Complete Works of William Morris, page 660
And the porch is full of man-shapes and fulfilled is the garth of the stead,
As they wend ‘neath the dusk and the darkness, and the sun from the
heavens is dead;
And lo! how the mist of evil draws up and all about!”
So he spake: but all they on him sweet laughter yet laughed out,
And Eurymachus, Polybus’ offspring, then fell to speaking there:
“Now witless is this stranger new come from otherwhere!
So out a doors, ye younglings, do ye lead the man forthright,
That he wend him unto the high-place, since he deemeth us here in the night.”
But the godlike Theoclymenus, thus answering, fell to say:
“Eurymachus, nought I crave thee for speeders on the way.
For verily eyes I lack not, nor ears, nor both my feet,
And the mind in my breast is fashioned in manner nought unmeet.
With these will I get me without doors; for I see the bale coming on
Which no man among you shall flee from, and no man of the Wooers shall shun,
E’en those who about the homestead of godlike Odysseus abide,
And are mocking men, and framing the wickedness of pride.”
So saying, his ways he wended from the house fast built and fair,
And came to the house of Pirjeus, who took him blithely there.
But all the Wooers, beholding each other face to face,
Fell to stirring Telemachus’ anger, and to laugh at the guests of the place.
And some one of those masterful younglings e’en thus would be saying
“Telemachus, surely no man hath more evil guests than thou; [now:
E’en such as is this wanderer that guesting here doth lurk,
The bread and the wine a-craving; and hath no skill in the work
Of the field or the fight; but goeth on earth an idle load.
And again here rose this other to foretell us and forebode.
Now if thou would’st but hearken, far gainfuller would it be
To cast these guests together in a many-banked ship of the sea,
To Sicilian men to ship them; whence thy gain were good and due.”
E’en such were the words of the Wooers; but he gave no heed thereto,
And in silence looked on his father, abiding the hour of the day
When he on those shameless Wooers his hands at last should lay.
But the Daughter of Icarius, wise-heart Penelope,
As now right over against them her lovely chair set she,
And she hearkened the voice of each one of the men within the hall.
And for them — they arrayed the banquet midst laughter, and withal
Sweet was it and heart-staying, for many a beast had they slain.
But no such an unblessed banquet shall ever be again
As that which the mighty man and the Goddess soon should dight
For those that first had fashioned the deeds of all unright.
BOOK XXI.
ARGUMENT.
HEREIN IS TOLD OF THE TRIAL OF THE BENDING OF THE BOW, AND
THE SHOOTING THROUGH THE AXES.
NOW the Grey-eyed, the Goddess Athene, planted a thing to grow
In the heart of Icarius’ daughter, Penelope wise to know,
That she bring the Bow to the Wooers, and the grey steel therewithal,
For the birth of strife and murder within Odysseus’ hall.
So up the lofty stair of her chamber now she went,
And in her strong hand took she the key that was shapely bent,
And brazen and fair, with a handle thereto of ivory,
And she went with her women of service to the outermost chamber on
Wherein there lay together the treasure of the King, [high,
Both gold and brass and iron well wrought in the smithying.
And therein lay the bent-back bow, and the shaft-full quiver lay there,
Wherein were a many arrows the grief and the groan that bear;
Which same were the gift of a friend, godlike, whom while agone
He met in Lacedaemon, e’en Iphitus Eurytus’ son;
But it was in the stead of Messene that they carrie together there,
In Orsilochus’ house the war-deft: thither needs must Odysseus fare
To seek him a debt which the people, the whole folk, owed him aright;
Whereas men of Messene had lifted in their ships with the benches dight
Out of Ithaca sheep three hundred, and the herders that with them were.
And so upon that sending the long way did Odysseus fare,
Yet a lad, and his father sent him, and the elders of the men.
But Iphitus sought his horses which he had lost as then,
Twelve brood-mares with their sucklings, toil-patient mules beneath
And they forsooth thereafter were but for his doom and his death;
When he to the Son of Zeus the man, the strong-souled came,
E’en Heracles, well-proven in mighty deeds of fame,
Who slew him, his guest in his house, and in his hardihead
Feared not the following wrath of the Gods, nor the table he spread
For the guest; but e’en thereafter the man himself did he slay,
And kept for his own the horses strong-hoofed, nor let them away.
On this quest he fell in with Odysseus, and to him he gave the bow
Which Eurytus the mighty had borne a while ago,
But unto his son he gave it when he died in his lofty hall.
Unto him a keen sword gave Odysseus, and a mighty spear withal,
For the birth of close-knit friendship: but yet they never knew
The tables of each other: for ere that Zeus’ offspring slew
That Iphitus Eurytus’ son, the Deathless Godfolk’s peer,
Who had given the bow to Odysseus: who never the same would bear
On the black ship, when he wended his way to the battle-tide,
But for his dear friend’s memory he laid it to abide
In his treasure; but oft would he bear it as about his lands he passed.
