Book II: Departure of Telemachus From Ithaca

Lyrics

The chief men of Ithaca assembled by Telemachus⁠—His complaint of the suitors⁠—Their attempt to justify themselves⁠—Prophecy of the return of Ulysses by the seer, Halitherses⁠—Request of Telemachus for a vessel to visit Pylos and Sparta, in quest of his father, granted by the assembly⁠—Preparations for his departure. Now when the Morning, child of Dawn, appeared, The dear son of Ulysses left his bed And put his garments on. His trenchant sword He hung upon his shoulders, and made fast His shapely sandals to his shining feet, And issued from his chamber like a god. At once he bade the clear-voiced heralds call The long-haired Greeks to council. They obeyed, Quickly the chiefs assembled, and when all Were at the appointed place, Telemachus Went to the council, bearing in his hand A brazen spear, yet went he not alone. Two swift dogs followed him, while Pallas shed A heavenly beauty over him, and all Admired him as he came. He took the seat Of his great father, and the aged men Made way for him. And then Aegyptius spake⁠— A hero bowed with age, who much had seen And known. His son, the warlike Antiphus, Went with the great Ulysses in his fleet To courser-breeding Troy, and afterward The cruel Cyclops, in the vaulted cave, Slew him for his last meal. Three other sons There were, and one of these, Eurynomus, Was of the suitor train; the others took Charge of their father's acres. Never yet Had he forgotten his lost son or ceased To grieve for him, and as he spoke he wept "Hear, men of Ithaca, what I shall say. No council, no assembly, have we held Since great Ulysses in his roomy ships Departed from our isle. Who now is he That summons us? On which of our young men Or elders presses this necessity? Is it belike that one of you has heard Of an approaching foe, and can declare The tidings clearly? Or would he propose And urge some other matter which concerns The public weal? A just and generous mind I deem is his, and 'tis my hope that Jove Will bring to pass the good at which he aims." As thus he spake Ulysses' son rejoiced In his auspicious words, nor longer kept His seat, but, yielding to an inward force, Rose midst them all to speak, while in his hand Pisenor, the sagacious counsellor And herald, placed the sceptre. Then he turned To the old man, Aegyptius, speaking thus:⁠— "O aged man, not far from thee is he Who called this council, as thou soon shalt know Mine chiefly is the trouble; I have brought No news of an approaching foe, which I Was first to hear, and would declare to all, Nor urge I other matters which concern The public weal; my own necessity⁠— The evil that has fallen on my house⁠— Constrains me; it is twofold. First, that I Have lost an excellent father, who was king Among you, and ruled o'er you with a sway As gentle as a father's. Greater yet Is the next evil, and will soon o'erthrow My house and waste my substance utterly. Suitors, the sons of those who, in our isle, Hold the chief rank, importunately press Round my unwilling mother. They disdain To ask her of Icarius, that the king Her father may endow her, and bestow His daughter on the man who best may gain His favor, but with every day they come Into our palace, sacrificing here Oxen and sheep and fatling goats, and hold High festival, and drink the purple wine Unstinted, with unbounded waste; for here Is no man like Ulysses to repel The mischief from my house. Not such are we As he was, to resist the wrong. We pass For weaklings, immature in valor, yet If I had but the power, assuredly I would resist, for by these men are done Insufferable things, nor does my house Perish with honor. Ye yourselves should feel Shame at these doings; ye should dread reproach From those who dwell around us, and should fear The offended gods, lest they repay these crimes With vengeance. I beseech you, O my friends, Both by Olympian Jove, and her by whom Councils of men are summoned and dissolved⁠— The goddess Themis⁠—that ye all refrain, And leave me to my grief alone, unless Ulysses, my great father, may have done Wrong in his anger to the gallant Greeks, Which ye, by prompting men to acts like these, Seek to avenge on me. Far better 'twere, Should ye yourselves destroy our goods and slay Our herds, since, were it so, there might in time Be some requital. We, from street to street, Would plead continually for recompense, Till all should be restored. But now ye heap Upon me wrongs for which is no redress." Thus angrily he spake, and clashed to earth The sceptre, shedding tears. The people felt Compassion; all were silent for a space, And there was none who dared with railing words Answer Telemachus, save one alone, Antinoüs, who arose and thus replied:⁠— "Telemachus, thou youth of braggart speech And boundless in abuse, what hast thou said To our dishonor? Thou wouldst fix on us A brand of shame. The blame is not with us, The Achaian suitors; 'tis thy mother's fault, Skilled as she is in crafty shifts. 