door; and as Melanthius came out, they leapt upon him and dragged him back
by the hair and flung him on the ground and bound him tightly to a pillar
hand and foot. "Lie there," said Eumæus, "and take your ease: the dawn
will not find you sleeping, when it is time for you to rise and drive out
your goats." With that they went back to join Ulysses, and the four stood
together at the threshold,--four men against a host.
Then Athene came among them in the likeness of Mentor, and Ulysses knew
her and rejoiced. "Mentor," he shouted, "help me in my need, for we are
comrades from of old." And the wooers sent up another shout, "Do not
listen to him, Mentor; or your turn will come when he is slain." But
Athene taunted Ulysses and spurred him to the fight: "Have you lost your
strength and courage, Ulysses? It was not thus you did battle for Helen in
the ten years' war at Troy. Is it so hard to face the suitors in your own
house and home? Come, stand by me, and see if Mentor forgets old
friendship." Yet she left the victory still uncertain, that she might
prove his courage to the full. She turned herself into a swallow and flew
up into the roof and perched on a blackened rafter overhead.
Then the wooers took courage, when they saw that Mentor was gone, and that
the four stood alone in the doorway. And one of them said to the rest,
"Let six of us hurl our spears together at Ulysses. If once he falls,
there will be little trouble with the rest." So they flung their spears as
he bade them; but all of them missed the mark. Then Ulysses gave the word
to his men, and they all took steady aim and threw, and each one killed
his man; and the wooers fell back into the farther end of the hall, while
the four dashed on together and drew out their spears from the bodies of
the slain. Once more the suitors hurled, and Telemachus and the swineherd
were wounded; but the other spears fell wide. Then at last Athene lifted
her shield of war high overhead,--the shield that brings death to
men,--and panic seized the wooers, and they fled through the hall like a
drove of cattle when the gadfly stings them. But the four leapt on them
like vultures swooping from the clouds; and they fled left and right
through the hall, but there was no escape.
Only Phemius, the minstrel, whom the wooers had forced to sing before
them, sprang forward and clasped the knees of Ulysses and said, "Have
mercy on me, Ulysses: you would not slay a minstrel, who gladdens the
hearts of Gods and men? The princes forced me here against my will."
And Telemachus heard and said to his father, "Do not hurt him, for he is
not to blame: and let us save the herald too, if he is yet alive, for he
took care of me when I was a child."
Now the herald had hidden himself under a stool and pulled an ox-hide over
him, and when he heard this he crept out and clasped the knees of
Telemachus and begged that he would plead for him. "Have no fear," said
Ulysses; "my son has saved your life. Go out, you and the minstrel, and
wait in the courtyard, for I have other work to do within." So the two
went out into the courtyard, and sat down beside the altar, looking for
their death each moment.
Then Ulysses searched through the hall, to see if any one was yet lurking
alive. But they all lay round him fallen in the dust and blood, heaped
upon each other like fishes on a sunny beach when the fisherman has drawn
his net to land. Then he told Telemachus to call out the old nurse
Eurycleia. She came and found Ulysses standing among the bodies of the
slain, with his hands and feet all stained with blood, and she was ready
to shout aloud for triumph when she saw the great work accomplished. But
Ulysses checked her cry and said, "Keep your joy unspoken, old nurse;
there should be no shout of triumph over the slain. It is the judgment of
Heaven that has repaid them for the evil deeds they did."
Then he gave orders that the bodies of the dead should be carried out and
that the blood should be washed away. And when this was done he turned to
Eurycleia and said, "Bring fire and sulphur now and I will purify the
hall. Then bid Penelope meet me here."
"Yes, my child," said the old nurse, "I will obey you. But let me bring
you a mantle first: it is not fitting that you should stand here with only
your rags to cover you." But Ulysses said that she must do his bidding at
once. So she brought sulphur and lit a fire, and Ulysses purified the
hall.
D. PENELOPE RECOGNIZES ULYSSES
Translated by George Herbert Palmer
The old woman, full of glee, went to the upper chamber to tell her
mistress her dear lord was in the house. Her knees grew strong; her feet
outran themselves. By Penelope's head she paused, and thus she spoke:--
"Awake, Penelope, dear child, to see with your own eyes what you have
hoped to see this many a day! Ulysses is here! He has come home at last,
and slain the haughty suitors, the men who vexed his house, devoured his
substance, and oppressed his son."
