_The same: ULYSSES and TELEMACHUS._
_ULYSSES._
Look not thus sad, my son; the day hath dawned
Which ere it close shall see this house and me
Restored; for though the event seem perilous,
The goddess’ oath is sure. Look not thus sad.
Arouse resolve, and brace intention up
With thoughts to whet thy courage.
_TELEMACHUS._
See, dear father,
All things as thou hast ordered have I done,
And whatsoever more thou bidst me do
I shall be glad and ready: fear me not; 2240
Nor doubt my courage, if my heart is foolish
In asking one thing of thee.
_Ul._ Speak, my son.
_Tel._ I am sad for thee, father, that thy return
Must be in battle, when thou shouldst have come
In peace and merriment: and for my mother
I grieve, that when her sorrow’s cause is fled,
Her joy must break so sternly: and for these halls
I mourn, that they must know the din of arms,
And bear the stain of life-blood. But not least
For these rash men I am sorry, who I know 2250
In part deserve to die, and yet not all:
Being for the most of common parts, no ruder
Nor worse than others are: while to the worst
Forgiveness of their wrongs would be, methinks,
Nobler revenge, and as a punishment
Heavier than death.
_Ul._ What wouldst thou now, my son?
_Tel._ Reveal thyself, and bid them at the word
Depart in shame. If then they should not fly,
There were no help for it: fight.
_Ul._ The manliest hearts
Are gentle; and thy speech, son, would convince
My heart of malice, were my heart my guide: 2261
But as thou without question me obeyest,
So I the goddess, in whose hands my life
Till now hath lain.
_Tel._ And will there be no mercy
Shown to thy servants, who have failed in trust?
_Ul._ Such justice only as shall separate
The false from the innocent. If I should swerve
Even in desire from what the goddess bade,
She may desert me. Already hath my pity
Strained my obedience: yestereve I gave 2270
Warning to fly to Lord Amphinomus;
For which if I be blamed, what is our risk?
At the hands of these wretches my death; or else
Return denied me to my proper self,
Condemned to live unrecognizable,
A withered, age-stricken beggar, full of scorn.
_Tel._ Already I love thee, even as now thou art.
_Ul._ O son, this shame stifles me. Where’s Eumæus?
I incline to tell him.
_Tel._ And there is one besides 2279
Whom we may trust, the neatherd. When time came
To close the gate, I thought to take them with me.
_Ul._ Ay, do so, son; and order with them thus.
When none of all the lords can string the bow,
I will call for it: let Eumæus bring it:
’Twill rouse disorder; should thy mother tarry,
Make that excuse to bid her to her chamber.
When once she is gone, I shoot.
_Tel._ With them we are four.
_Ul._ Where be our arms?
_Tel._ They are hid beneath the stairs.
_Ul._ Keep we this side the hall, so shall our foes
The sooner seek the door.
_Tel._ Hush! see, they come! 2290
_Enter Eurymachus, Antinous, Ctesippus_ (_others following_).
_EURYMACHUS._
Good-morrow, prince!
_Tel._ Good-morrow, lords.
_Eur._ I prithee
What mean those axes planted in the court?
They mock my judgment.
_ANTINOUS._
Now I have wagered, prince,
They are set to root: the bronze is out of date;
They shall be grafted in the spring with iron.
_Tel._ The pleasantry is happier than the wager.
This being Apollo’s feast-day, ’tis proposed
To do him honour with some archery:
The axes are for mark.
_CTESIPPUS._
Here’s something new:
What is’t? 2300
_Eur._ The walls, the walls. They are bare of arms.
Why are they taken down?
_Tel._ Moving the axes,
’Twas found the arms, which in their place had hung
Untouched for twenty years, were much decayed
And perished by the smoke: they are set aside,
Where they can be o’erlooked and cleansed from rust.
_Enter Amphinomus, the rest after him._
_AMPHINOMUS_ (_and others_).
Good-day.
_Tel._ Good day.
_Amph._ What are these axes, prince,
Set in the court?
_Tel._ Since all will need to know,
Let me tell all. It being Apollo’s feast,
The queen, my mother, has decreed a trial
Of shooting in his honour; and the axes 2310
Ye ask of, are the mark. She gives the prize:
The which, with the conditions of the contest,
She shall herself proclaim. Until she comes,
Sit ye in peace.
_Ctes._ Tell us what prize, I pray.
_Tel._ Beseech you, await.
_Eur._ Be seated, lords, be seated!
_Wooers_ (_sitting_). Can you explain? I am in the dark
How axes are an arrow’s mark?—
—The arrows, sir, are shot point blank
Through the axes’ heads set up in rank.
—And that is such a juggling feat, 2320
That when you do it you cannot see’t.
_Ant._ Give us some wine. Ho, fellows!
_Tel._ Bear the wine
To lord Antinous.