'Tis now Already the third year, and soon will be The fourth, since she began to cozen us. She gives us all to hope, and sends fair words To each by message, yet in her own mind Has other purposes. This shrewd device She planned; she laid upon the loom a web, Delicate, wide, and vast in length, and said Thus to us all: 'Young princes, who are come To woo me, since Ulysses is no more⁠— My noble husband⁠—urge me not, I pray, To marriage, till I finish in the loom⁠— That so my threads may not be spun in vain⁠— A funeral vesture for the hero-chief Laertes, when his fatal hour shall come With death's long sleep. Else some Achaian dame Might blame me, should I leave without a shroud Him who in life possessed such ample wealth!' Such were her words, and easily they wrought Upon our generous minds. So went she on, Weaving that ample web, and every night Unravelled it by torchlight. Three full years She practised thus, and by the fraud deceived The Grecian youths; but when the hours had brought The fourth year round, a woman who knew all Revealed the mystery, and we ourselves Saw her unravelling the ample web. Thenceforth, constrained, and with unwilling hands, She finished it. Now let the suitors make Their answer to thy words, that thou mayst know Our purpose fully, and the Achaians all May know it likewise. Send thy mother hence, Requiring that she wed the suitor whom Her father chooses and herself prefers. But if she still go on to treat the sons Of Greece with such despite, too confident In gifts which Pallas has bestowed on her So richly, noble arts, and faculties Of mind, and crafty shifts, beyond all those Of whom we ever heard that lived of yore, The bright-haired ladies of the Achaian race, Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycenè, famed For glossy tresses, none of them endowed As is Penelope, though this last shift Be ill devised⁠—so long will we consume Thy substance and estate as she shall hold Her present mood, the purpose which the gods Have planted in her breast. She to herself Gains great renown, but surely brings on thee Loss of much goods. And now we go not hence To our affairs nor elsewhere, till she wed Whichever of the Greeks may please her most." And then rejoined discreet Telemachus:⁠— "Antinoüs, grievous wrong it were to send Unwilling from this palace her who bore And nursed me. Whether he be living yet Or dead, my father is in distant lands; And should I, of my own accord and will, Dismiss my mother, I must make perforce Icarius large amends, and that were hard. And he would do me mischief, and the gods Would send yet other evils on my head. For then my mother, going forth, would call On the grim Furies, and the general curse Of all men would be on me. Think not I Will ever speak that word. But if ye bear A sense of injury for what is past, Go from these halls; provide for other feasts, Consuming what is yours, and visiting Each other's homes in turn. But if it seem To you the wiser and the better way To plunder one man's goods, go on to waste My substance. I shall call the eternal gods To aid me, and, if Jupiter allow Fit retribution for your crimes, ye die Within this very palace unavenged." So spake Telemachus. The Thunderer, Jove, Sent flying from a lofty mountain-top Two eagles. First they floated on the wind Close to each other, and with wings outspread; But as they came to where the murmuring crowd Was gathered just beneath their flight, they turned And clapped their heavy pinions, looking down With deadly omen on the heads below, And with their talons tore each other's cheeks And necks, and then they darted to the right Away through Ithaca among its roofs. All who beheld the eagles were amazed, And wondered what event was near at hand. Among the rest an aged hero spake, Named Halitherses, Mastor's son. He knew More truly than the others of his age, To augur from the flight of birds, and read The will of fate⁠—and wisely thus he spake:⁠— "Hear, men of Ithaca, what I shall say. I speak of what most narrowly concerns The suitors, over whom already hangs Great peril, for Ulysses will not be Long at a distance from his home and friends. Even now he is not far, and meditates Slaughter and death to all the suitor train; And evil will ensue to many more Of us, who dwell in sunny Ithaca. Now let us think what