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

Edition used:

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.

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

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LIB. XIII.

    Ulysses sleeping is set ashore at Ithaca by the Phæacians, and waking knows it not. Pallas in form of a shepherd helps to hide his treasure. The ship that conveyed him turned into a rock; and Ulysses by Pallas is instructed what to do, and transformed into an old beggar-man.

  • This said, all silent and delighted were.
  • Alcinous then said, Ulysses, since
  • You safely to me are arrived here,
  • You shall not lose your way in going hence.
  • 5But, princes, you that daily with me sit,
  • Drinking good wine and hearing music sweet,
  • And given to the stranger have what’s fit,
  • I’ll tell you what yet farther I think meet.
  • Garments he has a chest full, and good store
  • 10Of gold, plate, and of other gifts he has.
  • Take my advice. Let each man give him more,
  • A cauldron, or a three-foot pot of brass.
  • I know to each man ’twill be too great largess,
  • But by the people’s contribution
  • 15We’ll make amends; the town shall bear the charges.
  • The motion pleas’d, and ’twas agreed upon.
  • Then went they every man to his repose.
  • And soon as morning did again appear,
  • Aboard the ship the vessels they dispose,
  • Ulysses sleeping is set ashore at Ithaca.

  • 20Alcinous himself directed where.
  • And then into the palace they return,
  • And sacrifice to Jove a well-fed beast;
  • The thighs upon the altar there they burn,
  • And with the rest they make themselves a feast.
  • 25Demodocus before them sung and play’d,
  • Who for his art was famous in the town.
  • Ulysses to the sun look’d up, and stay’d
  • Longing and wishing that it would go down;
  • As one that hath at plough been all the day,
  • 30Hungry his belly, feeble is his knee,
  • Beholds the setting of the sun with joy;
  • So glad Ulysses was sunset to see.
  • Then to Alcinous and all the rest,
  • Offer, said he, unto the Gods their wine.
  • 35I have already all that I request,
  • And many gifts, which may the pow’rs divine
  • Make happy to me. Let me now depart,
  • That I may see my dear wife and my friends.
  • And blest may you stay here with joy at heart,
  • 40Comfort your wives, and obtain all your ends;
  • And strong and worthy children may you have,
  • Nor ’mongst the people trouble or disease.
  • This said, they prais’d him all, and counsel gave
  • The stranger to conduct safe o’er the seas.
  • 45Alcinous then call’d for wine, and bad
  • Pontonous present it to each one,
  • Until unto the Gods all offer’d had,
  • That so Ulysses the sooner might be gone.
  • Pontonous brought wine, and carried it
  • 50From man to man, and each man drank his cup,
  • Blessing the Gods in order as they sit.
  • When all had drunk, Ulysses standeth up,
  • And speaking to queen Arete, he said:
  • Happy for ever may you be, O queen.
  • 55I take my leave. Be you for ever joy’d
  • In king Alcinous as you have been,
  • And in your children and your people all.
  • And when he this had said, away he went.
  • Alcinous did then a squire call,
  • 60Whom with Ulysses to the ship he sent.
  • Arete to her women sent. One brought
  • Fine bread and store of black wine of the best;
  • Another brought with her a cloak and coat;
  • Another brought, to lay them in, a chest,
  • 65Which by the mariners were quickly stow’d
  • Aboard the good ship, with the wine and bread.
  • And for Ulysses many rugs they strew’d
  • O’ th’ deck, astern, with linen at his head.
  • And then aboard he went. When he was lain,
  • 70Their seats they take, and parted from the strand,
  • Reclining dash’d with oars the liquid plain,
  • While sleep Ulysses bound had foot and hand.
  • As when four horses gallop o’er a plain,
  • The way runs swiftly by the coach’s side;
  • 75So did the good ship mount upon the main,
  • And to the stern the water swiftly glide,
  • A hawk could hardly with it have kept pace,
  • A hawk that of all fowl the swiftest flies;
  • So swiftly ran the ship on th’ ocean’s face,
  • 80And with her breast the rising water slice;
  • Bearing a man for wisdom like a God,
  • That pass’d had fearful billows on the deep,
  • And many bloody paths of war had trod,
  • The thought whereof was now removed by sleep.
  • 85Above the earth now risen was the star,
  • Day’s messenger, and brightest of the sky.
  • The ship was then from Ithaca not far.
  • A port there is, which from a deity
  • Is called Phorcys, a sea-deity.
  • 90Two jetting rocks defend it from the wind;
  • When once within, a ship will safely lie,
  • There needs no cord a floating ship to bind.
  • At the port’s head grows a large olive-tree,
  • And near it an obscure and pleasant cave,
  • 95Where the Nereiades delight to be,
  • And there they bowls of stone and beakers have;
  • The bees make honey there. Besides, there be
  • Long beams of stone, whereon the nymphs do weave
  • Rich purple garments, wonderful to see,
  • 100And fountains which their running never leave.
  • Two doors there are, one north, men go that way;
  • The other to the south more sacred is,
  • Th’ immortals here go in, and none but they;
  • The Gods have to themselves reserved this.
  • 105All this Ulysses’ convoy knew before;
  • And here the ship arrived, safely lands,
  • And half her length lay dry upon the shore,
  • Such was the strength of those Phæacian hands.
  • The lusty seamen, when they landed were,
  • 110First took Ulysses, sleeping as he lay,
  • Bedding and all, and to the land him bear,
  • And lay him from the sea a little way:
  • Then they unship his goods, gold, vestures, brass,
  • Gifts given him by the Phæacians;
  • 115Which at the foot of the olive-tree they place,
  • Out of the way, lest passengers should chance
  • To steal them while Ulysses was asleep.
  • When this was done, the convoy stayed not,
  • But rowed out the ship into the deep.
  • The ship that conveyed him turned to a rock.

