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fixing the Python,-for Laertiades IIis daughter there the sorrowing chief stretched along his ancestral floor reclaims, the whole serpent brood.

And ever with smooth spirit, insidious The opening of the Iliad is very seeks simple—and so is the opening of the

To wean his heart from Ithaca, meantime Odyssey-and both openings are Ulysses, bappy might he but behold you will agree with us in thinking

The smoke ascending from his native -sublime. In the one you are

land, brought in a moment into the midst

Death covets. Canst thou not, Olymof heaven-sent death threatening the

pian Jove, annibilation of a whole host; and,

At last relent? Hath not Ulysses oft

With victim's slain amid Achaia's fleet in pacifying Apollo, Agamemnon in

Thee gratified, while yet at Troy he censes Achilles, whose wrath lowers

fought? calamity almost as fatal as the visita

How, therefore, bath he thus incensed tion of the Plague. Men's minds are

Thee, Jove ?" troubled—there is debate of doom in Heaven-nation is enraged a. At once we love the Man of whom gainst nation-and each trusts to its the Muse is to sing-longing for his auxiliar gods. In the other there is home-his wife-and his son-and no din below—the earth is silent- pitied at last by Jove, at the interand you hear not the sea. Corn cession of Minerva, because of his grows where Troy-Town stood- piety. That she should fly to Ithaca, and you feel that Achilles is dust. and that Hermes should wing his All the chiefs who fought there way to the Isle of Secrecy-on beand fell not-as Sotheby solemnly half of Ulysses-seems demanded of says

the justice of heaven. And simple “ At home once more

as all this is--we said it was sublime Dwell free from battle and the ocean for our sympathies are already roar

awakened for and there is an almost melan- " A good man struggling with the choly peace. There is mysterious

storms of fate." mention of shipwreck on account of sin-and one guiltless and great Sur Ulysses longs for Ithaca - but vivor is spoken of and then named knows not what may have passed, who is to take the place in our ima. or may be passing there-if Peneginations of all the other heroes living Jope and Telemachus be alive or or dead-affectingly named - for he dead. All we are told is, that year has been and is to be a Sufferer- after year he has been lamenting “ All but Ulysses !” And shall the for his native Isle-sighing for a Celestial Synod care for that One sight of its ascending smoke, ere he Man! Aye, Minerva says to Jove,

dies-unforgetful of Ithaca even in “ With bosom anguish-rent I view

Calypso's arms. Ulysses, hapless chief! who from his

How finely Sotheby has given Mifriends

nerva's "alighting," and the sudden Remote, affliction hath long time en

shewing of the scene-the first sight dured

of which reveals to us all the lawIn yonder woodland isle, the central boss

less life of the Suitors, and the evils of ocean. That retreat a Goddess holds, to which the kingless Island has been Daughter of sapient Atlas, who the so long a prey! We are at once in abyss

the heart of it all-and the thought Knows to its bottom, and the pillars high comes across us in the midst of the Himself upbears which separate Earth revelry,“ if Ulysses were here!"

from Heaven.

" Then on her feet her golden sandals laced,
With bright ambrosial wings divinely graced,
Wings that o'er earth and sea the Goddess bear
And challenge in their speed the viewless air-
Then grasp'd her brass-edged lance, of matchless strength,
Vast, massive, ponderous, whose far-shadowing length,
When the mail'd Goddess in her fury burns,
Rank after rank heroic chiefs o'erturns.

Then downward flew from steep Olympus' height,
And on Ulysses' island deign'd alight,
And at the threshold of his portal staid
Beneath the vestibule's protecting shade :
Held in her grasp the spear, and took her stand
Like Mentes, leader of the Taphian band :
There found the suitors festively array'd,
Who, gay, at dice before the palace play'd,
Their seats on hides of many a numerous herd,
Slain at the dictates of their baughty word :
Heralds, and minist'ring menials stood around,
Some who with temper'd wine their goblets crown'd,
With many a porous spunge some cleansed the board,
And with carved meat their proffer'd chargers stored.
Her first the young Telemachus perceived,
Who 'mid the wooers sat, and inly grieved,
Bright picturing in his mind, how, home again,
His sire would put to flight the wassail train,
Resume his honours, and ancestral right,
And, musing thus, the Goddess caught his sight.
Forward he sprung, in wrath, that nigh their feast
A stranger stood, an uninvited guest :
Then clasp'd her hand, received the brazen spear,
And pour'd his welcome in her gladden'd ear :

“ Hail! stranger--welcome-now the banquet share,
Then, feasted, wherefore here—thy wish declare.'

