Part 45

THE END OF THE TWENTY-SECOND BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS.

THE TWENTY-THIRD BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Ulysses to his wife is known. A brief sum of his travels shown. Himself, his son, and servants go T’ approve the Wooers’ overthrow.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

_Ψι̑._ For all annoys Sustain’d before, The true wife’s joys Now made the more.

The servants thus inform’d, the matron goes Up where the Queen was cast in such repose, Affected with a fervent joy to tell What all this time she did with pain conceal. Her knees revok’d their first strength, and her feet Were borne above the ground with wings to greet The long-griev’d Queen with news her King was come; And, near her, said: “Wake, leave this withdrawn room, That now your eyes may see at length, though late, The man return’d, which, all the heavy date Your woes have rack’d out, you have long’d to see. Ulysses is come home, and hath set free His court of all your Wooers, slaught’ring all For wasting so his goods with festival, His house so vexing, and for violence done So all ways varied to his only son.” She answer’d her: “The Gods have made thee mad, Of whose pow’r now thy pow’rs such proof have had. The Gods can blind with follies wisest eyes, And make men foolish so to make them wise. For they have hurt ev’n thy grave brain, that bore An understanding spirit heretofore. Why hast thou wak’d me to more tears, when Moan Hath turn’d my mind, with tears into her own? Thy madness much more blameful, that with lies Thy haste is laden, and both robs mine eyes Of most delightsome sleep, and sleep of them, That now had bound me in his sweet extreme, T’ embrace my lids and close my visual spheres: I have not slept so much this twenty years, Since first my dearest sleeping-mate was gone For that too-ill-to-speak-of Ilion. Hence, take your mad steps back. If any maid Of all my train besides a part had play’d So bold to wake, and tell mine ears such lies, I had return’d her to her housewif’ries With good proof of my wrath to such rude dames. But go, your years have sav’d their younger blames.” She answer’d her: “I nothing wrong your ear, But tell the truth. Your long-miss’d lord is here, And, with the Wooers’ slaughter, his own hand, In chief exploit, hath to his own command Reduc’d his house; and that poor guest was he, That all those Wooers wrought such injury. Telemachus had knowledge long ago That ’twas his father, but his wisdom so Observ’d his counsels, to give surer end To that great work to which they did contend.” This call’d her spirits to their conceiving places; She sprung for joy from blames into embraces Of her grave nurse, wip’d ev’ry tear away From her fair cheeks, and then began to say What nurse said over thus: “O nurse, can this Be true thou say’st? How could that hand of his Alone destroy so many? They would still Troop all together. How could he then kill Such numbers so united?” “How,” said she, “I have not seen nor heard; but certainly The deed is done. We sat within in fear, The doors shut on us, and from thence might hear The sighs and groans of ev’ry man he slew, But heard nor saw more, till at length there flew Your son’s voice to mine ear, that call’d to me, And bade me then come forth, and then I see Ulysses standing in the midst of all Your slaughter’d Wooers, heap’d up, like a wall, One on another round about his side. It would have done you good to have descried Your conqu’ring lord all-smear’d with blood and gore So like a lion. Straight, then, off they bore The slaughter’d carcasses, that now before The fore-court gates lie, one on another pil’d. And now your victor all the hall, defil’d With stench of hot death, is perfuming round, And with a mighty fire the hearth hath crown’d.