneath our humble cottage let us haste,
And here, unenvied, rural dainties taste.”
"""
"""
Thus communed these; while to their lowly dome
The full-fed swine return’d with evening home;
Compell’d, reluctant, to their several sties,
With din obstreperous, and ungrateful cries.
Then to the slaves: “Now from the herd the best
Select in honour of our foreign guest:
With him let us the genial banquet share,
For great and many are the griefs we bear;
While those who from our labours heap their board
Blaspheme their feeder, and forget their lord.”
"""
"""
Thus speaking, with despatchful hand he took
A weighty axe, and cleft the solid oak;
This on the earth he piled; a boar full fed,
Of five years’ age, before the pile was led:
The swain, whom acts of piety delight,
Observant of the gods, begins the rite;
First shears the forehead of the bristly boar,
And suppliant stands, invoking every power
To speed Ulysses to his native shore.
A knotty stake then aiming at his head,
Down dropped he groaning, and the spirit fled.
The scorching flames climb round on every side;
Then the singed members they with skill divide;
On these, in rolls of fat involved with art,
The choicest morsels lay from every part.
Some in the flames bestrew’d with flour they threw;
Some cut in fragments from the forks they drew:
These while on several tables they dispose.
A priest himself the blameless rustic rose;
Expert the destined victim to dispart
In seven just portions, pure of hand and heart.
One sacred to the nymphs apart they lay:
Another to the winged sons of May;
The rural tribe in common share the rest,
The king the chine, the honour of the feast,
Who sate delighted at his servant’s board;
The faithful servant joy’d his unknown lord.
“Oh be thou dear (Ulysses cried) to Jove,
As well thou claim’st a grateful stranger’s love!”
"""
"""
“Be then thy thanks (the bounteous swain replied)
Enjoyment of the good the gods provide.
From God’s own hand descend our joys and woes;
These he decrees, and he but suffers those:
All power is his, and whatsoe’er he wills,
The will itself, omnipotent, fulfils.”
This said, the first-fruits to the gods he gave;
Then pour’d of offer’d wine the sable wave:
In great Ulysses’ hand he placed the bowl,
He sate, and sweet refection cheer’d his soul.
The bread from canisters Mesaulius gave
(Eumaeus’ proper treasure bought this slave,
And led from Taphos, to attend his board,
A servant added to his absent lord);
His task it was the wheaten loaves to lay,
And from the banquet take the bowls away.
And now the rage of hunger was repress’d,
And each betakes him to his couch to rest.
"""
"""
Now came the night, and darkness cover’d o’er
The face of things; the winds began to roar;
The driving storm the watery west-wind pours,
And Jove descends in deluges of showers.
Studious of rest and warmth, Ulysses lies,
Foreseeing from the first the storm would rise
In mere necessity of coat and cloak,
With artful preface to his host he spoke:
“Hear me, my friends! who this good banquet grace;
’Tis sweet to play the fool in time and place,
And wine can of their wits the wise beguile,
Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile,
The grave in merry measures frisk about,
And many a long-repented word bring out.
Since to be talkative I now commence,
Let wit cast off the sullen yoke of sense.
Once I was strong (would Heaven restore those days!)
And with my betters claim’d a share of praise.
Ulysses, Menelaus, led forth a band,
And join’d me with them (’twas their own command);
A deathful ambush for the foe to lay,
Beneath Troy walls by night we took our way:
There, clad in arms, along the marshes spread,
We made the osier-fringed bank our bed.
Full soon the inclemency of heaven I feel,
Nor had these shoulders covering, but of steel.
Sharp blew the north; snow whitening all the fields
Froze with the blast, and gathering glazed our shields.
There all but I, well fenced with cloak and vest,
Lay cover’d by their ample shields at rest.
Fool that I was! I left behind my own,
The skill of weather and of winds unknown,
And trusted to my coat and shield alone!
When now was wasted more than half the night,
And the stars faded at approaching light,
Sudden I jogg’d Ulysses, who was laid
Fast by my side, and shivering thus I said:
"""
"""
“‘Here longer in this field I cannot lie;
The winter pinches, and with cold I die,
And die ashamed (O wisest of mankind),
The only fool who left his cloak behind.’
"""
"""
“He thought and answer’d: hardly waking yet,
Sprung in his mind a momentary wit
(That wit, which or in council or in fight,
Still met the emergence, and determined right).
‘Hush thee (he cried, soft whispering in my ear),
Speak not a word, lest any Greek may hear’—
And then (supporting on his arm his head),
‘Hear me, companions! (thus aloud he said:)
Methinks too distant from the fleet we lie:
E’en now a vision stood before my eye,
And sure the warning vision was from high:
Let from among us some swift courier rise,
Haste to the general, and demand supplies.’
"""
"""
“Up started Thoas straight, Andraemon’s son,
Nimbly he rose, and cast his garment down!
Instant, the racer vanish’d off the ground;
That instant in his cloak I wrapp’d me round:
And safe I slept, till brightly-dawning shone
The morn conspicuous on her golden throne.
"""
"""
“Oh were my strength as then, as then my age!
Some friend would fence me from the winter’s rage.
Yet, tatter’d as I look, I challenged then
The honours and the offices of men:
Some master, or some servant would allow
A cloak and vest — but I am nothing now!”
"""
"""
“Well hast thou spoke (rejoin’d the attentive swain):
Thy lips let fall no idle word or vain!
Nor garment shalt thou want, nor aught beside,
Meet for the wandering suppliant to provide.
But in the morning take thy clothes again,
For here one vest suffices every swain:
No change of garments to our hinds is known;
But when return’d, the good Ulysses’ son
With better hand shall grace with fit attires
His guest, and send thee where thy soul desires.”
"""
"""
The honest herdsman rose, as this he said,
And drew before the hearth the stranger’s bed;
The fleecy spoils of sheep, a goat’s rough hide
He spreads; and adds a mantle thick and wide;
With store to heap above him, and below,
And guard each quarter as the tempests blow.
There lay the king, and all the rest supine;
All, but the careful master of the swine:
Forth hasted he to tend his bristly care;
Well arm’d, and fenced against nocturnal air:
His weighty falchion o’er his shoulder tied:
His shaggy cloak a mountain goat supplied:
With his broad spear the dread of dogs and men,
He seeks his lodging in the rocky den.
There to the tusky herd he bends his way,
Where, screen’d from Boreas, high o’erarch’d they lay.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Return of Telemachus.''
//The goddess Minerva commands Telemachus in a vision to return to Ithaca. Pisistratus and he take leave of Menelaus, and arrive at Pylos, where they part: and Telemachus sets sail, after having received on board Theoclymenus the soothsayer. The scene then changes to the cottage of Eumaeus, who entertains Ulysses with a recital of his adventures. In the meantime Telemachus arrives on the coast, and sending the vessel to the town, proceeds by himself to the lodge of Eumaeus.//
"""
Now had Minerva reach’d those ample plains,
Famed for the dance, where Menelaus reigns:
Anxious she flies to great Ulysses’ heir,
His instant voyage challenged all her care.
Beneath the royal portico display’d,
With Nestor’s son Telemachus was laid:
In sleep profound the son of Nestor lies;
Not thine, Ulysses! Care unseal’d his eyes:
Restless he grieved, with various fears oppress’d,
And all thy fortunes roll’d within his breast.
When, “O Telemachus! (the goddess said)
Too long in vain, too widely hast thou stray’d,
Thus leaving careless thy paternal right
The robbers’ prize, the prey to lawless might.
On fond pursuits neglectful while you roam,
E’en now the hand of rapine sacks the dome.
Hence to Atrides; and his leave implore
To launch thy vessel for thy natal shore;
Fly, whilst thy mother virtuous yet withstands
Her kindred’s wishes, and her sire’s commands;
Through both, Eurymachus pursues the dame,
And with the noblest gifts asserts his claim.
Hence, therefore, while thy stores thy own remain;
Thou know’st the practice of the female train,
Lost in the children of the present spouse,
They slight the pledges of their former vows;
Their love is always with the lover past;
Still the succeeding flame expels the last.
Let o’er thy house some chosen maid preside,
Till Heaven decrees to bless thee in a bride.
But now thy more attentive ears incline,
Observe the warnings of a power divine;
For thee their snares the suitor lords shall lay
In Samos’ sands, or straits of Ithaca;
To seize thy life shall lurk the murderous band,
Ere yet thy footsteps press thy native land.
No! — sooner far their riot and their lust
All-covering earth shall bury deep in dust!
Then distant from the scatter’d islands steer,
Nor let the night retard thy full career;
Thy heavenly guardian shall instruct the gales
To smooth thy passage and supply thy sails:
And when at Ithaca thy labour ends,
Send to the town the vessel with thy friends;
But seek thou first the master of the swine
(For still to thee his loyal thoughts incline);
There pass the night: while he his course pursues
To bring Penelope the wish’d-for news,
That thou, safe sailing from the Pylian strand,
Art come to bless her in thy native land.”
Thus spoke the goddess, and resumed her flight
To the pure regions of eternal light,
Meanwhile Pisistratus he gently shakes,
And with these words the slumbering youth awakes:
"""
"""
“Rise, son of Nestor; for the road prepare,
And join the harness’d coursers to the car.”
"""
"""
“What cause (he cried) can justify our flight
To tempt the dangers of forbidding night?
Here wait we rather, till approaching day
Shall prompt our speed, and point the ready way.
Nor think of flight before the Spartan king
Shall bid farewell, and bounteous presents bring;
Gifts, which to distant ages safely stored,
The sacred act of friendship shall record.”
"""
"""
Thus he. But when the dawn bestreak’d the east,
The king from Helen rose, and sought his guest.
As soon as his approach the hero knew,
The splendid mantle round him first he threw,
Then o’er his ample shoulders whirl’d the cloak,
Respectful met the monarch, and bespoke:
"""
"""
“Hail, great Atrides, favour’d of high Jove!
Let not thy friends in vain for licence move.
Swift let us measure back the watery way,
Nor check our speed, impatient of delay.”
"""
"""
“If with desire so strong thy bosom glows,
Ill (said the king) should I thy wish oppose;
For oft in others freely I reprove
The ill-timed efforts of officious love;
Who love too much, hate in the like extreme,
And both the golden mean alike condemn.
Alike he thwarts the hospitable end,
Who drives the free, or stays the hasty friend:
True friendship’s laws are by this rule express’d,
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
Yet, stay, my friends, and in your chariot take
The noblest presents that our love can make;
Meantime commit we to our women’s care
Some choice domestic viands to prepare;
The traveller, rising from the banquet gay,
Eludes the labours of the tedious way,
Then if a wider course shall rather please,
Through spacious Argos and the realms of Greece,
Atrides in his chariot shall attend;
Himself thy convoy to each royal friend.
No prince will let Ulysses’ heir remove
Without some pledge, some monument of love:
These will the caldron, these the tripod give;
From those the well-pair’d mules we shall receive,
Or bowl emboss’d whose golden figures live.”
"""
"""
To whom the youth, for prudence famed, replied:
“O monarch, care of heaven! thy people’s pride!
No friend in Ithaca my place supplies,
No powerful hands are there, no watchful eyes:
My stores exposed and fenceless house demand
The speediest succour from my guardian hand;
Lest, in a search too anxious and too vain,
Of one lost joy, I lose what yet remain.”
"""
"""
His purpose when the generous warrior heard,
He charged the household cates to be prepared.
Now with the dawn, from his adjoining home,
Was Boethoedes Eteoneus come;
Swift at the word he forms the rising blaze,
And o’er the coals the smoking fragments lays.
Meantime the king, his son, and Helen went
Where the rich wardrobe breathed a costly scent;
The king selected from the glittering rows
A bowl; the prince a silver beaker chose.
The beauteous queen revolved with careful eyes
Her various textures of unnumber’d dyes,
And chose the largest; with no vulgar art
Her own fair hands embroider’d every part;
Beneath the rest it lay divinely bright,
Like radiant Hesper o’er the gems of night,
Then with each gift they hasten’d to their guest,
And thus the king Ulysses’ heir address’d:
“Since fix’d are thy resolves, may thundering Jove
With happiest omens thy desires approve!
This silver bowl, whose costly margins shine
Enchased with old, this valued gift be thine;
To me this present, of Vulcanian frame,
From Sidon’s hospitable monarch came;
To thee we now consign the precious load,
The pride of kings, and labour of a god.”
"""
"""
Then gave the cup, while Megapenthe brought
The silver vase with living sculpture wrought.
The beauteous queen, advancing next, display’d
The shining veil, and thus endearing said:
"""
"""
“Accept, dear youth, this monument of love,
Long since, in better days, by Helen wove:
Safe in thy mother’s care the vesture lay,
To deck thy bride and grace thy nuptial day.
Meantime may’st thou with happiest speed regain
Thy stately palace, and thy wide domain.”
"""
"""
She said, and gave the veil; with grateful look
The prince the variegated present took.
And now, when through the royal dome they pass’d,
High on a throne the king each stranger placed.
A golden ewer the attendant damsel brings,
Replete with water from the crystal springs;
With copious streams the shining vase supplies
A silver layer of capacious size.
They wash. The tables in fair order spread,
The glittering canisters are crown’d with bread;
Viands of various kinds allure the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour; rich repast!
Whilst Eteoneus portions out the shares
Atrides’ son the purple draught prepares,
And now (each sated with the genial feast,
And the short rage of thirst and hunger ceased)
Ulysses’ son, with his illustrious friend,
The horses join, the polish’d car ascend,
Along the court the fiery steeds rebound,
And the wide portal echoes to the sound.
The king precedes; a bowl with fragrant wine
(Libation destined to the powers divine)
His right hand held: before the steed he stands,
Then, mix’d with prayers, he utters these commands:
"""
"""
“Farewell, and prosper, youths! let Nestor know
What grateful thoughts still in this bosom glow,
For all the proofs of his paternal care,
Through the long dangers of the ten years’ war.”
“Ah! doubt not our report (the prince rejoin’d)
Of all the virtues of thy generous mind.
And oh! return’d might we Ulysses meet!
To him thy presents show, thy words repeat:
How will each speech his grateful wonder raise!
How will each gift indulge us in thy praise!”
"""
"""
Scarce ended thus the prince, when on the right
Advanced the bird of Jove: auspicious sight!
A milk-white fowl his clinching talons bore,
With care domestic pampered at the floor.
Peasants in vain with threatening cries pursue,
In solemn speed the bird majestic flew
Full dexter to the car; the prosperous sight
Fill’d every breast with wonder and delight.
"""
"""
But Nestor’s son the cheerful silence broke,
And in these words the Spartan chief bespoke:
“Say if to us the gods these omens send,
Or fates peculiar to thyself portend?”
"""
"""
Whilst yet the monarch paused, with doubts oppress’d
The beauteous queen relieved his labouring breast:
“Hear me (she cried), to whom the gods have given
To read this sign, and mystic sense of heaven,
As thus the plumy sovereign of the air
Left on the mountain’s brow his callow care,
And wander’d through the wide ethereal way
To pour his wrath on yon luxurious prey;
So shall thy godlike father, toss’d in vain
Through all the dangers of the boundless main,
Arrive (or if perchance already come)
From slaughter’d gluttons to release the dome.”
"""
"""
“Oh! if this promised bliss by thundering Jove
(The prince replied) stand fix’d in fate above;
To thee, as to some god, I’ll temples raise.
And crown thy altars with the costly blaze.”
"""
"""
He said; and bending o’er his chariot, flung
Athwart the fiery steeds the smarting thong;
The bounding shafts upon the harness play,
Till night descending intercepts the way.
To Diocles at Pherae they repair,
Whose boasted sire was sacred Alpheus’ heir;
With him all night the youthful stranger stay’d,
Nor found the hospitable rites unpaid,
But soon as morning from her orient bed
Had tinged the mountains with her earliest red,
They join’d the steeds, and on the chariot sprung,
The brazen portals in their passage rung.
"""
"""
To Pylos soon they came; when thus begun
To Nestor’s heir Ulysses’ godlike son:
"""
"""
“Let not Pisistratus in vain be press’d,
Nor unconsenting hear his friend’s request;
His friend by long hereditary claim,
In toils his equal, and in years the same.
No farther from our vessel, I implore,
The courses drive; but lash them to the shore.
Too long thy father would his friend detain;
I dread his proffer’d kindness urged in vain.”
"""
"""
The hero paused, and ponder’d this request,
While love and duty warr’d within his breast.
At length resolved, he turn’d his ready hand,
And lash’d his panting coursers to the strand.
There, while within the poop with care he stored
The regal presents of the Spartan lord,
“With speed begone (said he); call every mate,
Ere yet to Nestor I the tale relate:
’Tis true, the fervour of his generous heart
Brooks no repulse, nor couldst thou soon depart:
Himself will seek thee here, nor wilt thou find,
In words alone, the Pylian monarch kind.
But when, arrived, he thy return shall know
How will his breast with honest fury glow!”
This said, the sounding strokes his horses fire,
And soon he reached the palace of his sire.
"""
"""
“Now (cried Telemachus) with speedy care
Hoist every sail, and every oar prepare.”
Swift as the word his willing mates obey,
And seize their seats, impatient for the sea.
"""
"""
Meantime the prince with sacrifice adores
Minerva, and her guardian aid implores;
When lo! a wretch ran breathless to the shore,
New from his crime; and reeking yet with gore.
A seer he was, from great Melampus sprung,
Melampus, who in Pylos flourish’d long,
Till, urged by wrongs, a foreign realm he chose,
Far from the hateful cause of all his woes.
Neleus his treasures one long year detains,
As long he groan’d in Philacus’ chains:
Meantime, what anguish and what rage combined
For lovely Pero rack’d his labouring mind!
Yet ‘scaped he death; and vengeful of his wrong
To Pylos drove the lowing herds along:
Then (Neleus vanquish’d, and consign’d the fair
To Bias’ arms) he so sought a foreign air;
Argos the rich for his retreat he chose,
There form’d his empire; there his palace rose.
From him Antiphates and Mantius came:
The first begot Oicleus great in fame,
And he Amphiaraus, immortal name!
The people’s saviour, and divinely wise,
Beloved by Jove, and him who gilds the skies;
Yet short his date of life! by female pride he dies.
From Mantius Clitus, whom Aurora’s love
Snatch’d for his beauty to the thrones above;
And Polyphides, on whom Phoebus shone
With fullest rays, Amphiaraus now gone;
In Hyperesia’s groves he made abode,
And taught mankind the counsels of the god.
From him sprung Theoclymenus, who found
(The sacred wine yet foaming on the ground)
Telemachus: whom, as to Heaven he press’d
His ardent vows, the stranger thus address’d:
"""
"""
“O thou! that dost thy happy course prepare
With pure libations and with solemn prayer:
By that dread power to whom thy vows are paid;
By all the lives of these; thy own dear head,
Declare sincerely to no foe’s demand
Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land.”
"""
"""
“Prepare, then (said Telemachus), to know
A tale from falsehood free, not free from woe.
From Ithaca, of royal birth I came,
And great Ulysses (ever honour’d name!)
Once was my sire, though now, for ever lost,
In Stygian gloom he glides a pensive ghost!
Whose fate inquiring through the world we rove;
The last, the wretched proof of filial love.”
"""
"""
The stranger then: “Nor shall I aught conceal,
But the dire secret of my fate reveal.
Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I slew;
Whose powerful friends the luckless deed pursue
With unrelenting rage, and force from home
The blood-stain’d exile, ever doom’d to roam.
But bear, oh bear me o’er yon azure flood;
Receive the suppliant! spare my destined blood!”
"""
"""
“Stranger (replied the prince) securely rest
Affianced in our faith; henceforth our guest.”
Thus affable, Ulysses’ godlike heir
Takes from the stranger’s hand the glittering spear:
He climbs the ship, ascends the stern with haste
And by his side the guest accepted placed.
The chief his order gives: the obedient band,
With due observance wait the chief’s command:
With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind
The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind.
Minerva calls; the ready gales obey
With rapid speed to whirl them o’er the sea.
Crunus they pass’d, next Chalcis roll’d away,
With thickening darkness closed the doubtful day;
The silver Phaea’s glittering rills they lost,
And skimm’d along by Elis’ sacred coast.
Then cautious through the rocky reaches wind,
And turning sudden, shun the death design’d.
"""
"""
Meantime, the king, Eumaeus, and the rest,
Sate in the cottage, at their rural feast:
The banquet pass’d, and satiate every man,
To try his host, Ulysses thus began:
"""
"""
“Yet one night more, my friends, indulge your guest;
The last I purpose in your walls to rest:
To-morrow for myself I must provide,
And only ask your counsel, and a guide;
Patient to roam the street, by hunger led,
And bless the friendly hand that gives me bread.
There in Ulysses’ roof I may relate
Ulysses’ wanderings to his royal mate;
Or, mingling with the suitors’ haughty train,
Not undeserving some support obtain.
Hermes to me his various gifts imparts.
Patron of industry and manual arts:
Few can with me in dexterous works contend,
The pyre to build, the stubborn oak to rend;
To turn the tasteful viand o’er the flame;
Or foam the goblet with a purple stream.
Such are the tasks of men of mean estate,
Whom fortune dooms to serve the rich and great.”
"""
"""
“Alas! (Eumaeus with a sigh rejoin’d).
How sprung a thought so monstrous in thy mind?
If on that godless race thou would’st attend,
Fate owes thee sure a miserable end!
Their wrongs and blasphemies ascend the sky,
And pull descending vengeance from on high.
Not such, my friend, the servants of their feast:
A blooming train in rich embroidery dress’d,
With earth’s whole tribute the bright table bends,
And smiling round celestial youth attends.
Stay, then: no eye askance beholds thee here;
Sweet is thy converse to each social ear;
Well pleased, and pleasing, in our cottage rest,
Till good Telemachus accepts his guest
With genial gifts, and change of fair attires,
And safe conveys thee where thy soul desires.”
"""
"""
To him the man of woes; “O gracious Jove!
Reward this stranger’s hospitable love!
Who knows the son of sorrow to relieve,
Cheers the sad heart, nor lets affliction grieve.
Of all the ills unhappy mortals know,
A life of wanderings is the greatest woe;
On all their weary ways wait care and pain,
And pine and penury, a meagre train.
To such a man since harbour you afford,
Relate the farther fortunes of your lord;
What cares his mother’s tender breast engage,
And sire forsaken on the verge of age;
Beneath the sun prolong they yet their breath,
Or range the house of darkness and of death?”
"""
"""
To whom the swain: “Attend what you enquire;
Laertes lives, the miserable sire,
Lives, but implores of every power to lay
The burden down, and wishes for the day.
Torn from his offspring in the eve of life,
Torn from the embraces of his tender wife,
Sole, and all comfortless, he wastes away
Old age, untimely posting ere his day.
She too, sad mother! for Ulysses lost
Pined out her bloom, and vanish’d to a ghost;
(So dire a fate, ye righteous gods! avert
From every friendly, every feeling heart!)
While yet she was, though clouded o’er with grief.
Her pleasing converse minister’d relief:
With Climene, her youngest daughter, bred,
One roof contain’d us, and one table fed.
But when the softly-stealing pace of time
Crept on from childhood into youthful prime,
To Samos’ isle she sent the wedded fair;
Me to the fields; to tend the rural care;
Array’d in garments her own hands had wove,
Nor less the darling object of her love.
Her hapless death my brighter days o’ercast,
Yet Providence deserts me not at last;
My present labours food and drink procure,
And more, the pleasure to relieve the poor.
Small is the comfort from the queen to hear
Unwelcome news, or vex the royal ear;
Blank and discountenanced the servants stand,
Nor dare to question where the proud command;
No profit springs beneath usurping powers;
Want feeds not there where luxury devours,
Nor harbours charity where riot reigns:
Proud are the lords, and wretched are the swains.”
"""
"""
The suffering chief at this began to melt;
And, “O Eumaeus! thou (he cries) hast felt
The spite of fortune too! her cruel hand
Snatch’d thee an infant from thy native land!
Snatch’d from thy parents’ arms, thy parents’ eyes,
To early wants! a man of miseries!
The whole sad story, from its first, declare:
Sunk the fair city by the rage of war,
Where once thy parents dwelt? or did they keep,
In humbler life, the lowing herds and sheep?
So left perhaps to tend the fleecy train,
Rude pirates seized, and shipp’d thee o’er the main?
Doom’d a fair prize to grace some prince’s board,
The worthy purchase of a foreign lord.”
"""
"""
“If then my fortunes can delight my friend,
A story fruitful of events attend:
Another’s sorrow may thy ears enjoy,
And wine the lengthen’d intervals employ.
Long nights the now declining year bestows;
A part we consecrate to soft repose,
A part in pleasing talk we entertain;
For too much rest itself becomes a pain.
Let those, whom sleep invites, the call obey,
Their cares resuming with the dawning day:
Here let us feast, and to the feast be join’d
Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind;
Review the series of our lives, and taste
The melancholy joy of evils pass’d:
For he who much has suffer’d, much will know,
And pleased remembrance builds delight on woe.
"""
"""
“Above Ortygia lies an isle of fame,
Far hence remote, and Syria is the name
(There curious eyes inscribed with wonder trace
The sun’s diurnal, and his annual race);
Not large, but fruitful; stored with grass to keep
The bellowing oxen and the bleating sheep;
Her sloping hills the mantling vines adorn,
And her rich valleys wave with golden corn.
No want, no famine, the glad natives know,
Nor sink by sickness to the shades below;
But when a length of years unnerves the strong,
Apollo comes, and Cynthia comes along.
They bend the silver bow with tender skill,
And, void of pain, the silent arrows kill.
Two equal tribes this fertile land divide,
Where two fair cities rise with equal pride.
But both in constant peace one prince obey,
And Ctesius there, my father, holds the sway.
Freighted, it seems, with toys of every sort,
A ship of Sidon anchor’d in our port;
What time it chanced the palace entertain’d,
Skill’d in rich works, a woman of their land:
This nymph, where anchor’d the Phoenician train,
To wash her robes descending to the main,
A smooth tongued sailor won her to his mind
(For love deceives the best of womankind).
A sudden trust from sudden liking grew;
She told her name, her race, and all she knew,
‘I too (she cried) from glorious Sidon came,
My father Arybas, of wealthy fame:
But, snatch’d by pirates from my native place,
The Taphians sold me to this man’s embrace.’
"""
"""
“‘Haste then (the false designing youth replied),
Haste to thy country; love shall be thy guide;
Haste to thy father’s house, thy father’s breast,
For still he lives, and lives with riches blest.’
"""
"""
“‘Swear first (she cried), ye sailors! to restore
A wretch in safety to her native shore.’
Swift as she ask’d, the ready sailors swore.
She then proceeds: ‘Now let our compact made
Be nor by signal nor by word betray’d,
Nor near me any of your crew descried,
By road frequented, or by fountain side.
Be silence still our guard. The monarch’s spies
(For watchful age is ready to surmise)
Are still at hand; and this, revealed, must be
Death to yourselves, eternal chains to me.
Your vessel loaded, and your traffic pass’d,
Despatch a wary messenger with haste;
Then gold and costly treasures will I bring,
And more, the infant offspring of the king.
Him, child-like wandering forth, I’ll lead away
(A noble prize!) and to your ship convey.’
"""
"""
“Thus spoke the dame, and homeward took the road.
A year they traffic, and their vessel load.
Their stores complete, and ready now to weigh,
A spy was sent their summons to convey:
An artist to my father’s palace came,
With gold and amber chains, elaborate frame:
Each female eye the glittering links employ;
They turn, review, and cheapen every toy.
He took the occasion, as they stood intent,
Gave her the sign, and to his vessel went.
She straight pursued, and seized my willing arm;
I follow’d, smiling, innocent of harm.
Three golden goblets in the porch she found
(The guests not enter’d, but the table crown’d);
Hid in her fraudful bosom these she bore:
Now set the sun, and darken’d all the shore.
Arriving then, where tilting on the tides
Prepared to launch the freighted vessel rides,
Aboard they heave us, mount their decks, and sweep
With level oar along the glassy deep.
Six calmy days and six smooth nights we sail,
And constant Jove supplied the gentle gale.
The seventh, the fraudful wretch (no cause descried),
Touch’d by Diana’s vengeful arrow, died.
Down dropp’d the caitiff-corse, a worthless load,
Down to the deep; there roll’d, the future food
Of fierce sea-wolves, and monsters of the flood.
An helpless infant I remain’d behind;
Thence borne to Ithaca by wave and wind;
Sold to Laertes by divine command,
And now adopted to a foreign land.”
"""
"""
To him the king: “Reciting thus thy cares,
My secret soul in all thy sorrow shares;
But one choice blessing (such is Jove’s high will)
Has sweeten’d all thy bitter draught of ill:
Torn from thy country to no hapless end,
The gods have, in a master, given a friend.
Whatever frugal nature needs is thine
(For she needs little), daily bread and wine.
While I, so many wanderings past, and woes,
Live but on what thy poverty bestows.”
"""
"""
So passed in pleasing dialogue away
The night; then down to short repose they lay;
Till radiant rose the messenger of day.
While in the port of Ithaca, the band
Of young Telemachus approach’d the land;
Their sails they loosed, they lash’d the mast aside,
And cast their anchors, and the cables tied:
Then on the breezy shore, descending, join
In grateful banquet o’er the rosy wine.
When thus the prince: “Now each his course pursue;
I to the fields, and to the city you.
Long absent hence, I dedicate this day
My swains to visit, and the works survey.
Expect me with the morn, to pay the skies
Our debt of safe return in feast and sacrifice.”
"""
"""
Then Theoclymenus: “But who shall lend,
Meantime, protection to thy stranger friend?
Straight to the queen and palace shall I fly,
Or yet more distant, to some lord apply?”
"""
"""
The prince return’d: “Renown’d in days of yore
Has stood our father’s hospitable door;
No other roof a stranger should receive,
No other hands than ours the welcome give.
But in my absence riot fills the place,
Nor bears the modest queen a stranger’s face;
From noiseful revel far remote she flies,
But rarely seen, or seen with weeping eyes.
No — let Eurymachus receive my guest,
Of nature courteous, and by far the best;
He woos the queen with more respectful flame,
And emulates her former husband’s fame,
With what success, ’tis Jove’s alone to know,
And the hoped nuptials turn to joy or woe.”
"""
"""
Thus speaking, on the right up-soar’d in air
The hawk, Apollo’s swift-wing’d messenger:
His dreadful pounces tore a trembling dove;
The clotted feathers, scatter’d from above,
Between the hero and the vessel pour
Thick plumage mingled with a sanguine shower.
"""
"""
The observing augur took the prince aside,
Seized by the hand, and thus prophetic cried:
“Yon bird, that dexter cuts the aerial road,
Rose ominous, nor flies without a god:
No race but thine shall Ithaca obey,
To thine, for ages, Heaven decrees the sway.”
"""
"""
“Succeed the omens, gods! (the youth rejoin’d:)
Soon shall my bounties speak a grateful mind,
And soon each envied happiness attend
The man who calls Telemachus his friend.”
Then to Peiraeus: “Thou whom time has proved
A faithful servant, by thy prince beloved!
Till we returning shall our guest demand,
Accept this charge with honour, at our hand.”
"""
"""
To this Peiraeus: “Joyful I obey,
Well pleased the hospitable rites to pay.
The presence of thy guest shall best reward
(If long thy stay) the absence of my lord.”
"""
"""
With that, their anchors he commands to weigh,
Mount the tall bark, and launch into the sea.
All with obedient haste forsake the shores,
And, placed in order, spread their equal oars.
Then from the deck the prince his sandals takes;
Poised in his hand the pointed javelin shakes.
They part; while, lessening from the hero’s view
Swift to the town the well-row’d galley flew:
The hero trod the margin of the main,
And reach’d the mansion of his faithful swain.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Discovery of Ulysses to Telemachus.''
//Telemachus arriving at the lodge of Eumaeus, sends him to carry Penelope the news of his return. Minerva appearing to Ulysses, commands him to discover himself to his son. The princes, who had lain in ambush to intercept Telemachus in his way, their project being defeated, return to Ithaca.//
"""
Soon as the morning blush’d along the plains,
Ulysses, and the monarch of the swains,
Awake the sleeping fires, their meals prepare,
And forth to pasture send the bristly care.
The prince’s near approach the dogs descry,
And fawning round his feet confess their joy.
Their gentle blandishment the king survey’d,
Heard his resounding step, and instant said:
"""
"""
“Some well-known friend, Eumaeus, bends this way;
His steps I hear; the dogs familiar play.”
"""
"""
While yet he spoke, the prince advancing drew
Nigh to the lodge, and now appear’d in view.
Transported from his seat Eumaeus sprung,
Dropp’d the full bowl, and round his bosom hung;
Kissing his cheek, his hand, while from his eye
The tears rain’d copious in a shower of joy,
As some fond sire who ten long winters grieves,
From foreign climes an only son receives
(Child of his age), with strong paternal joy,
Forward he springs, and clasps the favourite boy:
So round the youth his arms Eumaeus spread,
As if the grave had given him from the dead.
"""
"""
“And is it thou? my ever-dear delight!
Oh, art thou come to bless my longing sight?
Never, I never hoped to view this day,
When o’er the waves you plough’d the desperate way.
Enter, my child! Beyond my hopes restored,
Oh give these eyes to feast upon their lord.
Enter, oh seldom seen! for lawless powers
Too much detain thee from these sylvan bowers,”
The prince replied: “Eumaeus, I obey;
To seek thee, friend, I hither took my way.
But say, if in the court the queen reside
Severely chaste, or if commenced a bride?”
"""
"""
Thus he; and thus the monarch of the swains:
“Severely chaste Penelope remains;
But, lost to every joy, she wastes the day
In tedious cares, and weeps the night away.”
"""
"""
He ended, and (receiving as they pass
The javelin pointed with a star of brass),
They reach’d the dome; the dome with marble shined.
His seat Ulysses to the prince resign’d.
“Not so (exclaims the prince with decent grace)
For me, this house shall find an humbler place:
To usurp the honours due to silver hairs
And reverend strangers modest youth forbears.”
Instant the swain the spoils of beasts supplies,
And bids the rural throne with osiers rise.
There sate the prince: the feast Eumaeus spread,
And heap’d the shining canisters with bread.
Thick o’er the board the plenteous viands lay,
The frugal remnants of the former day.
Then in a bowl he tempers generous wines,
Around whose verge a mimic ivy twines.
And now, the rage of thirst and hunger fled,
Thus young Ulysses to Eumaeus said:
"""
"""
“Whence, father, from what shore this stranger, say?
What vessel bore him o’er the watery way?
To human step our land impervious lies,
And round the coast circumfluent oceans rise.”
"""
"""
The swain returns: “A tale of sorrows hear:
In spacious Crete he drew his natal air;
Long doom’d to wander o’er the land and main,
For Heaven has wove his thread of life with pain.
Half breathless ‘scaping to the land he flew
From Thesprot mariners, a murderous crew.
To thee, my son, the suppliant I resign;
I gave him my protection, grant him thine.”
"""
"""
“Hard task (he cries) thy virtue gives thy friend,
Willing to aid, unable to defend.
Can strangers safely in the court reside,
‘Midst the swell’d insolence of lust and pride?
E’en I unsafe: the queen in doubt to wed,
Or pay due honours to the nuptial bed.
Perhaps she weds regardless of her fame,
Deaf to the mighty Ulyssean name.
However, stranger! from our grace receive
Such honours as befit a prince to give;
Sandals, a sword and robes, respect to prove,
And safe to sail with ornaments of love.
Till then, thy guest amid the rural train,
Far from the court, from danger far, detain.
’Tis mine with food the hungry to supply,
And clothe the naked from the inclement sky.
Here dwell in safety from the suitors’ wrongs,
And the rude insults of ungovern’d tongues.
For should’st thou suffer, powerless to relieve,
I must behold it, and can only grieve.
The brave, encompass’d by an hostile train,
O’erpower’d by numbers, is but brave in vain.”
"""
"""
To whom, while anger in his bosom glows,
With warmth replies the man of mighty woes:
“Since audience mild is deign’d, permit my tongue
At once to pity and resent thy wrong.
My heart weeps blood to see a soul so brave
Live to base insolence or power a slave,
But tell me, dost thou, prince, dost thou behold,
And hear their midnight revels uncontroll’d?
Say, do thy subjects in bold faction rise,
Or priests in fabled oracles advise?
Or are thy brothers, who should aid thy power,
Turn’d mean deserters in the needful hour?
Oh that I were from great Ulysses sprung,
Or that these wither’d nerves like thine were strung,
Or, heavens! might he return! (and soon appear
He shall, I trust; a hero scorns despair:)
Might he return, I yield my life a prey
To my worst foe, if that avenging day
Be not their last: but should I lose my life,
Oppress’d by numbers in the glorious strife,
I chose the nobler part, and yield my breath,
Rather than bear dishonor, worse than death;
Than see the hand of violence invade
The reverend stranger and the spotless maid;
Than see the wealth of kings consumed in waste,
The drunkard’s revel, and the gluttons’ feast.”
"""
"""
Thus he, with anger flashing from his eye;
Sincere the youthful hero made reply:
“Nor leagued in factious arms my subjects rise,
Nor priests in fabled oracles advise;
Nor are my brothers, who should aid my power,
Turn’d mean deserters in the needful hour.
Ah me! I boast no brother; heaven’s dread King
Gives from our stock an only branch to spring:
Alone Laertes reign’d Arcesius’ heir,
Alone Ulysses drew the vital air,
And I alone the bed connubial graced,
An unbless’d offspring of a sire unbless’d!
Each neighbouring realm, conducive to our woe,
Sends forth her peers, and every peer a foe:
The court proud Samos and Dulichium fills,
And lofty Zacinth crown’d with shady hills.
E’en Ithaca and all her lords invade
The imperial sceptre, and the regal bed:
The queen, averse to love, yet awed by power,
Seems half to yield, yet flies the bridal hour:
Meantime their licence uncontroll’d I bear;
E’en now they envy me the vital air:
But Heaven will sure revenge, and gods there are.
"""
"""
“But go Eumaeus! to the queen impart
Our safe return, and ease a mother’s heart.
Yet secret go; for numerous are my foes,
And here at least I may in peace repose.”
"""
"""
To whom the swain: “I hear and I obey:
But old Laertes weeps his life away,
And deems thee lost: shall I speed employ
To bless his age: a messenger of joy?
The mournful hour that tore his son away
Sent the sad sire in solitude to stray;
Yet busied with his slaves, to ease his woe,
He dress’d the vine, and bade the garden blow,
Nor food nor wine refused; but since the day
That you to Pylos plough’d the watery way,
Nor wine nor food he tastes; but, sunk in woes,
Wild springs the vine, no more the garden blows,
Shut from the walks of men, to pleasure lost,
Pensive and pale he wanders half a ghost.”
"""
"""
“Wretched old man! (with tears the prince returns)
Yet cease to go — what man so blest but mourns?
Were every wish indulged by favouring skies,
This hour should give Ulysses to my eyes.
But to the queen with speed dispatchful bear,
Our safe return, and back with speed repair;
And let some handmaid of her train resort
To good Laertes in his rural court.”
"""
"""
While yet he spoke, impatient of delay,
He braced his sandals on, and strode away:
Then from the heavens the martial goddess flies
Through the wild fields of air, and cleaves the skies:
In form, a virgin in soft beauty’s bloom,
Skill’d in the illustrious labours of the loom.
Alone to Ithaca she stood display’d,
But unapparent as a viewless shade
Escaped Telemachus (the powers above,
Seen or unseen, o’er earth at pleasure move):
The dogs intelligent confess’d the tread
Of power divine, and howling, trembling, fled.
The goddess, beckoning, waves her deathless hands:
Dauntless the king before the goddess stands:
"""
"""
“Then why (she said), O favour’d of the skies!
Why to thy godlike son this long disguise?
Stand forth reveal’d; with him thy cares employ
Against thy foes; be valiant and destroy!
Lo! I descend in that avenging hour,
To combat by thy side, thy guardian power.”
"""
"""
She said, and o’er him waves her wand of gold
Imperial robes his manly limbs infold;
At once with grace divine his frame improves;
At once with majesty enlarged he moves:
Youth flush’d his reddening cheek, and from his brows
A length of hair in sable ringlets flows;
His blackening chin receives a deeper shade;
Then from his eyes upsprung the warrior-maid.
"""
"""
The hero reascends: the prince o’erawed
Scarce lifts his eyes, and bows as to a god,
Then with surprise (surprise chastised by fears):
“How art thou changed! (he cried)— a god appears!
Far other vests thy limbs majestic grace,
Far other glories lighten from thy face!
If heaven be thy abode, with pious care,
Lo! I the ready sacrifice prepare:
Lo! gifts of labour’d gold adorn thy shrine,
To win thy grace: O save us, power divine!”
"""
"""
“Few are my days (Ulysses made reply),
Nor I, alas! descendant of the sky.
I am thy father. O my son! my son!
That father, for whose sake thy days have run
One scene of woe! to endless cares consign’d,
And outraged by the wrongs of base mankind.”
"""
"""
Then, rushing to his arms, he kiss’d his boy
With the strong raptures of a parent’s joy.
Tears bathe his cheek, and tears the ground bedew:
He strain’d him close, as to his breast he grew.
“Ah me! (exclaims the prince with fond desire)
Thou art not — no, thou canst not be my sire.
Heaven such illusion only can impose,
By the false joy to aggravate my woes.
Who but a god can change the general doom,
And give to wither’d age a youthful bloom!
Late, worn with years, in weeds obscene you trod;
Now, clothed in majesty, you move a god!”
"""
"""
“Forbear (he cried,) for Heaven reserve that name;
Give to thy father but a father’s claim;
Other Ulysses shalt thou never see,
I am Ulysses, I, my son, am he.
Twice ten sad years o’er earth and ocean toss’d,
’Tis given at length to view my native coast.
Pallas, unconquer’d maid, my frame surrounds
With grace divine: her power admits no bounds;
She o’er my limbs old age and wrinkles shed;
Now strong as youth, magnificent I tread.
The gods with ease frail man depress or raise,
Exalt the lowly, or the proud debase.”
"""
"""
He spoke and sate. The prince with transport flew,
Hung round his neck, while tears his cheek bedew;
Nor less the father pour’d a social flood;
They wept abundant, and they wept aloud.
As the bold eagle with fierce sorrow stung,
Or parent vulture, mourns her ravish’d young;
They cry, they scream, their unfledged brood a prey
To some rude churl, and borne by stealth away:
So they aloud: and tears in tides had run,
Their grief unfinish’d with the setting sun;
But checking the full torrent in its flow,
The prince thus interrupts the solemn woe.
“What ship transported thee, O father, say;
And what bless’d hands have oar’d thee on the way?”
"""
"""
“All, all (Ulysses instant made reply),
I tell thee all, my child, my only joy!
Phaeacians bore me to the port assign’d,
A nation ever to the stranger kind;
Wrapp’d in the embrace of sleep, the faithful train
O’er seas convey’d me to my native reign:
Embroider’d vestures, gold, and brass, are laid
Conceal’d in caverns in the sylvan shade.
Hither, intent the rival rout to slay,
And plan the scene of death, I bend my way;
So Pallas wills — but thou, my son, explain
The names and numbers of the audacious train;
’Tis mine to judge if better to employ
Assistant force, or singly to destroy.”
"""
"""
“O’er earth (returns the prince) resounds thy name,
Thy well-tried wisdom, and thy martial fame,
Yet at thy words I start, in wonder lost;
Can we engage, not decades but an host?
Can we alone in furious battle stand,
Against that numerous and determined band?
Hear then their numbers; from Dulichium came
Twice twenty-six, all peers of mighty name.
Six are their menial train: twice twelve the boast
Of Samos; twenty from Zacynthus’ coast:
And twelve our country’s pride; to these belong
Medon and Phemius, skill’d in heavenly song.
Two sewers from day to day the revels wait,
Exact of taste, and serve the feast in state.
With such a foe the unequal fight to try,
Were by false courage unrevenged to die.
Then what assistant powers you boast relate,
Ere yet we mingle in the stern debate.”
"""
"""
“Mark well my voice, (Ulysses straight replies:)
What need of aids, if favour’d by the skies?
If shielded to the dreadful fight we move,
By mighty Pallas, and by thundering Jove?”
"""
"""
“Sufficient they (Telemachus rejoin’d)
Against the banded powers of all mankind:
They, high enthroned above the rolling clouds,
Wither the strength of man, and awe the gods.”
"""
"""
“Such aids expect (he cries,) when strong in might
We rise terrific to the task of fight.
But thou, when morn salutes the aerial plain,
The court revisit and the lawless train:
Me thither in disguise Eumaeus leads,
An aged mendicant in tatter’d weeds.
There, if base scorn insult my reverend age,
Bear it, my son! repress thy rising rage.
If outraged, cease that outrage to repel;
Bear it, my son! howe’er thy heart rebel.
Yet strive by prayer and counsel to restrain
Their lawless insults, though thou strive in vain:
For wicked ears are deaf to wisdom’s call,
And vengeance strikes whom Heaven has doom’d to fall.
Once more attend: when she whose power inspires
The thinking mind, my soul to vengeance fires,
I give the sign: that instant, from beneath,
Aloft convey the instruments of death,
Armour and arms; and, if mistrust arise,
Thus veil the truth in plausible disguise:
"""
"""
“‘These glittering weapons, ere he sail’d to Troy,
Ulysses view’d with stern heroic joy:
Then, beaming o’er the illumined wall they shone;
Now dust dishonours, all their lustre gone.
I bear them hence (so Jove my soul inspires),
From the pollution of the fuming fires;
Lest when the bowl inflames, in vengeful mood
Ye rush to arms, and stain the feast with blood:
Oft ready swords in luckless hour incite
The hand of wrath, and arm it for the fight.’
"""
"""
“Such be the plea, and by the plea deceive:
For Jove infatuates all, and all believe.
Yet leave for each of us a sword to wield,
A pointed javelin, and a fenceful shield.
But by my blood that in thy bosom glows,
By that regard a son his father owes;
The secret, that thy father lives, retain
Lock’d in thy bosom from the household train;
Hide it from all; e’en from Eumaeus hide,
From my dear father, and my dearer bride.
One care remains, to note the loyal few
Whose faith yet lasts among the menial crew;
And noting, ere we rise in vengeance, prove
Who love his prince; for sure you merit love.”
"""
"""
To whom the youth: “To emulate, I aim,
The brave and wise, and my great father’s fame.
But reconsider, since the wisest err,
Vengeance resolved, ’tis dangerous to defer.
What length of time must we consume in vain,
Too curious to explore the menial train!
While the proud foes, industrious to destroy
Thy wealth, in riot the delay enjoy.
Suffice it in this exigence alone
To mark the damsels that attend the throne:
Dispersed the youth reside; their faith to prove
Jove grants henceforth, if thou hast spoke from Jove.”
"""
"""
While in debate they waste the hours away,
The associates of the prince repass’d the bay:
With speed they guide the vessel to the shores;
With speed debarking land the naval stores:
Then, faithful to their charge, to Clytius bear,
And trust the presents to his friendly care.
Swift to the queen a herald flies to impart
Her son’s return, and ease a parent’s heart:
Lest a sad prey to ever-musing cares,
Pale grief destroy what time awhile forbears.
The incautious herald with impatience burns,
And cries aloud, “Thy son, O queen, returns;”
Eumaeus sage approach’d the imperial throne,
And breathed his mandate to her ear alone,
Then measured back the way. The suitor band,
Stung to the soul, abash’d, confounded, stand;
And issuing from the dome, before the gate,
With clouded looks, a pale assembly sate.
"""
"""
At length Eurymachus: “Our hopes are vain;
Telemachus in triumph sails the main.
Haste, rear the mast, the swelling shroud display;
Haste, to our ambush’d friends the news convey!”
"""
"""
Scarce had he spake, when, turning to the strand,
Amphinomos survey’d the associate band;
Full to the bay within the winding shores
With gather’d sails they stood, and lifted oars.
“O friends!” he cried, elate with rising joy,
“See to the port secure the vessel fly!
Some god has told them, or themselves survey
The bark escaped; and measure back their way.”
"""
"""
Swift at the word descending to the shores,
They moor the vessel and unlade the stores:
Then, moving from the strand, apart they sate,
And full and frequent form’d a dire debate.
"""
"""
“Lives then the boy? he lives (Antinous cries),
The care of gods and favourite of the skies.
All night we watch’d, till with her orient wheels
Aurora flamed above the eastern hills,
And from the lofty brow of rocks by day
Took in the ocean with a broad survey
Yet safe he sails; the powers celestial give
To shun the hidden snares of death, and live.
But die he shall, and thus condemn’d to bleed,
Be now the scene of instant death decreed.
Hope ye success? undaunted crush the foe.
Is he not wise? know this, and strike the blow.
Wait ye, till he to arms in council draws
The Greeks, averse too justly to our cause?
Strike, ere, the states convened, the foe betray
Our murderous ambush on the watery way.
Or choose ye vagrant from their rage to fly,
Outcasts of earth, to breathe an unknown sky?
The brave prevent misfortune; then be brave,
And bury future danger in his grave.
Returns he? ambush’d we’ll his walk invade,
Or where he hides in solitude and shade;
And give the palace to the queen a dower,
Or him she blesses in the bridal hour.
But if submissive you resign the sway,
Slaves to a boy, go, flatter and obey.
Retire we instant to our native reign,
Nor be the wealth of kings consumed in vain;
Then wed whom choice approves: the queen be given
To some blest prince, the prince decreed by Heaven.”
"""
"""
Abash’d, the suitor train his voice attends;
Till from his throne Amphinomus ascends,
Who o’er Dulichium stretch’d his spacious reign,
A land of plenty, bless’d with every grain:
Chief of the numbers who the queen address’d,
And though displeasing, yet displeasing least.
Soft were his words; his actions wisdom sway’d;
Graceful awhile he paused, then mildly said:
"""
"""
“O friends, forbear! and be the thought withstood:
’Tis horrible to shed imperial blood!
Consult we first the all-seeing powers above,
And the sure oracles of righteous Jove.
If they assent, e’en by this hand he dies;
If they forbid, I war not with the skies.”
"""
"""
He said: the rival train his voice approved,
And rising instant to the palace moved.
Arrived, with wild tumultuous noise they sate,
Recumbent on the shining thrones of state.
"""
"""
The Medon, conscious of their dire debates,
The murderous counsel to the queen relates.
Touch’d at the dreadful story, she descends:
Her hasty steps a damsel train attends.
Full where the dome its shining valves expands,
Sudden before the rival powers she stands;
And, veiling, decent, with a modest shade
Her cheek, indignant to Antinous said:
"""
"""
“O void of faith! of all bad men the worst!
Renown’d for wisdom, by the abuse accursed!
Mistaking fame proclaims thy generous mind:
Thy deeds denote thee of the basest kind.
Wretch! to destroy a prince that friendship gives,
While in his guest his murderer he receives;
Nor dread superior Jove, to whom belong
The cause of suppliants, and revenge of wrong.
Hast thou forgot, ungrateful as thou art,
Who saved thy father with a friendly part?
Lawless he ravaged with his martial powers
The Taphian pirates on Thesprotia’s shores;
Enraged, his life, his treasures they demand;
Ulysses saved him from the avenger’s hand.
And would’st thou evil for his good repay?
His bed dishonour, and his house betray?
Afflict his queen, and with a murderous hand
Destroy his heir! — but cease, ’tis I command.”
"""
"""
“Far hence those fears (Eurymachus replied,)
O prudent princess! bid thy soul confide.
Breathes there a man who dares that hero slay,
While I behold the golden light of day?
No: by the righteous powers of heaven I swear,
His blood in vengeance smokes upon my spear.
Ulysses, when my infant days I led,
With wine sufficed me, and with dainties fed:
My generous soul abhors the ungrateful part,
And my friend’s son lives nearest to my heart.
Then fear no mortal arm; if Heaven destroy,
We must resign: for man is born to die.”
"""
"""
Thus smooth he ended, yet his death conspired:
Then sorrowing, with sad step the queen retired,
With streaming eyes, all comfortless deplored,
Touch’d with the dear remembrance of her lord:
Nor ceased till Pallas bids her sorrows fly,
And in soft slumber seal’d her flowing eye.
"""
"""
And now Eumaeus, at the evening hour,
Came late, returning to his sylvan bower.
Ulysses and his son had dress’d with art
A yearling boar, and gave the gods their part.
Holy repast! That instant from the skies
The martial goddess to Ulysses flies:
She waves her golden wand, and reassumes
From every feature every grace that blooms;
At once his vestures change; at once she sheds
Age o’er his limbs, that tremble as he treads:
Lest to the queen the swain with transport fly,
Unable to contain the unruly joy;
When near he drew, the prince breaks forth: “Proclaim
What tidings, friend? what speaks the voice of fame?
Say, if the suitors measure back the main,
Or still in ambush thirst for blood in vain?”
"""
"""
“Whether (he cries) they measure back the flood,
Or still in ambush thirst in vain for blood,
Escaped my care: where lawless suitors sway,
Thy mandate borne my soul disdain’d to stay.
But from the Hermaean height I cast a view,
Where to the port a bark high-bounding flew;
Her freight a shining band: with martial air
Each poised his shield, and each advanced his spear;
And, if aright these searching eyes survey,
The eluded suitors stem the watery way.”
"""
"""
The prince, well pleased to disappoint their wiles,
Steals on his sire a glance, and secret smiles.
And now, a short repast prepared, they fed
Till the keen rage of craving hunger fled:
Then to repose withdrawn, apart they lay,
And in soft sleep forgot the cares of day.
"""
''Argument.''
//Telemachus returning to the city, relates to Penelope the sum of his travels. Ulysses is conducted by Eumaeus to the palace, where his old dog Argus acknowledges his master, after an absence of twenty years, and dies with joy. Eumaeus returns into the country, and Ulysses remains among the suitors, whose behaviour is described.//
"""
Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Sprinkled with roseate light the dewy lawn,
In haste the prince arose, prepared to part;
His hand impatient grasps the pointed dart;
Fair on his feet the polish’d sandals shine,
And thus he greets the master of the swine:
"""
"""
“My friend, adieu! let this short stay suffice;
I haste to meet my mother’s longing eyes,
And end her tears, her sorrows and her sighs.
But thou, attentive, what we order heed:
This hapless stranger to the city lead:
By public bounty let him there be fed,
And bless the hand that stretches forth the bread.
To wipe the tears from all afflicted eyes,
My will may covet, but my power denies.
If this raise anger in the stranger’s thought,
The pain of anger punishes the fault:
The very truth I undisguised declare;
For what so easy as to be sincere?”
"""
"""
To this Ulysses: “What the prince requires
Of swift removal, seconds my desires.
To want like mine the peopled town can yield
More hopes of comfort than the lonely field:
Nor fits my age to till the labour’d lands,
Or stoop to tasks a rural lord demands.
Adieu! but since this ragged garb can bear
So ill the inclemencies of morning air,
A few hours’ space permit me here to stay:
My steps Eumaeus shall to town convey,
With riper beams when Phoebus warms the day.”
"""
"""
Thus he: nor aught Telemachus replied,
But left the mansion with a lofty stride:
Schemes of revenge his pondering breast elate,
Revolving deep the suitors’ sudden fate,
Arriving now before the imperial hall,
He props his spear against the pillar’d wall;
Then like a lion o’er the threshold bounds;
The marble pavement with his steps resounds:
His eye first glanced where Euryclea spreads
With furry spoils of beasts the splendid beds:
She saw, she wept, she ran with eager pace,
And reach’d her master with a long embrace.
All crowded round, the family appears
With wild entrancement, and ecstatic tears.
Swift from above descends the royal fair
(Her beauteous cheeks the blush of Venus wear,
Chasten’d with coy Diana’s pensive air);
Hangs o’er her son, in his embraces dies;
Rains kisses on his neck, his face, his eyes:
Few words she spoke, though much she had to say;
And scarce those few, for tears, could force their way.
"""
"""
“Light of my eyes: he comes! unhoped-for joy!
Has Heaven from Pylos brought my lovely boy?
So snatch’d from all our cares! — Tell, hast thou known
Thy father’s fate, and tell me all thy own.”
"""
"""
“Oh dearest! most revered of womankind!
Cease with those tears to melt a manly mind
(Replied the prince); nor be our fates deplored,
From death and treason to thy arms restored.
Go bathe, and robed in white ascend the towers;
With all thy handmaids thank the immortal powers;
To every god vow hecatombs to bleed.
And call Jove’s vengeance on their guilty deed.
While to the assembled council I repair:
A stranger sent by Heaven attends me there;
My new accepted guest I haste to find,
Now to Peiraeus’ honour’d charge consign’d.”
"""
"""
The matron heard, nor was his word in vain.
She bathed; and, robed in white, with all her train,
To every god vow’d hecatombs to bleed,
And call’d Jove’s vengeance on the guilty deed,
Arm’d with his lance, the prince then pass’d the gate,
Two dogs behind, a faithful guard, await;
Pallas his form with grace divine improves:
The gazing crowd admires him as he moves.
Him, gathering round, the haughty suitors greet
With semblance fair, but inward deep deceit,
Their false addresses, generous, he denied.
Pass’d on, and sate by faithful Mentor’s side;
With Antiphus, and Halitherses sage
(His father’s counsellors, revered for age).
Of his own fortunes, and Ulysses’ fame,
Much ask’d the seniors; till Peiraeus came.
The stranger-guest pursued him close behind;
Whom when Telemachus beheld, he join’d.
He (when Peiraeus ask’d for slaves to bring
The gifts and treasures of the Spartan king)
Thus thoughtful answer’d: “Those we shall not move,
Dark and unconscious of the will of Jove;
We know not yet the full event of all:
Stabb’d in his palace if your prince must fall,
Us, and our house, if treason must o’erthrow,
Better a friend possess them than a foe;
If death to these, and vengeance Heaven decree,
Riches are welcome then, not else, to me.
Till then retain the gifts.”— The hero said,
And in his hand the willing stranger led.
Then disarray’d, the shining bath they sought
(With unguents smooth) of polish’d marble wrought:
Obedient handmaids with assistant toil
Supply the limpid wave, and fragrant oil:
Then o’er their limbs refulgent robes they threw,
And fresh from bathing to their seats withdrew.
The golden ewer a nymph attendant brings,
Replenish’d from the pure translucent springs;
With copious streams that golden ewer supplies
A silver layer of capacious size.
They wash: the table, in fair order spread,
Is piled with viands and the strength of bread.
Full opposite, before the folding gate,
The pensive mother sits in humble state;
Lowly she sate, and with dejected view
The fleecy threads her ivory fingers drew.
The prince and stranger shared the genial feast,
Till now the rage of thirst and hunger ceased.
"""
"""
When thus the queen: “My son! my only friend!
Say, to my mournful couch shall I ascend?
(The couch deserted now a length of years;
The couch for ever water’d with my tears;)
Say, wilt thou not (ere yet the suitor crew
Return, and riot shakes our walls anew),
Say, wilt thou not the least account afford?
The least glad tidings of my absent lord?”
"""
"""
To her the youth. “We reach’d the Pylian plains,
Where Nestor, shepherd of his people, reigns.
All arts of tenderness to him are known,
Kind to Ulysses’ race as to his own;
No father with a fonder grasp of joy
Strains to his bosom his long-absent boy.
But all unknown, if yet Ulysses breathe,
Or glide a spectre in the realms beneath;
For farther search, his rapid steeds transport
My lengthen’d journey to the Spartan court.
There Argive Helen I beheld, whose charms
(So Heaven decreed) engaged the great in arms.
My cause of coming told, he thus rejoin’d;
And still his words live perfect in my mind:
"""
"""
“‘Heavens! would a soft, inglorious, dastard train
An absent hero’s nuptial joys profane
So with her young, amid the woodland shades,
A timorous hind the lion’s court invades,
Leaves in that fatal lair her tender fawns,
And climbs the cliffs, or feeds along the lawns;
Meantime returning, with remorseless sway
The monarch savage rends the panting prey:
With equal fury, and with equal fame,
Shall great Ulysses reassert his claim.
O Jove! supreme! whom men and gods revere;
And thou whose lustre gilds the rolling sphere!
With power congenial join’d, propitious aid
The chief adopted by the martial maid!
Such to our wish the warrior soon restore,
As when, contending on the Lesbian shore,
His prowess Philomelides confess’d,
And loud acclaiming Greeks the victor bless’d:
Then soon the invaders of his bed, and throne,
Their love presumptuous shall by death atone.
Now what you question of my ancient friend,
With truth I answer; thou the truth attend.
Learn what I heard the sea-born seer relate,
Whose eye can pierce the dark recess of fate
Sole in an isle, imprison’d by the main,
The sad survivor of his numerous train,
Ulysses lies; detain’d by magic charms,
And press’d unwilling in Calypso’s arms.
No sailors there, no vessels to convey,
No oars to cut the immeasurable way.’
This told Atrides, and he told no more.
Then safe I voyaged to my native shore.”
"""
"""
He ceased; nor made the pensive queen reply,
But droop’d her head, and drew a secret sigh.
When Theoclymenus the seer began:
“O suffering consort of the suffering man!
What human knowledge could, those kings might tell,
But I the secrets of high heaven reveal.
Before the first of gods be this declared,
Before the board whose blessings we have shared;
Witness the genial rites, and witness all
This house holds sacred in her ample wall!
E’en now, this instant, great Ulysses, laid
At rest, or wandering in his country’s shade,
Their guilty deeds, in hearing, and in view,
Secret revolves; and plans the vengeance due.
Of this sure auguries the gods bestow’d,
When first our vessel anchor’d in your road.”
“Succeed those omens, Heaven! (the queen rejoin’d)
So shall our bounties speak a grateful mind;
And every envied happiness attend
The man who calls Penelope his friend.”
Thus communed they: while in the marble court
(Scene of their insolence) the lords resort:
Athwart the spacious square each tries his art,
To whirl the disk, or aim the missile dart.
Now did the hour of sweet repast arrive,
And from the field the victim flocks they drive:
Medon the herald (one who pleased them best,
And honour’d with a portion of their feast),
To bid the banquet, interrupts their play:
Swift to the hall they haste; aside they lay
Their garments, and succinct the victims slay.
Then sheep, and goats, and bristly porkers bled,
And the proud steer was o’er the marble spread.
While thus the copious banquet they provide,
Along the road, conversing side by side,
Proceed Ulysses and the faithful swain;
When thus Eumaeus, generous and humane:
“To town, observant of our lord’s behest,
Now let us speed; my friend no more my guest!
Yet like myself I wish thee here preferr’d,
Guard of the flock, or keeper of the herd,
But much to raise my master’s wrath I fear;
The wrath of princes ever is severe.
Then heed his will, and be our journey made
While the broad beams of Phoebus are display’d,
Or ere brown evening spreads her chilly shade.”
“Just thy advice (the prudent chief rejoin’d),
And such as suits the dictate of my mind.
Lead on: but help me to some staff to stay
My feeble step, since rugged is the way.”
Across his shoulders then the scrip he flung,
Wide-patch’d, and fasten’d by a twisted thong.
A staff Eumaeus gave. Along the way
Cheerly they fare: behind, the keepers stay:
These with their watchful dogs (a constant guard)
Supply his absence, and attend the herd.
And now his city strikes the monarch’s eyes,
Alas! how changed! a man of miseries;
Propp’d on a staff, a beggar old and bare
In rags dishonest fluttering with the air!
Now pass’d the rugged road, they journey down
The cavern’d way descending to the town,
Where, from the rock, with liquid drops distils
A limpid fount; that spread in parting rills
Its current thence to serve the city brings;
An useful work, adorn’d by ancient kings.
Neritus, Ithacus, Polyctor, there,
In sculptured stone immortalized their care,
In marble urns received it from above,
And shaded with a green surrounding grove;
Where silver alders, in high arches twined,
Drink the cool stream, and tremble to the wind.
Beneath, sequester’d to the nymphs, is seen
A mossy altar, deep embower’d in green;
Where constant vows by travellers are paid,
And holy horrors solemnize the shade.
"""
"""
Here with his goats (not vow’d to sacred fame,
But pamper’d luxury) Melanthias came:
Two grooms attend him. With an envious look
He eyed the stranger, and imperious spoke:
"""
"""
“The good old proverb how this pair fulfil!
One rogue is usher to another still.
Heaven with a secret principle endued
Mankind, to seek their own similitude.
Where goes the swineherd with that ill-look’d guest?
That giant-glutton, dreadful at a feast!
Full many a post have those broad shoulders worn,
From every great man’s gate repulsed with scorn:
To no brave prize aspired the worthless swain,
’Twas but for scraps he ask’d, and ask’d in vain.
To beg, than work, he better understands,
Or we perhaps might take him off thy hands.
For any office could the slave be good,
To cleanse the fold, or help the kids to food.
If any labour those big joints could learn,
Some whey, to wash his bowels, he might earn.
To cringe, to whine, his idle hands to spread,
Is all, by which that graceless maw is fed.
Yet hear me! if thy impudence but dare
Approach yon wall, I prophesy thy fare:
Dearly, full dearly, shalt thou buy thy bread
With many a footstool thundering at thy head.”
"""
"""
He thus: nor insolent of word alone,
Spurn’d with his rustic heel his king unknown;
Spurn’d, but not moved: he like a pillar stood,
Nor stirr’d an inch, contemptuous, from the road:
Doubtful, or with his staff to strike him dead,
Or greet the pavement with his worthless head.
Short was that doubt; to quell his rage inured,
The hero stood self-conquer’d, and endured.
But hateful of the wretch, Eumaeus heaved
His hands obtesting, and this prayer conceived:
“Daughters of Jove! who from the ethereal bowers
Descend to swell the springs, and feed the flowers!
Nymphs of this fountain! to whose sacred names
Our rural victims mount in blazing flames!
To whom Ulysses’ piety preferr’d
The yearly firstlings of his flock and herd;
Succeed my wish, your votary restore:
Oh, be some god his convoy to our shore!
Due pains shall punish then this slave’s offence,
And humble all his airs of insolence,
Who, proudly stalking, leaves the herds at large,
Commences courtier, and neglects his charge.”
"""
"""
“What mutters he? (Melanthius sharp rejoins;)
This crafty miscreant, big with dark designs?
The day shall come — nay, ’tis already near —
When, slave! to sell thee at a price too dear
Must be my care; and hence transport thee o’er,
A load and scandal to this happy shore.
Oh! that as surely great Apollo’s dart,
Or some brave suitor’s sword, might pierce the heart
Of the proud son; as that we stand this hour
In lasting safety from the father’s power!”
"""
"""
So spoke the wretch, but, shunning farther fray,
Turn’d his proud step, and left them on their way.
Straight to the feastful palace he repair’d,
Familiar enter’d, and the banquet shared;
Beneath Eurymachus, his patron lord,
He took his place, and plenty heap’d the board.
"""
"""
Meantime they heard, soft circling in the sky
Sweet airs ascend, and heavenly minstrelsy
(For Phemius to the lyre attuned the strain):
Ulysses hearken’d, then address’d the swain:
"""
"""
“Well may this palace admiration claim,
Great and respondent to the master’s fame!
Stage above stage the imperial structure stands,
Holds the chief honours, and the town commands:
High walls and battlements the courts inclose,
And the strong gates defy a host of foes.
Far other cares its dwellers now employ;
The throng’d assembly and the feast of joy:
I see the smokes of sacrifice aspire,
And hear (what graces every feast) the lyre.”
"""
"""
Then thus Eumaeus: “Judge we which were best;
Amidst yon revellers a sudden guest
Choose you to mingle, while behind I stay?
Or I first entering introduce the way?
Wait for a space without, but wait not long;
This is the house of violence and wrong:
Some rude insult thy reverend age may bear;
For like their lawless lords the servants are.”
"""
"""
“Just is, O friend! thy caution, and address’d
(Replied the chief, to no unheedful breast:)
The wrongs and injuries of base mankind
Fresh to my sense, and always in my mind.
The bravely-patient to no fortune yields:
On rolling oceans, and in fighting fields,
Storms have I pass’d, and many a stern debate;
And now in humbler scene submit to fate.
What cannot want? The best she will expose,
And I am learn’d in all her train of woes;
She fills with navies, hosts, and loud alarms,
The sea, the land, and shakes the world with arms!”
"""
"""
Thus, near the gates conferring as they drew,
Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew:
He not unconscious of the voice and tread,
Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head;
Bred by Ulysses, nourish’d at his board,
But, ah! not fated long to please his lord;
To him, his swiftness and his strength were vain;
The voice of glory call’d him o’er the main.
Till then in every sylvan chase renown’d,
With Argus, Argus, rung the woods around;
With him the youth pursued the goat or fawn,
Or traced the mazy leveret o’er the lawn.
Now left to man’s ingratitude he lay,
Unhoused, neglected in the public way;
And where on heaps the rich manure was spread,
Obscene with reptiles, took his sordid bed.
"""
"""
He knew his lord; he knew, and strove to meet;
In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his feet;
Yet (all he could) his tail, his tears, his eyes,
Salute his master, and confess his joys.
Soft pity touch’d the mighty master’s soul;
Adown his cheek a tear unbidden stole,
Stole unperceived: he turn’d his head and dried
The drop humane: then thus impassion’d cried:
"""
"""
“What noble beast in this abandon’d state
Lies here all helpless at Ulysses’ gate?
His bulk and beauty speak no vulgar praise:
If, as he seems, he was in better days,
Some care his age deserves; or was he prized
For worthless beauty? therefore now despised;
Such dogs and men there are, mere things of state;
And always cherish’d by their friends, the great.”
"""
"""
“Not Argus so, (Eumaeus thus rejoin’d,)
But served a master of a nobler kind,
Who, never, never shall behold him more!
Long, long since perish’d on a distant shore!
Oh had you seen him, vigorous, bold, and young,
Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong:
Him no fell savage on the plain withstood,
None ‘scaped him bosom’d in the gloomy wood;
His eye how piercing, and his scent how true,
To wind the vapour on the tainted dew!
Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast:
Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost!
The women keep the generous creature bare,
A sleek and idle race is all their care:
The master gone, the servants what restrains?
Or dwells humanity where riot reigns?
Jove fix’d it certain, that whatever day
Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.”
"""
"""
This said, the honest herdsman strode before;
The musing monarch pauses at the door:
The dog, whom Fate had granted to behold
His lord, when twenty tedious years had roll’d,
Takes a last look, and having seen him, dies;
So closed for ever faithful Argus’ eyes!
"""
"""
And now Telemachus, the first of all,
Observed Eumaeus entering in the hall;
Distant he saw, across the shady dome;
Then gave a sign, and beckon’d him to come:
There stood an empty seat, where late was placed,
In order due, the steward of the feast,
(Who now was busied carving round the board,)
Eumaeus took, and placed it near his lord.
Before him instant was the banquet spread,
And the bright basket piled with loaves of bread.
"""
"""
Next came Ulysses lowly at the door,
A figure despicable, old, and poor.
In squalid vests, with many a gaping rent,
Propp’d or a staff, and trembling as he went.
Then, resting on the threshold of the gate,
Against a cypress pillar lean’d his weight
Smooth’d by the workman to a polish’d plane);
The thoughtful son beheld, and call’d his swain
"""
"""
“These viands, and this bread, Eumaeus! bear,
And let yon mendicant our plenty share:
And let him circle round the suitors’ board,
And try the bounty of each gracious lord.
Bold let him ask, encouraged thus by me:
How ill, alas! do want and shame agree!”
"""
"""
His lord’s command the faithful servant bears:
The seeming beggar answers with his prayers:
“Bless’d be Telemachus! in every deed
Inspire him. Jove! in every wish succeed!”
This said, the portion from his son convey’d
With smiles receiving on his scrip he laid.
Long has the minstrel swept the sounding wire,
He fed, and ceased when silence held the lyre.
Soon as the suitors from the banquet rose,
Minerva prompts the man of mighty woes
To tempt their bounties with a suppliant’s art,
And learn the generous from the ignoble heart
(Not but his soul, resentful as humane,
Dooms to full vengeance all the offending train);
With speaking eyes, and voice of plaintive sound,
Humble he moves, imploring all around.
The proud feel pity, and relief bestow,
With such an image touch’d of human woe;
Inquiring all, their wonder they confess,
And eye the man, majestic in distress.
"""
"""
While thus they gaze and question with their eyes,
The bold Melanthius to their thought replies:
“My lords! this stranger of gigantic port
The good Eumaeus usher’d to your court.
Full well I mark’d the features of his face,
Though all unknown his clime, or noble race.”
"""
"""
“And is this present, swineherd! of thy band?
Bring’st thou these vagrants to infest the land?
(Returns Antinous with retorted eye)
Objects uncouth, to check the genial joy.
Enough of these our court already grace;
Of giant stomach, and of famish’d face.
Such guests Eumaeus to his country brings,
To share our feast, and lead the life of kings.”
"""
"""
To whom the hospitable swain rejoins:
“Thy passion, prince, belies thy knowing mind.
Who calls, from distant nations to his own,
The poor, distinguish’d by their wants alone?
Round the wide world are sought those men divine
Who public structures raise, or who design;
Those to whose eyes the gods their ways reveal,
Or bless with salutary arts to heal;
But chief to poets such respect belongs,
By rival nations courted for their songs;
These states invite, and mighty kings admire,
Wide as the sun displays his vital fire.
It is not so with want! how few that feed
A wretch unhappy, merely for his need!
Unjust to me, and all that serve the state,
To love Ulysses is to raise thy hate.
For me, suffice the approbation won
Of my great mistress, and her godlike son.”
"""
"""
To him Telemachus: “No more incense
The man by nature prone to insolence:
Injurious minds just answers but provoke”—
Then turning to Antinous, thus he spoke:
“Thanks to thy care! whose absolute command
Thus drives the stranger from our court and land.
Heaven bless its owner with a better mind!
From envy free, to charity inclined.
This both Penelope and I afford:
Then, prince! be bounteous of Ulysses’ board.
To give another’s is thy hand so slow?
So much more sweet to spoil than to bestow?”
"""
"""
“Whence, great Telemachus! this lofty strain?
(Antinous cries with insolent disdain):
Portions like mine if every suitor gave,
Our walls this twelvemonth should not see the slave.”
"""
"""
He spoke, and lifting high above the board
His ponderous footstool, shook it at his lord.
The rest with equal hand conferr’d the bread:
He fill’d his scrip, and to the threshold sped;
But first before Antinous stopp’d, and said:
“Bestow, my friend! thou dost not seem the worst
Of all the Greeks, but prince-like and the first;
Then, as in dignity, be first in worth,
And I shall praise thee through the boundless earth.
Once I enjoy’d in luxury of state
Whate’er gives man the envied name of great;
Wealth, servants, friends, were mine in better days
And hospitality was then my praise;
In every sorrowing soul I pour’d delight,
And poverty stood smiling in my sight.
But Jove, all-governing, whose only will
Determines fate, and mingles good with ill,
Sent me (to punish my pursuit of gain)
With roving pirates o’er the Egyptian main
By Egypt’s silver flood our ships we moor;
Our spies commission’d straight the coast explore;
But impotent of mind, the lawless will
The country ravage, and the natives kill.
The spreading clamour to their city flies,
And horse and foot in mingled tumults rise:
The reddening dawn reveals the hostile fields,
Horrid with bristly spears, and gleaming shields:
Jove thunder’d on their side: our guilty head
We turn’d to flight; the gathering vengeance spread
On all parts round, and heaps on heaps lay dead.
Some few the foe in servitude detain;
Death ill exchanged for bondage and for pain!
Unhappy me a Cyprian took aboard,
And gave to Dmetor, Cyprus’ haughty lord:
Hither, to ‘scape his chains, my course I steer,
Still cursed by Fortune, and insulted here!”
"""
"""
To whom Antinous thus his rage express’d:
“What god has plagued us with this gourmand guest?
Unless at distance, wretch! thou keep behind,
Another isle, than Cyprus more unkind,
Another Egypt shalt thou quickly find.
From all thou begg’st, a bold audacious slave;
Nor all can give so much as thou canst crave.
Nor wonder I, at such profusion shown;
Shameless they give, who give what’s not their own.”
"""
"""
The chief, retiring: “Souls, like that in thee,
Ill suits such forms of grace and dignity.
Nor will that hand to utmost need afford
The smallest portion of a wasteful board,
Whose luxury whole patrimonies sweeps,
Yet starving want, amidst the riot, weeps.”
"""
"""
The haughty suitor with resentment burns,
And, sourly smiling, this reply returns:
“Take that, ere yet thou quit this princely throng;
And dumb for ever be thy slanderous tongue!”
He said, and high the whirling tripod flung.
His shoulder-blade received the ungentle shock;
He stood, and moved not, like a marble rock;
But shook his thoughtful head, nor more complain’d,
Sedate of soul, his character sustain’d,
And inly form’d revenge; then back withdrew:
Before his feet the well fill’d scrip he threw,
And thus with semblance mild address’d the crew:
"""
"""
“May what I speak your princely minds approve,
Ye peers and rivals in this noble love!
Not for the hurt I grieve, but for the cause.
If, when the sword our country’s quarrel draws,
Or if, defending what is justly dear,
From Mars impartial some broad wound we bear,
The generous motive dignifies the scar.
But for mere want, how hard to suffer wrong!
Want brings enough of other ills along!
Yet, if injustice never be secure,
If fiends revenge, and gods assert the poor,
Death shall lay low the proud aggressor’s head,
And make the dust Antinous’ bridal bed.”
"""
"""
“Peace, wretch! and eat thy bread without offence
(The suitor cried), or force shall drag thee hence,
Scourge through the public street, and cast thee there,
A mangled carcase for the hounds to tear.”
"""
"""
His furious deed the general anger moved,
All, even the worst, condemn’d; and some reproved.
“Was ever chief for wars like these renown’d?
Ill fits the stranger and the poor to wound.
Unbless’d thy hand! if in this low disguise
Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the skies;
They (curious oft of mortal actions) deign
In forms like these to round the earth and main,
Just and unjust recording in their mind,
And with sure eyes inspecting all mankind.”
"""
"""
Telemachus, absorb’d in thought severe,
Nourish’d deep anguish, though he shed no tear;
But the dark brow of silent sorrow shook:
While thus his mother to her virgins spoke:
"""
"""
“On him and his may the bright god of day
That base, inhospitable blow repay!”
The nurse replies: “If Jove receives my prayer,
Not one survives to breathe to-morrow’s air.”
"""
"""
“All, all are foes, and mischief is their end;
Antinous most to gloomy death a friend
(Replies the queen): the stranger begg’d their grace,
And melting pity soften’d every face;
From every other hand redress he found,
But fell Antinous answer’d with a wound.”
Amidst her maids thus spoke the prudent queen,
Then bade Eumaeus call the pilgrim in.
“Much of the experienced man I long to hear,
If or his certain eye, or listening ear,
Have learn’d the fortunes of my wandering lord?”
Thus she, and good Eumaeus took the word:
"""
"""
“A private audience if thy grace impart,
The stranger’s words may ease the royal heart.
His sacred eloquence in balm distils,
And the soothed heart with secret pleasure fills.
Three days have spent their beams, three nights have run
Their silent journey, since his tale begun,
Unfinish’d yet; and yet I thirst to hear!
As when some heaven-taught poet charms the ear
(Suspending sorrow with celestial strain
Breathed from the gods to soften human pain)
Time steals away with unregarded wing,
And the soul hears him, though he cease to sing
"""
"""
“Ulysses late he saw, on Cretan ground
(His fathers guest), for Minos’ birth renown’d.
He now but waits the wind to waft him o’er,
With boundless treasure, from Thesprotia’s shore.”
"""
"""
To this the queen: “The wanderer let me hear,
While yon luxurious race indulge their cheer,
Devour the grazing ox, and browsing goat,
And turn my generous vintage down their throat.
For where’s an arm, like thine, Ulysses! strong,
To curb wild riot, and to punish wrong?”
"""
"""
She spoke. Telemachus then sneezed aloud;
Constrain’d, his nostril echoed through the crowd.
The smiling queen the happy omen bless’d:
"""
"""
“So may these impious fall, by Fate oppress’d!”
Then to Eumaeus: “Bring the stranger, fly!
And if my questions meet a true reply,
Graced with a decent robe he shall retire,
A gift in season which his wants require.”
"""
"""
Thus spoke Penelope. Eumaeus flies
In duteous haste, and to Ulysses cries:
“The queen invites thee, venerable guest!
A secret instinct moves her troubled breast,
Of her long absent lord from thee to gain
Some light, and soothe her soul’s eternal pain.
If true, if faithful thou, her grateful mind
Of decent robes a present has design’d:
So finding favour in the royal eye,
Thy other wants her subjects shall supply.”
"""
"""
“Fair truth alone (the patient man replied)
My words shall dictate, and my lips shall guide.
To him, to me, one common lot was given,
In equal woes, alas! involved by Heaven.
Much of his fates I know; but check’d by fear
I stand; the hand of violence is here:
Here boundless wrongs the starry skies invade,
And injured suppliants seek in vain for aid.
Let for a space the pensive queen attend,
Nor claim my story till the sun descend;
Then in such robes as suppliants may require,
Composed and cheerful by the genial fire,
When loud uproar and lawless riot cease,
Shall her pleased ear receive my words in peace.”
"""
"""
Swift to the queen returns the gentle swain:
“And say (she cries), does fear or shame detain
The cautious stranger? With the begging kind
Shame suits but ill.” Eumaeus thus rejoin’d:
"""
"""
“He only asks a more propitious hour,
And shuns (who would not?) wicked men in power;
At evening mild (meet season to confer)
By turns to question, and by turns to hear.”
"""
"""
“Whoe’er this guest (the prudent queen replies)
His every step and every thought is wise.
For men like these on earth he shall not find
In all the miscreant race of human kind.”
Thus she. Eumaeus all her words attends,
And, parting, to the suitor powers descends;
There seeks Telemachus, and thus apart
In whispers breathes the fondness of his heart:
"""
"""
“The time, my lord, invites me to repair
Hence to the lodge; my charge demands my care.
These sons of murder thirst thy life to take;
O guard it, guard it, for thy servant’s sake!”
"""
"""
“Thanks to my friend (he cries): but now the hour
Of night draws on, go seek the rural bower:
But first refresh: and at the dawn of day
Hither a victim to the gods convey.
Our life to Heaven’s immortal powers we trust,
Safe in their care, for Heaven protects the just.”
"""
"""
Observant of his voice, Eumaeus sate
And fed recumbent on a chair of state.
Then instant rose, and as he moved along,
’Twas riot all amid the suitor throng,
They feast, they dance, and raise the mirthful song
Till now, declining towards the close of day,
The sun obliquely shot his dewy ray.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Fight of Ulysses and Irus.''
//The beggar Irus insults Ulysses; the suitors promote the quarrel, in which Irus is worsted, and miserably handled. Penelope descends, and receives the presents of the suitors. The dialogue of Ulysses with Eurymachus.//
"""
While fix’d in thought the pensive hero sate,
A mendicant approach’d the royal gate;
A surly vagrant of the giant kind,
The stain of manhood, of a coward mind:
From feast to feast, insatiate to devour,
He flew, attendant on the genial hour.
Him on his mother’s knees, when babe he lay,
She named Arnaeus on his natal day:
But Irus his associates call’d the boy,
Practised the common messenger to fly;
Irus, a name expressive of the employ.
"""
"""
From his own roof, with meditated blows,
He strove to drive the man of mighty woes:
"""
"""
“Hence, dotard! hence, and timely speed thy way,
Lest dragg’d in vengeance thou repent thy stay;
See how with nods assent yon princely train!
But honouring age, in mercy I refrain:
In peace away! lest, if persuasions fail,
This arm with blows more eloquent prevail.”
To whom, with stern regard: “O insolence,
Indecently to rail without offence!
What bounty gives without a rival share;
I ask, what harms not thee, to breathe this air:
Alike on alms we both precarious live:
And canst thou envy when the great relieve?
Know, from the bounteous heavens all riches flow,
And what man gives, the gods by man bestow;
Proud as thou art, henceforth no more be proud,
Lest I imprint my vengeance in thy blood;
Old as I am, should once my fury burn,
How would’st thou fly, nor e’en in thought return!”
"""
"""
“Mere woman-glutton! (thus the churl replied;)
A tongue so flippant, with a throat so wide!
Why cease I gods! to dash those teeth away,
Like some wild boar’s, that, greedy of his prey,
Uproots the bearded corn? Rise, try the fight,
Gird well thy loins, approach, and feel my might:
Sure of defeat, before the peers engage:
Unequal fight, when youth contends with age!”
"""
"""
Thus in a wordy war their tongues display
More fierce intents, preluding to the fray;
Antinous hears, and in a jovial vein,
Thus with loud laughter to the suitor train:
"""
"""
“This happy day in mirth, my friends, employ,
And lo! the gods conspire to crown our joy;
See ready for the fight, and hand to hand,
Yon surly mendicants contentious stand:
Why urge we not to blows!” Well pleased they spring
Swift from their seats, and thickening form a ring.
"""
"""
To whom Antinous: “Lo! enrich’d with blood,
A kid’s well-fatted entrails (tasteful food)
On glowing embers lie; on him bestow
The choicest portion who subdues his foe;
Grant him unrivall’d in these walls to stay,
The sole attendant on the genial day.”
"""
"""
The lords applaud: Ulysses then with art,
And fears well-feign’d, disguised his dauntless heart.
"""
"""
“Worn as I am with age, decay’d with woe;
Say, is it baseness to decline the foe?
Hard conflict! when calamity and age
With vigorous youth, unknown to cares, engage!
Yet, fearful of disgrace, to try the day
Imperious hunger bids, and I obey;
But swear, impartial arbiters of right,
Swear to stand neutral, while we cope in fight.”
"""
"""
The peers assent: when straight his sacred head
Telemachus upraised, and sternly said:
“Stranger, if prompted to chastise the wrong
Of this bold insolent, confide, be strong!
The injurious Greek that dares attempt a blow,
That instant makes Telemachus his foe;
And these my friends shall guard the sacred ties
Of hospitality, for they are wise.”
"""
"""
Then, girding his strong loins, the king prepares
To close in combat, and his body bares;
Broad spread his shoulders, and his nervous thighs
By just degrees, like well-turn’d columns, rise
Ample his chest, his arms are round and long,
And each strong joint Minerva knits more strong
(Attendant on her chief): the suitor-crowd
With wonder gaze, and gazing speak aloud:
“Irus! alas! shall Irus be no more?
Black fate impends, and this the avenging hour!
Gods! how his nerves a matchless strength proclaim,
Swell o’er his well-strong limbs, and brace his frame!”
"""
"""
Then pale with fears, and sickening at the sight;
They dragg’d the unwilling Irus to the fight;
From his blank visage fled the coward blood,
And his flesh trembled as aghast he stood.
"""
"""
“O that such baseness should disgrace the light?
O hide it, death, in everlasting night!
(Exclaims Antinous;) can a vigorous foe
Meanly decline to combat age and woe?
But hear me wretch! if recreant in the fray
That huge bulk yield this ill-contested day,
Instant thou sail’st, to Eschetus resign’d;
A tyrant, fiercest of the tyrant kind,
Who casts thy mangled ears and nose a prey
To hungry dogs, and lops the man away.”
"""
"""
While with indignant scorn he sternly spoke,
In every joint the trembling Irus shook.
Now front to front each frowning champion stands,
And poises high in air his adverse hands.
The chief yet doubts, or to the shades below
To fell the giant at one vengeful blow,
Or save his life, and soon his life to save
The king resolves, for mercy sways the brave
That instant Irus his huge arm extends,
Full on his shoulder the rude weight descends;
The sage Ulysses, fearful to disclose
The hero latent in the man of woes,
Check’d half his might; yet rising to the stroke,
His jawbone dash’d, the crashing jawbone broke:
Down dropp’d he stupid from the stunning wound;
His feet extended quivering, beat the ground;
His mouth and nostrils spout a purple flood;
His teeth, all shatter’d, rush inmix’d with blood.
"""
"""
The peers transported, as outstretch’d he lies,
With bursts of laughter rend the vaulted skies;
Then dragg’d along, all bleeding from the wound,
His length of carcase trailing prints the ground:
Raised on his feet, again he reels, he falls,
Till propp’d, reclining on the palace walls:
Then to his hand a staff the victor gave,
And thus with just reproach address’d the slave:
“There terrible, affright with dogs, and reign
A dreaded tyrant o’er the bestial train!
But mercy to the poor and stranger show,
Lest Heaven in vengeance send some mightier woe.”
"""
"""
Scornful he spoke, and o’er his shoulder flung
The broad-patch’d scrip in tatters hung
Ill join’d, and knotted to a twisted thong.
Then, turning short, disdain’d a further stay;
But to the palace measured back the way.
There, as he rested gathering in a ring,
The peers with smiles address’d their unknown king:
“Stranger, may Jove and all the aerial powers
With every blessing crown thy happy hours!
Our freedom to thy prowess’d arm we owe
From bold intrusion of thy coward foe:
Instant the flying sail the slave shall wing
To Eschetus, the monster of a king.”
"""
"""
While pleased he hears, Antinous bears the food,
A kid’s well-fatted entrails, rich with blood;
The bread from canisters of shining mould
Amphinomus; and wines that laugh in gold:
“And oh! (he mildly cries) may Heaven display
A beam of glory o’er thy future day!
Alas, the brave too oft is doom’d to bear
The gripes of poverty and stings of care.”
"""
"""
To whom with thought mature the king replies:
“The tongue speaks wisely, when the soul is wise:
Such was thy father! in imperial state,
Great without vice, that oft attends the great;
Nor from the sire art thou, the son, declin’d;
Then hear my words, and grace them in thy mind!
Of all that breathes, or grovelling creeps on earth,
Most man in vain! calamitous by birth:
To-day, with power elate, in strength he blooms;
The haughty creature on that power presumes:
Anon from Heaven a sad reverse he feels:
Untaught to bear, ‘gainst Heaven the wretch rebels.
For man is changeful, as his bliss or woe!
Too high when prosperous, when distress’d too low.
There was a day, when with the scornful great
I swell’d in pomp and arrogance of state;
Proud of the power that to high birth belongs;
And used that power to justify my wrongs.
Then let not man be proud; but firm of mind,
Bear the best humbly; and the worst resign’d;
Be dumb when Heaven afflicts! unlike yon train
Of haughty spoilers, insolently vain;
Who make their queen and all her wealth a prey:
But vengeance and Ulysses wing their way.
O may’st thou, favour’d by some guardian power,
Far, far be distant in that deathful hour!
For sure I am, if stern Ulysses breathe,
These lawless riots end in blood and death.”
"""
"""
Then to the gods the rosy juice he pours,
And the drain’d goblet to the chief restores.
Stung to the soul, o’ercast with holy dread,
He shook the graceful honours of his head;
His boding mind the future woe forestalls,
In vain! by great Telemachus he falls,
For Pallas seals his doom: all sad he turns
To join the peers; resumes his throne, and mourns.
"""
"""
Meanwhile Minerva with instinctive fires
Thy soul, Penelope, from Heaven inspires;
With flattering hopes the suitors to betray,
And seem to meet, yet fly, the bridal day:
Thy husband’s wonder, and thy son’s to raise;
And crown the mother and the wife with praise.
Then, while the streaming sorrow dims her eyes,
Thus, with a transient smile, the matron cries:
"""
"""
“Eurynome! to go where riot reigns
I feel an impulse, though my soul disdains;
To my loved son the snares of death to show,
And in the traitor friend, unmask the foe;
Who, smooth of tongue, in purpose insincere,
Hides fraud in smiles, while death is ambush’d there.”
"""
"""
“Go, warn thy son, nor be the warning vain
(Replied the sagest of the royal train);
But bathed, anointed, and adorn’d, descend;
Powerful of charms, bid every grace attend;
The tide of flowing tears awhile suppress;
Tears but indulge the sorrow, not repress.
Some joy remains: to thee a son is given,
Such as, in fondness, parents ask of Heaven.”
"""
"""
“Ah me! forbear!” returns the queen, “forbear,
Oh! talk not, talk not of vain beauty’s care;
No more I bathe, since he no longer sees
Those charms, for whom alone I wish to please.
The day that bore Ulysses from this coast
Blasted the little bloom these cheeks could boast.
But instant bid Autonoe descend,
Instant Hippodame our steps attend;
Ill suits it female virtue, to be seen
Alone, indecent, in the walks of men.”
"""
"""
Then while Eurynome the mandate bears,
From heaven Minerva shoots with guardian cares;
O’er all her senses, as the couch she press’d,
She pours, a pleasing, deep and death-like rest,
With every beauty every feature arms,
Bids her cheeks glow, and lights up all her charms;
In her love-darting eyes awakes the fires
(Immortal gifts! to kindle soft desires);
From limb to limb an air majestic sheds,
And the pure ivory o’er her bosom spreads.
Such Venus shines, when with a measured bound
She smoothly gliding swims the harmonious round,
When with the Graces in the dance she moves,
And fires the gazing gods with ardent loves.
"""
"""
Then to the skies her flight Minerva bends,
And to the queen the damsel train descends;
Waked at their steps, her flowing eyes unclose;
The tears she wipes, and thus renews her woes:
“Howe’er ’tis well that sleep awhile can free,
With soft forgetfulness a wretch like me;
Oh! were it given to yield this transient breath,
Send, O Diana! send the sleep of death!
Why must I waste a tedious life in tears,
Nor bury in the silent grave my cares?
O my Ulysses! ever honour’d name!
For thee I mourn till death dissolves my frame.”
"""
"""
Thus wailing, slow and sadly she descends,
On either band a damsel train attends:
Full where the dome its shining valves expands,
Radiant before the gazing peers she stands;
A veil translucent o’er her brow display’d,
Her beauty seems, and only seems, to shade:
Sudden she lightens in their dazzled eyes,
And sudden flames in every bosom rise;
They send their eager souls with every look.
Till silence thus the imperial matron broke:
"""
"""
“O why! my son, why now no more appears
That warmth of soul that urged thy younger years?
Thy riper days no growing worth impart,
A man in stature, still a boy in heart!
Thy well-knit frame unprofitably strong,
Speaks thee a hero, from a hero sprung:
But the just gods in vain those gifts bestow,
O wise alone in form, and grave in show!
Heavens! could a stranger feel oppression’s hand
Beneath thy roof, and couldst thou tamely stand!
If thou the stranger’s righteous cause decline
His is the sufferance, but the shame is thine.”
"""
"""
To whom, with filial awe, the prince returns:
“That generous soul with just resentment burns;
Yet, taught by time, my heart has learn’d to glow
For others’ good, and melt at others’ woe;
But, impotent those riots to repel,
I bear their outrage, though my soul rebel;
Helpless amid the snares of death I tread,
And numbers leagued in impious union dread;
But now no crime is theirs: this wrong proceeds
From Irus, and the guilty Irus bleeds.
Oh would to Jove! or her whose arms display
The shield of Jove, or him who rules the day!
That yon proud suitors, who licentious tread
These courts, within these courts like Irus bled:
Whose loose head tottering, as with wine oppress’d,
Obliquely drops, and nodding knocks his breast;
Powerless to move, his staggering feet deny
The coward wretch the privilege to fly.”
"""
"""
Then to the queen Eurymachus replies:
“O justly loved, and not more fair than wise!
Should Greece through all her hundred states survey
Thy finish’d charms, all Greece would own thy sway
In rival crowds contest the glorious prize.
Dispeopling realms to gaze upon thy eyes:
O woman! loveliest of the lovely kind,
In body perfect, and complete in mind.”
"""
"""
“Ah me! (returns the queen) when from this shore
Ulysses sail’d, then beauty was no more!
The gods decreed these eyes no more should keep
Their wonted grace, but only serve to weep.
Should he return, whate’er my beauties prove,
My virtues last; my brightest charm is love.
Now, grief, thou all art mine! the gods o’ercast
My soul with woes, that long, ah long must last!
Too faithfully my heart retains the day
That sadly tore my royal lord away:
He grasp’d my hand, and, ‘O, my spouse! I leave
Thy arms (he cried), perhaps to find a grave:
Fame speaks the Trojans bold; they boast the skill
To give the feather’d arrow wings to kill,
To dart the spear, and guide the rushing car
With dreadful inroad through the walks of war.
My sentence is gone forth, and ’tis decreed
Perhaps by righteous Heaven that I must bleed!
My father, mother, all I trust to three;
To them, to them, transfer the love of me:
But, when my son grows man, the royal sway
Resign, and happy be thy bridal day!’
Such were his words; and Hymen now prepares
To light his torch, and give me up to cares;
The afflictive hand of wrathful Jove to bear:
A wretch the most complete that breathes the air!
Fall’n e’en below the rights to woman due!
Careless to please, with insolence ye woo!
The generous lovers, studious to succeed,
Bid their whole herds and flocks in banquets bleed;
By precious gifts the vow sincere display:
You, only you, make her ye love your prey.”
"""
"""
Well-pleased Ulysses hears his queen deceive
The suitor-train, and raise a thirst to give:
False hopes she kindles, but those hopes betray,
And promise, yet elude, the bridal day.
"""
"""
While yet she speaks, the gay Antinous cries:
“Offspring of kings, and more than woman wise!
’Tis right; ’tis man’s prerogative to give,
And custom bids thee without shame receive;
Yet never, never, from thy dome we move,
Till Hymen lights the torch of spousal love.”
"""
"""
The peers despatch’d their heralds to convey
The gifts of love; with speed they take the way.
A robe Antinous gives of shining dyes,
The varying hues in gay confusion rise
Rich from the artist’s hand! Twelve clasps of gold
Close to the lessening waist the vest infold!
Down from the swelling loins the vest unbound
Floats in bright waves redundant o’er the ground,
A bracelet rich with gold, with amber gay,
That shot effulgence like the solar ray,
Eurymachus presents: and ear-rings bright,
With triple stars, that casts a trembling light.
Pisander bears a necklace wrought with art:
And every peer, expressive of his heart,
A gift bestows: this done, the queen ascends,
And slow behind her damsel train attends.
"""
"""
Then to the dance they form the vocal strain,
Till Hesperus leads forth the starry train;
And now he raises, as the daylight fades,
His golden circlet in the deepening shades:
Three vases heap’d with copious fires display
O’er all the palace a fictitious day;
From space to space the torch wide-beaming burns,
And sprightly damsels trim the rays by turns.
"""
"""
To whom the king: “Ill suits your sex to stay
Alone with men! ye modest maids, away!
Go, with the queen; the spindle guide; or cull
(The partners of her cares) the silver wool;
Be it my task the torches to supply
E’en till the morning lamp adorns the sky;
E’en till the morning, with unwearied care,
Sleepless I watch; for I have learn’d to bear.”
"""
"""
Scornful they heard: Melantho, fair and young,
(Melantho, from the loins of Dolius sprung,
Who with the queen her years an infant led,
With the soft fondness of a daughter bred,)
Chiefly derides: regardless of the cares
Her queen endures, polluted joys she shares
Nocturnal with Eurymachus: with eyes
That speak disdain, the wanton thus replies:
“Oh! whither wanders thy distemper’d brain,
Thou bold intruder on a princely train?
Hence, to the vagrants’ rendezvous repair;
Or shun in some black forge the midnight air.
Proceeds this boldness from a turn of soul,
Or flows licentious from the copious bowl?
Is it that vanquish’d Irus swells thy mind?
A foe may meet thee of a braver kind,
Who, shortening with a storm of blows thy stay,
Shall send thee howling all in blood away!”
"""
"""
To whom with frowns: “O impudent in wrong!
Thy lord shall curb that insolence of tongue;
Know, to Telemachus I tell the offence;
The scourge, the scourge shall lash thee into sense.”
"""
"""
With conscious shame they hear the stern rebuke,
Nor longer durst sustain the sovereign look.
"""
"""
Then to the servile task the monarch turns
His royal hands: each torch refulgent burns
With added day: meanwhile in museful mood,
Absorb’d in thought, on vengeance fix’d he stood.
And now the martial maid, by deeper wrongs
To rouse Ulysses, points the suitors’ tongues:
Scornful of age, to taunt the virtuous man,
Thoughtless and gay, Eurymachus began:
"""
"""
“Hear me (he cries), confederates and friends!
Some god, no doubt, this stranger kindly sends;
The shining baldness of his head survey,
It aids our torchlight, and reflects the ray.”
"""
"""
Then to the king that levell’d haughty Troy:
“Say, if large hire can tempt thee to employ
Those hands in work; to tend the rural trade,
To dress the walk, and form the embowering shade.
So food and raiment constant will I give:
But idly thus thy soul prefers to live,
And starve by strolling, not by work to thrive.”
"""
"""
To whom incensed: “Should we, O prince, engage
In rival tasks beneath the burning rage
Of summer suns; were both constrain’d to wield
Foodless the scythe along the burden’d field;
Or should we labour while the ploughshare wounds,
With steers of equal strength, the allotted grounds,
Beneath my labours, how thy wondering eyes
Might see the sable field at once arise!
Should Jove dire war unloose, with spear and shield,
And nodding helm, I tread the ensanguined field,
Fierce in the van: then wouldst thou, wouldst thou — say —
Misname me glutton, in that glorious day?
No, thy ill-judging thoughts the brave disgrace
’Tis thou injurious art, not I am base.
Proud to seem brave among a coward train!
But now, thou art not valorous, but vain.
God! should the stern Ulysses rise in might,
These gates would seem too narrow for thy flight.”
"""
"""
While yet he speaks, Eurymachus replies,
With indignation flashing from his eyes:
"""
"""
“Slave, I with justice might deserve the wrong,
Should I not punish that opprobrious tongue.
Irreverent to the great, and uncontroll’d,
Art thou from wine, or innate folly, bold?
Perhaps these outrages from Irus flow,
A worthless triumph o’er a worthless foe!”
"""
"""
He said, and with full force a footstool threw;
Whirl’d from his arm, with erring rage it flew:
Ulysses, cautious of the vengeful foe,
Stoops to the ground, and disappoints the blow.
Not so a youth, who deals the goblet round,
Full on his shoulder it inflicts a wound;
Dash’d from his hand the sounding goblet flies,
He shrieks, he reels, he falls, and breathless lies.
Then wild uproar and clamour mount the sky,
Till mutual thus the peers indignant cry:
“Oh had this stranger sunk to realms beneath,
To the black realms of darkness and of death,
Ere yet he trod these shores! to strife he draws
Peer against peer; and what the weighty cause?
A vagabond! for him the great destroy,
In vile ignoble jars, the feast of joy.”
"""
"""
To whom the stern Telemachus uprose;
“Gods! what wild folly from the goblet flows!
Whence this unguarded openness of soul,
But from the license of the copious bowl?
Or Heaven delusion sends: but hence away!
Force I forbear, and without force obey.”
"""
"""
Silent, abash’d, they hear the stern rebuke,
Till thus Amphinomus the silence broke:
"""
"""
“True are his words, and he whom truth offends,
Not with Telemachus, but truth contends;
Let not the hand of violence invade
The reverend stranger, or the spotless maid;
Retire we hence, but crown with rosy wine
The flowing goblet to the powers divine!
Guard he his guest beneath whose roof he stands:
This justice, this the social rite demands.”
"""
"""
The peers assent: the goblet Mulius crown’d
With purple juice, and bore in order round:
Each peer successive his libation pours
To the blest gods who fill’d the ethereal bowers:
Then swill’d with wine, with noise the crowds obey,
And rushing forth, tumultuous reel away.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Discovery of Ulysses to Euryclea.''
//Ulysses and his son remove the weapons out of the armoury. Ulysses, in conversation with Penelope, gives a fictitious account of his adventures; then assures her he had formerly entertained her husband in Crete; and describes exactly his person and dress; affirms to have heard of him in Phaeacia and Thesprotia, and that his return is certain, and within a month. He then goes to bathe, and is attended by Euryclea, who discovers him to be Ulysses by the scar upon his leg, which he formerly received in hunting the wild boar on Parnassus. The poet inserts a digression relating that accident, with all its particulars.//
"""
Consulting secret with the blue-eyed maid,
Still in the dome divine Ulysses stay’d:
Revenge mature for act inflamed his breast;
And thus the son the fervent sire address’d:
"""
"""
“Instant convey those steely stores of war
To distant rooms, disposed with secret care:
The cause demanded by the suitor-train,
To soothe their fears, a specious reason feign:
Say, since Ulysses left his natal coast,
Obscene with smoke, their beamy lustre lost,
His arms deform the roof they wont adorn:
From the glad walls inglorious lumber torn.
Suggest, that Jove the peaceful thought inspired,
Lest they, by sight of swords to fury fired,
Dishonest wounds, or violence of soul,
Defame the bridal feast and friendly bowl.”
"""
"""
The prince, obedient to the sage command,
To Euryclea thus: “The female band
In their apartments keep; secure the doors;
These swarthy arms among the covert stores
Are seemlier hid; my thoughtless youth they blame,
Imbrown’d with vapour of the smouldering flame.”
"""
"""
“In happier hour (pleased Euryclea cries),
Tutour’d by early woes, grow early wise;
Inspect with sharpen’d sight, and frugal care,
Your patrimonial wealth, a prudent heir.
But who the lighted taper will provide
(The female train retired) your toils to guide?”
"""
"""
“Without infringing hospitable right,
This guest (he cried) shall bear the guiding light:
I cheer no lazy vagrants with repast;
They share the meal that earn it ere they taste.”
"""
"""
He said: from female ken she straight secures
The purposed deed, and guards the bolted doors:
Auxiliar to his son, Ulysses bears
The plumy-crested helms and pointed spears,
With shields indented deep in glorious wars.
Minerva viewless on her charge attends,
And with her golden lamp his toil befriends.
Not such the sickly beams, which unsincere
Gild the gross vapour of this nether sphere!
A present deity the prince confess’d,
And wrapp’d with ecstasy the sire address’d:
"""
"""
“What miracle thus dazzles with surprise!
Distinct in rows the radiant columns rise;
The walls, where’er my wondering sight I turn,
And roofs, amidst a blaze of glory burn!
Some visitant of pure ethereal race
With his bright presence deigns the dome to grace.”
"""
"""
“Be calm (replies the sire); to none impart,
But oft revolve the vision in thy heart:
Celestials, mantled in excess of light,
Can visit unapproach’d by mortal sight.
Seek thou repose: whilst here I sole remain,
To explore the conduct of the female train:
The pensive queen, perchance, desires to know
The series of my toils, to soothe her woe.”
"""
"""
With tapers flaming day his train attends,
His bright alcove the obsequious youth ascends:
Soft slumberous shades his drooping eyelids close,
Till on her eastern throne Aurora glows.
"""
"""
Whilst, forming plans of death, Ulysses stay’d,
In counsel secret with the martial maid,
Attendant nymphs in beauteous order wait
The queen, descending from her bower of state.
Her cheeks the warmer blush of Venus wear,
Chasten’d with coy Diana’s pensive air.
An ivory seat with silver ringlets graced,
By famed Icmalius wrought, the menials placed:
With ivory silver’d thick the footstool shone,
O’er which the panther’s various hide was thrown.
The sovereign seat with graceful air she press’d;
To different tasks their toil the nymphs address’d:
The golden goblets some, and some restored
From stains of luxury the polish’d board:
These to remove the expiring embers came,
While those with unctuous fir foment the flame.
"""
"""
’Twas then Melantho with imperious mien
Renew’d the attack, incontinent of spleen:
“Avaunt (she cried), offensive to my sight!
Deem not in ambush here to lurk by night,
Into the woman-state asquint to pry;
A day-devourer, and an evening spy!
Vagrant, begone! before this blazing brand
Shall urge”— and waved it hissing in her hand.
"""
"""
The insulted hero rolls his wrathful eyes
And “Why so turbulent of soul? (he cries;)
Can these lean shrivell’d limbs, unnerved with age,
These poor but honest rags, enkindle rage?
In crowds, we wear the badge of hungry fate:
And beg, degraded from superior state!
Constrain’d a rent-charge on the rich I live;
Reduced to crave the good I once could give:
A palace, wealth, and slaves, I late possess’d,
And all that makes the great be call’d the bless’d:
My gate, an emblem of my open soul,
Embraced the poor, and dealt a bounteous dole.
Scorn not the sad reverse, injurious maid!
’Tis Jove’s high will, and be his will obey’d!
Nor think thyself exempt: that rosy prime
Must share the general doom of withering time:
To some new channel soon the changeful tide
Of royal grace the offended queen may guide;
And her loved lord unplume thy towering pride.
Or, were he dead, ’tis wisdom to beware:
Sweet blooms the prince beneath Apollo’s care;
Your deeds with quick impartial eye surveys,
Potent to punish what he cannot praise.”
"""
"""
Her keen reproach had reach’d the sovereign’s ear:
“Loquacious insolent! (she cries,) forbear;
To thee the purpose of my soul I told;
Venial discourse, unblamed, with him to hold;
The storied labours of my wandering lord,
To soothe my grief he haply may record:
Yet him, my guest, thy venom’d rage hath stung;
Thy head shall pay the forfeit of thy tongue!
But thou on whom my palace cares depend,
Eurynome, regard the stranger-friend:
A seat, soft spread with furry spoils, prepare;
Due-distant for us both to speak, and hear.”
"""
"""
The menial fair obeys with duteous haste:
A seat adorn’d with furry spoils she placed:
Due-distant for discourse the hero sate;
When thus the sovereign from her chair of state:
"""
"""
“Reveal, obsequious to my first demand,
Thy name, thy lineage, and thy natal land.”
"""
"""
He thus: “O queen! whose far-resounding fame
Is bounded only by the starry frame,
Consummate pattern of imperial sway,
Whose pious rule a warlike race obey!
In wavy gold thy summer vales are dress’d;
Thy autumns bind with copious fruit oppress’d:
With flocks and herds each grassy plain is stored;
And fish of every fin thy seas afford:
Their affluent joys the grateful realms confess;
And bless the power that still delights to bless,
Gracious permit this prayer, imperial dame!
Forbear to know my lineage, or my name:
Urge not this breast to heave, these eyes to weep;
In sweet oblivion let my sorrows sleep!
My woes awaked, will violate your ear,
And to this gay censorious train appear
A whiny vapour melting in a tear.”
"""
"""
“Their gifts the gods resumed (the queen rejoin’d),
Exterior grace, and energy of mind,
When the dear partner of my nuptial joy,
Auxiliar troops combined, to conquer Troy.
My lord’s protecting hand alone would raise
My drooping verdure, and extend my praise!
Peers from the distant Samian shore resort:
Here with Dulichians join’d, besiege the court:
Zacynthus, green with ever-shady groves,
And Ithaca, presumptuous, boast their loves:
Obtruding on my choice a second lord,
They press the Hymenaean rite abhorr’d.
Misrule thus mingling with domestic cares,
I live regardless of my state affairs;
Receive no stranger-guest, no poor relieve;
But ever for my lord in secret grieve! —
This art, instinct by some celestial power,
I tried, elusive of the bridal hour:
"""
"""
“‘Ye peers, (I cry,) who press to gain a heart,
Where dead Ulysses claims no future part;
Rebate your loves, each rival suit suspend,
Till this funeral web my labours end:
Cease, till to good Laertes I bequeath
A pall of state, the ornament of death.
For when to fate he bows, each Grecian dame
With just reproach were licensed to defame,
Should he, long honour’d in supreme command,
Want the last duties of a daughter’s hand.’
The fiction pleased; their loves I long elude;
The night still ravell’d what the day renew’d:
Three years successful in my heart conceal’d,
My ineffectual fraud the fourth reveal’d:
Befriended by my own domestic spies,
The woof unwrought the suitor-train surprise.
From nuptial rites they now no more recede,
And fear forbids to falsify the brede.
My anxious parents urge a speedy choice,
And to their suffrage gain the filial voice.
For rule mature, Telemachus deplores
His dome dishonour’d, and exhausted stores —
But, stranger! as thy days seem full of fate,
Divide discourse, in turn thy birth relate:
Thy port asserts thee of distinguish’d race;
No poor unfather’d product of disgrace.”
"""
"""
“Princess! (he cries,) renew’d by your command,
The dear remembrance of my native land
Of secret grief unseals the fruitful source;
Fond tears repeat their long-forgotten course!
So pays the wretch whom fate constrains to roam,
The dues of nature to his natal home! —
But inward on my soul let sorrow prey,
Your sovereign will my duty bids obey.
"""
"""
“Crete awes the circling waves, a fruitful soil!
And ninety cities crown the sea-born isle:
Mix’d with her genuine sons, adopted names
In various tongues avow their various claims:
Cydonians, dreadful with the bended yew,
And bold Pelasgi boast a native’s due:
The Dorians, plumed amid the files of war,
Her foodful glebe with fierce Achaians share;
Cnossus, her capital of high command;
Where sceptred Minos with impartial hand
Divided right: each ninth revolving year,
By Jove received in council to confer.
His son Deucalion bore successive sway:
His son, who gave me first to view the day!
The royal bed an elder issue bless’d,
Idomeneus whom Ilion fields attest
Of matchless deeds: untrain’d to martial toil,
I lived inglorious in my native isle.
Studious of peace, and Aethon is my name.
’Twas then to Crete the great Ulysses came.
For elemental war, and wintry Jove,
From Malea’s gusty cape his navy drove
To bright Lucina’s fane; the shelfy coast
Where loud Amnisus in the deep is lost.
His vessel’s moor’d (an incommodious port!)
The hero speeded to the Cnossian court:
Ardent the partner of his arms to find,
In leagues of long commutual friendship join’d.
Vain hope! ten suns had warm’d the western strand
Since my brave brother, with his Cretan band,
Had sail’d for Troy: but to the genial feast
My honour’d roof received the royal guest:
Beeves for his train the Cnossian peers assign,
A public treat, with jars of generous wine.
Twelve days while Boreas vex’d the aerial space,
My hospitable dome he deign’d to grace:
And when the north had ceased the stormy roar,
He wing’d his voyage to the Phrygian shore.”
"""
"""
Thus the fam’d hero, perfected in wiles,
With fair similitude of truth beguiles
The queen’s attentive ear: dissolved in woe,
From her bright eyes the tears unbounded flow,
As snows collected on the mountain freeze;
When milder regions breathe a vernal breeze,
The fleecy pile obeys the whispering gales,
Ends in a stream, and murmurs through the vales:
So, melting with the pleasing tale he told,
Down her fair cheek the copious torrent roll’d:
She to her present lord laments him lost,
And views that object which she wants the most,
Withering at heart to see the weeping fair,
His eyes look stern, and cast a gloomy stare;
Of horn the stiff relentless balls appear,
Or globes of iron fix’d in either sphere;
Firm wisdom interdicts the softening tear.
A speechless interval of grief ensues,
Till thus the queen the tender theme renews.
"""
"""
“Stranger! that e’er thy hospitable roof
Ulysses graced, confirm by faithful proof;
Delineate to my view my warlike lord,
His form, his habit, and his train record.”
"""
"""
“’Tis hard (he cries,) to bring to sudden sight
Ideas that have wing’d their distant flight;
Rare on the mind those images are traced,
Whose footsteps twenty winters have defaced:
But what I can, receive. — In ample mode,
A robe of military purple flow’d
O’er all his frame: illustrious on his breast,
The double-clasping gold the king confess’d.
In the rich woof a hound, mosaic drawn,
Bore on full stretch, and seized a dappled fawn;
Deep in the neck his fangs indent their hold;
They pant and struggle in the moving gold.
Fine as a filmy web beneath it shone
A vest, that dazzled like a cloudless sun:
The female train who round him throng’d to gaze,
In silent wonder sigh’d unwilling praise.
A sabre, when the warrior press’d to part,
I gave, enamell’d with Vulcanian art:
A mantle purple-tinged, and radiant vest,
Dimension’d equal to his size, express’d
Affection grateful to my honour’d guest.
A favourite herald in his train I knew,
His visage solemn, sad of sable hue:
Short woolly curls o’erfleeced his bending head,
O’er which a promontory shoulder spread;
Eurybates; in whose large soul alone
Ulysses view’d an image of his own.”
"""
"""
His speech the tempest of her grief restored;
In all he told she recognized her lord:
But when the storm was spent in plenteous showers,
A pause inspiriting her languish’d powers,
“O thou, (she cried,) whom first inclement Fate
Made welcome to my hospitable gate;
With all thy wants the name of poor shall end:
Henceforth live honour’d, my domestic friend!
The vest much envied on your native coast,
And regal robe with figured gold emboss’d,
In happier hours my artful hand employ’d,
When my loved lord this blissful bower enjoy’d:
The fall of Troy erroneous and forlorn
Doom’d to survive, and never to return!”
"""
"""
Then he, with pity touch’d: “O royal dame!
Your ever-anxious mind, and beauteous frame,
From the devouring rage of grief reclaim.
I not the fondness of your soul reprove
For such a lord! who crown’d your virgin love
With the dear blessing of a fair increase;
Himself adorn’d with more than mortal grace:
Yet while I speak the mighty woe suspend;
Truth forms my tale; to pleasing truth attend.
The royal object of your dearest care
Breathes in no distant clime the vital air:
In rich Thesprotia, and the nearer bound
Of Thessaly, his name I heard renown’d:
Without retinue, to that friendly shore
Welcomed with gifts of price, a sumless store!
His sacrilegious train, who dared to prey
On herds devoted to the god of day,
Were doom’d by Jove, and Phoebus’ just decree,
To perish in the rough Trinacrian sea.
To better fate the blameless chief ordain’d,
A floating fragment of the wreck regain’d,
And rode the storm; till, by the billows toss’d,
He landed on the fair Phaeacian coast.
That race who emulate the life of gods,
Receive him joyous to their bless’d abodes;
Large gifts confer, a ready sail command,
To speed his voyage to the Grecian strand.
But your wise lord (in whose capacious soul
High schemes of power in just succession roll)
His Ithaca refused from favouring Fate,
Till copious wealth might guard his regal state.
Phedon the fact affirm’d, whose sovereign sway
Thesprotian tribes, a duteous race, obey;
And bade the gods this added truth attest
(While pure libations crown’d the genial feast),
That anchor’d in his port the vessels stand,
To waft the hero to his natal land.
I for Dulichium urge the watery way,
But first the Ulyssean wealth survey:
So rich the value of a store so vast
Demands the pomp of centuries to waste!
The darling object of your royal love
Was journey’d thence to Dodonean Jove;
By the sure precept of the sylvan shrine,
To form the conduct of his great design;
Irresolute of soul, his state to shroud
In dark disguise, or come, a king avow’d!
Thus lives your lord; nor longer doom’d to roam;
Soon will he grace this dear paternal dome.
By Jove, the source of good, supreme in power!
By the bless’d genius of this friendly bower!
I ratify my speech, before the sun
His annual longitude of heaven shall run;
When the pale empress of yon starry train
In the next month renews her faded wane,
Ulysses will assert his rightful reign.”
"""
"""
“What thanks! what boon! (replied the queen), are due,
When time shall prove the storied blessing true!
My lord’s return should fate no more retard,
Envy shall sicken at thy vast reward.
But my prophetic fears, alas! presage
The wounds of Destiny’s relentless rage.
I long must weep, nor will Ulysses come,
With royal gifts to send you honour’d home! —
Your other task, ye menial train forbear:
Now wash the stranger, and the bed prepare:
With splendid palls the downy fleece adorn:
Uprising early with the purple morn.
His sinews, shrunk with age, and stiff with toil,
In the warm bath foment with fragrant oil.
Then with Telemachus the social feast
Partaking free, my soul invited guest;
Whoe’er neglects to pay distinction due,
The breach of hospitable right may rue.
The vulgar of my sex I most exceed
In real fame, when most humane my deed;
And vainly to the praise of queen aspire,
If, stranger! I permit that mean attire
Beneath the feastful bower. A narrow space
Confines the circle of our destin’d race;
’Tis ours with good the scanty round to grace.
Those who to cruel wrong their state abuse,
Dreaded in life the mutter’d curse pursues;
By death disrobed of all their savage powers,
Then, licensed rage her hateful prey devours.
But he whose inborn worth his acts commend,
Of gentle soul, to human race a friend;
The wretched he relieves diffuse his fame,
And distant tongues extol the patron-name.”
"""
"""
“Princess? (he cried) in vain your bounties flow
On me, confirm’d and obstinate in woe.
When my loved Crete received my final view,
And from my weeping eyes her cliffs withdrew;
These tatter’d weeds (my decent robes resign’d)
I chose, the livery of a woful mind!
Nor will my heart-corroding care abate
With splendid palls, and canopies of state:
Low-couch’d on earth, the gift of sleep I scorn,
And catch the glances of the waking morn.
The delicacy of your courtly train
To wash a wretched wanderer would disdain;
But if, in tract of long experience tried,
And sad similitude of woes allied,
Some wretch reluctant views aerial light,
To her mean hand assign the friendly rite.”
"""
"""
Pleased with his wise reply, the queen rejoin’d:
“Such gentle manners, and so sage a mind,
In all who graced this hospitable bower
I ne’er discerned, before this social hour.
Such servant as your humble choice requires,
To light received the lord of my desires,
New from the birth; and with a mother’s hand
His tender bloom to manly growth sustain’d:
Of matchless prudence, and a duteous mind;
Though now to life’s extremest verge declined,
Of strength superior to the toil design’d —
Rise, Euryclea! with officious care
For the poor friend the cleansing bath prepare:
This debt his correspondent fortunes claim,
Too like Ulysses, and perhaps the same!
Thus old with woes my fancy paints him now!
For age untimely marks the careful brow.”
"""
"""
Instant, obsequious to the mild command,
Sad Euryclea rose: with trembling hand
She veils the torrent of her tearful eyes;
And thus impassion’d to herself replies:
"""
"""
“Son of my love, and monarch of my cares,
What pangs for thee this wretched bosom bears!
Are thus by Jove who constant beg his aid
With pious deed, and pure devotion, paid?
He never dared defraud the sacred fane
Of perfect hecatombs in order slain:
There oft implored his tutelary power,
Long to protract the sad sepulchral hour;
That, form’d for empire with paternal care,
His realm might recognize an equal heir.
O destined head! The pious vows are lost;
His God forgets him on a foreign coast! —
Perhaps, like thee, poor guest! in wanton pride
The rich insult him, and the young deride!
Conscious of worth reviled, thy generous mind
The friendly rite of purity declined;
My will concurring with my queen’s command,
Accept the bath from this obsequious hand.
A strong emotion shakes my anguish’d breast:
In thy whole form Ulysses seems express’d;
Of all the wretched harboured on our coast,
None imaged e’er like thee my master lost.”
"""
"""
Thus half-discover’d through the dark disguise,
With cool composure feign’d, the chief replies:
“You join your suffrage to the public vote;
The same you think have all beholders thought.”
"""
"""
He said: replenish’d from the purest springs,
The laver straight with busy care she brings:
In the deep vase, that shone like burnish’d gold,
The boiling fluid temperates the cold.
Meantime revolving in his thoughtful mind
The scar, with which his manly knee was sign’d;
His face averting from the crackling blaze,
His shoulders intercept the unfriendly rays:
Thus cautious in the obscure he hoped to fly
The curious search of Euryclea’s eye.
Cautious in vain! nor ceased the dame to find
This scar with which his manly knee was sign’d.
"""
"""
This on Parnassus (combating the boar)
With glancing rage the tusky savage tore.
Attended by his brave maternal race,
His grandsire sent him to the sylvan chase,
Autolycus the bold (a mighty name
For spotless faith and deeds of martial fame:
Hermes, his patron god, those gifts bestow’d,
Whose shrine with weanling lambs he wont to load).
His course to Ithaca this hero sped,
When the first product of Laertes’ bed
Was now disclosed to birth: the banquet ends,
When Euryclea from the queen descends,
And to his fond embrace the babe commends:
“Receive (she cries) your royal daughter’s son;
And name the blessing that your prayers have won.”
Then thus the hoary chief: “My victor arms
Have awed the realms around with dire alarms:
A sure memorial of my dreaded fame
The boy shall bear; Ulysses be his name!
And when with filial love the youth shall come
To view his mother’s soil, my Delphic dome
With gifts of price shall send him joyous home.”
Lured with the promised boon, when youthful prime
Ended in man, his mother’s natal clime
Ulysses sought; with fond affection dear
Amphitea’s arms received the royal heir:
Her ancient lord an equal joy possess’d;
Instant he bade prepare the genial feast:
A steer to form the sumptuous banquet bled,
Whose stately growth five flowery summers fed:
His sons divide, and roast with artful care
The limbs; then all the tasteful viands share.
Nor ceased discourse (the banquet of the soul),
Till Phoebus wheeling to the western goal
Resign’d the skies, and night involved the pole.
Their drooping eyes the slumberous shade oppress’d,
Sated they rose, and all retired to rest.
"""
"""
Soon as the morn, new-robed in purple light,
Pierced with her golden shafts the rear of night,
Ulysses, and his brave maternal race,
The young Autolyci, essay the chase.
Parnassus, thick perplex’d with horrid shades,
With deep-mouth’d hounds the hunter-troop invades;
What time the sun, from ocean’s peaceful stream,
Darts o’er the lawn his horizontal beam.
The pack impatient snuff the tainted gale;
The thorny wilds the woodmen fierce assail:
And, foremost of the train, his cornel spear
Ulysses waved, to rouse the savage war.
Deep in the rough recesses of the wood,
A lofty copse, the growth of ages, stood;
Nor winter’s boreal blast, nor thunderous shower,
Nor solar ray, could pierce the shady bower.
With wither’d foliage strew’d, a heapy store!
The warm pavilion of a dreadful boar.
Roused by the hounds’ and hunters’ mingling cries,
The savage from his leafy shelter flies;
With fiery glare his sanguine eye-balls shine,
And bristles high impale his horrid chine.
Young Ithacus advanced, defies the foe,
Poising his lifted lance in act to throw;
The savage renders vain the wound decreed,
And springs impetuous with opponent speed!
His tusks oblique he aim’d, the knee to gore;
Aslope they glanced, the sinewy fibres tore,
And bared the bone; Ulysses undismay’d,
Soon with redoubled force the wound repaid;
To the right shoulder-joint the spear applied,
His further flank with streaming purple dyed:
On earth he rushed with agonizing pain;
With joy and vast surprise, the applauding train
View’d his enormous bulk extended on the plain.
With bandage firm Ulysses’ knee they bound;
Then, chanting mystic lays, the closing wound
Of sacred melody confess’d the force;
The tides of life regain’d their azure course.
Then back they led the youth with loud acclaim;
Autolycus, enamoured with his fame,
Confirm’d the cure; and from the Delphic dome
With added gifts return’d him glorious home.
He safe at Ithaca with joy received,
Relates the chase, and early praise achieved.
"""
"""
Deep o’er his knee inseam’d remain’d the scar;
Which noted token of the woodland war
When Euryclea found, the ablution ceased:
Down dropp’d the leg, from her slack hand released;
The mingled fluids from the base redound;
The vase reclining floats the floor around!
Smiles dew’d with tears the pleasing strife express’d
Of grief and joy, alternate in her breast.
Her fluttering words in melting murmurs died;
At length abrupt —“My son! — my king!”— she cried.
His neck with fond embrace infolding fast,
Full on the queen her raptured eye she cast
Ardent to speak the monarch safe restored:
But, studious to conceal her royal lord,
Minerva fix’d her mind on views remote,
And from the present bliss abstracts her thought.
His hand to Euryclea’s mouth applied,
“Art thou foredoom’d my pest? (the hero cried:)
Thy milky founts my infant lips have drain’d;
And have the Fates thy babbling age ordain’d
To violate the life thy youth sustain’d?
An exile have I told, with weeping eyes,
Full twenty annual suns in distant skies;
At length return’d, some god inspires thy breast
To know thy king, and here I stand confess’d.
This heaven-discover’d truth to thee consign’d,
Reserve the treasure of thy inmost mind:
Else, if the gods my vengeful arm sustain,
And prostrate to my sword the suitor-train;
With their lewd mates, thy undistinguish’d age
Shall bleed a victim to vindictive rage.”
"""
"""
Then thus rejoin’d the dame, devoid of fear:
“What words, my son, have passed thy lips severe?
Deep in my soul the trust shall lodge secured;
With ribs of steel, and marble heart, immured.
When Heaven, auspicious to thy right avow’d,
Shall prostrate to thy sword the suitor-crowd,
The deeds I’ll blazon of the menial fair;
The lewd to death devote, the virtuous spare.”
"""
"""
“Thy aid avails me not (the chief replied);
My own experience shall their doom decide:
A witness-judge precludes a long appeal:
Suffice it then thy monarch to conceal.”
"""
"""
He said: obsequious, with redoubled pace,
She to the fount conveys the exhausted vase:
The bath renew’d, she ends the pleasing toil
With plenteous unction of ambrosial oil.
Adjusting to his limbs the tatter’d vest,
His former seat received the stranger guest;
Whom thus with pensive air the queen addressed:
"""
"""
“Though night, dissolving grief in grateful ease,
Your drooping eyes with soft impression seize;
Awhile, reluctant to her pleasing force,
Suspend the restful hour with sweet discourse.
The day (ne’er brighten’d with a beam of joy!)
My menials, and domestic cares employ;
And, unattended by sincere repose,
The night assists my ever-wakeful woes;
When nature’s hush’d beneath her brooding shade,
My echoing griefs the starry vault invade.
As when the months are clad in flowery green,
Sad Philomel, in bowery shades unseen,
To vernal airs attunes her varied strains;
And Itylus sounds warbling o’er the plains;
Young Itylus, his parents’ darling joy!
Whom chance misled the mother to destroy;
Now doom’d a wakeful bird to wail the beauteous boy.
So in nocturnal solitude forlorn,
A sad variety of woes I mourn!
My mind, reflective, in a thorny maze
Devious from care to care incessant strays.
Now, wavering doubt succeeds to long despair;
Shall I my virgin nuptial vow revere;
And, joining to my son’s my menial train,
Partake his counsels, and assist his reign?
Or, since, mature in manhood, he deplores
His dome dishonour’d, and exhausted stores;
Shall I, reluctant! to his will accord;
And from the peers select the noblest lord;
So by my choice avow’d, at length decide
These wasteful love-debates, a mourning bride!
A visionary thought I’ll now relate;
Illustrate, if you know, the shadow’d fate:
"""
"""
“A team of twenty geese (a snow-white train!)
