LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

       ‭ Who nor will do, nor suffer to be done,

       ‭ Acts lewd and abject; nor can such a one

       ‭ Greet the Phæacians with a mind envíous,

       ‭ Dear to the Gods they are, and he is pious,

       ‭ Besides, divided from the world we are,

       ‭ The out-part of it, billows circular

       ‭ The sea revolving round about our shore;

       ‭ Nor is there any man that enters more

       ‭ Than our own countrymen, with what is brought

       ‭ From other countries. This man, minding nought

       ‭ But his relief, a poor unhappy wretch,

       ‭ Wrack’d here, and hath no other land to fetch,

       ‭ Him now we must provide for. From Jove come [7]

       ‭ All strangers, and the needy of a home,

       ‭ Who any gift, though ne’er so small it be,

       ‭ Esteem as great, and take it gratefully.

       ‭ And therefore, virgins, give the stranger food,

       ‭ And wine; and see ye bathe him in the flood,

       ‭ Near to some shore to shelter most inclin’d.

       ‭ To cold-bath-bathers hurtful is the wind, ‭ Not only rugged making th’ outward skin, ‭ But by his thin pow’rs pierceth parts within. ‭ This said, their flight in a return they set, ‭ And did Ulysses with all grace entreat, ‭ Show’d him a shore, wind-proof, and full of shade, ‭ By him a shirt and utter mantle laid, ‭ A golden jug of liquid oil did add, ‭ Bad wash, and all things as Nausicaa bad. ‭ Divine Ulysses would not use their aid; ‭ But thus bespake them: “Ev’ry lovely maid, ‭ Let me entreat to stand a little by, [8] ‭ That I, alone, the fresh flood may apply ‭ To cleanse my bosom of the sea-wrought brine, ‭ And then use oil, which long time did not shine ‭ On my poor shoulders. I’ll not wash in sight ‭ Of fair-hair’d maidens. I should blush outright, ‭ To bathe all-bare by such a virgin light.” ‭ They mov’d, and mus’d a man had so much grace, ‭ And told their mistress what a man he was. ‭ He cleans’d his broad soil’d shoulders, back, and head ‭ Yet never tam’d, but now had foam and weed ‭ Knit in the fair curls. Which dissolv’d, and he ‭ Slick’d all with sweet oil, the sweet charity ‭ The untouch’d virgin show’d in his attire ‭ He cloth’d him with. Then Pallas put a fire, ‭ More than before, into his sparkling eyes, ‭ His late soil set off with his soon fresh guise. ‭ His locks, cleans’d, curl’d the more, and match’d, in pow’r ‭ To please an eye, the hyacinthian flow’r. ‭ And as a workman, that can well combine ‭ Silver and gold, and make both strive to shine, ‭ As being by Vulcan, and Minerva too, ‭ Taught how far either may be urg’d to go ‭ In strife of eminence, when work sets forth ‭ A worthy soul to bodies of such worth, ‭ No thought reproving th’ act, in any place, ‭ Nor Art no debt to Nature’s liveliest grace; ‭ So Pallas wrought in him a grace as great ‭ From head to shoulders, and ashore did seat ‭ His goodly presence. To which such a guise ‭ He show’d in going, that it ravish’d eyes. ‭ All which continued, as he sat apart, ‭ Nausicaa’s eye struck wonder through her heart, ‭ Who thus bespake her consorts: “Hear me, you ‭ Fair-wristed virgins! This rare man, I know, ‭ Treads not our country-earth, against the will ‭ Of some God thronéd on th’ Olympian hill. ‭ He show’d to me, till now, not worth the note, ‭ But now he looks as he had godhead got. ‭ I would to heav’n my husband were no worse, ‭ And would be call’d no better, but the course ‭ Of other husbands pleas’d to dwell out here. ‭ Observe and serve him with our utmost cheer.” ‭ She said, they heard and did. He drunk and eat ‭ Like to a harpy, having touch’d no meat ‭ A long before time. But Nausicaa now ‭ Thought of the more grace she did lately vow, ‭ Had horse to chariot join’d, and up she rose, ‭ Up cheer’d her guest, and said: “Guest, now dispose ‭ Yourself for town, that I may let you see ‭ My father’s court, where all the peers will be ‭ Of our Phæacian state. At all parts, then, ‭ Observe to whom and what place y’ are t’ attain; ‭ Though I need usher you with no advice, ‭ Since I