Book XXI: The Bending of the Bow of Ulysses

Lyrics

Proposal of Penelope to the suitors to contend for her hand with the bow and arrows of Ulysses⁠—Their ineffectual attempts to bend the bow⁠—Management of Ulysses to obtain the bow, which he bends with ease, and sends an arrow through the twelve rings set up in a row for the purpose. Pallas, the goddess of the azure eyes, Woke in the mind of sage Penelope, The daughter of Icarius, this design⁠— To put into the suitors' hands the bow And gray steel rings, and to propose a game That in the palace was to usher in The slaughter. So she climbed the lofty stair, Up from the hall, and took in her plump hand The fair carved key; its wards were wrought of brass, And ivory was the handle. Soon she reached The furthest room with her attendant maids. There lay the treasures of Ulysses⁠—brass And gold, and steel divinely wrought. There lay His bow unstrung; there lay his quiver charged With arrows; many were the deadly shafts It held, a stranger's gift, who met him once In Lacedaemon, Iphitus by name, The son of Eurytus, and like the gods In presence. In Messenè met the twain, And in the mansion of Orsilochus, The warlike. Thither had Ulysses come To claim a debt from all the region round; For rovers from Messene to their ships Had driven and carried off from Ithaca Three hundred sheep and those who tended them. For this Ulysses, though a stripling yet, Came that long voyage, on an embassy, Sent by his father and the other chiefs. And Iphitus had come in search of steeds Which he had lost⁠—twelve mares, and under them Twelve hardy mules, their foals. That errand brought The doom of death upon him. For he came, In journeying, to the abode of Hercules, The mighty hero-son of Jupiter, Famed for his labors, who, in his own house, Slew Iphitus, the stranger. Cruel wretch! Who reverenced not the vengeance of the gods, Nor what was due to his own board, at which He placed his guest, and slew him afterward, And in his stables kept the goodly mares. 'Twas when this guest was seeking for his steeds He met Ulysses, and bestowed on him The bow, which mighty Eurytus once bore, And dying in his lofty palace left The weapon to his son. Ulysses gave In turn a trenchant sword and massive lance, A pledge of kindly hospitality, Begun, but not continued till they sat Each at the other's table; for the son Of Jove first took the life of him who gave The bow, the godlike son of Eurytus. That bow Ulysses, when he went to war In his black galleys, never took with him, But left it in his palace, to be kept In memory of a beloved friend, And only bore it in his own domain. Now when the glorious lady reached the room, And stood upon the threshold, wrought of oak And polished by the workman's cunning hand, Who stretched the line upon it, and set up Its posts, and hung its shining doors, she loosed With a quick touch the thong that held the ring. Put in the key, and with a careful aim Struck back the sounding bolts. As when a bull Roars in the field, such sound the beautiful doors, Struck with the key, gave forth, and instantly They opened to her. Up the lofty floor She stepped, where stood the coffer that contained The perfumed garments. Reaching forth her hand, The queen took down the bow, that hung within Its shining case, and sat her down, and laid The case upon her knees, and, drawing forth The monarch's bow, she wept aloud. As soon As that new gush of tears had ceased to fall, Back to the hall she went, and that proud throng Of suitors, bearing in her hand the bow Unstrung, and quiver, where the arrows lay Many and deadly. Her attendant maids Brought also down a coffer, where were laid Much brass and steel, provided by the king For games like these. The glorious lady then, In presence of the suitors, stood beside The columns that upheld the stately roof. She held a lustrous veil before her cheeks, And, while on either side of her a maid Stood modestly, bespake the suitors thus:⁠— "Hear, noble suitors! ye who throng these halls, And eat and drink from day to day, while long My husband has been gone; your sole excuse For all this lawlessness the claim ye make That I become a bride. Come then, for now A contest is proposed. I bring to you The mighty bow that great Ulysses bore. Whoe'er among you he may be whose hand Shall bend this bow, and send through these twelve rings An arrow, him I follow hence, and leave This beautiful abode of my young years, With all its plenty⁠—though its memory, I think, will haunt me even in my dreams." She spake, and bade the master of the swine, The good Eumaeus, place the bow and rings