The Odyssey (Wisehouse Classics Edition). Homer
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу The Odyssey (Wisehouse Classics Edition) - Homer страница 10

Название: The Odyssey (Wisehouse Classics Edition)

Автор: Homer

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Сказки

Серия:

isbn: 9789176372647

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Sandy Pyle, the royal youth shall haste.

      There, warm with filial love, the cause inquire

      That from his realm retards his god-like sire;

      Delivering early to the voice of fame

      The promise of a green immortal name.”

      She said: the sandals of celestial mould,

      Fledged with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold,

      Surround her feet: with these sublime she sails

      The aerial space, and mounts the winged gales;

      O’er earth and ocean wide prepared to soar,

      Her dreaded arm a beamy javelin bore,

      Ponderous and vast: which, when her fury burns,

      Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o’erturns.

      From high Olympus prone her flight she bends,

      And in the realms of Ithaca descends,

      Her lineaments divine, the grave disguise

      Of Mentes’ form conceal’d from human eyes

      (Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian land);

      A glittering spear waved awful in her hand.

      There in the portal placed, the heaven-born maid

      Enormous riot and misrule survey’d.

      On hides of beeves, before the palace gate

      (Sad spoils of luxury), the suitors sate.

      With rival art, and ardour in their mien,

      At chess they vie, to captivate the queen;

      Divining of their loves. Attending nigh,

      A menial train the flowing bowl supply.

      Others, apart, the spacious hall prepare,

      And form the costly feast with busy care.

      There young Telemachus, his bloomy face

      Glowing celestial sweet, with godlike grace

      Amid the circle shines: but hope and fear

      (Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear.

      Now, imaged in his mind, he sees restored

      In peace and joy the people’s rightful lord;

      The proud oppressors fly the vengeful sword.

      While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell’d,

      The stranger guest the royal youth beheld;

      Grieved that a visitant so long should wait

      Unmark’d, unhonour’d, at a monarch’s gate;

      Instant he flew with hospitable haste,

      And the new friend with courteous air embraced.

      “Stranger, whoe’er thou art, securely rest,

      Affianced in my faith, a ready guest;

      Approach the dome, the social banquet share,

      And then the purpose of thy soul declare.”

      Thus affable and mild, the prince precedes,

      And to the dome the unknown celestial leads.

      The spear receiving from the hand, he placed

      Against a column, fair with sculpture graced;

      Where seemly ranged in peaceful order stood

      Ulysses’ arms now long disused to blood.

      He led the goddess to the sovereign seat,

      Her feet supported with a stool of state

      (A purple carpet spread the pavement wide);

      Then drew his seat, familiar, to her side;

      Far from the suitor-train, a brutal crowd,

      With insolence, and wine, elate and loud:

      Where the free guest, unnoted, might relate,

      If haply conscious, of his father’s fate.

      The golden ewer a maid obsequious brings,

      Replenish’d from the cool, translucent springs;

      With copious water the bright vase supplies

      A silver laver of capacious size;

      They wash. The tables in fair order spread,

      They heap the glittering canisters with bread:

      Viands of various kinds allure the taste,

      Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast!

      Delicious wines the attending herald brought;

      The gold gave lustre to the purple draught.

      Lured with the vapour of the fragrant feast,

      In rush’d the suitors with voracious haste;

      Marshall’d in order due, to each a sewer

      Presents, to bathe his hands, a radiant ewer.

      Luxurious then they feast. Observant round

      Gay stripling youths the brimming goblets crown’d.

      The rage of hunger quell’d, they all advance

      And form to measured airs the mazy dance;

      To Phemius was consign’d the chorded lyre,

      Whose hand reluctant touch’d the warbling wire;

      Phemius, whose voice divine could sweetest sing

      High strains responsive to the vocal string.

      Meanwhile, in whispers to his heavenly guest

      His indignation thus the prince express’d:

      “Indulge my rising grief, whilst these (my friend)

      With song and dance the pompous revel end.

      Light СКАЧАТЬ