And many wrong’d, embolden’d by the thought
Of my own father’s and my brethren’s pow’r.
Let no man, therefore, be unjust, but each
Use modestly what gift soe’er of heav’n.
So do not these. These ever bent I see
On deeds injurious, the possessions large
Consuming, and dishonouring the wife
Of one, who will not, as I judge, remain
Long absent from his home, but is, perchance,
Ev’n at the door. Thee, therefore, may the Gods
Steal hence in time! ah, meet not his return
To his own country! for they will not part,
(He and the suitors) without blood, I think,
If once he enter at these gates again!
The generous juice, then in the prince’s hand
Replaced the cup; he, pensive, and his head
Inclining low, pass’d from him; for his heart
Forboded ill; yet ’scaped not even he,
But in the snare of Pallas caught, his life
To the heroic arm and spear resign’d
Of brave Telemachus. Reaching, at length,
The seat whence he had ris’n, he sat again.
Prompted Icarius’ daughter to appear
Before the suitors; so to expose the more
Their drift iniquitous, and that herself
More bright than ever in her husband’s eyes
Might shine, and in her son’s. Much mirth she feign’d,
And, bursting into laughter, thus began.
That wish till now) though I detest them all,
To appear before the suitors, in whose ears
I will admonish, for his good, my son,
Not to associate with that lawless crew
Too much, who speak him fair, but foul intend.
My daughter! wisely hast thou said and well.
Go! bathe thee and anoint thy face, then give
To thy dear son such counsel as thou wilt
Without reserve; but shew not there thy cheeks
Sullied with tears, for profit none accrues
From grief like thine, that never knows a change.
And he is now bearded, and hath attained
That age which thou wast wont with warmest pray’r
To implore the Gods that he might live to see.
Persuade not me, though studious of my good,
To bathe, Eurynome! or to anoint
My face with oil; for all my charms the Gods
Inhabitants of Olympus then destroy’d,
When he, embarking, left me. Go, command
Hippodamia and Autonöe
That they attend me to the hall, and wait
Beside me there; for decency forbids
That I should enter to the men, alone.
Hasted to summon whom she had enjoin’d.
Diffused, meantime, the kindly dew of sleep
Around Icarius’ daughter; on her couch
Reclining, soon as she reclin’d, she dozed,
And yielded to soft slumber all her frame.
Then, that the suitors might admire her more,
The glorious Goddess cloath’d her, as she lay,
With beauty of the skies; her lovely face
She with ambrosia purified, with such
As Cytherea chaplet-crown’d employs
Herself, when in the eye-ensnaring dance
She joins the Graces; to a statelier height
Beneath her touch, and ampler size she grew,
And fairer than the elephantine bone
Fresh from the carver’s hand. These gifts conferr’d
Divine, the awful Deity retired.
And now, loud-prattling as they came, arrived
Her handmaids; sleep forsook her at the sound,
She wiped away a tear, and thus she said.
Hath here involved. O would that by a death
As gentle chaste Diana would herself
This moment set me free, that I might waste
My life no longer in heart-felt regret
Of a lamented husband’s various worth
And virtue, for in Greece no Peer had he!
Issuing, descended; neither went she sole,
But with those two fair menials of her train.
Arriving, most majestic of her sex,
In presence of the num’rous guests, beneath
The portal of the stately dome she stood
Between her maidens, with her lucid veil
Mantling her lovely cheeks. Then, ev’ry knee
Trembled, and ev’ry heart with am’rous heat
Dissolv’d, her charms all coveting alike,
While to Telemachus her son she spake.
As once thou wast, and even when a child.
For thriven as thou art, and at full size
Arrived of man, so fair proportion’d, too,
That ev’n a stranger, looking on thy growth
And beauty, would pronounce thee nobly born,
Yet is thy intellect still immature.
For what is this? why suffer’st
| Previous chapter/page | Back | Home | Email this | Search | Discuss | Bookmark | Next chapter/page |