Fed near the limpid lake with golden grain,
Amuse my pensive hours. The bird of Jove
Fierce from his mountain-eyrie downward drove;
Each favourite fowl he pounced with deathful sway,
And back triumphant wing’d his airy way.
My pitying eyes effused a plenteous stream,
To view their death thus imaged in a dream;
With tender sympathy to soothe my soul,
A troop of matrons, fancy-form’d, condole.
But whilst with grief and rage my bosom burn’d,
Sudden the tyrant of the skies returned;
Perch’d on the battlements he thus began
(In form an eagle, but in voice a man):
‘O queen! no vulgar vision of the sky
I come, prophetic of approaching joy;
View in this plumy form thy victor-lord;
The geese (a glutton race) by thee deplored,
Portend the suitors fated to my sword.’
This said, the pleasing feather’d omen ceased.
When from the downy bands of sleep released,
Fast by the limpid lake my swan-like train
I found, insatiate of the golden grain.”
"""
"""
“The vision self-explain’d (the chief replies)
Sincere reveals the sanction of the skies;
Ulysses speaks his own return decreed;
And by his sword the suitors sure to bleed.”
"""
"""
“Hard is the task, and rare,” (the queen rejoin’d,)
Impending destinies in dreams to find;
Immured within the silent bower of sleep,
Two portals firm the various phantoms keep;
Of ivory one; whence flit, to mock the brain,
Of winged lies a light fantastic train;
The gate opposed pellucid valves adorn,
And columns fair incased with polish’d horn;
Where images of truth for passage wait,
With visions manifest of future fate.
Not to this troop, I fear, that phantom soar’d,
Which spoke Ulysses to this realm restored;
Delusive semblance!-but my remnant life
Heaven shall determine in a gameful strife;
With that famed bow Ulysses taught to bend,
For me the rival archers shall contend.
As on the listed field he used to place
Six beams, opposed to six in equal space;
Elanced afar by his unerring art,
Sure through six circlets flew the whizzing dart.
So, when the sun restores the purple day,
Their strength and skill the suitors shall assay;
To him the spousal honour is decreed,
Who through the rings directs the feather’d reed.
Torn from these walls (where long the kinder powers
With joy and pomp have wing’d my youthful hours!)
On this poor breast no dawn of bliss shall beam;
The pleasure past supplies a copious theme
For many a dreary thought, and many a doleful dream!”
"""
"""
“Propose the sportive lot (the chief replies),
Nor dread to name yourself the bowyer’s prize;
Ulysses will surprise the unfinish’d game,
Avow’d, and falsify the suitors’ claim.”
"""
"""
To whom with grace serene the queen rejoin’d:
“In all thy speech what pleasing force I find!
O’er my suspended woe thy words prevail;
I part reluctant from the pleasing tale,
But Heaven, that knows what all terrestrials need,
Repose to night, and toil to day decreed;
Grateful vicissitudes! yet me withdrawn,
Wakeful to weep and watch the tardy dawn
Establish’d use enjoins; to rest and joy
Estranged, since dear Ulysses sail’d to Troy!
Meantime instructed is the menial tribe
Your couch to fashion as yourself prescribe.”
"""
"""
Thus affable, her bower the queen ascends;
The sovereign step a beauteous train attends;
There imaged to her soul Ulysses rose;
Down her pale cheek new-streaming sorrow flows;
Till soft oblivious shade Minerva spread,
And o’er her eyes ambrosial slumber shed.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Council of Ithaca.''
//Telemachus in the assembly of the lords of Ithaca complains of the injustice done him by the suitors, and insists upon their departure from his palace; appealing to the princes, and exciting the people to declare against them. The suitors endeavour to justify their stay, at least till he shall send the queen to the court of Icarius her father; which he refuses. There appears a prodigy of two eagles in the sky, which an augur expounds to the ruin of the suitors. Telemachus the demands a vessel to carry him to Pylos and Sparta, there to inquire of his father’s fortunes. Pallas, in the shape of Mentor (an ancient friend of Ulysses), helps him to a ship, assists him in preparing necessaries for the voyage, and embarks with him that night; which concludes the second day from the opening of the poem. The scene continues in the palace of Ulysses, in Ithaca.//
"""
Now reddening from the dawn, the morning ray
Glow’d in the front of heaven, and gave the day
The youthful hero, with returning light,
Rose anxious from the inquietudes of night.
A royal robe he wore with graceful pride,
A two-edged falchion threaten’d by his side,
Embroider’d sandals glitter’d as he trod,
And forth he moved, majestic as a god.
Then by his heralds, restless of delay,
To council calls the peers: the peers obey.
Soon as in solemn form the assembly sate,
From his high dome himself descends in state.
Bright in his hand a ponderous javelin shined;
Two dogs, a faithful guard, attend behind;
Pallas with grace divine his form improves,
And gazing crowds admire him as he moves,
"""
"""
His father’s throne he fill’d; while distant stood
The hoary peers, and aged wisdom bow’d.
"""
"""
’Twas silence all. At last AEgyptius spoke;
AEgyptius, by his age and sorrow broke;
A length of days his soul with prudence crown’d,
A length of days had bent him to the ground.
His eldest hope in arms to Ilion came,
By great Ulysses taught the path to fame;
But (hapless youth) the hideous Cyclops tore
His quivering limbs, and quaff’d his spouting gore.
Three sons remain’d; to climb with haughty fires
The royal bed, Eurynomus aspires;
The rest with duteous love his griefs assuage,
And ease the sire of half the cares of age.
Yet still his Antiphus he loves, he mourns,
And, as he stood, he spoke and wept by turns,
"""
"""
“Since great Ulysses sought the Phrygian plains,
Within these walls inglorious silence reigns.
Say then, ye peers! by whose commands we meet?
Why here once more in solemn council sit?
Ye young, ye old, the weighty cause disclose:
Arrives some message of invading foes?
Or say, does high necessity of state
Inspire some patriot, and demand debate?
The present synod speaks its author wise;
Assist him, Jove, thou regent of the skies!”
"""
"""
He spoke. Telemachus with transport glows,
Embraced the omen, and majestic rose
(His royal hand the imperial sceptre sway’d);
Then thus, addressing to AEgyptius, said:
"""
"""
“Reverend old man! lo here confess’d he stands
By whom ye meet; my grief your care demands.
No story I unfold of public woes,
Nor bear advices of impending foes:
Peace the blest land, and joys incessant crown:
Of all this happy realm, I grieve alone.
For my lost sire continual sorrows spring,
The great, the good; your father and your king.
Yet more; our house from its foundation bows,
Our foes are powerful, and your sons the foes;
Hither, unwelcome to the queen, they come;
Why seek they not the rich Icarian dome?
If she must wed, from other hands require
The dowry: is Telemachus her sire?
Yet through my court the noise of revel rings,
And waste the wise frugality of kings.
Scarce all my herds their luxury suffice;
Scarce all my wine their midnight hours supplies.
Safe in my youth, in riot still they grow,
Nor in the helpless orphan dread a foe.
But come it will, the time when manhood grants
More powerful advocates than vain complaints.
Approach that hour! insufferable wrong
Cries to the gods, and vengeance sleeps too long.
Rise then, ye peers! with virtuous anger rise;
Your fame revere, but most the avenging skies.
By all the deathless powers that reign above,
By righteous Themis and by thundering Jove
(Themis, who gives to councils, or denies
Success; and humbles, or confirms the wise),
Rise in my aid! suffice the tears that flow
For my lost sire, nor add new woe to woe.
If e’er he bore the sword to strengthen ill,
Or, having power to wrong, betray’d the will,
On me, on me your kindled wrath assuage,
And bid the voice of lawless riot rage.
If ruin to your royal race ye doom,
Be you the spoilers, and our wealth consume.
Then might we hope redress from juster laws,
And raise all Ithaca to aid our cause:
But while your sons commit the unpunish’d wrong,
You make the arm of violence too strong.”
"""
"""
While thus he spoke, with rage and grief he frown’d,
And dash’d the imperial sceptre to the ground.
The big round tear hung trembling in his eye:
The synod grieved, and gave a pitying sigh,
Then silent sate — at length Antinous burns
With haughty rage, and sternly thus returns:
"""
"""
“O insolence of youth! whose tongue affords
Such railing eloquence, and war of words.
Studious thy country’s worthies to defame,
Thy erring voice displays thy mother’s shame.
Elusive of the bridal day, she gives
Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.
Did not the sun, through heaven’s wide azure roll’d,
For three long years the royal fraud behold?
While she, laborious in delusion, spread
The spacious loom, and mix’d the various thread:
Where as to life the wondrous figures rise,
Thus spoke the inventive queen, with artful sighs:
"""
"""
“Though cold in death Ulysses breathes no more,
Cease yet awhile to urge the bridal hour:
Cease, till to great Laertes I bequeath
A task of grief, his ornaments of death.
Lest when the Fates his royal ashes claim,
The Grecian matrons taint my spotless fame;
When he, whom living mighty realms obey’d,
Shall want in death a shroud to grace his shade.’
"""
"""
“Thus she: at once the generous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue’s fair disguise.
The work she plied; but, studious of delay,
By night reversed the labours of the day.
While thrice the sun his annual journey made,
The conscious lamp the midnight fraud survey’d;
Unheard, unseen, three years her arts prevail;
The fourth her maid unfolds the amazing tale.
We saw, as unperceived we took our stand,
The backward labours of her faithless hand.
Then urged, she perfects her illustrious toils;
A wondrous monument of female wiles!
"""
"""
“But you, O peers! and thou, O prince! give ear
(I speak aloud, that every Greek may hear):
Dismiss the queen; and if her sire approves
Let him espouse her to the peer she loves:
Bid instant to prepare the bridal train,
Nor let a race of princes wait in vain.
Though with a grace divine her soul is blest,
And all Minerva breathes within her breast,
In wondrous arts than woman more renown’d,
And more than woman with deep wisdom crown’d;
Though Tyro nor Mycene match her name,
Not great Alemena (the proud boasts of fame);
Yet thus by heaven adorn’d, by heaven’s decree
She shines with fatal excellence, to thee:
With thee, the bowl we drain, indulge the feast,
Till righteous heaven reclaim her stubborn breast.
What though from pole to pole resounds her name!
The son’s destruction waits the mother’s fame:
For, till she leaves thy court, it is decreed,
Thy bowl to empty and thy flock to bleed.”
"""
"""
While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies:
“Ev’n nature starts, and what ye ask denies.
Thus, shall I thus repay a mother’s cares,
Who gave me life, and nursed my infant years!
While sad on foreign shores Ulysses treads.
Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades;
How to Icarius in the bridal hour
Shall I, by waste undone, refund the dower?
How from my father should I vengeance dread!
How would my mother curse my hated head!
And while In wrath to vengeful fiends she cries,
How from their hell would vengeful fiends arise!
Abhorr’d by all, accursed my name would grow,
The earth’s disgrace, and human-kind my foe.
If this displease, why urge ye here your stay?
Haste from the court, ye spoilers, haste away:
Waste in wild riot what your land allows,
There ply the early feast, and late carouse.
But if to honour lost, ’tis still decreed
For you my howl shall flow, my flocks shall bleed;
Judge, and assert my right, impartial Jove!
By him, and all the immortal host above
(A sacred oath), if heaven the power supply,
Vengeance I vow, and for your wrongs ye die.”
"""
"""
With that, two eagles from a mountain’s height
By Jove’s command direct their rapid flight;
Swift they descend, with wing to wing conjoin’d,
Stretch their broad plumes, and float upon the wind.
Above the assembled peers they wheel on high,
And clang their wings, and hovering beat the sky;
With ardent eyes the rival train they threat,
And shrieking loud denounce approaching fate.
They cuff, they tear; their cheeks and neck they rend,
And from their plumes huge drops of blood descend;
Then sailing o’er the domes and towers, they fly,
Full toward the east, and mount into the sky.
"""
"""
The wondering rivals gaze, with cares oppress’d,
And chilling horrors freeze in every breast,
Till big with knowledge of approaching woes,
The prince of augurs, Halitherses, rose:
Prescient he view’d the aerial tracks, and drew
A sure presage from every wing that flew.
"""
"""
“Ye sons (he cried) of Ithaca, give ear;
Hear all! but chiefly you, O rivals! hear.
Destruction sure o’er all your heads impends
Ulysses comes, and death his steps attends.
Nor to the great alone is death decreed;
We and our guilty Ithaca must bleed.
Why cease we then the wrath of heaven to stay?
Be humbled all, and lead, ye great! the way.
For lo? my words no fancied woes relate;
I speak from science and the voice of fate.
"""
"""
“When great Ulysses sought the Phrygian shores
To shake with war proud Ilion’s lofty towers,
Deeds then undone me faithful tongue foretold:
Heaven seal’d my words, and you those deeds behold.
I see (I cried) his woes, a countless train;
I see his friends o’erwhelm’d beneath the main;
How twice ten years from shore to shore he roams:
Now twice ten years are past, and now he comes!”
"""
"""
To whom Eurymachus —“Fly, dotard fly,
With thy wise dreams, and fables of the sky.
Go prophesy at home, thy sons advise:
Here thou art sage in vain — I better read the skies
Unnumber’d birds glide through the aerial way;
Vagrants of air, and unforeboding stray.
Cold in the tomb, or in the deeps below,
Ulysses lies; oh wert thou laid as low!
Then would that busy head no broils suggest,
For fire to rage Telemachus’ breast,
From him some bribe thy venal tongue requires,
And interest, not the god, thy voice inspires.
His guideless youth, if thy experienced age
Mislead fallacious into idle rage,
Vengeance deserved thy malice shall repress.
And but augment the wrongs thou would’st redress,
Telemachus may bid the queen repair
To great Icarius, whose paternal care
Will guide her passion, and reward her choice
With wealthy dower, and bridal gifts of price.
Till she retires, determined we remain,
And both the prince and augur threat in vain:
His pride of words, and thy wild dream of fate,
Move not the brave, or only move their hate,
Threat on, O prince! elude the bridal day.
Threat on, till all thy stores in waste decay.
True, Greece affords a train of lovely dames,
In wealth and beauty worthy of our flames:
But never from this nobler suit we cease;
For wealth and beauty less than virtue please.”
"""
"""
To whom the youth: “Since then in vain I tell
My numerous woes, in silence let them dwell.
But Heaven, and all the Greeks, have heard my wrongs;
To Heaven, and all the Greeks, redress belongs;
Yet this I ask (nor be it ask’d in vain),
A bark to waft me o’er the rolling main,
The realms of Pyle and Sparta to explore,
And seek my royal sire from shore to shore;
If, or to fame his doubtful fate be known,
Or to be learn’d from oracles alone,
If yet he lives, with patience I forbear,
Till the fleet hours restore the circling year;
But if already wandering in the train
Of empty shades, I measure back the main,
Plant the fair column o’er the mighty dead,
And yield his consort to the nuptial bed.”
"""
"""
He ceased; and while abash’d the peers attend,
Mentor arose, Ulysses’ faithful friend:
(When fierce in arms he sought the scenes of war,
“My friend (he cried), my palace be thy care;
Years roll’d on years my godlike sire decay,
Guard thou his age, and his behests obey.”)
Stern as he rose, he cast his eyes around,
That flash’d with rage; and as spoke, he frown’d,
"""
"""
“O never, never more let king be just,
Be mild in power, or faithful to his trust!
Let tyrants govern with an iron rod,
Oppress, destroy, and be the scourge of God;
Since he who like a father held his reign,
So soon forgot, was just and mild in vain!
True, while my friend is grieved, his griefs I share;
Yet now the rivals are my smallest care:
They for the mighty mischiefs they devise,
Ere long shall pay — their forfeit lives the price.
But against you, ye Greeks! ye coward train!
Gods! how my soul is moved with just disdain!
Dumb ye all stand, and not one tongue affords
His injured prince the little aid of words.”
"""
"""
While yet he spoke, Leocritus rejoined:
“O pride of words, and arrogance of mind!
Would’st thou to rise in arms the Greeks advise?
Join all your powers? in arms, ye Greeks, arise!
Yet would your powers in vain our strength oppose.
The valiant few o’ermatch a host of foes.
Should great Ulysses stern appear in arms,
While the bowl circles and the banquet warms;
Though to his breast his spouse with transport flies,
Torn from her breast, that hour, Ulysses dies.
But hence retreating to your domes repair.
To arm the vessel, Mentor! be thy care,
And Halitherses! thine: be each his friend;
Ye loved the father: go, the son attend.
But yet, I trust, the boaster means to stay
Safe in the court, nor tempt the watery way.”
"""
"""
Then, with a rushing sound the assembly bend
Diverse their steps: the rival rout ascend
The royal dome; while sad the prince explores
The neighbouring main, and sorrowing treads the shores.
There, as the waters o’er his hands he shed,
The royal suppliant to Minerva pray’d:
"""
"""
“O goddess! who descending from the skies
Vouchsafed thy presence to my wondering eyes,
By whose commands the raging deeps I trace,
And seek my sire through storms and rolling seas!
Hear from thy heavens above, O warrior maid!
Descend once more, propitious to my aid.
Without thy presence, vain is thy command:
Greece, and the rival train, thy voice withstand.”
"""
"""
Indulgent to his prayer, the goddess took
Sage Mentor’s form, and thus like Mentor spoke:
"""
"""
“O prince, in early youth divinely wise,
Born, the Ulysses of thy age to rise
If to the son the father’s worth descends,
O’er the wide wave success thy ways attends
To tread the walks of death he stood prepared;
And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared.
Were not wise sons descendant of the wise,
And did not heroes from brave heroes rise,
Vain were my hopes: few sons attain the praise
Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.
But since thy veins paternal virtue fires,
And all Penelope thy soul inspires,
Go, and succeed: the rivals’ aims despise;
For never, never wicked man was wise.
Blind they rejoice, though now, ev’n now they fall;
Death hastes amain: one hour o’erwhelms them all!
And lo, with speed we plough the watery way;
My power shall guard thee, and my hand convey:
The winged vessel studious I prepare,
Through seas and realms companion of thy care.
Thou to the court ascend: and to the shores
(When night advances) bear the naval stores;
Bread, that decaying man with strength supplies,
And generous wine, which thoughtful sorrow flies.
Meanwhile the mariners, by my command,
Shall speed aboard, a valiant chosen band.
Wide o’er the bay, by vessel vessel rides;
The best I choose to waft then o’er the tides.”
"""
"""
She spoke: to his high dome the prince returns,
And, as he moves, with royal anguish mourns.
’Twas riot all, among the lawless train;
Boar bled by boar, and goat by goat lay slain.
Arrived, his hand the gay Antinous press’d,
And thus deriding, with a smile address’d:
"""
"""
“Grieve not, O daring prince! that noble heart;
Ill suits gay youth the stern heroic part.
Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,
Leave thought to age, and drain the flowing bowl.
Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides
The bark, to waft thee o’er the swelling tides.”
"""
"""
“Is this (returns the prince) for mirth a time?
When lawless gluttons riot, mirth’s a crime;
The luscious wines, dishonour’d, lose their taste;
The song is noise, and impious is the feast.
Suffice it to have spent with swift decay
The wealth of kings, and made my youth a prey.
But now the wise instructions of the sage,
And manly thoughts inspired by manly age,
Teach me to seek redress for all my woe,
Here, or in Pyle — in Pyle, or here, your foe.
Deny your vessels, ye deny in vain:
A private voyager I pass the main.
Free breathe the winds, and free the billows flow;
And where on earth I live, I live your foe.”
"""
"""
He spoke and frown’d, nor longer deign’d to stay,
Sternly his hand withdrew, and strode away.
"""
"""
Meantime, o’er all the dome, they quaff, they feast,
Derisive taunts were spread from guest to guest,
And each in jovial mood his mate address’d:
"""
"""
“Tremble ye not, O friends, and coward fly,
Doom’d by the stern Telemachus to die?
To Pyle or Sparta to demand supplies,
Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies;
Or comes from Ephyre with poisons fraught,
And kills us all in one tremendous draught!”
"""
"""
“Or who can say (his gamesome mate replies)
But, while the danger of the deeps he tries
He, like his sire, may sink deprived of breath,
And punish us unkindly by his death?
What mighty labours would he then create,
To seize his treasures, and divide his state,
The royal palace to the queen convey,
Or him she blesses in the bridal day!”
"""
"""
Meantime the lofty rooms the prince surveys,
Where lay the treasures of the Ithacian race:
Here ruddy brass and gold refulgent blazed;
There polished chests embroider’d vestures graced;
Here jars of oil breathed forth a rich perfume;
There casks of wine in rows adorn’d the dome
(Pure flavorous wine, by gods in bounty given
And worthy to exalt the feasts of heaven).
Untouch’d they stood, till, his long labours o’er,
The great Ulysses reach’d his native shore.
A double strength of bars secured the gates;
Fast by the door the wise Euryclea waits;
Euryclea, who great Ops! thy lineage shared,
And watch’d all night, all day, a faithful guard.
"""
"""
To whom the prince: “O thou whose guardian care
Nursed the most wretched king that breathes the air;
Untouch’d and sacred may these vessels stand,
Till great Ulysses views his native land.
But by thy care twelve urns of wine be fill’d;
Next these in worth, and firm these urns be seal’d;
And twice ten measures of the choicest flour
Prepared, are yet descends the evening hour.
For when the favouring shades of night arise,
And peaceful slumbers close my mother’s eyes,
Me from our coast shall spreading sails convey,
To seek Ulysses through the watery way.”
"""
"""
While yet he spoke, she fill’d the walls with cries,
And tears ran trickling from her aged eyes.
“O whither, whither flies my son (she cried)
To realms; that rocks and roaring seas divide?
In foreign lands thy father’s days decay’d.
And foreign lands contain the mighty dead.
The watery way ill-fated if thou try,
All, all must perish, and by fraud you die!
Then stay, my, child! storms beat, and rolls the main,
Oh, beat those storms, and roll the seas in vain!”
"""
"""
“Far hence (replied the prince) thy fears be driven:
Heaven calls me forth; these counsels are of Heaven.
But, by the powers that hate the perjured, swear,
To keep my voyage from the royal ear,
Nor uncompell’d the dangerous truth betray,
Till twice six times descends the lamp of day,
Lest the sad tale a mother’s life impair,
And grief destroy what time awhile would spare.”
"""
"""
Thus he. The matron with uplifted eyes
Attests the all-seeing sovereign of the skies.
Then studious she prepares the choicest flour,
The strength of wheat and wines an ample store.
While to the rival train the prince returns,
The martial goddess with impatience burns;
Like thee, Telemachus, in voice and size,
With speed divine from street to street she flies,
She bids the mariners prepared to stand,
When night descends, embodied on the strand.
Then to Noemon swift she runs, she flies,
And asks a bark: the chief a bark supplies.
"""
"""
And now, declining with his sloping wheels,
Down sunk the sun behind the western hills
The goddess shoved the vessel from the shores,
And stow’d within its womb the naval stores,
Full in the openings of the spacious main
It rides; and now descends the sailor-train,
"""
"""
Next, to the court, impatient of delay.
With rapid step the goddess urged her way;
There every eye with slumberous chains she bound,
And dash’d the flowing goblet to the ground.
Drowsy they rose, with heavy fumes oppress’d,
Reel’d from the palace, and retired to rest.
Then thus, in Mentor’s reverend form array’d,
Spoke to Telemachus the martial maid.
“Lo! on the seas, prepared the vessel stands,
The impatient mariner thy speed demands.”
Swift as she spoke, with rapid pace she leads;
The footsteps of the deity he treads.
Swift to the shore they move along the strand;
The ready vessel rides, the sailors ready stand.
"""
"""
He bids them bring their stores; the attending train
Load the tall bark, and launch into the main,
The prince and goddess to the stern ascend;
To the strong stroke at once the rowers bend.
Full from the west she bids fresh breezes blow;
The sable billows foam and roar below.
The chief his orders gives; the obedient band
With due observance wait the chief’s command;
With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind
The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind.
High o’er the roaring waves the spreading sails
Bow the tall mast, and swell before the gales;
The crooked keel the parting surge divides,
And to the stern retreating roll the tides.
And now they ship their oars, and crown with wine
The holy goblet to the powers divine:
Imploring all the gods that reign above,
But chief the blue-eyed progeny of Jove.
"""
"""
Thus all the night they stem the liquid way,
And end their voyage with the morning ray.
"""
''Argument.''
//While Ulysses lies in the vestibule of the palace, he is witness to the disorders of the women. Minerva comforts him, and casts him asleep. At his waking he desires a favourable sign from Jupiter, which is granted. The feast of Apollo is celebrated by the people, and the suitors banquet in the palace. Telemachus exerts his authority amongst them; notwithstanding which, Ulysses is insulted by Caesippus, and the rest continue in their excesses. Strange prodigies are seen by Theoclymenus, the augur, who explains them to the destruction of the wooers.//
"""
An ample hide devine Ulysses spread.
And form’d of fleecy skins his humble bed
(The remnants of the spoil the suitor-crowd
In festival devour’d, and victims vow’d).
Then o’er the chief, Eurynome the chaste
With duteous care a downy carpet cast:
With dire revenge his thoughtful bosom glows,
And, ruminating wrath, he scorns repose.
"""
"""
As thus pavilion’d in the porch he lay,
Scenes of lewd loves his wakeful eyes survey,
Whilst to nocturnal joys impure repair,
With wanton glee, the prostituted fair.
His heart with rage this new dishonour stung,
Wavering his thoughts in dubious balance hung:
Or instant should he quench the guilty flame
With their own blood, and intercept the shame:
Or to their lust indulge a last embrace,
And let the peers consummate the disgrace
Round his swoln heart the murmurous fury rolls,
As o’er her young the mother-mastiff growls,
And bays the stranger groom: so wrath compress’d,
Recoiling, mutter’d thunder in his breast.
“Poor suffering heart! (he cried,) support the pain
Of wounded honour, and thy rage restrain.
Not fiercer woes thy fortitude could foil,
When the brave partners of thy ten years’ toil
Dire Polypheme devour’d; I then was freed
By patient prudence from the death decreed.”
"""
"""
Thus anchor’d safe on reason’s peaceful coast,
Tempests of wrath his soul no longer toss’d;
Restless his body rolls, to rage resign’d
As one who long with pale-eyed famine pined,
The savoury cates on glowing embers cast
Incessant turns, impatient for repast
Ulysses so, from side to side-devolved,
In self-debate the suitor’s doom resolved
When in the form of mortal nymph array’d,
From heaven descends the Jove-born martial maid;
And’hovering o’er his head in view confess’d,
The goddess thus her favourite care address’d:
"""
"""
“O thou, of mortals most inured to woes!
Why roll those eyes unfriended of repose?
Beneath thy palace-roof forget thy care;
Bless’d in thy queen! bless’d in thy blooming heir!
Whom, to the gods when suppliant fathers bow
They name the standard of their dearest vow.”
"""
"""
“Just is thy kind reproach (the chief rejoin’d),
Deeds full of fate distract my various mind,
In contemplation wrapp’d. This hostile crew
What single arm hath prowess to subdue?
Or if, by Jove’s and thy auxiliar aid,
They’re doom’d to bleed; O say, celestial maid!
Where shall Ulysses shun, or how sustain
Nations embattled to revenge the slain?”
"""
"""
“Oh impotence of faith! (Minerva cries,)
If man on frail unknowing man relies,
Doubt you the gods? Lo, Pallas’ self descends,
Inspires thy counsels, and thy toils attends.
In me affianced, fortify thy breast,
Though myriads leagued thy rightful claim contest
My sure divinity shall bear the shield,
And edge thy sword to reap the glorious field.
Now, pay the debt to craving nature due,
Her faded powers with balmy rest renew.”
She ceased, ambrosial slumbers seal his eyes;
Her care dissolves in visionary joys
The goddess, pleased, regains her natal skies.
"""
"""
Not so the queen; the downy bands of sleep
By grief relax’d she waked again to weep:
A gloomy pause ensued of dumb despair;
Then thus her fate invoked, with fervent prayer
"""
"""
“Diana! speed thy deathful ebon dart,
And cure the pangs of this convulsive heart.
Snatch me, ye whirlwinds! far from human race,
Toss’d through the void illimitable space
Or if dismounted from the rapid cloud,
Me with his whelming wave let Ocean shroud!
So, Pandarus, thy hopes, three orphan fair;
Were doom’d to wander through the devious air;
Thyself untimely, and thy consort died,
But four celestials both your cares supplied.
Venus in tender delicacy rears
With honey, milk, and wine their infant years;
Imperial Juno to their youth assigned
A form majestic, and sagacious mind;
With shapely growth Diana graced their bloom;
And Pallas taught the texture of the loom.
But whilst, to learn their lots in nuptial love,
Bright Cytherea sought the bower of Jove
(The God supreme, to whose eternal eye
The registers of fate expanded lie;
Wing’d Harpies snatch the unguarded charge away,
And to the Furies bore a grateful prey.
Be such my lot! Or thou, Diana, speed
Thy shaft, and send me joyful to the dead;
To seek my lord among the warrior train,
Ere second vows my bridal faith profane.
When woes the waking sense alone assail,
Whilst Night extends her soft oblivious veil,
Of other wretches’ care the torture ends;
No truce the warfare of my heart suspends!
The night renews the day distracting theme,
And airy terrors sable every dream.
The last alone a kind illusion wrought,
And to my bed my loved Ulysses brought,
In manly bloom, and each majestic grace,
As when for Troy he left my fond embrace;
Such raptures in my beating bosom rise,
I deem it sure a vision of the skies.”
"""
"""
Thus, whilst Aurora mounts her purple throne,
In audible laments she breathes her moan;
The sounds assault Ulysses’ wakeful ear;
Misjudging of the cause, a sudden fear
Of his arrival known, the chief alarms;
He thinks the queen is rushing to his arms.
Upspringing from his couch, with active haste
The fleece and carpet in the dome he placed
(The hide, without, imbibed the morning air);
And thus the gods invoked with ardent prayer:
"""
"""
“Jove, and eternal thrones! with heaven to friend,
If the long series of my woes shall end;
Of human race now rising from repose,
Let one a blissful omen here disclose;
And, to confirm my faith, propitious Jove!
Vouchsafe the sanction of a sign above.”
"""
"""
Whilst lowly thus the chief adoring bows,
The pitying god his guardian aid avows.
Loud from a sapphire sky his thunder sounds;
With springing hope the hero’s heart rebounds.
Soon, with consummate joy to crown his prayer,
An omen’d voice invades his ravish’d ear.
Beneath a pile that close the dome adjoin’d,
Twelve female slaves the gift of Ceres grind;
Task’d for the royal board to bolt the bran
From the pure flour (the growth and strength of man)
Discharging to the day the labour due,
Now early to repose the rest withdrew;
One maid unequal to the task assign’d,
Still turn’d the toilsome mill with anxious mind;
And thus in bitterness of soul divined:
"""
"""
“Father of gods and men, whose thunders roll
O’er the cerulean vault, and shake the pole:
Whoe’er from Heaven has gain’d this rare ostent
(Of granted vows a certain signal sent),
In this blest moment of accepted prayer,
Piteous, regard a wretch consumed with care!
Instant, O Jove! confound the suitor-train,
For whom o’ertoil’d I grind the golden grain:
Far from this dome the lewd devourers cast,
And be this festival decreed their last!”
"""
"""
Big with their doom denounced in earth and sky,
Ulysses’ heart dilates with secret joy.
Meantime the menial train with unctious wood
Heap’d high the genial hearth, Vulcanian food:
When, early dress’d, advanced the royal heir;
With manly grasp he waved a martial spear;
A radiant sabre graced his purple zone,
And on his foot the golden sandal shone.
His steps impetuous to the portal press’d;
And Euryclea thus he there address’d:
"""
"""
“Say thou to whom my youth its nurture owes,
Was care for due refection and repose
Bestow’d the stranger-guest? Or waits he grieved,
His age not honour’d, nor his wants relieved?
Promiscuous grace on all the queen confers
(In woes bewilder’d, oft the wisest errs).
The wordy vagrant to the dole aspires,
And modest worth with noble scorn retires.”
"""
"""
She thus: “O cease that ever-honour’d name
To blemish now: it ill deserves your blame,
A bowl of generous wine sufficed the guest;
In vain the queen the night refection press’d;
Nor would he court repose in downy state,
Unbless’d, abandon’d to the rage of Fate!
A hide beneath the portico was spread,
And fleecy skins composed an humble bed;
A downy carpet cast with duteous care,
Secured him from the keen nocturnal air.”
"""
"""
His cornel javelin poised with regal port,
To the sage Greeks convened in Themis’ court,
Forth-issuing from the dome the prince repair’d;
Two dogs of chase, a lion-hearted guard,
Behind him sourly stalked. Without delay
The dame divides the labour of the day;
Thus urging to the toil the menial train;
"""
"""
“What marks of luxury the marble stain
Its wonted lustre let the floor regain;
The seats with purple clothe in order due;
And let the abstersive sponge the board renew;
Let some refresh the vase’s sullied mould;
Some bid the goblets boast their native gold;
Some to the spring, with each a jar, repair,
And copious waters pure for bathing bear;
Dispatch! for soon the suitors will essay
The lunar feast-rites to the god of day.”
"""
"""
She said: with duteous haste a bevy fair
Of twenty virgins to the spring repair;
With varied toils the rest adorn the dome.
Magnificent, and blithe, the suitors come.
Some wield the sounding axe; the dodder’d oaks
Divide, obedient to the forceful strokes.
Soon from the fount, with each a brimming urn
(Eumaeus in their train), the maids return.
Three porkers for the feast, all brawny-chined,
He brought; the choicest of the tusky-kind;
In lodgments first secure his care he viewed,
Then to the king this friendly speech renew’d:
“Now say sincere, my guest! the suitor-train
Still treat thy worth with lordly dull disdain;
Or speaks their deed a bounteous mind humane?”
"""
"""
“Some pitying god (Ulysses sad replied)
With vollied vengeance blast their towering pride!
No conscious blush, no sense of right, restrains
The tides of lust that swell the boiling veins;
From vice to vice their appetites are toss’d,
All cheaply sated at another’s cost!”
"""
"""
While thus the chief his woes indignant told,
Melanthius, master of the bearded fold,
The goodliest goats of all the royal herd
Spontaneous to the suitors’ feast preferr’d;
Two grooms assistant bore the victims bound;
With quavering cries the vaulted roofs resound;
And to the chief austere aloud began
The wretch unfriendly to the race of man:
"""
"""
“Here vagrant, still? offensive to my lords!
Blows have more energy than airy words;
These arguments I’ll use: nor conscious shame,
Nor threats, thy bold intrusion will reclaim.
On this high feast the meanest vulgar boast
A plenteous board! Hence! seek another host!”
"""
"""
Rejoinder to the churl the king disdain’d,
But shook his head, and rising wrath restrain’d.
"""
"""
From Cephanelia ‘cross the surgy main
Philaetius late arrived, a faithful swain.
A steer ungrateful to the bull’s embrace.
And goats he brought, the pride of all their race;
Imported in a shallop not his own;
The dome re-echoed to the mingl’d moan.
Straight to the guardian of the bristly kind
He thus began, benevolent of mind:
"""
"""
“What guest is he, of such majestic air?
His lineage and paternal clime declare:
Dim through the eclipse of fate, the rays divine
Of sovereign state with faded splendour shine.
If monarchs by the gods are plunged in woe,
To what abyss are we foredoom’d to go!”
Then affable he thus the chief address’d,
Whilst with pathetic warmth his hand he press’d:
"""
"""
“Stranger, may fate a milder aspect show,
And spin thy future with a whiter clue!
O Jove! for ever death to human cries;
The tyrant, not the father of the skies!
Unpiteous of the race thy will began!
The fool of fate, thy manufacture, man,
With penury, contempt, repulse, and care,
The galling load of life is doom’d to bear.
Ulysses from his state a wanderer still,
Upbraids thy power, thy wisdom, or thy will!
O monarch ever dear!-O man of woe!
Fresh flow my tears, and shall for ever flow!
Like thee, poor stranger guest, denied his home,
Like thee: in rags obscene decreed to roam!
Or, haply perish’d on some distant coast,
In stygian gloom he glides, a pensive ghost!
Oh, grateful for the good his bounty gave,
I’ll grieve, till sorrow sink me to the grave!
His kind protecting hand my youth preferr’d,
The regent of his Cephalenian herd;
With vast increase beneath my care it spreads:
A stately breed! and blackens far the meads.
Constrain’d, the choicest beeves I thence import,
To cram these cormorants that crowd his court:
Who in partition seek his realm to share;
Nor human right nor wrath divine revere,
Since here resolved oppressive these reside,
Contending doubts my anxious heart divide:
Now to some foreign clime inclined to fly,
And with the royal herd protection buy;
Then, happier thoughts return the nodding scale,
Light mounts despair, alternate hopes prevail:
In opening prospects of ideal joy,
My king returns; the proud usurpers die.”
"""
"""
To whom the chief: “In thy capacious mind
Since daring zeal with cool debate is join’d,
Attend a deed already ripe in fate:
Attest, O Jove! the truth I now relate!
This sacred truth attest, each genial power,
Who bless the board, and guard this friendly bower!
Before thou quit the dome (nor long delay)
Thy wish produced in act, with pleased survey,
Thy wondering eyes shall view: his rightful reign
By arms avow’d Ulysses shall regain,
And to the shades devote the suitor-train.”
"""
"""
“O Jove supreme! (the raptured swain replies,)
With deeds consummate soon the promised joys!
These aged nerves, with new-born vigour strung,
In that blest cause should emulate the young.”
Assents Eumaeus to the prayer address’d;
And equal ardours fire his loyal breast.
"""
"""
Meantime the suitors urge the prince’s fate,
And deathful arts employ the dire debate:
When in his airy tour, the bird of Jove
Truss’d with his sinewy pounce a trembling dove;
Sinister to their hope! This omen eyed
Amphinomus, who thus presaging cried:
"""
"""
“The gods from force and fraud the prince defend;
O peers! the sanguinary scheme suspend:
Your future thought let sable fate employ;
And give the present hour to genial joy.”
"""
"""
From council straight the assenting peerage ceased,
And in the dome prepared the genial feast.
Disrobed, their vests apart in order lay,
Then all with speed succinct the victims slay:
With sheep and shaggy goats the porkers bled,
And the proud steer was on the marble spread.
With fire prepared, they deal the morsels round,
Wine, rosy-bright, the brimming goblets crown’d,
By sage Eumaeus borne; the purple tide
Melanthius from an ample jar supplied:
High canisters of bread Philaetius placed;
And eager all devour the rich repast.
Disposed apart, Ulysses shares the treat;
A trivet table, and ignobler seat,
The prince appoints; but to his sire assigns
The tasteful inwards, and nectareous wines.
“Partake, my guest (he cried), without control
The social feast, and drain the cheering bowl:
Dread not the railer’s laugh, nor ruffian’s rage;
No vulgar roof protects thy honour’d age;
This dome a refuge to thy wrongs shall be,
From my great sire too soon devolved to me!
Your violence and scorn, ye suitors, cease,
Lest arms avenge the violated peace.”
"""
"""
Awed by the prince, so haughty, brave, and young,
Rage gnaw’d the lip, amazement chain’d the tongue.
“Be patient, peers! (at length Antinous cries,)
The threats of vain imperious youth despise:
Would Jove permit the meditated blow,
That stream of eloquence should cease to flow.”
"""
"""
Without reply vouchsafed, Antinous ceased:
Meanwhile the pomp of festival increased:
By heralds rank’d; in marshall’d order move
The city tribes, to pleased Apollo’s grove:
Beneath the verdure of which awful shade,
The lunar hecatomb they grateful laid;
Partook the sacred feast, and ritual honours paid.
But the rich banquet, in the dome prepared
(An humble sideboard set) Ulysses shared.
Observant of the prince’s high behest,
His menial train attend the stranger-guest;
Whom Pallas with unpardoning fury fired,
By lordly pride and keen reproach inspired.
A Samian peer, more studious than the rest
Of vice, who teem’d with many a dead-born jest;
And urged, for title to a consort queen,
Unnumber’d acres arable and green
(Otesippus named); this lord Ulysses eyed,
And thus burst out the imposthumate with pride:
"""
"""
“The sentence I propose, ye peers, attend:
Since due regard must wait the prince’s friend,
Let each a token of esteem bestow:
This gift acquits the dear respect I owe;
With which he nobly may discharge his seat,
And pay the menials for a master’s treat.”
"""
"""
He said: and of the steer before him placed,
That sinewy fragment at Ulysses cast,
Where to the pastern-bone, by nerves combined,
The well-horn’d foot indissolubly join’d;
Which whizzing high, the wall unseemly sign’d.
The chief indignant grins a ghastly smile;
Revenge and scorn within his bosom boil:
When thus the prince with pious rage inflamed:
“Had not the inglorious wound thy malice aim’d
Fall’n guiltless of the mark, my certain spear
Had made thee buy the brutal triumph dear:
Nor should thy sire a queen his daughter boast;
The suitor, now, had vanish’d in a ghost:
No more, ye lewd compeers, with lawless power
Invade my dome, my herds and flocks devour:
For genuine worth, of age mature to know,
My grape shall redden, and my harvest grow
Or, if each other’s wrongs ye still support,
With rapes and riot to profane my court;
What single arm with numbers can contend?
On me let all your lifted swords descend,
And with my life such vile dishonours end.”
"""
"""
A long cessation of discourse ensued,
By gentler Agelaus thus renew’d:
"""
"""
“A just reproof, ye peers! your rage restrain
From the protected guest, and menial train:
And, prince! to stop the source of future ill,
Assent yourself, and gain the royal will.
Whilst hope prevail’d to see your sire restored,
Of right the queen refused a second lord:
But who so vain of faith, so blind to fate,
To think he still survives to claim the state?
Now press the sovereign dame with warm desire
To wed, as wealth or worth her choice inspire:
The lord selected to the nuptial joys
Far hence will lead the long-contested prize:
Whilst in paternal pomp with plenty bless’d,
You reign, of this imperial dome possess’d.”
"""
"""
Sage and serene Telemachus replies:
“By him at whose behest the thunder flies,
And by the name on earth I most revere,
By great Ulysses and his woes I swear!
(Who never must review his dear domain;
Enroll’d, perhaps, in Pluto’s dreary train),
Whene’er her choice the royal dame avows,
My bridal gifts shall load the future spouse:
But from this dome my parent queen to chase!
From me, ye gods! avert such dire disgrace.”
"""
"""
But Pallas clouds with intellectual gloom
The suitors’ souls, insensate of their doom!
A mirthful frenzy seized the fated crowd;
The roofs resound with causeless laughter loud;
Floating in gore, portentous to survey!
In each discolour’d vase the viands lay;
Then down each cheek the tears spontaneous flow
And sudden sighs precede approaching woe.
In vision wrapp’d, the Hyperesian seer
Uprose, and thus divined the vengeance near:
"""
"""
“O race to death devote! with Stygian shade
Each destin’d peer impending fates invade;
With tears your wan distorted cheeks are drown’d;
With sanguine drops the walls are rubied round:
Thick swarms the spacious hall with howling ghosts,
To people Orcus, and the burning coasts!
Nor gives the sun his golden orb to roll,
But universal night usurps the pole!”
"""
"""
Yet warn’d in vain, with laughter loud elate
The peers reproach the sure divine of Fate;
And thus Eurymachus: “The dotard’s mind
To every sense is lost, to reason blind;
Swift from the dome conduct the slave away;
Let him in open air behold the day.”
"""
"""
“Tax not (the heaven-illumined seer rejoin’d)
Of rage, or folly, my prophetic mind,
No clouds of error dim the ethereal rays,
Her equal power each faithful sense obeys.
Unguided hence my trembling steps I bend,
Far hence, before yon hovering deaths descend;
Lest the ripe harvest of revenge begun,
I share the doom ye suitors cannot shun.”
"""
"""
This said, to sage Piraeus sped the seer,
His honour’d host, a welcome inmate there.
O’er the protracted feast the suitors sit,
And aim to wound the prince with pointless wit:
Cries one, with scornful leer and mimic voice,
“Thy charity we praise, but not thy choice;
Why such profusion of indulgence shown
To this poor, timorous, toil-detesting drone?
That others feeds on planetary schemes,
And pays his host with hideous noon-day dreams.
But, prince! for once at least believe a friend;
To some Sicilian mart these courtiers send,
Where, if they yield their freight across the main,
Dear sell the slaves! demand no greater gain.”
"""
"""
Thus jovial they; but nought the prince replies;
Full on his sire he roll’d his ardent eyes:
Impatient straight to flesh his virgin-sword;
From the wise chief he waits the deathful word.
Nigh in her bright alcove, the pensive queen
To see the circle sate, of all unseen.
Sated at length they rise, and bid prepare
An eve-repast, with equal cost and care:
But vengeful Pallas, with preventing speed,
A feast proportion’d to their crimes decreed;
A feast of death, the feasters doom’d to bleed!
"""
''Argument.''
''The Bending of Ulysses’ Bow.''
//Penelope, to put an end to the solicitation of the suitors, proposes to marry the person who shall first bend the bow of Ulysses, and shoot through the ringlets. After their attempts have proved ineffectual, Ulysses, taking Eumaeus and Philaetius apart, discovers himself to them; then returning, desires leave to try his strength at the bow, which, though refused with indignation by the suitors, Penelope and Telemachus cause it to be delivered to his hands. He bends it immediately, and shoots through all the rings. Jupiter at the same instant thunders from heaven; Ulysses accepts the omen, and gives a sign to Telemachus, who stands ready armed at his side.//
"""
And Pallas now, to raise the rivals’ fires,
With her own art Penelope inspires
Who now can bend Ulysses’ bow, and wing
The well-aim’d arrow through the distant ring,
Shall end the strife, and win the imperial dame:
But discord and black death await the game!
"""
"""
The prudent queen the lofty stair ascends:
At distance due a virgin-train attends;
A brazen key she held, the handle turn’d,
With steel and polish’d elephant adorn’d:
Swift to the inmost room she bent her way,
Where, safe reposed, the royal treasures lay:
There shone high heap’d the labour’d brass and ore,
And there the bow which great Ulysses bore;
And there the quiver, where now guiltless slept
Those winged deaths that many a matron wept.
"""
"""
This gift, long since when Sparta’s shore he trod,
On young Ulysses Iphitus bestowed:
Beneath Orsilochus’ roof they met;
One loss was private, one a public debt;
Messena’s state from Ithaca detains
Three hundred sheep, and all the shepherd swains;
And to the youthful prince to urge the laws,
The king and elders trust their common cause.
But Iphitus, employed on other cares,
Search’d the wide country for his wandering mares,
And mules, the strongest of the labouring kind;
Hapless to search; more hapless still to find!
For journeying on to Hercules, at length
That lawless wretch, that man of brutal strength,
Deaf to Heaven’s voice, the social rites transgress’d;
And for the beauteous mares destroy’d his guest.
He gave the bow; and on Ulysses’ part
Received a pointed sword, and missile dart:
Of luckless friendship on a foreign shore
Their first, last pledges! for they met no more.
The bow, bequeath’d by this unhappy hand,
Ulysses bore not from his native land;
Nor in the front of battle taught to bend,
But kept in dear memorial of his friend.
"""
"""
Now gently winding up the fair ascent,
By many an easy step the matron went;
Then o’er the pavement glides with grace divine
(With polish’d oak the level pavements shine);
The folding gates a dazzling light display’d,
With pomp of various architrave o’erlaid.
The bolt, obedient to the silken string,
Forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring;
The wards respondent to the key turn round;
The bars fall back; the flying valves resound;
Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring,
So roar’d the lock when it released the spring.
She moves majestic through the wealthy room,
Where treasured garments cast a rich perfume;
There from the column where aloft it hung,
Reach’d in its splendid case, the bow unstrung;
Across her knees she laid the well-known bow,
And pensive sate, and tears began to flow.
To full satiety of grief she mourns,
Then silent to the joyous hall returns,
To the proud suitors bears in pensive state
The unbended bow, and arrows winged with fate.
"""
"""
Behind, her train the polish’d coffer brings,
Which held the alternate brass and silver rings.
Full in the portal the chaste queen appears,
And with her veil conceals the coming tears:
On either side awaits a virgin fair;
While thus the matron, with majestic air:
"""
"""
“Say you, when these forbidden walls inclose,
For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows:
If these neglected, faded charms can move?
Or is it but a vain pretence, you love?
If I the prize, if me you seek to wife,
Hear the conditions, and commence the strife.
Who first Ulysses’ wondrous bow shall bend,
And through twelve ringlets the fleet arrow send;
Him will I follow, and forsake my home,
For him forsake this loved, this wealthy dome,
Long, long the scene of all my past delight,
And still to last, the vision of my night!”
"""
"""
Graceful she said, and bade Eumaeus show
The rival peers the ringlets and the bow.
From his full eyes the tears unbidden spring,
Touch’d at the dear memorials of his king.
Philaetius too relents, but secret shed
The tender drops. Antinous saw, and said:
"""
"""
“Hence to your fields, ye rustics! hence away,
Nor stain with grief the pleasures of the day;
Nor to the royal heart recall in vain
The sad remembrance of a perish’d man.
Enough her precious tears already flow —
Or share the feast with due respect; or go
To weep abroad, and leave to us the bow,
No vulgar task! Ill suits this courtly crew
That stubborn horn which brave Ulysses drew.
I well remember (for I gazed him o’er
While yet a child), what majesty he bore!
And still (all infant as I was) retain
The port, the strength, the grandeur of the man.”
"""
"""
He said, but in his soul fond joys arise,
And his proud hopes already win the prize.
To speed the flying shaft through every ring,
Wretch! is not thine: the arrows of the king
Shall end those hopes, and fate is on the wing!
"""
"""
Then thus Telemachus: “Some god I find
With pleasing frenzy has possess’d my mind;
When a loved mother threatens to depart,
Why with this ill-timed gladness leaps my heart?
Come then, ye suitors! and dispute a prize
Richer than all the Achaian state supplies,
Than all proud Argos, or Mycaena knows,
Than all our isles or continents inclose;
A woman matchless, and almost divine,
Fit for the praise of every tongue but mine.
No more excuses then, no more delay;
Haste to the trial — Lo! I lead the way.
"""
"""
“I too may try, and if this arm can wing
The feather’d arrow through the destined ring,
Then if no happier night the conquest boast,
I shall not sorrow for a mother lost;
But, bless’d in her, possess those arms alone,
Heir of my father’s strength, as well as throne.”
"""
"""
He spoke; then rising, his broad sword unbound,
And cast his purple garment on the ground.
A trench he open’d: in a line he placed.
The level axes, and the points made fast
(His perfect skill the wondering gazers eyed,
The game as yet unseen, as yet untried).
Then, with a manly pace, he took his stand:
And grasp’d the bow, and twang’d it in his hand.
Three times, with beating heart, he made essay:
Three times, unequal to the task, gave way;
A modest boldness on his cheek appear’d:
And thrice he hoped, and thrice again he fear’d.
The fourth had drawn it. The great sire with joy
Beheld, but with a sign forbade the boy.
His ardour straight the obedient prince suppress’d,
And, artful, thus the suitor-train address’d:
"""
"""
“O lay the cause on youth yet immature!
(For heaven forbid such weakness should endure!)
How shall this arm, unequal to the bow,
Retort an insult, or repel a foe?
But you! whom Heaven with better nerves has bless’d,
Accept the trial, and the prize contest.”
"""
"""
He cast the bow before him, and apart
Against the polish’d quiver propp’d the dart.
Resuming then his seat, Eupithes’ son,
The bold Antinous, to the rest begun:
“From where the goblet first begins to flow,
From right to left in order take the bow;
And prove your several strengths.” The princes heard
And first Leiodes, blameless priest’d, appear’d:
The eldest born of Oenops’ noble race,
Who next the goblet held his holy place:
He, only he, of all the suitor throng,
Their deeds detested, and abjured the wrong.
With tender hands the stubborn horn he strains,
The stubborn horn resisted all his pains!
Already in despair he gives it o’er:
“Take it who will (he cries), I strive no more,
What numerous deaths attend this fatal bow!
What souls and spirits shall it send below!
Better, indeed, to die, and fairly give
Nature her debt, than disappointed live,
With each new sun to some new hope a prey,
Yet still to-morrow falser than to-day.
How long in vain Penelope we sought!
This bow shall ease us of that idle thought,
And send us with some humbler wife to live,
Whom gold shall gain, or destiny shall give.”
"""
"""
Thus speaking, on the floor the bow he placed
(With rich inlay the various floor was graced):
At distance far the feather’d shaft he throws,
And to the seat returns from whence he rose.
"""
"""
To him Antinous thus with fury said:
“What words ill-omen’d from thy lips have fled?
Thy coward-function ever is in fear!
Those arms are dreadful which thou canst not bear,
Why should this bow be fatal to the brave?
Because the priest is born a peaceful slave.
Mark then what others can.” He ended there,
And bade Melanthius a vast pile prepare;
He gives it instant flame, then fast beside
Spreads o’er an ample board a bullock’s hide.
With melted lard they soak the weapon o’er,
Chafe every knot, and supple every pore.
Vain all their art, and all their strength as vain;
The bow inflexible resists their pain.
The force of great Eurymachus alone
And bold Antinous, yet untired, unknown:
Those only now remain’d; but those confess’d
Of all the train the mightiest and the best.
"""
"""
Then from the hall, and from the noisy crew,
The masters of the herd and flock withdrew.
The king observes them, he the hall forsakes,
And, past the limits of the court, o’ertakes.
Then thus with accent mild Ulysses spoke:
“Ye faithful guardians of the herd and flock!
Shall I the secret of my breast conceal,
Or (as my soul now dictates) shall I tell?
Say, should some favouring god restore again
The lost Ulysses to his native reign,
How beat your hearts? what aid would you afford
To the proud suitors, or your ancient lord?”
"""
"""
Philaetius thus: “O were thy word not vain!
Would mighty Jove restore that man again!
These aged sinews, with new vigour strung,
In his blest cause should emulate the young.”
With equal vows Eumaeus too implored
Each power above, with wishes for his lord.
"""
"""
He saw their secret souls, and thus began:
“Those vows the gods accord; behold the man!
Your own Ulysses! twice ten years detain’d
By woes and wanderings from this hapless land:
At length he comes; but comes despised, unknown,
And finding faithful you, and you alone.
All else have cast him from their very thought,
E’en in their wishes and their prayers forgot!
Hear then, my friends: If Jove this arm succeed,
And give yon impious revellers to bleed,
My care shall be to bless your future lives
With large possessions and with faithful wives;
Fast by my palace shall your domes ascend,
And each on young Telemachus attend,
And each be call’d his brother and my friend.
To give you firmer faith, now trust your eye;
Lo! the broad scar indented on my thigh,
When with Autolycus’ sons, of yore,
On Parnass’ top I chased the tusky boar.”
His ragged vest then drawn aside disclosed
The sign conspicuous, and the scar exposed:
Eager they view’d, with joy they stood amazed
With tearful eyes o’er all their master gazed:
Around his neck their longing arms they cast,
His head, his shoulders, and his knees embraced;
Tears followed tears; no word was in their power;
In solemn silence fell the kindly shower.
The king too weeps, the king too grasps their hands;
And moveless, as a marble fountain, stands.
"""
"""
Thus had their joy wept down the setting sun,
But first the wise man ceased, and thus begun:
“Enough — on other cares your thought employ,
For danger waits on all untimely joy.
Full many foes and fierce, observe us near;
Some may betray, and yonder walls may hear.
Re-enter then, not all at once, but stay
Some moments you, and let me lead the way.
To me, neglected as I am I know
The haughty suitors will deny the bow;
But thou, Eumaeus, as ’tis borne away,
Thy master’s weapon to his hand convey.
At every portal let some matron wait,
And each lock fast the well-compacted gate:
Close let them keep, whate’er invades their ear;
Though arms, or shouts, or dying groans they hear.
To thy strict charge, Philaetius, we consign
The court’s main gate: to guard that pass be thine.”
"""
"""
This said, he first return’d; the faithful swains
At distance follow, as their king ordains.
Before the flame Eurymachus now stands,
And turns the bow, and chafes it with his hands
Still the tough bow unmoved. The lofty man
Sigh’d from his mighty soul, and thus began:
"""
"""
“I mourn the common cause: for, oh, my friends,
On me, on all, what grief, what shame attends!
Not the lost nuptials can affect me more
(For Greece has beauteous dames on every shore),
But baffled thus! confess’d so far below
Ulysses’ strength, as not to bend his bow!
How shall all ages our attempt deride!
Our weakness scorn!” Antinous thus replied:
"""
"""
“Not so, Eurymachus: that no man draws
The wondrous bow, attend another cause.
Sacred to Phoebus is the solemn day,
Which thoughtless we in games would waste away:
Till the next dawn this ill-timed strife forego,
And here leave fixed the ringlets in a row.
Now bid the sewer approach, and let us join
In due libations, and in rites divine,
So end our night: before the day shall spring,
The choicest offerings let Melanthius bring:
Let then to Phoebus’ name the fatted thighs
Feed the rich smokes high curling to the skies.
So shall the patron of these arts bestow
(For his the gift) the skill to bend the bow.”
"""
"""
They heard well pleased: the ready heralds bring
The cleansing waters from the limpid spring:
The goblet high with rosy wine they crown’d,
In order circling to the peers around.
That rite complete, uprose the thoughtful man,
And thus his meditated scheme began:
"""
"""
“If what I ask your noble minds approve,
Ye peers and rivals in the royal love!
Chief, if it hurt not great Antinous’ ear
(Whose sage decision I with wonder hear),
And if Eurymachus the motion please:
Give Heaven this day and rest the bow in peace.
To-morrow let your arms dispute the prize,
And take it he, the favour’d of the skies!
But, since till then this trial you delay,
Trust it one moment to my hands to-day:
Fain would I prove, before your judging eyes,
What once I was, whom wretched you despise:
If yet this arm its ancient force retain;
Or if my woes (a long-continued train)
And wants and insults, make me less than man.”
"""
"""
Rage flash’d in lightning from the suitors’ eyes,
Yet mixed with terror at the bold emprise.
Antinous then: “O miserable guest!
Is common sense quite banish’d from thy breast?
Sufficed it not, within the palace placed,
To sit distinguish’d, with our presence graced,
Admitted here with princes to confer,
A man unknown, a needy wanderer?
To copious wine this insolence we owe,
And much thy betters wine can overthrow:
The great Eurytian when this frenzy stung,
Pirithous’ roofs with frantic riot rung;
Boundless the Centaur raged; till one and all
The heroes rose, and dragg’d him from the hall;
His nose they shorten’d, and his ears they slit,
And sent him sober’d home, with better wit.
Hence with long war the double race was cursed,
Fatal to all, but to the aggressor first.
Such fate I prophesy our guest attends,
If here this interdicted bow he bends:
Nor shall these walls such insolence contain:
The first fair wind transports him o’er the main,
Where Echetus to death the guilty brings
(The worst of mortals, e’en the worst of kings).
Better than that, if thou approve our cheer;
Cease the mad strife and share our bounty here.”
"""
"""
To this the queen her just dislike express’d:
"""
"""
“’Tis impious, prince, to harm the stranger-guest,
Base to insult who bears a suppliant’s name,
And some respect Telemachus may claim.
What if the immortals on the man bestow
Sufficient strength to draw the mighty bow?
Shall I, a queen, by rival chiefs adored,
Accept a wandering stranger for my lord?
A hope so idle never touch’d his brain:
Then ease your bosoms of a fear so vain.
Far be he banish’d from this stately scene
Who wrongs his princess with a thought so mean.”
"""
"""
“O fair! and wisest of so fair a kind!
(Respectful thus Eurymachus rejoin’d,)
Moved by no weak surmise, but sense of shame,
We dread the all-arraigning voice of Fame:
We dread the censure of the meanest slave,
The weakest woman: all can wrong the brave.
‘Behold what wretches to the bed pretend
Of that brave chief whose bow they could not bend!
In came a beggar of the strolling crew,
And did what all those princes could not do.’
Thus will the common voice our deed defame,
And thus posterity upbraid our name.”
"""
"""
To whom the queen: “If fame engage your views,
Forbear those acts which infamy pursues;
Wrong and oppression no renown can raise;
Know, friend! that virtue is the path to praise.
The stature of our guest, his port, his face,
Speak him descended from no vulgar race.
To him the bow, as he desires, convey;
And to his hand if Phoebus give the day,
Hence, to reward his merit, be shall bear
A two-edged falchion and a shining spear,
Embroider’d sandals, a rich cloak and vest,
A safe conveyance to his port of rest.”
"""
"""
“O royal mother! ever-honour’d name!
Permit me (cries Telemachus) to claim
A son’s just right. No Grecian prince but I
Has power this bow to grant or to deny.
Of all that Ithaca’s rough hills contain,
And all wide Elis’ courser-breeding plain,
To me alone my father’s arms descend;
And mine alone they are, to give or lend.
Retire, O queen! thy household task resume,
Tend, with thy maids, the labours of thy loom;
The bow, the darts, and arms of chivalry,
These cares to man belong, and most to me.”
"""
"""
Mature beyond his years, the queen admired
His sage reply, and with her train retired;
There in her chamber as she sate apart,
Revolved his words, and placed them in her heart.
On her Ulysses then she fix’d her soul;
Down her fair cheek the tears abundant roll,
Till gentle Pallas, piteous of her cries,
In slumber closed her silver-streaming eyes.
"""
"""
Now through the press the bow Eumaeus bore,
And all was riot, noise, and wild uproar.
“Hold! lawless rustic! whither wilt thou go?
To whom, insensate, dost thou bear the bow?
Exiled for this to some sequester’d den,
Far from the sweet society of men,
To thy own dogs a prey thou shalt be made;
If Heaven and Phoebus lend the suitors aid.”
Thus they. Aghast he laid the weapon down,
But bold Telemachus thus urged him on:
“Proceed, false slave, and slight their empty words:
What! hopes the fool to please so many lords?
Young as I am, thy prince’s vengeful hand
Stretch’d forth in wrath shall drive thee from the land.
Oh! could the vigour of this arm as well
The oppressive suitors from my walls expel!
Then what a shoal of lawless men should go
To fill with tumult the dark courts below!”
"""
"""
The suitors with a scornful smile survey
The youth, indulging in the genial day.
Eumaeus, thus encouraged, hastes to bring
The strifeful bow and gives it to the king.
Old Euryclea calling them aside,
“Hear what Telemachus enjoins (he cried):
At every portal let some matron wait,
And each lock fast the well-compacted gate;
And if unusual sounds invade their ear,
If arms, or shouts, or dying groans they hear,
Let none to call or issue forth presume,
But close attend the labours of the loom.”
"""
"""
Her prompt obedience on his order waits;
Closed in an instant were the palace gates.
In the same moment forth Philaetius flies,
Secures the court, and with a cable ties
The utmost gate (the cable strongly wrought
Of Byblos’ reed, a ship from Egypt brought);
Then unperceived and silent at the board
His seat he takes, his eyes upon his lord.
"""
"""
And now his well-known bow the master bore,
Turn’d on all sides, and view’d it o’er and o’er;
Lest time or worms had done the weapon wrong,
Its owner absent, and untried so long.
While some deriding —“How he turns the bow!
Some other like it sure the man must know,
Or else would copy; or in bows he deals;
Perhaps he makes them, or perhaps he steals.”
“Heaven to this wretch (another cried) be kind!
And bless, in all to which he stands inclined.
With such good fortune as he now shall find.”
"""
"""
Heedless he heard them: but disdain’d reply;
The bow perusing with exactest eye.
Then, as some heavenly minstrel, taught to sing
High notes responsive to the trembling string,
To some new strain when he adapts the lyre,
Or the dumb lute refits with vocal wire,
Relaxes, strains, and draws them to and fro;
So the great master drew the mighty bow,
And drew with ease. One hand aloft display’d
The bending horns, and one the string essay’d.
From his essaying hand the string, let fly,
Twang’d short and sharp like the shrill swallow’s cry.
A general horror ran through all the race,
Sunk was each heart, and pale was every face,
Signs from above ensued: the unfolding sky
In lightning burst; Jove thunder’d from on high.
Fired at the call of heaven’s almighty Lord,
He snatch’d the shaft that glitter’d on the board
(Fast by, the rest lay sleeping in the sheath,
But soon to fly the messengers of death).
"""
"""
Now sitting as he was, the cord he drew,
Through every ringlet levelling his view:
Then notch’d the shaft, released, and gave it wing;
The whizzing arrow vanished from the string,
Sung on direct, and threaded every ring.
The solid gate its fury scarcely bounds;
Pierced through and through the solid gate resounds,
Then to the prince: “Nor have I wrought thee shame;
Nor err’d this hand unfaithful to its aim;
Nor prov’d the toil too hard; nor have I lost
That ancient vigour, once my pride and boast.
Ill I deserved these haughty peers’ disdain;
Now let them comfort their dejected train,
In sweet repast their present hour employ,
Nor wait till evening for the genial joy:
Then to the lute’s soft voice prolong the night;
Music, the banquet’s most refined delight.”
"""
"""
He said, then gave a nod; and at the word
Telemachus girds on his shining sword.
Fast by his father’s side he takes his stand:
The beamy javelin lightens in his hand.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Death of the Suitors.''
//Ulysses begins the slaughter of the suitors by the death of Antinous. He declares himself, and lets fly his arrows at the rest. Telemachus assists and brings arms for his father, himself, Eumaeus, and Philaetius. Melanthius does the same for the wooers. Minerva encourages Ulysses in the shape of Mentor. The suitors are all slain, only Medon and Phemius are spared. Melanthius and the unfaithful servants are executed. The rest acknowledge their master with all demonstrations of joy.//
"""
Then fierce the hero o’er the threshold strode;
Stripp’d of his rags, he blazed out like a god.
Full in their face the lifted bow he bore,
And quiver’d deaths, a formidable store;
Before his feet the rattling shower he threw,
And thus, terrific, to the suitor-crew:
"""
"""
“One venturous game this hand hath won to-day,
Another, princes! yet remains to play;
Another mark our arrow must attain.
Phoebus, assist! nor be the labour vain.”
Swift as the word the parting arrow sings,
And bears thy fate, Antinous, on its wings:
Wretch that he was, of unprophetic soul!
High in his hands he rear’d the golden bowl!
E’en then to drain it lengthen’d out his breath;
Changed to the deep, the bitter draught of death:
For fate who fear’d amidst a feastful band?
And fate to numbers, by a single hand?
Full through his throat Ulysses’ weapon pass’d,
And pierced his neck. He falls, and breathes his last.
The tumbling goblet the wide floor o’erflows,
A stream of gore burst spouting from his nose;
Grim in convulsive agonies be sprawls:
Before him spurn’d the loaded table falls,
And spreads the pavement with a mingled flood
Of floating meats, and wine, and human blood.
Amazed, confounded, as they saw him fall,
Up rose he throngs tumultuous round the hall:
O’er all the dome they cast a haggard eye,
Each look’d for arms — in vain; no arms were nigh:
“Aim’st thou at princes? (all amazed they said;)
Thy last of games unhappy hast thou play’d;
Thy erring shaft has made our bravest bleed,
And death, unlucky guest, attends thy deed.
Vultures shall tear thee.” Thus incensed they spoke,
While each to chance ascribed the wondrous stroke:
Blind as they were: for death e’en now invades
His destined prey, and wraps them all in shades.
Then, grimly frowning, with a dreadful look,
That wither’d all their hearts, Ulysses spoke:
"""
"""
“Dogs, ye have had your day! ye fear’d no more
Ulysses vengeful from the Trojan shore;
While, to your lust and spoil a guardless prey,
Our house, our wealth, our helpless handmaids lay:
Not so content, with bolder frenzy fired,
E’en to our bed presumptuous you aspired:
Laws or divine or human fail’d to move,
Or shame of men, or dread of gods above;
Heedless alike of infamy or praise,
Or Fame’s eternal voice in future days;
The hour of vengeance, wretches, now is come;
Impending fate is yours, and instant doom.”
"""
"""
Thus dreadful he. Confused the suitors stood,
From their pale cheeks recedes the flying blood:
Trembling they sought their guilty heads to hide.
Alone the bold Eurymachus replied:
"""
"""
“If, as thy words import (he thus began),
Ulysses lives, and thou the mighty man,
Great are thy wrongs, and much hast thou sustain’d
In thy spoil’d palace, and exhausted land;
The cause and author of those guilty deeds,
Lo! at thy feet unjust Antinous bleeds
Not love, but wild ambition was his guide;
To slay thy son, thy kingdom to divide,
These were his aims; but juster Jove denied.
Since cold in death the offender lies, oh spare
Thy suppliant people, and receive their prayer!
Brass, gold, and treasures, shall the spoil defray,
Two hundred oxen every prince shall pay:
The waste of years refunded in a day.
Till then thy wrath is just.” Ulysses burn’d
With high disdain, and sternly thus return’d:
"""
"""
“All, all the treasure that enrich’d our throne
Before your rapines, join’d with all your own,
If offer’d, vainly should for mercy call;
’Tis you that offer, and I scorn them all;
Your blood is my demand, your lives the prize,
Till pale as yonder wretch each suitor lies.
Hence with those coward terms; or fight or fly;
This choice is left you, to resist or die:
And die I trust ye shall.” He sternly spoke:
With guilty fears the pale assembly shook.
Alone Eurymachus exhorts the train:
“Yon archer, comrades, will not shoot in vain;
But from the threshold shall his darts be sped,
(Whoe’er he be), till every prince lie dead?
Be mindful of yourselves, draw forth your swords,
And to his shafts obtend these ample boards
(So need compels). Then, all united, strive
The bold invader from his post to drive:
The city roused shall to our rescue haste,
And this mad archer soon have shot his last.”
Swift as he spoke, he drew his traitor sword,
And like a lion rush’d against his lord:
The wary chief the rushing foe repress’d,
Who met the point and forced it in his breast:
His falling hand deserts the lifted sword,
And prone he falls extended o’er the board!
Before him wide, in mix’d effusion roll
The untasted viands, and the jovial bowl.
Full through his liver pass’d the mortal wound,
With dying rage his forehead beats the ground;
He spurn’d the seat with fury as he fell,
And the fierce soul to darkness dived, and hell.
Next bold Amphinomus his arm extends
To force the pass; the godlike man defends.
Thy spear, Telemachus, prevents the attack,
The brazen weapon driving through his back.
Thence through his breast its bloody passage tore;
Flat falls he thundering on the marble floor,
And his crush’d forehead marks the stone with gore.
He left his javelin in the dead, for fear
The long encumbrance of the weighty spear
To the fierce foe advantage might afford,
To rash between and use the shorten’d sword.
With speedy ardour to his sire he flies,
And, “Arm, great father! arm (in haste he cries).
Lo, hence I run for other arms to wield,
For missive javelins, and for helm and shield;
Fast by our side let either faithful swain
In arms attend us, and their part sustain.”
"""
"""
“Haste, and return (Ulysses made reply)
While yet the auxiliar shafts this hand supply;
Lest thus alone, encounter’d by an host,
Driven from the gate, the important past be lost.”
"""
"""
With speed Telemachus obeys, and flies
Where piled in heaps the royal armour lies;
Four brazen helmets, eight refulgent spears,
And four broad bucklers to his sire he bears:
At once in brazen panoply they shone.
At once each servant braced his armour on;
Around their king a faithful guard they stand.
While yet each shaft flew deathful from his hand:
Chief after chief expired at every wound,
And swell’d the bleeding mountain on the ground.
Soon as his store of flying fates was spent.
Against the wall he set the bow unbent;
And now his shoulders bear the massy shield,
And now his hands two beamy javelins wield:
He frowns beneath his nodding plume, that play’d
O’er the high crest, and cast a dreadful shade.
"""
"""
There stood a window near, whence looking down
From o’er the porch appear’d the subject town.
A double strength of valves secured the place,
A high and narrow; but the only pass:
The cautious king, with all-preventing care,
To guard that outlet, placed Eumaeus there;
When Agelaus thus: “Has none the sense
To mount yon window, and alarm from thence
The neighbour-town? the town shall force the door,
And this bold archer soon shall shoot no more.”
Melanthius then: “That outlet to the gate
So near adjoins, that one may guard the strait.
But other methods of defence remain;
Myself with arms can furnish all the train;
Stores from the royal magazine I bring,
And their own darts shall pierce the prince and king.”
"""
"""
He said; and mounting up the lofty stairs,
Twelve shields, twelve lances, and twelve helmets bears:
All arm, and sudden round the hall appears
A blaze of bucklers, and a wood of spears.
"""
"""
The hero stands oppress’d with mighty woe,
On every side he sees the labour grow;
“Oh cursed event! and oh unlook’d for aid!
Melanthius or the women have betray’d —
Oh my dear son!”— The father with a sigh
Then ceased; the filial virtue made reply;
"""
"""
“Falsehood is folly, and ’tis just to own
The fault committed: this was mine alone;
My haste neglected yonder door to bar,
And hence the villain has supplied their war.
Run, good Eumaeus, then, and (what before
I thoughtless err’d in) well secure that door:
Learn, if by female fraud this deed were done,
Or (as my thought misgives) by Dolius’ son.”
"""
"""
While yet they spoke, in quest of arms again
To the high chamber stole the faithless swain,
Not unobserved. Eumaeus watchful eyed,
And thus address’d Ulysses near his side:
"""
"""
“The miscreant we suspected takes that way;
Him, if this arm be powerful, shall I slay?
Or drive him hither, to receive the meed
From thy own hand, of this detested deed?”
"""
"""
“Not so (replied Ulysses); leave him there,
For us sufficient is another care;
Within the structure of this palace wall
To keep enclosed his masters till they fall.
Go you, and seize the felon; backward bind
His arms and legs, and fix a plank behind:
On this his body by strong cords extend,
And on a column near the roof suspend:
So studied tortures his vile days shall end.”
"""
"""
The ready swains obey’d with joyful haste,
Behind the felon unperceived they pass’d,
As round the room in quest of arms he goes
(The half-shut door conceal’d his lurking foes):
One hand sustain’d a helm, and one the shield
Which old Laertes wont in youth to wield,
Cover’d with dust, with dryness chapp’d and worn,
The brass corroded, and the leather torn.
Thus laden, o’er the threshold as he stepp’d,
Fierce on the villain from each side they leap’d,
Back by the hair the trembling dastard drew,
And down reluctant on the pavement threw.
Active and pleased the zealous swains fulfil
At every point their master’s rigid will;
First, fast behind, his hands and feet they bound,
Then straighten’d cords involved his body round;
So drawn aloft, athwart the column tied,
The howling felon swung from side to side.
"""
"""
Eumaeus scoffing then with keen disdain:
“There pass thy pleasing night, O gentle swain!
On that soft pillow, from that envied height,
First may’st thou see the springing dawn of light;
So timely rise, when morning streaks the east,
To drive thy victims to the suitors’ feast.”
"""
"""
This said, they, left him, tortured as he lay,
Secured the door, and hasty strode away:
Each, breathing death, resumed his dangerous post
Near great Ulysses; four against an host,
When lo! descending to her hero’s aid,
Jove’s daughter, Pallas, War’s triumphant maid:
In Mentor’s friendly form she join’d his side:
Ulysses saw, and thus with transport cried:
"""
"""
“Come, ever welcome, and thy succour lend;
O every sacred name in one, my friend!
Early we loved, and long our loves have grown;
Whate’er through life’s whole series I have done,
Or good, or grateful, now to mind recall,
And, aiding this one hour, repay it all.”
"""
"""
Thus he; but pleasing hopes his bosom warm
Of Pallas latent in the friendly form.
The adverse host the phantom-warrior eyed,
And first, loud-threatening, Agelaus cried:
"""
"""
“Mentor, beware, nor let that tongue persuade
Thy frantic arm to lend Ulysses aid;
Our force successful shall our threat make good,
And with the sire and son commix thy blood.
What hopest thou here? Thee first the sword shall slay,
Then lop thy whole posterity away;
Far hence thy banish’d consort shall we send;
With his thy forfeit lands and treasures blend;
Thus, and thus only, shalt thou join thy friend.”
"""
"""
His barbarous insult even the goddess fires,
Who thus the warrior to revenge inspires:
"""
"""
“Art thou Ulysses? where then shall we find
The patient body and the constant mind?
That courage, once the Trojans’ daily dread,
Known nine long years, and felt by heroes dead?
And where that conduct, which revenged the lust
Of Priam’s race, and laid proud Troy in dust?
If this, when Helen was the cause, were done;
What for thy country now, thy queen, thy son?
Rise then in combat, at my side attend;
Observe what vigour gratitude can lend,
And foes how weak, opposed against a friend!”
"""
"""
She spoke; but willing longer to survey
The sire and son’s great acts withheld the day!
By farther toils decreed the brave to try,
And level poised the wings of victory;
Then with a change of form eludes their sight,
Perch’d like a swallow on a rafter’s height,
And unperceived enjoys the rising fight.
"""
"""
Damastor’s son, bold Agelaus, leads,
The guilty war, Eurynomus succeeds;
With these, Pisander, great Polyctor’s son,
Sage Polybus, and stern Amphimedon,
With Demoptolemus: these six survive:
The best of all the shafts had left alive.
Amidst the carnage, desperate as they stand,
Thus Agelaus roused the lagging band:
"""
"""
“The hour has come, when yon fierce man no more
With bleeding princes shall bestrew the floor;
Lo! Mentor leaves him with an empty boast;
The four remain, but four against an host.
Let each at once discharge the deadly dart,
One sure of six shall reach Ulysses’ heart:
The rest must perish, their great leader slain:
Thus shall one stroke the glory lost regain.”
"""
"""
Then all at once their mingled lances threw,
And thirsty all of one man’s blood they flew;
In vain! Minerva turned them with her breath,
And scattered short, or wide, the points of death!
With deaden’d sound one on the threshold falls,
One strikes the gate, one rings against the walls:
The storm passed innocent. The godlike man
Now loftier trod, and dreadful thus began:
“’Tis now (brave friends) our turn, at once to throw,
(So speed them Heaven) our javelins at the foe.
That impious race to all their past misdeeds
Would add our blood, injustice still proceeds.”
"""
"""
He spoke: at once their fiery lances flew:
Great Demoptolemus Ulysses slew;
Euryades received the prince’s dart;
The goatherd’s quiver’d in Pisander’s heart;
Fierce Elatus by thine, Eumaeus, falls;
Their fall in thunder echoes round the walls.
The rest retreat: the victors now advance,
Each from the dead resumes his bloody lance.
Again the foe discharge the steely shower;
Again made frustrate by the virgin-power.
Some, turn’d by Pallas, on the threshold fall,
Some wound the gate, some ring against the wall;
Some weak, or ponderous with the brazen head,
Drop harmless on the pavement, sounding dead.
"""
"""
Then bold Amphimedon his javelin cast:
Thy hand, Telemachus, it lightly razed:
And from Ctesippus’ arm the spear elanced:
On good Eumaeus’ shield and shoulder glanced;
Not lessened of their force (so light the wound)
Each sung along and dropped upon the ground.
Fate doom’d thee next, Eurydamus, to bear,
Thy death ennobled by Ulysses’ spear.
By the bold son Amphimedon was slain,
And Polybus renown’d, the faithful swain.
Pierced through the breast the rude Ctesippus bled,
And thus Philaetius gloried o’er the dead:
"""
"""
“There end thy pompous vaunts and high disdain;
O sharp in scandal, voluble and vain!
How weak is mortal pride! To Heaven alone
The event of actions and our fates are known:
Scoffer, behold what gratitude we bear:
The victim’s heel is answered with this spear.”
"""
"""
Ulysses brandish’d high his vengeful steel,
And Damastorides that instant fell:
Fast by Leocritus expiring lay,
The prince’s javelin tore its bloody way
Through all his bowels: down he tumbled prone,
His batter’d front and brains besmear the stone.
"""
"""
Now Pallas shines confess’d; aloft she spreads
The arm of vengeance o’er their guilty heads:
The dreadful aegis blazes in their eye:
Amazed they see, they tremble, and they fly:
Confused, distracted, through he rooms they fling:
Like oxen madden’d by the breeze’s sting,
When sultry days, and long, succeed the gentle spring,
Not half so keen fierce vultures of the chase
Stoop from the mountains on the feather’d race,
When, the wide field extended snares beset,
With conscious dread they shun the quivering net:
No help, no flight; but wounded every way,
Headlong they drop; the fowlers seize their prey.
On all sides thus they double wound on wound,
In prostrate heaps the wretches beat the ground,
Unmanly shrieks precede each dying groan,
And a red deluge floats the reaking stone.
"""
"""
Leiodes first before the victor falls:
The wretched augur thus for mercy calls:
“Oh gracious hear, nor let thy suppliant bleed;
Still undishonoured, or by word or deed,
Thy house, for me remains; by me repress’d
Full oft was check’d the injustice of the rest:
Averse they heard me when I counselled well,
Their hearts were harden’d, and they justly fell.
O spare an augur’s consecrated head,
Nor add the blameless to the guilty dead.”
"""
"""
“Priest as thou art! for that detested band
Thy lying prophecies deceived the land;
Against Ulysses have thy vows been made,
For them thy daily orisons were paid:
Yet more, e’en to our bed thy pride aspires:
One common crime one common fate requires.”
"""
"""
Thus speaking, from the ground the sword he took
Which Agelaus’ dying hand forsook:
Full through his neck the weighty falchion sped;
Along the pavement roll’d the muttering head.
"""
"""
Phemius alone the hand of vengeance spared,
Phemius the sweet, the heaven-instructed bard.
Beside the gate the reverend minstrel stands;
The lyre now silent trembling in his hands;
Dubious to supplicate the chief, or fly
To Jove’s inviolable altar nigh,
Where oft Laertes holy vows had paid,
And oft Ulysses smoking victims laid.
His honour’d harp with care he first set down,
Between the laver and the silver throne;
Then prostrate stretch’d before the dreadful man,
Persuasive thus, with accent soft began:
"""
"""
“O king! to mercy be thy soul inclined,
And spare the poet’s ever-gentle kind.
A deed like this thy future fame would wrong,
For dear to gods and men is sacred song.
Self-taught I sing; by Heaven, and Heaven alone,
The genuine seeds of poesy are sown:
And (what the gods bestow) the lofty lay
To gods alone and godlike worth we pay.
Save then the poet, and thyself reward!
’Tis thine to merit, mine is to record.
That here I sung, was force, and not desire;
This hand reluctant touch’d the warbling wire;
And let thy son attest, nor sordid pay,
Nor servile flattery, stain’d the moral lay.”
"""
"""
The moving words Telemachus attends,
His sire approaches, and the bard defends.
“O mix not, father, with those impious dead
The man divine! forbear that sacred head;
Medon, the herald, too, our arms may spare,
Medon, who made my infancy his care;
If yet he breathes, permit thy son to give
Thus much to gratitude, and bid him live.”
"""
"""
Beneath a table, trembling with dismay,
Couch’d close to earth, unhappy Medon lay,
Wrapp’d in a new-slain ox’s ample hide;
Swift at the word he cast his screen aside,
Sprung to the prince, embraced his knee with tears,
And thus with grateful voice address’d his ears
"""
"""
“O prince! O friend! lo, here thy Medon stands
Ah stop the hero’s unresisted hands,
Incensed too justly by that impious brood,
Whose guilty glories now are set in blood.”
To whom Ulysses with a pleasing eye:
"""
"""
“Be bold, on friendship and my son rely;
Live, an example for the world to read,
How much more safe the good than evil deed:
Thou, with the heaven-taught bard, in peace resort
From blood and carnage to yon open court:
Me other work requires.” With timorous awe
From the dire scene the exempted two withdraw,
Scarce sure of life, look round, and trembling move
To the bright altars of Protector Jove.
"""
"""
Meanwhile Ulysses search’d the dome, to find
If yet there live of all the offending kind.
Not one! complete the bloody tale he found,
All steep’d in blood, all gasping on the ground.
So, when by hollow shores the fisher-train
Sweep with their arching nets the roaring main,
And scarce the meshy toils the copious draught contain,
All naked of their element, and bare,
The fishes pant, and gasp in thinner air;
Wide o’er the sands are spread the stiffening prey,
Till the warm sun exhales their soul away.
"""
"""
And now the king commands his son to call
Old Euryclea to the deathful hall:
The son observant not a moment stays;
The aged governess with speed obeys;
The sounding portals instant they display;
The matron moves, the prince directs the way.
On heaps of death the stern Ulysses stood,
All black with dust, and cover’d thick with blood.
So the grim lion from the slaughter comes,
Dreadful lie glares, and terribly he foams,
His breast with marks of carnage painted o’er,
His jaws all dropping with the bull’s black gore.
"""
"""
Soon as her eyes the welcome object met,
The guilty fall’n, the mighty deed complete;
A scream of joy her feeble voice essay’d;
The hero check’d her, and composedly said.
"""
"""
“Woman, experienced as thou art, control
Indecent joy, and feast thy secret soul.
To insult the dead is cruel and unjust;
Fate and their crime have sunk them to the dust.
Nor heeded these the censure of mankind,
The good and bad were equal in their mind
Justly the price of worthlessness they paid,
And each now wails an unlamented shade.
But thou sincere! O Euryclea, say,
What maids dishonour us, and what obey?”
"""
"""
Then she: “In these thy kingly walls remain
(My son) full fifty of the handmaid train,
Taught by my care to cull the fleece or weave,
And servitude with pleasing tasks deceive;
Of these, twice six pursue their wicked way,
Nor me, nor chaste Penelope obey;
Nor fits it that Telemachus command
(Young as he is) his mother’s female band.
Hence to the upper chambers let me fly
Where slumbers soft now close the royal eye;
There wake her with the news”— the matron cried
“Not so (Ulysses, more sedate, replied),
Bring first the crew who wrought these guilty deeds.”
In haste the matron parts: the king proceeds;
“Now to dispose the dead, the care remains
To you, my son, and you, my faithfull swains;
The offending females to that task we doom,
To wash, to scent, and purify the room;
These (every table cleansed, and every throne,
And all the melancholy labour done)
Drive to yon court, without the palace wall,
There the revenging sword shall smite them all;
So with the suitors let them mix in dust,
Stretch’d in a long oblivion of their lust.”
He said: the lamentable train appear,
Each vents a groan, and drops a tender tear;
Each heaved her mournful burden, and beneath
The porch deposed the ghastly heap of death.
The chief severe, compelling each to move,
Urged the dire task imperious from above;
With thirsty sponge they rub the tables o’er
(The swains unite their toil); the walls, the floor,
Wash’d with the effusive wave, are purged of gore.
Once more the palace set in fair array,
To the base court the females take their way;
There compass’d close between the dome and wall
(Their life’s last scene) they trembling wait their fall.
"""
"""
Then thus the prince: “To these shall we afford
A fate so pure as by the martial sword?
To these, the nightly prostitutes to shame,
And base revilers of our house and name?”
"""
"""
Thus speaking, on the circling wall he strung
A ship’s tough cable from a column hung;
Near the high top he strain’d it strongly round,
Whence no contending foot could reach the ground.
Their heads above connected in a row,
They beat the air with quivering feet below:
Thus on some tree hung struggling in the snare,
The doves or thrushes flap their wings in air.
Soon fled the soul impure, and left behind
The empty corse to waver with the wind.
"""
"""
Then forth they led Melanthius, and began
Their bloody work; they lopp’d away the man,
Morsel for dogs! then trimm’d with brazen shears
The wretch, and shorten’d of his nose and ears;
His hands and feet last felt the cruel steel:
He roar’d, and torments gave his soul to hell.
They wash, and to Ulysses take their way:
So ends the bloody business of the day.
"""
"""
To Euryclea then address’d the king:
(“Bring hither fire, and hither sulphur bring,
To purge the palace: then the queen attend,
And let her with her matron-train descend;
The matron-train, with all the virgin-band,
Assemble here, to learn their lord’s command.”
"""
"""
Then Euryclea: “Joyful I obey,
But cast those mean dishonest rags away;
Permit me first the royal robes to bring:
Ill suits this garb the shoulders of a king.”
“Bring sulphur straight, and fire” (the monarch cries).
She hears, and at the word obedient flies.
With fire and sulphur, cure of noxious fumes,
He purged the walls, and blood-polluted rooms.
Again the matron springs with eager pace,
And spreads her lord’s return from place to place.
They hear, rush forth, and instant round him stand,
A gazing throng, a torch in every hand.
They saw, they knew him, and with fond embrace
Each humbly kiss’d his knee, or hand, or face;
He knows them all, in all such truth appears,
E’en he indulges the sweet joy of tears.
"""
''Argument.''
//Euryclea awakens Penelope with the news of Ulysses’ return, and the death of the suitors. Penelope scarcely credits her; but supposes some god has punished them, and descends from her department in doubt. At the first interview of Ulysses and Penelope, she is quite unsatisfied. Minerva restores him to the beauty of his youth; but the queen continues incredulous, till by some circumstances she is convinced, and falls into all the transports of passion and tenderness. They recount to each other all that has passed during their long separation. The next morning Ulysses, arming himself and his friends, goes from the city to visit his father.//
"""
Then to the queen, as in repose she lay,
The nurse with eager rapture speeds her way:
The transports of her faithful heart supply
A sudden youth, and give her wings to fly.
"""
"""
“And sleeps my child? (the reverend matron cries)
Ulysses lives! arise, my child, arise!
At length appears the long-expected hour!
Ulysses comes! the suitors are no more!
No more they view the golden light of day!
Arise, and bless thee with the glad survey?”
"""
"""
Touch’d at her words, the mournful queen rejoin’d:
“Ah! whither wanders thy distemper’d mind?
The righteous powers, who tread the starry skies,
The weak enlighten, and confound the wise,
And human thought, with unresisted sway,
Depress or raise, enlarge or take away:
Truth, by their high decree, thy voice forsakes,
And folly with the tongue of wisdom speaks.
Unkind, the fond illusion to impose!
Was it to flatter or deride my woes?
Never did I sleep so sweet enjoy,
Since my dear lord left Ithaca for Troy.
Why must I wake to grieve, and curse thy shore,
O Troy? — may never tongue pronounce thee more!
Begone! another might have felt our rage,
But age is sacred, and we spare thy age.”
"""
"""
To whom with warmth: “My soul a lie disdains;
Ulysses lives, thy own Ulysses reigns:
That stranger, patient of the suitors’ wrongs,
And the rude license of ungovern’d tongues!
He, he is thine! Thy son his latent guest
Long knew, but lock’d the secret in his breast:
With well concerted art to end his woes,
And burst at once in vengeance on the foes.”
"""
"""
While yet she spoke, the queen in transport sprung
Swift from the couch, and round the matron hung;
Fast from her eye descends the rolling tear:
“Say, once more say, is my Ulysses here?
How could that numerous and outrageous band
By one be slain, though by a hero’s hand?”
"""
"""
“I saw it not (she cries), but heard alone,
When death was busy, a loud dying groan;
The damsel-train turn’d pale at every wound,
Immured we sate, and catch’d each passing sound;
When death had seized her prey, thy son attends,
And at his nod the damsel-train descends;
There terrible in arms Ulysses stood,
And the dead suitors almost swam in blood:
Thy heart had leap’d the hero to survey,
Stern as the surly lion o’er his prey,
Glorious in gore, now with sulphereous fire
The dome he purges, now the flame aspires;
Heap’d lie the dead without the palace walls —
Haste, daughter, haste, thy own Ulysses calls!
Thy every wish the bounteous gods bestow;
Enjoy the present good, and former woe.
Ulysses lives, his vanquish’d foes to see;
He lives to thy Telemachus and thee!”
"""
"""
“Ah, no! (with sighs Penelope rejoin’d,)
Excess of joy disturbs thy wandering mind;
How blest this happy hour, should he appear,
Dear to us all, to me supremely dear;
Ah, no! some god the suitors death decreed,
Some god descends, and by his hand they bleed;
Blind! to contemn the stranger’s righteous cause,
And violate all hospitable laws!
The good they hated, and the powers defied!
But heaven is just, and by a god they died.
For never must Ulysses view this shore;
Never! the loved Ulysses is no more!”
"""
"""
“What words (the matron cries) have reach’d my ears?
Doubt we his presence, when he now appears!
Then hear conviction: Ere the fatal day
That forced Ulysses o’er the watery way,
A boar, fierce rushing in the sylvan war,
Plough’d half his thigh; I saw, I saw the scar,
And wild with transport had reveal’d the wound;
But ere I spoke, he rose, and check’d the sound.
Then, daughter, haste away! and if a lie
Flow from this tongue, then let thy servant die!”
To whom with dubious joy the queen replies:
“Wise is thy soul, but errors seize the wise;
The works of gods what mortal can survey?
Who knows their motives, who shall trace their way?
But learn we instant how the suitors trod
The paths of death, by man, or by a god.”
Thus speaks the queen, and no reply attends,
But with alternate joy and fear descends;
At every step debates her lord to prove;
Or, rushing to his arms, confess her love!
Then gliding through the marble valves, in state
Opposed, before the shining sire she sate.
The monarch, by a column high enthroned,
His eye withdrew, and fix’d it on the ground;
Curious to hear his queen the silence break:
Amazed she sate, and impotent to speak;
O’er all the man her eyes she rolls in vain,
Now hopes, now fears, now knows, then doubts again.
At length Telemachus: “Oh, who can find
A woman like Penelope unkind?
Why thus in silence? why with winning charms
Thus slow to fly with rapture to his arms?
Stubborn the breast that with no transport glows,
When twice ten years are pass’d of mighty woes;
To softness lost, to spousal love unknown,
The gods have formed that rigid heart of stone!”
“O my Telemachus! (the queen rejoin’d,)
Distracting fears confound my labouring mind;
Powerless to speak. I scarce uplift my eyes,
Nor dare to question; doubts on doubts arise.
Oh deign he, if Ulysses, to remove
These boding thoughts, and what he is, to prove!”
Pleased with her virtuous fears, the king replies:
“Indulge, my son, the cautions of the wise;
Time shall the truth to sure remembrance bring:
This garb of poverty belies the king:
No more. This day our deepest care requires,
Cautious to act what thought mature inspires.
If one man’s blood, though mean, distain our hands,
The homicide retreats to foreign lands;
By us, in heaps the illustrious peerage falls,
The important deed our whole attention calls.”
"""
"""
“Be that thy care (Telemachus replies)
The world conspires to speak Ulysses wise;
For wisdom all is thine! lo, I obey,
And dauntless follow where you led the way;
Nor shalt thou in the day of danger find
Thy coward son degenerate lag behind.”
"""
"""
“Then instant to the bath (the monarch cries),
Bid the gay youth and sprightly virgins rise,
Thence all descend in pomp and proud array,
And bid the dome resound the mirthful lay;
While the sweet lyrist airs of rapture sings,
And forms the dance responsive to the strings,
That hence the eluded passengers may say,
‘Lo! the queen weds! we hear the spousal lay!’
The suitor’s death, unknown, till we remove
Far from the court, and act inspired by Jove.”
"""
"""
Thus spoke the king: the observant train obey,
At once they bathe, and dress in proud array:
The lyrist strikes the string; gay youths advance,
And fair-zoned damsels form the sprightly dance.
The voice, attuned to instrumental sounds,
Ascends the roof, the vaulted roof rebounds;
Not unobserved: the Greeks eluded say,
“Lo! the queen weds, we hear the spousal lay!
Inconstant! to admit the bridal hour.”
Thus they — but nobly chaste she weds no more.
"""
"""
Meanwhile the wearied king the bath ascends;
With faithful cares Eurynome attends,
O’er every limb a shower of fragrance sheds;
Then, dress’d in pomp, magnificent he treads.
The warrior-goddess gives his frame to shine
With majesty enlarged, and grace divine.
Back from his brows in wavy ringlets fly
His thick large locks of hyacinthine dye.
As by some artist to whom Vulcan gives
His heavenly skill, a breathing image lives;
By Pallas taught, he frames the wondrous mould,
And the pale silver glows with fusile gold:
So Pallas his heroic form improves
With bloom divine, and like a god he moves!
More high he treads, and issuing forth in state,
Radiant before his gazing consort sate.
“And, O my queen! (he cries) what power above
Has steel’d that heart, averse to spousal love?
Canst thou, Penelope, when heaven restores
Thy lost Ulysses to his native shores,
Canst thou, O cruel! unconcern’d survey
Thy lost Ulysses, on this signal day?
Haste, Euryclea, and despatchful spread
For me, and me alone, the imperial bed,
My weary nature craves the balm of rest.
But Heaven with adamant has arm’d her breast.”
"""
"""
“Ah no! (she cries) a tender heart I bear,
A foe to pride: no adamant is there;
And now, e’en now it melts! for sure I see
Once more Ulysses my beloved in thee!
Fix’d in my soul, as when he sailed to Troy,
His image dwells: then haste the bed of joy,
Haste, from the bridal bower the bed translate,
Fram’d by his hand, and be it dress’d in state!”
"""
"""
Thus speaks the queen, still dubious, with disguise
Touch’d at her words, the king with warmth replies
“Alas for this! what mortal strength can move
The enormous burden, who but Heaven above?
It mocks the weak attempts of human hands!
But the whole earth must move if Heaven commands
Then hear sure evidence, while we display
Words seal’d with sacred truth and truth obey:
This hand the wonder framed; an olive spread
Full in the court its ever verdant head.
Vast as some mighty column’s bulk, on high
The huge trunk rose, and heaved into the sky;
Around the tree I raised a nuptial bower,
And roof’d defensive of the storm and shower;
The spacious valve, with art inwrought conjoins;
And the fair dome with polished marble shines.
I lopp’d the branchy head: aloft in twain
Sever’d the bole, and smoothed the shining grain;
Then posts, capacious of the frame, I raise,
And bore it, regular, from space to space:
Athwart the frame, at equal distance lie
Thongs of tough hides, that boast a purple dye;
Then polishing the whole, the finished mould
With silver shone, with elephant, and gold.
But if o’erturn’d by rude, ungovern’d hands,
Or still inviolate the olive stands,
’Tis thine, O queen, to say, and now impart,
If fears remain, or doubts distract thy heart.”
"""
"""
While yet he speaks, her powers of life decay;
She sickens, trembles, falls, and faints away.
At length recovering, to his arms she flew,
And strain’d him close, as to his breast she grew.
The tears pour’d down amain, and “O (she cries)
Let not against thy spouse thine anger rise!
O versed in every, turn of human art,
Forgive the weakness of a woman’s heart!
The righteous powers, that mortal lot dispose,
Decree us to sustain a length of woes.
And from the flower of life the bliss deny
To bloom together, fade away, and die.
O let me, let me not thine anger move,
That I forbore, thus, thus to speak my love:
Thus in fond kisses, while the transport warms
Pour out my soul and die within thine arms!
I dreaded fraud! Men, faithless men, betray
Our easy faith, and make our sex their prey:
Against the fondness of my heart I strove:
’Twas caution, O my lord! not want of love.
Like me had Helen fear’d, with wanton charms
Ere the fair mischief set two worlds in arms;
Ere Greece rose dreadful in the avenging day;
Thus had she fear’d, she had not gone astray.
But Heaven, averse to Greece, in wrath decreed
That she should wander, and that Greece should bleed:
Blind to the ills that from injustice flow,
She colour’d all our wretched lives with woe.
But why these sorrows when my lord arrives?
I yield, I yield! my own Ulysses lives!
The secrets of the bridal bed are known
To thee, to me, to Actoris alone
(My father’s present in the spousal hour,
The sole attendant on our genial bower).
Since what no eye hath seen thy tongue reveal’d,
Hard and distrustful as I am, I yield.”
"""
"""
Touch’d to the soul, the king with rapture hears,
Hangs round her neck, and speaks his joy in tears.
As to the shipwreck’d mariner, the shores
Delightful rise, when angry Neptune roars:
Then, when the surge in thunder mounts the sky,
And gulf’d in crowds at once the sailors die;
If one, more happy, while the tempest raves,
Outlives the tumult of conflicting waves,
All pale, with ooze deform’d, he views the strand,
And plunging forth with transport grasps the land:
The ravish’d queen with equal rapture glows,
Clasps her loved lord, and to his bosom grows.
Nor had they ended till the morning ray,
But Pallas backward held the rising day,
The wheels of night retarding, to detain
The gay Aurora in the wavy main;
Whose flaming steeds, emerging through the night.
Beam o’er the eastern hills with streaming light.
"""
"""
At length Ulysses with a sigh replies:
“Yet Fate, yet cruel Fate repose denies;
A labour long, and hard, remains behind;
By heaven above, by hell beneath enjoin’d:
For to Tiresias through the eternal gates
Of hell I trode, to learn my future fates.
But end we here — the night demands repose,
Be deck’d the couch! and peace awhile, my woes!”
"""
"""
To whom the queen: “Thy word we shall obey,
And deck the couch; far hence be woes away:
Since the just gods, who tread the starry plains,
Restore thee safe, since my Ulysses reigns.
But what those perils heaven decrees, impart;
Knowledge may grieve, but fear distracts the heart.”
"""
"""
To this the king: “Ah, why must I disclose
A dreadful story of approaching woes?
Why in this hour of transport wound thy ears,
When thou must learn what I must speak with tears?
Heaven, by the Theban ghost, thy spouse decrees,
Torn from thy arms, to sail a length of seas;
From realm to realm, a nation to explore
Who ne’er knew salt, or heard the billows roar,
Nor saw gay vessel storm the surgy plain,
A painted wonder, flying on the main:
An oar my hand must bear; a shepherd eyes
The unknown instrument with strange surprise,
And calls a corn-van; this upon the plain
I fix, and hail the monarch of the main;
Then bathe his altars with the mingled gore
Of victims vow’d, a ram, a bull, a boar;
Thence swift re-sailing to my native shores,
Due victims slay to all the ethereal powers.
Then Heaven decrees, in peace to end my days
And steal myself from life by slow decays!
Unknown to pain, in age resign my breath,
When late stern Neptune points the shaft of death;
To the dark grave retiring as to rest;
My people blessing, by my people bless’d.
Such future scenes the all-righteous powers display
By their dread seer, and such my future day.”
"""
"""
To whom thus firm of soul: “If ripe for death,
And full of days, thou gently yield thy breath;
While Heaven a kind release from ills foreshows,
Triumph, thou happy victor of thy woes?”
"""
"""
But Euryclea, with dispatchful care,
And sage Eurynome, the couch prepare;
Instant they bid the blazing torch display
Around the dome and artificial day;
Then to repose her steps the matron bends,
And to the queen Eurynome descends;
A torch she bears, to light with guiding fires
The royal pair; she guides them, and retires
The instant his fair spouse Ulysses led
To the chaste love-rites of the nuptial bed.
"""
"""
And now the blooming youths and sprightly fair
Cease the gay dance, and to their rest repair;
But in discourse the king and consort lay,
While the soft hours stole unperceived away;
Intent he hears Penelope disclose
A mournful story of domestic woes,
His servants’ insults, his invaded bed,
How his whole flocks and herds exhausted bled,
His generous wines dishonour’d shed in vain,
And the wild riots of the suitor-train.
The king alternate a dire tale relates,
Of wars, of triumphs, and disastrous fates;
All he unfolds; his listening spouse turns pale
With pleasing horror at the dreadful tale;
Sleepless devours each word; and hears how slain
Cicons on Cicons swell the ensanguined plain;
How to the land of Lote unbless’d he sails;
And images the rills and flowery vales!
How dash’d like dogs, his friends the Cyclops tore
(Not unrevenged), and quaff’d the spouting gore;
How the loud storms in prison bound, he sails
From friendly Aeolus with prosperous gales:
Yet fate withstands! a sudden tempest roars,
And whirls him groaning from his native shores:
How on the barbarous Laestrigonian coast,
By savage hands his fleet and friends lie lost;
How scarce himself survived: he paints the bower,
The spells of Circe, and her magic power;
His dreadful journey to the realms beneath,
To seek Tiresias in the vales of death;
How in the doleful mansions lie survey’d
His royal mother, pale Anticlea’s shade;
And friends in battle slain, heroic ghosts!
Then how, unharm’d, he pass’d the Syren-coasts,
The justling rocks where fierce Charybdis raves,
And howling Scylla whirls her thunderous waves,
The cave of death! How his companions slay
The oxen sacred to the god of day.
Till Jove in wrath the rattling tempest guides,
And whelms the offenders in the roaring tides:
How struggling through the surge lie reach’d the shores
Of fair Ogygia and Calypso’s bowers;
Where the bay blooming nymph constrain’d his stay,
With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay;
And promised, vainly promised, to bestow
Immortal life, exempt from age and woe:
How saved from storms Phaeacia’s coast he trod,
By great Alcinous honour’d as a god,
Who gave him last his country to behold,
With change of raiment, brass, and heaps of gold
"""
"""
He ended, sinking into sleep, and shares
A sweet forgetfulness of all his cares.
"""
"""
Soon as soft slumber eased the toils of day,
Minerva rushes through the aerial way,
And bids Aurora with her golden wheels
Flame from the ocean o’er the eastern hills;
Uprose Ulysses from the genial bed,
And thus with thought mature the monarch said:
"""
"""
“My queen, my consort! through a length of years
We drank the cup of sorrow mix’d with tears;
Thou, for thy lord; while me the immortal powers
Detain’d reluctant from my native shores.
Now, bless’d again by Heaven, the queen display,
And rule our palace with an equal sway.
Be it my care, by loans, or martial toils,
To throng my empty folds with gifts or spoils.
But now I haste to bless Laertes’ eyes
With sight of his Ulysses ere he dies;
The good old man, to wasting woes a prey,
Weeps a sad life in solitude away.
But hear, though wise! This morning shall unfold
The deathful scene, on heroes heroes roll’d.
Thou with thy maids within the palace stay,
From all the scene of tumult far away!”
"""
"""
He spoke, and sheathed in arms incessant flies
To wake his son, and bid his friends arise.
“To arms!” aloud he cries; his friends obey,
With glittering arms their manly limbs array,
And pass the city gate; Ulysses leads the way.
Now flames the rosy dawn, but Pallas shrouds
The latent warriors in a veil of clouds.
"""
''Argument.''
//The souls of the suitors are conducted by Mercury to the infernal shades. Ulysses in the country goes to the retirement of his father, Laertes; he finds him busied in his garden all alone; the manner of his discovery to him is beautifully described. They return together to his lodge, and the king is acknowledged by Dolius and the servants. The Ithacensians, led by Eupithes, the father of Antinous, rise against Ulysses, who gives them battle in which Eupithes is killed by Laertes: and the goddess Pallas makes a lasting peace between Ulysses and his subjects, which concludes the Odyssey.//
"""
Cylenius now to Pluto’s dreary reign
Conveys the dead, a lamentable train!
The golden wand, that causes sleep to fly,
Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye,
That drives the ghosts to realms of night or day,
Points out the long uncomfortable way.
Trembling the spectres glide, and plaintive vent
Thin, hollow screams, along the deep descent.
As in the cavern of some rifted den,
Where flock nocturnal bats, and birds obscene;
Cluster’d they hang, till at some sudden shock
They move, and murmurs run through all the rock!
So cowering fled the sable heaps of ghosts,
And such a scream fill’d all the dismal coasts.
And now they reach’d the earth’s remotest ends,
And now the gates where evening Sol descends,
And Leucas’ rock, and Ocean’s utmost streams,
And now pervade the dusky land of dreams,
And rest at last, where souls unbodied dwell
In ever-flowing meads of asphodel.
The empty forms of men inhabit there,
Impassive semblance, images of air!
Naught else are all that shined on earth before:
Ajax and great Achilles are no more!
Yet still a master ghost, the rest he awed,
The rest adored him, towering as he trod;
Still at his side is Nestor’s son survey’d,
And loved Patroclus still attends his shade.
"""
"""
New as they were to that infernal shore,
The suitors stopp’d, and gazed the hero o’er.
When, moving slow, the regal form they view’d
Of great Atrides: him in pomp pursued
And solemn sadness through the gloom of hell,
The train of those who by AEgysthus fell:
"""
"""
“O mighty chief! (Pelides thus began)
Honour’d by Jove above the lot of man!
King of a hundred kings! to whom resign’d
The strongest, bravest, greatest of mankind
Comest thou the first, to view this dreary state?
And was the noblest, the first mark of Fate,
Condemn’d to pay the great arrear so soon,
The lot, which all lament, and none can shun!
Oh! better hadst thou sunk in Trojan ground,
With all thy full-blown honours cover’d round;
Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes might raise
Historic marbles to record thy praise:
Thy praise eternal on the faithful stone
Had with transmissive glories graced thy son.
But heavier fates were destined to attend:
What man is happy, till he knows his end?”
"""
"""
“O son of Peleus! greater than mankind!
(Thus Agamemnon’s kingly shade rejoin’d)
Thrice happy thou, to press the martial plain
‘Midst heaps of heroes in thy quarrel slain:
In clouds of smoke raised by the noble fray,
Great and terrific e’en in death you lay,
And deluges of blood flow’d round you every way.
Nor ceased the strife till Jove himself opposed,
And all in Tempests the dire evening closed.
Then to the fleet we bore thy honour’d load,
And decent on the funeral bed bestow’d;
Then unguents sweet and tepid streams we shed;
Tears flow’d from every eye, and o’er the dead
Each clipp’d the curling honours of his head.
Struck at the news, thy azure mother came,
The sea-green sisters waited on the dame:
A voice of loud lament through all the main
Was heard; and terror seized the Grecian train:
Back to their ships the frighted host had fled;
But Nestor spoke, they listen’d and obey’d
(From old experience Nestor’s counsel springs,
And long vicissitudes of human things):
‘Forbear your flight: fair Thetis from the main
To mourn Achilles leads her azure train.’
Around thee stand the daughters of the deep,
Robe thee in heavenly vests, and round thee weep:
Round thee, the Muses, with alternate strain,
In ever-consecrating verse, complain.
Each warlike Greek the moving music hears,
And iron-hearted heroes melt in tears.
Till seventeen nights and seventeen days return’d
All that was mortal or immortal mourn’d,
To flames we gave thee, the succeeding day,
And fatted sheep and sable oxen slay;
With oils and honey blazed the augmented fires,
And, like a god adorn’d, thy earthly part expires.
Unnumber’d warriors round the burning pile
Urge the fleet coursers or the racer’s toil;
Thick clouds of dust o’er all the circle rise,
And the mix’d clamour thunders in the skies.
Soon as absorb’d in all-embracing flame
Sunk what was mortal of thy mighty name,
We then collect thy snowy bones, and place
With wines and unguents in a golden vase
(The vase to Thetis Bacchus gave of old,
And Vulcan’s art enrich’d the sculptured gold).
There, we thy relics, great Achilles! blend
With dear Patroclus, thy departed friend:
In the same urn a separate space contains
Thy next beloved, Antilochus’ remains.
Now all the sons of warlike Greece surround
Thy destined tomb and cast a mighty mound;
High on the shore the growing hill we raise,
That wide the extended Hellespont surveys;
Where all, from age to age, who pass the coast,
May point Achilles’ tomb, and hail the mighty ghost.
Thetis herself to all our peers proclaims
Heroic prizes and exequial games;
The gods assented; and around thee lay
Rich spoils and gifts that blazed against the day.
Oft have I seen with solemn funeral games
Heroes and kings committed to the flames;
But strength of youth, or valour of the brave,
With nobler contest ne’er renown’d a grave.
Such were the games by azure Thetis given,
And such thy honours, O beloved of Heaven!
Dear to mankind thy fame survives, nor fades
Its bloom eternal in the Stygian shades.
But what to me avail my honours gone,
Successful toils, and battles bravely won?
Doom’d by stern Jove at home to end my life,
By cursed Aegysthus, and a faithless wife!”
Thus they: while Hermes o’er the dreary plain
Led the sad numbers by Ulysses slain.
On each majestic form they cast a view,
And timorous pass’d, and awfully withdrew.
But Agamemnon, through the gloomy shade,
His ancient host Amphimedon survey’d:
“Son of Melanthius! (he began) O say!
What cause compell’d so many, and so gay,
To tread the downward, melancholy way?
Say, could one city yield a troop so fair?
Were all these partners of one native air?
Or did the rage of stormy Neptune sweep
Your lives at once, and whelm beneath the deep?
Did nightly thieves, or pirates’ cruel bands,
Drench with your blood your pillaged country’s sands?
Or well-defending some beleaguer’d wall,
Say — for the public did ye greatly fall?
Inform thy guest: for such I was of yore
When our triumphant navies touch’d your shore;
Forced a long month the wintry seas to bear,
To move the great Ulysses to the war.”
"""
"""
“O king of men! I faithful shall relate
(Replied Amphimedon) our hapless fate.
Ulysses absent, our ambitious aim
With rival loves pursued his royal dame;
Her coy reserve, and prudence mix’d with pride,
Our common suit nor granted, nor denied;
But close with inward hate our deaths design’d;
Versed in all arts of wily womankind.
Her hand, laborious, in delusion spread
A spacious loom, and mix’d the various thread.
‘Ye peers (she cried) who press to gain my heart,
Where dead Ulysses claims no more a part,
Yet a short space your rival suit suspend,
Till this funereal web my labours end:
Cease, till to good Laertes I bequeath
A task of grief, his ornaments of death:
Lest when the Fates his royal ashes claim,
The Grecian matrons taint my spotless fame;
Should he, long honour’d with supreme command,
Want the last duties of a daughter’s hand.’
"""
"""
“The fiction pleased, our generous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue’s fair disguise.
The work she plied, but studious of delay,
Each following night reversed the toils of day.
Unheard, unseen, three years her arts prevail;
The fourth, her maid reveal’d the amazing tale,
And show’d as unperceived we took our stand,
The backward labours of her faithless hand.
Forced she completes it; and before us lay
The mingled web, whose gold and silver ray
Display’d the radiance of the night and day.
"""
"""
“Just as she finished her illustrious toil,
Ill fortune led Ulysses to our isle.
Far in a lonely nook, beside the sea,
At an old swineherd’s rural lodge he lay:
Thither his son from sandy Pyle repairs,
And speedy lands, and secretly confers.
They plan our future ruin, and resort
Confederate to the city and the court.
First came the son; the father nest succeeds,
Clad like a beggar, whom Eumaeus leads;
Propp’d on a staff, deform’d with age and care,
And hung with rags that flutter’d in the air.
Who could Ulysses in that form behold?
Scorn’d by the young, forgotten by the old,
Ill-used by all! to every wrong resigned,
Patient he suffered with a constant mind.
But when, arising in his wrath to obey
The will of Jove, he gave the vengeance way:
The scattered arms that hung around the dome
Careful he treasured in a private room;
Then to her suitors bade his queen propose
The archer’s strife, the source of future woes,
And omen of our death! In vain we drew
The twanging string, and tried the stubborn yew:
To none it yields but great Ulysses’ hands;
In vain we threat; Telemachus commands:
The bow he snatch’d, and in an instant bent;
Through every ring the victor arrow went.
Fierce on the threshold then in arms he stood;
Poured forth the darts that thirsted for our blood,
And frown’d before us, dreadful as a god!
First bleeds Antinous: thick the shafts resound,
And heaps on heaps the wretches strew the ground;
This way, and that, we turn, we fly, we fall;
Some god assisted, and unmann’d us all;
Ignoble cries precede the dying groans;
And battered brains and blood besmear the stones.
"""
"""
“Thus, great Atrides, thus Ulysses drove
The shades thou seest from yon fair realms above;
Our mangled bodies now deformed with gore,
Cold and neglected, spread the marble floor.
No friend to bathe our wounds, or tears to shed
O’er the pale corse! the honours of the dead.”
"""
"""
“Oh bless’d Ulysses! (thus the king express’d
His sudden rapture) in thy consort bless’d!
Not more thy wisdom than her virtue shined;
Not more thy patience than her constant mind.
Icarius’ daughter, glory of the past,
And model to the future age, shall last:
The gods, to honour her fair fame, shall rise
(Their great reward) a poet in her praise.
Not such, O Tyndarus! thy daughter’s deed,
By whose dire hand her king and husband bled;
Her shall the Muse to infamy prolong,
Example dread, and theme of tragic song!
The general sex shall suffer in her shame,
And e’en the best that bears a woman’s name.”
"""
"""
Thus in the regions of eternal shade
Conferr’d the mournful phantoms of the dead;
While from the town, Ulysses and his band
Pass’d to Laertes’ cultivated land.
The ground himself had purchased with his pain,
And labour made the rugged soil a plain,
There stood his mansion of the rural sort,
With useful buildings round the lowly court;
Where the few servants that divide his care
Took their laborious rest, and homely fare;
And one Sicilian matron, old and sage,
With constant duty tends his drooping age.
"""
"""
Here now arriving, to his rustic band
And martial son, Ulysses gave command:
“Enter the house, and of the bristly swine
Select the largest to the powers divine.
Alone, and unattended, let me try
If yet I share the old man’s memory:
If those dim eyes can yet Ulysses know
(Their light and dearest object long ago),
Now changed with time, with absence and with woe.”
Then to his train he gives his spear and shield;
The house they enter; and he seeks the field,
Through rows of shade, with various fruitage crown’d,
And labour’d scenes of richest verdure round.
Nor aged Dolius; nor his sons, were there,
Nor servants, absent on another care;
To search the woods for sets of flowery thorn,
Their orchard bounds to strengthen and adorn.
"""
"""
But all alone the hoary king he found;
His habit course, but warmly wrapp’d around;
His head, that bow’d with many a pensive care,
Fenced with a double cap of goatskin hair:
His buskins old, in former service torn,
But swell repair’d; and gloves against the thorn.
In this array the kingly gardener stood,
And clear’d a plant, encumber’d with its wood.
"""
"""
Beneath a neighbouring tree, the chief divine
Gazed o’er his sire, retracing every line,
The ruins of himself, now worn away
With age, yet still majestic in decay!
Sudden his eyes released their watery store;
The much-enduring man could bear no more.
Doubtful he stood, if instant to embrace
His aged limbs, to kiss his reverend face,
With eager transport to disclose the whole,
And pour at once the torrent of his soul. —
Not so: his judgment takes the winding way
Of question distant, and of soft essay;
More gentle methods on weak age employs:
And moves the sorrows to enhance the joys.
Then, to his sire with beating heart he moves,
And with a tender pleasantry reproves;
Who digging round the plant still hangs his bead,
Nor aught remits the work, while thus he said:
"""
"""
“Great is thy skill, O father! great thy toil,
Thy careful hand is stamp’d on all the soil,
Thy squadron’d vineyards well thy art declare,
The olive green, blue fig, and pendent pear;
And not one empty spot escapes thy care.
On every plant and tree thy cares are shown,
Nothing neglected, but thyself alone.
Forgive me, father, if this fault I blame;
Age so advanced, may some indulgence claim.
Not for thy sloth, I deem thy lord unkind:
Nor speaks thy form a mean or servile mind;
I read a monarch in that princely air,
The same thy aspect, if the same thy care;
Soft sleep, fair garments, and the joys of wine,
These are the rights of age, and should be thine.
Who then thy master, say? and whose the land
So dress’d and managed by thy skilful hand?
But chief, oh tell me! (what I question most)
Is this the far-famed Ithacensian coast?
For so reported the first man I view’d
(Some surly islander, of manners rude),
Nor farther conference vouchsafed to stay;
Heedless he whistled, and pursued his way.
But thou whom years have taught to understand,
Humanely hear, and answer my demand:
A friend I seek, a wise one and a brave:
Say, lives he yet, or moulders in the grave?
Time was (my fortunes then were at the best)
When at my house I lodged this foreign guest;
He said, from Ithaca’s fair isle he came,
And old Laertes was his father’s name.
To him, whatever to a guest is owed
I paid, and hospitable gifts bestow’d:
To him seven talents of pure ore I told,
Twelve cloaks, twelve vests, twelve tunics stiff with gold:
A bowl, that rich with polish’d silver flames,
And skill’d in female works, four lovely dames.”
"""
"""
At this the father, with a father’s fears
(His venerable eyes bedimm’d with tears):
“This is the land; but ah! thy gifts are lost,
For godless men, and rude possess the coast:
Sunk is the glory of this once-famed shore!
Thy ancient friend, O stranger, is no more!
Full recompense thy bounty else had borne:
For every good man yields a just return:
So civil rights demand; and who begins
The track of friendship, not pursuing, sins.
But tell me, stranger, be the truth confess’d,
What years have circled since thou saw’st that guest?
That hapless guest, alas! for ever gone!
Wretch that he was! and that I am! my son!
If ever man to misery was born,
’Twas his to suffer, and ’tis mine to mourn!
Far from his friends, and from his native reign,
He lies a prey to monsters of the main;
Or savage beasts his mangled relics tear,
Or screaming vultures scatter through the air:
Nor could his mother funeral unguents shed;
Nor wail’d his father o’er the untimely dead:
Nor his sad consort, on the mournful bier,
Seal’d his cold eyes, or dropp’d a tender tear!
"""
"""
“But, tell me who thou art? and what thy race?
Thy town, thy parents, and thy native place?
Or, if a merchant in pursuit of gain,
What port received thy vessel from the main?
Or comest thou single, or attend thy train?”
"""
"""
Then thus the son: “From Alybas I came,
My palace there; Eperitus my name
Not vulgar born: from Aphidas, the king
Of Polyphemon’s royal line, I spring.
Some adverse demon from Sicania bore
Our wandering course, and drove us on your shore;
Far from the town, an unfrequented bay
Relieved our wearied vessel from the sea.
Five years have circled since these eyes pursued
Ulysses parting through the sable flood:
Prosperous he sail’d, with dexter auguries,
And all the wing’d good omens of the skies.
Well hoped we then to meet on this fair shore,
Whom Heaven, alas! decreed to meet no more.”
"""
"""
Quick through the father’s heart these accents ran;
Grief seized at once, and wrapp’d up all the man:
Deep from his soul lie sigh’d, and sorrowing spread
A cloud of ashes on his hoary head.
Trembling with agonies of strong delight
Stood the great son, heart-wounded with the sight:
He ran, he seized him with a strict embrace,
With thousand kisses wander’d o’er his face:
“I, I am he; O father, rise! behold
Thy son, with twenty winters now grown old;
Thy son, so long desired, so long detain’d,
Restored, and breathing in his native land:
These floods of sorrow, O my sire, restrain!
The vengeance is complete; the suitor train,
Stretch’d in our palace, by these hands lie slain.”
"""
"""
Amazed, Laertes: “Give some certain sign
(If such thou art) to manifest thee mine.”
"""
"""
“Lo here the wound (he cries) received of yore,
The scar indented by the tusky boar,
When, by thyself, and by Anticlea sent,
To old Autolycus’ realms I went.
Yet by another sign thy offspring know;
The several trees you gave me long ago,
While yet a child, these fields I loved to trace,
And trod thy footsteps with unequal pace;
To every plant in order as we came,
Well-pleased, you told its nature and its name,
Whate’er my childish fancy ask’d, bestow’d:
Twelve pear-trees, bowing with their pendent load,
And ten, that red with blushing apples glow’d;
Full fifty purple figs; and many a row
Of various vines that then began to blow,
A future vintage! when the Hours produce
Their latent buds, and Sol exalts the juice.”
"""
"""
Smit with the signs which all his doubts explain,
His heart within him melt; his knees sustain
Their feeble weight no more: his arms alone
Support him, round the loved Ulysses thrown;
He faints, he sinks, with mighty joys oppress’d:
Ulysses clasps him to his eager breast.
Soon as returning life regains its seat,
And his breath lengthens, and his pulses beat:
“Yes, I believe (he cries) almighty Jove!
Heaven rules us yet, and gods there are above.
’Tis so — the suitors for their wrongs have paid —
But what shall guard us, if the town invade?
If, while the news through every city flies,
All Ithaca and Cephalenia rise?”
To this Ulysses: “As the gods shall please
Be all the rest: and set thy soul at ease.
Haste to the cottage by this orchard’s side,
And take the banquet which our cares provide;
There wait thy faithful band of rural friends,
And there the young Telemachus attends.”
"""
"""
Thus, having said, they traced the garden o’er
And stooping entered at the lowly door.
The swains and young Telemachus they found.
The victim portion’d and the goblet crown’d.
The hoary king, his old Sicilian maid
Perfum’d and wash’d, and gorgeously arrayed.
Pallas attending gives his frame to shine
With awful port, and majesty divine;
His gazing son admires the godlike grace,
And air celestial dawning o’er his face.
“What god (he cried) my father’s form improves!
How high he treads and how enlarged he moves!”
"""
"""
“Oh! would to all the deathless powers on high,
Pallas and Jove, and him who gilds the sky!
(Replied the king elated with his praise)
My strength were still, as once in better days:
When the bold Cephalens the leaguer form’d.
And proud Nericus trembled as I storm’d.
Such were I now, not absent from your deed
When the last sun beheld the suitors bleed,
This arm had aided yours, this hand bestrown
Our shores with death, and push’d the slaughter on;
Nor had the sire been separate from the son.”
"""
"""
They communed thus; while homeward bent their way
The swains, fatigued with labours of the day:
Dolius, the first, the venerable man;
And next his sons, a long succeeding train.
For due refection to the bower they came,
Call’d by the careful old Sicilian dame,
Who nursed the children, and now tends the sire,
They see their lord, they gaze, and they admire.
On chairs and beds in order seated round,
They share the gladsome board; the roofs resound,
While thus Ulysses to his ancient friend:
“Forbear your wonder, and the feast attend:
The rites have waited long.” The chief commands
Their love in vain; old Dolius spreads his hands,
Springs to his master with a warm embrace,
And fastens kisses on his hands and face;
Then thus broke out: “O long, O daily mourn’d!
Beyond our hopes, and to our wish return’d!
Conducted sure by Heaven! for Heaven alone
Could work this wonder: welcome to thy own!
And joys and happiness attend thy throne!
Who knows thy bless’d, thy wish’d return? oh say,
To the chaste queen shall we the news convey?
Or hears she, and with blessings loads the day?”
"""
"""
“Dismiss that care, for to the royal bride
Already is it known” (the king replied,
And straight resumed his seat); while round him bows
Each faithful youth, and breathes out ardent vows:
Then all beneath their father take their place,
Rank’d by their ages, and the banquet grace.
"""
"""
Now flying Fame the swift report had spread
Through all the city, of the suitors dead,
In throngs they rise, and to the palace crowd;
Their sighs were many and the tumult loud.
Weeping they bear the mangled heaps of slain;
Inhume the natives in their native plain,
The rest in ships are wafted o’er the main.
Then sad in council all the seniors sate,
Frequent and full, assembled to debate:
Amid the circle first Eupithes rose,
Big was his eye with tears, his heart with woes:
The bold Antinous was his age’s pride,
The first who by Ulysses’ arrow died.
Down his wan cheek the trickling torrent ran,
As mixing words with sighs he thus began:
"""
"""
“Great deeds, O friends! this wondrous man has wrought,
And mighty blessings to his country brought!
With ships he parted, and a numerous train,
Those, and their ships, he buried in the main.
Now he returns, and first essays his hand
In the best blood of all his native land.
Haste, then, and ere to neighbouring Pyle he flies,
Or sacred Elis, to procure supplies;
Arise (or ye for ever fall), arise!
Shame to this age, and all that shall succeed!
If unrevenged your sons and brothers bleed.
Prove that we live, by vengeance on his head,
Or sink at once forgotten with the dead.”
Here ceased he, but indignant tears let fall
Spoke when he ceased: dumb sorrow touch’d them all.
When from the palace to the wondering throng
Sage Medon came, and Phemius came along
(Restless and early sleep’s soft bands they broke);
And Medon first the assembled chiefs bespoke;
"""
"""
“Hear me, ye peers and elders of the land,
Who deem this act the work of mortal hand;
As o’er the heaps of death Ulysses strode,
These eyes, these eyes beheld a present god,
Who now before him, now beside him stood,
Fought as he fought, and mark’d his way with blood:
In vain old Mentor’s form the god belied;
’Twas Heaven that struck, and Heaven was on his side.”
"""
"""
A sudden horror all the assembly shook,
When slowly rising, Halitherses spoke
(Reverend and wise, whose comprehensive view
At once the present and the future knew):
“Me too, ye fathers, hear! from you proceed
The ills ye mourn; your own the guilty deed.
Ye gave your sons, your lawless sons, the rein
(Oft warn’d by Mentor and myself in vain);
An absent hero’s bed they sought to soil,
An absent hero’s wealth they made their spoil;
Immoderate riot, and intemperate lust!
The offence was great, the punishment was just.
Weigh then my counsels in an equal scale,
Nor rush to ruin. Justice will prevail.”
"""
"""
His moderate words some better minds persuade:
They part, and join him: but the number stay’d.
They storm, they shout, with hasty frenzy fired,
And second all Eupithes’ rage inspired.
They case their limbs in brass; to arms they run;
The broad effulgence blazes in the sun.
Before the city, and in ample plain,
They meet: Eupithes heads the frantic train.
Fierce for his son, he breathes his threats in air;
Fate bears them not, and Death attends him there.
"""
"""
This pass’d on earth, while in the realms above
Minerva thus to cloud-compelling Jove!
“May I presume to search thy secret soul?
O Power Supreme, O Ruler of the whole!
Say, hast thou doom’d to this divided state
Or peaceful amity or stern debate?
Declare thy purpose, for thy will is fate.”
"""
"""
“Is not thy thought my own? (the god replies
Who rolls the thunder o’er the vaulted skies;)
Hath not long since thy knowing soul decreed
The chief’s return should make the guilty bleed.
’Tis done, and at thy will the Fates succeed.
Yet hear the issue: Since Ulysses’ hand
Has slain the suitors, Heaven shall bless the land.
None now the kindred of the unjust shall own;
Forgot the slaughter’d brother and the son:
Each future day increase of wealth shall bring,
And o’er the past Oblivion stretch her wing.
Long shall Ulysses in his empire rest,
His people blessing, by his people bless’d.
Let all be peace.”— He said, and gave the nod
That binds the Fates; the sanction of the god
And prompt to execute the eternal will,
Descended Pallas from the Olympian hill.
"""
"""
Now sat Ulysses at the rural feast
The rage of hunger and of thirst repress’d:
To watch the foe a trusty spy he sent:
A son of Dolius on the message went,
Stood in the way, and at a glance beheld
The foe approach, embattled on the field.
With backward step he hastens to the bower,
And tells the news. They arm with all their power.
