The Book of the Epic. H. A. Guerber

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      He knew his lord;—he knew, and strove to meet;

       In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his feet;

       Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes,

       Salute his master and confess his joys.

       Soft pity touch'd the mighty master's soul:

       Adown his cheek a tear unbidden stole;

       Stole unperceived: he turn'd his head, and dried

       The drop humane.

      Humbly making the rounds of the tables like the beggar he seems, Ulysses is treated kindly by Telemachus, but grossly insulted by the suitors, one of whom, Antinous, actually flings a stool at him. Such a violation of the rights of hospitality causes some commotion in the palace, and so rouses the indignation of Penelope that she expresses a wish to converse with the beggar, who may have heard of her absent spouse.

      Book XVIII. Meantime Ulysses has also come into conflict with the town-beggar (Irus), a lusty youth, who challenges him to fight. To his dismay, Ulysses displays such a set of muscles on laying aside his robe that the insolent challenger wishes to withdraw. He is, however, compelled by the suitors to fight, and is thoroughly beaten by Ulysses, whose strength arouses the suitors' admiration. Then, in reply to their questions, Ulysses favors them with another of those tales which do far more honor to his imagination than to his veracity.

      Meantime Penelope indulges in a nap, during which Minerva restores all her youthful charms. Then she descends into the hall, to chide Telemachus for allowing a stranger to be insulted beneath his father's roof. She next remarks that she foresees she will soon have to choose a husband among the suitors present, as it is only too evident Ulysses is dead, and, under pretext of testing their generosity, induces them all to bestow upon her gifts, which she thriftily adds to her stores. Beside themselves with joy at the prospect that their long wooing will soon be over, the suitors sing and dance, until Telemachus advises them to return home.

      Book XIX. The suitors having gone, Ulysses helps Telemachus remove all the weapons, while the faithful nurse mounts guard over the palace women. Secretly helped by Minerva, father and son accomplish their task, and are sitting before the fire when Penelope comes to ask the beggar to relate when and how he met Ulysses. This time the stranger gives so accurate a description of Ulysses, that Penelope, wishing to show him some kindness, summons the old nurse to bathe his feet. Because she herself dozes while this homely task is being performed, she is not aware that the old nurse recognizes her master by a scar on his leg, and is cautioned by him not to make his presence known.

      Deep o'er his knee inseam'd, remain'd the scar:

       Which noted token of the woodland war

       When Euryclea found, the ablution ceased;

       Down dropp'd the leg, from her slack hand released:

       The mingled fluids from the base redound;

       The vase reclining floats the floor around!

       Smiles dew'd with tears the pleasing strife express'd

       Of grief, and joy, alternate in her breast.

       Her fluttering words in melting murmurs died;

       At length abrupt—"My son!—my king!" she cried.

      Her nap ended, Penelope resumes her conversation with the beggar, telling him she has been favored by a dream portending the death of the suitors. Still, she realizes there are two kinds of dreams—those that come true issuing from Somnus' palace by the gate of horn, while deceptive dreams pass through an ivory gate. After providing for the beggar's comfort, Penelope retires, and as usual spends most of the night mourning for her absent partner.

      Book XX. Sleeping beneath the portico on the skins of the animals slain to feast the horde of suitors, Ulysses sees the maids slip out of the palace to join the suitors, who have wooed them surreptitiously. Then he falls asleep and is visited by Minerva, who infuses new strength and courage in his veins. At dawn Ulysses is awakened by Telemachus, and soon after the house is once more invaded by the suitors, who with their own hands slay the animals provided for their food. Once more they display their malevolence by ill treating the beggar, and taunt Telemachus, who apparently pays no heed to their words.

      Book XXI. Meantime Minerva has prompted Penelope to propose to the suitors to string Ulysses' bow and shoot an arrow through twelve rings. Armed with this weapon, and followed by handmaids bearing bow, string, and arrows, Penelope appears in the banquet-hall, where the suitors eagerly accept her challenge. But, after Antinous has vainly striven to bend the bow, the others warily try sundry devices to ensure its pliancy.

      Meantime, noticing that the swineherd and one of his companions—upon whose fidelity he counts—have left the hall, Ulysses follows them, makes himself known by means of his scar, and directs them what to do. Then, returning into the hall, he silently watches the suitors' efforts to bend the bow, and, when the last has tried and failed, volunteers to make the attempt, thereby rousing general ridicule. All gibes are silenced, however, when the beggar not only spans the bow, but sends his first arrow through the twelve rings. At the same time the faithful servants secure the doors of the apartment, and Telemachus, darting to his father's side, announces he is ready to take part in the fray.

       Book XXII.

      Then fierce the hero o'er the threshold strode;

       Stript of his rags, he blazed out like a god.

       Full in their face the lifted bow he bore,

       And quiver'd deaths, a formidable store;

       Before his feet the rattling shower he threw,

       And thus, terrific, to the suitor-crew:

       "One venturous game this hand hath won to-day;

       Another, princes! yet remains to play:

       Another mark our arrow must attain.

       Phoebus, assist! nor be the labor vain."

       Swift as the word the parting arrow sings;

       And bears thy fate, Antinous, on its wings.

       Wretch that he was, of unprophetic soul!

       High in his hands he rear'd the golden bowl:

       E'en then to drain it lengthen'd out his breath;

       Changed to the deep, the bitter draught of death!

       For fate who fear'd amidst a feastful band?

       And fate to numbers, by a single hand?

       Full through his throat Ulysses' weapon pass'd,

       And pierced his neck. He falls, and breathes his last.

      Grimly announcing his second arrow will reach a different goal by Apollo's aid, Ulysses shoots the insolent Antinous through the heart and then begins to taunt and threaten the other suitors. Gazing wildly around them for weapons or means of escape, these men discover how cleverly they have been trapped. One after another now falls beneath the arrows of Ulysses, who bids his son hasten to the storeroom and procure arms for them both as there are not arrows enough to dispose of СКАЧАТЬ