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The English Works of Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury; Now First Collected and Edited by Sir William Molesworth, Bart., (London: Bohn, 1839-45). 11 vols. Vol. 10.

Author: Homer
Translator: Thomas Hobbes
Editor: Sir William Molesworth

Part of: The English Works of Thomas Hobbes, 11 vols.

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LIB. XIX.

Telemachus removes the arms out of the hall.

Ulysses in the house remain’d, and staid
Contriving how the suitors to destroy.
And staightway to Telemachus he said,
Carry the armour in the hall away;

Ulysses discourseth with Penelope, and is known by his nurse, but concealed; and the hunting of the boar upon that occasion related.

5And tell them gently, if they ask wherefore,

The fire has hurt them, and they are not now
Such as Ulysses left them heretofore,
When with the Greeks he did to Ilium go:
Or say, For fear some quarrel might arise
10By th’ indiscretion of one or other,

You thought the counsel would not be unwise
To take them thence. One drawn sword draws another.
Telemachus then calls his nurse, and said,
Euryclea, shut all the rooms up fast.
15Be sure to keep within door every maid,

Till I my father’s arms have elsewhere plac’d;
The smoke does spoil them all; but I will now
Free them from soot. I’m glad, said she, at last
To see your husbandry. But I would know
20Who ’tis shall light you when the maids are fast?

My guest, says he, this stranger whom you see.
For here he feeds, and nothing has to do;
How far soever hence his dwelling be,
I think ’tis reason he should help me too.
25The nurse did what commanded she had been.

They laid up helmets, bucklers, swords, and spears;
And Pallas with a lamp came in unseen,
And up and down the light before them bears.
Then, Father, said Telemachus, I see
30The walls, beams, roof, and all the pillars shine,

Like any fire; and certainly there be
Within the house some of the powers divine.
Peace, said Ulysses, be not curious,
The purpose of the Gods you cannot find.
35Go you to bed. I must go through the house,

To find the women’s and your mother’s mind.
Telemachus then to his chamber went,
In which before he wonted was to lie,
Leaving his father in the house, intent
40On how, with Pallas, to make th’ wooers die.

Forth comes Penelope into the hall,
More than Diana, more than Venus fair;
Her maids upon her were attending all,
And set down for her a most stately chair,
45Made by Icmalius of silver plate,

And iv’ry turned, white as any snow,
And footstool thereto fix’d. And there in state
Sat down the fair Penelope; and now
The housemaids enter in and take away
50The tables, and the bowls, the cups, and bread,

Which (the wooers gone) about the room still lay
And having made a fire, there went to bed.
Melantho then Ulysses bitterly
Rebuk’d again. Art thou here, said she, still,

Ulysses discourseth with Penelope.

55To peep at th’ women in the night, and spy

What they are doing? an’t, may be, hast the will
To stay all night. Go quickly; get thee gone;
T’hast supp’d; lest thou be driven out of door
With brands of fire. To this new insolence,
60Ulysses answered gentlier than before:

Why d’ ye pursue me thus? Is it because
I am not fine, but have ill raiment on?
The time has been I rich and wealthy was,
And beggars I did much bestow upon;
65Not looking on the men, but on their want:

And many servants had. Of that which makes
Men called rich, I knew not any scant.
But Jove not only riches gives, but takes;
Think, therefore, that your beauty will decay;
70Or of your mistress you may lose the grace;

Or that Ulysses may come back one day:
And though he ne’er return unto his place,
His son, Telemachus, knows all you do,
Knows better now what ’s good, and what is worse.
75Then be hereafter modester: go to.

Penelope o’erheard all this discourse.
Bold bitch, said she, I know what deeds you’ ve done,
Which thou shalt one day pay for with thy head:
Did not I tell thee when the woo’rs were gone,
80That I to speak with him had ordered?

