National Epics by Kate Milner Rabb

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"Small blame is theirs, if both the Trojan knights
And brazen-mailed Achaians have endured
So long so many evils for the sake
Of that one woman. She is wholly like
In feature to the deathless goddesses.
So be it: let her, peerless as she is,
Return on board the fleet, nor stay to bring
Disaster upon us and all our race."

So spake the elders. Priam meantime called
To Helen: "Come, dear daughter, sit by me.
Thou canst behold thy former husband hence,
Thy kindred and thy friends. I blame thee not;
The blame is with the immortals who have sent
These pestilent Greeks against me. Sit and name
For me this mighty man, the Grecian chief,
Gallant and tall. True, there are taller men;
But of such noble form and dignity
I never saw: in truth, a kingly man."

And Helen, fairest among women, thus
Answered: "Dear second father, whom at once
I fear and honor, would that cruel death
Had overtaken me before I left,
To wander with thy son, my marriage bed,
And my dear daughter, and the company
Of friends I loved. But that was not to be;
And now I pine and weep. Yet will I tell
What thou dost ask. The hero whom thou seest
Is the wide-ruling Agamemnon, son
Of Atreus, and is both a gracious king
And a most dreaded warrior. He was once
Brother-in-law to me, if I may speak--
Lost as I am to shame--of such a tie."

She said, the aged man admired, and then
He spake again: "O son of Atreus, born
Under a happy fate, and fortunate
Among the sons of men! A mighty host
Of Grecian youths obey thy rule. I went
To Phrygia once,--that land of vines,--and there
Saw many Phrygians, heroes on fleet steeds,
The troops of Otreus, and of Mygdon, shaped
Like one of the immortals. They encamped
By the Sangarius. I was an ally;
My troops were ranked with theirs upon the day
When came the unsexed Amazons to war.
Yet even there I saw not such a host
As this of black-eyed Greeks who muster here."
Then Priam saw Ulysses, and inquired:--
"Dear daughter, tell me also who is that,
Less tall than Agamemnon, yet more broad
In chest and shoulders. On the teeming earth
His armor lies, but he, from place to place,
Walks round among the ranks of soldiery,
As when the thick-fleeced father of the flocks
Moves through the multitude of his white sheep."
And Jove-descended Helen answered thus:--
"That is Ulysses, man of many arts,
Son of Laertes, reared in Ithaca,
That rugged isle, and skilled in every form
Of shrewd device and action wisely planned."
Then spake the sage Antenor: "Thou hast said
The truth, O lady. This Ulysses once
Came on an embassy, concerning thee,
To Troy with Menelaus, great in war;
And I received them as my guests, and they
Were lodged within my palace, and I learned
The temper and the qualities of both.
When both were standing 'mid the men of Troy,
I marked that Menelaus's broad chest
Made him the more conspicuous, but when both
Were seated, greater was the dignity
Seen in Ulysses. When they both addressed
The council, Menelaus briefly spake
In pleasing tones, though with few words,--as one
Not given to loose and wandering speech,--although
The younger. When the wise Ulysses rose,
He stood with eyes cast down, and fixed on earth,
And neither swayed his sceptre to the right
Nor to the left, but held it motionless,
Like one unused to public speech. He seemed
An idiot out of humor. But when forth
He sent from his full lungs his mighty voice,
And words came like a fall of winter snow,
No mortal then would dare to strive with him
For mastery in speech. We less admired
The aspect of Ulysses than his words."
Beholding Ajax then, the aged king
Asked yet again: "Who is that other chief
Of the Achaians, tall, and large of limb,--
Taller and broader-chested than the rest?"
Helen, the beautiful and richly-robed,
Answered: "Thou seest the might Ajax there,
The bulwark of the Greeks. On the other side,
Among his Cretans, stands Idomeneus,
Of godlike aspect, near to whom are grouped
The leaders of the Cretans. Oftentimes
The warlike Menelaus welcomed him
Within our palace, when he came from Crete.
I could point out and name the other chiefs
Of the dark-eyed Achaians. Two alone,
Princes among their people, are not seen,--
Castor the fearless horseman, and the skilled
In boxing, Pollux,--twins; one mother bore
Both them and me. Came they not with the rest
From pleasant Lacedaemon to the war?
Or, having crossed the deep in their goodships,
Shun they to fight among the valiant ones
Of Greece, because of my reproach and shame?"
She spake; but they already lay in earth
In Lacedaemon, their dear native land.