  • 120Nor Neptune had Ulysses yet forgot,
  • But said to Jupiter, complaining then:
  • What honour from the Gods can I expect,
  • When the Phæacians, that are but men,
  • (Although descended from me), me neglect?
  • 125For though Ulysses I destroyed not,
  • Because his coming home you had decreed;
  • Yet that he should be brought home thus, ne’er thought,
  • Asleep, and painless, and with so much speed,
  • Enrich’d with gold, and brass, and vestures store,
  • 130As much as had come to his share at Troy.
  • This the Phæacians have done, and more,
  • In this licentiousness they take a joy.
  • Then answered Jove: Neptune, what’s this you say?
  • The Gods neglect you not. It cannot be,
  • 135That are the eldest and of greatest sway
  • Of any of them. If man injure thee,
  • To take revenge enough your own pow’r is.
  • I will not hinder you, do what you please.
  • To Jupiter then Neptune answer’d this:
  • 140I could, O Jove, have been reveng’d with ease,
  • But that I fear’d you would offended be.
  • And now I’ll tell you what I mean to do.
  • As soon as I the ship returning see,
  • I’ll fix it, that they may no more do so;
  • 145Besides, their city with a hill I’ll hide.
  • O but, said Jupiter, were it my case,
  • When from the city people all espied
  • The ship hard by, I would a rock there place
  • In likeness of a ship not far from land,
  • 150To make men wonder, and then round about
  • The city make a mighty mountain stand.
  • This said by Jove, the God of Seas went out
  • To Scheria, where the Phæacians
  • First planted were. The ship came swiftly on,
  • 155And on it Neptune laid his mighty hands,
  • And roots it in the sea, turn’d into stone.
  • The rowers t’ one another say, What’s this?
  • Who hath our good ship fixed in the water?
  • And yet above the water still it is.
  • 160Thus said they, but knew nothing of the matter.
  • Then spake Alcinous. Performed, said he,
  • Is what long since I heard my father say,
  • That Neptune angry was that strangers we,
  • Whoe’er they were, do to their homes convey,
  • 165And threatened had with a great hill to hide
  • The city, and destroy the passage-boat.
  • This by my father then was prophecied,
  • And now, you see, at last about ’tis brought.
  • Therefore be rul’d by me. Convoy no more;
  • Ulysses by Pallas is instructed what to do.

  • 170But let us unto Neptune sacrifice
  • Twelve chosen bullocks, and his grace implore
  • To set no hill there. So did he advise.
  • And then to Neptune they their prayers make
  • Standing at th’ altar, king and princes all.
  • 175And now Ulysses lying was awake,
  • But to his mind the place could not recal;
  • For Pallas had about him cast a mist,
  • That at his coming he might not be known;
  • But she herself instruct him as she list,
  • 180Till he the suitors all had overthrown.
  • All things seem’d to him other than they were,
  • Paths, highways, creeks, havens, trees, and rocks;
  • And rising up he was he knew not where,
  • And with his open hand his thigh he knocks.
  • 185Ay me, said he, whither am I come now?
  • To civil, or to wild and lawless men?
  • Where shall I hide my treasure? Whither go?
  • Would I were at Phæacia agen.
  • To other friends I might have gone from thence,
  • 190And t’ Ithaca obtained a convoy,
  • Here for my treasure I see no defence.
  • Left here to others they will be a prey.
  • I see the princes of Phæacia
  • Are not so just as I take them to be.
  • 195They promis’d to set me at Ithaca,
  • But have to some place else transported me.
  • Jove, that sees all, and punisheth the ill,
  • Will be revenged also of these men.
  • But come, my presents number now I will,
  • 200The seamen may have ta’en some back agen.
  • His garments and his plate then number’d he,
  • And nothing missing was of all his pelf.
  • Then walk’d he softly along by the sea,
  • Lamenting and bewailing of himself.
  • 205And then came Pallas to him. She had on
  • The body of a shepherd young and tender,
  • As if she had of some prince been the son;
  • Lin’d was his coat, the thread was fine and slender,
  • With dart in hand, and fine shoes on his feet.
  • 210Ulysses, who beheld her, was much joy’d,
  • And forth himself advanced, her to meet.
  • And first he to her spake, and thus he said:
  • Joy to you be, and good-will towards me;
  • Save for me these my goods, and save me too.
  • 215You are the first I meet here; at your knee
  • I bow myself, as men bow Gods unto.
  • Tell me, I pray you, true: What land is this?
  • What town? Th’ inhabitants what men?
  • An isle, or of the continent a piece?
  • And in the form of a shepherd, helps to hide his treasure.