Eurynome, I’ve much to say, said she,
Unto this man; set here a chair, that so,
Sitting, I may hear him, and he hear me;
For there are many things I’d from him know.
85Ulysses sat. Penelope began:

The question I will ask you first, is this;
What is your name, and who your parents be;
And, further, tell me where your country is?
When she had said, Ulysses thus replies:
90O queen, through all the world your praises ring,

Your virtues known are up unto the skies;
No less than of some great and happy king,
That maintains justice, and whose fertile ground
Bears store of wheat and barley, and whose trees
95Are charg’d with fruit, and all his sheep stand sound,

And under him a valiant people sees.
And, therefore, ask me what you will beside,
My kin and country to myself I’d keep.
For then my grief I can no longer hide,
100Or think thereon, but ready am to weep;

Which here would be no seemly thing to do,
For why, your maids might, peradventure, think,
And you yourself, it may be, think so too,
My tears came not from sorrow, but from drink.
105Stranger, said she, my beauty, form, and worth,

Th’ immortal Gods took from me then away,
When first Ulysses with the Greeks went forth
To that abominable town of Troy;
But were he here that had the care of me,
110I should more honour have, and beauty so.

But now I lead my life in misery;
The Gods upon me troubles daily throw.
For all the lords that in these islands be,
Same, Dulichium, and woody Zant,
115And Ithaca itself, suitors to me,

My house continually together haunt,
And there devour my cattle, corn, and wine;
So that of strangers I can take no care,
Nor can myself dispose of what is mine,
120Nor messengers receive that public are;

But, longing for my husband, sit and pine.
They press for marriage, I, to put it by.
Then came into my thought (some power divine
Sure prompt’d me) to set up a beam; so I
125A beam set up, and then began to weave.

Suitors, said I, since dead Ulysses is,
Stay yet a little while, and give me leave
To make an end but of one business.
I must for old Laertes make a cloth,
130Which in his sepulchre he is to wear.

T’ offend the wives of Greece I should be loath;
For, to accuse me they will not forbear.
They’ ll say I very hasty was to wed,
If I go hence and not provide a shroud
135Wherein Laertes must be buried,

Out of his wealth; that might have been allow’d.
My suitors all were well content. And then,
All day I wove; but ere I went to bed,
What I had wov’n I ravel’d out agen.
140Three years my suitors I thus frustrated.

In the fourth year my women me betray’d;
And in they came while I the web undid.
I could the wedding now no more avoid,
But I was rated by them much and chid.
145What I am next to do, I cannot tell:

My father and my mother bid me marry;
My son is weary, and takes not very well
That th’ woo’rs devouring him should longer tarry.
But for all this, I long to know your stock,
150For sure you come not of the fabled oak,

Nor are, I think, descended from a rock.
To this Ulysses answering thus spoke:
Wife of Ulysses, since you so much press
To know my kindred, and from whence I come,
155Although the telling grieve me, I’ll confess,

For I have now long absent been from home.
In the wide sea a fertile island lies,
Innumerable therein are the men,
Creta by name. Many diversities
160There are of tongues; and cities nine times ten.

There dwell Achæans and Cydonians,
And ancient true Creatans, Tribachichs,
And also Dorichs and Pelasgians,
Who divers dialects together mix.
165And Cnossus the prime city was of these,

Where Minos reigned; the great Minos that,
Who often used with great Chronides
Familiarly of old to sit and chat;
Minos my father’s father was, and he
170Deucalion begot; Deucalion

First got Idomeneus, and then got me.
He went to Troy. My name is Aithon.
There ’twas I saw Ulysses. He came in
As he went homeward, and with much ado
175T’ Amphisus; for by winds he forc’d had been

This place, though no good port, to put into.
Then straight went up, Idomeneus to see,
With whom he had acquaintanace, as he said.
’Twas ten days after that, or more, that he
180For Troy, with th’ other Greeks, his anchors weigh’d.

I entertained him kindly with my own;
Gave him a handsome present too, and then
I made him to be feasted by the town,
Upon the public charge, himself and men.
185Twelve days the wind continued at north,

Which kept the fleet perforce within the bay;
On the thirteenth th’ wind changed, and came south,
And then they set up sail and steer’d for Troy.
’Twas so like truth, she wept. As when the sun
190Dissolving is the snow upon a hill,

Innumerable streams of water run,
And the low rivers of the valley fill:
So wept she for her husband sitting by;
Who grieved and pitied her, but never wept;
195As hard as horn or iron was his eye,

And by design himself from tears he kept.
After with weeping she was satisfied,
Stranger, said she, I’ll ask you somewhat now,
By which most certainly it will be tried,
200If you my husband, as you say, did know,

Or entertain’d him and his company.
What kind of person was he, and how clad?
How serv’d? To this Ulysses made reply:
Though twenty year ago it be, and bad
205My memory; yet, what I can recall

