Respect us human, and relieve us poor.
The fool of fate,--thy manufacture, man.
And would'st thou evil for his good repay?
True friendship's laws are by this rule exprest,-- Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
But he whose inborn worth his acts commend, Of gentle soul, to human race a friend.
The leader, mingling with the vulgar host, Is in the common mass of matter lost.
It never was our guise To slight the poor, or aught humane despise.
Whatever day Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.
Whose well-taught mind the present age surpast.
Gloomy as night he stands.
Forget the brother, and resume the man.
In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare!
A decent boldness ever meets with friends.
Earth sounds my wisdom and high heaven my fame.
Our fruitless labours mourn, And only rich in barren fame return.
Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies; And sure he will: for Wisdom never lies.
Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me, For sacred ev'n to gods is misery.
Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the mind.
Far from gay cities and the ways of men.
Fly, dotard, fly! With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.
Mirror of constant faith, rever'd and mourn'd!
Few sons attain the praise Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.
Yet taught by time, my heart has learn'd to glow For others' good, and melt at others' woe.
No more was seen the human form divine.
There with commutual zeal we both had strove In acts of dear benevolence and love: Brothers in peace, not rivals in command.
The lot of man,--to suffer and to die.
And not a man appears to tell their fate.
So ends the bloody business of the day.
Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone.
And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the sky.
And o'er the past Oblivion stretch her wing.
The first in glory, as the first in place.
How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!
Lotus, the name; divine, nectareous juice!
A faultless body and a blameless mind.
Nor can one word be chang'd but for a worse.
For too much rest itself becomes a pain.
The bank he press'd, and gently kiss'd the ground.
The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
O thou, whose certain eye foresees The fix'd events of fate's remote decrees.
A heaven of charms divine Nausicaa lay.
And rest at last where souls unbodied dwell, In ever-flowing meads of Asphodel.
Strong are her sons, though rocky are her shores.
By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent, And what to those we give, to Jove is lent.
And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind, The last and hardest conquest of the mind.
Rare gift! but oh what gift to fools avails!
The glory of a firm, capacious mind.
By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent, And what to those we give, to Jove is lent.
Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl.
Know from the bounteous heaven all riches flow; And what man gives, the gods by man bestow.
Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
There in the bright assemblies of the skies.
What mighty woes To thy imperial race from woman rose!
Just are the ways of Heaven: from Heaven proceed The woes of man; Heaven doom'd the Greeks to bleed,-- A theme of future song!
A winy vapour melting in a tear.
Oh, pity human woe! 'T is what the happy to the unhappy owe.
Impatient straight to flesh his virgin sword.
Unbless'd thy hand, if in this low disguise Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the skies.
And every eye Gaz'd, as before some brother of the sky.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
For love deceives the best of womankind.
The people's parent, he protected all.
And wine can of their wits the wise beguile, Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile.
Heav'd on Olympus tott'ring Ossa stood; On Ossa, Pelion nods with all his wood.
And pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves.
The sex is ever to a soldier kind.
Dogs, ye have had your day!
And taste The melancholy joy of evils past: For he who much has suffer'd, much will know.
The big round tear stands trembling in her eye.
Gentle of speech, beneficent of mind.
For never, never, wicked man was wise.
Jove weighs affairs of earth in dubious scales, And the good suffers while the bad prevails.
But sure the eye of time beholds no name So blest as thine in all the rolls of fame.
The long historian of my country's woes.
All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.
Oh woman, woman! when to ill thy mind Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend.
When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn, With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn.
These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd!
Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above With ease can save each object of his love; Wide as his will extends his boundless grace.
Behold on wrong Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong!
For dear to gods and men is sacred song. Self-taught I sing; by Heaven, and Heaven alone, The genuine seeds of poesy are sown.
Thin airy shoals of visionary ghosts.
Be that blind bard who on the Chian strand, By those deep sounds possessed with inward light, Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.
And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.
Wise to resolve, and patient to perform.
And what he greatly thought, he nobly dar'd.
For fate has wove the thread of life with pain, And twins ev'n from the birth are misery and man!
To heal divisions, to relieve th' opprest; In virtue rich; in blessing others, blest.
Let him, oraculous, the end, the way, The turns of all thy future fate display.
A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.
The ruins of himself! now worn away With age, yet still majestic in decay.
Soft as some song divine thy story flows.
In ev'ry sorrowing soul I pour'd delight, And poverty stood smiling in my sight.
Who love too much, hate in the like extreme, And both the golden mean alike condemn.