measures may restrain These men⁠—or let them of their own accord Desist⁠—the soonest were for them the best. For not as one untaught do I foretell Events to come, but speak of what I know. All things that I predicted to our chief, What time the Argive troops embarked for Troy, And sage Ulysses with them, are fulfilled; I said that after many hardships borne, And all his comrades lost, the twentieth year Would bring him back, a stranger to us all⁠— And all that then I spake of comes to pass." Eurymachus, the son of Polybus, Answered the seer: "Go to thy house, old man, And to thy boys, and prophesy to them, Lest evil come upon them. I can act, In matters such as these, a prophet's part Better than thou. True, there are many birds That fly about in sunshine, but not all Are ominous. Ulysses far away Has perished; well it would have been if thou Hadst perished with him; then thou wouldst not prate Idly of things to come, nor wouldst thou stir Telemachus to anger, in the hope Of bearing to thy house some gift from him. Now let me say, and be assured my words Will be fulfilled: experienced as thou art, If thou by treacherous speeches shalt inflame A younger man than thou to violent deeds, The sharper punishment shall first be his, But we will lay on thee a penalty, Old man, which thou shalt find it hard to bear, And bitterly wilt thou repent. And now Let me persuade Telemachus to send His mother to her father. They will make A marriage for her there, and give with her A liberal dowry, such as may become A favorite daughter on her wedding-day, Else never will the sons of Greece renounce, I think, the difficult suit. We do not fear Telemachus himself, though glib of speech, Nor care we for the empty oracle Which thou, old man, dost utter, making thee Only more hated. Still will his estate Be wasted, nor will order e'er return While she defers her marriage with some prince Of the Achaians. We shall urge our suit For that most excellent of womankind As rivals, nor withdraw to seek the hand Of others, whom we fitly might espouse." To this discreet Telemachus replied:⁠— "Eurymachus, and ye, the illustrious train Of suitors, I have nothing more to ask⁠— No more to say⁠—for now the gods and all The Achaians know the truth. But let me have A gallant barque, and twenty men to make From coast to coast a voyage, visiting Sparta and sandy Pylos, to inquire For my long-absent father, and the chance Of his return, if any of mankind Can tell me aught, or if some rumor come From Jove, since thus are tidings often brought To human knowledge. Should I learn that yet He lives and may return, I then would wait A twelvemonth, though impatient. Should I hear That he no longer lives, I shall return Homeward, and pile his monument on high With funeral honors that become the dead, And give my mother to a second spouse." He spake and took his seat, and then arose Mentor, once comrade of the excellent chief Ulysses, who, departing with his fleet, Consigned his household to the aged man, That they should all obey him, and that he Should safely keep his charge. He rose amid The assembly, and addressed them wisely thus:⁠— "Hear and attend, ye men of Ithaca, To what I say. Let never sceptred king Henceforth be gracious, mild, and merciful, And righteous; rather be he deaf to prayer And prone to deeds of wrong, since no one now Remembers the divine Ulysses more, Among the people over whom he ruled Benignly like a father. Yet I bear No envy to the haughty suitors here, Moved as they are to deeds of violence By evil counsels, since, in pillaging The substance of Ulysses, who they say Will nevermore return, they risk their lives. But I am angry with the rest, with all Of you who sit here mute, nor even with words Of stern reproof restrain their violence, Though ye so many are and they so few." Leiocritus, Evenor's son, rejoined:⁠— "Malicious Mentor, foolish man! what talk Is this of holding us in check? 'Twere hard For numbers even greater than our own To drive us from a feast. And should the prince Of Ithaca, Ulysses, come himself, Thinking to thrust the illustrious suitors forth That banquet in these palace halls, his queen Would have no cause for joy at his return, Greatly as she desired it. He would draw Sure death upon himself in strife with us Who are so many. Thou hast spoken ill. Now let the people who are gathered here Disperse to their employments. We will leave Mentor and Halitherses, who were both His father's early comrades, to provide For the youth's voyage. He will yet remain A long time here, I think, to ask for news In Ithaca, and never will set sail." Thus having said, he instantly dismissed