_Bryants Translation, Book III._

THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.

The single combat between Paris and Menelaus broke up in a general battle
unfavorable to the Trojans, and Hector returned to Troy to order the
Trojan matrons to sacrifice to Pallas. He then sought his dwelling to
greet his wife and child, but learned from one of the maids that
Andromache, on hearing that the Greeks were victorious, had hastened to
the city walls with the child and its nurse,

Hector left in haste
The mansion, and retraced his way between
The rows of stately dwellings, traversing
The mighty city. When at length he reached
The Scaean gates, that issue on the field,
His spouse, the nobly-dowered Andromache,
Came forth to meet him,--daughter of the prince
Eetion, who among the woody slopes
Of Placos, in the Hypoplacian town
Of Thebe, ruled Cilicia and her sons,
And gave his child to Hector great in arms.
She came attended by a maid, who bore
A tender child--a babe too young to speak--
Upon her bosom,--Hector's only son,
Beautiful as a star, whom Hector called
Scamandrius, but all else Astyanax,--
The city's lord,--since Hector stood the sole
Defence of Troy. The father on his child
Looked with a silent smile. Andromache
Pressed to his side meanwhile, and, all in tears,
Clung to his hand, and, thus beginning, said:--

"Too brave! thy valor yet will cause thy death.
Thou hast no pity on thy tender child
Nor me, unhappy one, who soon must be
Thy widow. All the Greeks will rush on thee
To take thy life. A happier lot were mine,
If I must lose thee, to go down to earth,
For I shall have no hope when thou art gone,--
Nothing but sorrow. Father have I none,
And no dear mother. Great Achilles slew
My father when he sacked the populous town
Of the Cilicians,--Thebe with high gates.
'T was there he smote Eetion, yet forbore
To make his arms a spoil; he dared not that,
But burned the dead with his bright armor on,
And raised a mound above him. Mountain-nymphs,
Daughters of aegis-bearing Jupiter,
Came to the spot and planted it with elms.
Seven brothers had I in my father's house,
And all went down to Hades in one day.
Achilles the swift-footed slew them all
Among their slow-paced bullocks and white sheep.
My mother, princess on the woody slopes
Of Placos, with his spoils he bore away,
And only for large ransom gave her back.
But her Diana, archer-queen, struck down
Within her father's palace. Hector, thou
Art father and dear mother now to me,
And brother and my youthful spouse besides.
In pity keep within the fortress here,
Nor make thy child an orphan nor thy wife
A widow. Post thine army near the place
Of the wild fig-tree, where the city-walls
Are low and may be scaled. Thrice in war
The boldest of the foe have tried the spot,--
The Ajaces and the famed Idomeneus,
The two chiefs born to Atreus, and the brave
Tydides, whether counselled by some seer
Or prompted to the attempt by their own minds."

