Book VII: Reception of Ulysses by Alcinoüs

So prayed Ulysses the great sufferer.The strong mules bore the damsel toward the town,And when she reached her father’s stately hallsShe stopped beneath the porch. Her brothers cameAround her, like in aspect to the gods,And loosed the mules, and bore the garments in.She sought her chamber, where an aged dameAttendant there, an Epirote, and namedEurymedusa, lighted her a fire.She by the well-oared galleys had been broughtBeforetime from Epirus, and was givenTo king Alcinoüs, ruler over allPhaeacia’s sons, who hearkened to his voiceAs if he were a god. ’Twas she who rearedWhite-armed Nausicaä in the royal halls,Tended her hearth, and dressed her evening meal.

Now rose Ulysses up, and townward turnedHis steps, while friendly Pallas wrapt his wayIn darkness, lest someone among the sonsOf the Phaeacians with unmannerly wordsMight call to him or ask him who he was.And just as he was entering that fair townThe blue-eyed Pallas met him, in the formOf a young virgin with an urn. She stoodBefore him, and Ulysses thus inquired:—

“Wilt thou, my daughter, guide me to the houseWhere dwells Alcinoüs, he who rules this land?I am a stranger, who have come from farAfter long hardships, and of all who dwellWithin this realm I know not even one.”

Pallas, the blue-eyed goddess, thus replied:—“Father and stranger, I will show the house;The dwelling of my own good father standsClose by it. Follow silently, I pray,And I will lead. Look not on any manNor ask a question; for the people hereAffect not strangers, nor do oft receiveWith kindly welcome him who comes from far.They trust in their swift barques, which to and fro,By Neptune’s favor, cross the mighty deep.Their galleys have the speed of wings or thought.”

Thus Pallas spake, and quickly led the way.He followed in her steps. They saw him not—Those trained Phaeacian seamen—for the powerThat led him, Pallas of the amber hair,Forbade the sight, and threw a friendly veilOf darkness over him. Ulysses saw,Wondering, the haven and the gallant ships,The marketplace where heroes thronged, the wallsLong, lofty, and beset with palisades,A marvel to the sight. But when they cameTo the king’s stately palace, thus beganThe blue-eyed goddess, speaking to the chief:—

“Father and stranger, here thou seest the houseWhich thou hast bid me show thee. Thou wilt findThe princes, nurslings of the gods, within,Royally feasting. Enter, and fear not;The bold man ever is the better man,Although he come from far. Thou first of allWilt see the queen. Aretè is the nameThe people give her. She is of a stockThe very same from which AlcinoüsThe king derives his lineage. For long sinceNausithoüs, its founder, was brought forthTo Neptune, the great Shaker of the shores,By Peribaea, fairest of her sex,And youngest daughter of Eurymedon,The large of soul, who ruled the arrogant broodOf giants, and beheld that guilty raceCut off, and perished by a fate like theirs.Her Neptune wooed; she bore to him a son,Large-souled Nausithoüs, whom Phaeacia ownedIts sovereign. To Nausithoüs were bornRhexenor and Alcinoüs. He who bearsThe silver bow, Apollo, smote to deathRhexenor, newly wedded, in his home.He left no son, and but one daughter, namedAretè; her Alcinoüs made his wife,And honored her as nowhere else on earthIs any woman honored who bears chargeOver a husband’s household. From their heartsHer children pay her reverence, and the kingAnd all the people, for they look on herAs if she were a goddess. When she goesAbroad into the streets, all welcome herWith acclamations. Never does she failIn wise discernment, but decides disputesKindly and justly between man and man.And if thou gain her favor, there is hopeThat thou mayst see thy friends once more, and standIn thy tall palace on thy native soil.”

