New Zealand Verse/Nausicaa
CXLIII.
Nausicaa.
I should be happy—all men tell me so.
To-morrow’s sun will see my wedding-day,
And all mine handmaids, comrades of my youth;
Cluster around me, babbling of the feast,
Spread in the broad halls of Alcinous,
And never cease to prate of the rich robes
And priceless gems around my chamber hung
While my fond mother’s face is that of one
To whom the days of far past youth return.
Nay, when my stately father looks on me,
Plays round his firm-set lips a rare, faint smile.
Surely I should be happy, yet, ah yet,
The comely bridegroom whom they chose for me
Stirs not my pulses with his homely speech
And homely manners, by this dull land bred,
Where never yet was heard the clash of arms,
The shout of victory, the warrior’s joy.
The too kind Gods have compassed us about
With the broad buckler of the restless sea,
And great Poseidon watches over us,
So that no foeman e’er can work us harm.
In sooth it is not well that men should live
Thus lapp’d in peace through all the countless years.
The very heart of manhood must rot out,
Where none have braved a foe, or dared a wound.
Not always did I think so—these new thoughts
Of manliness and glory broke on me
When first that godlike hero touched our shores,
And told his story, five long years agone.
Let me recall, though the last time it be,
The first sweet words he uttered at my feet:
“O Queen, I kneel before thee, whether thou
Be goddess or be mortal; if thou be
A goddess—one of them that hold broad Heaven—
To Artemis, the daughter of great Zeus,
For beauty and for stature and for grace,
Fain would I liken thee; but if thou be
A child of men who dwell upon this earth,
Thrice blessed are thy sire and sainted mother—
Thrice blessed are thy brethren; yea their souls
Must burn with gladness for the love of thee
When they behold thee, flower of maidenhood,
Leading the dance. Beyond all others blest
Is he who woos and wins thee for his home.
For never yet mine eyes have seen thy peer,
Or man or maid; it awes me to look on thee.
In Delos once I saw a thing as fair—
A palm-shoot springing by Apollo’s altar.
(For thither went I, and much people with me ;
Sore woe in time to come that journey wrought me.)
When I long time had gazed thereon, I marvelled,
For never yet from earth rose stem so fair.
So lady do I marvel at thee, and much dread
To touch thy knees, though grief weighs sorely on me.
But yesterday, the twentieth day, I ’scaped
The darkling sea; till then the wave still bore me,
And fierce blasts drove me from Ogygia’s isle.
And here some God hath cast me, that perchance
Still further evil I may yet endure;
For trow I that not yet my woes will cease,
But many more the Gods have still in store.
Then, queen, have mercy on me; unto thee
First, after many sufferings, have I come;
None other do I know of those who hold
This city and this land. Show me the town,
And if some wrap thou didst bring for thy linen,
Give it me for a garment to cast round me:
So may the Gods grant thee thy heart’s desire—
A husband and a home—a mind be thine
At one with his, for nought can better be
Or nobler than when wife and husband keep
Their household with one single heart and mind.”
These were the words the kneeling outcast spake.
But though his limbs were all befouled with slime,
And his thick locks were clotted o’er with brine,
His native nobleness shone out through all.
We pitied him. Who would not pity him?
Meat, drink and raiment, these my maidens gave;
The pure stream washed away the rude sea’s stains,
While all my handmaids marvelled at the grace
And beauty of this poor waif of the deep.
Then greatly moved, I earnestly bespake them,
“Not without will of all the Gods who hold
Olympus, to Phæacia came this man,
For, whereas erst he seemed uncomely, now
Like to the Gods who hold broad Heaven is he;
May such be called my husband, dwelling here,
Where it may please him to abide with me.”—
Not in our time that day shall be forgot
When—a poor suppliant in my father’s halls—
The tale of Troy our blind old minstrel sang
Wrung from the stranger no unmanly tears.
Erect he stood, and flung aside disguise,
Confest a hero and born king of men.
Then, day by day, fell from his honeyed lips
The wondrous story of his full, brave life,
While, spell-bound, all our dull Phæacian youth,
And my dull bridegroom with them, stood agape.
Then came the bitter time, so long delayed,
When from our noble guest we needs must part;
Few were my farewell words, and his as few.
Before the portal of my father’s house
I stood and said, “Farewell! And think of me
When thou returnest to thy native land,
As of one unto whom thy life thou owest.”
Then, as one deeply stirred, these words he breathed:
“Nausicaa, should Zeus and Here grant
That I once more should see my island home,
Daily as to a Goddess, will I pay
My vows to thee, for thou, girl, gav’st me life.”—
Did the man love me then? Ah me! I know not.
It were unworthy of a great king’s child,
Yes! most unworthy of a modest maid,
To show my liking for a parting guest;
Phæacia’s daughters are not wont to woo.
So, without further speech, he sailed away.
But yet, at times, I think the stranger loved me,
And, all those years, no day has glided by
But I have seaward cast my longing eyes,
If I might o’er the waves perchance descry
His white sails swollen by the eastern breeze.
In all these years no tidings yet have sped
From the broad outer world to this lone isle,
Girt by the main as by an iron band.
And day by day my home-bred suitor came,
Wooing me with his rough Phæacian speech,
Not like that other’s whose clear accents fell
As the smooth rippling of a full-fed stream.
And, as I still delayed, my handmaids said,
“The youth is comely, princess why delay?”
And my grey mother spake in mild rebuke,
“Daughter, why let the glory of thy youth
Slip idly by? Long hath the patient youth
Stood by, expectant; make him happy now.”
Then last of all, my sire, in weighty words,
Told me it was not well a girl of his
Should lack a guardian when her sire was gone,
For his own thread of life was nearly spun—
And so at last I yielded. Well I wist
That other one would come back nevermore,
And that I had but fed me on a dream.