suppose you absolutely wise. ‭ While we the fields pass, and men’s labours there, ‭ So long, in these maids’ guides, directly bear ‭ Upon my chariot (I must go before ‭ For cause that after comes, to which this more ‭ Be my induction) you shall then soon end ‭ Your way to town, whose tow’rs you see ascend [9] ‭ To such a steepness. On whose either side ‭ A fair port stands, to which is nothing wide ‭ An ent’rer’s passage; on whose both hands ride ‭ Ships in fair harbours; which once past, you win ‭ The goodly market-place (that circles in ‭ A fane to Neptune, built of curious stone, ‭ And passing ample) where munitión, ‭ Gables, and masts, men make, and polish’d oars; ‭ For the Phæacians are not conquerors ‭ By bows nor quivers; oars, masts, ships they are ‭ With which they plough the sea, and wage their war. ‭ And now the cause comes why I lead the way, ‭ Not taking you to coach: The men, that sway ‭ In work of those tools that so fit our state, ‭ Are rude mechanicals, that rare and late ‭ Work in the market-place; and those are they ‭ Whose bitter tongues I shun, who straight would say ‭ (For these vile vulgars are extremely proud, ‭ And foully-languag’d) ‘What is he, allow’d ‭ To coach it with Nausicaa, so large set, ‭ And fairly fashion’d? Where were these two met? ‭ He shall be sure her husband. She hath been ‭ Gadding in some place, and, of foreign men ‭ Fitting her fancy, kindly brought him home ‭ In her own ship. He must, of force, be come ‭ From some far region; we have no such man. ‭ It may be, praying hard, when her heart ran ‭ On some wish’d husband, out of heav’n some God ‭ Dropp’d in her lap; and there lies she at road ‭ Her cómplete life time. But, in sooth, if she, ‭ Ranging abroad, a husband, such as he ‭ Whom now we saw, laid hand on, she was wise, ‭ For none of all our nobles are of prize ‭ Enough for her; he must beyond sea come, ‭ That wins her high mind, and will have her home. ‭ Of our peers many have importun’d her, ‭ Yet she will none.’ Thus these folks will confer ‭ Behind my back; or, meeting, to my face ‭ The foul-mouth rout dare put home this disgrace; ‭ And this would be reproaches to my fame, ‭ For, ev’n myself just anger would inflame, ‭ If any other virgin I should see, ‭ Her parents living, keep the company ‭ Of any man to any end of love, ‭ Till open nuptials should her act approve. ‭ And therefore hear me, guest, and take such way, ‭ That you yourself may compass, in your stay, ‭ Your quick deduction by my father’s grace, ‭ And means to reach the root of all your race. ‭ We shall, not far out of our way to town, ‭ A never-fell’d grove find, that poplars crown, ‭ To Pallas sacred, where a fountain flows, ‭ And round about the grove a meadow grows, ‭ In which my father holds a manor-house, ‭ Deck’d all with orchards, green, and odorous, ‭ As far from town as one may hear a shout. ‭ There stay, and rest your foot-pains, till full out ‭ We reach the city; where, when you may guess ‭ We are arriv’d, and enter our access ‭ Within my father’s court, then put you on ‭ For our Phæacian state, where, to be shown ‭ My father’s house, desire. Each infant there ‭ Can bring you to it; and yourself will clear ‭ Distinguish it from others, for no shows ‭ The city-buildings make compar’d with those ‭ That king Alcinous’ seat doth celebrate. ‭ In whose roofs, and the court (where men of state, ‭ And suitors sit and stay) when you shall hide, ‭ Straight pass it, ent’ring further, where abide ‭ My mother, with her withdrawn housewif’ries, ‭ Who still sits in the fire-shine, and applies ‭ Her rock, all-purple, and of pompous show, ‭ Her chair plac’d ’gainst a pillar, all-a-row ‭ Her maids behind her set; and to her here ‭ My father’s dining-throne looks, seated where ‭ He pours his choice of wine in, like a God. ‭ This view once past, for th’ end of your abode, ‭ Address suit to my mother, that her mean ‭ May make the day of your redition seen, ‭ And you may frolic straight, though far away ‭ You are in distance from your wishéd stay. ‭ For, if she once be won to wish you

Скачать книгу