I will relate; he wore a purple vest,
Unshorn and lin’d. Before, embroider’d all,
Two clasps of gold; and in it was exprest
A hound, that did between his forefeet hold
210A fawn, that sprall’d and labour’d to get free;

Which was so lively done, and all in gold
Performed was, that wonder ’twas to see.
His coat I mark’d, so soft it was and fine,
As is the fold of a dry onion;
215And as the sun, did gloriously shine,

And women gaz’d upon him many a one.
Such were his garments, but I know not whence
He had them. You know better that than I;
Whether he so apparell’d went from hence,
220Presented by some of his company,

Or given to him somewhere by some guest;
For he was much beloved far and near,
And of the Achæans all esteem’d the best;
Amongst the Greeks he hardly had his peer.
225And I him gave a purple double vest,

A sword, and coat edged with fringes trim,
And brought him to his ship. Amongst the rest
A herald was; and I’ll describe you him.
Round shoulder’d was he, curled was his hair,
230Swarthy his face, Eurybates his name.

Ulysses to him much respect did bear,
Because their thoughts for most part were the same.
When he had done, she could no longer hold,
But wept again, and sorer than before;
235For she found true the tokens he had told.

But when this show’r of tears was passed o’er,
Stranger, said she, I pitied you before;
Now as a friend you shall respected be;
’Twas I gave him th’ apparel he then wore,
240And the gold buckles to remember me;

But I shall never see him more at home;
In an unlucky hour he cross’d the main
To that accursed town of Ilium.
Then thus Ulysses answered her again:
245O noble wife of Laertiades,

Blemish no more those your fair eyes with tears
For your Ulysses; set your heart at ease.
Not that your sorrow as a fault appears.
What woman that her husband of her youth,
250And to whom children she had borne, had lost,

Could choose but grieve and weep, although in truth
She could not of his virtue greatly boast?
But that you would give ear to what I say;
I say Ulysses is not far from home;
255He’s in Thesprotia, hence a little way,

Alive, enrich’d with presents he is come;
His ship and men all perish’d in the main,
Then when he left the isle Thrinacie;
Because Sol’s sacred kine his men had slain,
260Hurled they were by Jove into the sea;

Ulysses only scap’d; for sitting fast
Upon the torn-off rudder by the waves,
After much labour came to land at last
In th’ isle Phœacia; there his life he saves.
265Much honour there and precious gifts he got.

They ready were to have convey’d him home
Safely to Ithaca, but he would not;
Else long ago he might have hither come.
But he thought best to travel longer yet,
270And pick up presents which way e’er he went,

Before his going home much wealth to get;
For at designing he was excellent.
Phidon himself, king of Thesprotia,
Swore to me this; and that both ship and men
275Were ready to convey him t’ Ithaca,

His country; but he could not stay till then;
For now a vessel ready to set forth
Stood for Dulichium. But he show’d me all
Ulysses’ treasure, which might serve, for worth,
280Ten ages to maintain a man withal.

But he, he said, was gone o’er to the main,
There at Dodona with Jove’s oak t’ advise
How to return to Ithaca again;
As he was openly, or in disguise;
285So then he’s safe, and soon he will be here;

He cannot from his house be long away.
And, which is more, I will not doubt to swear,
And witness call the Gods to what I say.
Hear, Jove, of Gods the best and high’st, and thou
290The guardian of the house that we are in:

Ulysses shall come to this place you know,
Ere this month end, or when the next comes in.
Penelope then answer’d: Stranger, oh
That this would so fall out, you then should see
295Such friendship from me, and such gifts also,

That men should bless, and say you happy be.
But, maids, go wash his feet, and make his bed,
Lay on warm rugs, and handsome covering,
His limbs to cherish till the day be spread.
300Then wash and ’noint him that my son may bring

And set him in the hall at dinner by him;
For he that wrongs him shall not be allow’d
To come into my house another time,
How angry at it e’er he be and proud.

He is known by his nurse, but concealed.

305Stranger, by this I mean to let you see

I better know how to entertain my guest
Than many women do, though poor he be,
Far from his home, and in vile garments dress’d.
To this Ulysses answer’d her again,
310O noble wife of Laertiades,

Since I left Crete, on ship-board I have lain,
Soft and fine bedding give me little ease;
Many a night have I passed without sleep,
And often slept have on a homely couch.
315The custom I have so long kept I’ll keep;

Nor shall your maidens my feet wash or touch,
Such as wait on you; but if there be any
Old women here that hath endured much,
As I have done, and years have lived many,
320I am content my feet be wash’d by such.

