BOOK X

ARGUMENT

Ulysses,

in pursuit of his narrative,

relates his arrival at the island of Æolus,

his departure thence,

and the unhappy occasion of his return thither.

The monarch of the winds dismisses him at last with much asperity.

He next tells of his arrival among the Læstrygonians,

by whom his whole fleet,

together with their crews,

are destroyed,

his own ship and crew excepted.

Thence he is driven to the island of Circe.

By her the half of his people are transformed into swine.

Assisted by Mercury,

he resists her enchantments himself,

and prevails with the Goddess to recover them to their former shape.

In consequence of Circe's instructions,

after having spent a complete year in her palace,

he prepares for a voyage to the infernal regions.

We came to the Æolian isle;

there dwells Æolus,

son of Hippotas,

belov'd By the Immortals,

in an isle afloat.

A brazen wall impregnable on all sides Girds it,

and smooth its rocky coast ascends.

His children,

in his own fair palace born,

Are twelve;

six daughters,

and six blooming sons.

He gave his daughters to his sons to wife;

They with their father hold perpetual feast And with their royal mother,

still supplied   10 With dainties numberless;

the sounding dome Is fill'd with sav'ry odours all the day,

And with their consorts chaste at night they sleep On stateliest couches with rich arras spread.

Their city and their splendid courts we reach'd.

A month complete he,

friendly,

at his board Regaled me,

and enquiry made minute Of Ilium's fall,

of the Achaian fleet,

And of our voyage thence.

I told him all.

But now,

desirous to embark again,

   20 I ask'd dismission home,

which he approved,

And well provided for my prosp'rous course.

He gave me,

furnish'd by a bullock slay'd In his ninth year,

a bag;

ev'ry rude blast Which from its bottom turns the Deep,

that bag Imprison'd held;

for him Saturnian Jove Hath officed arbiter of all the winds,

To rouse their force or calm them,

at his will.

He gave me them on board my bark,

so bound With silver twine that not a breath escaped,

  30 Then order'd gentle Zephyrus to fill Our sails propitious.

Order vain,

alas!

So fatal proved the folly of my friends.

Nine days continual,

night and day we sail'd,

And on the tenth my native land appear'd.

Not far remote my Ithacans I saw Fires kindling on the coast;

but me with toil Worn,

and with watching,

gentle sleep subdued;

For constant I had ruled the helm,

nor giv'n That charge to any,

fearful of delay.

   40 Then,

in close conference combined,

my crew Each other thus bespake --He carries home Silver and gold from Æolus received,

Offspring of Hippotas,

illustrious Chief -- And thus a mariner the rest harangued.

Ye Gods!

what city or what land soe'er Ulysses visits,

how is he belov'd By all,

and honour'd!

many precious spoils He homeward bears from Troy;

but we return,

(We who the self-same voyage have perform'd)   50 With empty hands.

Now also he hath gain'd This pledge of friendship from the King of winds.

But come --be quick --search we the bag,

and learn What stores of gold and silver it contains.

So he,

whose mischievous advice prevailed.

They loos'd the bag;

forth issued all the winds,

And,

caught by tempests o'er the billowy waste,

Weeping they flew,

far,

far from Ithaca.

I then,

awaking,

in my noble mind Stood doubtful,

whether from my vessel's side   60 Immersed to perish in the flood,

or calm To endure my sorrows,

and content to live.

I calm endured them;

but around my head Winding my mantle,

lay'd me down below,

While adverse blasts bore all my fleet again To the Æolian isle;

then groan'd my people.

We disembark'd and drew fresh water there,

And my companions,

at their galley's sides All seated,

took repast;

short meal we made,

When,

with an herald and a chosen friend,

   70 I sought once more the hall of Æolus.

Him banqueting with all his sons we found,

And with his spouse;

we ent'ring,

on the floor Of his wide portal sat,

whom they amazed Beheld,

and of our coming thus enquired.

Return'd?

Ulysses!

by what adverse Pow'r Repuls'd hast thou arrived?

we sent thee hence Well-fitted forth to reach thy native isle,

Thy palace,

or what place soe'er thou would'st.

So they --to whom,

heart-broken,

I replied.

  80 My worthless crew have wrong'd me,

nor alone My worthless crew,

but sleep ill-timed,

as much.

Yet heal,

O friends,

my hurt;

the pow'r is yours!

So I their favour woo'd.

Mute sat the sons,

But thus their father answer'd.

Hence --be gone -- Leave this our isle,

thou most obnoxious wretch Of all mankind.

I should,

myself,

transgress,

Receiving here,

and giving conduct hence To one detested by the Gods as thou.

Away --for hated by the Gods thou com'st.

   90 So saying,

he sent me from his palace forth,

Groaning profound;

thence,

therefore,

o'er the Deep We still proceeded sorrowful,

our force Exhausting ceaseless at the toilsome oar,

And,

through our own imprudence,

hopeless now Of other furth'rance to our native isle.

Six days we navigated,

day and night,

The briny flood,

and on the seventh reach'd The city erst by Lamus built sublime,

Proud Læstrygonia,

with the distant gates.

  100 The herdsman,

there,

driving his cattle home,[38] Summons the shepherd with his flocks abroad.

The sleepless there might double wages earn,

Attending,

now,

the herds,

now,

tending sheep,

For the night-pastures,

and the pastures grazed By day,

close border,

both,

the city-walls.

To that illustrious port we came,

by rocks Uninterrupted flank'd on either side Of tow'ring height,

while prominent the shores And bold,

converging at the haven's mouth   110 Leave narrow pass.

We push'd our galleys in,

Then moor'd them side by side;

for never surge There lifts its head,

or great or small,

but clear We found,

and motionless,

the shelter'd flood.

Myself alone,

staying my bark without,

Secured her well with hawsers to a rock At the land's point,

then climb'd the rugged steep,

And spying stood the country.

Labours none Of men or oxen in the land appear'd,

Nor aught beside saw we,

but from the earth   120 Smoke rising;

therefore of my friends I sent Before me two,

adding an herald third,

To learn what race of men that country fed.

Departing,

they an even track pursued Made by the waggons bringing timber down From the high mountains to the town below.

Before the town a virgin bearing forth Her ew'r they met,

daughter of him who ruled The Læstrygonian race,

Antiphatas.

Descending from the gate,

she sought the fount   130 Artacia;

for their custom was to draw From that pure fountain for the city's use.

Approaching they accosted her,

and ask'd What King reign'd there,

and over whom he reign'd.

She gave them soon to know where stood sublime The palace of her Sire;

no sooner they The palace enter'd,

than within they found,

In size resembling an huge mountain-top,

A woman,

whom they shudder'd to behold.

She forth from council summon'd quick her spouse   140 Antiphatas,

who teeming came with thoughts Of carnage,

and,

arriving,

seized at once A Greecian,

whom,

next moment,

he devoured.

With headlong terrour the surviving two Fled to the ships.

Then sent Antiphatas His voice through all the town,

and on all sides,

Hearing that cry,

the Læstrygonians flock'd Numberless,

and in size resembling more The giants than mankind.

They from the rocks Cast down into our fleet enormous stones,

  150 A strong man's burthen each;

dire din arose Of shatter'd galleys and of dying men,

Whom spear'd like fishes to their home they bore,

A loathsome prey.

While them within the port They slaughter'd,

I,

(the faulchion at my side Drawn forth) cut loose the hawser of my ship,

And all my crew enjoin'd with bosoms laid Prone on their oars,

to fly the threaten'd woe.

They,

dreading instant death tugg'd resupine Together,

and the galley from beneath    160 Those beetling[39] rocks into the open sea Shot gladly;

but the rest all perish'd there.

Proceeding thence,

we sigh'd,

and roamed the waves,

Glad that we lived,

but sorrowing for the slain.

We came to the Ææan isle;

there dwelt The awful Circe,

Goddess amber-hair'd,

Deep-skill'd in magic song,

sister by birth Of the all-wise Æætes;

them the Sun,

Bright luminary of the world,

begat On Perse,

daughter of Oceanus.

    170 Our vessel there,

noiseless,

we push'd to land Within a spacious haven,

thither led By some celestial Pow'r.

We disembark'd,

And on the coast two days and nights entire Extended lay,

worn with long toil,

and each The victim of his heart-devouring woes.

Then,

with my spear and with my faulchion arm'd,

I left the ship to climb with hasty steps An airy height,

thence,

hoping to espie Some works of man,

or hear,

perchance,

a voice.

  180 Exalted on a rough rock's craggy point I stood,

and on the distant plain,

beheld Smoke which from Circe's palace through the gloom Of trees and thickets rose.

That smoke discern'd,

I ponder'd next if thither I should haste,

Seeking intelligence.

Long time I mused,

But chose at last,

as my discreter course,

To seek the sea-beach and my bark again,

And,

when my crew had eaten,

to dispatch Before me,

others,

who should first enquire.

  190 But,

ere I yet had reach'd my gallant bark,

Some God with pity viewing me alone In that untrodden solitude,

sent forth An antler'd stag,

full-sized,

into my path.

His woodland pastures left,

he sought the stream,

For he was thirsty,

and already parch'd By the sun's heat.

Him issuing from his haunt,

Sheer through the back beneath his middle spine,

I wounded,

and the lance sprang forth beyond.

Moaning he fell,

and in the dust expired.

  200 Then,

treading on his breathless trunk,

I pluck'd My weapon forth,

which leaving there reclined,

I tore away the osiers with my hands And fallows green,

and to a fathom's length Twisting the gather'd twigs into a band,

Bound fast the feet of my enormous prey,

And,

flinging him athwart my neck,

repair'd Toward my sable bark,

propp'd on my lance,

Which now to carry shoulder'd as before Surpass'd my pow'r,

so bulky was the load.

  210 Arriving at the ship,

there I let fall My burthen,

and with pleasant speech and kind,

Man after man addressing,

cheer'd my crew.

My friends!

we suffer much,

but shall not seek The shades,

ere yet our destined hour arrive.

Behold a feast!

and we have wine on board -- Pine not with needless famine!

rise and eat.

I spake;

they readily obey'd,

and each Issuing at my word abroad,

beside The galley stood,

admiring,

as he lay,

   220 The stag,

for of no common bulk was he.

At length,

their eyes gratified to the full With that glad spectacle,

they laved their hands,

And preparation made of noble cheer.

That day complete,

till set of sun,

we spent Feasting deliciously without restraint,

And quaffing generous wine;

but when the sun Went down,

and darkness overshadow'd all,

Extended,

then,

on Ocean's bank we lay;

And when Aurora,

daughter of the dawn,

   230 Look'd rosy forth,

convening all my crew To council,

I arose,

and thus began.

My fellow-voyagers,

however worn With num'rous hardships,

hear!

for neither West Know ye,

nor East,

where rises,

or where sets The all-enlight'ning sun.

But let us think,

If thought perchance may profit us,

of which Small hope I see;

for when I lately climb'd Yon craggy rock,

plainly I could discern The land encompass'd by the boundless Deep.

  240 The isle is flat,

and in the midst I saw Dun smoke ascending from an oaken bow'r.

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   250 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   260 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.

   270 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.

Ye hear the voice,

comrades,

of one who weaves An ample web within,

and at her task    280 So sweetly chaunts that all the marble floor Re-echoes;

human be she or divine I doubt,

but let us call,

that we may learn.

He ceas'd;

they call'd;

soon issuing at the sound,

The Goddess open'd wide her splendid gates,

And bade them in;

they,

heedless,

all complied,

All save Eurylochus,

who fear'd a snare.

She,

introducing them,

conducted each To a bright throne,

then gave them Pramnian wine,

With grated cheese,

pure meal,

and honey new,

  290 But medicated with her pois'nous drugs Their food,

that in oblivion they might lose The wish of home.

She gave them,

and they drank,

-- When,

smiting each with her enchanting wand,

She shut them in her sties.

In head,

in voice,

In body,

and in bristles they became All swine,

yet intellected as before,

And at her hand were dieted alone With acorns,

chestnuts,

and the cornel-fruit,

Food grateful ever to the grovelling swine.

  300 Back flew Eurylochus toward the ship,

To tell the woeful tale;

struggling to speak,

Yet speechless,

there he stood,

his heart transfixt With anguish,

and his eyes deluged with tears.

Me boding terrours occupied.

At length,

When,

gazing on him,

all had oft enquired,

He thus rehearsed to us the dreadful change.

Renown'd Ulysses!

as thou bad'st,

we went Through yonder oaks;

there,

bosom'd in a vale,

But built conspicuous on a swelling knoll   310 With polish'd rock,

we found a stately dome.

Within,

some Goddess or some woman wove An ample web,

carolling sweet the while.

They call'd aloud;

she,

issuing at the voice,

Unfolded,

soon,

her splendid portals wide,

And bade them in.

Heedless they enter'd,

all,

But I remain'd,

suspicious of a snare.

Ere long the whole band vanish'd,

none I saw Thenceforth,

though,

seated there,

long time I watch'd.

He ended;

I my studded faulchion huge    320 Athwart my shoulder cast,

and seized my bow,

Then bade him lead me thither by the way Himself had gone;

but with both hands my knees He clasp'd,

and in wing'd accents sad exclaim'd.

My King!

ah lead me not unwilling back,

But leave me here;

for confident I judge That neither thou wilt bring another thence,

Nor come thyself again.

Haste --fly we swift With these,

for we,

at least,

may yet escape.

So he,

to whom this answer I return'd.

   330 Eurylochus!

abiding here,

eat thou And drink thy fill beside the sable bark;

I go;

necessity forbids my stay.

So saying,

I left the galley and the shore.

But ere that awful vale ent'ring,

I reach'd The palace of the sorceress,

a God Met me,

the bearer of the golden wand,

Hermes.

He seem'd a stripling in his prime,

His cheeks cloath'd only with their earliest down,

For youth is then most graceful;

fast he lock'd   340 His hand in mine,

and thus,

familiar,

spake.

Unhappy!

whither,

wand'ring o'er the hills,

Stranger to all this region,

and alone,

Go'st thou?

Thy people --they within the walls Are shut of Circe,

where as swine close-pent She keeps them.

Comest thou to set them free?

I tell thee,

never wilt thou thence return Thyself,

but wilt be prison'd with the rest.

Yet hearken --I will disappoint her wiles,

And will preserve thee.

Take this precious drug;

  350 Possessing this,

enter the Goddess' house Boldly,

for it shall save thy life from harm.

Lo!

I reveal to thee the cruel arts Of Circe;

learn them.

She will mix for thee A potion,

and will also drug thy food With noxious herbs;

but she shall not prevail By all her pow'r to change thee;

for the force Superior of this noble plant,

my gift,

Shall baffle her.

Hear still what I advise.

When she shall smite thee with her slender rod,

  360 With faulchion drawn and with death-threat'ning looks Rush on her;

she will bid thee to her bed Affrighted;

then beware.

Decline not thou Her love,

that she may both release thy friends,

And may with kindness entertain thyself.

But force her swear the dreaded oath of heav'n That she will other mischief none devise Against thee,

lest she strip thee of thy might,

And,

quenching all thy virtue,

make thee vile.

So spake the Argicide,

and from the earth   370 That plant extracting,

placed it in my hand,

Then taught me all its pow'rs.

Black was the root,

Milk-white the blossom;

Moly is its name In heav'n;

not easily by mortal man Dug forth,

but all is easy to the Gods.

Then,

Hermes through the island-woods repair'd To heav'n,

and I to Circe's dread abode,

In gloomy musings busied as I went.

Within the vestibule arrived,

where dwelt The beauteous Goddess,

staying there my steps,

  380 I call'd aloud;

she heard me,

and at once Issuing,

threw her splendid portals wide,

And bade me in.

I follow'd,

heart-distress'd.

Leading me by the hand to a bright throne With argent studs embellish'd,

and beneath Footstool'd magnificent,

she made me sit.

Then mingling for me in a golden cup My bev'rage,

she infused a drug,

intent On mischief;

but when I had drunk the draught Unchanged,

she smote me with her wand,

and said.

  390 Hence --seek the sty.

There wallow with thy friends.

She spake;

I drawing from beside my thigh My faulchion keen,

with death-denouncing looks Rush'd on her;

she with a shrill scream of fear Ran under my rais'd arm,

seized fast my knees,

And in wing'd accents plaintive thus began.

Who?

whence?

thy city and thy birth declare.

Amazed I see thee with that potion drench'd,

Yet uninchanted;

never man before Once pass'd it through his lips,

and liv'd the same;

 400 But in thy breast a mind inhabits,

proof Against all charms.

Come then --I know thee well.

Thou art Ulysses artifice-renown'd,

Of whose arrival here in his return From Ilium,

Hermes of the golden wand Was ever wont to tell me.

Sheath again Thy sword,

and let us,

on my bed reclined,

Mutual embrace,

that we may trust thenceforth Each other,

without jealousy or fear.

The Goddess spake,

to whom I thus replied.

  410 O Circe!

canst thou bid me meek become And gentle,

who beneath thy roof detain'st My fellow-voyagers transform'd to swine?

And,

fearing my escape,

invit'st thou me Into thy bed,

with fraudulent pretext Of love,

that there,

enfeebling by thy arts My noble spirit,

thou may'st make me vile?

No --trust me --never will I share thy bed Till first,

O Goddess,

thou consent to swear The dread all-binding oath,

that other harm   420 Against myself thou wilt imagine none.

I spake.

She swearing as I bade,

renounced All evil purpose,

and (her solemn oath Concluded) I ascended,

next,

her bed Magnificent.

Meantime,

four graceful nymphs Attended on the service of the house,

Her menials,

from the fountains sprung and groves,

And from the sacred streams that seek the sea.

Of these,

one cast fine linen on the thrones,

Which,

next,

with purple arras rich she spread;

  430 Another placed before the gorgeous seats Bright tables,

and set on baskets of gold.

The third,

an argent beaker fill'd with wine Delicious,

which in golden cups she served;

The fourth brought water,

which she warm'd within An ample vase,

and when the simm'ring flood Sang in the tripod,

led me to a bath,

And laved me with the pleasant stream profuse Pour'd o'er my neck and body,

till my limbs Refresh'd,

all sense of lassitude resign'd.

  440 When she had bathed me,

and with limpid oil Anointed me,

and cloathed me in a vest And mantle,

next,

she led me to a throne Of royal state,

with silver studs emboss'd,

And footstool'd soft beneath;

then came a nymph With golden ewer charged and silver bowl,

Who pour'd pure water on my hands,

and placed The polish'd board before me,

which with food Various,

selected from her present stores,

The cat'ress spread,

then,

courteous,

bade me eat.

 450 But me it pleas'd not;

with far other thoughts My spirit teem'd,

on vengeance more intent.

Soon,

then,

as Circe mark'd me on my seat Fast-rooted,

sullen,

nor with outstretch'd hands Deigning to touch the banquet,

she approach'd,

And in wing'd accents suasive thus began.

Why sits Ulysses like the Dumb,

dark thoughts His only food?

loaths he the touch of meat,

And taste of wine?

Thou fear'st,

as I perceive,

Some other snare,

but idle is that fear,

   460 For I have sworn the inviolable oath.

She ceas'd,

to whom this answer I return'd.

How can I eat?

what virtuous man and just,

O Circe!

could endure the taste of wine Or food,

till he should see his prison'd friends Once more at liberty?

If then thy wish That I should eat and drink be true,

produce My captive people;

let us meet again.

So I;

then Circe,

bearing in her hand Her potent rod,

went forth,

and op'ning wide   470 The door,

drove out my people from the sty,

In bulk resembling brawns of the ninth year.

They stood before me;

she through all the herd Proceeding,

with an unctuous antidote Anointed each,

and at the wholesome touch All shed the swinish bristles by the drug Dread Circe's former magic gift,

produced.

Restored at once to manhood,

they appear'd More vig'rous far,

and sightlier than before.

They knew me,

and with grasp affectionate   480 Hung on my hand.

Tears follow'd,

but of joy,

And with loud cries the vaulted palace rang.

Even the awful Goddess felt,

herself,

Compassion,

and,

approaching me,

began.

Laertes' noble son,

for wiles renown'd!

Hence to the shore,

and to thy gallant bark;

First,

hale her safe aground,

then,

hiding all Your arms and treasures in the caverns,

come Thyself again,

and hither lead thy friends.

So spake the Goddess,

and my gen'rous mind   490 Persuaded;

thence repairing to the beach,

I sought my ship;

arrived,

I found my crew Lamenting miserably,

and their cheeks With tears bedewing ceaseless at her side.

As when the calves within some village rear'd Behold,

at eve,

the herd returning home From fruitful meads where they have grazed their fill,

No longer in the stalls contain'd,

they rush With many a frisk abroad,

and,

blaring oft,

With one consent,

all dance their dams around,

  500 So they,

at sight of me,

dissolved in tears Of rapt'rous joy,

and each his spirit felt With like affections warm'd as he had reach'd Just then his country,

and his city seen,

Fair Ithaca,

where he was born and rear'd.

Then in wing'd accents tender thus they spake.

Noble Ulysses!

thy appearance fills Our soul with transports,

such as we should feel Arrived in safety on our native shore.

Speak --say how perish'd our unhappy friends?

  510 So they;

to whom this answer mild I gave.

Hale we our vessel first ashore,

and hide In caverns all our treasures and our arms,

Then,

hasting hence,

follow me,

and ere long Ye shall behold your friends,

beneath the roof Of Circe banqueting and drinking wine Abundant,

for no dearth attends them there.

So I;

whom all with readiness obey'd,

All save Eurylochus;

he sought alone To stay the rest,

and,

eager,

interposed.

  520 Ah whither tend we,

miserable men?

Why covet ye this evil,

to go down To Circe's palace?

she will change us all To lions,

wolves or swine,

that we may guard Her palace,

by necessity constrain'd.

So some were pris'ners of the Cyclops erst,

When,

led by rash Ulysses,

our lost friends Intruded needlessly into his cave,

And perish'd by the folly of their Chief.

He spake,

whom hearing,

occupied I stood   530 In self-debate,

whether,

my faulchion keen Forth-drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,

To tumble his lopp'd head into the dust,

Although he were my kinsman in the bonds Of close affinity;

but all my friends As with one voice,

thus gently interposed.

Noble Ulysses!

we will leave him here Our vessel's guard,

if such be thy command,

But us lead thou to Circe's dread abode.

So saying,

they left the galley,

and set forth   540 Climbing the coast;

nor would Eurylochus Beside the hollow bark remain,

but join'd His comrades by my dreadful menace awed.

Meantime the Goddess,

busily employ'd,

Bathed and refresh'd my friends with limpid oil,

And clothed them.

We,

arriving,

found them all Banqueting in the palace;

there they met;

These ask'd,

and those rehearsed the wond'rous tale,

And,

the recital made,

all wept aloud Till the wide dome resounded.

Then approach'd   550 The graceful Goddess,

and address'd me thus.

Laertes' noble son,

for wiles renown'd!

Provoke ye not each other,

now,

to tears.

I am not ignorant,

myself,

how dread Have been your woes both on the fishy Deep,

And on the land by force of hostile pow'rs.

But come --Eat now,

and drink ye wine,

that so Your freshen'd spirit may revive,

and ye Courageous grow again,

as when ye left The rugged shores of Ithaca,

your home.

   560 For now,

through recollection,

day by day,

Of all your pains and toils,

ye are become Spiritless,

strengthless,

and the taste forget Of pleasure,

such have been your num'rous woes.

She spake,

whose invitation kind prevail'd,

And won us to her will.

There,

then,

we dwelt The year complete,

fed with delicious fare Day after day,

and quaffing gen'rous wine.

But when (the year fulfill'd) the circling hours Their course resumed,

and the successive months   570 With all their tedious days were spent,

my friends,

Summoning me abroad,

thus greeted me.

Sir!

recollect thy country,

if indeed The fates ordain thee to revisit safe That country,

and thy own glorious abode.

So they;

whose admonition I receiv'd Well-pleas'd.

Then,

all the day,

regaled we sat At Circe's board with sav'ry viands rare,

And quaffing richest wine;

but when,

the sun Declining,

darkness overshadow'd all,

   580 Then,

each within the dusky palace took Custom'd repose,

and to the Goddess' bed Magnificent ascending,

there I urged My earnest suit,

which gracious she receiv'd,

And in wing'd accents earnest thus I spake.

O Circe!

let us prove thy promise true;

Dismiss us hence.

My own desires,

at length,

Tend homeward vehement,

and the desires No less of all my friends,

who with complaints Unheard by thee,

wear my sad heart away.

   590 So I;

to whom the Goddess in return.

Laertes' noble son,

Ulysses famed For deepest wisdom!

dwell not longer here,

Thou and thy followers,

in my abode Reluctant;

but your next must be a course Far diff'rent;

hence departing,

ye must seek The dreary house of Ades and of dread Persephone there to consult the Seer Theban Tiresias,

prophet blind,

but blest With faculties which death itself hath spared.

  600 To him alone,

of all the dead,

Hell's Queen Gives still to prophesy,

while others flit Mere forms,

the shadows of what once they were.

She spake,

and by her words dash'd from my soul All courage;

weeping on the bed I sat,

Reckless of life and of the light of day.

But when,

with tears and rolling to and fro Satiate,

I felt relief,

thus I replied.

O Circe!

with what guide shall I perform This voyage,

unperform'd by living man?

   610 I spake,

to whom the Goddess quick replied.

Brave Laertiades!

let not the fear To want a guide distress thee.

Once on board,

Your mast erected,

and your canvas white Unfurl'd,

sit thou;

the breathing North shall waft Thy vessel on.

But when ye shall have cross'd The broad expanse of Ocean,

and shall reach The oozy shore,

where grow the poplar groves And fruitless willows wan of Proserpine,

Push thither through the gulphy Deep thy bark,

  620 And,

landing,

haste to Pluto's murky abode.

There,

into Acheron runs not alone Dread Pyriphlegethon,

but Cocytus loud,

From Styx derived;

there also stands a rock,

At whose broad base the roaring rivers meet.

There,

thrusting,

as I bid,

thy bark ashore,

O Hero!

scoop the soil,

op'ning a trench Ell-broad on ev'ry side;

then pour around Libation consecrate to all the dead,

First,

milk with honey mixt,

then luscious wine,

  630 Then water,

sprinkling,

last,

meal over all.

Next,

supplicate the unsubstantial forms Fervently of the dead,

vowing to slay,

(Return'd to Ithaca) in thy own house,

An heifer barren yet,

fairest and best Of all thy herds,

and to enrich the pile With delicacies such as please the shades;

But,

in peculiar,

to Tiresias vow A sable ram,

noblest of all thy flocks.

When thus thou hast propitiated with pray'r   640 All the illustrious nations of the dead,

Next,

thou shalt sacrifice to them a ram And sable ewe,

turning the face of each Right toward Erebus,

and look thyself,

Meantime,

askance toward the river's course.

Souls num'rous,

soon,

of the departed dead Will thither flock;

then,

strenuous urge thy friends,

Flaying the victims which thy ruthless steel Hath slain,

to burn them,

and to sooth by pray'r Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine.

   650 While thus is done,

thou seated at the foss,

Faulchion in hand,

chace thence the airy forms Afar,

nor suffer them to approach the blood,

Till with Tiresias thou have first conferr'd.

Then,

glorious Chief!

the Prophet shall himself Appear,

who will instruct thee,

and thy course Delineate,

measuring from place to place Thy whole return athwart the fishy flood.

While thus she spake,

the golden dawn arose,

When,

putting on me my attire,

the nymph    660 Next,

cloath'd herself,

and girding to her waist With an embroider'd zone her snowy robe Graceful,

redundant,

veil'd her beauteous head.

Then,

ranging the wide palace,

I aroused My followers,

standing at the side of each -- Up!

sleep no longer!

let us quick depart,

For thus the Goddess hath,

herself,

advised.

So I,

whose early summons my brave friends With readiness obey'd.

Yet even thence I brought not all my crew.

There was a youth,

  670 Youngest of all my train,

Elpenor;

one Not much in estimation for desert In arms,

nor prompt in understanding more,

Who overcharged with wine,

and covetous Of cooler air,

high on the palace-roof Of Circe slept,

apart from all the rest.

Awaken'd by the clamour of his friends Newly arisen,

he also sprang to rise,

And in his haste,

forgetful where to find The deep-descending stairs,

plunged through the roof.

 680 With neck-bone broken from the vertebræ Outstretch'd he lay;

his spirit sought the shades.

Then,

thus to my assembling friends I spake.

Ye think,

I doubt not,

of an homeward course,

But Circe points me to the drear abode Of Proserpine and Pluto,

to consult The spirit of Tiresias,

Theban seer.

I ended,

and the hearts of all alike Felt consternation;

on the earth they sat Disconsolate,

and plucking each his hair,

  690 Yet profit none of all their sorrow found.

But while we sought my galley on the beach With tepid tears bedewing,

as we went,

Our cheeks,

meantime the Goddess to the shore Descending,

bound within the bark a ram And sable ewe,

passing us unperceived.

For who hath eyes that can discern a God Going or coming,

if he shun the view?

FOOTNOTES:

[38] It is supposed by Eustathius that the pastures being infested by gad flies and other noxious insects in the day-time,

they drove their sheep a-field in the morning,

which by their wool were defended from them,

and their cattle in the evening,

when the insects had withdrawn.

It is one of the few passages in Homer that must lie at the mercy of conjecture.

[39] The word has the authority of Shakspeare,

and signifies overhanging.

BOOK XI

ARGUMENT

Ulysses relates to Alcinoüs his voyage to the infernal regions,

his conference there with the prophet Tiresias concerning his return to Ithaca,

and gives him an account of the heroes,

heroines,

and others whom he saw there.

Arriving on the shore,

and launching,

first,

Our bark into the sacred Deep,

we set Our mast and sails,

and stow'd secure on board The ram and ewe,

then,

weeping,

and with hearts Sad and disconsolate,

embark'd ourselves.

And now,

melodious Circe,

nymph divine,

Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,

Pleasant companion of our course,

and we (The decks and benches clear'd) untoiling sat,

While managed gales sped swift the bark along.

  10 All day,

with sails distended,

e'er the Deep She flew,

and when the sun,

at length,

declined,

And twilight dim had shadow'd all the ways,

Approach'd the bourn of Ocean's vast profound.

The city,

there,

of the Cimmerians stands With clouds and darkness veil'd,

on whom the sun Deigns not to look with his beam-darting eye,

Or when he climbs the starry arch,

or when Earthward he slopes again his west'ring wheels,[40] But sad night canopies the woeful race.

   20 We haled the bark aground,

and,

landing there The ram and sable ewe,

journey'd beside The Deep,

till we arrived where Circe bade.

Here,

Perimedes' son Eurylochus Held fast the destined sacrifice,

while I Scoop'd with my sword the soil,

op'ning a trench Ell-broad on ev'ry side,

then pour'd around Libation consecrate to all the dead,

First,

milk with honey mixt,

then luscious wine,

Then water,

sprinkling,

last,

meal over all.

  30 This done,

adoring the unreal forms And shadows of the dead,

I vow'd to slay,

(Return'd to Ithaca) in my own abode,

An heifer barren yet,

fairest and best Of all my herds,

and to enrich the pile With delicacies,

such as please the shades.

But,

in peculiar,

to the Theban seer I vow'd a sable ram,

largest and best Of all my flocks.

When thus I had implored With vows and pray'r,

the nations of the dead,

  40 Piercing the victims next,

I turn'd them both To bleed into the trench;

then swarming came From Erebus the shades of the deceased,

Brides,

youths unwedded,

seniors long with woe Oppress'd,

and tender girls yet new to grief.

Came also many a warrior by the spear In battle pierced,

with armour gore-distain'd,

And all the multitude around the foss Stalk'd shrieking dreadful;

me pale horror seized.

I next,

importunate,

my people urged,

   50 Flaying the victims which myself had slain,

To burn them,

and to supplicate in pray'r Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine.

Then down I sat,

and with drawn faulchion chased The ghosts,

nor suffer'd them to approach the blood,

Till with Tiresias I should first confer.

The spirit,

first,

of my companion came,

Elpenor;

for no burial honours yet Had he received,

but we had left his corse In Circe's palace,

tombless,

undeplored,

   60 Ourselves by pressure urged of other cares.

Touch'd with compassion seeing him,

I wept,

And in wing'd accents brief him thus bespake.

Elpenor!

how cam'st thou into the realms Of darkness?

Hast thou,

though on foot,

so far Outstripp'd my speed,

who in my bark arrived?

So I,

to whom with tears he thus replied.

Laertes' noble son,

for wiles renown'd!

Fool'd by some dæmon and the intemp'rate bowl,

I perish'd in the house of Circe;

there    70 The deep-descending steps heedless I miss'd,

And fell precipitated from the roof.

With neck-bone broken from the vertebræ Outstretch'd I lay;

my spirit sought the shades.

But now,

by those whom thou hast left at home,

By thy Penelope,

and by thy fire,

The gentle nourisher of thy infant growth,

And by thy only son Telemachus I make my suit to thee.

For,

sure,

I know That from the house of Pluto safe return'd,

  80 Thou shalt ere long thy gallant vessel moor At the Ææan isle.

Ah!

there arrived Remember me.

Leave me not undeplored Nor uninhumed,

lest,

for my sake,

the Gods In vengeance visit thee;

but with my arms (What arms soe'er I left) burn me,

and raise A kind memorial of me on the coast,

Heap'd high with earth;

that an unhappy man May yet enjoy an unforgotten name.

Thus do at my request,

and on my hill    90 Funereal,

plant the oar with which I row'd,

While yet I lived a mariner of thine.

He spake,

to whom thus answer I return'd.

Poor youth!

I will perform thy whole desire.

Thus we,

there sitting,

doleful converse held,

With outstretch'd faulchion,

I,

guarding the blood,

And my companion's shadowy semblance sad Meantime discoursing me on various themes.

The soul of my departed mother,

next,

Of Anticleia came,

daughter of brave    100 Autolycus;

whom,

when I sought the shores Of Ilium,

I had living left at home.

Seeing her,

with compassion touch'd,

I wept,

Yet even her,

(although it pain'd my soul) Forbad,

relentless,

to approach the blood,

Till with Tiresias I should first confer.

Then came the spirit of the Theban seer Himself,

his golden sceptre in his hand,

Who knew me,

and,

enquiring,

thus began.

Why,

hapless Chief!

leaving the cheerful day,

  110 Arriv'st thou to behold the dead,

and this Unpleasant land?

but,

from the trench awhile Receding,

turn thy faulchion keen away,

That I may drink the blood,

and tell thee truth.

He spake;

I thence receding,

deep infix'd My sword bright-studded in the sheath again.

The noble prophet then,

approaching,

drank The blood,

and,

satisfied,

address'd me thus.

Thou seek'st a pleasant voyage home again,

Renown'd Ulysses!

but a God will make    120 That voyage difficult;

for,

as I judge,

Thou wilt not pass by Neptune unperceiv'd,

Whose anger follows thee,

for that thou hast Deprived his son Cyclops of his eye.

At length,

however,

after num'rous woes Endur'd,

thou may'st attain thy native isle,

If thy own appetite thou wilt controul And theirs who follow thee,

what time thy bark Well-built,

shall at Thrinacia's shore arrive,[41] Escaped from perils of the gloomy Deep.

   130 There shall ye find grazing the flocks and herds Of the all-seeing and all-hearing Sun,

Which,

if attentive to thy safe return,

Thou leave unharm'd,

though after num'rous woes,

Ye may at length arrive in Ithaca.

But if thou violate them,

I denounce Destruction on thy ship and all thy band,

And though thyself escape,

late shalt thou reach Thy home and hard-bested,[42] in a strange bark,

All thy companions lost;

trouble beside    140 Awaits thee there,

for thou shalt find within Proud suitors of thy noble wife,

who waste Thy substance,

and with promis'd spousal gifts Ceaseless solicit her to wed;

yet well Shalt thou avenge all their injurious deeds.

That once perform'd,

and ev'ry suitor slain Either by stratagem,

or face to face,

In thy own palace,

bearing,

as thou go'st,

A shapely oar,

journey,

till thou hast found A people who the sea know not,

nor eat    150 Food salted;

they trim galley crimson prow'd Have ne'er beheld,

nor yet smooth-shaven oar,

With which the vessel wing'd scuds o'er the waves.

Well thou shalt know them;

this shall be the sign -- When thou shalt meet a trav'ler,

who shall name The oar on thy broad shoulder borne,

a van,[43] There,

deep infixing it within the soil,

Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,

A ram,

and a lascivious boar,

then seek Thy home again,

and sacrifice at home    160 An hecatomb to the Immortal Gods,

Adoring each duly,

and in his course.

So shalt thou die in peace a gentle death,

Remote from Ocean;

it shall find thee late,

In soft serenity of age,

the Chief Of a blest people.

--I have told thee truth.

He spake,

to whom I answer thus return'd.

Tiresias!

thou,

I doubt not,

hast reveal'd The ordinance of heav'n.

But tell me,

Seer!

And truly.

I behold my mother's shade;

   170 Silent she sits beside the blood,

nor word Nor even look vouchsafes to her own son.

How shall she learn,

prophet,

that I am her's?

So I,

to whom Tiresias quick replied.

The course is easy.

Learn it,

taught by me.

What shade soe'er,

by leave of thee obtain'd,

Shall taste the blood,

that shade will tell thee truth;

The rest,

prohibited,

will all retire.

When thus the spirit of the royal Seer Had his prophetic mind reveal'd,

again    180 He enter'd Pluto's gates;

but I unmoved Still waited till my mother's shade approach'd;

She drank the blood,

then knew me,

and in words Wing'd with affection,

plaintive,

thus began.

My son!

how hast thou enter'd,

still alive,

This darksome region?

Difficult it is For living man to view the realms of death.

Broad rivers roll,

and awful floods between,

But chief,

the Ocean,

which to pass on foot,

Or without ship,

impossible is found.

   190 Hast thou,

long wand'ring in thy voyage home From Ilium,

with thy ship and crew arrived,

Ithaca and thy consort yet unseen?

She spake,

to whom this answer I return'd.

My mother!

me necessity constrain'd To Pluto's dwelling,

anxious to consult Theban Tiresias;

for I have not yet Approach'd Achaia,

nor have touch'd the shore Of Ithaca,

but suff'ring ceaseless woe Have roam'd,

since first in Agamemnon's train   200 I went to combat with the sons of Troy.

But speak,

my mother,

and the truth alone;

What stroke of fate slew -thee-?

Fell'st thou a prey To some slow malady?

or by the shafts Of gentle Dian suddenly subdued?

Speak to me also of my ancient Sire,

And of Telemachus,

whom I left at home;

Possess I still unalienate and safe My property,

or hath some happier Chief Admittance free into my fortunes gain'd,

   210 No hope subsisting more of my return?

The mind and purpose of my wedded wife Declare thou also.

Dwells she with our son Faithful to my domestic interests,

Or is she wedded to some Chief of Greece?

I ceas'd,

when thus the venerable shade.

Not so;

she faithful still and patient dwells Thy roof beneath;

but all her days and nights Devoting sad to anguish and to tears.

Thy fortunes still are thine;

Telemachus    220 Cultivates,

undisturb'd,

thy land,

and sits At many a noble banquet,

such as well Beseems the splendour of his princely state,

For all invite him;

at his farm retired Thy father dwells,

nor to the city comes,

For aught;

nor bed,

nor furniture of bed,

Furr'd cloaks or splendid arras he enjoys,

But,

with his servile hinds all winter sleeps In ashes and in dust at the hearth-side,

Coarsely attired;

again,

when summer comes,

  230 Or genial autumn,

on the fallen leaves In any nook,

not curious where,

he finds There,

stretch'd forlorn,

nourishing grief,

he weeps Thy lot,

enfeebled now by num'rous years.

So perish'd I;

such fate I also found;

Me,

neither the right-aiming arch'ress struck,

Diana,

with her gentle shafts,

nor me Distemper slew,

my limbs by slow degrees But sure,

bereaving of their little life,

  240 But long regret,

tender solicitude,

And recollection of thy kindness past,

These,

my Ulysses!

fatal proved to me.

She said;

I,

ardent wish'd to clasp the shade Of my departed mother;

thrice I sprang Toward her,

by desire impetuous urged,

And thrice she flitted from between my arms,

Light as a passing shadow or a dream.

Then,

pierced by keener grief,

in accents wing'd With filial earnestness I thus replied.

   250 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?

Then,

instant,

thus the venerable form.

Ah,

son!

thou most afflicted of mankind!

On thee,

Jove's daughter,

Proserpine,

obtrudes No airy semblance vain;

but such the state   260 And nature is of mortals once deceased.

For they nor muscle have,

nor flesh,

nor bone;

All those (the spirit from the body once Divorced) the violence of fire consumes,

And,

like a dream,

the soul flies swift away.

But haste thou back to light,

and,

taught thyself These sacred truths,

hereafter teach thy spouse.

Thus mutual we conferr'd.

Then,

thither came,

Encouraged forth by royal Proserpine,

Shades female num'rous,

all who consorts,

erst,

  270 Or daughters were of mighty Chiefs renown'd.

About the sable blood frequent they swarm'd.

But I,

consid'ring sat,

how I might each Interrogate,

and thus resolv'd.

My sword Forth drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,

Firm I prohibited the ghosts to drink The blood together;

they successive came;

Each told her own distress;

I question'd all.

There,

first,

the high-born Tyro I beheld;

She claim'd Salmoneus as her sire,

and wife   280 Was once of Cretheus,

son of Æolus.

Enamour'd of Enipeus,

stream divine,

Loveliest of all that water earth,

beside His limpid current she was wont to stray,

When Ocean's God,

(Enipeus' form assumed) Within the eddy-whirling river's mouth Embraced her;

there,

while the o'er-arching flood,

Uplifted mountainous,

conceal'd the God And his fair human bride,

her virgin zone He loos'd,

and o'er her eyes sweet sleep diffused.

 290 His am'rous purpose satisfied,

he grasp'd Her hand,

affectionate,

and thus he said.

Rejoice in this my love,

and when the year Shall tend to consummation of its course,

Thou shalt produce illustrious twins,

for love Immortal never is unfruitful love.

Rear them with all a mother's care;

meantime,

Hence to thy home.

Be silent.

Name it not.

For I am Neptune,

Shaker of the shores.

So saying,

he plunged into the billowy Deep.

  300 She pregnant grown,

Pelias and Neleus bore,

Both,

valiant ministers of mighty Jove.

In wide-spread Iäolchus Pelias dwelt,

Of num'rous flocks possess'd;

but his abode Amid the sands of Pylus Neleus chose.

To Cretheus wedded next,

the lovely nymph Yet other sons,

Æson and Pheres bore,

And Amythaon of equestrian fame.

I,

next,

the daughter of Asopus saw,

Antiope;

she gloried to have known    310 Th' embrace of Jove himself,

to whom she brought A double progeny,

Amphion named And Zethus;

they the seven-gated Thebes Founded and girded with strong tow'rs,

because,

Though puissant Heroes both,

in spacious Thebes Unfenced by tow'rs,

they could not dwell secure.

Alcmena,

next,

wife of Amphitryon I saw;

she in the arms of sov'reign Jove The lion-hearted Hercules conceiv'd,

And,

after,

bore to Creon brave in fight    320 His daughter Megara,

by the noble son Unconquer'd of Amphitryon espoused.

The beauteous Epicaste[44] saw I then,

Mother of Oedipus,

who guilt incurr'd Prodigious,

wedded,

unintentional,

To her own son;

his father first he slew,

Then wedded her,

which soon the Gods divulged.

He,

under vengeance of offended heav'n,

In pleasant Thebes dwelt miserable,

King Of the Cadmean race;

she to the gates    330 Of Ades brazen-barr'd despairing went,

Self-strangled by a cord fasten'd aloft To her own palace-roof,

and woes bequeath'd (Such as the Fury sisters execute Innumerable) to her guilty son.

There also saw I Chloris,

loveliest fair,

Whom Neleus woo'd and won with spousal gifts Inestimable,

by her beauty charm'd She youngest daughter was of Iasus' son,

Amphion,

in old time a sov'reign prince    340 In Minuëian Orchomenus,

And King of Pylus.

Three illustrious sons She bore to Neleus,

Nestor,

Chromius,

And Periclymenus the wide-renown'd,

And,

last,

produced a wonder of the earth,

Pero,

by ev'ry neighbour prince around In marriage sought;

but Neleus her on none Deign'd to bestow,

save only on the Chief Who should from Phylace drive off the beeves (Broad-fronted,

and with jealous care secured)   350 Of valiant Iphicles.

One undertook That task alone,

a prophet high in fame,

Melampus;

but the Fates fast bound him there In rig'rous bonds by rustic hands imposed.

At length (the year,

with all its months and days Concluded,

and the new-born year begun) Illustrious Iphicles releas'd the seer,

Grateful for all the oracles resolved,[45] Till then obscure.

So stood the will of Jove.

Next,

Leda,

wife of Tyndarus I saw,

   360 Who bore to Tyndarus a noble pair,

Castor the bold,

and Pollux cestus-famed.

They pris'ners in the fertile womb of earth,

Though living,

dwell,

and even there from Jove High priv'lege gain;

alternate they revive And die,

and dignity partake divine.

The comfort of Aloëus,

next,

I view'd,

Iphimedeia;

she th' embrace profess'd Of Neptune to have shared,

to whom she bore Two sons;

short-lived they were,

but godlike both,

 370 Otus and Ephialtes far-renown'd.

Orion sole except,

all-bounteous Earth Ne'er nourish'd forms for beauty or for size To be admired as theirs;

in his ninth year Each measur'd,

broad,

nine cubits,

and the height Was found nine ells of each.

Against the Gods Themselves they threaten'd war,

and to excite The din of battle in the realms above.

To the Olympian summit they essay'd To heave up Ossa,

and to Ossa's crown    380 Branch-waving Pelion;

so to climb the heav'ns.

Nor had they failed,

maturer grown in might,

To accomplish that emprize,

but them the son[46] Of radiant-hair'd Latona and of Jove Slew both,

ere yet the down of blooming youth Thick-sprung,

their cheeks or chins had tufted o'er.

Phædra I also there,

and Procris saw,

And Ariadne for her beauty praised,

Whose sire was all-wise Minos.

Theseus her From Crete toward the fruitful region bore   390 Of sacred Athens,

but enjoy'd not there,

For,

first,

she perish'd by Diana's shafts In Dia,

Bacchus witnessing her crime.[47] Mæra and Clymene I saw beside,

And odious Eriphyle,

who received The price in gold of her own husband's life.

But all the wives of Heroes whom I saw,

And all their daughters can I not relate;

Night,

first,

would fail;

and even now the hour Calls me to rest either on board my bark,

  400 Or here;

meantime,

I in yourselves confide,

And in the Gods to shape my conduct home.

He ceased;

the whole assembly silent sat,

Charm'd into ecstacy by his discourse Throughout the twilight hall,

till,

at the last,

Areta iv'ry arm'd them thus bespake.

Phæacians!

how appears he in your eyes This stranger,

graceful as he is in port,

In stature noble,

and in mind discrete?

My guest he is,

but ye all share with me    410 That honour;

him dismiss not,

therefore,

hence With haste,

nor from such indigence withhold Supplies gratuitous;

for ye are rich,

And by kind heav'n with rare possessions blest.

The Hero,

next,

Echeneus spake,

a Chief Now ancient,

eldest of Phæacia's sons.

Your prudent Queen,

my friends,

speaks not beside Her proper scope,

but as beseems her well.

Her voice obey;

yet the effect of all Must on Alcinoüs himself depend.

    420 To whom Alcinoüs,

thus,

the King,

replied.

I ratify the word.

So shall be done,

As surely as myself shall live supreme O'er all Phæacia's maritime domain.

Then let the guest,

though anxious to depart,

Wait till the morrow,

that I may complete The whole donation.

His safe conduct home Shall be the gen'ral care,

but mine in Chief,

To whom dominion o'er the rest belongs.

Him answer'd,

then,

Ulysses ever-wise.

   430 Alcinoüs!

Prince!

exalted high o'er all Phæacia's sons!

should ye solicit,

kind,

My stay throughout the year,

preparing still My conduct home,

and with illustrious gifts Enriching me the while,

ev'n that request Should please me well;

the wealthier I return'd,

The happier my condition;

welcome more And more respectable I should appear In ev'ry eye to Ithaca restored.

To whom Alcinoüs answer thus return'd.

   440 Ulysses!

viewing thee,

no fears we feel Lest thou,

at length,

some false pretender prove,

Or subtle hypocrite,

of whom no few Disseminated o'er its face the earth Sustains,

adepts in fiction,

and who frame Fables,

where fables could be least surmised.

Thy phrase well turn'd,

and thy ingenuous mind Proclaim -thee- diff'rent far,

who hast in strains Musical as a poet's voice,

the woes Rehears'd of all thy Greecians,

and thy own.

  450 But say,

and tell me true.

Beheld'st thou there None of thy followers to the walls of Troy Slain in that warfare?

Lo!

the night is long -- A night of utmost length;

nor yet the hour Invites to sleep.

Tell me thy wond'rous deeds,

For I could watch till sacred dawn,

could'st thou So long endure to tell me of thy toils.

Then thus Ulysses,

ever-wise,

replied.

Alcinoüs!

high exalted over all Phæacia's sons!

the time suffices yet    460 For converse both and sleep,

and if thou wish To hear still more,

I shall not spare to unfold More pitiable woes than these,

sustain'd By my companions,

in the end destroy'd;

Who,

saved from perils of disast'rous war At Ilium,

perish'd yet in their return,

Victims of a pernicious woman's crime.[48] Now,

when chaste Proserpine had wide dispers'd Those female shades,

the spirit sore distress'd Of Agamemnon,

Atreus' son,

appear'd;

   470 Encircled by a throng,

he came;

by all Who with himself beneath Ægisthus' roof Their fate fulfill'd,

perishing by the sword.

He drank the blood,

and knew me;

shrill he wail'd And querulous;

tears trickling bathed his cheeks,

And with spread palms,

through ardour of desire He sought to enfold me fast,

but vigour none,

Or force,

as erst,

his agile limbs inform'd.

I,

pity-moved,

wept at the sight,

and him,

In accents wing'd by friendship,

thus address'd.

  480 Ah glorious son of Atreus,

King of men!

What hand inflicted the all-numbing stroke Of death on thee?

Say,

didst thou perish sunk By howling tempests irresistible Which Neptune raised,

or on dry land by force Of hostile multitudes,

while cutting off Beeves from the herd,

or driving flocks away,

Or fighting for Achaia's daughters,

shut Within some city's bulwarks close besieged?

I ceased,

when Agamemnon thus replied.

   490 Ulysses,

noble Chief,

Laertes' son For wisdom famed!

I neither perish'd sunk By howling tempests irresistible Which Neptune raised,

nor on dry land received From hostile multitudes the fatal blow,

But me Ægisthus slew;

my woeful death Confed'rate with my own pernicious wife He plotted,

with a show of love sincere Bidding me to his board,

where as the ox Is slaughter'd at his crib,

he slaughter'd -me-.

  500 Such was my dreadful death;

carnage ensued Continual of my friends slain all around,

Num'rous as boars bright-tusk'd at nuptial feast,

Or feast convivial of some wealthy Chief.

Thou hast already witness'd many a field With warriors overspread,

slain one by one,

But that dire scene had most thy pity moved,

For we,

with brimming beakers at our side,

And underneath full tables bleeding lay.

Blood floated all the pavement.

Then the cries   510 Of Priam's daughter sounded in my ears Most pitiable of all.

Cassandra's cries,

Whom Clytemnestra close beside me slew.

Expiring as I lay,

I yet essay'd To grasp my faulchion,

but the trayt'ress quick Withdrew herself,

nor would vouchsafe to close My languid eyes,

or prop my drooping chin Ev'n in the moment when I sought the shades.

So that the thing breathes not,

ruthless and fell As woman once resolv'd on such a deed    520 Detestable,

as my base wife contrived,

The murther of the husband of her youth.

I thought to have return'd welcome to all,

To my own children and domestic train;

But she,

past measure profligate,

hath poured Shame on herself,

on women yet unborn,

And even on the virtuous of her sex.

He ceas'd,

to whom,

thus,

answer I return'd.

Gods!

how severely hath the thund'rer plagued The house of Atreus even from the first,

   530 By female counsels!

we for Helen's sake Have num'rous died,

and Clytemnestra framed,

While thou wast far remote,

this snare for thee!

So I,

to whom Atrides thus replied.

Thou,

therefore,

be not pliant overmuch To woman;

trust her not with all thy mind,

But half disclose to her,

and half conceal.

Yet,

from thy consort's hand no bloody death,

My friend,

hast thou to fear;

for passing wise Icarius' daughter is,

far other thoughts,

  540 Intelligent,

and other plans,

to frame.

Her,

going to the wars we left a bride New-wedded,

and thy boy hung at her breast,

Who,

man himself,

consorts ere now with men A prosp'rous youth;

his father,

safe restored To his own Ithaca,

shall see him soon,

And -he- shall clasp his father in his arms As nature bids;

but me,

my cruel one Indulged not with the dear delight to gaze On my Orestes,

for she slew me first.

   550 But listen;

treasure what I now impart.[49] Steer secret to thy native isle;

avoid Notice;

for woman merits trust no more.

Now tell me truth.

Hear ye in whose abode My son resides?

dwells he in Pylus,

say,

Or in Orchomenos,

or else beneath My brother's roof in Sparta's wide domain?

For my Orestes is not yet a shade.

So he,

to whom I answer thus return'd.

Atrides,

ask not me.

Whether he live,

   560 Or have already died,

I nothing know;

Mere words are vanity,

and better spared.

Thus we discoursing mutual stood,

and tears Shedding disconsolate.

The shade,

meantime,

Came of Achilles,

Peleus' mighty son;

Patroclus also,

and Antilochus Appear'd,

with Ajax,

for proportion just And stature tall,

(Pelides sole except) Distinguish'd above all Achaia's sons.

The soul of swift Æacides at once    570 Knew me,

and in wing'd accents thus began.

Brave Laertiades,

for wiles renown'd!

What mightier enterprise than all the past Hath made thee here a guest?

rash as thou art!

How hast thou dared to penetrate the gloom Of Ades,

dwelling of the shadowy dead,

Semblances only of what once they were?

He spake,

to whom I,

answ'ring,

thus replied.

O Peleus' son!

Achilles!

bravest far Of all Achaia's race!

I here arrived    580 Seeking Tiresias,

from his lips to learn,

Perchance,

how I might safe regain the coast Of craggy Ithaca;

for tempest-toss'd Perpetual,

I have neither yet approach'd Achaia's shore,

or landed on my own.

But as for thee,

Achilles!

never man Hath known felicity like thine,

or shall,

Whom living we all honour'd as a God,

And who maintain'st,

here resident,

supreme Controul among the dead;

indulge not then,

  590 Achilles,

causeless grief that thou hast died.

I ceased,

and answer thus instant received.

Renown'd Ulysses!

think not death a theme Of consolation;

I had rather live The servile hind for hire,

and eat the bread Of some man scantily himself sustain'd,

Than sov'reign empire hold o'er all the shades.

But come --speak to me of my noble boy;

Proceeds he,

as he promis'd,

brave in arms,

Or shuns he war?

Say also,

hast thou heard   600 Of royal Peleus?

shares he still respect Among his num'rous Myrmidons,

or scorn In Hellas and in Phthia,

for that age Predominates in his enfeebled limbs?

For help is none in me;

the glorious sun No longer sees me such,

as when in aid Of the Achaians I o'erspread the field Of spacious Troy with all their bravest slain.

Oh might I,

vigorous as then,

repair[50] For one short moment to my father's house,

  610 They all should tremble;

I would shew an arm,

Such as should daunt the fiercest who presumes To injure -him-,

or to despise his age.

Achilles spake,

to whom I thus replied.

Of noble Peleus have I nothing heard;

But I will tell thee,

as thou bidd'st,

the truth Unfeign'd of Neoptolemus thy son;

For him,

myself,

on board my hollow bark From Scyros to Achaia's host convey'd.

Oft as in council under Ilium's walls    620 We met,

he ever foremost was in speech,

Nor spake erroneous;

Nestor and myself Except,

no Greecian could with him compare.

Oft,

too,

as we with battle hemm'd around Troy's bulwarks,

from among the mingled crowd Thy son sprang foremost into martial act,

Inferior in heroic worth to none.

Beneath him num'rous fell the sons of Troy In dreadful fight,

nor have I pow'r to name Distinctly all,

who by his glorious arm    630 Exerted in the cause of Greece,

expired.

Yet will I name Eurypylus,

the son Of Telephus,

an Hero whom his sword Of life bereaved,

and all around him strew'd The plain with his Cetean warriors,

won To Ilium's side by bribes to women giv'n.[51] Save noble Memnon only,

I beheld No Chief at Ilium beautiful as he.

Again,

when we within the horse of wood Framed by Epeüs sat,

an ambush chos'n    640 Of all the bravest Greeks,

and I in trust Was placed to open or to keep fast-closed The hollow fraud;

then,

ev'ry Chieftain there And Senator of Greece wiped from his cheeks The tears,

and tremors felt in ev'ry limb;

But never saw I changed to terror's hue -His- ruddy cheek,

no tears wiped -he- away,

But oft he press'd me to go forth,

his suit With pray'rs enforcing,

griping hard his hilt And his brass-burthen'd spear,

and dire revenge   650 Denouncing,

ardent,

on the race of Troy.

At length,

when we had sack'd the lofty town Of Priam,

laden with abundant spoils He safe embark'd,

neither by spear or shaft Aught hurt,

or in close fight by faulchion's edge,

As oft in war befalls,

where wounds are dealt Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.

So I;

then striding large,

the spirit thence Withdrew of swift Æacides,

along The hoary mead pacing,[52] with joy elate   660 That I had blazon'd bright his son's renown.

The other souls of men by death dismiss'd Stood mournful by,

sad uttering each his woes;

The soul alone I saw standing remote Of Telamonian Ajax,

still incensed That in our public contest for the arms Worn by Achilles,

and by Thetis thrown Into dispute,

my claim had strongest proved,

Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.

Disastrous victory!

which I could wish    670 Not to have won,

since for that armour's sake The earth hath cover'd Ajax,

in his form And martial deeds superior far to all The Greecians,

Peleus' matchless son except.

I,

seeking to appease him,

thus began.

O Ajax,

son of glorious Telamon!

Canst thou remember,

even after death,

Thy wrath against me,

kindled for the sake Of those pernicious arms?

arms which the Gods Ordain'd of such dire consequence to Greece,

  680 Which caused thy death,

our bulwark!

Thee we mourn With grief perpetual,

nor the death lament Of Peleus' son,

Achilles,

more than thine.

Yet none is blameable;

Jove evermore With bitt'rest hate pursued Achaia's host,

And he ordain'd thy death.

Hero!

approach,

That thou may'st hear the words with which I seek To sooth thee;

let thy long displeasure cease!

Quell all resentment in thy gen'rous breast!

I spake;

nought answer'd he,

but sullen join'd   690 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.

There saw I Minos,

offspring famed of Jove;

His golden sceptre in his hand,

he sat Judge of the dead;

they,

pleading each in turn,

His cause,

some stood,

some sat,

filling the house Whose spacious folding-gates are never closed.

  700 Orion next,

huge ghost,

engaged my view,

Droves urging o'er the grassy mead,

of beasts Which he had slain,

himself,

on the wild hills,

With strong club arm'd of ever-during brass.

There also Tityus on the ground I saw Extended,

offspring of the glorious earth;

Nine acres he o'erspread,

and,

at his side Station'd,

two vultures on his liver prey'd,

Scooping his entrails;

nor sufficed his hands To fray them thence;

for he had sought to force   710 Latona,

illustrious concubine of Jove,

What time the Goddess journey'd o'er the rocks Of Pytho into pleasant Panopeus.

Next,

suff'ring grievous torments,

I beheld Tantalus;

in a pool he stood,

his chin Wash'd by the wave;

thirst-parch'd he seem'd,

but found Nought to assuage his thirst;

for when he bow'd His hoary head,

ardent to quaff,

the flood Vanish'd absorb'd,

and,

at his feet,

adust The soil appear'd,

dried,

instant,

by the Gods.

  720 Tall trees,

fruit-laden,

with inflected heads Stoop'd to him,

pomegranates,

apples bright,

The luscious fig,

and unctuous olive smooth;

Which when with sudden grasp he would have seized,

Winds hurl'd them high into the dusky clouds.

There,

too,

the hard-task'd Sisyphus I saw,

Thrusting before him,

strenuous,

a vast rock.[53] With hands and feet struggling,

he shoved the stone Up to a hill-top;

but the steep well-nigh Vanquish'd,

by some great force repulsed,[54] the mass  730 Rush'd again,

obstinate,

down to the plain.

Again,

stretch'd prone,

severe he toiled,

the sweat Bathed all his weary limbs,

and his head reek'd.

The might of Hercules I,

next,

survey'd;

His semblance;

for himself their banquet shares With the Immortal Gods,

and in his arms Enfolds neat-footed Hebe,

daughter fair Of Jove,

and of his golden-sandal'd spouse.

Around him,

clamorous as birds,

the dead Swarm'd turbulent;

he,

gloomy-brow'd as night,

  740 With uncased bow and arrow on the string Peer'd terrible from side to side,

as one Ever in act to shoot;

a dreadful belt He bore athwart his bosom,

thong'd with gold.

There,

broider'd shone many a stupendous form,

Bears,

wild boars,

lions with fire-flashing eyes,

Fierce combats,

battles,

bloodshed,

homicide.

The artist,

author of that belt,

none such Before,

produced,

or after.

Me his eye No sooner mark'd,

than knowing me,

in words   750 By sorrow quick suggested,

he began.

Laertes' noble son,

for wiles renown'd!

Ah,

hapless Hero!

thou art,

doubtless,

charged,

Thou also,

with some arduous labour,

such As in the realms of day I once endured.

Son was I of Saturnian Jove,

yet woes Immense sustain'd,

subjected to a King Inferior far to me,

whose harsh commands Enjoin'd me many a terrible exploit.

He even bade me on a time lead hence    760 The dog,

that task believing above all Impracticable;

yet from Ades him I dragg'd reluctant into light,

by aid Of Hermes,

and of Pallas azure-eyed.

So saying,

he penetrated deep again The abode of Pluto;

but I still unmoved There stood expecting,

curious,

other shades To see of Heroes in old time deceased.

And now,

more ancient worthies still,

and whom I wish'd,

I had beheld,

Pirithoüs    770 And Theseus,

glorious progeny of Gods,

But nations,

first,

numberless of the dead Came shrieking hideous;

me pale horror seized,

Lest awful Proserpine should thither send The Gorgon-head from Ades,

sight abhorr'd!

I,

therefore,

hasting to the vessel,

bade My crew embark,

and cast the hawsers loose.

They,

quick embarking,

on the benches sat.

Down the Oceanus[55] the current bore My galley,

winning,

at the first,

her way   780 With oars,

then,

wafted by propitious gales.

FOOTNOTES:

[40] Milton.

[41] The shore of Scilly commonly called Trinacria,

but -Euphonicè- by Homer,

Thrinacia.

[42] The expression is used by Milton,

and signifies --Beset with many difficulties.

[43] Mistaking the oar for a corn-van.

A sure indication of his ignorance of maritime concerns.

[44] By the Tragedians called --Jocasta.

[45] Iphicles had been informed by the Oracles that he should have no children till instructed by a prophet how to obtain them;

a service which Melampus had the good fortune to render him.

[46] Apollo.

[47] Bacchus accused her to Diana of having lain with Theseus in his temple,

and the Goddess punished her with death.

[48] Probably meaning Helen.

[49] This is surely one of the most natural strokes to be found in any Poet.

Convinced,

for a moment,

by the virtues of Penelope,

he mentioned her with respect;

but recollecting himself suddenly,

involves even her in his general ill opinion of the sex,

begotten in him by the crimes of Clytemnestra.

[50] Another most beautiful stroke of nature.

Ere yet Ulysses has had opportunity to answer,

the very thought that Peleus may possibly be insulted,

fires him,

and he takes the whole for granted.

Thus is the impetuous character of Achilles sustained to the last moment!

[51] Γυναίων εινεκα δώρων --Priam is said to have influenced by gifts the wife and mother of Eurypylus,

to persuade him to the assistance of Troy,

he being himself unwilling to engage.

The passage through defect of history has long been dark,

and commentators have adapted different senses to it,

all conjectural.

The Ceteans are said to have been a people of Mysia,

of which Eurypylus was King.

[52] Κατ' ασφοδελον λειμωνα --Asphodel was planted on the graves and around the tombs of the deceased,

and hence the supposition that the Stygian plain was clothed with asphodel.

F. [53] Βασαζοντα must have this sense interpreted by what follows.

To attempt to make the English numbers expressive as the Greek is a labour like that of Sisyphus.

The Translator has done what he could.

[54] It is now,

perhaps,

impossible to ascertain with precision what Homer meant by the word κραταιίς,

which he uses only here,

and in the next book,

where it is the name of Scylla's dam.

--Αναιδης --is also of very doubtful explication.

[55] The two first lines of the following book seem to ascertain the true meaning of the conclusion of this,

and to prove sufficiently that by Ὠκεανὸς here Homer could not possibly intend any other than a river.

In those lines he tells us in the plainest terms that -the ship left the stream of the river Oceanus,

and arrived in the open sea-.

Diodorus Siculus informs us that Ὠκεανὸς had been a name anciently given to the Nile.

See Clarke.

BOOK XII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses,

pursuing his narrative,

relates his return from the shades to Circe's island,

the precautions given him by that Goddess,

his escape from the Sirens,

and from Scylla and Charybdis;

his arrival in Sicily,

where his companions,

having slain and eaten the oxen of the Sun,

are afterward shipwrecked and lost;

and concludes the whole with an account of his arrival,

alone,

on the mast of his vessel,

at the island of Calypso.

And now,

borne seaward from the river-stream Of the Oceanus,

we plow'd again The spacious Deep,

and reach'd th' Ææan isle,

Where,

daughter of the dawn,

Aurora takes Her choral sports,

and whence the sun ascends.

We,

there arriving,

thrust our bark aground On the smooth beach,

then landed,

and on shore Reposed,

expectant of the sacred dawn.

But soon as day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd Look'd forth again,

sending my friends before,

  10 I bade them bring Elpenor's body down From the abode of Circe to the beach.

Then,

on the utmost headland of the coast We timber fell'd,

and,

sorrowing o'er the dead,

His fun'ral rites water'd with tears profuse.

The dead consumed,

and with the dead his arms,

We heap'd his tomb,

and the sepulchral post Erecting,

fix'd his shapely oar aloft.

Thus,

punctual,

we perform'd;

nor our return From Ades knew not Circe,

but attired    20 In haste,

ere long arrived,

with whom appear'd Her female train with plenteous viands charged,

And bright wine rosy-red.

Amidst us all Standing,

the beauteous Goddess thus began.