Then heedful Penelope said to her, "Dear nurse, the Gods have crazed you.
They can befool one who is very wise, and often they have set the simple
in the paths of prudence. They have confused you; you were sober-minded
heretofore. Why mock me when my heart is full of sorrow, telling wild
tales like these? And why arouse me from the sleep that sweetly bound me
and kept my eyelids closed? I have not slept so soundly since Ulysses went
away to see accursed Ilium,--name never to be named. Nay then, go down,
back to the hall. If any other of my maids had come and told me this and
waked me out of sleep, I would soon have sent her off in sorry wise into
the hall once more. This time age serves you well."
Then said to her the good nurse Eurycleia, "Dear child, I do not mock you.
In very truth it is Ulysses; he is come, as I have said. He is the
stranger whom everybody in the hall has set at naught. Telemachus knew
long ago that he was here, but out of prudence hid his knowledge of his
father till he should have revenge from those bold men for wicked deeds."
So spoke she; and Penelope was glad, and, springing from her bed, fell on
the woman's neck, and let the tears burst from her eyes; and, speaking in
winged words, she said,--
"Nay, tell me, then, dear nurse, and tell me truly; if he is really come
as you declare, how was it he laid hands upon the shameless suitors, being
alone, while they were always here together?"
Then answered her the good nurse Eurycleia, "I did not see; I did not ask;
I only heard the groans of dying men. In a corner of our protected chamber
we sat and trembled,--the doors were tightly closed,--until your son
Telemachus called to me from the hall; for his father bade him call. And
there among the bodies of the slain I found Ulysses standing. All around,
covering the trodden floor, they lay, one on another. It would have warmed
your heart to see him, like a lion, dabbled with blood and gore. Now all
the bodies are collected at the courtyard gate, while he is fumigating the
fair house by lighting a great fire. He sent me here to call you. Follow
me, then, that you may come to gladness in your true hearts together, for
sorely have you suffered. Now the long hope has been at last fulfilled. He
has come back alive to his own hearth, and found you still, you and his
son, within his hall; and upon those who did him wrong, the suitors, on
all of them here in his home he has obtained revenge."
Then heedful Penelope said to her, "Dear nurse, be not too boastful yet,
nor filled with glee. You know how welcome here the sight of him would be
to all, and most to me and to the son we had. But this is no true tale you
tell. Nay, rather some immortal slew the lordly suitors, in anger at their
galling insolence and wicked deeds; for they respected nobody on earth,
bad man or good, who came among them. So for their sins they suffered. But
Ulysses, far from Achaia, lost the hope of coming home; nay, he himself
was lost."
Then answered her the good nurse Eurycleia, "My child, what word has
passed the barrier of your teeth, to say your husband, who is now beside
your hearth, will never come! Your heart is always doubting. Come, then,
and let me name another sign most sure,--the scar the boar dealt long ago
with his white tusk. I found it as I washed him, and I would have told you
then; but he laid his hand upon my mouth, and in his watchful wisdom would
not let me speak. But follow me. I stake my very life; if I deceive you,
slay me by the vilest death."
Then heedful Penelope answered her, "Dear nurse, 'tis hard for you to
trace the counsels of the everlasting Gods, however wise you are.
Nevertheless, let us go down to meet my son, and see the suitors who are
dead, and him who slew them."
So saying, she went from her chamber to the hall, and much her heart
debated whether aloof to question her dear husband, or to draw near and
kiss his face and take his hand. But when she entered, crossing the stone
threshold, she sat down opposite Ulysses, in the firelight, beside the
farther wall. He sat by a tall pillar, looking down, waiting to hear if
his stately wife would speak when she should look his way. But she sat
silent long; amazement filled her heart. Now she would gaze with a long
look upon his face, and now she would not know him for the mean clothes
that he wore. But Telemachus rebuked her, and spoke to her and said,--
"Mother, hard mother, of ungentle heart, why do you hold aloof so from my
father, and do not sit beside him, plying him with words and questions?
There is no other woman of such stubborn spirit to stand off from the
husband who, after many grievous toils, comes in the twentieth year home
to his native land. Your heart is always harder than a stone!"
Then said to him heedful Penelope, "My child, my soul within is dazed with
wonder. I cannot speak to him, nor ask a question, nor look him in the
face. But if this indeed is Ulysses, come at last, we certainly shall know
each other better than others know; for we have signs which we two
understand,--signs hidden from the rest."