Four friends alone Ulysses’ cause embrace,
And six were all the sons of Dolius’ race:
Old Dolius too his rusted arms put on;
And, still more old, in arms Laertes shone.
Trembling with warmth, the hoary heroes stand,
And brazen panoply invests the band.
The opening gates at once their war display:
Fierce they rush forth: Ulysses leads the way.
That moment joins them with celestial aid,
In Mentor’s form, the Jove-descended maid:
The suffering hero felt his patient breast
Swell with new joy, and thus his son address’d:
"""
"""
“Behold, Telemachus! (nor fear the sight,)
The brave embattled, the grim front of fight!
The valiant with the valiant must contend.
Shame not the line whence glorious you descend.
Wide o’er the world their martial fame was spread;
Regard thyself, the living and the dead.”
"""
"""
“Thy eyes, great father! on this battle cast,
Shall learn from me Penelope was chaste.”
"""
"""
So spoke Telemachus: the gallant boy
Good old Laertes heard with panting joy.
“And bless’d! thrice bless’d this happy day! (he cries,)
The day that shows me, ere I close my eyes,
A son and grandson of the Arcesian name
Strive for fair virtue, and contest for fame!”
"""
"""
Then thus Minerva in Laertes’ ear:
“Son of Arcesius, reverend warrior, hear!
Jove and Jove’s daughter first implore in prayer,
Then, whirling high, discharge thy lance in air.”
She said, infusing courage with the word.
Jove and Jove’s daughter then the chief implored,
And, whirling high, dismiss’d the lance in air.
Full at Eupithes drove the deathful spear:
The brass-cheek’d helmet opens to the wound;
He falls, earth thunders, and his arms resound.
Before the father and the conquering son
Heaps rush on heaps, they fight, they drop, they run
Now by the sword, and now the javelin, fall
The rebel race, and death had swallow’d all;
But from on high the blue-eyed virgin cried;
Her awful voice detain’d the headlong tide:
“Forbear, ye nations, your mad hands forbear
From mutual slaughter; Peace descends to spare.”
Fear shook the nations: at the voice divine
They drop their javelins, and their rage resign.
All scatter’d round their glittering weapons lie;
Some fall to earth, and some confusedly fly.
With dreadful shouts Ulysses pour’d along,
Swift as an eagle, as an eagle strong.
But Jove’s red arm the burning thunder aims:
Before Minerva shot the livid flames;
Blazing they fell, and at her feet expired;
Then stopped the goddess, trembled and retired.
"""
"""
“Descended from the gods! Ulysses, cease;
Offend not Jove: obey, and give the peace.”
"""
"""
So Pallas spoke: the mandate from above
The king obey’d. The virgin-seed of Jove,
In Mentor’s form, confirm’d the full accord,
And willing nations knew their lawful lord.
"""
''The End''
''Argument''
''The Interview of Telemachus and Nestor.''
//Telemachus, guided by Pallas in the shape of Mentor, arrives in the morning at Pylos, where Nestor and his sons are sacrificing on the sea-shore to Neptune. Telemachus declares the occasion of his coming: and Nestor relates what passed in their return from Troy, how their fleets were separated, and he never since heard of Ulysses. They discourse concerning the death of Agamemnon, the revenge of Orestes, and the injuries of the suitors. Nestor advises him to go to Sparta, and inquire further of Menelaus. The sacrifice ending with the night, Minerva vanishes from them in the form of an eagle: Telemachus is lodged in the palace. The next morning they sacrifice a bullock to Minerva; and Telemachus proceeds on his journey to Sparta, attended by Pisistratus.//
//The scene lies on the sea-shore of Pylos.//
"""
The sacred sun, above the waters raised,
Through heaven’s eternal brazen portals blazed;
And wide o’er earth diffused his cheering ray,
To gods and men to give the golden day.
Now on the coast of Pyle the vessel falls,
Before old Neleus’ venerable walls.
There suppliant to the monarch of the flood,
At nine green theatres the Pylians stood,
Each held five hundred (a deputed train),
At each, nine oxen on the sand lay slain.
They taste the entrails, and the altars load
With smoking thighs, an offering to the god.
Full for the port the Ithacensians stand,
And furl their sails, and issue on the land.
Telemachus already press’d the shore;
Not first, the power of wisdom march’d before,
And ere the sacrificing throng he join’d,
Admonish’d thus his well-attending mind:
"""
"""
“Proceed, my son! this youthful shame expel;
An honest business never blush to tell.
To learn what fates thy wretched sire detain,
We pass’d the wide immeasurable main.
Meet then the senior far renown’d for sense
With reverend awe, but decent confidence:
Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies;
And sure he will; for wisdom never lies.”
"""
"""
“Oh tell me, Mentor! tell me, faithful guide
(The youth with prudent modesty replied),
How shall I meet, or how accost the sage,
Unskill’d in speech, nor yet mature of age?
Awful th’approach, and hard the task appears,
To question wisely men of riper years.”
"""
"""
To whom the martial goddess thus rejoin’d:
“Search, for some thoughts, thy own suggesting mind;
And others, dictated by heavenly power,
Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour.
For nought unprosperous shall thy ways attend,
Born with good omens, and with heaven thy friend.”
"""
"""
She spoke, and led the way with swiftest speed;
As swift, the youth pursued the way she led;
and join’d the band before the sacred fire,
Where sate, encompass’d with his sons, the sire.
The youth of Pylos, some on pointed wood
Transfix’d the fragments, some prepared the food:
In friendly throngs they gather to embrace
Their unknown guests, and at the banquet place,
Pisistratus was first to grasp their hands,
And spread soft hides upon the yellow sands;
Along the shore the illustrious pair he led,
Where Nestor sate with the youthful Thrasymed,
To each a portion of the feast he bore,
And held the golden goblet foaming o’er;
Then first approaching to the elder guest,
The latent goddess in these words address’d:
“Whoe’er thou art, from fortune brings to keep
These rites of Neptune, monarch of the deep,
Thee first it fits, O stranger! to prepare
The due libation and the solemn prayer;
Then give thy friend to shed the sacred wine;
Though much thy younger, and his years like mine,
He too, I deem, implores the power divine;
For all mankind alike require their grace,
All born to want; a miserable race!”
He spake, and to her hand preferr’d the bowl;
A secret pleasure touch’d Athena’s soul,
To see the preference due to sacred age
Regarded ever by the just and sage.
Of Ocean’s king she then implores the grace.
“O thou! whose arms this ample globe embrace,
Fulfil our wish, and let thy glory shine
On Nestor first, and Nestor’s royal line;
Next grant the Pylian states their just desires,
Pleased with their hecatomb’s ascending fires;
Last, deign Telemachus and me to bless,
And crown our voyage with desired success.”
"""
"""
Thus she: and having paid the rite divine,
Gave to Ulysses’ son the rosy wine.
Suppliant he pray’d. And now the victims dress’d
They draw, divide, and celebrate the feast.
The banquet done, the narrative old man,
Thus mild, the pleasing conference began:
"""
"""
“Now gentle guests! the genial banquet o’er,
It fits to ask ye, what your native shore,
And whence your race? on what adventure say,
Thus far you wander through the watery way?
Relate if business, or the thirst of gain,
Engage your journey o’er the pathless main
Where savage pirates seek through seas unknown
The lives of others, venturous of their own.”
"""
"""
Urged by the precepts by the goddess given,
And fill’d with confidence infused from Heaven,
The youth, whom Pallas destined to be wise
And famed among the sons of men, replies:
“Inquir’st thou, father! from what coast we came?
(Oh grace and glory of the Grecian name!)
From where high Ithaca o’erlooks the floods,
Brown with o’er-arching shades and pendent woods
Us to these shores our filial duty draws,
A private sorrow, not a public cause.
My sire I seek, where’er the voice of fame
Has told the glories of his noble name,
The great Ulysses; famed from shore to shore
For valour much, for hardy suffering more.
Long time with thee before proud Ilion’s wall
In arms he fought; with thee beheld her fall.
Of all the chiefs, this hero’s fate alone
Has Jove reserved, unheard of, and unknown;
Whether in fields by hostile fury slain,
Or sunk by tempests in the gulfy main?
Of this to learn, oppress’d with tender fears,
Lo, at thy knee his suppliant son appears.
If or thy certain eye, or curious ear,
Have learnt his fate, the whole dark story clear
And, oh! whate’er Heaven destined to betide,
Let neither flattery soothe, nor pity hide.
Prepared I stand: he was but born to try
The lot of man; to suffer, and to die.
Oh then, if ever through the ten years’ war
The wise, the good Ulysses claim’d thy care;
If e’er he join’d thy council, or thy sword,
True in his deed, and constant to his word;
Far as thy mind through backward time can see
Search all thy stores of faithful memory:
’Tis sacred truth I ask, and ask of thee.”
"""
"""
To him experienced Nestor thus rejoin’d:
“O friend! what sorrows dost thou bring to mind!
Shall I the long, laborious scene review,
And open all the wounds of Greece anew?
What toils by sea! where dark in quest of prey
Dauntless we roved; Achilles led the way;
What toils by land! where mix’d in fatal fight
Such numbers fell, such heroes sunk to night;
There Ajax great, Achilles there the brave,
There wise Patroclus, fill an early grave:
There, too, my son — ah, once my best delight
Once swift of foot, and terrible in fight;
In whom stern courage with soft virtue join’d
A faultless body and a blameless mind;
Antilochus — What more can I relate?
How trace the tedious series of our fate?
Not added years on years my task could close,
The long historian of my country’s woes;
Back to thy native islands might’st thou sail,
And leave half-heard the melancholy tale.
Nine painful years on that detested shore;
What stratagems we form’d, what toils we bore!
Still labouring on, till scarce at last we found
Great Jove propitious, and our conquest crown’d.
Far o’er the rest thy mighty father shined,
In wit, in prudence, and in force of mind.
Art thou the son of that illustrious sire?
With joy I grasp thee, and with love admire.
So like your voices, and your words so wise,
Who finds thee younger must consult his eyes.
Thy sire and I were one; nor varied aught
In public sentence, or in private thought;
Alike to council or the assembly came,
With equal souls, and sentiments the same.
But when (by wisdom won) proud Ilion burn’d,
And in their slips the conquering Greeks return’d,
’Twas God’s high will the victors to divide,
And turn the event, confounding human pride;
Some be destroy’d, some scatter’d as the dust
(Not all were prudent, and not all were just).
Then Discord, sent by Pallas from above,
Stern daughter of the great avenger Jove,
The brother-kings inspired with fell debate;
Who call’d to council all the Achaian state,
But call’d untimely (not the sacred rite
Observed, nor heedful of the setting light,
Nor herald sword the session to proclaim),
Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe the came.
To these the cause of meeting they explain,
And Menelaus moves to cross the main;
Not so the king of men: be will’d to stay,
The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay,
And calm Minerva’s wrath. Oh blind to fate!
The gods not lightly change their love, or hate.
With ireful taunts each other they oppose,
Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose.
Now different counsels every breast divide,
Each burns with rancour to the adverse side;
The unquiet night strange projects entertain’d
(So Jove, that urged us to our fate, ordain’d).
We with the rising morn our ships unmoor’d,
And brought our captives and our stores aboard;
But half the people with respect obey’d
The king of men, and at his bidding stay’d.
Now on the wings of winds our course we keep
(For God had smooth’d the waters of the deep);
For Tenedos we spread our eager oars,
There land, and pay due victims to the powers;
To bless our safe return, we join in prayer;
But angry Jove dispersed our vows in air,
And raised new discord. Then (so Heaven decreed)
Ulysses first and Neator disagreed!
Wise as he was, by various counsels away’d,
He there, though late, to please the monarch, stay’d.
But I, determined, stem the foamy floods,
Warn’d of the coming fury of the gods.
With us, Tydides fear’d, and urged his haste:
And Menelads came, but came the last,
He join’d our vessels in the Lesbian bay,
While yet we doubted of our watery way;
If to the right to urge the pilot’s toil
(The safer road), beside the Psyrian isle;
Or the straight course to rocky Chios plough,
And anchor under Mimas’ shaggy brow?
We sought direction of the power divine:
The god propitious gave the guiding sign;
Through the mid seas he bid our navy steer,
And in Euboea shun the woes we fear.
The whistling winds already waked the sky;
Before the whistling winds the vessels fly,
With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way,
And reach Gerestus at the point of day.
There hecacombs of bulls, to Neptune slain,
High-flaming please the monarch of the main.
The fourth day shone, when all their labours o’er,
Tydides’ vessels touched the wish’d-for shore.
But I to Pylos scud before the gales,
The god still breathing on my swelling sails;
Separate from all, I safely landed here;
Their fates or fortunes never reach’d my ear.
Yet what I learn’d, attend; as here I sat,
And ask’d each voyager each hero’s fate;
Curious to know, and willing to relate.
"""
"""
“Safe reach’d the Myrmidons their native land,
Beneath Achilles’ warlike son’s command.
Those, whom the heir of great Apollo’s art,
Brave Philoctetes, taught to wing the dart;
And those whom Idomen from Ilion’s plain
Had led, securely cross’d the dreadful main
How Agamemnon touch’d his Argive coast,
And how his life by fraud and force he lost,
And how the murderer, paid his forfeit breath;
What lands so distant from that scene of death
But trembling heard the fame? and heard, admire.
How well the son appeased his slaughter’d sire!
Ev’n to the unhappy, that unjustly bleed,
Heaven gives posterity, to avenge the deed.
So fell Aegysthus; and mayest thou, my friend,
(On whom the virtues of thy sire descend,)
Make future times thy equal act adore,
And be what brave Orestes was before!”
"""
"""
The prudent youth replied: “O thou the grace
And lasting glory of the Grecian race!
Just was the vengeance, and to latest days
Shall long posterity resound the praise.
Some god this arm with equal prowess bless!
And the proud suitors shall its force confess;
Injurious men! who while my soul is sore
Of fresh affronts, are meditating more.
But Heaven denies this honour to my hand,
Nor shall my father repossess the land;
The father’s fortune never to return,
And the sad son’s to softer and to mourn!”
Thus he; and Nestor took the word: “My son,
Is it then true, as distant rumours run,
That crowds of rivals for thy mother’s charms
Thy palace fill with insults and alarms?
Say, is the fault, through tame submission, thine?
Or leagued against thee, do thy people join,
Moved by some oracle, or voice divine?
And yet who knows, but ripening lies in fate
An hour of vengeance for the afflicted state;
When great Ulysses shall suppress these harms,
Ulysses singly, or all Greece in arms.
But if Athena, war’s triumphant maid,
The happy son will as the father aid,
(Whose fame and safety was her constant care
In every danger and in every war:
Never on man did heavenly favour shine
With rays so strong, distinguish’d and divine,
As those with which Minerva mark’d thy sire)
So might she love thee, so thy soul inspire!
Soon should their hopes in humble dust be laid,
And long oblivion of the bridal bed.”
"""
"""
“Ah! no such hope (the prince with sighs replies)
Can touch my breast; that blessing Heaven denies.
Ev’n by celestial favour were it given,
Fortune or fate would cross the will of Heaven.”
"""
"""
“What words are these, and what imprudence thine?
(Thus interposed the martial maid divine)
Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above
With ease can save each object of his love;
Wide as his will, extends his boundless grace;
Nor lost in time nor circumscribed by place.
Happier his lot, who, many sorrows’ pass’d,
Long labouring gains his natal shore at last;
Than who, too speedy, hastes to end his life
By some stern ruffian, or adulterous wife.
Death only is the lot which none can miss,
And all is possible to Heaven but this.
The best, the dearest favourite of the sky,
Must taste that cup, for man is born to die.”
"""
"""
Thus check’d, replied Ulysses’ prudent heir:
“Mentor, no more — the mournful thought forbear;
For he no more must draw his country’s breath,
Already snatch’d by fate, and the black doom of death!
Pass we to other subjects; and engage
On themes remote the venerable sage
(Who thrice has seen the perishable kind
Of men decay, and through three ages shined
Like gods majestic, and like gods in mind);
For much he knows, and just conclusions draws,
From various precedents, and various laws.
O son of Neleus! awful Nestor, tell
How he, the mighty Agamemnon, fell;
By what strange fraud Aegysthus wrought, relate
(By force he could not) such a hero’s fate?
Live Menelaus not in Greece? or where
Was then the martial brother’s pious care?
Condemn’d perhaps some foreign short to tread;
Or sure Aegysthus had not dared the deed.”
To whom the full of days: Illustrious youth,
Attend (though partly thou hast guess’d) the truth.
For had the martial Menelaus found
The ruffian breathing yet on Argive ground;
Nor earth had bid his carcase from the skies,
Nor Grecian virgins shriek’d his obsequies,
But fowls obscene dismember’d his remains,
And dogs had torn him on the naked plains.
While us the works of bloody Mars employ’d,
The wanton youth inglorious peace enjoy’d:
He stretch’d at ease in Argos’ calm recess
(Whose stately steeds luxuriant pastures bless),
With flattery’s insinuating art
Soothed the frail queen, and poison’d all her heard.
At first, with the worthy shame and decent pride,
The royal dame his lawless suit denied.
For virtue’s image yet possess’d her mind.
Taught by a master of the tuneful kind;
Atrides, parting for the Trojan war,
Consign’d the youthful consort to his care.
True to his charge, the bard preserved her long
In honour’s limits; such the power of song.
But when the gods these objects of their hate
Dragg’d to the destruction by the links of fate;
The bard they banish’d from his native soil,
And left all helpless in a desert isle;
There he, the sweetest of the sacred train,
Sung dying to the rocks, but sung in vain.
Then virtue was no more; her guard away,
She fell, to lust a voluntary prey.
Even to the temple stalk’d the adulterous spouse,
With impious thanks, and mockery of the vows,
With images, with garments, and with gold;
And odorous fumes from loaded altars roll’d.
“Meantime from flaming Troy we cut the way
With Menelaus, through the curling sea.
But when to Sunium’s sacred point we came,
Crown’d with the temple of the Athenian dame;
Atride’s pilot, Phrontes, there expired
(Phrontes, of all the songs of men admired
To steer the bounding bark with steady toil,
When the storm thickens, and the billows boil);
While yet he exercised the steerman’s art,
Apollo touch’d him with his gentle dart;
Even with the rudder in his hand, he fell.
To pay whole honours to the shades of hell,
We check’d our haste, by pious office bound,
And laid our old companion in the ground.
And now the rites discharged, our course we keep
Far on the gloomy bosom of the deep:
Soon as Malae’s misty tops arise,
Sudden the Thunderer blackens all the skies,
And the winds whistle, and the surges roll
Mountains on mountains, and obscure the pole.
The tempest scatters, and divides our fleet;
Part, the storm urges on the coast of Crete,
Where winding round the rich Cydonian plain,
The streams of Jardan issue to the main.
There stands a rock, high, eminent and steep,
Whose shaggy brow o’erhangs the shady deep,
And views Gortyna on the western side;
On this rough Auster drove the impetuous tide:
With broken force the billows roll’d away,
And heaved the fleet into the neighb’ring bay.
Thus saved from death, the gain’d the Phaestan shores,
With shatter’d vessels and disabled oars;
But five tall barks the winds and water toss’d,
Far from their fellows, on the Aegyptian coast.
There wander’d Menelaus through foreign shores
Amassing gold, and gathering naval stores;
While cursed Aegysthus the detested deed
By fraud fulfilled, and his great brother bled.
Seven years, the traitor rich Mycenae sway’d,
And his stern rule the groaning land obey’d;
The eighth, from Athens to his realm restored,
Orestes brandish’d the avenging sword,
Slew the dire pair, and gave to funeral flame
The vile assassin and adulterous dame.
That day, ere yet the bloody triumphs cease,
Return’d Atrides to the coast of Greece,
And safe to Argos port his navy brought,
With gifts of price and ponderous treasure fraught.
Hence warn’d, my son, beware! nor idly stand
Too long a stranger to thy native land;
Lest heedless absence wear thy wealth away,
While lawless feasters in thy palace away;
Perhaps may seize thy realm, and share the spoil;
And though return, with disappointed toil,
From thy vain journey, to a rifled isle.
However, my friend, indulge one labour more,
And seek Atrides on the Spartan shore.
He, wandering long a wider circle made,
And many-languaged nations has survey’d:
And measured tracks unknown to other ships,
Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps,
(A length of ocean and unbounded sky.
Which scarce the sea-fowl in a year o’erfly);
Go then; to Sparta take the watery way,
Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay;
Or, if my land then choose thy course to bend,
My steeds, my chariots, and my songs, attend;
Thee to Atrides they shall safe convey,
Guides of thy road, companions of thy way.
Urge him with truth to frame his wise replies,
And sure he will; for Menelaus is wise.”
Thus while he speaks the ruddy sun descends,
And twilight grey her evening shade extends.
Then thus the blue-eyed maid: “O full of days!
Wise are thy words, and just are all thy ways.
Now immolate the tongues, and mix the wine,
Sacred to Neptune and the powers divine,
The lamp of day is quench’d beneath the deep,
And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep;
Nor fits it to prolong the heavenly feast,
Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.”
"""
"""
So spake Jove’s daughter, the celestial maid,
The sober train attended and obey’d.
The sacred heralds on their hands around
Pour’d the full urns; the youths the goblets crown’d;
From bowl to bowl the homely beverage flows;
While to the final sacrifice they rose.
The tongues they cast upon the fragrant flame,
And pour, above, the consecrated stream.
And now, their thirst by copious draughts allay’d,
The youthful hero and the Athenian maid
Propose departure from the finish’d rite,
And in their hollow bark to pass the night;
But this hospitable sage denied,
“Forbid it, Jove! and all the gods! (he cried),
Thus from my walls and the much-loved son to send
Of such a hero, and of such a friend!
Me, as some needy peasant, would ye leave,
Whom Heaven denies the blessing to relieve?
Me would ye leave, who boast imperial sway,
When beds of royal state invite your stay?
No — long as life this mortal shall inspire,
Or as my children imitate their sire.
Here shall the wandering stranger find his home,
And hospitable rites adorn the dome.”
"""
"""
“Well hast thou spoke (the blue-eyed maid replies),
Beloved old man! benevolent as wise.
Be the kind dictates of thy heart obey’d,
And let thy words Telemachus persuade:
He to thy palace shall thy steps pursue;
I to the ship, to give the orders due,
Prescribe directions and confirm the crew.
For I alone sustain their naval cares,
Who boast experience from these silver hairs;
All youths the rest, whom to this journey move
Like years, like tempers, and their prince’s love
There in the vessel shall I pass the night;
And, soon as morning paints the fields of light,
I go to challenge from the Caucons bold
A debt, contracted in the days of old,
But this, thy guest, received with friendly care
Let thy strong coursers swift to Sparta bear;
Prepare thy chariot at the dawn of day,
And be thy son companion of his way.”
"""
"""
Then, turning with the word, Minerva flies,
And soars an eagle through the liquid skies.
Vision divine! the throng’d spectators gaze
In holy wonder fix’d, and still amaze.
But chief the reverend sage admired; he took
The hand of young Telemachus, and spoke:
“Oh, happy youth! and favoured of the skies,
Distinguished care of guardian deities!
Whose early years for future worth engage,
No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age.
For lo! none other of the course above,
Then she, the daughter of almighty Jove,
Pallas herself, the war-triumphant maid;
Confess’d is thine, as once thy fathers aid.
So guide me, goddess! so propitious shine
On me, my consort, and my royal line!
A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke,
Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke,
With ample forehead, and yet tender horns,
Whose budding honours ductile gold adorns.”
"""
"""
Submissive thus the hoary sire preferr’d
His holy vow: the favouring goddess heard.
Then, slowly rising, o’er the sandy space
Precedes the father, follow’d by his race,
(A long procession) timely marching home
In comely order to the regal dome.
There when arrived, on thrones around him placed,
His sons and grandsons the wide circle graced.
To these the hospitable sage, in sign
Of social welcome, mix’d the racy wine
(Late from the mellowing cask restored to light,
By ten long years refined, and rosy bright).
To Pallas high the foaming bowl he crown’d,
And sprinkled large libations on the ground.
Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares,
And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs.
Deep in a rich alcove the prince was laid,
And slept beneath the pompous colonnade;
Fast by his side Pisistratus was spread
(In age his equal) on a splendid bed:
But in an inner court, securely closed,
The reverend Nestor and his queen reposed.
"""
"""
When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
With rosy lustre purpled o’er the lawn,
The old man early rose, walk’d forth, and sate
On polish’d stone before his palace gate;
With unguents smooth the lucid marble shone,
Where ancient Neleus sate, a rustic throne;
But he descending to the infernal shade,
Sage Nestor fill’d it, and the sceptre sway’d.
His sons around him mild obeisance pay,
And duteous take the orders of the day.
First Eehephron and Stratius quit their bed;
Then Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymed;
The last Pisistratus arose from rest:
They came, and near him placed the stranger-guest.
To these the senior thus declared his will:
“My sons! the dictates of your sire fulfil.
To Pallas, first of gods, prepare the feast,
Who graced our rites, a more than mortal guest
Let one, despatchful, bid some swain to lead
A well-fed bullock from the grassy mead;
One seek the harbour where the vessels moor,
And bring thy friends, Telemachus! ashore
(Leave only two the galley to attend);
Another Laerceus must we send,
Artist devine, whose skilful hands infold
The victim’s horn with circumfusile gold.
The rest may here the pious duty share,
And bid the handmaids for the feast prepare,
The seats to range, the fragrant wood to bring,
And limpid waters from the living spring.”
"""
"""
He said, and busy each his care bestow’d;
Already at the gates the bullock low’d,
Already came the Ithacensian crew,
The dexterous smith the tools already drew;
His ponderous hammer and his anvil sound,
And the strong tongs to turn the metal round.
Nor was Minerva absent from the rite,
She view’d her honours, and enjoyed the sight,
With reverend hand the king presents the gold,
Which round the intorted horns the gilder roll’d.
So wrought as Pallas might with pride behold.
Young Aretus from forth his bride bower
Brought the full laver, o’er their hands to pour,
And canisters of consecrated flour.
Stratius and Echephron the victim led;
The axe was held by warlike Thrasymed,
In act to strike; before him Perseus stood,
The vase extending to receive the blood.
The king himself initiates to the power:
Scatters with quivering hand the sacred flour,
And the stream sprinkles; from the curling brows
The hair collected in the fire he throws.
Soon as due vows on every part were paid,
And sacred wheat upon the victim laid,
Strong Thrasymed discharged the speeding blow
Full on his neck, and cut the nerves in two.
Down sunk the heavy beast; the females round
Maids, wives, and matrons, mix a shrilling sound.
Nor scorned the queen the holy choir to join
(The first born she, of old Clymenus’ line:
In youth by Nestor loved, of spotless fame.
And loved in age, Eurydice her name).
From earth they rear him, struggling now with death;
And Nestor’s youngest stops the vents of breath.
The soul for ever flies; on all sides round
Streams the black blood, and smokes upon the ground
The beast they then divide and disunite
The ribs and limbs, observant of the rite:
On these, in double cauls involved with art,
The choicest morsels lay from every part.
The sacred sage before his altar stands,
Turns the burnt offering with his holy hands,
And pours the wine, and bids the flames aspire;
The youth with instruments surround the fire.
The thighs now sacrificed, and entrails dress’d,
The assistants part, transfix, and broil the rest
While these officious tend the rites divine,
The last fair branch of the Nestorean line,
Sweet Polycaste, took the pleasing toil
To bathe the prince, and pour the fragrant oil.
O’er his fair limbs a flowery vest he throw,
And issued, like a god, to mortal view.
His former seat beside the king he found
(His people’s father with his peers around);
All placed at ease the holy banquet join,
And in the dazzling goblet laughs the wine.
"""
"""
The rage of thirst and hunger now suppress’d,
The monarch turns him to his royal guest;
And for the promised journey bids prepare
The smooth hair’d horses, and the rapid car.
Observant of his word, tire word scarce spoke,
The sons obey, and join them to the yoke.
Then bread and wine a ready handmaid brings,
And presents, such as suit the state of kings.
The glittering seat Telemachus ascends;
His faithful guide Pisistratus attends;
With hasty hand the ruling reins he drew;
He lash’d the coursers, and the coursers flew.
Beneath the bounding yoke alike they hold
Their equal pace, and smoked along the field.
The towers of Pylos sink, its views decay,
Fields after fields fly back, till close of day;
Then sunk the sun, and darken’d all the way.
"""
"""
To Pherae now, Diocleus’ stately seat
(Of Alpheus’ race), the weary youths retreat.
His house affords the hospitable rite,
And pleased they sleep (the blessing of the night).
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
With rosy lustre purpled o’er the lawn,
Again they mount, their journey to renew,
And from the sounding portico they flew.
Along the waving fields their way they hold
The fields receding as their chariot roll’d;
Then slowly sunk the ruddy globe of light,
And o’er the shaded landscape rush’d the night.
"""
''Argument.''
''The Conference with Menelaus.''
//Telemachus with Pisistratus arriving at Sparta, is hospitably received by Menelaus to whom he relates the cause of his coming, and learns from him many particulars of what befell the Greeks since the destruction of Troy. He dwells more at large upon the prophecies of Proteus to him in his return; from which he acquaints Telemachus that Ulysses is detained in the island of Calypso.//
//In the meantime the suitors consult to destroy Telemachus on the voyage home. Penelope is apprised of this; but comforted in a dream by Pallas, in the shape of her sister Iphthima.//
"""
And now proud Sparta with their wheels resounds,
Sparta whose walls a range of hills surrounds;
At the fair dome the rapid labour ends;
Where sate Atrides ‘midst his bridal friends,
With double vows invoking Hymen’s power,
To bless his son’s and daughter’s nuptial hour.
"""
"""
That day, to great Achilles son resign’d,
Hermione, the fairest of her kind,
Was sent to crown the long-protracted joy,
Espoused before the final doom of Troy;
With steeds and gilded cars, a gorgeous train
Attend the nymphs to Phthia’s distant reign.
Meanwhile at home, to Megapentha’s bed
The virgin choir Alector’s daughter led.
Brave Megapenthas From a stolen amour
To great Atrides’ age his handmaid bore;
To Helen’s bed the gods alone assign
Hermione, to extend the regal line;
On whom a radiant pomp oh Graces wait,
Resembling Venus in attractive state.
"""
"""
While this gay friendly troop the king surround,
With festival and mirth the roofs resound;
A bard amid the joyous circle sings
High airs attemper’d to the vocal strings;
Whilst warbling to the varied strain, advance
Two sprightly youths to form the bounding dance,
’Twas then, that issuing through the palace gate,
The splendid car roll’d slow in regal state:
On the bright eminence young Nestor shone,
And fast beside him great Ulysses’ son;
Grave Eteoneous saw the pomp appear,
And speeding, thus address’d the royal ear;
"""
"""
“Two youths approach, whose semblant features prove
Their blood devolving from the source of Jove
Is due reception deign’d, or must they bend
Their doubtful course to seek a distant friend?”
"""
"""
“Insensate! (with a sigh the king replies,)
Too long, misjudging, have I thought thee wise
But sure relentless folly steals thy breast,
Obdurate to reject the stranger-guest;
To those dear hospitable rites a foe,
Which in my wanderings oft relieved my woe;
Fed by the bounty of another’s board,
Till pitying Jove my native realm restored —
Straight be the coursers from the car released,
Conduct the youths to grace the genial feast.”
"""
"""
The seneschal, rebuked, in haste withdrew;
With equal haste a menial train pursue:
Part led the coursers, from the car enlarged,
Each to a crib with choicest grain surcharged;
Part in a portico, profusely graced
With rich magnificence, the chariot placed;
Then to the dome the friendly pair invite,
Who eye the dazzling roofs with vast delight;
Resplendent as the blaze of summer noon,
Or the pale radiance of the midnight moon.
From room to room their eager view they bend
Thence to the bath, a beauteous pile, descend;
Where a bright damsel train attends the guests
With liquid odours, and embroider’d vests.
Refresh’d, they wait them to the bower of state,
Where, circled with his pears, Atrides sate;
Throned next the king, a fair attendant brings
The purest product of the crystal springs;
High on a massy vase of silver mould,
The burnish’d laver flames with solid gold,
In solid gold the purple vintage flows,
And on the board a second banquet rose.
When thus the king, with hospitable port;
“Accept this welcome to the Spartan court:
The waste of nature let the feast repair,
Then your high lineage and your names declare;
Say from what sceptred ancestry ye claim,
Recorded eminent in deathless fame,
For vulgar parents cannot stamp their race
With signatures of such majestic grace.”
"""
"""
Ceasing, benevolent he straight assigns
The royal portion of the choicest chines
To each accepted friend; with grateful haste
They share the honours of the rich repast.
Sufficed, soft whispering thus to Nestor’s son,
His head reclined, young Ithacus begun:
"""
"""
“View’st thou unmoved, O ever-honour’d most!
These prodigies of art, and wondrous cost!
Above, beneath, around the palace shines
The sunless treasure of exhausted mines;
The spoils of elephants the roofs inlay,
And studded amber darts the golden ray;
Such, and not nobler, in the realms above
My wonder dictates is the dome of Jove.”
"""
"""
The monarch took the word, and grave replied:
“Presumptuous are the vaunts, and vain the pride
Of man, who dares in pomp with Jove contest,
Unchanged, immortal, and supremely blest!
With all my affluence, when my woes are weigh’d,
Envy will own the purchase dearly paid.
For eight slow-circling years, by tempests toss’d,
From Cypress to the far Phoenician coast
(Sidon the capital), I stretch’d my toil
Through regions fatten’d with the flows of Nile.
Next Aethiopia’s utmost bound explore,
And the parch’d borders of the Arabian shore;
Then warp my voyage on the southern gales,
O’er the warm Lybian wave to spread my sails;
That happy clime, where each revolving year
The teeming ewes a triple offspring bear;
And two fair crescents of translucent horn
The brows of all their young increase adorn:
The shepherd swains, with sure abundance blest,
On the fat flock and rural dainties feast;
Nor want of herbage makes the dairy fail,
But every season fills the foaming pail.
Whilst, heaping unwash’d wealth, I distant roam,
The best of brothers, at his natal home,
By the dire fury of a traitress wife,
Ends the sad evening of a stormy life;
Whence, with incessant grief my soul annoy’d,
These riches are possess’d, but not enjoy’d!
My wars, the copious theme of every tongue,
To you your fathers have recorded long.
How favouring Heaven repaid my glorious toils
With a sack’d palace, and barbaric spoils.
Oh! had the gods so large a boon denied
And life, the just equivalent supplied
To those brave warriors, who, with glory fired
Far from their country, in my cause expired!
Still in short intervals of pleasing woe.
Regardful of the friendly dues I owe,
I to the glorious dead, for ever dear!
Indulge the tribute of a grateful tear.
But oh! Ulysses — deeper than the rest
That sad idea wounds my anxious breast!
My heart bleeds fresh with agonizing pain;
The bowl and tasteful viands tempt in vain;
Nor sleep’s soft power can close my streaming eyes,
When imaged to my soul his sorrows rise.
No peril in my cause he ceased to prove,
His labours equall’d only by my love:
And both alike to bitter fortune born,
For him to suffer, and for me to mourn!
Whether he wanders on some friendly coast,
Or glides in Stygian gloom a pensive ghost,
No fame reveals; but, doubtful of his doom,
His good old sire with sorrow to the tomb
Declines his trembling steps; untimely care
Withers the blooming vigour of his heir;
And the chaste partner of his bed and throne
Wastes all her widow’d hours in tender moan.”
"""
"""
While thus pathetic to the prince he spoke,
From the brave youth the streaming passion broke;
Studious to veil the grief, in vain repress’d,
His face he shrouded with his purple vest.
The conscious monarch pierced the coy disguise,
And view’d his filial love with vast surprise:
Dubious to press the tender theme, or wait
To hear the youth inquire his father’s fate.
In this suspense bright Helen graced the room;
Before her breathed a gale of rich perfume.
So moves, adorn’d with each attractive grace,
The silver shafted goddess of the chase!
The seat of majesty Adraste brings,
With art illustrious, for the pomp of kings;
To spread the pall (beneath the regal chair)
Of softest wool, is bright Alcippe’s care.
A silver canister, divinely wrought,
In her soft hands the beauteous Phylo brought;
To Sparta’s queen of old the radiant vase
Alcandra gave, a pledge of royal grace;
For Polybus her lord (whose sovereign sway
The wealthy tribes of Pharian Thebes obey),
When to that court Atrides came, caress’d
With vast munificence the imperial guest:
Two lavers from the richest ore refined,
With silver tripods, the kind host assign’d;
And bounteous from the royal treasure told
Ten equal talents of refulgent gold.
Alcandra, consort of his high command,
A golden distaff gave to Helen’s hand;
And that rich vase, with living sculpture wrought,
Which heap’d with wool the beauteous Phylo brought
The silken fleece, impurpled for the loom,
Rivall’d the hyacinth in vernal bloom.
The sovereign seat then Jove born Helen press’d,
And pleasing thus her sceptred lord address’d:
"""
"""
“Who grace our palace now, that friendly pair,
Speak they their lineage, or their names declare?
Uncertain of the truth, yet uncontroll’d,
Hear me the bodings of my breast unfold.
With wonder wrapp’d on yonder check I trace
The feature of the Ulyssean race:
Diffused o’er each resembling line appear,
In just similitude, the grace and air
Of young Telemachus! the lovely boy,
Who bless’d Ulysses with a father’s joy,
What time the Greeks combined their social arms,
To avenge the stain of my ill-fated charms!”
"""
"""
“Just is thy thought, (the king assenting cries,)
Methinks Ulysses strikes my wondering eyes;
Full shines the father in the filial frame,
His port, his features, and his shape the same;
Such quick regards his sparkling eyes bestow;
Such wavy ringlets o’er his shoulders flow
And when he heard the long disastrous store
Of cares, which in my cause Ulysses bore;
Dismay’d, heart-wounded with paternal woes,
Above restraint the tide of sorrow rose;
Cautious to let the gushing grief appear,
His purple garment veil’d the falling tear.”
"""
"""
“See there confess’d (Pisistratus replies)
The genuine worth of Ithacus the wise!
Of that heroic sire the youth is sprung,
But modest awe hath chain’d his timorous tongue.
Thy voice, O king! with pleased attention heard,
Is like the dictates of a god revered.
With him, at Nestor’s high command, I came,
Whose age I honour with a parent’s name.
By adverse destiny constrained to sue
For counsel and redress, he sues to you
Whatever ill the friendless orphan bears,
Bereaved of parents in his infant years,
Still must the wrong’d Telemachus sustain,
If, hopeful of your aid, he hopes in vain;
Affianced in your friendly power alone,
The youth would vindicate the vacant throne.”
"""
"""
“Is Sparta blest, and these desiring eyes
View my friend’s son? (the king exalting cries;)
Son of my friend, by glorious toils approved,
Whose sword was sacred to the man he loved;
Mirror of constant faith, revered and mourn’d —
When Troy was ruin’d, had the chief return’d,
No Greek an equal space had ere possess’d,
Of dear affection, in my grateful breast.
I, to confirm the mutual joys we shared,
For his abode a capital prepared;
Argos, the seat of sovereign rule, I chose;
Fair in the plan the future palace rose,
Where my Ulysses and his race might reign,
And portion to his tribes the wide domain,
To them my vassals had resign’d a soil,
With teeming plenty to reward their toil.
There with commutual zeal we both had strove
In acts of dear benevolence and love:
Brothers in peace, not rivals in command,
And death alone dissolved the friendly band!
Some envious power the blissful scene destroys;
Vanish’d are all the visionary joys;
The soul of friendship to my hope is lost,
Fated to wander from his natal coast!”
"""
"""
He ceased; a gush of grief began to rise:
Fast streams a tide from beauteous Helen’s eyes;
Fast for the sire the filial sorrows flow;
The weeping monarch swells the mighty woe;
Thy cheeks, Pisistratus, the tears bedew,
While pictured so thy mind appear’d in view,
Thy martial brother; on the Phrygian plain
Extended pale, by swarthy Memnon slain!
But silence soon the son of Nestor broke,
And melting with fraternal pity, spoke:
"""
"""
“Frequent, O king, was Nestor wont to raise
And charm attention with thy copious praise;
To crowd thy various gifts, the sage assign’d
The glory of a firm capacious mind;
With that superior attribute control
This unavailing impotence of soul,
Let not your roof with echoing grief resound,
Now for the feast the friendly bowl is crown’d;
But when, from dewy shade emerging bright,
Aurora streaks the sky with orient light,
Let each deplore his dead; the rites of woe
Are all, alas! the living can bestow;
O’er the congenial dust enjoin’d to shear
The graceful curl, and drop the tender tear.
Then, mingling in the mournful pomp with you,
I’ll pay my brother’s ghost a warrior’s due,
And mourn the brave Antilochus, a name
Not unrecorded in the rolls of fame;
With strength and speed superior form’d, in fight
To face the foe, or intercept his flight;
Too early snatch’d by fate ere known to me!
I boast a witness of his worth in thee.”
"""
"""
“Young and mature! (the monarch thus rejoins,)
In thee renew’d the soul of Nestor shines;
Form’d by the care of that consummate sage,
In early bloom an oracle of age.
Whene’er his influence Jove vouchsafes to shower,
To bless the natal and the nuptial hour;
From the great sire transmissive to the race,
The boon devolving gives distinguish’d grace.
Such, happy Nestor! was thy glorious doom,
Around thee, full of years, thy offspring bloom.
Expert of arms, and prudent in debate;
The gifts of Heaven to guard thy hoary state.
But now let each becalm his troubled breast,
Wash, and partake serene the friendly feast.
To move thy suit, Telemachus, delay,
Till heaven’s revolving lamp restores the day.”
"""
"""
He said, Asphalion swift the laver brings;
Alternate, all partake the grateful springs;
Then from the rites of purity repair,
And with keen gust the savoury viands share.
Meantime, with genial joy to warm the soul,
Bright Helen mix’d a mirth inspiring bowl;
Temper’d with drugs of sovereign use, to assuage
The boiling bosom of tumultuous rage;
To clear the cloudy front of wrinkled Care,
And dry the tearful sluices of Despair;
Charm’d with that virtuous draught, the exalted mind
All sense of woe delivers to the wind.
Though on the blazing pile his parent lay.
Or a loved brother groan’d his life away.
Or darling son, oppress’d by ruffian force,
Fell breathless at his feet, a mangled corse;
From morn to eve, impassive and serene,
The man entranced would view the dreadful scene
These drugs, so friendly to the joys of life.
Bright Helen learn’d from Thone’s imperial wife;
Who sway’d the sceptre, where prolific Nile
With various simples clothes the fatten’d soil.
With wholesome herbage mix’d, the direful bane
Of vegetable venom taints the plain;
From Paeon sprung, their patron-god imparts
To all the Pharian race his healing arts.
The beverage now prepared to inspire the feast,
The circle thus the beauteous queen addressed:
"""
"""
“Throned in omnipotence, supremest Jove
Tempers the fates of human race above;
By the firm sanction of his sovereign will,
Alternate are decreed our good and ill.
To feastful mirth be this white hour assign’d.
And sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind
Myself, assisting in the social joy,
Will tell Ulysses’ bold exploit in Troy,
Sole witness of the deed I now declare
Speak you (who saw) his wonders in the war.
"""
"""
“Seam’d o’er with wounds, which his own sabre gave,
In the vile habit of a village slave,
The foe deceived, he pass’d the tented plain,
In Troy to mingle with the hostile train.
In this attire secure from searching eyes,
Till happily piercing through the dark disguise,
The chief I challenged; he, whose practised wit
Knew all the serpent mazes of deceit,
Eludes my search; but when his form I view’d
Fresh from the bath, with fragrant oils renew’d,
His limbs in military purple dress’d,
Each brightening grace the genuine Greek confess’d.
A previous pledge of sacred faith obtain’d,
Till he the lines and Argive fleet regain’d,
To keep his stay conceal’d; the chief declared
The plans of war against the town prepared.
Exploring then the secrets of the state,
He learn’d what best might urge the Dardan fate;
And, safe returning to the Grecian host,
Sent many a shade to Pluto’s dreary coast.
Loud grief resounded through the towers of Troy,
But my pleased bosom glow’d with secret joy:
For then, with dire remorse and conscious shame
I view’d the effects of that disastrous flame.
Which, kindled by the imperious queen of love,
Constrain’d me from my native realm to rove:
And oft in bitterness of soul deplored
My absent daughter and my dearer lord;
Admired among the first of human race,
For every gift of mind and manly grace.”
"""
"""
“Right well (replied the king) your speech displays
The matchless merit of the chief you praise:
Heroes in various climes myself have found,
For martial deeds and depth of thought renown’d;
But Ithacus, unrivall’d in his claim,
May boast a title to the loudest fame:
In battle calm he guides the rapid storm,
Wise to resolve, and patient to perform.
What wondrous conduct in the chief appear’d,
When the vast fabric of the steed we rear’d!
Some demon, anxious for the Trojan doom,
Urged you with great Deiphobus to come,
To explore the fraud; with guile opposed to guile.
Slow-pacing thrice around the insidious pile,
Each noted leader’s name you thrice invoke,
Your accent varying as their spouses spoke!
The pleasing sounds each latent warrior warm’d,
But most Tydides’ and coy heart alarm’d:
To quit the steed we both impatient press
Threatening to answer from the dark recess.
Unmoved the mind of Ithacus remain’d;
And the vain ardours of our love restrain’d;
But Anticlus, unable to control,
Spoke loud the language of his yearning soul:
Ulysses straight, with indignation fired
(For so the common care of Greece required),
Firm to his lips his forceful hands applied,
Till on his tongue the fluttering murmurs died.
Meantime Minerva, from the fraudful horse,
Back to the court of Priam bent your course.”
"""
"""
“Inclement fate! (Telemachus replies,)
Frail is the boasted attribute of wise:
The leader mingling with the vulgar host,
Is in the common mass of matter lost!
But now let sleep the painful waste repair
Of sad reflection and corroding care.”
He ceased; the menial fair that round her wait,
At Helen’s beck prepare the room of state;
Beneath an ample portico they spread
The downy fleece to form the slumberous bed;
And o’er soft palls of purple grain unfold
Rich tapestry, stiff with interwoven gold:
Then, through the illumined dome, to balmy rest
The obsequious herald guides each princely guest;
While to his regal bower the king ascends,
And beauteous Helen on her lord attends.
Soon as the morn, in orient purple dress’d,
Unbarr’d the portal of the roseate east,
The monarch rose; magnificent to view,
The imperial mantle o’er his vest he threw;
The glittering zone athwart his shoulders cast,
A starry falchion low-depending graced;
Clasp’d on his feet the embroidered sandals shine;
And forth he moves, majestic and divine,
Instant to young Telemachus he press’d;
And thus benevolent his speech addressed:
"""
"""
“Say, royal youth, sincere of soul report
Whit cause hath led you to the Spartan court?
Do public or domestic care constrain
This toilsome voyage o’er the surgy main?”
"""
"""
“O highly-flavour’d delegate of Jove!
(Replies the prince) inflamed with filial love,
And anxious hope, to hear my parent’s doom,
A suppliant to your royal court I come:
Our sovereign seat a lewd usurping race
With lawless riot and misrule disgrace;
To pamper’d insolence devoted fall
Prime of the flock, and choicest of the stall:
For wild ambition wings their bold desire,
And all to mount the imperial bed aspire.
But prostrate I implore, O king! relate
The mournful series of my father’s fate:
Each known disaster of the man disclose,
Born by his mother to a world of woes!
Recite them; nor in erring pity fear
To wound with storied grief the filial ear.
If e’er Ulysses, to reclaim your right,
Avow’d his zeal in council or in fight,
If Phrygian camps the friendly toils attest,
To the sire’s merit give the son’s request.”
"""
"""
Deep from his inmost soul Atrides sigh’d,
And thus, indignant, to the prince replied:
“Heavens! would a soft, inglorious, dastard train
An absent hero’s nuptial joys profane!
So with her young, amid the woodland shades,
A timorous hind the lion’s court invades,
Leaves in the fatal lair the tender fawns,
Climbs the green cliff, or feeds the flowery lawns:
Meantime return’d, with dire remorseless sway,
The monarch-savage rends the trembling prey.
With equal fury, and with equal fame,
Ulysses soon shall reassert his claim.
O Jove supreme, whom gods and men revere!
And thou! to whom ’tis given to gild the sphere!
With power congenial join’d, propitious aid
The chief adopted by the martial maid!
Such to our wish the warrior soon restore,
As when contending on the Lesbian shore
His prowess Philomelidies confess’d,
And loud-acclaiming Greeks the victor bless’d;
Then soon the invaders of his bed and throne
Their love presumptuous shall with life atone.
With patient ear, O royal youth, attend
The storied labour of thy father’s friend:
Fruitful of deeds, the copious tale is long,
But truth severe shall dictate to my tongue:
Learn what I heard the sea-born seer relate,
Whose eye can pierce the dark recess of fate.
"""
"""
“Long on the Egyptian coast by calms confined,
Heaven to my fleet refused a prosperous wind;
No vows had we preferr’d, nor victims slain!
For this the gods each favouring gale restrain
Jealous, to see their high behests obey’d;
Severe, if men the eternal rights evade.
High o’er a gulfy sea, the Pharian isle
Fronts the deep roar of disemboguing Nile:
Her distance from the shore, the course begun
At dawn, and ending with the setting sun,
A galley measures; when the stiffer gales
Rise on the poop, and fully stretch the sails.
There, anchor’d vessels safe in harbour lie,
Whilst limpid springs the failing cask supply.
"""
"""
“And now the twentieth sun, descending, laves
His glowing axle in the western waves:
Still with expanded sails we court in vain
Propitious winds to waft us o’er the main;
And the pale mariner at once deplores
His drooping vigour and exhausted stores.
When lo! a bright cerulean form appears,
Proteus her sire divine. With pity press’d,
Me sole the daughter of the deep address’d;
What time, with hunger pined, my absent mates
Roam the wide isle in search of rural cates,
Bait the barb’d steel, and from the fishy flood
Appease the afflictive fierce desire of food.”
"""
"""
“‘Whoe’er thou art (the azure goddess cries)
Thy conduct ill-deserves the praise of wise:
Is death thy choice, or misery thy boast,
That here inglorious, on a barren coast,
Thy brave associates droop, a meagre train,
With famine pale, and ask thy care in vain?’
“Struck with the loud reproach, I straight reply:
‘Whate’er thy title in thy native sky,
A goddess sure! for more than moral grace
Speaks thee descendant of ethereal race;
Deem not that here of choice my fleet remains;
Some heavenly power averse my stay constrains:
O, piteous of my fate, vouchsafe to show
(For what’s sequester’d from celestial view?)
What power becalms the innavigable seas?
What guilt provokes him, and what vows appease?’
"""
"""
“I ceased, when affable the goddess cried:
‘Observe, and in the truths I speak confide;
The oracular seer frequents the Pharian coast,
From whose high bed my birth divine I boast;
Proteus, a name tremendous o’er the main,
The delegate of Neptune’s watery reign.
Watch with insidious care his known abode;
There fast in chains constrain the various god;
Who bound, obedient to superior force,
Unerring will prescribe your destined course.
If, studious on your realms, you then demand
Their state, since last you left your natal land,
Instant the god obsequious will disclose
Bright tracts of glory or a cloud of woes.’
"""
"""
“She ceased; and suppliant thus I made reply:
‘O goddess I on thy aid my hopes rely;
Dictate propitious to my duteous ear,
What arts can captivate the changeful seer;
For perilous the assay, unheard the toil,
To elude the prescience of a god by guile.’
"""
"""
“Thus to the goddess mild my suit I end.
Then she: ‘Obedient to my rule attend:
When through the zone of heaven the mounted sun
Hath journeyed half, and half remains to run;
The seer, while zephyrs curl the swelling deep,
Basks on the breezy shore, in grateful sleep,
His oozy limbs. Emerging from the wave,
The Phocas swift surround his rocky cave,
Frequent and full; the consecrated train
Of her, whose azure trident awes the main;
There wallowing warm, the enormous herd exhales
An oily steam, and taints the noontide gales.
To that recess, commodious for surprise,
When purple light shall next suffuse the skies,
With me repair; and from thy warrior-band
Three chosen chiefs of dauntless soul command;
Let their auxiliar force befriend the toil;
For strong the god, and perfected in guile.
Strech’d on the shelly shore, he first surveys
The flouncing herd ascending from the seas;
Their number summ’d, reposed in sleep profound
The scaly charge their guardian god surround;
So with his battening flocks the careful swain
Abides pavilion’d on the grassy plain.
With powers united, obstinately bold,
Invade him, couch’d amid the scaly fold;
Instant he wears, elusive of the rape,
The mimic force of every savage shape;
Or glides with liquid lapse a murmuring stream,
Or, wrapp’d in flame, he glows at every limb.
Yet, still retentive, with redoubled might,
Through each vain passive form constrain his flight
But when, his native shape renamed, he stands
Patient of conquest, and your cause demands;
The cause that urged the bold attempt declare,
And soothe the vanquish’d with a victor’s prayer.
The bands releas’d, implore the seer to say
What godhead interdicts the watery way.
Who, straight propitious, in prophetic strain
Will teach you to repass the unmeasured main.
She ceased, and bounding from the shelfy shore,
Round the descending nymph the waves resounding roar.
"""
"""
“High wrapp’d in wonder of the future deed,
with joy impetuous to the port I speed:
The wants of nature with repast suffice,
Till night with grateful shade involved the skies,
And shed ambrosial dews. Fast by the deep,
Along the tented shore, in balmy sleep,
Our cares were lost. When o’er the eastern lawn,
In saffron robes, the daughter of the dawn
Advanced her rosy steps, before the bay
Due ritual honours to the gods I pay;
Then seek the place the sea-born nymph assign’d,
With three associates of undaunted mind.
Arrived, to form along the appointed strand
For each a bed, she scoops the hilly sand;
Then, from her azure cave the finny spoils
Of four vast Phocae takes, to veil her wiles;
Beneath the finny spoils extended prone,
Hard toil! the prophet’s piercing eye to shun;
New from the corse, the scaly frauds diffuse
Unsavoury stench of oil, and brackish ooze;
But the bright sea-maid’s gentle power implored,
With nectar’d drops the sickening sense restored.
"""
"""
“Thus till the sun had travell’d half the skies,
Ambush’d we lie, and wait the bold emprise;
When, thronging quick to bask in open air,
The flocks of ocean to the strand repair;
Couch’d on the sunny sand, the monsters sleep;
Then Proteus, mounting from the hoary deep,
Surveys his charge, unknowing of deceit;
(In order told, we make the sum complete.)
Pleased with the false review, secure he lies,
And leaden slumbers press his drooping eyes.
Rushing impetuous forth, we straight prepare
A furious onset with the sound of war,
And shouting seize the god; our force to evade,
His various arts he soon resumes in aid;
A lion now, he curls a surgy mane;
Sudden our hands a spotted paid restrain;
Then, arm’d with tusks, and lightning in his eyes,
A boar’s obscener shape the god belies;
On spiry volumes, there a dragon rides;
Here, from our strict embrace a stream he glides.
At last, sublime, his stately growth he rears
A tree, and well-dissembled foliage wears.
Vain efforts with superior power compress’d,
Me with reluctance thus the seer address’d;
‘Say, son of Atreus, say what god inspired
This daring fraud, and what the boon desired?’
I thus: ‘O thou, whose certain eye foresees
The fix’d event of fate’s remote decrees;
After long woes, and various toil endured,
Still on this desert isle my fleet is moor’d,
Unfriended of the gales. All-knowing, say,
What godhead interdicts the watery way?
What vows repentant will the power appease,
To speed a prosperous voyage o’er the seas.’
"""
"""
“‘To Jove (with stern regard the god replies)
And all the offended synod of the skies,
Just hecatombs with due devotion slain,
Thy guilt absolved, a prosperous voyage gain.
To the firm sanction of thy fate attend!
An exile thou, nor cheering face of friend,
Nor sight of natal shore, nor regal dome,
Shalt yet enjoy, but still art doom’d to roam.
Once more the Nile, who from the secret source
Of Jove’s high seat descends with sweepy force,
Must view his billows white beneath thy oar,
And altars blaze along his sanguine shore.
Then will the gods with holy pomp adored,
To thy long vows a safe return accord.’
"""
"""
“He ceased: heart wounded with afflictive pain,
(Doom’d to repeat the perils of the main,
A shelfy track and long!) ‘O seer’ I cry,
‘To the stern sanction of the offended sky
My prompt obedience bows. But deign to say
What fate propitious, or what dire dismay,
Sustain those peers, the relics of our host,
Whom I with Nestor on the Phrygian coast
Embracing left? Must I the warriors weep,
Whelm’d in the bottom of the monstrous deep?
Or did the kind domestic friend deplore
The breathless heroes on their native shore?
"""
"""
“‘Press not too far,’ replied the god: ‘but cease
To know what, known, will violate thy peace;
Too curious of their doom! with friendly woe
Thy breast will heave, and tears eternal flow.
Part live! the rest, a lamentable train!
Range the dark bounds of Pluto’s dreary reign.
Two, foremost in the roll of Mars renown’d,
Whose arms with conquest in thy cause were crown’d,
Fell by disastrous fate: by tempests toss’d,
A third lives wretched on a distant coast.
"""
"""
“By Neptune rescued from Minerva’s hate,
On Gyrae, safe Oilean Ajax sate,
His ship o’erwhelm’d; but, frowning on the floods,
Impious he roar’d defiance to the gods;
To his own prowess all the glory gave:
The power defrauding who vouchsafed to save.
This heard the raging ruler of the main;
His spear, indignant for such high disdain,
He launched; dividing with his forky mace
The aerial summit from the marble base:
The rock rush’d seaward, with impetuous roar
Ingulf’d, and to the abyss the boaster bore.
"""
"""
“By Juno’s guardian aid, the watery vast,
Secure of storms, your royal brother pass’d,
Till, coasting nigh the cape where Malen shrouds
Her spiry cliffs amid surrounding clouds,
A whirling gust tumultuous from the shore
Across the deep his labouring vessel bore.
In an ill-fated hour the coast he gain’d,
Where late in regal pomp Thyestes reigned;
But, when his hoary honours bow’d to fate,
Aegysthus govern’d in paternal state,
The surges now subside, the tempest ends;
From his tall ship the king of men descends;
There fondly thinks the gods conclude his toil:
Far from his own domain salutes the soil;
With rapture oft the urge of Greece reviews,
And the dear turf with tears of joy bedews.
Him, thus exulting on the distant stand,
A spy distinguish’d from his airy stand;
To bribe whose vigilance, Aegysthus told
A mighty sum of ill-persuading gold:
There watch’d this guardian of his guilty fear,
Till the twelfth moon had wheel’d her pale career;
And now, admonish’d by his eye, to court
With terror wing’d conveys the dread report.
Of deathful arts expert, his lord employs
The ministers of blood in dark surprise;
And twenty youths, in radiant mail incased,
Close ambush’d nigh the spacious hall he placed.
Then bids prepare the hospitable treat:
Vain shows of love to veil his felon hate!
To grace the victor’s welcome from the wars,
A train of coursers and triumphal cars
Magnificent he leads: the royal guest,
Thoughtless of ill, accepts the fraudful feast.
The troop forth-issuing from the dark recess,
With homicidal rage the king oppress!
So, whilst he feeds luxurious in the stall,
The sovereign of the herd is doomed to fall,
The partners of his fame and toils at Troy,
Around their lord, a mighty ruin, lie:
Mix’d with the brave, the base invaders bleed;
Aegysthus sole survives to boast the deed.”
"""
"""
He said: chill horrors shook my shivering soul,
Rack’d wish convulsive pangs in dust I roll;
And hate, in madness of extreme despair,
To view the sun, or breathe the vital air.
But when, superior to the rage of woe,
I stood restored and tears had ceased to flow,
Lenient of grief the pitying god began:
‘Forget the brother, and resume the man.
To Fate’s supreme dispose the dead resign,
That care be Fate’s, a speedy passage thine
Still lives the wretch who wrought the death deplored,
But lives a victim for thy vengeful sword;
Unless with filial rage Orestes glow,
And swift prevent the meditated blow:
You timely will return a welcome guest,
With him to share the sad funereal feast.”
"""
"""
“He said: new thoughts my beating heart employ,
My gloomy soul receives a gleam of joy.
Fair hope revives; and eager I address’d
The prescient godhead to reveal the rest:
‘The doom decreed of those disastrous two
I’ve heard with pain, but oh! the tale pursue;
What third brave son of Mars the Fates constrain
To roam the howling desert of the main;
Or, in eternal shade of cold he lies,
Provoke new sorrows from these grateful eyes.’
"""
"""
“‘That chief (rejoin’d the god) his race derives
From Ithaca, and wondrous woes survives;
Laertes’ son: girt with circumfluous tides,
He still calamitous constraint abides.
Him in Calypso’s cave of late! view’d,
When streaming grief his faded cheek bedow’d.
But vain his prayer, his arts are vain, to move
The enamour’d goddess, or elude her love:
His vessel sunk, and dear companions lost,
He lives reluctant on a foreign coast.
But oh, beloved by Heaven! reserved to thee
A happier lot the smiling Fates decree:
Free from that law, beneath whose mortal sway
Matter is changed, and varying forms decay,
Elysium shall be thine: the blissful plains
Of utmost earth, where Rhadamanthus reigns.
Joys ever young, unmix’d with pain or fear,
Fill the wide circle of the eternal year:
Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime:
The fields are florid with unfading prime;
From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow,
Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow;
But from the breezy deep the blest inhale
The fragrant murmurs of the western gale.
This grace peculiar will the gods afford
To thee, the son of Jove, and beauteous Helen’s lord.’
"""
"""
“He ceased, and plunging in the vast profound,
Beneath the god and whirling billows bound.
Then speeding back, involved in various thought,
My friends attending at the shore I sought,
Arrived, the rage of hunger we control
Till night with silent shade invests the pole;
Then lose the cares of life in pleasing rest.
Soon as the morn reveals the roseate east,
With sails we wing the masts, our anchors weigh,
Unmoor the fleet, and rush into the sea.
Ranged on the banks, beneath our equal oars
White curl the waves, and the vex’d ocean roars
Then, steering backward from the Pharian isle,
We gain the stream of Jove-descended Nile;
There quit the ships, and on the destined shore
With ritual hecatombs the gods adore;
Their wrath atoned, to Agamemnon’s name
A cenotaph I raise of deathless fame.
These rites to piety and grief discharged,
The friendly gods a springing gale enlarged;
The fleet swift tilting o’er the surges flew,
Till Grecian cliffs appear’d a blissful view!
"""
"""
“Thy patient ear hath heard me long relate
A story, fruitful of disastrous fate.
And now, young prince, indulge my fond request;
Be Sparta honoured with his royal guest,
Till, from his eastern goal, the joyous sun
His twelfth diurnal race begins to run.
Meantime my train the friendly gifts prepare,
The sprightly coursers and a polish’d car;
With these a goblet of capacious mould,
Figured with art to dignify the gold
(Form’d for libation to the gods), shall prove
A pledge and monument of sacred love.”
"""
"""
“My quick return (young Ithacus rejoin’d),
Damps the warm wishes of my raptured mind;
Did not my fate my needful haste constrain,
Charm’d by your speech so graceful and humane,
Lost in delight the circling year would roll,
While deep attention fix’d my listening soul.
But now to Pyle permit my destined way,
My loved associates chide my long delay:
In dear remembrance of your royal grace,
I take the present of the promised vase;
The coursers, for the champaign sports retain;
That gift our barren rocks will render vain:
Horrid with cliffs, our meagre land allows
Thin herbage for the mountain goat to browse,
But neither mead nor plain supplies, to feed
The sprightly courser, or indulge his speed:
To sea-surrounded realms the gods assign
Small tract of fertile lawn, the least to mine.”
"""
"""
His hand the king with tender passion press’d,
And, smiling, thus the royal youth address’d:
“O early worth! a soul so wise, and young,
Proclaims you from the sage Ulysses sprung.
Selected from my stores, of matchless price,
An urn shall recompense your prudent choice;
By Vulcan’s art, the verge with gold enchased.
A pledge the sceptred power of Sidon gave,
When to his realm I plough’d the orient wave.”
"""
"""
Thus they alternate; while, with artful care,
The menial train the regal feast prepare.
The firstlings of the flock are doom’d to die:
Rich fragrant wines the cheering bowl supply;
A female band the gift of Ceres bring;
And the gilt roofs with genial triumph ring.
"""
"""
Meanwhile, in Ithaca, the suitor powers
In active games divide their jovial hours;
In areas varied with mosaic art,
Some whirl the disk, and some the javelin dart,
Aside, sequester’d from the vast resort,
Antinous sole spectator of the sport;
With great Eurymachus, of worth confess’d,
And high descent, superior to the rest;
Whom young Noemon lowly thus address’d:—
"""
"""
“My ship, equipp’d within the neighboring port,
The prince, departing for the Pylian court,
Requested for his speed; but, courteous, say
When steers he home, or why this long delay?
For Elis I should sail with utmost speed.
To import twelve mares which there luxurious feed,
And twelve young mules, a strong laborious race,
New to the plow, unpractised in the trace.”
"""
"""
Unknowing of the course to Pyle design’d,
A sudden horror seized on either mind;
The prince in rural bower they fondly thought,
Numbering his flocks and herds, not far remote.
“Relate (Antinous cries), devoid of guile,
When spread the prince his sale for distant Pyle?
Did chosen chiefs across the gulfy main
Attend his voyage, or domestic train?
Spontaneous did you speed his secret course,
Or was the vessel seized by fraud or force?”
"""
"""
“With willing duty, not reluctant mind
(Noemon cried), the vessel was resign’d,
Who, in the balance, with the great affairs
Of courts presume to weigh their private cares?
With him, the peerage next in power to you;
And Mentor, captain of the lordly crew,
Or some celestial in his reverend form,
Safe from the secret rock and adverse storm,
Pilot’s the course; for when the glimmering ray
Of yester dawn disclosed the tender day,
Mentor himself I saw, and much admired,”
Then ceased the youth, and from the court retired.
"""
"""
Confounded and appall’d, the unfinish’d game
The suitors quit, and all to council came.
Antinous first the assembled peers address’d.
Rage sparkling in his eyes, and burning in his breast
"""
"""
“O shame to manhood! shall one daring boy
The scheme of all our happiness destroy?
Fly unperceived, seducing half the flower
Of nobles, and invite a foreign power?
The ponderous engine raised to crush us all,
Recoiling, on his head is sure to fall.
Instant prepare me, on the neighbouring strand,
With twenty chosen mates a vessel mann’d;
For ambush’d close beneath the Samian shore
His ship returning shall my spies explore;
He soon his rashness shall with life atone,
Seek for his father’s fate, but find his own.”
"""
"""
With vast applause the sentence all approve;
Then rise, and to the feastful hall remove;
Swift to the queen the herald Medon ran,
Who heard the consult of the dire divan:
Before her dome the royal matron stands,
And thus the message of his haste demands;
"""
"""
“What will the suitors? must my servant-train
The allotted labours of the day refrain,
For them to form some exquisite repast?
Heaven grant this festival may prove their last!
Or, if they still must live, from me remove
The double plague of luxury and love!
Forbear, ye sons of insolence! forbear,
In riot to consume a wretched heir.
In the young soul illustrious thought to raise,
Were ye not tutor’d with Ulysses’ praise?
Have not your fathers oft my lord defined,
Gentle of speech, beneficent of mind?
Some kings with arbitrary rage devour,
Or in their tyrant-minions vest the power;
Ulysses let no partial favours fall,
The people’s parent, he protected all;
But absent now, perfidious and ingrate!
His stores ye ravage, and usurp his state.”
"""
"""
He thus: “O were the woes you speak the worst!
They form a deed more odious and accursed;
More dreadful than your boding soul divines;
But pitying Jove avert the dire designs!
The darling object of your royal care
Is marked to perish in a deathful snare;
Before he anchors in his native port,
From Pyle re-sailing and the Spartan court;
Horrid to speak! in ambush is decreed
The hope and heir of Ithaca to bleed!”
"""
"""
Sudden she sunk beneath the weighty woes,
The vital streams a chilling horror froze;
The big round tear stands trembling in her eye,
And on her tongue imperfect accents die.
At length in tender language interwove
With sighs, she thus expressed her anxious love;
“Why rarely would my son his fate explore,
Ride the wild waves, and quit the safer shore?
Did he with all the greatly wretched, crave
A blank oblivion, and untimely grave?”
"""
"""
“Tis not (replied the sage) to Medon given
To know, if some inhabitant of heaven
In his young breast the daring thought inspired
Or if, alone with filial duty fired,
The winds end waves he tempts in early bloom,
Studious to learn his absent father’s doom.”
"""
"""
The sage retired: unable to control
The mighty griefs that swell her labouring soul
Rolling convulsive on the floor is seen
The piteous object of a prostrate queen.
Words to her dumb complaint a pause supplies,
And breath, to waste in unavailing cries.
Around their sovereign wept the menial fair,
To whom she thus address’d her deep despair:
"""
"""
“Behold a wretch whom all the gods consign
To woe! Did ever sorrows equal mine?
Long to my joys my dearest lord is lost,
His country’s buckler, and the Grecian boast;
Now from my fond embrace, by tempests torn,
Our other column of the state is borne;
Nor took a kind adieu, nor sought consent! —
Unkind confederates in his dire intent!
Ill suits it with your shows of duteous zeal,
From me the purposed voyage to conceal;
Though at the solemn midnight hour he rose,
Why did you fear to trouble my repose?
He either had obey’d my fond desire,
Or seen his mother pierced with grief expire.
Bid Dolius quick attend, the faithful slave
Whom to my nuptial train Icarius gave
To tend the fruit groves: with incessant speed
He shall this violence of death decreed
To good Laertes tell. Experienced age
May timely intercept the ruffian rage.
Convene the tribes the murderous plot reveal,
And to their power to save his race appeal.”
"""
"""
Then Euryclea thus: “My dearest dread;
Though to the sword I bow this hoary head,
Or if a dungeon be the pain decreed,
I own me conscious of the unpleasing deed;
Auxiliar to his flight, my aid implored,
With wine and viands I the vessel stored;
A solemn oath, imposed, the secret seal’d,
Till the twelfth dawn the light of day reveal’d.
Dreading the effect of a fond mother’s fear,
He dared not violate your royal ear.
But bathe, and, in imperial robes array’d,
Pay due devotions to the martial maid,
And rest affianced in her guardian aid.
Send not to good Laertes, nor engage
In toils of state the miseries of age:
Tis impious to surmise the powers divine
To ruin doom the Jove-descended line;
Long shall the race of just Arcesius reign,
And isles remote enlarge his old domain.”
"""
"""
The queen her speech with calm attention hears,
Her eyes restrain the silver-streaming tears:
She bathes, and robed, the sacred dome ascends;
Her pious speed a female train attends:
The salted cakes in canisters are laid,
And thus the queen invokes Minerva’s aid;
"""
"""
“Daughter divine of Jove, whose arm can wield
The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield
If e’er Ulysses to thy fane preferr’d
The best and choicest of his flock and herd;
Hear, goddess, hear, by those oblations won;
And for the pious sire preserve the son;
His wish’d return with happy power befriend,
And on the suitors let thy wrath descend.”
"""
"""
She ceased; shrill ecstasies of joy declare
The favouring goddess present to the prayer;
The suitors heard, and deem’d the mirthful voice
A signal of her hymeneal choice;
Whilst one most jovial thus accosts the board:
"""
"""
“Too late the queen selects a second lord;
In evil hour the nuptial rite intends,
When o’er her son disastrous death impends.”
Thus he, unskill’d of what the fates provide!
But with severe rebuke Antinous cried:
"""
"""
“These empty vaunts will make the voyage vain:
Alarm not with discourse the menial train:
The great event with silent hope attend,
Our deeds alone our counsel must commend.”
His speech thus ended short, he frowning rose,
And twenty chiefs renowned for valour chose;
Down to the strand he speeds with haughty strides,
Where anchor’d in the bay the vessel rides,
Replete with mail and military store,
In all her tackle trim to quit the shore.
The desperate crew ascend, unfurl the sails
(The seaward prow invites the tardy gales);
Then take repast till Hesperus display’d
His golden circlet, in the western shade.
"""
"""
Meantime the queen, without reflection due,
Heart-wounded, to the bed of state withdrew:
In her sad breast the prince’s fortunes roll,
And hope and doubt alternate seize her soul.
So when the woodman’s toil her cave surrounds,
And with the hunter’s cry the grove resounds,
With grief and rage the mother-lion stung.
Fearless herself, yet trembles for her young
While pensive in the silent slumberous shade,
Sleep’s gentle powers her drooping eyes invade;
Minerva, life-like, on embodied air
Impress’d the form of Iphthima the fair;
(Icarius’ daughter she, whose blooming charms
Allured Eumelus to her virgin arms;
A sceptred lord, who o’er the fruitful plain
Of Thessaly wide stretched his ample reign:)
As Pallas will’d, along the sable skies,
To calm the queen, the phantom sister flies.
Swift on the regal dome, descending right,
The bolted valves are pervious to her flight.
Close to her head the pleasing vision stands,
And thus performs Minerva’s high commands
"""
"""
“O why, Penelope, this causeless fear,
To render sleep’s soft blessing unsincere?
Alike devote to sorrow’s dire extreme
The day-reflection, and the midnight-dream!
Thy son the gods propitious will restore,
And bid thee cease his absence to deplore.”
"""
"""
To whom the queen (whilst yet in pensive mind
Was in the silent gates of sleep confined):
“O sister to my soul forever dear,
Why this first visit to reprove my fear?
How in a realm so distant should you know
From what deep source ceaseless sorrows flow?
To all my hope my royal lord is lost,
His country’s buckler, and the Grecian boast;
And with consummate woe to weigh me down,
The heir of all his honours and his crown,
My darling son is fled! an easy prey
To the fierce storms, or men more fierce than they;
Who, in a league of blood associates sworn,
Will intercept the unwary youth’s return.”
"""
"""
“Courage resume (the shadowy form replied);
In the protecting care of Heaven confide;
On him attends the blue eyed martial maid:
What earthly can implore a surer aid?
Me now the guardian goddess deigns to send,
To bid thee patient his return attend.”
"""
"""
The queen replies: “If in the blest abodes,
A goddess, thou hast commerce with the gods;
Say, breathes my lord the blissful realm of light,
Or lies he wrapp’d in ever-during night?”
"""
"""
“Inquire not of his doom, (the phantom cries,)
I speak not all the counsel of the skies;
Nor must indulge with vain discourse, or long,
The windy satisfaction of the tongue.”
"""
"""
Swift through the valves the visionary fair
Repass’d, and viewless mix’d with common air.
The queen awakes, deliver’d of her woes;
With florid joy her heart dilating glows:
The vision, manifest of future fate,
Makes her with hope her son’s arrival wait.
"""
"""
Meantime the suitors plough the watery plain,
Telemachus in thought already slain!
When sight of lessening Ithaca was lost
Their sail directed for the Samian coast
A small but verdant isle appear’d in view,
And Asteris the advancing pilot knew;
An ample port the rocks projected form,
To break the rolling waves and ruffling storm:
That safe recess they gain with happy speed,
And in close ambush wait the murderous deed.
"""
''Argument''
''The Departure of Ulysses from Calypso''
//Pallas in a council of the gods complains of the detention of Ulysses in the Island of Calypso: whereupon Mercury is sent to command his removal. The seat of Calypso described. She consents with much difficulty; and Ulysses builds a vessel with his own hands, in which he embarks. Neptune overtakes him with a terrible tempest, in which he is shipwrecked, and in the last danger of death; till Lencothea, a sea-goddess, assists him, and, after innumerable perils, he gets ashore on Phaeacia.//
"""
The saffron morn, with early blushes spread,
Now rose refulgent from Tithonus’ bed;
With new-born day to gladden mortal sight,
And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light.
Then met the eternal synod of the sky,
Before the god, who thunders from on high,
Supreme in might, sublime in majesty.
Pallas, to these, deplores the unequal fates
Of wise Ulysses and his toils relates:
Her hero’s danger touch’d the pitying power,
The nymph’s seducements, and the magic bower.
Thus she began her plaint: “Immortal Jove!
And you who fill the blissful seats above!
Let kings no more with gentle mercy sway,
Or bless a people willing to obey,
But crush the nations with an iron rod,
And every monarch be the scourge of God.
If from your thoughts Ulysses you remove,
Who ruled his subjects with a father’s love,
Sole in an isle, encircled by the main,
Abandon’d, banish’d from his native reign,
Unbless’d he sighs, detained by lawless charms,
And press’d unwilling in Calypso’s arms.
Nor friends are there, nor vessels to convey,
Nor oars to cut the immeasurable way.
And now fierce traitors, studious to destroy
His only son, their ambush’d fraud employ;
Who, pious, following his great father’s fame,
To sacred Pylos and to Sparta came.”
"""
"""
“What words are these? (replied the power who forms
The clouds of night, and darkens heaven with storms;)
Is not already in thy soul decreed,
The chief’s return shall make the guilty bleed?
What cannot Wisdom do? Thou may’st restore
The son in safety to his native shore;
While the fell foes, who late in ambush lay,
With fraud defeated measure back their way.”
"""
"""
Then thus to Hermes the command was given:
“Hermes, thou chosen messenger of heaven!
Go, to the nymph be these our orders borne
’Tis Jove’s decree, Ulysses shall return:
The patient man shall view his old abodes,
Nor helped by mortal hand, nor guiding gods
In twice ten days shall fertile Scheria find,
Alone, and floating to the wave and wind.
The bold Phaecians there, whose haughty line
Is mixed with gods, half human, half divine,
The chief shall honour as some heavenly guest,
And swift transport him to his place of rest,
His vessels loaded with a plenteous store
Of brass, of vestures, and resplendent ore
(A richer prize than if his joyful isle
Received him charged with Ilion’s noble spoil),
His friends, his country, he shall see, though late:
Such is our sovereign will, and such is fate.”
"""
"""
He spoke. The god who mounts the winged winds
Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds,
That high through fields of air his flight sustain
O’er the wide earth, and o’er the boundless main:
He grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly,
Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye;
Then shoots from heaven to high Pieria’s steep,
And stoops incumbent on the rolling deep.
So watery fowl, that seek their fishy food,
With wings expanded o’er the foaming flood,
Now sailing smooth the level surface sweep,
Now dip their pinions in the briny deep;
Thus o’er the word of waters Hermes flew,
Till now the distant island rose in view:
Then, swift ascending from the azure wave,
he took the path that winded to the cave.
Large was the grot, in which the nymph he found
(The fair-hair’d nymph with every beauty crown’d).
The cave was brighten’d with a rising blaze;
Cedar and frankincense, an odorous pile,
Flamed on the hearth, and wide perfumed the isle;
While she with work and song the time divides,
And through the loom the golden shuttle guides.
Without the grot a various sylvan scene
Appear’d around, and groves of living green;
Poplars and alders ever quivering play’d,
And nodding cypress form’d a fragrant shade:
On whose high branches, waving with the storm,
The birds of broadest wing their mansions form —
The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow —
and scream aloft, and skim the deeps below.
Depending vines the shelving cavern screen.
With purple clusters blushing through the green.
Four limped fountains from the clefts distil:
And every fountain pours a several rill,
In mazy windings wandering down the hill:
Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were crown’d,
And glowing violets threw odours round.
A scene, where, if a god should cast his sight,
A god might gaze, and wander with delight!
Joy touch’d the messenger of heaven: he stay’d
Entranced, and all the blissful haunts surveyed.
Him, entering in the cave, Calypso knew;
For powers celestial to each other’s view
Stand still confess’d, though distant far they lie
To habitants of earth, or sea, or sky.
But sad Ulysses, by himself apart,
Pour’d the big sorrows of his swelling heard;
All on the lonely shore he sate to weep,
And roll’d his eyes around the restless deep:
Toward his loved coast he roll’d his eyes in vain,
Till, dimm’d with rising grief, they stream’d again.
"""
"""
Now graceful seated on her shining throne,
To Hermes thus the nymph divine begun:
"""
"""
“God of the golden wand! on what behest
Arrivest thou here, an unexpected guest?
Loved as thou art, thy free injunctions lay;
’Tis mine with joy and duty to obey.
Till now a stranger, in a happy hour
Approach, and taste the dainties of my bower.”
"""
"""
Thus having spoke, the nymph the table spread
(Ambrosial cates, with nectar rosy-red);
Hermes the hospitable rite partook,
Divine refection! then, recruited, spoke:
"""
"""
“What moves this journey from my native sky,
A goddess asks, nor can a god deny.
Hear then the truth. By mighty Jove’s command
Unwilling have I trod this pleasing land:
For who, self-moved, with weary wing would sweep
Such length of ocean and unmeasured deep;
A world of waters! far from all the ways
Where men frequent, or sacred altars blaze!
But to Jove’s will submission we must pay;
What power so great to dare to disobey?
A man, he says, a man resides with thee,
Of all his kind most worn with misery.
The Greeks, (whose arms for nine long year employ’d
Their force on Ilion, in the tenth destroy’d,)
At length, embarking in a luckless hour,
With conquest proud, incensed Minerva’s power:
Hence on the guilty race her vengeance hurl’d,
With storms pursued them through the liquid world.
There all his vessels sunk beneath the wave!
There all his dear companions found their grave!
Saved from the jaws of death by Heaven’s decree,
The tempest drove him to these shores and thee.
Him, Jove now orders to his native lands
Straight to dismiss: so destiny commands:
Impatient Fate his near return attends,
And calls him to his country, and his friends.”
"""
"""
E’en to her inmost soul the goddess shook;
Then thus her anguish, and her passion broke:
“Ungracious gods! with spite and envy cursed!
Still to your own ethereal race the worst!
Ye envy mortal and immortal joy,
And love, the only sweet of life destroy,
Did ever goddess by her charms engage
A favour’d mortal, and not feel your rage?
So when Aurora sought Orion’s love,
Her joys disturbed your blissful hours above,
Till, in Ortygia Dian’s winged dart
Had pierced the hapless hunter to the heart,
So when the covert of the thrice-eared field
Saw stately Ceres to her passion yield,
Scarce could Iasion taste her heavenly charms,
But Jove’s swift lightning scorched him in her arms.
And is it now my turn, ye mighty powers!
Am I the envy of your blissful bowers?
A man, an outcast to the storm and wave,
It was my crime to pity, and to save;
When he who thunders rent his bark in twain,
And sunk his brave companions in the main,
Alone, abandon’d, in mid-ocean tossed,
The sport of winds, and driven from every coast,
Hither this man of miseries I led,
Received the friendless, and the hungry fed;
Nay promised (vainly promised) to bestow
Immortal life, exempt from age and woe.
’Tis past-and Jove decrees he shall remove;
Gods as we are, we are but slaves to Jove.
Go then he must (he must, if he ordain,
Try all those dangers, all those deeps, again);
But never, never shall Calypso send
To toils like these her husband and her friend.
What ships have I, what sailors to convey,
What oars to cut the long laborious way?
Yet I’ll direct the safest means to go;
That last advice is all I can bestow.”
"""
"""
To her the power who hears the charming rod;
“Dismiss the man, nor irritate the god;
Prevent the rage of him who reigns above,
For what so dreadful as the wrath of Jove?”
Thus having said, he cut the cleaving sky,
And in a moment vanished from her eye,
The nymph, obedient to divine command,
To seek Ulysses, paced along the sand,
Him pensive on the lonely beach she found,
With streaming eyes in briny torrents drown’d,
And inly pining for his native shore;
For now the soft enchantress pleased no more;
For now, reluctant, and constrained by charms,
Absent he lay in her desiring arms,
In slumber wore the heavy night away,
On rocks and shores consumed the tedious day;
There sate all desolate, and sighed alone,
With echoing sorrows made the mountains groan.
And roll’d his eyes o’er all the restless main,
Till, dimmed with rising grief, they streamed again.
"""
"""
Here, on his musing mood the goddess press’d,
Approaching soft, and thus the chief address’d:
“Unhappy man! to wasting woes a prey,
No more in sorrows languish life away:
Free as the winds I give thee now to rove:
Go, fell the timber of yon lofty grove,
And form a raft, and build the rising ship,
Sublime to bear thee o’er the gloomy deep.
To store the vessel let the care be mine,
With water from the rock and rosy wine,
And life-sustaining bread, and fair array,
And prosperous gales to waft thee on the way.
These, if the gods with my desire comply
(The gods, alas, more mighty far than I,
And better skill’d in dark events to come),
In peace shall land thee at thy native home.”
"""
"""
With sighs Ulysses heard the words she spoke,
Then thus his melancholy silence broke:
“Some other motive, goddess! sways thy mind
(Some close design, or turn of womankind),
Nor my return the end, nor this the way,
On a slight raft to pass the swelling sea,
Huge, horrid, vast! where scarce in safety sails
The best-built ship, though Jove inspires the gales.
The bold proposal how shall I fulfil,
Dark as I am, unconscious of thy will?
Swear, then, thou mean’st not what my soul forebodes;
Swear by the solemn oath that binds the gods.”
"""
"""
Him, while he spoke, with smiles Calypso eyed,
And gently grasp’d his hand, and thus replied:
“This shows thee, friend, by old experience taught,
And learn’d in all the wiles of human thought,
How prone to doubt, how cautious, are the wise!
But hear, O earth, and hear, ye sacred skies!
And thou, O Styx! whose formidable floods
Glide through the shades, and bind the attesting gods!
No form’d design, no meditated end,
Lurks in the counsel of thy faithful friend;
Kind the persuasion, and sincere my aim;
The same my practice, were my fate the same.
Heaven has not cursed me with a heart of steel,
But given the sense to pity, and to feel.”
"""
"""
Thus having said, the goddess marched before:
He trod her footsteps in the sandy shore.
At the cool cave arrived, they took their state;
He filled the throne where Mercury had sate.
For him the nymph a rich repast ordains,
Such as the mortal life of man sustains;
Before herself were placed the the cates divine,
Ambrosial banquet and celestial wine.
Their hunger satiate, and their thirst repress’d,
Thus spoke Calypso to her godlike guest:
"""
"""
“Ulysses! (with a sigh she thus began;)
O sprung from gods! in wisdom more than man!
Is then thy home the passion of thy heart?
Thus wilt thou leave me, are we thus to part?
Farewell! and ever joyful mayst thou be,
Nor break the transport with one thought of me.
But ah, Ulysses! wert thou given to know
What Fate yet dooms these still to undergo,
Thy heart might settle in this scene of ease.
And e’en these slighted charms might learn to please.
A willing goddess, and immortal life.
Might banish from thy mind an absent wife.
Am I inferior to a mortal dame?
Less soft my feature less august my frame?
Or shall the daughters of mankind compare
Their earth born beauties with the heavenly fair?”
"""
"""
“Alas! for this (the prudent man replies)
Against Ulysses shall thy anger rise?
Loved and adored, O goddess as thou art,
Forgive the weakness of a human heart.
Though well I see thy graces far above
The dear, though mortal, object of my love,
Of youth eternal well the difference know,
And the short date of fading charms below;
Yet every day, while absent thus I roam,
I languish to return and die at home.
Whate’er the gods shall destine me to bear;
In the black ocean or the watery war,
’Tis mine to master with a constant mind;
Inured to perils, to the worst resign’d,
By seas, by wars, so many dangers run;
Still I can suffer; their high will he done!”
"""
"""
Thus while he spoke, the beamy sun descends,
And rising night her friendly shade extends,
To the close grot the lonely pair remove,
And slept delighted with the gifts of love.
When rose morning call’d them from their rest,
Ulysses robed him in the cloak and vest.
The nymph’s fair head a veil transparent graced,
Her swelling loins a radiant zone embraced
With flowers of gold; an under robe, unbound,
In snowy waves flow’d glittering on the ground.
Forth issuing thus, she gave him first to wield
A weighty axe with truest temper steeled,
And double-edged; the handle smooth and plain,
Wrought of the clouded olive’s easy grain;
And next, a wedge to drive with sweepy sway
Then to the neighboring forest led the way.
On the lone island’s utmost verge there stood
Of poplars, pine, and firs, a lofty wood,
Whose leafless summits to the skies aspire,
Scorch’d by the sun, or seared by heavenly fire
(Already dried). These pointing out to view,
The nymph just show’d him, and with tears withdrew.
"""
"""
Now toils the hero: trees on trees o’erthrown
Fall crackling round him, and the forests groan:
Sudden, full twenty on the plain are strow’d,
And lopp’d and lighten’d of their branchy load.
At equal angles these disposed to join,
He smooth’d and squared them by the rule and line,
(The wimbles for the work Calypso found)
With those he pierced them and with clinchers bound.
Long and capacious as a shipwright forms
Some bark’s broad bottom to out-ride the storms,
So large he built the raft; then ribb’d it strong
From space to space, and nail’d the planks along;
These form’d the sides: the deck he fashion’d last;
Then o’er the vessel raised the taper mast,
With crossing sail-yards dancing in the wind;
And to the helm the guiding rudder join’d
(With yielding osiers fenced, to break the force
Of surging waves, and steer the steady course).
Thy loom, Calypso, for the future sails
Supplied the cloth, capacious of the gales.
With stays and cordage last he rigged the ship,
And, roll’d on levers, launch’d her in the deep.
"""
"""
Four days were pass’d, and now the work complete,
Shone the fifth morn, when from her sacred seat
The nymph dismiss’d him (odorous garments given),
And bathed in fragrant oils that breathed of heaven:
Then fill’d two goatskins with her hands divine,
With water one, and one with sable wine:
Of every kind, provisions heaved aboard;
And the full decks with copious viands stored.
The goddess, last, a gentle breeze supplies,
To curl old Ocean, and to warm the skies.
"""
"""
And now, rejoicing in the prosperous gales,
With beating heart Ulysses spreads his sails;
Placed at the helm he sate, and mark’d the skies,
Nor closed in sleep his ever-watchful eyes.
There view’d the Pleiads, and the Northern Team,
And great Orion’s more refulgent beam.
To which, around the axle of the sky,
The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye:
Who shines exalted on the ethereal plain,
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.
Far on the left those radiant fires to keep
The nymph directed, as he sail’d the deep.
Full seventeen nights he cut the foaming way:
The distant land appear’d the following day:
Then swell’d to sight Phaeacia’s dusky coast,
And woody mountains, half in vapours lost;
That lay before him indistinct and vast,
Like a broad shield amid the watery waste.
"""
"""
But him, thus voyaging the deeps below,
From far, on Solyme’s aerial brow,
The king of ocean saw, and seeing burn’d
(From AEthiopia’s happy climes return’d);
The raging monarch shook his azure head,
And thus in secret to his soul he said:
“Heavens! how uncertain are the powers on high!
Is then reversed the sentence of the sky,
In one man’s favour; while a distant guest
I shared secure the AEthiopian feast?
Behold how near Phoenecia’s land he draws;
The land affix’d by Fate’s eternal laws
To end his toils. Is then our anger vain?
No; if this sceptre yet commands the main.”
"""
"""
He spoke, and high the forky trident hurl’d,
Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the watery world,
At once the face of earth and sea deforms,
Swells all the winds, and rouses all the storms.
Down rushed the night: east, west, together roar;
And south and north roll mountains to the shore.
Then shook the hero, to despair resign’d,
And question’d thus his yet unconquer’d mind;
"""
"""
“Wretch that I am! what farther fates attend
This life of toils, and what my destined end?
Too well, alas! the island goddess knew
On the black sea what perils should ensue.
New horrors now this destined head inclose;
Untill’d is yet the measure of my woes;
With what a cloud the brows of heaven are crown’d;
What raging winds! what roaring waters round!
’Tis Jove himself the swelling tempest rears;
Death, present death, on every side appears.
Happy! thrice happy! who, in battle slain,
Press’d in Atrides’ cause the Trojan plain!
Oh! had I died before that well-fought wall!
Had some distinguish’d day renown’d my fall
(Such as was that when showers of javelins fled
From conquering Troy around Achilles dead),
All Greece had paid me solemn funerals then,
And spread my glory with the sons of men.
A shameful fate now hides my hapless head,
Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead!”
"""
"""
A mighty wave rush’d o’er him as he spoke,
The raft is cover’d, and the mast is broke;
Swept from the deck and from the rudder torn,
Far on the swelling surge the chief was borne;
While by the howling tempest rent in twain
Flew sail and sail-yards rattling o’er the main.
Long-press’d, he heaved beneath the weighty wave,
Clogg’d by the cumbrous vest Calypso gave;
At length, emerging, from his nostrils wide
And gushing mouth effused the briny tide;
E’en then not mindless of his last retreat,
He seized the raft, and leap’d into his seat,
Strong with the fear of death. In rolling flood,
Now here, now there, impell’d the floating wood
As when a heap of gather’d thorns is cast,
Now to, now fro, before the autumnal blast;
Together clung, it rolls around the field;
So roll’d the float, and so its texture held:
And now the south, and now the north, bear sway,
And now the east the foamy floods obey,
And now the west wind whirls it o’er the sea.
The wandering chief with toils on toils oppress’d,
Leucothea saw, and pity touch’d her breast.
(Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus’ strain,
But now an azure sister of the main)
Swift as a sea-mew springing from the flood,
All radiant on the raft the goddess stood;
Then thus address’d him: “Thou whom heaven decrees
To Neptune’s wrath, stern tyrant of the seas!
(Unequal contest!) not his rage and power,
Great as he is, such virtue shall devour.
What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform:
Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm;
Strip off thy garments; Neptune’s fury brave
With naked strength, and plunge into the wave.
To reach Phaeacia all thy nerves extend,
There Fate decrees thy miseries shall end.
This heavenly scarf beneath thy bosom bind,
And live; give all thy terrors to the wind.
Soon as thy arms the happy shore shall gain,
Return the gift, and cast it in the main:
Observe my orders, and with heed obey,
Cast it far off, and turn thy eyes away.”
"""
"""
With that, her hand the sacred veil bestows,
Then down the deeps she dived from whence she rose;
A moment snatch’d the shining form away,
And all was covered with the curling sea.
"""
"""
Struck with amaze, yet still to doubt inclined,
He stands suspended, and explores his mind:
“What shall I do? unhappy me! who knows
But other gods intend me other woes?
Whoe’er thou art, I shall not blindly join
Thy pleaded reason, but consult with mine:
For scarce in ken appears that distant isle
Thy voice foretells me shall conclude my toil.
Thus then I judge: while yet the planks sustain
The wild waves’ fury, here I fix’d remain:
But, when their texture to the tempest yields,
I launch adventurous on the liquid fields,
Join to the help of gods the strength of man,
And take this method, since the best I can.”
"""
"""
While thus his thoughts an anxious council hold,
The raging god a watery mountain roll’d;
Like a black sheet the whelming billows spread,
Burst o’er the float, and thunder’d on his head.
Planks, beams, disparted fly; the scatter’d wood
Rolls diverse, and in fragments strews the flood.
So the rude Boreas, o’er the field new-shorn,
Tosses and drives the scatter’d heaps of corn.
And now a single beam the chief bestrides:
There poised a while above the bounding tides,
His limbs discumbers of the clinging vest,
And binds the sacred cincture round his breast:
Then prone an ocean in a moment flung,
Stretch’d wide his eager arms, and shot the seas along.
All naked now, on heaving billows laid,
Stern Neptune eyed him, and contemptuous said:
"""
"""
“Go, learn’d in woes, and other foes essay!
Go, wander helpless on the watery way;
Thus, thus find out the destined shore, and then
(If Jove ordains it) mix with happier men.
Whate’er thy fate, the ills our wrath could raise
Shall last remember’d in thy best of days.”
"""
"""
This said, his sea-green steeds divide the foam,
And reach high Aegae and the towery dome.
Now, scarce withdrawn the fierce earth-shaking power,
Jove’s daughter Pallas watch’d the favouring hour.
Back to their caves she bade the winds to fly;
And hush’d the blustering brethren of the sky.
The drier blasts alone of Boreas away,
And bear him soft on broken waves away;
With gentle force impelling to that shore,
Where fate has destined he shall toil no more.
And now, two nights, and now two days were pass’d,
Since wide he wander’d on the watery waste;
Heaved on the surge with intermitting breath,
And hourly panting in the arms of death.
The third fair morn now blazed upon the main;
Then glassy smooth lay all the liquid plain;
The winds were hush’d, the billows scarcely curl’d,
And a dead silence still’d the watery world;
When lifted on a ridgy wave he spies
The land at distance, and with sharpen’d eyes.
As pious children joy with vast delight
When a loved sire revives before their sight
(Who, lingering along, has call’d on death in vain,
Fix’d by some demon to his bed of pain,
Till heaven by miracle his life restore);
So joys Ulysses at the appearing shore;
And sees (and labours onward as he sees)
The rising forests, and the tufted trees.
And now, as near approaching as the sound
Of human voice the listening ear may wound,
Amidst the rocks he heard a hollow roar
Of murmuring surges breaking on the shore;
Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,
To shield the vessel from the rolling sea,
But cliffs and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight!
All rough with rocks, with foamy billows white.
Fear seized his slacken’d limbs and beating heart,
As thus he communed with his soul apart;
"""
"""
“Ah me! when, o’er a length of waters toss’d,
These eyes at last behold the unhoped-for coast,
No port receives me from the angry main,
But the loud deeps demand me back again.
Above, sharp rocks forbid access; around
Roar the wild waves; beneath, is sea profound!
No footing sure affords the faithless sand,
To stem too rapid, and too deep to stand.
If here I enter, my efforts are vain,
Dash’d on the cliffs, or heaved into the main;
Or round the island if my course I bend,
Where the ports open, or the shores descend,
Back to the seas the rolling surge may sweep,
And bury all my hopes beneath the deep.
Or some enormous whale the god may send
(For many such an Amphitrite attend);
Too well the turns of mortal chance I know,
And hate relentless of my heavenly foe.”
While thus he thought, a monstrous wave upbore
The chief, and dash’d him on the craggy shore;
Torn was his skin, nor had the ribs been whole,
But Instant Pallas enter’d in his soul.
Close to the cliff with both his hands he clung,
And stuck adherent, and suspended hung;
Till the huge surge roll’d off; then backward sweep
The refluent tides, and plunge him in the deep.
As when the polypus, from forth his cave
Torn with full force, reluctant beats the wave,
His ragged claws are stuck with stones and sands;
So the rough rock had shagg’d Ulysses hands,
And now had perish’d, whelm’d beneath the main,
The unhappy man; e’en fate had been in vain;
But all-subduing Pallas lent her power,
And prudence saved him in the needful hour.
Beyond the beating surge his course he bore,
(A wider circle, but in sight of shore),
With longing eyes, observing, to survey
Some smooth ascent, or safe sequester’d bay.
Between the parting rocks at length he spied
A failing stream with gentler waters glide;
Where to the seas the shelving shore declined,
And form’d a bay impervious to the wind.
To this calm port the glad Ulysses press’d,
And hail’d the river, and its god address’d:
"""
"""
“Whoe’er thou art, before whose stream unknown
I bend, a suppliant at thy watery throne,
Hear, azure king! nor let me fly in vain
To thee from Neptune and the raging main
Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me,
For sacred even to gods is misery:
Let then thy waters give the weary rest,
And save a suppliant, and a man distress’d.”
"""
"""
He pray’d, and straight the gentle stream subsides,
Detains the rushing current of his tides,
Before the wanderer smooths the watery way,
And soft receives him from the rolling sea.
That moment, fainting as he touch’d the shore,
He dropp’d his sinewy arms: his knees no more
Perform’d their office, or his weight upheld:
His swoln heart heaved; his bloated body swell’d:
From mouth and nose the briny torrent ran;
And lost in lassitude lay all the man,
Deprived of voice, of motion, and of breath;
The soul scarce waking in the arms of death.
Soon as warm life its wonted office found,
The mindful chief Leucothea’s scarf unbound;
Observant of her word, he turn’d aside
HIs head, and cast it on the rolling tide.
Behind him far, upon the purple waves,
The waters waft it, and the nymph receives.
"""
"""
Now parting from the stream, Ulysses found
A mossy bank with pliant rushes crown’d;
The bank he press’d, and gently kiss’d the ground;
Where on the flowery herb as soft he lay,
Thus to his soul the sage began to say:
"""
"""
“What will ye next ordain, ye powers on high!
And yet, ah yet, what fates are we to try?
Here by the stream, if I the night out-wear,
Thus spent already, how shall nature bear
The dews descending, and nocturnal air;
Or chilly vapours breathing from the flood
When morning rises? — If I take the wood,
And in thick shelter of innumerous boughs
Enjoy the comfort gentle sleep allows;
Though fenced from cold, and though my toil be pass’d,
What savage beasts may wander in the waste?
Perhaps I yet may fall a bloody prey
To prowling bears, or lions in the way.”
"""
"""
Thus long debating in himself he stood:
At length he took the passage to the wood,
Whose shady horrors on a rising brow
Waved high, and frown’d upon the stream below.
There grew two olives, closest of the grove,
With roots entwined, the branches interwove;
Alike their leaves, but not alike they smiled
With sister-fruits; one fertile, one was wild.
Nor here the sun’s meridian rays had power,
Nor wind sharp-piercing, nor the rushing shower;
The verdant arch so close its texture kept:
Beneath this covert great Ulysses crept.
Of gather’d leaves an ample bed he made
(Thick strewn by tempest through the bowery shade);
Where three at least might winter’s cold defy,
Though Boreas raged along the inclement sky.
This store with joy the patient hero found,
And, sunk amidst them, heap’d the leaves around.
As some poor peasant, fated to reside
Remote from neighbours in a forest wide,
Studious to save what human wants require,
In embers heap’d, preserves the seeds of fire:
Hid in dry foliage thus Ulysses lies,
Till Pallas pour’d soft slumbers on his eyes;
And golden dreams (the gift of sweet repose)
Lull’d all his cares, and banish’d all his woes.
"""
''Argument.''
//Pallas appearing in a dream in to Nausicaa (the daughter of Alcinous, king of Phaeacia, commands her to descend to the river, and wash the robes of state, in preparation for her nuptials. Nausicaa goes with her handmaidens to the river; where, while the garments are spread on the bank, they divert themselves in sports. Their voices awaken Ulysses, who, addressing himself to the princess, is by her relieved and clothed, and receives directions in what manner to apply to the king and queen of the island.//
"""
While thus the weary wanderer sunk to rest,
And peaceful slumbers calmed his anxious breast,
The martial maid from heavens aerial height
Swift to Phaeacia wing’d her rapid flight,
In elder times the soft Phaeacian train
In ease possess’d the wide Hyperian plain;
Till the Cyclopean race in arms arose
A lawless nation of gigantic foes;
Then great Nausithous from Hyperia far,
Through seas retreating from the sounds of war,
The recreant nation to fair Scheria led,
Where never science rear’d her laurell’d head;
There round his tribes a strength of wall he raised;
To heaven the glittering domes and temples blazed;
Just to his realms, he parted grounds from grounds,
And shared the lands, and gave the lands their bounds.
Now in the silent grave the monarch lay,
And wise Alcinous held the legal sway.
"""
"""
To his high palace through the fields of air
The goddess shot; Ulysses was her care.
There, as the night in silence roll’d away,
A heaven of charms divine Nausicaa lay:
Through the thick gloom the shining portals blaze;
Two nymphs the portals guard, each nymph a Grace,
Light as the viewless air the warrior maid
Glides through the valves, and hovers round her head;
A favourite virgin’s blooming form she took,
From Dymas sprung, and thus the vision spoke:
"""
"""
“Oh Indolent! to waste thy hours away!
And sleep’st thou careless of the bridal day!
Thy spousal ornament neglected lies;
Arise, prepare the bridal train, arise!
A just applause the cares of dress impart,
And give soft transport to a parent’s heart.
Haste, to the limpid stream direct thy way,
When the gay morn unveils her smiling ray;
Haste to the stream! companion of thy care,
Lo, I thy steps attend, thy labours share.
Virgin, awake! the marriage hour is nigh,
See from their thrones thy kindred monarchs sigh!
The royal car at early dawn obtain,
And order mules obedient to the rein;
For rough the way, and distant rolls the wave,
Where their fair vests Phaeacian virgins lave,
In pomp ride forth; for pomp becomes the great
And majesty derives a grace from state.”
Then to the palaces of heaven she sails,
Incumbent on the wings of wafting gales;
The seat of gods; the regions mild of peace,
Full joy, and calm eternity of ease.
There no rude winds presume to shake the skies,
No rains descend, no snowy vapours rise;
But on immortal thrones the blest repose;
The firmament with living splendours glows.
Hither the goddess winged the aerial way,
Through heaven’s eternal gates that blazed with day.
"""
"""
Now from her rosy car Aurora shed
The dawn, and all the orient flamed with red.
Up rose the virgin with the morning light,
Obedient to the vision of the night.
The queen she sought, the queen her hours bestowed
In curious works; the whirling spindle glow’d
With crimson threads, while busy damsels call
The snowy fleece, or twist the purpled wool.
Meanwhile Phaeacia’s peers in council sate;
From his high dome the king descends in state;
Then with a filial awe the royal maid
Approach’d him passing, and submissive said:
"""
"""
“Will my dread sire his ear regardful deign,
And may his child the royal car obtain?
Say, with my garments shall I bend my way?
Where through the vales the mazy waters stray?
A dignity of dress adorns the great,
And kings draw lustre from the robe of state.
Five sons thou hast; three wait the bridal day.
And spotless robes become the young and gay;
So when with praise amid the dance they shine,
By these my cares adorn’d that praise is mine.”
"""
"""
Thus she: but blushes ill-restrain’d betray
Her thoughts intentive on the bridal day,
The conscious sire the dawning blush survey’d,
And, smiling, thus bespoke the blooming maid
“My child, my darling joy, the car receive;
That, and whate’er our daughter asks, we give.”
Swift at the royal nod the attending train
The car prepare, the mules incessant rein,
The blooming virgin with despatchful cares
Tunics, and stoles, and robes imperial, bears.
The queen, assiduous to her train assigns
The sumptuous viands, and the flavorous wines.
The train prepare a cruse of curious mould,
A cruse of fragrance, form’d of burnish’d gold;
Odour divine! whose soft refreshing streams
Sleek the smooth skin, and scent the snowy limbs.
"""
"""
Now mounting the gay seat, the silken reins
Shine in her hand; along the sounding plains
Swift fly the mules; nor rode the nymph alone;
Around, a bevy of bright damsels shone.
They seek the cisterns where Phaeacian dames
Wash their fair garments in the limpid streams;
Where, gathering into depth from falling rills,
The lucid wave a spacious bason fills.
The mules, unharness’d, range beside the main,
Or crop the verdant herbage of the plain.
"""
"""
Then emulous the royal robes they lave,
And plunge the vestures in the cleansing wave
(The vestures cleansed o’erspread the shelly sand,
Their snowy lustre whitens all the strand);
Then with a short repast relieve their toil,
And o’er their limbs diffuse ambrosial oil;
And while the robes imbibe the solar ray,
O’er the green mead the sporting virgins play
(Their shining veils unbound). Along the skies,
Toss’d and retoss’d, the ball incessant flies.
They sport, they feast; Nausicaa lifts her voice,
And, warbling sweet, makes earth and heaven rejoice.
"""
"""
As when o’er Erymanth Diana roves,
Or wide Tuygetus’ resounding groves;
A sylvan train the huntress queen surrounds,
Her rattling quiver from her shoulders sounds:
Fierce in the sport, along the mountain’s brow
They bay the boar, or chase the bounding roe;
High o’er the lawn, with more majestic pace,
Above the nymphs she treads with stately grace;
Distinguish’d excellence the goddess proves;
Exults Latona as the virgin moves.
With equal grace Nausicaa trod the plain,
And shone transcendent o’er the beauteous train.
"""
"""
Meantime (the care and favourite of the skies
Wrapp’d in imbowering shade, Ulysses lies,
His woes forgot! but Pallas now address’d
To break the bands of all-composing rest.
Forth from her snowy hand Nausicaa threw
The various ball; the ball erroneous flew
And swam the stream; loud shrieks the virgin train,
And the loud shriek redoubles from the main.
Waked by the shrilling sound, Ulysses rose,
And, to the deaf woods wailing, breathed his woes:
"""
"""
“Ah me! on what inhospitable coast,
On what new region is Ulysses toss’d;
Possess’d by wild barbarians fierce in arms;
Or men, whose bosom tender pity warms?
What sounds are these that gather from he shores?
The voice of nymphs that haunt the sylvan bowers,
The fair-hair’d Dryads of the shady wood;
Or azure daughters of the silver flood;
Or human voice? but issuing from the shades,
Why cease I straight to learn what sound invades?”
"""
"""
Then, where the grove with leaves umbrageous bends,
With forceful strength a branch the hero rends;
Around his loins the verdant cincture spreads
A wreathy foliage and concealing shades.
As when a lion in the midnight hours,
Beat by rude blasts, and wet with wintry showers,
Descends terrific from the mountains brow;
With living flames his rolling eye balls glow;
With conscious strength elate, he bends his way,
Majestically fierce, to seize his prey
(The steer or stag;) or, with keen hunger bold,
Spring o’er the fence and dissipates the fold.
No less a terror, from the neighbouring groves
(Rough from the tossing surge) Ulysses moves;
Urged on by want, and recent from the storms;
The brackish ooze his manly grace deforms.
Wide o’er the shore with many a piercing cry
To rocks, to caves, the frightened virgins fly;
All but the nymph; the nymph stood fix’d alone,
By Pallas arm’d with boldness not her own.
Meantime in dubious thought the king awaits,
And, self-considering, as he stands, debates;
Distant his mournful story to declare,
Or prostrate at her knee address the prayer.
But fearful to offend, by wisdom sway’d,
At awful distance he accosts the maid:
"""
"""
“If from the skies a goddess, or if earth
(Imperial virgin) boast thy glorious birth,
To thee I bend! If in that bright disguise
Thou visit earth, a daughter of the skies,
Hail, Dian, hail! the huntress of the groves
So shines majestic, and so stately moves,
So breathes an air divine! But if thy race
Be mortal, and this earth thy native place,
Blest is the father from whose loins you sprung,
Blest is the mother at whose breast you hung.
Blest are the brethren who thy blood divide,
To such a miracle of charms allied:
Joyful they see applauding princes gaze,
When stately in the dance you swim the harmonious maze.
But blest o’er all, the youth with heavenly charms,
Who clasps the bright perfection in his arms!
Never, I never view’d till this blast hour
Such finish’d grace! I gaze, and I adore!
Thus seems the palm with stately honours crown’d
By Phoebus’ altars; thus o’erlooks the ground;
The pride of Delos. (By the Delian coast,
I voyaged, leader of a warrior-host,
But ah, how changed I from thence my sorrow flows;
O fatal voyage, source of all my woes;)
Raptured I stood, and as this hour amazed,
With reverence at the lofty wonder gazed:
Raptured I stand! for earth ne’er knew to bear
A plant so stately, or a nymph so fair.
Awed from access, I lift my suppliant hands;
For Misery, O queen! before thee stands.
Twice ten tempestuous nights I roll’d, resign’d
To roaring blows, and the warring wind;
Heaven bade the deep to spare; but heaven, my foe,
Spares only to inflict some mightier woe.
Inured to cares, to death in all its forms;
Outcast I rove, familiar with the storms.
Once more I view the face of human kind:
Oh let soft pity touch thy generous mind!
Unconscious of what air I breathe, I stand
Naked, defenceless on a narrow land.
Propitious to my wants a vest supply
To guard the wretched from the inclement sky:
So may the gods, who heaven and earth control,
Crown the chaste wishes of thy virtuous soul,
On thy soft hours their choicest blessings shed;
Blest with a husband be thy bridal bed;
Blest be thy husband with a blooming race,
And lasting union crown your blissful days.
The gods, when they supremely bless, bestow
Firm union on their favourites below;
Then envy grieves, with inly-pining hate;
The good exult, and heaven is in our state.”
"""
"""
To whom the nymph: “O stranger, cease thy care;
Wise is thy soul, but man is bore to bear;
Jove weighs affairs of earth in dubious scales,
And the good suffers, while the bad prevails.
Bear, with a soul resign’d, the will of Jove;
Who breathes, must mourn: thy woes are from above.
But since thou tread’st our hospitable shore,
’Tis mine to bid the wretched grieve no more,
To clothe the naked, and thy way to guide.
Know, the Phaecian tribes this land divide;
From great Alcinous’ royal loins I spring,
A happy nation, and a happy king.”
"""
"""
Then to her maids: “Why, why, ye coward train,
These fears, this flight? ye fear, and fly in vain.
Dread ye a foe? dismiss that idle dread,
’Tis death with hostile step these shores to tread;
Safe in the love of heaven, an ocean flows
Around our realm, a barrier from the foes;
’Tis ours this son of sorrow to relieve,
Cheer the sad heart, nor let affliction grieve.
By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent;
And what to those we give to Jove is lent.
Then food supply, and bathe his fainting limbs
Where waving shades obscure the mazy streams.”
"""
"""
Obedient to the call, the chief they guide
To the calm current of the secret tide;
Close by the stream a royal dress they lay,
A vest and robe, with rich embroidery gay;
Then unguents in a vase of gold supply,
That breathed a fragrance through the balmy sky.
"""
"""
To them the king: “No longer I detain
Your friendly care: retire, ye virgin train!
Retire, while from my wearied limbs I lave
The foul pollution of the briny wave.
Ye gods! since this worn frame refection know,
What scenes have I surveyed of dreadful view!
But, nymphs, recede! sage chastity denies
To raise the blush, or pain the modest eyes.”
"""
"""
The nymphs withdrawn, at once into the tide
Active he bounds; the flashing waves divide
O’er all his limbs his hands the waves diffuse,
And from his locks compress the weedy ooze;
The balmy oil, a fragrant shower, be sheds;
Then, dressed, in pomp magnificently treads.
The warrior-goddess gives his frame to shine
With majesty enlarged, and air divine:
Back from his brows a length of hair unfurls,
His hyacinthine locks descend in wavy curls.
As by some artist, to whom Vulcan gives
His skill divine, a breathing statue lives;
By Pallas taught, he frames the wondrous mould,
And o’er the silver pours the fusile gold
So Pallas his heroic frame improves
With heavenly bloom, and like a god he moves.
A fragrance breathes around; majestic grace
Attends his steps: the astonished virgins gaze.
Soft he reclines along the murmuring seas,
Inhaling freshness from the fanning breeze.
"""
"""
The wondering nymph his glorious port survey’d,
And to her damsels, with amazement, said:
"""
"""
“Not without care divine the stranger treads
This land of joy; his steps some godhead leads:
Would Jove destroy him, sure he had been driven
Far from this realm, the favourite isle of heaven.
Late, a sad spectacle of woe, he trod
The desert sands, and now be looks a god.
Oh heaven! in my connubial hour decree
This man my spouse, or such a spouse as he!
But haste, the viands and the bowl provide.”
The maids the viands and the bowl supplied:
Eager he fed, for keen his hunger raged,
And with the generous vintage thirst assuaged.
"""
"""
Now on return her care Nausicaa bends,
The robes resumes, the glittering car ascends,
Far blooming o’er the field; and as she press’d
The splendid seat, the listening chief address’d:
"""
"""
“Stranger, arise! the sun rolls down the day.
Lo, to the palace I direct thy way;
Where, in high state, the nobles of the land
Attend my royal sire, a radiant band
But hear, though wisdom in thy soul presides,
Speaks from thy tongue, and every action guides;
Advance at distance, while I pass the plain
Where o’er the furrows waves the golden grain;
Alone I reascend — With airy mounds
A strength of wall the guarded city bounds;
The jutting land two ample bays divides:
Full through the narrow mouths descend the tides;
The spacious basons arching rocks enclose,
A sure defence from every storm that blows.
Close to the bay great Neptune’s fane adjoins;
And near, a forum flank’d with marble shines,
Where the bold youth, the numerous fleets to store,
Shape the broad sail, or smooth the taper oar:
For not the bow they bend, nor boast the skill
To give the feather’d arrow wings to kill;
But the tall mast above the vessel rear,
Or teach the fluttering sail to float in air.
They rush into the deep with eager joy,
Climb the steep surge, and through the tempest fly;
A proud, unpolish’d race — To me belongs
The care to shun the blast of slanderous tongues;
Lest malice, prone the virtuous to defame,
Thus with wild censure taint my spotless name:
‘What stranger this whom thus Nausicaa leads!
Heavens, with what graceful majesty he treads!
Perhaps a native of some distant shore,
The future consort of her bridal hour:
Or rather some descendant of the skies;
Won by her prayer, the aerial bridegroom flies,
Heaven on that hour its choicest influence shed,
That gave a foreign spouse to crown her bed!
All, all the godlike worthies that adorn
This realm, she flies: Phaeacia is her scorn.’
And just the blame: for female innocence
Not only flies the guilt, but shuns the offence:
The unguarded virgin, as unchaste, I blame;
And the least freedom with the sex is shame,
Till our consenting sires a spouse provide,
And public nuptials justify the bride,
But would’st thou soon review thy native plain?
Attend, and speedy thou shalt pass the main:
Nigh where a grove with verdant poplars crown’d,
To Pallas sacred, shades the holy ground,
We bend our way; a bubbling fount distills
A lucid lake, and thence descends in rills;
Around the grove, a mead with lively green
Falls by degrees, and forms a beauteous scene;
Here a rich juice the royal vineyard pours;
And there the garden yields a waste of flowers.
Hence lies the town, as far as to the ear
Floats a strong shout along the waves of air.
There wait embower’d, while I ascend alone
To great Alcinous on his royal throne.
Arrived, advance, impatient of delay,
And to the lofty palace bend thy way:
The lofty palace overlooks the town,
From every dome by pomp superior known;
A child may point the way. With earnest gait
Seek thou the queen along the rooms of state;
Her royal hand a wondrous work designs,
Around a circle of bright damsels shines;
Part twist the threads, and part the wool dispose,
While with the purple orb the spindle glows.
High on a throne, amid the Scherian powers,
My royal father shares the genial hours:
But to the queen thy mournful tale disclose,
With the prevailing eloquence of woes:
So shalt thou view with joy thy natal shore,
Though mountains rise between and oceans roar.”
"""
"""
She added not, but waving, as she wheel’d,
The silver scourge, it glitter’d o’er the field;
With skill the virgin guides the embroider’d rein,
Slow rolls the car before the attending train,
Now whirling down the heavens, the golden day
Shot through the western clouds a dewy ray;
The grove they reach, where, from the sacred shade,
To Pallas thus the pensive hero pray’d:
"""
"""
“Daughter of Jove! whose arms in thunder wield
The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield;
Forsook by thee, in vain I sought thy aid
When booming billows closed above my bead;
Attend, unconquer’d maid! accord my vows,
Bid the Great hear, and pitying, heal my woes.”
"""
"""
This heard Minerva, but forbore to fly
(By Neptune awed) apparent from the sky;
Stern god! who raged with vengeance, unrestrain’d.
Till great Ulysses hail’d his native land.
"""
''Argument.''
''The court of Alcinous.''
//The princess Nausicaa returns to the city and Ulysses soon after follows thither. He is met by Pallas in the form of a young virgin, who guides him to the palace, and directs him in what manner to address the queen Arete. She then involves him in a mist which causes him to pass invisible. The palace and gardens of Alcinous described. Ulysses falling at the feet of the queen, the mist disperses, the Phaecians admire, and receive him with respect. The queen inquiring by what means he had the garments he then wore, be relates to her and Alcinous his departure from Calypso, and his arrival in their dominions.//
//The same day continues, and the book ends with the night.//
"""
The patient heavenly man thus suppliant pray’d;
While the slow mules draws on the imperial maid;
Through the proud street she moves, the public gaze;
The turning wheel before the palace stays.
With ready love her brothers, gathering round,
Received the vestures, and the mules unbound.
She seeks the bridal bower: a matron there
The rising fire supplies with busy care,
Whose charms in youth her father’s heart inflamed,
Now worn with age, Eurymedusa named;
The captive dame Phaeacian rovers bore,
Snatch’d from Epirus, her sweet native shore
(A grateful prize), and in her bloom bestow’d
On good Alcinous, honor’d as a god;
Nurse of Nausicaa from her infant years,
And tender second to a mother’s cares.
"""
"""
Now from the sacred thicket where he lay,
To town Ulysses took the winding way.
Propitious Pallas, to secure her care,
Around him spread a veil of thicken’d air;
To shun the encounter of the vulgar crowd,
Insulting still, inquisitive and loud.
When near the famed Phaeacian walls he drew,
The beauteous city opening to his view,
His step a virgin met, and stood before:
A polish’d urn the seeming virgin bore,
And youthful smiled; but in the low disguise
Lay hid the goddess with the azure eyes.
"""
"""
“Show me, fair daughter (thus the chief demands),
The house of him who rules these happy lands
Through many woes and wanderings, do I come
To good Alcinous’ hospitable dome.
Far from my native coast, I rove alone,
A wretched stranger, and of all unknown!”
"""
"""
The goddess answer’d: “Father, I obey,
And point the wandering traveller his way:
Well known to me the palace you inquire,
For fast beside it dwells my honour’d sire:
But silent march, nor greet the common train
With question needless, or inquiry vain;
A race of ragged mariners are these,
Unpolish’d men, and boisterous as their seas
The native islanders alone their care,
And hateful he who breathes a foreign air.
These did the ruler of the deep ordain
To build proud navies, and command the main;
On canvas wings to cut the watery way;
No bird so light, no thought so swift as they.”
"""
"""
Thus having spoke, the unknown celestial leads:
The footsteps of the duty he treads,
And secret moves along the crowded space,
Unseen of all the rude Phaeacian race.
(So Pallas order’d, Pallas to their eyes
The mist objected, and condensed the skies.)
The chief with wonder sees the extended streets,
The spreading harbours, and the riding fleets;
He next their princes’ lofty domes admires,
In separate islands, crown’d with rising spires;
And deep entrenchments, and high walls of stone.
That gird the city like a marble zone.
At length the kingly palace-gates he view’d;
There stopp’d the goddess, and her speech renew’d;
"""
"""
“My task is done: the mansion you inquire
Appears before you: enter, and admire.
High-throned, and feasting, there thou shalt behold
The sceptred rulers. Fear not, but be bold:
A decent boldness ever meets with friends,
Succeeds, and even a stranger recommends
First to the queen prefer a suppliant’s claim,
Alcinous’ queen, Arete is her name.
The same her parents, and her power the same.
For know, from ocean’s god Nausithous sprung,
And Peribaea, beautiful and young
(Eurymedon’s last hope, who ruled of old
The race of giants, impious, proud, and bold:
Perish’d the nation in unrighteous war,
Perish’d the prince, and left this only heir),
Who now, by Neptune’s amorous power compress’d,
Produced a monarch that his people bless’d,
Father and prince of the Phaeacian name;
From him Rhexenor and Alcinous came.
The first by Phoebus’ hurtling arrows fired,
New from his nuptials, hapless youth! expired.
No son survived; Arete heir’d his state,
And her, Alcinous chose his royal mate.
With honours yet to womankind unknown.
This queen he graces, and divides the throne;
In equal tenderness her sons conspire,
And all the children emulate their sire.
When through the streets she gracious deigns to move
(The public wonder and the public love),
The tongues of all with transport sound her praise,
The eyes of all, as on a goddess, gaze.
She feels the triumph of a generous breast;
To heal divisions, to relieve the oppress’d;
In virtue rich; in blessing others, bless’d.
(to then secure, thy humble suit prefer
And owe thy country and thy friends to her.”
"""
"""
With that the goddess deign’d no longer stay,
But o’er the world of waters wing’d her way;
Forsaking Scheria’s ever-pleasing shore,
The winds to Marathon the virgin bore:
Thence, where proud Athens rears her towery head,
With opening streets and shining structures spread,
She pass’d, delighted with the well-known seats;
And to Erectheus’ sacred dome retreats.
"""
"""
Meanwhile Ulysses at the palace waits,
There stops, and anxious with his soul debates,
Fix’d in amaze before the royal gates.
The front appear’d with radiant splendours gay,
Bright as the lamp of night, or orb of day,
The walls were massy brass: the cornice high
Blue metals crown’d in colours of the sky,
Rich plates of gold the folding doors incase;
The pillars silver, on a brazen base;
Silver the lintels deep-projecting o’er,
And gold the ringlets that command the door.
Two rows of stately dogs, on either hand,
In sculptured gold and labour’d silver stood
These Vulcan form’d with art divine, to wait
Immortal guardians at Alcinous’ gate;
Alive each animated frame appears,
And still to live beyond the power of years,
Fair thrones within from space to space were raised,
Where various carpets with embroidery blessed,
The work of matrons: these the princes press’d.
Day following day, a long-continued feast,
Refulgent pedestals the walls surround,
Which boys of gold with illuming torches crown’d;
The polish’d oar, reflecting every ray,
Blazed on the banquets with a double day.
Full fifty handmaids form the household train;
Some turn the mill, or sift the golden grain;
Some ply the loom; their busy fingers move
Like poplar-leaves when Zephyr fans the grove.
Not more renown’d the men of Scheria’s isle
For sailing arts and all the naval toil,
Than works of female skill their women’s pride,
The flying shuttle through the threads to guide:
Pallas to these her double gifts imparts,
Incentive genius, and industrious arts.
"""
"""
Close to the gates a spacious garden lies,
From storms defended and inclement skies.
Four acres was the allotted space of ground,
Fenced with a green enclosure all around.
Tall thriving trees confess’d the fruitful mould:
The reddening apple ripens here to gold.
Here the blue fig with luscious juice o’erflows,
With deeper red the full pomegranate glows;
The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear,
And verdant olives flourish round the year,
The balmy spirit of the western gale
Eternal breathes on fruits, unthought to fail:
Each dropping pear a following pear supplies,
On apples apples, figs on figs arise:
The same mild season gives the blooms to blow,
The buds to harden, and the fruits to grow.
"""
"""
Here order’d vines in equal ranks appear,
With all the united labours of the year;
Some to unload the fertile branches run,
Some dry the blackening clusters in the sun,
Others to tread the liquid harvest join:
The groaning presses foam with floods of wine
Here are the vines in early flower descried,
Here grapes discolour’d on the sunnyside,
And there in autumn’s richest purple dyed,
"""
"""
Beds of all various herbs, for ever green,
In beauteous order terminate the scene.
"""
"""
Two plenteous fountains the whole prospect crown’d
This through the gardens leads its streams around
Visits each plant, and waters all the ground;
While that in pipes beneath the palace flows,
And thence its current on the town bestows:
To various use their various streams they bring,
The people one, and one supplies the king.
"""
"""
Such were the glories which the gods ordain’d,
To grace Alcinous, and his happy land.
E’en from the chief whom men and nations knew,
The unwonted scene surprise and rapture drew;
In pleasing thought he ran the prospect o’er,
Then hasty enter’d at the lofty door.
Night now approaching, in the palace stand,
With goblets crown’d, the rulers of the land;
Prepared for rest, and offering to the god
Who bears the virtue of the sleepy rod,
Unseen he glided through the joyous crowd,
With darkness circled, and an ambient cloud.
Direct to great Alcinous’ throne he came,
And prostrate fell before the imperial dame.
Then from around him dropp’d the veil of night;
Sudden he shines, and manifest to sight.
The nobles gaze, with awful fear oppress’d;
Silent they gaze, and eye the godlike guest.
"""
"""
“Daughter of great Rhexenor! (thus began,
Low at her knees, the much-enduring man)
To thee, thy consort, and this royal train,
To all that share the blessings of your reign,
A suppliant bends: oh pity human woe!
’Tis what the happy to the unhappy owe.
A wretched exile to his country send,
Long worn with griefs, and long without a friend
So may the gods your better days increase,
And all your joys descend on all your race;
So reign for ever on your country’s breast,
Your people blessing, by your people bless’d!”
"""
"""
Then to the genial hearth he bow’d his face,
And humbled in the ashes took his place.
Silence ensued. The eldest first began,
Echeneus sage, a venerable man!
Whose well-taught mind the present age surpass’d,
And join’d to that the experience of the last.
Fit words attended on his weighty sense,
And mild persuasion flow’d in eloquence.
"""
"""
“Oh sight (he cried) dishonest and unjust!
A guest, a stranger, seated in the dust!
To raise the lowly suppliant from the ground
Befits a monarch. Lo! the peers around
But wait thy word, the gentle guest to grace,
And seat him fair in some distinguish’d place.
Let first the herald due libation pay
To Jove, who guides the wanderer on his way:
Then set the genial banquet in his view,
And give the stranger-guest a stranger’s due.”
"""
"""
His sage advice the listening king obeys,
He stretch’d his hand the prudent chief to raise,
And from his seat Laodamas removed
(The monarch’s offspring, and his best-beloved);
There next his side the godlike hero sate;
With stars of silver shone the bed of state.
The golden ewer a beauteous handmaid brings,
Replenish’d from the cool translucent springs,
Whose polish’d vase with copious streams supplies
A silver layer of capacious size.
The table next in regal order spread,
The glittering canisters are heap’d with bread:
Viands of various kinds invite the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast!
Thus feasting high, Alcinous gave the sign,
And bade the herald pour the rosy wine;
“Let all around the due libation pay
To Jove, who guides the wanderer on his way.”
"""
"""
He said. Pontonous heard the king’s command;
The circling goblet moves from hand to hand;
Each drinks the juice that glads the heart of man.
Alcinous then, with aspect mild, began:
"""
"""
“Princes and peers, attend; while we impart
To you the thoughts of no inhuman heart.
Now pleased and satiate from the social rite
Repair we to the blessings of the night;
But with the rising day, assembled here,
Let all the elders of the land appear,
Pious observe our hospitable laws,
And Heaven propitiate in the stranger’s cause;
Then join’d in council, proper means explore
Safe to transport him to the wished-for shore
(How distant that, imports us not to know,
Nor weigh the labour, but relieve the woe).
Meantime, nor harm nor anguish let him bear
This interval, Heaven trusts him to our care
But to his native land our charge resign’d,
Heaven’s is his life to come, and all the woes behind.
Then must he suffer what the Fates ordain;
For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain?
And twins, e’en from the birth, are Misery and Man!