• He spake and at the word, the blue eyed Maid
Where the prince led the way not loth obey'd.
Now, 'neath his dome, within the channel'd height

Of a vast column, towering on the sight,
· He fix'd the lance, where, ranged in order, stood
Ulysses' war-spears, like an iron wood:

Then, on a stately seat the Goddess placed,
With linen spread, and with a foot-stool graced,
And near it drew bis own resplendent throne,
At distance from the suitors placed alone,
Lest the contemptuous rioters molest,
And vex with noise and insolence the guest,
Nor yield bim peaceful leisure to enquire,
And hold free commune of his long-lost sire.
From a gold ewer, a maid, their hands to lave,
Pour'd in a silver bowl the cleansing wave,
And a bright table brought, where, largely spread,
The sage dispenseress heap'd the food and bread.
The sewer with flesh, all kinds, the plates supplied,
And golden goblets placed each guest beside,
Which oft with wine the busy herald crown'd;
Then, rushing in, the suitors gather'd round,
And on their separate seats and thrones of state,
Where heralds wash'd their hands, in order sate :
The attendant maids in baskets piled their bread,
On the carved dainties as the feasters fed ;
And youths oft crown'd their goblets o'er and o'er,
Till thirst and hunger, satiate, sought no more :
Then other joys inflamed their keen desire,
The song and dance, that charm the festive choir.
The herald gave to the reluctant hand
Of Phemius, leader of the minstrel band,
A silver lyre. By force the bard obey'd,
And, preluding the song, the measure play'd.”

Telemachus is no favourite with he was assuredly a great favourite many critics. But we hope you ad with Homer. So well did Homer Inire and love the Princely Boy-for know his worth, that he is at no great

pains to describe his character. He sures me that I am the son of puts him, however, into some situa. Ulysses—but I know it not.” In tions that serve to shew what is in this, says Pope, “there seems somehim--and he behaves, we think, like thing very shocking,”—but as Mi. heir-apparent to the throne. Here nerva approved of it-and said cheerhe allows the dicers to shake their ingly,“ heaven shall one day grace elbows undisturbed-in their pas. thee, not nameless, nor of a nametimes perhaps playing for the Queen. less race, sprung from Penelope,”— But he is picturing in his mind an. there can be no doubt that it was other kind of game-in which his fa- the answer usually returned to such ther will play the Lion, and he the a question, in that simple age, a sort Lion's Whelp. Mentes, the leader of of apophthegm, that conveyed no imthe Tapbian Band, though no vulgar putation on any mother's fidelity to stranger, is disregarded bythe Suitors, her husband, but, on the contrary, heralds, and menials—but how cour entire reliance on every mother's teous is the Prince! “ Manners truth. That Telemachus in this conmaketh the man," and Telemachus, versation expresses no tenderness we feel, will be a hero. He takes not for his mother, has been foolishly his guest into some nook or corner, to said to shew a want of due filial afquestion him of his Sire-but places fection. But he knew she was pretty him on a stately seat, with a foot well, up-stairs-while he feared his stool, “and near it drew his own re father was dead or in misery-and splendent throne.” Let all the Suite that was the thought that wrung bis ors behold them two in converse heart. It would have been exceednor dare to intrude upon their pri. ing silly to begin puling about Pevacy - apart but open-and confi- nelope to a person who was not dential during the measure prelud- much troubling his head about her ing the Poet-Laureate's song. Mi. —but who had paid her, neverthenerva must have been pleased with less, a high and just compliment. such graceful and dignified reception There can be no doubt that he loved —and how wisely does she insinuate and honoured her-but he was now in into bis heart, by half-truth and half- bis twentieth year—and at that age fable, hopes even of bis sire's return! sons are shy of seeming before stranTrue that Telemachus speaks like gers too fond of their mothers-nay one that will not be comforted; but even before their mothers themhis looks belie his words, for we see selves-especially when surrounded his face brightening as he listens to by suitors. But hear him on his the stranger's counsel. Who does father. not see that he believes his father