Then answered Hector, great in war: "All this
I bear in mind, dear wife; but I should stand
Ashamed before the men and long-robed dames
Of Troy, were I to keep aloof and shun
The conflict, coward-like. Not thus my heart
Prompts me, for greatly have I learned to dare
And strike among the foremost sons of Troy,
Upholding my great father's fame and mine;
Yet well in my undoubting mind I know
The day shall come in which our sacred Troy,
And Priam, and the people over whom
Spear-bearing Priam rules, shall perish all.
But not the sorrows of the Trojan race,
Nor those of Hecuba herself, nor those
Of royal Priam, nor the woes that wait
My brothers many and brave,--who all at last,
Slain by the pitiless foe, shall lie in dust,--
Grieve me so much as thine, when some mailed Greek
Shall lead thee weeping hence, and take from thee
Thy day of freedom. Thou in Argos then
Shalt at another's bidding ply the loom,
And from the fountain of Messeis draw
Water, or from the Hypereian spring,
Constrained unwilling by thy cruel lot.
And then shall some one say who sees thee weep,
'This was the wife of Hector, most renowned
Of the horse-taming Trojans, when they fought
Around their city.' So shall some one say,
And thou shalt grieve the more, lamenting him
Who haply might have kept afar the day
Of thy captivity. O let the earth
Be heaped above my head in death before
I hear thy cries as thou art borne away!"
So speaking, mighty Hector stretched his arms
To take the boy; the boy shrank crying back
To his fair nurse's bosom, scared to see
His father helmeted in glittering brass,
And eying with affright the horsehair plume
That grimly nodded from the lofty crest.
At this both parents in their fondness laughed;
And hastily the mighty Hector took
The helmet from his brow and laid it down
Gleaming upon the ground, and, having kissed
His darling son and tossed him up in play,
Prayed thus to Jove and all the gods of heaven:--
"O Jupiter and all ye deities,
Vouchsafe that this my son may yet become
Among the Trojans eminent like me,
And nobly rule in Ilium. May they say,
'This man is greater than his father was!'
When they behold him from the battle-field
Bring back the bloody spoil of the slain foe,--
That so his mother may be glad at heart."
So speaking, to the arms of his dear spouse
He gave the boy; she on her fragrant breast
Received him, weeping as she smiled. The chief
Beheld, and, moved with tender pity, smoothed
Her forehead gently with his hand, and said:--
"Sorrow not thus, beloved one, for me.
No living man can send me to the shades
Before my time; no man of woman born,
Coward or brave, can shun his destiny.

But go thou home, and tend thy labors there,--
The web, the distaff,--and command thy maids
To speed the work. The cares of war pertain
To all men born in Troy, and most to me."
Thus speaking, mighty Hector took again
His helmet, shadowed with the horsehair plume,
While homeward his beloved consort went,
Oft looking back, and shedding many tears.
Soon was she in the spacious palace-halls
Of the man-queller Hector. There she found
A troop of maidens,--with them all she shared
Her grief; and all in his own house bewailed
The living Hector, whom they thought no more
To see returning from the battle-field,
Safe from the rage and weapons of the Greeks.
_Bryant's Translation, Book VI._

THE ODYSSEY.

"The surge and thunder of the Odyssey."

The Odyssey relates the adventures of Ulysses on his return to Ithaca
after the Trojan war.

It consists of twenty-four books, the first four of which are sometimes
known as the Telemachia, because Telemachus is the principal figure.

The difference in style of the Iliad and Odyssey has caused some critics
to assert that the latter is not the work of Homer; this is accounted for,
however, by the difference of subject, and it is probable that the
Odyssey, though of a later date, is the work of the same hand, "the work
of Homer's old age,--an epic bathed in a mellow light of sunset."

If the Odyssey alone had come down to us, its authorship would have passed
unquestioned, for the poem is so compact, its plot so carefully planned
and so skilfully carried out, that there can be no doubt that it is the
work of one hand.

The Odyssey is as great a work of art as the Iliad, and is even more
popular; for the Odyssey is a domestic romance, and as such appeals to a
larger audience than a tale of war alone,--the romance of the wandering
Ulysses and the faithful Penelope. Interwoven with it are the ever-popular
fairy tales of Ulysses's wanderings and descriptions of home life. It is
marked by the same pagan enjoyment of life, the same freshness and charm
that lend enchantment to the Iliad.

BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM, THE ODYSSEY.