To-morrow’s sun will see my wedding-day,
And all mine handmaids, comrades of my youth;
Cluster around me, babbling of the feast,
Spread in the broad halls of Alcinous,
And never cease to prate of the rich robes
And priceless gems around my chamber hung
While my fond mother’s face is that of one
To whom the days of far past youth return.
Nay, when my stately father looks on me,
Plays round his firm-set lips a rare, faint smile.
Surely I should be happy, yet, ah yet,
The comely bridegroom whom they chose for me
Stirs not my pulses with his homely speech
And homely manners, by this dull land bred,
Where never yet was heard the clash of arms,
The shout of victory, the warrior’s joy.
The too kind Gods have compassed us about
With the broad buckler of the restless sea,
And great Poseidon watches over us,
So that no foeman e’er can work us harm.
In sooth it is not well that men should live
Thus lapp’d in peace through all the countless years.
The very heart of manhood must rot out,
Where none have braved a foe, or dared a wound.
Not always did I think so—these new thoughts
Of manliness and glory broke on me
When first that godlike hero touched our shores,
And told his story, five long years agone.
Let me recall, though the last time it be,
The first sweet words he uttered at my feet:
“O Queen, I kneel before thee, whether thou
Be goddess or be mortal; if thou be
A goddess—one of them that hold broad Heaven—
To Artemis, the daughter of great Zeus,
For beauty and for stature and for grace,
Fain would I liken thee; but if thou be
A child of men who dwell upon this earth,
Thrice blessed are thy sire and sainted mother—
Thrice blessed are thy brethren; yea their souls
Must burn with gladness for the love of thee
When they behold thee, flower of maidenhood,
Leading the dance. Beyond all others blest
Is he who woos and wins thee for his home.
For never yet mine eyes have seen thy peer,
Or man or maid; it awes me to look on thee.
In Delos once I saw a thing as fair—
A palm-shoot springing by Apollo’s altar.
(For thither went I, and much people with me ;
Sore woe in time to come that journey wrought me.)
When I long time had gazed thereon, I marvelled,
For never yet from earth rose stem so fair.
So lady do I marvel at thee, and much dread
To touch thy knees, though grief weighs sorely on me.
But yesterday, the twentieth day, I ’scaped
The darkling sea; till then the wave still bore me,
And fierce blasts drove me from Ogygia’s isle.
And here some God hath cast me, that perchance
Still further evil I may yet endure;
For trow I that not yet my woes will cease,
But many more the Gods have still in store.
Then, queen, have mercy on me; unto thee
First, after many sufferings, have I come;
None other do I know of those who hold
This city and this land. Show me the town,
And if some wrap thou didst bring for thy linen,
Give it me for a garment to cast round me:
So may the Gods grant thee thy heart’s desire—
A husband and a home—a mind be thine
At one with his, for nought can better be
Or nobler than when wife and husband keep
Their household with one single heart and mind.”
These were the words the kneeling outcast spake.
But though his limbs were all befouled with slime,
And his thick locks were clotted o’er with brine,
His native nobleness shone out through all.
We pitied him. Who would not pity him?
Meat, drink and raiment, these my maidens gave;
The pure stream washed away the rude sea’s stains,
While all my handmaids marvelled at the grace
And beauty of this poor waif of the deep.
Then greatly moved, I earnestly bespake them,
“Not without will of all the Gods who hold
Olympus, to Phæacia came this man,
For, whereas erst he seemed uncomely, now
Like to the Gods who hold broad Heaven is he;
May such be called my husband, dwelling here,
Where it may please him to abide with me.”—
Not in our time that day shall be forgot
When—a poor suppliant in my father’s halls—
The tale of Troy our blind old minstrel sang
Wrung from the stranger no unmanly tears.
Erect he stood, and flung aside disguise,
Confest a hero and born king of men.
Then, day by day, fell from his honeyed lips
The wondrous story of his full, brave life,
While, spell-bound, all our dull Phæacian youth,
And my dull bridegroom with them, stood agape.
Then came the bitter time, so long delayed,
When from our noble guest we needs must part;
Few were my farewell words, and his as few.
Before the portal of my father’s house
I stood and said, “Farewell! And think of me
When thou returnest to thy native land,
As of one unto whom thy life thou owest.”
Then, as one deeply stirred, these words he breathed:
“Nausicaa, should Zeus and Here grant
That I once more should see my island home,
Daily as to a Goddess, will I pay
My vows to thee, for thou, girl, gav’st me life.”—
Did the man love me then? Ah me! I know not.
It were unworthy of a great king’s child,
Yes! most unworthy of a modest maid,
To show my liking for a parting guest;
Phæacia’s daughters are not wont to woo.
So, without further speech, he sailed away.
But yet, at times, I think the stranger loved me,
And, all those years, no day has glided by
But I have seaward cast my longing eyes,
If I might o’er the waves perchance descry
His white sails swollen by the eastern breeze.
In all these years no tidings yet have sped
From the broad outer world to this lone isle,
Girt by the main as by an iron band.
And day by day my home-bred suitor came,
Wooing me with his rough Phæacian speech,
Not like that other’s whose clear accents fell
As the smooth rippling of a full-fed stream.
And, as I still delayed, my handmaids said,
“The youth is comely, princess why delay?”
And my grey mother spake in mild rebuke,
“Daughter, why let the glory of thy youth
Slip idly by? Long hath the patient youth
Stood by, expectant; make him happy now.”
Then last of all, my sire, in weighty words,
Told me it was not well a girl of his
Should lack a guardian when her sire was gone,
For his own thread of life was nearly spun—
And so at last I yielded. Well I wist
That other one would come back nevermore,
And that I had but fed me on a dream.
William Hodgson