Of hoary steel before the suitor-train. In tears he bore the bow and laid it down. The herdsman also wept to see again His master's bow. Antinoüs called to both With a loud voice, and chid them angrily:⁠— "Ye silly rustics, who can never see Beyond the hour, why trouble with your tears The lady who had grief enough besides For her lost husband? Sit and share the feast In silence, or go forth and leave the bow; A difficult contest it will be for us, Nor, as I think, will this fair bow be bent With ease, since surely there is no man here Such as Ulysses was. I saw him once, While but a child, and still remember him." He spake, yet in his secret heart believed That he should bend the bow, and send a shaft Through all the rings. And yet he was the first To taste the steel⁠—an arrow from the hand Of the great chief Ulysses⁠—whom he wronged In his own palace, and to equal wrong Encouraged others. Then Telemachus Rose in his sacred might, and thus began:⁠— "Alas! it must be that Saturnian Jove Has made me lose my wits. Wise as she is, My mother promises to leave her home And follow someone else, and yet I laugh, And am delighted in my foolish heart. Come then, since such a contest is proposed, Ye suitors! and for such a woman too. The like is not in all the lands of Greece, Argos, Mycenae, or the hallowed shore Of Pylos, or in Ithaca itself, Or the dark mainland coast. Ye know it well; Why should I praise my mother? Come then, all; Let there be no excuses for delay, Nor longer leave the bow untried, that we May see the event. I too am moved to try; And if I bend the bow, and send a shaft Through all the rings, my gracious mother then Will not, to my great grief, renounce her home, And, following another, leave me here, Although my prowess even now might win The glorious prizes that my father won." He spake and, rising, from his shoulders took The purple cloak, and laid the trenchant sword Aside; and first he placed the rings of steel In order, opening for them in the ground A long trench by a line, and stamping close The earth around them. All admired the skill With which he ranged them, never having seen The game before. And then he took his place Upon the threshold, and essayed the bow; And thrice he made the attempt, and thrice gave o'er, Yet hoping still to draw the cord, and send An arrow through the rings. He would have drawn The bow at the fourth trial, but a nod Given by his father caused him to forbear, Though eager for the attempt. And then again The princely youth bespake the suitors thus:⁠— "Well, this is strange! I may hereafter prove A craven and a weakling, or perchance Am yet too young, and cannot trust my arm To do me right against the man who first Assaults me. Come then, ye whose strength excels My own, and try the bow, and end the strife." He spake, and setting down the bow to lean Against the firm smooth panels of the wall, And the swift shaft against the bow's fair curve, He took again his seat upon the throne From which he rose. And then Eupeithes' son, Antinoüs, to the crowd of suitors said:⁠— "Rise one by one, my friends, from right to left. Begin where he begins who pours the wine." So spake Antinoüs, and the rest approved. Then rose Leiodes, son of Oenops, first. He was their seer, and always had his seat Beside the ample bowl. From deeds of wrong He shrank with hatred, and was sore incensed Against the suitors all. He took the bow And shaft, and, going to the threshold, stood And tried the bow, yet bent it not; it galled His hands, for they were soft, and all unused To such a task; and thus at length he spake:⁠— "O friends, I bend it not; another hand Must try. This bow, upon this very spot, Will take from many a prince the breath of life. And better were it thus to die, by far, Than, living, fail of that intent for which We haunt this place, and still from day to day Assemble. There is many a one whose wish And hope are strong to wed Penelope, The consort of Ulysses; but so soon As he shall see and try the hero's bow Let him with marriage presents seek to gain Some other bride among the long-robed dames, Achaia's daughters. Let him leave the queen To wed the suitor who shall bring to her The richest gifts, and him whom fate appoints." He spake, and setting down the bow to lean Against the firm smooth panels of the wall, And the swift shaft against the bow's fair curve, He took again his seat upon the throne From which he rose. Antinoüs then took up The word and answered, and reproached him thus:⁠— "What words are these, Leiodes, that have passed Thy lips? harsh words and fearful⁠—that this bow Shall take