As she, long tried, spoke thus, royal Ulysses smiled, and said to
Telemachus forthwith in winged words, "Telemachus, leave your mother in
the hall to try my truth. She soon will know me better. Now, because I am
foul and dressed in sorry clothes, she holds me in dishonor, and says I am
not he. But you and I have yet to plan how all may turn out well. For
whoso kills one man among a tribe, though the man leaves few champions
behind, becomes an exile, quitting kin and country. We have destroyed the
pillars of the state, the very noblest youths of Ithaca. Form, then, a
plan, I pray."
Then answered him discreet Telemachus, "Look you to that, dear father.
Your wisdom is, they say, the best among mankind. No mortal man can rival
you. Zealously will we follow, and not fail, I think, in daring, so far as
power is ours."
Then wise Ulysses answered him and said, "Then I will tell you what seems
best to me. First wash and put on tunics, and bid the maids about the
house array themselves. Then let the sacred bard with tuneful lyre lead us
in sportive dancing, that men may say, hearing us from without, 'It is a
wedding,' whether such men be passers-by or neighboring folk; and so broad
rumor may not reach the town about the suitors' murder till we are gone to
our well-wooded farm. There will we plan as the Olympian shall grant us
wisdom."
So he spoke, and willingly they heeded and obeyed. For first they washed
themselves and put on tunics, and the women also put on their attire. And
then the noble bard took up his hollow lyre, and in them stirred desire
for merry music and the gallant dance; and the great house resounded to
the tread of lusty men and gay-girt women. And one who heard the dancing
from without would say, "Well, well! some man has married the long-courted
queen. Hard-hearted! For the husband of her youth she would not guard her
great house to the end, till he should come." So they would say, but knew
not how things were.
Meanwhile within the house Eurynome, the housekeeper, bathed resolute
Ulysses and anointed him with oil, and on him put a goodly robe and tunic.
Upon his face Athene cast great beauty; she made him taller than before,
and stouter to behold, and made the curling locks to fall round his head
as on the hyacinth flower. As when a man lays gold on silver,--some
skillful man whom Vulcan and Pallas Athene have trained in every art, and
he fashions graceful work, so did she cast a grace upon his head and
shoulders. Forth from the bath he came, in bearing like the Immortals, and
once more took the seat from which he first arose, facing his wife, and
spoke to her these words:--
"Lady, a heart impenetrable beyond the sex of women the dwellers on
Olympus gave to you. There is no other woman of such stubborn spirit to
stand off from the husband who, after many grievous toils, comes in the
twentieth year home to his native land. Come, then, good nurse, and make
my bed, that I may lie alone. For certainly of iron is the heart within
her breast."
Then said to him heedful Penelope, "Nay, sir, I am not proud, nor
contemptuous of you, nor too much dazed with wonder. I very well remember
what you were when you went upon your long-oared ship away from Ithaca.
However, Eurycleia, make up his massive bed outside that stately chamber
which he himself once built. Move the massive frame out there, and throw
the bedding on,--the fleeces, robes, and bright-hued rugs."
She said this in the hope to prove her husband, but Ulysses spoke in anger
to his faithful wife: "Woman, these are bitter words which you have said!
Who set my bed elsewhere? A hard task that would be for one, however
skilled,--unless a god should come and by his will set it with ease upon
some other spot; but among men no living being, even in his prime, could
lightly shift it; for a great token is inwrought into its curious frame. I
built it; no one else. There grew a thick-leaved olive shrub inside the
yard, full-grown and vigorous, in girth much like a pillar. Round this I
formed my chamber, and I worked till it was done, building it out of
close-set stones, and roofing it over well. Framed and tight-fitting doors
I added to it. Then I lopped the thick-leaved olive's crest, cutting the
stem high up above the roots, neatly and skillfully smoothed with my axe
the sides, and to the line I kept all true to shape my post, and with an
auger I bored it all along. Starting with this, I fashioned me the bed
till it was finished, and I inlaid it well with gold, with silver, and
with ivory. On it I stretched a thong of ox-hide, gay with purple. This is
the token I now tell. I do not know whether the bed still stands there,
wife, or whether somebody has set it elsewhere, cutting the olive trunk."
