No More Learning

But, as it chanced, a nimble herald sent
From thy companions, met me on the way,
Who reach'd thy mother first. Yet this I know,
For this I saw. Passing above the town
Where they have piled a way-side hill of stones
To Mercury, I beheld a gallant bark
Ent'ring the port; a bark she was of ours,
The crew were num'rous, and I mark'd her deep-
Laden with shields and spears of double edge. 560
Theirs I conjectured her, and could no more.
He spake, and by Eumaeus unperceived,
Telemachus his father eyed and smiled.
Their task accomplish'd, and the table spread,
They ate, nor any his due portion miss'd,
And hunger, now, and thirst both sated, all
To rest repair'd, and took the gift of sleep.


FOOTNOTES:

[72] Alluding probably to entreaties made to him at some former time by
herself and Telemachus, that he would not harm them. Clarke.




BOOK XVII

ARGUMENT

Telemachus returns to the city, and relates to his mother the principal
passages of his voyage; Ulysses, conducted by Eumaeus, arrives there also,
and enters among the suitors, having been known only by his old dog
Argus, who dies at his feet. The curiosity of Penelope being excited by
the account which Eumaeus gives her of Ulysses, she orders him immediately
into her presence, but Ulysses postpones the interview till evening, when
the suitors having left the palace, there shall be no danger of
interruption. Eumaeus returns to his cottage.


Now look'd Aurora from the East abroad,
When the illustrious offspring of divine
Ulysses bound his sandals to his feet;
He seiz'd his sturdy spear match'd to his gripe,
And to the city meditating quick
Departure now, the swine-herd thus bespake.
Father! I seek the city, to convince
My mother of my safe return, whose tears,
I judge, and lamentation shall not cease
Till her own eyes behold me. But I lay 10
On thee this charge.
Into the city lead,
Thyself, this hapless guest, that he may beg
Provision there, a morsel and a drop
From such as may, perchance, vouchsafe the boon.
I cannot, vext and harass'd as I am,
Feed all, and should the stranger take offence,
The worse for him. Plain truth is my delight.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.
Nor is it my desire to be detained.
Better the mendicant in cities seeks 20
His dole, vouchsafe it whosoever may,
Than in the villages. I am not young,
Nor longer of an age that well accords
With rural tasks, nor could I all perform
That it might please a master to command.
Go then, and when I shall have warm'd my limbs
Before the hearth, and when the risen sun
Shall somewhat chase the cold, thy servant's task
Shall be to guide me thither, as thou bidd'st,
For this is a vile garb; the frosty air 30
Of morning would benumb me thus attired,
And, as ye say, the city is remote.
He ended, and Telemachus in haste
Set forth, his thoughts all teeming as he went
With dire revenge. Soon in the palace-courts
Arriving, he reclined his spear against
A column, and proceeded to the hall.
Him Euryclea, first, his nurse, perceived,
While on the variegated seats she spread
Their fleecy cov'ring; swift with tearful eyes 40
She flew to him, and the whole female train
Of brave Ulysses swarm'd around his son,
Clasping him, and his forehead and his neck
Kissing affectionate; then came, herself,
As golden Venus or Diana fair,
Forth from her chamber to her son's embrace,
The chaste Penelope; with tears she threw
Her arms around him, his bright-beaming eyes
And forehead kiss'd, and with a murmur'd plaint
Maternal, in wing'd accents thus began. 50
Thou hast return'd, light of my eyes! my son!
My lov'd Telemachus! I had no hope
To see thee more when once thou hadst embark'd
For Pylus, privily, and with no consent
From me obtain'd, news seeking of thy sire.
But haste; unfold.