Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A44267
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The Iliads and Odysses of Homer translated out of Greek into English by Tho. Hobbes of Malmsbury ; with a large preface concerning the vertues of an heroick poem, written by the translator.; Works. English. 1677
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Homer.; Hobbes, Thomas, 1588-1679.; Wallim, J. Life of Homer.
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1677
(1677)
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Wing H2551; ESTC R38794
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429,325
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732
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No sooner he the blood had tasted but He knew me sorely wept and would have cast His arms about my waste but could not do 't For now alas his strength was gone and past I grieved to see him and thus to him said King Agamemnon what Fate brought you hither Were you by Neptune on the Sea betrai'd And hither sent by fury of the weather Or landing to finde Booty meâ— with Death Or else besieging of some Town were slain Or for fair Women were bereav'd of breath Then Agamemnon answer'd me again Noble Ulysses I lost not my life By Neptune''s fury nor in fight at Land For Booty or for Women but my wifâ— Did basely kill me by Aegistus hand At my first landing he invited me And slew me then when I at Supper sate Just as a man would kill a Cow so he Kill'd me There 's no such woful death as that My Friends were butcher'd like so many Swine Which when within a mighty rich mans Hall Numbers of men invited are to dine At Wedding or at Feast are made to fall You very many men have seen to die In ranged Battle and in single Fight But never felt such pity certainly As you had felt had you but seen this fight How we ' mongst Tables on the ground did he That ran with blood But my heart most did rue To hear Cassandra Priam's Daughter cry Whom close beside me Clytemnestra slew Then though I were at the last gasp I tri'd If groaping I might finde my fallen Sword But the curst woman pusht it from my side I di'd to close mine eyes she 'd not afford Nothing so cruel as a Woman yet Did Nature ere produce a thought so ill In any other breast did never sit As her own loving Husbands blood to spiâ—l Yet this my Wife to the eternal Shame Of all the Sex not only of the bad But ev'n of those that have no evil Fame Betrai'd my Life and of my Death was glad Jove meant to Atreus Seed said I great spight By Woman-kinde By Helen first At Troy For her sake many lost their lives in fight And Clytemnestra now did you betray Therefore said Agamennon never trust A Woman more although she be your own Tell her not all you think Somewhat you must And somewhat keep t' your self to her unknown But you Ulysses need not fear your wife Icareus Daughter fair Penelope She loves you better than to take your life A Wife so wise will scorn disloyalty VVhen we for Troy set forth together then She gave suck to your Son but he is grown A man by this time and takes place with men Is rich and one day shall his Father own And he and you at home embrace each other But I was not allow'd my Son to see But was first murder'd by his wicked Mother Now hear ye if you will be rul'd by me Let no man know before-hand when and where You mean to land in Ithaca Beware Or suffering your Bark in sight t' appear Remember still women unfaithfull are But tell me have you nothing all this while Heard of my Son Orestes whether he At Sparta with his Uncle be or Pyle For dead he is not I know certainly Alas saâ—d I Atrides How should I That wand'ring was at Sea hear any news Whether alive or dead he be Or why Should I with Tales uncertain you abâ—se Discoursing thus and weeping there we stood When Great Achilles Soul appear'd to us And with him also the two Spirâ—ts good Of flout Patroclus and Antilochus The Soul of Ajax Son of Telamon Was also there who ' mongst those Warriours tall The goodliest Person was except the Son Of Peleus who did much excel them all Achilles drank and presently me knew And said Ulysses what brought you to Hell What Plot upon the Dead you hither drew Where none but Shades of wretched Mortals dwell Achilles said I I was foâ—c'â— to come T' inquire of th'Wizard old Tiresias What the Fates say about my going home Whether or no and how 't will come to pass For since I came from Troy I have not seen Not Ithaca nor any Grecian shore For tost and crost at Sea I still have been But you are now as well as heretofore Like any God we honour'd you at Troy And here among the Ghosts you are obey'd Death hath not chang'd your state You still enjoy A Regal Power To this Achilles said Talk not to me of Honour here in Hell I 'd rather serve a Clown on earth for bread Than be of all things Incorporeal That are or ever shall be Supreme Head But tell me of my Son Neoptolemus Whether he came to Troy and how he fought And of my aged Father Peleus Whether he keep hâ—s place or be put out For since much time his vigour hath decaid Some Foe it may be hath usurpt his place In Pthia and in Hellas where he swaid And put hâ—m with his people in disgrace But were I now above and strong as then When for the Greeks I fought at Ilium And slew so many of their bravest men And to my aged Fathers house should come If there I were 't would not be very long Before I made some of their hearts to ake That go about to do my Father wrong And would by force his honour from him take When he had done I made him answer thus Concerning Peleus I can nothing say But of your Son stout Neptolemus I know enough 't was I brought him to Troy From Scyros Isle In Councel always he First spake his minde and never spake but well Nestor and I sometimes and only we Th' advice he gave were able to refel In fight he sought no shelter in the throng But ever out he ran before the rest To shew his courage and his strength among Those Foes that were in Troy esteem'd the best The names of all he slew I cannot tell They are too many But ' was by his Sword That Great Eurypylus in Battâ—e fell Of all the Trojan Aids the goodlist Lord Excepting Memnon After when we were Wiâ—hin the Wooden-Horse conceal'd and I The power had of ord'ring all things there I never saw your Son to wipe his eye Or to wix pale as many of us did He ever longed to be set on land From out the hole in whâ—ch we all lay hid And to his Hilt he often put his hand And often to his Spear And when at list We won and rifled had the Town of Troy He home into his Countrey safely past His Ship well laden with his part o' th' prey And which is more he came off safe and sound Though Mars each way threw deaths and wounds Amongst the croud he ne'r received wound Neither from them that shot nor them that fought about This said the swift Achilles Soul retir'd Strutting into the Mead of Asphodel Proud of his Son to hear what he desirâ—d Then other grieved Souls their stories tell Only the Soul of Ajax stood off mute And sullen