As he spoke thus, her knees grew feeble and her very soul, when she
recognized the tokens which Ulysses exactly told. Then bursting into
tears, she ran straight toward him, threw her arms round Ulysses' neck and
kissed his face, and said,--
"Ulysses, do not scorn me! Ever before, you were the wisest of mankind.
The Gods have sent us sorrow, and grudged our staying side by side to
share the joys of youth and reach the threshold of old age. But do not be
angry with me now, nor take it ill that then when I first saw you I did
not greet you thus; for the heart within my breast was always trembling. I
feared some man might come and cheat me with his tale. Many a man makes
wicked schemes for gain. Nay, Argive Helen, the daughter of Zeus, would
not have given herself to love a stranger if she had known how warrior
sons of the Achaians would bring her home again, back to her native land.
And yet it was a god prompted her deed of shame. Before, she did not
cherish in her heart such sin, such grievous sin, from which began the woe
which stretched to us. But now, when you have clearly told the tokens of
our bed, which no one else has seen, but only you and I and the single
servant, Actoris, whom my father gave me on my coming here to keep the
door of our closed chamber,--you make even my ungentle heart believe."
So she spoke, and stirred still more his yearning after tears; and he
began to weep, holding his loved and faithful wife. As when the welcome
land appears to swimmers, whose sturdy ship Neptune wrecked at sea,
confounded by the winds and solid waters; a few escape the foaming sea and
swim ashore; thick salt foam crusts their flesh; they climb the welcome
land, and are escaped from danger; so welcome to her gazing eyes appeared
her husband. From round his neck she never let her white arms go. And
rosy-fingered dawn had found them weeping, but a different plan the
goddess formed, clear-eyed Athene. She checked the long night in its
passage, and at the ocean-stream she stayed the gold-throned dawn, and did
not suffer it to yoke the swift-paced horses which carry light to men,
Lampus and Phaethon, which bear the dawn. And now to his wife said wise
Ulysses,--
"O wife, we have not reached the end of all our trials yet. Hereafter
comes a task immeasurable, long and severe, which I must needs fulfill;
for so the spirit of Tiresias told me, that day when I descended to the
house of Hades to learn about the journey of my comrades and myself. But
come, my wife, let us to bed, that there at last we may refresh ourselves
with pleasant sleep."
Then said to him heedful Penelope, "The bed shall be prepared whenever
your heart wills, now that the Gods have let you reach your stately house
and native land. But since you speak of this, and God inspires your heart,
come, tell that trial. In time to come, I know, I shall experience it. To
learn about it now, makes it no worse."
Then wise Ulysses answered her and said, "Lady, why urge me so insistently
to tell? Well, I will speak it out; I will not hide it. Yet your heart
will feel no joy; I have no joy myself; for Tiresias bade me go to many a
peopled town, bearing in hand a shapely oar, till I should reach the men
that know no sea and do not eat food mixed with salt. These, therefore,
have no knowledge of the red-cheeked ships, nor of the shapely oars which
are the wings of ships. And this was the sign, he said, easy to be
observed. I will not hide it from you. When another traveler, meeting me,
should say I had a winnowing-fan on my white shoulder, there in the ground
he bade me fix my oar and make fit offerings to lord Neptune,--a ram, a
bull, and the sow's mate, a boar,--and, turning homeward, to offer sacred
hecatombs to the immortal gods who hold the open sky, all in the order
due. And on myself death from the sea shall very gently come and cut me
off, bowed down with hale old age. Round me shall be a prosperous people.
All this, he said, should be fulfilled."
Then said to him heedful Penelope, "If gods can make old age the better
time, then there is hope there will be rest from trouble."
So they conversed together. Meanwhile, Eurynome and the nurse prepared
their bed with clothing soft, under the light of blazing torches. And
after they had spread the comfortable bed, with busy speed, the old woman
departed to her room to rest; while the chamber-servant, Eurynome, with
torch in hand, walked on before, as they two came to bed. She brought them
to their chamber, and then she went her way. So they came gladly to their
old bed's rites. And now Telemachus, the neatherd, and the swineherd
stayed their feet from dancing, and bade the women stay, and all betook
themselves to rest throughout the dusky halls.
So when the pair had joyed in happy love, they joyed in talking too, each
one relating; she, the royal lady, what she endured at home, watching the
wasteful throng of suitors, who, making excuse of her, slew many cattle,
beeves, and sturdy sheep, and stores of wine were drained from out the
casks; he, high-born Ulysses, what miseries he brought on other men and
what he bore himself in anguish,--all he told, and she was glad to listen.