He ceas'd; but left so pleasing on their ear His voice, that list'ning still they seem'd to hear.
A Tale of Two Cities LITE(tm) -- by Charles Dickens A man in love with a girl who loves another man who looks just like him has his head chopped off in France because of a mean lady who knits. Crime and Punishment LITE(tm) -- by Fyodor Dostoevski A man sends a nasty letter to a pawnbroker, but later feels guilty and apologizes. The Odyssey LITE(tm) -- by Homer After working late, a valiant warrior gets lost on his way home.
It is equally bad when one speeds on the guest unwilling to go, and when he holds back one who is hastening. Rather one should befriend the guest who is there, but speed him when he wishes. -- Homer, "The Odyssey" [Quoted in "VMS Internals and Data Structures", V4.4, when referring to scheduling.]
Hear now, Eumæus, and ye other swains His fellow-lab'rers! I shall somewhat boast, By wine befool'd, which forces ev'n the wise To carol loud, to titter and to dance, And words to utter, oft, better suppress'd. But since I have begun, I shall proceed, Prating my fill. Ah might those days return With all the youth and strength that I enjoy'd, When in close ambush, once, at Troy we lay! Ulysses, Menelaus, and myself Their chosen coadjutor, led the band. Approaching to the city's lofty wall Through the thick bushes and the reeds that gird The bulwarks, down we lay flat in the marsh, Under our arms, then Boreas blowing loud, A rueful night came on, frosty and charged With snow that blanch'd us thick as morning rime, And ev'ry shield with ice was crystall'd o'er. The rest with cloaks and vests well cover'd, slept Beneath their bucklers; I alone my cloak, Improvident, had left behind, no thought Conceiving of a season so severe; Shield and belt, therefore, and nought else had I. The night, at last, nigh spent, and all the stars Declining in their course, with elbow thrust Against Ulysses' side I roused the Chief, And thus address'd him ever prompt to hear.
Thus saying, Liocritus dissolved in haste The council, and the scattered concourse sought Their sev'ral homes, while all the suitors flock'd Thence to the palace of their absent King. Meantime, Telemachus from all resort Retiring, in the surf of the gray Deep First laved his hands, then, thus to Pallas pray'd.
O antient King! well hast thou spoken all. But now delay not. Cut ye forth the tongues, And mingle wine, that (Neptune first invoked With due libation, and the other Gods) We may repair to rest; for even now The sun is sunk, and it becomes us not Long to protract a banquet to the Gods Devote, but in fit season to depart.
There seated now, dogs drive and swine away, Nor claim (thyself so base) supreme controul O'er other guests and mendicants, lest harm Reach thee, hereafter, heavier still than this.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply. Were those Achaians silent, thou shouldst hear, O Queen! a tale that would console thy heart. Three nights I housed him, and within my cot Three days detain'd him, (for his ship he left A fugitive, and came direct to me) But half untold his hist'ry still remains. As when his eye one fixes on a bard From heav'n instructed in such themes as charm The ear of mortals, ever as he sings The people press, insatiable, to hear, So, in my cottage, seated at my side, That stranger with his tale enchanted me. Laertes, he affirms, hath been his guest Erewhile in Crete, where Minos' race resides, And thence he hath arrived, after great loss, A suppliant to the very earth abased; He adds, that in Thesprotia's neighbour realm He of Ulysses heard, both that he lives, And that he comes laden with riches home.
To whom another, insolent, replied. I wish him like prosperity in all His efforts, as attends his effort made On this same bow, which he shall never bend.
He spake; then raged Antinoüs still the more, And in wing'd accents, louring, thus replied.
He spake, and tumult in his mother's heart So speaking, raised. Consolatory, next, The godlike Theoclymenus began.
The Queen with many wooers, weds at last. Ah fickle and unworthy fair! too frail Always to keep inviolate the house Of her first Lord, and wait for his return.
Soon as those words Alcinoüs heard, the King, Upraising by his hand the prudent Chief Ulysses from the hearth, he made him sit, On a bright throne, displacing for his sake Laodamas his son, the virtuous youth Who sat beside him, and whom most he lov'd. And now, a maiden charg'd with golden ew'r And with an argent laver, pouring, first, Pure water on his hands, supply'd him, next, With a resplendent table, which the chaste Directress of the stores furnish'd with bread And dainties, remnants of the last regale. Then ate the Hero toil-inured, and drank, And to his herald thus Alcinoüs spake.