F. B. Jevons's History of Greek Literature, 1886, pp. 17-25;

A. Lang's Homer and the Epic, 1893, chaps. 8-13;

J. A. Symonds's Studies of the Greek Poets, ed. 3, 1893;

J. E. Harrison's Myths of the Odyssey in Art and Literature, 1882;

W. J. Stillman's On the Track of Ulysses, 1888;

F. W. Newman's The Authorship of the Odyssey (in his Miscellanies, vol.
v.);

J. Spence's Essay on Pope's Translation of the Odyssey, 1837.

STANDARD ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS, THE ODYSSEY.

The Odyssey, Tr. into English blank verse by W. C. Bryant, 2 vols., 1871;

The Odyssey, Tr. according to the Greek, with introduction and notes by
George Chapman, ed. 2, 2 vols., 1874;

The Odyssey, Tr. by William Cowper;

The Odyssey, Tr. by G. H. Palmer, 1894 (prose);

The Odyssey, Tr. by Alexander Pope, with notes by Rev. T. W. A. Buckley,
n. d.;

The Odyssey, Tr. by S. H. Butcher and A. Lang, 1879 (prose).

THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY.

After the fall of Troy, Agamemnon returned to Argos, where he was
treacherously slain by Aegisthus, the corrupter of his wife; Menelaus
reached Sparta in safety, laden with spoil and reunited to the beautiful
Helen; Nestor resumed the rule of Pylos, but Ulysses remained absent from
Ithaca, where his wife Penelope still grieved for him, though steadfast in
her belief that he would return. One hundred and fourteen suitors, princes
from Dulichium, Samos, Zacynthus, and Ithaca, determined to wed Penelope
that they might obtain the rich possessions of Ulysses, spent their time
in revelling in his halls and wasting his wealth, thinking in this way to
force Penelope to wed some one of them.

Penelope, as rich in resources as was her crafty husband, announced to
them that she would wed when she had woven a funeral garment for Laertes,
the father of Ulysses. During the day she wove industriously, but at night
she unravelled what she had done that day, so that to the expectant
suitors the task seemed interminable. After four years her artifice was
revealed to the suitors by one of her maids, and she was forced to find
other excuses to postpone her marriage. In the mean time, her son
Telemachus, now grown to manhood, disregarded by the suitors on account of
his youth, and treated as a child by his mother, was forced to sit
helpless in his halls, hearing the insults of the suitors and seeing his
rich possessions wasted.

Having induced Jove to end the sufferings of Ulysses, Pallas caused Hermes
to be dispatched to Calypso's isle to release the hero, while she herself
descended to Ithaca in the guise of Mentes. There she was received
courteously by the youth, who sat unhappy among the revellers. At a table
apart from the others, Telemachus told the inquiring stranger who they
were who thus wasted his patrimony.

"Something must needs be done speedily," said Mentes, "and I shall tell
thee how to thrust them from thy palace gates. Take a ship and go to Pylos
to inquire of the aged and wise Nestor what he knows of thy father's fate.
Thence go to Menelaus, in Sparta; he was the last of all the mailed Greeks
to return home. If thou hear encouraging tidings, wait patiently for a
year. At the end of that time, if thy father come not, celebrate his
funeral rites, let thy mother wed again, and take immediate steps for the
destruction of the suitor band. Thou art no longer a child; the time has
come for thee to assert thyself and be a man."

Telemachus, long weary of inactivity, was pleased with this advice, and at
once announced to the incredulous suitors his intention of going to learn
the fate of his father. A boat was procured and provided with a crew by
the aid of Pallas, and provisioned from the secret store-room guarded by
the old and faithful servant Eurycleia. From among the treasures of
Ulysses--garments, heaps of gold and brass, and old and delicate
wines--Telemachus took sweet wine and meal to be conveyed to the ship at
night, and instructing Eurycleia not to tell his mother of his absence
until twelve days had passed, he departed as soon as sleep had overcome
the suitors. Pallas, in the guise of Mentor, accompanied him.

His courage failed him, however, as they approached the shore of Pylos,
where Nestor and his people were engaged in making a great sacrifice to
Neptune. "How shall I approach the chief?" he asked. "Ill am I trained in
courtly speech."

But, encouraged by Pallas, he greeted the aged Nestor, and after he and
his companion had assisted in the sacrifice and partaken of the banquet
that followed, he revealed his name and asked for tidings of his, father,
boldly and confidently, as befitted the son of Ulysses. The old king could
tell him nothing, however. After Troy had fallen, a dissension had rent
the camp, and part of the Greeks had remained with Agamemnon, part had
sailed with Menelaus. Sailing with Menelaus, Nestor had parted with Diomed
at Argos, and had sailed on to Pylos. Since his return he had heard of the
death of Agamemnon, and of the more recent return of Menelaus, but had
heard no tidings of Ulysses, who had remained with Agamemnon.
To Menelaus he advised Telemachus to go, warning him, however, not to
remain long away from Ithaca, leaving his home in the possession of rude
and lawless men.

In a car provided by Nestor and driven by his son, Pisistratus, Telemachus
reached Sparta after a day and a night's rapid travel, and found Menelaus
celebrating the nuptial feast of his daughter Hermione, betrothed at Troy
to the son of Achilles, and his son Megapenthes, wedded to the daughter of
Alector. The two young men were warmly welcomed, and were invited to
partake of the banquet without being asked their names. After the feast
they wondered at the splendor of the halls of gold, amber, and ivory, the
polished baths, and the fleecy garments in which they had been arrayed;
but Menelaus assured them that all his wealth was small compensation to
him for the loss of the warriors who had fallen before Troy, and above
all, of the great Ulysses, whose fate he knew not. Though Telemachus's
tears fell at his father's name, Menelaus did not guess to whom he spoke,
until Helen, entering from her perfumed chamber, saw the likeness between
the stranger and the babe whom Ulysses had left when he went to Troy, and
greeted their guest as Telemachus.

Then they sat in the splendid hall and talked of Troy,--Menelaus broken by
his many toils, Helen beautiful as when she was rapt away by Paris,
weaving with her golden distaff wound with violet wool, and the two young
men, who said little, but listened to the wondrous tale of the wanderings
of Menelaus. And they spoke of Ulysses: of the times when he had proved
his prudence as well as his craft; of his entering Troy as a beggar and
revealing the Achaian plots to Helen; of how he had prevented their
breaking out of the wooden horse too soon. Then the king told of his
interview with the Ancient of the Deep, in which he had learned the fate
of his comrades; of Agamemnon's death, and of the detention of Ulysses on
Calypso's isle, where he languished, weeping bitterly, because he had no
means of escape.

This information gained, Telemachus was anxious to return home; but his
host detained him until he and Helen had descended to their fragrant
treasure-chamber and brought forth rich gifts,--a double cup of silver and
gold wrought by Vulcan, a shining silver beaker, and an embroidered robe
for his future bride.

Mercury, dispatched by Jove, descended to the distant isle of Calypso, and
warned the bright-haired nymph, whom he found weaving in her charmed
grotto, that she must let her mortal lover go or brave the wrath of the
gods. The nymph, though loath to part with her lover, sought out the
melancholy Ulysses, where he sat weeping beside the deep, and giving him
tools, led him to the forest and showed him where to fell trees with which
to construct a raft. His labor finished, she provided the hero with
perfumed garments, a full store of provisions, and saw him set forth
joyfully upon the unknown deep.

For seventeen days his journey was a prosperous one; but on the eighteenth
day, just as the land of the Phaeacians came in sight. Neptune returned
from Ethiopia, and angry at what the gods had contrived to do in his
absence, determined to make the hero suffer as much as possible before he
attained the promised end of his troubles.

Soon a great storm arose and washed Ulysses from the raft. Clinging to its
edge, buffeted here and there by the angry waves, he would have suffered
death had not a kind sea nymph urged him to lay aside his heavy garments,
leave the raft, and binding a veil that she gave him about his chest, swim
to the land of the Phaeacians. The coast was steep and rocky, but he found
at last a little river, and swimming up it, landed, and fell asleep among
some warm heaps of dried leaves.

The Phaeacians were a people closely allied to the gods, to whom they were
very dear. They had at one time been neighbors of the Cyclops, from whose
rudeness they had suffered so much that they were compelled to seek a
distant home. They were a civilized people, who had achieved great results
as sailors, having remarkably swift and well-equipped ships.

To the Princess Nausicaa, beautiful as a goddess, Pallas appeared in a
dream the night that Ulysses lay sleeping on the isle, warning her that
since her wedding day was near at hand, when all would need fresh
garments, it was fitting that she should ask her father's permission to
take the garments of the household to the river side to wash them.

Nausicaa's father willingly granted his permission, and ordered the strong
car in which to carry away the soiled garments. A hamper of food and a
skin of wine were added by her mother, as the princess climbed into the
chariot and drove towards the river, followed by her maids.

When the garments had been washed in the lavers hollowed out by the river
side, and the lunch had been eaten, the maids joined in a game of ball.
Joyous they laughed and frolicked, like Dian's nymphs, until they roused
the sleeper under the olive-trees on the hillside.

All save Nausicaa fled affrighted as he came forth to speak to them,
covered with sea foam, his nakedness hidden only by a leafy branch woven
round his waist; but she, strengthened by the goddess, heard his story,
and provided him with clothing and materials for the bath. When he
appeared, cleansed from the sea foam, and made more handsome by the art of
Pallas, Nausicaa's pity was changed to admiration, and she wished that she
might have a husband like him.

Food and wine were set before the hero, and while he refreshed himself the
dried clothes were folded and placed in the cart. As the princess prepared
to go she advised the stranger to follow the party until they reached a
grove outside the city, and to remain there until she had time to reach
her father's palace, lest some gossip should connect Nausicaa's name with
that of a stranger. She told him how to find her father's palace, and
instructed him to win the favor of her mother, that he might be received
with honor and assisted on his homeward way.

Ulysses obeyed, and when he reached the city gates was met by Pallas, in
the guise of a virgin with an urn. She answered his questions, directed
him to the palace, and told him to throw himself first at the feet of
Queen Arete, who was looked on by the people as if she were a goddess.
Wrapped in a cloud by Pallas, the unseen Ulysses admired the spacious
halls of Alcinoues. Walls of brass supported blue steel cornices, golden
doors guarded by gold and silver mastiffs opened into the vast hall, along
which were ranged thrones covered with delicately woven mantles, for which
the Phaeacian women were famous.

Around the palace lay a spacious garden filled with pear, pomegranate,
fig, and apple trees, that knew no change of season, but blossomed and
bore fruit throughout the year. Perennially blooming plants scattered
perfume through the garden kept fresh by water from two sparkling
fountains.

As Ulysses knelt at the feet of Arete, the cloud enveloping him fell away,
and all were astonished at the sight of the stranger imploring protection.
Arete received Ulysses with favor, and Alcinoues was so pleased with him
that he offered him his daughter in marriage, if he was unmarried, a
palace and riches if he would remain on the island, and a safe passage
home if he desired to leave them. The king then invited the chiefs of the
isle to a great banquet in honor of his guest. At this banquet Demodocus,
the blind minstrel, sang so touchingly of the heroes of the Trojan war
that Ulysses was moved to tears, a fact observed by the king alone. After
the feast the guests displayed their strength in athletic games; and
Ulysses, provoked by the taunts of the ill-bred Euryalus, cast a broader,
heavier quoit than had yet been used far beyond the mark. The Phaeacians
were amazed, and the king confessed that his people were weak in athletic
sports but excelled in the dance,--a statement to which Ulysses readily
agreed when he saw the beautiful and graceful dance of the princes
Laodamas and Halius to the music of Demodocus's silver harp.

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