“ Once I bad hope while here my sire will return, as Minerva, after foretel

remained, ling that return, says,

That wealth and virtue had our house “ But this I urge—now truly this declare,

sustained; Art thou, for such thou seem'st, Ulysses' But heaven, devising ill, not this deheir ?

signed, Thy features such, thy eyes so beaming And left his fate obscurest, 'mid mankind; bright,

Nor could bis death so sharply have imSuch as the chief oft towered before my

p ressed sight,

The sting of sorrow in my filial breast, Ere with their bravest heroes, Argos' If, with his brave compeers, in Phrygia boast,

slain, The Warrior moor'd his fleet on Phrygia's Or, 'mid his friends from Troy returned coast."

again. Pallas was not a goddess addicted Then all the Greeks had raised his futo the complimentary-and she loved

neral mound, Ulysses too well to be easily satisfied And by his father's fame the son rewith his son. But she was satisfied

nowned. with his beaming eyes-nor at all

But him the Harpies from the light of dissatisfied with his answer about his mother, though it has given se

Unknown, unseen, unheard, have swept rious offence in certain quarters, not

away.” in the contemplation of Telemachus. The noble boy listens with deThe Prince said, “my mother as- light to the recital of his Father's

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prowess, and the cagerness with to echo to that hunter's horn, while which he embraces the advice of she, fair as Diana, Mentes to sail to Pylos, and travel WA

“A silvan buntress by his side, thence to Lacedemon, to enquire

Pursued the flying deer ?" if Nestor or Menelaus can give him any tidings of his lot, gives assur. Not now. In her chamber weaving ance not only of a confiding and an that famous web? That artifice has affectionate, but of an adventurous been detected, and the shuttle is and heroic spirit. He weeps to emu. still. Sunk in stupor there—or late Orestes, who had so nobly aimlessly employing her hands on avenged his murdered Sire-and on embroidery in the listlessness of a the stranger suddenly vanishing, in long despair ? Not far off the truth awe and wonder he feels that his yet hardly are you Homer. She guest was a god, while heroic fire is in her chamber-but not in stupor is more strongly kindled in his nor despair-her senses are all wideheart is not this a picture-in a awake - her ear has caught the meafew bold bright strokes—of the cha- sure wild of the aged harper-into racteristic virtues of youth? What her soul sinks the strain that sings is wanting here that should have of the return of the chiefs on the been seen in the son of Ulysses ? downfall of Troy! That mournful

But where is Penelope ? Guess. inspiration is more than she can Walking with her maids of honour on bear—the music is but an insupthe beach, eyeing the sea for a sail, portable memory of her husband-a or blindly listening to the idle dash dirge for the dead. She fears not of waves ? No-guess again. Site the face of the Suitors in their feastting among the rocks, in some small ing—and appears before us in all the secret glen, where twenty years ago tenderness, the affection, and the she used to take an evening-walk dignity of a wife, a mother, and a with Ulysses ? No. Wandering sad queen. and slow in the woods once wont

" The Prince the wooers sought, who, seated, hung
In silent rapture as the minstrel sung,
Sung the chiefs' sad return, when to and fro
By Pallas' will, they sail'd from Troy's o'erthrow.
While thus he sung, Icarius' daughter heard,
Lone in her upper room, bis chanted word:
Down stepp'd, and where she moved, attendant came
Two faithful damsels, on their royal dame.
Onward she went, and nigh the revel throng,
Now hush'd to silence by the minstrel's song,
Beneath her lofty palace porch reclined,
Hid her fair brow the fine-wove veil behind,
And, as on either side a maiden stood,
Wept, and the bard address'd in mournful mood :

“* Bard, thy sweet touch can temper to the lyre
All deeds of men or gods that bards inspire.
Sing thou of these, and so enchant the ear,
That e'en these feasters may in silence hear.
But cease that strain which bids my sorrow flow,
Which searches every spring that feeds my woe,
And racks keen memory for that godlike chief
Whose fame through Greece but echoes back my grief.'

