Complete Works of William Morris, page 656
And thou with such another, that we twain the work might try,
Loth fasting right unto even, and good store of grass thereby.
Or if ‘twere the driving of oxen, the very best ye may,
Both mighty beasts and sleek-skinned, and stuffed with plenteous hay,
Of like age and like burdened, and tireless beasts afield,
And there were the close four-acred, and the clod to the ploughshare to yield;
Then see if aught I fail me straight furrows still to drive!
And again, if the Son of Cronos the war-play smite alive,
Then if I have a buckler, and two spears of war I get,
And therewith a helm all brazen upon my temples set,
Then shalt thou see me blended in the forefront of the play,
Nor yet upon my belly thy mocking words shalt thou lay.
Now thou mockest me out of measure, and hard is the heart in thee.
And thou deemest thyself a great one, and stark thou seemest to be,
Because with but few thou consortest, and they but a worthless band.
Ah! were but Odysseus hither, come aback to his fatherland,
Then verily these doorways, for as broad as they be indeed,
As ye flee through the porch and outdoors, shall be narrow for your need.”
So he said: but Eurymachus, thereat did the wrath in his heart awake,
And, from his knit brow scowling, a winged word he spake:
“O wretch! I will do thee a mischief, whereas thou thus hast said
Bold words amidst a many; nor hath thine heart a dread
Yea, either wine now holdeth thy wit, or else maybe
E’en such it is at all times and thou babblest emptily.
Art thou mad for the beating of Irus, the gangrel of the town?”
So he spake, and caught up a footstool; but Odysseus sat him adown
Beside Amphinomus’ knees, the lord of Dulichium’s land,
For Eurymachus he dreaded; who smote on the right hand
The cup-swain, and loud clanging to earth down fell the bowl,
And the man himself fell groaning and aback in the dust did roll.
Then through the shadowy feast-hall the Wooers raised the cry,
And thus would one be saying to him that sat next by:
“Would God that the gangrel stranger had perished otherwhere
Ere hither he came, since he raiseth so great a turmoil here
For now we strive about beggars, nor any joy do we hail
Of the goodly feast and the banquet, and the worser doth prevail.”
But unto them fell speaking Telemachus’ holy might:
“Fair sirs, ye are mad, and no longer in your hearts do ye carry aright
Your meat and your drink; meseemeth some God your mood doth stir.
But now unto your slumber, since well ye have feasted here,
Go home whenso ye will it, for no man I drive away.”
So he spake, and they bit their lips, and in wonder there were they
At Telemachus and his speaking, and his heart of hardihead.
But Amphinomus spake among them, and in suchwise words he said,
He, the glorious son of Nisus, Aretias’ son, the King:
“O friends, when one amongst us has said a righteous thing,
With hard words none should mate him, nor rage against him then.
No longer mock the stranger, nor any of the men
Of the house of Odysseus the godlike, house-carles or thralls of war.
Come now, and let the wine-swain go round the cups once more,
That, having poured drink-offering, we may get us home to bed.
And the stranger, let us leave him here in Odysseus’ stead
For Telemachus to cherish, since he came to his house the kind.”
So he spake, and the words of his speaking seemed good unto their mind,
And Mulius then, the hero, for them the wine-bowl blent,
Who as squire of Amphinomus and Dulichian henchman went;
So in turn to all he dealt it, and they made drink-offering meet
To the Happy Gods, and were drinking the wine the honey-sweet;
But when they had poured and had drunken as their hearts’ desire bade,
Then home to his house went each man in slumber and sleep to be laid.
BOOK XIX.
ARGUMENT.
ODYSSEUS AND TELEMACHUS BEAR OFF THE WEAPONS FROM THE HALL,
AND LAY THEM IN THE TREASURY. ODYSSEUS SPEAKETH WITH
PENELOPE, AND WITH EURYCLEA THE NURSE, WHO, BATHING HIS
FEET, KNOWETH HIM BY THE SCAR OF THE ANCIENT HURT THAT
HE GAT IN THE HUNTING OF THE BOAR.
THERE then the goodly Odysseus was left to abide in the hall,
Still pondering bane for the Wooers with Athene’s help to befall,
And unto Telemachus straightly a winged word did he say:
“Telemachus, now withinward all the war-gear must thou lay,
But give soft words to the Wooers when they come the same to miss
And thereof ask thee closely: such words shalt thou speak as this: [more
‘From out of the smoke have I laid them; for nought such are they any
As Odysseus left behind him when he sailed for the Troy-folks’ shore,
But are worsened where the edges the breath of the fire might find.
And another thing yet greater hath God put into my mind,
Lest ye, when ye are drunken, to strife of strokes may fall
And hurt you; thus befouling the feast and the Wooing withal.
For e’en of himself the Iron to battle draweth men.’”
So he spake; and his father beloved Telemachus heeded as then,
And he called to Euryclea, and spake to his nurse of old:
‘ Good dame, within the chamber the women do thou hold
While my father’s lovely weapons in the treasure-house I stow, [now.