  • 220To this the Goddess answered agen.
  • Simple you are, or very far hence dwell,
  • To ask what country this is. For ’tis not
  • A place obscure; for known ’tis very well
  • Both east and west, though but a little spot,
  • 225And rugged ground, nto fit for galloping;
  • Yet corn it bears abundantly and wine;
  • And is well watered both with dew and spring,
  • And nourisheth great herds of goats and kine.
  • Of wood of ev’ry sort there is good store.
  • 230Though from Achæa far men say is Troy,
  • Yet Ithaca is talk’d of on that shore.
  • These words unto Ulysses were great joy.
  • And to the Goddess then he answered:
  • (Falsely; on fables keeping still his hold,
  • 235As one that always plots hath in his head):
  • I have, said he, of Ithaca been told,
  • Far hence in Crete, and now am thither come
  • With these my goods; but leaving to my child
  • About as much as I brought out from home;
  • 240And here I am alone, a man exil’d.
  • For of Idomeneus I kill’d the son,
  • Orsilochus, for swiftness of his feet
  • So excellent, there was not any one
  • That could out-run him in the isle of Crete.
  • 245Because I had refused a command
  • Under his father at the siege of Troy,
  • And would command my own, he took in hand
  • To have depriv’d me of my share o’ th’ prey,
  • Which to my dangers and my deeds was due.
  • 250For which, by night, with one companion,
  • Near the highway, I with my spear him slew,
  • And in the dark escap’d when I had done.
  • And to Phœnicia by sea I went;
  • And hired with a good part of my prey
  • 255To Pylus or to Elis to be sent.
  • But adverse winds forc’d us another way.
  • And wandering, there arrived in the night.
  • And straight into this port we brought the bark,
  • Ne’er thought of food, though very well we might,
  • 260But went ashore, and lay down in the dark,
  • And there I slept. The mariners meanwhile
  • Take out my goods and lay them on the shore,
  • And back unto Sidonia they sail,
  • And after that I never saw them more.
  • 265At this the goddess smil’d, and strok’d his head,
  • And in a woman’s shape before him stood,
  • Of stature tall and like to one well bred.
  • The craft that catches you had need be good.
  • You cannot, though at home, your wiles forego,
  • Pallas helps to hide his treasure.