Then said Penelope, Ne’er man came here
Within my house from foreign country yet
So prudent as you are, whose answers were
To every thing so wise and so discreet.
325There is a woman such as you desire,

That nurs’d and brought up that afflicted man;
Though she be very weak, she’ll make a fire,
And wash your feet, but nothing else do can.
Rise, Euryclea, wash the feet of one
330That’s like your lord. Such feet and hands were his,

Woe makes men old, as well as years that run.
So said Penelope; and th’ old woman ris,
And weeping held her hand before her eyes.
O my dear child, O Jupiter unkind!
335Who more devout, who burnt to him more thighs,

Or fatter, or doth lesser favour find?
He pray’d to live so long that he might see,
Painless, the education of his child
Telemachus, but granted ’twill not be.
340He now perhaps is where he is revil’d

And mock’d by women in some great man’s hall,
As thou, O stranger, hast been scorned here;
And wilt not suffer any of them all
Either thy feet to wash or to come near.
345I’ll wash your feet, as I am bidden by

Penelope, and for your own sake too.
It is not her command alone. There lie
Thoughts on my heart that urge me thereunto.
Poor passengers come hither very many,
350But one so like Ulysses never came;

For person, voice, and feet, I never saw any
Come to this house that had so near the same.
Ulysses answered, Woman, so they say
All that have seen us both. It may be so.

The hunting of the boar related.

355She with her kettle bright then went her way

For water, wherewithal her work to do.
Cold water she brings in, and pours on’t hot.
Ulysses sat by the fire, but turned that thigh
That had the scar, to the dark, that she mightn ot
360Find it, and force him to appear openly.

She was not long about him when she spied
The scar a boar had made above his knee
When he was hunting on Parnassus’ side,
At’s grandsires, in his uncle’s company.
365His grandsire was Autolycus, that was

His mother’s father, named Anticlia;
He in hermetic arts did most suppass;
And to his daughter came to Ithaca,
That newly of a son was brought to bed.
370Euryclea laid the child upon his knee.

Autolycus, you are to give, she said,
Thename; how shall it named be?
Then said Autolycus, Since I of many,
Both men and women, have incurr’d the blame,
375A fitter name I cannot think on any;

Therefore, I say, Ulysses be his name;
And when he’s grown a man send him to me,
To Mount Parnassus; whither if he come,
He shall of what I have partaker be,
380And from me go not ill-contented home.

And this the cause was that he thither went.
Autolycus and ’s sons there take Ulysses
By th’ hand, expressing very great content.
Antithea, his grannam, his head kisses,
385And both his eyes. Autolycus appoints

His sons to have the supper very good.
A bullock fat they kill, slay, cut in joints,
Roast, and in messes distribute the food;
And so they feasted till the day was done;
390And when ’twas dark parted and went to sleep.

But when Aurora had proclaim’d the sun,
Which ready was above the hill to peep,
Then to Parnassus up the hunters go,
The hounds before went searching out the see
395Autolycus his sons were there also,

Ulysses with them; next the dogs he went,
And in his hand shook a long-shaded spear;
The dogs drew toward a wood; so close it was
That neither rain nor wind e’er enter’d there,
400Nor yet the beams o’ th’ sun could through it pass,

And heaps of wither’d leaves there lay therein.
Within this thicket lay a mighty boar;
Only the noise of hounds and men came in.
When they were very near, and not before,
405The boar rush’d out, and fire was in his eye;

Bristled his neck. Ulysses ready was.
The boar first wounded had Ulysses’ thigh;
The spear did through the boar’s right shoulder pass.
Slain was the boar. And of Ulysses’ wound
410His uncles took the care, and skilfully

They caus’d it to be closed up and bound,
And with a charm the blood stopp’d presently.
His wound soon cured, very glad they were,
And him with many gifts sent glad away.
415At home they ask, and he relateth there

The story of the hunting of that day.
Euryclea on the wound had laid her hand,
And well assured was ’twas none but he,
Which made the water in her eyes to stand;
420And now her joy and grief one passion be.

