His father’s lofty chamber, where his heaps
He kept of brass and gold, garments in chests,
And oils of fragrant scent, a copious store.
There many a cask with season’d nectar fill’d
The grape’s pure juice divine, beside the wall
Stood orderly arranged, waiting the hour
(Should e’er such hour arrive) when, after woes
Num’rous, Ulysses should regain his home.
Secure that chamber was with folding doors
Of massy planks compact, and night and day,
Within it antient Euryclea dwelt,
Guardian discrete of all the treasures there,
Whom, thither call’d, Telemachus address’d.
Delicious next to that which thou reserv’st
For our poor wand’rer; if escaping death
At last, divine Ulysses e’er return.
Fill twelve, and stop them close; pour also meal
Well mill’d (full twenty measures) into skins
Close-seam’d, and mention what thou dost to none.
Place them together; for at even-tide
I will convey them hence, soon as the Queen,
Retiring to her couch, shall seek repose.
For hence to Sparta will I take my course,
And sandy Pylus, tidings there to hear
(If hear I may) of my lov’d Sire’s return.
He ceas’d, then wept his gentle nurse that sound
Hearing, and in wing’d accents thus replied.
Possess’d thee? whither, only and belov’d,
Seek’st thou to ramble, travelling, alas!
To distant climes? Ulysses is no more;
Dead lies the Hero in some land unknown,
And thou no sooner shalt depart, than these
Will plot to slay thee, and divide thy wealth.
No, stay with us who love thee. Need is none
That thou should’st on the barren Deep distress
Encounter, roaming without hope or end.
Take courage, nurse! for not without consent
Of the Immortals I have thus resolv’d.
But swear, that till eleven days be past,
Or twelve, or, till enquiry made, she learn
Herself my going, thou wilt not impart
Of this my purpose to my mother’s ear,
Lest all her beauties fade by grief impair’d.
Solemnly by the Gods; which done, she fill’d
With wine the vessels and the skins with meal,
And he, returning, join’d the throng below.
Elsewhere directing, all the city ranged
In semblance of Telemachus, each man
Exhorting, at the dusk of eve, to seek
The gallant ship, and from Noëmon, son
Renown’d of Phronius, ask’d, herself, a bark,
Which soon as ask’d, he promis’d to supply.
When, drawing down his bark into the Deep,
He gave her all her furniture, oars, arms
And tackle, such as well-built galleys bear,
Then moor’d her in the bottom of the bay.
Meantime, his mariners in haste repair’d
Down to the shore, for Pallas urged them on.
And now on other purposes intent,
The Goddess sought the palace, where with dews
Of slumber drenching ev’ry suitor’s eye,
She fool’d the drunkard multitude, and dash’d
The goblets from their idle hands away.
They through the city reeled, happy to leave
The dull carousal, when the slumb’rous weight
Oppressive on their eye-lids once had fall’n.
Next, Pallas azure-eyed in Mentor’s form
And with the voice of Mentor, summoning
Telemachus abroad, him thus bespake.
Sit all thy fellow-voyagers, and wait
Thy coming; linger not, but haste away.
With nimble steps follow’d, and on the shore
Arrived, found all his mariners prepared,
Whom thus the princely voyager address’d.
Already sorted and set forth; but nought
My mother knows, or any of her train
Of this design, one matron sole except.
All down, and, as Ulysses’ son enjoin’d,
Within the gallant bark the charge bestow’d.
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