The blue-eyed Pallas, having spoken thus,Departed o’er the barren deep. She leftThe pleasant isle of Scheria, and repairedTo Marathon and to the spacious streetsOf Athens, entering there the massive hallsWhere dwelt Erectheus, while Ulysses towardThe gorgeous palace of Alcinoüs turnedHis steps, yet stopped and pondered ere he crossedThe threshold. For on every side beneathThe lofty roof of that magnanimous kingA glory shone as of the sun or moon.There from the threshold, on each side, were wallsOf brass that led towards the inner rooms,With blue steel cornices. The doors withinThe massive building were of gold, and postsOf silver on the brazen threshold stood,And silver was the lintel, and aboveIts architrave was gold; and on each sideStood gold and silver mastiffs, the rare workOf Vulcan’s practised skill, placed there to guardThe house of great Alcinoüs, and endowedWith deathless life, that knows no touch of age.Along the walls within, on either side,And from the threshold to the inner rooms,Were firmly planted thrones on which were laidDelicate mantles, woven by the handsOf women. The Phaeacian princes hereWere seated; here they ate and drank, and heldPerpetual banquet. Slender forms of boysIn gold upon the shapely altars stood,With blazing torches in their hands to lightAt eve the palace guests; while fifty maidsWaited within the halls, where some in quernsGround small the yellow grain; some wove the webOr twirled the spindle, sitting, with a quickLight motion, like the aspen’s glancing leaves.The well-wrought tissues glistened as with oil.As far as the Phaeacian race excelIn guiding their swift galleys o’er the deep,So far the women in their woven workSurpass all others. Pallas gives them skillIn handiwork and beautiful design.Without the palace-court, and near the gate,A spacious garden of four acres lay.A hedge enclosed it round, and lofty treesFlourished in generous growth within—the pearAnd the pomegranate, and the apple-treeWith its fair fruitage, and the luscious figAnd olive always green. The fruit they bearFalls not, nor ever fails in winter timeNor summer, but is yielded all the year.The ever-blowing west-wind causes someTo swell and some to ripen; pear succeedsTo pear; to apple apple, grape to grape,Fig ripens after fig. A fruitful fieldOf vines was planted near; in part it layOpen and basking in the sun, which driedThe soil, and here men gathered in the grapes,And there they trod the winepress. Farther onWere grapes unripened yet, which just had castThe flower, and others still which just beganTo redden. At the garden’s furthest boundWere beds of many plants that all the yearBore flowers. There gushed two fountains: one of themRan wandering through the field; the other flowedBeneath the threshold to the palace-court,And all the people filled their vessels there.Such were the blessings which the gracious godsBestowed on King Alcinoüs and his house.

Ulysses, the great sufferer, standing there,Admired the sight; and when he had beheldThe whole in silent wonderment, he crossedThe threshold quickly, entering the hallWhere the Phaeacian peers and princes pouredWine from their goblets to the sleepless one,The Argus-queller, to whose deityThey made the last libations when they thoughtOf slumber. The great sufferer, concealedIn a thick mist, which Pallas raised and castAround him, hastened through the hall and cameClose to Aretè and Alcinoüs,The royal pair. Then did Ulysses claspAretè’s knees, when suddenly the cloudRaised by the goddess vanished. All withinThe palace were struck mute as they beheldThe man before them. Thus Ulysses prayed:—

“Aretè, daughter of the godlike chiefRhexenor! to thy husband I am comeAnd to thy knees, from many hardships borne,And to these guests, to whom may the good godsGrant to live happily, and to hand down,Each one to his own children, in his home,The wealth and honors which the people’s loveBestowed upon him. Grant me, I entreat,An escort, that I may behold againAnd soon my own dear country. I have passedLong years in sorrow, far from all I love.”

He ended, and sat down upon the hearthAmong the ashes, near the fire, and allWere silent utterly. At length outspakeEcheneus, oldest and most eloquent chiefOf the Phaeacians; large his knowledge wasOf things long past. With generous intent,And speaking to the assembly, he began:—

“Alcinoüs, this is not a seemly sight—A stranger sitting on the hearth amongThe cinders. All the others here awaitThy order, and move not. I pray thee, raiseThe stranger up, and seat him on a throneStudded with silver. Be thy heralds called,And bid them mingle wine, which we may pourTo Jove, the god of thunders, who attendsAnd honors every suppliant. Let the dameWho oversees the palace feast provideOur guest a banquet from the stores within.”