Which have lain in the house unheeded, and are marred by the fire-reek
For far aloof was my father and I but a child at home;
But now would I lay them together where the fire’s breath may not come.”
Then the loved nurse Euryclea this word to him did speed:
“O child, and might’st thou do it to take on thee good heed,
And keep the house with wisdom and ward well all the gear!
But say who wendeth him with thee the brands for thee to bear,
Since the maids may not go before thee a light for thee to make?”
But Teleroachus the heedful made answer thus and spake:
“This guest: for I will not suffer that any have his hand
In my meal-ark, and be deedless, though he come from a far-off land.”
So he spake, and the word of his speaking unwinged with her did dwell,
And she shut the door of the chambers that were builded fair and well.
And then fell to Odysseus and his well-renowned son,
And bore out the helms of battle, and the shields with bosses done,
And the keen spears; and before them Pallas Athene went,
Holding a golden lantern, and a fair light from it sent.
Then Telemachus fell a-speaking to his father presently:
“O father! lo a marvel that mine eyes behold and see,
For lo how the walls of the chambers, and the panels fashioned fair,
And the rafters of the pine-tree, and the shafts that all uprear,
All shine unto mine eyesight as if with the fire ablaze!
Ah, some God is within of the dwellers of the wide-spread heavenly place.”
But Odysseus of many a rede he spake and answered again:
“Nay, hold thy peace, and refrain thee, and thy mind and thine asking
For this is the wont of the God-folk that hold Olympus high. [refrain,
So go thou and lie thee adown, while I abide hereby,
That yet again thy mother and the handmaids I may stir,
That about all things she shall ask me for the grief that is in her.”
So he spake, and Telemachus wended his ways adown the hall,
And ‘neath the blaze of the firebrands he gat to his chamber withal,
Where aforetime would he lay him when sweet sleep came his road;
There yet again he laid him, and the holy Dawn abode.
But there the goodly Odysseus was left to abide in the hall,
Still pondering the doom of the Wooers, with Athene’s help to befall.
And now from out her chamber came all-wise Penelope,
And like Aphrodite the golden, and Artemis was she,
And they set her a bench by the fire, and she sat her down thereon,
Of turned ivory and of silver all by a craftsman done,
Icmalius hight; and a footstool for the feet beneath had he made
That grew unjointed from out it, and thereon a great fleece was there laid
So Penelope the all-wise sat down upon that same,
And from out the hall the damsels white-armed about her came;
And they therefrom much bread, and the boards had borne away,
And the beakers wherefrom had drunken those men o’er-haughty that day;
And they cast down the fire from the braziers, and thereon laid withal
New-quickened brands in plenty for light and heat to the hall.
But now again Melantho Odysseus fell to chide: “ Through the night season, O Stranger, will thy troubling yet abide? About the house wilt thou loiter eyeing the women o’er? [before;
Out, wretch! out a-doors, and there hug thee on the feast thou hast had Or smitten by the firebrand thy way out shalt thou take!”
Then, from his bent brows scowling, guileful Odysseus spake:
“Yea. wench! and why fallest thou on me with thy wrath and evil will?
Is it because I am foul, and my body clad but ill?
And because through the land I go begging? Well, hard need driveth me,
And such forsooth all beggars and gangrel men must be.
And I — I once was wealthy, and midst of men did live
In a fair rich house; and to bedesmen a many did I give
Whatso they were, and whatso was the need that brought them there.
And thralls had I out of number, and all the goods and gear
Whereby men live in plenty, and for great and rich men pass.
But the Son of Cronos drained me all dry; for his will it was.
So look thou to it, O woman, lest thy fairness thou should’st lose
Wherein thou so excellest all the handmaids of the house;
Lest thy mistress have thee in anger, and her wrath lie hard on thee,
Or Odysseus return, whereof yet a grain of hope there may be.
Moreover, if he hath perished, and his homefare be but dead,
Yet by the will of Apollo a like son stands in his stead,
Telemachus: and of the women of the house that the wanton play
Shall none escape him henceforth: for ripe is his age today.”
But Penelope the all-wise the thing he spake she heard,
And she spake unto the handmaid and said a chiding word:
“Thou shameless dog! thou bold-face! from me thou hid’st not away,
Thou and the deed that thou doest: but thine head therefore shall pay.
And now full well thou wottest, since the word thou heard’st me speak,
That in these halls of my dwelling of the stranger would I seek
Some tidings of my husband, since grief besetteth me sore.”
To Eurynome the house-dame therewith she spake once more:
“Eurynome, bring thou the settle, and thereover cast a fell,
That thereon the guest a-sitting the tale to me may tell,
And hear my word: for his tidings I would search out thoroughly.”
So right handily she brought it and set it down thereby,
The well-smoothed settle, and on it the fleecy fell she cast,
And the goodly toil-stout Odysseus sat down thereon at last,
And Penelope the all-wise took up the word and spake:
“Now of the speech, O Stranger, beginning will I make,
And ask of what men thou comest, whence thy city and thy kin?”