Eumæus also ev'ry power of heav'n Entreated, that Ulysses might possess His home again. Thus mutual they conferr'd.
Why would'st thou ruin me? Thou gav'st me milk Thyself from thy own breast. See me return'd After long suff'rings, in the twentieth year, To my own land. But since (some God the thought Suggesting to thee) thou hast learn'd the truth, Silence! lest others learn it from thy lips. For this I say, nor shall the threat be vain; If God vouchsafe to me to overcome The haughty suitors, when I shall inflict Death on the other women of my house, Although my nurse, thyself shalt also die.
The Goddess ceased; then, toil-enduring Chief Ulysses, happy in his native land, (So taught by Pallas, progeny of Jove) In accents wing'd her answ'ring, utter'd prompt Not truth, but figments to truth opposite, For guile, in him, stood never at a pause.
So saying, she to her splendid chamber thence Retired, not sole, but by her female train Attended; there arrived, she wept her spouse, Her lov'd Ulysses, till Minerva dropp'd The balm of slumber on her weary lids.
My mother, why elud'st thou my attempt To clasp thee, that ev'n here, in Pluto's realm, We might to full satiety indulge Our grief, enfolded in each other's arms? Hath Proserpine, alas! only dispatch'd A shadow to me, to augment my woe?
To whom Telemachus discrete replied. Stranger! thy words bespeak thee much my friend, Who, as a father teaches his own son, Hast taught me, and I never will forget. But, though in haste thy voyage to pursue, Yet stay, that in the bath refreshing first Thy limbs now weary, thou may'st sprightlier seek Thy gallant bark, charged with some noble gift Of finish'd workmanship, which thou shalt keep As my memorial ever; such a boon As men confer on guests whom much they love.
So I, whom hearing, they all courage lost, And at remembrance of Antiphatas The Læstrygonian, and the Cyclops' deeds, Ferocious feeder on the flesh of man, Mourn'd loud and wept, but tears could nought avail. Then numb'ring man by man, I parted them In equal portions, and assign'd a Chief To either band, myself to these, to those Godlike Eurylochus. This done, we cast The lots into the helmet, and at once Forth sprang the lot of bold Eurylochus. He went, and with him of my people march'd Twenty and two, all weeping; nor ourselves Wept less, at separation from our friends. Low in a vale, but on an open spot, They found the splendid house of Circe, built With hewn and polish'd stones; compass'd she dwelt By lions on all sides and mountain-wolves Tamed by herself with drugs of noxious pow'rs. Nor were they mischievous, but as my friends Approach'd, arising on their hinder feet, Paw'd them in blandishment, and wagg'd the tail. As, when from feast he rises, dogs around Their master fawn, accustom'd to receive The sop conciliatory from his hand, Around my people, so, those talon'd wolves And lions fawn'd. They, terrified, that troop Of savage monsters horrible beheld. And now, before the Goddess' gates arrived, They heard the voice of Circe singing sweet Within, while, busied at the loom, she wove An ample web immortal, such a work Transparent, graceful, and of bright design As hands of Goddesses alone produce. Thus then Polites, Prince of men, the friend Highest in my esteem, the rest bespake.
But thou, O Queen! compassionate us all, Myself, my sons, my comfort; give to each A glorious name, and I to thee will give For sacrifice an heifer of the year, Broad-fronted, one that never yet hath borne The yoke, and will incase her horns with gold.
He said, and to the everlasting Gods The firstlings sacrificed of all, then made Libation, and the cup placed in the hands Of city-spoiler Laertiades Sitting beside his own allotted share. Meantime, Mesaulius bread dispensed to all, Whom, in the absence of his Lord, himself Eumæus had from Taphian traders bought With his own proper goods, at no expence Either to old Laertes or the Queen. And now, all stretch'd their hands toward the feast Reeking before them, and when hunger none Felt more or thirst, Mesaulius clear'd the board. Then, fed to full satiety, in haste Each sought his couch. Black came a moonless night, And Jove all night descended fast in show'rs, With howlings of the ever wat'ry West. Ulysses, at that sound, for trial sake Of his good host, if putting off his cloak He would accommodate him, or require That service for him at some other hand, Addressing thus the family, began.
Stranger! thy couch is spread. Hence to thy rest. So they--Thrice grateful to his soul the thought Seem'd of repose. There slept Ulysses, then, On his carv'd couch, beneath the portico, But in the inner-house Alcinoüs found His place of rest, and hers with royal state Prepared, the Queen his consort, at his side.