  • 270And your feign’d stories, though there be no need,
  • So close they stick to you from top to toe.
  • But now no more of that; for ’tis agreed,
  • ’Mongst mortals you, amongst immortals I,
  • For counsel and invention excel.
  • 275Did you not know me, that perpetually
  • Have at your need assisted you so well?
  • And now am come to help you to secure
  • The rich Phæacian presents you have here,
  • And tell you what at home you must endure?
  • 280Affronts and scorns, you shall find many there.
  • Then said Ulysses, Difficult it is
  • For any mortal man, though very wise,
  • To know a God, that can their form dismiss,
  • And, when they will, put on a new disguise.
  • 285When th’ Argive army was besieging Troy,
  • Goddess, I know how gracious you were then;
  • But after (the town sack’d) we came away,
  • And scatter’d had the Gods our ships and men,
  • And I was wand’ring on the ocean wide,
  • 290I never saw you, never had your aid,
  • Save at Phæacia you were pleas’d to guide
  • Me to the town, and hasten me dismay’d.
  • But I beseech you (for still do I doubt
  • This is not Ithaca that I am at,
  • 295But some place else, and that you go about
  • With comforts feign’d my sorrows to abate)
  • Tell me if this my country be indeed?
  • Pallas said then, Suspicious still you are;
  • I cannot, therefore, leave you in your need,
  • 300Since wise you be, and willing to beware.
  • Another man that had been long away,
  • Had straight gone home to see his wife and son;
  • But that for you is not the safest way,
  • Nor had it yet been opportunely done.
  • 305Know how she’ll take it first. She keeps within,
  • And spends in weeping both the night and day.
  • I know full well the Fates his coming spin,
  • But that his mates shall first be cast away.
  • But with my uncle Neptune had no mind
  • 310To be at odds, that in such choler is,
  • For making of his son the Cyclops blind.
  • But come, I’ll shew you Ithaca. First, this
  • The port of Phorcys is; this th’ olive-tree,
  • There near it is the gloomy cavern, where
  • 315The nymphs Naiades invoked be,
  • And by you in that cave much worshipp’d were.
  • The hill so cloth’d with wood is Neriton.
  • This said, the mist dissolves, and then Ulysses
  • His native country joyful looks upon,
  • 320And falling on his knees, the soil he kisses.
  • And then to the Naiades he pray’d,
  • Hail! Daughters of high Jove, Naiades,
  • Ne’er to have seen you more I was afraid;
  • But oft we shall again, if Pallas please
  • 325To give me life, and prosper my dear son,
  • Your altar fill with gifts as heretofore.
  • The Goddess Pallas, when his pray’r was done,
  • Answer’d, Let that thought trouble you no more.
  • But come, let’s now see how your goods to save,
  • 330Now presently. ’Twere well that they were laid
  • Within some rock at bottom of the cave.
  • Then went she in, and caves in cave survey’d.
  • Ulysses brought into the grot his store,
  • Garments, and heavy brass, and golden plate;
  • 335Which Pallas plac’d, and laid a rock o’ th’ door,
  • And then in counsel both together sate
  • The suitors to destroy. Pallas first spake.
  • Ulysses, said she, think on how you may
  • Your just revenge of the proud suitors take,
  • 340That use your house and substance as their prey;
  • That marry would your wife by force. But she
  • Still keeps them off with hopes and promises,
  • Expecting your return continually,
  • But than of marriage thinks of nothing less.
  • 345Oh! said Ulysses, but for your advice,
  • I died had as Agamemnon did.
  • But now, O Pallas, find out some device,
  • How of the suitors best I may be rid,
  • And by me stand, inspiring courage stout,
  • 350As when we pull’d Troy’s head-gear off her head.
  • For then to master them I should not doubt,
  • Three hundred though they were. Then answered
  • The Goddess Pallas: By you I will stand;
  • You cannot fight, but I shall of it know,
  • 355And bring unto you such a lucky hand,
  • That with their blood and brains the ground shall flow.
  • Come, first I’ll make you to men pass unknown:
  • I’ll shrink your skin, that ’s now so fair and fresh,
  • And from your head take off that hair so brown,
  • 360And cover will with such array your flesh,
  • As men shall hate the sight of; then your eyes
  • I’ll shrivel up, that were so full and bright,
  • That in this habit th’ woo’rs may you despise,
  • Nor your wife know you standing in her sight.
  • 365Then go you to the master of your swine,
  • That loves you, and your son, and your consort;
  • And to direct you to him take this sign:
  • He ’s at Crow-rock, thither the swine resort,
  • And t’ Arethusa’s well; for why, the oaken
  • Ulysses transformed into an old beggar-man.

  • 370Berries, with that sweet water, make them fat.
  • Stay there till to him you your mind have spoken,
  • And well inform’d yourself of your estate.
  • To Lacedæmon I the while will go,
  • To call your son Telemachus away,
  • 375Who thither went by sea, that he might know
  • What Menelaus there of you could say.
  • Then said Ulysses, Goddess, since you could
  • Have told him all yourself, why did you not?
  • Meant you that also he be wand’ring should,
  • 380While other men stay feeding on his lot?
  • Trouble not you yourself with him, said she:
  • I sent him, and went with him with intent
  • To show him to the world abroad. And he
  • At Sparta treated is to his content.
  • 385’Tis true, the suitors with a ship are gone
  • To wait for, and to kill him by the way;
  • But I believe, before that that be done,
  • Some will lie low that now your goods destroy.
  • And as she spake, she strok’d him with her wand,
  • 390And rivel’d seem’d his skin (which was before
  • So sleek and fair) as if it had been tann’d;
  • And gray his hair, rivel’d his eyes all o’er.
  • And then she gave him an ill-favoured rag,
  • Torn, foul, and smutted filthily with soot,
  • 395And over that the pill’d skin of a stag,
  • And satchel full of holes then added to ’t
  • With twisted-string. And up their counsel brake.
  • The Goddess Pallas then to Sparta past,
  • To bid Telemachus his leave to take
  • 400Of Menelaus, and go home with haste.