The people; they departed to their homes; The suitors sought the palace of the prince. Then to the ocean-side, apart from all, Went forth Telemachus, and washed his hands In the gray surf, and prayed to Pallas thus:⁠— "Hear me, thou deity who yesterday, In visiting our palace, didst command That I should traverse the black deep to learn News of my absent father, and the chance Of his return! The Greeks themselves withstand, My purpose; the proud suitors most of all." Such was his prayer, and straightway Pallas stood, In form and voice like Mentor, by his side, And thus accosted him with winged words:⁠— "Telemachus, thou henceforth shalt not lack Valor or wisdom. If with thee abides Thy father's gallant spirit, as he was In deed and word, thou wilt not vainly make This voyage. But if thou be not in truth The son of him and of Penelope, Then I rely not on thee to perform What thou dost meditate. Few sons are like Their fathers: most are worse, a very few Excel their parents. Since thou wilt not lack Valor and wisdom in the coming time, Nor is thy father's shrewdness wanting quite In thee, great hope there is that happily This plan will be fulfilled. Regard not then The suitor train, their purposes and plots. Senseless are they, as little wise as just, And have no thought of the black doom of death Now drawing near to sweep them in a day To their destruction. But thy enterprise Must suffer no delay. So much am I Thy father's friend and thine, that I will cause A swift barque to be fitted out for sea, And will myself attend thee. Go now hence Among the suitors, and make ready there The needful stores, and let them all be put In vessels⁠—wine in jars, and meal, the strength Of man, in close thick skins⁠—while I engage, Among the people here, a willing crew. Ships are there in our seagirt Ithaca Full many, new and old, and I will choose The best of these, and see it well equipped. Then will we drag it down to the broad sea." Thus Pallas spake, the child of Jupiter. Telemachus obeyed the heavenly voice, And stayed not; home he hastened, where he saw Sadly the arrogant suitors in the hall, Busily flaying goats and roasting swine. Antinoüs, laughing, came to meet the youth. And fastened on his hand, and thus he spake:⁠— "Telemachus, thou youth of lofty speech And boundless in abuse, let neither word Nor deed that may displease thee vex thy heart, But gayly eat and drink as thou wert wont. The Achaians generously will provide Whatever thou requirest, ship and men⁠— All chosen rowers⁠—that thou mayst arrive Sooner at sacred Pylos, there to learn Tidings of thy illustrious father's fate." Then spake discreet Telemachus in turn:⁠— "Antinoüs, never could I sit with you, Arrogant ones! in silence nor enjoy The feast in quiet. Is it not enough, O suitors, that while I was yet a child Ye wasted on your revelries my large And rich possessions? Now that I am grown, And, when I hear the words of other men, Discern their meaning, now that every day Strengthens my spirit, I will make the attempt To bring the evil fates upon your heads, Whether I go to Pylos or remain Among this people. I shall surely make This voyage, and it will not be in vain. Although I go a passenger on board Another's ship⁠—since neither ship have I Nor rowers⁠—ye have judged that so were best." He spake, and quickly from the suitor's hand Withdrew his own. The others who prepared Their banquet in the palace scoffed at him, And flung at him their bitter taunts, and one Among the insolent youths reviled him thus:⁠— "Telemachus is certainly resolved To butcher us. He goes to bring allies From sandy Pylos or the Spartan coast, He is so bent on slaughter. Or perhaps He visits the rich land of Ephyrè In search of deadly poisons to be thrown Into a cup and end us all at once." Then said another of the haughty youths:⁠— "Who knows but, wandering in his hollow barque, He too may perish, far from all his friends, Just as Ulysses perished? This would bring Increase of labor; it would cast on us The trouble to divide his goods, and give His palace to his mother, and to him Who takes the woman as his wedded wife." So spake they, but Telemachus went down To that high-vaulted room, his father's, where Lay heaps of gold and brass, and garments store In chests, and fragrant oils. And there stood casks Of delicate old wine and pure, a drink For gods, in rows against the wall, to wait If ever, after many hardships borne, Ulysses should return. Upon that room Close-fitting double doors were shut, and there Was one who night and day kept diligent watch, A woman, Eurycleia, child of Ops, Peisenor's son. Telemachus went in And called her to him, and