My friend, and who was he, wealthy and brave
As thou describ'st the Chief, who purchased thee?
As thou describ'st the Chief, who purchased thee?
Odyssey - Cowper
I should offend, treating with scorn
The stranger, though a poorer should arrive
Than ev'n thyself; for all the poor that are, 70
And all the strangers are the care of Jove.
Little, and with good will, is all that lies
Within my scope; no man can much expect
From servants living in continual fear
Under young masters; for the Gods, no doubt,
Have intercepted my own Lord's return,
From whom great kindness I had, else, received,
With such a recompense as servants gain
From gen'rous masters, house and competence,
And lovely wife from many a wooer won, 80
Whose industry should have requited well
His goodness, with such blessing from the Gods
As now attends me in my present charge.
Much had I, therefore, prosper'd, had my Lord
Grown old at home; but he hath died--I would
That the whole house of Helen, one and all,
Might perish too, for she hath many slain
Who, like my master, went glory to win
For Agamemnon in the fields of Troy.
So saying, he girdled, quick, his tunic close, 90
And, issuing, sought the styes; thence bringing two
Of the imprison'd herd, he slaughter'd both,
Singed them, and slash'd and spitted them, and placed
The whole well-roasted banquet, spits and all,
Reeking before Ulysses; last, with flour
He sprinkled them, and filling with rich wine
His ivy goblet, to his master sat
Opposite, whom inviting thus he said.
Now, eat, my guest! such as a servant may
I set before thee, neither large of growth 100
Nor fat; the fatted--those the suitors eat,
Fearless of heav'n, and pitiless of man.
Yet deeds unjust as theirs the blessed Gods
Love not; they honour equity and right.
Even an hostile band when they invade
A foreign shore, which by consent of Jove
They plunder, and with laden ships depart,
Even they with terrours quake of wrath divine.
But these are wiser; these must sure have learn'd
From some true oracle my master's death, 110
Who neither deign with decency to woo,
Nor yet to seek their homes, but boldly waste
His substance, shameless, now, and sparing nought.
Jove ne'er hath giv'n us yet the night or day
When with a single victim, or with two
They would content them, and his empty jars
Witness how fast the squand'rers use his wine.
Time was, when he was rich indeed; such wealth
No Hero own'd on yonder continent,
Nor yet in Ithaca; no twenty Chiefs 120
Could match with all their treasures his alone;
I tell thee their amount. Twelve herds of his
The mainland graze;[62] as many flocks of sheep;
As many droves of swine; and hirelings there
And servants of his own seed for his use,
As many num'rous flocks of goats; his goats,
(Not fewer than eleven num'rous flocks)
Here also graze the margin of his fields
Under the eye of servants well-approved,
And ev'ry servant, ev'ry day, brings home 130
The goat, of all his flock largest and best.
But as for me, I have these swine in charge,
Of which, selected with exactest care
From all the herd, I send the prime to them.
He ceas'd, meantime Ulysses ate and drank
Voracious, meditating, mute, the death
Of those proud suitors. His repast, at length,
Concluded, and his appetite sufficed,
Eumaeus gave him, charged with wine, the cup
From which he drank himself; he, glad, received 140
The boon, and in wing'd accents thus began.
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.
The stranger, though a poorer should arrive
Than ev'n thyself; for all the poor that are, 70
And all the strangers are the care of Jove.
Little, and with good will, is all that lies
Within my scope; no man can much expect
From servants living in continual fear
Under young masters; for the Gods, no doubt,
Have intercepted my own Lord's return,
From whom great kindness I had, else, received,
With such a recompense as servants gain
From gen'rous masters, house and competence,
And lovely wife from many a wooer won, 80
Whose industry should have requited well
His goodness, with such blessing from the Gods
As now attends me in my present charge.
Much had I, therefore, prosper'd, had my Lord
Grown old at home; but he hath died--I would
That the whole house of Helen, one and all,
Might perish too, for she hath many slain
Who, like my master, went glory to win
For Agamemnon in the fields of Troy.
So saying, he girdled, quick, his tunic close, 90
And, issuing, sought the styes; thence bringing two
Of the imprison'd herd, he slaughter'd both,
Singed them, and slash'd and spitted them, and placed
The whole well-roasted banquet, spits and all,
Reeking before Ulysses; last, with flour
He sprinkled them, and filling with rich wine
His ivy goblet, to his master sat
Opposite, whom inviting thus he said.
Now, eat, my guest! such as a servant may
I set before thee, neither large of growth 100
Nor fat; the fatted--those the suitors eat,
Fearless of heav'n, and pitiless of man.
Yet deeds unjust as theirs the blessed Gods
Love not; they honour equity and right.
Even an hostile band when they invade
A foreign shore, which by consent of Jove
They plunder, and with laden ships depart,
Even they with terrours quake of wrath divine.
But these are wiser; these must sure have learn'd
From some true oracle my master's death, 110
Who neither deign with decency to woo,
Nor yet to seek their homes, but boldly waste
His substance, shameless, now, and sparing nought.
Jove ne'er hath giv'n us yet the night or day
When with a single victim, or with two
They would content them, and his empty jars
Witness how fast the squand'rers use his wine.
Time was, when he was rich indeed; such wealth
No Hero own'd on yonder continent,
Nor yet in Ithaca; no twenty Chiefs 120
Could match with all their treasures his alone;
I tell thee their amount. Twelve herds of his
The mainland graze;[62] as many flocks of sheep;
As many droves of swine; and hirelings there
And servants of his own seed for his use,
As many num'rous flocks of goats; his goats,
(Not fewer than eleven num'rous flocks)
Here also graze the margin of his fields
Under the eye of servants well-approved,
And ev'ry servant, ev'ry day, brings home 130
The goat, of all his flock largest and best.
But as for me, I have these swine in charge,
Of which, selected with exactest care
From all the herd, I send the prime to them.
He ceas'd, meantime Ulysses ate and drank
Voracious, meditating, mute, the death
Of those proud suitors. His repast, at length,
Concluded, and his appetite sufficed,
Eumaeus gave him, charged with wine, the cup
From which he drank himself; he, glad, received 140
The boon, and in wing'd accents thus began.
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.