But if, descended from the Olympian bower,
Gracious approach us some immortal power;
If in that form thou comest a guest divine:
Some high event the conscious gods design.
As yet, unbid they never graced our feast,
The solemn sacrifice call’d down the guest;
Then manifest of Heaven the vision stood,
And to our eyes familiar was the god.
Oft with some favour’d traveller they stray,
And shine before him all the desert way;
With social intercourse, and face to face,
The friends and guardians of our pious race.
So near approach we their celestial kind,
By justice, truth, and probity of mind;
As our dire neighbours of Cyclopean birth
Match in fierce wrong the giant-sons of earth.”
"""
"""
“Let no such thought (with modest grace rejoin’d
The prudent Greek) possess the royal mind.
Alas! a mortal, like thyself, am I;
No glorious native of yon azure sky:
In form, ah how unlike their heavenly kind!
How more inferior in the gifts of mind!
Alas, a mortal! most oppress’d of those
Whom Fate has loaded with a weight of woes;
By a sad train of Miseries alone
Distinguish’d long, and second now to none!
By Heaven’s high will compell’d from shore to shore;
With Heaven’s high will prepared to suffer more.
What histories of toil could I declare!
But still long-wearied nature wants repair;
Spent with fatigue, and shrunk with pining fast,
My craving bowels still require repast.
Howe’er the noble, suffering mind may grieve
Its load of anguish, and disdain to live,
Necessity demands our daily bread;
Hunger is insolent, and will be fed.
But finish, oh ye peers! what you propose,
And let the morrow’s dawn conclude my woes.
Pleased will I suffer all the gods ordain,
To see my soil, my son, my friends again.
That view vouchsafed, let instant death surprise
With ever-during shade these happy eyes!”
"""
"""
The assembled peers with general praise approved
His pleaded reason, and the suit he moved.
Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares,
And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs,
Ulysses in the regal walls alone
Remain’d: beside him, on a splendid throne,
Divine Arete and Alcinous shone.
The queen, an nearer view, the guest survey’d,
Rob’d in the garments her own hands had made,
Not without wonder seen. Then thus began,
Her words addressing to the godlike man:
"""
"""
“Camest thou hither, wondrous stranger I say,
From lands remote and o’er a length of sea?
Tell, then, whence art thou? whence, that princely air?
And robes like these, so recent and so fair?”
"""
"""
“Hard is the task, O princess! you impose
(Thus sighing spoke the man of many woes),
The long, the mournful series to relate
Of all my sorrows sent by Heaven and Fate!
Yet what you ask, attend. An island lies
Beyond these tracts, and under other skies,
Ogygia named, in Ocean’s watery arms;
Where dwells Calypso, dreadful in her charms!
Remote from gods or men she holds her reign,
Amid the terrors of a rolling main.
Me, only me, the hand of fortune bore,
Unblest! to tread that interdicted shore:
When Jove tremendous in the sable deeps
Launch’d his red lightning at our scattered ships;
Then, all my fleet and all my followers lost.
Sole on a plank on boiling surges toss’d,
Heaven drove my wreck the Ogygian Isle to find,
Full nine days floating to the wave and wind.
Met by the goddess there with open arms,
She bribed my stay with more than human charms;
Nay, promised, vainly promised, to bestow
Immortal life, exempt from age and woe;
But all her blandishments successless prove,
To banish from my breast my country’s love.
I stay reluctant seven continued years,
And water her ambrosial couch with tears,
The eighth she voluntary moves to part,
Or urged by Jove, or her own changeful heart.
A raft was formed to cross the surging sea;
Herself supplied the stores and rich array,
And gave the gales to waft me on my way,
In seventeen days appear’d your pleasing coast,
And woody mountains half in vapours lost.
Joy touched my soul; my soul was joy’d in vain,
For angry Neptune roused the raging main;
The wild winds whistle, and the billows roar;
The splitting raft the furious tempest tore;
And storms vindictive intercept the shore.
Soon as their rage subsides, the seas I brave
With naked force, and shoot along the wave,
To reach this isle; but there my hopes were lost,
The surge impell’d me on a craggy coast.
I chose the safer sea, and chanced to find
A river’s mouth impervious to the wind,
And clear of rocks. I fainted by the flood;
Then took the shelter of the neighbouring wood.
’Twas night, and, covered in the foliage deep,
Jove plunged my senses in the death of sleep.
All night I slept, oblivious of my pain:
Aurora dawned and Phoebus shined in vain,
Nor, till oblique he sloped his evening ray,
Had Somnus dried the balmy dews away.
Then female voices from the shore I heard:
A maid amidst them, goddess-like appear’d;
To her I sued, she pitied my distress;
Like thee in beauty, nor in virtue less.
Who from such youth could hope considerate care?
In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare!
She gave me life, relieved with just supplies
My wants, and lent these robes that strike your eyes.
This is the truth: and oh, ye powers on high!
Forbid that want should sink me to a lie.”
"""
"""
To this the king: “Our daughter but express’d
Her cares imperfect to our godlike guest.
Suppliant to her, since first he chose to pray,
Why not herself did she conduct the way,
And with her handmaids to our court convey?”
"""
"""
“Hero and king (Ulysses thus replied)
Nor blame her faultless nor suspect of pride:
She bade me follow in the attendant train;
But fear and reverence did my steps detain,
Lest rash suspicion might alarm thy mind:
Man’s of a jealous and mistaken kind.”
"""
"""
“Far from my soul (he cried) the gods efface
All wrath ill-grounded, and suspicion base!
Whate’er is honest, stranger, I approve,
And would to Phoebus, Pallas, and to Jove,
Such as thou art, thy thought and mine were one,
Nor thou unwilling to be called my son.
In such alliance couldst thou wish to join,
A palace stored with treasures should be thine.
But if reluctant, who shall force thy stay?
Jove bids to set the stranger on his way,
And ships shall wait thee with the morning ray.
Till then, let slumber cross thy careful eyes:
The wakeful mariners shall watch the skies,
And seize the moment when the breezes rise:
Then gently waft thee to the pleasing shore,
Where thy soul rests, and labour is no more.
Far as Euboea though thy country lay,
Our ships with ease transport thee in a day.
Thither of old, earth’s giant son to view,
On wings of wind with Rhadamanth they flew;
This land, from whence their morning course begun,
Saw them returning with the setting sun.
Your eyes shall witness and confirm my tale,
Our youth how dexterous, and how fleet our sail,
When justly timed with equal sweep they row,
And ocean whitens in long tracks below.”
"""
"""
Thus he. No word the experienced man replies,
But thus to heaven (and heavenward lifts his eyes):
“O Jove! O father! what the king accords
Do thou make perfect! sacred be his words!
Wide o’er the world Alcinous’ glory shine!
Let fame be his, and ah! my country mine!”
"""
"""
Meantime Arete, for the hour of rest,
Ordains the fleecy couch, and covering vest;
Bids her fair train the purple quilts prepare,
And the thick carpets spread with busy care.
With torches blazing in their hands they pass’d,
And finish’d all their queen’s command with haste:
Then gave the signal to the willing guest:
He rose with pleasure, and retired to rest.
There, soft extended, to the murmuring sound
Of the high porch, Ulysses sleeps profound!
Within, released from cares, Alcinous lies;
And fast beside were closed Arete’s eyes.
"""
''Argument.''
//Alcinous calls a council, in which it is resolved to transport Ulysses into his country. After which splendid entertainments are made, where the celebrated musician and poet, Demodocus, plays and sings to the guests. They next proceed to the games, the race, the wrestling, discus, &c., where Ulysses casts a prodigious length, to the admiration of all the spectators. They return again to the banquet and Demodocus sings the loves of Mars and Venus. Ulysses, after a compliment to the poet, desires him to sing the introduction of the wooden horse into Troy, which subject provoking his tears, Alcinous inquires of his guest his name, parentage, and fortunes.//
"""
Now fair Aurora lifts her golden ray,
And all the ruddy orient flames with day:
Alcinous, and the chief, with dawning light,
Rose instant from the slumbers of the night;
Then to the council-seat they bend their way,
And fill the shining thrones along the bay.
"""
"""
Meanwhile Minerva, in her guardian care,
Shoots from the starry vault through fields of air;
In form, a herald of the king, she flies
From peer to peer, and thus incessant cries;
"""
"""
“Nobles and chiefs who rule Phaeacia’s states,
The king in council your attendance waits;
A prince of grace divine your aid implores,
O’er unknown seas arrived from unknown shores.”
"""
"""
She spoke, and sudden with tumultuous sounds
Of thronging multitudes the shore rebounds:
At once the seats they fill; and every eye
Glazed, as before some brother of the sky.
Pallas with grace divine his form improves,
More high he treads, and more enlarged he moves:
She sheds celestial bloom, regard to draw;
And gives a dignity of mien, to awe;
With strength, the future prize of fame to play,
And gather all the honours of the day.
"""
"""
Then from his glittering throne Alcinous rose;
“Attend (he cried) while we our will disclose.
Your present aid this godlike stranger craves,
Toss’d by rude tempest through a war of waves;
Perhaps from realms that view the rising day,
Or nations subject to the western ray.
Then grant, what here all sons of wine obtain
(For here affliction never pleads in vain);
Be chosen youth prepared, expert to try
The vast profound and hid the vessel fly;
Launch the tall back, and order every oar;
Then in our court indulge the genial hour.
Instant, you sailors to this task attend;
Swift to the palace, all ye peers ascend;
Let none to strangers honours due disclaim:
Be there Demodocus the bard of fame,
Taught by the gods to please, when high he sings
The vocal lay, responsive to the strings.”
"""
"""
Thus spoke the prince; the attending peers obey;
In state they move; Alcinous heads the way
Swift to Demodocus the herald flies,
At once the sailors to their charge arise;
They launch the vessel, and unfurl the sails,
And stretch the swelling canvas to the gales;
Then to the palace move: a gathering throng,
Youth, and white age, tumultuous pour along.
Now all accesses to the dome are fill’d;
Eight boars, the choicest of the herd, are kill’d;
Two beeves, twelve fatlings, from the flock they bring
To crown the feast; so wills the bounteous king,
The herald now arrives, and guides along
The sacred master of celestial song;
Dear to the Muse! who gave his days to flow
With mighty blessings, mix’d with mighty woe;
With clouds of darkness quench’d his visual ray,
But gave him skill to raise the lofty lay.
High on a radiant throne sublime in state,
Encircled by huge multitudes, he sate;
With silver shone the throne; his lyre, well strung
To rapturous sounds, at hand Poutonous hung.
Before his seat a polish’d table shines,
And a full goblet foams with generous wines;
His food a herald bore; and now they fed;
And now the rage of craving hunger fled.
"""
"""
Then, fired by all the Muse, aloud he sings
The mighty deeds of demigods and kings;
From that fierce wrath the noble song arose,
That made Ulysses and Achilles foes;
How o’er the feast they doom the fall of Troy;
The stern debate Atrides hears with joy;
For Heaven foretold the contest, when he trod
The marble threshold of the Delphic god,
Curious to learn the counsels of the sky,
Ere yet he loosed the rage of war on Troy.
"""
"""
Touch’d at the song, Ulysses straight resign’d
To soft affliction all his manly mind.
Before his eyes the purple vest he drew,
Industrious to conceal the falling dew;
But when the music paused, he ceased to shed
The flowing tear, and raised his drooping head;
And, lifting to the gods a goblet crown’d,
He pour’d a pure libation to the ground.
"""
"""
Transported with the song, the listening train
Again with loud applause demand the strain;
Again Ulysses veil’d his pensive head.
Again unmann’d, a shower of sorrows shed;
Conceal’d he wept; the king observed alone
The silent tear, and heard the secret groan;
Then to the bard aloud —“O cease to sing,
Dumb be thy voice and mute the harmonious string;
Enough the feast has pleased, enough the power
Of heavenly song has crown’d the genial hour!
Incessant in the games your strength display,
Contest, ye brave the honours of the day!
That pleased the admiring stranger may proclaim
In distant regions the Phaeacian fame:
None wield the gauntlet with so dire a sway,
Or swifter in the race devour the way;
None in the leap spring with so strong a bound,
Or firmer, in the wrestling, press the ground.”
"""
"""
Thus spoke the king; the attending peers obey;
In state they move, Alcinous lends the way;
His golden lyre Demodocus unstrung,
High on a column in the palace hung;
And guided by a herald’s guardian cares,
Majestic to the lists of Fame repairs.
"""
"""
Now swarms the populace: a countless throng,
Youth and boar age; and man drives man along.
The games begin; ambitious of the prize,
Acroneus, Thoon, and Eretmeus rise;
The prize Ocyalus and Prymneus claim,
Anchialus and Ponteus, chiefs of fame.
There Proreus, Nautes, Eratreus, appear
And famed Amphialus, Polyneus’ heir;
Euryalus, like Mars terrific, rose,
When clad in wrath he withers hosts of foes;
Naubolides with grace unequall’d shone,
Or equall’d by Laodamas alone.
With these came forth Ambasineus the strong:
And three brave sons, from great Alcinous sprung.
"""
"""
Ranged in a line the ready racers stand,
Start from the goal, and vanish o’er the strand:
Swift as on wings of winds, upborne they fly,
And drifts of rising dust involve the sky.
Before the rest, what space the hinds allow
Between the mule and ox, from plough to plough,
Clytonius sprung: he wing’d the rapid way,
And bore the unrivall’d honours of the day.
With fierce embrace the brawny wrestlers join;
The conquest, great Euryalus, is thine.
Amphialus sprung forward with a bound,
Superior in the leap, a length of ground.
From Elatreus’ strong arm the discus flies,
And sings with unmatch’d force along the skies.
And Laodam whirls high, with dreadful sway,
The gloves of death, victorious in the fray.
"""
"""
While thus the peerage in the games contends,
In act to speak, Laodamas ascends.
"""
"""
“O friends (he cries), the stranger seems well skill’d
To try the illustrious labours of the field:
I deem him brave: then grant the brave man’s claim,
Invite the hero to his share of fame.
What nervous arms he boasts! how firm his tread!
His limbs how turn’d! how broad his shoulders spread!
By age unbroke! — but all-consuming care
Destroys perhaps the strength that time would spare:
Dire is the ocean, dread in all its forms!
Man must decay when man contends with storms.”
"""
"""
“Well hast thou spoke (Euryalus replies):
Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise.”
Swift as the word, advancing from the crowd,
He made obeisance, and thus spoke aloud:
"""
"""
“Vouchsafes the reverend stranger to display
His manly worth, and share the glorious day?
Father, arise! for thee thy port proclaims
Expert to conquer in the solemn games.
To fame arise! for what more fame can yield
Than the swift race, or conflict of the field?
Steal from corroding care one transient day,
To glory give the space thou hast to stay;
Short is the time, and lo! e’en now the gales
Call thee aboard, and stretch the swelling sails.”
"""
"""
To whom with sighs Ulysses gave reply:
“Ah why the ill-suiting pastime must I try?
To gloomy care my thoughts alone are free;
Ill the gay sorts with troubled hearts agree;
Sad from my natal hour my days have ran,
A much-afflicted, much-enduring man!
Who, suppliant to the king and peers, implores
A speedy voyage to his native shore.”
“Wise wanders, Laodam, thy erring tongue
The sports of glory to the brave belong
(Retorts Euryalus): he bears no claim
Among the great, unlike the sons of Fame.
A wandering merchant he frequents the main
Some mean seafarer in pursuit of gain;
Studious of freight, in naval trade well skill’d,
But dreads the athletic labours of the field.”
Incensed, Ulysses with a frown replies:
“O forward to proclaim thy soul unwise!
With partial hands the gods their gifts dispense;
Some greatly think, some speak with manly sense;
Here Heaven an elegance of form denies,
But wisdom the defect of form supplies;
This man with energy of thought controls,
And steals with modest violence our souls;
He speaks reservedly, but he speaks with force,
Nor can one word be changed but for a worse;
In public more than mortal he appears,
And as he moves, the praising crowd reveres;
While others, beauteous as the etherial kind,
The nobler portion went, a knowing mind,
In outward show Heaven gives thee to excel.
But Heaven denies the praise of thinking well
I’ll bear the brave a rude ungovern’d tongue,
And, youth, my generous soul resents the wrong.
Skill’d in heroic exercise, I claim
A post of honour with the sons of Fame.
Such was my boast while vigour crown’d my days,
Now care surrounds me, and my force decays;
Inured a melancholy part to bear
In scenes of death, by tempest and by war
Yet thus by woes impair’d, no more I waive
To prove the hero — slander stings the brave.”
"""
"""
Then gliding forward with a furious bound
He wrench’d a rocky fragment from the ground
By far more ponderous, and more huge by far
Than what Phaeacia’s sons discharged in air.
Fierce from his arm the enormous load he flings;
Sonorous through the shaded air it sings;
Couch’d to the earth, tempestuous as it flies,
The crowd gaze upward while it cleaves the skies.
Beyond all marks, with many a giddy round
Down-rushing, it up-turns a hill of ground.
"""
"""
That Instant Pallas, bursting from a cloud,
Fix’d a distinguish’d mark, and cried aloud:
"""
"""
“E’en he who, sightless, wants his visual ray
May by his touch alone award the day:
Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound
Of every champion by a length of ground:
Securely bid the strongest of the train
Arise to throw; the strongest throws in vain.”
"""
"""
She spoke: and momentary mounts the sky:
The friendly voice Ulysses hears with joy.
Then thus aloud (elate with decent pride)
“Rise, ye Phaecians, try your force (he cried):
If with this throw the strongest caster vie,
Still, further still, I bid the discus fly.
Stand forth, ye champions, who the gauntlet wield,
Or ye, the swiftest racers of the field!
Stand forth, ye wrestlers, who these pastimes grace!
I wield the gauntlet, and I run the race.
In such heroic games I yield to none,
Or yield to brave Laodamas alone:
Shall I with brave Laodamas contend?
A friend is sacred, and I style him friend.
Ungenerous were the man, and base of heart,
Who takes the kind, and pays the ungrateful part:
Chiefly the man, in foreign realms confined,
Base to his friend, to his own interest blind:
All, all your heroes I this day defy;
Give me a man that we our might may try.
Expert in every art, I boast the skill
To give the feather’d arrow wings to kill;
Should a whole host at once discharge the bow,
My well-aim’d shaft with death prevents the foe:
Alone superior in the field of Troy,
Great Philoctetes taught the shaft to fly.
From all the sons of earth unrivall’d praise
I justly claim; but yield to better days,
To those famed days when great Alcides rose,
And Eurytus, who bade the gods be foes
(Vain Eurytus, whose art became his crime,
Swept from the earth, he perish’d in his prime:
Sudden the irremeable way he trod,
Who boldly durst defy the bowyer god).
In fighting fields as far the spear I throw
As flies an arrow from the well-drawn bow.
Sole in the race the contest I decline,
Stiff are my weary joints, and I resign;
By storms and hunger worn; age well may fail,
When storms and hunger doth at once assail.”
"""
"""
Abash’d, the numbers hear the godlike man,
Till great Alcinous mildly thus began:
"""
"""
“Well hast thou spoke, and well thy generous tongue
With decent pride refutes a public wrong:
Warm are thy words, but warm without offence;
Fear only fools, secure in men of sense;
Thy worth is known. Then hear our country’s claim,
And bear to heroes our heroic fame:
In distant realms our glorious deeds display,
Repeat them frequent in the genial day;
When, blest with ease, thy woes and wanderings end,
Teach them thy consort, bid thy sons attend;
How, loved of Jove, he crown’d our sires with praise,
How we their offspring dignify our race.
"""
"""
“Let other realms the deathful gauntlet wield,
Or boast the glories of the athletic field:
We in the course unrivall’d speed display,
Or through cerulean billows plough the way;
To dress, to dance, to sing, our sole delight,
The feast or bath by day, and love by night:
Rise, then, ye skill’d in measures; let him bear
Your fame to men that breathe a distant air;
And faithful say, to you the powers belong
To race, to sail, to dance, to chant the song.
"""
"""
“But, herald, to the palace swift repair,
And the soft lyre to grace our pastimes bear.”
"""
"""
Swift at the word, obedient to the king,
The herald flies the tuneful lyre to bring.
Up rose nine seniors, chosen to survey
The future games, the judges of the day
With instant care they mark a spacious round
And level for the dance the allotted ground:
The herald bears the lyre: intent to play,
The bard advancing meditates the lay.
Skill’d in the dance, tall youths, a blooming band,
Graceful before the heavenly minstrel stand:
Light bounding from the earth, at once they rise,
Their feet half-viewless quiver in the skies:
Ulysses gazed, astonish’d to survey
The glancing splendours as their sandals play.
Meantime the bard, alternate to the strings,
The loves of Mars and Cytherea sings:
How the stern god, enamour’d with her charms
Clasp’d the gay panting goddess in his arms,
By bribes seduced; and how the sun, whose eye
Views the broad heavens, disclosed the lawless joy.
Stung to the soul, indignant through the skies
To his black forge vindictive Vulcan flies:
Arrived, his sinewy arms incessant place
The eternal anvil on the massy base.
A wondrous net he labours, to betray
The wanton lovers, as entwined they lay,
Indissolubly strong; Then instant bears
To his immortal dome the finish’d snares:
Above, below, around, with art dispread,
The sure inclosure folds the genial bed:
Whose texture even the search of gods deceives,
Thin as the filmy threads the spider weaves,
Then, as withdrawing from the starry bowers,
He feigns a journey to the Lemnian shores,
His favourite isle: observant Mars descries
His wish’d recees, and to the goddess flies;
He glows, he burns, the fair-hair’d queen of love
Descends, smooth gliding from the courts of Jove,
Gay blooming in full charms: her hand he press’d
With eager joy, and with a sigh address’d:
"""
"""
“Come, my beloved! and taste the soft delights:
Come, to repose the genial bed invites:
Thy absent spouse, neglectful of thy charms,
Prefers his barbarous Sintians to thy arms!”
"""
"""
Then, nothing loth, the enamour’d fair he led,
And sunk transported on the conscious bed.
Down rush’d the toils, inwrapping as they lay
The careless lovers in their wanton play:
In vain they strive; the entangling snares deny
(Inextricably firm) the power to fly.
Warn’d by the god who sheds the golden day,
Stern Vulcan homeward treads the starry way:
Arrived, he sees, he grieves, with rage he burns:
Full horribly he roars, his voice all heaven returns.
"""
"""
“O Jove (he cried) O all ye powers above,
See the lewd dalliance of the queen of love!
Me, awkward me, she scorns; and yields her charms
To that fair lecher, the strong god of arms.
If I am lame, that stain my natal hour
By fate imposed; such me my parent bore.
Why was I born? See how the wanton lies!
Oh sight tormenting to a husband’s eyes!
But yet, I trust, this once e’en Mars would fly
His fair-one’s arms — he thinks her, once, too nigh.
But there remain, ye guilty, in my power,
Till Jove refunds his shameless daughter’s dower.
Too dear I prized a fair enchanting face:
Beauty unchaste is beauty in disgrace.”
"""
"""
Meanwhile the gods the dome of Vulcan throng;
Apollo comes, and Neptune comes along;
With these gay Hermes trod the starry plain;
But modesty withheld the goddess train.
All heaven beholds, imprison’d as they lie,
And unextinguish’d laughter shakes the sky.
Then mutual, thus they spoke: “Behold on wrong
Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong!
Dwells there a god on all the Olympian brow
More swift than Mars, and more than Vulcan slow?
Yet Vulcan conquers, and the god of arms
Must pay the penalty for lawless charms.”
"""
"""
Thus serious they; but he who gilds the skies,
The gay Apollo, thus to Hermes cries:
“Wouldst thou enchain’d like Mars, O Hermes, lie
And bear the shame like Mars to share the joy?”
"""
"""
“O envied shame! (the smiling youth rejoin’d;)
And thrice the chains, and thrice more firmly bind;
Gaze all ye gods, and every goddess gaze,
Yet eager would I bless the sweet disgrace.”
"""
"""
Loud laugh the rest, e’en Neptune laughs aloud,
Yet sues importunate to loose the god.
“And free, (he cries) O Vulcan! free from shame
Thy captives; I ensure the penal claim.”
"""
"""
“Will Neptune (Vulcan then) the faithless trust?
He suffers who gives surety for the unjust:
But say, if that lewd scandal of the sky,
To liberty restored, perfidious fly:
Say, wilt thou bear the mulct?” He instant cries,
“The mulct I bear, if Mars perfidious flies.”
"""
"""
To whom appeased: “No more I urge delay;
When Neptune sues, my part is to obey.”
Then to the snares his force the god applies;
They burst; and Mars to Thrace indignant flies:
To the soft Cyprian shores the goddess moves,
To visit Paphos and her blooming groves,
Where to the Power an hundred altars rise,
And breathing odours scent the balmy skies;
Concealed she bathes in consecrated bowers,
The Graces unguents shed, ambrosial showers,
Unguents that charm the gods! she last assumes
Her wondrous robes; and full the goddess blooms.
"""
"""
Thus sung the bard: Ulysses hears with joy,
And loud applauses read the vaulted sky.
"""
"""
Then to the sports his sons the king commands,
Each blooming youth before the monarch stands,
In dance unmatch’d! A wondrous ball is brought
(The work of Polypus, divinely wrought);
This youth with strength enormous bids it fly,
And bending backward whirls it to the sky;
His brother, springing with an active bound,
At distance intercepts it from the ground.
The ball dismissed, in dance they skim the strand,
Turn and return, and scarce imprint the sand.
The assembly gazes with astonished eyes,
And sends in shouts applauses to the skies.
"""
"""
Then thus Ulysses: “Happy king, whose name
The brightest shines in all the rolls of fame!
In subjects happy with surprise I gaze;
Thy praise was just; their skill transcends thy praise.”
"""
"""
Pleas’d with his people’s fame, the monarch hears,
And thus benevolent accosts the peers:
“Since wisdom’s sacred guidance he pursues,
Give to the stranger-guest a stranger’s dues:
Twelve princes in our realm dominion share,
O’er whom supreme, imperial power I bear;
Bring gold, a pledge of love: a talent bring,
A vest, a robe, and imitate your king.
Be swift to give: that he this night may share
The social feast of joy, with joy sincere.
And thou, Euryalus, redeem thy wrong;
A generous heart repairs a slanderous tongue.”
"""
"""
The assenting peers, obedient to the king,
In haste their heralds send the gifts to bring.
Then thus Euryalus: “O prince, whose sway
Rules this bless’d realm, repentant I obey;
Be his this sword, whose blade of brass displays
A ruddy gleam; whose hilt a silver blaze;
Whose ivory sheath, inwrought with curious pride,
Adds graceful terror to the wearer’s side.”
"""
"""
He said, and to his hand the sword consign’d:
“And if (he cried) my words affect thy mind,
Far from thy mind those words, ye whirlwinds, bear,
And scatter them, ye storms, in empty air!
Crown, O ye heavens, with joy his peaceful hours,
And grant him to his spouse, and native shores.”
"""
"""
“And blest be thou, my friend, (Ulysses cries,)
Crown him with every joy, ye favouring skies
To thy calm hours continued peace afford,
And never, never mayst thou want this sword,”
"""
"""
He said, and o’er his shoulder flung the blade.
Now o’er the earth ascends the evening shade:
The precious gifts the illustrious heralds bear,
And to the court the embodied peers repair.
Before the queen Alcinous’ sons unfold
The vests, the robes, and heaps of shining gold;
Then to the radiant thrones they move in state:
Aloft, the king in pomp imperial sate.
"""
"""
Thence to the queen: “O partner of our reign,
O sole beloved! command thy menial train
A polish’d chest and stately robes to bear,
And healing waters for the bath prepare;
That, bathed, our guest may bid his sorrows cease,
Hear the sweet song, and taste the feast in peace.
A bowl that flames with gold, of wondrous frame,
Ourself we give, memorial of our name;
To raise in offerings to almighty Jove,
And every god that treads the courts above.”
"""
"""
Instant the queen, observant of the king,
Commands her train a spacious vase to bring,
The spacious vase with ample streams suffice,
Heap the high wood, and bid the flames arise.
The flames climb round it with a fierce embrace,
The fuming waters bubble o’er the blaze.
Herself the chest prepares; in order roll’d
The robes, the vests are ranged, and heaps of gold
And adding a rich dress inwrought with art,
A gift expressive of her bounteous heart.
Thus spoke to Ithacus: “To guard with bands
Insolvable these gifts, thy care demands;
Lest, in thy slumbers on the watery main,
The hand of rapine make our bounty vain.”
"""
"""
Then bending with full force around he roll’d
A labyrinth of bands in fold on fold,
Closed with Circaean art. A train attends
Around the bath: the bath the king ascends
(Untasted joy, since that disastrous hour,
He sail’d ill-fated from Calypso’s bower);
Where, happy as the gods that range the sky,
He feasted every sense with every joy.
He bathes; the damsels with officious toil,
Shed sweets, shed unguents, in a shower of oil;
Then o’er his limbs a gorgeous robe he spreads,
And to the feast magnificently treads.
Full where the dome its shining valves expands,
Nausicaa blooming as a goddess stands;
With wondering eyes the hero she survey’d,
And graceful thus began the royal maid:
"""
"""
“Hail, godlike stranger! and when heaven restores
To thy fond wish thy long-expected shores,
This ever grateful in remembrance bear:
To me thou owest, to me, the vital air.”
"""
"""
“O royal maid! (Ulysses straight returns)
Whose worth the splendours of thy race adorns,
So may dread Jove (whose arm in vengeance forms
The writhen bolt, and blackens heaven with storms),
Restore me safe, through weary wanderings toss’d,
To my dear country’s ever-pleasing coast,
As while the spirit in this bosom glows,
To thee, my goddess, I address my vows;
My life, thy gift I boast!” He said, and sate
Fast by Alcinous on a throne of state.
"""
"""
Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares,
Portions the food, and each his portion shares.
The bard a herald guides; the gazing throng
Pay low obeisance as he moves along:
Beneath a sculptur’d arch he sits enthroned,
The peers encircling form an awful round.
Then, from the chine, Ulysses carves with art
Delicious food, an honorary part:
“This, let the master of the lyre receive,
A pledge of love! ’tis all a wretch can give.
Lives there a man beneath the spacious skies
Who sacred honours to the bard denies?
The Muse the bard inspires, exalts his mind;
The muse indulgent loves the harmonious kind.”
"""
"""
The herald to his hand the charge conveys,
Not fond of flattery, nor unpleased with praise.
"""
"""
When now the rage of hunger was allay’d,
Thus to the lyrist wise Ulysses said:
“O more than man! thy soul the muse inspires,
Or Phoebus animates with all his fires;
For who, by Phoebus uninform’d, could know
The woe of Greece, and sing so well the woe?
Just to the tale, as present at the fray,
Or taught the labours of the dreadful day:
The song recalls past horrors to my eyes,
And bids proud Ilion from her ashes rise.
Once more harmonious strike the sounding string,
The Epaean fabric, framed by Pallas, sing:
How stern Ulysses, furious to destroy,
With latent heroes sack’d imperial Troy.
If faithful thou record the tale of Fame,
The god himself inspires thy breast with flame
And mine shall be the task henceforth to raise
In every land thy monument of praise.”
"""
"""
Full of the god he raised his lofty strain:
How the Greeks rush’d tumultuous to the main;
How blazing tents illumined half the skies,
While from the shores the winged navy flies;
How e’en in Ilion’s walls, in deathful bands,
Came the stern Greeks by Troy’s assisting hands:
All Troy up-heaved the steed; of differing mind,
Various the Trojans counsell’d: part consign’d
The monster to the sword, part sentence gave
To plunge it headlong in the whelming wave;
The unwise award to lodge it in the towers,
An offering sacred to the immortal powers:
The unwise prevail, they lodge it in the walls,
And by the gods’ decree proud Ilion falls:
Destruction enters in the treacherous wood,
And vengeful slaughter, fierce for human blood.
"""
"""
He sung the Greeks stern-issuing from the steed,
How Ilion burns, how all her fathers bleed;
How to thy dome, Deiphobus! ascends
The Spartan king; how Ithacus attends
(Horrid as Mars); and how with dire alarms
He fights — subdues, for Pallas strings his arms
"""
"""
Thus while he sung, Ulysses’ griefs renew,
Tears bathe his cheeks, and tears the ground bedew
As some fond matron views in mortal fight
Her husband falling in his country’s right;
Frantic through clashing swords she runs, she flies,
As ghastly pale he groans, and faints and dies;
Close to his breast she grovels on the ground,
And bathes with floods of tears the gaping wound;
She cries, she shrieks: the fierce insulting foe
Relentless mocks her violence of woe:
To chains condemn’d, as wildly she deplores;
A widow, and a slave on foreign shores.
"""
"""
So from the sluices of Ulysses’ eyes
Fast fell the tears, and sighs succeeded sighs:
Conceal’d he grieved: the king observed alone
The silent tear, and heard the secret groan;
Then to the bard aloud: “O cease to sing,
Dumb be thy voice, and mute the tuneful string;
To every note his tears responsive flow,
And his great heart heaves with tumultuous woe;
Thy lay too deeply moves: then cease the lay,
And o’er the banquet every heart be gay:
This social right demands: for him the sails,
Floating in air, invite the impelling gales:
His are the gifts of love: the wise and good
Receive the stranger as a brother’s blood.
"""
"""
“But, friend, discover faithful what I crave;
Artful concealment ill becomes the brave:
Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore,
Imposed by parents in the natal hour?
(For from the natal hour distinctive names,
One common right, the great and lowly claims:)
Say from what city, from what regions toss’d,
And what inhabitants those regions boast?
So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign’d,
In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind;
No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;
Like man intelligent, they plough the tides,
Conscious of every coast, and every bay,
That lies beneath the sun’s all-seeing ray;
Though clouds and darkness veil the encumber’d sky,
Fearless through darkness and through clouds they fly;
Though tempests rage, though rolls the swelling main,
The seas may roll, the tempests rage in vain;
E’en the stern god that o’er the waves presides,
Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides,
With fury burns; while careless they convey
Promiscuous every guest to every bay,
These ears have heard my royal sire disclose
A dreadful story, big with future woes;
How Neptune raged, and how, by his command,
Firm rooted in a surge a ship should stand
A monument of wrath; how mound on mound
Should bury these proud towers beneath the ground.
But this the gods may frustrate or fulfil,
As suits the purpose of the Eternal Will.
But say through what waste regions hast thou stray’d
What customs noted, and what coasts survey’d;
Possess’d by wild barbarians fierce in arms,
Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?
Say why the fate of Troy awaked thy cares,
Why heaved thy bosom, and why flowed thy tears?
Just are the ways of Heaven: from Heaven proceed
The woes of man; Heaven doom’d the Greeks to bleed,
A theme of future song! Say, then, if slain
Some dear-loved brother press’d the Phrygian plain?
Or bled some friend, who bore a brother’s part,
And claim’d by merit, not by blood, the heart?”
"""
''Argument.''
''The Adventures of the Cicons, Lotophagi and Cyclops''
//Ulysses begins the relation of his adventures: how, after the destruction of Troy, he with his companions made an incursion on the Cicons, by whom they were repulsed; and, meeting with a storm, were driven to the coast of the Lotophagi. From there they sailed to the land of the Cyclops, whose manners and situation are particularly characterised. The giant Polyphemus and his cave described; the usage Ulysses and his companions met with there; and, lastly, the method and artifice by which he escaped.//
"""
Then thus Ulysses: “Thou whom first in sway,
As first in virtue, these thy realms obey;
How sweet the products of a peaceful reign!
The heaven-taught poet and enchanting strain;
The well-filled palace, the perpetual feast,
A land rejoicing, and a people bless’d!
How goodly seems it ever to employ
Man’s social days in union and in joy;
The plenteous hoard high-heap’d with cates divine,
And o’er the foaming bowl the laughing wine!
"""
"""
“Amid these joys, why seels thy mind to know
The unhappy series of a wanderer’s woe?
Rememberance sad, whose image to review,
Alas, I must open all my wounds anew!
And oh, what first, what last shall I relate,
Of woes unnumbered sent by Heaven and Fate?
"""
"""
“Know first the man (though now a wretch distress’d)
Who hopes thee, monarch, for his future guest.
Behold Ulysses! no ignoble name,
Earth sounds my wisdom and high heaven my fame.
"""
"""
“My native soil is Ithaca the fair,
Where high Neritus waves his woods in air;
Dulichium, Same and Zaccynthus crown’d
With shady mountains spread their isles around.
(These to the north and night’s dark regions run,
Those to Aurora and the rising sun).
Low lies our isle, yet bless’d in fruitful stores;
Strong are her sons, though rocky are her shores;
And none, ah none no lovely to my sight,
Of all the lands that heaven o’erspreads with light.
In vain Calypso long constrained my stay,
With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay;
With all her charms as vainly Circe strove,
And added magic to secure my love.
In pomps or joys, the palace or the grot,
My country’s image never was forgot;
My absent parents rose before my sight,
And distant lay contentment and delight.
"""
"""
“Hear, then, the woes which mighty Jove ordain’d
To wait my passage from the Trojan land.
The winds from Ilion to the Cicons’ shore,
Beneath cold Ismarus our vessels bore.
We boldly landed on the hostile place,
And sack’d the city, and destroy’d the race,
Their wives made captive, their possessions shared,
And every soldier found a like reward
I then advised to fly; not so the rest,
Who stay’d to revel, and prolong the feast:
The fatted sheep and sable bulls they slay,
And bowls flow round, and riot wastes the day.
Meantime the Cicons, to their holds retired,
Call on the Cicons, with new fury fired;
With early morn the gather’d country swarms,
And all the continent is bright with arms;
Thick as the budding leaves or rising flowers
O’erspread the land, when spring descends in showers:
All expert soldiers, skill’d on foot to dare,
Or from the bounding courser urge the war.
Now fortune changes (so the Fates ordain);
Our hour was come to taste our share of pain.
Close at the ships the bloody fight began,
Wounded they wound, and man expires on man.
Long as the morning sun increasing bright
O’er heaven’s pure azure spreads the glowing light,
Promiscuous death the form of war confounds,
Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds;
But when his evening wheels o’erhung the main,
Then conquest crown’d the fierce Ciconian train.
Six brave companions from each ship we lost,
The rest escape in haste, and quit the coast,
With sails outspread we fly the unequal strife,
Sad for their loss, but joyful of our life.
Yet as we fled, our fellows’ rites we paid,
And thrice we call’d on each unhappy shade,
"""
"""
“Meanwhile the god, whose hand the thunder forms,
Drives clouds on clouds, and blackens heaven with storms:
Wide o’er the waste the rage of Boreas sweeps,
And night rush’d headlong on the shaded deeps.
Now here, now there, the giddy ships are borne,
And all the rattling shrouds in fragments torn.
We furl’d the sail, we plied the labouring oar,
Took down our masts, and row’d our ships to shore.
Two tedious days and two long nights we lay,
O’erwatch’d and batter’d in the naked bay.
But the third morning when Aurora brings,
We rear the masts, we spread the canvas wings;
Refresh’d and careless on the deck reclined,
We sit, and trust the pilot and the wind.
Then to my native country had I sail’d:
But, the cape doubled, adverse winds prevail’d.
Strong was the tide, which by the northern blast
Impell’d, our vessels on Cythera cast,
Nine days our fleet the uncertain tempest bore
Far in wide ocean, and from sight of shore:
The tenth we touch’d, by various errors toss’d,
The land of Lotus and the flowery coast.
We climb’d the beach, and springs of water found,
Then spread our hasty banquet on the ground.
Three men were sent, deputed from the crew
(A herald one) the dubious coast to view,
And learn what habitants possess’d the place.
They went, and found a hospitable race:
Not prone to ill, nor strange to foreign guest,
They eat, they drink, and nature gives the feast
The trees around them all their food produce:
Lotus the name: divine, nectareous juice!
(Thence call’d Lo’ophagi); which whose tastes,
Insatiate riots in the sweet repasts,
Nor other home, nor other care intends,
But quits his house, his country, and his friends.
The three we sent, from off the enchanting ground
We dragg’d reluctant, and by force we bound.
The rest in haste forsook the pleasing shore,
Or, the charm tasted, had return’d no more.
Now placed in order on their banks, they sweep
The sea’s smooth face, and cleave the hoary deep:
With heavy hearts we labour through the tide,
To coasts unknown, and oceans yet untried.
"""
"""
“The land of Cyclops first, a savage kind,
Nor tamed by manners, nor by laws confined:
Untaught to plant, to turn the glebe, and sow,
They all their products to free nature owe:
The soil, untill’d, a ready harvest yields,
With wheat and barley wave the golden fields;
Spontaneous wines from weighty clusters pour,
And Jove descends in each prolific shower,
By these no statues and no rights are known,
No council held, no monarch fills the throne;
But high on hills, or airy cliffs, they dwell,
Or deep in caves whose entrance leads to hell.
Each rules his race, his neighbour not his care,
Heedless of others, to his own severe.
"""
"""
“Opposed to the Cyclopean coast, there lay
An isle, whose hill their subject fields survey;
Its name Lachaea, crown’d with many a grove,
Where savage goats through pathless thickets rove:
No needy mortals here, with hunger bold,
Or wretched hunters through the wintry cold
Pursue their flight; but leave them safe to bound
From hill to hill, o’er all the desert ground.
Nor knows the soil to feed the fleecy care,
Or feels the labours of the crooked share;
But uninhabited, untill’d, unsown,
It lies, and breeds the bleating goat alone.
For there no vessel with vermilion prore,
Or bark of traffic, glides from shore to shore;
The rugged race of savages, unskill’d
The seas to traverse, or the ships to build,
Gaze on the coast, nor cultivate the soil,
Unlearn’d in all the industrious art of toil,
Yet here all produces and all plants abound,
Sprung from the fruitful genius of the ground;
Fields waving high with heavy crops are seen,
And vines that flourish in eternal green,
Refreshing meads along the murmuring main,
And fountains streaming down the fruitful plain.
"""
"""
“A port there is, inclosed on either side,
Where ships may rest, unanchor’d and untied;
Till the glad mariners incline to sail,
And the sea whitens with the rising gale,
High at the head, from out the cavern’d rock,
In living rills a gushing fountain broke:
Around it, and above, for ever green,
The busy alders form’d a shady scene;
Hither some favouring god, beyond our thought,
Through all surrounding shade our navy brought;
For gloomy night descended on the main,
Nor glimmer’d Phoebe in the ethereal plain:
But all unseen the clouded island lay,
And all unseen the surge and rolling sea,
Till safe we anchor’d in the shelter’d bay:
Our sails we gather’d, cast our cables o’er,
And slept secure along the sandy shore.
Soon as again the rosy morning shone,
Reveal’d the landscape and the scene unknown,
With wonder seized, we view the pleasing ground,
And walk delighted, and expatiate round.
Roused by the woodland nymphs at early dawn,
The mountain goats came bounding o’er the lawn:
In haste our fellows to the ships repair,
For arms and weapons of the sylvan war;
Straight in three squadrons all our crew we part,
And bend the bow, or wing the missile dart;
The bounteous gods afford a copious prey,
And nine fat goats each vessel bears away:
The royal bark had ten. Our ships complete
We thus supplied (for twelve were all the fleet).
"""
"""
“Here, till the setting sun roll’d down the light,
We sat indulging in the genial rite:
Nor wines were wanting; those from ample jars
We drain’d, the prize of our Ciconian wars.
The land of Cyclops lay in prospect near:
The voice of goats and bleating flocks we hear,
And from their mountains rising smokes appear.
Now sunk the sun, and darkness cover’d o’er
The face of things: along the sea-beat shore
Satiate we slept: but, when the sacred dawn
Arising glitter’d o’er the dewy lawn,
I call’d my fellows, and these words address’d
‘My dear associates, here indulge your rest;
While, with my single ship, adventurous, I
Go forth, the manners of you men to try;
Whether a race unjust, of barbarous might,
Rude and unconscious of a stranger’s right;
Or such who harbour pity in their breast,
Revere the gods, and succour the distress’d,’
"""
"""
“This said, I climb’d my vessel’s lofty side;
My train obey’d me, and the ship untied.
In order seated on their banks, they sweep
Neptune’s smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep.
When to the nearest verge of land we drew,
Fast by the sea a lonely cave we view,
High, and with darkening laurels covered o’er;
Were sheep and goats lay slumbering round the shore
Near this, a fence of marble from the rock,
Brown with o’eraching pine and spreading oak.
A giant shepherd here his flock maintains
Far from the rest, and solitary reigns,
In shelter thick of horrid shade reclined;
And gloomy mischiefs labour in his mind.
A form enormous! far unlike the race
Of human birth, in stature, or in face;
As some lone mountain’s monstrous growth he stood,
Crown’d with rough thickets, and a nodding wood.
I left my vessel at the point of land,
And close to guard it, gave our crew command:
With only twelve, the boldest and the best,
I seek the adventure, and forsake the rest.
Then took a goatskin fill’d with precious wine,
The gift of Maron of Evantheus’ line
(The priest of Phoebus at the Ismarian shrine).
In sacred shade his honour’d mansion stood
Amidst Apollo’s consecrated wood;
Him, and his house, Heaven moved my mind to save,
And costly presents in return he gave;
Seven golden talents to perfection wrought,
A silver bowl that held a copious draught,
And twelve large vessels of unmingled wine,
Mellifluous, undecaying, and divine!
Which now, some ages from his race conceal’d,
The hoary sire in gratitude reveal’d.
Such was the wine: to quench whose fervent steam
Scarce twenty measures from the living stream
To cool one cup sufficed: the goblet crown’d
Breathed aromatic fragrances around.
Of this an ample vase we heaved aboard,
And brought another with provisions stored.
My soul foreboded I should find the bower
Of some fell monster, fierce with barbarous power;
Some rustic wretch, who lived in Heaven’s despite,
Contemning laws, and trampling on the right.
The cave we found, but vacant all within
(His flock the giant tended on the green):
But round the grot we gaze; and all we view,
In order ranged our admiration drew:
The bending shelves with loads of cheeses press’d,
The folded flocks each separate from the rest
(The larger here, and there the lesser lambs,
The new-fallen young here bleating for their dams:
The kid distinguish’d from the lambkin lies);
The cavern echoes with responsive cries.
Capacious chargers all around were laid.
Full pails, and vessels of the milking trade.
With fresh provisions hence our fleet to store
My friends advise me, and to quit the shore.
Or drive a flock of sheep and goats away,
Consult our safety, and put off to sea.
Their wholesome counsel rashly I declined,
Curious to view the man of monstrous kind,
And try what social rites a savage lends:
Dire rites, alas! and fatal to my friends
"""
"""
“Then first a fire we kindle, and prepare
For his return with sacrifice and prayer;
The loaden shelves afford us full repast;
We sit expecting. Lo! he comes at last,
Near half a forest on his back he bore,
And cast the ponderous burden at the door.
It thunder’d as it fell. We trembled then,
And sought the deep recesses of the den.
New driven before him through the arching rock,
Came tumbling, heaps on heaps, the unnumber’d flock.
Big-udder’d ewes, and goats of female kind
(The males were penn’d in outward courts behind);
Then, heaved on high, a rock’s enormous weight
To the cave’s mouth he roll’d, and closed the gate
(Scarce twenty four-wheel’d cars, compact and strong,
The massy load could bear, or roll along).
He next betakes him to his evening cares,
And, sitting down, to milk his flocks prepares;
Of half their udders eases first the dams,
Then to the mother’s teat submits the lambs;
Half the white stream to hardening cheese be press’d,
And high in wicker-baskets heap’d: the rest,
Reserved in bowls, supplied his nightly feast.
His labour done, he fired the pile, that gave
A sudden blaze, and lighted all the cave.
We stand discover’d by the rising fires;
Askance the giant glares, and thus inquires:
"""
"""
“‘What are ye, guests? on what adventure, say,
Thus far ye wander through the watery way?
Pirates perhaps, who seek through seas unknown
The lives of others, and expose your own?’
"""
"""
“His voice like thunder through the cavern sounds;
My bold companions thrilling fear confounds,
Appall’d at sight of more than mortal man!
At length, with heart recover’d, I began:
"""
"""
“‘From Troy’s famed fields, sad wanderers o’er the main,
Behold the relics of the Grecian train:
Through various seas, by various perils toss’d,
And forced by storms, unwilling on your coast;
Far from our destined course and native land,
Such was our fate, and such high Jove’s command!
Nor what we are befits us to disclaim,
Atrides’ friends (in arms a mighty name),
Who taught proud Troy and all her sons to bow;
Victors of late, but humble suppliants now!
Low at thy knee thy succour we implore;
Respect us, human, and relieve us, poor.
At least, some hospitable gift bestow;
’Tis what the happy to the unhappy owe;
’Tis what the gods require: those gods revere;
The poor and stranger are their constant care;
To Jove their cause, and their revenge belongs,
He wanders with them, and he feels their wrongs.”
"""
"""
“‘Fools that ye are (the savage thus replies,
His inward fury blazing at his eyes),
Or strangers, distant far from our abodes,
To bid me reverence or regard the gods.
Know then, we Cyclops are a race above
Those air-bred people, and their goat-nursed Jove;
And learn, our power proceeds with thee and thine,
Not as he wills, but as ourselves incline.
But answer, the good ship that brought ye o’er,
Where lies she anchor’d? near or off the shore?’
"""
"""
“Thus he. His meditated fraud I find
(Versed in the turns of various human-kind):
And, cautious thus: ‘Against a dreadful rock,
Fast by your shore the gallant vessel broke.
Scarce with these few I ‘scaped; of all my train,
Whom angry Neptune, whelm’d beneath the main,
The scattered wreck the winds blew back again.’
"""
"""
“He answer’d with his deed: his bloody hand
Snatch’d two, unhappy! of my martial band;
And dash’d like dogs against the stony floor:
The pavement swims with brains and mingled gore.
Torn limb from limb, he spreads his horrid feast,
And fierce devours it like a mountain beast:
He sucks the marrow, and the blood he drains,
Nor entrails, flesh, nor solid bone remains.
We see the death from which we cannot move,
And humbled groan beneath the hand of Jove.
His ample maw with human carnage fill’d,
A milky deluge next the giant swill’d;
Then stretch’d in length o’er half the cavern’d rock,
Lay senseless, and supine, amidst the flock.
To seize the time, and with a sudden wound
To fix the slumbering monster to the ground,
My soul impels me! and in act I stand
To draw the sword; but wisdom held my hand.
A deed so rash had finished all our fate,
No mortal forces from the lofty gate
Could roll the rock. In hopeless grief we lay,
And sigh, expecting the return of day.
Now did the rosy-fingered morn arise,
And shed her sacred light along the skies;
He wakes, he lights the fire, he milks the dams,
And to the mother’s teats submits the lambs.
The task thus finish’d of his morning hours,
Two more he snatches, murders, and devours.
Then pleased, and whistling, drives his flock before,
Removes the rocky mountain from the door,
And shuts again: with equal ease disposed,
As a light quiver’s lid is oped and closed.
His giant voice the echoing region fills:
His flocks, obedient, spread o’er all the hills.
"""
"""
“Thus left behind, even in the last despair
I thought, devised, and Pallas heard my prayer.
Revenge, and doubt, and caution, work’d my breast;
But this of many counsels seem’d the best:
The monster’s club within the cave I spied,
A tree of stateliest growth, and yet undried,
Green from the wood: of height and bulk so vast,
The largest ship might claim it for a mast.
This shorten’d of its top, I gave my train
A fathom’s length, to shape it and to plane;
The narrower end I sharpen’d to a spire,
Whose point we harden’d with the force of fire,
And hid it in the dust that strew’d the cave,
Then to my few companions, bold and brave,
Proposed, who first the venturous deed should try,
In the broad orbit of his monstrous eye
To plunge the brand and twirl the pointed wood,
When slumber next should tame the man of blood.
Just as I wished, the lots were cast on four:
Myself the fifth. We stand and wait the hour.
He comes with evening: all his fleecy flock
Before him march, and pour into the rock:
Not one, or male or female, stayed behind
(So fortune chanced, or so some god designed);
Then heaving high the stone’s unwieldy weight,
He roll’d it on the cave and closed the gate.
First down he sits, to milk the woolly dams,
And then permits their udder to the lambs.
Next seized two wretches more, and headlong cast,
Brain’d on the rock; his second dire repast.
I then approach’d him reeking with their gore,
And held the brimming goblet foaming o’er;
‘Cyclop! since human flesh has been thy feast,
Now drain this goblet, potent to digest;
Know hence what treasures in our ship we lost,
And what rich liquors other climates boast.
We to thy shore the precious freight shall bear,
If home thou send us and vouchsafe to spare.
But oh! thus furious, thirsting thus for gore,
The sons of men shall ne’er approach thy shore,
And never shalt thou taste this nectar more,’
"""
"""
“He heard, he took, and pouring down his throat,
Delighted, swill’d the large luxurious draught,
‘More! give me more (he cried): the boon be thine,
Whoe’er thou art that bear’st celestial wine!
Declare thy name: not mortal is this juice,
Such as the unbless’d Cyclopaean climes produce
(Though sure our vine the largest cluster yields,
And Jove’s scorn’d thunder serves to drench our fields);
But this descended from the bless’d abodes,
A rill of nectar, streaming from the gods.’
"""
"""
“He said, and greedy grasped the heady bowl,
Thrice drained, and poured the deluge on his soul.
His sense lay covered with the dozy fume;
While thus my fraudful speech I reassume.
‘Thy promised boon, O Cyclop! now I claim,
And plead my title; Noman is my name.
By that distinguish’d from my tender years,
’Tis what my parents call me, and my peers.
"""
"""
“The giant then: ‘Our promis’d grace receive,
The hospitable boon we mean to give:
When all thy wretched crew have felt my power,
Noman shall be the last I will devour.’
"""
"""
“He said: then nodding with the fumes of wine
Droop’d his huge head, and snoring lay supine.
His neck obliquely o’er his shoulders hung,
Press’d with the weight of sleep that tames the strong:
There belch’d the mingled streams of wine and blood,
And human flesh, his indigested food.
Sudden I stir the embers, and inspire
With animating breath the seeds of fire:
Each drooping spirit with bold words repair,
And urged my train the dreadful deed to dare.
The stake now glow’d beneath the burning bed
(Green as it was) and sparkled fiery red,
Then forth the vengeful instrument I bring;
With beating hearts my fellows form a ring.
Urged my some present god, they swift let fall
The pointed torment on his visual ball.
Myself above them from a rising ground
Guide the sharp stake, and twirl it round and round.
As when a shipwright stands his workmen o’er,
Who ply the wimble, some huge beam to bore;
Urged on all hands, it nimbly spins about,
The grain deep-piercing till it scoops it out:
In his broad eye he whirls the fiery wood;
From the pierced pupil spouts the boiling blood;
Singed are his brows; the scorching lids grow black;
The jelly bubbles, and the fibres crack.
And as when armourers temper in the ford
The keen-edged pole-axe, or the shining sword,
The red-hot metal hisses in the lake,
Thus in his eye-ball hiss’d the plunging stake.
He sends a dreadful groan, the rocks around
Through all their inmost winding caves resound.
Scared we recoiled. Forth with frantic hand,
He tore and dash’d on earth and gory brand;
Then calls the Cyclops, all that round him dwell,
With voice like thunder, and a direful yell.
From all their dens the one-eyed race repair,
From rifted rocks, and mountains bleak in air.
All haste assembled, at his well-known roar,
Inquire the cause, and crowd the cavern door.
"""
"""
“‘What hurts thee, Polypheme? what strange affright
Thus breaks our slumbers, and disturbs the night?
Does any mortal, in the unguarded hour
Of sleep, oppress thee, or by fraud or power?
Or thieves insidious thy fair flock surprise?’
Thus they; the Cyclop from his den replies:
"""
"""
“‘Friends, Noman kills me; Noman in the hour
Of sleep, oppresses me with fraudful power.’
‘If no man hurt thee, but the hand divine
Inflict disease, it fits thee to resign:
To Jove or to thy father Neptune pray.’
The brethren cried, and instant strode away.
“Joy touch’d my secret soul and conscious heart,
Pleased with the effect of conduct and of art.
Meantime the Cyclop, raging with his wound,
Spreads his wide arms, and searches round and round:
At last, the stone removing from the gate,
With hands extended in the midst he sate;
And search’d each passing sheep, and fell it o’er,
Secure to seize us ere we reach’d the door
(Such as his shallow wit he deem’d was mine);
But secret I revolved the deep design:
’Twas for our lives my labouring bosom wrought;
Each scheme I turn’d, and sharpen’d every thought;
This way and that I cast to save my friends,
Till one resolve my varying counsel ends.
"""
"""
“Strong were the rams, with native purple fair,
Well fed, and largest of the fleecy care,
These, three and three, with osier bands we tied
(The twining bands the Cyclop’s bed supplied);
The midmost bore a man, the outward two
Secured each side: so bound we all the crew,
One ram remain’d, the leader of the flock:
In his deep fleece my grasping hands I lock,
And fast beneath, in wooly curls inwove,
There cling implicit, and confide in Jove.
When rosy morning glimmer’d o’er the dales,
He drove to pasture all the lusty males:
The ewes still folded, with distended thighs
Unmilk’d lay bleating in distressful cries.
But heedless of those cares, with anguish stung,
He felt their fleeces as they pass’d along
(Fool that he was.) and let them safely go,
All unsuspecting of their freight below.
"""
"""
“The master ram at last approach’d the gate,
Charged with his wool, and with Ulysses’ fate.
Him while he pass’d, the monster blind bespoke:
‘What makes my ram the lag of all the flock?
First thou wert wont to crop the flowery mead,
First to the field and river’s bank to lead,
And first with stately step at evening hour
Thy fleecy fellows usher to their bower.
Now far the last, with pensive pace and slow
Thou movest, as conscious of thy master’s woe!
Seest thou these lids that now unfold in vain?
(The deed of Noman and his wicked train!)
Oh! did’st thou feel for thy afflicted lord,
And would but Fate the power of speech afford.
Soon might’st thou tell me, where in secret here
The dastard lurks, all trembling with his fear:
Swung round and round, and dash’d from rock to rock,
His battered brains should on the pavement smoke
No ease, no pleasure my sad heart receives,
While such a monster as vile Noman lives.’
"""
"""
“The giant spoke, and through the hollow rock
Dismiss’d the ram, the father of the flock.
No sooner freed, and through the inclosure pass’d,
First I release myself, my fellows last:
Fat sheep and goats in throngs we drive before,
And reach our vessel on the winding shore.
With joy the sailors view their friends return’d,
And hail us living whom as dead they mourn’d
Big tears of transport stand in every eye:
I check their fondness, and command to fly.
Aboard in haste they heave the wealthy sheep,
And snatch their oars, and rush into the deep.
“Now off at sea, and from the shallows clear,
As far as human voice could reach the ear,
With taunts the distant giant I accost:
‘Hear me, O Cyclop! hear, ungracious host!
’Twas on no coward, no ignoble slave,
Thou meditatest thy meal in yonder cave;
But one, the vengeance fated from above
Doom’d to inflict; the instrument of Jove.
Thy barbarous breach of hospitable bands,
The god, the god revenges by my hands.’
"""
"""
“These words the Cyclop’s burning rage provoke;
From the tall hill he rends a pointed rock;
High o’er the billows flew the massy load,
And near the ship came thundering on the flood.
It almost brush’d the helm, and fell before:
The whole sea shook, and refluent beat the shore,
The strong concussion on the heaving tide
Roll’d back the vessel to the island’s side:
Again I shoved her off: our fate to fly,
Each nerve we stretch, and every oar we ply.
Just ‘scaped impending death, when now again
We twice as far had furrow’d back the main,
Once more I raise my voice; my friends, afraid,
With mild entreaties my design dissuade:
‘What boots the godless giant to provoke,
Whose arm may sink us at a single stroke?
Already when the dreadful rock he threw,
Old Ocean shook, and back his surges flew.
The sounding voice directs his aim again;
The rock o’erwhelms us, and we ‘scaped in vain.’
"""
"""
“But I, of mind elate, and scorning fear,
Thus with new taunts insult the monster’s ear:
‘Cyclop! if any, pitying thy disgrace.
Ask, who disfigured thus that eyeless face?
Say ’twas Ulysses: ’twas his deed declare,
Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair;
Ulysses, far in fighting fields renown’d,
Before whose arm Troy tumbled to the ground.’
"""
"""
“The astonished savage with a roar replies:
‘Oh heavens! oh faith of ancient prophecies!
This, Telemus Eurymedes foretold
(The mighty seer who on these hills grew old;
Skill’d the dark fates of mortals to declare,
And learn’d in all wing’d omens of the air);
Long since he menaced, such was Fate’s command;
And named Ulysses as the destined hand.
I deem’d some godlike giant to behold,
Or lofty hero, haughty, brave, and bold;
Not this weak pigmy wretch, of mean design,
Who, not by strength subdued me, but by wine.
But come, accept our gifts, and join to pray
Great Neptune’s blessing on the watery way;
For his I am, and I the lineage own;
The immortal father no less boasts the son.
His power can heal me, and relight my eye;
And only his, of all the gods on high.’
“‘Oh! could this arm (I thus aloud rejoin’d)
From that vast bulk dislodge thy bloody mind,
And send thee howling to the realms of night!
As sure as Neptune cannot give thee sight.’
“Thus I; while raging he repeats his cries,
With hands uplifted to the starry skies?
‘Hear me, O Neptune; thou whose arms are hurl’d
From shore to shore, and gird the solid world;
If thine I am, nor thou my birth disown,
And if the unhappy Cyclop be thy son,
Let not Ulysses breathe his native air,
Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair.
If to review his country be his fate,
Be it through toils and sufferings long and late;
His lost companions let him first deplore;
Some vessel, not his own, transport him o’er;
And when at home from foreign sufferings freed,
More near and deep, domestic woes succeed!’
With imprecations thus he fill’d the air,
And angry Neptune heard the unrighteous prayer,
A larger rock then heaving from the plain,
He whirl’d it round: it sung across the main;
It fell, and brush’d the stern: the billows roar,
Shake at the weight, and refluent beat the shore.
With all our force we kept aloof to sea,
And gain’d the island where our vessels lay.
Our sight the whole collected navy cheer’d.
Who, waiting long, by turns had hoped and fear’d.
There disembarking on the green sea side,
We land our cattle, and the spoil divide;
Of these due shares to every sailor fall;
The master ram was voted mine by all;
And him (the guardian of Ulysses’ fate)
With pious mind to heaven I consecrate.
But the great god, whose thunder rends the skies,
Averse, beholds the smoking sacrifice;
And sees me wandering still from coast to coast,
And all my vessels, all my people, lost!
While thoughtless we indulge the genial rite,
As plenteous cates and flowing bowls invite;
Till evening Phoebus roll’d away the light;
Stretch’d on the shore in careless ease we rest,
Till ruddy morning purpled o’er the east;
Then from their anchors all our ships unbind,
And mount the decks, and call the willing wind.
Now, ranged in order on our banks we sweep.
With hasty strokes the hoarse-resounding deep;
Blind to the future, pensive with our fears,
Glad for the living, for the dead in tears.”
"""
Scepticism is as much the result of knowledge, as knowledge is of scepticism. To be content with what we at present know, is, for the most part, to shut our ears against conviction; since, from the very gradual character of our education, we must continually forget, and emancipate ourselves from, knowledge previously acquired; we must set aside old notions and embrace fresh ones; and, as we learn, we must be daily unlearning something which it has cost us no small labour and anxiety to acquire.
And this difficulty attaches itself more closely to an age in which progress has gained a strong ascendency over prejudice, and in which persons and things are, day by day, finding their real level, in lieu of their conventional value. The same principles which have swept away traditional abuses, and which are making rapid havoc among the revenues of sinecurists, and stripping the thin, tawdry veil from attractive superstitions, are working as actively in literature as in society. The credulity of one writer, or the partiality of another, finds as powerful a touchstone and as wholesome a chastisement in the healthy scepticism of a temperate class of antagonists, as the dreams of conservatism, or the impostures of pluralist sinecures in the Church. History and tradition, whether of ancient or comparatively recent times, are subjected to very different handling from that which the indulgence or credulity of former ages could allow. Mere statements are jealously watched, and the motives of the writer form as important an ingredient in the analysis or his history, as the facts he records. Probability is a powerful and troublesome test; and it is by this troublesome standard that a large portion of historical evidence is sifted. Consistency is no less pertinacious and exacting in its demands. In brief, to write a history, we must know more than mere facts. Human nature, viewed under an introduction of extended experience, is the best help to the criticism of human history. Historical characters can only be estimated by the standard which human experience, whether actual or traditionary, has furnished. To form correct views of individuals we must regard them as forming parts of a great whole — we must measure them by their relation to the mass of beings by whom they are surrounded; and, in contemplating the incidents in their lives or condition which tradition has handed down to us, we must rather consider the general bearing of the whole narrative, than the respective probability of its details.
It is unfortunate for us, that, of some of the greatest men, we know least, and talk most. Homer, Socrates, and Shakespere have, perhaps, contributed more to the intellectual enlightenment of mankind than any other three writers who could be named, and yet the history of all three has given rise to a boundless ocean of discussion, which has left us little save the option of choosing which theory or theories we will follow. The personality of Shakespere is, perhaps, the only thing in which critics will allow us to believe without controversy; but upon everything else, even down to the authorship of plays, there is more or less of doubt and uncertainty. Of Socrates we know as little as the contradictions of Plato and Xenophon will allow us to know. He was one of the dramatis personae in two dramas as unlike in principles as in style. He appears as the enunciator of opinions as different in their tone as those of the writers who have handed them down. When we have read Plato or Xenophon, we think we know something of Socrates; when we have fairly read and examined both, we feel convinced that we are something worse than ignorant.
It has been an easy, and a popular expedient of late years, to deny the personal or real existence of men and things whose life and condition were too much for our belief. This system — which has often comforted the religious sceptic, and substituted the consolations of Strauss for those of the New Testament — has been of incalculable value to the historical theorists of the last and present centuries. To question the existence of Alexander the Great, would be a more excusable act, than to believe in that of Romulus. To deny a fact related in Herodotus, because it is inconsistent with a theory developed from an Assyrian inscription which no two scholars read in the same way, is more pardonable, than to believe in the good-natured old king whom the elegant pen of Florian has idealized — Numa Pompilius.
Scepticism has attained its culminating point with respect to Homer, and the state of our Homeric knowledge may be described as a free permission to believe any theory, provided we throw overboard all written tradition, concerning the author or authors of the Iliad and Odyssey. What few authorities exist on the subject, are summarily dismissed, although the arguments appear to run in a circle. “This cannot be true, because it is not true; and that is not true, because it cannot be true.” Such seems to be the style, in which testimony upon testimony, statement upon statement, is consigned to denial and oblivion.
It is, however, unfortunate that the professed biographies of Homer are partly forgeries, partly freaks of ingenuity and imagination, in which truth is the requisite most wanting. Before taking a brief review of the Homeric theory in its present conditions, some notice must be taken of the treatise on the Life of Homer which has been attributed to Herodotus.
According to this document, the city of Cumae in AEolia was, at an early period, the seat of frequent immigrations from various parts of Greece. Among the immigrants was Menapolus, the son of Ithagenes. Although poor, he married, and the result of the union was a girl named Critheis. The girl was left an orphan at an early age, under the guardianship of Cleanax, of Argos. It is to the indiscretion of this maiden that we “are indebted for so much happiness.” Homer was the first fruit of her juvenile frailty, and received the name of Melesigenes from having been born near the river Meles in Boeotia, whither Critheis had been transported in order to save her reputation.
“At this time,” continues our narrative, “there lived at Smyrna a man named Phemius, a teacher of literature and music, who, not being married, engaged Critheis to manage his household, and spin the flax he received as the price of his scholastic labours. So satisfactory was her performance of this task, and so modest her conduct, that he made proposals of marriage, declaring himself, as a further inducement, willing to adopt her son, who, he asserted, would become a clever man, if he were carefully brought up.”
They were married; careful cultivation ripened the talents which nature had bestowed, and Melesigenes soon surpassed his schoolfellows in every attainment, and, when older, rivalled his preceptor in wisdom. Phemius died, leaving him sole heir to his property, and his mother soon followed. Melesigenes carried on his adopted father’s school with great success, exciting the admiration not only of the inhabitants of Smyrna, but also of the strangers whom the trade carried on there, especially in the exportation of corn, attracted to that city. Among these visitors, one Mentes, from Leucadia, the modern Santa Maura, who evinced a knowledge and intelligence rarely found in those times, persuaded Melesigenes to close his school, and accompany him on his travels. He promised not only to pay his expenses, but to furnish him with a further stipend, urging, that, “While he was yet young, it was fitting that he should see with his own eyes the countries and cities which might hereafter be the subjects of his discourses.” Melesigenes consented, and set out with his patron, “examining all the curiosities of the countries they visited, and informing himself of everything by interrogating those whom he met.” We may also suppose, that he wrote memoirs of all that he deemed worthy of preservation. Having set sail from Tyrrhenia and Iberia, they reached Ithaca. Here Melesigenes, who had already suffered in his eyes, became much worse; and Mentes, who was about to leave for Leucadia, left him to the medical superintendence of a friend of his, named Mentor, the son of Alcinor. Under his hospitable and intelligent host, Melesigenes rapidly became acquainted with the legends respecting Ulysses, which afterwards formed the subject of the Odyssey. The inhabitants of Ithaca assert, that it was here that Melesigenes became blind, but the Colophonians make their city the seat of that misfortune. He then returned to Smyrna, where he applied himself to the study of poetry.
But poverty soon drove him to Cumae. Having passed over the Hermaean plain, he arrived at Neon Teichos, the New Wall, a colony of Cumae. Here his misfortunes and poetical talent gained him the friendship of one Tychias, an armourer. “And up to my time,” continues the author, “the inhabitants showed the place where he used to sit when giving a recitation of his verses; and they greatly honoured the spot. Here also a poplar grew, which they said had sprung up ever since Melesigenes arrived.”
But poverty still drove him on, and he went by way of Larissa, as being the most convenient road. Here, the Cumans say, he composed an epitaph on Gordius, king of Phrygia, which has however, and with greater probability, been attributed to Cleobulus of Lindus.
Arrived at Cumae, he frequented the conversaziones of the old men, and delighted all by the charms of his poetry. Encouraged by this favourable reception, he declared that, if they would allow him a public maintenance, he would render their city most gloriously renowned. They avowed their willingness to support him in the measure he proposed, and procured him an audience in the council. Having made the speech, with the purport of which our author has forgotten to acquaint us, he retired, and left them to debate respecting the answer to be given to his proposal.
The greater part of the assembly seemed favourable to the poet’s demand, but one man “observed that if they were to feed Homers, they would be encumbered with a multitude of useless people.” “From this circumstance,” says the writer, “Melesigenes acquired the name of Homer, for the Cumans call blind men Homers.” With a love of economy, which shows how similar the world has always been in its treatment of literary men, the pension was denied, and the poet vented his disappointment in a wish that Cumae might never produce a poet capable of giving it renown and glory.
At Phocaea Homer was destined to experience another literary distress. One Thestorides, who aimed at the reputation of poetical genius, kept Homer in his own house, and allowed him a pittance, on condition of the verses of the poet passing in his name. Having collected sufficient poetry to be profitable, Thestorides, like some would-be literary publishers, neglected the man whose brains he had sucked, and left him. At his departure, Homer is said to have observed: “O Thestorides, of the many things hidden from the knowledge of man, nothing is more unintelligible than the human heart.”
Homer continued his career of difficulty and distress, until some Chian merchants, struck by the similarity of the verses they heard him recite, acquainted him with the fact that Thestorides was pursuing a profitable livelihood by the recital of the very same poems. This at once determined him to set out for Chios. No vessel happened then to be setting sail thither, but he found one ready to start for Erythrae, a town of Ionia, which faces that island, and he prevailed upon the seamen to allow him to accompany them. Having embarked, he invoked a favourable wind, and prayed that he might be able to expose the imposture of Thestorides, who, by his breach of hospitality, had drawn down the wrath of Jove the Hospitable.
At Erythrae, Homer fortunately met with a person who had known him in Phocaea, by whose assistance he at length, after some difficulty, reached the little hamlet of Pithys. Here he met with an adventure, which we will continue in the words of our author. “Having set out from Pithys, Homer went on, attracted by the cries of some goats that were pasturing. The dogs barked on his approach, and he cried out. Glaucus (for that was the name of the goat-herd) heard his voice, ran up quickly, called off his dogs, and drove them away from Homer. For some time he stood wondering how a blind man should have reached such a place alone, and what could be his design in coming. He then went up to him and inquired who he was, and how he had come to desolate places and untrodden spots, and of what he stood in need. Homer, by recounting to him the whole history of his misfortunes, moved him with compassion; and he took him and led him to his cot, and, having lit a fire, bade him sup.
“The dogs, instead of eating, kept barking at the stranger, according to their usual habit. Whereupon Homer addressed Glaucus thus: O Glaucus, my friend, prythee attend to my behest. First give the dogs their supper at the doors of the hut: for so it is better, since, whilst they watch, nor thief nor wild beast will approach the fold.
“Glaucus was pleased with the advice and marvelled at its author. Having finished supper, they banqueted afresh on conversation, Homer narrating his wanderings, and telling of the cities he had visited.
“At length they retired to rest; but on the following morning, Glaucus resolved to go to his master, and acquaint him with his meeting with Homer. Having left the goats in charge of a fellow-servant, he left Homer at home, promising to return quickly. Having arrived at Bolissus, a place near the farm, and finding his mate, he told him the whole story respecting Homer and his journey. He paid little attention to what he said, and blamed Glaucus for his stupidity in taking in and feeding maimed and enfeebled persons. However, he bade him bring the stranger to him.
“Glaucus told Homer what had taken place, and bade him follow him, assuring him that good fortune would be the result. Conversation soon showed that the stranger was a man of much cleverness and general knowledge, and the Chian persuaded him to remain, and to undertake the charge of his children.”
Besides the satisfaction of driving the impostor Thestorides from the island, Homer enjoyed considerable success as a teacher. In the town of Chios he established a school, where he taught the precepts of poetry. “To this day,” says Chandler, “the most curious remain is that which has been named, without reason, the School of Homer. It is on the coast, at some distance from the city, northward, and appears to have been an open temple of Cybele, formed on the top of a rock. The shape is oval, and in the centre is the image of the goddess, the head and an arm wanting. She is represented, as usual, sitting. The chair has a lion carved on each side, and on the back. The area is bounded by a low rim, or seat, and about five yards over. The whole is hewn out of the mountain, is rude, indistinct, and probably of the most remote antiquity.”
So successful was this school, that Homer realised a considerable fortune. He married, and had two daughters, one of whom died single, the other married a Chian.
The following passage betrays the same tendency to connect the personages of the poems with the history of the poet, which has already been mentioned:—
“In his poetical compositions Homer displays great gratitude towards Mentor of Ithaca, in the Odyssey, whose name he has inserted in his poem as the companion of Ulysses, in return for the care taken of him when afflicted with blindness. He also testifies his gratitude to Phemius, who had given him both sustenance and instruction.”
His celebrity continued to increase, and many persons advised him to visit Greece whither his reputation had now extended. Having, it is said, made some additions to his poems calculated to please the vanity of the Athenians, of whose city he had hitherto made no mention, he set out for Samos. Here, being recognized by a Samian, who had met with him in Chios, he was handsomely received, and invited to join in celebrating the Apaturian festival. He recited some verses, which gave great satisfaction, and by singing the Eiresione at the New Moon festivals, he earned a subsistence, visiting the houses of the rich, with whose children he was very popular.
In the spring he sailed for Athens, and arrived at the island of Ios, now Ino, where he fell extremely ill, and died. It is said that his death arose from vexation, at not having been able to unravel an enigma proposed by some fishermen’s children.
Such is, in brief, the substance of the earliest life of Homer we possess, and so broad are the evidences of its historical worthlessness, that it is scarcely necessary to point them out in detail. Let us now consider some of the opinions to which a persevering, patient, and learned — but by no means consistent — series of investigations has led. In doing so, I profess to bring forward statements, not to vouch for their reasonableness or probability.
“Homer appeared. The history of this poet and his works is lost in doubtful obscurity, as is the history of many of the first minds who have done honour to humanity, because they rose amidst darkness. The majestic stream of his song, blessing and fertilizing, flows like the Nile, through many lands and nations; and, like the sources of the Nile, its fountains will ever remain concealed.”
Such are the words in which one of the most judicious German critics has eloquently described the uncertainty in which the whole of the Homeric question is involved. With no less truth and feeling he proceeds:—
“It seems here of chief importance to expect no more than the nature of things makes possible. If the period of tradition in history is the region of twilight, we should not expect in it perfect light. The creations of genius always seem like miracles, because they are, for the most part, created far out of the reach of observation. If we were in possession of all the historical testimonies, we never could wholly explain the origin of the Iliad and the Odyssey; for their origin, in all essential points, must have remained the secret of the poet.”
From this criticism, which shows as much insight into the depths of human nature as into the minute wire-drawings of scholastic investigation, let us pass on to the main question at issue. Was Homer an individual? or were the Iliad and Odyssey the result of an ingenious arrangement of fragments by earlier poets?
Well has Landor remarked: “Some tell us there were twenty Homers; some deny that there was ever one. It were idle and foolish to shake the contents of a vase, in order to let them settle at last. We are perpetually labouring to destroy our delights, our composure, our devotion to superior power. Of all the animals on earth we least know what is good for us. My opinion is, that what is best for us is our admiration of good. No man living venerates Homer more than I do.”
But, greatly as we admire the generous enthusiasm which rests contented with the poetry on which its best impulses had been nurtured and fostered, without seeking to destroy the vividness of first impressions by minute analysis, our editorial office compels us to give some attention to the doubts and difficulties with which the Homeric question is beset, and to entreat our reader, for a brief period, to prefer his judgment to his imagination, and to condescend to dry details. Before, however, entering into particulars respecting the question of this unity of the Homeric poems, (at least of the Iliad,) I must express my sympathy with the sentiments expressed in the following remarks:—
“We cannot but think the universal admiration of its unity by the better, the poetic age of Greece, almost conclusive testimony to its original composition. It was not till the age of the grammarians that its primitive integrity was called in question; nor is it injustice to assert, that the minute and analytical spirit of a grammarian is not the best qualification for the profound feeling, the comprehensive conception of an harmonious whole. The most exquisite anatomist may be no judge of the symmetry of the human frame; and we would take the opinion of Chantrey or Westmacott on the proportions and general beauty of a form, rather than that of Mr. Brodie or Sir Astley Cooper.
“There is some truth, though some malicious exaggeration, in the lines of Pope:—
"""
“‘The critic eye — that microscope of wit —
Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit;
How parts relate to parts, or they to whole.
The body’s harmony, the beaming soul,
Are things which Kuster, Burmann, Wasse, shall see,
When man’s whole frame is obvious to a flea.’”
"""
Long was the time which elapsed before any one dreamt of questioning the unity of the authorship of the Homeric poems. The grave and cautious Thucydides quoted without hesitation the Hymn to Apollo, the authenticity of which has been already disclaimed by modern critics. Longinus, in an oft-quoted passage, merely expressed an opinion touching the comparative inferiority of the Odyssey to the Iliad; and, among a mass of ancient authors, whose very names it would be tedious to detail, no suspicion of the personal non-existence of Homer ever arose. So far, the voice of antiquity seems to be in favour of our early ideas on the subject: let us now see what are the discoveries to which more modern investigations lay claim.
At the end of the seventeenth century, doubts had begun to awaken on the subject, and we find Bentley remarking that “Homer wrote a sequel of songs and rhapsodies, to be sung by himself, for small comings and good cheer, at festivals and other days of merriment. These loose songs were not collected together, in the form of an epic poem, till about Peisistratus’ time, about five hundred years after.”
Two French writers — Hedelin and Perrault — avowed a similar scepticism on the subject; but it is in the “Scienza Nuova” of Battista Vico, that we first meet with the germ of the theory, subsequently defended by Wolf with so much learning and acuteness. Indeed, it is with the Wolfian theory that we have chiefly to deal, and with the following bold hypothesis, which we will detail in the words of Grote:—
“Half a century ago, the acute and valuable Prolegomena of F. A. Wolf, turning to account the Venetian Scholia, which had then been recently published, first opened philosophical discussion as to the history of the Homeric text. A considerable part of that dissertation (though by no means the whole) is employed in vindicating the position, previously announced by Bentley, amongst others, that the separate constituent portions of the Iliad and Odyssey had not been cemented together into any compact body and unchangeable order, until the days of Peisistratus, in the sixth century before Christ. As a step towards that conclusion, Wolf maintained that no written copies of either poem could be shown to have existed during the earlier times, to which their composition is referred; and that without writing, neither the perfect symmetry of so complicated a work could have been originally conceived by any poet, nor, if realized by him, transmitted with assurance to posterity. The absence of easy and convenient writing, such as must be indispensably supposed for long manuscripts, among the early Greeks, was thus one of the points in Wolf’s case against the primitive integrity of the Iliad and Odyssey. By Nitzsch, and other leading opponents of Wolf, the connection of the one with the other seems to have been accepted as he originally put it; and it has been considered incumbent on those who defended the ancient aggregate character of the Iliad and Odyssey, to maintain that they were written poems from the beginning.
“To me it appears, that the architectonic functions ascribed by Wolf to Peisistratus and his associates, in reference to the Homeric poems, are nowise admissible. But much would undoubtedly be gained towards that view of the question, if it could be shown, that, in order to controvert it, we were driven to the necessity of admitting long written poems, in the ninth century before the Christian aera. Few things, in my opinion, can be more improbable; and Mr. Payne Knight, opposed as he is to the Wolfian hypothesis, admits this no less than Wolf himself. The traces of writing in Greece, even in the seventh century before the Christian aera, are exceedingly trifling. We have no remaining inscription earlier than the fortieth Olympiad, and the early inscriptions are rude and unskilfully executed; nor can we even assure ourselves whether Archilochus, Simonides of Amorgus, Kallinus Tyrtaeus, Xanthus, and the other early elegiac and lyric poets, committed their compositions to writing, or at what time the practice of doing so became familiar. The first positive ground which authorizes us to presume the existence of a manuscript of Homer, is in the famous ordinance of Solon, with regard to the rhapsodies at the Panathenaea: but for what length of time previously manuscripts had existed, we are unable to say.
“Those who maintain the Homeric poems to have been written from the beginning, rest their case, not upon positive proofs, nor yet upon the existing habits of society with regard to poetry — for they admit generally that the Iliad and Odyssey were not read, but recited and heard — but upon the supposed necessity that there must have been manuscripts to ensure the preservation of the poems — the unassisted memory of reciters being neither sufficient nor trustworthy. But here we only escape a smaller difficulty by running into a greater; for the existence of trained bards, gifted with extraordinary memory, is far less astonishing than that of long manuscripts, in an age essentially non-reading and non-writing, and when even suitable instruments and materials for the process are not obvious. Moreover, there is a strong positive reason for believing that the bard was under no necessity of refreshing his memory by consulting a manuscript; for if such had been the fact, blindness would have been a disqualification for the profession, which we know that it was not, as well from the example of Demodokus, in the Odyssey, as from that of the blind bard of Chios, in the Hymn to the Delian Apollo, whom Thucydides, as well as the general tenor of Grecian legend, identifies with Homer himself. The author of that hymn, be he who he may, could never have described a blind man as attaining the utmost perfection in his art, if he had been conscious that the memory of the bard was only maintained by constant reference to the manuscript in his chest.”
The loss of the digamma, that crux of critics, that quicksand upon which even the acumen of Bentley was shipwrecked, seems to prove beyond a doubt, that the pronunciation of the Greek language had undergone a considerable change. Now it is certainly difficult to suppose that the Homeric poems could have suffered by this change, had written copies been preserved. If Chaucer’s poetry, for instance, had not been written, it could only have come down to us in a softened form, more like the effeminate version of Dryden, than the rough, quaint, noble original. “At what period,” continues Grote, “these poems, or indeed any other Greek poems, first began to be written, must be matter of conjecture, though there is ground for assurance that it was before the time of Solon. If, in the absence of evidence, we may venture upon naming any more determinate period, the question at once suggests itself, What were the purposes which, in that state of society, a manuscript at its first commencement must have been intended to answer? For whom was a written Iliad necessary? Not for the rhapsodes; for with them it was not only planted in the memory, but also interwoven with the feelings, and conceived in conjunction with all those flexions and intonations of voice, pauses, and other oral artifices which were required for emphatic delivery, and which the naked manuscript could never reproduce. Not for the general public — they were accustomed to receive it with its rhapsodic delivery, and with its accompaniments of a solemn and crowded festival. The only persons for whom the written Iliad would be suitable would be a select few; studious and curious men; a class of readers capable of analyzing the complicated emotions which they had experienced as hearers in the crowd, and who would, on perusing the written words, realize in their imaginations a sensible portion of the impression communicated by the reciter. Incredible as the statement may seem in an age like the present, there is in all early societies, and there was in early Greece, a time when no such reading class existed. If we could discover at what time such a class first began to be formed, we should be able to make a guess at the time when the old epic poems were first committed to writing. Now the period which may with the greatest probability be fixed upon as having first witnessed the formation even of the narrowest reading class in Greece, is the middle of the seventh century before the Christian aera (B.C. 660 to B.C. 630), the age of Terpander, Kallinus, Archilochus, Simenides of Amorgus, &c. I ground this supposition on the change then operated in the character and tendencies of Grecian poetry and music — the elegiac and the iambic measures having been introduced as rivals to the primitive hexameter, and poetical compositions having been transferred from the epical past to the affairs of present and real life. Such a change was important at a time when poetry was the only known mode of publication (to use a modern phrase not altogether suitable, yet the nearest approaching to the sense). It argued a new way of looking at the old epical treasures of the people, as well as a thirst for new poetical effect; and the men who stood forward in it may well be considered as desirous to study, and competent to criticize, from their own individual point of view, the written words of the Homeric rhapsodies, just as we are told that Kallinus both noticed and eulogized the Thebais as the production of Homer. There seems, therefore, ground for conjecturing that (for the use of this newly-formed and important, but very narrow class), manuscripts of the Homeric poems and other old epics — the Thebais and the Cypria, as well as the Iliad and the Odyssey — began to be compiled towards the middle of the seventh century B.C. I; and the opening of Egypt to Grecian commerce, which took place about the same period, would furnish increased facilities for obtaining the requisite papyrus to write upon. A reading class, when once formed, would doubtless slowly increase, and the number of manuscripts along with it: so that before the time of Solon, fifty years afterwards, both readers and manuscripts, though still comparatively few, might have attained a certain recognized authority, and formed a tribunal of reference against the carelessness of individual rhapsodies.”
But even Peisistratus has not been suffered to remain in possession of the credit, and we cannot help feeling the force of the following observations:—
“There are several incidental circumstances which, in our opinion, throw some suspicion over the whole history of the Peisistratid compilation, at least over the theory that the Iliad was cast into its present stately and harmonious form by the directions of the Athenian ruler. If the great poets, who flourished at the bright period of Grecian song, of which, alas! we have inherited little more than the fame, and the faint echo; if Stesichorus, Anacreon, and Simonides were employed in the noble task of compiling the Iliad and Odyssey, so much must have been done to arrange, to connect, to harmonize, that it is almost incredible that stronger marks of Athenian manufacture should not remain. Whatever occasional anomalies may be detected, anomalies which no doubt arise out of our own ignorance of the language of the Homeric age; however the irregular use of the digamma may have perplexed our Bentleys, to whom the name of Helen is said to have caused as much disquiet and distress as the fair one herself among the heroes of her age; however Mr. Knight may have failed in reducing the Homeric language to its primitive form; however, finally, the Attic dialect may not have assumed all its more marked and distinguishing characteristics:— still it is difficult to suppose that the language, particularly in the joinings and transitions, and connecting parts, should not more clearly betray the incongruity between the more ancient and modern forms of expression. It is not quite in character with such a period to imitate an antique style, in order to piece out an imperfect poem in the character of the original, as Sir Walter Scott has done in his continuation of Sir Tristram.
“If, however, not even such faint and indistinct traces of Athenian compilation are discoverable in the language of the poems, the total absence of Athenian national feeling is perhaps no less worthy of observation. In later, and it may fairly be suspected in earlier times, the Athenians were more than ordinarily jealous of the fame of their ancestors. But, amid all the traditions of the glories of early Greece embodied in the Iliad, the Athenians play a most subordinate and insignificant part. Even the few passages which relate to their ancestors, Mr. Knight suspects to be interpolations. It is possible, indeed, that in its leading outline, the Iliad may be true to historic fact; that in the great maritime expedition of western Greece against the rival and half-kindred empire of the Laomedontiadae, the chieftain of Thessaly, from his valour and the number of his forces, may have been the most important ally of the Peloponnesian sovereign: the pre-eminent value of the ancient poetry on the Trojan war may thus have forced the national feeling of the Athenians to yield to their taste. The songs which spoke of their own great ancestor were, no doubt, of far inferior sublimity and popularity, or, at first sight, a Theseid would have been much more likely to have emanated from an Athenian synod of compilers of ancient song, than an Achilleid or an Odysseid. Could France have given birth to a Tasso, Tancred would have been the hero of the Jerusalem. If, however, the Homeric ballads, as they are sometimes called, which related the wrath of Achilles, with all its direful consequences, were so far superior to the rest of the poetic cycle, as to admit no rivalry — it is still surprising, that throughout the whole poem the callida junctura should never betray the workmanship of an Athenian hand; and that the national spirit of a race, who have at a later period not inaptly been compared to our self-admiring neighbours, the French, should submit with lofty self-denial to the almost total exclusion of their own ancestors — or, at least, to the questionable dignity of only having produced a leader tolerably skilled in the military tactics of his age.”
To return to the Wolfian theory. While it is to be confessed, that Wolf’s objections to the primitive integrity of the Iliad and Odyssey have never been wholly got over, we cannot help discovering that they have failed to enlighten us as to any substantial point, and that the difficulties with which the whole subject is beset, are rather augmented than otherwise, if we admit his hypothesis. Nor is Lachmann’s modification of his theory any better. He divides the first twenty-two books of the Iliad into sixteen different songs, and treats as ridiculous the belief that their amalgamation into one regular poem belongs to a period earlier than the age of Peisistratus. This as Grote observes, “ex-plains the gaps and contradictions in the narrative, but it explains nothing else.” Moreover, we find no contradictions warranting this belief, and the so-called sixteen poets concur in getting rid of the following leading men in the first battle after the secession of Achilles: Elphenor, chief of the Euboeans; Tlepolemus, of the Rhodians; Pandarus, of the Lycians; Odins, of the Halizonians: Pirous and Acamas, of the Thracians. None of these heroes again make their appearance, and we can but agree with Colonel Mure, that “it seems strange that any number of independent poets should have so harmoniously dispensed with the services of all six in the sequel.” The discrepancy, by which Pylaemenes, who is represented as dead in the fifth book, weeps at his son’s funeral in the thirteenth, can only be regarded as the result of an interpolation.
Grote, although not very distinct in stating his own opinions on the subject, has done much to clearly show the incongruity of the Wolfian theory, and of Lachmann’s modifications, with the character of Peisistratus. But he has also shown, and we think with equal success, that the two questions relative to the primitive unity of these poems, or, supposing that impossible, the unison of these parts by Peisistratus, and not before his time, are essentially distinct. In short, “a man may believe the Iliad to have been put together out of pre-existing songs, without recognising the age of Peisistratus as the period of its first compilation.” The friends or literary //employes// of Peisistratus must have found an Iliad that was already ancient, and the silence of the Alexandrine critics respecting the Peisistratic “recension,” goes far to prove, that, among the numerous manuscripts they examined, this was either wanting, or thought unworthy of attention.
“Moreover,” he continues, “the whole tenor of the poems themselves confirms what is here remarked. There is nothing, either in the Iliad or Odyssey, which savours of modernism, applying that term to the age of Peisistratus — nothing which brings to our view the alterations brought about by two centuries, in the Greek language, the coined money, the habits of writing and reading, the despotisms and republican governments, the close military array, the improved construction of ships, the Amphiktyonic convocations, the mutual frequentation of religious festivals, the Oriental and Egyptian veins of religion, &c., familiar to the latter epoch. These alterations Onomakritus, and the other literary friends of Peisistratus, could hardly have failed to notice, even without design, had they then, for the first time, undertaken the task of piecing together many self-existent epics into one large aggregate. Everything in the two great Homeric poems, both in substance and in language, belongs to an age two or three centuries earlier than Peisistratus. Indeed, even the interpolations (or those passages which, on the best grounds, are pronounced to be such) betray no trace of the sixth century before Christ, and may well have been heard by Archilochus and Kallinus — in some cases even by Arktinus and Hesiod — as genuine Homeric matter. As far as the evidences on the case, as well internal as external, enable us to judge, we seem warranted in believing that the Iliad and Odyssey were recited substantially as they now stand (always allowing for partial divergences of text and interpolations) in 776 B.C., our first trustworthy mark of Grecian time; and this ancient date, let it be added, as it is the best-authenticated fact, so it is also the most important attribute of the Homeric poems, considered in reference to Grecian history; for they thus afford us an insight into the anti-historical character of the Greeks, enabling us to trace the subsequent forward march of the nation, and to seize instructive contrasts between their former and their later condition.”
On the whole, I am inclined to believe, that the labours of Peisistratus were wholly of an editorial character, although I must confess that I can lay down nothing respecting the extent of his labours. At the same time, so far from believing that the composition or primary arrangement of these poems, in their present form, was the work of Peisistratus, I am rather persuaded that the fine taste and elegant, mind of that Athenian would lead him to preserve an ancient and traditional order of the poems, rather than to patch and reconstruct them according to a fanciful hypothesis. I will not repeat the many discussions respecting whether the poems were written or not, or whether the art of writing was known in the time of their reputed author. Suffice it to say, that the more we read, the less satisfied we are upon either subject.
I cannot, however, help thinking, that the story which attributes the preservation of these poems to Lycurgus, is little else than a version of the same story as that of Peisistratus, while its historical probability must be measured by that of many others relating to the Spartan Confucius.
I will conclude this sketch of the Homeric theories with an attempt, made by an ingenious friend, to unite them into something like consistency. It is as follows:—
“No doubt the common soldiers of that age had, like the common sailors of some fifty years ago, some one qualified to ‘discourse in excellent music’ among them. Many of these, like those of the negroes in the United States, were extemporaneous, and allusive to events passing around them. But what was passing around them? The grand events of a spirit-stirring war; occurrences likely to impress themselves, as the mystical legends of former times had done, upon their memory; besides which, a retentive memory was deemed a virtue of the first water, and was cultivated accordingly in those ancient times. Ballads at first, and down to the beginning of the war with Troy, were merely recitations, with an intonation. Then followed a species of recitative, probably with an intoned burden. Tune next followed, as it aided the memory considerably.
“It was at this period, about four hundred years after the war, that a poet flourished of the name of Melesigenes, or Moeonides, but most probably the former. He saw that these ballads might be made of great utility to his purpose of writing a poem on the social position of Hellas, and, as a collection, he published these lays connecting them by a tale of his own. This poem now exists, under the title of the ‘Odyssea.’ The author, however, did not affix his own name to the poem, which, in fact, was, great part of it, remodelled from the archaic dialect of Crete, in which tongue the ballads were found by him. He therefore called it the poem of Homeros, or the Collector; but this is rather a proof of his modesty and talent, than of his mere drudging arrangement of other people’s ideas; for, as Grote has finely observed, arguing for the unity of authorship, ‘a great poet might have re-cast pre-existing separate songs into one comprehensive whole; but no mere arrangers or compilers would be competent to do so.’
“While employed on the wild legend of Odysseus, he met with a ballad, recording the quarrel of Achilles and Agamemnon. His noble mind seized the hint that there presented itself, and the Achilleis grew under his hand. Unity of design, however, caused him to publish the poem under the same pseudonyme as his former work; and the disjointed lays of the ancient bards were joined together, like those relating to the Cid, into a chronicle history, named the Iliad. Melesigenes knew that the poem was destined to be a lasting one, and so it has proved; but, first, the poems were destined to undergo many vicissitudes and corruptions, by the people who took to singing them in the streets, assemblies, and agoras. However, Solon first, and then Peisistratus, and afterwards Aristoteles and others, revised the poems, and restored the works of Melesigenes Homeros to their original integrity in a great measure.”
Having thus given some general notion of the strange theories which have developed themselves respecting this most interesting subject, I must still express my conviction as to the unity of the authorship of the Homeric poems. To deny that many corruptions and interpolations disfigure them, and that the intrusive hand of the poetasters may here and there have inflicted a wound more serious than the negligence of the copyist, would be an absurd and captious assumption; but it is to a higher criticism that we must appeal, if we would either understand or enjoy these poems. In maintaining the authenticity and personality of their one author, be he Homer or Melesigenes, //quocunque nomine vocari eum jus fasque sit//, I feel conscious that, while the whole weight of historical evidence is against the hypothesis which would assign these great works to a plurality of authors, the most powerful internal evidence, and that which springs from the deepest and most immediate impulse of the soul, also speaks eloquently to the contrary.
The minutiae of verbal criticism I am far from seeking to despise. Indeed, considering the character of some of my own books, such an attempt would be gross inconsistency. But, while I appreciate its importance in a philological view, I am inclined to set little store on its aesthetic value, especially in poetry. Three parts of the emendations made upon poets are mere alterations, some of which, had they been suggested to the author by his Maecenas or Africanus, he would probably have adopted. Moreover, those who are most exact in laying down rules of verbal criticism and interpretation, are often least competent to carry out their own precepts. Grammarians are not poets by profession, but may be so per accidens. I do not at this moment remember two emendations on Homer, calculated to substantially improve the poetry of a passage, although a mass of remarks, from Herodotus down to Loewe, have given us the history of a thousand minute points, without which our Greek knowledge would be gloomy and jejune.
But it is not on words only that grammarians, mere grammarians, will exercise their elaborate and often tiresome ingenuity. Binding down an heroic or dramatic poet to the block upon which they have previously dissected his words and sentences, they proceed to use the axe and the pruning knife by wholesale; and, inconsistent in everything but their wish to make out a case of unlawful affiliation, they cut out book after book, passage after passage, till the author is reduced to a collection of fragments, or till those who fancied they possessed the works of some great man, find that they have been put off with a vile counterfeit got up at second hand. If we compare the theories of Knight, Wolf, Lachmann; and others, we shall feel better satisfied of the utter uncertainty of criticism than of the apocryphal position of Homer. One rejects what another considers the turning-point of his theory. One cuts a supposed knot by expunging what another would explain by omitting something else.
Nor is this morbid species of sagacity by any means to be looked upon as a literary novelty. Justus Lipsius, a scholar of no ordinary skill, seems to revel in the imaginary discovery, that the tragedies attributed to Seneca are by four different authors. Now, I will venture to assert, that these tragedies are so uniform, not only in their borrowed phraseology — a phraseology with which writers like Boethius and Saxo Grammaticus were more charmed than ourselves — in their freedom from real poetry, and last, but not least, in an ultra-refined and consistent abandonment of good taste, that few writers of the present day would question the capabilities of the same gentleman, be he Seneca or not, to produce not only these, but a great many more equally bad. With equal sagacity, Father Hardouin astonished the world with the startling announcement that the AEneid of Virgil, and the satires of Horace, were literary deceptions. Now, without wishing to say one word of disrespect against the industry and learning — nay, the refined acuteness — which scholars like Wolf have bestowed upon this subject, I must express my fears, that many of our modern Homeric theories will become matter for the surprise and entertainment, rather than the instruction, of posterity. Nor can I help thinking that the literary history of more recent times will account for many points of difficulty in the transmission of the Iliad and Odyssey to a period so remote from that of their first creation.
I have already expressed my belief that the labours of Peisistratus were of a purely editorial character; and there seems no more reason why corrupt and imperfect editions of Homer may not have been abroad in his day, than that the poems of Valerius Flaccus and Tibullus should have given so much trouble to Poggio, Scaliger, and others. But, after all, the main fault in all the Homeric theories is, that they demand too great a sacrifice of those feelings to which poetry most powerfully appeals, and which are its most fitting judges. The ingenuity which has sought to rob us of the name and existence of Homer, does too much violence to that inward emotion, which makes our whole soul yearn with love and admiration for the blind bard of Chios. To believe the author of the Iliad a mere compiler, is to degrade the powers of human invention; to elevate analytical judgment at the expense of the most ennobling impulses of the soul; and to forget the ocean in the contemplation of a polypus. There is a catholicity, so to speak, in the very name of Homer. Our faith in the author of the Iliad may be a mistaken one, but as yet nobody has taught us a better.
While, however, I look upon the belief in Homer as one that has nature herself for its mainspring; while I can join with old Ennius in believing in Homer as the ghost, who, like some patron saint, hovers round the bed of the poet, and even bestows rare gifts from that wealth of imagination which a host of imitators could not exhaust — still I am far from wishing to deny that the author of these great poems found a rich fund of tradition, a well-stocked mythical storehouse, from whence he might derive both subject and embellishment. But it is one thing to use existing romances in the embellishment of a poem, another to patch up the poem itself from such materials. What consistency of style and execution can be hoped for from such an attempt? or, rather, what bad taste and tedium will not be the infallible result?
A blending of popular legends, and a free use of the songs of other bards, are features perfectly consistent with poetical originality. In fact, the most original writer is still drawing upon outward impressions — nay, even his own thoughts are a kind of secondary agents which support and feed the impulses of imagination. But unless there be some grand pervading principle — some invisible, yet most distinctly stamped archetypus of the great whole, a poem like the Iliad can never come to the birth. Traditions the most picturesque, episodes the most pathetic, local associations teeming with the thoughts of gods and great men, may crowd in one mighty vision, or reveal themselves in more substantial forms to the mind of the poet; but, except the power to create a grand whole, to which these shall be but as details and embellishments, be present, we shall have nought but a scrap-book, a parterre filled with flowers and weeds strangling each other in their wild redundancy; we shall have a cento of rags and tatters, which will require little acuteness to detect.
Sensible as I am of the difficulty of disproving a negative, and aware as I must be of the weighty grounds there are for opposing my belief, it still seems to me that the Homeric question is one that is reserved for a higher criticism than it has often obtained. We are not by nature intended to know all things; still less, to compass the powers by which the greatest blessings of life have been placed at our disposal. Were faith no virtue, then we might indeed wonder why God willed our ignorance on any matter. But we are too well taught the contrary lesson; and it seems as though our faith should be especially tried, touching the men and the events which have wrought most influence upon the condition of humanity. And there is a kind of sacredness attached to the memory of the great and the good, which seems to bid us repulse the scepticism which would allegorize their existence into a pleasing apologue, and measure the giants of intellect by an homaeopathic dynameter.
Long and habitual reading of Homer appears to familiarize our thoughts even to his incongruities; or rather, if we read in a right spirit and with a heartfelt appreciation, we are too much dazzled, too deeply wrapped in admiration of the whole, to dwell upon the minute spots which mere analysis can discover. In reading an heroic poem, we must transform ourselves into heroes of the time being, we in imagination must fight over the same battles, woo the same loves, burn with the same sense of injury, as an Achilles or a Hector. And if we can but attain this degree of enthusiasm (and less enthusiasm will scarcely suffice for the reading of Homer), we shall feel that the poems of Homer are not only the work of one writer, but of the greatest writer that ever touched the hearts of men by the power of song.
And it was this supposed unity of authorship which gave these poems their powerful influence over the minds of the men of old. Heeren, who is evidently little disposed in favour of modern theories, finely observes:—
“It was Homer who formed the character of the Greek nation. No poet has ever, as a poet, exercised a similar influence over his countrymen. Prophets, lawgivers, and sages have formed the character of other nations; it was reserved to a poet to form that of the Greeks. This is a feature in their character which was not wholly erased even in the period of their degeneracy. When lawgivers and sages appeared in Greece, the work of the poet had already been accomplished; and they paid homage to his superior genius. He held up before his nation the mirror in which they were to behold the world of gods and heroes, no less than of feeble mortals, and to behold them reflected with purity and truth. His poems are founded on the first feeling of human nature; on the love of children, wife, and country; on that passion which outweighs all others, the love of glory. His songs were poured forth from a breast which sympathized with all the feelings of man; and therefore they enter, and will continue to enter, every breast which cherishes the same sympathies. If it is granted to his immortal spirit, from another heaven than any of which he dreamed on earth, to look down on his race, to see the nations from the fields of Asia, to the forests of Hercynia, performing pilgrimages to the fountain which his magic wand caused to flow; if it is permitted to him to view the vast assemblage of grand, of elevated, of glorious productions, which had been called into being by means of his songs; wherever his immortal spirit may reside, this alone would suffice to complete his happiness.”
Can we contemplate that ancient monument, on which the “Apotheosis of Homer” is depictured, and not feel how much of pleasing association, how much that appeals most forcibly and most distinctly to our minds, is lost by the admittance of any theory but our old tradition? The more we read, and the more we think — think as becomes the readers of Homer — the more rooted becomes the conviction that the Father of Poetry gave us this rich inheritance, whole and entire. Whatever were the means of its preservation, let us rather be thankful for the treasury of taste and eloquence thus laid open to our use, than seek to make it a mere centre around which to drive a series of theories, whose wildness is only equalled by their inconsistency with each other.
As the hymns, and some other poems usually ascribed to Homer, are not included in Pope’s translation, I will content myself with a brief account of the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, from the pen of a writer who has done it full justice:—
“This poem,” says Coleridge, “is a short mock-heroic of ancient date. The text varies in different editions, and is obviously disturbed and corrupt to a great degree; it is commonly said to have been a juvenile essay of Homer’s genius; others have attributed it to the same Pigrees mentioned above, and whose reputation for humour seems to have invited the appropriation of any piece of ancient wit, the author of which was uncertain; so little did the Greeks, before the age of the Ptolemies, know or care about that department of criticism employed in determining the genuineness of ancient writings. As to this little poem being a youthful prolusion of Homer, it seems sufficient to say that from the beginning to the end, it is a plain and palpable parody, not only of the general spirit, but of numerous passages of the Iliad itself; and, even if no such intention to parody were discernible in it, the objection would still remain, that to suppose a work of mere burlesque to be the primary effort of poetry in a simple age, seems to reverse that order in the development of national taste, which the history of every other people in Europe, and of many in Asia, has almost ascertained to be a law of the human mind; it is in a state of society much more refined and permanent than that described in the Iliad, that any popularity would attend such a ridicule of war and the gods as is contained in this poem; and the fact of there having existed three other poems of the same kind attributed, for aught we can see, with as much reason to Homer, is a strong inducement to believe that none of them were of the Homeric age. Knight infers from the usage of the word //deltoz//, ‘writing tablet,’ instead of //diphthera//, ‘skin,’ which, according to Herod 5, 58, was the material employed by the Asiatic Greeks for that purpose, that this poem was another offspring of Attic ingenuity; and generally that the familiar mention of the cock (v. 191) is a strong argument against so ancient a date for its composition.”
Having thus given a brief account of the poems comprised in Pope’s design, I will now proceed to make a few remarks on his translation, and on my own purpose in the present edition.
Pope was not a Grecian. His whole education had been irregular, and his earliest acquaintance with the poet was through the version of Ogilby. It is not too much to say that his whole work bears the impress of a disposition to be satisfied with the general sense, rather than to dive deeply into the minute and delicate features of language. Hence his whole work is to be looked upon rather as an elegant paraphrase than a translation. There are, to be sure, certain conventional anecdotes, which prove that Pope consulted various friends, whose classical attainments were sounder than his own, during the undertaking; but it is probable that these examinations were the result rather of the contradictory versions already existing, than of a desire to make a perfect transcript of the original. And in those days, what is called literal translation was less cultivated than at present. If something like the general sense could be decorated with the easy gracefulness of a practised poet; if the charms of metrical cadence and a pleasing fluency could be made consistent with a fair interpretation of the poet’s meaning, his words were less jealously sought for, and those who could read so good a poem as Pope’s Iliad had fair reason to be satisfied.
It would be absurd, therefore, to test Pope’s translation by our own advancing knowledge of the original text. We must be content to look at it as a most delightful work in itself — a work which is as much a part of English literature as Homer himself is of Greek. We must not be torn from our kindly associations with the old Iliad, that once was our most cherished companion, or our most looked-for prize, merely because Buttmann, Loewe, and Liddell have made us so much more accurate as to //amphikipellon// being an adjective, and not a substantive. Far be it from us to defend the faults of Pope, especially when we think of Chapman’s fine, bold, rough old English; — far be it from us to hold up his translation as what a translation of Homer might be. But we can still dismiss Pope’s Iliad to the hands of our readers, with the consciousness that they must have read a very great number of books before they have read its fellow.
//THEODORE ALOIS BUCKLEY.//
//Christ Church.//
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* [[Introduction|Pope: Introduction]]
* [[Book 1|Pope: Book 1]]
* [[Book 2|Pope: Book 2]]
* [[Book 3|Pope: Book 3]]
* [[Book 4|Pope: Book 4]]
* [[Book 5|Pope: Book 5]]
* [[Book 6|Pope: Book 6]]
* [[Book 7|Pope: Book 7]]
* [[Book 8|Pope: Book 8]]
* [[Book 9|Pope: Book 9]]
* [[Book 10|Pope: Book 10]]
* [[Book 11|Pope: Book 11]]
* [[Book 12|Pope: Book 12]]
* [[Book 13|Pope: Book 13]]
* [[Book 14|Pope: Book 14]]
* [[Book 15|Pope: Book 15]]
* [[Book 16|Pope: Book 16]]
* [[Book 17|Pope: Book 17]]
* [[Book 18|Pope: Book 18]]
* [[Book 19|Pope: Book 19]]
* [[Book 20|Pope: Book 20]]
* [[Book 21|Pope: Book 21]]
* [[Book 22|Pope: Book 22]]
* [[Book 23|Pope: Book 23]]
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The Odyssey starts by organizing itself; it maps out its own structure in what may be called a General Introduction. Herein lies a significant difference between it and the Iliad, which has simply an Invocation to the Muse, and then leaps into the thick of the action. The Iliad, accordingly, does not formulate its own organization, which fact has been one cause of the frequent assaults upon its unity. Still the architectonic principle is powerful in the Iliad, though more instinctive, and far less explicit than in the Odyssey. It is reasonable to suppose, therefore, that the poet has reached a profounder consciousness of his art in his later poem; he has come to a knowledge of his constructive principle, and he takes the trouble to unfold the same at the beginning. To be sure, certain critics have assailed just this structural fact as not Homeric; without good grounds, in our judgment.
The First Book, accordingly, opens with an Introduction which belongs to the entire poem, and which embraces 95 lines of the original text. This portion we shall look at separately in some detail, as it throws a number of gleams forward over the whole action, and, as before said, suggests the poetic organism. It has three divisions, the Invocation, the Statement of the Obstacles to the return of the Hero, and the Assembly of the Gods, who are represented as organizing the poem from Olympus. The Divine thus hovers over the poem from the first, starting with one grand, all-embracing providential act, which, however, is supplemented by many special interventions of deities, great and small.
//The Invocation.// The first line speaks of the man, Ulysses, and designates his main attribute by a word, which may be translated //versatile// or //resourceful//, though some grammarians construe it otherwise. Thus we are told at the start of the chief intellectual trait of the Hero, who "wandered much," and who, therefore, had many opportunities to exercise his gift. In the second line our attention is called to the real starting point of the poem, the taking of Troy, which is the background of the action of the Odyssey, and the great opening event of the Greek world, as here revealed. For this event was the mighty shake which roused the Hellenic people to a consciousness of their destiny; they show in it all the germs of their coming greatness. Often such a concussion is required to waken a nation to its full energy and send it on its future career.
Note that Ulysses is here stated to be the taker of Troy, and this view is implied throughout the Odyssey. Note Achilles is the final Greek hero; he perished without capturing the city, and in his hands alone the Greek cause would have been lost. The intellectual hero had to come forward ere the hostile town could be taken and Helen restored. Herein the Odyssey does not contradict the Iliad, but is clearly an advance beyond it.
But Troy is destroyed and now the second grand question of the Greeks arises: How shall we get back! Only one half of the cycle is completed by the conquest of the hostile city; the second half is the restoration. For this disjunction from Hellenic life, brought about by war, is not only physical but has become spiritual. The theme, therefore, deals with the wise man, who, through his intelligence, was able to take Troy, but who has now another and greater problem—the return out of the grand estrangement caused by the Trojan expedition. Spiritual restoration is the key-note of this //Odyssey//, as it is that of all the great Books of Literature.
Here at the start we note two things coupled together which hint the nature of the whole poem: "He saw the cities of many men and knew their mind." Not alone the outer habitations of people Ulysses beheld, but also their inner essence, their consciousness. This last faculty indeed is the very vision of the sage; he looks through the external sensuous appearances of men into their character, into their very soul. The poem will describe many incidents, wanderings, tempests, calamities; but in them the poetic glance is to behold a great spiritual experience. The reader of the //Odyssey// must himself be a Ulysses, to a degree, and not only "see the cities of many men," but also he must "know their mind." Then he, too, is heroic in his reading of this book.
But not merely knowledge the Hero is to acquire, though this be much; the counterpart to knowledge must also be his, namely, suffering. "Many things he suffered on the sea in his heart;" alas! that too belongs to the great experience. In addition to his title of wise man, he will also be called the much-enduring man. Sorrow is his lot and great tribulation; the mighty sea will rise up in wrath and swallow all, except that which is mightier, namely his heroic heart. Knowledge and suffering—are they not the two poles of the universal character? At any rate the old poet has mated them as counterparts in his hero; the thirst to know drives the latter to reach beyond, and then falls the avenging blow of powers unseen.
Furthermore, there is a third trait which is still higher, also mentioned here: he sought to save not only himself but also his companions. That wisdom of his was employed, and that suffering of his was endured, not for his own good merely, but for the good of others. He must think and suffer for his companions; a suggestion of vicariousness lies therein, a hint of self-offering, which has not yet flowered but is certainly budding far back in old Hellas. He must do for others what he does for himself, if he be truly the universal man, that is, if he be Hero. For is not the universal man all men—both himself and others in essence? So Ulysses tries to save his companions, quite as much he tries to save himself.
But he did not do it, he could not do it; herein lies his limitation and theirs also, in fact, the limitation of the entire Greek world. What did these companions do? "They perished by their own folly;" they would not obey the counsel of their wise man; they rejected their Hero, who could not, therefore, rescue them. A greater wisdom and a deeper suffering than that of Ulysses will be required for their salvation, whereof the time has not yet come. He would bring them home, but "they ate of the oxen of the sun;" they destroyed the attribute of light in some way and perished. The fact is certainly far-reaching in its suggestion; a deep glance it throws into that old heathen world, whose greatest poet in the most unconscious manner hints here the tragic limitation of his people and his epoch. It is a hint of which we, looking back through more than twenty-five centuries can see the full meaning, as that meaning has unfolded itself in the ages. Time is also a commentator on Homer and has written down, in that alphabet of his, called events, the true interpretation of the old poet. Still the letters of Time's alphabet have also to be learned and require not only eyesight but also insight.
The Invocation puts all its stress upon Ulysses and his attempt to save his companions. It says nothing of Telemachus and his youthful experience, nothing of the grand conflict with the suitors. Hence fault has been found with it in various ways. But it singles out the Hero and designates three most important matters concerning him: his knowledge, his suffering, his devotion to his companions. Enough; it has given a start, a light has been put into our hand which beams forward significantly upon the poem, and illumines the mazes of the Hero's character.
Mark again the emphatic word in this Invocation; it is the Return (nostos), the whole Odyssey is the Return, set forth in many gradations, from the shortest and simplest to the longest and profoundest. The idea of the Return dominates the poem from the start; into this idea is poured the total experience of Ulysses and his companions. The two points between which the Return hovers are also given: the capture of Troy and the Greek world. Not a mere book of travels or adventure is this; it contains an inner restoration corresponding to the outer Return, and the interpreter of the work, if he be true to his function, will trace the interior line of its movement, not neglecting the external side which has also a right to be.
//The Obstacles.// Two of these are mentioned and carried back to their mythical sources. All the returning heroes are home from Troy except the chief one, Ulysses, whom Calypso detains in her grot, "wishing him to be her husband;" she, the unmarried, keeps him, the married, from family and country, though he longs to go back to both. She is the daughter of "the evil-minded Atlas," a hoary gigantesque shape of primitive legend, "who knows the depths of all the sea,"—a dark knowledge of an unseen region, from which come many fatalities, as shipwreck for the Greek sailor or earthquake for the volcanic Greek islands; hence he is imagined as "evil-minded" by the Greek mythical fancy, which also makes him the supporter of "the long columns which hold Heaven and Earth apart"—surely a hard task, enough to cause anybody to be in a state of protest and opposition against the happy Gods who have nothing to do but enjoy themselves on Olympus. Sometimes he refuses to hold the long columns for awhile, then comes the earthquake, in which what is below starts heavenward. Of this Atlas, Calypso is the offspring, and possibly her island, "the navel of the sea," is a product of one of his movements underneath the waters.
Here we touch a peculiar vein in the mythical treatment of the Odyssey. The fairy-tale, with its comprehensive but dark suggestiveness, is interwoven into the very fibre of the poem. This remote Atlas is the father of Calypso, "the hider," who has indeed hidden Ulysses in her island of pleasure which will hereafter be described. But in spite of his "concealment," Ulysses has aspiration, which calls down the help of the Gods for fulfillment. Such is the first obstacle, which, we can see, lies somewhere in the sensuous part of human nature.
The second obstacle is Neptune, whom we at once think of as the physical sea—certainly a great barrier. The wrath of Neptune is also set off with a tale of wonder, which gives the origin of Polyphemus, the Cyclops—a gigantic, monstrous birth of the sea, which produces so many strange and huge shapes of living things. But Neptune is now far away, outside of the Greek world, so to speak, among the Ethiopians. This implies a finite element in the Gods; they are here, there, and elsewhere; still they have the infinite characteristic also; they easily pass from somewhere into everywhere, and Ulysses will not escape Neptune.
Such, then, are the two obstacles, both connected far back with mythical beings of the sea, wherein we may note the marine character of the Odyssey, which is a sea-poem, in contrast with the Iliad, which is a land-poem. The physical environment, in which each of these songs has its primary setting, is in deep accord with their respective themes—the one being more objective, singing of the deed, the other being more subjective, singing of the soul.
And even in the two present obstacles we may note that the one, Neptune, seems more external—that of the physical sea; while the other, Calypso, seems more internal—that of the soul held in the charms of the senses.
//The Assembly of the Gods.// The two obstacles to the return of Ulysses are now to be considered by the Gods in council assembled. This is, indeed, the matter of first import; no great action, no great poem is possible outside of the divine order. This order now appears, having a voice; the supreme authority of the world is to utter its decree concerning the work. The poet at the start summons before us the governing principle of the universe in the persons of the Olympian deities. On the other hand, note the solitary individual Ulysses, in a lonely island, with his aspiration for home and country, with his plan—will it be realized? The two sides must come together somehow; the plan of the individual must fit into the plan of the Gods; only in the cooperation of the human and divine is the deed, especially the great deed, possible. Accordingly we are now to behold far in advance the sweep of the poem, showing whether the man's purpose and hope be in harmony with the government of the Gods.
Zeus is the supreme divinity, and he first speaks: "How sorely mortals blame the Gods!" It is indeed an alienated discordant time like the primal fall in Eden. But why this blame? "For they say that evils come from us, the Gods; whereas they, through their own follies, have sorrows beyond what is ordained." The first words of the highest God concern the highest problem of the poem and of human life. It is a wrong theology, at least a wrong Homeric theology, to hold that the Gods are the cause of human ills; these are the consequences of man's own actions. Furthermore, the cause is not a blind impersonal power outside of the individual, it is not Fate but man himself. What a lofty utterance! We hear from the supreme tribunal the final decision in regard to individual free-will and divine government.
Not without significance is this statement put into the mouth of Zeus and made his first emphatic declaration. We may read therein how the poet would have us look at his poem and the intervention of the Gods. We may also infer what is the Homeric view concerning the place of divinity in the workings of the world.
Such being the command of Zeus, the interpreter has nothing to do but to obey. No longer shall we say that the Gods in this Odyssey destroy human freedom, but that they are deeply consistent with it; the divine interference when it takes place is not some external agency beyond the man altogether, but is in some way his own nature, veritably the essence of his own will. Such is truly the thing to be seen; the poem is a poem of freedom, and yet a poem of providence; for do we not hear providence at the very start declaring man's free-will, and hence his responsibility? The God, then, is not to destroy but to secure human liberty in action, and to assert it on proper occasions. Thus Zeus himself has laid down the law, the fundamental principle of Homer's religion as well as of his poem.
Have the Gods, then, nothing to do in this world? Certainly they have, and this is the next point upon which we shall hear our supreme authority, Zeus. He has in mind the case of Ægisthus whom the Gods warned not to do the wicked deed; still he did it in spite of the warning, and there followed the penalty. So the Gods admonish the wrong-doer, sending down their bright-flashing messenger Hermes, and declaring through him the great law of justice: the deed will return unto the doer. Zeus has now given expression to the law which governs the world; it is truly his law, above all caprice. Moreover, the God gives a warning to the sinner; a divine mercy he shows even in the heathen world.
The case of Ægisthus, which Zeus has in mind, is indeed a striking example of a supreme justice which smites the most exalted and successful criminal. It made a profound impression upon the Greek world, and took final shape in the sublime tragedy of Æschylus. Throughout the //Odyssey// the fateful story peeps from the background, and strongly hints what is to become of the suitors of Penelope, who are seeking to do to Ulysses what Ægisthus did to Agamemnon. They will perish, is the decree; thus we behold at the beginning of the poem an image which foreshadows the end. That is the image of Ægisthus, upon whom vengeance came for the wrongful deed.
The Gods, then, do really exist; they are the law and the voice of the law also, to which man may hearken if he will; but he can disobey, if he choose, and bring upon himself the consequences. The law exists as the first fact in the world, and will work itself out with the Gods as executors. Is not this a glorious starting-point for a poem which proposes to reveal the ways of providence unto men? The idea of the Homeric world-order is now before us, which we may sum up as follows: the Gods are in the man, in his reason and conscience, as we moderns say; but they are also outside of man, in the world, of which they are rulers. The two sides, divine and human, must be made one; the grand dualism between heaven and earth must be overcome in the deed of the hero, as well as in the thought of the reader. When the God appears, it is to raise man out of himself into the universal realm where lies his true being. Again, let it be affirmed that the deities are not an external fate, not freedom-destroying power, but freedom-fulfilling, since they burst the narrow limits of the mere individual and elevate him into unity and harmony with the divine order. There he is truly free.
Thus we hear Zeus in his first speech announcing from Olympus the two great laws which govern the world, as well as this poem—that of freedom and that of justice. The latter, indeed, springs from the former; if man be free, he must be held responsible and receive the penalty of the wicked deed. Moreover, it is the fundamental law of criticism for the
Odyssey; freedom and justice we are to see in it and unfold them in accord with the divine order; woe be to the critic who disobeys the decree of Zeus, and sees in his poem only an amusing tale, or a sun-myth perchance.
But here is Pallas Athena speaking to the supreme deity, and noting what seems to be an exception. It is the case of Ulysses, who always "gave sacrifices to the immortal Gods," who has done his duty, and wishes to return to family and country. Pallas hints the difficulty; Calypso the charmer, seeks to detain him in her isle from his wedded wife and to make him forget Ithaca; but she cannot. Strong is his aspiration, he is eager to break the trance of the fair nymph, and the Gods must help him, when he is ready to help himself. Else, indeed, they were not Gods. Then there is the second obstacle, Neptune; he, "only one," cannot hold out "against all," for the All now decrees the restoration of the wanderer. Verily it is the voice of the totality, which is here uttered by Zeus, ordering the return of Ulysses; the reason of the world we may also call it, if that will help the little brain take in the great thought.
But we must not forget the other side. This divine power is not simply external; the mighty hand of Zeus is not going to pick up Ulysses from Calypso's island, and set him down in Ithaca. He must return through himself, yet must fit into the providential order. Both sides are touched upon by Zeus; Ulysses "excels mortals in intelligence," and he will now require it all; but he also "gives sacrifices to the Gods exceedingly," that is, he seeks to find out the will of the Gods and adjust himself thereto. Intellect and piety both he has, often in conflict, but in concord at last. With that keen understanding of his he will repeatedly fall into doubt concerning the divine purpose; but out of doubt he rises into a new harmony.
When the decree of the Highest has been given, Pallas at once organizes the return of Ulysses, and therewith the poem. This falls into three large divisions:—
I. Pallas goes to Ithaca to rouse Telemachus, who is just entering manhood, to be a second Ulysses. He is to give the divine warning to the guilty suitors; then he is to go to Pylos and Sparta in order to inquire about his father, who is the great pattern for the son. Thus we have a book of education for the Homeric youth whose learning came through example and through the living word of wisdom from the lips of the old and experienced man. This part embraces the first four Books, which may be called the Telemachiad.
II. Mercury is sent to Calypso to bid the nymph release Ulysses, who at once makes his raft and starts on his voyage homeward. In this second part we shall have the entire story of the Hero from the time he leaves Troy, till he reaches Ithaca in the 13th Book. As Telemachus the youth is to have his period of education (Lehrjahre), so Ulysses the man is to have his experience of the journey of life (Wanderjahre). Both parts belong together, making a complete work on the education of man, as it could be had in that old Greek world. This part is the Odyssey proper, or the Ulyssiad.
III. The third part brings together father and son in Ithaca; then it portrays them uniting to perform the great deed of justice, the punishment of the suitors. This part embraces the last twelve Books, but is not distinctly set forth in the plan of Pallas as here given.
Such is the structure of the poem, which is organized in its main outlines from Olympus. It is Pallas, the deity of wisdom, who has ordered it in this way; her we shall follow, in preference to the critics, and unfold the interpretation on the same organic lines. Every reader will feel that the three great joints of the poetical body are truly foreshadowed by the Goddess, who indeed is the constructive principle of the poem. One likes to see this belief of the old singer that his work was of divine origin, was actually planned upon Olympus by Pallas in accordance with the decree of Zeus. So at least the Muses have told him, and they were present. But the grandest utterance here is that of Zeus, the Greek Providence, proclaiming man's free will.
Very old and still very new is the problem of the Odyssey; with a little care we can see that the Homeric Greek had to solve in his way what every one of us still has to solve, namely, the problem of life. Only yesterday one might have heard the popular preacher of a great city, a kind of successor to Homer, blazoning the following text as his theme: God is not to blame. Thus the great poem has an eternal subject, though its outer garb be much changed by time. The soul of Homer is ethical, and that is what makes him immortal. Not till we realize this fact, can we be said in any true sense, to understand him.
''BOOK THIRTEENTH.''
In general, we have in this Book the grand transition from Phæacia to Ithaca, in both of its phases, physical and spiritual. The sea is crossed from land to land in a ship; the idyllic realm is left behind, and the real world with its terrible problem is encountered. Phæacia was quite without conflict. Ithaca is just in the condition of conflict and discord. Phæacia, moreover, was a land of looking back at the past, of reminiscence and retrospection; Ithaca is the land of looking directly into the face of the future, with the deed to follow at once; it is the field for action and not contemplation. Not only spatially, but also in thought we must regard this transition.
Ulysses has both these worlds in him; he is the man of thought and the man of action. Hitherto in his career the stress has been upon the former; henceforth it is to be upon the latter. In this Book, which is the overture marking the change in the key-note of the poem, we have three distinct facts brought out prominently and through them we can grasp the general structure. There is, first, the departure of Ulysses from Phæacia and arrival at Ithaca; secondly, when this is finished, there is the glance backward, on the part of the poet, to the miraculous voyage and to Phæacia itself, in which glance Neptune plays an important part; thirdly, there is the glance forward, which occupies most of the Book, taking in Ithaca and the future, in which glance Pallas, the Goddess of foresight, gives the chief direction, and Ulysses is her mortal counterpart. This is, accordingly, to a large extent a Book of divine suggestion; two deities appear, the Upper World plays into the Lower World, yet in very different manners. The God of the Sea seems to be an obstructionist, a reactionary, with look turned behind, an old divinity of Nature; while Pallas always has her look turned forward, and is furthering the great deed of purification, is wholly a divinity of Spirit. These three phases of the Book we shall note more fully.
I. We have a glimpse of the court at Phæacia; Ulysses has ended the long account of his experience, the time of action has arrived. The formal yet hearty farewell is described; the gifts of the host are given, and the guest is sent on his way. Nor must we forget the bard Demodocus, still singing at the banquet, but the theme of his song is not now mentioned; evidently it was some tale of Troy, as before, and this stage of song has been far transcended by Ulysses. Very eager the Hero was to start; "often he turned his head toward the all-shining Sun" to see how far away the hour still remained. He wishes to listen to no more lays of the Past, sweet though they be, nor does he desire to tell any tales himself.
Moreover we hear the great longing of his heart: "May I, returning, find at home my blameless wife!" In like manner he wishes domestic joy to the king, as this whole Phæacian world partakes more of the Family than of the State. Of course, he cannot leave without going to the heart and center of the Family, namely, Arete, wife, mother, and even judge of the people. So we hear from the lips of Ulysses a final salutation to her in her threefold character, "Within thy household rejoice in thy children, thy people and thy husband the king." She looks to the domestic part on the ship for Ulysses; she sends servants bearing bread, wine and garments for the passage. Nausicaa we feel to be present in the last interview, but not a word from her or from the departing guest to her; self-suppression is indeed the law for both, for is not Penelope the grand end of this voyage?
The ship of the Phæacians in which the passage is made is a miraculous one, and yet prophetic; it is gifted with thought and flies more fleet than a falcon, swiftest of birds. Again the mythical account prefigures the reality, and this little marvelous story of the sea hints, yes, calls for the speed of modern navigation. It is not a matter to be understood; Ulysses, the wise man, knows nothing about it, he is sunk in sleep while making the passage. But the wise man is to come to knowledge hereafter.
