The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems. Homer

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СКАЧАТЬ ‭ To one so suppliant and tam’d with woe,

       ‭ Thou shalt not want. Our city I will show,

       ‭ And tell our people’s name: This neighbour town,

       ‭ And all this kingdom, the Phæacians own.

       ‭ And (since thou seem’dst so fain to know my birth,

       ‭ And mad’st a question, if of heav’n or earth.)

       ‭ This earth hath bred me; and my father’s name

       ‭ Alcinous is, that in the pow’r and frame

       ‭ Of this isle’s rule is supereminent.”

       ‭ Thus, passing him, she to the virgins went,

       ‭ And said: “Give stay both to your feet and fright.

       ‭ Why thus disperse ye for a man’s mere sight?

       ‭ Esteem you him a Cyclop, that long since

       ‭ Made use to prey upon our citizens?

       ‭ This man no moist man is, (nor wat’rish thing, [5]

       ‭ That’s ever flitting, ever ravishing

       ‭ All it can compass; and, like it, doth range

       ‭ In rape of women, never stay’d in change).

       ‭ This man is truly manly, wise, and stay’d, [6]

       ‭ In soul more rich the more to sense decay’d,

       ‭ Who nor will do, nor suffer to be done,

       ‭ Acts lewd and abject; nor can such a one

       ‭ Greet the Phæacians with a mind envíous,

       ‭ Dear to the Gods they are, and he is pious,

       ‭ Besides, divided from the world we are,

       ‭ The out-part of it, billows circular

       ‭ The sea revolving round about our shore;

       ‭ Nor is there any man that enters more

       ‭ Than our own countrymen, with what is brought

       ‭ From other countries. This man, minding nought

       ‭ But his relief, a poor unhappy wretch,

       ‭ Wrack’d here, and hath no other land to fetch,

       ‭ Him now we must provide for. From Jove come [7]

       ‭ All strangers, and the needy of a home,

       ‭ Who any gift, though ne’er so small it be,

       ‭ Esteem as great, and take it gratefully.

       ‭ And therefore, virgins, give the stranger food,

       ‭ And wine; and see ye bathe him in the flood,

       ‭ Near to some shore to shelter most inclin’d.

       ‭ To cold-bath-bathers hurtful is the wind, ‭ Not only rugged making th’ outward skin, ‭ But by his thin pow’rs pierceth parts within. ‭ This said, their flight in a return they set, ‭ And did Ulysses with all grace entreat, ‭ Show’d him a shore, wind-proof, and full of shade, ‭ By him a shirt and utter mantle laid, ‭ A golden jug of liquid oil did add, ‭ Bad wash, and all things as Nausicaa bad. ‭ Divine Ulysses would not use their aid; ‭ But thus bespake them: “Ev’ry lovely maid, ‭ Let me entreat to stand a little by, [8] ‭ That I, alone, the fresh flood may apply ‭ To cleanse my bosom of the sea-wrought brine, ‭ And then use oil, which long time did not shine ‭ On my poor shoulders. I’ll not wash in sight ‭ Of fair-hair’d maidens. I should blush outright, ‭ To bathe all-bare by such a virgin light.” ‭ They mov’d, and mus’d a man had so much grace, ‭ And told their mistress what a man he was. ‭ He cleans’d his broad soil’d shoulders, back, and head ‭ Yet never tam’d, but now had foam and weed ‭ Knit in the fair curls. Which dissolv’d, and he ‭ Slick’d all with sweet oil, the sweet charity ‭ The untouch’d virgin show’d in his attire ‭ He cloth’d him with. Then Pallas put a fire, ‭ More than before, into his sparkling eyes, ‭ His late soil set off with his soon fresh guise. ‭ His locks, cleans’d, curl’d the more, and match’d, in pow’r ‭ To please an eye, the hyacinthian flow’r. ‭ And as a workman, that can well combine ‭ Silver and gold, and make both strive to shine, ‭ As being by Vulcan, and Minerva too, ‭ Taught how far either may be urg’d to go ‭ In strife of eminence, when work sets forth ‭ A worthy soul to bodies of such worth, ‭ No thought reproving th’ act, in any place, ‭ Nor Art no debt to Nature’s liveliest grace; ‭ So Pallas wrought in him a grace as great ‭ From head to shoulders, and ashore did seat ‭ His goodly presence. To which such a guise ‭ He show’d in going, that it ravish’d eyes. ‭ All which continued, as he sat apart, ‭ Nausicaa’s eye struck wonder through her heart, ‭ Who thus bespake her consorts: “Hear me, you ‭ Fair-wristed virgins! This rare man, I know, ‭ Treads not our country-earth, against the will ‭ Of some God thronéd on th’ Olympian hill. ‭ He show’d to me, till now, not worth the note, ‭ But now he looks as he had godhead got. ‭ I would to heav’n my husband were no worse, ‭ And would be call’d no better, but the course ‭ Of other husbands pleas’d to dwell out here. ‭ Observe and serve him with our utmost cheer.” ‭ She said, they heard and did. He drunk and eat ‭ Like to a harpy, having touch’d no meat ‭ A long before time. But Nausicaa now ‭ Thought of the more grace she did lately vow, ‭ Had horse to chariot join’d, and up she rose, ‭ Up cheer’d her guest, and said: “Guest, now dispose ‭ Yourself for town, that I may let you see ‭ My father’s court, where all the peers will be ‭ Of our Phæacian state. At all parts, then, ‭ Observe to whom and what place y’ are t’ attain; ‭ Though I need usher you with no advice, ‭ Since I suppose you absolutely wise. ‭ While we the fields pass, and men’s labours there, ‭ So long, in these maids’ guides, directly bear ‭ Upon my chariot (I must go before ‭ For cause that after comes, to which this more ‭ Be my induction) you shall then soon end ‭ Your way to town, whose tow’rs you see ascend [9] ‭ To such a steepness. On whose either side ‭ A fair port stands, to which is nothing wide ‭ An ent’rer’s passage; on whose both hands ride ‭ Ships in fair harbours; which once past, you win ‭ The goodly market-place (that circles in ‭ A fane to Neptune, built of curious stone, ‭ And passing ample) where munitión, ‭ Gables, and masts, men make, and polish’d oars; ‭ For the Phæacians are not conquerors ‭ By bows nor quivers; oars, masts, ships they are ‭ With which they plough the sea, and wage their war. ‭ And now the cause comes why I lead the way, ‭ Not taking you to coach: The men, that sway ‭ In work of those tools that so fit our state, ‭ Are rude mechanicals, that rare and late ‭ Work in the market-place; and those are they ‭ Whose bitter tongues I shun, who straight would say ‭ (For these vile vulgars are extremely proud, ‭ And foully-languag’d) ‘What is he, allow’d ‭ To coach it with Nausicaa, so large set, ‭ And fairly fashion’d? Where were these two met? ‭ He shall be sure her husband. She hath been ‭ Gadding in some place, and, of foreign men ‭ Fitting her fancy, kindly brought him home ‭ In her own ship. He must, of force, be come ‭ From some far region; we have no such man. ‭ It may be, praying hard, when her heart ran ‭ On some wish’d СКАЧАТЬ