To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply, Alas! my most compassionable guest! Thou hast much moved me by this tale minute Of thy sad wand'rings and thy num'rous woes. But, speaking of Ulysses, thou hast pass'd All credence; I at least can give thee none. Why, noble as thou art, should'st thou invent Palpable falsehoods? as for the return Of my regretted Lord, myself I know That had he not been hated by the Gods Unanimous, he had in battle died At Troy, or (that long doubtful war, at last, Concluded,) in his people's arms at home. Then universal Greece had raised his tomb, And he had even for his son atchiev'd Immortal glory; but alas! by beaks Of harpies torn, unseemly sight, he lies. Here is my home the while; I never seek The city, unless summon'd by discrete Penelope to listen to the news Brought by some stranger, whencesoe'er arrived. Then, all, alike inquisitive, attend, Both who regret the absence of our King, And who rejoice gratuitous to gorge His property; but as for me, no joy Find I in list'ning after such reports, Since an Ætolian cozen'd me, who found (After long wand'ring over various lands A fugitive for blood) my lone retreat. Him warm I welcom'd, and with open arms Receiv'd, who bold affirm'd that he had seen My master with Idomeneus at Crete His ships refitting shatter'd by a storm, And that in summer with his godlike band He would return, bringing great riches home, Or else in autumn. And thou ancient guest Forlorn! since thee the Gods have hither led, Seek not to gratify me with untruths And to deceive me, since for no such cause I shall respect or love thee, but alone By pity influenced, and the fear of Jove.
While thus he spake, a billow on his head Bursting impetuous, whirl'd the raft around, And, dashing from his grasp the helm, himself Plunged far remote. Then came a sudden gust Of mingling winds, that in the middle snapp'd His mast, and, hurried o'er the waves afar, Both sail and sail-yard fell into the flood. Long time submerged he lay, nor could with ease The violence of that dread shock surmount, Or rise to air again, so burthensome His drench'd apparel proved; but, at the last, He rose, and, rising, sputter'd from his lips The brine that trickled copious from his brows. Nor, harass'd as he was, resign'd he yet His raft, but buffetting the waves aside With desp'rate efforts, seized it, and again Fast seated on the middle deck, escaped. Then roll'd the raft at random in the flood, Wallowing unwieldy, toss'd from wave to wave. As when in autumn, Boreas o'er the plain Conglomerated thorns before him drives, They, tangled, to each other close adhere, So her the winds drove wild about the Deep. By turns the South consign'd her to be sport For the rude North-wind, and, by turns, the East Yielded her to the worrying West a prey. But Cadmus' beauteous daughter (Ino once, Now named Leucothea) saw him; mortal erst Was she, and trod the earth, but nymph become Of Ocean since, in honours shares divine. She mark'd his anguish, and, while toss'd he roam'd, Pitied Ulysses; from the flood, in form A cormorant, she flew, and on the raft Close-corded perching, thus the Chief address'd.
I spake; nought answer'd he, but sullen join'd His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was, I had prevail'd even on him to speak, Or had, at least, accosted him again, But that my bosom teem'd with strong desire Urgent, to see yet others of the dead.
Old servant, sit and eat, banishing fear And mute amazement; for, although provoked By appetite, we have long time abstain'd, Expecting ev'ry moment thy return.
Ay--this is well--The villain leads the vile-- Thus evermore the Gods join like to like. Thou clumsy swine-herd, whither would'st conduct This morsel-hunting mendicant obscene, Defiler base of banquets? many a post Shall he rub smooth that props him while he begs Lean alms, sole object of his low pursuit, Who ne'er to sword or tripod yet aspired. Would'st thou afford him to me for a guard Or sweeper of my stalls, or to supply My kids with leaves, he should on bulkier thewes Supported stand, though nourish'd but with whey. But no such useful arts hath he acquired, Nor likes he work, but rather much to extort From others food for his unsated maw. But mark my prophecy, for it is true, At famed Ulysses' house should he arrive, His sides shall shatter many a footstool hurl'd Against them by the offended princes there.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. Run; fetch them, while I yet have arrows left, Lest, single, I be justled from the door.
Then answer thus Telemachus return'd. That word's accomplishment I cannot hope; It promises too much; the thought alone O'erwhelms me; an event so fortunate Would, unexpected on my part, arrive, Although the Gods themselves should purpose it.