No sleep fell on her eyelids till he had told her all.
He began with how at first he conquered the Ciconians, and came thereafter
to the fruitful land of Lotus-Eaters; then what the Cyclops did, and how
he took revenge for the brave comrades whom the Cyclops ate, and never
pitied; then how he came to Æolus, who gave him hearty welcome and sent
him on his way; but it was fated that he should not reach his dear land
yet, for a sweeping storm bore him once more along the swarming sea,
loudly lamenting; how he came to Telepylus in Læstrygonia, where the men
destroyed his ships and his mailed comrades, all of them; Ulysses fled in
his black ship alone. He told of Circe, too, and all her crafty guile; and
how on a ship of many oars he came to the mouldering house of Hades, there
to consult the spirit of Teiresias of Thebes, and looked on all his
comrades, and on the mother who had borne him and cared for him when
little; how he had heard the full-voiced Sirens' song; how he came to the
Wandering Rocks, to dire Charybdis and to Scylla, past whom none goes
unharmed; how then his crew slew the Sun's kine; how Zeus with a blazing
bolt smote his swift ship,--Zeus, thundering from on high,--and his good
comrades perished, utterly, all, while he escaped their evil doom; how he
came to the island of Ogygia and to the nymph Calypso, who held him in her
hollow grotto, wishing him to be her husband, cherishing him, and saying
she would make him an immortal, young forever, but she never beguiled the
heart within his breast; then how he came through many toils to the
Phæacians, who honored him exceedingly, as if he were a god, and brought
him on his way to his native land, giving him stores of bronze and gold
and clothing. This was the latest tale he told, when pleasant sleep fell
on him, easing his limbs and from his heart removing care.
THE WANDERINGS OF THE TROJAN ÆNEAS
THE FLIGHT OF ÆNEAS FROM THE RUINS OF TROY
By Alfred J. Church
Æneas, a famous Trojan warrior, fought bravely as long as the city stood;
but when it had fallen, he bethought himself of his father Anchises, and
his wife Creusa, and of his little son Ascanius, and how he had left them
without defense at home. But as he turned to seek them, the night being
now, by reason of many fires, as clear as the day, he espied Helen sitting
in the temple of Vesta, where she had sought sanctuary; for she feared the
men of Troy, to whom she had brought ruin and destruction, and not less
her own husband, whom she had deceived. Then was his wrath kindled, and he
spake to himself, "Shall this evil woman return safe to Sparta? Shall she
see again her home and her children, with Trojan women forsooth to be her
handmaidens? Shall Troy be burnt and King Priam be slain, and she take no
harm? Not so; for though there be no glory to be won from such a deed, yet
shall I satisfy myself, taking vengeance upon her for my kinsmen and my
countrymen." But while he thought these things in his heart, lo! there
appeared unto him Venus, his mother, made manifest as he had never seen
her before, as fair and as tall as the dwellers in heaven behold her. Then
Venus spake thus: "What meaneth all this rage, my son? Hast thou no care
for me? Hast thou forgotten thy father Anchises, and thy wife, and thy
little son? Of a surety the fire and the sword had consumed them long
since but that I cared for them and saved them. It is not Helen, no, nor
Paris, that hath laid low this great city of Troy, but the wrath of the
Gods. See now, for I will take away the mist that covers thine eyes; see
how Neptune with his trident is overthrowing the walls and rooting up the
city from its foundations; and how Juno stands with spear and shield in
the Scæan Gate and calls fresh hosts from the ships; and how Pallas sits
on the height with the storm-cloud about her and her Gorgon shield; and
how Father Jupiter himself stirs up the enemy against Troy. Fly,
therefore, my son. I will not leave thee till thou shalt reach thy
father's house." And as she spake she vanished in the darkness.
Then did Æneas see dreadful forms and gods who were enemies of Troy, and
before his eyes the whole city seemed to sink down into the fire. Even as
a mountain oak upon the hills on which the woodmen ply their axes bows its
head while all its boughs shake about it, till at last, as blow comes
after blow, with a mighty groan it falls crashing down from the height,
even so the city seemed to fall. Then did Æneas pass on his way, the
goddess leading him, and the flames gave place to him, and the javelins
harmed him not.