The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems. Homer

‭ Thy wronging of our rights, which, for reward

       ‭ Expected home with thee, hath summon’d us

       ‭ Within the anger of Telemachus.

       ‭ But this I will presage, which shall be true:

       ‭ If any spark of anger chance t’ ensue

       ‭ Thy much old art in these deep auguries,

       ‭ In this young man incenséd by thy lies,

       ‭ Ev’n to himself his anger shall confer

       ‭ The greater anguish, and thine own ends err

       ‭ From all their objects; and, besides, thine age

       ‭ Shall feel a pain, to make thee curse presage

       ‭ With worthy cause, for it shall touch thee near.

       ‭ But I will soon give end to all our fear,

       ‭ Preventing whatsoever chance can fall,

       ‭ In my suit to the young prince for us all,

       ‭ To send his mother to her father’s house,

       ‭ That he may sort her out a worthy spouse,

       ‭ And such a dow’r bestow, as may befit

       ‭ One lov’d, to leave her friends and follow it.

       ‭ Before which course be, I believe that none

       ‭ Of all the Greeks will cease th’ ambitión

       ‭ Of such a match. For, chance what can to us,

       ‭ We no man fear, no not Telemachus,

       ‭ Though ne’er so greatly spoken. Nor care we

       ‭ For any threats of austere prophecy,

       ‭ Which thou, old dotard, vaunt’st of so in vain.

       ‭ And thus shalt thou in much more hate remain;

       ‭ For still the Gods shall bear their ill expense,

       ‭ Nor ever be dispos’d by competence,

       ‭ Till with her nuptials she dismiss our suits,

       ‭ Our whole lives’ days shall sow hopes for such fruits.

       ‭ Her virtues we contend to, nor will go

       ‭ To any other, be she never so

       ‭ Worthy of us, and all the worth we owe.”

       ‭ He answer’d him: “Eurymachus, and all

       ‭ Ye gen’rous Wooers, now, in general,

       ‭ I see your brave resolves, and will no more

       ‭ Make speech of these points, and, much less, implore.

       ‭ It is enough, that all the Grecians here,

       ‭ And all the Gods besides, just witness bear,

       ‭ What friendly premonitions have been spent

       ‭ On your forbearance, and their vain event.

       ‭ Yet, with my other friends, let love prevail

       ‭ To fit me with a vessel free of sail,

       ‭ And twenty men, that may divide to me

       ‭ My ready passage through the yielding sea

       ‭ For Sparta, and Amathoan Pylos’ shore,

       ‭ I now am bound, in purpose to explore

       ‭ My long-lack’d father, and to try if fame

       ‭ Or Jove, most author of man’s honour’d name,

       ‭ With his return and life may glad mine ear,

       ‭ Though toil’d in that proof I sustain a year.

       ‭ If dead I hear him, nor of more state, here

       ‭ Retir’d to my lov’d country, I will rear

       ‭ A sepulchre to him, and celebrate

       ‭ Such royal parent-rites, as fits his state;

       ‭ And then my mother to a spouse dispose.”

       ‭ This said, he sat; and to the rest arose

       ‭ Mentor, that was Ulysses’ chosen friend,

       ‭ To whom, when he set forth, he did commend

       ‭ His cómplete family, and whom he will’d

       ‭ To see the mind of his old sire fulfill’d,

       ‭ All things conserving safe, till his retreat.

       ‭ Who, tender of his charge, and seeing so set

       ‭ In slight care of their king his subjects there,

       ‭ Suff’ring his son so much contempt to bear,

       ‭ Thus gravely, and with zeal, to him began:

       ‭ “No more let any sceptre-bearing man,

       ‭ Benevolent, or mild, or human be,

       ‭ Nor in his mind form acts of piety,

       ‭ But ever feed on blood, and facts unjust

       ‭ Commit, ev’n to the full swing of his lust,

       ‭ Since of divine Ulysses no man now,

       ‭ Of all his subjects, any thought doth show.

       ‭ All whom he govern’d, and became to them,

       ‭ Rather than one that wore a diadem,

       ‭ A most indulgent father. But, for all

       ‭ That can touch me, within no envy fall

       ‭ These insolent Wooers, that in violent kind

       ‭ Commit things foul by th’ ill wit of the mind,

       ‭ And with the hazard of their heads devour

       ‭ Ulysses’ house, since his returning hour

       ‭ They hold past hope. But it affects me much,

       ‭ Ye dull plebeians, that all this doth touch

       ‭ Your free states nothing; who, struck dumb, afford

       ‭ These Wooers not so much wreak as a word,

       ‭ Though few, and you with only number might

       ‭ Extinguish to them the profaned light.”

       ‭ Evenor’s son, Leocritus, replied:

       ‭ “Mentor! the railer, made a fool with pride,

       ‭ What language giv’st thou that would quiet us

       ‭ With putting us in storm, exciting thus

       ‭ The rout against us? Who, though more than we,

       ‭ Should find it is no easy victory

       ‭ To drive men, habited in feast, from feasts,

       ‭ No not if Ithacus himself such guests

       ‭ Should come and find so furnishing his Court,

       ‭ And hope to force them from so sweet a fort.

       ‭ His wife should little joy in his arrive,

       ‭ Though much she wants him; for, where she alive

       ‭ Would her’s enjoy, there death should claim his rights.

       ‭ He must be conquer’d that with many fights. ‭ Thou speak’st unfit things. To their labours then ‭ Disperse these people; and let these two men, ‭ Mentor and Halitherses, that so boast ‭ From the beginning to have govern’d most ‭ In friendship of the father, to the son ‭ Confirm the course he now affects to run. ‭ But my mind says, that, if he would but use ‭ A little patience, he should here hear news ‭ Of all things that his wish would understand, ‭ But no good hope for of the course in hand.” ‭ This