He has arrived in Ithaca, and entered a safe port; he, still deep in slumber, is laid on the shore with all his goods and gifts, when the mariners turn back. At this point we have an interesting description of the surroundings, wherein we may observe the poet's employment of nature as a setting for the returned Ulysses. There is the secure haven shutting off the winds and waves of the sea; at the end of the haven stands the olive tree, product of culture, and hinting the civilized world, which Ulysses now enters; it was a tree sacred to Pallas in later Greek legend, and, doubtless, in Homer's time also. Next came the cave of the Nymphs called Naiads, with its curious shapes of stone, the work of the Nymphs to the old Greek eye, but named stalagmites and stalactites in modern speech. Two are the entrances, one for Gods and one for men; both human and divine visitors come thither, it is indeed a point of meeting for the two influences, which is its essential suggestion. Ulysses, lying with his goods beneath the olive tree and near the cave, is under divine protection, which here Nature herself is made to declare. This scenery is not introduced for its own sake, but for the divinity in it, whereof another example is to follow in the case of Neptune.
There have been repeated attempts to identify the locality described by the poet with the present geography of Ithaca. Travelers have imagined that they have found the haven and cave, notably this was the case with Sir William Gell; but the more common view now is that they were mistaken. Homer from his knowledge of Greece, which has everywhere harbors, caves and olive-trees, constructed an ideal landscape for his own purpose, quite as every poet does. He may or may not have seen Ithaca; in either case, the poetic result is the same.
II. The physical transition from Phæacia to Ithaca is accomplished; while Ulysses is asleep, the poet casts a glance backward at the marvelous ship and at the marvelous land which has just been left behind. Both are henceforth to be forever closed to the real world and its intercourse; the realm of fable is shut off from Ithaca, and from the rest of this poem.
The matter is presented in the form of a conflict between the Phæacians and Neptune, between the sea-faring people and the sea; clearly it is one of the many struggles between Man and Nature which the Greek Mythus is always portraying, because these struggles were the ever-present fact in Greek life. The God has been circumvented by the speed of the navigators; Ulysses without suffering, without a storm, has reached Ithaca. "No more honor for me from mortals or Gods," cries Neptune, "if I can be thus defied?" He makes his appeal to the Highest God, and we hear the decision: "Turn the ship to a stone and hide the city with a mountain." The first is accomplished in view of the Phæacians; the second is possibly prevented by their speedy sacrifices to Neptune, and the new decree of the ruler, which forbids their giving further escort over the sea to strangers. At any rate Phæacia is shut off from the world, and has not been heard of since; there have been no more transitions thence since that of Ulysses. The marvelous ship and the marvelous city vanish forever by a divine act, even by the will of Zeus. Yet, on the other hand, they eternally remain, crystallized in these verses of Homer, more lasting than the rock of Neptune.
Why this interference from above? Wherein is the escort by the Phæacians a violation of the divine order as voiced by the Supreme God? Note that Ulysses has escaped, which is the will of Zeus; note, too, that the Phæacians are punished for helping him escape, which is also the will of Zeus. The sailors bring the wanderer to his home without trouble, but they are smitten by the God while returning.
For the primal suggestion of the legend, may we not say that the sea, that enormous force of Nature with many reserved energies in its vast bosom, though bestrid and subdued by a ship, at times breaks loose and destroys, in spite of skillful navigation and perfect machinery? Still to-day the sea has a residue of the uncontrollable, and probably will have for some ages to come. Neptune has not ceased from his wrath against the man of thought, who tries to straddle and ride him, and Zeus still supports at times the Sea-god's appeal for honor, when his prerogative is violated. Yet not always by any means, for Zeus belongs to the true Olympians, deities of intelligence, who once put down the old Gods of Nature.
Still Nature has its right, nay, its law with the penalty. The poet looks upon the sea as a great deity demanding sacrifice and honor. Furthermore, for every conquest made over it, there is the counterstroke, the resistance, which is the vengeance of the God. Thus says Zeus: "If any man, trusting in his own strength, refuses to give unto thee honor, always vengeance is thine afterwards."
We have already noticed the creed of the poet to be that every action has its penalty; the deed, even the good deed, is the fruit of a conflict and puts down something which has its might, aye its right, which is soon to make itself felt in counteraction. //Es rächt sich alles auf Erden//, sings our last world-poet in full harmony with his eldest brother.
It is not surprising that Alcinous at this point remembers an "ancient God-spoken oracle," which had uttered in advance the wrath of Neptune and the present penalty. In like manner, Polyphemus, in his crisis, remembered a similar oracle. It is indeed the deep suggestion of Nature which the sages have heard in all times. The poet takes his thought and works it into a mythical shape, in which, however, we are to see not merely the story but the insight into the world order.
Ulysses now leaves the sea, after having been chiefly in a struggle with it for years, ever since he sailed from Troy. It was the element in his way, the environment always hostile to him; Neptune was the deity who was angry and made him suffer. Still the God of the sea could not prevent his Return, such was the will of Zeus. Thus we cast a glance back at the Phæacians who vanish, and at Neptune who also vanishes.
The poem henceforth quits the sea, after marking the fate of the sea-faring people of Phæacia. That great mysterious body of water, with its uncertainties of wind and wave, with its hidden rocks and magic islands, is now to drop out of the horizen of the Odyssey. It is the great sea-poem of the Greeks, yes of the world; the sea is the setting of its adventurous, marvelous, illimitable portion. It comes out the sea, with its realm of wonders; henceforth it is a land poem in the clear finite world. Ulysses the Hero must turn his face away from the briny element; not without significance is that command given him that he must go till he find a people who take an oar for a winnowing-fan ere he can reach peace. So the fairy-ship ceased to run, but the steam-ship has taken its place in these Ithacan waters. Still the poetic atmosphere of the Odyssey, in spite of steam, hovers over the islands of western Greece to-day; the traveler in the harbor of Corfu, will look up at the city from the deck of his vessel and call back the image of Phæacia, and if he listens to the speech of the Greek sailors, he will find words still in use which were employed by old Homer, possibly were heard by the poet in this very harbor.
III. Next comes the most important and longest portion of the Book, turning the glance forward to Ithaca and the future, also to the great deed of the poem. A new deity appears when Neptune vanishes, not a hostile power of Nature but a helpful spirit of Intelligence—it is the Goddess of Wisdom, Pallas. This divine transition from the one God to the other is the real inner fact, while the physical transition is but the outer setting and suggestion.
Accordingly, the theme now is the man and the deity, Ulysses and Pallas in their interrelation. We are to have a complete account of the human unfolding into a vision of the divine. The movement is from a complete separation of the twain, to mutual recognition, and then to co-operation. Pallas has had little to do with Ulysses during his great sea-journey, and since he left Troy. That long wandering on the water was without her, lay not at all in her domain, which is that of clear self-conscious Intelligence. That misty Fableland is the realm of other divinities, though she appeared in Phæacia.
The question, therefore, is at present: How shall this man come into the knowledge of the Goddess? How shall he know the truth of the reality about him in his new situation, how understand this world of wisdom? The sides are two: the man and the deity, and they must become one in spirit. The supreme thing, therefore, is that Ulysses hear the voice of Pallas, and develop into unity with her; indeed that may be held to be the supreme thing in Religion and Philosophy: to hear the voice of God. Even in the business of daily life the first object is to find out the word of Pallas.
Such is the dualism in the world, which must be harmonized; but in the individual also there is another dualism which has to be harmonized. Ulysses is mortal, finite, given over to doubt, passion, caprice, is the unwise man, subjective; but he is also the wise man, has an infinite nature which is just the mastery of all his weakness; he has always the possibility of wisdom, and will come to it by a little discipline. He will rise out of his subjective self into the objective God. This is just the process which the poet is now going to portray; the Hero overwhelmed in his new situation and with his new problem, is to ascend into communion with Pallas, is to behold wisdom in person and hear her voice, and then is to advance to the deed. This process we may look at in four different stages, as they unfold on the lines laid down by the poet.
1. First we have quite a full picture of Ulysses before he reaches the recognition of the Divine, and of his gradual climbing-up to that point. At the start he is asleep, is not even conscious of the external world about him, he has indeed entered a new realm, yet old. As long as the Phæacian spell is upon him, he can do nought but slumber. Then he wakes, he sees but does not recognize his own country. He doubts, he blames the Phæacians wrongfully, in his distrust of them he counts over his treasures. He is now the unwise, capricious man; he has no perception of Pallas; not only the land is in disguise to him, he is in disguise to himself, to his better self.
Yet the poet is careful to mark the providential purpose just in this disguise. The Goddess threw a mist over things, that he might not know them, or make himself known till all was in readiness for the destruction of the Suitors, till she had told him what he had to do. Still it is his own act or state that he cannot at first hear the voice of the Goddess.
The next step is that he recognizes the country, it is described to him and named by Pallas. But she is in disguise now; she has appeared, but not in her true form; she is not yet wisdom, but simply identifies the land, telling him: "This is Ithaca." Thus he recognizes the external landscape, but not the Goddess, who is as yet but a simple shepherd describing things.
Now what will he do? He also will disguise himself to the shepherd, because he does not recognize who it is. He makes up a fable to account for his presence and for his goods. Both are now in disguise, the man and deity, to each other. They are doing the same thing, they are one, with that thin veil of concealment between them.
Then comes the mutual recognition. She tears away the veil, laughs at his artifice, and calls out her own designation: Pallas Athena. She had previously named Ithaca, which brings the recognition of the outer world; now she names herself, which brings the recognition of the divine world. Thus Ulysses has rapidly passed from sleep through a series of non-cognizant states, till he beholds the Goddess.
2. Both the deity and mortal have now reached the stage of mutual recognition, and thrown off their mutual disguise, which was a false relation, though it often exists. Does not the man at times conceal himself to the God, by self-deception, self-excuse, by lying to his higher nature? In such case is not the God also hidden, in fact compelled to assume a mask? Thus the poet brings before us the wonderful interplay between the human and divine, till they fully recognize each other.
At once Pallas changes, she assumes a new form, the outward plastic shape corresponding to her Godhood in the Greek conception, that of "a woman beautiful and stately." Nor must we forget that Ulysses has also changed, the two transformations run parallel, in the spirit of the man and in the form of the Goddess. This unity of character also is stated by Pallas; "both of us are skilled in wiles; thou art the best of mortals in counsel and in words; I am famed among the Gods for wisdom and cunning." Hence her argument runs, let us throw off disguise to each other, for we have a great work before us.
It is also to be noted by the reader that each, the man and the Goddess, ascribes to the other the credit of skill and forethought, specially the credit of coming to Ithaca in disguise to discover the true situation. Says Pallas: "Another man would have rushed to see wife and children in his house, but thou wilt first test thy wife." Here the Goddess gives the thought to the man. Says Ulysses: "Surely I would have perished in my own palace, like Agamemnon, if thou, O Goddess, hadst not told me everything aright." Here the man gives the thought to the Goddess. This is not a contradiction, both are correct, and the insight is to see that both are one, and saying the same thing at bottom. The deity must be in the man, as well as in the world; and the man must hear the deity speaking the truth of the world ere he attain unto wisdom.
Even the mist which hung over the landscape at first, has now completely vanished; Ulysses recognizes all the local details—the haven, the olive-tree, the grot of the Nymphs, and the mountain; all the Ithacan objects of Nature come back fully. But chiefly he recognizes the Goddess, whereupon both can pass to the great matter in hand—the deed.
3. This deed has been often mentioned before—the purification of Ithaca, chiefly by the slaughter of the Suitors, "the shameless set, who usurp thy house and woo thy wife." Sitting on the roots of the sacred olive, the two, the man and the deity, plan destruction to the guilty. Verily those double elements, the human and the divine, must co-operate if the great action be performed. The eternal principle of right, the moral order of the world, must unite with the free agency of the individual in bringing about the regeneration of the land. Thus after their complete recognition and harmony, which takes place out of separation, Ulysses and Pallas look forward to the impending deed, which is their unity realized and standing forth as a fact in the world.
4. Finally we have the manner of doing the deed, the plan is laid before us. Pallas tells Ulysses that he must again assume his disguise, both in the hut of the swineherd and in the palace at Ithaca. She does not propose to do his work for him; on the contrary it must be his own spontaneous energy. In fact, Pallas is in him making this suggestion, yet outside of him, too, speaking the voice of the situation.
The scheme shows the structure of these four Books (XIII-XVI), organized of course by Pallas. Ulysses is to go to the swineherd who is loyal, and will give shelter. Telemachus is to be brought to the same place by Pallas, not externally, as we shall see, but through the free act of Telemachus himself. Thus the three chosen men are gathered together in their unsuspected fortress. Two things we must note in regard to these movements: they are wholly voluntary on part of the persons making them, yet they belong in the Divine Order, and thus are the work of the deity. Free-Will and Providence do not trammel each other, but harmoniously co-operate to the same end. So carefully and completely is this thought elaborated that we may consider it fundamental in the creed of the poet.
In such manner the weak, finite Ulysses is brought into communion with the immortal Goddess. Yet he, the poor frail mortal, drops for a moment even here. When Pallas speaks of Telemachus having gone to Sparta, to learn about his father, Ulysses petulantly asks: "Why did not you, who know all things, tell that to him" without the peril of such a journey? The answer of Pallas is clear; I sent him in order that he might be a man among men, and have the good fame of his action. Telemachus, too, must be a free man; that is the education of Pallas. The Goddess will help him only when he helps himself. Divinity is not to sap human volition, but to enforce it; she would unmake Telemachus, if she allowed him to stay at home and do nothing, tied to his mother's apron strings.
And here we cannot help noting an observation on Homer's poetry. It must be in the reader ere he can see it in the book. Unless he be ready for its spirit, it will not appear, certainly it will not speak. There must be a rise into the vision of Homeric poetry on the part of the reader, as there is a rise into the vision of the Goddess on the part of Ulysses. The two sides, the human and the divine, or the Terrestrial and the Olympian, must meet and commune; thus the reader, too, in perusing Homer, must become heroic and behold the Gods.
''BOOK FOURTEENTH.''
The Book begins with another transition in place; Ulysses passes from the sea-shore, with its haven, grot, and olive-tree up into the mountain, to the hut of Eumæus. We have quite a full description of the latter's abode; there is a lodge surrounded by a court and a wall; within this inclosure are the sties, and the droves of swine over which he is the keeper, with four assistants. Nor must we omit the fierce dogs, savage as wild beasts. Such is the new environment which Ulysses enters, and which has at its center a human being who gives character to this little world. Again we catch a clear quick glimpse of the Greek landscape in one of its phases.
The spiritual transition is, however, the main thing. Ulysses passes from Pallas, the deity of pure wisdom, to Eumæus, the humblest of mortals in his vocation. Yet this poor man too has the divine in him, and manifests it in a supreme degree, not, however, in the form of reflective wisdom, but in the form of piety, of an immediate faith in the Gods. Still this faith has its sore trial. Such is the contrast between the two men. Ulysses has brought with him the Goddess of Wisdom, whose words he has heard, and with whom he has held communion. Hardly does Eumæus know Pallas, he has not the internal gift of seeing her in her own shape. Thus both these men share in the divine, but in very different ways.
From this difference in the two men spring both the character and the matter of the Book. It is a play, a disguise; a play between Wisdom and Faith, in which the former must be in disguise to the latter, yet both have the same substance at bottom. For Faith is Faith because it cannot take the form of Intelligence, yet may have in its simple immediate form all the content of Intelligence.
Eumæus has an open single-hearted piety; he cannot play a disguise, he hates it for he has been deceived by it when assumed by lying fablers. For this reason he is not intrusted with the secret of his master's return till the last moment, he would have to dissemble, to violate his own nature, and then perhaps he would not have succeeded in his attempt. So Ulysses with a true regard for his man withholds the great secret, and has to play under cover in order to get the needful information.
Accordingly the present Book has a decided tinge of comedy. There is, on the one hand, the disguise, external and internal—in garments and in identity; on the other hand, there is the error which takes one person for another, and produces the comic situation. Thus the Book is prophetic of a great branch of Literature, and may be considered as a starting-point of Greek Comedy, yes, as one of the origins of Shakespeare. To be sure, it is not mere fun or amusement; it is the Comedy of Providence, who often is in disguise bringing his blessing. Eumæus in his piety has just that which he thinks he has not; his loyalty has brought to him just that which he most desired; his mistake is in reality no mistake, but a mere appearance which will vanish in the end.
It is true that this sport of comic disguise began in the previous Book with Pallas. But can the mortal hide himself from the deity, specially from the deity of wisdom? Hence the Goddess tears away the mask with a smile, and there follows the recognition. But at present it is the mortal who is the victim of disguise, by virtue of his limitations. Still the mortal, when he cannot see, can believe, and so transcend these same limitations. Thus it is with Eumæus, his mistake is a comic nullity.
In the hut of the swineherd, there is no domestic life, the woman is absent. This condition is specially ascribed to the present state of things in Ithaca. Eumæus, though he be a slave, could have a household, "a dwelling and ground and wife," if his old master were at home. Even now he has his own servant, bought with his own wealth. Slavery was not a hard condition in the house of Ulysses; it was domestic in the best sense probably. Indeed the slaves were often of as high birth as their masters, who in turn might be slaves in the next fluctuation of war. Eumæus himself was of kingly blood, and he retains his regal character in his servitude.
Ulysses has now reached the fortress which is to be the rallying-point of his army of three heroes, and from which he is to issue to the work of the time. But that is hereafter. In the present Book, we have his play with Eumæus, his disguise, which assumes three main attitudes. First, he is passive, chiefly asking and listening; thus he gets out of Eumæus what information he wishes; then he plays an active part in his disguise, telling his own history under the mask of fiction; finally he assumes an open disguise, that is, he tells of one of his artifices at Troy, and then states his present object in telling it. The simple Eumæus, however, does not suspect him in all these transformations. Still we may notice in the swineherd a strong feeling of oneness with the stranger, an unconscious presentiment of who he is.
I. The approach of Ulysses to the lodge of Eumæus is an experience which one may have in the mountains of Greece to-day. We can find the same general outline of a hut with its surrounding fence and court, in which domestic animals are penned, particularly during the night. Then there is that same welcome from the dogs, which issue forth in a pack with an unearthly howling, growling and barking at the approaching stranger, till somebody appear and pelt them with stones. Often must the wandering Homer have had such a greeting! The hospitable swineherd, Eumæus, the poet must have met with in his travels; the whole scene and character are drawn directly from real life. A similar reception we have had in a remote pastoral lodge, dogs included. But the modern pedestrian will hardly employ the ruse of Ulysses, that of sitting down on the ground and letting his staff drop out of his hand. He will use his weapon and grasp for a stone everywhere present on the Greek soil, though the fight be unequal. Still the sentence of Pliny (//Nat. Hist.// VIII. 61) deserves always to be cited in this connection: //impetus eorum (canum) et sœvitia mitigatur ab homine considente humi//; as if dogs in the height of their rage might be touched with the plea of piety.
The character of the swineherd straightway shows itself by his conduct toward this poor hungry stranger, a vagabond in appearance. To be sure, hospitality was and is a common virtue in Greece; but Eumæus saw at once in the wretched looking man his master "wandering among people of a strange tongue, needing food." Therefore come, old man, and satisfy yourself with bread and wine. Such is the strong fellow-feeling warming the hearth of that humble lodge. Misfortune has not soured the swineherd, but he has extracted from it his greatest blessing—an universal charity. This is not a momentary emotion, but has risen to a religious principle: "All strangers and the poor are of Zeus;" such is the vital word of his creed. He is a slave and has not much to share; "our giving is small but dear to us;" very dear indeed, a mite only, but it is as good as a world. Well may we call him, with the poet, in the best sense of the title: "the divine swineherd." We should note too that the poet addresses Eumæus in the second person singular, with a tone of loving familiarity very seldom employed elsewhere in his two poems. Was there some intimate personal relation figured in this character which we still seem to feel afar off there in antiquity?
At any rate the picture of the swineherd has the most modern touch to be found in Homer. It shows the feeling of humanity developed quite to its supreme fullness; it has modern sentiment, nay, it borders at times upon modern sentimentality. It recalls the recent novel, which takes its hero from the lowest class and garnishes him with regal virtues. Strange old Homer, prophetic again! He seems to have anticipated the art-forms of all the ages, and to have laid down the lines on which the literary spirit must move forever. Otherwise, indeed, it could not be; he has in him the germs of future development; the last novel is contained in the first, which is the tale of Eumæus.
In the character of the swineherd, the central point is his loyalty, adamantine as the rock of his humble home. It is loyalty in a double sense: to his divine and to his human master, to God and to man, Zeus and Ulysses. The same trait it is, in a terrestrial and a celestial manifestation. Both sides of this loyalty are just now under the sorest trial; there is every temptation to fall away from God and man and become wholly disloyal. Many have yielded but he will not; in his solitary abode he keeps piety and patriotism aflame with the breath of his spirit. Hence he furnishes the rock on which the new order can be built; without this loyalty in the humble class, no restoration would be possible, even with the presence of Ulysses.
First we may notice that he is loyal to his human master though he believes that the latter is dead and cannot return. Still he does not pass over to the side of the Suitors, who are doing that master and his house the great wrong. Secondly, the swineherd is loyal to Zeus and the Divine Order of the World. Hear him: "The Gods love not deeds of violence; they honor justice and the rightful works of men." Such is his faith; still this faith is passing through the ordeal of fire: why should the Gods, being good, keep the good Ulysses away from his Return? The simple swineherd cannot fathom the ways of Providence, still he believes in that Providence; he is divinely loyal. His allegiance does not depend upon prosperity, not even upon insight. Zeus may rule the world as he pleases, I shall still have faith: "Though he slay me, I shall believe in him."
Now we may turn for a moment to Ulysses. He is a passive learner from the swineherd, calling forth information by subtle inquiry; much, indeed, has he learned from the humble, pious man. First, he has seen a shadow of his own doubt, and how it may be dispelled. Then he has discovered loyalty in this representative of the people, who must still possess it in their hearts, though suppressed in the present, untoward time. Also he hears again of the Suitors and their guilty deeds, viewed with a loyal eye. Finally he plays the prophet to Eumæus and foretells the return of Ulysses. This is the height of his disguise, wherein he rises to the humor of Providence, who has brought to the swineherd the realization of his strongest wish without his knowing it. His prayers have come to pass, could he but see. Herein Ulysses suggests the part of Providence in disguise, bringing the fulfillment of his own prophecy.
II. It is now the turn of Ulysses to give some account of himself in answer to the swineherd's pressing questions. He tells a famous story, a fiction of his own life, yet it has in its disguise the truth of his career. The outer setting is changed, but the main facts are the same. Still there is enough difference to prevent it from being a repetition. It is the Odyssey told over again with new incidents, and variations upon an old theme. We behold here the conscious storyteller, clothing the events of life in the garb of a marvelous adventure. Ulysses had in mind his own experience in this account, and he adapts it to the time and place.
The main points of its contact with himself we may note. First, there is the pre-Trojan period, a time of roving and marauding, which is true of that age in general, and may have some touch of Ulysses in particular. Second is the Trojan war, the epoch of heroic conflict to which all had to go, so strong was the public sentiment. Third comes the post-Trojan epoch, with the wanton attack on the Ægyptians, very much like the attack upon the Ciconians in the Ninth Book. From these attacks in both cases the grand calamity results, which causes the long wandering. The Phœnician episode, however, has no counterpart in the career of Ulysses. Fourth is the storm at sea, with the clinging to the mast, and the landing upon the coast of the Thesprotians, all of which is a transcript of the experience of Ulysses in getting to Phæacia from Calypso's isle. Fifth is the arrival at Ithaca, which shows the actual fact, with changed circumstances. Thus we may say that the true Ulysses in disguise tells the true story of his life in disguise. This gift is what makes him the poet.
Indeed we are compelled to think that Homer here suggests his own poetic procedure. What he narrates is his own experience, in the form of art. His poetry is and must be his own life, though in disguise. Goethe has said something similar: All that I have written is what I have experienced, but not quite as I experienced it. In this story we may hear in an undertone the old Greek poet telling one of his secrets of composition.
Moreover, it is a tale of providential escapes; thrice has the so-called Cretan been saved specially, in Ægypt, from the Phœnicians, from the Thesprotians. Thus the story aims to encourage Eumæus, and to answer his doubt; it affirms the return of Ulysses, and tells even the manner thereof; it is a story of Providence appealing to the swineherd's faith. On this line, too, it touches the ethical content of the Odyssey, as the latter was sung to the whole Greek world.
Looking at the external circumstances of the story we note that it takes them from the social life of the time. There is universal slavery, with its accompaniment, man-stealing; the pirate and the free-booter are still on the seas and furnish incidents of adventure, yet commerce has also begun; the perils of navigation turn the voyage into a series of miraculous escapes. It is a time of dawn in which many distinctions, now clear, have not yet been made.
We may also see the lines, though they be faint, of the movement of the world's culture in this story. Crete, on the borderland between East and West, is the home of the daring Greek adventurer who attacks Troy on the one hand and Ægypt on the other. From Crete we pass backwards to Phœnicia, as well as to the land of the Nile, and we catch a glimpse of the current of Oriental influence flowing upon Greece. Already we have seen the spiritual gift of Egypt to the Greek mind shadowed forth in the story of Menelaus in the Fourth Book. In these latter Books of the Odyssey the Phœnician intercourse with Hellas is more strongly emphasized, with glances into their art, their trade, their navigation. All this Phœnician development the Greek looks at in a wondering way as if miraculous; he is reaching out for it also. To be sure the Phœnician has a bad name, as a shrewd, even dishonest trader. Still he is the middleman between nations, and a necessity.
Thus it appears that the Greeks have lost their Aryan connection, and have become the heirs of a Semitic civilization. Homer does not seem to know his Indo-European kinship, but he does connect Hellas with Phœnicia and Egypt in many a spiritual tie. These ties take, for the most part, a mythical form, still they must have been a great fact, else they could not have influenced the mythology of the Greek race. So the present tale through the fiction of the myth-maker, hints the chief social fact of the time.
The fiction in the previous Book, which Ulysses began to tell to Pallas, also started in Crete, looked back at the Trojan war, and connected with Idomeneus, the great hero of Cretan legend in the affair of Troy. The Phœnican trader in his ship comes in there too. But that tale is cut short by the Goddess, who knows the disguise. In the present case, however, the swineherd makes no such discovery. The next Book will also have its corresponding tale.
Ulysses has thus told all about himself to the swineherd, has even hinted in one place his disguise. He speaks of Ulysses having gone to Dodona to consult the sacred oracle "whether he should return to Ithaca openly or secretly, after so long an absence." He runs along the very edge of discovering himself. But the swineherd will not believe; "the Gods all hate my master" is still his view. Already a lying Ætolian had deceived him with a similar tale, which also introduced Idomeneus and the Cretans. Ulysses has before himself a new picture of doubt, and its blindness; quite a lesson it must have been to the skeptical man.
The story, in its deepest suggestion, hints the manner of providential working, as seen by the old bard. Eumæus has already had his prayers for the return of his master fulfilled, though he does not know it, and believes that they never will be fulfilled. Still he never gives up his divine loyalty and turns atheist. By his charity and piety he has helped, indeed has brought about the return of Ulysses unwittingly. The man, if he follow the law, is always helping, though he may not see that he is, may even think that he is not. This ethical order of the world underlies the tale, and is what the ancient listener must have felt so that Homer's poems became a bible to him. Providence in disguise is its title, here represented by the Hero in disguise.
III. The supper and its preparation are quite fully described; it is the second meal of pork in this Book. This we may pass over, to note the stratagem of Ulysses to obtain a cloak from the swineherd. The stranger tells his stratagem once upon a time at Troy for the same purpose; whereat the swineherd takes the hint and says: "Thou shalt not lack for a garment or anything else which is befitting a suppliant." Thus Ulysses obtained his cloak, and slept warm by the hearth.
But the other hint the swineherd did not take, the hint of the disguise. He sees the artifice of his guest to obtain the cloak, but never thinks in his own mind: This is Ulyssess himself, the man of wiles trying to get the cloak again tonight. Yet Ulysses has gone far toward telling him just that. The swineherd cannot suspect, it is foreign to his nature; this is just his beauty of character and its limitation.
But Ulysses has to disguise in order to do his work. He is in his own land, on his own territory, yet he dares not appear as he is. This is not his fault. His whole object is to get rid of this necessity of disguise, so that he may be himself. The time will not permit candor, hence his call is to correct the time. Violence is met by disguise, as it always is; fraud destroys itself; the negation negates itself. Such is the process which we are now beholding.
''BOOK FIFTEENTH.''
In contrast with the previous Book, the present Book has not so much disguise; Ulysses falls somewhat into the background, and several undisguised characters came forward. Still there are points in common, the most striking of which is the tale of Eumæus, the correspondence of which with the tale of Ulysses in the Fourteenth Book impresses itself upon every careful reader.
But the main fact of the present Book is the bringing together of the various threads for the grand final enterprise, which is the punishment of the guilty Suitors. Ulysses and Eumæus are already on hand; to them now Telemachus is to be added, who comes from Sparta, whither he had gone for the completion of his education. Thus the present Book goes back and connects with the Fourth Book in which we left Telemachus. Still further, the Ithakeiad is linked into and continues the Telemachiad (the first four Books), inasmuch as we now see the purpose of that famous journey of the son to the courts of Nestor and Menelaus. It was the training for a deed, a great deed which required knowledge, skill, and resolution, and which was to show the youth to be the son of his father.
Such is another organic link which binds the whole Odyssey together. The two threads, separately developed hitherto, are now united and interwoven with a third, that of Eumæus. Telemachus has seen two Trojan heroes and heard their varied history, he has learned about his father whom he is prepared in spirit to support. So the son has his Return also, a small one, yet important, be returns to Ithaca after the experience at Pylos and Sparta and is joined to the great Return of his father.
But just here with these evident marks of unity in the poem, occurs a slip in chronology which has given the most solid comfort to those who wish to break up the Odyssey and assign its parts to different authors. In the Fourth Book (l. 594) Telemachus proposes to set out at once for home, he will not be detained even by the charm of Menelaus and Helen. That was the 6th day of the poem, whereas we find him here leaving Sparta on 36th day of the poem, according to the usual reckoning. Two inferences have been drawn from this discrepancy, if it be a discrepancy. The Wolfian School cries out in chorus: two different poets for the two different passages; it would have been impossible for old Homer singing without any written copy thus to forget himself, whatever a modern author might do with the manuscript or printed page before him. The other set of opinions will run just in the opposite direction: the connection between the Fourth and the Fifteenth Books is perfect, as far as thought, narrative, and incident are concerned; the ancient listener and even the modern reader could pay no attention to the intricate points of chronology in the poem, especially when these points lay more than ten Books or 5,000 lines apart from each other. There is no real sign of discrepant authorship, therefore, but rather a new indication of unity.
The general theme of the Book is, accordingly, the Return of Telemachus, and his uniting with his father and the swineherd, who are still further characterized in their relation. The structure of the Book falls easily into three portions: first is the separation of Telemachus from Menelaus and Helen till his departure on the ship; second is the end to which he is moving just now, the hut of Eumæus, where are Ulysses and the swineherd, the latter of whom tells his tale of discipline and is seen to be a hero too in his sphere; the third part is the coming of Telemachus.
I. In the departure of Telemachus from Sparta, we witness the divine and human elements again in co-operation. The former is represented by Pallas who came down to Sparta to "remind the son of Ulysses of his Return(nostos)." She appears to him in the night as he lies awake full of care; he is ready to see her plan and so she appears on the spot and tells it, not in the form of a dream. In the first place, he is to hasten home in order to save his substance, which is threatened with new loss through the possible marriage of Penelope with one of the suitors, Eurymachus. The son (through the mouth of Pallas) here shows some bitter feeling toward his mother, whose mind be manifestly does not understand; she is altogether too subtle for her own boy, who has not seen through her disguises. In the second place Pallas warns him against the ambush of the Suitors, which was no doubt his own forecast of the situation. In the third place, the Goddess sends him to the hut of the faithful swineherd, whose character he must have already known. In this speech of Pallas we feel everywhere the subjective element; she is certainly the voice of Telemachus, yet also the voice of the situation; the divine and human side easily come together, with a stronger tinge of the human than is usual in Homer. Still we must not forget that Pallas, Goddess of Intelligence, suggests the processes of mind more directly than any other deity. Thus we again see that Pallas is the organizer of the poem; she brings its threads together through her foresight; she sends Telemachus where he unites with Ulysses and Eumæus.
The separation from Menelaus and Helen is told in the style of lofty hospitality. Menelaus brings as his present a wine-bowl wrought by divine skill, "the work of Vulcan," which was given him by the king of the Sidonians—another glance back to Phœnicia and its art. Helen gives a garment of her own making, which thou shalt preserve as "a keepsake of Helen" till the day of thy marriage, "when thy bride shall wear it." A most beautiful motive, worthy indeed of Helen and of Helen's art; Telemachus is to transfer to his bride, and to her alone, his "keepsake of Helen," his memory of her, his ideal gotten during this journey. Finally Helen appears as prophetess and foretells the total destruction of the Suitors at the hands of returning Ulysses. Such is the last appearance of Helen to Telemachus, giving strong encouragement, suggesting in her two acts a new outlook for the youth both upon Family and State. No wonder his words to her rise into adoration: "Zeus so ordering, there at home I shall pray unto thee as unto a God."
Telemachus in his return will not pass through Pylos lest he be delayed by the importunate hospitality of good old Nestor. And indeed what can he gain thereby? He has already seen and heard the Pylian sage. So he sends the latter's son home while he himself goes aboard his ship. But just before he sets sail, there comes "a stranger, a seer, a fugitive, having slain a man." Theoclymenus it is, of the prophetic race of Melampus, the history of which is here given. The victim of a fateful deed now beseeches Telemachus for protection and receives it; the prophet hereafter will give his forewarnings to the Suitors. Yet he could not save himself from his own fate in spite of his foresight; so all the seers of the family of Melampus have a strain of fatality in them; they foreknow, but cannot master their destiny.
II. The scene shifts (l. 301) to the hut of the swineherd, which is the present destination of Telemachus. The reader beholds a further unfolding of the character of Eumæus, in fact this portion of the Book might be called his discipline or preparation to take part in the impending enterprise.
Ulysses still further tests the charity and humanity of the swineherd by offering to go to town in order to beg for his bread among the Suitors, as well as to do their menial tasks. Whereat Eumæus earnestly seeks to dissuade him, reminding him of the insolence of those men and of their elegant servants in livery, and assuring him that "no one here is annoyed at thy presence, neither I nor the others." Well may Ulysses respond to such a manifestation of charity. "May thou be as dear to Zeus, the Father, as thou art to me!"
The stranger now tests the swineherd's interest in and devotion to Laertes and Eurycleia, who are the parents of Ulysses, the old father and mother of the house. So Eumæus gives an account of his relation to them, as well as to Ktimene, sister of Ulysses; "with her I was reared, and was honored by her mother only a little less." Eumæus will soon tell how he came so young to the family of Laertes. Indeed Ulysses is moved by his narrative to ask just this question. It is to be noted that the report of the swineherd about Penelope is not so certain; "from the queen I have had no kindly word or deed, since that evil fell upon her house—the haughty Suitors." Here lies one motive why Ulysses must go to the palace and test Penelope. Thus Eumæus shows his love for the family of Ulysses, and responds deeply to the test of universal charity.
Very naturally rises the question as to the history of his life. What experience has called forth such a marvelous character? Eumæus now gives his fateful story. The Phœnician background is again employed, with its commerce in merchandise, with its stealing and selling of free, high-born people into slavery, with its navigation. The pith of the story is, a Phœnician female slave, who had been stolen and bought by the king of the country, plays false to her master, steals his child and what valuables she can carry off, and escapes on a Phœnician trading vessel after an intrigue with one of its crew. The captive woman avenged her wrong, but was struck on "the seventh day by Diana, archer-queen," for her own double guilt. Eumæus was that child, also stolen and enslaved, but he is her emphatic contrast; he has been able fully to digest his fate. The Phœnician galley came to Ithaca, "and there Laertes purchased me." The swineherd is of royal birth and retains his more than royal character; in being the humblest he can rise to the highest.
Interesting touches of the Phœnician traders are given: "Sharp fellows, having myriads of trinkets in their ship:" surely it is the ancient Semitic retailer of jewelry, going from town to town in his boat. Then note specially "the cunning man who came to my father's house, showing a golden necklace strung with amber beads;" this amber was obtained doubtless through commerce from the Baltic, by the Phœnicians, whose workmanship is also suggested. "The palace servants and my mother took the trinket into their hands, turning it over and over; they kept gazing at it haggling about the price;" the same scene can be witnessed today in our own country towns when the Jewish peddler appears in the household. In the present case, however, it was part of the scheme of stealing the child.
Eumæus says that his father ruled a city in the island of Syria. But where is this Syria? Some think it is conceived by Homer as lying in the extreme West, "where the Sun turns;" but the Sun turns anywhere. Rather is its position eastward toward Phœnicia; the Taphian pirates who stole the Sidonian woman and sold her into Syria, dwelt not far from Ithaca and preyed upon Phœnician commerce, stealing and selling in the Eastern Mediterranean. Certainly they could find little business of their kind in the West. Some vague idea of the actual land of Syria must have flashed in Homer's mind; no more definite description is possible.
It is plain, however, that the poet makes Eumæus a foreigner, not a Greek, whose birth-land lies beyond the Hellenic boundary to the East. But he is not a Phœnician, his character is different, and his people seem not to have been sea-faring. His fundamental trait is religiosity; he lives in the eternal presence of the Divine Ruler of the World. His character is that of the Old Testament; some of his utterances are strong reminders of the Psalms. We cannot help reading in him something of David and of Job; misfortune he here has had, but he retains an unshaken faith in the deity; intense wrestling he shows, but it has been with him the process of purification. He is not a Greek at all; he has a Hebrew character, not of the modern mercantile type, which resembles more the Phœnician, but of the old Hebrew strain. In those times of man-stealing, Homer could easily have met him in one of the Greek islands, a slave yet a spiritual prince, have drawn his portrait, and have heard his story substantially as here given.
Indeed we think we can trace in the swineherd's thoughts and sometimes in his expressions a marked monotheistic tendency. Undoubtedly Eumæus speaks fluently of the Greek Gods, as Diana and Apollo; especially does he mention and honor Zeus, the supreme God; still he is prone to employ the word Gods in the unitary sense of Providence, and he repeatedly uses the singular //God// without the article, as in the passage: "God grants some things and withholds others at his will, for he is all-powerful" (XIV. 444). And it is characteristic that he does not like Helen, for thus he says in an outburst of anti-Greek spirit: "O would that Helen and her tribe had utterly perished, for whose sake so many fell!" (XIV. 68.) Striking is his contrast herein with the Phæacians, and with their love of the Trojan conflict.
We have already stated that this entire Ithakeiad resembles the novel, giving pictures of the social life of the time, and elevating the humblest man into heroship. In like manner, this story of Eumæus might almost be called a novelette, truly an Homeric novelette interwoven into the greater totality of the novel here presented in the Ithakeiad, and finally into the entire Odyssey. It has its correspondence with the Fairy Tale of the previous portions of the poem, yet stands in sharpest contrast. Here is no supernatural world far away, but it is the present, it is human life just now, and the hero lives before us. Here are no superhuman beings, like Calypso, Circe, Polyphemus, Proteus; the environment, the coloring, the art-form are totally changed. Nor is it an heroic tale of Troy, with its order of Gods, descending and interfering in human affairs; no grand exploits of arms, no mighty mustering of glorious warriors. Not high and magnificent Achilles in all the pride of his colossal individuality, but humble Eumæus, a slave and a swineherd, has become the Homeric hero. Surely a new style, and a new world-view; yet surely Homer's, not the work of any other man.
It has been already made plain that we have passed from the Idyl, and Heroic Epos, and the Fairy Tale of the first portions of the Odyssey into the Social Romance, which takes the picture of society as its setting. Every human being can now be made a slave; man-stealing, woman-stealing, child-stealing, give the motives for the strangest turns of destiny. Already Ulysses in his fictitious tale of the previous Book has become a maker of the novelette; but Eumæus tells a true tale of his own life, it has no disguise; he knows his past, he is aware of his origin. Thus he is an example, showing how the man is still a fate-compeller in such a state of society. Though a slave externally, he can still be a king within; though struck by the hardest blow of destiny he can still remain loyal to the Divine Order and obtain its blessing.
It is interesting to note the significance of this Phœnician background, with its universal commerce. The Phœnician traded already in remote antiquity with the extremes of the Aryan race, from India in the East to Britain in the West, including the whole intervening line of Aryan migration, Persia, Greece, Italy, Gaul. The Aryan race is indeed a separative, self-repellent, distracted race, always on the move out of itself, without returning into itself. The Phœnician, on the contrary, in his farthest voyages, came back home with news and merchandise; the remotest Phœnician settlements kept up their connection with the mother country. Deep is the idea of the Return to the parent city in the Semitic consciousness for all time; the Phœnician returned anciently to Tyre and Sidon; the Arab Mahommedan returns to-day to Mecca, home of the Prophet; the Jew experts to return to Jerusalem, the holy city of his fathers. The entire Odyssey may well be supposed to show a Semitic influence, in distinction from the Iliad, for the Odyssey is the account of many returns and of the one all-embracing Return to home and country. It is, therefore, very suggestive that the Odyssey has this Phœnician background of a world-commerce, which is only possible for a city whose people, going forth, come back to it as a center. Moreover this world-commerce is a kind of unification of the ever-separating Aryan race, a bond created through the exchange of commodities. Thus the Semitic character has always shown itself as the unifier and mediator of Aryan peoples, first through an external tie of trade, which was the work of Phœnicia, and, secondly, through the far deeper spiritual tie of religion, which was the later work of Judea. The Semitic mind has always been necessary to the inherently centrifugal Aryan soul in order to bring it back to itself from its wanderings, inner and outer, and to reconcile itself with itself and with the Divine Order. The Semite has been and still is the priest to all Arya, by the deepest necessity of the spirit.
Another word we may add in this connection. The Semitic race has also separated itself, and shown three main branches—Phœnician, Hebrew, Arab—a sea-people, a land-people, and a sand-people. In all three cases, however, they have a returning and therewith a mediating character. In their wildest wanderings, on water, and in the desert, and in the soul, they have the power of getting back; and that which they do for themselves, they aid others in doing.
So much by way of tracing the universal relations of this poem with its Phœnician background of commerce as well as with its Semitic character of Eumæus. For, somehow, we cannot help seeing in this latter certain traits of the old Hebrew.
III. The last part of the Book returns to Telemachus and his ship; he has escaped the men in ambush, and has reached the Ithacan shore at a distance from the palace; he sends the vessel to the town while he goes to the hut of the swineherd in accord with the plan of the Goddess.
But he has on his hands the seer Theoclymenus, whom he first thinks of sending to one of the Suitors; but when the seer utters a favorable prophecy, Telemachus sends him to one of his own friends for entertainment. A curious touch of policy; it was well to have the prophet in a friendly house, where he might be ready for service; even prophetic vision can be colored by personal attachments.
''BOOK SIXTEENTH.''
This Book connects directly with the preceding Book, and brings about not only the external meeting and recognition of father and son, but their spiritual fusion in a common thought and purpose. The scene is still laid in the swineherd's hut, but the swineherd himself must be eliminated at this point. The question rises, Why does the poet hold it so necessary to keep the matter secret from Eumæus? The care which Homer takes with this object in view, is noteworthy. Evidently the swineherd was not ready to participate, or would endanger the scheme. Yet of his fidelity there could be no question.
We have already stated our opinion on this subject. Various external reasons may be suggested but the real reason lay in the character of Eumæus. He was too sincere, open-hearted, transparent for those wily Greeks; he might let out the great secret in pure simplicity of mind; he is their contrast just herein, he is not a Greek. The situation demanded disguise, dissimulation, possibly downright lying; Eumæus was not the man for that. Such is his greatest honor, yet such is also his limit; if Ulysses and Telemachus were such as he, they would have all died nobly in their cause, but the Suitors would have triumphed, and the institutional world of Ithaca would have gone to the dogs. At least its rescue could not have taken place through them. Such is the moral contradiction which now rises, and will continue to rise more and more distinctly to view throughout the rest of the poem.
There are the two strands in the Book which are the main ones of the poem, that of the father and son, and that of the Suitors. Both are here put together and contrasted with new incidents, which are leading inevitably to the grand culmination. These two strands we shall now briefly follow out in order. There is also a third portion, the return of Eumaeus from the palace to the hut, which portion is short and unimportant.
I. Telemachus arrives at the hut of the swineherd, the dogs give him a friendly greeting in contrast to that which they give to Ulysses—a fact which shows that the youth must have been in times past a good deal with Eumæus. Also the affectionate meeting of the two suggests the same thing. Herein we note a reason for Pallas sending him hither—the Goddess and the youth coincided. Of course the conversation soon turns toward the stranger present, the disguised Ulysses. Now occurs a subtle movement between father and son who are to be brought together.
(1) First they are in a state of separation, but the disguised Ulysses holds the bond of unification in his power. Eumæus first tells to Telemachus the fictitious Cretan story concerning the stranger; then Ulysses gives a note of his true self: "Would that I were Ulysses' son or the hero himself!" What then? "I would be an evil to those Suitors." Thus the father secretly stirs the spirit of the son, in fact spiritually identifies himself. The son sends off the swineherd on an errand to Penelope, in order to announce his safe arrival from his journey to the mainland. In this way one obstacle is removed—the swineherd; now the second obstacle, the disguise is to be stripped away.
(2) Herewith occurs a divine intervention, hinting the importance of the present moment. Pallas appears to Ulysses, "but Telemachus beheld her not;" Why? "For not by any means are the Gods manifest to all men." As already stated, Ulysses has the key of the situation, and sees what is now to be done; Telemachus does not see and will not see till his father's disguise be removed. So again the Goddess Pallas appears to the wise man and addresses him because the two are one in thought; no other person not in this oneness of the human and divine can see her. In like manner Pallas appears to Achilles, "seen by him alone," in the First Book of the Iliad; similar too is the case of Telemachus when Pallas comes to him among the Suitors under the form of Mentes in the First Book of this Odyssey (see p. 26).
But just here is added a fact in strangest contrast with the foregoing view; "The dogs (as well as Ulysses) saw the Goddess; they barked not, but ran off whining through the gate in the opposite direction." In the old Teutonic faith (and probably Aryan) the dog can see a ghost, hence his unaccountable whine at times. The lower animals and even the elements recognize the approaching deity by some unusual commotion. But mark the contrast: the dogs ran in terror from the presence of the Goddess; Ulysses, observing her, "went out of the house and stood before her alongside the wall of the court." The rational man, beholding, must commune with the deity present, and not run off like a dog. If he does not see the Goddess, as in the case with Telemachus here, he is simply outside of her influence.
Pallas gives to Ulysses the strong promise of help, reflecting his own internal condition. She transforms him, he appears a new man, nay a God to his son, "some divinity whose home is the broad heaven." Then the recognition follows, with its various doubts and its emotional ups and downs. "In the breasts of both rose the desire of tears; they wept shrilly, and louder their screams than those of the eagle whose young have been stolen from its nest." Lamentation is a trait of the Homeric hero; in the present case it asserts its fullest right. But enough! let us pass from heroic tears to heroic deeds.
(3) Next comes the general plan of action. What have we to encounter? Telemachus gives a catalogue of the Suitors; they reach the surprising number of 108 persons plus 10 attendants, including the bard and the herald. We now begin to appreciate the greatness of the task. The Ithacan people are helpless or hostile, the Suitors have friends and relatives everywhere, yet they must be punished, they cannot be allowed to escape. But the aid for such an enterprise—whence? asks Telemachus, and also the reader. Listen to the answer of Ulysses: "I shall tell thee, and thou bear it well in mind; think whether Pallas with her father Zeus be not sufficient for us, or shall I look about for some other defender?" Such a believer has the skeptic become; he now has faith in the Gods, and in a World Order. It is also a lofty expression of belief in his divine mission; the spirit of Eumæus, which dwells in that humble hut, has entered the heart of the hero. Such are the two allies: Pallas, wisdom, and Zeus, fountain of the world's justice, which had been deeply violated by the Suitors. Telemachus in response, assents to his father's words, and acknowledges the supremacy of the Gods. He also lays aside his doubt and shows himself in a spiritual harmony with his father, which must be antecedent to the deed.
The next part of the plan is that Ulysses in disguise shall go to the palace and see for himself the wrongs done to his House, and experience some of these wrongs in his own person. Then too he can make preparations on the spot and select the time for striking. Also he wishes to test a little further the wife Penelope. Another period of disguise is necessary in order to get rid of the necessity of disguise and vindicate the right. Zeus is with him, he is the bearer of universal justice, which he is to establish anew; but Pallas must also be with him in the act, for it requires all his skill and cunning and forethought.
Thus the father and son are united in spirit; the last obstacle, which was the disguise, is removed, and they behold each other as they are in truth. The recognition is not merely an external one of face and form, or even of the tie of kinship and affection; it is in both a recognition of the Divine Order of the World, which they are now called upon to maintain in their own persons, and to re-stablish in their country.
II. The scene passes from the hut of the swineherd to the palace, where the Suitors soon hear of the safe return of Telemachus. Antinous also comes back, foiled and evidently angered; he proposes to the Suitors that they should slay Telemachus "in the fields or on the highway" wherever found, or renounce the suit for Penelope in the palace: "Let each one woo her from his own house with gifts."
It is clear that such a violent measure as the assassination of the royal heir in his own territory finds small response even among the Suitors. Antinous says that the people are no longer friendly; he thinks, when they hear of the recent ambush, that they may rise and drive out the aggressors. Still they do not rise, and probably Antinous tried to frighten the Suitors into his drastic method. But he did not succeed, Amphinomus clearly voices their sentiment, and the council dissolves.
Soon it is seen that Antinous has lost his cause. Penelope appears and gives him a thorough tongue-lashing, in which she also tells his antecedents. "Thy father came to us, a fugitive from the people," who were angry at him on account of his piratical misdeeds; "they wanted to kill him, and tear out his heart, and pillage his large wealth" evidently gotten unlawfully. "But Ulysses restrained them," and now this is your gratitude: "you waste his property, woo his wife, slay his son, and worry me to death." Antinous is true to his ancestry, he is still a pirate. Strong words are these, which call forth a hypocritical reply from another Suitor, Eurymachus, which she probably saw through, for she goes into her upper chamber, where "she weeps for her dear spouse Ulysses, till blue-eyed Pallas cast upon her eyelids sweet sleep."
The internal weakness of the Suitors is exposed; it is manifest that they are divided among themselves. In fact, how can they have any unity? Each wishes to win the fair prize, which can belong only to one; hence every other man is his rival, whom he tries to thwart. Hence come jealousy and suspicion. The single bond they have in common is their wrong-doing, which they feel cannot much longer continue, with Telemachus so active.
III. On the other hand, we pass to the hut of the swineherd, where the father and son show a complete unity of spirit and purpose. Eumæus returns from his errand; he brings no news specially except that the Suitors who formed the ambush have come back to the town. But he is not yet to be admitted into the grand secret; so Pallas stood again near Ulysses, "striking him with her staff she made him an old man in wretched rags." He resumes his disguise "lest the swineherd might recognize him and hasten to announce the fact to Penelope, instead of keeping the secret looked in his bosom." So the kind-hearted, sincere Eumæus cannot yet be entrusted with the important secret.
''BOOKS XVII-XXIV.''
The time has arrived for this exposition of the Odyssey to be brought to a close with some degree of rapidity. It has already expanded itself beyond its original purpose; it, too, like Ulysses, has asserted itself as limit-transcending. We shall try to indicate the general character of these remaining eight Books, to find their place in the total organism of the poem, and then give a brief outline of each Book separately.
It has already often been stated that the Odyssey is a Return, an outer, but specially an inner Return from the Trojan War and from the alienation and disruption produced by the same. This Return, narrated in the twenty-four Books of the poem, divides itself into two equal halves, each containing twelve Books. The first half moves about two centers, Telemachus and Ulysses; the former is to be trained out of his ignorance, the latter is to be disciplined out of his negative attitude toward institutional life, and thus be prepared to rescue institutional life. The first twelve Books are, therefore, the getting rid of the destructive results caused by the Trojan War and all war, in the human soul.
Still Ulysses, with Telemachus, is to do a deed of destruction, he is to destroy the Suitors, who are themselves destructive of institutional order in Ithaca. In a general way they are like the Trojans, they are assailing the domestic and political life of the Greek world; they too must be put down at home by the hero, as Troy was put down abroad by him. But at Troy he became negative through the long training of a ten years' war, the spirit of which he must get rid of before he can slay the Suitors, for he is too much like them to be their rightful destroyer. This, then, is the discipline of the first twelve Books: through the experience of life to get internally free of that destructive Trojan spirit, to overcome the negative within, and then proceed to overcome it without.
Now this overcoming of the negative without (embodied in the Suitors) is just the work of the last twelve Books of the Odyssey, which we have called the Ithakeiad, as the scene is laid wholly in Ithaca. Internally both Ulysses and Telemachus are ready; they have now externally to make their world conform to their Idea. The trend of the poem is henceforth toward the deed which destroys the outer negation, as hitherto the trend was toward the deed which overcame the inner negation. To be sure, the destruction of the Suitors has hovered before the poem from the beginning; but in the second half it is explicit, is the immediate end of the action.
This second half divides itself into two distinct portions. It being the direct movement toward the deed shows in the first portion the preparation of the instruments, which takes place at the hut of the swineherd. Ulysses is alone, he must find out upon whose aid he can rely; his helpers must show not only strength of limb, but strength of conviction. Two persons appear—his son and his swineherd; they believe themselves to be the bearers of a Divine Order as against the Suitors; they are the army of three to whom the cowherd is to be hereafter added on manifesting his loyalty. This part of the poem has been unfolded in the preceding four Books.
The second portion of this second half of the poem, consisting of eight Books, we are next to consider. Ulysses has hitherto only heard of the excesses of the Suitors; he is now to see them directly and to experience their violence in his own person. He is in disguise and gets full possession of the fact before he proceeds to the deed. The insolent, destructive conduct of the Suitors is set forth in all fullness, as well as the subtle attempt of the wife to thwart them; then the blow falls which sweeps them and their deeds out of existence. Restoration follows after this terrible act of vengence; Ulysses, having done his great destructive work, is to show himself constructive, not simply the destroyer, but the healer and restorer.
How can we best see the sweep of these eight Books and their organic connection with the total Odyssey? No mere formal division will answer, nor any external separation into parts. The inner movement of the thought is to be found and shown as the organizing principle. On the whole the joints of the structure are not so manifest as in the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad; still they exist. Already it has been often said that the essential character of the Suitors is that of destroyers; Ulysses is the destroyer of these destroyers; but in destroying destruction he is also the restorer. Now just these three stages of the movement of the inner thought are the three organic divisions of the last eight Books; that is, the thought organizes the poem. Let us look more closely.
I. The first five Books (XVII-XXI) are devoted to revealing the Suitors as destroyers to Ulysses in person, though he be disguised. Three strands are interwoven into the texture, which we may separate for the purpose of an examination.
1. The Suitors are destroying what may in general be called the institutional world in its three leading forms: (1) Property, (2) Family, (3) State. To these may be added their disregard and even open defiance of the Gods, who are the upholders, or rather the personified embodiment of all institutional life. Hence the statement may be made that the Suitors are, as far as their deeds go, the destroyers of the Divine Order of the World; they are spiritually negative.
2. The second strand is that of Ulysses (to whom Telemachus and the swineherd can be added) who is to behold with his own eyes, to experience in his own person, the character and acts of the Suitors; then he is also to plan and prepare for their destruction. As he has overcome his own negative condition inwardly, in the spirit, he must be able to overcome the same condition outwardly, in the world.
3. The third strand is that of Penelope, the wife, who is seeking to thwart the attempt of the Suitors to make her marry one of themselves; thus she is heroically preserving the Family. She, with the loyal part of her household, co-operates with Ulysses, though not aware who he is. Between the second and third strands are many interweavings, both being opposed to the Suitors. Penelope, to delay her marriage, proposes the Bending of the Bow, which gives the weapon and the opportunity to Ulysses. (Book XXI.)
II. The second stage of the grand movement is given in one Book (XXII). This is the single bloody Book of the poem, it makes up all deficiencies in the way of sanguinary grewsomeness. The destroying Suitors are themselves destroyed by Ulysses, who therein is destroyer. Hence the blood-letting character of the Book and of the deed; 116 men skin, 12 women hung, and one man mutilated unto death.
III. But the destroyer Ulysses destroys destruction, and so becomes positive; in the last two Books he is shown as the restorer of the institutional order which the Suitors had assailed and were undermining. He restores the Family (Book XXIII), and the State (Book XXIV). This is, then, the end of the Return, indeed the end of the grand disruption caused by the Trojan War, to which Ulysses set out from Ithaca twenty years before. The absence of the husband and ruler from home and country gave the opportunity for the license of the Suitors. But the Return has harmonized the distracted condition of the land; institutions, Family and State, are freed of their conflict; even the Gods, Zeus and Pallas (authority and wisdom) enforce the new order, bringing peace and concord.
Still, despite the bloody death of the Suitors, there runs through this portion of the Odyssey (the last eight Books) a vein of charity, of humanity, sometimes even of sentiment, which seems to link the poem with our own age. Yet the other side is present also; there is little pity for the unrighteous, and justice is capable of becoming cruel. The Suitors and their set of servants are represented as unfeeling and inhuman; Penelope and the whole loyal household on the other hand show sympathy with poverty and misfortune. Such, indeed, has been their discipline, that of adversity, which softens the heart toward the victims of hard luck.
The disguise of Ulysses is continued, and also the craft of Penelope. The moral questioning which these two characters have always roused does not diminish. The hardest practical problem of life comes to the front in their case. Both are willing to meet unjust violence with dissimulation, till they get the power to act openly. They put down a dishonest world with dishonesty, and then proceed to live honestly. It is another phase of that subtle play of the Negative, with which Ulysses had to grapple repeatedly in Fableland, and of which the Odyssey is full. Every situation seems to have its intricate ethical problem, which the reader has to solve as he solves such questions in actual life. Our opinion upon this element in the poem we have already given, and need not repeat it here.
We must note that Ulysses still keeps up his romancing in order to explain his presence in Ithaca and his beggarly appearance. He introduces a kind of story, which we have called the Novelette in distinction from the Fairy Tale. The scene is usually thrown back eastward to Crete, the Trojan War furnishes the background, the famous Cretan hero Idomeneus is usually in some way connected with the stranger who is speaking. No less than five such Novelettes are found in the last twelve Books—some long, some brief. He tells one to Pallas (XIII. 256), to Eumæus the longest one (XIV. 199), to Antinous a short interrupted one (XVII. 425), to Penelope (XIX. 172), finally one to his father Laertes (XXIV. 304), in which the scene seems to be changed to the West from the mention of Sicania.
The movement of the second grand division of the poem, the Ulyssiad, has passed through two of its stages, which have been already considered; the third is now reached which we have called Fableland, though it may be said that the two previous lands are also fabulous. Let it then be named the Fairy World, though this term also does not state or suggest the fact with precision. Without troubling ourselves further about names, we shall proceed to seize the meaning by an exposition given in some detail.
No careful reader can doubt that the poem changes decidedly at the present juncture in color, style, environment and purpose. What reason for it? And what is the connection with the preceding portion of the poem? Four Books (IX-XII) of the same character essentially, unfold themselves before us and demand a new kind of appreciation; they are not idyllic, not epical; they form a class of a peculiar sort, which class, however, we have before noticed in the Odyssey, showing itself in short but suggestive interludes.
We shall, accordingly, first grapple with the leading facts of this new poetic order and seek to interpret them, or rather let them interpret themselves. Phæacia, which we have just seen, lies before Fableland, though the story of the latter is now told in Phæacia.
1. The first fact which strikes us is the decided contrast between the two realms. Phæacia is the land of pure idyllic delight, its supreme characteristic is peace, its happy people seem to have no conflict; Fableland, on the contrary, is one incessant course of strife, struggle and calamity, beginning with the unprovoked attack on the Ciconians. Polyphemus the savage Cyclops is the opposite of the civil ruler Alcinous; Circe, the enchantress, is the insidious foe to domestic life represented by Arete; State and Family in Phæacia are counterbalanced by an anti-State and an anti-Family in Fableland. Thus man and woman are shown in the two different places as institutional and anti-institutional. Still deeper does the opposition reach; Phæacia lies wholly in the Upperworld, with its sweet sunlight, while Fableland has a dim Underworld, beyond the sunlight, the realm of the Supersensible; finally Fableland witnesses the supreme negative act of man, typified in the slaying of the Oxen of the Sun. We may, therefore, affirm that Fableland, as compared with Phæacia, shadows forth the realm of negation; the one stands for the ideal Greek world of ethical order and harmony; the other is the denial and destruction of the same.
But we must not omit the reverse side of the contrast. In Fableland there is one continued striving of the human soul, a chafing against all limits, a moving forward from one stage to another; the spirit of man is shown transcending its bounds everywhere. In Phæacia, however, there is no striving apparently, it is contented with itself and stays with itself, seeking no neighbors; it is the land of rest, of cessation from conflict, possibly of stagnation, unless it is stirred by inner scission.
The transition from Phæacia to Fableland is, therefore, full of meaning. It is possible that Ulysses or the poet wished to show these people the struggles which were slumbering in their society, for all civilized order has the possibility of them. The negative spirit will rise hereafter in their midst; so it rose in legendary Greece after the Trojan War, so it rose in historical Greece after the Persian War. Thus we may catch a prophetic tinge in this web of marvelous tales. On the other hand, we should note also that Ulysses has reached the land of peace just through the realm of strife and negation.
2. The next important thing is to observe how the poet is going to locate, and environ this negative world. As it is the opposite of the civilized order of Hellas, he throws it outside of Hellenic boundaries. Over the Greek border somewhere it has to be placed; thus it passes easily from the known to the unknown, out of the civilized to the barbarous, out of the natural, to the supernatural.
All this we feel at once in the narrative. It is true that the first destructive deed, the attack upon the Ciconians, occurs within the limits of historical Hellas, in a region well known; but this act is the prelude and the example, the offenders are at once borne to the Lotus-eaters, who have the faintest touch of historical reality, and thence to Polyphemus who is wholly fabulous. In this realm of pure fable they stay till the end, having been cast out of Greece by the poet on account of their hostile spirit.
Moreover we should note that they move about on the sea, that most unstable element, in contrast to the fixed land; on the one there is order and law, on the other caprice and violence. Yet certain fixed points are set in this uncertain domain, namely the islands, which however, are wholly separated from Hellas and her life, and have inhabitants of their own, strangers to Hellenic influence. Ulysses and his crew will pass from island to island, each of which will show its meaning in some way antagonistic to Greek spirit. Out of the pale they all lie in the boundless billowy waters; thus the Odyssey in this part becomes a sea poem, while in the other two parts it is essentially a land poem. The Greek was and still is a native of both sea and land which are physically interwined and bound together in Greece as in no other portion of the globe. His great poetical book envisages his country as well as himself.
The main point, however, is that Fableland being negative to the Greek world is put outside of all of its known geographical limits, and thus becomes the setting for the marvelous story. It may here be added that Grimm's Tales have a similar border which lies between civilized life and the forest, since the forest was, for our Teutonic ancestors, the fairy realm, in which their supernatural beings dwelt for the most part. Out of culture back to nature the human being sometimes has to go and have strange communings with the spirits there; such is often the movement of the Fairy Tale. But who are these spirits or weird powers dwelling in the lone island or in the solitary wood?
3. This question brings us to the pivotal fact of all Fableland: it is ruled over by a new order of deities, not Olympians; the poet, throwing it out of Hellas below, throws it out of Olympus above. Indeed what else could he do? The Gods of Greece are the protectors of its institutions, State and Family; they are the embodiment of its spirit, of its civilization. But a spirit is now portrayed which is negative to Greek spirit, which denies and defies it in its very essence; the result is a new set of supernatural shapes which dominate the separated world. The negation also must be seen taking on a plastic form, and appearing before the Greek imagination.
The deities of Fableland, or its supernatural powers, are therefore opposite to the deities of Olympus. Hence their shape is changed, they can be even monstrosities, such as Polyphemus, the Læstrigonians, Scylla and Charybdis. Circe and Calypso are beautiful women, yet not natural women, in spite of their beauty; there is something superhuman about them, divine, though they be not Olympians. Shapes of wonder they all seem, unreal, yet in intimate connection with mankind. Moreover they are local, attached to a given spot, or island; they are not universal, they have no general sway like the Olympians; limited, confined, particular is their authority, which the human being can and must transcend.
At this point Olympus can descend into their world and give command. So, after all, the Greek Gods rule over the realm which is negative to them, must do so, else they were not Gods. But they are in a far-off background, namely, in civilized Hellas, beyond whose border Ulysses passes in these Books. Still Zeus, the supreme Greek God, sends his decree to Calypso, when Ulysses is ready to leave the Dark Island. Thus the Olympians exercise a final jurisdiction even here. It is to be noticed, however, that Pallas has little to do with Ulysses in Fableland; for is she not substantially negated? But when he touches Greece again, and even in Phæacia, she will not fail to be at his side. She belongs not to Wonderland, but to the clear rational realm of light and order; she cannot follow even her darling mortal through these dark mazy wanderings.
It is manifest that the epical Upper World of the Gods has receded from the place it occupies in the Iliad and in the other portions of the Odyssey; in fact, it has been largely but not wholly supplanted. A new order of deities is portrayed, subordinate, yet authoritative in their limited domain, which is cut off by the vast sea from united Hellas, and is thus made merely individual and anti-social by its situation.
What are these shapes and why? Man has created them that he may indicate his own spiritual state when he has fallen out with the established order. Really they are phases of the development of the hero, who is reaching out through disbelief, denial, defiance, toward a restoration. He is negative to the Greek consciousness, and this negation takes shape by mind, yet has to be put down by mind. The whole process he projects out of himself into two lines of movement: the first is the row of preternatural forms arranged as if in a gallery of antique sculpture, the second is himself passing through these forms, grappling with them, mastering them, or fleeing from them.
Such is this Fairy World which has crept in under the grand Olympian order in response to a true necessity. Its beings are not natural, its events are not probable; thus the poet forces us to look inward if we would see his meaning. Spirit is portraying spirit, and not externality, which is here made absurd; in this manner we are driven out of the real into ideal, or we drop by the way in reading those four Books.
4. But it must not for a moment be thought that Homer created this Fairy World or made, single-handed, these Fairy Tales. The latter are the work of the people, possibly of the race. Comparative folk-lore has traced them around the globe in one form or other. The story of Polyphemus is really a collection of stories gathered about one central person; some portions of it have been found in the East as well as the West, in Arabian and Tartar legend as well as in Celtic and Esthonian. The subtle play upon the word "nobody" as a name is known far and wide by many people who never heard of Homer. Wilhelm Grimm took the trouble to collect a lot of examples from a great variety of sources, ancient, medieval and modern, European and Asiatic, in a special treatise called the Legend of Polyphemus. Circe, the enchantress, has been discovered in a Hindoo collection of Tales belonging in the main to the thirteenth century of our era; but the witch who has the power of turning men into animals is as universal as folk-lore itself. The werewolf superstition will furnish instances without number. The descent into Hades has its parallel in the Finnish epic
Kalevala, which reaches far back into Turanian legend; even the North American and Australian savages have their heroes enter the world beyond, and bring back an account of what is there. Truly one of the earliest needs of the human soul is this striving to find and to shadow forth in mythical outlines the realm of the supersensible. Dante's Journey through Inferno goes back to Virgil, Virgil goes back to Homer, and Homer to the folk-tales of his people, and these folk-tales of Greece reach out to still more remote ages and peoples. Thus into Christian legend the old heathen stories are transformed; many descents to Hell and Purgatory, as well as visions of Heaven are recorded in the Middle Ages. It may be said that folk-tales have an ancestry as old as man himself, and have followed him everywhere as his spirit's own shadow, which he casts as his body casts its visible shadow.
A collection of Fairy Tales we may, then, consider these four Books, with its giants, cannibals, enchantresses, with its bag of winds, which is still furnished by the town-witch to the outgoing sailor in some countries, if report be true. In fact, a little delving among the people, who are the great depositories of folk-lore, would probably find some of the stories of the Odyssey still alive, if not in their completeness, at least some shreds or floating gossamers thereof. Indestructible is the genuine tale when once made and accepted by the people, being of their very essence; it is also the primordial material of which all true poetry is produced, it is nature's Parian marble of which the poetic temple of Greece is built, specially this Homeric temple.
5. At this point we begin to see just what is the function of Homer who has inherited a vast mass of poetic material. He is its shaper, organizer, transformer; chiefly, however, he is the architect of the beautiful structure of song. He does not and cannot make the stone which goes into his edifice, but he makes the edifice. His genius is architectonic; he has an idea which he builds into harmonious measures. What the ages have furnished, he converts to his own use, and orders into a poetic Whole.
The store of Fairy Tales in those four Books was unquestionably transmitted to him, but he has jointed them into the Ulyssiad, and into the total Odyssey, of whose structure they form the very heart. The question arises: Did Homer find those Tales already collected? Possibly he did, to a certain extent; they seem to come together of themselves, making a marvelous romance of the sea. Some story-telling Greek sailor may well have given him the thread of connection; certainly they are sprung of nautical experience. But in whatever shape they may come to the poet, we may be certain of one thing: his constructive spirit transformed them and put them into their present place, where they fit to perfection, forming a most important stage in the grand Return.
In the development of the folk-tale, we can in a general way mark three grades. (1) There is first the story which sets forth the processes in nature, the clouds, the winds, the storms, the sun and moon, the conflict of the elements. Such is mainly the mythical character of the old Vedas. Many a trace of this ancient conception we can find in Homeric Fableland, which has a strong elemental substrate in the wrath of Neptune, in the tempests, in the winds of Æolus, in the Oxen of the Sun. Still the Odyssey has passed far beyond this phase of mythical consciousness; it cannot be explained by resolving it back into mere nature-myths, which method simply leaves out the vital fact, namely, that of development. (2) In the second stage of the Fairy Tale the physical meaning begins to withdraw into the background, and an ethical element becomes dominant; the outer conflicts of nature, if they be present, are taken to portray the spirit's struggle, in which a supreme moral order of some kind is brought to light. Here we may well place Grimm's collection of folk-tales in many ways an epoch-making book. In those simple stories of the people we observe the good and the bad marked off distinctly and engaged in some kind of a wrestle, which shows at last the supremacy of the good. Not in every case perhaps, but such is the tendency. But these Tales of Grimm, though collected, are in no sense united; the architect never appeared, though they are the material of a great Teutonic epos; they are the stones of the edifice, not the edifice itself by any means. (3) Out of this second stage easily rises the third, the poet being given; whereof the best example is just those four Books of the Odyssey. Now the folk-tale stands not alone, in widowed solitariness, but is made to take its place in the great national, or perchance universal temple of song.
We may say, therefore, that Homer not only gathered these Tales but organized them into a Whole, so that they no longer fall asunder into separate narratives, but they are deftly interwoven and form a great cycle of experience. No segment of this cycle can be taken away without breaking the totality. Moreover the entire series is but an organic part of the Odyssey.
It is now manifest that those who resolve these Tales into a disconnected bead-roll have really fallen back into the second stage before mentioned; they have undone the work of Homer. If these four Books be simply a string of stories without an inner movement from one to the other, or without any organic connection with the rest of the poem, the entire poetic temple is but a pile of stones and no edifice. And this is what Wolf and his disciples make out of Homer. In one way or other they tear asunder the structure and transform it backwards in a collection, allowing it hardly as much unity as may be found in the Canterbury Tales of Chaucer. A school more recent than that of Wolf, the Comparative Philologists, have gone still further backwards, and have reduced Homer to the first stage, to a nature-myth. The merit of both schools is that they have called attention to Homer's primitive materials; they have rendered impossible the idea that Homer created the Greek Gods or his mythology, or even his little stories. The defect of these schools is that they fail to see the architectonic Homer, the poet who builds the crude materials furnished by his people into an enduring structure of the noblest art. They recognize in the edifice the stone and also the stone-cutter, but no master-builder.
Homer, therefore, is not merely the editor, collector, redactor; he is not a Grimm, gathering his tales from the mouths of the people with a scientific accuracy. He gathered them, doubtless, but he transfigured them into an image reflecting the experience of a human soul. Our age is indeed scientific, it is collecting the folk-songs and the folk-tales from every quarter of the globe, and stringing them on a thread, like so many beads, not being able to transmute them into poetry. Wolf heralded the coming time by starting to reconvert Homer into his primitive materials, by making him scientific and not poetic, at least not architectonic. Still we may be permitted to hope that these vast collections of the world's folk-lore will yet be transmuted by some new Homer into a world-poem.
6. The careful reader will also weigh the fact that Ulysses is now the story-teller himself. The entire series of adventures in Fableland is put into his mouth by the poet. Herein, we note a striking difference from the previous Book, the ninth, in which Demodocus is the singer. What is the ground of such a marked transition? Demodocus has as his theme the war at Troy with its lays of heroes, and its famous deeds; he celebrates the period portrayed in the Iliad; his field is the Heroic Epos, or the songs of which it is composed. But he cannot sing of the world outside of the Greco-Trojan consciousness, he cannot reach beyond the Olympian order into the new set of deities of Fableland. Ulysses, however, has transcended the Trojan epoch, has, in fact, reacted against Hellenic life and institutions, though he longs to get back to them, out of his alienated condition. This internal phase Demodocus does not know, it manifestly lies beyond his art. He does not sing of the Return at all, though Phemius, the Ithacan bard, did in the First Book. A new strain is this, requiring a new singer, namely the man who has had the wonderful experience himself.
The result is, another art-form has to be employed, the Fairy Tale, of which we have already spoken. The individual now turns inward and narrates his marvelous adventures in the region of spirit, his wrestlings there, his doubts, his defeats and escapes. For Fableland is not actual like Hellas, not even like Phæacia; it is a creation of the mind in order to express mind, and its shapes have to be removed from sensuous reality to fulfill the law of their being. Such is plainly Homer's procedure. Once before he sped off into Fairyland, toward Egypt and the East, leaving Hellas and Troy behind, quite as Ulysses here does. It was the story of Menelaus in the Fourth Book, who also found Proteus and Eidothea, a new order of deities, though Olympus and Zeus lay in the distant background. Moreover, Proteus and Eidothea represent the two sides, the supersensible and the sensible, the latter of which must be transcended and the former grasped, ere return be possible.
Nestor also tells his own experience in the Third Book, but he keeps inside of Hellas and under the direct control of the Greek Gods. Hence no Faery Realm rises in his narrative, he needs none for self-expression. But Menelaus and Ulysses, wandering far over the Greek border, reach a new world, and require a new art-form for their adequate utterance. Especially is this the case with Ulysses, who has had a much larger and deeper experience than Menelaus, and who thus stands in strong contrast with Nestor, the old man of faith with his devotion to the old order, who has no devious return from Troy, and continues to live in immediate unquestioning harmony with the Olympians. There is no room in Pylos for a Circe or a Polyphemus.
Ulysses, therefore, having reached the court of Phæacia, takes a calm retrospect of the past, and recounts the same to the people there; he comes to know himself, and he uses art for self-expression, not for the praise of the external deed of war; his inner life is the theme. In other words, he has become self-conscious in Phæacia, he knows his own processes, and shows that he knows them. As already pointed out, this internal movement of his spirit is the process of the negative, he has turned denier of the old institutional order of Greece, and he has to work through into a positive world again, which he now sees before himself in Phæacia.
To be sure, the self-consciousness to which he has attained is not expressed in the language of philosophy, but in poetry, in a transcendental Fairyland. There is as yet no Greek language of philosophy; a long development will bring it forth however; Aristotle will deracinate the last image of Homer, and leave the Greek tongue supersensible.
7. The fact that Ulysses must tell his own story is deeply coupled with the following characteristic: these four Books of Fableland are essentially a confession. From beginning to end we observe it to be an account of shortcomings and their results; we find the acknowledgment of error in the very statement of the transaction. He confesses to Alcinous and the Phæacians his negative attitude to the State and the consequences thereof; he confesses to Arete in what way he has violated her institution. Here lies the necessity: this confession is absolutely needful to his soul to free it of its negative past. He has become conscious of his condition, and utters his confession to these people who are the opposite of it, and thus gets rid of his limitation. The psychologic ground of his telling his own story is that he must.
To be sure, this is all done in a mythical form, which is somewhat alien to our method of making a confession. Then Homer does not moralize by the way, he does not usually approve or condemn; he simply states the deed and its consequences. His procedure is objective, truly artistic, letting the thing speak for itself. The modern reader, however, likes to have moral observations interspersed, which will stir up his sentiments, and save him the trouble of thinking the matter out for himself.
Yet Ulysses, on the other hand, is always striving to reach out of his error, to transcend his limitation. His mistake flings him to the earth, but he gets up again and marches forward. Thus he asserts his own infinite worth; he is certain to reach home at last and accomplish the grand Return.
But he does not bring back his companions. These often seem to be lower unheroic phases of human nature, which the hero must throw off in the course of his development. In general, they may be considered to be in him, a part of himself, yet they are real persons too. This rule, however, will not always apply. Still his companions are lost, having "perished by their own folly," while he is saved; the wise man is to live, the unwise to pass away.
The pivotal sin committed by Ulysses in Fableland is against Neptune, who is angry because Ulysses put out the eye of his son Polyphemus. So the God, after the affair of the Oxen of the Sun, becomes the grand obstacle to the Return, and helps to keep the hero with Calypso. Such is the mythical statement in which three conceptions seem to blend. (1) Neptune is the purely physical obstacle of the sea, very great in those early days. (2) Nature has her law, and if it be not observed, the penalty follows, when she may be said to be mythically angry. If a man jump down from a high precipice, he violates a law of nature, gravitation, and she executes him on the spot, it may be; she is always angry and quick to punish in such cases; but he may climb down the height and escape. In like manner a man, undertaking to swim across the sea, encounters the wrath of Neptune; but he may construct a ship, and make the voyage. (3) Finally there is the ethical violation: we shall see in the narrative, how Ulysses, after appealing to humanity, becomes himself inhuman and a savage toward Polyphemus, who then curses him and invokes father Neptune with effect. So the God visits upon Ulysses the punishment for his ethical offense, which is the main one after all. In this way Fableland through the story of Polyphemus contains a leading motive of the Ulyssiad, and thereby of the whole Odyssey, and Ulysses is seen to be detained really by his own deed.
8. The general structure of these four Books is simple enough. They form a series of adventures, with three to a Book. Though the connection seems slight on the surface, there are inner threads which bind intimately together the separate adventures; one of the points in any true interpretation is to raise these threads to light. The general movement of the whole may be regarded as threefold: the sensible world (two Books), the supersensible Hades (one Book), the sensible world a second time (one Book). Very significant are these changes, but it is hardly worth while to forecast them here; they must be studied in detail first, then a retrospect can be given, as the contents of the four Books will be present in the reader's mind. We may now say, however, that this sweep from the sensible into the supersensible, and back again to the sensible, has in it the meaning of a soul's experience, and that the second sensible realm here mentioned is very different from the first.
The central fact of Fableland is, accordingly, that the man must get beyond the realm of the senses, and hold communion with pure spirit, with the prophet Tiresias, and then come back to the real world, bringing the wisdom gained beyond, ere he can complete the cycle of the grand Return.
''BOOK NINTH.''
Ulysses is now called for by Alcinous, and he is to be the singer. At first he naturally pays a compliment to his predecessor Demodocus: "A pleasant thing to hear a bard such as this," with a voice like unto that of the Gods. Then he gives a delicate touch of commendation to the whole people "sitting in a row and listening to the singer" who is chanting the famous deeds of the aforetime. But when Ulysses praises the tables laden with bread and meat, and the cupbearer filling the wine-cups of the guests, saying, "This seems to me the best thing," strong opposition has been aroused, shown even in antiquity by the sharp protest of Plato and Lucian. Still this Phæacian enjoyment is innocent enough; not ascetic is the trait, yet not sensual; to-day good people usually eat and drink without the song of bard or other spiritual entertainment accompanying the material one of gustation.
Now comes the change, Ulysses is to give a song, he is to sing his own deeds, the story of his trials, "which will wake fresh sorrow in me." Clearly this will be a different song from the preceding one of Demodocus; not now an heroic tale of Troy, but an account of the Return therefrom; a tale in which endurance is the theme rather than action. The hero is more the sufferer than the doer; he is to meet the hostile blows of Fate and to master it by his ability to bear as well as by his ability to act. A new poetic form will gradually rise out of the theme and in harmony with the same; the present movement runs counter to the Trojan story both in space and in spirit.
The first act of Ulysses in this novel procedure is to be duly noted: he declares who he is, gives his father's name and utters a hint of his own character. Very great surprise must the announcement have created among those Phæacians—a veritable sensation, as we say in these times; for Ulysses had been the real hero of the songs of Demodocus just sung; behold, that hero himself is present and has been listening all the while. The dramatic disguise, in which the interest of the hearer has centered hitherto, is thrown off, the concealed man shows himself.
Still deeper must we look into this act of self-revelation. "I am Ulysses," says the bard now, proposing to sing of Ulysses. I am myself, I know what I have done and I am the man to tell it. Really here is a statement of self-consciousness; the singer is no longer a Demodocus singing of another man, of Ulysses, at Troy, but it is Ulysses himself, now singing of himself, of his profoundest experiences, which none other but he can tell. His internal life opens, not that active heroic one; the trials of his spirit are the theme, therewith must follow a new manner of utterance, a poetic form which can express what is within and still remain in the domain of the imagination. A self-conscious art we must now be prepared for, which seeks to express just the self-consciousness of the poet going through his inner experiences, with the counterstroke from the outer world.
What new art-form, then, will Homer, the grand constructive poet, who seizes every object necessary for his temple of song, assign to Ulysses singing of himself? The Fairy Tale is taken with its strange supernatural shapes, which have no reality, and hence can only have an ideal meaning; we are ushered into the realm of the physically impossible, where we have to see the spiritually actual, if we see anything. Polyphemus is not a man, not an animal, not a direct product of nature; he is a creature of the mind made by the mind in order to express mind. Undoubtedly he has external shape, but that shape is meaningless till we catch the spirit creating him. The Fairy Tale removes the vision from an outer sensuous world, and compels an internal vision, which looks into the soul of things and there beholds the soul.
The Fairy Tale existed long before Homer, it is a genuine product of the people. The stories which here follow have been traced among the remotest races; they spring up of themselves out of the popular heart and imagination. Homer picks them up and puts them into their true place in his grand edifice, polishing, transforming them, by no means creating them; certainly he never created this art-form. His merit is that he saw where they belong and what phase of human experience they express; to this merit must be added his special power, that of poetic transfiguration. Not simply a redactor or putter together externally of odd scraps, but the true architect of the totality; thus he comes before us on the present and on all other occasions.
Ulysses, having told us who he is, proceeds to inform us of a second important fact: his soul's strongest aspiration. He longs to return to home and country. Ithaca, a small, rocky island, is the sweetest spot on earth to him; Circe and then Calypso tried to detain him, each wishing to keep him as husband; "but they could not shake the purpose of my heart." One thinks that he must, while saying this, have cast a sly glance at Arete, for whose approval it must have been intended, for she was no friend of Circe and Calypso.
It is a curious fact that Homer, in this short description, makes two mistakes in reference to the topography of Ithaca. The island can hardly be called low as here stated, nor does it lie westward of Cephallenia, but northeastward. A reasonable inference is that Homer was not an Ithacan, and did not know the island very well, though he may have seen it in a passing visit. Anaximander with his first map comes after Homer several hundred years.
The present Book has three plainly marked portions. First comes the wanton attack on the Ciconians, which connects immediately with the Trojan experience of Ulysses. Second is the country of the Lotus-eaters, to which he and his companions are driven by wind and storm. Third is the Land of the Cyclops, especially of Polyphemus, with whom he has his chief adventures. The first two portions are quite brief, are in fact introductory to the third, which takes up more than four-fifths of the Book, and is the Fairy Tale proper. We may observe the gradual transition: the Ciconians are a real people in geography and history; the Lotus-eaters are getting mythical, are but half-way historical; the Cyclops belong wholly to Fableland. Thus there is a movement out of the Trojan background of reality into the Fairy World.
Having marked the dividing lines, the next thing will be to find the connecting links between these three portions. They are not thrown together haphazard or externally joined into one Book; they have an internal thought which unifies them and which must be brought to light. The poet sees in images which are separate, but the thinker must unite these images by their inner necessity, and thus justify anew the poet.
I.
The first sentence strikes the leading thought: "The wind, bearing me from Troy, brought me to the Ciconians." Troy is the starting-point, the background out of which everything moves. After the fall of the city Nestor gives an account of the disputes of the Greek leaders and their separation (Book III. l. 134 et seq.); Ulysses is driven alone with his contingent across the sea toward Thrace, where he finds a city in peace, though it had been an ally of Troy. "I sacked the city, I destroyed its people;" he treated them as he did the Trojans, "taking as booty their wives and property." Such is the spirit begotten of that ten years' war in the character of Ulysses, a spirit of violence and rapine, totally unfitted for a civilized life, at bottom negative to Family and State. This is the spiritual starting-point from which he is to return to home and country through a long, long, but very needful discipline.
He is well aware that he has done something for which vengeance awaits him, so he urges his companions to flee at once. But they would not obey, they stayed there "drinking much wine and slaughtering sheep and oxen along the sea-shore." Revel and feasting follow, till the Ciconians rouse the outlying neighbors and drive the Greeks to the ships, with the loss of six companions for each ship. Such is the first incident after the Trojan War, showing clearly the destructive phase thereof, which has been drilled into the character by so long a period of bloodshed.
This is not yet Fairyland, but a real people and a real conflict. The Ciconians in the later historic time of Herodotus still dwelt in Thrace. Grotius in his famous book //On the Rights of Peace and War// cites the present instance as a violation of international justice. The grand positive ground of attacking Troy is not found here; there was no Helen detained in wrongful captivity. The sack of Ismarus pictures the evil results which spring from all war, even the most just. Again we must affirm that this deed of wrongful violence is the start toward the great Return, and hints what has to be overcome internally by the journey through Fairyland.
Later we find a fact, not here mentioned, pertaining to the sack of the city of the Ciconians. Ulysses had saved Maron, the priest of Apollo, who in gratitude gave him the strong wine with which he overcame Polyphemus in the cave. His merciful deed thus helped him conquer the monster of nature. But in general it is plain that Ulysses, though desiring to get back to an institutional life, is not ready by any means for such a step; he is in reality hostile to the very essence of institutional life. He is too much like the suitors now to be their punisher.
All put to sea again, to be tossed on that unruly element, with their little vessels exposed to wind and wave. "They call thrice by name each one of their dead companions" ere they set out; the meaning of this invocation has been much discussed, but it probably rests upon the belief that they could thus call the souls of the deceased to go along with them to home and country. The fact that just six were lost from each ship was made the ground of an assault upon Homer in antiquity by Zoilus, famed as the Homeromastix, or Homer's trouncer.
The great sea with its tempests is now before them, heaving and tossing; after the attack upon the Ciconians we can well imagine that this storm has its inner counterpart in the soul of Ulysses. Does he not show within himself a deep scission—between his desire to return and his deed? At any rate he is borne forward; when he sought to round Maleia, the southern point of Greece (now Cape St. Angelo), and sail home to Ithaca, he was carried out to sea by the winds, beyond the Island Cythera, across the main toward the coast of Africa. Thus he is swept outside the boundaries of Hellas proper into a region dimly known, half-mythical; he cannot make the sharp turn at Maleia, inside the Greek world; he must go beyond it and there reach his final experience. Not simply physical is this description, else it would be a mere statement in geography; it is also spiritual and hence rises into poetry.
II.
Next is the land of the Lotus-eaters, where Ulysses and his companions arrive, after being driven helplessly "across the fishy deep" for nine days (this is a favorite number in Homer) by the hostile winds. The Lotus-eaters, "whose food is flowers" use no violence, but reach to the new-comers their plant, the lotus, to satisfy hunger. Whoever has once tasted of that pleasant food, straightway forgets home and the Return, and wishes to live always among the Lotus-eaters. The will is broken, all activity is sapped; the land of idlers it is, relaxed in a sensuous dream life, in which there is a complete collapse of volition.
Now the point is to connect this country with the Ciconians, or rather to see this internal condition evolving itself out of the preceding one. For the line of conjunction must be within, of the spirit; physically the two countries are far enough apart. In the first case, we have noted a state of external violence, which really means a destroying of the will. The Greeks assailed a quiet people, assailed its will; then they were beaten and driven off, they had their negative deed served up to themselves. Now what? There follows an internal collapse of the will, a logical result of their own conduct, which is hinted by their being drifted about on the seas, apparently quite helpless. No wonder that, when they touched land again, and obtained some food, they desired to stay there, and eat of the lotus. Yet it is the consequence of their own act; that wanton destruction of the Ciconian will is at bottom the destruction of their own will; they are really assailing their own principle—a fact which is to be brought home to them by a long and bitter experience.
But there is one man among them, who, though not guiltless by any means, felt the nature of the Ciconian act, and who has still some volition left in the right direction. "By force I led back to the ship those who had tasted of the lotus, and bound them beneath the oar-benches." The rest of the companions were ordered aboard, they obeyed; off they sail again on the hoary deep—whitherward? Thus Ulysses shows himself the man of will among the will-less, and solves his part of the problem among the Lotus-eaters, setting out for the new Unknown.
This people probably lived on the coast of Lybia according to Homer's conception, though the land is outside the clear Greek geographical horizon, floating mistily somewhere on its borders, half real, half fabulous, on the way to Fairyland. We enter more distinctly the inner realm of the spirit, as the outer realm of reality becomes less distinct and demonstrable. The Ciconians were an actual people, the conflict with them also actual, quite the Trojan conflict; but the Lotus-eaters form the transition to the Wonderland of the Odyssey.
As regards the lotus, several plants were called by that name; one is mentioned in a previous Book of the Odyssey (IV. 603) which was probably a kind of clover growing in the damp lowlands of Greece and Asia Minor, and utilized for grazing. Another sort was a species of lily which grew in the valley of the Nile. But the lotus of the present passage is generally considered to be the fruit of a shrub which yields a reddish berry of the size of a common olive, having somewhat the taste of a fig. This fruit is still highly esteemed in Tripolis, Tunis and Algiers; from the last named country it has passed over to France, and is often hawked about the streets of Paris under the name of
Jujube, where the passing traveler will purchase a sample, and eat of the same, testing the truth of Homer's description, but probably not losing thereby his desire for home and country.
The Lotus-eaters have had a famous history; they have caught the fancy of poets and literary men who have sought in various ways to reproduce and embellish them. Among English-speaking peoples the poem of Tennyson on this subject is a prime favorite. But in Homer the Lotus-eaters are not an isolated fact, they are a link in the chain of a grand development; this inner connecting thought is the true thing to grasp.
Let us, then, penetrate the heart of the next movement of Ulysses. The Lotus-eater gave up family and country; "chewing the lotus, he forgot the return." His will vanished into a sensuous oblivion; he was indifferent, and this indifference was a passive destruction of the Greek world to which he was returning. But now in due order the active destroyer of that world appears; behold the Cyclops, the wild man of nature, truly a monster to the Greek institutional sense, being without domestic and civil order. Thus we mark the inner transition: the active principle of that which was a passive Lotus-eater is the Cyclops, a Polyphemus. The Trojan negative result, so deeply lodged in the soul of Ulysses and his companions, cannot remain mere indifference or forgetfulness; it must proceed to action, to virulent destructive action, which is now to be bodied forth in a fabulous shape. Only a few of the weakest companions of Ulysses were ready to become Lotus-eaters, and they were easily thrust under the oar-benches and carried away. Here there is a fresh conflict, altogether the main one of the present Book.
III.
If then we have seized the matter aright, we have reached a shape in Fairyland, which represents what is hostile, actively hostile, to the Greek institutional world, State, Family, Society. Ulysses stands in a double relation to the present condition of things. The Cyclops is really a picture of him in his negative character, a product of his destructive Trojan spirit, yet he is just the man who must put down the Cyclops, he must master his own negation or perish. Ulysses sees the natural man, or rather, he sees himself with all culture taken away, with all institutional life eliminated from his existence.
He may well be frightened at the monster, who is very real, though a dweller in Fairyland. Nor should we forget that the Cyclops also undergoes a change, he too is in the process and shows something like development under the severe tuition of Ulysses.
As already said, the present portion is altogether the longest in the Book, it is essentially the entire Book. The other two portions were hardly more than a short introduction and a brief transitional stage; now comes the full and highly elaborated tale, in which both the land and its inhabitants are fabulous, supernatural. There are two distinct divisions treating of the Cyclops: the first describes their race in general, the second gives a description of the particular grand Cyclops, Polyphemus, in his conflict with Ulysses.
I. This time there is no tempest, such as arose after leaving the Ciconians, in order to reach the land of the Cyclops; that collapse of the will seems to have pictured itself in the quiet deep. But who are the Cyclops? A race "without law, addicted to violent deeds;" they have no agriculture, "they plant not, neither do they plow;" they get their products, "trusting to the Gods," that is, trusting to nature, since the Cyclops have small regard for the higher Gods, as we shall soon see. Another mere formula this, showing that the Homeric deity was getting crystallized even for Homer. "They hold no councils" in common, are not associated together, but "they dwell in vaulted caves on mountain heights," such as the famous Corycian cavern which is near the top of a mountain on Parnassus. There "each man rules his wives and children," evidently a herding polygamous condition of the family; "nor do they (the Cyclops) care for one another." Still further, "they have no ships with crimson prows," no navigation, no commerce which seeks "the cities of men" and binds them together in the bond of society and humanity. Yet there is an excellent harbor and a good soil, "with copious showers from Zeus;" nature has surely done her part, and is calling loudly for the enterprising colonist to come and plant here his civilized order. This passage must have stirred the Greek emigrant to leave his stony Hellas and seek in the West, a new home; it suggests the great Hellenic movement for the colonization of Italy and Sicily from the 6th to the 9th century B.C. The poet has plainly been with the frontiersman, and seen the latter's giants.
The main thing to be noticed in the present account is the extraordinary number of negatives. No laws, no assemblies, no association; no plows, no ships, no intercourse with other cities; the whole civilized life of man is negated, and man himself is thrown back into a state of nature. It is worth while to search for the purpose of this negative procedure on the part of the poet. He might have given a positive description of nature, telling what it is, and telling what the Cyclops is, not emphasizing so much what he is not. But thus the meaning would not come out so plainly; the Cyclops is just the negation of the whole civilized world of Greece, which fact must be expressly imaged in the very words used in the poem. He is not so much a simple being of nature as a being antithetic to society.
At this point we can trace his connection with the great Trojan experience, which, as already set forth, has begotten a negative tendency in its participators. The war at Troy, like all war long-continued, has bred men to be anti-social; they have to destroy State, Family, Commerce, Agriculture, till destruction becomes habit, yea principle, and takes possession of their intellect. The Cyclops was generated at Ilium, and is a colossal phantasm of the spirit which prompted the attack on the Ciconians.
It should be stated here that the Cyclops of Homer are different from those of Hesiod and of other mythographers, inasmuch as the latter were represented as the demons who forged the thunderbolts of Zeus, and were connected with the volcanic agencies chiefly in Sicily and Italy. Mount Ætna belching forth its lava streams may have suggested to the Greek imagination the sick giant Polyphemus in its caverns, drunk on the red destructive wine of Ulysses.
First is a small island, "stretching outside the harbor" of the land of the Cyclops, woody, full of wild goats; there the ships of Ulysses drew to the shore. It was bare of human dwellers, the Cyclops had no boats to reach it; a good place for stopping, therefore, quite out of reach of the savages. Nor is the fountain forgotten, "sparkling water flowing from a hollow rock down to the harbor"—an adjunct still necessary to every Greek village or encampment. "Some God led us through the dark night" without our seeing the island till the boats struck it—surely a providential intervention on our behalf.
Leaving behind the other ships at this point, Ulysses takes only his own and its crew, and goes forth to "test these people, whether just or unjust, hospitable or godless." He cannot rest in ignorance, he must have the experience and know the unknown. He soon sees "a cave high up the mountain, not far from the sea, overarched with laurel shrubs;" he observes also "an enclosure, made of stones set in the earth;" these stones are not hewn (as some translators say), since the so-called Cyclopean walls so common in Greece were not built by this kind of Cyclops. In the enclosure were resting "many herds of sheep and goats"—just such a scene as can be witnessed in the rural parts of Greece to-day. This is the environment of "the man-monster," who is now to be the theme of song.
II. Polyphemus is a Cyclops but he has characteristics of his own. He has no family in his cave, he lives wholly for himself apparently; he seems to be the largest of his race, "like no man who lives by bread;" he towers alone "like the peak of a high mountain shaggy with woods;" apart from others "he plans his unjust deeds." A portentous shape with but a single eye in his head, a cave-dweller similar to the primitive man; he has too an evil disposition in his huge bulk.
This is the being with whom Ulysses is now to engage in conflict, which becomes highly dramatic. The conquest of the man of Nature by the man of Intelligence—such is the theme through its various fluctuations. This man of Nature, however, we are always to consider from his negative side, as hostile to a civilized order; so the poet has carefully represented him. He is to be put down; yet even Polyphemus has his right, he is brought to a gleam of self-knowledge, and Ulysses has to pay the penalty of his deed, which has also its curse. A very deep current runs through the poem in this part, which we shall divide into five different scenes, hoping thus to make its movement and thought somewhat more distinct.
1. Ulysses, taking twelve of his bravest companions from his ship, not forgetting a goatskin of wonderful wine, for he had a presentiment that he would meet a huge wild man, who is wont to succumb readily to civilized drink, enters the cave while Polyphemus is absent. A vivid picture of that primitive dairy with its cheese, milk, curds; the men fell to and helped themselves, as was natural. Then the companions wished to depart at once, taking what quantity of cheese they could carry, but Ulysses refused, he must "see the Cyclops and test his hospitality." Just the opposite was the case in the land of the Ciconians; there Ulysses wished to flee but his companions would not. Why this difference? He must know Polyphemus, must see the giant and subordinate him; that is just his supreme necessity now, he really can no more run away from the monster than from himself. But that attack on the Ciconians was an unjust, violent deed of which the penalty was sure to follow; this Ulysses knew and sought to escape. In the present case, however, no wrong has been done as yet, and he must meet and solve his problem, while his weaker companions would shun the trial.
Polyphemus returns with his herds in due time, and closes the mouth of the cave with a huge rock, "which not two and twenty wains could move from the threshold." Soon by the light of his fire he sees the lurking strangers and asks, "Who are you?" Ulysses replies, stating that they are returning from Troy, but have been driven out of their way by adverse winds; then he makes his human and religious appeal: We come as suppliants, receive us; "revere the Gods," specially Zeus the protector of suppliants. But the Cyclops scoffs at Zeus and the rest of the Gods: "we are their betters." Thus is witnessed in the monster the denial of the Greek religion, and an atheistic turn of mind.
Next follows in logical sequence his supreme negative act, he is a man-eater. "He seized two of my companions and hurled them against the ground as if they were dogs, then he devoured them piecemeal, swallowing all—entrails and flesh and marrowy bones." Surely Ulysses is getting some experience on the line of that Trojan deed.
Now we catch the entire sweep of this particular Cyclops. He has shown himself as the representative of three mighty negations: of civilized life, of religious life, and of human life. He destroys man, feeds on him; so negation, war, revolution, must do in the end. The horrid phantasm is the true image of the destroyer of the race. Nor does he belong to the old Greek world and to the Trojan time only; he is among us, and he can be translated into modern terms quite familiar. Polyphemus is an anarchist, an atheist, and a cannibal; the ancient poet wraps the three together in one mighty monstrosity. In the morning the Cyclops devoured two more companions for his breakfast, then drove his flocks afield, leaving the rest of the strangers shut up in the cave with the big stone in the opening.
During the day the "man of many shifts" has an opportunity for reflection in that dark recess. He dares not kill the giant outright, "with my sharp sword stubbing him where the midriff holds the liver," for how could they then get out? No, the man of nature must be saved and utilized; with all his might he is to be overborne by the man of intelligence, and made to remove the big stone.
2. The plan of Ulysses with its successful execution is the subject of the next phase of the conflict. By this plan three things must be done in order to counteract the giant and to negative his power. He must be deprived of physical vision, which becomes the more easily possible from the fact that he has but one eye; if he had two eyes like the ordinary man, he could still see though one be put out. That this purpose be accomplished, he must somehow be shorn of his physical strength; finally any resistance which might come from the rest of the Cyclops outside must be rendered nugatory. Such are the three chief points of the impending problem, which Ulysses has to meet and does meet with astonishing skill and foresight; the Cyclops is blinded, is made helpless by drink, and is befooled by a pun.
Ulysses burns out the eye of the monster with the charred end of a stick of olive wood, which he prepares beforehand; huge Round-eye (the meaning of the word //Cyclops//) has no eye now. Ulysses by means of that miraculous wine, product of culture, makes the giant drunk, who thus loses his physical superiority. The Ithacan evidently knew, as well as the American, the power of fire-water over the wild man; that the wine had some strength, is shown by the fact that one cup of it had to be diluted with twenty measures of water, when taken by ordinary mortals. Not without significance does the exhilarated Cyclops laud this civilized wine in contrast to that of the wild grapes of his own land.
But the third scheme of Ulysses is the most subtle of all, and touches the heart of the whole problem, though it be merely a pun. He calls himself Nobody to Polyphemus, who, without sight or insight, is the victim of a word. For a complete man must have not only a double sight from his eyes, but a double insight from his mind, seeing before and after in the latter case especially. The result is when the other Cyclops, roused by the cries of Polyphemus, ask him from outside the cave: What is the matter? he answers, Nobody is killing me. Whereat off they go, dropping a word or two of cold advice, or perchance of sarcastic humor.
We should, however, reach down to the essence of what appears on the surface as a mere trick of speech. It may seem far-fetched to say, but it is none the less the actual fact, that Ulysses is a Nobody, and a very active one to Polyphemus. That is, he has shown himself the negative power which overwhelms the giant, who is now himself quite reduced to a nobody by Mr. Nobody. Or, in abstract terms, Ulysses has negated the negation and has here suggested the subtle work of the process in doing so. Has he not negatived Polyphemus, who was himself a negative, so carefully and fully defined by the poet at the start?
Thus we come upon the deepest pun ever made, or possible to be made, a literary form which the greatest geniuses have been fond of sporting with; we can find puns in Dante, Goethe, and notably in Shakespeare. The pun of Ulysses rests upon the duplicity inherent in the negative; no-man is the man, especially to Polyphemus, whose brain cannot span the two sides of the punning idea, who is not two-eyed but one-eyed by nature, and this one eye is soon put out by the man with two eyes. Such is the earliest instance of what may be called the Play of the Negative, which is still subtly ensconced in the spoken and written word, and winds in an elusive game of hide-and-seek through all Literature. Many men, both writers and readers, are its victims, like Polyphemus.
And all these floating metaphysical gossamers are found in Homer! Yes, but not in a metaphysical form; Homer's organ is poetic, he lived in the age ere philosophers had dawned. Still he too had before him the problems of the soul and of the world. Nor would he have been a true Greek unless he had grappled with this Play of the Negative, which had some marvelous fascination for the Greek mind. It is the leaven working in the Sophists with their subtle rhetoric, in Socrates with his negating elenchus, in Plato with his confounding dialectic. Homer, as the prophet of his people, foreshadowing all forms of Greek spirit and of Greek literature, bring to light repeatedly this Play of the Negative.
The modern German, in more respects than one the spiritual heir of the ancient Greek, has not failed to give evidence of his birthright in the same direction. Kant's Critique, and Hegel's Logic are the most desperate efforts to grasp this slippery, double-doing and double-thinking Negative, infinitely elusive, verily the old Serpent. But the supreme attempt is the modern poetic one, made by Goethe in his Faust poem, in which is embodied anew the mighty Negative, who is now none other than the devil, Mephistopheles. Thus the last world-poet reaches across the ages and touches elbows with the first world-poet in a common theme.
Thus Ulysses nullifies the Cyclops, inflicting three deprivations through his three means: the charred stick takes away vision, the strong wine takes away strength, the ambiguous pun prevents help. The pun also announces covertly to Polyphemus the nature of the power which is undoing him, but he does not and cannot understand that. But the problem of Ulysses is not at an end with simply nullifying the Cyclops; he and his companions are not yet outside of the cave. Herewith we come to a new stage of process.
3. This is the escape, to which the strong giant must be made to contribute, he is skillfully turned against himself. The great stone is removed by him from the mouth of the cave, but he places himself there at the entrance, and no human being can pass. Still, the herds have to go out to their pasture. Ulysses dexterously binds three large sheep together, fastens a companion under the middle one, while he clings beneath a huge ram, and out they move together. But the giant stops just this ram and talks to it, being his favorite of the flock. The man of nature is again outwitted by the man of intelligence, allowing his enemy to slip through his very fingers. The conversation of the blind Cyclops with the dumb animal is pathetic; his one solitary friend apparently, the only creature he loved, is compelled to silent service against its master. "Why art thou last to leave, who wast always first? Dost thou long to see the eye of thy ruler, which has been put out by that vile wretch, Nobody?" So the Cyclops speaks, without seeing or knowing, yet with a touch which excites sympathy for his misfortune.
The special characteristic of this scene is that Ulysses does not now destroy, but employs Polyphemus and his property. Nature must be used by intelligence to overcome nature; the strength of the giant must be directed to rolling away the big stone; his herds are taken to bring about the escape of his foes, and he is turned into an instrument against himself. Thus he is no longer negated as in the last scene, but utilized; having been subdued, he now must serve.
Ulysses and his companions are outside the cave, having gotten rid of those dark and fearful limits which walled them in with a monster. Mind, thought has released them; soon they are on their ship in a free element. But the end is not yet; even Polyphemus, the natural man, must come to know who and what has subjected him, he too is in the grand discipline of the time.
4. Two things Ulysses is now to tell to the Cyclops in the distance. The first is the wrong and the penalty thereof: "Amply have thy evil deeds been returned to thee," namely, his treatment of men. "Zeus and the other Gods have punished thee," there is a divine order in the world, which looks after the wrong-doer. Thus Polyphemus the anarchist, atheist, and cannibal gets a short missionary sermon on justice, religion and humanity. But he does not receive it kindly, he "hurls a fragment of a mountain peak," and almost strikes the ship. The line of danger is not yet passed.
Still Ulysses must tell something else though his frightened companions try to dissuade him. But he must, he cannot help it: "If any one ask thee, say it was Ulysses, the city-destroyer, who put out thine eye." A great light this word brings to the poor blind Cyclops, almost the light of self-consciousness. He recalls, he knows his conqueror, and therein begins to know himself, to recognize his error. "Ah, woe is me! the ancient oracles about me are fulfilled!" Of old there had been prophecies concerning his destiny, but he did not understand them, seemingly did not regard them. How could he, with his bent toward the godless? The prophet Telemus had foretold "that I would lose my sight at the hands of Ulysses." How shall we consider this prophecy? A dim, far-off presentiment among the Cyclops themselves that they were to be subjected to a higher influence; their limited, one-eyed vision was to vanish through a more universal, two-eyed vision. Such a presentiment nature everywhere shows, a presentiment of the power beyond her, of the spiritual. What else indeed is Gravitation? A longing, a seeking which even the clod manifests in its fall earthward, a prophetic intimation; so the Cyclops, the natural man, had his prophet whom he now begins rightly to recognize; truly he is getting religious, quite different is his present utterance from his previous blasphemy: "we are better than the Gods." Nay, he offers to intercede with his father Neptune, praying the God to give a sending of the stranger over the sea. Moreover he recognizes his divine father as the only one who can heal him in his present distress. Possibly the words are spoken to beguile, but Polyphemus here offers to do his duty to the stranger on his shores, and he recognizes the Gods.
Manifestly we witness in this passage a striking development of the rude Cyclops under the tough discipline of experience. He acknowledges first his mistake in regard to the prophecy: "I expected to see a man tall and beautiful and of vast strength, not this petty worthless weakling who has put out mine eye." A hero of visible might, a giant like himself, not a man of invisible intelligence, he imagined he was to meet; great was his mistake. The conflict between Brain and Brawn was settled long ago before Troy, and has been sung of in the preceding Book. Here then is certainly a confession of his mistake, and, if his words are sincere, an offer to undo his wrong.
5. At this point there is a change in Ulysses, his victory has begotten insolence, he becomes a kind of Cyclops in his turn. Such is the demon ever lurking in success. Listen to his response to the confession and supplication of his wretched victim: "Would that I were as sure of taking thy life and sending thee down to Hades, as that the Earth-shaker shall never heal thine eye." The implication is that the God cannot do it—an act of blasphemy which the God will not be slow to avenge. But how true to human nature is this new turn in Ulysses, how profound! No sooner has he escaped and experiences the feeling of triumph, than his humanity, nay his religion vanishes, he sweeps over into his opposite and becomes his savage enemy. What follows? The law must be read to him too, his own law; he will hear it from the mouth of Polyphemus, and it is essentially this: As thou hast done to me, so shall it be done to thee.
Accordingly we have next the curse of the Cyclops denounced upon the head of the transgressor. This curse is to be fulfilled to the letter, the poet has fully shown the ground of it, Ulysses has really invoked it upon himself, it lies in his deed. Possibly Polyphemus, when he offered to give the dues of hospitality and to send the guest home, was merely using the words of deception, which he had just had the opportunity of learning, and was trying to get possession of his enemy's body. Doubtless it was well for Ulysses to keep out of the giant's hands. But that does not justify his speech, which was both cruel and blasphemous.
Hear then the curse of the Cyclops, which hints the great obstructing motive to the return of Ulysses, and marks out the action of the poem; "Give Ulysses no return to his home; but if he returns, may he arrive late and in evil plight, upon a foreign ship with loss of all his companions, and may he find troubles in his house." Of course Neptune heard the prayer, had to hear it, in the divine order of things. The curse lay inside of Ulysses, else it could not have been fulfilled; he himself could drop from his humane and religious mood in adversity and become a savage in prosperity. His chief misfortunes follow after this curse. But for the present he escapes to Goat Island, though another portentous rock is hurled at him by the Cyclops. There he sacrifices to the Highest God, Zeus, who, however, pays no heed—how is it possible?
Such is this far-reaching Fairy Tale, certainly one of the greatest and most comprehensive ever written. It shows a movement, an evolution both of Polyphemus and Ulysses; this inner unfolding indeed is the main thing to be grasped. It is worth the while to take a short retrospect of the five leading points. (1) The completely negative character of the Cyclops as to institutions, religion, and even the physical man. (2) This negative being is negated by the man of intelligence, who puts out his eye, nullifies his strength by drink, and thwarts all help for him by a punning stratagem. (3) He is made to help his enemies escape from his cave by the skill of Ulysses who turns the force of nature against nature. (4) The Cyclops reaches self-knowledge through Ulysses, who tells his wrong and its punishment, who also tells his own name: whereat the Cyclops suddenly changes and makes a humane offer. (5) Ulysses changes the other way, becomes himself a kind of Cyclops and receives the curse.
This curse will now follow Ulysses and drive him from island to island through Fableland, till he gets back to Ithaca with much suffering and with all companions lost, where he will find many troubles. In this manner the return of Ulysses becomes intertwined with Polyphemus and this Fableland, which furnish an underlying motive for the third Part of the Odyssey (the last 12 Books). The curse here spoken is still working when Ulysses reaches home and finds the suitors in possession. Verily his negative spirit lies deep; in cursing Polyphemus, he has cursed himself.
Thus the impartial poet shows both sides—the guilt as well as the good in Polyphemus and in Ulysses. The man of nature has his right when he offers to transform his conduct, and it shows that Ulysses still needs discipline when he scorns such an offer. Polyphemus too is to have his chance of rising, for he certainly has within himself the possibility. Has not the poet derived the noble Arete and Alcinous and institutional Phæacia from the savage Cyclops? But Ulysses negatives Polyphemus just at the start upward. The character which he showed in sacking the city of the Ciconians is in him still, he is not yet ready to return.
The Ninth Book has thus run through its three stages and has landed us in pure Fableland. These three stages—the attack on the Ciconians, the Lotus-eaters, the adventure with the Cyclops—may now be seen to be parts of one entire process, which we may call the purification of the spirit from its own negative condition. The man, having become destructive-minded (oloophrōn) must be put under training by the Gods, and sent to battle with the monsters of Fableland.
So we advance to the next Book with the certainty that there is still some stern discipline in store for the wandering Ulysses.
''BOOK TENTH.''
At the first glance we can observe a certain similarity between this Book and the last one. There are in each three distinct portions or adventures, two very short and simple, and one very long and intricate. Each Book culminates in a fabulous being with whom the Hero has a wrestle for supremacy, and in both cases he comes out victorious. We are still in Wonderland, we have to reach into the ideal realm in order to find out what these strange incidents mean. The two central figures are Polyphemus and Circe, respectively, each of whom imparts the dominating thought to the Book in which he or she appears.
The first thing we ask for is the connection, the inner thread which joins these Books together. It was stated that Polyphemus was the negation of the institutional world, he was individualistic, he belonged to neither Family nor State. No laws, no councils, no civil polity; he is a huge man of violence, hostile specially to man's social life. Circe on the contrary, is the woman hostile to woman's domestic world, the Family, first of all; she is the grand enchantress, representing the power and seductiveness of the senses; she is the enemy of what we call morals. To be sure, we shall find in her something more, whereof the full unfolding will be given hereafter.
Ulysses is the one who is to meet those negative forces and put them down. His companions give him special trouble in the present Book, they seem to represent the weaker phases of man, possibly of Ulysses himself. Already he has suppressed Polyphemus, or the institutional negation; now he is to subordinate Circe or the moral negation. The latter is a woman because she must have sensuous beauty and all the charm of passionate enticement; the former is a man because he must show strength and violence rather than the allurement of pleasure.
Nor should we forget that these forms are in Ulysses himself, and were really generated out of his Trojan life; that spirit of his, shown at the start by the attack on the Ciconians, has all these phases in its process. He is traveling through an Inferno, seeing its entire demonic brood, which he has begotten, and which he has to fight and subject. At the same time these fantastic shapes are typical, and shadow forth the universal experience of man, belonging to all countries and all ages.
As already stated, there are three different localities to which Ulysses is brought. Three islands, bounded, yet in a boundless sea, through which he moves on his ships; such is the outermost setting of nature, suggestive of much. No tempest occurs in this Book; the stress is upon the three fixed places in the unfixed aqueous element.
I. First is the island where dwells Æolus with his Family; hither Ulysses comes after putting down Polyphemus who was hostile to domestic life. In this spot the bag of winds is given into the possession of the navigator, whose companions, however, release them, and he is driven to the starting-point, with the winds at large. Æolus refuses to receive him the second time.
II. Next is the city of the Læstrigonians, where is a civil life, a State, to which Ulysses can come after subjecting the Cyclops, who had no polity of the sort. But the State is verily a giant, a cannibal to him now, with all the winds loose. Hence he has to flee for his life. Whither now does he go?
III. Not to Penelope and Ithaca, but to Circe, and her isle. She is the form which next rises before Ulysses, banished from the domestic world of Æolus, and fleeing from the civil life of the Læstrigonians.
We shall try to bring the threads of connection to light, for it is our emphatic opinion that these three islands with their shapes are spiritually bound and wound together. Still further, they reach back and interlink with the forms of the previous Book, which furnish antecedent stages of the grand total movement of Fairyland. Separated in image are these islands and their inhabitants, but they have to be united in thought. Not a more accident is the sequence, but a necessity, a strict evolution. The work here, according our best belief, is organic, and the reader must not rest contented with his understanding of it, till he moves with the poet from place to place by the interior path of the spirit.
I.
The first fact about the Æolian Isle is that it was afloat in the waters of the sea, as Delos and other islands of antiquity were reported to be. Not stationary then; the king of it, Æolus, has a name which indicates a changeable nature, veering about like the winds, of which he is king. The second fact pertaining to this Isle is that a wall of brass encircles it not to be broken through; "and the cliff runs up sheer from the sea." Manifestly two opposite ideas are suggested in this description: the fixed and the movable; the island within itself is bound fast, and cannot be driven asunder; yet it floats in the most unstable of elements, in the sea and winds. Such is the physical environment, clearly mirroring the meaning. Something permanent in the midst of all that is mutable we may expect to find here.
On the island dwell the King of the Winds and his wife, along with six blooming sons and daughters. He gave his daughters to his sons for wives; a custom not elsewhere found in Homer outside of the realm of the Gods; yet is claimed to have been a very ancient custom, which the Ptolomies revived in Egypt. At any rate here is the picture of the Family in its patriarchal form, wholly separated from other connections and set apart by itself, on the brass-bound precipitous island. The Family is abstracted from the rest of the world and given a dwelling-place.
At this point we begin to catch a glimpse of the significance of the story. The Family is the first power which seizes the emotions and passions and caprices of men (the winds of his soul) and starts the taming of them; the marriage tie is fixed, is not for a day; thus the Family makes itself permanent, and makes the human being stable through feeling and duty. None but married people are here; very different will it be hereafter in the island of Circe. The king of the winds is not only Æolus, but also his institution, the Family, rules here, for there is no State to be governed. Not polygamy, but monogamy, as the great Homeric principle of domestic life, do we witness—the mutual devotion of one man and one woman. Externally we found the fixed and the floating; internally also we discover the fixed and the floating, or rather, that principle which fixes the floating, and makes the world stable. Thus we see the reason why Homer puts the Family upon the Isle of the Winds.
It is no wonder, therefore, that in such a place is held up before us a picture of happiness and plenty. "All feast from day to day with endless change of meats;" why ask whence the viands come? The inner peace provides them. Even the sound of flutes is heard round about, according to one way of translating the passage; music attunes the everlasting festival. Not mere gratification is this, but happiness, the outer again mirroring the inner; domestic harmony is the matter set forth.
Hither Ulysses comes with his companions, "to the city and beautiful houses" of Æolus. A city is here, but no civil life is introduced into the story. "A whole month the monarch entertained me;" what was again the interest? "He asked me about Ilium," the eternal theme, which lies always in the background of Fairyland as well as of Historic Hellas. The Trojan war and also "the Return of the Greeks" were recounted, we may say, sung by Ulysses; the Iliad and the Odyssey, delighted also those domestic Æolians. Was not Troy destroyed because of a wrong done to the Greek Family? Finally Ulysses was gotten ready to be sent home by his host.
Æolus, the ruler of the winds, gives them into the might of Ulysses; he confines them in "a bullock's bladder," which, tied by a silver chain, he places in the ship. It is manifest that the sea, deprived of these windy powers, cannot hinder the passage. Again we behold the main fact of the island: the unstable, uncertain, capricious, is held by the fixed, the permanent; during his sojourn with Æolus, Ulysses has obtained an inner hold, an anchorage of the moral kind, which he sorely needed. This was given him by his view of the Family, which was the real security of the island. All the conditions of his return (but one) are placed in his hand, tied up in a bag. "Only the west-wind was allowed to blow," which sent him homewards.
Still the supreme condition was not, could not be given by Æolus or by anybody else, could not be tied up in a bag. The free man must be alert, he must watch, and win his own salvation; his prime duty is to keep the bag tied, and therein to exercise his will. This is just what he failed to do at the last moment. He went to sleep when in sight of Ithaca; his companions, led by curiosity and avarice (two blasts of the soul) open the bag, expecting to find gold and silver, and find the rushing winds. Of course all are driven back to the starting-point, to the island, on which they soon land.
What will Ulysses do in such extremity? "Shall I drop into the sea and perish, or shall I still endure and stay among the living?" Suicide will not solve his problem: "I remained and suffered." Herein also we trace the stamp of the hero, whose special call it is to master fate.
So Ulysses tries again to get the bladder of winds from Æolus, confessing that it was equally the fault of himself and his companions. But the opportunity is gone; the sum total of conditions, all bagged and tied up, and put into his hands, presents itself only once. Moreover the sleep of Ulysses, just at the nick of destiny, showed an internal weakness; he became careless, almost insolent under such circumstances; he manifested a similar trait to that which led to the curse of the Cyclops. Again he hears a malediction, now uttered by his former host: "Get thee out of my island quickly, most guilty of men, hated by the Gods!" Thus Æolus regards the man before him, and reinforces the curse of Polyphemus. But if Ulysses had to fall asleep by sheer fatigue (which construction the passage hardly demands), then he did not look properly after his companions, making them the sharers of his knowledge. A foolish question has been asked here and much discussed: How did Ulysses know what his companions said during his sleep? Easily enough; but the answer is not worth the candle.
Æolus, therefore, refuses to receive Ulysses and his companions a second time; they have fallen, they must experience the full meaning of their conduct; they must go to Circe, and some of them, at least, be changed into swine, till they know the nature of their deed. Æolus cannot receive them, they have destroyed his gift; they would repeat their act, if he gave all into their hands again, without the deeper penalty. The law thus is clear; they, having disregarded the fixed control of appetite and passion, which the King of the Island imparts, are swept back into brutishness.
Many have been the interpretations of this marvelous King and his children and his island. The supporters of the physical theory of mythology have maintained that the twelve sons and daughters are the twelve months of the year, six of summer and six of winter, while Æolus, the father, is the Sun who produces them. Others regard Æolus as a mortal king, who, on account of certain traits or certain deeds, was transformed into the fabled monarch of the winds. There has been much dispute over the location of Æolia; the most of those who have searched for its geographical site are in favor of one of the Lipari Islands, on the northern coast of Sicily. Finally Virgil has somewhat transformed the legend and put it into his Æneid.
II.
Ulysses and his companions now had to use the oar on seas without wind; "their spirit was worn out," hope had fled from them toiling through the becalmed deep. They arrive at the land of the Læstrigonians, a race of giants, into whose narrow harbor surrounded by its high precipices the ships enter, with the exception of that of Ulysses, who has learned caution. A kind of cave of the Giant Despair is that harbor, reflecting outwardly the internal condition of the men, after their weary labor coupled with the repulse from Æolus.
First of all we here observe a city with a civil order; there is the place of assembly, a king over men, with a royal palace. No husbandry appears, but there are wagons fetching wood to town on a smooth road (probably a made road); shepherds are specially designated, so that we may suppose a pastoral life prevails, yet these people in their city are not roving nomads. The Family also is noticed, being composed of the king, queen, and daughter; the latter is bringing water from the town fountain—a primitive, idyllic touch. But the stress is manifestly not upon the domestic but the civil institution; the State is here in full operation, in which fact we mark the contrast with the preceding island, Æolia. Another sharp contrast may be drawn between the Læstrigonians and the Cyclops; the latter are giants also, but have no civil order.
Ulysses, therefore, witnesses the State, in due gradation after the Family. He can come to both these institutions now, and see them at least, for he has put down Polyphemus, who, we recollect, was the negation of both. But only see them, not share in them; the curse of the Cyclops is still working upon him and in him; though he destroy a destroyer, that does not make him positive; the devil destroys the wicked, but that does not make him good. Hence the State rejects him as did the Family; he is by no means ready to return to Ithaca and Penelope. Such is his experience at present.
But why should the Læstrigonians be portrayed as giants? Of course the Fairy Tale deals in these huge beings for its own purpose. Æolus and his children seem to have been of common stature. The fancy can often play into the meaning, or suggest a glimpse thereof. The State may be called the Big Man, the concentrated personality of many persons; he strikes hard, he overwhelms the wrong-doer. Therefore he seems now so terrible to Ulysses, and is really so to the latter's companions, of whom all perish here except one shipful. It is the function of the State to punish; in the sweet domestic life of Æolus, there was no punishment, only banishment; thus we behold now the penalty, at the hands of that institution which is specially to administer it. The companions did no wrong to the Læstrigonians, but note that just here judgment comes upon them. Ulysses escapes, but to him also these people appear as destroyers, as man-devouring cannibals; so the State often seems to the guilty, overwhelming the individual with its penal vengeance.
The Cyclops was also a giant and a cannibal, full of hostility; but mark the difference. He was the Strong Man of Nature, not human in shape, with that one eye in his head; his violence was against institutions, the violence of the wild barbarian, which has to be put down by man. But the Læstrigonians live in a civilized order which has to punish the transgressor; their shapes are not monstrosities of nature, but magnified human bodies. Both are giants and cannibals, both negative, but in a wholly different sense.
What is the location of the Læstrigonians? A subject much disputed recently and of old, with very little profit. Some expressions are puzzling: "The herdsman coming in greets the herdsman going out;" then again, "a herdsman needing no sleep would earn double wages," which implies apparently two periods for toil in twenty-four hours, the one "for tending cows" and the other "for tending sheep;" and this is possible, "for the paths of day and night are near" to each other, as if somehow day and night ran their courses together. What does it all mean? Some dim story of the polar world with its bright nights, which story may have come from the far North into Greece, along with another Northern product, amber, which was known to Homer, may lie at the basis of this curious passage. But we can hardly place the Læstrigonians under polar skies in spite of this polar characteristic. Others have sought their locality in the Black Sea and have even seen their harbor in that of Balaklava. All of which is uncertain enough, and destined to remain so, but furnishes a marvelous field for erudite conjecture and investigation. The certain matter here, and we should say the important one also, is the institutional order and its negative attitude toward Ulysses. That is, we must reach down and bring to light the ethical thread which is spun through this wonderful texture of Fairy Tales, before we have any real explanation, or connecting principle.
III.
Onward the wanderer, now with his single ship, has to sail again; whither next? He arrives at another island called Ææa, "where dwells the fair-haired Circe, an awful Goddess, endowed with a singing voice, own sister of the evil-minded wizard Æætes, both sprung of the Sun and of Perse, daughter of Oceanus."
This genealogy we have set down in full, as given by the poet, on account of its suggestiveness. These names carry us back to the East, quite to primitive Arya; here is the Sun, the God of the old Vedas; here is Perse, curiously akin to Persia, which was light-worshiping in her ancient religion; then we come to Æætes, father of Medea, usually held to be of Colchis on the Eastern coast of the Black Sea, whence we busily pass to Hellas in many a legend, and from Hellas we now have traveled far westward into Fairyland. One ancient story, probably the first, placed Circe in the remote East; another, this of Homer for example, sends her to the far West; a third united the two and told of the Flight of Circe upon the chariot of the Sun from Orient to Occident, which is doubtless a much later form of the tale, though ascribed to Hesiod. Circe is of a higher ancestry than Polyphemus, though both go back in origin to the sea with their island homes; she, however, is a child of the light-giving body, and will show her descent in the end. Her name is related to the circle, and hints the circling luminary, on whose car she is said to have fled once. Here in Homer, however, we may note an inner circle of development; she passes through a round of experience, and seems to complete a period of evolution. She must be grasped as a movement, as a cycle of character, if you please; she develops within, and this is the main fact of her portrayal.
The preceding etymological intimations are dim enough, yet they point back to Asia, and to an old Aryan relationship. Not too much stress is to be put upon them, yet they are entitled to their due recognition, and are not to be thrown aside as absolutely meaningless. By Homer, himself, they could not have been understood, being traces of a migration and ethnical kinship which had been in his time long forgotten, and which modern scholarship has resurrected through the comparative study of language.
More important is the connection between Circe and the two preceding portions of this Book, Æolia and the Læstrigonians. We have just seen how both Family and State cast Ulysses off, must cast him off, since he is without moral subordination. The inner self-control demanded by an institutional life he has not been able to reach, after the alienation produced by the Trojan War; the bag of winds given into his hand by Æolus he could not keep tied. Why? Behold Circe rise up and take on shape after his twofold experience. Really she is evolved out of Ulysses in a certain sense; he sees her just now and not before, because he has created her. Why is he thus repelled by Family and State? Circe is the answer; she is the enchantress who stands for sensuous pleasure in its most alluring form; with her is now the battle.
Thus we approach another struggle of the hero, the longest and by far the most elaborately unfolded, of the present Book. In many respects it is the counterpart of the story of Polyphemus in the previous Book. There he meets and puts down the anti-institutional man; here he meets and puts down the anti-moral woman. The one represents more the objective side of man's spirit, the other more the subjective; both together image the totality of the ethical world, in its two supreme aspects, institutions and morals.
Very famous has this story of Circe become in literature. It has furnished proverbs, allusions, texts for exhortation; it has been wrought over into almost every possible form—drama, novel, poem, paramyth; from the nursery to old age it retains its charm and power. Its meaning is plain enough, especially at first; but it grows more weird and more profound as it develops; at last it ascends quite into the beyond and points to the supersensible world.
Now the main point to be seized in this tale is the movement, the development of Circe through her several stages, which are in the main three, showing Circe victorious, Circe conquered, and Circe prophetic. Ulysses and his companions move along with these stages, being also in the process; but the center of interest, the complete unfolding, is found in Circe. These three chief stages we may give somewhat more fully before entering upon the detailed exposition.
//First.// The island is reached; some of the companions under a leader (not Ulysses) go to Circe's abode, and are turned into swine after partaking of her food. Circe triumphant.
//Second.// Ulysses himself then goes, having obtained the plant //moly//; he subdues, enjoys; he releases his companions. He finally asks to be sent home, according to the promise she had given. Circe subordinated.
//Third.// Then she reveals her prophetic power and announces the future journey to Hades, ere he can return home. Thus she sends him on beyond herself, and reaches her culmination in this Book.
Of these three stages the last seems inappropriate to Circe's character, and is always a puzzle to the reader, till he probes to the thought underlying the tale. Circe, then, is to show herself a seeress, and foreshadow the world beyond the present. Why just that in her case? But before the question can be answered, we must unfold the first two stages.
I. After an introduction which names the new island and its occupant, as well as gives a bit of her genealogy, the tale takes up Ulysses and his companions. After a rest of two days and two nights, the hero goes forth to spy out the land, ascends a hill whence he sees the smoke of Circe's palace rising "through the bushes and the trees." His last experience makes him careful, his thirst for knowledge does not now drive him to go at once into her presence. He returns to his companions with his information, and on the way back he kills a high-horned stag, "which had come down from the woods to the stream to slake its thirst." The result is a good meal for all once more, and a restoration of hope.