from many princes here the breath Of life, and all because thou hast no power To bend it? Thy good mother bore thee not To draw the bow and send the arrow forth, But others of the noble suitor-train Are here, by whom this bow shall yet be bent." Then to Melanthius, keeper of the goats, Antinoüs gave this bidding. "Light a fire With speed, Melanthius, in the palace here, And place a seat before it. Lay a fleece Upon the seat, and bring us from within An ample roll of fat, that we young men By warming and anointing may make soft The bow, and draw the cord, and end the strife." He spake; Melanthius kindled instantly A glowing fire, and near it placed a seat, And on the seat a fleece, and from within Brought forth an ample roll of fat, with which The young men, having warmed it, smeared the bow And tried, but bent it not, too weak by far For such a feat. Antinoüs kept aloof, He and the godlike youth Eurymachus Two princes who in might excelled the rest. The herdsman of Ulysses meantime left The palace, and with him the swineherd went, And after them Ulysses. When they all Were now without the gate and palace court, Ulysses spake to them, and blandly said:⁠— "Herdsman and swineherd, shall I say to you Somewhat, or shall I keep it back? My heart Moves me to say it. Should Ulysses come, Led by some god, and suddenly, what aid Would he receive from you? Would ye take part With him, or with the suitors? Frankly speak; And tell me what your hearts would bid you do." Then answered thus the keeper of the herds: "O Father Jove! wouldst thou but grant my wish, And let some god conduct him hither, then Shall it be seen what might is in these hands!" So also did Eumaeus offer prayer To all the deities, that speedily The wise Ulysses might return; and when The chief perceived in all its truth the thought And purpose of their hearts, he spake and said:⁠— "Know, then, that I myself am he, at home Again, returning in the twentieth year, And after many sufferings, to the land That saw my birth. I know that I am come Welcome to you alone of all my train Of servants, since I hear no others pray For my return. Hear, then, what I engage Shall be hereafter. If some god o'ercome For me these arrogant suitors, I will give To each of you a wife and lands, and build For each a house near mine, and ye shall be The friends and brothers of Telemachus Thenceforth. And now, that ye may surely know And trust me, I will show a token here⁠— A scar which once the white tooth of a boar Made, when long since, on the Parnassian mount, I hunted with Autolycus's sons." Thus having said, he drew from the broad scar The covering rags; they looked and knew it well, And wept, and round Ulysses threw their arms, And kissed in that embrace the hero's head And shoulders, while Ulysses also kissed Their heads and hands. The sun would have gone down Upon their weeping, but for him. He said:⁠— "Cease now from tears, lest someone from the hall Should see us, and report of us within. Now let us enter, not in company⁠— I first, and ye thereafter, one by one, And let the sign be this: the others all⁠— The haughty suitors⁠—will refuse to me The bow and quiver. When thou bearest it, My noble friend Eumaeus, through the halls, Bring it and place it in my hands, and charge The women to make fast the solid doors; And then if any one of them should hear A groan or other noise of men within, Let her not issue forth, but silently Pursue her task. Meantime be it thy care, My good Philoetius, with a key to lock The portals of the court and fix the chain." Thus having said, into that noble pile He passed again, and took the seat from which He lately rose, and afterward, in turn, Entered the servants of the godlike chief. Eurymachus was busy with the bow, Turning and warming it before the blaze On both its sides. He could not bend it thus. There came a deep sigh from his boastful heart, And greatly was he vexed, and sadly said:⁠— "Alas! great cause of grief indeed is here For me and all. 'Tis not that I lament So much the losing of the bride, although That also vexes me⁠—there yet remain Many fair ladies of the Achaian stock, Both in the seagirt lands of Ithaca And other regions⁠—yet if we be found To fall in strength of arm so far below The great Ulysses that we cannot bend His bow, our sons will hear of it with shame." Eupeithes' son, Antinoüs, answered thus: "Not so, Eurymachus, as thou thyself Shouldst know. This day is held a solemn feast Of Phoebus by the people. Who would draw The bow today? Nay, lay it by in peace, And suffer all the rings to stand as now; For no man, as I think, will dare to come Into the palace of Laertes' son And take them hence. Let him who bears the cup Begin to serve the wine, that, having poured Part to the gods, we may lay down the bow, And with the morning let Melanthius come⁠— The goatherd⁠—bringing with him from the flock The choicest goats, that we may burn the thighs, An offering to the god of archery, Apollo. Then will we again essay The bow, and bring the contest to an end." So spake Antinoüs, and they all approved. Then heralds came, and on the suitors' hands Poured water; youths filled up the cups with wine, Beginning at the right, and gave to each His share; and when they all had poured a part, And each had drunk, the shrewd Ulysses thus With artful speech bespake the suitor-train:⁠— "Hearken, ye suitors of the illustrious queen, To what my heart is prompting me to say; But chiefly to Eurymachus I make My suit, and to Antinoüs, who so well Hath counselled to lay by the bow and trust The gods. Tomorrow Phoebus will bestow The needed strength on whomsoe'er he will; But let me take that polished bow, and try Among you, whether still the power that dwelt In these once pliant limbs abides in them, Or whether happily it has passed from me Amid my wanderings and a life of want." He spake, and all were vehemently moved With anger, for they feared that he would bend The bow, and thus Antinoüs, railing, spake:⁠— "Thou worthless vagabond, without a spark Of reason, art thou not content to sit And banquet with the proudest, where no part Of all the feast escapes thee, hearing all That we are saying, which no other man, Stranger and beggar, is allowed to hear! This good wine makes thee foolish, as wine oft Makes those who swallow it too greedily, And drink not with due stint. It maddened once Eurytion, the famed Centaur, in the halls Of the large-souled Pirithoüs. He had come Among the Lapithae, and when inflamed With wine to madness, in those very halls Did lawless deeds. The heroes were incensed. They rushed upon him, dragged him through the porch And out of doors, and there cut off his nose And ears, and he departed, frenzied still, And bearing in bewilderment of mind His punishment, whence war arose between Centaurs and men; yet surely he had brought The evil on himself, when overcome With wine. Such fearful mischief I foretell Will light on thee, if thou shouldst bend this bow, Nor canst thou hope for favor here among The people. We will send thee speedily, In a black galley, to King Echetus, The enemy of human kind, from whom Thou shalt find no escape. Drink, then, in peace Thy wine, and seek no strife with younger men." Then spake the sage Penelope again: "Truly, Antinoüs, it becomes thee not, Nor is it just, to vex the stranger guests Who seek the palace of Telemachus. Dost thou, then, think that, should this stranger bend, Proud as he is of his great strength of arm, The mighty bow that once Ulysses bore, He leads me hence a bride? No hope of that Is in his heart, and let no one of you Who banquet here allow a thought like that To vex him; 'tis a thing that cannot be." Then to the queen, Eurymachus, the son Of Polybus, replied: "We do not fear, Sage daughter of Icarius, that this man Will lead thee hence a bride; it cannot be. We fear the speech of men and women both. The very meanest of the Achaian race Will say: 'Degenerate men are these, who seek To wed the consort of a glorious chief, Not one of whom can draw the bow he bore; And now there comes a wandering beggar-man, Who draws the bow with ease, and sends a shaft Through all the rings of steel.' Thus will they speak, And this will be to us a cause of shame!" And then the sage Penelope rejoined: "Eurymachus, it cannot be that those Should earn the general praise who make the wealth Of a most worthy man their spoil, and bring Dishonor on his house. The stranger's frame Is powerful and well knit; he claims to be Of noble parentage. Now let him take The bow, and we will see the event; but this I promise, and will make my promise good, If he should bend it⁠—if Apollo give To him that glory⁠—he shall have from me A tunic and a cloak, fair garments both, And a keen javelin, his defence against Both dogs and men, a two-edged sword besides, And sandals for his feet, and I engage To send him whither he desires to go." Then spake discreet Telemachus again: "Mother, in all Achaia there is none Who has more power than I can claim, to grant Or to deny the bow to whom I will. No one of those who rule the rugged coast Of Ithaca, or isles where Elis breeds Her mares, may interpose to thwart my will, If on the stranger I bestow the bow To be his