So when that glory of women to her chamber came at last,
She stood on the oaken threshold which erst the wright had made
All smooth by his art and his cunning, and the rule thereto had laid,
And thereto had fitted the door-posts and hung the door-leaves bright.
Therewith the thong of the latch-ring she cast aloose forthright,
And thrust in the key moreover, and shot back the bolts of the door
With an aim that was straight and downright; and e’en as a bull doth roar
A-feeding in the meadow, the fair doors smit by the key
Roared out so loud, and before her flew open speedily,
And she went on the high-raised flooring whereon the coffers stood,
Wherein there lay the raiment stored up sweet-smelling and good;
And thence she reached her over, and took down the bow from the pin,
And therewith the shining bow-case that the same was lying in.
There then adown she sat her, and the case on her dear knees laid,
And her King’s bow thence a-drawing shrill wailing there she made.
But when of tearful wailing she was satiate at the last,
Therewith unto the feast-hall and the haughty Wooers she passed,
And the back-bent bow in her hand and the shaft-full quiver she bore,
Wherein were many arrows laden with groaning sore;
And the handmaids that were with her, a chest were they carrying
Where lay much brass and iron, the war-gear of their King.
But when that glory of women came amidst of the Wooers there,
She stood beside the doorpost of the roof built stout and fair,
Before her face upholding a lap of her delicate hood,
And withal on either side her a trusty handmaid stood;
And straight she spake to the Wooers and said a word to hear:
“Hearken, O high-heart Wooers, this house that waste and wear,
Eating and drinking our substance without a stop or stay,
The wealth of our house-master so long a while away,
And can make no other pretext of the matter ye plan to do
But that ye long to wed me and make me the wife of you.
— Come, Wooers, since the contest and the prize befalleth so,
Here will I lay before you Odysseus’ mighty bow,
And whichso of you the easiest with his palms the bow shall bend,
And throughout all twelve of the axes the shaft therefrom shall send,
Him then shall I follow, departing from this house of the wedded wife,
This fair house so abundant in all that upholdeth life;
Which yet shall I remember, though but in dreams it be.”
So she spake, and Eumaeus the swineherd, the goodly man, bade she
To lay before the Wooers the bow and the iron grey;
And Eumaeus took them weeping as adown the gear did he lay:
And otherwhere wept the neatherd when he saw the bow of his lord.
But Antinoiis fell to chiding, and spake and said the word:
“O fools of the field! still pondering on things that endure but a day,
Why drop ye tears, poor wretches, and stir in such a way
The heart of our lady within her? when even as it is
In grief her soul abideth, since her loved mate she doth miss.
Now sit and feast in silence; or out a-doors go ye
To weep your fill, and behind you leave this same bow to be
A contest for the Wooers, and no lightly-heeded thing;
For I deem that the bow well-shaven not lightly one shall string,
Since no such man of prowess midst all these doth abide
As once was that Odysseus: and I saw him once on a tide,
Whereof I yet have memory, when a little child was I.”
So he spake, and the heart within him was hoping verily
To stretch the string, and the arrow right through the iron to waft,
While he himself was fated to be first to taste of the shaft
At the hands of the blameless Odysseus, the man he then did shame
As he sat in his halls, still urging his fellows to the same.
But Telemachus’ holy might now spake amidst them and said:
“Ah! Zeus the Son of Cronos all witless me hath made!
For my mother beloved is saying, and she the wise of heart,
That she now will follow another and from this our house depart,
While I laugh and in my mind, gone witless, glad am I.
So come ye, ye Wooers, look to it! for set forth is the prize on high.
There is never another such woman in all the Achaean land,
Not in Pylos the holy, or Argos, or there where Mycene doth stand,
Nor in this our Ithacan folkland, or the mainland black of earth;
And ye yourselves ye know it: why praise I my mother’s worth? no
So draw ye aback for no pretext, nor hold ye long aloof
From this bow-bending, for we too would see it put to the proof;
Yea, I myself will try it, this deed of the bow to do,
If haply I may bend it and shoot the iron through. [mind
Then my mother beworshipped shall leave me, and I with no sorrow of
When she goes from this house with another, and I am left behind;
E’en I, such a man that my father’s fair weapons I bear at the last.”
So he spake, and his cloak of purple from his shoulders straight he cast
And leapt upright; and his war-sword from his shoulder did he do.
Then first he set up the axes, having digged a long trench straight through
For all the axes to stand in; and by rule set them aright, la
And trod in the earth about them, and all wondered at the sight,
How orderly he arrayed them, who the first time saw them now.
Then he went and stood on the threshold, and fell to trying the bow.