This when the reverend king Alcinoüs heard,Forthwith he took Ulysses by the hand—That man of wise devices—raised him upAnd seated him upon a shining throne,From which he bade Laodamas arise,His manly son, whose seat was next to his.

“Now mingle wine, Protonoüs, in a vase,For all within the palace, to be pouredTo Jove, the god of thunders, who attendsAnd honors every suppliant.” As he spakeProtonoüs mingled the delicious wines,And passed from right to left, distributingThe cups to all; and when they all had pouredA part to Jove, and all had drunk their fill,Alcinoüs took the word, and thus he said:—

“Princes and chiefs of the Phaeacians, hear,I speak as my heart bids me. Since the feastIs over, take your rest within your homes.Tomorrow shall the Senators be calledIn larger concourse. We will pay our guestDue honor in the palace, worshippingThe gods with solemn sacrifice. And thenWill we bethink us how to send him home,That with no hindrance and no hardship borneUnder our escort he may come againGladly and quickly to his native land,Though far away it lie, and that no wrongOr loss may happen to him ere he setFoot on its soil; and there must he endureWhatever, when his mother brought him forth,Fate and the unrelenting Sisters spunFor the newborn. But should he prove to beOne of the immortals who has come from heaven,Then have the gods a different design.For hitherto the gods have shown themselvesVisibly at our solemn hecatombs,And sat with us, and feasted like ourselves,And when the traveller meets with them alone,They never hide themselves; for we to themAre near of kin, as near as is the raceOf Cyclops and the savage giant brood.”

Ulysses the sagacious answered him:—“Nay, think not so, Alcinoüs. I am notIn form or aspect as the immortals are,Whose habitation is the ample heaven.But I am like whomever thou mayst know,Among mankind, inured to suffering;To them shouldst thou compare me. I could tellOf bitterer sorrows yet, which I have borne;Such was the pleasure of the gods. But nowLeave me, whatever have my hardships been,To take the meal before me. Naught exceedsThe impatient stomach’s importunityWhen even the afflicted and the sorrowfulAre forced to heed its call. So even now,Midst all the sorrow that is in my heart,It bids me eat and drink, and put asideThe thought of my misfortunes till itselfBe satiate. But, ye princes, with the dawnProvide for me, in my calamity,The means to reach again my native land.For, after all my hardships, I would dieWillingly, could I look on my estates,My servants, and my lofty halls once more.”

He ended; they approved his words, and badeSet forward on his homeward way the guestWho spake so wisely. When they all had madeLibations and had drunk, they each withdrewTo sleep at home, and left the noble chiefUlysses in the palace, where with himAretè and her godlike husband sat,While from the feast the maidens bore awayThe chargers. The white-armed Aretè thenBegan to speak; for when she cast her eyesOn the fair garments which Ulysses wore,She knew the mantle and the tunic well,Wrought by herself and her attendant maids,And thus with winged words bespake the chief:—