Her speech stuck in her throat; her hand lets fall
Her master’s foot; that down the kettle threw;
The water runneth out about the hall;
And knowing now what she but thought was true:
425You are Ulysses, said she, O my dear,

And tow’rd Penelope she look’d aside,
As if she meant to say, Your husband’s here.
But Pallas, that did mean the truth to hide,
Still made the queen to look another way,
430And he with one hand stopp’d the nurse’s breath,

With th’ other held her fast to make her stay.
Why, nurse, said he, mean you to be my death?
Since at your breast I nourished have been,
And none but you knows me in this disguise;
435These twenty years I here was never seen.

Let none else know it in the house. Be wise;
For this I tell you, and will make it true,
That of the women some I mean to slay,
When by my hand the Gods the woo’rs subdue;
440If you bewray me, you shall fare as they.

Then said Euryclea, What needeth this?
You know my heart can hold like stone or brass;
And who is honest, who dishonest is,
I’ll tell you, if your purpose come to pass.
445No, nurse, then said Ulysses, tell not me;

You need not; I shall know them every one.
Permit all to the Gods, and silent be;
For they best know what best is to be done.
Then out she went more water to fetch in,
450The first being spilt. He wash’d and ’nointed was.

And covered the place where th’ wound had been.
And nearer to the fire his chair he draws.
Then to them came Penelope, and said,
Stranger, I’ll ask you but a little more;
455’Tis almost bed-time, and when we are laid,

Our grief in gentle sleep is passed o’er.
But all the day my tears are my delight,
Or of my women’s work the care I take;
And after I am gone to bed at night
460A thousand dismal thoughts keep me awake;

As Philomela, sitting in a tree,
Mourns with a lamentable voice and shrill,
For Itylus, and turneth restlessly,
(Whom Zethus’ son did by misfortune kill):
465Just so my mind divided is in twain:

Whether to keep my servants with my son,
And my dear husband’s bed, and here remain,
Or marry one o’ th’ suitors and be gone.
To marry and be gone I could not yet;
470My son too young was yet to rule th’estate;

And now, grown up, it makes him vex and fret
To see them daily feast within his gate.
I’ll tell you now a dream; expound it you:
I’ve twenty geese feeding i’ th’ yard without;
475A mighty eagle from the hills down flew

And break their necks; dead they lay all about.
The eagle straightway mounted out of sight.
I dreaming wept; to see them at the trough,
Feeding on steeped wheat, I took delight;
480And to bemoan me ladies came enough.

And then methought the eagle came again,
And on a beam which through the wall did start,
He sat; and said, in human language plain,
Child of Icarius, trouble not your heart;
485The thing you see is real, not a dream;

The geese the wooers, I the eagle was,
And now return’d and sitting on the beam;
I am your husband, and will bring to pass
The death of all your suitors. Then wak’d I,
490And went into the court my geese to see,

And found them all there feeding heartily,
Unhurt, and well as they were wont to be.
Woman, then said Ulysses, no man can
Expound this dream but as himself has done,
495That says and does. Ulysses is the man.

The suitors will be killed every one.
Then said Penelope, Dreams are without
Such order as to make a judgment by;
And at two gates, men say, they issue out,
500The one of horn, th’ other of ivory;

Those that pass through the horn, to men of skill,
Never say anything but what is sooth;
But find a word of truth you never will
In those that come through th’ Elephantine tooth.
505But I much fear that my dream came this way;

For I have promised to quit this place,
And come already is th’ unlucky day
That must determine who shall gain my grace.
Twelve axes here Ulysses set arow,
510Like twelve boats laid along upon their sides,

And at a distance standing with his bow,
Through ev’ry one of them his arrow glides.
And this shall to my suitors be the prize.
He that most easily shall bend the bow,
515And through the axes all his arrow flies,

Leaving this blessed house with him I’ll go.
Then said Ulysses, Let the suitors try
If they can bend the bow, and thorough shoot
Through th’ axes if they can, for sure am I,
520Ulysses will be here before they do’t.

Stranger, said she, whilst you discourse, my eyes
To sleep will never be inclin’d; but since
The force of nature on all mortals lies,
I up into my chamber will go hence;
525There is my bed, wash’d nightly with my tears,

Since first Ulysses went to cursed Troy,
Wailing my husband’s absence, wak’d with fears;
And yours in what part of the house you’ll say.
This said, unto her chamber up she went,
530And with her all her maids. And there she lies.

And for her husband did afresh lament,
Till Pallas threw a sweet sleep on her eyes.

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LIB. XIX. - Homer, The English Works, vol. X (Iliad and Odyssey) [1839]

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LIB. XIX.