He press’d with his nice feet, and from beneath
The table forth advanced it into view.
The rest all gave to him, with bread and flesh
Filling his wallet, and Ulysses, now,
Returning to his threshold, there to taste
The bounty of the Greeks, paused in his way
Beside Antinoüs, whom he thus address’d.
Not least, but greatest of the Achaians here,
And hast a kingly look. It might become
Thee therefore above others to bestow,
So should I praise thee wheresoe’er I roam.
I also lived the happy owner once
Of such a stately mansion, and have giv’n
To num’rous wand’rers (whencesoe’er they came
All that they needed; I was also served
By many, and enjoy’d all that denotes
The envied owner opulent and blest.
But Jove (for so it pleas’d him) hath reduced
My all to nothing, prompting me, in league
With rovers of the Deep, to sail afar
To Ægypt, for my sure destruction there.
Within th’ Ægyptian stream my barks well-oar’d
I station’d, and, enjoining strict my friends
To watch them close-attendant at their side,
Commanded spies into the hill-tops; but they,
Under the impulse of a spirit rash
And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur’d fields
Pillaged of the Ægyptians, captive led
Their wives and little-ones, and slew the men.
Ere long, the loud alarm their city reach’d.
Down came the citizens, by dawn of day,
With horse and foot and with the gleam of arms
Filling the plain. Then Jove with panic dread
Struck all my people; none found courage more
To stand, for mischiefs swarm’d on ev’ry side.
There, num’rous by the glitt’ring spear we fell
Slaughter’d, while others they conducted thence
Alive to servitude; but me they gave
To Dmetor, King in Cyprus, Jasus’ son;
He entertained me liberally, and thence
This land I reach’d, but poor and woe-begone.
What dæmon introduced this nuisance here,
This troubler of our feast? stand yonder, keep
Due distance from my table, or expect
To see an Ægypt and a Cyprus worse
Than those, bold mendicant and void of shame!
Thou hauntest each, and, inconsid’rate, each
Gives to thee, because gifts at other’s cost
Are cheap, and, plentifully serv’d themselves,
They squander, heedless, viands not their own.
Gods! how illib’ral with that specious form!
Thou wouldst not grant the poor a grain of salt
From thy own board, who at another’s fed
So nobly, canst thou not spare a crust to me.
And in wing’d accents, louring, thus replied.
Opprobrious! hast thou dared to scoff at me?
Of his right shoulder smote him; firm as rock
He stood, by no such force to be displaced,
But silent shook his brows, and dreadful deeds
Of vengeance ruminating, sought again
His seat the threshold, where his bag full-charged
He grounded, and the suitors thus address’d.
My bosom’s dictates. Trivial is the harm,
Scarce felt, if, fighting for his own, his sheep
Perchance, or beeves, a man receive a blow.
But me Antinoüs struck for that I ask’d
Food from him merely to appease the pangs
Of hunger, source of num’rous ills to man.
If then the poor man have a God t’ avenge
His wrongs, I pray to him that death may seize
Antinoüs, ere his nuptial hour arrive!
Son of Eupithes. Either seated there
Or going hence, eat, stranger, and be still;
Lest for thy insolence, by hand or foot
We drag thee forth, and thou be flay’d alive.
Ev’n his own proud companions censured him.
The wretched vagabond. O thou art doom’d
For ever, if there be a God in heav’n;
For, in similitude of strangers oft,
The Gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,
Repair to populous cities, where they mark
The outrageous and the righteous deeds of men.
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