1. In such a mood he imparts his discovery: "I have seen with mine eyes smoke in the center of the island." Terror-striking was the announcement to his companions, who at once thought of "the cannibals, Cyclops and Læstrigonians." And they had cause for fear. It may, however, be said in advance that Circe is not a man-eater, but a man-transformer; she is a new phase of the great experience, she bestializes; she is negative, not so much from without as from within, not consuming the human shape but transmuting it into that of an animal.
A curious expression here needs some explanation. "We know not where is east and where is west, not where the Sun goes under the earth, nor where he rises." Why not? There have been several ways of viewing this passage. Ulysses did not know the countries where the Sun set or rose, though he must have seen the direction. A statement from Voss may be here translated: "The side of night and of day he knew well, for he saw sunrise and sunset; but he does not know into what region of the world he has wandered away from home." One other suggestion: it may have been very foggy or cloudy weather at the time. The internal hint, however, is clear; he is astray, lost; he knows not what direction to take for his return.
But something has to be done. Accordingly Ulysses divides his crew into two portions, one commanded by Eurylochus, the other by himself. The lot decided that Eurylochus and his company should go to the house of Circe, and the lot always decides aright in the hand of Ulysses. Forth they "go wailing, two and twenty companions, and leave us behind, weeping." A tearful time for those forty-four people plus the two leaders; which numbers give a basis for calculating the size of the crew, of which six had been already destroyed by the Ciconians and six by the Cyclops.
2. Soon they reach the abode of Circe, whose picture is now drawn with characteristic touches. She is beautiful, sings with a beautiful voice, and makes beautiful things, weaving webs such as the Goddesses weave. Surely an artistic being; her palace is built of hewn stone, not of natural rock, yet it lies in the depths of the forest. Here again she shows her power: wild animals, wolves and lions, lie around—fawning upon, not attacking men, tamed by her powerful drugs. That is, she shows herself the mistress of nature, or rather the transformer thereof; her mighty spell can change character and shape.
There has been a difference of opinion from antiquity down to the present about these animals. Are they transformed men, or merely wild animals tamed? The matter is left in doubt by the poet and either view will answer for the passage. The connection, however, with the transformation of the companions of Ulysses, would suggest the first meaning. These partake of her food, with which she mingles her drug, "in order that they might wholly forget their native country." But here is something more than the indifference of the Lotus-eaters; these eaters and drinkers at once become swine as to "their heads, voices and hair," and eat the acorn and the fruit of cornel-tree, "like wallowing pigs." Yet their mind remained "firm as before."
There can be no doubt that Time has interpreted this scene in but one way, and Time is probably correct. Still it is not here expressly said that the companions indulged to excess in food and drink, though they apparently had just had a sufficiency of feasting along the sea-shore, on venison and wine, "unspeakable meat and sweet drink." We must, however, consider the whole to be a phase of that same lack of inner subordination which led these people to untie the fatal bag of winds upon a former occasion.
3. One man alone escaped to tell the story, as so often happens in such adventures; it is Eurylochus, "who remained outside the palace suspecting guile." When Ulysses hears the account, he proposes to go at once and release his comrades. Eurylochus beseeches him not to attempt it, but he persists, saying, "I shall go, a strong necessity is upon me." Possibly in his contemptuous expression, "You stay in this place eating and drinking," is hinted just that which he is now to put down, in contrast with his companions. Eurylochus is the man who is unable to solve the problem; he runs away from it, is afraid of it, and leaves his wretched associates behind. But the problem must have a positive solution, which here follows.
II. We are now to witness the dealings of Ulysses with Circe; he is to subordinate her, making her into a means, not an end; she will recognize him and submit completely, taking an oath not to do him any harm; she will release his companions and restore them to their natural forms at his behest; she will then properly entertain the entire crew, no longer turning them into swine. The world of the appetites and the senses will be duly ordered and subjected to the rational; from an imperious enchantress Ulysses changes Circe into an instrument of life and restoration. He is the transformer of her, not she of him; for she will reduce man to a beast, unless he reduces her to reason.
1. Ulysses on his way to Circe's palace is met by a seeming youth (really a God, Mercury) who warns him and gives him a plant potent against the drugs of the enchantress. It is manifest that Ulysses has a divine call; he knows already his problem from Eurylochus, the God reiterates it and inspires him with courage. In addition he receives a plant from the divine hand, whereof the description we may ponder: "The root is black, its flower white as milk; the Gods call it //moly//, hard it is for men to dig up." Very hard indeed! And the whole account is symbolical, we think, consciously symbolical; it has an Orphic tinge, hinting of mystic rites. At any rate the hero has now the divine antidote; still he is to exert himself with all his valor; "when she shall smite thee with her staff, draw thy sword and rush upon her, as if intending to kill her." Thus he is to assert the god-like element in himself, the rational, and subject to it the sensuous. It is clear that Ulysses is beginning to master the lesson of his experience.
2. He does as the God (and his own valor) directed, and Circe cowers down subdued. She is not supreme, there is something higher and she knows it. At once she recognizes who it is: "Art thou that wily Ulysses whose coming hither from Troy in his black ship has often been foretold to me?" Such a prophecy she must have known and felt, she had mind and was aware of a power above her, which would some day put her down, after the Trojan time. In like manner Polyphemus, the man of nature, has heard of a coming conqueror, and actually named him.
This one kind of subjection, however, is not enough, it must be made universal. Every kind of subordination of the sensuous, not merely in the matter of eating and drinking, is necessary. The next thing to be guarded against is carnal indulgence, which may "make me cowardly and unmanly." Hence Circe has "to swear the great oath, not to plot against me any harm." Thus in the two chief forms of human appetite, that of eating and drinking and that of sexual indulgence, she is subjected.
Ulysses is beginning to have some claims to being a moral hero, still he is not by any means an ascetic. He has the Greek notion of morality; we have a right to enjoy, but enjoyment must not make us bestial; rational moderation is the law. He drinks of Circe's cup, but does not let it turn him into a swine; he shares in all her pleasures, but never suffers his head to get dizzy with her blandishments. Every seductive delicacy she sets before him, mingled with the most charming flattery; "I did not like the feast." Why? This leads us to the next and higher point.
3. Lofty is the response of Ulysses: "O Circe, what right-minded man would endure to touch food and drink before seeing his companions released?" At once she goes to the sty and sets them free, restoring their shapes, "and they became younger, larger, and more beautiful than they were before." A great advantage is this to any man; it is worth the hard experience to come out with such a gain, especially as the companions must have been getting a little old, stooped and wrinkled, having gone through so many years of hardship at Troy and on the sea.
4. Thus Ulysses has transformed Circe into an instrument for restoring his fallen comrades; surely a noble act. Next she of her own accord asks Ulysses to go to the sea-shore for the rest of his men and to bring them to her palace for refreshment and entertainment. This he succeeds in doing after some opposition from the terrified Eurylochus, who has not yet gotten over his scare. Sorely did the companions need this rest and recuperation after their many sufferings on land and sea; "weak and spiritless they were, always thinking of the bitter wandering." But now in the palace of Circe "they feasted every day for a whole year," eating and drinking without being turned into swine. Even Eurylochus follows after, "for he feared my terrible threat."
Thus we catch the sweep of this grand experience of and with Circe; if she governs, she bestializes man; if she serves, she refreshes and restores. Her complete subordination is witnessed; from transforming people into swine, she is herself transformed into their helper, and she becomes an important factor in the great Return to home and country. But it is time to think of this Return again; the period of repose and enjoyment must come to an end.
III. Here, then, we behold a new phase of Circe, that of the seeress into the Beyond. Ulysses says to her at the end of the year: "Now make your promise good, send us home, for which we long." Stunning is the answer after that period of relaxation: "Ye must go another way, ye must pass into the Houses of Hades." It is indeed a terrible response. But for what purpose? "To consult the soul of the blind Theban seer Tiresias, whose mind is still unimpaired; to him alone of the dead Proserpine gave a mind to know." Clearly this means the pure intelligence without body; Ulysses must now reach forth to the incorporeal spirit, to the very Idea beyond the senses, beyond life.
The first question which arises in this connection is, How can Circe, the enchantress of the senses, be made the prophetess of the supersensible world? If we watch her development through the two preceding stages, we shall see that she not only can, but must point to what is beyond, to spirit. In the second stage she experiences a great change, no longer transforming into the lower, but herself transformed into the higher; she becomes a moral being, subordinating the sensuous to the spiritual; she has, therefore, spirit in her life and manifests it in her actions, when she is the willing means of subjecting appetite to reason.
The same transformation we may note on her artistic side, for she remains always beautiful. The first Circe is that alluring seductive beauty which destroys by catering to the senses; she is that kind of art, which debauches through its appeal to appetite and passion alone. But the second Circe is transfigured, her service is of the spirit, she releases from the bondage of indulgence, she aids the ethical Return to Family and State. It is true that she never becomes a saint or a nun, she would not be Greek if she did; moreover, according to the Greek view, she must be transcended by the typical man, who is to rise into an institutional life, which is hardly Circe's. Still the primal moral subjection is shown in her career.
The domain of morals reveals the spiritual in action, the domain of true art reveals the spiritual in representation. What shall I do with this world of the senses? was a great question to the Greek, and still is to us. In conduct subordinate it; in nature transform it into an image of the higher. The work of art is a divine flash from above into a sensuous form; this flash we separate from its material, and pass into pure spirit; then we reach Tiresias, the mind embodied, not limited in Space and Time.
Circe thus indicates her own limitation, which belongs to morals and art. She is not the Infinite, but can point to it; she hints the rise from art to philosophy. Backwards and forwards runs the suggestion in her career; the Greek can lapse to the first Circe and die in a debauch of the senses, or he can rise to the prophetic Circe, and lay the deep foundation of all future thought. The Greek world, in fact, had just this double outcome.
Ulysses, then, has to go to Hades, the supersensible realm; his heart was wrung, "I wept sitting upon the couch, I wished no longer to live nor to see the light of the sun." But after such a fit, he is ready for action: "when I had enough of weeping and rolling about, I asked Circe: Who will guide me?" Then he receives his instructions, which have somewhat of the character of a mystic ritual, with offerings to the dead, who will come and speak. Messages from the spirit world he will get, but he must pass through the Ocean stream, to the groves of Proserpine. From that point, after mooring his ship, he is to go to the houses of Hades, where is a rock at the meeting of two loud-roaring rivers; "pour there a libation to the dead" with due ceremony. In all of which is the method of the later necromancy, or consultation of the departed for prophetic purposes. Very old is the faith that the souls of deceased persons can be made to appear and to foretell the future, after a proper rite and invocation; nor is such a belief unknown in our day.
Ulysses departs from Circe's palace and tells his companions concerning the new voyage: whereat another scene of lamentation. To the Greek the Underworld was a place of gloom and terror; he liked not the spirit disembodied, he needed the sensuous form for his thought, he was an artist by nature. The Homeric Greek in particular was the incarnation of the sunny Upperworld, he shuddered at the idea of separating from it and its fair shapes. But the thing must be done, as it lies in the path of development as well as in the movement of this poem.
Ulysses must therefore go below, inasmuch as this world with its moral life even, is not the finality. There is aught beyond, the limit of death we must surmount in the present existence still; a glimpse of futurity the mortal must have before going thither. So Homer makes the Hero transcend life as it were, during life; and extend his wanderings into the supersensible world.
The reader has now witnessed the three stages of this Tenth Book—Æolus, the Læstrigonians, and Circe. The inner connection between these three stages has also been investigated and brought to the surface; at least such has been the persistent attempt. Especially has Circe been unfolded in the different phases which she shows—all of which have been traced back to a unity of character.
The intimate relation between the Ninth and Tenth Books has been set forth along with their differences. Both belong to the Upperworld of this Fableland; hence they stand in contrast with the Netherworld, which is now to follow.
''BOOK ELEVENTH.''
The present Book is one of the most influential pieces of writing which man has produced. It has come down through the ages with a marvelous power of reproduction; in many ways poets have sought to create it over; indeed Time has imitated it in a series of fresh shapes. Virgil, not to speak of other attempts in ancient Greek epics, has re-written it in the Sixth Book of the Æneid; from Virgil it passed to Dante who has made its thought the mould which shapes his entire poem—the //Divine Comedy//.
It is one phase of the great Mythus of the Apocalypse, or the uncovering of the Future State, which in some form belongs to all peoples, and which springs from the very nature of human spirit. Man must know the Beyond; especially the Hero, the spiritual Hero of his race, must extend his adventures, not only over the world, but into the other world, and bring back thence the news concerning those who have already departed.
This then is the supreme Return of the Hero, the Return from beyond life, still alive; he is to conquer not only the monster Polyphemus and the enchantress Circe, but also the greatest goblin of all, Death. Common mortals have to make the passage thither without returning; the Hero must be the grand exception, else he were no Hero. Transcendent must he be, rising above all limits, even the limit of life and death.
We have, therefore, in the present Book the Greek glance into immortality. This is the essence of it, hence its prodigious hold upon human kind. That the conscious individual persists after the dissolution of the physical body is here strongly affirmed; indeed the world beyond is organized, and its connection with the world on this side is unfolded, in a series of striking pictures for the imagination. It is thus a grand chapter in the history of the soul's consciousness of its eternal portion, is in fact the middle link between the Oriental and the Christian view of immortality.
Ulysses, as the wise man, or rather as the intellectual Hero of his age, must go through the experience in question; he cannot return to home and country, and be fully reconciled with his institutional life here and now, without having seen what is eternal and abiding in the soul. The wanderer must wander thither, the absolute necessity lies upon him—and he must fetch back word about what he saw, and thus be a mediator between the sensible and supersensible, between time and eternity. In that way he means something to his people, becomes, in fact, their Great Man, helping them vicariously in this life to rise beyond life. The complete Return, then, involves the descending to Hades, the beholding the shapes there, and the coming back with the report to the living. Perhaps we ought to consider just this to be the culmination of the whole journey, the grand adventure embracing all possible adventures.
The connection with the preceding Book can not be too strongly enforced. Circe points out the way to Ulysses; her nature is to point to the Beyond, to which she cannot herself pass. In her last phase, she was spirit, but still in the sensuous form; that spirit in her, as in all true art and even in the world, points to its pure realm, where it is freed from the trammels of the senses. This gives the main characteristic of Homeric Hades; it is the supersensible world, outside of Space and Time; or, rather with its own Space and Time, since it is still an image.
Hence these mythical statements which seek to get beyond all known geographical limits. Ulysses had to cross the Ocean stream, which ran round the whole earth; to go over it was indeed to go over the border. There below is the gloomy grove of Proserpine; there too, are the four rivers of the Lower Regions, with names terribly suggestive; into Acheron the stream of pain (or lake) flow Pyriphlegethon (Fire-flames) and Cocytus (the Howler), the latter being an offshoot of Styx (Hate or Terror). Where "the two loud-sounding rivers meet" the third one (Acheron) is a rock, a firm protected spot seemingly, there with mystic rites is the invocation of the dead to take place.
Thus we see that the poet's description remains spatial in his attempt to get beyond space. He has to express himself in images taken from the sensible world, even while pushing them beyond into the supersensible. He makes us feel that the image is inadequate, though he has to use it; poetry is driven upon its very limit. At this point specially we note the kinship of the Odyssey with Romantic Art, which through the finite form suggests the Infinite. Dante comes to mind, whose great poem is one vast struggle of the limited symbol with the unlimited spirit which is symbolized. Thus the old Greek song becomes prophetic, foreshadowing the next great world-poem, or Literary Bible, written in the light of a new epoch.
Strong is the sympathy which one feels with the ancient singer in this attempt to probe the deepest mystery of our existence. He must have reflected long and profoundly upon such a theme, building in this Book a world of spirits, and laying down the lines of it for all futurity. Probably the most gigantic conception in literature: the universal Hero, ere he can round the complete cycle of experience, must pass through the Beyond and come back to the Present. It deepens the idea of the Return, till it embraces the totality of existence, by making it reach through the Underworld, which is thus a domain in the spiritual circumnavigation of the globe.
The structure of the Book is somewhat intricate and it requires quite a little search to find the lines upon which it is built. It has at the first glance a rather scattered, disorganized look; for this reason the analytic critics have fallen upon it in particular, and have sought to tear it into fragments. It is possible that some few lines may have been interpolated, but it remains an organic whole, and the final insight into it comes from viewing it in its total constructive movement.
As the Book is an effort to make a bridge between the sensible and supersensible realms, manifestly this separation into two realms will constitute the fundamental division. The diremption into soul and body, into life and death, runs through the entire narrative, also that into men and women; but the main distinction is into Past and Present. The sensible world when canceled becomes Past, the distant in Time and possibly in Space; this Past through its characters, its spirits, is made to communicate with the Present.
Moreover the Past has its distinctions. To the Greek mind of Homer's age, specially in Phæacia, the Trojan War is the grand central fact of the aforetime; thus the Past divides into the Pre-Trojan, Trojan, and immediate Past, in the Book before us. A complete sweep down into the Now is given—the sweep of the supersensible. Also the Present has two representatives: Ulysses along with his companions, and the Phæacians.
In the Past, therefore, is arranged a long gallery of souls speaking to the Present, which listens and also has its communication. The problem now is to get a structural form which will hold the idea. Let the following scheme be sent in advance, which scheme, however, can only be verified or understood at the close of the Book on a careful review.
I. The first great communication of the dead and past to the living and present, by voice and by vision; some speak, others are only seen.
1. The present and living element is made up of Ulysses and his companions who are invoking by their rites and prayers the souls of the Underworld. The companion Elpenor dead, but not yet buried, forms the transition between the Present and Past.
2. The past and dead element, Pre-Trojan, is called up in two general forms: the ancient seer Tiresias who is both Past and Future through his mind, and, secondly, the souls of Famous Women, who pass in review before the Present. The hint of a world-justice runs through both the prophecies of the seer and the destinies of some of these women.
II. The second grand communication of the dead and past, now Trojan—to the living and present, now Phæacian prominently, given by voice and vision.
1. The Present is here not only Ulysses far off in Hades, but the Phæacians in their actual sensible world. The latter demand again the grand background and presupposition of their present life—the Trojan epoch represented in its great spirits.
2. The Past, Trojan, in three typical Greek heroes, Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax. The three typical Greek women of the Trojan epoch are also mentioned. An implicit idea of punishment, or of heroic limitation brought home to the hero, is traceable in this portion.
III. The idea of a world-justice with its universal judgment, hitherto only implied, now becomes explicit in Hades and organizes itself, showing (1) the judge, Minos, (2) the culprits in four condemned ones, (3) the saved one, Hercules, who rises out of Hades through the deed. By implication so does the living Ulysses—hence the journey is at an end, Hades is conquered.
I.
Ulysses follows the direction of Circe, indeed he is propelled by the wind which she sends, to the "confines of the Ocean stream," to the limits of this terrestrial Upperworld. Here is the land of the Cimmerians, "hid in fog and in cloud," which veils the realm of the dead; here the sun sends no beam, either rising or setting. Again it is possible that the poet may have heard some dim account of the regions of the extreme North. But the significance of the Cimmerians is to shadow forth the dark border-land between life and death, which is here that between the limited and the unlimited. We see the strong attempt of the poet to get beyond limitation in its twofold appearance: first he will transcend the external boundary of the Homeric horizon, that of the sea stretching far to the westward; still more emphatic is his effort to transcend the limits of finite thinking and to reach an infinite realm, which is the goal of the spirit. He sweeps out of sensuous space, yet the poetic imagination has to remain in space after all, though it be a new space of its own creation. In like manner, he has to give the disembodied souls some finite nourishment in the shape of food and blood, in order that they become real. We feel in these dark Cimmerian limits his wrestle to pass over to the supersensible by thought.
I. The Present is represented by Ulysses and his companions, who now perform the rites consisting of a sacrifice and prayer to "the nations of the dead." We may find in the libation of "mingled honey, sweet wine, and water," a suggestion of the tissues and fluids of the body, while the blood of the sacrificed animals hints the principle of vitality. When the disembodied spirit tastes these elements, it gets a kind of body again, sufficient at least to be able to speak. That the sheep must be black is curiously symbolical, hinting the harmony expressed in the color of the animal and of Hades.
The souls "came thronging out of Erebus," eager to communicate. This aspiration must thus be their general condition; they wish to hear from us as much as we wish to hear from them. Hence there must be a selection, which involves a new rite, the flaying and the burning of the carcasses of the animals along with "prayer to Pluto and Proserpine" king and queen of the Underworld. Yet this choice requires activity from the hero, who has to draw his sword and keep off the crowd of spirits, till the right one comes, the Theban seer Tiresias.
Thus is the Past linked into the Present, which to receive the communications of the departed by means of a ritual, in whose symbolism we see the effort of the living to know the Beyond. Now occurs a curious incident: Ulysses beholds his companion Elpenor, dead, yet unburned, and hears his first message. This soul can still speak, and be seen; it hovers half way between the two worlds, having still a material phase of the body which has not yet been burnt. Elpenor tells the nature of his death: "some deity and too much wine" did the thing—a combination which is usually effective in Homer. An unhappy condition, suspended between matter and spirit; he begs that it be ended. But the poor fellow has another request which shows the longing of the humblest Greek—the longing for the immortality of fame. "Make a tomb beside the seashore for me, an unfortunate man, of whom posterity may hear." Thus he too will live in the mouths of men; wherein we catch possibly a gleam of Homer himself, who has certainly erected an imperishable monument to Elpenor, voicing the aspiration of the soul even in Hades.
It is the hint of a deep maternal instinct that Anticleia, "my mother deceased" comes at once to the blood and wishes communication. But Ulysses must first hear Tiresias, the strongest ties of Family are subordinate to the great purpose. Surely all are now ready to listen to the Past with its message; here comes its spirit, voiced with a fresh power.
II. We have just had the Present, and in the case of Elpenor, the immediate Past, which is not yet wholly gone. Next we take a leap to the Past of long ago, to the Pre-Trojan time, whose spirits will appear. Two sets of them, divided according to sex into man and woman, we behold. But the man here is the prophet, hence what he says belongs to the Future, into which Ulysses now gets a glimpse.
Thus both Future and Past are given their place in the supersensible realm, both being abstractions from the Present, which is the reality, the world of the senses. Yet that which is abiding and eternal knows not Past, Present, or Future, or knows them all equally, having that which is common to them all, being indeed the principle of them all. In a sense we may say that Tiresias is Past, Present and Future, he is the voice of the Past speaking in the Present foretelling the Future. Then the Famous Women come forth, whose fame causes them to appear now and to be recorded. Thus the poet takes the two ancient sets and suggests that which underlies them both and makes them ever present.
1. Tiresias, though he spans the three dimensions of Time, is essentially the prophet, and so his stress is upon the Future. His body has been long dead, but his mind is left in its untrammeled activity; he may be considered as the purest essence of spirit. No senses obstruct his vision, he sees the eternal and unchangeable law; yet he must throw it into images and apply it to special cases. What a conception for a primitive poet! We feel in this figure of Tiresias that Homer himself is prophetic, foreshadowing the pure ideas or archetypal forms of Plato, and that he, in his struggle for adequate expression of thought, is calling for, and in fact calling forth, Greek philosophy.
Tiresias speaks at first without drinking of the blood, yet he has to drink of it to tell his prophecy. This little contradiction is not vital, let it not trouble us. The prophetic announcement to Ulysses includes four special cases. First, the Hero must have his struggle with Neptune on his way homeward, the God will avenge the blinding of his son, though that blinding had to take place; every man who overcomes a great power, even a natural power, will get the backstroke of his own deed. The very ship of Ulysses, which defies Neptune, exposes itself to a conflict which it might avoid, did it not undertake to master the God's element; such is the penalty of all victory. Secondly, he must keep down appetite, particularly at the Trinacrian Isle, and not slay the Oxen of the Sun, else the penalty will follow there too. Not to keep down passion and appetite is clearly to eat of those oxen in some way, which will be more carefully scrutinized hereafter. Then, thirdly, "thou shalt avenge the violent deeds of the Suitors, when thou hast returned home."
The common ground in these three cases of prophetic insight is retribution for the act done there above on earth. The penalty is as certain in the future as it has been in the past; violation brings punishment. Ulysses has had that experience often; note it is told him, or, if you wish to think the matter in that way, he tells it to himself for his own future experience. So the Prophet sees the universal law, he knows what abides in all the fleeting appearances of the world. Ulysses also, were he to descend into the depths of his own soul, would find the same prophecy; indeed this descent into Hades is also the descent into himself, as well as into the outer supersensible world. The hero in his intellectual journey has gone far, we can now behold him near the eternal verities.
But the fourth statement of the Prophet is here too, it is the word of promise. When this last conflict with the Suitors is over, then be reconciled with Neptune by a fitting sacrifice (which means that Ulysses should quit the watery element) give hecatombs to the Immortals, recognize them and their rule. Then serene old age will take thee off remote from the sea and all struggle, among a happy people, whom thou hast made happy. Such is the promise, extending quite beyond the limits of the Odyssey, which ends not at the death of Ulysses, but with his last conflict. So there is hope amid all this struggle, hope of becoming the complete man, who has reached harmony with the Gods, with his people, and with himself.
In such fashion Tiresias calls into vision the course of the entire poem, and reaches even beyond it, embracing the whole life of Ulysses, till he too descends for the last time into Hades. Verily the prophet is Past, Present and Future; his true abode is in the realm of pure spirit. He foretells, but the Future is prefigured as the outcome of what is universal; it must be so and not otherwise, else is the world a chaos. Thus Tiresias is put at the beginning, he being the typical person of this Underworld, in which the deities, Pluto and Proserpine, do not appear, being held in the dark background. The prophet telling his prophecy is the very Figure of the Supersensible.
But again let us be reminded that these hints of pure universal thought are borne to us in images, in particular shapes, whereby ambiguity rises, and meaning runs double. Nevertheless the true-hearted reader will go down with the old poet into Hades, and there behold in these images things which lie beyond the senses; he will behold the very spirit of ancient Tiresias.
2. Having seen the Man, Ulysses is next to behold the Famous Women of the Past, which is still Pre-Trojan with one exception. Examples from all the relations of the woman in the Family are given: the mother, the maiden, the wife. Tragic and happy instances are brought before us—ideal forms taken from the ancient Mythus of Hellas, and begetting in later times a prodigious number of works of art, in poetry, sculpture and painting. Here they are put into Hades, the place of the spirit unbodied, which will hereafter take on body in the drama, in the statue, and in the picture. Ulysses witnesses these shapes in advance, and gives their idea, which is to be realized in the coming ages of Hellas. Truly is Homer the primordial Hellenic seer, he who sees and sets forth the archetypal forms of the future of his race. Undoubtedly he drew from mythical stores already existent, but he ordered them, shaped them anew, and breathed into them the breath of eternal life. No wonder the universal Greek hero must go to Hades to see these forms of the Past which are, however, to live afresh in the Future.
We must also consider the audience of the singer. Who are present? First of all, Arete, mother and wife, together with Nausicaa, the maiden, to these he is specially singing. Their importance in the Phæacian world has been already indicated; naturally they wish to hear of woman in the Family. Accordingly this portion of the Eleventh Book, the catalogue of Famous Women, or Homer's "Legende of Good Women," is organized after the relations of domestic life. Three classes are suggested: the mothers; the maidens and the wives, of the grey aforetime.
But by all means the glory and the stress of the song are given to the mothers; the other two classes are very briefly dismissed, as being essentially described in the first. Arete is indeed the grand center and end of womanhood; Nausicaa as maid is but a transitory phase, and as wife she is to become mother, and then take her supreme place in the chain which upholds and perpetuates humanity. So the old Greek poet must have thought; was he very far from right?
//a.// The first of these mothers to appear is Anticleia, the mother of the Hero Ulysses, of the Hero who has made this remarkable voyage to the world beyond, of its kind the supreme heroic act done by a living mortal. She, however, belongs to the immediate Past, and thus corresponds to the man, Elpenor, in the previous section, though she of course has been buried. Note, therefore, this mark of symmetrical structure.
It is the beautiful instinct of the mother, that she flits in the ghost-world to her son at once, when the chance is afforded. She has already appeared, even before Tiresias came; now she is the first after that prophet, who gives directions to Ulysses supplicating: "Tell me, O Prophet, how shall my mother recognize me as her son." Ulysses learns much from her about Ithaca, especially about his father Laertes, who now never goes to the town but stays in the fields, "with a great sorrow in his heart, desiring thy return, while old age weighs hard upon him." Such is the father, still living, whom Ulysses may yet see.
The mother died from longing for her son and "the memory of his gentleness;" still her longing brings her to him in the life beyond. The great revelation is concerning the future state: the soul is immortal, this fact Ulysses is to tell in Phæacia. The strong desire to behold the loved ones who have passed away is indeed the impulse; but they too return, though insubstantial. It is the primary groundwork of faith in immortality—this feeling of the domestic relation affirming that it is eternal and cannot be broken by death. Still the mother is but a ghost and cannot be embraced; this the son has to accept, though he would have her in flesh and blood.
//b.// At once there is the transition to the famous mothers of legend—"wives and daughters of Heroes" says the poet, with, an eye to his audience, which has men in it also, so he does not mention mothers, though they are the burden of his strain. Here follows a Catalogue of Women, giving them their due place in the genealogy and destiny of distinguished houses. Three groups of these mothers we may distinguish.
First is the group of mortal women who were embraced by some god, and gave birth to heroic offspring. Tyro met Neptune and brought forth Pelias and Neleus; from the latter sprang Nestor who connects the Pre-Trojan and Trojan ages, since he appears both in the Iliad and Odyssey. In the Third Book of the latter epos we have already seen Nestor sacrificing to his divine ancestor; so the present passage has its pertinence to the total poem. In the same group are Antiope and Alemena, the latter of whom was the mother of Hercules, whose father was Zeus. At the end of the present Book, Hercules himself will appear as the supreme example of the Greek Hero.
Such were three typical mothers, famed in Hellenic legend, being the women who bore Heroes, the offspring of Gods. It was deemed the highest function of the Greek mother to bring forth a Hero, the child of divinity, with an immortal portion. This view, in its purely sensuous aspect, is dubious enough to the modern ethical mind, still its real meaning must be looked at with sympathetic vision, which sees therein the divine descent into mortal flesh, a mythical utterance of the faith that the great man is the son of God. The Christian view universalizes this conception, holding that all men, and not merely the Heroes, are God's children. Yet the Christian world has also retained its faith in the Son of God, son by a mortal woman, which faith the old Greek had too, and expressed in his way. Thus we may extract out of this Homeric account something more than divine license; it has indeed a wonderful pre-Christian suggestiveness, and gives a glimpse of the movement of Universal Religion.
The second group of famous mothers are mortal women with mortal husbands. The wedded wife brings up now the domestic relation, which is passingly introduced by the spouse of Hercules, Megara, who is simply mentioned. The two chief women of the group are Epicaste and Chloris, the one supremely tragic in her motherhood, the other reasonably happy. Epicaste is mother of Œdipus, who marries her after slaying his own father who is her husband, both deeds being done in ignorance; thus the closest domestic ties are whelmed into guilt and tragedy, whereof Sophocles has made a world-famous use, in his two dramas on the subject of Œdipus. Chloris is, on the contrary, the mother of Nestor, not a tragic character by any means; also she is mother of Pero, the beautiful maiden, "whom all the people around were wooing," and who was happily won by an heroic deed. Mark the interest of those listeners, Arete and Nausicaa, mother and daughter in this tale. Thus the two women, Epicaste and Chloris, have opposite destinies, and show the sharp contrasts of life.
In the third group are two mothers who have a double honor; each has borne twins and heroic ones at that; moreover the Gods again enter the domestic relation of mortals. Leda's sons are "Castor the horseman, and Pollux the boxer," the first being mortal, the second immortal, and reputed son of Zeus, who permitted the immortal brother to share his immortality with his mortal brother; hence "every other day they both are alive, and every other day they both are dead." Again the divine gives itself to the human in the spirit of true brotherhood; the son of Zeus takes on the ills of mortality through fraternal love. The second mother of this group is Iphidameia, who declares Neptune to be the father of Otus and Ephialtes, of her monstrous twins, "who at the age of nine years threatened war upon the Gods," and proposed to storm heaven by piling Mount Ossa upon Olympus and Pelion on top of that. Such is the contrast: one set of sons is noble, worthy, and "receive honor like unto Gods;" the other set is defiant, assailing the divine order, and are slain by the arrows of Apollo "ere the down blossomed beneath their temples, and covered their chins with tender furze."
//c.// Such, then, is the account of the mothers, the women who have borne children famous in legend. They have taken up nearly the whole of the present catalogue; the wives and maidens now come in for brief mention, forming two groups, three persons to the group. The poet is impartial, he introduces the faithful woman, Ariadne, and the faithless woman, Eriphyle; in the one case man is the betrayer of woman, and in the other case woman is the betrayer of man. Possibly in Ariadne may be a little hint for Nausicaa, saying, Beware.
But the singer is tired and sleepy; moreover has he not told the essence of the matter in this portion of his song? He at once dismisses any further account of famous women, "wives and daughters of Heroes," whom he saw in Hades. Nausicaa and Arete have had their share, wonderful has been their interest in the struggles and sufferings of their sex; they feel in themselves the possibility of such conflicts. These ideal shapes of the olden time, product of the myth-making Imagination, are types, are the ghosts of Hades which Ulysses must see and know, ere he return to the Upperworld.
II.
We now reach the second main division of the Book, which is marked by the introduction of the audience, the Phæacians, "who were held rapt with the charm" of the story. Observe, too, that the palace was not brilliantly illuminated, but shadowy—fit environment for fairy tales (line 334). This main division is again separated into two subordinate divisions which embrace the Present and the Past, and thus is in structure homologous with the preceding main division. Yet both the Present and the Past are not now the same as the previous Present and Past.
I. First of the hearers speaks out the mother, wife of Alcinous, Arete, in response to the compliment of Ulysses in singing of the Famous Women of Greek legend. "Phæacians, how does this man seem to you now in form, stature, and mind?" Very different does he seem from what he once did; thus she gently apologizes for her previous treatment. She appreciates the Hero; moreover, she asks that the high guest receive hospitable gifts without stint; "for much wealth lies in your halls by the bounty of the Gods."
Having thus heard from the woman, we now are to hear from the man, the representative Phæacian, king Alcinous. In the first portion of the Book Ulysses and his companions were the Present to which the Past appeared in Hades. Now the Phæacians are introduced as the Present, which is to hear the voice of the Past from Hades. Moreover, the Past is not the Pre-Trojan, but the Trojan Past, which we have already (in the Eighth Book) seen to be dear to the Phæacian heart. It is no wonder, then, that Alcinous, as soon as he can urge his request, calls for a song about the Greco-Trojan Heroes in the Underworld. "Tell us if thou didst see any of those godlike Argives who followed thee to Troy and there met their fate." Not the mother of the Hero, but the Hero himself is now to be called up; the man wishes to listen to the deeds of man. Demodocus, the Phæacian bard, always sung of some phase of the Trojan struggle, which was the popular subject of story and song in Phæacia. Thus we note again how the famous Past, stored away in Hades, is made to flow into the Present, and to contribute an ideal of heroism, and a warning also, to the living.
A touch of Homer as literary critic we should not pass by, as he does not often take that part. Alcinous, praising the tale of Ulysses, says: "Form of words is thine, and a noble meaning, and a mythus, as when a minstrel sings." Three important qualities of poetry are therein set forth: beauty of language, nobleness of content, and the fable in its totality—all of which belong to the preceding narrative. Moreover, Alcinous draws a sharp contrast with that other sort of storytellers, mere liars, "of whom the dark earth feeds many," who go about "fabricating lies, out of which we, looking into them, can get nothing," can draw no meaning. Such at least is our view of this passage (line 366) about which there is a difference of opinion among commentators. At any rate we catch a glimpse of Homeric literary criticism in Homer, who states the requirements of good poetry, and contrasts them with the "liar" or fabricator of yarns, which are certainly devoid of the noble spirit or worthy content.
So Ulysses is asked to begin his Trojan story, always more interesting than that catalogue of women, at which everybody began to yawn. "It is not yet time to go to sleep," cries Alcinous, "the night here is unspeakably long," and still further, "I would hold out till daylight," listening to thy story.
II. The Trojan Past, then, is the theme; we are to behold the ghosts of those who were famous during the War at Troy, and immediately afterwards, both men and women. But the women are not here given a special portion to themselves, but are woven into the general narrative. This part of the Book is sung for the men, the opposite sex is withdrawn into the background; still they will be duly mentioned, since the whole conflict is over a woman. Moreover Alcinous wishes to hear what the heroic men are doing in the future world, whither too he must go.
1. Three Greek shades will pass before us, Agamemnon the Leader, Achilles the Hero, and Ajax the man of strength. We shall find them placed in a certain contrast with Ulysses, who is shown greater than any of the three. All have been overwhelmed by fate through their own folly or weakness, while Ulysses still lives, the master of fate, and beholds them in Hades. Such is his triumph, which the shades themselves declare.
First comes the soul of Agamemnon, the great King, who has the bond of authority in common with King Alcinous. He tells the story of his own murder in considerable detail, which story has been given twice already in the poem. A most impressive event to the Greek mind of Homer's age; the greatest of the rulers is wretchedly cut off from his Return by his wife Clytæmnestra and her paramour Ægisthus. This Return is what points the contrast between him and Ulysses; moreover the contrast is also drawn between the wives of the two men, one the faithless and the other the faithful woman. Still the wrong of Agamemnon is suggested by himself: "I heard the piteous voice of Cassandra, whom Clytæmnestra slew, crying for me; I, though dying, grasped for my sword," to no purpose, however. Surely the wife had her wrongs as well as the husband, out of which double guilt Æschylus will construct his mighty tragedy.
Next after the Leader, in due order comes the Hero of the Greeks before Troy, Achilles. He recognizes this descent to Hades as the greatest deed of Ulysses: "What greater deed, rash man, wilt thou plan next?" It is verily the most wonderful part of his Return, overtopping anything that Achilles did. Still Ulysses pays him the meed of heroship: "We Argives honored thee as a God, while living, and now thou art powerful among the dead; therefore do not sorrow at thy death, O Achilles." But he answers that he would rather be the humblest day laborer to a poor man than to be King of the Shades. It is not his world, he longs for the realm of heroic action, here he has no vocation. No Troy to be taken, no Hector to be vanquished down in Hades; the heroic man must sigh for the Upper World with its activity. Some consolation he gets from the account which Ulysses gives of his son, who was in the Wooden Horse and distinguished himself at Troy for bravery. Thus the father lives in his son and "strides off delighted through the meadow of asphodel." This plant is usually regarded as the
Asphodelus ramosus, a kind of lily with an edible tuberous root, still planted, it is said, on graves, to furnish to the dead some food which grows in the earth. This ancient custom has been supposed to be the source of the legend of its being transplanted to Hades.
The third heroic shade is that of Ajax, son of Telamon, with whom Ulysses had a rivalry, the story of which runs as follows: After the death of Achilles, Thetis his mother offered his arms, the work of Vulcan, to the worthiest of the remaining Greek heroes. The contest lay between Ajax and Ulysses. Agamemnon would not decide, but referred the question to the Trojan prisoners present, asking them which of the two contestants had done them the most injury. They said Ulysses. Whereupon Ajax went crazy and slew himself. Now he appears in Hades, still unreconciled; it is really the most wretched lot of all. Ulysses here speaks the reconciling word, growing tender and imploring; but the hero "answered not, darting away with the other shades into Erebos." Wherein we may well see how much greater in spirit Ulysses was than his big muscular rival. He has reached in this respect the true outcome of life's discipline: to have no revenges, and to speak the word of reconciliation.
In fact the superiority of Ulysses over all these heroes is clearly manifested. He brings no captive woman home to his domestic hearth, and hence he has a right to count upon Penelope's fidelity, though certainly he shows himself no saint in his wanderings. Moreover Agamemnon lacked foresight in his Return, which Ulysses will exhibit in a supreme degree when he first touches his native soil. The second hero, Achilles, could not conquer Troy, then he could not conquer Hades; yet both are conquered by Ulysses who is thus the greater. Finally unreconciled Ajax—all are limited, incomplete, in contrast with the complete, limit-removing Hero, who has just removed even the limit of Death in the only way possible. Verily to him they have become shadows, that whole heroic world before Troy is now put by him into Hades.
Thus we see that, while the characters belong to the Trojan time, there is a movement out of that period, it is transcended. The background here is the Iliad, yet the incidents are taken from the Trojan war after the action of the Iliad is brought to a close. The fates of the three great heroes of that poem are not given in the poem; here they are given with a tragic emphasis. Thus the Odyssey carries forward the Iliad, supplements it, and forms its real conclusion, both being in fact one poem. In the full blaze of the glory of Achilles the Iliad ends; but he cannot take Troy; and still less, after his death, can Ajax; the divine armor must go to Ulysses who has brain, then can the city be taken. Even the son of Achilles will fight under Ulysses and enter the Trojan Horse, the work of Pallas, of Intelligence. Thus we catch here as in other places, glimpses of the unity of both the Iliad and the Odyssey, the great work reflecting the one national consciousness of Hellas in its complete cycle.
2. We should not fail to cast a separate glance at the three typical women of the Trojan epoch—Helen, Clytemnestra, Penelope—in contrast with the three heroes already described. They are all mentioned and compared in the speech of Agamemnon, but do not form an organic part of the Book by themselves, as do the Pre-Trojan women. They are wives, and wifehood not motherhood, as in the previous case, is the phase of the domestic relation which is the theme of song and struggle in their lives. Possible its present importance is the reason why wifehood was dismissed with so brief mention in the portion concerning the famous mothers.
Note, then, the gradation of the three: Clytemnestra is the fallen unrestored; Helen is the fallen restored; Penelope is the unfallen, who keeps a home for her absent husband during twenty years. The tragic, the mediated, the pure; or, to take a later analogy, the infernal, the purgatorial, the paradisaical; such are the three typical female characters of Homer, ranging from guilt, through repentance, to innocence. In this framework lies quite all possible characterization. Naturally Agamemnon shows a bitter vein of misogyny, with only his wife in view; but he takes it all back when he thinks of Penelope.
Two of these women, Helen and Penelope, are still alive and do not belong to the realm of Hades; the ghost of the third, Clytemnestra, does not appear. Still all three are mentioned here in the text, and stand in relation to the three Greco-Trojan heroes, none of whom were restored through the Return. Ulysses, however, is the real solution of them all; he spans all their inadequacies, masters their fates, and reaches home. The three Greek heroes above mentioned fell by the way in the course of the grand problem, and are seen in Hades, complaining, unhappy, showing their full limitation. To a degree they are suffering the penalty of their own shortcomings: which fact prepares us for the third and last phase of the Underworld.
III.
We now come to a new division of the Book, which forms in itself a complete little poem, yet is derived directly from the preceding divisions, and is harmonious with them in thought, development and structure. Undoubtedly there is a difference here, but the difference means not absolute separation but a connected unfolding of parts. The present division has been assailed more violently by the critics and torn out of its place with greater unanimity than any other portion of the Odyssey, with the possible exception of portions of the last two Books. Let us confess, however, that our tendency is to reconcile, if this can be done, the discords and to knit together the rent garment, by threads not always on the surface, but very real to any eye which is willing to look underneath.
Unquestionably a punitive element enters now, there is guilt and punishment in Hades. But who has not felt that in the preceding division the three Greek heroes were under the inevitable penalty of their own deeds? Very natural is the transition. Indeed the three divisions of the Book show a gradual movement toward a penal view of Hades: the first (Tiresias and the Famous Mothers) has a slight suggestion of the penalty; the second (the three Greek heroes) has the idea of punishment implicit everywhere; the third makes the idea explicit and organizes itself upon the same.
Again, there is a change of style, which now is strongly tinged with the Orphic, initiatory, symbolical manner, in marked contrast with the clear-flowing narrative which has just preceded. But we noticed the same characteristic before, in the first division of the Book, where the sacrificial rites and the part of Tiresias were given. Homer has many styles, not each style has many Homers, nor is there a new Homer needed for each change of style. Note the great varieties of style in the two Parts of Faust by way of illustration. Moreover we here pass into the dim Pre-Trojan epoch, as was the case in the first division, but guilt is now flung into that time and with it the penalty. Hoary, gigantic shapes of eld do wrong to the Gods, and are put into the punitory Hades. Thus this third division returns to the first with its own new principle. In truth one may say that Homer herein shows features akin to Hesiod; well, Homer is Hesiod and many more.
We hold, therefore, that this third division is an organic part of the Book both in idea and structure; it carries to completion the thought of a world-justice, which Tiresias has already declared in his speech to Ulysses, and which is exemplified in the three Greek heroes. Thus it unfolds what lies in the first two divisions, and links them together in a new and deeper thought. For this realm of Hades, hitherto a distracted spot without any apparent order, now gets organized with its own Justiciary and its own Law. Yet here too we shall find a solution and a parallel; just as Ulysses was the true hero at Troy, standing above all the others and solving their problems, so Hercules is the great Pre-Trojan hero, saving himself at last and rising to Olympus. Finally the two careers of Ulysses and Hercules are affirmed to be identical. This division, therefore, falls of itself into three portions: (1) the Judge, (2) the condemned, (3) the redeemed. Thus the whole forms a complete little cycle within itself.
1. Minos, the Judge, was the ancient king of Crete, where he was lawgiver and suppressed wrong-doing on sea and land. Here he continues his vocation, which demands the assigning of the just penalty to the guilty. He is manifestly the type of Justice, both punishing and rewarding; as punisher he has been transferred by Dante to the Inferno. Later Greek legend united with him two other judges, his brothers, Rhadamanthys and Æacus.
2. We have next four instances of punishment, though this is apparently of different degrees. The wrong, however, is not stated except in the case of Tityos, which probably hints the general nature of the misdeeds of the three others. The poet takes for granted that his hearer could fill out each legend for himself. In every case there was evidently some violation done to the Gods, not to men—some crime against Olympus. The period is thrown back into the Pre-Trojan time, into the age of the demigods and of the free intercourse between mortals and immortals; thus it is parallel with the first division of the Book. But now judgment has entered the Houses of Hades along with the penalty.
The guilt of Orion is that of love between a mortal and a Goddess, Aurora, which violation was punished by the "soft bolts" of Artemis, protectress of chastity. This legend has already been alluded to by Calypso. (Book V. line 121.) Jealous are the Gods of that mortal man with whom a Goddess falls in love, and with good reason. Orion's punishment is an eternal chase, the hunter is compelled to hunt forever, repeating what he did in life. Perhaps not a heavy punishment for one who is fond of hunting; yet a tremendous burden, if never interrupted with rest; indeed it becomes a labor quite like the labor of Sisyphus, ever repeated. Of Tityos both the guilt and punishment are indicated; the legend is similar to and yet in contrast with that of Orion; in the one the Goddess approaches the mortal and in the other the mortal approaches the Goddess; hence, too, the severer punishment in the latter case. The second legend ought to be completed here by a fact derived from the story of Prometheus: the liver grows as fast as the vultures rend or consume it; thus again rises the idea of infinite repetition, now of suffering, not of action, for Orion is active.
The next two forms, Tantalus and Sisyphus, have also a kinship. Both had known secrets of the Gods and had betrayed them; Tantalus is also reported to have taken away nectar and ambrosia from the Olympian table after being a guest there; Sisyphus revealed to the river-god Asopus the secret that Zeus had spirited away the latter's daughter, Ægina. The penalty is that Tantalus remains perpetually hungry and thirsty, with sight of food and drink always before his eyes; he cannot reach them when he strives. The finite, with an infinite longing, cannot compass the infinite; the man loses it just when he grasps for it—a truly Greek penalty for a sin against the Greek world, which rests upon the happy harmonious unity of the spirit with the body and with nature. The Christian or Romantic longing and grasping for the Beyond is to the Greek soul a punishment of Hades. Tantalus with his hunger and thirst seems to represent more the striving of the intellect to attain the unattainable; while Sisyphus suggests the effort of the will—practical endeavor, the eternal routine of mechanical employment, which always has to begin over again. Etymology brings also a suggestion. Both names are reduplicated; in Tantalus is the root of the word which means to suffer; in Sisyphus, lurks the signification of craft; it hints the wise or crafty planner (sophos) who always pushes the act to a point where it undoes itself or must be done over again. Note the effect of this reduplication of the first syllables, which means repetition; over and over again, in an infinite series must the matter be gone through, in suffering and in doing; the very words are in labor.
Indeed this indicates the common element in these four punishments: the endless repetition of the struggle of finitude. The first two, Orion and Tityos, reached out for Goddesses, being mortals; the second two, still mortals, but in communion with deities, attempted to bring down divine secrets to earth; the one set strove to make the finite infinite, the other to make the infinite finite. Both were contrary to the nature of the Greek mind, which sought to keep the happy balance between the two sides, between body and spirit, between the temporal and eternal. Now the punishment of these people is to give them their infinite, but in the form of an infinite repetition of their finite act, which is just the spirit-crushing penalty. The power of these two types, Tantalus and Sisyphus, is shown by the fact that all ages since Homer have adopted them and wrought them over into many forms of art and poetry.
Here then is the unsolved problem of the Greek world, a problem which the Christian world has met and answered. Tantalus and Sisyphus are in pain and toil simply through themselves; man, however, must have the power to reach the apples, and roll the stone up hill, he must assert himself as limit-transcending, as infinite, for once and for all, and not caught in an infinite series, which is a veritable mill of the Gods, that is, of the Greek Gods. Now this strange fact comes to light: Homer, seer that he is, has a dim consciousness of this solution, and faintly but prophetically embodies it in a new figure, namely, that of Hercules, which we shall now consider.
3. The Homeric solution is to divide the man, or to double him, into his shade (eidolon) and his self. The former belongs to Hades and appears now; it is the finite Hercules with his striving and labors; he still has his bow and arrow, is ready to slay beasts, snakes, and birds. He is in quite the same punishment as Orion or even Sisyphus, the penalty of all finitude is upon him. Yet the other side is given, that of victory. "I, though the son of the highest God, Zeus, had to endure boundless tribulation." Strangely Christian does this sound. "I was put under service to a far inferior man to myself, who laid upon me bitter labors." The higher must serve and save the lower. "Then the mightiest labor I performed, I came down hither to Hades alive and dragged thence the dog Cerberus"—conquered the great terror of the Underworld. Thus Hercules has really transcended Hades, and so we read here that "he himself is among the immortal Gods, in bliss," that is, his infinite nature is there, while the finite part is still below in Hades. Such is the old poet's far-cast glance, reaching deep into the future and beyond the Greek world.
Still another significant word is spoken. "O Ulysses, unhappy man! Thou dost experience the same hard fate which I endured upon the earth." Thus does Hercules identify the career of Ulysses with his own—the same striving and suffering, and the same final victory, the peace of Olympus. Who cannot attain the latter is a Tantalus, seeking but never reaching the fruit. Such is the outcome and culmination of Hades; after Hercules has spoken, no further word is heard by Ulysses.
Dante, whose poem on so many lines grows out of this Eleventh Book, has also the same duplication of the person in his Paradise. The soul is in its special planet, Venus, Mars, etc., and also it is in the highest Heaven, enjoying the Vision of God. But Dante universalizes the Greek view, making it truly Christian; all men are children of God and can attain the seats of the Blessed, not merely the one man, the Hero Hercules. Still even here the inference is that Ulysses must also be transferred to Olympus, though no such declaration is made.
We hope the reader feels how inadequate Hades would be, and how incomplete the experience of Ulysses would be, if this last division of the Book were cut out. The wanderer has now gone through the total cycle of the Underworld, not only outwardly, but inwardly; he is just ready to step out of it, because he is beyond it in spirit. This last step is now to be given in Homeric fashion.
There is a danger at present rising strongly into consciousness, a danger inherent in this too-long contemplation of Hades; it is the danger of the Gorgon, the monster whose view turns the spectator into stone, taking away all sensation, emotion, life. The Greek sooner or later must quit Hades, and flee from its shapes; the supersensible world he must transfuse into the sensible, else the former will rush over into the fantastic, the horrible, the ugly. The Gorgon is down in Hades too, having been slain in the terrestrial Upperworld by a Greek Hero, Perseus, who slew the monster of the Orient which once guarded the fair Andromeda, a kind of Pre-Trojan Helen, chained in captivity, whom the heroic Hellenic soul came to release. Ulysses has now reached the Greek limit, Oriental phantasms will rise unless there be a speedy return to the reality, to the realm of sense. Hades has furnished its highest image in Hercules, beware of its worst. Already the Underworld has been in danger of running into the fantastic; then Beauty, the Hellenic ideal, would be lost. The figures of Homeric Hades hitherto have all been men and women, but the monsters are ready to come forth. So they did come forth in the later Greek world under the spur of Oriental influence; witness the Revelations of St. John in the Island of Patmos, joint product of Greek and Hebrew spirit, showing truly the dissolution of the Hellenic ideal.
Thus Ulysses, the supreme spiritual Hero of the Greeks, is shown running away from the Underworld, fearing to look upon coming shapes in Hades; about which fact two reflections can be made: first, Ulysses had to do this in order to remain a Greek; secondly, the poet clearly announces, in such an action, that there is another world lying beyond his world, that underneath the Greek Hades is another Hades, which threatens to rise into view. That Hades will burst up hereafter and become the Christian Hell. Ulysses confesses that there is a realm beyond him there, which he has not conquered, has not even dared to see, and thus he significantly points to the future. The Gorgon is a shadowy anticipation of fiends, of devils, of the infernal monsters of the Romantic Netherworld of Dante, who is to be the next great Hero, passing into the dark world beyond with a new light. To be sure, Virgil sends Æneas into Orcus, and makes such descent a Book of his poem, but Virgil too speaks of a realm beyond his Orcus, which his Hero does not enter. Thus the Roman poet shows substantially the same limits as the Greek poet, whom he has for the most part copied.
Here again we find a conception embodied in song, on which the human mind has moved through many ages. Poetry, Art, Theology, have taken from this Eleventh Book of the Odyssey many creative hints: it is truly an epoch-making work in the history of man's spiritual unfolding. As already stated, Virgil repeats it, Dante grows out of it and makes it over, in accord with the spirit of Christendom, which has many a root running back to this Homeric Hades. The present Book may be called the Greek prophecy heralding medieval Art, and shows old Homer foreshadowing Romanticism. Did he not see the limits of his world? The particular connecting link between two Literary Bibles, Homer and Dante, is just the present Book, even if Dante never read Homer. For the study of Universal Literature it is, therefore, a specially important document. A many-sided production also; its poetic, its religious, its artistic, its philosophical sides are all present in full activity and put to test the spiritual alertness of the reader.
Wherein does the negative nature of Hades lie? The question rises from the fact that Ulysses in Fableland has been declared to be passing through various negative phases; such is the expression often used already. First of all, it is a negating of the sensible world and a going into the supersensible, a seeking of the spirit without the body. Hades was quite the opposite of the Greek mind, which demanded embodiment, and hence was inherently artistic. Still the Greek mind created a Hades, and finally went over into the pure Idea in Plato and the philosophers. Even Homer seems to feel that philosophy is at last a needful discipline, that the abstract thought must be taken from its concrete wrappage, that the Universal must be freed from the Particular.
Ulysses has to pass through Hades in order to complete the cycle of his experience, and realize what is beyond the senses; he must know the spirit apart from the body in this life; he must see the Past as it is in its great disembodied minds; he must behold the famous heroes of Troy as they are in reality, not as they are in the glamor of poetry. As tested by their life and deeds he sees them below in the Netherworld; Greek souls stark naked in Hades he beholds, and then rises out of it.
//Retrospect.// Very important, in our judgment, is this Eleventh Book; it is really one of the sacred documents of Universal Religion, as well as a great creative idea in the World's Literature, But it has fared badly as to its friends; for interpretation it usually falls into the hands of the negative, merely critical Understanding, which has the unfortunate habit of turning Professor of Greek, commentator on Homer, and philologer generally. In order to grasp and connect its leading points more completely, we shall look back at the thought and structure of the Book once more.
First of all, there must be felt and seen the necessity of taking this journey to the Netherworld on the part of the Hero, the complete person of his time. The very conception of the universal man must include the visit to the realm of the Idea; the passage from the sensible to the supersensible, is the deepest need of his soul. Homer can give this spiritual movement only in a mythical form, hence it occurs here in Fableland. So Ulysses has to make the transition from Circe to Hades.
Having the entire Book now before us, we observe that it shows a threefold movement; that is, one movement with three leading stages. These take the shape of three communications from the realm of the dead, which includes all past Time, imparted to the living who are now present, namely the Phæacians, through Ulysses, who has had this cycle of experiences and now sings them. But that which is true in past Time must be seen to be true in all Time—Past, Present and Future. So there unfolds the idea of a World-Order, foretold at first by the Pre-Trojan prophet Tiresias, illustrated by the fate of the three Greco-Trojan heroes in Hades, and finally realized and active in the realm of Minos. The whole has, therefore, the secret underlying thought of a world-tribunal, which works through all human history; it is a kind of Last Judgment to which the deeds of men are appealed for final adjudication; it most profoundly suggests in its movement the ethical order of the Universe. Let us briefly sum up its three stages.
I. The first communication from the Hades of the Past to the real world of the Present through Ulysses is that of the prophet Tiresias, "whose mind is whole;" he may be called the pure Idea (as subjective) uttering the Idea (as objective, as principle of the world). For he beholds the truth of things as they are in their essence, he himself being the impersonation of Truth. Thus he looks through the Future and foretells; he knows that Neptune will avenge the deed done to Polyphemus, that the Oxen of the Sun constitute a great danger, that Ulysses will punish the Suitors; then he prophesies the peace and final harmony of Ulysses after his long conflict and separation from home, country, and the Divine Order.
So speaks Tiresias and is therein a kind of world-judge, prefiguring Minos of the last stage of Hades. For he prophesies according to the law of the deed; what you have done is sure to return upon you, be it good or bad. Hence he can tell what will happen to Ulysses for acts already committed (the wrath of Neptune); he can give a warning concerning things which Ulysses may do (the slaying of the Oxen of the Sun); he can affirm the certain punishment of guilt (the case of the Suitors). Thus the prophet voices a world-justice, which inflicts the penalty unflinchingly, but also bears within itself reconciliation. Such is the prophetic Idea, appearing in advance, not yet ordered and realized.
II. The second communication from Hades to the Phæacians through Ulysses comes from the Trojan Past, and is voiced by the three most famous heroes of the Iliad—Achilles, Agamemnon, Ajax (the last one, however, does not speak, but acts out his communication). All three are tragic characters, are the victims of fate, that is, of their own fatal limitations. Such is the world-judgment here, it is really pronounced by themselves upon themselves in each case. Agamemnon states his own guilt, Achilles shows his limit by his complaint, Ajax does not need to speak. Ulysses simply listens and sees; now he tells the story of Troy and its heroes anew to the Present, indicating how they have put themselves into Hades.
The intimate connection between this part and the preceding part of Tiresias is plain. The prophet has forecast the law which rules these heroes also; they are truly illustrations of his prophecy, or of its underlying principle. They expose the heroic insufficiency of that Trojan time; they are the negative, tragic phases of greatness, which have also to submit at last to the law of compensation. Thus is the illustrious Trojan epoch judged and sent down below; but mark! Ulysses, of that same epoch, survives, is present, and is singing the judgment.
III. The world-justice which ideally underlies the prophecies of Tiresias in the first part of the present Book, and which is the secret moving principle in the fates of the three Greco-Trojan heroes in the second part, becomes explicit, recognized and ordered in the third part, which is now to be given. There is first the world-judge, Minos, famous for his justice during life, distributing both penalties and rewards in the Netherworld. Secondly we see the condemned ones, Orion, Tityus, Tantalus, Sisyphus (mark the significant reduplication of the root in the names of each one of them). All four are represented as having wronged the Gods in some way; they have violated the Divine Order, according to the Greek conception; hence the tribunal of world-justice, now organized and at work in Hades, takes them in hand. To be sure, the text of Homer does not say that they were sentenced by the decree of Minos, but such is certainly the implication. These four had a common sin, to the Greek mind: they sought to transcend the limit which the Gods have placed upon finite man, hence the image of their penalty lies in the endless repetition of their acts, which is also suggested in their names. Orion has always to pursue and slay the wild beast, never getting the work done; the liver of Tityus grows and swells afresh (root from
tu, meaning to swell, Latin //tumor//) though being consumed by the vultures; in like manner Tantalus and Sisyphus have ever-repeated labors. Such is the glimpse here of the Greek Hades of eternal punishment. Now comes the curious fact that the heroic man through labor and suffering can rise out of this Hades of finitude; he can satisfy the demand of world-justice, and rise to Olympus among the blessed Gods. Such was Hercules, and such is to be Ulysses, who now having seen the culmination of Hades and heard its prophecy of his future state, leaves it and returns to the Upperworld.
Undoubtedly these thoughts of future punishment and reward are very dim and shadowy in Homer; still they are here in this Eleventh Book of the Odyssey, and find their true interpretation in that view of the life to come into which they unfolded with time. The best commentary on this Book, we repeat, is the //Divine Comedy// of Dante, the grand poem of futurity, which carries out to fullness the order, of which we here catch a little glimpse.
''BOOK TWELFTH.''
Ulysses flees from the Underworld, there is something down there which he feels he cannot master, something which he has not seen but of which he has a vague presentiment. The Gorgon stands for much, dimly foreshadowing a Hades beyond or below the Greek Hades, with which, however, it is not his call to grapple. Hence the poet puts upon his Hero a limitation at this point, strangely prophetic, and sends him in haste back to the terrestrial Upperworld. The bark crossed the stream of the "river Oceanus," then it entered "the wide-wayed Sea" in which lay the island of Circe, "where are the houses of the Dawn, and her dances, and the risings of the Sun." Verily the Hero has got back to the beginning of the world of light, in which he is now to have a new span of existence after his experience in the supersensible realm.
From the brief geographical glances which we catch up from the voyage, as well as from a number of hints scattered throughout the Odyssey (for instance, from what is said of the Ethiopians in the First Book), we are inclined to believe that Homer held the earth to be round. We like to think of the old Poet seeing this fact, not as a deduction of science, not even as a misty tradition from some other land, but as an immediate act of poetic insight, which beholds the law of the physical world rising out of the spiritual by the original creative fiat; the Poet witnesses the necessity by which nature conforms to mind. Homer knew the spiritual Return, this whole Odyssey is such a Return, whereby the soul is rounded off to completeness, and becomes a true totality. Why should he not apply the same law to nature, to the whole Earth, and behold it, not indefinitely extended as it appears to the senses, but returning into itself, whereby the line becomes a circle and the plain a globe? Some such need lay deep in his poetic soul, to which he had to harmonize the entire universe, visible as well as invisible. Not science is this, but an immediate vision of the true, always prophetic, which observes the impress of spirit everywhere upon the realm of matter. The old Greek sages seem to have known not merely of the rotundity of the Earth, but also of its movement round the Sun and upon its own axis, both movements being circular, returns, which image mind. Did they get their knowledge from Egypt or Chaldea? Questionable; if they looked inwardly deep enough, they could find it all there. Indeed the sages of Egypt and Chaldea saw the fact in their souls ere they saw it or could see it in the skies.
So these Homeric glimpses into the realm of what is to become science are not to be neglected or despised, in spite of their mythical, ambiguous vesture. Moreover they are in profound harmony with the present poem, to which they furnish remote, but very suggestive parallels, making the physical universe correspond to the spiritual unfolding of the Hero.
Ulysses, accordingly, comes back to the sensible world and there he finds Circe again. Indeed whom else ought he to find? She is the bright Greek realm of the senses reposing in sunlight; she has been subordinated to the rational, she is no longer the indulgence of appetite which turns men to swine, nor is she, on the other hand, the rigid ascetic. Hence we need not be surprised at her bringing good things to eat and drink: "bread and many kinds of meat and sparkling red wine." Moreover, she is still prophetic, she still has the outlook upon the Beyond, being spirit in the senses. Her present prophecies, however, will be different from her former one, she will point to the supersensible, not in Hades, for that is now past, but in the Upperworld of life and experience. Such is the return of the Hero to Circe, the fair, the terrestrial, who makes existence beautiful if she be properly held in restraint; beautiful as sunlit Hellas with its plastic forms she can become, in striking contrast to the dark shapes of the sunless Underworld which leads to the Gorgon, the realm of spooks, shades, fiends, in general of romanticism.
So much for Circe in her new relation in the present Book; how about Ulysses? It is manifest that he too is prepared for a fresh experience. He has been in the Underworld and great has been the profit. There he has seen the famous men and women of old and beheld the very heart of their destiny; the Trojan and the Pre-Trojan worthies sweeping backward through all Greek time he has witnessed and in part heard; he has become acquainted with the prophet Tiresias who knows Past, Present and Future, who is the universal mind in its purity from all material dross; he has beheld the Place of Doom and its penalties, as well as the supreme Greek Hero, the universal man of action, Hercules. Nor must we forget that he has run upon a limitation, that Gorgon from whom he fled. Truly he has obtained in this journey to Hades a grand experience of the Past, of all Greek ages, which is now added to his own personal experience. So this Past, with its knowledge, is to be applied to the Future, whereby knowledge becomes foreknowledge, and experience is to be transformed into prophecy. Mark then the transition from the previous to the present Book: when Ulysses comes back to the world of sense, he will at once see in it the supersensible, which he has just behold; he must hear in the Present a prophetic voice, that of Circe proclaiming the Future.
Thus Ulysses is now ready to listen to the coming event and to understand its import. It is to be observed that up to the Eleventh Book he has had experience merely; he took everything as it came, by chance, without knowing of it beforehand; he simply happens upon the Lotus-eaters, Polyphemus, Circe, though the careful reader has not failed to note an interior thread of connection between all these adventures. As to Hades, it is pointed out to him in advance by Circe, though all is not foretold him; but in the Twelfth Book, now to be considered, he has everything in detail laid open to him beforehand. A great change in manner of treatment; why? Because Ulysses must be shown as having reached the stage of foreknowledge through his journey to Hades; hitherto he was the mere empirical man, or blind adventurer, surrendering himself to hazard and trusting to his cunning for getting out of trouble. But now he foresees, and Circe is the voice thereof; he knows what he has to go through before he starts, here in the Upperworld, to which he has come back, and through whose conflicts he is still to pass, for life has not yet ended. Such, we think, is the fruit of that trip to the Underworld, the supersensible is seen in the sensible, and the Future becomes transparent.
Accordingly Circe foretells, and Ulysses foreknows; the two are counterparts. Then he simply goes through what has been predicted, he fills up the outline with the deed.
This is the essential fact of the Book, which is organized by it into two portions, namely the prophecy and the fulfillment; Circe has one part, Ulysses the other. Moreover each part exhibits the same general movement, which has three phases with the same names: the Sirens, the Plangctæ on the one hand with Scylla and Charybdis on the other, and the Oxen of the Sun.
I.
As soon as Ulysses, after coming back from Hades, had performed the last rites over the corpse of Elpenor, Circe appears and makes a striking address: "O ye audacious, who still living have gone down to the house of Hades—ye twice-dead, while others die but once." Such is one side of Circe, now rises the other: "But come, eat food, drink wine the whole day;" let us have a Greek festival ere new labors begin. Then Circe holds a private conference with Ulysses, she asked each thing "about the journey to Hades," which, it seems, she must know ere she can foretell the remaining part.
One cannot help feeling in this passage that the poet hints that these prophecies of Circe have some connection with what Ulysses imparts to her concerning Hades. Indeed she repeats what Tiresias had already foretold in reference to the Oxen of the Sun—a matter which she probably heard from Ulysses. Cannot the other two adventures be derived in a general way from the experiences of the Underworld? The Past seems here to furnish the groundwork for the predictions of the Future, and Circe, knowing what has been in the pure forms of the supersensible, becomes the voice of what is to be.
1. First come the Sirens, whom Ulysses will have to meet again, as he has often met them before. Indeed Circe herself was once a Siren, a charmer through the senses. The present Sirens are singers, and entice to destruction through the sense of hearing, inasmuch as "heaps of bones lie about them," evidently the skeletons of persons who have perished through their seductive song. Pass them the man must; what is to be done? He will have somehow to guard against his sensuous nature and keep it from destroying itself. Yet on the other hand he must enjoy, which is his right in this world of sensations; each good music must be heard. So Circe tells of the scheme of putting wax into his companions' ears, while he is bound to the mast. Already Tiresias warned Ulysses in the Underworld to hold his appetite in check and that of his companions, if he wished to return home. This warning Circe now repeats, indeed she repeats in a new mythical form her own experience, for she, the Siren, has also been met by Ulysses and mastered. Yet these later charmers seem to have been more dangerous. When they are passed, a new peril rises of necessity.
2. Next we behold an image, or rather two sets of images, of the grand dualism of existence. That escape from the Sirens is really no solution of the problem, it is external and leaves the man still unfree, still subject to his senses. There must be somehow an inner control through the understanding, an intellectual subordination. But just here trouble springs up again. The mind has two sides to it, and is certain to fall into self-opposition. Two are the ways after parting from the Sirens, says Circe: "I shall tell thee of both."
One way is by the Plangctæ (rocks which clasp together); here no bird can fly through without getting caught, even the doves of Zeus pay the penalty. "No ship of men, having gone thither, has ever escaped"—except the God-directed Argo: surely a sufficient warning. Then the second way also leads to two rocks, but of a different kind; at their bases in the sea are found Scylla, the monstrous sea-bitch, on one side, and Charybdis, the yawning maelstrom, on the other; between them Ulysses must pass with his ship and companions.
It is manifest that here are two alternatives, one after the other; the first is that of the Plangctæ, the Claspers, which mean Death, unless they be avoided, yet this avoidance does not always mean Life. We can trace the connection with the Sirens: the absolute resignation to the senses is license, is destruction; we may say the same thing of the opposite, the absolute suppression of man's sensuous being is simply his dissolution. Hence the extremes appear; the moral and the immoral extremes land us in the same place; they are the two mighty rocks which may smite together and crush the poor mortal who happens to get in between the closing surfaces. If we understand the image, it holds true of excess on either side; excessive indulgence is overwhelmed by its opposite, so is excessive abstinence; they co-operate, like two valves, for the destruction of the one-sided extremist. Truly Greek is the thought, for the Greek maxim above all others was moderation, no over-doing. Such then are the Plangctæ, which Ulysses must avoid wholly, if he wishes to escape. Still, even the danger is by no means over.
There is the second way which introduces a new alternative; the path of moderation has its difficulty, it too forks and produces perplexity and peril to the voyager. Here is the point where Scylla and Charybdis appear, a new set of extremes, between which the mean is to be sought, then the passage can be made. Yet even thus it costs, Ulysses will lose six of his companions; the penalty has to be paid, just the penalty of moderation. //Es rächt sich alles auf Erden//. Two sets of extremes always; if you shun one set and take the middle path, just this act of shunning produces a second set; cut the magnet in twain with its two poles, then each part will at once have two poles of its own. Such is indeed the very dialectic of life, the dualism of existence, which the heroic voyager is to overcome with suffering, with danger, with many penalties.
Fault has often been found with this duplication of the alternative, but when rightly seen into, it will show itself as the central fact of the entire description. It casts an image of the never-ceasing differentiation both in the mind and in the world; it hints the recurring contradiction in all thought and in all conduct, always to be solved, yet never quite solved. What else indeed has man to do? To master the contradiction gives him life, movement, energy, and it must be mastered every day. The old poet is going to the bottom of the matter. The above mentioned repetition of the alternative has its correspondence with the repetition which we have seen to be the fundamental form into which the whole Book is cast.
Plainly the Double Alternative here mythically set forth, springs out of the conflict with the Sirens, and is a deepening of the same to the very bottom. Indulgence kills, abstinence kills, in their excess; and the middle path bifurcates into two new extremes with their problem. Prophetic Circe can tell all this, for does it not lie just in the domain of her experience, which has also been twofold? Pure forms of spirit, wholly non-natural, are these figures representing the Double Alternative, created by the Imagination to express Thought.
3. The final warning of Circe is mainly a repetition of what Tiresias had told Ulysses already in the Underworld; from the latter she heard it and puts it here into its place. Beware of slaying the cattle of the Sun, oxen and sheep in two flocks, over which two bright nymphs keep guard. There can scarcely be a doubt concerning the physical basis of this myth. The seven herds of oxen, fifty to the herd, suggest the number of days in the lunar year (really 354); the seven herds of sheep suggest the corresponding nights. Lampelia (the Moon or Lamp of Night) is the keeper of the one; Phæthusa (the Radiant one) is the keeper of the other—namely the Sun as the day-bringer. Seldom has the old Aryan form of the myth been so well preserved; the whole reads like a transcript out of the Vedas.
Still stronger than the physical side is the spiritual suggestion. The slaughter of these cattle of the Sun points to the supreme act of negation in the intellectual man, to the sin against light. Ulysses and his companions now know the way to reach home, having had the grand experience with the Sirens and then with the Double Alternative; moreover the leader has heard the warning twice. If they now do wrong, it will be a wrong against the Sun, against Intelligence itself.
A certain critic finds fault with Circe because she repeats the warning of Tiresias, and he holds that some botcher or editor, not Homer, transferred the passage from one place to the other. Yet this repetition is not only an organic necessity of the poem, but gives an insight into the character of Circe: she cannot foresee of herself the great intellectual transgression, but Tiresias can; the Sirens and the Double Alternative, however, lie within her own experience. So she copies where she cannot originate, and in this way she is decidedly distinguished from Tiresias, though both are prophetic.
Such is the outlook upon the Future given by Circe, in the way of warning, whereby the warned know what is coming. In the three adventures we feel a certain connection, in fact an unfolding of one out of the other, beginning with the primary conflict of the Senses, which soon rises into the Understanding, and finally ends in a revolt against Reason itself, the source of Light. They have the character of typical forms, derived from the Past, yet they are certain to recur again, and hence can be foretold.
II.
We now have reached the second portion of the Book, which is the fulfillment of the prophecies of the first portion; moreover we see how the forewarnings are heeded. Ulysses and his companions enter their vessel and start once more upon the sea, leaving the island of Circe, who sends them a favorable wind. We note also that Ulysses always repeats the warning to his companions, and tells to what they are coming next; they are to share in his knowledge. Three times he does this, just before each incident, and thus prepares them, though he does not tell everything. The experience with the Bag of Winds has taught him much; his companions through ignorance of its nature opened it and the fatality followed. So he received the penalty of not sharing his knowledge with his fellows; now he avoids that mistake, for his conduct at present shows that he regards his failure to impart his information as a mistake. He was the cause of the ignorance of his companions, which was brought home to him by their deed. Now he tells them, still he will not be able to save them; the fault is theirs when they transgress, and they will receive the penalty.
1. In accord with the plan already foretold, the ship approaches the island of the Sirens, Ulysses fills the ears of his men with wax and enjoys the song, being tied firmly to the mast. It is evident that he cannot control himself from within, he wishes to be loosed, but is only fastened the more tightly by his deafened associates. Foreseeing his own weakness he guards against it, yet brings out the more strongly his lack of self-mastery. He gives up his freedom in order not to perish through enjoyment. Herein we find suggestive hints concerning the natural man; he must be governed from without, till he become self-governable. Truly this is the first stage both in the individual and in history, and Ulysses is the typical personality representing both.
The song of the Sirens is given, which we did not hear in the previous prophetic portion. We may note in it touches of flattery, of enticement, of boundless promises, even of wisdom for the wise man. Then that favorite theme, the Trojan War, they claim to know, "and all that has ever happened upon the foodful earth." Such are the gorgeous promises to the man thirsty for knowledge; but mark in their meadow the bones and decaying bodies of dead men. Evidently their sweet song, promising all, lures only to destroy. Their power, however, lasts but for the moment, while the senses are tingled; when the fit is over, Ulysses is set free and he makes no attempt to return to them. Indeed another problem is upon him; he sees "a great wave and mist," to which is added a loud sound of rushing waters. Again he exhorts his companions and tells them all that he dares about the approaching dangers.
2. Now we are to witness a practical dealing with the Double Alternative, which was theoretically set forth in the previous portion. But the first Alternative, those bi-valvular rocks called Plangctæ, which clasped the sea-faring man between their valves and crushed him to death, is wholly avoided, is not even mentioned in the present passage, though it is possibly implied in one place. At any rate the grand stress is laid upon the second Alternative, Scylla and Charybdis, between which the ship is to pass.
Here again Ulysses shows his limitation. In spite of Circe's warning, he puts on armor, takes two spears, and goes on deck, like a Homeric hero, to fight Scylla. He tries to solve his problem externally, as he did in the case of the Sirens. In vain; he could not see his foe anywhere, and his eyes grew weary, peering about at the mist-like rocks.
Not thus was Scylla to be met, a monster not of mortal mould, hardly attainable by the senses. Still she was present somehow, and made herself valid. The whirling waters roared and seethed, all were intent upon the maelstrom, Charybdis, the other side; "we looked at her, fearing destruction," and destruction came just from the direction in which they were not looking. Scylla, watched, remains invisible; unwatched, she appears and snaps up six companions; external weapons can effect nothing against her. Still Ulysses gets through, scotched somewhat; he has failed to see both sides at one and the same time; mind, intelligence alone can rise out of the particular thing of the senses, and grasp the two things in opposition. As we read the story here, it suggests the man, the life-faring man, who is so drawn to one part that he neglects the counterpart, which has equal validity and soon makes itself felt by the penalty. Not the Alternative, then, Scylla //or// Charybdis, but the combined Scylla //and// Charybdis is the word of mastery. The two kept in separation destroy, the two held in unity are conquerable. Under all difference of Nature lies the Thought's oneness, which is the true synthesis of every Scylla and Charybdis. Such is the experience of Ulysses now; the Sirens, the creatures of the senses, may be thwarted by a species of external force; but not the present monsters can be so treated. The dualism exists doubtless, and we can be caught in it, but the function of mind is to overspan it, and so transform all difference, discord, diabolism into unity, harmony, deity.
Thus Ulysses disobeys Circe's command not to attempt to fight Scylla with weapons; the reason of her injunction becomes plain. Not a sensuous thing to be slain is Scylla, in spite of her animal figure; the poet hints that she is to be encountered by mind, which must here see both sides at once and so assert its supremacy over both. To be intent upon the one and disregard the other—that is the grand human danger. Hence the thought of Scylla and Charybdis has passed into the literature of the world, nay into the proverbs of the people, to express the peril of one-sidedness, as well as the inherent dualism in all conduct. Moreover the golden mean is suggested, that principle of action so familiar in later Greek philosophy. Deeper than this golden mean, however, runs the idea here; the dialectic of existence, the twofoldness which must be made one, the higher synthesis over all analysis are dimly intimated in the marvelous tale.
3. Having escaped through the two rocks, Ulysses and his companions come to "the flawless island of the Sun," the all-seeing luminary of Heaven. It is the total light beholding the totality. Is it not manifest that we have passed out of dualism into unity, out of strife into harmony? The island is represented as pastoral, peaceful, idyllic, with its herds reposing in sunlight; certainly a decided contrast to the noise and struggle in the region of Scylla and Charybdis. Or we may give the matter a psychological turn and say: Such is the transition from the Understanding with its finitude to Reason with its universality, to the all-seeing light within. Ulysses, having transcended the limit he showed in his last experience, has gone forward to the clear sunlit realm which illumines all limitations.
But just at this point danger arises. On the island are pasturing herds of oxen and sheep sacred to the Sun, things of light consecrated to light. The temptation will be to use them for the gratification of appetite, perhaps under some strong stress. Already both Tiresias and Circe have given the warning, which Ulysses now repeats to his companions and even exacts an oath from them not to harm the holy flocks. But hunger pinches, Ulysses again goes to sleep at the wrong moment, and the oxen of the Sun are slain by his men. It is true that the test is a hard one, death by starvation is impending, and they yield, not only violating their oaths but their light. Then they defiantly repeated their deed, "for six whole days they feasted, selecting the best of the Sun's oxen." When Ulysses awoke, he chid them sternly, but did not, or could not, stop them. The result was, they perished.
Already we have touched upon the physical basis which underlies this tale. The symbolism we may consider somewhat more closely. The sin against light on the part of the companions is double: they knew better because they had been forewarned, they were not ignorant as when they opened the Bag of Winds. Secondly, they destroyed objects sacred to the grand luminary, they assailed the very source of light. Ulysses has shared in the act also, he too must take his part of the penalty. He is saved, for he forbade the wrong, yet he went to sleep at the critical moment. To be sure the companions were hungry; but that is just the test; if they had had plenty to eat, there would have been no real trial of their fidelity to principle.
The ancient poet, throwing deepest glances into the soul and into the world, beholds the supreme negative act of man, and seeks to clothe it in a symbol. Mind turns against mind, when the man does what he knows is wrong, and the destructive side is doubly re-inforced when he assails light itself, and knowledge slays knowledge. When a person who knows affirms in word and deed that his knowing is a lie, his light puts out a light, he destroys the Oxen of the Sun. What then? It is no wonder that the great luminary threatens "to go down to Hades and there shine among the dead," unless the full penalty is exacted for such a deed. In fact, he is already extinguished mentally for these men, and Zeus, voicing the world-order, can only hurry them off into darkness. Very wonderful is the thought lurking in the symbolism of the old seer: intellectual negation, skepticism, denial, culminating in the negative deed, will at last drive the Sun himself out of Heaven and send him below into the Underworld. It is highly probable, however, that the negative man will be sent down there first, as is done in the present case.
After slaying the Oxen of the Sun and repeating the offense many times, Ulysses and his companions must again meet life, and accordingly they set sail upon the sea, bound for home and country. But such men have not in them the elements of the Return. Storms arise, winds blow, the helmsman is killed by the falling mast, and the ship is struck by lightning. The destructive powers of nature seem to concentrate upon these destroyers; such is the decree of Zeus, carrying out his promise to the Sun; verily the Supreme God could not well do otherwise. Ulysses alone barely saves himself upon a fragment of the mast and keel; manifestly there is a difference between him and his companions, who disobeyed his order. The text says that "the companions feasted for six days," it would seem that he did not; still he is involved in their calamity, though not fully in their guilt. Here is, then, a distinction of importance, since upon it is based the saving of Ulysses, who is yet to have a career.
While Ulysses may not have personally participated in the guilty deed, he was not active against it, he did not apparently seem to restrain the repetitions of it, he was paralyzed in energy. It was his will which was defective, not his intellect; he did not commit the offense, but he did not stop it, and try to conciliate the wrath of the Gods by sacrifices, by what we now call repentance. Hence, while he does not perish, he is still unfinished, incomplete, with a limit to be removed. A training of the Will is to be gone through next, till it be able to do what Reason commands. A new discipline therefore is in store for the Hero after the loss of his ship and his companions.
What will this discipline be? To a degree his entire career must be worked over again from the beginning. Upon his fragment of wood he floats back to Scylla and Charybdis; he falls into the old dualism in one of its phases, for he cannot stay upon the Island of the Sun, the place of unity and rest and light. Indeed have we not just seen him in the fierce conflict between knowing and doing, which he has not been able to unify in the last adventure? So he drops back between the grinding mill-stones of two opposites; one of these opposites, the maelstrom Charybdis, is sucking him in, but he clutches the branches of a large fig-tree overhanging the whirlpool, and holds fast till his mast and keel return to the surface of the water, upon which he escapes.
One cannot help feeling that the poet in this description has a conscious meaning underneath, it is more or less allegorical. The will of Ulysses was paralyzed in the Island of the Sun, he is helplessly carried forward on the sea, till the yawning gulf of Charybdis (Despair) threatens to swallow him, when he puts forth a mighty effort of will, represented in his clinging to the branches of the fig tree, which extends Hope to him, and thus he rescues himself. Now he rows his raft "with both his hands," it is indeed time to exert anew his volition. Charybdis could not take him, on account of a saving germ in him still; she has to let him pass. Whither?
Naturally the next station rearward is that of the Sirens, and this in a general way is what Ulysses reaches in his relapse. He comes to the realm of the senses, for the fact is that this was the source of the great trouble in the Island of the Sun. The companions, pressed by appetite and the needs of the body, yielded up their conviction, their intelligence; they had not reached that strength of the spirit which prefers the death of the body to a surrender of the soul. Ulysses at last acquiesced, the problem was too great for him and so he also is cast out of the Island of the Sun back into the region of the senses. But it is a new region of the senses, not that of the Sirens, not that of Circe, both of which he has transcended by an effort of will-power; it is the realm of Calypso, the Concealer, which has been reached through the collapse of the will after the sin against light. There is unquestionably an affinity between Circe, the Sirens, and Calypso, yet there is also such a difference between them that the poet has assigned to them distinct domains, It is plain, too, that Ulysses in his present paralysis will remain long with Calypso, not at once will he recover his power after such a negation. He is hidden, as it were, in her Dark Island Ogygia after that undoing of light; he passes from the sun-world of Reason to its opposite. Calypso, therefore, is reached through the grand Relapse, not through the progressive movement, which we have seen him going through hitherto.
Still Ulysses has in him the germ of betterment, of salvation. He longs to reach home and country, to return to his institutional world; that spark of aspiration has a saving power; it will not be extinguished even in the sensuous delights of Calypso's bower.
//Observations.// In looking back at the Twelfth Book and thinking it over as a Whole, the reader will always feel that he has not fully sounded its depths. It has not exercised so great an influence upon mankind as the Eleventh Book, but it is probably profounder. It lures specially the thinker and the psychologist, it seems not only to set forth thought but the thought of thought. Very difficult is the poetic problem in such a case, the imaginative form really is driven to its utmost limit in order to express the content.
I. The first thing to be fully grasped and thoroughly studied is the structure of the Book. For structure is the primordial fact of any work, and especially of any great work, structure has always its own meaning and far-reaching suggestiveness, and it points directly to what the Book signifies, being its inner vital organism. In the Twelfth Book we shall ponder a little the three essential facts of its structure.
(1) There is the twofold division of the Book, while the other Books of Fableland have distinctly a threefold division. Herewith is coupled the duplication of its content; the second part repeats what is contained in the first part; or the first part tells in advance what is to be done in the second part. Thus the structure images dualism: Thought and Action, Word and Deed, Idea and Reality, Prophecy and Fulfillment. Yet it also hints the oneness in the dualism.
(2) The next point in structure is the threefold subdivision of each of the two parts. That is, now the structural principle falls back into that of the preceding Books of Fableland. Each part has its three main adventures with their respective environments and shapes, quite as each Book hitherto has had. What does this suggest to the reader—this duplication of the threefold form of the Book?
(3) Finally comes the very peculiar structure of the second adventure, which we have above called the Double Alternative. The dualism of the Book we may say, is now doubled, and transformed into the middle one of the three grand trials or exploits which the Hero has to pass through. The monster Scylla is here to be noted, with its six necks and heads, three on each side of the body, wherein again the triple is duplicated, though the body is certainly one. It was this monster which did most harm to Ulysses, snapping up six of his companions in the passage.
Such are the main points in the structure of the present Book, assuredly as great a marvel as anything recorded in the same, when it is once fully beheld. That it is intimately connected with the thought of the Book, is indeed the very form and mould thereof, is felt by every careful reader. But what is this thought? Here the difference begins, and the conflict of opinion ranges over and into fields diverse and far apart.
II. It may be said that the interpretations suggested by these three adventures—with the Sirens, with Scylla and Charybdis, and with the Oxen of the Sun—belong to two extremes; those of Nature and of Mind. Readers and commentators of different character and training will differ; one set will lean to the physical view, the other to the spiritual. It is our opinion that both views can find justification in the poem. We may first look at the physical interpretation.
All these monsters have been supposed to represent perils of navigation, especially in the Italian seas, which were frequented by the early Greek navigator. They have also been located geographically, to be sure in a variety of places. The Sirens dwelt on three dangerous rocks near the island of Capræa, according to ancient authorities; or they were found on the promontory between Pæstum and Elea, or even down at Cape Pelorum in Sicily. Why should they not be indeed everywhere! Then they have been supposed to personify the secret dangers of a calm sea, and their song is the music of splashing waters. Undoubtedly a physical substrate must be granted in the case of the Sirens, and in the Mythus generally; still they are truly everywhere, not only in the Italian Sea, but also in the sea of life, and they appear not only to the professional sailor but to every human navigator. Are literal rocks passed by putting wax into the ears of the crew and by tying the captain to the mast? Surely some other peril is suggested.
In the second adventure, the Plangctæ (the Claspers, not the Wanderers, as some translations give it), have been located at the Lipari Islands in the Sicilian Sea, where there is strong volcanic action. The well-known Symplegades of the Argonautic expedition which were placed at the entrance of the Euxine, were probably patterned after this Homeric conception, and transferred to the North-east. The two terrors, Scylla and Charybdis, lie in the straits of Messina, according to the accepted view, the former on the Italian side, the latter on the Sicilian. A town named Scilla still exists in those regions, and an eddy in the straits of Messina is still called Charilla (from Charybdis doubtless.) Etymologically Scylla means a bitch, Charybdis is allied with Chaos (from a Greek word meaning to yawn). Later legend gave to Scylla a great variety of forms, which were reproduced in art and poetry. One story represents her as having been a beautiful maiden who was loved by Glaucus, and who was turned into her present monstrous shape by Circe through jealousy, for the enchantress loved Glaucus too. The sucking-in of the waters by Charybdis, and her disgorging of them has been connected with the ebb and flow of the tides. It may also be added that the Plangctæ (in the sense of wandering or floating islands) have been supposed to refer to icebergs, some report of which may have reached the Homeric world through the Phœnician sailor, who must have passed outside of the straits of Gibraltar, into the Atlantic.
III. Such are some of the physical explanations which this Book has suggested; we may now consider it in relation to certain mental phenomena. Already we have unfolded the ethical meaning which especially lies in these shapes, and the Hero's struggle with them. But they have another and deeper suggestion; they adumbrate the nature of mind itself and the process of thinking; both in form and content the whole Book strangely points to psychology, as if the poet, having created these wonders of Fableland, were going to create his own creative act and present it in an image.
(1) The division of the Book into the two parts already alluded to in which each is what the other is, in which there are both separation and identity, calls up the fundamental fact of self-consciousness, which is often expressed in the formula Ego=Ego. Mind, Ego, separates itself into two sides, yet each side is the whole and recognizes the other side as itself. This act is the condition of knowing of every kind, which always differentiates then identifies. One step more: Circe in her prophecy gave the pure form of the idea, then came its realization, so that there is suggested the primordial distinction of the mind into Intellect and Will, or the Thought and the Deed. Thus we see in this division of the Twelfth Book the exact characteristic of subject-object, and there is still further suggested the distinction between Thinking and Willing.
(2) Passing to the threefold subdivision of each of the two parts, we observe that it also calls up psychological distinctions. Three stages of the knowing mind, Senses, Understanding, Reason, may be found here, not very definitely given, still distinctly implied. The Sirens represent the Sensuous, especially in its moral aspect; the Plangctæ with Scylla and Charybdis set forth a vivid image of the divisions and conflicts of the finite Understanding; the Oxen of the Sun point to the central light, that of Reason, which, when destroyed in any way, constitutes the chief human calamity.
Another curious psychological hint may be noted in the text of Homer. The Sirens, the first or implicit stage, are sometimes spoken of in the dual and sometimes in the plural; Homer would seem to imply that they are two in number, yet they always act and sing as one. That is, the dualism or separation is as yet implicit; but in the second stage (that of Scylla and Charybdis) it will become explicit with decided emphasis. Later legend made the Sirens three in number, and gave them names, and otherwise distinguished them; but this is not Homeric and indeed has lost the Homeric consciousness.
(3) The fact that the previous Books of Fableland have a threefold division only, while this threefold division is duplicated in the Twelfth Book, has also its psychological bearing in connection with the foregoing views. In the first case, the poet was not aware of his process, he yielded to the poetic act immediately; but in the second case, he is conscious, he knows his own process and prefigures it; he holds it up before himself in advance, just as Circe holds up before Ulysses his future career. Ulysses also must know in advance, hitherto he has simply followed instinct and chance, whithersoever they led. In like manner, the poet now shows himself knowing what he will do; his threefold organic movement, hitherto more or less implicit and unconscious, has become explicit and conscious, and can be prophesied. He himself thus is an example of the Ego which both casts before and forecasts itself, in other words is self-duplicated.
(4) Here, however, we must note a distinction. In all four Books of Fableland, Ulysses is the poet himself in a sense, he is singing his own adventures to the Court of Phæacia, he is well aware of what he has passed through and to what he has come.
He is not a Demodocus chanting heroic strains of the Trojan Past; he is Ulysses telling his own spiritual experiences after the taking of Troy. It has been already unfolded (p. 246-7) that he was in a negative, alienated condition; he had fallen out with and was separated from his Hellenic world, whereof this Fableland is the record. But he arrives at Phæacia, an harmonious institutional realm, then he becomes fully conscious of his negative condition and projects it out of himself in these Tales or Songs. So all Fableland shows this consciousness in the man; but the Twelfth Book shows him conscious not only of his negative state, but of his mental process, conscious of his consciousness, we may say; he is not only Thought, but is Thought thinking Thought, or at least imaging the same; that is, Thought has itself as its own object or content. So much we are inclined to find hinted in this duplication of the movement in the Twelfth Book.
At this point we hear the cry of dissent: You make Homer too introspective, you make him a self-introverted, self-torturing nineteenth century man, whereas he is the most unreflective, unconscious of poets. Very natural is such a protest, my good reader; this sort of thing may be carried too far, and become fantastic. Still it is a great mistake to think that Homer never takes a glance at his own mind and its workings. He must have looked within in order to see his world; where else was it to be found in any such completeness? He has built it, and he must have taken some interest in the architect and in his processes. Homer himself is a greater wonder than any wonder he has created, and he probably knew it.
It is by no means the purpose to affirm in the preceding remarks that Homer intended to make an allegorical psychology. He simply had a mind, and the essence of mind is to be able to look at mind. So Homer saw himself and his own process, and set it forth in an imaginative form. Very similar is the plan of Shakespeare in the //Tempest//. Prospero is the poet, not only as poet, but the poet making his drama in the drama. There is also a significant duplication both of structure and character: Prospero is at one time magician, that is, poet, and commands the elements and the spirits, especially Ariel; at another time he assumes his ordinary relations as parent and as king, and is as limited as other mortals. Shakespeare made many dramas, then he saw himself making dramas, then he put into a drama himself making dramas. That is, he in the end (Tempest is usually held to be the last of Shakespeare's plays) took up his own poetic process into a poem, and thus completed the arch of his great career.
So much for the psychological aspect of these Books of Fableland. It must be stated again that abstract terms, so necessary for an exact science of mind, had not been elaborated to any extent in Homer's day. Reflective language is a later product of Greek spirit. Still the philosopher is anticipated and prophesied in the poet, and it certainly cannot be amiss to trace vague premonitions and promises of the coming Plato and Aristotle in the old poet. Homer has in him the germ of the whole Greek world, and for that matter, much of the modern world also; the best commentary upon him is the 2500 years since his time.
IV. The slaying of the Oxen of the Sun has also its searching suggestiveness, and is found in one form or other in the World's greatest Books. Mind destroying mind may be shown as light extinguishing its own luminary; some such hint lies in the symbolism both of the act and its punishment. It is indeed the culminating point of negation—spirit denying spirit. This is the real sin against the Holy Spirit, unpardonable because repentance, all possibility of pardon is denied by the doer of the deed. As I understand him, this is the essence of the sin of Dante against Beatrice, with which she reproaches him in the last part of the Purgatorio. Suggestions of the same kind of guilt may be found in the characters of Shakespeare's Hamlet and Banquo, in whose cases the violation brings on a tragic fate; indeed every true tragedy has some touches of the light-denying or light-defying deed and its penalty. Above all rises in this respect the Faust of Goethe, the theme of which is explicitly intelligence denying intelligence, whereby the human mind becomes utterly negative, begets the Devil, and enters into compact with him for a life of indulgence. While such a state lasts, repentance is impossible.
Some such intimation ancient Homer must have had, and shadowed it forth in this strange symbolic deed. Ulysses having disregarded all he had learned by his long and bitter experience, leaving unheeded the warnings and prophecies of the Supersensible and the Sensible World (Tiresias and Circe), drops back into the sphere of Calypso, and has to serve the senses seven years till will and aspiration lift him again. Such a servitude was not uncommon in Greek legend, Hercules is the very embodiment thereof; even a God, Apollo, Light itself, has to serve Admetus, a mortal, in expiation of undivine guilt.
An important element of structure is to be noted at this point: the poem bifurcates and the reader has to move in two directions. If he wishes to follow the development of Ulysses, (which is indispensable) he must return with the latter to Calypso's Island and trace him through his three grand experiences—Oyggia, Phæacia, and Fableland. But if the reader wishes to continue in the action of the poem, he must now pass out of Fableland to Ithaca in the company of the Hero. (For this double movement of the Ulyssiad, see pp. 121-8.)
But before Fableland is left behind, its full sweep may be called up once more: from the Upperworld of Earth (Ninth and Tenth Books, both belong together in a general survey), which shows the negation of Greek ethical life and its conflicts, we pass to the Underworld of Hades, which on the one hand is the negation of all Greek sensible existence, and on the other hand is the revelation of the supersensible (soul, idea, world-justice); thence we come back to the Upperworld in which the idea, obtained beyond, is seen struggling with the reality in various negative phases—Ulysses, knowing in advance, is shown in his attempt to realize his knowledge in the deed. Such then, is this grand threefold sweep of Fableland.
One more retrospect: let us glance back at the whole Twelve Books, this first half of the Odyssey, composed of the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad. Both are parts of one whole; father and son acquire each his special discipline for the coming deed. Both are brought to a recognition of the Divine Order, the son mainly through tradition, the father mainly through experience. Both reach beyond the sensible into the supersensible or ideal realm; Telemachus hears the story of Proteus, which teaches the essence in all appearance; Ulysses descends to Hades and there communes with pure mind without its terrestrial incumbrance, in the case of Tiresias and others. Such is the internal preparation; now they are to do the deed. The idea they possess, the next is to make it real.
Accordingly the action of the poem, with Ulysses as its center, moves next to Ithaca, the realm in which the idea is to be realized: wherewith we enter upon a new grand division of the poem.
(The reader who wishes to study the parallelism between this Twelfth Book and Prospero can consult the author's Commentary on Shakespeare, where it treats of the //Tempest//. In fact, the entire play, which is also a kind of Fairy Tale, has many correspondences with Homer's Fableland.)
<center>''Homer's Odyssey.''</center>
<center>''A Commentary''</center>
<center>''By''</center>
<center>''Denton J. Snider''</center>
<center>
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''The Sigma Publishing Co.''
''10 Van Buren St., Chicago, Ill.''
''210 Pine St., St. Louis, Mo.''
"""
</center>
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[[Introduction|Snider: BOOK FIRST--INTRODUCTION.]]
<center>I. First Twelve Books.</center>
[[Telemachiad|Snider: Telemachiad.]]<br />
[[Ulyssiad|Snider: THE ULYSSIAD.]]<br />
(1) [[Ocygia|Snider: Ocygia]]<br />
(2) [[Phæacia|Snider: Phæacia]]<br />
(3) [[Fableland|Snider: FABLELAND.]]<br />
<center>II. Second Twelve Books.</center>
[[Ithakeiad|Snider: ITHAKEIAD.]]<br />
[[Books 13-16 (Preparation)|Snider: Books 13-16 (Preparation)]]<br />
[[Books 17-24 (Execution)|Snider: Books 17-24 (Execution)]]<br />
(1) [[Wrong (17-21)|Snider: Wrong (17-21)]]<br />
(2) [[Punishment (22)|Snider: Punishment (22)]]<br />
(3) [[Reconciliation (23-4)|Snider: Reconciliation (23-4)]]<br />
[[Summary|Snider: SUMMARY.]]
Such is the designation which we have concluded to give to the last twelve Books of the Odyssey, inasmuch as a name is needed for this portion corresponding to the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad. The scene is laid wholly in Ithaca, the characters of the poem are all brought together, and the main conflict takes place. It is the country which is to be cleansed of violence and guilt; that Divine Order which father and son have learned about, each in his own way, they must now make real in the world, especially in their own land. Manifestly Ithaca represents the realm of wrong, of hostility to the social system of man; the Suitors defy Law, Family, State, Gods.
But Ulysses, before he can reform his country, has had to reform himself. When he attacked the Ciconians, he was as negative to institutional order as the Suitors themselves; he was not the man to destroy them at that time, he was too like them to undo their work. Hence the long discipline in Fableland, which has been fully explained in the preceding comments; hence too he had to see Phæacia, the ideal institutional life realized in Family and State, as well as in Industry and the Fine Arts. Let the reader note that he passes, not from Fableland, but from Phæacia, to Ithaca; having that Phæacian Idea in his soul, he can transform his own country. Thus he will truly save his companions, namely, the people, whom before he lost in Fableland.
Telemachus also in his training has seen much and brought back an ideal with him. He has heard the wise man Nestor and witnessed the religious life of Hellas in its highest manifestation. Pylos, Nestor's kingdom, is almost a Greek theocracy; the Gods appear visible at the feasts and hold communion with the people. Likewise at Sparta Telemachus saw a realm of peace and concord, in striking contrast with his own Ithaca; but chiefly he heard the Marvelous Tale of Proteus, after which he was eager to return home at once. Thus he too has had his experience of a social order, as well as his ideal instruction. Previous to his journey he had shown a tendency to despair, and to a denial of the Gods on account of the disorders of the Suitors in his house. Unquestionably he comes back to Ithaca with renewed courage and aspiration, and with an ideal in his soul, which makes him a meet companion for his father.
The third character is the swineherd Eumæus who is the great addition in this portion of the Odyssey. He too has had his discipline, which is to be recounted here; he has been stolen as a child and sold into slavery; still the most terrible calamities to himself and his master and to the House of Ulysses, have not shaken his fealty to the Gods. Thus in common with Telemachus and Ulysses he has faith in the Divine Order, and can cooperate with them in realizing the same in Ithaca. Very different has been his discipline from that of the other two, both of whom became negative and had to be sent away from home for training, but Eumæus has remained in his hut and never swerved in his fidelity to his sovereigns above and below, though he does not understand the providential reason for so much wrong and suffering.
To these three men we are to add the woman, Penelope, who has her part, perhaps the most difficult in this difficult business. She cannot resort to violence, she must use her feminine weapon, tact, with a degree of skill which makes her an example for all time. Indeed not a few of her sex declare that she has overdone the matter, and that her acts are morally questionable. But there can be no doubt that it is the part of tact to find fault with tact, and that woman will always decry woman's skill in artifice, without refraining from its employment altogether; indeed just that is a part of the artifice.
For this and similar reasons the moral bearings of this portion of the Odyssey have always aroused discussion. In general, the question comes up: What constitutes a lie? Is the disguise of Ulysses justifiable? Is the subtlety of Penelope morally reprehensible? The old dispute as to conduct rises in full intensity: Does the end justify the means? Two parties are sure to appear with views just opposite; the one excuses, the other condemns, often with no little asperity. The Odyssey has been denounced even as an immoral Book and both its hero and heroine have been subjected to a burning ordeal of literary damnation.
The poet has, however, his wrongful set, the Suitors, about whose character there is no disagreement. They are the negation of that Divine Order which is to be restored by those who believe in it—the three men who come together at the hut of the swineherd, and who have been trained by the time and circumstances just to this end. Ulysses has had to pass through his negative period and overcome the same within; now he is prepared to meet the Suitors and to destroy them without the negative recoil which came upon him after destroying the city of Troy. He can do a necessary deed of violence without becoming violent and destructive himself; he will not now re-enact the Ciconian affair.
Let us look into the inner movement of the matter here indicated. The slaughter of the Suitors by Ulysses was undoubtedly a negative act, yet the Suitors also were negative in conduct, wholly so; thus violence is met and undone by violence, or negation negates negation. What is the outcome? Manifestly a double result is possible: if a negative cancels a negative, there may remain still negation, or there may be a positive result. Ulysses has passed through the first of these stages by his discipline already recorded, after which he is master of the negative; the destruction of the Suitors will not now make him destructive, as did the destruction of Troy. It will be seen, therefore, that the poem has a positive outcome; after some trouble, Ulysses will renovate the country, will restore Family and State, in fine the whole Order which had been upset by the Suitors.
With the transition from Fableland occurs a marked change in the style of the poem. In the previous portions we have already noted the Marvelous Tale of Fairyland, the Heroic Tale of Troy, the Idyllic Epopee of the Present, the latter especially in Phæacia. But in these last twelve Books we read a story of actual social life, a story which almost strikes into the domain of the modern Novel. Still fabulous adventures will be interwoven—now more in the form of the novelette—with Phœnician and Egyptian backgrounds. Also a tone of humanity, even of sentiment, makes itself felt in various places. A new situation brings with it a new style, yet Homeric still. Hereafter these points will be more fully noticed.
We have already indicated the fact (p. 19) that Pallas starts to organize the Odyssey in Book First. Two portions she designates, the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad, which really belong together, showing the spiritual palingenesis, or internal renovation of son and father ere they proceed to the renovation of their country. Such in general are the first twelve Books, showing the two masters of destiny, the two positive men with their idea; the second twelve Books show them realizing their idea, and doing the great deed for which they have been prepared.
This second half of the Odyssey falls into two divisions. The first is located at the hut of the swineherd and brings the three men together, whose general character has been already indicated; they have been trained by life to a living realization of the Divine Order. This division consists of four Books (XIII-XVI). The second division transfers the scene from country to town, from hut to palace. Ulysses in disguise will witness personally the full course of the wrong of the suitors, against his property, his family, his state, and against the Gods. Then he becomes the minister of the world-justice which he has already seen in Hades. Finally he harmonizes the distracted institutional life of his country and the poem ends. This second division embraces the last eight Books, and has its own special stages in its movement.
//Survey of Books Thirteenth to Sixteenth.// In this portion we are to witness the leading transition of the poem, that of Ulysses and Telemachus to Ithaca, the transition from the long and elaborate preparation for the act to the act itself, which is the supreme one of man, that of asserting and realizing the Divine Order. In these four Books is the gathering of the chosen forces into one spot and into one purpose—which forces have been hitherto separately developed; here it is that we behold the practical preliminary movement for destroying the Suitors. Hence arises the feeling which most readers express on a sympathetic perusal, that these four Books of the Ithakeiad, which is the name already given to the present division of the Odyssey, have enough in common to cause them to be grouped together in an organic survey of the poem. They have, first of all, unity of locality—the hut of the swineherd—to which, round which, and from which their incidents move. To be sure there is a glance at the enemy, the Suitors, who are at a different point; but even this glance serves to emphasize the setting common to these four Books, which is the abode of Eumæus. Very humble it is, but it stands in every way as the contrast to the palace.
This unity of place naturally suggests unity of action as to what is going on in that place. All the forces in opposition to the Suitors are secretly gathering there and organizing. It is the center of attraction which is drawing out of the universe every atom of congenial energy for punishing the transgressors. It has brought Ulysses from Phæacia, Telemachus from Sparta, and possesses already the faithful Eumæus in its own right. This is the fortress, and these are the three men who make the attacking army. They are now getting themselves together. All three have passed through a grand discipline just for the present end, which is to be the great deed of deliverance.
Moreover the place has a character of its own, a peculiar atmosphere in sympathy with its purpose. Its strength we feel, its adamantine fidelity to the House of Ulysses. It is a secluded spot in contrast to the palace; its occupant is a slave in contrast to the kings who are suitors; his business is to be the companion of swine in contrast to the regal entertainment at court. The highest and the humblest of the social order are here placed side by side; with what result? The unswerving rock of loyalty is the hut and the heart of the swineherd; upon it as the foundation the shattered institutional world of Ithaca is to be rebuilt. The lowest class of society is, after all, the basis of the edifice; if it remain sound, then the superstructure can be erected again after the fiery purification. But if it be utterly rotten, what then? Such, however, is not the case in Ithaca, as long as there exists a man like the swineherd. From his rock, then, and, still more, from his spirit, is to issue the energy which is to transform that perverted land of Ithaca.
Still, here too Ulysses is the pivot, the central character; the hero both in thought and action, for whom Eumæus furnishes a spatial and spiritual environment. The hut of the swineherd is but a phase, one landing-place in the career of Ulysses. An idyllic spot and forever beautiful; who but Homer has ever gotten so much poetry out of a pig-sty? We witness the transfiguration of what is the very lowest of human existence into what is the very highest, veritably the Godlike on earth.
Ulysses, however, has to remain in disguise even to his most faithful servant; not out of distrust we must think, but out of prudence. Knowing his master, the swineherd would be a different person in the presence of the Suitors; he has an open, sincere, transparent heart, and he would probably let the secret be seen which lay therein. The gift of disguise he possesses not, as Ulysses has clearly observed in his conversation; in this respect he is the contrast to the Hero himself. But Telemachus will get the secret, for he has craft, is the true son of his father; has he not just shown the paternal trait in cunningly thwarting the Suitors who are lying in wait for him, by the help of Pallas, of course?
In these four Books, accordingly, we behold one stage of the great preparation for the deed which is the culmination of the poem. Not now the disciplinary, but the practical preparation it is, when one is ready and resolved internally, and is seeking the method and means. Both Ulysses and Telemachus have had their training; now it must pass into action.
We behold, first, Ulysses making the transition from Phæacia to Ithaca, and thence to the fortress of loyalty, from which the movement is to be made. Secondly we see all the instruments getting together, and being prepared for the work, particularly the three heroes of the attack. Finally we observe Ulysses inquiring and learning all about the situation in Ithaca; he obtains everything that information at second hand can give. But hearsay is not enough; he must see at first hand. Thus we pass to the palace, and out of the first series of four Books, which we are next to consider separately.
''BOOK FIFTH''
In this Book the reader will observe two distinct parts, which are so often found in Homer and constitute the deepest distinction in his poems: these two parts are the Upper World of the Gods and the Lower World of Man, both of which are shown in action and counteraction. The grand dualism between the mortal and the immortal is fused into a living narrative and makes the warp and woof of Homeric poesy. The general purport of both parts is seen to be the same at bottom: it is to remove the obstacles which stand in the way of the Return of Ulysses to home and country. These obstacles arise from the Gods above and from Nature below—the divine and the physical, though the latter also is presided over by deities. Thus the Greek hero, with the aid of the higher Gods, is to put down the lower ones, or convert them into aids for his advancement towards the grand end, which is his institutional life in Family and State. In this way only can Ulysses, from his alienation, attain unto harmony with himself and with the Divine Order.
The first part of the Book gives the Council of the Gods and its consequences reaching down to the mortal who is the subject of deliberation. We shall note three stages in this movement from Olympus to Earth: (1) Zeus to Hermes, (2) Hermes to Calypso, (3) Calypso to Ulysses. Thus from the highest the decree is brought below and opens the providential way.
The second part deals with the mortal, who is brought into relation with three Gods, all representing phases of the physical element of water: (1) Neptune, the great deity of the sea, (2) Ino Leucothea, a lesser deity of the same, (3) the River-God, through whose channel Ulysses comes at last to land. It is manifest that he must rise beyond these water-divinities with their uncertain fluctuating element, and attain to the fixed earth with its life, ere he can find repose. We shall now develop these two parts of the Book with their subdivisions in the order stated above.
I.
First then is the divine obstacle, which has to be removed by the Gods in Homer, when the individual is ready to have it removed. This obstacle is at present centered in the Goddess Calypso, the marvelous concealer and extinguisher of the Hero in her island Ogygia. Neptune is not here spoken of, though his element, the sea, is mentioned as something which must also be met and transcended; the Hero through his own will can surmount this difficulty. Verily Calypso is the grand spiritual hindrance of Ulysses, and, to help him get rid of it, the Olympians assemble and start the movement, the conditions being that he is internally prepared to be helped by the Gods. Of the latter fact we shall note a number of indications hereafter.
Of this divine activity in removing the first obstacle we may distinguish three phases:—
# The council of the Gods on Olympus under the presidency of Zeus, and the decree there.
# Hermes is sent by the supreme deity to Calypso, with the decree.
# Calypso imparts the decree to Ulysses, who soon sets about doing his part.
In this brief outline we see the descent of the divine influence from Zeus the Highest, through Hermes messenger of the Gods, to Calypso, a local subordinate deity, down to the mortal Ulysses who is to get the benefit thereof. Thus the poet makes his world-order ready for the deed of the man, who is now to act with all the energy of his being, and not lie back expecting the Gods to do everything for him. Such is the situation between the divine and human sides, of which we shall elaborate the former a little more fully.
1. The council of the Gods in which the matter is now discussed, seems somewhat like a repetition of the one at the beginning of the First Book, which indeed starts the whole poem. At present we may suppose that the poet wishes to recall that first council and its decree to the mind of the reader, inasmuch as the latter is now to begin the second grand division of the poem, the Odyssey proper, or Return of Ulysses.
Pallas takes up the complaint and arraigns Providence on an ethical ground: the good king is forgotten and the good man suffers. To the face of the Supreme Ruler she draws the conclusion: "Let not any sceptered king henceforth be kind to his people and recognize justice, but always let him be harsh and work unrighteousness." Then she cites the unhappy lot of Ulysses. But Zeus throws the charge back upon Pallas, for she already had laid the divine plan that Ulysses was to take vengeance on wrong-doing suitors, and Telemachus she could save "by her skill," if so she chose. Here Pallas again hints as she did in the First Book, the two lines on which the poem moves (Telemachus and Ulysses), and she also notes the two present obstacles (Calypso and the sea) in the way of the Return of Ulysses.
The divine activity begins work at once: Zeus sends Hermes to Calypso with the Olympian decree. Ulysses, however, is to reach home "without any escort of the Gods or of mortal men;" that is, he must exercise his own free-will tremendously, there is to be no special intervention of the Gods without the corresponding human effort. Note this passage as indicating the consciousness of the poet respecting divine help; it is not to take the place of free agency, but to complement the same. The Hero will have to sail on a raft, "suffering evils;" but he will reach "the land of the Phæacians, near of kin to the Gods," where he will be "honored as a God," and will be sent home with abounding wealth, "more than he would ever have received at Troy, returning unharmed with his share of the booty." Such is the promise of the world-governor to the self-reliant man; this promise is not fate but foresight on the part of the Supreme God. "Thus is the Hero destined to see again his friends," namely by means of a small raft or float, which he alone must control in his own strength, without the help of God or man. Such is the reward of heroic endeavor, proclaimed by Zeus himself.
2. The messenger Hermes begins his flight down to Calypso, holding his magic wand, with which he puts men to sleep or wakens them, imparting the power of vision or taking it away. He reaches the wonderful island with its grot, the account of which has been a master-stroke in literature, and shows that the description of nature was not alien to the Greek poet, though he rarely indulges in it. One thinks that the passage contains a suggestion of much modern writing of the kind.
It is to be noted that this island is mostly a wild product, it has had very little training from its resident. A natural house and garden we see it to be in the main; the senses, especially sight and smell, are gratified immediately by physical objects. There is little indication of Art, possibly a beginning in the singing and weaving; rude nature may have been transformed somewhat in the four fountains and in the trailing grape-vine. But this description is not made for its own sake, as are many modern descriptions of nature; the whole is the true environment for Calypso, and suggests her character.
Her name means the concealer, concealed herself in that lone sea-closed island, and concealing others. Undeveloped she is, like nature, yet beautiful; sunken still in the life of the senses, she dwells in her little paradise without any inner scission. But it must be recollected that Ulysses is not native to the island, he has come or rather fallen hither, from a higher condition. He, therefore, has the scission in himself, he longs to leave and be restored out of this realm of mere nature.
With such a longing the Gods must coincide, for they are the Gods of culture, of the rise out of the physical. The long Journey of Hermes hints the distance between Olympus and Calypso's isle—a distance which has its spiritual counterpart. The command of the Olympians is borne to this lower Goddess; Hermes is the voice of the higher ethical divinity to the lower one of mere nature. But even the higher God has his physical counterpart, is not yet wholly a spirit; so Hermes eats his ambrosia and drinks his nectar set before him by Calypso in true Greek fashion and misses the smoke of sacrifices along his barren route.
It is curious to see how Hermes plays with polytheism, hinting ever so slyly the contradiction in the Greek Pantheon. "Why dost thou a God ask me a God why I come?" It is indeed an absurd question, for a God ought to know in advance. In numerous places we can trace a subtle Homeric humor which crops out in dealing with his many deities, indicating a start toward their dissolution. Then with a strong assertion of the supremacy of one God, Zeus, Hermes utters the unwilling word: Ulysses must depart from this island.
The answer of Calypso is significant, she charges the Gods with jealousy; "Ye grudge the Goddesses openly to mate with men," which proposition she nails by several examples. But the Gods reserve to themselves the privilege of license with mortal women. A complaint still heard, not in the Olympian but in our Lower World; men are not held to the same code of morals that women are! But Calypso yields up her lover whom she "thought to make immortal and ageless." What else can she do? It is true that she saved him once and has preserved him till the present; she is, however, but a stage which must now be transcended. Appetite may preserve man, still he is to rise above appetite.
3. Now Ulysses is brought before us. The first fact about him is, his intense longing to return home; he is found "sitting on the shore, and his eyes were never dry of tears" as he looked out on the sea toward his country; "for the nymph was no longer pleasing to him," whatever may have been the case once. Surely the hero is in bonds which he cannot break, though he would; a penitential strand we may well find in his sorrow; thus he is ready for release.
Calypso, therefore, announces to him the divine plan: he must make a raft and commit himself to the waters. She has to obey, for is she not really conquered by Ulysses? Certainly the divine order requires her to send the man away from her island. Yet the return is by no means made easy, but is to be won by hardest effort; he must grapple with the waves, with angry Neptune after leaving Calypso. No wonder that Ulysses shuddered at the proposition; truly he has the choice between the devil and the deep sea, and he manfully chooses the latter. First, however, the Goddess has to take the great oath "by Earth, by Heaven above and Styx below," the sum total of the physical universe, from whose presence the perjurer cannot escape, though a God, that she is not practicing any hidden guile against her much-desired guest. Always the doubter, the skeptic Ulysses will show himself, even toward a divinity. He must test the Gods also, as well as man. Very beautiful and humane is the answer of the Goddess: "Such things I plan and deliberate for thee as I would devise for myself, were I in so great straits. For I too have a righteous mind, and the heart within my breast is not of iron, but compassionate."
Has a change come over the Goddess through this visit from Olympus? Hardly could she have felt this before, else she would have sent away Ulysses of her own accord. Her adjustment to the divine decree seems now to be internal, and not simply a yielding to an external power. Still the separation costs her deep pangs, and she wonders how Ulysses, a mortal, can give her up, who is immortal, with all her beauty and the pleasures of her paradise.
The answer of Ulysses reveals the man in his present stale of mind. He recognizes Calypso as beautiful, deathless, ever young; still he must have something more than sensuous life and beauty; though it last forever, it can never satisfy. Not to be compared with the Goddess in grace and stature, is his wife Penelope, still he longs for his home; "yea, though some God wreck me on the wine-dark deep, I shall endure." But there is no doubt the other side is also present in Ulysses; he has within himself a strong sensuous nature with which is the battle, and the poem does not disguise the matter, for he is again ready to enjoy all the pleasures of Calypso's bower, after this paroxysm of home-sickness.
Such is the deep struggle of the man; such is also the divine obstacle, which has to be removed by an Olympian interference before he can return. We see that Ulysses in spite of all blandishments of the Goddess and momentary weakness of himself, was ready for its removal; in his heart he has overcome Calypso, and wishes to get back to his institutional life in Family and State. Such a man must return, the Gods must be on his side, else they are not Gods. According to the Greek conception, Calypso is a subordinate deity who must be put down by the Olympians; appetite is not a devil, but a lower good, which must be adjusted to the higher. Note, then, that the external stream, or the world-movement represented by the Gods, now unites with the internal stream, the spirit of the individual, and brings forth the great event. As stated often before, these two streams run through all Homeric poetry.
Ulysses now makes his raft; the hero is also a ship-builder, being the self-sufficient man, equal to any emergency, in whom lie all possibilities. The boat, still quite primitive, is constructed before our eyes; It is the weapon for conquering Neptune, and prophesies navigation. Calypso aids him in every way, she even supplies him with tools, the axe, the adze, the augur, which imply a more advanced state of civilization than has hitherto appeared in the Dark Island. Whence did she obtain them? No special answer is given; hence we are thrown back upon a general answer. Calypso is the original wild state of nature; but her transformation has begun, she helps Ulysses in her new character. These tools are themselves formed from nature into means for subduing nature; the instrument of bronze in the hands of the wood-cutter is the master of the tree. At present Calypso is also such an instrument; she, the wild product of nature, is herself transformed into a means for helping Ulysses conquer the mighty physical element before him; an implement she has become in the hand of the Gods for restoring the heroic endurer, and hence she can emblematically hand him these material implements, for they are one with her present spirit. Indeed we may carry the analogy one step further, turning it inwardly: Calypso, though once the inciter to sensuous desire, now helps the man put it away and flee from it; ethically she is converted into an instrument against her former self. In like manner nature is turned against nature by the thinking artificer.
Also food and drink and raiment the Island Goddess furnishes for the voyage; with rare skill she tells him how to direct his course by the stars; she is mistress over the winds, it seems, for she sends the right one to blow. Wonderful indeed is the change; all those forces of nature, formerly so hostile, have been transformed into helpers, Calypso herself being also transformed. Thus we catch the outlines of the Fairy Tale or marvelous story, which tells, in a supernatural way, of man's mastery of the physical world, once so destructive, now so obedient.
Cloth for his sails she brought him, but we must recollect that she was a weaver at the start of the story. At last Ulysses pushes his raft down into the fair salt sea; Ogygia, the place of nature's luxuriance and delight, is left behind; he must quit the natural state, however paradisaical, and pass to the social order, to Ithaca, though the latter be poor and rocky. Still we may well recall the fact that the island and Calypso once saved Ulysses, when wrecked elsewhere, on account of the slaughter done to the Oxen of the Sun; this wild spot furnished him natural shelter, food, gratification; nay, it gave him love.
To be sure, the other side is not to be forgotten: it had to be transcended, when it kept him away from the higher institutional life. Ulysses, the wonderful, limit-transcending spirit, unfolds within even while caught in this wild jungle; he evolves out of it, as man has evolved out of it, thus he hints the movement of his race, which has to quit a cave-life and a mere sensuous existence. Such is the decree of the Gods, for all time: the man must abandon Calypso, who is herself to be transformed into an instrument of his progress.
We may now begin to see what Calypso means, in outline at least. The difficulty of comprehending her lies in her twofold character: at one time she is nature, then she is the helper against nature. But just therein is her movement, her development. She is Goddess of this Island, where she rules; but she is a lesser deity who has to be subordinated to the Olympians, as nature must be put under spirit. The Greek deified nature, not being able to diabolize it; still he knew that it must be ruled and transmuted by mind. Thus Calypso is a Goddess, inferior, confined to one locality, but having sensuous beauty as nature has. She, without ethical content, as purely physical, stands in the way of institutions, notably the Family; she seduces the man, and holds him by his senses, by his passion, till he rise out of her sway. On this side her significance is plain: she is the female principle which stands between Ulysses and his wedded wife, she not being wedded. Thus she is an embodiment of nature, from the external landscape in which she is set, to internal impulse, to the element of sex. So it comes that she is represented as a beautiful woman, but beauty without its ethical content can no longer chain Ulysses. That charm is broken, in spite of passing relapses.
Then comes the other side of Calypso's character, as already indicated: she changes, she turns and helps Ulysses put down herself and get away from her world, furnishing him quite all the means for his voyage. Not without a certain regret and parting display of her charms does she do this; still the change is real, and at the last stage we must imagine a Calypso transformed or partially so.
The enchantress on her magic island is a favorite theme with the Fairy Tale, and the situation in itself rouses curiosity and wonder. The bit of land floating on the sea in appearance, yet withstanding wave and tempest, is, to the sailor, the home of supernatural beings. The story of Calypso has the tinge of nautical fancy. In like manner the story of Robinson Crusoe is that of a sea-faring people. We see in it the ship-wrecked man, the lone island, the struggle with nature for food and shelter. But Defoe has no supernatural realm playing into his narrative—no beautiful nymph, no Olympian Gods. That twofold Homeric conception of an Upper and Lower World, of a human and divine element in the great experience, is lost; the Englishman is practical, realistic, utilitarian even in his pious observations, which he flings into his text from the outside at given intervals.
Ogygia, the abode of Calypso, means the Dark Island, upon which Ulysses is cast after the destruction of the Oxen of the Sun. Calypso, in harmony with the name of her abode, signifies the concealer—and that is what has happened to Ulysses, his light is hidden. She is the daughter of Atlas, who has two mental traits assigned to him; he is evil-minded and he knows all the depths of the sea. A demonic being endowed with his dark knowledge of things out of sight; he has a third trait also, "he upholds of himself the long pillars which keep Heaven and Earth apart" (Book I. 53). Naturally under such a burden he is not in good humor. Calypso is the daughter who, along with her grot, may be conceived to have risen out of the obscure depths of the sea, with something of her father's disposition. Doubtless Greek sailors could behold in her image the dangerous rocks which lurked unseen beneath the waters around her island. The comparative mythologist finds in her tale the clouds obscuring or concealing the Sun (here Ulysses) till the luminary breaks out of his concealment and shines in native glory. Something of truth lies in these various views, but the fundamental meaning is not physical, but ethical.
II.
We now come to the great physical obstacle standing in the way of the Return of Ulysses, the sea, which, however, has always its divine side to the Greek mind. A series of water-deities will rise before us out of this mighty element, assuming various attitudes toward the solitary voyager. Three of them, showing themselves as hostile (Neptune), as helpful (Ino Leucothea), as saving (the River-God); all three too seem in a kind of gradation, from the vast total sea, through one of its phases, to the small stream pouring into the sea from the land. Thus the Greek imagination, playing with water, deified the various appearances thereof, specially in their relation to man. The introduction of these three marine divinities naturally organizes this second part of the Fifth Book into three phases or stages. Such is the divine side now to be witnessed.
Parallel to this runs the human side, represented by the lone hero Ulysses, who is passing through a fearful ordeal of danger with its attendant emotions of anxiety, terror, hope, despair. A very hard test is surely here applied to weak mortal flesh. We shall observe that he passes through a series of mental perturbations at each divine appearance; he runs up and down a scale of doubt, complaint, resolution. His weakness he will show, yet also his strength; dubitation yet faith; he will hesitate, yet finally act. Thus he saves himself at last through his own will, yet certainly with the help of the Gods; for both sides have to co-operate to bring about the heroic act of his deliverance.
Pallas also comes to the aid of her favorite, but in an indirect manner. The sea does not seem to be her element. She stops the winds and "informs his mind with forecast," but she does not personally appear and speak, nor is she addressed, as is the case with the water-gods. She plays in by the way in this marine emergency; her appearances now do not organize the action. But the three appearances of the water-gods are the organic principle, their element being at present the scene of the adventure. On these lines we shall note the course of the poem in some detail.
1. Neptune returning from the Ethiopians to Hellas, sees the lone sailor with his little craft from the heights of the mountain called Solyma; at once the God's wrath is roused and he talks to himself, "shaking his head." The clouds, the winds, the ocean obeyed his behest, and fell upon the voyager in a furious tempest. A huge billow whirled the raft around and threw Ulysses off into the deep; with difficulty be regained his place, and escaped death.
A vivid picture of the grand obstacle to early navigation, of which Neptune is the embodiment. Why should he not be angry at the man who seeks to tame him? The raft means his ultimate subjection. Nature resists the hand which subdues her at first, and then gracefully yields. To be sure there had to be a mythical ground for Neptune's anger at Ulysses: the latter had put out the eye of his son, the Cyclops Polyphemus, which was another phase of the subjection of wild nature to intelligence. For seventeen days Ulysses had easy sailing, guided by the stars; but the sea has its destructive side which must also be experienced by the much-enduring man.
Corresponding to this outer tempest, we observe an inner tempest in the soul of Ulysses. "O me wretched! what is now to happen to me!" Terror unmans him for the time being; regret weakens him: "Thrice happy, four times happy the Greeks who fell on Troy's broad plain!" Thus he goes back in memory to his heroic epoch and wishes for death then. Too late it is, for while he is lamenting, a wave strikes him and tosses him out into the deep; now he has to act, and this need of action saves him from his internal trituration, as well as from external death.
With this renewed energy of the will, a new help appears, a divine aid from the sea. For without his own strong effort, no God can rescue him, however powerful. That toss out into the waves was not without its blessing.
2. Ino Leucothea, Ino the white Goddess, beholds him with pity in his extremity—she was once mortal herself but now is divine. Her function seems to be to help the shipwrecked mariner; her name reminds the reader of the white calm of the sea, elsewhere celebrated by Homer (Book X, 94; Nitzsch's observation). Thus she appears to represent the peaceful placid mood of the marine element, which rises in the midst of the storm and imparts hope and courage, nay predicts safety. She gives her veil to Ulysses, in which commentators trace a suggestion of the fillet or sacred cloth which was given out from a temple in Samothrace, and had the power of saving the endangered mariner, if he had tied it round his body. As it is here employed, it strangely suggests a life-preserver. At any rate Ino is the calming power opposed to angry Neptune, and she works upon both the waters and the man.
"Ill-fated man," she cries, "why hast thou so angered Neptune?" Then she changes her note: "Still he shall not destroy thee, however much he desires." She bids him give up his raft to the anger of Neptune, throw away his clinging wet garments of Calypso, and swim to the land of the Phæacians. Then she hands him the veil which he is to "bind beneath his breast," and, when he has reached land, he is to throw it back into the sea. A ritual of some kind, symbolic acts we feel these to be, though their exact meaning may be doubtful. Ino, "the daughter of Cadmus," is supposed to have been a Phœnician Goddess originally, and to have been transferred to the Greek sailor, just as his navigation came to him, partly at least, from the Phœnicians. If he girded himself with the consecrated veil of Leucothea, the Goddess of the calm, Neptune himself in wrath could not sink him.