“Stranger, I first must ask thee who thou art,And of what race of men. From whom hast thouReceived those garments? Sure thou dost not sayThat thou art come from wandering o’er the sea.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, answered thus:—“ ’Twere hard, O sovereign lady, to relateIn order all my sufferings, for the godsOf heaven have made them many; yet will ITell all thou askest of me, and obeyThy bidding. Far within the ocean liesAn island named Ogygia, where abidesCalypso, artful goddess, with bright locks,Daughter of Atlas, and of dreaded power.No god consorts with her, nor anyoneOf mortal birth. But me in my distressSome god conveyed alone to her abode,When, launching his white lightning, JupiterHad cloven in the midst of the black seaMy galley. There my gallant comrades allPerished, but I in both my arms held fastThe keel of my good ship, and floated onNine days till, on the tenth, in the dark night,The gods had brought me to Ogygia’s isle,Where dwells Calypso of the radiant hairAnd dreaded might, who kindly welcomed me,And cherished me, and would have made my lifeImmortal, and beyond the power of ageIn all the coming time. And there I woreSeven years away, still moistening with my tearsThe ambrosial raiment which the goddess gave.But when the eighth year had begun its roundShe counselled my departure, whether JoveHad so required, or she herself had changedHer purpose. On a raft made strong with clampsShe placed me, sent on board an ample storeOf bread and pleasant wine, and made me putAmbrosial garments on, and gave a softAnd favorable wind. For seventeen daysI held my steady course across the deep,And on the eighteenth day the shadowy heightsOf your own isle appeared, and then my heart,Ill-fated as I was, rejoiced. Yet stillWas I to struggle with calamitiesSent by earthshaking Neptune, who called upThe winds against me, and withstood my way,And stirred the boundless ocean to its depths.Nor did the billows surfer me to keepMy place, but swept me, groaning, from the raft,Whose planks they scattered. Still I labored throughThe billowy depth, and swam, till wind and waveDrove me against your coast. As there I soughtTo land, I found the surges hurrying meAgainst huge rocks that lined the frightful shore,But, turning back, I swam again and reachedA river and the landing-place I wished.Smooth, without rocks, and sheltered from the wind.I swooned, but soon revived. Ambrosial nightCame on. I left the Jove-descended streamAnd slept among the thickets, drawing roundMy limbs the withered leaves, while on my lidsA deity poured bounteously the balmOf slumber. All night long, among the leaves,I slept, with all that sorrow in my heart,Till morn, till noon. Then as the sun went downThe balmy slumber left me, and I sawThy daughter’s handmaids sporting on the shore,And her among them, goddess-like. To herI came a suppliant, nor did she receiveMy suit unkindly as a maid so youngMight do, for youth is foolish. She bestowedFood and red wine abundantly, and gave,When I had bathed, the garments I have on.Thus is my tale of suffering truly told.”

And then Alcinoüs answered him and said:—“Stranger, one duty hath my child o’erlooked—To bid thee follow hither with her maids,Since thou didst sue to her the first of all.”

Ulysses, the sagacious, thus replied:—“Blame not for that, O hero, I entreat,Thy faultless daughter. She commanded meTo follow with her maids, but I refrainedFor fear and awe of thee, lest, at the sight,Thou mightest be displeased; for we are proneTo dark misgivings—we, the sons of men.”Again Alcinoüs spake: “The heart that beatsWithin my bosom is not rashly movedTo wrath, and better is the temperate mood.This must I say, O Father Jupiter,And Pallas and Apollo! I could wishThat, being as thou art, and of like mindWith me, thou wouldst receive to be thy brideMy daughter, and be called my son-in-law,And here abide. A palace I would give,And riches, shouldst thou willingly remain.Against thy will let no Phaeacian dareTo keep thee here. May Father Jove forbid!And that thou mayst be sure of my intent,I name tomorrow for thy voyage home.Sleep in thy bed till then; and they shall rowO’er the calm sea thy galley, till thou comeTo thine own land and home, or wheresoe’erThou wilt, though further off the coast should beThan far Euboea, most remote of lands—So do the people of our isle declare,Who saw it when they over sea conveyedThe fair-haired Rhadamanthus, on his wayTo visit Tityus, son of Earth. They wentThither, accomplishing with little toilTheir voyage in the compass of a day,And brought the hero to our isle again.Now shalt thou learn, and in thy heart confess,How much our galleys and our youths excelWith bladed oars to stir the whirling brine.”

So spake the king, and the great suffererUlysses heard with gladness, and preferredA prayer, and called on Jupiter and said:—

“Grant, Father Jove, that all the king has saidMay be fulfilled! so shall his praise go forthOver the foodful earth, and never die,And I shall see my native land again.”

So they conferred. White-armed Aretè spake,And bade her maidens in the porticoPlace couches, and upon them lay fair rugsOf purple dye, and tapestry on these,And for the outer covering shaggy cloaks.Forth from the hall they issued, torch in hand;And when with speed the ample bed was made,They came and summoned thus the chief to rest:—

“Rise, stranger, go to rest; thy bed is made.”Thus spake the maidens, and the thought of sleepWas welcome to Ulysses. So that nightOn his deep couch the noble suffererSlumbered beneath the sounding portico.Alcinoüs laid him down in a recessWithin his lofty palace, near to whomThe queen his consort graced the marriage-bed.