No More Learning

Three years by artifice I thus their suit
Eluded safe; but when the fourth arrived,
And the same season after many moons 190
And fleeting days return'd, passing my train
Who had neglected to release the dogs,
They came, surprized and reprimanded me.
Thus, through necessity, not choice, at last
I have perform'd it, in my own despight.
But no escape from marriage now remains,
Nor other subterfuge for me; meantime
My parents urge my nuptials, and my son
(Of age to note it) with disgust observes
His wealth consumed; for he is now become 200
Adult, and abler than myself to rule
The house, a Prince distinguish'd by the Gods,
Yet, stranger, after all, speak thy descent;
Say whence thou art; for not of fabulous birth
Art thou, nor from the oak, nor from the rock.
Her answer'd then Ulysses, ever-wise.
O spouse revered of Laertiades!
Resolv'st thou still to learn from whom I sprang?
Learn then; but know that thou shalt much augment
My present grief, natural to a man 210
Who hath, like me, long exiled from his home
Through various cities of the sons of men
Wander'd remote, and num'rous woes endured.
Yet, though it pain me, I will tell thee all.
There is a land amid the sable flood
Call'd Crete; fair, fruitful, circled by the sea.
Num'rous are her inhabitants, a race
Not to be summ'd, and ninety towns she boasts.
Diverse their language is; Achaians some,
And some indigenous are; Cydonians there, 220
Crest-shaking Dorians, and Pelasgians dwell.
One city in extent the rest exceeds,
Cnossus; the city in which Minos reign'd,
Who, ever at a nine years' close, conferr'd
With Jove himself; from him my father sprang
The brave Deucalion; for Deucalion's sons
Were two, myself and King Idomeneus.
To Ilium he, on board his gallant barks,
Follow'd the Atridae. I, the youngest-born,
By my illustrious name, AEthon, am known, 230
But he ranks foremost both in worth and years.
There I beheld Ulysses, and within
My walls receiv'd him; for a violent wind
Had driv'n him from Malea (while he sought
The shores of Troy) to Crete.
The storm his barks
Bore into the Amnisus, for the cave
Of Ilythia known, a dang'rous port,
And which with difficulty he attain'd.
He, landing, instant to the city went,
Seeking Idomeneus; his friend of old, 240
As he affirm'd, and one whom much he lov'd.
But _he_ was far remote, ten days advanced,
Perhaps eleven, on his course to Troy.
Him, therefore, I conducted to my home,
Where hospitably, and with kindest care
I entertain'd him, (for I wanted nought)
And for himself procured and for his band,--
By public contribution, corn, and wine,
And beeves for food, that all might be sufficed.
Twelve days his noble Greecians there abode, 250
Port-lock'd by Boreas blowing with a force
Resistless even on the land, some God
So roused his fury; but the thirteenth day
The wind all fell, and they embark'd again.
With many a fiction specious, as he sat,
He thus her ear amused; she at the sound
Melting, with fluent tears her cheeks bedew'd;
And as the snow by Zephyrus diffused,
Melts on the mountain tops, when Eurus breathes,
And fills the channels of the running streams, 260
So melted she, and down her lovely cheeks
Pour'd fast the tears, him mourning as remote
Who sat beside her. Soft compassion touch'd
Ulysses of his consort's silent woe;
His eyes as they had been of steel or horn,
Moved not, yet artful, he suppress'd his tears,
And she, at length with overflowing grief
Satiate, replied, and thus enquired again.
Now, stranger, I shall prove thee, as I judge,
If thou, indeed, hast entertain'd in Crete 270
My spouse and his brave followers, as thou say'st.
Describe his raiment and himself; his own
Appearance, and the appearance of his friends.
Then her Ulysses answer'd, ever-wise.
Hard is the task, O Queen! (so long a time
Hath since elaps'd) to tell thee. Twenty years
Have pass'd since he forsook my native isle,
Yet, from my best remembrance, I will give
A likeness of him, such as now I may.
A double cloak, thick-piled, Moeonian dyed, 280
The noble Chief had on; two fast'nings held
The golden clasp, and it display'd in front
A well-wrought pattern with much art design'd.
An hound between his fore-feet holding fast
A dappled fawn, gaped eager on his prey.
All wonder'd, seeing, how in lifeless gold
Express'd, the dog with open mouth her throat
Attempted still, and how the fawn with hoofs
Thrust trembling forward, struggled to escape.