_Ctes._ Plague him, whoe’er he be,
That put this ox-bone in my seat. Old scoundrel,
(_To Ul._) I think ’twas thou: if not, I owe thee favours:
Here goes a present to thee. [_Throws._
_Tel._ Now, Ctesippus,
Missing thine aim thou madest a better throw
Than was thy purpose. For by heaven I swear,
That hadst thou hit the stranger, at this moment
My spear were in thy body, and the gold 2330
Thy father saveth for thy wedding-day,
He should have spent upon thy funeral.
Know henceforth all of you, what insolence
May look to meet from me. I have been a child,
And so ye have treated me; I am now a man,
Grant it or learn it. (_To Ul._) Old man, take thy seat.
_Wooers._ Now if Ulysses ne’er came back,
We not for that a lord should lack:
So doth this son of his inherit
His masterful and haughty spirit. 2340
_Amph._ Silence acknowledgeth a true rebuke.
There is nought to answer, lords: treat we this stranger
With due respect. But to Telemachus
One word I speak in kindness. While hope was
Ulysses might return, he did but well
Discouraging our courtship of his mother;
But now, when hope is gone and all agree
He never can return, the prince should join
To urge the queen that she delay no more,
But wed the best man here: which were far better
Both for himself and for his father’s honour, 2351
Than all this waste and rancour in his halls.
_Tel._ Nay, now by Zeus, and by my father’s griefs,
In no wise do I stay my mother’s marriage.
Rather I urge her marry whom she will.
But while she wills not, that one word of mine
Be breathed to drive her forth, the gods forbid.
To her speak, not to me. Lo you, she is here.
_Wooers._ The queen! silence! the queen!
_Enter Penelope_ (_with bow_). _Maids follow._
_PENELOPE._
My noble suitors, hear me. The prince, my son,
Hath told you of the purpose of my coming: 2361
Howe’er that be, attend. Ye have now long time
Besieged this widowed house, and day by day
Eating and drinking without end, abused
The absence of its lord; and ever in all
Ye have still proclaimed one object, me to woo
And wed. Till now I have barred consent: to-day
I yield me to your urgence to declare
Whom I will choose: but since not willingly
I wed, I set my fortune with the gods 2370
To guide and govern. Here is Ulysses’ bow:
With this contest, I pray you, among yourselves,
And I will be the prize. Yes, his am I
Who strings most easily this bow, and shoots
The truest arrow through the axes’ heads.
He is my husband and with him to day
Will I leave this fair house so dearly loved.
Eumæus, take the bow. Offer it now
In turn to all: and let all try in turn;
I will sit here and watch.
_EUMÆUS._
O honoured mistress, 2380
What wilt thou do?
_NEATHERD._
Alas, my tears run down:
I never thought to have seen this day.
_Ant._ Now, hinds,
Obey. Why weep ye, fools? Your lady needs
Encouragement, not pity. Swift obey,
Or take your tears without, and leave the bow
To us for whom the prize is;—a prize, my lords,
Not lightly to be taken; for none I think
Will bend it as Ulysses did: none here
Is like the man, as I remember him
Long years ago, when I was but a lad. 2390
_Tel._ Stay; are all here? This trial being for all,
Chance shall exclude none from it. In the house
Are ye full numbers?
_Eur._ Lords, let all sit down,
Each in his place.
_Tel._ Eumæus, go without,
And see that all be gathered in the court.
[_Exit Eumæus._
_Wooers._ The queen doth well.—’Tis just and plain,
All share the chance.—It goes for nought
To have boasted favour. They that brought
The costliest gifts have spent in vain.—
Now we may laugh, sirs.—Some that sought 2400
To overawe our equal claim
Are answered well.—I ever thought
She was a wise and honest dame. [_They sit._
_Eur._ The places all are filled: none lacketh here.
_Eum._ (_returning_). All are assembled, prince, within the court.
_Tel._ Come forth in turn then, and assay the bow.
I think Zeus robs me of my wits.—I laugh:
’Tis true I laugh.—Ye understand, my lords,
My wise and honoured mother hath declared
That she will wed a stranger, and go forth 2410
And leave this house:—and I laugh and am glad!
Come then, I say; seeing this is the prize,
A lady without rival in the land;
What say I? Not in all the Achæan lands,
In sacred Pylos, Argos, or Mycenæ,
Or elsewhere. But ye know this, and indeed
Why should I praise my mother? Come, I call you;
Come forth, assay the bow. Who cometh first?
Why, now I see I am a fool; myself,
Why not myself? If I should string it best, 2420
And easiest, and shoot truest at the mark,
Then I reserve the prize: my lady mother
Will never quit these halls. Yes, and I think
I have some phantom of my father’s strength.—
_Eur._ Nay, prince, this was not bargained.
_Ant._ Let him try.
_Tel._ It bends, it yields; but what you say is just;
’Tis not for me. Ye be the mighty men:
I hand it you.
_Eur._ Rise each in turn,
As the wine circles. First is Sir Leiodes,
The soothsayer.