Such was the faith required of Ulysses, but now comes the internal counterstroke: his skepticism. "Ah me! what if some God is planning another fraud against me, bidding me quit my raft!" The doubter refuses to obey and clings to his raft. But the waves make short work of it now, and Ulysses by sheer necessity has to do as the Goddess bade him; "with hands outspread he plunged into the sea," the veil being underneath him. When he quits his raft, and is seen in the water, Neptune dismisses him from view with a parting execration, and Pallas begins to help him, not openly, but indirectly.
In such manner the great doubter is getting toward shore, but even here his doubts cease not. Steep jutting cliffs may not permit him to land, the billows may dash him to death on the sharp shoaly rocks, or carry him out again to sea, or some huge monster of the deep may snap him up in its jaws; thus he is dashed about internally, on the billows of doubt. But this grinding within is stopped by the grinding he gets without; a mighty surge overwhelms him, he clutches a rock and saves himself, but leaves flakes of flesh from his hands behind on the rock. "He swam along the coast and eyed it well," he even reaches the mouth of a soft-flowing river, where was a smooth beach and a shelter from the wind. Here is the spot so long desired, here then he passes to an act of faith, he prays to the river which becomes at once to the Greek imagination a God.
3. This brings us to the third water deity, and we observe a kind of scale from the universal one, Neptune, down to a local one, that of the river. The middle one, Ino, is the humane kindly phase of the great deep, showing her kinship with man; Neptune was the ruder god of the physical sea, and, to the Homeric Greek, the most powerful and natural. No wonder that he was angry at that little raft and its builder; it meant his ultimate subjection.
The prayer of Ulysses to the River-God is, on the whole, the finest passage in the present Book. It shows him now a man of faith, humbled though he be to the last degree of misery: "Hear me, ruler, whoever thou art, I approach thee much-besought. The deathless Gods revere the prayer of him who comes to them and asks for mercy, as I now come to thy stream. Pity, ruler, me thy suppliant." Certainly a lofty recognition of the true nature of deity; no wonder that the River stayed his current, smoothed the waves and made a calm before him. Such a view of the Gods reveals to us the inner depths of the Hero's character; it calls to mind that speech of Phœnix in the Iliad (Book Ninth) where he says that the Gods are placable. As soon as Ulysses makes this utterance from his heart, he is saved, the Divine Order is adjusted to his prayer, he having of course put himself into harmony with the same. He has no longer any need of the protecting veil of the sea-goddess Ino, having escaped from the angry element, and obtained the help of the new deity belonging to the place. He restores the veil to the Goddess according to her request, in which symbolic act we may possibly read a consecration of the object which had saved him, as well as a recognition of the deity: "This veil of salvation belongs not to me, but to the Goddess." Not of his strength alone was he saved from the waves.
Such is one side of Ulysses, that of faith, of the manifestation of the godlike in man, especially when he is in the very pinch of destruction. But Ulysses would not be Ulysses, unless he showed the other side too, that of unfaith, weak complaint, and temporary irresolution. So, when he is safe on the bank of the stream, he begins to cry out: "What now am I to suffer more! If I try to sleep on this river's brink for the night, the frost and dew and wind will kill me; and if I climb this hill to yonder thicket, I fear a savage beast will eat me while I slumber." It is well to be careful, O Ulysses, in these wild solitudes; now let the petulant outburst just given, be preparatory to an act of will which will settle the problem. "He rose and went to the wood near by; he crept under two bushes that grew from the same place, one the wild and the other the tame olive." There in a heap of leaves—man's first bed—he slept under the intertwined branches of the two olives—nature's shelter against wind, rain, sun. He, with all his cultivation is quite reduced to the condition of the primitive man.
One cannot help feeling a symbolic intention in these two olive trees, one wild and one cultivated. They represent in a degree the two phases of the man sleeping under them; they hint also the transition which he is making from the untamed nature of Calypso's island to the more civilized land of Phæacia. The whole Book is indeed the movement to a new life and a new country. We might carry out the symbolic hint much further on these lines, and see a meaning in their interwoven branches and the protection they are giving at present; but the poetic suggestion flashing afar over poem backwards and forwards is the true effect, and may be dimmed by too much explanation.
Such is this marvelous storm with its ship-wreck, probably the first in literature, but often made use of since. The outer surges of the tempest are indeed terrific; but the main interest is, that along with this external description of the storm, we witness the corresponding internal heaving and tossing of a human soul. Everywhere we notice that Ulysses doubts at first, doubts Calypso, doubts Ino, doubts even his final safety when on land. He is the skeptical man, he never fails to call up the possibilities on the other side. Though a God give the promise, he knows that there are other Gods who do not promise, or may give a different promise to somebody else. It is the experience of life, this touch of doubt at first; it always accompanies the thinking man, who, like Ulysses, must be aware of a negative counterpart even to truth. Not pleasant, but painful is this doubt shooting through the soul, and keeping it in distress and often in lamentation. So even the Hero breaks out into unmanly complaint, and reveals to the full his finite nature.
Yet if Ulysses doubts, he always overcomes his doubt in the end; he sees the positive element in the world to be deeper than the negative one, after a little access of weakness. Under his doubt is the deeper layer of faith, so he never gives up, but valiantly holds on and conquers. The Gods come to his aid when he believes and acts. His intellect is doubt, his will is faith: wherein we may trace important lines which unite him with Faust, the chief character in our last world-poem. Ulysses will complain, and having freed his mind, will go to work and conquer the obstacle. He struggles with the billow, clinging to the mast, though he had just said: "Now I shall die a miserable death."
Parallel to this human side runs the divine side, which we need not further describe here, with its three water-deities. A little attention we may give to the part of Pallas. At one time she seems to control the outer world for her favorite, sending the wind or stopping it; then she is said to inform his mind with forecast, that he may do the thing in spite of wind or other obstacle; finally he often does the deed without any divine suggestion, acting through himself. In these stages we can see a transition of the Mythus. The first stage is truly mythical, in which the deity is the mover, the second is less so, the Goddess having become almost wholly internal; in the third stage the mythical is lost. All these stages are in Homer and in this Book, though the first is still paramount.
Taking into view the general character of the mythical movement of this Fifth Book, we observe that there is a rise in it from a lower to a higher form; Calypso and Neptune are intimately blended with their physical environments, the island and the sea. Though elevated into persons, they are still sunk in Nature; it is the function of the Hero, especially the wise man, to subordinate both or to transcend both: which is just what Ulysses has done. His Mythus is, therefore, a higher one, telling the story of the subjection of nature and of her Gods. This story marks one phase of his career.
The reader will probably be impressed with the fact that in the present Book the stress is upon the discipline of the will. The inner reactions of complaint, doubt, or despair turn against the deed, to which Ulysses has to nerve himself by a supreme act of volition. The world of Calypso is that of self-indulgence, inactivity, will-lessness, to which Ulysses has sunk after his sin against the source of light, after his negation of all intelligence. It is not simply sensuous gratification with the mind still whole and capable of resolution, as was the case with Ulysses in the realm of Circe, in which he shows his will-power, though coupled with indulgence. Such is the difference between Calypso and Circe, which is always a problem with the reader. In this way, too, we see how the Fifth Book before us is a direct continuation and unfolding out of the Twelfth Book. Indeed the very movement of the poem is significant, which is a going backwards; so Ulysses drops far to the rear out of that light-loving Island of the Sun, against which is his violation, when he comes to Ogygia.
But Ulysses has now, after long discipline, transcended this sphere, and has reached a new land, of which the account is to follow next.
We are now to make one of the chief transitions of the poem, we are going to pass from the Dark Island and the stormy sea to Phæacia, a bright, sunlit land, where reign peace and harmony. Moreover, we move out of the realm of nature to that of institutions. Still more significant are the central figures of the two localities, both women; one of these we have seen, Calypso, who is now to give way to Nausicaa.
This Book may, therefore, be called Nausicaa's Book, as she is the leading character in it, imparting to it a marvelous mood of idyllic beauty and womanly purity. She is the person chosen by the poet to introduce the Hero into the new realm, Phæacia, being in sharp contrast to Calypso, who detained Ulysses in dark Ogygia away from his family, and whose character was adverse to the domestic relation. But Nausicaa shows from the start the primal instinct of the true woman for the home. She is still young, but she has arrived at that age in which she longs with every throb of her heart to surrender her own separate existence, and to unite it with another. She manifests in all its attractiveness the primordial love of the woman for the Family, basis of all institutional life, as well as fountain of the deepest joys of our terrestrial sojourn.
On this account she represents the place of Phæacia in the Greek world as well as in the present poem; perhaps we ought to add, in the whole movement of civilization. That land may be called the idyllic one, a land of peace and of freedom from all struggle; the borderland between the natural and the civilized spheres. Man has risen out of the grossness of mere sensuous individualism, such as we see in Polyphemus and in other shapes of Fairyland; but he has not yet reached the conflicts of higher forms of society resulting from a pursuit of wealth, from ambition, from war. Here is a quiet half-way house on the road from nature to civilization; a sweet reposeful realm, almost without any development of the negative forces of society; a temporary stopping-place for Ulysses in his all-embracing career, also for individuals and nations in their rush forward to reach the great end. The deep collisions of social life belong not to Phæacia, nor to Nausicaa, its ideal image.
It is the virgin land, the virgin world, which now has a young virgin as its central character and representative, to mediate Ulysses with itself, the universal man who must also have the new experience. Still she is not all of Phæacia, but its prelude, its introductory form; moreover, she is just the person to conduct Ulysses out of his present forlorn condition of mind and body into a young fresh hope, into a new world. The Calypso life is to be obliterated by the vision of the true woman and her instinctive devotion to the Family. We are aware that Ulysses has not been contented with the Dark Island and its nymph, he has had the longing to get away and has at last gotten away; but to what has he come? Lost the one and not attained the other, till he beholds Nausicaa, who grasps him by the hand, as it were, and delivers him wholly from Calypso, leading him forth to her home, where he is to witness the central phase of domestic life, the mother.
The organism of the Book easily falls into two parts, one of which portrays Nausicaa at home, the other gives the meeting between her and Ulysses. Yet over this human movement hovers always the divine, Pallas is the active supernal power which brings these events to pass, introducing both the parts mentioned. She is the providence which the poet never permits to drop out. Most deeply does the old singer's sincerity herein move the reader, who must rise to the same elevation; Homer's loyalty is to faith, faith in the Divine Order of the World, for this is not suffered to go its way without a master spirit; the individual, especially in his pivotal action, is never left alone, but he fits in somewhere; the Whole takes him up and directs him, and adjusts him into the providential plan; not simply from without but through himself. Such is this poet's loyalty to his Idea; he has faith, deep, genuine faith, yet unostentatious, quite unconventional at times; a most refreshing, yes, edifying appearance to-day, even for religious people, though he be "an old heathen."
Such continual recurrence of the God's interference with the course of events—what does it mean? This is unquestionably the fundamental problem with the earnest student of Homer. Let us observe, then, first, that the poet's principle is not to allow a divine intervention to degenerate into a merely external mechanical act; himself full of the spirit of the God, he puts the divine influence inside the individual as well as outside, and thus preserves the latter's freedom in the providential order. The faithful reader will never let these movements of the deity drop into mere machinery; when he does, he has lost the essence of Homer. Doubtless it requires an alert activity of mind to hold the Gods always before the vision in their truth; they must be re-thought, or indeed re-created every time they appear. The somnolescent reader is only too ready to spare himself the poetic exaltation in which the old bard must be read, if we would really see the divinities, and grasp the spirit of their dealings with man. Speak not, then, of epical machinery in Homer, the word is misleading to the last degree, is indeed libellous, belieing the poet in the very soul of his art.
In the present Book there is not by any means as much divine intervention as in the preceding one; we pass from the lower realm of the water-gods to that of Pallas, the goddess of intelligence, who is the sole active divinity in this Book. She appears to Nausicaa at the beginning in the form of a dream, and bids the maiden look after some washing. Our first question is, why call in a goddess for such a purpose? The procedure seems trivial and unnecessary, and so it would be under ordinary circumstances. But through this humble and common-place duty Nausicaa is made a link in the grand chain of the Return of Ulysses, which is the divine plan underlying the whole poem, and is specially the work of Pallas. To be sure this had no place in Nausicaa's intention, but it does have a place in the providential scheme, which has, therefore, to be voiced by the Goddess. Yet that scheme does not conflict with the free-will of the maiden, which finds its fullest scope just in this household duty, and brings out her character. She reveals to Ulysses her nature, this is the occasion; she had to be free to represent what she truly was to the much-experienced man. An ordinary wash-day has little divinity in it, but this one is filled with the divine plan. Thus small events, otherwise immediately forgotten, may by a mighty co-incidence he elevated into the sphere of the World's History, and become ever memorable. That French soldier who threw a camp-kettle over the head of Mirabeau's ancestor and thus saved him from being trampled to death by a passing troop of cavalry, made himself a factor in the French Revolution, and was inspired by whom, demon or angel?
As already hinted, the structure of the Book is determined by the two interventions of Pallas, which divide it into two portions; these are shown in the following outline:—
I.
# Pallas appears to Nausicaa in a dream, and gives the suggestion.
# Nausicaa, when she awakes, obeys the suggestion and proceeds to the place of the washing.
II.
# Ulysses also asleep, lies in his cover not far from the same spot, when Pallas starts the plan for his waking.
# Meeting of Ulysses and Nausicaa, and the going to the city.
In both parts we observe the same general method; the divine influence, beginning above, moves below and weaves the mortal into its scheme through his own action.
I.
First is a short introduction giving a bit of the history of the Phæacians, in which we catch a glimpse of their development. They once dwelt near the Cyclops, the wild men of nature, from whom they moved away on account of injuries received; they could live no longer in such a neighborhood. Here we note an important separation, probably a change of life which leaves the ruder stage behind. The colony is led forth to a new land by its hero, who lays the foundation of a social order by building houses, temples to the Gods, and a wall round the city, and who divides the territory. Thus a civil polity begins by getting away from "the insolent Cyclops" or savages. On the other hand, civilized enemies who might bring war, seem not to dwell near the Phæacians, beloved of the Gods. Beyond all conflict, inner and outer, lies the fortunate realm; it touches the happy mean between barbarism and civilization, though perchance on the road from former to latter; at present, however, it is without the evils which go before it and come after it. As already stated, it is an idyllic world, life appears to be one continued festival, with song and dance of youth. It is not real Greece, not Ithaca, which just now is a land of discord and conflict. What the poet says of Olympus in a famous passage a little further on in this book, seems applicable, in spirit at least, to Phæacia:
"""
The storm-wind shakes it not, nor is it wet
By showers, and there the snow doth never fall;
The calm clear ether is without a cloud,
And over all is spread a soft white sheen.
"""
1. Now comes the appearance of Pallas, who "like a breath of wind" approaches the couch of the maiden in slumber, and admonishes her about the washing. Some such care the Goddess does impose upon the housekeeper to this day, and if report be true, at times troubles her dreams. It is indeed an important duty, this necessity of keeping the household and its members clean, specially the men, too often indifferent. Young Nausicaa, just entering upon womanhood, is ready for the divine suggestion; plainly she has come to that age at which the Goddess must speak to her on such matters. So much for Pallas at present.
2. Therewith we touch another fact; the maiden has reached the time when she must think, of marriage, which she instinctively regards as her true destiny in life. Still it does not appear that she is betrothed though "the noblest Phæacians are wooing thee." In simple innocence there hovers in her mind the thought of Family, yet she shows a shy reserve even before her father. With that sweet thought is joined the primary household care, which naturally enough comes to her in a dream. Cleanliness is next to godliness is our modern saying; it is certainly the outward visible token of purity, which Nausicaa is going to bring into her domestic surroundings. We may reasonably think that in the present scene the external deed and the internal character mirror each other.
It must be confessed, however, that to the modern woman wash-day, "blue Monday," is usually a day bringing an unpleasant mood, if not positive terror. She will often declare that she cannot enjoy this Phæacian idyl on account of its associations; she refuses to accept in image what in real life is so disagreeable. As a symbol of purification the thing may pass, but no human being wishes to be purified too often. Nausicaa's occupation is not popular with her sex, and she herself has not altogether escaped from a tinge of disrelish.
It is curious to note how customs endure. What Homer saw, the traveler in Greece will see to-day wherever a stream runs near a village. The Nausicaas of the place, daughters and mothers too, will be found at the water's side, going through this same Phæacian process, themselves in white garments even at their labor, pounding, rubbing, rinsing the white garments of their husbands, brothers, sons. Not without sympathy will the by-stander look on, thinking that those efforts are to make clean themselves and their household, life being in truth a continual cleansing for every human soul. So Hellas has still the appearance of an eternal wash-day. (See author's //Walk in Hellas, passim//.)
Nausicaa obtains without difficulty wagon and mules and help of servants. After all, the affair is something of a frolic or outing; when the task is done, there is the bath, the song, and a game of ball. It is worthy of notice that the word (//amaxa//) here used by old Homer for //wagon//, may still be heard throughout Greece for the same or a similar thing. In the harbor of Piræus the hackman will ask the traveler: "Do you want my //amaxa//?" The dance (//choros//), is still the chief amusement of the Greek villagers, and, as in Nausicaa's time, the young man wishes to enter the dance with new-washed garments, white as snow, whose folds ripple around his body in harmony with his graceful movements. Many an echo of Phæacia, in language, custom and costume, can be found in Greece at present, indicating, like the Cyclopean masonry, the solid and permanent substructure of Homer's poetry, still in place after more than 2500 years of wear and tear.
II.
The washing is done now, the sport is over, and the party is getting ready to go home; but the main object is not yet accomplished. Ulysses and Nausicaa are here to be brought together—the much-experienced man and the innocent maiden with her pure ethical instinct of Family. In many ways the two stand far asunder, yet in one thing they are alike: each is seeking the domestic relation, each will consummate the bond of love which has two phases, the one being after marriage and the other before marriage. Both are moving in their deepest nature toward the unity of the Family, though on different lines; Ulysses and Nausicaa have a common trait of character, which will be sympathetically found by each and will bring them together.
I. At this fresh turn of affairs there is an intervention of Pallas, not prolonged, but sufficient: "Thereupon Athena (Pallas) planned other things, that Ulysses should wake, and see the fair-faced maiden who would conduct him to the city of the Phæacians." The Goddess does not appear in person, as the deities so often do in the Iliad, nor does she take a mortal shape, or move Ulysses through a dream; she simply brings about an incident, natural enough, to wake the sleeping hero. Why then introduce the Goddess at all? Because the poet wishes to emphasize the fact that this simple incident is a link in the providential chain; otherwise it would have no mention. The ball is thrown at one of the servants, it falls into the stream, whereat there is an outcry—and Ulysses wakes.
Of course, the latter had at first his usual fit of doubt and complaint, just when the Gods are helping him: "Ah me! to what land have I come! What men are here—wild, insolent, unjust, or are they hospitable, reverencing the Gods? I shall go forth and test the matter"—and so by an act of will he rescues himself from inner brooding and finds out the truth.
2. Now we are to witness the gradual outer approach between Ulysses and Nausicaa, till it becomes internal, and ends in a strong feeling of friendship if not in a warmer emotion. The wanderer, almost naked, with only "a branch of thick leaves bound about his loins," comes forth from his hiding place, a frightful object to anybody, a wild man apparently.
All the servants run, but Nausicaa stands her ground before the nude monster; being a Princess she shows her noble blood, and, being innocent herself, what can she he afraid of? Thus does the poet distinguish her spiritually among her attendants, as a few lines before in the famous comparison with Diana he distinguished her physically: "Over all the rest are seen her head and brow, easily is she known among them, though all are fair: such was the spotless virgin mid her maids." Thus is hinted the outer and also the inner superiority which has now revealed itself in the Phæacian Princess.
Henceforth a subtle interplay takes place between her and Ulysses, in which we observe three main stages: First, the wild man in appearance he steps forth, yet he succeeds in touching her sympathy, wherein her charity is shown; Second, the transformed man, now a God in appearance he becomes, at whose view the maiden begins to show deep admiration, if not love; Third, the passing of Ulysses to the city to which he is conducted by the maiden, who also tells him how to reach the heart of the family, namely, the mother Arete. Thus she seeks to mediate him with her country and her hearth.
(1) Ulysses, issuing from his lair, addresses her in a speech which shows superb skill on account of its gradual penetration to the soul of the fair hearer. He praises first her external beauty with many a happy touch, yet with an excess which seems to border on adulation. This reaches her outer ear and bespeaks his good-will and gentleness at least. Then he strikes a deeper chord: he mentions his sufferings, those which are past, and forebodes those which are yet to be, perchance upon this shore. "Therefore, O Princess, have compassion, since I have come to thee first; none besides thee do I know in this land. Give me some old rag to throw around me, some useless wrappage which you may have brought hither." Pathetic indeed is the appeal; therewith comes sympathy, the man is no wild Cyclops, whom all Phæacians still remembered with terror, but a victim of misfortune.
Now comes the culmination of his speech, which shows his keen insight into human nature, as well as his own deepest longing: "May the Gods grant thy heart's desire—-husband, home, and wedded harmony." With this praise of domestic life upon his lips he has touched the profoundest chord of her heart; he has divined her secretest yet strongest instinct, and has appealed to it in deep emotion. Yet mark! in the same general direction lies his own dearest hope: he also will return home, to wife and family. Thus he has found the common meeting-place of their souls; the two strike the absolutely concordant note and are one in feeling—he the husband, she the maiden.
In her answer she expresses her strong sympathy, her words indeed rise into the realm of charity. It is no mark of baseness to be unfortunate; "but these must endure," what Zeus lays upon them. Such is the exhortation of the young maiden to the much-enduring man; she has divined too the ground-work of his character. "But now, since thou hast come to our land, thou shalt not want for garment or anything else proper for the needy suppliant." Then she recalls her attendants, reproving them for their flight, and orders them to give to Ulysses food and drink, oil to be used after bathing, and ample raiment. Nor should we pass by that other expression of hers: "all strangers and the poor are Jove's own," under the special protection of the Supreme God, who will avenge their disregard. Such is this ideal world of Phæacia, still ideal to-day; for where is it realized? The old poet has cast the imago of a society which we are still trying to embody. Well can she say that the Phæacians dwell far apart from the rest of the nations, "nor does any mortal hold intercourse with us." Thus, too, she marks unconsciously the limit of her people.
(2) The reader, along with Nausicaa, is to see the transformation of the beggarly wanderer, who, having taken his bath and put on his raiment, comes forth like a God. This is said to be the work of Pallas, "who caused him to appear taller and more powerful, with flowing locks, like the hyacinth." He becomes plastic in form, beautiful as a statue, into which the divine soul has been transfused by the artist. Such a transforming power lies within him, yet is granted also by a deity; the godlike in the man now takes on a bodily, or rather a sculpturesque appearance, and prophesies Greek plastic art.
The echo of this change is heard in the words of the maiden: "Hear me attendants; not without the will of the Olympians does this man come to us; lately I thought him unseemly, now he is like the Gods who hold the broad Heavens." Such is her lively admiration now, but what means this? "Would that such a man might be called my husband, dwelling here in Phæacia!" That note is indeed deeper than admiration.
(3) The third phase of this little play is the bringing of Ulysses to the city and home of Nausicaa. He, having satisfied his hunger, and being ready to start, receives some advice from the maiden, who seeks to conduct him at once to the center of the home. They will pass first through the outlying country, which shows cultivation; then they will go up into the city, with its lofty tower and double harbor; the seafaring character of the people is especially set forth by Nausicaa, whose name is derived from the Greek word for a ship. Particularly we must notice her fear of gossip, which also existed in Phæacia, ideal though the land was. She must not be seen with Ulysses; men with evil tongues would say: "What stranger is this following Nausicaa? Now she will have a husband." The sharp eye of Goethe detected in this passage the true motive; it is love, always having the tendency to deny itself, which dictates so carefully this avoidance of public report; the thing must not be said just because there is good reason for saying it. Her solicitude betrays her feeling. In pure simplicity of heart she pays the supreme compliment to Ulysses, likening him indirectly to "a God called down from Heaven by her prayers, to live with her all her days." Still further she intimates in the same passage, that "many noble suitors woo her, but she treats them with disdain, they are Phæacians." To be sure she puts these words into the mouth of a gossipy and somewhat disgruntled countryman, but they come round to their mark like a boomerang. Does she not thus announce to the much-enduring man that she is free, though under a good deal of pressure? All this is done in such an artless way, that it becomes the highest art—something which she does not intend but cannot help. Surely such a speech from such a source ought to repay him for suffering shipwreck and for ten years' wandering.
We cannot, therefore, think of calling this passage spurious, with some critics both ancient and modern. The complaint against it is that the young Phæacian lady shows here too much reflection, in conjunction with a tendency to sarcasm foreign to her life. But we find it eminently unreflective and naive; the very point of the passage is that she unconsciously reveals the deepest hidden thought and purpose of her heart to Ulysses. With all her being she must move toward the Family, she would not be herself unless she did; yet how completely she preserves modesty and simple-heartedness! Nor is the sarcastic tinge foreign to young girls. So we shall have to set aside the objections of Aristarchus the old Greek, and Faesi the modern German, commentator.
But the final instruction of Nausicaa is the most interesting; the suppliant is not to go to the father but to the mother. Nay, he is to "pass by my father's throne and clasp my mother's knees," in token of supplication; then he may see the day of return. Herein we may behold in general, the honored place of the mother as the center of the Family, its heart, as it were, full of the tender feelings of compassion and mercy. In the father and king, on the other hand, is the man of the State with its inflexible justice, often putting aside sympathy and commiseration with misfortune. The woman's heart may indeed be called the heart of the world, recognized here by the old poet and his Phæacians.
This mother, however, is in herself a great character; she is next to have a Book of her own, which will more fully set forth her position.
The character of Nausicaa, as here unfolded in the ancient poet, has captivated many generations of readers since Homer began to be read. The story has lived and renewed itself in manifold forms; it has that highest power of a genuine mythus, it produces itself through all ages, taking on a fresh vesture in Time. In old Hellas the tale of Nausicaa was wrought over into various shapes after Homer; it was transformed into a drama, love-story, as well as idyl. The myth-making spirit did not let it drop, but kept unfolding it; later legend, for instance, brought about a marriage between Telemachus and Nausicaa. Our recent greatest poet, Goethe, also responded mightily to the story of Nausicaa; he planned a drama on the subject, of which the outline is to be found in his published works. He did not find time to finish his poem, but there is evidence that he thought much about it and carried it around with him, for a long period. One regrets that the German poet was not able to give this new transformation of his ancient Greek brother, with whom he has manifested on so many lines an intimate connection and poetical kinship. In portions of the //Italian Journey// specially we see how deeply the Odyssey was moving him and how he was almost on the point of reproducing the whole poem with its marine scenery. But Nausicaa in particular fascinated him, and it would have been the best commentary on the present Book to have seen her in a now grand poetic epiphany in the modern drama of Goethe.
''BOOK SEVENTH.''
If the last Book was Nausicaa's, this one is Arete's; there is the transition from the daughter to the mother, from the maiden to the wife. Still it is not quite so emphatically a woman's Book, since the wife has to include the husband in her world. Ulysses now goes to the center of the Family, to its heart, that he may meet with compassion. Still she withholds her sympathy at first for a good reason; Arete is not wholly impulse and feeling, she has thought, reflection. So, after all, it is left to the men to take up the suppliant.
Very surprising to us moderns is the picture drawn by the old Greek poet of this woman, and of her position: "the people look upon her as a God when she goes through the city;" her mind is especially praised; she has a judicial character, supposed usually to be alien to women: "she decides controversies among men," or perchance harmonizes them. To be sure her position is stated as exceptional: "her husband honors her, as no other woman on earth is honored;" she is evidently his counselor as well as wife. Thus the poet would have us regard Arete not merely as a person of kind feelings and of sweet womanly instincts, but she has also the highest order of intelligence; she is united with her husband in head as well as in heart, perchance overtopping him in ability. Not domestic simply is the picture, it rises into the political sphere, even into the administration of justice.
Is the character of the woman, as thus set forth, possibly a thousand years before Christ, by a heathen poet in an uncivilized age comparatively, to be a prophecy unto us still at this late date? Certainly the most advanced woman of to-day in the most advanced part of the world as regards her opportunities, has hardly reached the height of Arete. Unquestionably a glorious ideal is set up before the Sisterhood of all time for emulation; or is it unattainable? At any rate the woman in Homer stands far in advance of her later historical position in Greece.
We may now turn to the husband for a moment, Alcinous the King, the man of civil authority who represents the State, whose function is to be the protector of the Family and of whomever the family receives into its bosom rightfully. He is the element surrounding and guarding the warm domestic center; still he seems to have stronger impulses, or probably less governed, than his wife. Distinctly is the superiority accorded to the woman in this discourse of Pallas to Ulysses; possibly the Goddess may have overdrawn the picture a little in favor of her sex, as really Alcinous becomes the more prominent figure later one.
So we catch a very fascinating glimpse of the Phæacian world. Two prominent characters representing the two great institutions of man, Family and State, we witness; thus is the spirit of the whole poem ethical. Here is no longer the realm of Calypso, the nymph of wild untrained nature, but the clear sunlit prospect of home and country, the anticipation of sunny Ithaca and prudent Penelope to the hapless sufferer. Ulysses sees his own land in the image of Phæacia, sees what he is to make out of his own island. Verily it is a great and epoch-making experience for him just before his return; he finds the ideal here which he is to realize.
Accordingly we have in line three women, Calypso, Nausicaa, Arete, through whose spheres Ulysses has passed on his way to his own female counterpart, Penelope. We may see in them phases of man's development out of a sensuous into an institutional life. Nor is the suggestion too remote that we may trace in this movement certain outlines in the progress of mankind toward civilization.
In the mythical history of Phæacia which is also here given, we can observe the same development suggested with greater distinctness. Already in the previous Book it was stated that the Phæacians at first "dwelt near the insolent Cyclops," from whom they had to make the removal to their present island on account of violence done them by their neighbors. But now we hear that both Alcinous and Arete are descended on one side from the daughter of King Eurymedon, "who ruled over the arrogant race of Giants," all of whom, both king and "wicked people," had perished. On the other side the royal pair had the sea-god Neptune as their progenitor who was also the father of the Cyclops Polyphemus. It is impossible to mistake the meaning of this genealogy and the reason of its introduction at the present conjuncture. The Phæacians likewise were sprung of the wild men of nature, and had been at one time savages; but they had changed, had separated from their primitive kindred and begun the march of civilization. The poet has manifestly before his mind this question: why does one branch of the same people develop, and another branch lag behind; why, of two brothers, does one become civilized and the other remain savage? Of this dualism Greece would furnish many striking illustrations, whereof the difference between Athena and Sparta is the best known. Here the change from the locality of the Cyclops, implying also the change in spirit, is made by a hero-king, "the large-souled Nausithous," evidently a very important man to the Phæacians. Then this respect given to the woman has often been noted as both the sign and the cause of a higher development of a people. At any rate the Phæacians have made the great transition from savagery to civilization, and thus reveal the inherent possibilities of the race.
We now begin to catch a hint of the sweep of the poem in these portions. Ulysses who has lapsed or at least has become separated from his institutional life, must travel back to the same through the whole rise of society; he has to see its becoming in his own experience, and to a degree create it over again in his own soul, having lost it. Hence the evolution of the social organism passes before his eyes, embodied in a series of persons and places.
In this Seventh Book, therefore, Ulysses is to make the transition to Family and State as shown in Phæacia, and as represented by Arete and Alcinous. We shall mark three leading divisions:—
I. Ulysses enters the city in the dark, when he is met by Pallas and receives her instructions. The divine principle again comes down and directs.
II. The external side of this Phæacian world is shown in the city, garden, and palace of the king; nature is transformed and made beautiful for man. All this Ulysses now beholds.
III. The internal side of this Phæacian world, its spiritual essence, is shown in the domestic and civil life of the rulers and nobles; of this also Ulysses is the spectator, recognizing and appropriating.
Thus we see in the Book the movement from the divine to the human, which we have so often before noticed in Homer. The three parts we may well put together into a whole: the Goddess of Intelligence informs the mind of man, which then transforms nature and builds institutions. Here Pallas simply directs Ulysses, who, however, is now to witness the works of mind done in Phæacia, to recognize them and to take them up into his spirit.
I.
Ulysses follows the direction of Nausicaa and passes to the city stealthily in a kind of concealment; "Pallas threw a divine mist over him," the Goddess now having the matter in hand. Moreover she appeared to him in the shape of a young girl with a pitcher, who points out the house of Alcinous and gives him many a precious bit of history in her prattle. Again we must see what this divine intervention means; Pallas is in him as well as outside of him. These are suggestions of his own ingenuity on the one hand, yet also the voice of the situation; indeed he knew them essentially already from the instructions of Nausicaa. Still further, they are now a part of the grand scheme, which is in the Olympian order, and hence is voiced by the Gods.
The poet introduces his mythical forms; we hear also the fabulous genealogy of the Phæacian rulers, the meaning of which has been above set forth. They, too, Arete and Alcinous, have come from the Cyclops, and have made the same journey as Ulysses, though in a different manner. It must be remembered that he has had his struggle with the giant Polyphemus, one of the Cyclops, whereof he will hereafter give the account. But the chief matter of the communication of Pallas is to define to Ulysses the position and character of Arete, evidently a woman after her own heart. In this way the Goddess, taking the part of a prattling maid, gives the royal pedigree, and especially dwells on the importance of the queen. Also she throws side glances into the peculiar disposition of the Phæacians, needful to be known to the new-comer. They are a people by themselves, distrustful of other peoples; they too must be transcended.
It is well at this point to observe Homer's procedure in regard to Pallas. We can distinguish two different ways of employing the Goddess. The poet says that Pallas gives to the Phæacian women surpassing skill in the art of weaving. This is almost allegorical, if not quite; the Goddess stands for a quality of mind, is subjective. Again, when she endows Ulysses with forecast in an emergency, it is only another statement for his mental prevision. Many such expressions we can find in the Odyssey; Pallas is becoming a formula, indicating simply some activity of mind in the individual. But in the important places the Goddess is kept mythical; that is, she voices the Divine Order, she utters the grand ethical purpose of the poem, or makes herself a vital part thereof. Thus she is objective, truly mythical; in the other case she is subjective and is getting to be an allegorical figure. The Odyssey, with its greater internality compared with the Iliad, is losing the mythus.
There is a third way of using Pallas and the Gods which is hardly found in Homer, indeed could not be found to any extent without destroying him. This is the external way of employing the deities, who appear wholly on the outside and give their command to mortals, or influence them by divine authority alone. Thus the Gods become mechanical, and are not a spiritual element of the human soul. Virgil leaves such an impression, and the Roman poets generally. Even the Greek tragic poets are not free from it; especially Euripides is chargeable with this sin, which is called in dramatic language //Deus ex machina//.
Though the Homeric poems as wholes are not allegories, yet they have allegory playing into them. Indeed the mythus has an inherent tendency to pitch over into allegory through culture. Then there is a reaction, the mythical spirit must assert itself even among civilized peoples, since allegorized Gods are felt to be hollow abstractions, having nothing divine about them.
There can hardly be a doubt that a proper conception of the relation of the deities to men is the most important matter for the student of Homer. But it requires an incessant alertness of mind to see the Homeric Gods when they appear to the mortal, and to observe that they are not always the same, that they too are in the process of evolution. For instance, in the present Book as well as elsewhere, Pallas must be noted as having two characters, a mythical and allegorical, as above unfolded. Nitzsch, whose commentary on the Odyssey, though getting a little antiquated, is still the best probably, because it grapples with so many real problems of the poem, says: "It is wholly in Homer's manner to represent, in the form of a conversation with Pallas, what the wise man turns over in his own mind and resolves all to himself" (//Anmerkungen zu Homer's Odyssee//, Band II, S. 137). Very true, yet on the next page Nitzsch says that it is "entirely wrong to suppose that Pallas represents the wisdom of Ulysses //allegorically//." But what else is allegory but this embodiment of subjective wisdom? Now Nitzsch truly feels that Pallas is something altogether more than an allegory, but he has failed to grasp distinctly her mythical character, the objective side of the Goddess, and so gets confused and self-contradictory.
One of the best books ever written on Homer is Nägelsbach's //Homerische Theologie//, which also wrestles with the most vital questions of the poem. But Nägelsbach's stress is almost wholly on the side of the Gods, he seems to have the smallest vision for beholding the free, self-acting man in Homer. In his first chapter (//die Gottheit, the Godhead//) he recognizes the Gods as the upholders and directors of the Supreme Order (sec. 28); also they determine, or rather create (//schaffen//) man's thought and will (sec. 42). What, then, is left for the poor mortal? Of course, such a view is at variance with Homer in hundreds of passages (see especially the speech of Zeus with which the action of the Odyssey starts, and in which the highest God asserts the free-will and hence the responsibility of the man). Nägelsbach himself suspects at times that something is wrong with his view and hedges here and there by means of some limiting clauses; note in particular what he says about Ulysses (sec. 31), who is an exception, being "thrown upon his own resources in cases of extreme need," without the customary intervention of the Gods. But the man in his freedom, who co-operates with the God in the providential order, is often brought before the reader in the Iliad as well as in the Odyssey (see author's //Com. on the Iliad//, pp. 129, 157, 216, etc.).
II.
We now come to one of the most famous passages in Homer, describing the palace and garden of Alcinous. First of all, we must deem it the outer setting of this Phæacian world with its spirit and institutions, the framework of nature transformed which takes its character from within. Civilized life assumes an external appearance corresponding to itself; it remodels the physical world after its own pattern. The result is, this garden is in striking contrast with the bower of Calypso, which is almost a wild product of nature. The two localities are mirrored surrounding each home respectively. Again we observe how Homer employs the description of scenery: he makes it reflect the soul as its center.
In a certain sense we may connect these Phæacian works with Pallas, who has directed Ulysses hither; they are the works of intelligence. The arts and the industries spring up through the transformation of nature. Here is first noted the palace of the king with certain hints of its materials and construction; especially have the metals been wrought and applied to human uses. Gold, silver, steel, brass or bronze are mentioned in connection with the palace and its marvelous contents. Thus an ideal sense of architecture we note; still more strongly indicated is the feeling for sculpture, the supreme Greek art. Those gold and silver watch-dogs at the entrance, "which Vulcan made by his skill, deathless and ageless for all time;" those golden boys "upon their well-built pedestals holding lighted torches in their hands" are verily indications that the plastic artist has already appeared. The naive expression of life which the old poet gives to the sculpturesque shapes in the palace of Alcinous, is fresh as the first look upon a new world, which is indeed now rising.
But not only the Fine Arts, the Industries also are touched upon. Weaving is specially emphasized along with navigation, one being the Phæacian woman's and the other being the Phæacian man's most skillful work. Other occupations are involved in these two. Thus is marked the beginning of an industrial society.
After the palace the garden is described with its cultivated fruit-trees—pear, pomegranate, apples—a good orchard for to-day. Of course the vineyard could not be left out, being so important to the Greek; three forms of its products are mentioned—the grape, the raisin, and wine. Finally the last part is set off for kitchen vegetables, though some translators think that it was for flowers. Nor must we omit the two fountains, such as often spout up and run through the Greek village of the present time.
Undoubtedly fabulous threads are spun through this description. Quite too lavish a use is made of the precious metals in the house of Alcinous, as in some fairy tale or romantic ballad; so much gold is found nowhere outside of wonderland. In the garden fruit is never wanting, some of it just ripe, some still green, some in flower. No change of season, yet the effect of all seasons; surely a marvelous country it appears; still we learn that in Campania are some sorts of grapes which produce thrice a year. A mythical garden is indeed the delight of human fancy. Eden has its counterparts everywhere. Indeed a significant parallel might be drawn between Greek Phæacia and the Hebrew Paradise; in the one, man unfolds out of savagery, in the other he is created at once by a divine act. Can we not see Orient and Occident imaging themselves in their respective ideal products? The one from below upwards, the other from above downwards; both movements, the Greek and the Hebrew, belong to man, and have entered into his civilization. The next world-poet, Dante, will unite the two streams.
III.
Ulysses now comes to the internal element of Phæacia, to its soul as it were, manifested in the institutional life of Family and State. From this indeed is derived the beautiful world which we have just witnessed; Art builds up a dwelling-place, which images the spirit of the people to themselves and to others.
In accord with his instructions from both. Pallas and Nausicaa, he first goes to Arete and clasps her knees in supplication, begging for an escort to his country. But behold! She hesitates, notwithstanding his strong appeal to her domestic feeling and her sympathy with suffering. What can be the matter? Another Phæacian, not of the royal house apparently, but of the nobles, is the first to speak and command the stranger to be raised up and to be hospitably received. An old religious man who sees the neglect of Zeus in the neglect of the suppliant, a man of long experience, "knowing things many and ancient," is this Echeneus; him at once the king obeys, the queen still remaining silent.
Soon, however, we catch the reason of her conduct in the question: "Stranger, where did you get those garments?" She noticed Ulysses wearing the mantle and tunic "which she herself had made with her servants," and which Nausicaa had given him. Surely this is a matter which must be accounted for before proceeding further. Herein the woman comes out in her own peculiar province; no man would ever have noticed the dress so closely; Alcinous did not, and wise Ulysses in this case did not forecast so far out of his masculine domain. But the poet had made the subtle observation and uses it as a turning-point in his little drama. Now we see the queen before us: imagine a pair of dark eyes shooting indignation upon the man clothed with garments intrusted this very morning to the daughter.
Nor should we fail to scan her second question: "Do you not say that you have come hither a wanderer over the deep?" Verily the case is suspicious. Ulysses sees his plight, and at once offers the most elaborate explanation, going back and giving a history of himself for the last seven or eight years. Now we know why the poet specially praised the mind of Arete, and why her husband so honored her, and why she could be judge of disputes among men. She shows the keenest observation united with reasoning power; she stands out in contrast with the Phæacian men, who follow impulse more readily than she, as she keeps the judicial balance, though a woman, and demands evidence of truth from the uncertain stranger.
We may draw from this scene certain traits of the Phæacians, as we see here a man, a typical man probably who is outside of the royal family. An ideal humanity seems to live in them; they will receive the unfortunate wanderer and succor him to the fullest extent. More impressive still is their religious faith; they live in intimate communion with the Gods, who appear in person at the feast "sitting among us;" nor do the deities conceal themselves from the solitary wayfarer; "since we are as near to them as are the Cyclops and the wild tribes of Giants." So speaks Alcinous, hinting that kinship, which has been previously set forth; both himself and Arete are the descendants of savages, who were children of the Gods of nature. But they have risen into fellowship with the higher Gods of Olympus. The words of the king seemed to be tinged with sarcasm at those inferior deities, parents of savagery, from whom, however, they themselves are sprung. He cannot forget the Cyclops, the men of violence who once did his people wrong.
In these mythical allusions, obscure enough just here, we have already traced the rise of Phæacia into an ethical existence. The worship of the higher Gods is the emotional side of such a condition, and the treatment of the suppliant marks an advance toward the conception of an universal humanity. Still Phæacia, has its spiritual limits, genuine Greek limits, of which hereafter something will be said.
It is sufficient to state that the speech of Ulysses has its effect, it contains a great deal which appeals to the character of Arete; his leaving Calypso and his desire to return to his home-life must be powerful motives towards winning her sympathy. Then she cannot help recognizing and admiring his skill; there is an intellectual bond between them, as well as an ethical one. Not much does she say hereafter, her part being finished; her husband takes the lead henceforth. She has tested the wanderer, Alcinous can now preform the ceremonies.
We soon see that the king needs a counterpart in such a wife, he being impulsively generous; he blames his daughter for her backwardness in not coming to town with Ulysses, whereat the latter frames one of his smallest fibs in excuse of the maiden. Still further, the king in a surprising burst of admiration, wishes that Ulysses, or "such an one as thou art," might stay and be called his son-in-law. Altogether too sudden; Arete would not have said that, though the woman be the natural match-maker. Still Alcinous, in a counter-outpouring of his generosity, promises to send Ulysses to his own land, though "this should be further off than Eubœa, the most distant country." Thus overflows the noble heart of the king, but he clearly needs his other half, in the thorny journey of life.
Thus has Ulysses reached the heart of Phæacia and found its secret beat; he has felt its saving power, not simply externally but also internally; it rescues him from dangers of the sea and of himself too. The truly positive side of life begins to dawn upon him again, after his long career of struggle with dark fabulous shapes. Well may he pray Zeus for Alcinous: "May his fame be immortal over the fertile earth"—a prayer which has been fulfilled, and is still in the process of fulfillment. Arete gives the order to the servants to spread his couch for the night's repose, she has received him.
In the sweep of the present Book, many origins are suggested. The genealogy of the king and queen and people is significant, it might be called the genealogy of civilization. The woman is placed at the center; out of her springs the family, and with it come society, state, the institutional world.
Of such a world the external environment is seen in the garden, palace, and city of the Phæacians, which are built by the spirit for its dwelling-place and reflect the spirit. The Greek world of Beauty is born, and its course is foreshadowed; this ideal Homeric realm is prophetic of what Greece is to become. The plastic arts and the industrial arts are suggested, and to a degree are realized.
The artistic soul of Hellas is fully felt in Homer's Phæacia. The formative impulse is everywhere alive and at work; the instinctive need of shaping and transforming nature and life is here in its first budding, and will bloom into the greatest art-people of all time. Those two supreme Fine Arts of mature Greece, Architecture and Sculpture, are present in examples which foretell plainly Phidias and the Parthenon.
"""
King Alcinous; thy fair palace has had fairer offspring,
Thou art ruling the world still by the beautiful form;
Out of thy mansion majestic was born in a song the Greek Temple,
Sentineled round with a choir—Titans columnar of stone,
Bearing forever their burden to hymns of a Parian measure,
Wearing out heaviest Fate to a Pindaric high strain.
Look! those boys of thy garden with tapers are moving to statues,
Seeming to walk into stone while they are bringing the light;
Hellas springs out of thy palace all sculptured with actions heroic,
Even the God we discern turning to marble by faith.
"""
Such is the originative, prophetic character of Phæacia, which the reader must take profoundly into his soul, if he would understand the genetic history of Greek spirit. Verily the poet is the maker of archetypes and reveals in his shapes all that his people are to become.
"""
Thou, old Homer, wert the first builder in Greece, the first carver,
Afterward she could but turn fancies of thine into stone;
Architects followed thee, building thy poem aloft into temples,
Sculptors followed thee too, thinking in marble thy line.
"""
Nor must we forget the Industrial Arts here suggested—weaving, ship-building, the working of metals; in general, there is hinted the varied transformation of nature, which begets a civilized life. Agriculture is present, also horticulture, which the garden of Alcinous presupposes. Such, then, is the grand frame-work for the social order as here portrayed.
But the chief art of the Homeric world has not yet been given, though it is at work now, and is just that which has reproduced Phæacia with all its beauty. This is the poet's own art, which having set forth the other arts, is next to set forth itself. Accordingly we are to see the poet showing the poet in the following Book, which may, therefore, be named the Book of the Bard. Thus we pass out of the industrial and plastic arts of Phæacia, into the supreme art, the poetic, as it manifests itself in the Phæacian singer.
''BOOK EIGHTH.''
We observe a decided change in the present Book; it has a character of its own quite distinct from the preceding Books. Yet it is on a line of development with them, we note a further spiritual evolution which must be looked into with some attention. In general, Phæacia is now seen as an art-world, in true correspondence with Hellas, of which it is a kind of ideal prototype. In the two previous Books we saw portrayed chiefly institutional life in Family and in State. But in this Book institutional life, though present and active, is withdrawn into the background, and becomes the setting for the picture, yet also is the spirit which secretly calls forth the picture. A poetic art-world now passes before us in entrancing outlines, a world filled with song, dance, games, with all the poetry of existence.
Such an artistic development follows from what has gone before. Man, having attained culture, civilization, and a certain freedom from the necessity of working for his daily bread, begins to turn back and look at his career; he observes the past and measures how far he has come. The image of himself in his unfolding he beholds in art, specially in the poetic art, whose essence must at last be just this institutional life which has been described in Phæacia. He attains it and then steps back and portrays his attaining of it; having done the heroic deed, he must see himself doing it forever, in the strains of the bard. Art is thus the mirror of life and of institutions; it reflects the grand conflict of the times and the people; it seizes upon the supreme national event, and holds it up in living portraiture along with its heroes.
Now the great event which lies back of Phæacia at the present time, in fact lies back of all Greece for all ages, perchance lies back of all Europe, is the Trojan War. It was the first emphatic, triumphant assertion of the Greek and indeed of the European world against the Orient. The fight before Troy was not a mere local and temporary conflict between two quarrelsome borderers, but it cuts to the very marrow of the World's History, the grand struggle between East and West. Family and State are most deeply concerned in it, the restoration of the wife is the main object of the Trojan War, which the chieftains of Greece must conclude victoriously or perish. A new world was being born on this side of the Ægean, and the Greeks were its first shapers and its earliest defenders. This occidental world, whose birth is the real thing announced at Troy in that marvelous cradle-song of Europe, called the Iliad, has already begun its career, and shows its earliest period in Phæacia. It is no wonder, then, that the Phæacian people wish to hear the Trojan song, and it alone, and that the Phæacian poet wishes to sing the Trojan song, and it alone.
Thus we behold in the present Book a quiet idyllic folk on their island home out in the West listening to the mighty struggle of their race, with dim far-off anticipations of all that it involved. Nor were the women indifferent. Arete, the wife and center of the Family, is not henceforth to be exposed to the fate of Helen; think what would Phæacia be without her, or she without Phæacia; think what she would be in Troy, for instance. Strong emotions must rise in the breasts of all the people at hearing such a song.
But still stronger emotions well out of the heart of Ulysses. He is one of the heroes of the Trojan War not yet returned, a living image of its sacrifices. Of course, he is the main hero sung of by the bard in the present Book; such is the artistic adaptation of the Homeric work, clearly done with a conscious design. Ulysses has already passed through several stages—Calypso, Nausicaa, Arete; now he has reached the poet, Demodocus certainly, and perchance Homer himself, who is to sing not only of the Trojan War, but also of its consequences—this rise of man's spiritual hierarchy as here unfolded, from Nature, into Institutions, and thence into Art. After hearing Demodocus, Ulysses picks up the thread and becomes his own poet, narrating his adventures in Fairyland with the free full swing of the Homeric hexameter. Thus he acquires and applies in his own way the art of Phæacia; the arch of his life spans over from the heroic fighter before Troy to the romantic singer before the Phæacian court.
It is plain, therefore, that this Book is distinctively the Book of the Bard. In the experience of Ulysses, Demodocus is placed on a line with the three leading figures in the last three Books—they being women, while the singer must be a man. One reason is, possibly, that a Phæacian woman could not be permitted to sing such a strain as the story of Venus and Mars. At any rate, he is fourth in the row of shapes, all of which are significant. We catch many touches of his personality; he is blind, though gifted with song; "evil and good" he has received, and is therein a typical man. It is in every way a beautiful loving picture, painted with strong deep undertones of sympathy; no wonder is it, therefore, that Demodocus in all ages has been taken as a portrait of Homer by himself, showing glimpses of the man, of his station in life, and of his vocation. Later on we shall consider this point in more detail.
The three songs of the bard furnish the main landmarks for the organism of the Book. All of them will be found more or less intimately connected with the great event of the immediate Past, the story of Troy. Phæacia shows an intense interest in that story and the bard approves himself its worthy singer. Indeed the three songs stand in direct relation to the Iliad; the first deals with an event antecedent to the Iliad; the second has the theme of the Iliad, though in a changed form, inasmuch as the seducer, the wife and the husband are here Gods (Mars, Venus, Vulcan) instead of mortals (Paris, Helen, Menelaus); the third deals with an event subsequent to the Iliad. Yet the singer carefully avoids repeating anything in the Iliad. It is almost impossible not to think that he had not that poem in mind; or, rather, we are forced to conclude that the present author of the Odyssey knew the Iliad, and we naturally think that both were by the same man. Demodocus is the singer of the Trojan War, yet he shuns singing what has already been sung about it. Herein we may catch another faint reflection of Homer, the organizer, the transfigurer of old legends into his two poems. Note also that he hovers around the Iliad, before and after it, yet never into it, here and elsewhere in the Odyssey; specially in the Third Book have we observed the same fact.
In the present Book, however, is another strand; besides these songs of the bard belonging to the past are the doings in Phæacia belonging to the present, which doings have a connection and a correspondence with the songs. Thus we observe three divisions in the Book, and two threads which run through these divisions. The following outline may serve to show the general structure:—
I. There is the representation of the struggle between the physical and mental in what may be called Phæacian art; skill and strength have an encounter shown in two ways:
# Past, heroic, ideal; the contest between Ulysses and Achilles at Troy; intelligence vs. mere courage. Sung by the bard. Pre-Iliad.
# Present, real, not heroic; the games in which there is a contest also, and in which both skill and strength are involved, with the preponderance of the physical.
II. Now we drop to the sensuous inactive side of the Phæacian world, the luxurious, self-indulgent phase of their life, which is also imaged in their art doubly:
# Past; an Olympian episode, a story of illicit love among the Gods, corresponding to the story of Helen on earth. Sung by the bard.
# Present; hints concerning the sensuous life of the Phæacians who love the feast, the song, the warm bath and bed, along with dance and music, showing their pleasure in art. Return of the men from the market-place to the palace and into the presence of Arete.
III. We pass to what may be called the triumph of intelligence and the recognition thereof,—Phæacian art is again introduced, Ulysses is revealed.
# Past, heroic, ideal; Troy is taken by skill, by the Wooden Horse, not by the physical might and courage of Achilles. Sung by the bard. Post-Iliad. This may be considered also a triumph over Venus who favored Troy.
# Present; Ulysses weeps, his tears are noticed by Alcinous, who demands his name, country, travels. Ulysses has already in a number of ways discovered himself as connected with the past, with the Trojan War. In the next Book he tells his name, country, character, adventures.
If we scan the sweep of this outline, we observe that it opens with the conflict between Brain and Brawn, or between Mind and Might, and ends in the victory of Mind in the grand Trojan conflict. Similar has been the movement hitherto, from Calypso onwards, which, however, shows the ethical conflict. Still the intellectual and the ethical spheres have to subordinate the natural, and mind is the common principle of both.
As an introduction to the Book we have an account of the men assembling in the marketplace, where "they sat on polished stones near one another." Pallas has, of course, to be employed, though in a passing and very subordinate way; she acts as herald to call the assembly together, and thus stamps it with a divine import. We must grant to the poet his right, but the Goddess seems almost unnecessary here, as the herald could have done the same work. Once more Pallas interferes: "she sheds a godlike grace upon the head and shoulders of Ulysses," imparting to him majesty and beauty, "that he might be dear to all the Phæacians," those lovers of the beautiful in art and life. Thus, like a visible deity, he was "to be feared and to be revered;" strength also the Goddess gave him, "that he might accomplish all the contests which the Phæacians would try him with." Thus is the Hero prepared divinely.
Alcinous makes a speech to the assembly, touching the wanderer, who is again promised an escort to Ithaca; the king chooses the crew, and the ship is launched. Meanwhile, however, there is to be a sacrifice with festival, the bard is led in and his harp adjusted, his portion of food and drink not being omitted, for he is not a hired musician, but an equal at the feast.
We are now to witness two kinds of entertainment, both of which according to the Greek conception, belong to the sphere of art. The one is an heroic song, and is thrown into the past; the other is a trial of bodily skill and strength, and belongs to the present. Both kinds show contest, and this contest is mainly between the physical and the spiritual elements in man. Which is paramount? Each is necessary, yet one must be subordinate.
1. Note, first of all, the theme of the bard: "The Muse inspired him to sing the strife between Ulysses and Achilles, the fame whereof had reached high Heaven." The Trojan War lies manifestly in the background of the quarrel. When did it take place, at what period during the struggle? There is nothing to settle the question decisively, such a dispute might have arisen almost at any time. But as it is the antecedent trouble in the Greek army, a dualism which this army brings with itself in its leaders, we may reasonably put it somewhere towards the beginning. This is also the opinion of Nitzsch (//Com. ad loc.//), who places the scene of the dispute on the island of Tenedos, in sight of the walls of Troy and who cites the old //Cypria// in support of his opinion. Other ancient authorities place it after the death of Hector; not long before the fall of the city.
Concerning the subject of the dispute there is little difference of opinion. The Greek commentator, Eustathius (died about 1200 A.D.) cites the following legend in reference to it: "Agamemnon, having consulted the Delphic Oracle about the result of the Trojan War, received the answer that Troy would be taken when the best men of the Greeks would begin to quarrel. At a feast a dispute arose between Achilles and Ulysses, the former maintaining that Ilion would be captured by bravery, the latter by skill and cunning." Hence the joy of Agamemnon at what would otherwise be regarded as a ground for sorrow.
The response of the Oracle was ambiguous, yet even out of its ambiguity we may read something. Achilles, the man of courage, was regarded as the hero of the Greeks, but this opinion must be contested, and wisdom must also have its place in the management of the war, before the hostile city can be taken. These two principles are represented by Achilles and Ulysses respectively. The God of Wisdom, Apollo, responds, therefore, in accord with his character, carefully, doubtfully, not taking a decisive stand on either side, uttering an oracle which itself needs interpretation. Still we can see that it means a protest against mere brute courage—a protest which Ulysses voices. The Trojan Horse, the grand successful stratagem, may be considered as the outcome.
In Shakespeare's //Troilus and Cressida//, the same subject is worked over very fully and is indeed the main pivot of the drama, in which Achilles is substantially deposed from his heroship and replaced by Ulysses. The contest between mind and might or skill and courage, is what the English poet took from his Greek elder brother in part and in part derived from later legend. The struggle between brain and brawn was indeed a vital one in the Greek camp; there was always the danger lest the spirit would got lost in its physical manifestation. Indeed the danger of the Greek world was just this, and it perished at last of the same disease which we already notice at Troy. It fell to a worship of the sensuous in life and art, and so lost its soul in a grand debauch.
2. King Alcinous has noticed that Ulysses hid his face and wept at the song of the bard. Thus strong emotion seizes him on hearing the strife at Troy, while the Phæacians listen with delight. Such is the contrast, hinting two very different relations to the song. But the king will divert him from his grief, and so calls for the games to show him "how much we excel others in boxing, wrestling, leaping and running." The quoit was also one of the games.
In like manner Achilles is diverted from his sorrows for his friend Patroclus, by an elaborate exhibition of games, which are set forth in Book Twenty-Third of the Iliad. Contests of strength and skill they are, showing the body under control of mind and manifesting the same up to a certain point. They have an artistic side and train the man physically, requiring also no little mental alertness.
When the Phæacian contestants had finished, there was an attempt to bring Ulysses into the game and have him show what he was, but he declined the courteous invitation; "cares are in my mind more than games." Then Euryalus taunts him with being a merchant, or robber, and no athlete. Ulysses makes a caustic reply, picks up the quoit, and hurls it far beyond the marks of the others; then with some display of temper he challenges any of the Phæacians present to any kind of contest. He even becomes boastful, and tells what he is ready to do in the way of games; still further, he can shoot the bow and throw the javelin in heroic fashion—which accomplishments he will employ with telling effect against the suitors hereafter.
Alcinous pacifies him with gentle words, and proceeds to withdraw all his previous claims extolling Phæacian athletic skill. The soft arts of peace are theirs; "in boxing and in wrestling we have small fame;" but on the other hand "we delight in feasts, we love the harp and dance;" new clothes are in favor, and "we like the warm bath and bed." Very different is now the call of King Alcinous from that last one: let the stranger see "how much we excel others in the dance and song," to which is strangely added seamanship. Such is the preparation for the lay of the loves of Mars and Venus.
Through these games the heroic strand in the stranger has been brought to light, somewhat in contrast with the Phæacians. As he had a contest of mind with Achilles at Troy, so he has now a contest which shows his physical might; he is no weakling in spite of his intellect. Pallas too does not fail him, she marks his superiority in the throw of his quoit, and thus inspires him with courage.
II.
We have now reached the second song of the bard, for the way has been smoothed by the preceding description of the luxurious delights of the Phæacians. It is often called the Loves of Venus and Mars, or the Adulterers caught on Olympus. From time immemorial much doubt of various sorts, poetical, moral, philological, has been cast upon this song. Some ancient commentators have regarded it an interpolation, not a genuine part of Homer; modern expositors have not hesitated to follow the same opinion.
And indeed there are strong grounds for suspicion. Almost every reader feels at the first perusal its jar with the general character of this idyllic Phæacian world; it is decidedly adverse to the spirit of Arete and Nausicaa, as previously unfolded; the fact would almost seem impossible that, in an atmosphere created chiefly by these two women, there could be such a kind of artistic enjoyment. The most conservative reader is inclined here to agree with those who perform an act of excision upon the text of Homer. The whole passage grates too harshly upon nerves which have been attuned to the sweet innocent life depicted in the two preceding Books.
The objections to the song may be summed up in the following heads. (1) It is inconsistent and deeply discordant with the ethical tone of Phæacia already given. (2) It does not further Ulysses in any way, it shows no trait in his character, unless his faint approval signifies his liking for such songs. Nor does it seem on the surface to connect him with Troy, as do the other two songs of Demodocus. (3) It gives an unworthy view of the Gods, degrading them far below Homer's general level, reducing them to ordinary burlesque figures which violate all decency, not to speak of morality. (4) Philologists have picked out certain words and expressions peculiar to this passage, which, not being employed by Homer elsewhere, tend to indicate some other author.
Still, if the passage be an interpolation, this must have taken place early in the history of the poems. Pausanias the traveler declares that he saw the dancing scene of the Phæacians depicted upon the throne of Apollo at Amyclæ, the artist of which probably flourished about 600 B. C. The old philosopher Heraclitus, who would scourge Homer from the festivals of the Gods, doubtless had this passage in mind. Plato censures its indecency specially, and, as is well known, would exclude all Homer from his ideal Republic. The ancients thus accepted the passage as Homeric, with the exception of some of the later grammarians.
Next come the many attempts, old and new, to allegorize the Olympian scene, or to explain it away. From the fact that the sun keeps watch and is mentioned twice in this part, the latest school of mythologists, the comparative so-called, have taken much comfort, and have at once found in the whole a sun-myth. Some ancient expositors, according to Athenæus, interpreted it as a story written for the purpose of deterring the listeners from doing similar bad deeds, pointing to the punishment even of Gods herein designated; thus they sought to save the credit of Homer, treating him quite as some commentators have treated certain morally questionable stories in the Bible. Thus along down the ages to the present the loves of Venus and Mars have created trouble.
Undoubtedly the song has meaning and deserves a rational exposition. Has it any connection with the other songs of this Book, or with Homer in general? It is certainly a product of early Greek poesy; can it be organically jointed into anything before it and after it? The burlesque tone which it assumes towards certain Olympians has caused it to be connected with the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, and with the war of the Gods in the Iliad (Book Twenty-First). Let us extend our horizon, and take a new look in various directions.
In the first place this song connects with Troy and the Iliad like the other two songs of Demodocus. The cause of the Trojan War and of its poem was the deed of Paris. The seducer, the wife, the husband—Paris, Helen, Manelaus—are the three central figures of the legend. Here this legend is thrown up among the Gods themselves, who furnish three corresponding characters—Mars, Venus, Vulcan. Then there is the wrong and the punishment of the wrong in both cases. Such is the theme of the Trojan War as it appears in the Iliad. Thus the three songs of Demodocus indicate a Pre-Iliad, an Iliad, and a Post-Iliad in due order.
In the second place one asks very emphatically: Why this present treatment of the Gods on Homer's part? But here we must make an important distinction. The Supreme God, Zeus, does not appear, nor does Juno nor does Pallas, indeed none of the Goddesses except the guilty one. The disgrace falls upon two mainly: Mars and Venus. In the Iliad they are Trojan deities hostile to the Greeks, and here the Greek poet serves them up together in an intermezzo, which makes them comic. Indeed the Greek Hero Diomed fights and puts down just these two Trojan deities in the Fifth Book of the Iliad. So must every Greek Hero at Troy conquer Mars and Venus (Violence and Lust, to give a suggestion of their purport) before Helen can be restored to home and country; he must put down the hostile city and its Gods. Note too, whither the Greek poet sends each of these deities after their release: Mars flies off to Thrace, a distant, barbarous country, beyond the borders of Hellas, where he can find his own; Venus on the contrary slips away southeastward to Cyprus inhabited by peoples Oriental or Orientalizing, and therein like Troy and herself. Both rush out of Greece with all speed; they belong somewhere in the outskirts of the Greek world.
We may now see why the Phæacians, without being so very wicked, could find an element in the song which they enjoyed. To them, with the Trojan War always in mind, this was the theme: the adulterous Trojan deities caught and laughed out of Olympus—those being the two deities who first misled by desire and then tried to keep by war the beautiful Helen, the Greek woman. Throwing ourselves back into his spirit, we may also see why Ulysses, the old war-horse from Troy, "was rejoiced in his heart, hearing the song" which degraded and burlesqued the Gods whom he had fought ten years, and who were, in part at least, the occasion of his wandering ten more. Venus and Mars did not find much sympathy in the Phæacian company, we may be sure. Why then regard them as Gods? The Greek deified everything; even the tendencies which he felt himself obliged to suppress had something of the divine in them. Calypso, whom Ulysses subordinated at last to the higher principle, was a Goddess; Troy, the hostile city, had its deities, whom the Greek recognised. Now its two chief deities are involved in a common shame, and flee from Olympus, flee almost outside of the Greek world. Certainly the audience could take some ethical satisfaction in that.
Then there is a third consideration different from the two preceding, both of which seek to look at the song from the ancient Greek standpoint. But from our modern standpoint it is also to be regarded. There is no doubt that we see here the beginning of the end of polytheism; the many Gods collide with one another, some are now put out and all will be finally put out; they are showing their finitude and transitoriness. Still further, we catch a glimpse of the sensuous side of Greek life, the excess of which at last brought death. Homer is the prophet of his people, when read with insight; he tells not only what they are, but hints what they are to become.
In general, we pass in this second part of the present Book as we have divided it, to the sensuous element of the Phæacian world, the inactive, quiet, self-indulgent phase, in decided contrast to the preceding part which shows a love of manly action in games and in war. Let us still further develop the twofold way in which this fact is brought out.
1. The second song of Demodocus has the general theme of the Trojan War and suggests the grand event of the aforetime. It manifestly carries the Trojan scission into Olympus and drives out in disgrace the Trojan deities. Vulcan, the wronged husband, is the divine artificer; he makes a network of chains which could not be broken, "like a spider's web, so fine that no one could see it, not even a God;" in this snare the guilty deities are caught, exposed, punished. These invisible, yet unbreakable chains have an ethical suggestion, and hint the law which is also to be executed on Olympus, as it was below in Troy. As Vulcan is the artist among the Gods, we are prompted to find also an artistic bearing in the scene; the artist catches the wrong-doers by his art and holds them fast in a marvelous net where they still lie, and shall lie for all time; even the intercession of Neptune cannot get them free. The scene is indeed caught out of the reality and holds to-day; the dashing, finely-uniformed son of Mars (so called at present) is most apt to win the heart of the gay, fashionable, beautiful daughter of Venus, have an escapade, and cause a scandal. Oft too they are caught in our modern, most adroitly woven spider's web, which goes under the name of newspaper, and held up, if not before a seeing Olympus, at least before a reading public, which not seldom indulges in conversation very much in the style of the Gods as here set forth. We moderns do not go to the market-place to hear such a strain, but have it brought to us in the Morning Journal. One advantage the Phæacian had: Arete and Nausicaa did not go to the market-place, where this song was sung, only men were there, but the print will enter the household where are wife and daughter. At any rate, we have to pronounce the song of Demodocus typical, universal, nay, ethical in spite of its light-hearted raillery, inasmuch as the deed is regarded as a breach of divine law, is exposed and punished, and the recompense for the release of the guilty pair, the penalty, is duly stated in accordance with law. Not every modern story-teller is so scrupulous, in meting out justice to ethical violation.
2. So much for the song; we turn again to the Phæacians, who are not now engaged in athletic, but in a milder sport, the dance. Youths moved their bodies in tune to the strain; still in Greece the dance and the song often go together. Then two danced alone without the song, but employed a ball, tossing it from one to the other, for the amusement of the spectators. A rhythmical movement of the body in the dance shows more internality than the athletic game, but it is less hardy, is more indicative of luxury and effeminacy.
On account of these enjoyments, which have been unrolled before us in so many striking pictures, the Phæacians have been regarded by some writers both in ancient and modern times as the mythical Sybarites devoted simply to a life of pleasure. The love of the warm bath and clean clothes, the dance and the song, above all the second lay of Demodocus have given them a bad name. Heraclides Ponticus derived their whole polity of non-intercourse, of concealment, of sending away the stranger as soon as possible out of their island, from their desire to resign themselves more completely to their luxurious habits, without foreign disturbance. Horace expresses a similar view of this people. Nitzsch in Commentary (ad loc.) defends the Phæacians warmly against the charge, and the view that Arete and Nausicaa cannot be products of a corrupt society holds good. An idyllic people, not by any means enervated, though pleasure-loving—so we must regard them. That lay of the bard, rightly looked into, does not tell against them as strongly as is sometimes supposed. Still Heraclides touched upon a limitation of Phæacia in his criticism, it refused to join the family of nations, it sought to be a kind of little China and keep all to itself. It had solved, however, the problem of external war and of internal dissension; no dispute with neighboring nations about commercial privileges, no local strife which cannot be settled by Arete. The poet has as nearly as possible succeeded in eliminating the negative element out of this society. An unwarlike folk, but not effeminate, happy in peace, with a childlike delight in play, which is the starting-point of art, and remains its substrate, according to Schiller; truly idyllic it must be regarded, a land on the way between nature and civilization, where life is a perpetual holiday, and even labor takes on a festal appearance.
Ulysses gives the palm of excellence in the dance to the Phæacians, and with this recognition the king proposes a large number of presents—hospitable gifts, such as the host gives to his honored guest. Moreover an apology and a gift are required of that Euryalus who recently offended Ulysses. Thus reconciliation is the word and the deed. Then all are ready to return to the palace into the presence of Arete, who is the orderer, and she makes arrangements for packing up the gifts. Note the warm bath again, supposed sign of effeminacy; here it is taken by Ulysses with decided approbation. Nausicaa, too, appears in a passing glance, and simply asks to be remembered for her deed; the response of Ulysses is emphatic: when he gets home he "will pray to her as to a God day by day, for thou, O maiden, hast saved my life."
In this round of recognition, the bard must not be forgotten; he is again led in, a banquet is served, and Ulysses takes special pains to honor him "with a part of the fat back of a white-tusked boar," and to speak a strong word of commendation: "Demodocus, I praise thee above all mortals; either the Muse or Apollo has taught thee, so well dost thou sing the fate of the Greeks."
III.
The praise of the bard naturally leads to the third portion of the Book, introduced by another song, which has its intimate connection with the preceding ones. Then its effect is noted upon Ulysses, who weeps as before, being stirred by many memories of companions lost. Verily Troy is a tearful subject. What motive for weeping? Who is this stranger anyhow? Alcinous now starts his interrogations which Ulysses answers in the following Book. Still, though nameless, he has unfolded himself quite fully through his actions in this Book. Again we hear the deeds of the aforetime sung by the poet, and see their influence in the present.
1. Ulysses himself now asks the poet to sing of the Wooden Horse which "was made by Epeius with the aid of Pallas," the Goddess here standing for skill, as it is now skill which takes Troy, not mere courage. Then mark further: Ulysses was the man who introduced it within the Trojan walls by stratagem—clearly another case of brain-work rather than brawn-work. This famous Wooden Horse was "filled with men who took Troy." Such is the song which Ulysses now calls for, mentioning himself by name—a fact which makes the announcement of his name soon after more impressive and dramatic. The Phæacians had just heard the culminating act in the taking of Troy, whereof Ulysses was the hero; behold! he stands before them, in all the prestige of song. Some critics have wondered why the name of Ulysses was withheld so long, and have imagined all sorts of interpolations; surely they have not seen the plan of the poet.
The Wooden Horse is not employed in the Iliad, but is one of the striking details of the later epics, which recounted the destruction of Troy. The song of Demodocus carries the incident back to the time of Homer, and before Homer, for it suggests antecedent ballads or rhapsodies which Homer knew, but did not use, and which poets after him developed. The Odyssey takes for granted that its hearers knew the Lay of the Wooden Horse, and also the Lay of the Strife between Ulysses and Achilles, "the fame of which had reached the broad Heavens." Thus we get a peep into the workshop of Homer and catch a glimpse of his materials, which he did not invent, but found at hand. Homer is the builder, the architectonic genius; he organizes the floating, disparate songs of his age into a great totality, into a Greek Temple of which they are the stones. Note what he does with this lay of Demodocus; he puts it into its place in the total structure of the Odyssey, and thus preserves it forever. So he has done with all his materials doubtless.
We may now see that those who cut up the Homeric poems into so many different songs or ballads simply destroy the distinctive work of Homer. They pry asunder the beautiful Greek Temple, lay its stones alongside of one another, and say: behold the poet. But this is just what he is not, and in the present Book we may see him unfolding his own process. Homer is not Demodocus, but the latter's lay he takes up and then weaves what he wants of it into the texture of the total poem. He is thus a contrast to the bard, whom, however, he fully recognizes and makes a part of his own work. Thus Homer himself really answers the Wolfian theory, which seeks to reduce him to a Demodocus, singing fragmentary lays about the Trojan War.
From the Greek poets the Wooden Horse passed to Virgil, who has made it the best-known incident of the Trojan War. It is probably the most famous stratagem of all time, due to the skill of Ulysses. Herein lies the answer to the first lay of Demodocus; in the dispute Ulysses is right, indeed he is a greater hero than Achilles, who could never have captured the hostile city. The incident took place after the action of the Iliad, and after the death of Achilles, who, heroic in courage, stood in the way of intelligence. When he is gone, the city falls, overthrown by the brain of Ulysses.
Homer does not pretend to give the song of Demodocus in full, but a brief summary of what he sang before the Phæacians. A later poet, Arctinus, took up the legend here alluded to, and developed it in a separate epic, called the Iliou-persis or Sack of Troy. Indeed a vast number of legends and lays about the Trojan War bloomed into epics, which were in later times joined together and called the Epic Cycle. Thus we distinguish two very different stages of consciousness in early Greek poetry: the ballad-making and the epical, Homer being the supreme example of the latter, and Demodocus an instance of the former.
Looking back at the three lays of the bard in the present Book we find that they all are connected together in a common theme of which they show different phases, beginning, middle and end—the conflict before the Iliad, the conflict of the Iliad, and the conflict after the Iliad, all hovering around the great national enterprise of the Greeks, namely the Trojan War, in which the deepest principle of the Hellenic world, indeed of the entire Occident, was at stake.
But Homer, in distinction from Demodocus, weaves into his poem not only the past but the present, not only Troy but Phæacia, not only the movement against the East but also the movement toward the West, of which Phæacia is simply one stage. The Hero who unites these two great movements of Greek spirit is now brought before us again.
2. Ulysses weeps at the song of the bard which recalls so many memories of friends departed and of dire calamities. These tears connect him deeply with Troy and its conflict; the Phæacians listen intently, but are outside of the great struggle, they shed no tears. Thus does Ulysses in his strongest emotions unite himself with the Trojan enterprise of aforetime. He is not simply a wanderer over the sea seeking to get home, but a returner from Troy; he has revealed himself through his feelings. He personally shares in the woes sung by the bard, because he has experienced them. Indeed the very image which the poet here employs to express sorrow, taken from the woman whose husband has been slain fighting for his city, and for his wife and his children, recalls Hector, Andromache and Astyanax as they appear in the Sixth Book of the Iliad. Ulysses is like such a woman, without home or family, alone among strangers, shedding tears. Thus he connects himself with the fateful story of Ilium.
Previously Ulysses wept at the first lay of Demodocus, now he emphasizes his sorrow by repetition. Whenever the theme of Troy is touched, he has to respond with tears; the second time of weeping at the Trojan tale is necessary in order to fix his character and identify him as a returner. Yet this repetition so vitally organic is questioned by many critics, some of whom resort to excision. It is hardly worth the while to notice them in their various attempts at destruction and construction; when we once catch the underlying motive all becomes plain. The first and last scenes of weeping unifies the Book, the bond of tears holds its parts indissolubly together in the emotions.
Alcinous has observed the stranger both times, sitting near him, while we may suppose that the other Phæacians, not noticing him, to be further off. The king sees his distress and even hears his sobs; in the first case the royal host refrained from inquiry, that being the duty of hospitality; but now the time for interrogation has arrived. The speech of Alcinous is characteristic; full of humanity, full of sympathy is the tone: "a guest, a suppliant stands for a brother even to the man of little feeling." A touch of prophetic boastfulness he shows here and elsewhere; the ships of the Phæacians he endows with supernatural powers, which fact, however, is not without meaning: "We have no pilots, no rudders even, our boats obey our thoughts, and know the cities and lands to which they come; very quickly do they shoot across the wave, hid in fog and cloud." Truly an ideal ship, which time has not yet realized, though recent navigation, with its present steam and its future electricity, is on the way thereto. Still angry Neptune threatens danger and may work damage, "smiting the ship on the dark deep." This speech of Alcinous with its miraculous, prophetic tinge, with its far-seeing hints of coming realities, almost foretelling our modern humanity and our modern mastery of the sea through science, and putting the two side by side, has given much trouble to the critics, whom we again shall have to pass by, as they simply darken the poet.
Finally comes the demand: who art thou and why didst thou weep? What is thy relation to Troy? Such is the culminating question; Ulysses has been unfolding himself more and more throughout the present Book before the king and people. The games showed his heroic strength; the dances brought out his recognizing and harmonious spirit; the lays of Demodocus have developed his connection with Troy. He clearly belongs to the past and to the present, possibly he is a bridge spanning them, which bridge he may be induced to build in wondrous rainbow colors before the eyes of the Phæacians.
//Appendix.// It seems never to have been noticed what an important relation the present Book sustains toward the Wolfian theory concerning the Homeric poems. The picture of Demodocus here given doubtless suggested to Wolf the first outline of his view, and has influenced other commentators who lean toward similar opinions. It is well known that Wolf in his famous //Prolegomena// maintains that the Iliad and Odyssey were originally a string of ballads more or less disconnected, and that Homer was only one of the many balladists, probably the best; furthermore he holds that these ballads were brought together, edited and put into their present shape by certain literary men called //diaskeuastœ//—revisers, redactors, professors of poetry and philology at the court of Peisistratus, about 500 B.C.
That is, Wolf regards Homer as a Demodocus, a singer and also a maker of disjointed ballads and war-songs, the latter pertaining mostly to the heroes of the Trojan War. These were sung at the festivals of the people, at the houses of the nobility, and at the courts of kings, quite as we see the bard singing here in Phæacia. This fact we may accept; but the question comes up: Is Homer such a balladist and nothing more?
Now it is clear that Homer is not a Demodocus, since the latter is not an epical builder, but a simple singer of separate lays for the occasion. Mark well that Homer in this book does not unfold the themes, "Strife between Ulysses and Achilles," and "The Wooden Horse," but simply alludes to them as well-known; he barely gives the title and a little of the argument, then drops the matter, leaving us to suppose that the Bard sang a somewhat lengthy lay, of which the effect upon the hearers and specially upon Ulysses is duly noted.
Homer, therefore, in this Book as well as in the First Book where Phemius is introduced, makes the Bard or Balladist merely one of his figures, and the song one of his incidents, while he, the veritable Homer, portrays the total environment, showing the court, the games, the household, the complete Phæacian world. Here we come upon the main distinction: Homer's eye is upon the totality of which the ballad-singer is but a small fragment; Demodocus appears in but one Phæacian Book, and is by no means all of that, though for once the leading figure.
A step further we may carry the thought. Homer is not only not a Demodocus, but he very distinctly contrasts himself with Demodocus by his poetic procedure. If he is at such pains to show himself a world-builder, and then puts into his world a ballad-singer as a passing character, he certainly emphasizes the difference between himself and the latter. It is also to be noticed that Demodocus does not sing an Iliad, though he chants lays of Troy; the Iliad is an organized work, not a collection of ballads strung together. Everything about Demodocus indicates separate songs; everything about Homer (the Iliad and the Odyssey) indicates unity of song. Hence with the separatists, dissectors, anatomizers, Demodocus is a greater favorite than Homer, indeed he has taken the place of Homer.
Moreover the poet has plainly marked another stage, a stage between himself and Demodocus. In the next Book Ulysses will begin singing and continue through four Books, giving his adventures in Fableland, which by itself possesses a certain completeness. Still it is but an organic part of the total Odyssey, whose poetical architect is Homer. Ulysses as singer is clearly higher than Demodocus; but Homer is above both, for he takes both of them up into his unity, which is the all-embracing poem.
Most emphatically, therefore, Homer shows himself not to be a Demodocus, not to be a ballad-singer, which is an essential point in the Wolfian argument. Homer himself refutes Wolf some 2,500 years beforehand, and his is still the best refutation. A careful study of this Eighth Book settles the relation between balladist and poet by a simple presentation of the facts in their proper co-ordination, and also puts the alert reader on the track of the genesis of the Wolfian //Prolegomena//. For there can hardly be a doubt that Wolf, consciously or unconsciously, directly or indirectly, derived his main conception of Homer from the present Book and from the part that Demodocus, the bard, plays in it. To be sure, the idea that Demodocus, in a general way, is Homer, is old, coming down from antiquity and suggesting itself to the modern reader, who very naturally thinks that Homer is giving some traits of himself in his picture of the blind singer. So much we may grant: some traits of himself, but not all by any means; Homer doubtless upon occasion could sing a short lay of Troy for the amusement of his audience, like Demodocus; but in such a part he is only a wee fragment of the author of those magnificent works, the Iliad and the Odyssey. The total Homer builds totalities, by the very necessity of his genius.
Who, then, according to the theory, put these ballads together? Wolf, fully possessed of the notion that Demodocus is Homer, starts to account for the present form of the poems, which he assigns to the shaping hand of Peisistratus and his college of editors, critics, and poetasters. That is, the grand marvel of Homeric poetry, the mighty constructive act thereof, he ascribes to a set of men essentially barren and uncreative, for all of which he cites some very dubious and inadequate ancient authority.
Here again we may be permitted to trace the Wolfian consciousness to its origin, for origin it has in time and circumstance. Wolf was a professor in a University, and his department was philology; his ideas on Homer are really drawn from his vocation and his surroundings. Why should he not make a philologer and a professor the author of the Homeric poems? So he came to imagine that the tyrant Peisistratus 500 B.C. had under his patronage a kind of German University, or at least a philological seminary, whose professors really constructed Homer as we now have him, having put him together out of antecedent ballads which the actual Homer and many others may have made ages before. Wolf, therefore, is the founder of two philological seminaries; one at the University of Berlin, and the other at the court of Peisistratus. Great is the professor in smelling out the professor anywhere; still we cannot help thinking that what Wolf ascribed to the old Greek seminary, was done only at his German seminary, namely, the patching together of Homer out of ballads.
//Book Twenty-second.// The final act of justice, the Day of Judgment, perchance the Crack of Doom; such conceptions have long been familiar to man and still are; in the present Book they find one of their most striking embodiments. That for which so long preparation has been made, is now realized: the vindication of the Ethical Order of the World. There is, however, little feeling for that charity and humanity before noticed; stern, inflexible, merciless justice is the mood and meaning of this piece of writing.
The Book has essentially two parts: the punishment of the guilty men (Suitors and Servants) with the sparing of the innocent, and the punishment of the guilty women (servants) with the sparing of the innocent. Thus in both parts there is the penalty, yet also the discrimination, according to the deed.
I. The first part is mainly a battle, an Homeric battle, and reminds the reader of many a combat in the Iliad. Of the conflict with the Suitors here described we can discern three stages, which are marked also by the use of different weapons, the bow, the spear, and the sword.
(1) The first stage of the battle opens with the slaying of Antinous, the ringleader of the band, who is pierced by an arrow from the bow of Ulysses. The crowd threatens Ulysses, who now utters to them what may be called their last judgment, announcing who he is, and his purpose to punish their crimes: "Dogs! you thought I would not come back from Troy, and therefore you devoured my substance, debauched my maid-servants; and wooed my wife while I was still alive. You feared not the Gods, nor the vengeance of man afterwards; now destruction hangs over you all." This may be taken as a statement of the ethical content of the poem from the mouth of Ulysses himself at the critical moment. The Suitors feared not the Gods, were violators of the Divine Order, for which violation man was to punish them. Again the two sides, the divine and human, are put together. In vain Eurymachus, a spokesman for the Suitors, offers amends, guilt cannot now buy itself free when caught. Ulysses answers: "If thou shouldst offer all that thou hast and all that thy father has, and other gifts, I would not desist." So Eurymachus, perishes by the second arrow and still another Suitor, Amphinomus is pierced by the spear of Telemachus. Thus three leaders are slain in this preliminary stage.
(2) The second stage of the conflict begins by Telemachus bringing a shield, two spears, and a helmet for his father, whose arrows are not enough for the enemies. Also he brings armor for the cowherd and swineherd, as well as for himself; thus the four men get themselves fully equipped.
But in order to make a fair fight, it is necessary that the Suitors be armed, in part at least. Melanthius, the goatherd, finds his way to the chamber where the arms are deposited. Arms for twelve he brings, and then goes for more, when he is caught. But now Pallas has to appear in the form of Mentor, in order to put courage into the heart of Ulysses. The first armed set of Suitors advance and throw their javelins without effect, while the four on the side of Ulysses kill four men. Four more Suitors are slain in a fresh onset, then two more; now their store of weapons is exhausted. Thirteen mentioned here by name have fallen beside those unnamed ones whom the arrows of Ulysses slew. The most prominent Suitors are weltering in their blood, there are no more weapons, the result is a panic.
(3) This is the third stage of the battle. A large majority of the Suitors, probably 80 or more out of the 108 plus 10 attendants are still alive, though without weapons and completely paralyzed with terror. "Pallas held from the roof her man-destroying ægis, their hearts trembled with fear, they fled through the palace like a drove of cattle." The four men now use their swords upon the terrified, defenseless crowd, and cut them down. Leiodes, the soothsayer of the Suitors, begs for mercy and recounts his attempts to restrain their violent deeds; vain is his prayer, he perishes with his company of brigands, "for if thou wert their soothsayer, thou must often in my palace have prayed the Gods against my return" and for the Suitors. Thus the priestly man too is involved in the net, he knew the wrong, yet remained the chaplain of that godless company.
Two, however, are saved, the guiltless. The bard, who "sings for Gods and men" is spared, because he sang "by necessity for the Suitors, and not for sake of gain;" also Telemachus intercedes for the herald Medon, who "took care of me as a child," a beautiful gleam on this ghastly scene. From Ulysses, however, we hear the moral of the event proclaimed, which the reader may take unto himself: "From this thou mayst know and tell to another how much better well-doing is than evil-doing." So speaks the slayer over these corpses, which utterance we may at least regard as an attempt of the poet once more to enforce the ethical purpose of his work. Not a single living Suitor or attendant can be found skulking anywhere, and none have escaped.
II. Having completed his task in regard to the guilty men, Ulysses now turns his attention toward the guilty women of his household. For this purpose Eurycleia is called, and is brought to him; when she sees the deadly work, she shouts for joy. Ulysses restrains her: "It is an unholy thing to exult over the slain." Here again the ethical nature of this act is emphasized: "The decree of the Gods and their own evil deeds overwhelmed these men; they paid respect to no human being, high or low, who approached them." Yet there are modern writers who can see no ethical purpose in the Odyssey.
Eurycleia gives her report: out of fifty serving maids in the palace, "twelve have mounted the car of shamelessness." These latter are now called, are compelled to carry out the dead (among whom are their lovers), and to make clean the place of slaughter. Then they are led out and hung: such was the ancient fate of the prostitute in the household.
A still harsher and more ignoble punishment awaits the goatherd Melanthius, a cruel mutilation is inflicted upon him, horrible to the last degree, but it grades his punishment according to his offense. A fumigation with sulphur we find here, as old as Homer. Then all the rest of the handmaids are summoned along with Penelope, to witness the deed and to see the hero.
Such is this terrible Book in which destruction is fully meted out to destroyers. According to our count 129 people are here dead, all of them guilty. A doomsday spectacle for that household, and for all readers and hearers since; it shows the return of the deed negatively upon the negative doer. But Ulysses, the hero sitting amid these corpses, is simply the Destroyer, the very picture and embodiment thereof. Is there to be no positive result of such bloody work? Yes; that is the next thing to be shown forth in the two following Books; Ulysses is also the restorer, wherewith his career and this poem will terminate.
//Book Twenty-third.// The essential fact of this Book is the reunion of husband and wife after twenty years separation. The eternal nature of the bond of the Family is thus asserted as strongly as is possible in the world of Time. This is the deep institutional foundation upon which the Odyssey reposes. Still the wife also has to be conquered, that is, she has to be convinced that the beggar is her husband. All along we have seen the struggle between her instinct and her intellect; her understanding persists in thinking that Ulysses will not come back, yet she dreams of his restoration, and she feels a strange sympathy with the old man in rags. Thus the two opposing elements of female nature have been in a conflict with each other; her instinct tries to surge over her intellect, but does not succeed; she demands the complete test of identity and gets it in the present Book. The old nurse, her son, and finally Ulysses himself become impatient with her delay and her circumspection, still she holds out against them all, though she has, too, her own inner emotions to combat. The gradual unfolding of this scene to the point of recognition must be pronounced a masterpiece of character evolution.
The book may be divided into two portions—before and after the Recognition, which culminates when Penelope accepts the test of the secret bed which was once made by Ulysses.
I. The movement up to the Recognition shows Penelope undergoing a double pressure, from without and from within. Yet it shows too a corresponding double resistance on her part. First Eurycleia goes to her chamber, and tells her in great glee that the Suitors are slain and her husband has returned. She can accept the slaughter of the Suitors, that could have been done by some God, angry at their injustice; but she will not believe that Ulysses is really in the palace. The nurse cries out: "Truly thou hast ever had a disbelieving mind," and then tells of the scar. Still incredulous; but she goes down to the court, and there sees Ulysses in his rags. No sufficient proof yet, though she has a strange inner struggle not to run up to him that she might clasp his hands and kiss him. But her understanding conquers, she keeps at a distance, scrutinizing, till Telemachus, impulsive youth, breaks out into a reproach: "Mother, thy heart is harder than a rock." But Ulysses himself speaks to his son: "Suffer that thy mother test me;" she is like himself, he understands her better than the son does. Finally Ulysses takes the bath and puts on fresh garments, while Pallas gives him fresh grace and majesty, and increased stature; he comes before Penelope again; still no yielding. Ulysses himself is now forced to exclaim: "Above all women the Gods have given thee a heart impenetrable." Thus the nurse, the son, the husband in turn have failed to shake her firmness, she must have an absolute test, which is "known to him and me, and to us alone."
This is that strange bed, which Ulysses is unconsciously provoked by his wife to describe. Penelope commands the nurse: "Bring the bed out of the chamber which he made." But really it could not be removed, it was constructed of the trunk of an olive tree rooted in the soil and its construction was the secret of himself and wife. Very strong is the symbolism of this bed, and is manifestly intended by the poet. It typified the firm immovable bond of marriage between the two; their unity could not be broken. Mark the words of Ulysses: "Woman, thou hast spoken a painful word," when she commanded the bed to be removed; "who hath displaced my bed?" In it there was built "a great sign" or mystery; "now I do not know if my bed be firm in position, or whether some other man has moved it elsewhere, cutting the trunk of the olive tree up by the roots." Such is his intense feeling about that marriage bed, deeply symbolic, truly "a sign," as here designated.
Now this is just the test which Penelope wanted, a double test indeed, not only of the head, but also of the heart. He reveals to her not merely that he knows about the bed, but how strongly he feels in reference to it, and to what it signifies. For he might be the returned Ulysses, and yet not be hers. But now she has yielded, she explains the reason of her hesitation, defends herself by the example of Helen who was cozened by a stranger. She used her craft to defend the unity and sacredness of the Family, against Suitors and even against husband. After some talk, the servant lights them to their chamber, "they in great joy take their customary place in their ancient bed."
II. With the line just quoted (296 of the original) the Alexandrian grammarians, Aristarchus and Aristophanes, concluded the Odyssey, and declared the rest to be a post-Homeric addition. Still, this part of the poem must have been in existence and accepted as Homer's long before their time. Both Aristotle and Plato cite portions of it without any declared suspicion of its genuineness. What reason the old grammarians had for this huge excision is not definitely known; we can see, however, that they wished to end the poem with complete restoration, outer and inner, of the domestic bond between husband and wife. Certainly a very noble thought in the poem, but by no means a sufficient end; beside the domestic, the political bond also must be restored, and the ethical harmony be made complete both in Family and in State. Ulysses, moreover, has spoken of the duty laid upon him by Tiresias in Hades: he must carry an oar till he comes to a land whose people take it for a winnowing fan; there he is to plant it upright and make an offering to Neptune. So there is a good deal yet to be done, which the poem has already called for.
But just now she tells him her story, quite briefly; then he tells her his story, more at length. This has the nature of a confession, with its Circe and epecially Calypso, which she has to hear and he to make. Through it all runs his yearning to reach home and wife.
But with the sun risen, new duties press upon him. First he will seek some compensation for his property taken by the Suitors; secondly, he will have to meet the vengeance of their relatives and friends. So the army of four, himself, Telemachus, swineherd and cowherd, march forth in arms from the palace gate, through the city to the country.
//Book Twenty-fourth.// This is another Book over which there has been much critical discussion. Its thought, whatever may be said about its execution, is absolutely necessary to bring the Odyssey to an organic conclusion, and make the poem a well-rounded totality. There is the political trouble generally, and specially the blood feud caused by the slaying of the Suitors, which has to be harmonized. Repeatedly hitherto we have had hints of this coming difficulty; Ulysses thought of it, and made his plan concerning it before the slaughter took place. (XX. 41.)
In fact the complete restoration of Ulysses is both to Family and State, the two great institutions which form the substructure of the Odyssey. His country was quite as deeply distracted and perverted as his household; both had to undergo the process of purification. In Book Twenty-third we had the restoration of Ulysses to Family, in Book Twenty-fourth we are to have essentially his restoration to State; then he will truly have returned to prudent Penelope and to sunny Ithaca, and the poem can end. Moreover his restoration //to// Family and State involves the restoration of Family and State; the rightful husband and the rightful ruler heals the shattered institutions.
But it is undeniable that this Book is the most poorly constructed of any Book in the Odyssey. There is undue repetition of previous matters, yet certainly with important additions; there is unnecessary expansion in the earlier parts of the Book, and too great compression and hurry at the end. In general, the subject-matter of the Book is completely valid and necessary to the poem, but the execution falls below the Homeric level, specially in its constructive feature. Still we see ino reason why it may not be Homer's; he too has his best and worst Books.
Of the present Book there are two parts: the Underworld and the Upperworld.
I. The Suitors have been sent down to the realm where Ulysses in the Eleventh Book found the souls of the Trojan Heroes, Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax. These three again are introduced with some others. The death of Achilles is described quite fully, when the souls of the Suitors arrive, and one of them, Amphimedon, recapitulates the story of the Odyssey. It tells of the craft and fidelity of Penelope, and of the return of Ulysses and his destruction of the Suitors. The words of Agamemnon recognize the pair, Ulysses and Penelope, as the supreme Greek man and woman, as those who have mastered the greatest difficulties of their epoch. The Trojan cycle is now complete, the separation caused by the war is bridged over, both Family and State are restored after the long disruption. In striking contrast was the case of Agamemnon and Clytæmnestra, both of whom perished without restoration. Thus by means of the ghosts of the Suitors, the famous careers of Ulysses and Penelope are taken up into the realm of the Supersensible, of ideal forms, whose fame is to last forever.
This part of the Book (the so-called second Nekyia) in which Hades appears the second time, has been sharply questioned both by ancient and modern critics on a number of grounds. These we shall not discuss, only stating that they are by no means conclusive against the genuineness of the whole passage. The general idea of it belongs here; the dead Suitors represent the grand end of the Trojan movement, and its reception into the Hades of famous deeds done and past, and very significantly Agamemnon voices the praise of Ulysses and Penelope, the great winners in the long struggle. Still the repetitions of previous portions of the Odyssey are to our mind unnecessary and prolix, though the literary skill manifested just herein has been highly lauded by Saint Beuve and Lang.
II. Coming back to the Upperworld we find a series of incidents following one another both slowly and hurriedly. These we shall throw in groups for the sake of a rapid survey.
1. Ulysses with his three companions comes to the country seat of his father Laertes. With him, too, he plays the same disguise as heretofore with Penelope, Eumæus and others, though its necessity is not now so plain. "I shall test my father, to see if he will know me;" how fond Ulysses is of this! So we have more fictions, masquerading, and final recognition by the scar and other proofs. Also an old servant here, Dolius, is recognized.
2. Now the scene passes to the city. The friends of the Suitors have called an assembly; a strong party rises in opposition to Ulysses, though two men, Medon and Halitherses, speak on his side. The result is, a band under Eupeithes, father of Antinous, marches forth to wreak vengeance upon Ulysses.
3. Hereupon a divine interference. Zeus decrees that there must be no blood-feud between the relatives of the slain and the House of Ulysses, but a league of friendship. Revenge must no longer beget revenge.
4. Still a fight occurs in which Laertes and Dolius with his six sons, take part. Old Laertes is now to have his warlike meed, be kills old Eupeithes, so that the male members of the House of Ulysses for three generations—son, grandson, grandfather—have each killed his man.
5. Pallas hereupon stops the conflict, and the last lines of the poem announce the peace which she makes under the form and voice of Mentor. Surely the work of wisdom (Pallas) as well as of supreme law (Zeus)—to stop the self-repeating blood-feud. Thus is the deep rent in the State healed by aid of Zeus and Pallas. It should be observed that Pallas at the end of the //Eumenides// of the poet Æschylus released Orestes, who is pursued by the Furies, from the guilt of his mother's blood, by casting the decisive ballot in the court of Areiopagus. Here we find another link between Homer and Æschylus.
Very hurried are these later incidents of the Book, but they are necessary to complete the poem. The blood-feud is harmonized, the Gods again make themselves valid in the land by introducing peace and harmony, which had been undermined by the Suitors. Property, Family, State, are restored, and the Divine Order of the World in the person of the Gods is recognized. Only with this conclusion is the negative conduct of the Suitors completely undone, and a positive institutional life becomes possible. It is true that in the hurry of coming to an end, the poet says nothing of the journey enjoined by Tiresias in Hades, the journey to a distant people who would take an oar for a winnowing fan. Still we may suppose that it was performed, and that angry Neptune, the great enemy of Ulysses among the Gods, was also reconciled. But, chiefly, Ulysses has above on this earth realized the idea of a world-justice, which we found running through all Hades, in the statements of Tiresias, in the fates of the great Greek heroes, in the punitory portion presided over by Minos. From this point of view the Odyssey may be truly regarded an image of the working of the Spirit of History, and the poem holds good for all time.
In concluding these lengthy studies of the Iliad and the Odyssey, we shall try to grasp each of the poems as a whole, and then the two together is one great totality sprung of one people and of one consciousness. The central fact out of which both poems arise, to which and from which both poems move, is the Trojan War. This War, whether mythical or historical, is certainly the most famous, and probably the most significant that ever took place on the earth.
As to the Odyssey, the first thing to be seized is the complete career of its Hero Ulysses. This career has naturally two parts: the going to Troy from Ithaca, and the coming back from Troy to Ithaca. Every Greek hero had a similar career, wholly or in part; many, of coarse, never returned. The two parts together constitute a total movement which begins at a certain point and returns to the same; hence it may be called a cycle, and its two parts may be designated in a general way as the Separation and the Return.
The Odyssey has as its theme the second half of the cycle, though, of course, it presupposes the first half, namely the going to Troy and the stay there. The poem, accordingly, does not give the entire life of Ulysses; what may be called the Trojan half must be looked for elsewhere, mainly in the Iliad. Of course there are in the Odyssey many allusions to incidents which belong to the first half of this career.
The Ulysses of the Iliad is one of the great leaders and one of the great heroes, but he is neither the chief leader nor the chief hero. Already he appears in Book First as a member of the Council, and an epithet is applied to him which suggests his wisdom. Thus at the start of the Iliad he is designated as the man of thought, of intelligence, of many resources. But in the Second Book he shines with full glory, he is indeed the pivot of the whole Book. On account of a speech made by Agamemnon, their leader, the Greeks start at once for home, they are ready to give up the great enterprise of the restoration of Helen, they act as if they would abandon their cause. It is Ulysses who calls them back to themselves and restores order; he shows himself to be the only man in the whole army who knows what to do in a critical emergency. He suppresses Thersites, he exhorts the chieftains, he uses force on the common people. He finally makes a speech to the entire body of Greeks in the Assembly, which recalls the great national purpose of the War, and is the true word for the time. Nestor follows him in a similar vein, and the Greek host again takes its place in line of battle and prepares for the onset upon Troy. Here we have a typical action of Ulysses, showing his essential character, and revealing the germ out of which the Odyssey may well have sprouted.
Other matters may also be noticed. Pallas, the Goddess of Wisdom, appears to him in the midst of the tumult, and gives him her suggestion. She will remain with him ever afterwards, manifesting herself to him in like emergencies till the end of the Odyssey. Telemachus is mentioned in this Book of the Iliad. The distinction between Ulysses and the aged Nestor is drawn: the latter has appreciative wisdom, that of experience, while Ulysses has creative wisdom, that of immediate divine insight, coming directly from Pallas. This distinction also will show itself in the Odyssey. Ulysses is the real hero of the Second Book of the Iliad; he appears in other Books with the same general character, but never so prominently again.
In the Post-Iliad, or that portion of the Trojan war which lies between the Iliad and Odyssey, Ulysses will become the chief hero. After the death of Achilles, there will be a contest for the latter's arms between him and Ajax; Ulysses wins. That is, Brain not Brawn is to control henceforth. Under the lead of Intelligence, which is that of Ulysses, Troy falls.
The Odyssey, then, deals with the return of Ulysses from the Trojan War, and lasts ten years, as the account runs. But the poet is not writing a history, not even a biography, in the ordinary sense; he does not follow step by step the hero's wanderings, or state the events in chronological order; we shall see how the poem turns back upon itself and begins only some forty days before its close. Still the Odyssey will give not merely the entire return from Troy, but will suggest the whole cycle of its hero's development.
The first half of the cycle, the going to Troy and the stay there, lasted ten years, though some accounts have made it longer. The Iliad, though its action is compressed to a few days, treats generally of the first half of the cycle and hence it is the grand presupposition of the Odyssey, which takes it for granted everywhere. The Iliad, however, is a unity and has its own center of action, which is the wrath of Achilles and his reconciliation also; it is in itself a complete cycle of individual experience in the Trojan War.
We now begin to get an outline of the Unity of Homer. In the first place the Iliad is a unity from the stand-point of its hero Achilles, who has a completely rounded period of his life portrayed therein, which portrayal, however, gives also a vivid picture of the Trojan War up to date. As an individual experience it is a whole, and this is what makes it a poem and gives to it special unity. But it is only a fragment of the Trojan cycle—a half or less than a half; it leaves important problems unsolved: Troy is not taken, Achilles is still alive, the new order under the new hero Ulysses has not yet set in, and chiefly there is no return to Greece, which is even more difficult than the taking of Troy. Hence the field of the second poem, the Odyssey, which is also an individual experience—has to be so in order to be a poem—embraces the rest of the Trojan cycle after the Iliad.
Thus we may well hold to these unities in Homer: the unity of the Iliad, the unity of the Odyssey, and the unity of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Both together make one grand cycle of human history and of human consciousness; they portray a complete world in its deed and in its thought, as well as in manners and institutions.
Here is, then, the highest point of view from which to look at these poems: they are really one in two parts, written by one epoch, by one consciousness, and probably by one man. The Iliad as a poem is a complete cycle of individual experience, but as an epoch is only half a cycle. In like manner the Odyssey as a poem is a complete cycle of individual experience, but as an epoch is the second half of the cycle of which the Iliad is essentially the first. Both together constitute the one great movement usually called the Trojan War.
Much time has been spent in discussing the question whether the Trojan War was historical or mythical. We make bold to affirm that it was both—both historical and mythical. It began long before the dawn of history and it exists to this day. For the Trojan War is the conflict between Orient and Occident, starting in the twilight of time, and not yet concluded by any means. The conflict between Orient and Occident runs through all Greek Mythology, is indeed just the deepest, tone-giving element thereof. It also runs through all Greek history from the Persian War to the conquests of Alexander, and lurks still in the present struggle between Greek and Turk. The true Mythus gives in an image or event the events of all time; it is an ideal symbol which is realized in history.
We have above said that the Trojan War was a complete cycle, of which the two poems portray the two halves. Still further can the matter be carried. The Trojan cycle, complete in itself as a phase of Greek consciousness, is but a fragment, a half of a still larger cycle of human development. The Iliad and the Odyssey give the Greek half of the grand world-movement of the Trojan epoch; there is also an Oriental half which these poems presuppose and from which they separate. Thus the grand Homeric cycle, while a unit in itself, is really a separation from the East, a separation which rendered the Occident possible; the woes before Troy were the birth-pangs of the new-born child, Europe, now also grown a little old.
The reader naturally asks, will there be any return to the Orient after the grand Greek separation, first heralded on the plains of Ilium? It may be answered that Europe has often returned to the East in the course of history—Alexander, Rome, the Crusades; at present, western Europe seems bent on getting to the far East. But the true return of the Occident to the Orient will be round the globe, by way of America, and that will be complete. The recent war between Japan and China is really a stage of the great new epoch in the world-historical return to the Orient.
Such is the more external, the historical phase of the Iliad and Odyssey. But they have also a deep internal ethical phase, they show two sides of one grand process of the human soul which has been called self-alienation, the sacrifice of the immediate self in order to gain true self-hood. The Greeks had to immolate their dearest ties, those of home and country, in order to preserve home and country, which had been assailed to the very heart by the rape of Helen. They had to educate themselves to a life of violence, killing men, women, even children, destroying home and country. For Troy also has Family and State, though it be a complete contradiction of Family and State by supporting Paris. But when the Greeks had taken Troy, they were trained destroyers of home and country, they were destruction organized and victorious, yet their whole purpose was to save home and country. Thus their self-alienation has deepened into absolute self-contradiction, the complete scission of the soul.
Now this is the spiritual condition of which they are to get rid, out of which they are to return to home and country. As before said it may be deemed a harder problem than the taking of Troy, which was simply a negative act, the destroying the destroyers of home and country. But the great positive act of the Trojan heroes is the restoration, not merely the outer but the inner restoration, to home and country.
With these considerations before the mind of the reader, he is now ready to grasp the full sweep of the Odyssey and understand its conflict. It springs from the separation caused by a war, here the Trojan War. The man is removed from his institutional life and thrown into a world of violence and destruction. Let us summarize the leading points of the process.
I. The absence of Ulysses leaves his family without a head, his country without a ruler, and his property without an owner. All these relations begin to loosen and go to pieces; destructive forces assail the decaying organism; the Suitors appear, who consume his property, woo his queen, and seek to usurp his kingly authority. Such are the dissolving energies at work in Ithaca. Also his son Telemachus is left without paternal training.
II. Next let us glance at the individual. Ulysses, released from domestic life and civil order, gives himself up to destroying domestic life and civil order, though they be those of the enemy. For ten years he pays no respect to Property, Family and State in Troy; he is trained into their annihilation, and finally does annihilate them. Yet his object is to restore Helen, to vindicate Family and State, and even Property.
III. Troy is destroyed because it was itself destructive; it assailed the Greek domestic and civil institutions in the rape of Helen. So the destroying city itself is destroyed, but this leaves Ulysses a destroyer in deed and in spirit; home and country he is not only separated from but is destructive of—he is a negative man.
The previous three paragraphs contain the leading presuppositions of the Odyssey, and show the first half of the life of Ulysses. They indicate three phases of the working of the negative—in Ithaca, in Troy, and in Ulysses. But now that Troy is destroyed, how will Ulysses return to institutional life, which he has destroyed in Troy, in himself, and, through his absence, in Ithaca?
IV. The Return must in the first place be within himself, he must get rid of the destructive spirit begotten of war. For this purpose he has the grand training told in his adventures; he must put down the monsters of Fableland, Polyphemus, Circe, Charybdis; he must endure the long servitude under Calypso; he must see Phæacia. When he is internally ready, he can go forth and destroy the Suitors, destroy them without becoming destructive himself, which was his outcome at Troy. For the destruction of Troy left him quite as negative as the Suitors, of which condition he is to rid himself ere he can rid Ithaca of the Suitors. This destruction thus becomes a great positive act, now he restores Family and State, and brings peace and harmony.
One result of separating from the Family is that the son Telemachus has not the training given by the father. But the son shows his blood; he goes forth and gets his own training, the best of the time. This is told in the Telemachiad. Thus he can co-operate with his father.
//The movement overarching the Odyssey.// The reader will note that in the preceding account we have tried to unfold the movement of the Odyssey as the return from the Trojan War. But as already stated, it is itself but a part of a larger movement, a segment of a great cycle, which cycle again suggests a still greater cycle, which last is the movement of the World's History. Recall, then, that the Odyssey by itself is a complete cycle as far as the experience of its hero is concerned; but as belonging to an epoch, it is but half of the total cycle of the Trojan War. Then again this Trojan War is but a fragment of a movement which is the total World's History. Now can this be set forth in a summary which will suggest the movement not of the Odyssey alone, but also the movement underlying and overlying the poem? Let us make the trial, for a world-poem must take its place in the World's History, which fact gives the final judgment of its worth.
I. In the prehistoric time before Homer, there was an Orient, but no Occident; the spiritual day of the latter had not yet dawned. Very early began the movement toward separation, which had one of its greatest epochs in the Trojan War.
1. Greece in those old ages was full of the throes of birth, but was not yet born. It was still essentially Oriental, it had no independent development of its own, though it was moving toward independence. The earliest objects dug out of the long buried cities of Greece show an Oriental connection; the famous sculptured lions over the gate of Mycenæ last to this day as a reminder of the early Hellenic connection of European Greece with the Orient, not to speak of Cyprus, Crete, and the lesser islands of the Ægean.
2. Then came the great separation of Greece from the Orient, which is the fundamental fact of the Trojan War, and of which the Homeric poems are the mighty announcement to the future. Troy, an Orientalizing Hellenic city in Asia, seizes and keeps Greek Helen, who is of Europe; it tears her away from home and country, and through its deed destroys Family and State. Greek Europe restores her, must restore her, if its people be true to their institutional principles; hence their great word is restoration, first of their ideal Helen, and secondly of themselves.
So all the Greeks, in order to make the separation from the Orient and restore Helen, have to march forth to war and thus be separated themselves from home and country, till they bring back Helen to home and country. The deed done to Helen strikes every Greek man till he undoes it. The stages of this movement may be set down separately.
(a) The leaving home for Troy—Achilles, Agamemnon, Ulysses; all the heroes had their special story of departure. Ulysses had to quit a young wife, Penelope, and an infant son, Telemachus. For if Helen can be abducted, no Greek family is safe.
(b) Stay at Troy for 10 years. This is also a long training to destruction. Ulysses is an important man, but not the hero. Here lies the sphere of the Iliad.
(c) Destruction of the city and the restoration of Helen to her husband, both of which are not told in the Iliad but are given subordinately in the Odyssey. Thus is the separation from the Orient completed on its negative side, that is, as far as destruction can complete it.
3. The return to Greece of the survivors. The question is, How can they truly get back after so long a period of violence? The Odyssey has this as its theme, and will give an account of all the returns. Here, too, we observe various stages.
(a) Leaving Troy for home. This means a complete facing about and a going the other way, not only in geography, but also in conduct. The Greeks must now quit destruction and become constructive.
(b) It is no wonder that the journey home was very difficult. Quarrels arose at the start (see Nestor's account Book III., and that of Menelaus Book IV.). Many perished on the way; some were lost in a storm at sea, Agamemnon was slain on the threshold of his own palace.
(c) Those who reached home, the successful returners, were of three main kinds, represented by Nestor, by Menelaus, and by Ulysses. These were restored to home and family, and brought peace and harmony. Such is the positive outcome of the Trojan War, and the completion of its cycle.
II. But this rounding-off of the Trojan cycle is, on the other hand, a final separation from the Orient; the scission is now unfolded, explicit, quite conscious. When Ulysses comes back to Ithaca, and re-establishes Family and State, Greek life is independent, distinct, self-determined. The Hellenic world rises and fulfills its destiny in its own way; it creates the Fine Arts, Literature, Science; it is the beginning of the Occident.
Still the thought must come up that the Orient is also a part of the grand movement of the World's History, whose cycle embraces both Occident and Orient. The Odyssey has many glimpses of this higher view. The first 12 books move westward and have their outlook in that direction, the last 12 books have their outlook eastward toward Egypt, Phœnicia, and the Oriental borderland. The earlier fairy tales of Ulysses have their scene in the West, while the later romances or novelettes interwoven in the last 12 Books have their scene in the East, with one exception possibly.
The main fact, however, of the Trojan cycle is the great separation, deepest in history, between Orient and Occident, through the instrumentality of Greece. The civilization of Europe and the West is the offspring of that separation, which is still going on, is a living fact, and is the source of the vexed Eastern question of European politics.
III. We are living to-day in that separation; our art, science, education, poetic forms, our secular life largely come from ancient Greece. Oriental art, customs, domestic life, government, we do not as a rule fraternize with; the Greek diremption is in us still; only in one way, in our religious life, do we keep a connection with an Oriental people. But is this separation never to be overcome? Is there to be no return to the East and completion of the world's cycle?
//The Cycle.// We have often used this word, and some may think that we have abused it; still our object is to restore the Greek conception of these poems, as they were looked at and spoken of by Hellas herself. The idea of the cycle was fundamental in grasping the epics which related to the Trojan War, and this War itself was regarded as a cycle of events and deeds, which the poets sang and put into their poetic cycle. Let us briefly trace this thought of the cycle as developed in old Greece.
I. In two different passages of his //Organon//, Aristotle calls the epic a cycle and the poetry of Homer a cycle. Now both passages are employed by him to illustrate a defective syllogism, hence are purely incidental. But no instance could better show the prevalence of the idea of a cycle as applied to Homer and epic poetry, for the philosopher evidently draws his illustration from something familiar to everybody. It had become a Greek common-place 350 B.C., and probably long before, that an epic poem, such as the Iliad or Odyssey, is cyclical, and that both together make a cycle.
II. But this idea develops, and expands beyond the Iliad and Odyssey, which are found to leave out many events of the Trojan Cycle. Indeed the myth-making spirit of Greece unfolds new incidents, deeds, and characters. The result is that many poets, after Homer had completed his cycle, began filling the old gaps, or really making new ones that these might be filled by a fresh poem. Hence arose the famous Epic Cycle, which has been preserved in a kind of summary supposed to have been written by Proclus, not the philosopher, but a grammarian of the time of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.
Meantime, let us carefully distinguish some of our Cycles. The Trojan Cycle is one of events and deeds, in general is the going to and the returning from Troy. The Homeric Cycle is Homer's account, in his two poems, of this Trojan Cycle. Finally the Epic Cycle is the expansion of Homer and includes a number of Epics, which fill out to ultimate completeness the Trojan Cycle. The latter, according to Proclus, is made up of six Epics beside the Iliad and Odyssey, to which they stand in the following relations.
1. The //Cypria//, which deals with events antecedent to the Iliad, such as the apple of Discord, the visit of Paris at Sparta and the taking of Helen, the mustering at Aulis, the sacrifice of Iphigeneia, and many incidents at Troy. Ulysses, to avoid going to the war, feigns madness (his first disguise) and ploughs the sea-sand; but he is detected by Palamedes who lays his infant Telemachus in the track of the plough. The name //Cypria// comes from Kypris, Venus, who caused the infatuation which led to the war.
2. Four different epics fill in between the Iliad and the Odyssey. The //Æthiopis// takes up the thread after the death of Hector, introducing Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, and Memnon, son of the Dawn, both of whom are slain by Achilles who is himself slain and is buried with funeral games. After the death of Achilles, the //Little Iliad// continues the story, installing Ulysses as hero over Ajax in the contest for the arms of Achilles. This is the grand transition from Brawn to Brain in the conduct of the war. The Wooden Horse is made, and the Palladium is carried out of Troy—both deeds being the product of the brain, if not of the hand, of Ulysses. Next comes the //Sack of Troy//, whose name indicates its character. Laocoon and Sinon appear in it, but the main thing is the grand slaughter (like that of the Suitors) and the dragging of women and children into captivity; the city is burned. Then follows the epic called the //Nostoi// or the Returns, really an elaboration of the Odyssey, specially of the Third Book, which tells of these antecedent Returns. Then comes the great Return, which is the Odyssey.
3. After the Odyssey follows the //Telegonia// written by Eugammon of Cyrene in two Books. It continues the life of Ulysses; he now goes to that people who take an oar for winnowing fan, and there he makes the offering to Neptune, enjoined by Tiresias in Hades. Other incidents are narrated; the final winding-up is that Ulysses is unwittingly slain by Telegonus, his and Circe's son, who appears in Ithaca and takes Telemachus and Penelope to Circe, who makes them immortal. The grand Epic Cycle concludes with the strangest set of marriages on record: Telegonus marries Penelope, his step-mother, and Telemachus marries Circe who is also a kind of step-mother.
III. After such a literary bankruptcy, it is no wonder that we find the later Greek and Roman writers using the words //cyclic// and //cyclic poet// as terms of disparagement. The great Mythus of Troy had run its course and exhausted itself; the age of imitation, formalism, erudition had come, while that of creation had passed away. Still it has preserved for us the idea of the cycle, which is necessary for the adequate comprehension of Homer, and which the Greeks themselves conceived and employed.
//Structure of the Odyssey.// A brief summary of the structural elements of the poem may now be set forth. It falls into two grand divisions, both of which are planned by Pallas in Book I and XIII respectively. In the main these divisions are the following:—
I. The first takes up about one-half of the Odyssey—twelve Books, which have as their chief object instruction and discipline—the training for the deed. This training has two very distinct portions, as it pertains to a young man and a middle-aged man—Telemachiad and Ulyssiad.
1. The Telemachiad, or the education of Telemachus, who has been left without the influence of his father, when the latter went to Troy. But he has his father's spirit, hence he must know; from Ithaca he goes to Nestor and Menelaus for instruction. Four Books.
2. The Ulyssiad, or the discipline of Ulysses, who must have been a man over 40 years old. He is to be trained out of the negative spirit which he imbibed from the Trojan war. Herein lies his analogy to Faust, who is also a middle-aged man, and negative, but from study and thought.
Both the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad are essentially one great movement in two phases, showing the bud and the flower, the young and the mature man. Father and son reveal an overcoming of limitation; Telemachus overcomes his limit of ignorance, Ulysses overcomes his limit of negation—the one by the instruction of the wise, the other by the experience of life. Both are trained to a belief in an ethical order which rules the world; therein both are made internally ready for the great act of delivering their country. The training of both reaches forward to a supreme practical end—the destruction of the Suitors and the purification of Ithaca. (For the further structure of these two parts—the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad—see preceding commentary under these titles.)
II. The second grand division of the Odyssey is the last twelve Books. The scene is laid in Ithaca, where the great deed, to which the poem hitherto has looked forward, is to be done. The wanderings of the father have ceased, the son returns from his schooling; every movement is now directed toward action. Again Pallas (XIII. 393-415) plans two subdivisions, without the Council of the Gods however.
1. The hut of the swineherd. Here the forces hostile to the Suitors gather in secret and lay their plan. Ulysses, Telemachus, Eumæus, the gallant army of three, get ready for the execution of the deed. Four Books.
2. The palace of the King. Ulysses in disguise beholds the Suitors in their negative acts; they are as bad as the Trojans, assailing Property, Family, State, the Gods; they are really in their way re-enacting the rape of Helen. Ulysses, as he destroyed Troy, must destroy them, yet not become merely destructive himself. Eight Books, in which we can discern the following movement: (1) Suitors as destroyers—five Books; (2) Ulysses as destroyer—one Book; (3) Ulysses as restorer—two Books. Thus the outcome is positive..
The career of Ulysses is now complete, and with it the Homeric Cycle has rounded itself out to fullness. The Epic Cycle in the //Telegonia// will expand this conclusion, but will deeply mar its idea.
Note that the structure of the two grand divisions of the Odyssey are symmetrical, each a half of the poem; then each half subdivides into two parts, and each of those parts is symmetrical, being composed of four and eight Books each. To be sure, the joint is not so plain in the second division as in the first, which has the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad. Pallas is the orderer of both divisions, and she orders them in a symmetrical manner.
For both divisions the grand horizon is the Trojan War, yet both reach beyond it, the one toward the West, the other toward the East. The one weaves into its regular narrative the Fairy Tale, the other takes up into its text what we have called the Romantic Novelette. The former looks toward the West and the Future, the latter looks back at the East and the Past. Hence the Fairy Tale is prophetic and has supernatural beings, the Novelette is retrospective, giving the experiences of life without supernatural agencies. In scenery also the contrast is great: the one is largely a sea poem, the other is a land poem.
//Structural analogy between Iliad and Odyssey.// We have before said, and we may repeat here at the end, that the final fruit of Homeric study is to see and to fully realize that the Iliad and Odyssey are one work, showing national consciousness, and unfolding one great epoch of the World's History. Just here we may note the fundamental analogies of structure between the two poems.
I. Both poems have the dual division, separating into two symmetrical portions. The Iliad has two Wraths of Achilles, and also two Reconciliations; thus each division is subdivided:
1. His first attitude or cycle of conduct toward the Greeks.
(a) His wrath—both rightful and wrongful.
(b) His reconciliation with Agamemnon and his own people.
2. His second attitude, or cycle of conduct toward the Trojans.
(a) His wrath—both rightful and wrongful.
(b) His reconciliation with Priam and the Trojans.
Such is the general organism of the Iliad which is seen to be perfectly symmetrical within itself. (For a fuller account see author's Commentary on the Iliad, pp. 36-8.) Note that the negative attitude of Achilles is that of wrath; in his anger he will destroy his people and his cause, and finally, in the dragging of Hector's corpse, he disregards the Gods. Yet be overcomes both these negative attitudes in himself and becomes reconciled.
II. The Odyssey has two phases of Negation, both of which the heroes (father and son) must overcome.
1. The negative spirit caused by the Trojan War and its overcoming.
(a) The ignorance of the son and its overcoming.
(b) The destructive tendency of the father and its overcoming.
2. The negative spirit abroad in Ithaca (Suitors) and its overcoming.
(a) The hut of the swineherd (preparation).
(b) The palace of the King (execution).
That is, Ulysses and Telemachus have the double problem, which organizes the Odyssey: they must conquer their own internal negation, then proceed to conquer that of the Suitors. Both poems divide alike; both have the same fundamental thought: the individual as hero is to master his own negative spirit and that of the world, and then be reconciled with himself and the world. The Iliad has essentially but one thread of movement, that of Achilles; the Odyssey has two such threads, if not three—father, son, and perchance wife, making the total Family as the unit of movement.
Thus the Iliad and Odyssey are one poem fundamentally, showing unity in thought and structure, and portraying one complete cycle of national consciousness, as well as one great phase of the World's History.
The Introduction being concluded, the story of Telemachus begins, and continues till the Fifth Book. Two main points stand forth in the narrative. The first is the grand conflict with the suitors, the men of guilt, the disturbers of the divine order; this conflict runs through to the end of the poem, where they are swept out of the world which they have thrown into discord. The second point of the Telemachiad is the education of Telemachus, which is indeed the chief fact of these Books; the youth is to be trained to meet the conflict which is looming up before him in the distance. Thus we have one of the first educational books of the race, the very first possibly; it still has many valuable hints for the educator of the present age. Its method is that of oral tradition, which has by no means lost its place in a true discipline of the human spirit. Living wisdom has its advantage to-day over the dead lore of the text-books.
Very delightful is the school to which we see Telemachus going in these four Books. Heroes are his instructors, men of the deed as well as of the word, and the source from which all instruction is derived is the greatest event of the age, the Trojan War. The young man is to learn what that event was, what sacrifices it required, what characters it developed among his people. He is to see and converse with Nestor, famous at Troy for eloquence and wisdom. Then he will go to Menelaus, who has had an experience wider than the Trojan experience, for the latter has been in Egypt. Young Telemachus is also to behold Helen, beautiful Helen, the central figure of the great struggle. Finally, he is to learn much about his father, and thus be prepared for the approaching conflict with the suitors in Ithaca.
//Book First specially.// After the total Odyssey has been organized on Olympus, it begins at once to descend to earth and to realize itself there. For the great poem springs from the Divine Idea, and must show its origin in the course of its own unfolding. Hence the Gods are the starting-point of the Odyssey, and their will goes before the terrestrial deed; moreover, the one decree of theirs overarches the poem from beginning to end, as the heavens bend over man wherever he may take his stand. Still there will be many special interventions and reminders from the Gods during this poetical journey.
In accordance with the Olympian plan, Pallas takes her flight down to Ithaca, after binding on her winged sandals and seizing her mighty spear; thus she humanizes herself to the Greek plastic sense, and assumes finite form, adopting the shape of a stranger, Mentes, King of the Taphians. She finds a world full of wrong; violence and disorder rule in the house of the absent Ulysses; it is indeed high time for the Gods to come down from lofty Olympus and bring peace and right into the course of things. Let the divine image now be stamped upon terrestrial affairs, and bring harmony out of strife. Still, it must not be forgotten that the work has to be done through man's own activity.
The conflict which unfolds before our eyes in a series of clear-drawn classic pictures, lies between the House of Ulysses on the one hand and the Suitors of Penelope on the other. He who is the head of the Family and the ruler of State, Ulysses, has been absent for twenty years; godless men have taken advantage of the youth of his son, and are consuming his substance wantonly; they also are wooing his wife who has only her cunning wherewith to help herself. The son and wife are now to be brought before us in their struggle with their bitter lot. Thus we note the two main divisions in the structure of the present Book: The House of Ulysses and the Suitors.
I.
The Goddess Pallas has already come down to Ithaca and stands among the suitors. She has taken the form of Mentes, the King of a neighboring tribe; she is in disguise as she usually is when she appears on earth. Who will recognize her? Not the suitors; they can see no God in their condition, least of all, the Goddess of Wisdom. "Telemachus was much the first to observe her;" why just he? The fact is he was ready to see her, and not only to see her, but to hear what she had to say. "For he sat among the suitors grieved in heart, seeing his father in his mind's eye," like Hamlet just before the latter saw the ghost. So careful is the poet to prepare both sides—the divine epiphany, and the mortal who is to behold it.
Furthermore, the young man saw his father "scattering the suitors and himself obtaining honor and ruling his own house." This is just what the Goddess is going to tell with a new sanction, and it is just what is going to happen in the course of the poem. Truly Telemachus is prepared internally; he has already everything within him which is to come out of him. Throughout the whole interview the two main facts are the example of the parent and the final revenge, both of which are urged by the Goddess without and by the man within.
Still there is a difference. Telemachus is despondent; we might almost say, he is getting to disbelieve in any divine order of the world. "The Gods plot evil things" against the House of Ulysses, whose fate "they make unknown above that of all men." Then they have sent upon me these suitors who consume my heritage. The poor boy has had a hard time; he has come to question providence in his misery, and discredits the goodness of the Gods.
Here, now, is the special function of Pallas. She instills courage into his heart. She gives strong hope of the return of his father, who "will not long be absent from Ithaca;" she also hints the purpose of the Gods, which is on the point of fulfillment. Be no longer a child; follow the example of thy father; go and learn about him and emulate his deeds. Therewith the Goddess furnishes to the doubting youth a plan of immediate action—altogether the best thing for throwing off his mental paralysis. He is to proceed at once to Pylos and to Sparta "to learn of his father" with the final outlook toward the destruction of the suitors. She is a veritable Goddess to the young striver, speaking the word of hope and wisdom, and then turning him back upon himself.
Here again we must say that the Goddess was in the heart of Telemachus uttering her spirit, yet she was external to him also. Her voice is the voice of the time, of the reality; all things are fluid to the hand of Telemachus, and ready to be moulded to his scheme. Still the Goddess is in him just as well, is his thought, his wisdom, which has now become one with the reason of the world. Both sides are brought together by the Poet in the most emphatic manner; this is the supreme fact in his procedure. The subjective and objective elements are one; the divine order puts its seal on the thought of the man, unites with him, makes his plan its plan. Thus the God and the Individual are in harmony, and the great fulfillment becomes possible. But if the thought of Telemachus were a mere scheme of his own, if it had not received the stamp of divinity, then it could never become the deed, the heroic deed, which stands forth in the world existent in its own right and eternal.
The Goddess flits away, "like a bird," in speed and silence. Telemachus now recognizes that the stranger was a divinity. For has he not the proof in his own heart? He is indeed a new person or the beginning thereof. But hark to this song! It is the bard singing "the sad return of the Greeks"—the very song which the poet himself is now singing in this Odyssey. For it is also a sad return, indeed many sad returns, as we shall see hereafter. Homer has thus put himself into his poem singing his poem. Who cannot feel that this touch is taken from life, is an echo of his own experience in some princely hall?
But here she comes, the grand lady of the story, Penelope, the wife of Ulysses, as it were in response to the music. A glorious appearance at a happy moment; yet she is not happy: "Holding a veil before her face, and shedding tears, she bespoke the bard: Phemius cease from this sad song, it cuts me to the heart." It reminds her of her husband and his sorrowful return, not yet accomplished; she cannot endure the anguish and she begs the bard to sing another strain which may delight his hearers.
This, then, is the sage Penelope whose character will be tested in many ways, and move through many subtle turns to the end of the poem. In this her first appearance we note that she proclaims in the presence of the suitors her undying love for her husband. This trait we may fairly consider to be the deepest of her nature. She thinks of him continually and weeps at his absence. Still she has her problem which requires at times all her female tact, yes, even dissimulation. Reckless suitors are pressing for her hand, she has to employ all her arts to defer the hateful marriage; otherwise she is helpless. She is the counterpart of her husband, a female Ulysses, who has waited twenty years for his return. She also has had a stormy time, with the full experience of life; her adventures in her world rival his in his world. But underneath all her cunning is the rock of eternal fidelity. She went back to her room, and wept for her husband "till Pallas closed her eye-lids in sweet sleep."