Thrice then he made it tremble in his longing the bow to bend;
And thrice he laid by his prowess; though his soul yet longed in the end
To draw the bow-string duly and shoot the iron through:
And now might he have bent it, so strong the fourth time as he drew,
But Odysseus nodded unto him and withheld him, long as he might
Then Telemachus’ holy power amidst them spake outright:
“Out on it! either a dastard unmighty henceforth shall I be,
Or I am o’eryoung to be trusting in the might and the hands of me
To ward off the man who preventeth, or falling on me in the fight.
But come now, ye who of prowess are mightier than my might,
Prove ye the bow amongst us, let an end of the trial be made.”
So saying, the bow from off him adown on the ground he laid,
And against the well-joined panel fair-polished the same did he lean,
And by its fair-wrought horn-tip the arrow swift and keen,
And so went and sat him adown on the high seat whence erst he arose.
Then Antinoiis, son of Eupeithes, fell to and spake amidst those:
“Rise up now from the left hand, all ye fair fellows of mine,
From the selfsame place beginning whence beginneth the pouring of wine.”
So he spake, and the word of his speaking seemed good to every one.
And first uprose Leiodes; and he was CEnops’ son,
And the seer unto the Wooers; and he sat by the goodly bowl
In the innermost nook, at all tides; alone unto his soul
The deeds of shame were hateful, and the Wooers, he blamed them all.
So first the bow he handled, and the sharp shaft therewithal, [would do;
And he went to the threshold and stood there and the deed of the bow
But nowise might he bend it, for it wearied his hands as he drew
That were all unworn and tender: so then to the Wooers he spake:
“O friends, I may not bend it; so the bow let another take.
But many a man of the highest, this bow shall bring to nought
His life and his soul. Yet far better it is unto death to be brought
Than to live and make miss of the thing for which in this house alway
We are gathered here together, expecting day by day.
And now, if any hopeth and his heart longeth eagerly
To wed Odysseus’ bed-mate and wed Penelope,
Then, when of the bow he is proven and a sight of the matter hath had,
Let him woo some other woman of Achaeans lovely clad,
And seek her with gifts of wooing; and this woman, soon or late,
Let her wed the greatest giver and the man that is sent her by fate.”
In such words he bespoke them, and from him put the bow,
And leaned it against the panel, well-jointed, smoothed enow,
And against the fair-wrought horn-tip he leant the arrow keen,
And so set him adown on the high-seat wherein he erst had beea
But Antinoiis fell to chide him, and spake the word and said:
“Leiodes, and what a word from the wall of thy teeth hath sped
A hard word and a grievous that I am wroth to hear.
What! the life and the soul of our highest this bow then shall outwear
Because thou wert not able to bend it by thy might?
Nay, sure thy mother beworshipped ne’er brought thee forth to light
To be a bender of bows, and a man the arrow to wend;
Yet the other high-heart Wooers that bow shall speedily bend.”
He spake, and the herder of goats, Melanthius, bade withal:
“Melanthius, hasten and kindle a fire amidst of the hall,
And put a great bench beside it, and fleeces over it spread,
And bring forth the great lard-cake that lieth within the stead,
That we younglings the bow may warm, and with fat anoint it about,
And so try it again, and the contest to its end may carry out.”
Then Melanthius speedily quickened the fire unwearied of flame,
And brought up a bench to set by it, and fleeces cast over the same,
And brought fqrth the great lard-cake that lay the house within;
And the younglings warmed it and tried it; but neither so might they win
To bend the bow, for thereunto much lacking in might they were.
But Antinous yet withheld him and Eurymachus, godhead’s peer,
The chiefs of the Wooers excelling in might most valorous.
But those twain, they now had wended together out of the house,
The neatherd and the swineherd of Odysseus godhead’s peer;
And himself, the goodly Odysseus, came forth to where they were,
And when they were come without doors and were gotten forth of the close
He put forth the sound of his voice, and with kind words spake unto those:
“Neatherd, and thou, O Swineherd, shall I say a word to you,
Or hide it within me? that speaking my spirit biddeth me to.
— What men were ye for the warding of Odysseus, were he come
From anywhere of a sudden, and a God should bring him home?
On that day would ye stand by Odysseus, or the men that are come to woo?
Speak out what the heart and the soul withinward urgeth you!”
Spake the neatherd, he who heeded the herds of the beeves and the kine:
“Zeus Father! now be accomplished this inward hope of mine, aoo
Of this man’s home-returning with a very God to lead;
Then should ye wot of my prowess and my hands to do the deed.”
And in likewise spake Eumaeus, and to all Gods sped the prayer
For all-wise Odysseus returning to his house upbuilded fair.
So now when he had knowledge of their steadfast hearts and true,
Again in words he bespake them, and thuswise answered thereto:
“Lo, here am I, and at home. Many griefs have I had to bear,
And am come to the land of my fathers at last in the twentieth year,
And I wot that of all the homemen I am welcome to you alone.
Forsooth amid all the others no prayer have I heard and known,
No prayer for my returning a-back to my house and hall.
Unto you then the truth shall I tell, how hereafter things shall befall:
