James Branch Cabell et al - "Domnei"

Demosthenes - "The Public Orations of Demosthenes, volume 2"

Sherwood Anderson - "Triumph of the Egg and Other Stories"

Kate Milner Rabb - "National Epics"

A  /  B  /  C  /  D  /  E  /   F  /  G  /  H  /  I  /  J  /   K  /  L  /  M  /  N  /  O   P  /  R  /  S  /  T  /  U  /  V  /  W  /  X  /  Y  /  Z

National Epics by Kate Milner Rabb

K >> Kate Milner Rabb >> National Epics




When the games were over, all the chiefs presented Ulysses with garments
and with talents of gold, for the reception of which Arete gave a
beautiful chest. As he corded up the chest, and stepped forth to the
banquet, refreshed from the bath, Nausicaa, standing beside a pillar, bade
him farewell.

"Remember, in thy native land, O stranger, that thou owest thy life to
me."

When they sat again in the banqueting hall, Ulysses besought Demodocus to
sing again of the fall of Troy; but when the minstrel sang of the strategy
of the wooden horse which wrought the downfall of Troy, the hero was again
melted to tears,--and this time his host, unable to repress his curiosity,
asked him to reveal his name and history.

"Thou hast spoken, O king, and I proceed to tell the story of my
calamitous voyage from Troy; for I am Ulysses, widely known among men for
my cunning devices. Our first stop was among the Ciconians, whose city we
laid waste. Here, in spite of my warning, my men tarried to drink red wine
until the Ciconians had had time to recruit their forces, and, attacking
us, slew six men from each galley. When we who survived reached the land
of the lotus-eaters, some of my men ate of the sweet plant, after which a
man thinks never more of wife, or friends, or home; and it was with the
utmost difficulty that we succeeded in dragging them to the ships.

"At the Cyclopean land I myself, with a few of my men, disembarked, and
went up to seek the inhabitants and conciliate them with gifts of food and
wine. The Cyclops were huge one-eyed giants who did not cultivate the
land, had no government, and cared nought for the gods. The first cave to
which we came was empty, and we went in to await the arrival of the owner,
appeasing our appetites, meanwhile, with some of his cheeses. Presently he
arrived, and after he had closed up the entrance of the cave with a huge
stone, and had milked his goats, he questioned us as to who we were. Our
story told, he seized two of my companions, dashed their heads against the
rocks, and devoured them. The next morning, after devouring two others, he
drove out his flocks, leaving us shut up in the huge cave. All that day I
revolved plans for his destruction and our escape; and at last, drawing
lots with my companions to determine who should assist me, I determined,
with their aid, to bore out his great eye with a huge olive-wood stick
that I found in the cave. We spent the day sharpening it and hardening it
in the fire, and at night hid it under a heap of litter. Two more of my
men made his evening meal, after which I plied him with the wine I had
brought, until, softened by the liquor, he inquired my name, assuring me
that as return for my gift, he would devour me last. My name, I told him,
was Noman.

"As soon as he had fallen into a drunken slumber I put the stake to heat,
and, strengthening the courage of my men, I drew it forth and plunged it
into his eye. Steadily we spun it round until the monster, screaming with
pain, drew it forth, crying to the other Cyclops to come to his aid. When
they, from without, questioned who hurt him, he replied, 'Noman destroyeth
me by guile.' 'If it is "Noman,"' said they, departing, 'it must be Jove.
Then pray to Neptune.'

"During the night I tied together the rams, three and three with osier
twigs, and instructed my comrades, as he drove them out, to cling under
the middle one. I hid myself under the fleecy belly of a huge ram, the
finest of the flock. He touched their backs as he drove them out, but he
did not penetrate my cunning, and we all escaped. After we had driven the
flock on board, however, and had pushed out our galley, I could not
forbear a taunting shout, at which he hurled a huge fragment of rock after
us, just missing our galley.

"With Aeolus, King of the Winds, we remained a month, reciting the events
connected with the fall of Troy. So pleased was the king with my story,
that on our departure he presented me with a bag tied up with a silver
cord, which contained the adverse winds. One day, as I slumbered, my
unhappy sailors, suspecting some treasure concealed therein, opened it,
and we were immediately blown back to Aeolus's isle, from which he,
enraged at our folly, indignantly drove us.

"At the land of the Laestrygonians all our galleys were lost and our men
devoured by the cannibal inhabitants, with the exception of my own ship,
which by good fortune I had moored without the harbor. Overcome with
grief, we rowed wearily along until we arrived at the land of Circe. With
caution born of experience, we drew lots to see who should venture into
the unknown isle. The lot fell to Eurylochus, who, with twenty-two brave
men, went forward to the fair palace of Circe, around which fawned tamed
mountain lions and wolves. Within sat the bright haired goddess, singing
while she threw her shuttle through the beautiful web she was weaving.

"All the men entered the palace at her invitation but Eurylochus, who,
suspecting some guile, remained without. He saw his comrades led within,
seated upon thrones and banqueted; but no sooner was the feast over, than
she touched them with her wand, and transformed them into swine that she
drove scornfully to their cells.

"Eurylochus hastened back to our ships with the sorrowful tidings. As soon
as grief had permitted him to tell the story, I flung my sword over my
shoulders and hastened away to the palace. As I entered the valley, not
far from the palace, I was met by a youth, none save the Argus-queller
himself, who revealed to me Circe's guile, and presented me with a plant,
the moly, which would enable me to withstand her charms.

"The goddess received me kindly, seated me upon a throne, and invited me
to feast with her. After the feast she struck me with her wand, as she had
done my comrades, ordering me to go to my sty; but when I remained
unchanged, she perceived that her guest was Ulysses, whose coming had long
been foretold to her.

"Softened by her entreaties, I sheathed my sword, after having made her
promise to release my friends and do us no further harm. Then the others
were called from the ships, and we banqueted together.

"Time passed so happily on Circe's isle that we lingered a whole year,
until, roused by the words of my friends, I announced my intended
departure, and was told by Circe that I must first go to the land of the
dead to get instructions as to my future course from Tiresias. Provided
with the proper sacrifices by Circe, we set sail for the land of the
Cimmerians, on the confines of Oceanus. The sacrifices having been duly
performed, the spirits appeared,--Elpenor, my yet unburied comrade, whose
body lay on Circe's isle, my own dead mother, and the Theban seer,
Tiresias, with his golden wand. 'Neptune is wroth with thee,' he said,
'but thou mayst yet return if thou and thy comrades leave undisturbed the
cattle of the Sun. If thou do not, destruction awaits thee. If thou escape
and return home it will be after long journeyings and much suffering, and
there thou wilt slay the insolent suitor crew that destroy thy substance
and wrong thy household.' After Tiresias had spoken I lingered to speak
with other spirits,--my mother, Ajax, Antiope, Agamemnon, Achilles,
Patroclus, and Antilochus. Having conversed with all these, we set sail
for Circe's isle, and thence started again on our homeward voyage.

"Circe had instructed me to stop the ears of my men with wax as we
approached the isle of the Sirens, and to have myself tied to the boat
that I might not leap into the ocean to go to the beautiful maidens who
sang so entrancingly. We therefore escaped without adding our bones to
those on the isle of the Sirens, and came next to Scylla and Charybdis.
Charybdis is a frightful whirlpool. The sailor who steers too far away in
his anxiety to escape it, is seized by the six arms of the monster Scylla
and lifted to her cavern to be devoured. We avoided Charybdis; but as we
looked down into the abyss, pale with fear, six of my comrades were seized
by Scylla and snatched up to her cave.

"As we neared the Island of the Sun I told my comrades again of the
warning of Tiresias, and begged them to sail past without stopping. I was
met, however, by the bitterest reproaches, and at last consented to a
landing if they would bind themselves by a solemn oath not to touch the
cattle of the Sun. They promised, but when adverse winds prolonged our
stay and food became scarce, fools, madmen, they slew the herds, and in
spite of the terrible omens, the meat lowing on the spits, the skins
crawling, they feasted for six days. When, on the seventh, the tempest
ceased and we sailed away, we went to our destruction. I alone was saved,
clinging to the floating timbers for nine long days, until on the tenth I
reached Calypso's isle, Ogygia, where, out of love for me, the mighty
goddess cherished me for seven years."

The Phaeacians were entranced by this recital, and in addition to their
former gifts, heaped other treasures upon the "master of stratagems" that
he might return home a wealthy man. The swift ship was filled with his
treasures, and after the proper sacrifices and long farewells, the
chieftain embarked. It was morn when the ship arrived in Ithaca, and
Ulysses, worn out from his long labors, was still asleep. Stopping at the
little port of Phorcys, where the steep shores stretch inward and a
spreading olive-tree o'ershadows the grotto of the nymphs, the sailors
lifted out Ulysses, laid him on the ground, and piling up his gifts under
the olive-tree, set sail for Phaeacia. But the angry Neptune smote the
ship as it neared the town and changed it to a rock, thus fulfilling an
ancient prophecy that Neptune would some day wreak his displeasure on the
Phaeacians for giving to every man who came to them safe escort home.

When Ulysses awoke he did not recognize the harbor, and thinking that he
had been treated with deceit, he wept bitterly. Thus Pallas, in the guise
of a young shepherd, found him, and showed him that it was indeed his own
dear land. She helped him to conceal his treasures in the grotto, and told
him that Telemachus was even now away on a voyage of inquiry concerning
him, and his wife was weeping over his absence and the insolence of the
suitors. But he must act with caution. To give him an opportunity to lay
his plans for the destruction of these men without being recognized, she
changed him to a beggar, wrinkled and old, and clad in ragged, soiled
garments. Then directing him to the home of his old herdsman, she hastened
to warn Telemachus to avoid the ship the suitors had stationed to destroy
him on his way home.

The old Eumaeus was sitting in his lodge without whose hedge lay the many
sties of swine that were his care. He greeted the beggar kindly, and
spread food before him, lamenting all the while the absence of his noble
master and the wickedness of the suitors. Ulysses told him that he was a
wanderer who had heard of his master, and could speak surely of his
return. Though Eumaeus regarded this as an idle speech spoken to gain food
and clothing, he continued in his kindness to his guest.

To this lodge came Telemachus after the landing of his ship, that he might
first hear from Eumaeus the news from the palace,--Telemachus, who had
grown into sudden manliness from his experience among other men. He also
was kind to the beggar, and heard his story. While he remained with the
beggar, Eumaeus having gone to acquaint Penelope of her son's return,
Pallas appearing, touched the beggar with her golden wand, and Ulysses,
with the presence of a god, stood before his awed and wondering son.

Long and passionate was their weeping as the father told the son of his
sufferings, and the son told of the arrogance of the one hundred and
fourteen suitors.

"There are we two with Pallas and her father Jove against them," replied
his father. "Thinkest thou we need to fear with two such allies?"

On the day after Telemachus's return, Ulysses, accompanied by Eumaeus,
visited the palace. No one recognized him except his old dog, Argus, long
neglected and devoured by vermin, who, at the sound of his master's voice,
drew near, wagged his tail, and fell dead.

According to their carefully laid plans, Telemachus feigned not to know
his father, but sent to the beggar some food. Ulysses asked the same of
the suitors, but was repulsed with taunts and insults, Antinoues, the most
insolent, striking him with a footstool.

To Penelope, weaving in her chamber, was carried the story of the beggar
at whom the abhorred Antinoues had thrown a stool, and she sent for him to
ask if he had tidings of Ulysses. He refused to go to her, however, until
the suitors had withdrawn for the night; and as he sat among the
revellers, he caught the first glimpse of his wife, as she came down among
her maids, to reproach her son for exposing himself to danger among the
suitors, and for allowing the beggar to be injured.

When darkness fell and the hall was deserted, Telemachus, with the
assistance of his father, removed all the weapons from the walls. After
Telemachus had retired to his chamber, Penelope came down, and sitting
upon her ivory throne conversed with the beggar, questioning him about his
story until he was driven to invent tales that seemed like truth, and
asking about her husband while the tears ran down her fair cheeks. By a
great effort Ulysses kept his tears from falling as he beheld his wife
weeping over him; he assured her that her husband would soon return, but
he would accept no clothing as a reward for his tidings. The aged
Eurycleia, who was called forth to wash his feet, came near betraying her
master when she recognized a scar made by a wild boar's tusk, but he
threatened her into silence. Soon after, Penelope and her maids withdrew,
and left Ulysses to meditate vengeance through the night.

The next morning, when the suitors again sat in the banquet-hall, Penelope
descended to them and declared that she had determined to give her hand to
the one of the suitors who could draw the great bow of Ulysses and send
the arrow through twelve rings set on stakes planted in the ground. Up to
the polished treasure-chamber she went, and took down the great bow given
to Ulysses by Iphitus. As she took it from its case her tears fell, but
she dried them and carried it and the steel rings into the hall. Gladly
Ulysses hailed this hour, for he knew the time had come when he should
destroy the suitor band. That morn many omens had warned him, and he had
revealed himself to his faithful men, Eumaeus, and Philoetius the
master-herdsman, that they might assist him. Telemachus, though astonished
at his mother's decision, first took the bow; if he succeeded in bending
it, his mother would not have to leave her home. He would have bent the
bow at the fourth attempt had not his father's glance warned him to yield
it to the suitors.

Although the bow was rubbed and softened with oil, all failed in their
attempts to draw it; and when the beggar asked to be allowed to try, their
wrath burst forth. What shame would be theirs if the beggar succeeded in
doing that in which they had failed! But Telemachus, who asserted his
rights more day by day, insisted that the beggar should try to bend the
bow, if he so desired. Sending his mother and her maids to their bower, he
watched his father as he easily bent the mighty bow, snapped the cord with
a sound at which the suitors grew pale, and sent the arrow through the
rings. Then casting aside his rags, the supposed beggar sprang upon the
threshold, and knowing that by his orders, Eumaeus, Philoetius, and
Eurycleia had secured the portals so that escape was impossible, he sent
his next shaft through the throat of Antinoues. "Dogs! ye thought I never
would return! Ye dreaded not the gods while ye devoured my substance and
pursued my wife! Now vengeance is mine! Destruction awaits you all!"

Too late Eurymachus sprang up and besought the monarch to grant them their
lives if they made good their waste and returned to their homes. Ulysses
had brooded too long over his injuries; his wife and son had suffered too
many years from their persecutions for him to think of mercy. Eurymachus
fell by the next brass-tipped shaft, and for every arrow in the quiver a
suitor lay dead until the quiver was empty. Then Telemachus, Philoetius,
and Eumaeus, provided with weapons and armor, stood forth with Ulysses,
and withstood the suitors until all were slain, save Medon the herald and
Phemius the minstrel, for both of whom Telemachus pleaded, since they had
been coerced by the others. Giving the destruction of the false
serving-maids to his three assistants, Ulysses ordered the hall to be
cleansed, and after greeting his faithful servants and weeping with them,
sent Eurycleia up to the bower to tell Penelope that her master had at
last arrived.

Penelope was too fearful of deceit to believe instantly that the beggar
sitting beside the lofty column was her husband, though as she looked at
him wonderingly, she sometimes fancied that she saw Ulysses, and again
could not believe that it was he. So long was she silent that Telemachus
reproached her for her hardness of heart; but Ulysses, better guessing the
difficulty, ordered that all should take the bath and array themselves in
fresh garments while the harper played gay melodies, that those passing
should not guess the slaughter that had occurred, but should fancy that a
wedding was being celebrated. When Ulysses again appeared, refreshed and
handsomely attired, Penelope, still uncertain, determined to test his
knowledge of her chamber. "Bear out the bed made by his own hands," she
commanded Eurycleia, "that he may rest for the night."

"Who has dared move my bed?" cried Ulysses; "the couch framed upon the
stump of an olive-tree, round which I built a stone chamber! I myself
cunningly fitted it together, and adorned it with gold, silver, and
ivory."

Then Penelope, who knew that no one save herself, Ulysses, and one
handmaiden had ever seen the interior of that chamber, fell on his neck
and welcomed the wanderer home. "Pray, be not angry with me, my husband.
Many times my heart has trembled lest some fraud be practised on me, and I
should receive a stranger to my heart."

Welcome as land to the shipwrecked mariner was Ulysses to Penelope. Both
wept as he held her in his arms, and the rosy-fingered morn would have
found them thus, weeping, with her fair, white arms encircling his neck,
had not Pallas prolonged the night that he might relate to her the story
of his wanderings. Then, happy in their reunion, the years of sorrow all
forgotten, sleep overcame them. At dawn, bidding a brief farewell to his
wife, Ulysses went forth to visit his father, and settle as best he might
the strife which he knew would result from the slaughter of the suitors.

After Ulysses' mother had died of grief at the prolonged absence of her
son, Laertes passed his days wretchedly in a little habitation remote from
the palace. There Ulysses found him and made himself known; and there he,
Laertes, Telemachus, the aged Dolius, and his six sons faced the people
who had been roused to battle by the speech of Eupeithes, whose son
Antinoues had been the first of the suitors to fall by the hand of Ulysses.
Not heeding the warning of the herald Medon that the suitors had been
slain justly, they attacked Ulysses and his handful of followers.

Eupeithes fell first by the spear of Laertes, and a great slaughter would
have ensued, had not the combatants been silenced by the voice of Pallas,
who commanded all strife to cease. Frightened by this divine command, the
enemy fled; and Pallas, descending in the form of Mentor, plighted a
covenant between them that Ulysses might live peacefully among them the
remainder of his life.




SELECTIONS FROM THE ODYSSEY.

THE PALACE OF ALCINOUES.


Ulysses, having been directed by Nausicaa, reached the gate of the city,
and was there met by Pallas in the guise of a maiden with an urn, who
instructed him how to approach the king and queen. He passed through the
town, wrapped in a cloud by Pallas, and paused on the threshold of
Alcinoues's palace.

For on every side beneath
The lofty roof of that magnanimous king
A glory shone as of the sun or moon.
There from the threshold, on each side, were walls
Of brass that led towards the inner rooms,
With blue steel cornices. The doors within
The massive building were of gold, and posts
Of silver on the brazen threshold stood,
And silver was the lintel, and above
Its architrave was gold; and on each side
Stood gold and silver mastiffs, the rare work
Of Vulcan's practised skill, placed there to guard
The house of great Alcinoues, and endowed
With 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 laid
Delicate mantles, woven by the hands
Of women. The Phaeacian princes here
Were seated; here they ate and drank, and held
Perpetual banquet. Slender forms of boys
In gold upon the shapely altars stood,
With blazing torches in their hands to light
At eve the palace guests; while fifty maids
Waited within the halls, where some in querns
Ground small the yellow grain; some wove the web
Or twirled the spindle, sitting, with a quick
Light motion, like the aspen's glancing leaves.
The well-wrought tissues glistened as with oil.
As far as the Phaeacian race excel
In guiding their swift galleys o'er the deep,
So far the women in their woven work
Surpass all others. Pallas gives them skill
In 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 trees
Flourished in generous growth within,--the pear
And the pomegranate, and the apple-tree
With its fair fruitage, and the luscious fig
And olive always green. The fruit they bear
Falls not, nor ever fails in winter time
Nor summer, but is yielded all the year.
The ever-blowing west-wind causes some
To swell and some to ripen; pear succeeds
To pear; to apple, apple, grape to grape,
Fig ripens after fig. A fruitful field
Of vines was planted near; in part it lay
Open and basking in the sun, which dried
The soil, and here men gathered in the grapes,
And there they trod the wine-press. Farther on
Were grapes unripened yet, which just had cast
The flower, and others still which just began
To redden. At the garden's furthest bound
Were beds of many plants that all the year
Bore flowers. There gushed two fountains: one of them
Ran wandering through the field; the other flowed
Beneath the threshold to the palace-court,
And all the people filled their vessels there.
Such were the blessings which the gracious gods
Bestowed on King Alcinoues and his house.
_Bryant's Translation, Book VII._




THE BENDING OF THE BOW.


Penelope, weary of the importunities of the suitors, determined to end the
contest by giving them the bow of Ulysses and allowing the one who could
successfully send the arrow through the steel rings to become her husband.
Having announced her intention, she ascended the stairs to the treasure
chamber, where the bow was kept.

Now when the glorious lady reached the room,
And stood upon the threshold, wrought of oak
And polished by the workman's cunning hand,
Who stretched the line upon it, and set up
Its posts, and hung its shining doors, she loosed
With a quick touch the thong that held the ring,
Put in the key, and with a careful aim
Struck back the sounding bolts. As when a bull
Roars in the field, such sound the beautiful doors,
Struck with the key, gave forth, and instantly
They opened to her. Up the lofty floor
She stepped, where stood the coffer that contained
The perfumed garments. Reaching forth her hand,
The queen took down the bow, that hung within
Its shining case, and sat her down, and laid
The case upon her knees, and, drawing forth
The monarch's bow, she wept aloud. As soon
As that new gush of tears had ceased to fall,
Back to the hall she went, and that proud throng
Of suitors, bearing in her hand the bow
Unstrung, and quiver, where the arrows lay
Many and deadly. Her attendant maids
Brought also down a coffer, where were laid
Much brass and steel, provided by the king
For games like these. The glorious lady then,
In presence of the suitors, stood beside
The columns that upheld the stately roof.
She held a lustrous veil before her cheeks,
And while on either side of her a maid
Stood modestly, bespake the suitors thus:--

"Hear, noble suitors! ye who throng these halls,
And eat and drink from day to day, while long
My husband has been gone; your sole excuse
For all this lawlessness the claim ye make
That I become a bride. Come then, for now
A contest is proposed. I bring to you
The mighty bow that great Ulysses bore.
Whoe'er among you he may be whose hand
Shall bend this bow, and send through these twelve rings
An arrow, him I follow hence, and leave
This beautiful abode of my young years,
With all its plenty,--though its memory,
I think, will haunt me even in my dreams."

Reworked novel by Peter Matthiesson takes National book award
Alison Flood: After years at the top of bestseller lists, misery memoirs are losing their appeal. Are they about to become just a bad memory?

Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species
Terry Sanderson: From bookshops to art galleries, free expression is being stymied by the aggressive tactics of Christian campaign group

Obituary: Fred Newman
New excerpts from Darwin's letters and diaries, along with contemporary cartoons and photographs, show how his revolutionary On the Origin of Species was received