own, and bid him take it hence. Withdraw, O queen, into thy bower; direct Thy household tasks, the distaff and the web, And bid thy maidens speed the work. The bow Belongs to men, and most to me; for here, Within these walls, the authority is mine." The queen, astonished, heard him and withdrew, But kept her son's wise sayings in her heart And then ascending to her bower, among Her maids, she wept her well-beloved lord, Ulysses, till the blue-eyed Pallas came, And poured upon her lids the balm of sleep. Meantime the worthy swineherd bore the bow In hand, and all along the palace-halls The suitor-crew were chiding him aloud, And thus an insolent youth among them spake:⁠— "Thou awkward swineherd, whither goest thou With the curved bow? Thy own fleet dogs which thou Hast reared shall soon devour thee, far from men And midst thy herds of swine, if we find grace With Phoebus and the other deathless gods." Such were their words; the swineherd where he stood Set down the bow in fear, for many a voice Called to him in the hall. On the other side Shouted Telemachus with threatening words:⁠— "Nay, father, carry on the bow, nor think To stop at every man's command; lest I, Though younger than thyself, cast stones at thee, And chase thee to the fields, for I in strength Excel thee. Would that I excelled as far In strength of arm the suitors in these halls, Then would I roughly through the palace-gates Drive many who are plotting mischief now." He spake, and all with hearty laughter heard His words, and for their sake allowed their wrath Against the prince to cool. The swineherd went Forward, along the hall, and, drawing near The wise Ulysses, gave into his hands The bow; and then he called the nurse aside, Dame Eurycleia, and bespake her thus:⁠— "Sage Eurycleia, from Telemachus I charge thee to make fast the solid doors, And then, if any of the maids should hear A groan or other noise of men within, Let her not issue forth, but silently Pursue the task in hand, and keep her place." He spake, nor were his words in vain. The dame Made fast the doors of that magnificent hall, While silently Philoetius hastened forth And locked the portals of the high-walled court. A cable of the barque of Byblos lay Beneath the portico⁠—it once had served A galley⁠—and with this the herdsman tied The portals, and, returning, took the seat Whence he had risen, but ever kept his eye Fixed on his lord. Ulysses, meantime, held The bow, and, turning it, intently eyed Side after side, and tried each part in turn, For fear that worms, while he was far away, Had pierced the horn. At this, a youth among The suitors, turning to his neighbor, said:⁠— "Lo an inspector and a judge of bows! Perhaps he has a bow like that at home, Or else would make one like it. How he shifts The thing with busy hands from side to side⁠— The vagabond, well trained in knavish tricks!" Then also said another insolent youth: "May he in all things be as fortunate As now, when he shall try to bend that bow!" Such was their talk; but when the wary chief Had poised and shrewdly scanned the mighty bow, Then, as a singer, skilled to play the harp, Stretches with ease on its new fastenings A string, the twisted entrails of a sheep, Made fast at either end, so easily Ulysses bent that mighty bow. He took And drew the cord with his right hand; it twanged With a clear sound as when a swallow screams. The suitors were dismayed, and all grew pale. Jove in loud thunder gave a sign from heaven. The much-enduring chief, Ulysses, heard With joy the friendly omen, which the son Of crafty Saturn sent him. He took up A winged arrow, that before him lay Upon a table, drawn; the others still Were in the quiver's womb; the Greeks were yet To feel them. This he set with care against The middle of the bow, and toward him drew The cord and arrow-notch, just where he sat, And, aiming opposite, let fly the shaft. He missed no ring of all; from first to last The brass-tipped arrow threaded every one. Then to Telemachus Ulysses said:⁠— "Telemachus, the stranger sitting here Hath not disgraced thee. I have neither missed The rings, nor found it hard to bend the bow; Nor has my manly strength decayed, as these Who seek to bring me to contempt pretend; And now the hour is come when we prepare A supper for the Achaians, while the day Yet lasts, and after supper the delights Of song and harp, which nobly grace a feast." He spake, and nodded to Telemachus, His well-beloved son, who girded on His trenchant sword, and took in hand his spear, And, armed with glittering brass for battle, came And took his station by his father's seat.