Let him therefore Try first whose Table next the Cupboard is And so to the right hand up one by one The other Suiters all approved this Leiodes was the first so he begun His place was low'st He to the threshold went To try his force But to his tender hand And feeble arms the Bowe would not relent Then down he laid it there and lets it stand And to the Suiters spake This Bowe saies he I cannot bend some other tak 't in hand It 's like of many Lords the death to be When by the strongest it comes to be man'd For better 't is to die than live and miss The hopes you hither come for ev'ry day And what is' t any of you hope but this That you Ulysses Consort marry may But when he shall this Bowe have understood Let him some other Lady wooe at case Amongst th' Achaeans whom he shall think good And let Penelope take whom she please This said the Bowe and Arrow he set by And to the Seat went where he sat before And by Antinous was angerly Assoon as he had spoke rebuk'd therefore What say you That this Bowe the death shall be Of many Lords Why so ' Cause you have not The strength to bend it Others have you 'll see But you for bending Bowes were not begot Then to Melantheus he turn'd and said Let fire be made and a great Chair set by 't And let upon it Cushions be laid And let us have good store of Tallow white T' anoint and warm and supple make the Bowe And try if we perhaps may bend it then Fire Chair and Cushions came and greace enough But to no purpose too weak were the men Antinous yet and Eurymachus Gave it not over these two were the best Of all the Suiters that came to the house No hope at all remained for the rest Eumaeus and Philaetius then went cut Together after them Ulysses went And when they were the Gate and Court without Himself unto them to discover meant And fair he spake them Master of the Kine And you Eumaeus Master of the Swine Shall I keep in or speak a thought of mine To speak it out my heart does me encline What if Ulysses should come suddenly Brought by some God and stand be ore this rout On whose side his or theirs would you then be What your mind prompts you to speak freely out Then answer'd him the Master of the Kine O that the Gods above would have iâ— so You 'ld see the vertue of these hands of mine The Master of the Swine then said so too When now the hearts of both of them he knew He spake again and said 'T is I am he That after twenty years return to you And know you longed have this day to see Of all my Servants I find only you That wish me here If therefore it shall please The Gods by me the Suiters to subdue I 'll give you wealth enough to live at ease And Houses near me and shall wedded live And Brothers of Telemachus shall be And that you may assuredly believe Ulysses speaks it you a sig e shall see With that he pull'd hi Rags beside his Thigh And lets them see the place the Boar had rent Then when upon Parnassus Mountain high He with his Unkles Sons a hunting went And then they fling their arms about Ulysses And kiss his hand and shoulders weeping sore And he again embraced them with kisses Nor had till Sun-set weeping given o're But that Ulysses hinder'd it Give o're said he Your weeping lest that some one come out hither And tell within what here without they see Go in but one by one not all together First I 'll go in and then come you Now mark I 'll pray the Suiters I the Bowe may try If to my motion they refuse to hark Give it into my hand as you pass by And you Eumaeus bid the Women shut The House-doors all nor suffer any one O' th' men without the House his head to put And though within they hap to hear men grone That they stir not but ply their business The utter-Gate Philoetius lock you fast That to the House there may be no access This said into the Hall again he past And after him his Servants Now the Bowe Was in Eurymachus his hand by th' fire He warm'd and ruâ—'d and did what he could do But for to bend it he was ne're the nigher At this he vext and took it heinously And O said he 't is not for my own part I troubled am but for the Company 'T is chiefly that I take so much to heart Nor is it for a Wife that I complain For in Achaia Ladies be enough But that we hope Penelope to gain Although we cannot bend Ulysses Bowe Then said Antinous 'T will not be so This day unto Apollo sacred is And not a day for bending of the Bowe Therefore to lay it by is not amiss And let the Axes stand still as they do For 't is not like they will be stoln away And so go in and offer Wine unto The God The Bowe may till to morrow stay And bid Melanthus in the morning bring Goats of the fattest and whereof the savour May from Apollo of all Archers King For bending of the Bowe procure us favour They all agree Into the house they went The Officers for hands the water hold The Waiters fill the Cups and them present And when they drunk had each man what he would Then spake Ulysses to the Suiters thus Hear me ye Suiters what I have to say Antinous and you Eurymachus For to you two 't is chiefly that I pray Since you the bending of the Bowe remit To th' Gods to give to whom they please and they To morrow doubtless will determine it Let me now of the Bowe make an essay That I may know whether my strength be spent And what I could before now cannot do Whether I still be firm or do relent With hardship and with want of looking to These words of his made all the Suiters mad With fear that he indeed would bend the Bowe Antinous gave him language very bad Thou wretched Stranger is it not enough That of our Feast thou hast an equal part And that of our discourse and none but thou Stranger and Beggar made a hearer art 'T is wine that makes thee not thy self to know For wine serves all men so that drink too much Wine hurt Burytion the Centaur great His carriage in Perithous house was such Among the Lapithae sitting at meat That angry with 't they were and all arose And with sharp iron cut off both his ears And with the same they pared off his nose A way the cause of his own harm he bears From that day on Centaurs and men are foes Themselves men hurt by wine immoderate So if you bend the Bowe your ears you 'll lose For you 'll find here no prating Advocace But to King Takim forthwith you shall go And