Nor can we pass over the answer of Telemachus, which he makes at this point to his mother. It may be called a little Homeric treatise on poetry. "Mother, let the poet sing as his spirit moves him;" he is not to be constrained, but must give the great fact; "poets are not to blame but Zeus," for the sad return of the Greeks; "men applaud the song which is newest," novelty being already sought for in the literature of Homer's time. But the son's harsh reproof of the mother, with which his speech closes, bidding her look after her own affairs, the loom and distaff and servants, is probably an interpolation. Such is the judgment of Aristarchus, the greatest ancient commentator on Homer; such is also the judgment of Professor Nitzsch, the greatest modern commentator on the Odyssey.
II.
The other side of the collision is the party of suitors, who assail the House of Ulysses in property, in the son, in the wife, and finally in Ulysses himself. They are the wrong-doers whose deeds are to be avenged by the returning hero; their punishment will exemplify the faith in an ethical order of the world, upon which the poem reposes as its very foundation. They are insolent, debauched, unjust; they defy the established right. Zeus has them in mind when he speaks of Ægisthus, who is an example of the same sort of characters, and his fate is their fate according to the Olympian lawgiver. They too are going to destruction through their own folly, yet after many an admonition. Just now Telemachus has spoken an impressive warning: "I shall invoke the ever-living Gods, that Zeus may grant deeds requiting yours."
Still their insolence goes on; the ethical world of justice and institutions has to be cleared of such men, if it continue to exist. Who does not love this fealty of the old bard to the highest order of things? The suitors are indeed blind; they have not recognized the presence of the Goddess, yet there is a slight suspicion after she is gone; one of the suitors asks who that stranger was. Telemachus, to lull inquiry, gives the outer assumed form of the divine visitor, "an ancestral guest, Mentes of Taphos;" the poet however, is careful to add: "But he (Telemachus) knew the immortal Goddess in his mind."
The conflict with the suitors is the framework of the entire poem. The education of Telemachus as well as the discipline of Ulysses reach forward to this practical end—the destruction of the wrong-doers, which is the purification of the country, and the re-establishment of the ethical order. All training is to bring forth the heroic act. The next Book will unfold the conflict in greater detail.
//Appendix.// The reader will have observed that, in the preceding account of Book First, it is regarded as setting forth three unities, that of the total Odyssey, that of the Telemachiad, and that of the Book itself. We see them all gradually unfolding in due order under the hand of the poet, from the largest to the least. Now the reader should be informed that every one of these unities has been violently attacked and proclaimed to be a sheer phantasm. Chiefly in Germany has the assault taken place. What we have above considered as the joints in the organism of the poem, have been cut into, pried apart, and declared to make so many separate poems or passages, which different authors have written. Thus the one great Homer vanishes into many little Homers, and this is claimed to be the only true way of appreciating Homer.
The most celebrated of these dissectors is probably the German Professor, Kirchhoff, some of whose opinions we shall cite in this appendix. His psychological tendency is that of analysis, separation, division; the very idea of unity seems a bugbear to him, a mighty delusion which he must demolish or die. Specially is his wrath directed against Book First, probably because it contains the three unities above mentioned, all of which he assails and rends to shreds in his own opinion.
The entire Introduction (lines 1-88) he tears from its present place and puts it before the Fifth Book, where it serves as the prelude to the Calypso tale. The rest of the Telemachiad is the work of another poet. Indeed the rest of the First Book (after the Introduction) is not by the same man who produced the Second Book. Then the Second Book is certainly older than the First, and ought somehow to be placed before it. The real truth is, however, that the First Book is only a hodge-podge made out of the Second Book by an inferior poet, who took thence fragments of sentences and of ideas and stitched them together. In the Invocation Kirchhoff cuts out the allusion to the oxen of the Sun (lines 6-9) as being inconsistent with his theory.
After disposing of the Introduction in this way, Kirchhoff takes up the remaining portion of the First Book, which he tears to pieces almost line by line. In about forty separate notes on different passages he marks points for skepticism, having in the main one procedure: he hunts both the Iliad and the Odyssey through, and if he finds a line or phrase, and even a word used elsewhere, which he has observed here, he at once is inclined to conclude that the same must have been taken thence and put here by a foreign hand. Every reader of Homer is familiar with his habit of repeating lines and even entire passages, when necessary. All such repetitions Kirchhoff seizes upon as signs of different authorship; the poet must have used the one, some redactor or imitator the other. To be sure we ought to have a criterion by which we can tell which is the original and which is the derived; but such a criterion Kirchhoff fails to furnish, we must accept his judgment as imperial and final. Once or twice, indeed, he seems to feel the faultiness of his procedure, and tries to bolster it, but as a rule he speaks thus: "The following verse is a formula (repetition), and //hence// not the property of the author." (Die Homerische Odyssee, p. 174.)
Now such repetitions are common in all old poetry, in the ballad, in the folk-song, in the //Kalevala// as well as in the Homeric poems. Messages sent are repeated naturally when delivered; the same event recurring, as when the boat is rowed, the banquet prepared, or the armor put on, is described in the same language. Such is usually felt to be a mark of epic simplicity, of the naive use of language, which will not vary a phrase merely for the sake of variety. But Kirchhoff and his followers will have it just the other way; the early poet never varies or repeats, only the later poet does that. So he seeks out a large number of passages in the rest of the Odyssey, and in the Iliad also, which have something in common with passages of this First Book, especially in the matter of words, and easily finds it to be a "cento," a mixed mass of borrowed phrases.
But who was the author of such work? Not the original Homer, but some later matcher and patcher, imitator or redactor. It is not easy to tell from Kirchhoff just how many persons may have had a hand in this making of the Odyssey, as it lies before us. In his dissertations we read of a motley multitude: original poet, continuator, interpolator, redactor, reconstructor, imitator, author of the older part, author of the newer part—not merely individuals, but apparently classes of men. Thus he anatomizes old Homer with a vengeance.
''BOOK SECOND.''
The general relation between the First and Second Books is to be grasped at once. In the First Book the main fact is the Assembly in the Upper World, together with the descent of the divine influence which through Pallas comes to Telemachus in person, gives him courage and stirs him to action. This action is to bring harmony into the discordant land. In the Second Book the main fact is the Assembly in the Lower World, together with the rise of Telemachus into a new participation with divine influence in the form of Pallas, who sends him forth on his journey of education. We behold, therefore, in the two Books a sweep from above to below, then from below back to the divine influence. Earth and Olympus are the halves of the cycle, but the Earth is in discord and must be transformed to the harmony of Olympus.
Looking now at the Second Book by itself, we note that it falls into two portions: the Assembly of the People, which has been called together by Telemachus, and the communion of the youth with Pallas, who again appears to him at his call. The first is a mundane matter, and shows the Lower World in conflict with the divine order—the sides being the Suitors on the one hand and the House of Ulysses on the other. The second portion lifts the young hero into a vision of divinity, and should lift the reader along with him. Previously Pallas had, as it were, descended into Telemachus, but now he rises of himself into the Goddess. Clearly he possesses a new power, that of communion with the Gods. These two leading thoughts divide the Book into two well-marked parts—the first including lines 1-259, the second including the rest.
I.
The Assembly of the Ithacans presupposes a political habit of gathering into the town-meeting and consulting upon common interests. This usage is common to the Aryan race, and from it spring parliaments, congresses, and other cognate institutions, together with oratory before the People. A wonderful development has come of this little germ, which we see here still alive in Ithaca, though it has been almost choked by the unhappy condition of things. Not since Ulysses left has there been any such Assembly, says the first speaker, an old man drawing upon his memory, not for twenty years; surely a sign of smothered institutional life. The first thing which Telemachus in his new career does is to call the Assembly, and start this institutional life into activity again. Whereof we feel the fresh throb in the words of the aged speaker, who calls him "Blessed."
Now the oratory begins, as it must begin in such a place. The golden gift of eloquence is highly prized by Homer, and by the Homeric People; prophetic it is, one always thinks of the great Attic orators. The speakers are distinctly marked in character by their speeches; but the Assembly itself seems to remain dumb; it was evidently divided into two parties; one well-disposed to the House of Ulysses, the other to the Suitors. The corruption of the time has plainly entered the soul of the People, and thorough must be the cleansing by the Gods. Two kinds of speakers we notice also, on the same lines, supporting each side; thus the discord of Ithaca is now to be reflected in its oratory. Three sets of orators speak on each side, placing before us the different phases of the case; these we shall mark off for the thought and for the eye of the reader.
1. After the short opening speech of the old man, Ægyptius, the heart of the whole movement utters itself in Telemachus, who remains the chief speaker throughout. His speech is strong and bold; from it two main points peer forth. The first is the wrong of the Suitors, who will not take the right way of wooing Penelope by going to her father and giving the bridal gift according to custom, but consume the son's property under pretense of their suit for the mother. The second point is the strong appeal to the Ithacans—to their sense of right, to their sense of shame, and to their fear of the Gods, who "in their divine wrath shall turn back ill deeds upon the doer." But in vain; that Ithacan Assembly contains friends and relatives of the Suitors, and possibly purchased adherents; nay, it contains some of the Suitors themselves, and here rises one of them to make a speech in reply.
This is Antinous, who now makes the most elaborate defense of the case of the Suitors that is to be found in the poem. The speech is remarkable for throwing the whole blame upon Penelope—not a gallant proceeding in a lover; still it betrays great admiration for the woman on account of her devices and her cunning. She has thwarted and fooled the whole band of unwelcome wooers for three years and more by her wonderful web, which she wove by day and unraveled by night. And even now when she has been found out, she holds them aloof but keeps them in good humor, though clearly at a great expense of the family's property, which fact has roused Telemachus to his protest. Antinous, though feeling that he and the rest have been outwitted by the woman, does not stint his praise on that account, he even heightens it.
But we hear also his ultimatum: "Send thy mother away and bid her be married to whomsoever her father commands, and whoso is pleasing to her." So the will of the parent and the choice of the daughter had to go together even in Homer's days. Of course Antinous has no ground of right for giving this order; he is not the master of the house, though he hopes to be; his assumed authority is pure insolence. Then why should the Suitors injure the son because they have been wheedled by the mother? Still they will continue to consume "his living and his wealth as long as she keeps her present mind."
But the most interesting thing in his speech is to discover the attitude and motives of Penelope. We see her fidelity, but something more than fidelity is now needed, namely the greatest skill, dissimulation, or female tact, to use the more genteel word. She has a hard problem on her hands; she has to save her son, herself, and as much of the estate as she can, from a set of bandits who have all in their might. Were she to undertake to drive them away, they would pillage the house, kill her boy, and certainly carry her off. They have the power, they have the inclination; they are held by one small thread in the weak hands of a woman, but with that thread she snares them all, to the last man. Love it may be called, of a certain sort; we see how Antinous admires her, though conscious that she has made a fool of him and his fellows. Each hopes to win the prize yet, and she feeds them with hope, "sending private messages to each man;" thus she turns every one of them against the other, and prevents concerted action which looks to violence. That wonderful female gift is hers, the gift of making each of her hundred Suitors think that just he is the favored one, only let it be kept secret now till the right time comes!
But Penelope uses this gift as a weapon, it is her means of saving the House of Ulysses, while many another fair lady uses it for the fun of the thing. Is she right? Does her end justify her means? True she is in the highest degree to Family and State, is saving both; but she does dissemble, does cajole the suitors. One boy, one woman, one old man in the country constitute the present strength of the House of Ulysses; but craft meets violence and undoes it, as always.
And yet we may grant something to the other side of her character. She takes pleasure in the exercise of her gift, who does not? Inasmuch as the Suitors are here, and not to be dismissed, she will get a certain gratification out of their suit. A little dash of coquetry, a little love of admiration we may discern peeping through her adamantine fidelity to her husband, recollect after an absence of twenty years. As all this homage was thrust upon her, she seeks to win from it a kind of satisfaction; the admiration of a hundred men she tries to receive without making a sour face. Still further she takes pleasure in the exercise of that feminine subtlety which holds them fast in the web, yet keeps them off; giving them always hope, but indefinitely extending it. Verily that web which she wove is the web of Fate for the Suitors. So much for Penelope at present, whom we shall meet again.
To this demand of Antinous to send the mother away, Telemachus makes a noble, yes, a heroic response. It would be wrong all around, wrong to the mother, wrong to her father, unless he (Telemachus) restored the dower, wrong to the Gods; vengeance from the Erinyes, and nemesis from man would come upon him for such a deed. Thus the young hero appeals to the divine order and puts himself in harmony with its behests. Boldly he declares, that if the Suitors continue in their ill-doing, "I shall invoke the ever-living Gods; if Zeus may grant fit retribution for your crimes, ye shall die within this palace unavenged." Truly a speech given with a power which brings fulfillment; prophetic it must be, if there be any Gods in the world. Already we have seen that Telemachus was capable of this high mood, which communes with deity and utters the decree from above. Behold, no sooner is the word uttered by the mortal, than we have the divine response. It is in the form of an omen, the flight of two eagles tearing each other as they fly to the right through the houses of the town. Also the interpreter is present, who tells the meaning of the sign, and stamps the words of Telemachus with the seal of the Gods.
2. Here we pass to the second set of speeches which show more distinctively the religious phase, in contrast to the preceding set, which show rather the institutional phase, of the conflict; that is, the Gods are the theme of the one, Family and State of the other. The old augur Halitherses, the man of religion, explains the omen in full harmony with what Telemachus has said; he prophesies the speedy return of Ulysses and the punishment of the Suitors, unless they desist. Well may the aged prophet foretell some such outcome, after seeing the spirit of the son; Vengeance is indeed in the air, and is felt by the sensitive seer, and also by the sensitive reader.
But what is the attitude of the Suitors toward such a view? Eurymachus is the name of their speaker now, manifestly a representative man of their kind. He derides the prophet: "Go home, old man, and forecast for thy children!" He is a scoffer and skeptic; truly a spokesman of the Suitors in their relation to the Gods, in whom they can have no living faith; through long wickedness they imagine that there is no retribution, they have come to believe their own lie. Impiety, then, is the chief fact of this speech, which really denies the world-government and the whole lesson of this poem. Thus the divine warning is contemned, the call to a change of conduct goes unheeded.
3. Then we have the third set of speeches which are personal in their leading note, and pertain to the absent Ulysses, whose kindness and regal character are set forth by Mentor, his old comrade, with strong reproaches toward the Ithacans for permitting the wrong to his house. It is intimated that they could prevent it if they chose; but they are evidently deaf to this appeal to their gratitude and affection for their chieftain.
Leiocrates, the third Suitor, responds in a speech which is the culmination of insolence and defiance of right. The Suitors would slay Ulysses himself, should he now appear and undertake to put them out of his palace. He dares not come and claim his own! Right or wrong we are going to stay, and, if necessary, kill the owner. It is the most open and complete expression of the spirit of the Suitors, they are a lot of brigands, who must be swept away, if there be any order in the world. Leiocrates dissolves the Assembly, a thing which he evidently had no right to do; the people tamely obey, the institutional spirit is not strong enough to resist the man of violence. Let them scatter; they are a rotten flock of sheep at any rate.
Here the first part of the Book concludes. The three sets of speakers have given their views, one on each side; each set has represented a certain phase of the question; thus we have heard the institutional, religious and personal phases. In such manner the sweep of the conduct of the Suitors is fully brought out; they are destroying State and Family, are defying the Gods, and are ready to slay the individual who may stand in their way. Certainly their harvest is ripe for the sickle of divine justice, upon whose deep foundation this poem reposes.
The Assembly of the People now vanishes quite out of sight, it has indeed no valid ground of being. The young men seem to be the chief speakers, and show violent opposition, while the old men hold back, or manifest open sympathy with the House of Ulysses. The youth of Ithaca have had their heads turned by the brilliant prize, and rush forward forgetful of the penalty. It is indeed a time of moral loosening, of which this poem gives the source, progress, and cure. Telemachus, however, rises out of the mass of young men, the future hero who is to assert the law of the Gods. In such manner we are to reach down to the fact that the spirit of the Odyssey is ethical in the deepest sense, and reveals unto men the divine order of the world.
II.
We now pass to the second part of the book, which shows Telemachus accomplishing with the aid of the deity what human institutions failed to do. If the Assembly will not help him in the great cause, the Gods will, and now he makes his appeal to them.
The Ithacans had refused a ship in order that he might go and learn something about his father; that is, they will not permit his education, which is at present the first object.
He goes down to the seacoast, where he will be alone, communing with the Goddess and with himself, and there he prays to Pallas, washing his hands in the grey surf—which is, we may well think, a symbolic act of purification. Is it a wonder that Pallas, taking the human shape of Mentor, comes and speaks to him? She must, if she be at all; he is ready, and she has to appear. Her first words are but the echo of his conduct all through the preceding scene with the Assembly: "Telemachus henceforth thou shalt be wanting neither in valor nor in wisdom." She rouses him by the fame and deeds of his father, because he is already aroused. Still she is a very necessary part; she is the divine element in the world speaking to Telemachus and helping him; she shows that his thought is not merely subjective, but is now one with hers, with objective wisdom, and will rule the fact. He ascends into the realm of true vision, and from thence organizes his purpose. It is true that the poet represents Pallas as ordering the means for the voyage, as at first she ordered the work of the whole poem. Yet this is also done by Telemachus who has risen to participation in that glance which beholds the truth and controls the world.
Often will the foregoing statement be repeated; every divine appearance in Homer, of any import, is but a repetition of the one fact, which must always be re-thought by the reader. That which Telemachus says is no longer his mere wish or opinion, but it is the reality, the valid thing outside of him, hence it is voiced by the Goddess, and must take place. Thus the poet often compels his reader to rise with him into the sphere of the divine energy, where thinking and willing are one, and man's insight is just the word of the God.
The remaining circumstances of the Book group themselves around the two centers—Telemachus and Pallas—as the Goddess orders them in advance: "Go thou home and get the stores ready, while I shall engage a ship and crew among the Ithacans."
1. Telemachus goes among the Suitors, evidently to avoid suspicion, which his absence might provoke. They taunt and deride him, whereof three samples are again given. He goes his way, conscious of his divine mission, not failing however to tell them: "I shall surely make the voyage, not in vain it will be." He obtains food and wine from the aged stewardess Eurycleia, who seeks to dissuade him. Then too his mother must not know of his plan, she would keep him still a boy in the house, whereas he has become a man.
2. Pallas in the semblance of Telemachus goes through the town to secure the ship and crew. Then she pours over the Suitors a gentle sleep after their revel; she takes away their wisdom, yet it is their own deed, which just now has a divine importance. Finally she brings all to the ship, seizes the helm and sends the favoring breeze. Or, as we understand the poet, intelligence brings about these things under many guises; even nature, the breeze, it takes advantage of for its own purpose.
Thus Pallas has the controlling hand in this second part of the Book, she is above man and nature. We can say that the controlling spirit is also Telemachus, who manifests Reason, controlling and directing the world. Note the various forms which she assumes, as Mentor, as Telemachus; then again she works purely through mind, in the natural way, as for example, when Telemachus goes home and obtains his food and wine for the voyage. The poet thus plays with her shape; still she is essentially the divine intelligence which seizes upon men and circumstances, and fits them into the order universal, and makes them contribute to the great purpose of the poem. Still the Goddess does not destroy man's freedom, but supplements it, lifting it out of the domain of caprice. Telemachus willingly wills the will of Pallas.
Already it has been remarked that the Goddess is made to command nature—the breeze, the sleep of the Suitors. It is the method of fable thus to portray intelligence, whose function is to take control of nature and make her subserve its purpose. The breeze blows and drives the ship; it is the divine instrument for bringing Telemachus to Pylos, a part of the world-order, especially upon the present occasion. The born poet still talks that way, he is naturally a fabulist and cannot help himself. In his speech, the hunter does not chase the deer, but brings it before his gun by a magic power; the mystic fisher calls the fishes; the enchanted bullet finds its own game and needs only to be shot off; the tanner even lays a spell upon the water in his vat and makes it run up hill through a tube bent in a charm. But back of all this enchantment intelligence is working and assumes her mythical, supernatural garb when the poet images her control of nature.
Thus in general the Mythus shadows forth objective mind, not subjective; it springs from the imaginative Reason, and not from a cultivated Reflection. In our time the demand is to have these objective forms translated into subjective thoughts; then we can understand them better. But the Homeric man shows the opposite tendency: he had to translate his internal thoughts into the external shapes of the Mythus before he could grasp fully his own mind. His conception of the world was mythical; this form he understood and not that of abstract reflection. We may well exclaim: Happy Homeric man, to whom the world was ever present, not himself. Yet both sides belong to the full-grown soul, the mythical and the reflective; from Homer the one-sided modern mind can recover a part of its spiritual inheritance, which is in danger of being lost.
It is therefore, a significant fact that the education of the present time is seeking to restore the Mythus to its true place in the development of human spirit. The Imagination is recognized to have its right, and unless it be taken care of in the right way, it will turn a Fury, and wreak treble vengeance upon the age which makes it an outcast. Homer is undoubtedly the greatest of all mythologists, he seizes the pure mythical essence of the human mind and gives to it form and beauty. Hence from this point of view, specially, we shall study him.
In the present Book the fact is brought out strongly that little or nothing is to be expected from the Ithacan people toward rectifying the great wrong done to the House of Ulysses. In part they are the wrong-doers themselves, in part they are cowed into inactivity by the wrong-doers. Corruption has eaten into the spirit of the people; the result is, the great duty of deliverance is thrown back upon an individual. One man is to take the place of all, or a few men the place of the many, for the work must be done. The mightiness of the individual in the time of a great crisis is thus set forth in vivid reality; the one man with the Gods on his side is the majority. With truest instinct does the old poet show the Goddess Pallas directing Telemachus, who participates in the Divine and is carrying out its decree. This communion between man and deity is no mere mythologic sport, but the sincerest faith; verily it is the solidest fact in the government of the world, and the bard is its voice to all ages.
This Second Book has its import for the whole poem. It is now manifest that Ulysses, when he returns, is not to expect a grand popular reception; he must bring himself back to his own by his skill and prowess alone. The people will not help him slay the wrong-doers; rather the contrary will happen. Again the individual must work out the salvation of himself as well as of his family and his country. Telemachus has shown himself the worthy son of the heroic father; the present Book connects him intimately with the return of Ulysses, and binds the entire Odyssey into unity; especially does this Book look to and prepare for the last twelve Books, which bring father and son together in one great act of deliverance.
If in the previous Book we beheld the depravity of the Suitors, we now witness the imbecility of the People. Still the spark of hope flashes out brightly in this Ithacan night; something is at work to punish the guilty and to redeem the land.
''BOOK THIRD.''
In narrative, the present Book connects directly with the preceding Book. Pallas is still with Telemachus, they continue the voyage together till they reach Pylos, the home of Nestor. They have left Ithaca, and come into another realm; this change of place, as is often the case in Homer, carries with it a change of inner condition; the voyage is not simply geographical but also spiritual; indeed it must be so, if the young man is to derive from it any experience.
Great and striking is the difference between Ithaca and Pylos. The latter is the abode of religion primarily, the new-comers find the Pylians engaged in an act of worship, in which the whole people participate, "nine rows of seats and five hundred men in each row."
Too large a number, cry some commentators, but they have not looked into the real meaning of such a multitude. Here is sacrifice, reverence, belief in the Gods; while among the Ithacans is neglect of worship, religious paralysis, and downright blasphemy on the part of the Suitors. Furthermore, in one country order reigns, in the other is anarchy. Such is the contrast between the Second and Third Books, the contrast between Ithaca and Pylos. We can well think that this contrast was intended by the poet, and thus we may catch a glimpse of his artistic procedure.
The center of the picture is Nestor, a very old man, who, accordingly, gives soul to the Book. He is so near the world of the Gods in the present life, that he seems already to dwell with them; age brings this serene piety.
No accident is it that this Book of Nestor begins and ends with a festival of sacrifice and prayer; that is the true setting of his character. What he says to the visitors will take color and meaning from his fundamental trait; we may expect in his words a full recognition of divinity in the events of the world.
But he has been a stout fighter in his time, he was in the Trojan War, though old already at that period. He will give the lesson of his life, not during that war, but afterwards. He was one of the heroes of the Iliad, which poem the Odyssey not only does not repeat, but goes out of its way to avoid any repetition thereof. Moreover he was one of those who returned home successfully, can he tell how it was done? This is the question of special interest to Telemachus, as his father, after ten years, has not yet reached home.
Herewith the theme of the Book is suggested: the Return. Physically this was a return from the Trojan War, which is the pre-supposition of the whole Odyssey; all the heroes who have not perished, have to get back to Hellas in some way. These ways are very diverse, according to the character of the persons and the circumstances. Thus we touch the second grand Homeric subject, and, indeed, the second grand fact of the Greek consciousness, which lies imbedded in the Return (Nostos). A short survey of this subject must here be given. We have in the present Book several phases of the Return; Nestor, Menelaus, Ulysses are all Returners, to use a necessary word for the thought; each man solves the problem in his own manner.
Now what is this problem? Let us see. The expedition to Troy involved a long separation from home and country on the part of every man who went with it; still this separation had to be made for the sake of Helen, that she, the wife and queen, return to home and country, from which she had been taken. Her Return, indeed, is the essence of all their Returns. We see that through the war they were severed from Family and State, were compelled to give up for the time being their whole institutional life. This long absence deepens into alienation, into a spiritual scission, from mere habit in the first place; then, in the second place, they are seeking to destroy a home and a country; though it be that of the enemy, and the act, even if necessary, brings its penalty. It begets a spirit of violence, a disregard of human life, a destruction of institutional order. Such is the training of the Greeks before Troy. The wanton attack of Ulysses and his companions upon the city of the Ciconians (Book Ninth) is an indication of the spirit engendered in this long period of violence, among the best and wisest Greeks.
Still, in spite of the grand estrangement, they have the aspiration for return, and for healing the breach which had sunk so deep into their souls. Did they not undergo all this severing of the dearest ties for the sake of Helen, for the integrity of the family, and of their civil life also? What he has done for Helen, every Greek must be ready to do for himself, when the war is over; he must long for the restoration of the broken relations; he cannot remain in Asia and continue a true Greek. Such is his conflict; in maintaining Family and State, he has been forced to sacrifice Family and State. Then when he has accomplished the deed of sacrifice, he must restore himself to what he has immolated. A hard task, a deeply contradictory process, whose end is, however, harmony; many will not be able to reach the latter stage, but will perish by the way. The Return is this great process of restoration after the estrangement.
Many are the Returners, successful and unsuccessful in many different ways. But they all are resumed in the one long desperate Return of Ulysses, the wise and much-enduring man. In space as well as in time his Return is the longest; in spirit it is the deepest and severest by all odds. The present poem, therefore, is a kind of resumption and summary of the entire series of Returns (Nostoi). In the old Greek epical ages, the subject gave rise to many poems, which are, however, at bottom but one, and this we still possess, while the others are lost. Spirit takes care of its own verily.
The true Returner, accordingly, gets back to the institutions from which he once separated; he knows them now, previously he only felt them. His institutional world must become thus a conscious possession; he has gone through the alienation, and has been restored; his restoration has been reached through denial, through skepticism, we may say, using the modern term. The old unconscious period before the Trojan war is gone forever; that was the Paradise from which the Greek Adam has been expelled. But the new man after the restoration is the image of the complete self-conscious being, who has taken the negative period into himself and digested it. Fortunate person! he cannot now be made the subject of a poem, for he has no conflict.
But the young man beginning life, the son Telemachus, is to obtain the same kind of knowledge, not through experience but through inquiry. Oral tradition is to give him the treasures of wisdom without the bitter personal trial. It is for this reason that Pallas sends him to find out what his father did, and to make the experience of the parent his own by education; it is, indeed, the true education—to master the accumulated knowledge and wisdom of the race up to date. So we are now to have the school period of the son, who is thereby not merely the physical son (which, he remarks, is always a matter of doubt), but the spiritual son of his father, whereof there can be no doubt.
The Odyssey proper, toward which we may now cast a glance, contains the wanderings of Ulysses, and is the work of the grown man who has to meet the world face to face and conquer it; thus he obtains the experience of life. The two parts are always to be placed together—the education of the young man and the experience of the mature man; they constitute a complete history of a human soul. Both are, indeed one—bud and flower; at bottom, too, both mean the same thing—the elevation of the individual into an ethical life in which he is in harmony with himself and with the divine order. True learning and true experience reach this end, which may be rightfully called wisdom.
So Telemachus the youth is to listen to the great and impressive fact of his time, containing the deep spiritual problem which is designated as the Return. Nestor is the first and simplest of these Returners; he is an old man, he has prudence, he is without passion; moreover he has not the spirit of inquiry or the searching into the Beyond; he accepts the transmitted religion and opinions without question, through the conservatism of age as well as of character. It is clear that the spiritual scission of the time could not enter deep into his nature; his long absence from home and country produced no alienation; he went home direct after the fall of Troy, the winds and the waters were favorable, no tempest, no upheaval, no signs of divine anger. But he foresaw the wrath of the Gods and fled across the wave in all speed, the wrestle with the deity lay not in him.
It is worth our while to make a little summary of these Returners in classes, since in this way the thought of the present Book as well as its place in the entire Odyssey can be seen best. First are those who never succeeded in returning, but perished in the process of it; of this class the great example is the leader himself, Agamemnon, who was slain by his own wife and her paramour. Second are those who succeeded in returning; of this class there are three well-marked divisions, which are to be sharply designated in the mind of the reader.
(1). The immediate Returners, those who went straight home, without internal scission or external trouble; unimportant they are in this peaceful aspect though they were formerly heroes in the war. Four such are passingly mentioned by Nestor in his talk: Diomed, Neoptolemus the son of Achilles, Philoctetes, and Idomeneus. Nestor himself is the most prominent and the typical one of this set who are the Returners through Hellas.
(2). The second one of those who have succeeded in getting home is Menelaus, whose sweep is far beyond that of Nestor and the immediate Greek world, taking in Egypt and the East. He was separated from Nestor, having delayed to bury his steersman; then a storm struck him, bore him to Crete and beyond, the wind and wave carried him to the land of the Nile. He is the Returner through the Orient.
(3). Finally is Ulysses, not yet returned, but whose time has nearly arrived. In comparison with the others he is the Returner through the Occident. But his Return gives name to the poem, of which it is the greater portion.
Still the universal poem is to embrace all these phases of the Return, and the son, through education, is to know them all, not by experience but by information. Thus his training is to reach beyond what the life of his father can give him; it must be universal, and in this way it becomes a true discipline. We must note too, that this poem reaches beyond the Return of Ulysses, beyond what its title suggests, and embraces all the Returns, Hellenic, Oriental, Occidental, as well as the grand failure to return.
Such are some of the thoughts which gleam out the present Book and illuminate the whole Odyssey. We can now consider structure of the Book, which falls into two distinct parts, determined by the Goddess. When she makes ready to quit Telemachus, we enter the second portion of the Book, and Telemachus continues his journey without direct divine supervision. As the previous Book was marked by the coming of the Goddess, the present Book is marked by her going. The intercourse of the youth with Nestor is the extent of her immediate guardianship; after such an experience, he must learn to make the rest of the journey through his own resources. Even the deity teaches that there must not be too much reliance upon the deity. The first portion of the Book extends to line 328, where Nestor ends his story of the Returns and suggests the journey to Menelaus for another phase thereof: "the sun set and darkness came on." The second portion embraces the rest of the Book. Again we must note that the fundamental Homeric division into the Upper and Lower Worlds is what divides the Book, thus giving to the same its organic principle.
I.
The religious setting of Nestor's world has been noticed already. Into it Telemachus comes, out of a realm of violence; it must indicate some cure for the ills of Ithaca. But he is now to show himself a man. Pallas orders him to put aside his youthful modesty, and boldly make the inquiry concerning his father. And here the Goddess utters a remark which the student may well ponder: "Some things thou wilt think of in thine own mind, but a God will suggest others." Again the Homeric dualism—the human and the divine—and also their harmony; the two elements must come together in every high thought or action. The double relation of the individual—to himself and to the God—is necessary for all worthy speech; his own activity and that of the deity run together in true discourse as well as in true action. So the whole poem is made up of man's self-determined energy and the interference of the Gods; yet both are to be seen as ultimately one in the deed.
The new-comers are asked to pray, and we hear the famous utterance, which is characteristic of Nestor's world, "All men have need of the Gods." This is said by one of his sons. Pallas makes the prayer, a happy one, which brings forth a feeling of harmony between the strangers and all the People. The sympathy is complete, and Telemachus can proceed to ask concerning his father, after he has told who he himself is, and whence he has come. In response, Nestor begins to tell the fateful story of the Returns after the fall of Troy. In his narrative we behold the starting-point of the calamities, the difference between Agamemnon and Menelaus, followed by a series of separations in succession. "Zeus planned for them a sad Return," which, however, was their own fault, "for all were neither wise nor just." It is clear that the Greek unity is utterly broken, a spiritual disruption sets in after the capture of the city. It is, indeed, the new problem, this Return to peace and institutional order after ten years' training to violence. Such is the penalty of all war, however just and necessary; after it is over, the fighting cannot stop at once, and so the victors divide into two camps and continue the fight. Nestor gives the picture of these repeated divisions; once, twice, thrice the breach occurs; first he separates from Agamemnon, the second time from Ulysses, the third time from Menelaus. He will go directly home, and thus he has to leave the others behind; the scission is not in him as in them; he can be restored, in fact he restores himself. He has the instinctive pre-Trojan character still, being an old man; but Ulysses has lost that, and so separates from Nestor, though never before had they differed "in the Council of the Chiefs or in the Assembly of the People." But Ulysses has to return by a far different road, and now each of the two wise men takes his own way, though both have to return.
Aged Nestor manifestly does not belong to the new epoch, he seems to have no sense of the deep spiritual struggle involved. He instinctively went home, shunning the conflict; the others could not. In the Iliad the relation between the two wise men, Nestor and Ulysses, is subtly yet clearly drawn; the one—the younger man—has creative intelligence, the other—the older man—has appreciative intelligence. In the Odyssey, the relation is plainly evolved out of that described in the Iliad; the one is the boundless striver, the other rests in the established order of things.
Nestor, therefore, cannot tell much about Ulysses, who lies quite out of his horizon, at least in the Odyssey. He can only give hope that the man of wisdom will yet return. This Telemachus doubts, dropping into one of his low human moods, even in the presence of Pallas, who rebukes him sharply. It is, indeed, the great lesson; he must have faith in the reality of the Gods, this is the basis of all his future progress, the chief attainment of wisdom. The young man must not fall away into denial, he must be taught that there is a divine order in the world. Old Homer, too, had his notions about religion in education, and the Goddess herself is here introduced giving a lesson.
Nestor, though unable himself to give much information about the Return, can point to the second grand Returner, Menelaus, who has lately come from a distant land, and may have something to say. In fact Menelaus was the last to separate from Nestor, Ulysses had separated long before.
One other story Nestor tells with great sympathy, that of Agamemnon, who represents a still different form of the Return. The great leader of the Greeks can master the Trojan difficulty, can even get back to home and country, but these are ultimately lost to him by his faithless spouse. Still, after the father's death, the son Orestes restores Family and State. Therein Telemachus sees an image of himself, the son, who is to slay his mother's suitors; he sees, too, the possible fate of his father. Ulysses has essentially the same problem as Agamemnon, though he has not the faithless wife in addition; Telemachus beholds his duty in the deed of Orestes, according to Greek consciousness. We shall see hereafter how Ulysses takes due precaution not to be slain in his own land, as Agamemnon was. In disguise he will go to his own palace and carefully note the situation in advance, and then strike the blow of deliverance.
Several times Homer repeats in the Odyssey the tragic story of Agamemnon, the great Leader of the Greeks at Troy. An awe-inspiring tale of destiny; out of it Æschylus will develop his great tragedy, the Oresteia. Indeed the epos develops into tragedy with the full mythical unfolding of this story. Æschylus will deepen the motives into internal collisions; he will show the right and the wrong in Agamemnon, and even in Clytemnestra. Orestes, however beneficent his deed in avenging his father, will not escape the counterstroke; Æschylus will send after him the Furies for the guilt of having murdered his mother. Thus the double nature of the deed, its reward and its penalty, unfolds out of Homer into Æschylus, and creates the Greek drama as we know it at present.
Nestor has now told what lay in the immediate circle of his experience: the Return direct through Hellas. Again he mentions the last separation; it was that of himself from Menelaus, when the latter was swept beyond the limit of Hellas into Egypt, from which he has now returned. What next? Evidently the young man must be sent to him at Sparta in order to share in this larger circle of experience, extending to the Orient. So Greece points to the East in many ways; Nestor, the purely Hellenic soul, knows of that wider knowledge, though it be not his, and he knows that it should be possessed.
In this Book as elsewhere in the Odyssey the grand background is the Trojan war. The incidents of the Iliad are hardly alluded to, but are certainly taken for granted; the Post-Iliad is the field of interest, for in it the Returns take place. Thus the two great poems of Homer join together and show themselves as complements of each other.
II.
Now comes the separation which marks the second portion of the Book. Pallas, in the guise of Mentor, coincides with Nestor in advising Telemachus to pay a visit to Menelaus, and then she departs, "sailing off like a sea-eagle," whereat great astonishment from all present. That is, she reveals herself; all recognize the Goddess, and probably that is the reason why she can no longer stay. She has become internal. Telemachus is now conscious, as she disappears, and he has his own wisdom; he has seen Pallas, and so he must go without her to Sparta. Hardly does he need her longer, being started upon the path of wisdom to know wisdom. At the court of Nestor, with its deeply religious atmosphere, she can appear; but she declines to go with him in person to Menelaus, though she advises the journey. All of which, to the sympathetic reader, has its significance. Still Pallas has by no means vanished out of the career of Telemachus; she at present, however, leaves him to himself, as she often does.
Nestor, too, responds to the marvelous incident in true accord with his character; he invokes her with prayer and institutes a grand sacrifice, which is now described in a good deal of detail. Just as the Book opens with a sacrifice to a deity, so it closes with one—the two form the setting of the whole description. Thus the recognition of the Gods is everywhere set forth in Nestor's world; he is the man of faith, of primitive, immediate faith, which has never felt the doubt.
It is well that Telemachus meets with such a man at the start, and gets a breath out of such an atmosphere. He has seen the ills of Ithaca from his boyhood; he may well question at times the superintendence of the Gods. His own experience of life would lead him to doubt the existence of a Divine Order. Even here in Pylos he challenges the supremacy of the Olympians. When Nestor intimates that his father will yet return and punish the Suitors, with the help of Pallas, or that he himself may possibly do so with the aid of the same Goddess, Telemachus replies: "Never will that come to pass, I think, though I hope for it; no, not even if the Gods should so will." Assuredly a young skeptic he shows himself, probably in a fit of despondency; sharp is the reproof of the Goddess: "O Telemachus, what kind of talk is that? Easily can a God, if he wills it, save a man even at a distance." Thus she, a Goddess, asserts the supremacy of the Gods, even though they cannot avert death. But the youth persists at present: "let us talk no more of this; my father never will return." But when Nestor has told the story of Ægisthus punished by the son Orestes, the impression is strong that there is a divine justice which overtakes the guilty man at last; such is the old man's lesson to the juvenile doubter. The lesson is imparted in the form of a tale, but it has its meaning, and Telemachus cannot help putting himself into the place of Orestes.
Such is, then, the training which the young man, shaken by misfortune, obtains at the court of Nestor; the training to a belief in the rule of the Gods in a Divine Order of the World—which is the fundamental belief of the present poem. It is no wonder that Telemachus sees Pallas at last, sees that she has been with him, recognizing her presence. To be sure, she now disappears as a personal presence, having been found out; still she sends Telemachus on his journey to Sparta. Thus the Third Book has a distinctive character of its own, differing decidedly from the Book which goes before and from that which follows. Here is a religious world, idyllic, paradisaical in its immediate relation to the Gods, and in the primitive innocence of its people, who seem to be without a jar or inner scission. No doubt or dissonance has yet entered apparently; Pylos stands between Ithaca, the land of absolute discord, and Sparta, the land recently restored out of discord. The Book hears a relation to the whole Odyssey in its special theme, which is the Return, of which it represents in the ruler Nestor a particular phase. It prepares the way for the grand Return, which is that of Ulysses; it is a link connecting the whole poem into unity. Moreover it shadows forth one of the movements of Greek spirit, which seized upon this idea of a Return from Troy to express the soul's restoration from its warring, alienated, dualistic condition. It is well known that there were many poems on this subject; each hero along with his town or land had his Return, which became embodied in legend and song. All Hellas, in a certain stage of its spiritual movement, had a tendency to break out into the lay of the Return. One of the so-called cyclic poets, Hagias of Troezen, collected a number of these lays into one poem and called it the //Nostoi// or Returns, evidently an outgrowth of this Third Book in particular and of the Odyssey in general.
Thus Telemachus has witnessed and heard a good deal during his stay with Nestor. He has seen a religious world, a realm of faith in the Gods, which certainly has left its strong impression; he has been inspired by the example of his father, whose worth has been set forth, and whose place in the great Trojan movement has been indicated, by the aged Hero. Still further, Telemachus has been brought to share in the idea of the Return, the present underlying idea of the whole Greek consciousness; thus he must be led to believe in it and to work for it, applying it to his own case and his own land. Largely, from a negative, despairing state of mind due to his Ithacan environment, he has been led into glimpses of a positive believing one; this has sprung from his schooling with Nestor, who may be called his first schoolmaster, from whom he is now to pass to his second.
The reader must judge whether the preceding view be too introspective for Homer, who is usually declared to be the unconscious poet, quite unaware of his purpose or process. No one can carefully read the Third Book without feeling its religious purport; an atmosphere it has peculiar to itself in relation to the other Books of the Telemachiad. To be sure, we can read it as an adventure, a mere diverting story, without further meaning than the attempt to entertain vacant heads seeking to kill time. But really it is the record of the spirit's experience, and must so be interpreted. Again the question comes up: what is it to know Homer? His geography, his incidents, his grammar, his entire outer world have their right and must be studied—but let us proceed to the next Book.
''BOOK FOURTH.''
The transition from Book Third to Book Fourth involves a very significant change of environment. In Sparta, to which Telemachus now passes, there is occurring no public sacrifice to the Gods, but a domestic festal occasion gives the tone; he moves out of a religious into a secular atmosphere. Pylos allows the simple state of faith, the world unfallen; Sparta has in it the deep scission of the soul, which, however, is at present healed after many wanderings and struggles. Nestor, as we have seen, is quite without inner conflict; Menelaus and Helen represent a long, long training in the school of error, tribulation, misfortune. Pylos is the peace before the fall, Sparta is the peace after the fall, yet with many reminiscences of the latter. This Fourth Book reaches out beyond Greece, beyond the Trojan War, it goes beyond the Hellenic limit in Space and Time, it sweeps backward into Egypt and the Orient. It is a marvelous Book, calling for our best study and reflection; certainly it is one of the greatest compositions of the human mind. Its fundamental note is restoration after the grand lapse; witness Helen, and Menelaus too; the Third Book has no restoration, because it has no alienation.
The account of the various Returns from Troy is continued. In the preceding Book we had those given by Nestor, specially his own, which was without conflict. He is the man of age and wisdom, he does not fall out with the Gods, he does not try to transcend the prescribed limits, he is old and conservative. The Returns which he speaks of beside his own, are confined to the Greek world; that was the range of his vision.
But now in the Fourth Book we are to hear of the second great Return, in which two Greeks participate, Menelaus and Helen. This Return is by way of the East, through Egypt, which is the land of ancient wisdom for the Greek man, and for us too. It is the land of the past to the Hellenic mind, whither the person who aspires to know the antecedents of himself and his culture must travel; or, he must learn of those who have been there, if he cannot go himself. Egyptian lore, which had a great influence upon the early Greek world in its formative period, must have some reflection in this primitive Greek book of education. So Telemachus, to complete his discipline, must reach beyond Greece into the Orient, he must get far back of Troy, which was merely an orientalizing Hellenic city; he must learn of Egypt. Thus he transcends the national limit, and begins to obtain an universal culture.
But the moment we go beyond the Greek world with its clear plastic outlines, the artistic form changes; the Hellenic sunshine is tinged with Oriental shadows; we pass from the unveiled Zeus to the veiled Isis. Homer himself gets colored with touches of Oriental mystery. The Egyptian part of this Fourth Book, therefore, will show a transformation of style as well as of thought, and changeful Proteus will become a true image of the Poet. The work will manifest a symbolic tendency; it will have an aroma of the wisdom of the East, taught in forms of the parable, the apologue, with hints of allegory. The world, thrown outside of that transparent Greek life, becomes a Fairy Tale, which is here taken up and incorporated into a great poem. We shall be compelled to look thoroughly into these strange shapes of Egypt, and, if possible, reach down to their meaning, for meaning they must have, or be meaningless. We shall find that this Fourth Book stands in the front rank of Homeric poetry for depth and suggestiveness, if not for epical lucidity.
What did not Telemachus see and hear at Sparta? That was, indeed, an education. He saw the two great returned ones, the woman and the man. Helen he saw, who had passed through her long alienation and was now restored to home and country after the Trojan discipline. In her, the most beautiful woman, the human cycle was complete—the fall, the repentance, the restoration. Then the eager youth saw Menelaus, and heard his story of the Return; he is the man who seeks the treasures of the East, and brings them to Hellas in the Hellenic way. He finds them, too, after much suffering, never losing them again in the tempests of his voyage, for does he not spread them out before us in his talk? Both the man and the woman, after the greatest human trials, have reached serenity—an institutional and an intellectual harmony. The young man sees it and feels it and takes it away in his head and heart.
The present Book falls easily into two distinct portions. The first is the visit of Telemachus to Sparta and what he experiences there. Sparta is at peace and in order; the youth to a degree beholds in it the ideal land to which he must help transform his own disordered country. The second portion of the Book goes back to Ithaca (line 625 of the Greek text). Here we are suddenly plunged again into the wrongful deeds of the suitors, done to the House of Ulysses. They are plotting the death of Telemachus, the bearing of whose new career has dawned upon them. Ithaca is truly the realm of discord in contrast to the harmony of Sparta and the House of Menelaus, which has also had sore trials. Hence Sparta may be considered a prophecy of the redemption of Ithaca.
Following out these structural suggestions, we designate the organism of the Book in this manner:—
I. The visit of Telemachus at Sparta in which he beholds and converses with two chief Returners from Troy, those who came back by way of the East, Menelaus and Helen. This part embraces the greater portion of the Book and falls into three divisions.
1. The arrival and recognition of the son of Ulysses by Menelaus and Helen who are in a mood of reminiscence, speaking of and in the Present with many a glance back into the Past. The Oriental journey to Cyprus, Phœnicia, and specially Egypt, plays into their conversation, making the whole a Domestic Tale of real life with an ideal background lying beyond Hellas.
2. When the son is duly recognized and received, the father Ulysses comes in for reminiscence; with him the background shifts from the Orient to Troy, where he was the hero of so many deeds of cunning and valor, and where both Menelaus and Helen were chief actors. The literary form passes out of the Domestic Tale of the Present into the Heroic Tale of the Past, from sorrowful retrospection to bracing description of daring deeds. Helen and Menelaus, each in turn, tell stories of Ulysses at Troy to the son, who thus learns much about his father. As already said, the background of this portion is the Trojan war which was the grand Hellenic separation from the Orient. The Iliad, and specially the Post-Iliad are here presupposed by the Odyssey.
3. The Return of Menelaus is now told to Telemachus, which Return reaches behind the Trojan war into the East and beyond the limits of the real Hellas into Egypt. Thus the spatial and temporal bounds of Greece are transcended, the actual both in the Present and Past goes over into the purely ideal, and the literary form becomes a Marvelous Tale—that of Proteus, which suggests not only Present and Past, but all Time.
II. Such is the grand Return of Menelaus out of struggle and dualism into peace and reconciliation with himself and the world, barring certain painful memories. The poet next, in sharp contrast throws the reader back to Ithaca, the land of strife and wrong, in general of limits for young Telemachus, who is reaching out for freedom through intelligence, and is getting a good deal thereof. Two phases:
1. The Suitors' limits, which he has broken through; their wrath and their plan of murdering him in consequence.
2. The mother's limits, which he has also broken through; her paroxysm in consequence, and final consolation.
I.
The first portion of the Book, as above given, is by all means the greatest in conception and in execution as well as the longest. As already indicated there are three kinds of writing in it, yet fused together into unity, which makes it a most varied, yet profoundly suggestive piece of Art. The simple idyllic, domestic strain of ordinary real life we hear at the start in the reception and recognition of Telemachus at Sparta; the scene lies in the sunshine of a serene existence, yet after mighty tempests. Thence we pass into the heroic world of Troy out of Greece and the Present, and listen to an epical story of heroism told by Menelaus and Helen, of the Hero Ulysses; finally we are brought to Egypt, and hear a prophecy concerning the same Hero, who is now the subject of the Fairy Tale. In other words, in this portion of the Fourth Book we observe a change of scene to three localities—Greece, Troy, Egypt, which correspond to Present, Past, and Future, and which attune the soul respectively to Sorrow, Reminiscence, Prophecy. In accord with this variety of place and circumstance is the variety of literary form already noted: the ordinary Descriptive Tale of the Present, the Heroic Story of the Past, and the Fairy Tale imaging what is distant in space and time.
1. As Telemachus arrives, he notes the outer setting to this noble picture of Menelaus and Helen. There is the magnificent palace with many costly ornaments of "bronze, gold, silver, amber and ivory;" it has the ideal of Greek architecture, not yet realized doubtless, still it suggests "the Hall of Olympian Zeus" to the admiring Telemachus. The new-comers happen upon a wedding-festival, which connects the place and the occasion with the Trojan war and its Hero Achilles, whose son is now to marry Helen's daughter, betrothed to him while at Troy. Moreover it is a time of joy, which brings all before us at first in a festal mood.
Nor must we pass by that astonishing utterance of Menelaus to his servant who proposed to turn away the guests: "Thou prattlest silly things like a child, verily have we come hither partaking of the hospitable fare of other men." Therefore we ought to give that which we have received. One likes to note these touches of humanity in the old heathen Greek; he too knew and applied the Golden Rule. The wisdom of life here peers forth in the much-traveled Menelaus; suffering has taught him to consider others; sorrow he has experienced, but it has brought its best reward—compassion. This sorrow at once breaks forth in response to the admiration of Telemachus for the outward splendor of his palace and possessions.
The Spartan king takes a short retrospect of life as it has been allotted him; the sighs well out between his words as he tells his story. Eight years he wandered after the taking of Troy; for he passed across the sea, to Egypt, even to Æthiopia and Lybia, which he portrays as a wonderland of golden plenty. But while he was gone, "gathering much wealth," his brother Agamemnon was slain; "therefore, small joy I have bearing rule over these possessions." But chiefly he laments the loss of one man, on account of whom "sleep and food become hateful to me when I think upon him." That man is Ulysses, who has suffered more than any other Greek. Thus a strong deep stream of sympathy breaks forth from the heart of Menelaus, and the son, hearing his father's name, holds up the purple mantle before his eyes, shedding the tear. A strong unconscious bond of feeling at once unites both.
How can we fail to notice the clear indication of purpose in these passages! The Poet brings Menelaus, as the culmination of his story, to strike the chord which stirs most profoundly the soul of Telemachus. The son is there to inquire concerning his father; without revealing himself he learns much about the character and significance of his parent. The same artistic forethought is shown, when, at this sad moment, Helen enters, the primal source of all these calamities, in a glorious manifestation of her beauty. Telemachus sees or may see, embodied in her the very essence of Greek spirit, that which had to be restored to Hellas from Asia, if Hellas was to exist. The Poet likens her to a Goddess, and places her in surroundings which are to set off her divine appearance. In her case, too, we notice the distant background: Egyptian presents she has, as well as Menelaus, "a golden distaff and a silver basket bound in gold." Mementos from far-off wonderland are woven into the speech and character of the famous pair.
Now for a true female trait. Helen at once recognizes the young stranger as the son of Ulysses, wherein she stands in contrast to her husband Menelaus, who, in spite of his thinking about his friend just at that moment, had failed to see before him the son of that friend. But no sooner had the woman laid eyes upon Telemachus than she personally identified him. When the wife had spoken the words of immediate insight and instinct, the wise husband sees the truth and gives his reasons. When the fact has been told him, he can easily prove it.
Supremely beautiful is this appearance of Helen in the Odyssey; she is the completion of what we saw and knew of her in the Iliad. Now she is restored to home and country, after her long alienation; still she has lurking moments of self-reproach on account of her former deeds. Though she has repented and has been received back, she cannot forget, ought not to forget the past altogether. The conduct of the husband is most noble in these scenes; he has forgiven her fully, never upbraiding, never even alluding to her fatal act, excepting in one passage possibly, in which there is a gentle palliation of her behavior: "Thou camest to the place, moved by some divinity who wished to give glory to the Trojans." The husband will not blame her, she acted under the stimulus of a God. The fallen woman restored is the divinest of all pictures; we wonder again at the far-reaching humanity of the old bard; to-day she would hardly be taken back and forgiven by the world as completely as she is in the pages of Homer. She is indeed a new Helen, standing forth in the purest radiance within the shining palace of Menelaus. Long shall the world continue to gaze at her there.
Telemachus is to see and to hear Helen; that is, indeed, one of his supreme experiences. But it is not here a matter of superficial staring at a beautiful woman; all that Helen is, the total cycle of her spirit's history, is to enter his heart and become a vital portion of his discipline. It is probable that the youth does not realize every thing that Helen means and is; still he beholds her, and that in itself is an education. Helen is not merely a figure of voluptuous beauty, which captivates the senses; she bears in her the experience of complete humanity; she has erred, she has transformed her error, she has been restored to that ethical order which she had violated. All of which the young man is to see written in her face, and to feel in her words and conduct, though he may not consciously formulate it in his thought. This is the true beauty of Helen, not simply the outer sensuous form, though she possesses that too. She could not be the ideal of the Greek world, if she were merely an Oriental enchantress; indeed it is just the function of the Greeks to rescue her from such a condition, which was that of Helen in Troy.
Already the heart of Menelaus is full at the thought of his friend Ulysses, and he warms toward the latter's son now present. He again utters words of sympathetic sorrow. All are touched; all have lost some dear relative at Troy; it is a moment of overpowering emotion. The four people weep in common; it is but an outburst; they rally from their sorrow, Menelaus commands: "Let us cease from mourning and think of the feast."
It is at this point that Helen again interposes. Her experience of life has been the deepest, saddest, most complete of all, she has mastered her conflicts, inner and outer, and reached the haven of serenity; she can point out the way of consolation. In fact it is her supreme function to show to others what she has gone through, and thereby save them, in part at least, the arduous way. For is not the career of every true hero or heroine vicarious to a certain degree? Assuredly, if they mean any thing to the sons and daughters of men. Helen can bring the relief, and does so in the present instance.
She fetches forth that famous drug, the grand antidote for grief and passion, and all life's ills, the true solacer in life's journey. It had been given her by an Egyptian woman, Polydamna, whom she had met in her wanderings, and it had evidently helped to cure her lacerated soul. Again Egypt lies in the background, as it does everywhere in this Book, the veritable wonderland, from which many miraculous blessings are sent. Moreover it is the land of potent drugs, "some beneficial and some baneful;" its physicians too, are celebrated as excelling all men. Still more curious is the fact that women possess the secret of medicine as well as men, and Polydamna may be set down as the first female doctor—she who gave the wonderful drug to Helen. Surely there is nothing new under the sun.
This marvelous drug, often called Nepenthe from one of its attributes, has naturally aroused much curiosity among the many-minded readers of Homer down the ages. Some have held that it was an herb, which they have pointed out in the valley of the Nile. Others hold it to be opium literally, though it does not here put to sleep or silence the company. On the other hand allegory has tried its hand at the word. Certain ancients including Plutarch found in it an emblem hinting the charm of pleasing narrative. As Helen at once passes to story-telling about Ulysses at Troy, changing from sad reminiscences of the dead to stirring deeds of living men, we may suppose that this has something to do with her Nepenthe, which changes the mind from inward to outward, from emotion to action. The magic charm seems to work potently when she begins to talk. Through her, the artist as well as the ideal, we make the transition into the Heroic Tale of the olden time, of which she gives a specimen.
2. Very naturally the Trojan scene is next taken, that greatest deed of the Greek race, being that which really made it a new race, separating it from the Orient and giving it a new destiny. Helen now tells to the company myths, particularly the labors of Ulysses. She narrates how he came to Troy in the disguise of a beggar; none knew him, "but I alone recognized him," as she had just recognized Telemachus. Thus she celebrates the cunning and bravery of Ulysses; but she also introduces a fragment of her own history: "I longed to return home, and I lamented the infatuation which Venus sent upon me." She wished to be restored to her husband who was "in no respect lacking in mind or shape." We must not forget that the husband was before her listening; she does not forget her skill. Also Telemachus was present and hears her confession of guilt and her repentance—important stages in her total life, which he is to know, and to take unto himself.
Menelaus has also his myth of Ulysses at Troy, which he now proceeds to tell. It brings before us the Wooden Horse, really the thought of Ulysses, though wrought by Epeios, by which the hostile city was at last captured. Here the Odyssey supplies a connecting link between itself and the Iliad, as the latter poem closes before the time of the Wooden Horse. Ulysses is now seen to be the Hero again, he is the man who suppresses emotion, especially domestic emotion in himself and others for the great end of the war. It suggests also the difficulty of Ulysses; he had so long suppressed his domestic instincts, and done without the life of the family, that he will have great trouble in overcoming the alienation—whereof the Odyssey is the record. In this story of Menelaus, Helen has her part too; she came to the Wooden Horse, "imitating in voice the wives of all the Greek leaders," who were deeply moved, yet restrained themselves except one, Anticlus, "over whose mouth Ulysses clapped his powerful hands, and saved the Greeks." Truly a strong image of the suppression of feeling in himself and in others.
But why did Helen do thus? Was it a hostile act on her part? Menelaus hints that it was at least very dangerous to the Greeks, though he delicately lays the blame of it on some God, "who must have inspired thee." She was testing the Greeks whom she supposed to be inside the horse. Will they answer the call of their wives? Do they still retain their affection for their families? Above all, does Menelaus love me still? Such was her test, in which we witness another of her many gifts. At any rate, she is not yet free, she is still married in Troy, though the hour of her release be near.
With these two stories, the note changes; the sad turn of the talk is transformed into a quiet earnest joy, the sorrows of the present vanish in the glorious memories of the past. The moment Troy is introduced, the narrative becomes an Heroic Tale, a sort of Iliad, with its feats of arms. Thus we hear the story of Ulysses while at Troy, giving two instances of his craft and his daring. Next we are to hear of him after his Trojan experience, this now theme will give the new poem, the Odyssey, which, however, is seen to interlink at many points with the Iliad.
But this is sufficient, night has come on, Telemachus has heard and beheld enough for one day. Helen disappears from the scene, she has contributed her share, her own selfhood, to the experience of the young man. Telemachus has seen Helen, and thus attained one supreme purpose of Greek education. Never can that face, beautiful still, yet stamped with all the vicissitudes of human destiny, pass out of his mind; never can that life of hers with its grand transformation pass out of his soul. The reader, too, has at this point to bid good-bye to Homer's Helen, the most lasting creation of a woman that has yet appeared upon our planet. A power she has, too, of continuous re-embodiment; every poet seeks to call her up afresh, that is, if he be a poet. It may be said that each age has some incarnation of Helen; the Greek myth for two thousand years, Medieval legend, even Teutonic folk-lore have caught up her spirit and incorporated it in new forms. The last great singer of the ages has in our own time, evoked her ghost once more in the shining palace of Menelaus at Sparta. Farewell, Helen, for this time, but we shall meet thee again; yesterday thou didst show thyself in a new book under a new garb, to-morrow thou art certain to appear in another. Thine is the power to re-create thyself in the soul of man with every epoch and in every country. Great is that discipline of Telemachus, which we still to-day have to seek: he has seen Helen.
3. The preceding story was the Heroic Tale, which goes back to the Past, especially to Troy, as the grand deed done by the united Hellenic race, whereof the Iliad is a sample. But now we enter a new field, and a new sort of composition, which, in default of a better name, we shall call the Fairy Tale. Helen is not now present, nor is her struggle the theme; Menelaus, the man, is to recount his experience in his return to Hellas.
The story is inspired by the desire of Telemachus to know about his father. As that father is not present the question arises, Where is he? Menelaus will undertake to answer the question by a tale which shadows forth the Distant and the Future—a prophetic tale, which casts its glance through the veil of Time and Space.
A mythical figure appears, Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea, who is to foretell to the inquiring mortal what may be needful for his safety. Not an Olympian God is Proteus, yet a supernatural shape standing between man and deity and mediating the two, the human and the divine. For it is Proteus who sends Menelaus back to the Gods whom he has neglected and offended.
The Fairy Tale which we are now to consider, is not to be looked upon as an allegory; it is a story with incident, movement, character, all in their own right, and not for the sake of something else. But we must not, on this account, imagine that it has no thought; in fact, the Fairy Tale is just the way in which primitive peoples think. It has thought, often the profoundest thought, which darts through it, not steadily, but fitfully in flashes at the important links, like electric sparks. This thought we are to catch and hold, and not rest satisfied with the mere outer form of the story.
Persons we can always find who are strongly prepossessed against seeing any meaning in the Fairy Tale, or in the Mythus. Modern usage of these literary forms, doubtless, justifies such an opinion. Still we must remember that Homer was not playing, but thinking with his Fairy Tale; he had no technical terms, and almost no abstract language for expressing thought; the day of philosophic reflection had not yet dawned upon Greece. Homer has a great and deep thought to utter, but his utterance is and must be mythical. His problem, too, he has, and it is spiritual; the Mythus is his statement, honest, earnest, final. No, he was not playing at story-telling, though it must have given him pleasure; nor was his object merely to delight somebody, though he certainly has delighted many by his song. He was the true Poet, upholding his own worth and that of his vocation; he was loyal to the Muse whose word he must sing whether it find listeners or not. Homer built his legendary structure to live in, not to play in; with all his sportiveness, he is a deeply earnest man; if his Zeus sometimes takes on a comic mask, it is because Providence is a humorist. Homer, when he mythologizes, is thinking, thinking as profoundly as the philosopher, and both are seeking to utter to men the same fundamental thought. The reader is to think after the poet, if not in the immediate mythical form, then in the mediate, reflective way.
The present Tale seeks to give an answer to the two main questions of Telemachus: Where is my father now? And, Will he return home? To answer the one question requires a knowledge of what is distant in Space; to answer the other question requires a knowledge of what is distant in Time. Can we not see that herein is an attempt to rise out of that twofold prison of the spirit, Space and Time, into what is true in all places and times? In other words, Menelaus unfolds in a mythical form, the Universal to his young pupil, and we may now see in what manner he gives the lesson.
He leaps at once into the middle of his theme; he was in Egypt and detained there by the Gods, "though longing to return home." Such is the great initial fact, he did not do his duty to the Gods. Without their aid or without their adequate recognition, he seeks to come home. This indicates the spiritual difficulty; he is indifferent to or a disbeliever in the Divine. The Gods are the upholders of the world-order, they are the law and the spirit of the reality. Clearly Menelaus could not or did not fit himself into the providential system. Neglect of the Gods—that detains him, must detain him. The result is, he and his companions are wasting away on an island, without any chance of return.
The question of the hour is, How shall I get out of the difficulty? Only in one way: Acknowledge the Gods, put yourself into harmony with their order, then the outer world and the inner man will be one, and must bring about the deed, which is the return. We are now to witness the process whereby this reconciliation between man and the Gods takes place—surely the supreme matter in life. It is told in the form of the Fairy Tale or Marvelous Legend, which shifts and changes; we, however, must cling to the essence else it will escape us, Proteus himself we must hold fast, and not be misled by his many appearances.
Menelaus begins to feel sorrow, which is a penitent condition antecedent to all help. Moreover he wanders alone, he has gone apart from his companions; behold, the Goddess steps out of the air and speaks. She reproaches him with folly, and turns him to the deity who can assist him. Who is this Goddess?
It is Eidothea, the Goddess of Appearance, yet the daughter of Proteus, the old First One, to whom she directs Menelaus, as the only means of salvation. Mark how she designates Proteus: "he is the true, the immortal; without error, without death; he knows the depths of all the sea"—the great sea of Time and Space, which envelops the poor mortal. But he must be snared and held—surely not an easy task it is to catch him.
The etymology of the names of these two deities indicates their meaning and relation. The grand dualism of the world is clearly suggested: Appearance and Substance, the Transitory and the Eternal, that which seems and that which is. Menelaus had gone astray, he had neglected the Gods, he had followed Appearance, Delusion, Negation; the result could only be death. But even Appearance points to something beyond itself, something true and eternal. So Eidothea suggests Proteus, who is her parent; that is, she is the manifestation of his being. She is the many, he is the one underneath and in the many; she is change, he is the permanent in all change. He may well be designated as her father, whose transformations she knows and declares. These transformations are called his tricks or stratagems, the shapes he puts on in the world of Appearance; they are indeed Eidothea herself along with her voice telling what is higher than herself.
When this one first principle is clearly revealed, then all is revealed; the future becomes transparent, and the distant becomes near. But you must hold fast to the one true Proteus; he will turn to fire—hold fast; he will become running water—hold fast; he will change to tree, beast, reptile—hold fast. Then he will show himself in his right shape, and will speak the fact. Hold fast; the One is under all, and is a God, who will lift the veil of Space and Time from the visage of Truth. But unquestionably the man in his desperate struggle must never forget the injunction. Hold fast to old Proteus.
We must note, too, that the poet has shown Menelaus as prepared to receive this divine revelation; the Greek wanderer has been brought to contrition by manifold sufferings. "I surely must have sinned against the Immortals," is his penitent outcry. Thus he is ready for the new truth, and the voice of the Goddess speaks, when he is internally in condition to hear it. The divine word is not forced upon him; he must do his share even toward creating the same within himself. Now, along the shore of the sea, "he prays the Gods fervently," ere he goes to his task. Egyptian Proteus he seeks to catch and to hold, for it is Proteus who is to point out to him the way of reconciliation with Zeus and the Olympian Gods.
Stress is strongly laid by the poet upon the fact that Proteus is of Egypt. Evidently, in the mind of Homer, the thought of this Fourth Book connects with the land of the Nile. What hint lies in that? The highest wisdom of Egypt, indeed, of the Orient, is just this grand distinction between Appearance and Substance, the Transitory and the Eternal, the Many and the One. What Egypt gave to Hellas is here suggested, nay, said directly. In fact, the first great step in wisdom, is still to make the above distinction, which in many ways has been handed down to us from the East.
But the Greeks united the two sides—that which appears and that which is, or the world of sense, and the world of spirit—and thereby produced art, the plastic forms of Gods and Men. Hellas brought forth to the sunlight Beauty, which Egypt never could. Even here Egyptian Proteus leads Menelaus to the Greek Gods, and becomes himself a kind of antecedent Hellenic deity. Egypt means to Greek Menelaus two things: first, it is a land of error, of alienation, of darkness; secondly, it has its light, its wisdom, which, when he finds, points him homeward to Hellas, to his own Gods.
Deeply suggestive become all these mythical hints, when we once are in touch with their spirit. We naturally pass to the Hebrew parallel, since that other great world-historical people of antiquity, the Israelites, had their experience also with Egypt. For them, too, it was a land of darkness, slavery, divine estrangement. They also sought a Return, not dissimilar to the Greek Return, to their true home. It was a long, terrible time, a wandering not on the water, like the sea-faring Hellene, but in the wilderness and desert, like the sand-faring Semite. All the companions (but two) were lost, and the leader also; moreover that leader was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, but had to get out of it and away from it, and lead his people into their own possessions. Much light Egypt with all its darkness furnished to Moses and Judea; much to Menelaus and to Hellas. So the two chief streams of human culture, the Greek and the Hebrew, are traced back to the Egyptian source in the earliest books, or Bibles of the two peoples themselves.
Moreover we find the form of the two grand experiences quite the same; there is a going into Egypt, the land of dazzling riches and power and civilization; there is the misfortune and trial in that land after a time of prosperity, finally, there is the Return home, with many wanderings and sufferings. Both peoples bring with them what may be called the Egyptian idea, yet each transforms it into its own spirit after its own fashion.
Still further we may follow this thought and behold it as universal. The form of separation and return is fundamental in human spirit; this is its inherent movement, and the shape which it imparts to the great works of literature. The very destiny of man is cast into this mould; there is, first, his estrangement, the fall from his high estate; then is his return to harmony with the divine order. The Hebrew Bible begins with the Fall of Man; that is the first chapter; the rest of the book is his rise, and marks out the path of his Return which, of course, shows many sinuosities. Such is the deepest fact of the human soul, and to image it, there springs into existence the corresponding literary form. Not that it was taken consciously by the poet or maker after much ratiocination; he has to take it, if he sees the universe as it is. This form is the form of the everlasting reality, of which he has the immediate vision, it is also the form of very selfhood, of the Ego.
Though different in many things, the Odyssey and the Bible are both, at bottom, Returns. They restore the man after alienation. Indeed we may behold the same form as fundamental in all Great Literary Books—in Homer, in Dante, in Shakespeare, in Goethe.
Many things connected with this catching and holding of Proteus are suggestive, but they are the flash of the poet into the depths, and must be seen with the poetic glance, for they bear with much loss the heavy translation into thought. How this Eidothea, the Goddess of Appearance, turns against her own father, and helps to make him reveal himself in his true shape; how Menelaus and his three comrades put on the skins of the sea-calves, and deceive the deceiver, applying the latter's art of transformation to himself, and destroying appearance with appearance; how the poor mortals almost perish through the odor of the skins of the sea-calves, thus showing their human weakness and limitation, till ambrosia, the food of the Immortals, is brought by the Goddess, which at once relieves them of their mortal ailment—these and other incidents have their subtle, far-reaching hint of the supersensible world. The whole story is illumined with one thought, how to master the material show of things and reach their spiritual inwardness.
But the chief duty of these people, now disguised to destroy disguise, is to hold the Old Man fast when they have once caught him, that shifty, ever-changing Old Man of the Sea. Let him turn to water, to a snake, to a lion, to a tree—hold him fast; he is the One under them all and will at last reveal himself. Very necessary, indeed, is it to hold fast, and never let go in the grand play of Appearances; the strength of the man is shown by his ability to hold fast, amid the fleeting shadows of Time.
Menelaus holds the Old Man fast, and asks: What God detains me from my return? The answer comes home strong: Thou hast neglected the sacrifice due to Zeus and the other deities; thou hast not recognized the Gods. Verily the heart of the difficulty; Menelaus has not placed himself in harmony with the divine order, in which he must act. What then? Go back to the beginning, back to Egypt, and start aright; commence thy return again with the new light, recognize Zeus and the Gods by sacrifice there, and thou shalt see home. Thus the Egyptian estrangement is removed, the Greek hero of wisdom must reach beyond the experience of Egypt and be restored to the Greek Gods.
At once Menelaus was ready to obey, though "his heart was broken" at the thought of recrossing the sea to Egypt, for the "way was long and difficult." Still he will do it; and next he is given a look into the Distant and Future, a glance into the soul of things separated from him by Space and Time. He will know concerning the Returners, in deep accord with the spirit of the poem. He hears of the awful death of Ajax, son of Oileus, he hears of the sad fate of his brother Agamemnon; also the Old Man of the Sea tells him a few words concerning Ulysses, who is still alive but cannot get away from the isle of Calypso. News just good enough to give hope to the son who is eagerly listening, and hears that his father still lives.
Finally, Menelaus learns of his own future existence from the Old Man, who is in person the very embodiment of what lies beyond the senses, of immortality. "The Gods have decreed thou shalt not die, O Menelaus, but shalt dwell in the Elysian Plain, at the ends of the earth." He is the husband of Helen, and coupled forever with her destiny; he is, through her, of the divine family of Zeus. Such is the promise, has it not been fulfilled?
The poet thus brings to an end his Fairy Tale, with its deep-reaching glances into Egypt as one of the antecedent sources of Hellenic civilization. We find therein hinted a double relation: first, Egypt was the giver of much wisdom to Greece especially the distinction into Appearance and the one First Principle; secondly, it was hostile to Greek spirit, which had to pass through the Egyptian stage to reach its own destiny. Homer spins, in this Book, a thread which connects the culture of Hellas with that of Egypt, So much we dare find in the present legend without much straining. The distant background of this entire visit of Telemachus to Sparta is Egyptian and Oriental, as we see from the talk of both Helen and Menelaus.
We may now be certain that Homer, the poet, had before him a thought of this kind: the inner soul of things and the outward manifestation. The story of Proteus we may call not merely a Fairy Tale, but the Fairy Tale, which images its universal self in setting forth its special theme; it has the one meaning, which, however, takes on many varieties of external shape; it is the essence of all Fairy Tales. Still you have to catch the Proteus and make him tell his secret; I can only advise you to hold fast, and finally the true form of the Old Man will reveal itself, and speak the truth of many appearances, nay, of all. In reading this poem of Homer we are only following the poet, if we seek to lay hold of its essence under its varied manifestations. The whole Odyssey is a Proteus, ever changing, assuming new forms, which will utterly bewilder the reader until he reaches its first principle. Homer probably suggests that his own Fairy Tale, nay, his own poem, is a Proteus, which must be grasped and held by the one central thought. In fact, does not the modern reader, like ancient Menelaus, in his wanderings need an Eidothea, an interpreter, to point out the Old Man of the Sea, the First One, and to tell how to catch him? In the very names of Proteus and Eidothea we feel the intention, the conscious etymology which borders on personification. Yet around this simple substrate of thought are woven so many wonders, so many suggestions, far-hinting and deep-glancing, that it becomes truly the Tale of Tales (Märchen aller Märchen).
The Fairy Tale will appear again in the Odyssey, and take possession of the whole poem for a time when we come to the wanderings of Ulysses. Now it is but a slight bubbling-up of what will be a great stream. At present it turns to the East and unfolds the Greek relation thereto; hereafter it will turn to the West, and unfold the Greek relation thereto. Both have their wise men, and the Return is from each direction to Greece. The distinction between them we may suggest in advance: the one has more of the speculative, of the spirit; the other has more of the active, of the will, though neither side excludes the other. Both men return to Hellas as the common destination; hence, we find in this Book everywhere expressed the intimate brotherhood between Menelaus and Ulysses.
It is of great interest to see the poet build his Fairy Tale, which is but one form of his mythical procedure. Instinctively he builds it, as the bee does the honey-cell. He places the God or Goddess at the center of every movement or event; by divine will it is all brought about. The sea which stands in the way of the return of Ulysses is a deity, Poseidon; Eidothea is a person, the voice of the world of Appearance, and she leads to Proteus, the Primal One. To Homer personality is at the heart of this universe. Such is truly the mythical mind; all phenomena are the product of an intelligent will, not of blind law. Not a long chain of cause and effect hovers before Homer's soul, thus his work would be prose; but he sees self-cause at once, and so cannot help being poetical, as well as religious. The culture of to-day tends too much to divest us of the mythical spirit—which is not altogether a gain. Homer, if rightly studied, will help restore that lost gift of the early ages.
But now we must turn our look to the youth for whom the tale has been told—the learner Telemachus. He hears of the Orient and its principle; the antecedents of his people, their origins, separations, their advance upon the older nations are significantly hinted. All this is an education. For its function is to bring together the scattered wisdom of the Past and to give it to the youth who is coming upon the stage of life; thus he is made the spiritual heir of all that his race has achieved in word and deed. Telemachus has learned about the history of Troy, the great event of the early Greek world; he has heard the Returns of the Heroes, and he has seen Helen. But, chiefly, he has been taught the grand distinction between Appearance and Substance; he has come to know, if he has learned his lesson, the One in the Many; he has been shown how to reach beyond the sensuous appearances of things and enter the realm of spirit. Such is still the best education to-day, though the manner of it be so different. There were no books in those days, no schools but the lips of the aged; every Greek youth, to a degree, was a Telemachus, and had a similar discipline. Tradition, song, folk-lore are also means of education; we cannot do without the mythus even now, and we are in many ways seeking to restore it to its place in the training of the child, and of the grown man too. Telemachus has graduated, he can now go home; so he asks to be permitted to depart for Ithaca, where the hardest practical problem of life is awaiting him. But mark, he carries with him the grandest of all hospitable presents: the knowledge of the true and eternal in contrast to the unreal and transitory.
In these four Books of the Odyssey the education of the Homeric youth has been given. Next we are to have the experiences of the man—those of the typical man Ulysses, as he works out his own problem. Menelaus could not tell that tale; the man himself must be seen doing, overcoming his obstacles by the deed. He will present a phase of life not known to the East, not known to Egyptian Proteus. Thus the Odyssey will be an entire book, a veritable Bible for young and old, with its complete cycle of human discipline.
The story of Proteus itself is Protean, and must be grasped in its essence through all its appearances. The whole Odyssey is veritably a Protean poem as already said, whose study is to seize the one truth which is underneath all these shifting shapes and manifold events. What are we doing now but trying to grasp Proteus in this exposition? There is no mythus in Homer which has wound itself so deeply and so variously into the literature of the world. It would be an interesting history to trace its employment by later poets, and see how it has mirrored itself in the consciousness of the ages. The last world-poet, Goethe, takes the figure of Proteus from his eldest brother, the first world-poet, and transplants it into the Second Part of Faust, where it has its place in the development of the modern man. The Mythus of Evolution the tale of Proteus becomes in Goethe's hands, and hints of Darwinism long before Darwin.
Still the most significant historical fact of this Fourth Book is the connection which it makes between Egypt and Greece. In another Greek legend, that of Œdipus, the same connection is made through the Sphinx, whose riddle the Greek hero solves, whereat the Egyptian monster destroys itself.
The Sphinx, the grand symbol of Egypt and chief product of its Art, may be taken as the Egyptian starting-point for both Greece and Judea. The Sphinx is half human, half animal; the two are put together in stone and thus stand a fixed, unreconciled contradiction. Such was just the Sphinx-riddle of humanity to the old Egyptian: man is a beast and a spirit, linked together without any true mediation. Both the Hebrew and the Greek sought to solve this grand riddle, each in his own way. The Hebrew attempted to extirpate the sensuous element; he would have no graven image, no idolatry, he would worship only the pure spirit, and obey only the divine law. The Greek reconciled the two sides, by making the sensuous element the bearer and the revealer of the spiritual. The animal must be subordinated to the spirit, then it can live, nay can have a new and higher existence. Thus Art arose in Greece, and not in Judea.
The interpretations which the story of Proteus has received are simply infinite. Probably it appeals to every reader in a somewhat different fashion; he pours into this marvelous form certain phases of his own experience and is satisfied. Indeed Proteus is not only a Form, but a Form of Forms for the human mind, hinting both the oneness and the multiplicity of the Ego itself. We may go back to the Vedas and find traces of it there in some sun-myth; we may go to the sea and find it a miraculous legend in which the Greek sailor set forth his perils and his escapes. It certainly connects Hellas with Egypt, and suggests the movement of ancient civilization. Menelaus in his voyage transcends the Greek world of the Trojan epoch, and brings back the story thereof to his country. The tale of Proteus is said to have been carried back to Egypt, where Herodotus, several hundred years after Homer, found it in a new transformation, Proteus being a king of Egypt, who took Helen from Paris and kept her till Menelaus arrived and received her from the Egyptian ruler. Thus the Fairy Tale raised the Old Man of the Sea to the royal dignity, changing sovereignty from water to land. (Herodotus, II. 112-20.) Plato makes him typical of a sophist, Schlegel of a poet, Lucian of a dancer.
We shall now take a glance backwards and give a short summary of the story, that its inner development in the hands of the poet may be more fully seen.
1. The desolation of Menelaus and his companions on the island of Pharos; no Return possible, death from hunger imminent. Moreover, disregard of the Gods, internal estrangement, a condition of separation from the Divine, truly an Egyptian condition.
2. Eidothea appears to him, just the Goddess of Appearance, and points him to a power beyond herself. Hitherto he was lost in the world of Appearance; but when he thinks of it, he separates himself from it, and sees its nullity. So the Finite points to the Infinite, the Fleeting to the Permanent, the Sensible to the Supersensible, Eidothea to Proteus, who is the First One, or the First Principle underlying all Appearance, hence her father.
3. She tells also how to catch him. When he emerges from the water, source of all Forms, indeed just the Formable (see Goethe's Faust, Part II. in the
Classical Walpurgisnight), he will count by fives all his sea-calves, or sea-forms, offspring of the sea (Halosydna). This counting by fives, is significant, hinting the earliest abstraction from the sensuous through number, specially by means of the five-system, though Homer knew well the decimal system (see //Od.// XVI, 245. //Iliad// II. 126). Menelaus with his companions is to take on this sea-form, and be counted with the rest, though in disguise; then when Proteus lies down to sleep with his herds or Forms, he is to be seized; that is, seized in repose, as he is himself, not in relation to his shapes. They must continue to hold fast to this primal Form of Proteus, or the archetype, through all his changes, till he resumes his first shape, "the one in which thou sawest him in repose." Then they possess the Essence as distinct from the Phenomenon; they know that their disguise has torn off all disguise, and attained the real.
4. Proteus will now tell Menelaus the truth devoid of all delusive shows; ere the latter can leave Egypt and return to Greece he must put himself into harmony with the Greek Gods, Zeus and the rest. So he has to go back to Egypt's river and start over again in the right way. Then he will make the Return to Hellas.
5. Proteus also gives the fate of a number of Returners. Ajax he specially speaks about—Ajax, son of Oileus (not the greater Ajax), the blasphemer, who said he would return in spite of the Gods, and at once perished. The account of the death of Ajax has its meaning for Menelaus, who thought of getting home with paying due regard to the Gods. Once more Agamemnon's dire lot is told with some new incidents added. Thirdly Proteus has seen Ulysses in an ocean isle with the nymph Calypso who detains him though eager to get away. Thus the son hears the fact about his father. Finally Proteus prophesies the immortality of Menelaus, for has not the latter reached beyond Appearance into the Eternal already, just by catching and holding Proteus? So the Old Man of the Sea cannot help giving this prophecy, which lives directly in his own experience.
Though Telemachus is not told that his father is returning, still he may draw such an inference from the story of Menelaus, who was also detained on an island longing to get home. If the Gods, being duly recognized, will give their help in the one case, they will in the other; they too, will come to the aid of Ulysses, when he has placed himself in harmony with them. This is what is about to happen.
As already set forth, there are three divisions of this first part of the Fourth Book: the simple idyllic Present at Sparta, the disrupted strifeful Past at Troy, the movement out of the latter by way of Egypt. Taking the three divisions together, we note that they form the total sweep of one great Return, that of Menelaus, from unity through separation back to harmony. Thus Menelaus and also Helen are shown to have solved their problem.
But there remains the harder and deeper problem of Ithaca, which is that of Ulysses. Here enemies have possession of the man's home, and he brings back no help, only himself. It is therefore, a natural transition to introduce at this point the Ithacan condition which is seen to be more difficult than the Spartan one, for Menelaus seems to have had no enemies in his house to dispute his Return, as Agamemnon had and also Ulysses has. But Agamemnon perished, Ulysses will not.
II.
Accordingly the affairs of Ithaca are introduced, as they happened after the departure of Telemachus. This thread is picked up from the Second Book, where he had his final conference with the Suitors and told them his mind. We must recall that Ithaca is the abode of conflict and disorder; the Suitors and Household of Penelope are the two antagonistic elements; upon both the secret departure of Telemachus explodes like a bomb, and brings the characters of each side to the surface.
Telemachus stands in relation to the Suitors as well as to his mother; both are putting their restraints upon him which he has broken through and asserted his freedom, his new manhood. One, however, is the restraint of hate, the other is the restraint of love; both stand in the way of his development. He must get his great education in defiance of Suitors and of mother. The attitudes of these two parties are described, and form the two divisions of this second part of the Fourth Book.
1. The Suitors, when they hear of the deed of Telemachus, are not only surprised but startled, and they at once recognise that a new power has risen which threatens to punish their misdeeds. The youth has plainly become a man, a man showing the skill and courage of his father, and with the sense of wrong burning in his breast. Already he has declared that he would wreak vengeance upon them, the day of reckoning seems to have dawned. Previously they despised his warnings as the helpless babble of a mere boy; now they have to meet him, returning, possibly, with help from his father's friends.
What will the Suitors do? The most audacious one, Antinous, is ready with a proposal. The boy will prove a pest, we must waylay him on his return and murder him. Such is their final act of wrong, which is now accepted by all, and the proposer gets ready to carry out his plan. Hitherto it may be said the Suitors had a certain right, the right of suit, which, however, becomes doubtful through the uncertainty about the death of the husband, and through the unwillingness of the wife. But now their guilt is brought out in strong colors, there can be no question about it. They man a boat and lie in wait for their prey on a little island which the youth has to pass in coming home.
2. The mother Penelope hears of the daring act of her boy, done without her consent or knowledge. The news is brought to her, just as she is recounting the goodness of Ulysses and the wrongs of the Suitors. This new misfortune, for so it seemed to her, is quite too great a burden to bear; she breaks out into lamentations find recites her woes: a husband lost and now a son in the greatest danger. But she is to get both human and divine consolation. Eurycleia, the old nurse, confesses to her part in the affair, and advises the queen "to put on fresh garments and to pray to Pallas, ascending to the upper chamber."
Pallas sends to the distressed mother a refreshing sleep and a consoling dream, which we may consider to have been suggested by the words of Eurycleia. Her sister who dwelt far away, appears to her and says that her son, guided by Pallas, will surely return. Doubtless we see here an expression of the deepest instinct of Penelope; the outer suggestion of the nurse and her own unconscious faith fuse together and form the phantom and give to the same an utterance. The youth who can plan and carry out such an expedition will probably be able to take care of himself. Penelope of course has some doubt, since the good Ulysses has had to suffer so much from the Gods. About him, too, she will know and so inquires of the phantom. Doth he live? But the shadowy image can tell nothing, the act of Ulysses lies not in its field of vision, it declines to speak further and vanishes.
Thus Telemachus has broken through the two restraints which held him in bondage at his Ithacan home, both keeping down his manly endeavor. The first comes from the Suitors and is the restraint of hate, which would give him no opportunity in the world of action, and in addition is destroying his possessions. The second restraint springs from love, and yet is injurious. The solicitude of the mother keeps him back from every enterprise; having lost her husband, as she deems, by his too adventuresome spirit, she is afraid of losing her boy for the same reason, and is in danger of losing him anyhow, by making him a cipher. Such are the two obstacles in Ithaca which Telemachus is shown surmounting and asserting therein his freedom and manhood. The whole is a flash of his father's mettle, he is already the unconscious Ulysses; no wonder that he inquires after his parent in Pylos and Sparta. The poet will now carry him forward to the point where he will actually meet and know Ulysses himself; the son is to advance to direct communion with his great father.
Here the Fourth Book, or rather the Telemachiad, reaches out and connects with the Ithakeiad, which begins in the Thirteenth Book. Ulysses returns to Ithaca and steals to the hut of the swineherd Eumæus; Telemachus comes back from Sparta, and, avoiding the ambush of the Suitors, seeks the same faithful servant. Thus father and son are brought together, and prepare themselves for their heroic task.
But before this task can be accomplished, the grand experience of Ulysses is to be told in the eight following Books (V-XII); that is, we are now to have the Ulyssiad, just as we have had the Telemachiad. Father and son are now separated from home and country; both are to return through a common deed of heroism.
//General Observations.// Looking back at the Telemachiad (the first four Books) we observe that it constitutes a very distinct member of the total organism of the Odyssey. So distinct is it that some expositors have held that it is a separate poem, not an integral portion of the entire action. The joint is, indeed, plain at this place, still it is a joint of the poetic body, and not a whole poetic body by itself. Only too easy is it for our thought to dwell in division, separation, scission, analysis; let us now turn to the opposite and more difficult habit of mind, that of uniting, harmonizing, making the synthesis of what seems disjointed. In other words let us find the bonds of connection between the last four Books and the coming eight Books, or between the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad.
1. We have already noticed the three grand Returns, rising one above the other to the culmination—that of Nestor, of Menelaus, of Ulysses. Now the first two are told in the Telemachiad; but they openly lead up to the third, which is the complete Return, and which is just the theme of the Ulyssiad. Nestor makes the immediate Return, without conflict, through Greece, but he points directly to Menelaus, and foreshadows the coming of Ulysses. Menelaus, however, prophesies the third Return, and thus directly joins his account with the Ulyssiad. In this manner we see and feel the intimate bond between these two grand divisions of the total Odyssey.
2. We notice the same general movement in the Telemachiad and in the Ulyssiad; the same fundamental scheme underlies both. There is the real Present, in the one case Ithaca, Pylos, Sparta, in the other ease Phæacia; then there is in the same heroic Past the Trojan war and its deeds of valor; thirdly there is a movement in both to an ideal world, to a Fableland, outside of Hellas and beyond even Troy; finally there is a Return in both to Greece and to the Present. Setting the stages of this movement down in definite numbers, we have, first in the Telemachiad: (1) Hellas, the Present; (2) back to Troy, the Past, in the reminiscences of Nestor, Menelaus, Helen; (3) forward to the Fairy World in the account of Proteus; (4) return to Ithaca at the end of the Fourth Book. Secondly in the Ulyssiad we may here note in advance the same general movement: (1) Phæacia, the Present; (2) back to Troy in the strains of Demodocus; (3) forward to the Fairy World of Polyphemus and Circe; (4) return to Ithaca in the Thirteenth Book. Thus we reach down and grasp the fundamental norm according to which the poet wrought, and which holds in unity all the differences between these two divisions of the poem. The spiritual basis of this movement, its psychological ground, we shall endeavor to unfold more fully hereafter.
3. In correspondence with the preceding, we can distinguish in both divisions the same kinds of style: (1) the symple Idyllic Tale of the Present; (2) the Heroic Tale recounting the Past and specially the Trojan war; (3) the Fairy Tale which introduces a supernatural realm. Each of these styles is poetic, yet with its own coloring and character. Here again we should observe the author employing his fundamental norm of composition a second time, and thus re-asserting himself as the same person in both divisions of the poem—in the Telemachiad as well as in the Ulyssiad.
4. In each division, again, there is a supreme woman at the center of domestic life—Penelope in the one, Arete in the other, each being wife and mother, each supremely faithful to her institution, the Family. This predominance and glorification of the married woman and the home constitute a common characteristic of both divisions, and show the same fundamental conception of her worth, as well as of her position in the social order. It may be doubted if Modern Literature has improved upon this Homeric representation.
5. Then the contrasts between the Telemachiad and the Ulyssiad link them together. Disturbed Ithaca, peaceful Phæacia; the theoretic education of the son, the practical discipline of the father; Telemachus, the son of his father, Nausicaa, the daughter of her mother, the Ithacan boy and the Phæacian girl—such are a few of these contrasts. Finally father and son, strongly contrasted, yet having their unity in this family of which they are members, suggest the unity of the poem of which they are characters.
These bonds of connection are so strong that they overbalance all discrepancies of single passages, interpolations, and inconsistencies of detail. Still, if the mind of the critic refuses the general sweep, and insists upon prying asunder the joints, and upon looking through its microscope at the little things, it will find only separation, discord, and many small Homers instead of a single great Homer. The particular always divides, but the general unites; so the Homeric poems will have two sets of reader, the dividers and the unifiers.
//The Education of Telemachus.// This is another name, which we have frequently used, for the Telemachiad. The Homeric youth is also to get his training for life; he is to find and to take possession of his inheritance transmitted from the Past. The general statement of this educational fact occurs frequently in the work: Telemachus wishes to know about his father. That is his immediate inquiry, which will extend to knowing something about the fathers and what they did; then his investigation will go beyond the fathers and the Greek world, reaching over into Egypt and the East. The function of education is to put into possession of the coming man the wisdom of the Past, and specially the means for acquiring this wisdom; then he can transmit the intelligence of the race to those who are to follow him. So Telemachus has attained the age when he must know ancestral wisdom. Such is his strong instinct, he feels his limitation, he is penned up in a narrow life at Ithaca, whose barriers cramp his free spirit. This intense desire for education, for finding out something about the world in which he is placed, is the starting point for the boy. He shows his spirit by breaking through the restraint of the Suitors and his mother in order to get an education. Like many a youth to-day, he has to leave home, has to run away, in fact, that he may have his opportunity. What does he get? Or, what is the content of this education! Let us see.
1. We find that he gets a fair amount of religious training. He has been led through the misfortunes of his House to question the goodness of Providence and the superintendence of the Gods. But Minerva gives him a strong lesson, so does Nestor. He obtains a glimpse of the Divine Order, and feels the necessity of keeping in harmony with the same. The outcome of his visit must impress him with the providential side in human action.
2. He sees new countries, talks with famous men, and partakes of their wisdom. Chiefly, however, he hears of the grand Return in its manifold phases; he learns the story of those who failed, of those who reached home, like Nestor and Menelaus. Great is the lesson; this Return images the movement of the soul, the breach within and the restoration. It is remotely his own inner life outlined, and that of every man; Telemachus has just made a separation from home and country, to which he must come back and be reconciled. His own soul-form he must dimly feel in the great Return of the Heroes from Troy, and their various destinies he must recognize to be his own possibilities.
3. Telemachus the aspiring youth, is trying to recover his patrimony, which is of two kinds, physical and spiritual. The Suitors are destroying the one, and keeping it out of his hands; with them is one conflict, that of justice. But he must also inherit his father's mental riches; he has to separate from home and his mother to find this form of wealth or even to learn of its nature. So Telemachus has his Trojan expedition, not so great in itself, yet, adventurous enough for a boy. He is moving on the lines of his father when the latter went to Troy—a national affair; but his deed is a breaking loose from boyhood—the breach out of which he is to come back a man.
4. The form of this educative process of the Odyssey is very different from ours. It seizes hold of the mythical element in man, and the reader of to-day is to penetrate to the meaning by something of an effort. Telemachus is to see Helen; what does that signify in education? He is to hear the Tale of Proteus and feel its purport in relation to his own discipline. One asks: Is not this imaginative form still a vital element of education? The Odyssey has been and is now a school-book of the race.
We have now reached the second grand division of the poem, the Odyssey proper, which we have named under necessity the Ulyssiad, and which gives an account of the adventures of Ulysses before he comes to Ithaca and joins Telemachus. If the division which we have just had may be called the education of a youth, this division may be called the discipline of a man through experience of the world. The whole embraces eight Books, fifth to twelfth inclusive, with a little of the thirteenth. There is no doubt that this is the most subtly constructed piece of writing in existence, transparent in the highest degree, and yet profound as thought itself. We may therefore, look a little at the structure in advance.
The first thing to be noticed is that there are two very distinct movements in the present division. On the one hand the action moves through three separate localities—Ogygia or Calypso's Island, Phæacia, Fableland. This external movement of the poem has its inner counterpart, which the reader is to penetrate. On the other hand there is the movement of the individual, the Hero Ulysses, who begins with Fableland, passes through Ogygia and comes to Phæacia. This movement also has its corresponding internal significance. As the first movement is that of the poem, or of the world, we may call it objective; as the second movement is that of the individual man, we may call it subjective. The two together, accordingly, spin the two strands of the world and of man into the one thread of existence. Both we shall consider.
I.
The objective sweep with its three localities is coupled with geographical names which have given to the erudite guild a great deal of trouble, with very small reward. In general these names of places may be deemed to be mythical, yet with certain far-off gleams of actual lands. Much more distinct and real is their spiritual significance. The objective movement shadows forth the movement of society, the rise of civilization, the becoming of the institutional world, which is here unfolded through three stages in the following order:—
# Ogygia.
# Phæacia.
# Fableland.
1. Ogygia is the pure product of nature without cultivation or with very little. It is the place where the natural man must conquer his appetites, and long for, and finally seek for, a realm of order. Calypso is the concealer, she who conceals spirit in the jungle of nature. Here, then, occurs the primordial breach between the physical and spiritual, out of which an institutional world can rise.
2. Phæacia now appears, in which we behold the fundamental institutions of man, Family and State, in their primitive idyllic condition, yet transcendently pure and beautiful. The evolution of this new order from the savage Cyclops is hinted in the poem. Only after Calypso is put aside, do Arete the wife and Nausicaa the maid become possible. Upon such a foundation a social system can be developed, with commerce, navigation, etc. Still further, Phæacia can begin to mirror itself in art, as it does here in the songs of the bard, and also in games.
3. Fableland comes next, really a product of self-conscious art. In it are set forth the struggles which arise between man and the civilized order. Phæacia is the simple condition of peace; man is in complete harmony with himself and his institutional environment. But what if he falls out with both? That will be a new stage, represented by a new set of beings, who are to indicate not so much the conflict with nature as the conflict with spirit. The world of reality is transcended, marvelous shapes sweep into view, Polyphemus, Circe, the Sirens, even the supersensible realm of Hades—all of which, however, must await a special exposition. Still we should note that after this ideal realm of struggle and desperate enterprise comes the real world of strife, Ithaca, which is to be harmonized by the man who has passed through this Fableland, and has reached an ideal harmony in Phæacia.
II.
We soon find that Ulysses has been thrown back to Calypso's Isle from Fableland, of which in a certain sense it is the continuation. The circle which he has passed through is, therefore, the following:—
# Fableland.
# Ogygia.
# Phæacia.
This is, then, the movement of the individual, in contrast with the previous sweep of the poem as a whole, which represents the movement of the world. Both are bound together, both pass through the same stages, though in a different order. The process of social development begins with the state of Nature, with Ogygia, unfolds into a simple institutional life, into Phæacia, which then enters into certain negative phases, such as are seen in Fableland. But the man from Troy, Ulysses, begins with the last, and is whelmed back into the first, and finally rests in the second before going to Ithaca. Let us note this personal movement in a little more detail.
1. Ulysses passes into Fableland, having wantonly done a deed of violence against civilized life and order by destroying the city of the Ciconians (Book IX), as he was returning from the Trojan War. Such is the negative element in him, which has been engendered by that war, and which now appears in various manifestations, such as his doings with Polyphemus and Circe, till his career in Fableland winds up with destroying the Oxen of the Sun. This is the extreme negative act which throws him back beyond Circe's into Calypso's realm. He assaults really his own will in this last act, he undermines his own power of recovery, he puts out his own light. Circe would have sent him forward again, leaving intact his will-power; Calypso detains him lulled in the sensuous delights of her bower. He denies his own reason; how then can he rise after a fall? Indeed what use is there of rising? So he sinks down into Ogygia, the Dark Island.
2. It is no wonder, therefore, that he remained with Calypso seven years and more, draining to the dregs the cup of that life. Still he has desire to return home, must have it, he must possess reason to deny reason. He longs for what he has not, sensuous charms cannot drown his aspiration; such is the Hell in which he has placed himself. Still even here when he has passed his probation, he must be released by a decree of the Gods, who, formerly favorable to Neptune, the divine foe of Ulysses, have now become friendly to Minerva, the Hero's protectress. Why this change in the everlasting powers? When Ulysses is ready to leave Ogygia, the Gods cannot keep him there, they have to change; the divine Order must help him escape, if it be divine. This is just what happens; Zeus, voice of the Olympian law, commands his departure, and Calypso must obey.
3. Ulysses, then, comes to Phæacia, an institutional land with social, domestic, and political life. From the grot of Calypso he passes to the home of Arete; both woman and man are in an ethical relation. He sees a world of peace and harmony, he witnesses the corrective of his own negative Trojan experience. He, having taken Phæacia into himself, has a remedy for distracted Ithaca; he has beheld an ideal to which he can adjust his own land. He was not the man to bring civil order to Ithaca just after the destruction of Troy; now he has passed through his own destructive phases, has become conscious of them, has told them to the Phæacians, which long account has in it the character of a confession. All is given in a mythical form, but it is none the less an acknowledgment of error from first to last. He is the poetical confessor of himself, and the Phæacians are contemplating the grand experience in the mirror of art.
We may now see the reason why the poet began the story of Ulysses with the stay at Calypso's Isle. Thus the poem unfolds in the order of society, starting with the state of nature, passing thence to a civilized condition, and showing finally the conflicts of the same with the negative forces which develop in its own bosom. Homer could have landed Ulysses at Phæacia, and could have made the Ulyssiad start in that sphere, placing Calypso's Book just after the account of the slaughter of the Oxen of the Sun. But what a loss would that have been! No social development would thus be suggested in the movement of the poem, and the individual Ulysses would have to pass, not from institutional Phæacia, but from savage Ogygia to the reformation of Ithaca. In this way we realize to ourselves the true instinct, or perchance the profound thought which underlies the structure of this portion of the poem.
Thus we conceive the double movement of the Ulyssiad through its three main stages, in which we feel strongly emphasized the idea of development, of a genetic process. These lands and peoples are generated by the wanderer's own spirit, though they all exist in their own right and are carefully set down in Homeric geography. Ogygia is the product of Ulysses himself, and so he goes thither to the reality. The misfortunes in these lands are the very deeds of the offenders returning upon them. As the Gods are both subjective and objective, so are these poetic places and persons; they are both in Ulysses and outside of him, they are the inner change of the individual and the outer development of the world. Each, however, fits into the other, is inseparably intertwined with the other; both together form the double movement which is the fundamental structural fact of the present division of the Odyssey.
Of course our unfolding of the subject must follow the movement of the poem, but we shall not neglect the movement of the individual. Accordingly Calypso's Island, Ogygia, is the realm which is to be first considered.
For the reader who may wish to follow out in detail these eight Books, we append a general survey of each, in which the thought and the structure are suggested, yet by no means elaborated. We have in the preceding pages given quite fully what we deem the main points of the Odyssey; there remains only this winding-up of the work in a rapid summary.
//Book Seventeenth.// We now pass from the country and the hut of the swineherd to the town and the palace of the king. This is an important transition, and evidently marks a turning-point in the last twelve Books of the Odyssey. The change of location brings us to the scene of the forthcoming deed, and into the presence of the two conflicting sides. The structure of the Book moves about two centers, Telemachus and Ulysses.
I. Telemachus is first to start for the city, where he arrives, and is received with great joy by the household. The mother asks him whether he has obtained any tidings from his father. But he shuns her question, bids her make fresh vows to the Gods, and goes off to look after his guest, the prophet Theoclymenus. The Suitors throng about him, but do him no harm; a number of his friends are near at hand, and the Suitors are divided among themselves.
After his return to the palace, Telemachus tells his mother the story of his journey. First he went to Pylos and "saw Nestor there," and held intercourse with the wise old man of the Greeks, which was certainly a memorable event in the life of the youth. But Nestor could tell him nothing about the present condition or dwelling-place of Ulysses, so the son was sent onwards to Sparta, to Menelaus, where "I saw Argive Helen, for whose sake the Greeks and Trojans suffered many evils by will of the Gods." Menelaus tells Telemachus the words of Proteus concerning his father Ulysses, gently touching the story of the nymph Calypso, whereat the queen was deeply moved. His news is that his father cannot return.
At this point the prophet comes in with his prophecy. "I declare that Ulysses in his own land again, sitting or creeping about in secret; he is taking note of these evil deeds just now, and plans destruction for the Suitors." The response of Penelope shows her mind. "May thy prophetic word be fulfilled!" It is well to note the art with which this prophet has been brought to the palace of Ulysses to foreshadow the coming event.
Moreover this whole passage connects with the Third and Fourth Books, which recounted the Journey of Telemachus to Pylos and Sparta. Of course the school of dissectors have sought to show the entire narrative here to be an interpolation by a later hand. One says that the brief allusion to the trip is tiresome to the reader. As if Homer composed for readers! But what reader ever found these few lines tiresome? The whole account of the son to the mother is one of the links which bind the Odyssey into unity, hence the wrath against it in certain quarters.
II. The second part of the present Book gives the movements of Ulysses, and is more important and more fully elaborated than the preceding part. The hero is in disguise, he is to take his first glimpse of the state of affairs in his palace. He will experience in his own person the wrongs of the Suitors and their adherents; he will apply a test to bring out their character. This test is that of humanity, of charity toward a beggar; how will the Suitors behave toward him?
While he is on the way to the city with Eumæus, he has his preliminary skirmish. They meet the goatherd Melanthius, who at the sight of the beggar breaks out into abuse. There is an inhuman note in his speech, which we may regard as one result of the present disorder of the country. Doubtless the swineherd and the goatherd were rivals, and showed a professional jealousy; but Melanthius had extracted from his humble calling a disposition quite opposite to that of Eumæus, and had become disloyal to his master's House.
The approach to the palace is indicated by the song of the bard and the noise of feasting guests. Still the disguised Ulysses is recognized by one living object: his old dog Argo, who dies on the spot out of joy at seeing his master again. Full of sentiment and tenderness is the description; it has a modernity of touch which will be often noticed in this second half of the Odyssey. Much comment has been bestowed upon the incident; but its most striking characteristic is its symbolism. The old dog, neglected now, full of vermin, hardly able to crawl, yet loyal in his heart; why should he not receive the praise of Eumæus, who tells of his former skill in the chase! The dog Argo images the House of Ulysses at present; to such straits has fidelity come. A famous statement here by Eumæus cannot be passed over: "The day which makes the man a slave, Zeus takes half his worth away." True generally of men, but not of the slave who utters it, he being the fate-compeller.
Ulysses now applies his test of charity to the Suitors. He goes around to them, asking for alms, like a beggar, that he might observe them all, and "know who was better and who was worse." But in the end not one of them was to be spared. Such was the supreme test, that of charity; how will the Suitors treat the poor beggar? Will they behave toward him as Eumæus has? Not by any means; the test calls out the worst suitor of the lot, Antinous, who finally hurls a stool at the supposed intruder. The other Suitors give something, not their own; still they share in the guilt. Is this test of charity, selected by the poet here, a true test of such characters? One result of the present violation of law and order is inhumanity, cruelty, disregard of the fellow-man. Especially marked is their contrast with Eumæus, who, in response to the harshness of Antinous, says: "The famous men of earth (such as the seer, the doctor, the builder, the bard) are invited to the feast; no one would invite a beggar to an entertainment." Still the beggar is here to be invited. A ring of modern sentiment is surely heard in this passage; the subjective element of Christendom seems embodied in that swineherd a thousand years before its time.
The poet does not leave out of this Book the previous tendency of Ulysses to romancing. In the talk with Antinous he begins another tale or rather the old one, with Egypt and Cyprus in the background. It is, in substance, the story of the attack on the Ciconians, which Ulysses cannot help telling when he looks back toward his Trojan period. Here again it is truth in the form of fiction.
Meantime the uproar has called forth Penelope, who desires to see the strange beggar. The wish is conveyed to Ulysses, who artfully requests that the interview be deferred till night-fall; the wife might see through his disguise. The time for this recognition has not yet come. She wishes to hear of her husband, thinks of him in some such pitiable plight as this beggar is in; she shows sympathy. A charitable disposition is indeed a characteristic of the whole household, nurses and all; misfortune has brought its blessing. Herein the contrast with the Suitors is emphatic, they are a stony-hearted set, trained by their deeds to violence and inhumanity.
Eumæus praises the minstrel talent of Ulysses; the poet endows his hero with the gift of song in this poem; compare the praise given by Alcinous to the singer of Fableland. So Achilles in the Iliad was found by the embassy singing the glory of heroes. Nor must we pass by that deeply-grounded belief in the good-luck which comes from a sneeze. Telemachus sneezes at the right moment, and Penelope interprets the omen, with a smile, however, which hints a touch of humorous incredulity. Finally we may reflect upon that true Homeric view of the world indicated in the words of Telemachus: "All these matters will be cared for by myself and the Immortals." These are the two sides working together throughout the poem.
//Book Eighteenth.// Ulysses, as beggar, has now gotten a foothold in his own house. He has made the transition in disguise from the hut to the palace; he has tried his preliminary test upon the Suitors, the test of charity, and found out their general character. He is not recognized, on account of external disguise in part; yet this disguise has its internal correspondence.
The present Book is one of warnings; on all sides the Suitors are admonished of the day of wrath which is coming. In Homeric fashion they are told to change, to repent, to cease their wrong-doing. We observe three parts: first is the conflict with the beggar Irus, foreshadowing the conflict and outcome with the Suitors; second is the appearance of Penelope, the female Ulysses in craft and in disguise, here hoodwinking the Suitors; third is the male Ulysses, in craft and in disguise, observing, testing, planning fate for the guilty.
I. Ulysses has assumed the part of a beggar, but he finds a real beggar on the ground ready to dispute his right. Irus, this mendicant, has a character on a par with the Suitors, violent, inhuman, insolent; he is, moreover, one with the Suitors in taking other people's property for nothing. There is no doubt that the poet casts an image of the Suitors in the portrait of Irus, who acts toward Ulysses the beggar, as they do toward Ulysses the ruler. It is manifest by word and deed that his humble life has not given him the training to charity.
The result of the competition between the real and the disguised beggar is a fight, which is urged on by the Suitors for the sport of the thing; Antinous is specially active in this business, which is a degraded Olympic contest. Homer too shows his love of the athlete by his warm description of the body and limbs of Ulysses, who "showed his large and shapely thighs, his full broad shoulders, his chest and sinewy arms," when he stripped for the contest.
There can be only one outcome of such a fight under such circumstances, especially in an heroic poem. But is not Ulysses himself inhuman and uncharitable toward his poor beggar rival? Certainly he does not deal with him gently, and the modern reader is apt to think that Ulysses ought now to have his own test of charity applied to himself. Still his defense is at hand: Irus sided with the Suitors, had their character, Telemachus says they favored him; he is harsh and merciless to his seeming fellow-beggar, and so he gets his own, though Ulysses at first warns him, and wishes to be on good terms with him: "I do not speak or do thee any wrong, nor do I envy thee getting alms; this threshold is large enough for both of us; thou art a beggar as well as I. So beware my wrath." Surely a sufficient warning, which, if unheeded, draws down the fateful consequences.
But the chief justification of the poet lies in the fact that this contest with Irus is sent before the main conflict as a prototype and a warning. The Suitors looked on and saw the miserable beggar completely undone; "they threw up their hands and nearly died laughing;" a case of blind fatuity, for they were soon to be in the place of Irus, every one of them. A little later Telemachus suggests the connection: "Would that the Suitors might droop their heads overcome in our house, as now Irus sits at the hall gate with drooping head like a drunken man, and cannot stand erect or walk home, since his dear limbs have been loosened."
Another note of warning is given specially to Amphinomus, who had extended a very friendly salutation to Ulysses after the victory, and who was the most honorable man of the Suitors. Ulysses again resorts to fiction in order to convey his lesson, "Many were the wrongs I did;" hence my present condition. "Let no men ever work injustice," such as these Suitors are guilty of; the avenger "I now declare to be not far away from his friends and his country." Hence the warning: "May some God bring thee home" at once, for bloody will be the decision. But Amphinomus does not obey, though "his mind foreboded evil;" he remained in the fateful company and afterwards fell by the hand of Telemachus.
II. The real person for whose possession this whole contest is waged is now introduced—Penelope. She appears in all her beauty; Pallas interferes divinely in order to heighten the same, making her "more stately in form and fairer than the ivory just carved." She is indeed the embodiment of all that is beautiful and worthy in that Ithacan life; loyalty to husband, love of her child, devotion to family, the strongest institutional feeling she shows, with no small degree of artifice, of course. Just now she reproves her son for having permitted the recent fight: "thou hast allowed a stranger guest to be shamefully treated." Thus she shows her secret unconscious sympathy with her husband in disguise.
Then she turns her attention to the Suitors. She alludes to the parting words of her husband as he set out for Troy: "When thou seest thy son a bearded man, marry whom thou wilt and leave the house." The time has come when she has to endure this hateful marriage; how the thought weighs upon her heart! But we catch a glimpse of her deeper plan in the following: "The custom of Suitors in the olden time was not such as yours; they would bring along their own oxen and sheep and make a feast for the friends of the maiden whom they wooed, and give her splendid gifts; they consumed not other folk's property without recompense." What does all this mean?
One result takes place at once. The Suitors all hasten to bring her their presents, and thus conform to the good old time and to her opinion. Great was the hurry: "Each dispatched his herald to bring a gift." Does the poet hint through a side glance the real state of the case? Hear him: "Ulysses wad delighted when he saw her wheedling the Suitors out of their gifts and cajoling their mind with flattering speech, while her heart planned other things." Cunning indeed she has and boundless artifice; what shall we make of her? As already often said, craft is her sole woman's weapon against man's violence, and she uses it with effect for the defense of her home and her honor. Is she justified? Is such deception allowable under the circumstances? Thus the poem puts the test to the modern reader, and makes him ponder the moral problem of life.
One other point we should note in this speech of Penelope to the Suitors. She says that their method of wooing was not the accustomed way; they had no right to expect such entertainment for such a body of men. They had the right of suit, but it must be conducted in a lawful manner. Thus they are violating custom, or making it a pretext for doing injustice. But she meets violence with cunning, and rude force with craft.
III. Ulysses now takes note of another phase of the wrong done to his household by the Suitors; they debauch the female servants, of whom Melantho is an example. The seeming beggar wishes to stay all night by the fires kindled in the palace, and take care of them, instead of the maids who usually looked after them. This plan of his evidently interferes with an existing arrangement, hence the abusive words of Melantho toward him first, and then the scoffing speech of Eurynomus, her lover, who lets fly at him a footstool which hits the cupbearer. General confusion results, in the midst of which Telemachus commands order which is seconded by Amphinomus. After a cup of wine, all retire to their homes. But Ulysses has got an inkling of what is transpiring between the Suitors and some of the maid-servants. Hereafter we shall see that both share in the punishment.
//Book Nineteenth.// This is a strong Book of its kind. Penelope is the center, her difficulties are shown anew, moreover they are about to reach their culmination. The husband disguised here tests the wife, and finds out by his own personal observation her fidelity. Her womanly instincts are still intact, in spite of the dissolute surroundings. Ulysses discovers that he is not to meet with the fate of Agamemnon on his return home.
From the preceding Book, which was occupied with the external conflicts in the palace, we move in the present Book more and more to the heart of the business, which is the union in the hearts of husband and wife. The oneness of the Family after long separation of its two members is the ethical theme, showing that such union is eternal, as far as the eternal can be shown in Time. Two divisions we shall mark: Ulysses and his son Telemachus first, then Ulysses and his wife Penelope.
I. The two men, father and son, are seen preparing for the conflict which is drawing on—just that being the duty of men. The weapons which were hanging on the walls of the banqueting-room are removed in the absence of the Suitors and of the servants. Also a pretext is framed for their removal. Moreover "Pallas, holding before them her golden lamp, made very beautiful light." Certainly the Goddess was there, the scene shows her in every part; "Such is the wont of the Olympians," says Ulysses; divine illumination descends upon a work of this kind.
II. But by far the longest portion of the Book is devoted to the interview between Ulysses and Penelope. Telemachus goes off to his chamber to rest for the night; Ulysses is now received by his wife at the hearth. The various turns of this lengthy account we shall throw into four divisions.
1. By way of introduction, the faithless handmaid Melantho again shows her character in a harsh speech to Ulysses, "Get out, you beggar! Will you still keep sneaking through the house by night to spy out women?" So she reveals plainly what she is, and even mentions the test which she cannot stand. Ulysses in his reply enforces charity: "I was once rich, but I gave the poor wanderer alms." Beware of the day of reckoning: such is his repeated warning to all these people.
Penelope also gives a sharp reproof to the shameless handmaid, and intimates the fate impending: "Thou hast done a deed which thy head shall atone for." It is again to be noted that the guilty are the inhuman, while the faithful have charity. Penelope specially shows this trait in the present Book, though her threat to Melantho is not gentle. Quite as Ulysses served Irus, Penelope is ready to serve Melantho; both can become uncharitable toward the uncharitable; both can meet evil with evil, and fight the negative with negation.
2. The main purpose of this portion of the interview is to furnish Penelope with hope. She seems on the point of giving up the long contest, she has played her last stratagem against the Suitors. Now she must choose one of them, her parents urge it, her son demands it; there seems no escape, though she hates the marriage like black Death. In such a frame of mind, the disguised Ulysses is to divert her thoughts with a story, to gain her confidence in his honesty, and to give a strong promise of her husband's speedy return. The manner in which he puts these three points in succession is worthy of study.
First, he must give some account of himself, of his lineage and of his connections. Here he employs his old fiction, he feigns a tale, putting the scene into Crete, and allying himself with the famous stock of Minos, as well as with the well-known Cretan hero Idomeneus so often celebrated in the Iliad, whose brother he claimed to be. "There I saw Ulysses and entertained him." This story of his life has an analogy to what he told Eumæus (Book XIV. 199) and Antinous (Book XVII. 425). All three differ in details, being adjusted to the person and the occasion; still all are cast into the same general mould, with the scene placed in the East on the borderland toward Phenicia and with the Trojan war in the background. It is another Homeric novelette suggesting a life of adventure on sea and land, and showing sparks of that enterprising Greek spirit, of which the Odyssey is the best record. But the poet adds: "So he went on fabricating lies like truth;" which indicates that he told more than is in the text and completed his story.
In the second place, Penelope applies her test, for she is not so credulous as to believe every wandering story-teller: "Describe me the garments he had on." Truly a woman's test. It is needless to say that Ulysses responds with great precision. She, however, had no suspicion, which might arise from such a complete account. It is no wonder that Penelope proposed to entertain this beggar guest, one who has been so hospitable to her husband, of whom she declares in an outburst of despair: "I never shall behold him returning home."
At this point the disguised Ulysses makes his third and principal speech to his wife, imparting to her the hope that Ulysses will return. This completes his story, introducing the Thesprotians again (as in other tales) and the oracle of Dodona. He almost lets the secret out: "He is alive and will soon be here; not far off is he now, I swear it." Not much further could disguise be carried. Still Penelope remains skeptical: "I must think he will not come home." Her hard lot, however, has not hardened her heart, but softened it rather; she reveals her native character in the words here spoken (Bryant's Translation):—
"""
Short is the life of man, and whoso bears
A cruel heart, devising cruel things,
On him men call down evil from the gods
While living, and pursue him when he dies,
With scoffs. But whoso is of generous heart,
And harbors generous aims, his guests proclaim
His praises far and wide to all mankind,
And numberless are they who call him good.
"""
3. Having been brought so near to a discovery, we next come to an actual discovery by the nurse Eurycleia. She is commanded by Penelope to bathe the beggar's feet, which she does with no little sympathy and lamentation. The character of the nurse is in a certain sense the echo of that of Penelope, the echo in emotion, and in fidelity, if not in intelligence. She gives way to her feelings, she recalls the image of Ulysses, whom she nursed, and addresses him as present. She beholds in the stranger the resemblance at the start. "I have never yet seen any one so like Ulysses as thou art in body, voice and feet." We now observe that Ulysses really selects Eurycleia, "a certain old woman, discreet, who has endured as much as I have: she may touch my feet" (line 346). He sought for some confidant among the servants, one who might be needed for important duties before and during the fight; Eurycleia is chosen, since Ulysses knew that she would discover the scar on his foot and thus recognize him. All of which takes place, Ulysses exacts secrecy, and she replies, giving a hint of her character as well as the reason why she was chosen: "Thou knowest my firmness, I shall hold like the solid rock or iron."
There is a long narrative pertaining to the manner in which Ulysses received the wound which caused the scar. Much fault has been found with this story for various reasons, but it gives a certain relief as well as epical fullness to the movement of the Book. It is, however, one of those passages which may have been interpolated—or may not, and just there the argument stands. It traces the character of Ulysses back to his grandfather Antolycus, the most cunning of mortals, and also gives the etymology (fanciful probably) of the name of Ulysses. (Odysseus, the Greek form of Ulysses, is here derived from a Greek word meaning //to be angry//.)
4. After the bath Ulysses returns to the hearth where Penelope is still sitting. She tells her dream of the eagle which destroyed her geese, and which then spoke by way of interpretation: "The geese are the Suitors and I, once the eagle, am now thy husband." Such is the deep-lying presentiment of Penelope, indicated by the dream, which crops out in spite of her declared skepticism. Note that she dreams not only the dream but also dreams its interpretation; surely she is conscious of some hope now.
The legend at the end of the Book, which tells of the two Gates of Dreams, one of ivory and one of horn, has roused much curiosity among readers about its purport, and has inspired much imitation from later poets. Through the Gate of Horn (dimly transparent) comes the true dream; through the Gate of Ivory (polished on the outside, but letting no light through) comes the false dream. Such is the more common explanation, but Eustathius derives the whole story from two puns on Greek words for horn and ivory. At any rate there are the two sorts of dreams, one getting the impress of the future event, the other being merely subjective.
But Penelope has another suggestion, which is found widely scattered in folk-lore, the Bending of the Bow. This incident, however, is developed in a later Book. It is one of her schemes to defer the hated marriage, after the new hope given by the stranger. She will not yet give up.
//Book Twentieth.// This book is devoted to describing more fully the situation in the house of Ulysses just before the slaying of the Suitors. The guilty and the guiltless are indicated anew, with fresh incidents; especially the fatuity of the Suitors is set forth in a variety of ways. The scene is in the palace.
The Book may be divided into three portions, which deal with (1) the royal pair, (2) the servants faithful and faithless, (3) the Suitors at their banquet.
I. Ulysses is lying on the porch, restless, unable to sleep; he sees the disloyal women of the household come forth to the embraces of the Suitors. He commands himself: "Endure it, heart; thou hast borne worse than this." Pallas has at last to come and to answer his two troublesome thoughts: "How shall I, being only one, slay the Suitors, being many?" And still, that is not the end. "How shall I escape afterward, if I succeed?" Wherein we may note already a hint of the last Book of the Odyssey. Pallas reproves him, yet gives him assurance. "If fifty bands of men should surround us," still we shall win, "for I am a God, and I guard thee always in thy labors." Whereupon Ulysses at once went to sleep.
The wife Penelope is also having her period of anxiety and of weeping for her husband; she prays to Diana and wishes for death, being awake. But when asleep, her unconscious nature asserts itself: "This very night a man like him lay by me, my heart rejoiced, I thought it no dream." Such is the contrast between her waking and her sleeping state; in the one her skepticism, in the other her instinct manifests itself.
II. We now pass to quite a full survey of the servants of the household. Female slaves have to grind the corn to make bread for the Suitors; one of these slaves is still at her task, though past daybreak, she being the weakest of all. Standing at her hand-mill she utters the ominous word: "O Zeus, ruler, fulfill this wish for me wretched: may the present feast of the Suitors be their last, they who have loosed my limbs with painful toil in grinding their barley meal!" Thus the prayer of the poor overworked slave-woman calls down the vengeance of the Gods, giving the word of friendly omen to the avenger. Certainly a most powerful motive; but again we think, how modern it sounds! Yet ancient too the thought must have been, for here it stands in Homer truly prophetic of many things.
Eurycleia is the controlling power among the handmaids, of whom there was a large number; "twenty went to the spring to fetch water, while others were busy about the house," preparing for the coming banquet. The swineherd Eumæus came with three fat porkers; his disloyal counterpart, Melanthius, also appeared with goats for the feast; both again show their character to Ulysses. The cowherd Philœtius is now introduced, in a full account; he is one of the faithful, has charity for the beggar, and shows his fidelity in a number of points. The beggar assures him: "Ulysses will return, thou shalt see him slaying those Suitors," whereupon Philœtius volunteers his aid.
Thus the forces are assembling; the two sides, loyal and disloyal, are separating more and more, preparatory to the grand struggle. Ulysses in his disguise has discovered those upon whom he can depend. But the banquet is ready, the Suitors, who have been plotting against the life of Telemachus, enter; they are divided among themselves, and can show no concerted action.
III. This banquet is noticeable, inasmuch as Telemachus asserts the mastery in his own house and defies the Suitors. He honors the beggar as his guest, and gives warning that nobody insult the poor stranger, "lest there be trouble." A number of Suitors show their ill feeling; one of them, named Ktesippus, flings a bullock's foot at Ulysses "for a hospitable present," at which the latter "smiled in sardonic fashion," but said nothing. Telemachus, however, reproves the agressor with great spirit, and asserts himself anew against all deeds of violence. One of the more reasonable Suitors, Agelaus, makes a speech, which commends Telemachus but insists upon his ordering his mother "to marry the man who is best and who will give most presents." In reply Telemachus declares that he does not hinder the choice of his mother, but that he will not force her to marry. "That may God never bring about." (//Theos// without article.)
Now follows a series of miraculous signs, prodigies, mad doings, which prefigure the coming destruction. Insane laughter of the Suitors, yet with eyes full of tears, and with hearts full of sorrow: what does it all forbode? Here comes the seer Theoclymenus with a terrible interpretation uttered in the true Hebrew prophetic style: "The hall I see full of ghosts hastening down to Erebus; the sun in Heaven is extinguished, and a dark cloud overspreads the land." The Suitors bemock the prophet, who leaves the company with another fateful vision: "I perceive evil coming upon you, from which not one of you Suitors shall escape." More taunts are flung at Telemachus who now says nothing; he, his father, and his mother, witness the mad banquet, which is a veritable feast of Belshazzar, and which has also its prophet. The Hebrew analogy is striking.
//Book Twenty-first.// The test presented in many a tale is here introduced at the turning-point of destiny. The Bending of the Bow and skill in the use thereof are incidents in the folk-lore of every people. The theme is naturally derived from a social condition, in which the bow and arrow are the chief weapons of defense and offense, employed against human foes and wild animals. Hence the strong man, the Hero, is the one able to bend the strong bow and to use it with dexterity. Such a man uses the chief implement of his time and people with the greatest success, hence he is the greatest man. So we have the test of bending the bow, which simply selects the best man for the time and circumstances.
In recent interpretations of mythology, this employment of the bow and arrows has been connected with the sun and its rays. Ulysses is declared to be really a sun-god, a form of Apollo, deity of archery; he shoots his arrows which are sunbeams and destroys the Suitors, who are the clouds obstructing his light, and wooing his spouse, the day or the sky. It is also noteworthy that on this very day of the slaughter of the Suitors, there is a festival in Ithaca to Apollo, god of light and archery. This is usually regarded as the New Moon (Neomenios) festival. Antinous refers to it (l. 259) and proposes to defer the contest on that account. But Ulysses is made to shoot on the festal day of the sungod.
There is no doubt that mythology is closely connected with Nature, out of which it develops. In the Vedic hymns we see this connection in the most explicit manner, and threads of the old Aryan Mythus can often be picked out in Homer. Still we must recollect that it was the archer man who first projected the archer god out of himself, and it is no explanation of Ulysses to say that he represents the sun-god; rather the sun-god represents him. Moreover, the ethical purpose of Ulysses in slaying the Suitors is the soul of the poem, which is to find its adequate interpretation in that purpose and in that alone. The incident of Bending the Bow is wrought into a grand scheme of indicating the ethical order of the world.
The three divisions of the Book we shall briefly note, observing how the bow rejects the unfit, and selects the right man.
I. It is Pallas (not Apollo, the archer) who started in the mind of Penelope this scheme of testing the Suitors. Why a Goddess here? It is first a chance thought of the woman, but then it becomes an important link in the movement of divine nemesis; hence the poet, according to this custom, traces the inspiration of the idea to a deity. The history of the famous bow is given with an especial delight in details. Penelope herself goes to the room where the armor of the house was kept, gets the bow, and announces the contest to the Suitors.
The man who can bend the bow and send the arrow through the twelve rings, is to bear her away as his bride. The trial is made, no Suitor is able to bend the weapon. Interesting is the prophet among the Suitors, Leiodes, who tries his hand, yet gives the warning: "This bow upon this spot will take from many a prince the breath of life." He foresees and forewarns, but still acts the transgressor; he prophesies death to the Suitors, but remains himself a Suitor, and so perishes in accord with his own prophecy.
II. Ulysses, going to one side with the cowherd and swineherd (Philœtius and Eumæus), whose loyalty has been so conspicuous, now discloses himself to them, and assigns their duties in the approaching conflict. "I know that you alone of the servants (men) have desired my return." He will give them wife and property if he conquers the Suitors, "and to me ye shall be as companions and brothers of Telemachus." Deserving to be adopted into the royal house of Ulysses they both are, being of this little army of four against more than a hundred enemies. Eumæus is to put the bow into the hands of Ulysses, after the Suitors have tried the test; Philœtius is to fasten the gates that none escape.
III. After the Suitors have failed to bend the bow and a delay is proposed, Ulysses, the beggar, comes forward and asks to make the trial. Violent opposition rises on part of the Suitors, but Penelope in two speeches insists that he shall try. Here again we must ascribe to her unconscious nature some strong affinity with the ragged man before her. She praises the form of the stranger and notes his noble birth, though she denies the possibility of herself becoming his bride. Still she shows a deep attraction for him, which she cannot suppress.
Telemachus now takes the matter in hand, orders his mother out of the way somewhat abruptly (since the fight is soon to start), and bids the bow to be carried to Ulysses in face of the outcries of the Suitors. Eurycleia, the nurse, is commanded to fasten the doors of the house; now we see why Ulysses let her recognize him by the scar. Meanwhile Philœtius fastens the gates of the court. Apparently there is no escape for the Suitors; Ulysses has the bow; he has tested its quality and possesses a quiver full of arrows.
Such is the famous deed of Bending the Bow, which is a symbolic act pointing out and selecting the Hero. Ulysses is revealed by it to the Suitors even before he calls out his name and throws off his disguise; he performs the test, he shoots through the rings without missing, he has strength and skill for the emergency. If hitherto stress has been laid upon his mind and cunning, now his athletic side is brought to the front. But it required all his intelligence to reach the point at which his will is to act.
We have now gone through what may be called the first stage of this final part of the Odyssey. The Suitors have fully shown their destructive spirit, disregarding property, family, state, the Gods. Ulysses has seen and felt in person their wrongs; their negative career has reached its last deed, he has the bow in his hands and is ready for the work of retribution. Such is the general sweep of the last five Books; but now the destructive deeds of the Suitors are to meet with a still mightier destruction.
''Translations''
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''Commentary''
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