No More Learning

My friend, and who was he, wealthy and brave
As thou describ'st the Chief, who purchased thee?
Thou say'st he perish'd for the glory-sake
Of Agamemnon. Name him; I, perchance,
May have beheld the Hero. None can say
But Jove and the inhabitants of heav'n
That I ne'er saw him, and may not impart
News of him; I have roam'd through many a clime.
To whom the noble swine-herd thus replied. 150
Alas, old man! no trav'ler's tale of him
Will gain his consort's credence, or his son's;
For wand'rers, wanting entertainment, forge
Falsehoods for bread, and wilfully deceive.
No wand'rer lands in Ithaca, but he seeks
With feign'd intelligence my mistress' ear;
She welcomes all, and while she questions each
Minutely, from her lids lets fall the tear
Affectionate, as well beseems a wife
Whose mate hath perish'd in a distant land. 160
Thou could'st thyself, no doubt, my hoary friend!
(Would any furnish thee with decent vest
And mantle) fabricate a tale with ease;
Yet sure it is that dogs and fowls, long since,
His skin have stript, or fishes of the Deep
Have eaten him, and on some distant shore
Whelm'd in deep sands his mould'ring bones are laid.
So hath he perish'd; whence, to all his friends,
But chiefly to myself, sorrow of heart;
For such another Lord, gentle as he, 170
Wherever sought, I have no hope to find,
Though I should wander even to the house
Of my own father. Neither yearns my heart
So feelingly (though that desiring too)
To see once more my parents and my home,
As to behold Ulysses yet again.
Ah stranger; absent as he is, his name
Fills me with rev'rence, for he lov'd me much,
Cared for me much, and, though we meet no more,
Holds still an elder brother's part in me. 180
Him answer'd, then, the Hero toil-inured.
My friend!
since his return, in thy account,
Is an event impossible, and thy mind
Always incredulous that hope rejects,
I shall not slightly speak, but with an oath--
Ulysses comes again; and I demand
No more, than that the boon such news deserves,
Be giv'n me soon as he shall reach his home.
Then give me vest and mantle fit to wear,
Which, ere that hour, much as I need them both, 190
I neither ask, nor will accept from thee.
For him whom poverty can force aside
From truth--I hate him as the gates of hell.
Be Jove, of all in heav'n, my witness first,
Then, this thy hospitable board, and, last,
The household Gods of the illustrious Chief
Himself, Ulysses, to whose gates I go,
That all my words shall surely be fulfill'd.
In this same year Ulysses shall arrive,
Ere, this month closed, another month succeed, 200
He shall return, and punish all who dare
Insult his consort and his noble son.
To whom Eumaeus, thou didst thus reply.
Old friend! that boon thou wilt ne'er earn from me;
Ulysses comes no more. But thou thy wine
Drink quietly, and let us find, at length,
Some other theme; recall not this again
To my remembrance, for my soul is grieved
Oft as reminded of my honour'd Lord.
Let the oath rest, and let Ulysses come 210
Ev'n as myself, and as Penelope,
And as his ancient father, and his son
Godlike Telemachus, all wish he may.
Ay--there I feel again--nor cease to mourn
His son Telemachus; who, when the Gods
Had giv'n him growth like a young plant, and I
Well hoped that nought inferior he should prove
In person or in mind to his own sire,
Hath lost, through influence human or divine,
I know not how, his sober intellect, 220
And after tidings of his sire is gone
To far-famed Pylus; his return, meantime,
In ambush hidden the proud suitors wait,
That the whole house may perish of renown'd
Arcesias, named in Ithaca no more.
But whether he have fallen or 'scaped, let him
Rest also, whom Saturnian Jove protect!
But come, my ancient guest! now let me learn
Thy own afflictions; answer me in truth.
Who, and whence art thou? in what city born?