But answered the wise Odysseus and thuswise did begin:
“O Queen, no man of mortals upon the boundless earth
May blame thee: for unto the heavens goeth up the fame of thy worth,
As of some king most noble; and the Gods is he worshipping,
As he rules o’er a folk that is many, and of valiant men is king;
And good manners there he upholdeth, and the black earth yields increase,
Both of the wheat and the barley, and heavy with fruit are the trees;
And the ewes bring forth and fail not, and fish the sea-flood gives.
All this from his well-ruling; for the folk beneath him thrives.
In this thine house then ask me of any other thing,
But of my land and my people nought be thou questioning,
Nor.flood my heart with sorrow by very memory.
For I am a man of mourning: nor is it meet for me
Bewailing me and moaning in another’s house to sit;
And ill it is to be grieving and make no end to it
Lest one of the home-folk blame me, or e’en by thee it be said
That I in tears am swimming, my wit with wine o’erlaid.”
But unto him then answered heart-wise Penelope:
“O guest, my form and my fairness and the worth that was in me
The Deathless slew when for Troy-town the Argives went aboard,
And in their fellowship wended Odysseus, once my lord.
Ah! would he but be coming, and rule o’er my livelihood,
Then greater were my glory, and my days more fair and good.
Now woe is me for the onrush of ills that the God hath sent
For all that in these islands are kings and excellent,
In Dulichium, or Same*, or Zacynthus of the trees,
Or abide in the Ithacan country clear-seen across the seas,
All these do woo me unwilling, and my house they waste and wear.
Therefore I heed no guest-folk nor of bedesmen have a care,
Nor any whit of the henchmen who the people’s craftsmen be.
But in sorrow for Odysseus melts out the heart in me,
While they press on the wedding, and by cunning ways I wind.
But the first thing that God gave me, and set within my mind,
Was to gear a great loom, and be weaving a web within the hall,
Full fine and wide of measure; and I spake unto them all:
“‘ O Wooers of mine, O younglings, since the goodly Odysseus is dead,
Stay the urging on of my wedding till this web to an end I have sped,
Lest all for nought its warp-threads on mine hands should wane away.
’Tis a shroud for the hero Laertes, for the season and the day
When the doom of death shall take him that layeth men along;
Lest some one of Achaean women on me should lay the wrong.
Lo the man of great possessions now shroudless is he laid.’
“So I spake, and the men high-hearted my bidding they obeyed,
And through the day my weaving in the mighty loom I plied.
And undid my web in the night when the torches were sei by my side;
So for three years I beguiled them, and the Achaeans did I tame.
But when it now was the fourth year, and around the seasons came,
And time, through the waning of months and the days’ fulfilling must speed,
Then by the means of the handmaids and the wantons lacking heed
They came upon me and caught me, and loud they chided me,
And perforce my work must I finish for as loth as I might be.
“Now no more may I flee the wedding, and other device have I none,
And unto the wedding my parents now urge me, and my son
Is troubled now he noteth how his livelihood they eat;
For to manhood now is he waxen, and a man of all most meet
To heed the house; and Zeus giveth to him a glorious part.
So now withal I bid thee tell thy folk from whence thou art,
Since from no oak old in story and from no stone art thou.”
But unto her in answer speaketh wise Odysseus now:
“O worshipped wife of Odysseus that was Laertes’ son,
In asking of my kindred wilt thou no more be done?
Well, the tale then will I tell thee, though ye give me into the hand
Of more griefs than e’en now hold me. For still, when aloof from his land
Hath one been such a while as I have, e’en thus will the matter go,
When he hath strayed through the cities of menfolk bearing his woe.
But even so will I tell thee what thou seekest and askest of me.
Now Crete is a certain country amidst of the wine-dark sea,
Fair, fat-soiled, sea-begirded; and a many men are there,
Yea, more than may be numbered; and ninety cities fair
There mingle men’s tongues that are divers: there Achaeans talk and tell,
And the high-heart Eteo-Cretans, and there Cydonians dwell,
And the Dorian folk three-folded, and Pelasgian folk God-bred.
And Cnosus the great city they have, in which same stead
From nine years old ruled Minos, who great Zeus for a speech-friend won,
The father of my father, high-souled Deucalion.
So Deucalion begat me and Idomeneus the King,
Who, in the beaked ship sailing to Ilios wayfaring,
Went with the sons of Atreus: while I, the younger of birth,
Am ^Ethon hight: but the elder is he, and the better of worth.
Now there I saw Odysseus, and the guest-gifts to him gave,
Since him for Troy-town making to Crete the strong wind drave;
For seaward from Malea it thrust him straying then,
And bound him in Amnisus, where is Eleithyias’ den,
A haven strait, where hardly by the storm he failed to be caught
So, coming unto the city, Idomeneus he sought,
For he said that he was his guest-friend, and a dear and honoured one.
But he for ten days at the least, or eleven days, was gone,
In his beaked ship unto Ilios wayfaring over the sea.
So I brought the man to my house, and guested him well with me,
