No More Learning

They cast the hawsers loose; then with loud voice
Telemachus exhorted all to hand
The tackle, whom the sailors prompt obey'd. 350
The tall mast heaving, in its socket deep
They lodg'd it, and its cordage braced secure,
Then, straining at the halyards, hoised the sail.
Fair wind, and blowing fresh through aether pure
Minerva sent them, that the bark might run
Her nimblest course through all the briny way.
Now sank the sun, and dusky ev'ning dimm'd
The waves, when, driven by propitious Jove,
His bark stood right for Pherae; thence she stretch'd
To sacred Elis where the Epeans rule, 360
And through the sharp Echinades he next
Steer'd her, uncertain whether fate ordain'd
His life or death, surprizal or escape.
Meantime Ulysses and the swine-herd ate
Their cottage-mess, and the assistant swains
Theirs also; and when hunger now and thirst
Had ceased in all, Ulysses thus began,
Proving the swine-herd, whether friendly still,
And anxious for his good, he would intreat
His stay, or thence hasten him to the town. 370
Eumaeus, and all ye his servants, hear!
It is my purpose, lest I wear thee out,
Thee and thy friends, to seek at early dawn
The city, there to beg--But give me first
Needful instructions, and a trusty guide
Who may conduct me thither; there my task
Must be to roam the streets; some hand humane
Perchance shall give me a small pittance there,
A little bread, and a few drops to drink.
Ulysses' palace I shall also seek, 380
And to discrete Penelope report
My tidings; neither shall I fail to mix
With those imperious suitors, who, themselves
Full-fed, may spare perhaps some boon to me.
Me shall they find, in whatsoe'er they wish
Their ready servitor, for (understand
And mark me well) the herald of the skies,
Hermes, from whom all actions of mankind
Their grace receive and polish, is my friend,
So that in menial offices I fear 390
No rival, whether I be called to heap
The hearth with fuel, or dry wood to cleave,
To roast, to carve, or to distribute wine,
As oft the poor are wont who serve the great.
To whom, Eumaeus! at those words displeased,
Thou didst reply. Gods! how could such a thought
Possess thee, stranger? surely thy resolve
Is altogether fixt to perish there,
If thou indeed hast purposed with that throng
To mix, whose riot and outrageous acts 400
Of violence echo through the vault of heav'n.
None, such as thou, serve _them_; their servitors
Are youths well-cloak'd, well-vested; sleek their heads,
And smug their countenances; such alone
Are their attendants, and the polish'd boards
Groan overcharg'd with bread, with flesh, with wine.
Rest here content; for neither me nor these
Thou weariest aught, and when Ulysses' son
Shall come, he will with vest and mantle fair
Cloath thee, and send thee whither most thou would'st. 410
To whom Ulysses, toil-inured.
I wish thee, O Eumaeus! dear to Jove
As thou art dear to me, for this reprieve
Vouchsafed me kind, from wand'ring and from woe!
No worse condition is of mortal man
Than his who wanders; for the poor man, driv'n
By woe and by misfortune homeless forth,
A thousand mis'ries, day by day, endures.
Since thou detain'st me, then, and bidd'st me wait
His coming, tell me if the father still 420
Of famed Ulysses live, whom, going hence,
He left so nearly on the verge of life?
And lives his mother? or have both deceased
Already, and descended to the shades?
To whom the master swine-herd thus replied.
I will inform thee, and with strictest truth,
Of all that thou hast ask'd. Laertes lives,
But supplication off'ring to the Gods
Ceaseless, to free him from a weary life,
So deeply his long-absent son he mourns, 430
And the dear consort of his early youth,
Whose death is his chief sorrow, and hath brought
Old age on him, or ere its date arrived.
She died of sorrow for her glorious son,
And died deplorably;[67] may never friend
Of mine, or benefactor die as she!
While yet she liv'd, dejected as she was,
I found it yet some solace to converse
With her, who rear'd me in my childish days,
Together with her lovely youngest-born 440
The Princess Ctimena; for side by side
We grew, and I, scarce honour'd less than she.
But soon as our delightful prime we both
Attain'd, to Samos her they sent, a bride,
And were requited with rich dow'r; but me
Cloath'd handsomely with tunic and with vest,
And with fair sandals furnish'd, to the field
She order'd forth, yet loved me still the more.
I miss her kindness now; but gracious heav'n
Prospers the work on which I here attend; 450
Hence have I food, and hence I drink, and hence
Refresh, sometimes, a worthy guest like thee.
But kindness none experience I, or can,
From fair Penelope (my mistress now)
In word or action, so is the house curs'd
With that lewd throng.