bespake her thus:⁠— "Nurse, let sweet wine be drawn into my jars, The finest next to that which thou dost keep Expecting our unhappy lord, if yet The nobly born Ulysses shall escape The doom of death and come to us again. Fill twelve, and fit the covers close, and pour Meal into well-sewn skins, and let the tale Be twenty measures of the flour of wheat. This none but thou must know. Let all these things Be brought together; then, as night shuts in, When to her upper chamber, seeking rest, My mother shall withdraw, I come and take What thou providest for me. I am bound For Sparta and for Pylos in the sands, To gather news concerning the return Of my dear father, if I haply may." So spake the youth, and his beloved nurse Sobbed, wept aloud, and spake these winged words:⁠— "Why should there come, dear child, a thought like this Into thy heart. Why wouldst thou wander forth To distant regions⁠—thou an only son And dearly loved? Ulysses, nobly born, Has perished, from his native land afar, 'Mid a strange race. These men, when thou art gone, At once will lay their plots to take thy life, And share thy wealth among them. Stay thou here Among thy people; need is none that thou Shouldst suffer, roaming o'er the barren deep." Then spake discreet Telemachus again:⁠— "Be of good cheer, O nurse, for my design Is not without the sanction of a god; But swear thou not to let my mother know Of my intent until the eleventh day Or twelfth shall pass, or till, in missing me, She learn of my departure, lest she weep And stain with tears the beauty of her face." He spake; the ancient woman solemnly Swore by the gods, and when the rite was o'er Drew wine into the jars, and poured the meal Into the well-sewn skins. Telemachus Entered the hall and joined the suitor train. Then did the blue-eyed goddess turn her thoughts To other plans, and taking on herself The semblance of Telemachus, she ranged The city, speaking to each man in turn, And bidding him at nightfall to repair To where the good ship lay. That gallant ship She begged of the renowned Noëmon, son Of Phronius, who with cheerful grace complied. The sun went down, the city streets lay all In shadow. Then she drew the good ship down Into the sea, and brought and put on board The appointments every well-built galley needs, And moored her at the bottom of the port, Where, in a throng, obedient to the word Of Pallas, round her came her gallant crew. With yet a new device the blue-eyed maid Went to the palace of the godlike chief Ulysses, where she poured a gentle sleep Over the suitors. As they drank she made Their senses wander, and their hands let fall The goblets. Now no longer at the board They sat, but sallied forth, and through the town Went to their slumbers, for the power of sleep Had fallen heavily upon their lids. Then blue-eyed Pallas from those sumptuous halls Summoned Telemachus. She took the form And voice of Mentor, and bespake him thus:⁠— "Telemachus, already at their oars Sit thy well-armed companions and await Thy coming; let us go without delay." Thus having spoken, Pallas led the way With rapid footsteps which he followed fast; Till having reached the galley and the sea They found their long-haired comrades at the beach, And thus the gallant prince Telemachus Bespake them: "Hither, comrades, let us bring The sea-stores from the dwelling where they lie; My mother knows not of it, nor her maids; The secret has been told to one alone." He spake, and went before them. In his steps They followed. To the gallant barque they brought The stores, and, as the well-beloved son Of King Ulysses bade, they laid them down Within the hull. Telemachus went up The vessel's side, but Pallas first embarked, And at the stern sat down, while next to her Telemachus was seated. Then the crew Cast loose the fastenings and went all on board, And took their places on the rowers' seats, While blue-eyed Pallas sent a favoring breeze, A fresh wind from the west, that murmuring swept The dark-blue main. Telemachus gave forth The word to wield the tackle; they obeyed, And raised the fir-tree mast, and, fitting it Into its socket, bound it fast with cords, And drew and spread with firmly twisted ropes The shining sails on high. The steady wind Swelled out the canvas in the midst; the ship Moved on, the dark sea roaring round her keel, As swiftly through the waves she cleft her way. And when the rigging of that swift black ship Was firmly in its place, they filled their cups With wine, and to the ever-living gods Poured out libations, most of all to one, Jove's blue-eyed daughter. Thus through all that night And all the ensuing morn they held their way.