Then, answer thus Ulysses wise return'd. Yes--and I would that vengeance from the Gods Might pay their insolence, who in a house Not theirs, dominion exercise, and plan Unseemly projects, shameless as they are!
Not far remote, as thou shalt soon thyself Perceive, oh venerable Chief! he stands, Who hath convened this council. I, am He. I am in chief the suff'rer. Tidings none Of the returning host I have received, Which here I would divulge, nor bring I aught Of public import on a different theme, But my own trouble, on my own house fall'n, And two-fold fall'n. One is, that I have lost A noble father, who, as fathers rule Benign their children, govern'd once yourselves; The other, and the more alarming ill, With ruin threatens my whole house, and all My patrimony with immediate waste. Suitors, (their children who in this our isle Hold highest rank) importunate besiege My mother, though desirous not to wed, And rather than resort to her own Sire Icarius, who might give his daughter dow'r, And portion her to whom he most approves, (A course which, only named, moves their disgust) They chuse, assembling all within my gates Daily to make my beeves, my sheep, my goats Their banquet, and to drink without restraint My wine; whence ruin threatens us and ours; For I have no Ulysses to relieve Me and my family from this abuse. Ourselves are not sufficient; we, alas! Too feeble should be found, and yet to learn How best to use the little force we own; Else, had I pow'r, I would, myself, redress The evil; for it now surpasses far All suff'rance, now they ravage uncontroul'd, Nor show of decency vouchsafe me more. Oh be ashamed yourselves; blush at the thought Of such reproach as ye shall sure incur From all our neighbour states, and fear beside The wrath of the Immortals, lest they call Yourselves one day to a severe account. I pray you by Olympian Jove, by her Whose voice convenes all councils, and again Dissolves them, Themis, that henceforth ye cease, That ye permit me, oh my friends! to wear My days in solitary grief away, Unless Ulysses, my illustrious Sire, Hath in his anger any Greecian wrong'd, Whose wrongs ye purpose to avenge on me, Inciting these to plague me. Better far Were my condition, if yourselves consumed My substance and my revenue; from you I might obtain, perchance, righteous amends Hereafter; you I might with vehement suit O'ercome, from house to house pleading aloud For recompense, till I at last prevail'd. But now, with darts of anguish ye transfix My inmost soul, and I have no redress.
So spake the godlike King, at whose command The herald to the palace quick return'd To seek the charming lyre. Meantime arose Nine arbiters, appointed to intend The whole arrangement of the public games, To smooth the circus floor, and give the ring Its compass, widening the attentive throng. Ere long the herald came, bearing the harp, With which Demodocus supplied, advanced Into the middle area, around whom Stood blooming youths, all skilful in the dance. With footsteps justly timed all smote at once The sacred floor; Ulysses wonder-fixt, The ceaseless play of twinkling feet admired.
Him answer'd then Pallas cærulean-eyed. And such I will be; not unmark'd by me, (Let once our time of enterprize arrive) Shalt thou assail them. Many, as I judge, Of those proud suitors who devour thy wealth Shall leave their brains, then, on thy palace floor. But come. Behold! I will disguise thee so That none shall know thee! I will parch the skin On thy fair body; I will cause thee shed Thy wavy locks; I will enfold thee round In such a kirtle as the eyes of all Shall loath to look on; and I will deform With blurring rheums thy eyes, so vivid erst; So shall the suitors deem thee, and thy wife, And thy own son whom thou didst leave at home, Some sordid wretch obscure. But seek thou first Thy swine-herd's mansion; he, alike, intends Thy good, and loves, affectionate, thy son And thy Penelope; thou shalt find the swain Tending his herd; they feed beneath the rock Corax, at side of Arethusa's fount, On acorns dieted, nutritious food To them, and drinking of the limpid stream. There waiting, question him of thy concerns, While I from Sparta praised for women fair Call home thy son Telemachus, a guest With Menelaus now, whom to consult In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone, Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.
Who is this guest, Eumæus, here arrived So lately? from what nation hath he come? What parentage and country boasts the man? I pity him, whose figure seems to speak Royalty in him. Heav'n will surely plunge The race of common wand'rers deep in woe, If thus it destine even Kings to mourn.
She spake; they stood, and by each other's words Encouraged, placed Ulysses where the bank O'erhung the stream, as fair Nausicaa bade, Daughter of King Alcinoüs the renown'd. Apparel also at his side they spread, Mantle and vest, and, next, the limpid oil Presenting to him in the golden cruse, Exhorted him to bathe in the clear stream. Ulysses then the maidens thus bespake.