"• My mother! why displeased ?' the Prince rejoin'd,
* Leave to the bard free mastery of his mind.
'Tis not the minstrel, 'tis the will of Jove
That breathes the inspiration from above-
Then blame not Phemius, whose recording lay
Mourns their sad fate who steer'd from Troy their way.
More grateful far the song which all admire
When novelty attunes the awaken'd lyre.
Brace thou thy mind to bear: for not alone
Ulysses strays to Ithaca unknown,

But many a Grecian strews the Trojan plain,
And many a chief ne'er hails his hearth again.
But thou return, thy household cares resume,
Look to thy maids, the spindle, and the loom :
To men, as fit, discourse with men resign,
And where I rule--that office chiefly mine.'

« Penelope, astonish'd, back return’d,
Nor his wise counsel negligently spurn'd,
Went with her maids, her loved Ulysses wept,
Till the tired mourner, soothed by Pallas, slept."

Music poetry-love-grief leading down to the great hall, in comfort-repose of passion and to hushed admiration they beheld the the afflicted heaven-sent sleep not Queen. No interruption is attempted unvisited-let us hope-by soothing of her pathetic address to the Bard dreams! The song sung to the harp -no insult, while she is present, to did of itself still the souls of the her Son. Their bad nature is reSuitors—for though fit for murders, buked and abashed by the Matron stratagems, and plots-they were still beautiful in her fidelity to her high-born men-and had they fought godlike Lord-their better nature at Ilium, not a few of them would feels how “awful goodness is," have been heroes. A lawless and “Virtue in her own shape how lovedespotic life had not wholly quench- ly," -conjugal, maternal, and filial ed their hereditary fire—and the love have their hour of triumph Ithacenses were by nature a noble and on the cheek of old Phemius race. Laertes had been a warrior bending over his silent harp, may be in his youth-in his prime of man- seen the heart-sprung tear. hood a king. But old age bad sub- And is there any harshness-as dued the regal spirit—and where has been often said in the behaviour and what is he now? In the palace, of Telemachus ? None. His soul was 'tis affectingly said,

elate. He had sought the Suitors, "he no more resides,

the moment after having held con

verse with a Divinity-and his Hope But in his fields afar his misery hides, With one who serves his board, an aged

hushed, impatiently, but not unkinddame,

ly--his mother's fears. Now he felt While sore fatigue comes o'er his toil

himself a man-commissioned by worn frame,

heaven for a holy quest. He would When, from slow creeping through his

fain that the Bard had prolonged his vineyard rows,

Lay - for his inspiration too was The old man seeks his dwelling's still from the will of Jove. Ulysses is not repose.”

dead-he is but a wanderer—and that

harp shall ring through all its chords His wife, too, bad died of “ love congratulation on the King's return. and longings infinite,” and the suit. His looks and his tones reconciled ors had long had their sway. Duli- his mother's heart to all his words chium, Samos, and Zacinthus sent astonished, she obeyed the child their princes-accomplished men whom till that hour she had commany of them-nor unworthy altoge- manded-and if her high heart was ther of a widow's love. Fierce as fire, satisfied, who, after the lapse of three and as bright, is Antinous-—and Eury- thousand years, shall be offended machus, with passion not less strong with her noble progeny for the first but more controllable, is a chief expansion of his pride in the conthat might prevail on one less tender sciousness of being about to enter on and true than Penelope to change a destiny that ere another moon had the garments of grief for the saffron waned was to be gloriously fulfilled robe of joy. The devourers of that in a shower of blood ! widow's house were not dancing See and hear him among the Suitors bears, but leaping leopards—they now-passive no more-but flashing knew how to fawn-and hoped to far-sighted scorn. Their outrages “bold her with their glittering eyes” break out again on the disappearance till she became a prey. Descending of Penelope-but he beards them all. in stately sorrow the flight of steps « Banquet in peace - cease your

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