Ah miserable!

who have sought the shades Alive!

while others of the human race Die only once,

appointed twice to die!

Come --take ye food;

drink wine;

and on the shore All day regale,

for ye shall hence again At day-spring o'er the Deep;

but I will mark   30 Myself your future course,

nor uninform'd Leave you in aught,

lest,

through some dire mistake,

By sea or land new mis'ries ye incur.

The Goddess spake,

whose invitation kind We glad accepted;

thus we feasting sat Till set of sun,

and quaffing richest wine;

But when the sun went down and darkness fell,

My crew beside the hawsers slept,

while me The Goddess by the hand leading apart,

First bade me sit,

then,

seated opposite,

   40 Enquired,

minute,

of all that I had seen,

And I,

from first to last,

recounted all.

Then,

thus the awful Goddess in return.

Thus far thy toils are finish'd.

Now attend!

Mark well my words,

of which the Gods will sure Themselves remind thee in the needful hour.

First shalt thou reach the Sirens;

they the hearts Enchant of all who on their coast arrive.

The wretch,

who unforewarn'd approaching,

hears The Sirens' voice,

his wife and little-ones   50 Ne'er fly to gratulate his glad return,

But him the Sirens sitting in the meads Charm with mellifluous song,

while all around The bones accumulated lie of men Now putrid,

and the skins mould'ring away.

But,

pass them thou,

and,

lest thy people hear Those warblings,

ere thou yet approach,

fill all Their ears with wax moulded between thy palms;

But as for thee --thou hear them if thou wilt.

Yet let thy people bind thee to the mast    60 Erect,

encompassing thy feet and arms With cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,

So shalt thou,

raptur'd,

hear the Sirens' song.

But if thou supplicate to be released,

Or give such order,

then,

with added cords Let thy companions bind thee still the more.

When thus thy people shall have safely pass'd The Sirens by,

think not from me to learn What course thou next shalt steer;

two will occur;

Delib'rate chuse;

I shall describe them both.

  70 Here vaulted rocks impend,

dash'd by the waves Immense of Amphitrite azure-eyed;

The blessed Gods those rocks,

Erratic,

call.

Birds cannot pass them safe;

no,

not the doves Which his ambrosia bear to Father Jove,

But even of those doves the slipp'ry rock Proves fatal still to one,

for which the God Supplies another,

lest the number fail.

No ship,

what ship soever there arrives,

Escapes them,

but both mariners and planks   80 Whelm'd under billows of the Deep,

or,

caught By fiery tempests,

sudden disappear.

Those rocks the billow-cleaving bark alone The Argo,

further'd by the vows of all,

Pass'd safely,

sailing from Ææta's isle;

Nor she had pass'd,

but surely dash'd had been On those huge rocks,

but that,

propitious still To Jason,

Juno sped her safe along.

These rocks are two;

one lifts his summit sharp High as the spacious heav'ns,

wrapt in dun clouds   90 Perpetual,

which nor autumn sees dispers'd Nor summer,

for the sun shines never there;

No mortal man might climb it or descend,

Though twice ten hands and twice ten feet he own'd,

For it is levigated as by art.

Down scoop'd to Erebus,

a cavern drear Yawns in the centre of its western side;

Pass it,

renown'd Ulysses!

but aloof So far,

that a keen arrow smartly sent Forth from thy bark should fail to reach the cave.

 100 There Scylla dwells,

and thence her howl is heard Tremendous;

shrill her voice is as the note Of hound new-whelp'd,

but hideous her aspect,

Such as no mortal man,

nor ev'n a God Encount'ring her,

should with delight survey.

Her feet are twelve,

all fore-feet;

six her necks Of hideous length,

each clubb'd into a head Terrific,

and each head with fangs is arm'd In triple row,

thick planted,

stored with death.

Plunged to her middle in the hollow den    110 She lurks,

protruding from the black abyss Her heads,

with which the rav'ning monster dives In quest of dolphins,

dog-fish,

or of prey More bulky,

such as in the roaring gulphs Of Amphitrite without end abounds.

It is no seaman's boast that e'er he slipp'd Her cavern by,

unharm'd.

In ev'ry mouth She bears upcaught a mariner away.

The other rock,

Ulysses,

thou shalt find Humbler,

a bow-shot only from the first;

   120 On this a wild fig grows broad-leav'd,

and here Charybdis dire ingulphs the sable flood.

Each day she thrice disgorges,

and each day Thrice swallows it.

Ah!

well forewarn'd,

beware What time she swallows,

that thou come not nigh,

For not himself,

Neptune,

could snatch thee thence.

Close passing Scylla's rock,

shoot swift thy bark Beyond it,

since the loss of six alone Is better far than shipwreck made of all.

So Circe spake,

to whom I thus replied.

  130 Tell me,

O Goddess,

next,

and tell me true!

If,

chance,

from fell Charybdis I escape,

May I not also save from Scylla's force My people;

should the monster threaten them?

I said,

and quick the Goddess in return.

Unhappy!

can exploits and toils of war Still please thee?

yield'st not to the Gods themselves?

She is no mortal,

but a deathless pest,

Impracticable,

savage,

battle-proof.

Defence is vain;

flight is thy sole resource.

  140 For should'st thou linger putting on thy arms Beside the rock,

beware,

lest darting forth Her num'rous heads,

she seize with ev'ry mouth A Greecian,

and with others,

even thee.

Pass therefore swift,

and passing,

loud invoke Cratais,

mother of this plague of man,

Who will forbid her to assail thee more.

Thou,

next,

shalt reach Thrinacia;

there,

the beeves And fatted flocks graze num'rous of the Sun;

Sev'n herds;

as many flocks of snowy fleece;

  150 Fifty in each;

they breed not,

neither die,

Nor are they kept by less than Goddesses,

Lampetia fair,

and Phäethusa,

both By nymph Neæra to Hyperion borne.

Them,

soon as she had train'd them to an age Proportion'd to that charge,

their mother sent Into Thrinacia,

there to dwell and keep Inviolate their father's flocks and herds.

If,

anxious for a safe return,

thou spare Those herds and flocks,

though after much endured,

 160 Ye may at last your Ithaca regain;

But should'st thou violate them,

I foretell Destruction of thy ship and of thy crew,

And though thyself escape,

thou shalt return Late,

in ill plight,

and all thy friends destroy'd.

She ended,

and the golden morning dawn'd.

Then,

all-divine,

her graceful steps she turn'd Back through the isle,

and,

at the beach arrived,

I summon'd all my followers to ascend The bark again,

and cast the hawsers loose.

  170 They,

at my voice,

embarking,

fill'd in ranks The seats,

and rowing,

thresh'd the hoary flood.

And now,

melodious Circe,

nymph divine,

Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,

Pleasant companion of our course,

and we (The decks and benches clear'd) untoiling sat,

While managed gales sped swift the bark along.

Then,

with dejected heart,

thus I began.

Oh friends!

(for it is needful that not one Or two alone the admonition hear     180 Of Circe,

beauteous prophetess divine) To all I speak,

that whether we escape Or perish,

all may be,

at least,

forewarn'd.

She bids us,

first,

avoid the dang'rous song Of the sweet Sirens and their flow'ry meads.

Me only she permits those strains to hear;

But ye shall bind me with coercion strong Of cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,

And by no struggles to be loos'd of mine.

But should I supplicate to be released    190 Or give such order,

then,

with added cords Be it your part to bind me still the more.

Thus with distinct precaution I prepared My people;

rapid in her course,

meantime,

My gallant bark approach'd the Sirens' isle,

For brisk and favourable blew the wind.

Then fell the wind suddenly,

and serene A breathless calm ensued,

while all around The billows slumber'd,

lull'd by pow'r divine.

Up-sprang my people,

and the folded sails   200 Bestowing in the hold,

sat to their oars,

Which with their polish'd blades whiten'd the Deep.

I,

then,

with edge of steel sev'ring minute A waxen cake,

chafed it and moulded it Between my palms;

ere long the ductile mass Grew warm,

obedient to that ceaseless force,

And to Hyperion's all-pervading beams.

With that soft liniment I fill'd the ears Of my companions,

man by man,

and they My feet and arms with strong coercion bound   210 Of cordage to the mast-foot well secured.

Then down they sat,

and,

rowing,

thresh'd the brine.

But when with rapid course we had arrived Within such distance as a voice may reach,

Not unperceived by them the gliding bark Approach'd,

and,

thus,

harmonious they began.

Ulysses,

Chief by ev'ry tongue extoll'd,

Achaia's boast,

oh hither steer thy bark!

Here stay thy course,

and listen to our lay!

These shores none passes in his sable ship   220 Till,

first,

the warblings of our voice he hear,

Then,

happier hence and wiser he departs.

All that the Greeks endured,

and all the ills Inflicted by the Gods on Troy,

we know,

Know all that passes on the boundless earth.

So they with voices sweet their music poured Melodious on my ear,

winning with ease My heart's desire to listen,

and by signs I bade my people,

instant,

set me free.

But they incumbent row'd,

and from their seats   230 Eurylochus and Perimedes sprang With added cords to bind me still the more.

This danger past,

and when the Sirens' voice,

Now left remote,

had lost its pow'r to charm,

Then,

my companions freeing from the wax Their ears,

deliver'd me from my restraint.

The island left afar,

soon I discern'd Huge waves,

and smoke,

and horrid thund'rings heard.

All sat aghast;

forth flew at once the oars From ev'ry hand,

and with a clash the waves   240 Smote all together;

check'd,

the galley stood,

By billow-sweeping oars no longer urged,

And I,

throughout the bark,

man after man Encouraged all,

addressing thus my crew.

We meet not,

now,

my friends,

our first distress.

This evil is not greater than we found When the huge Cyclops in his hollow den Imprison'd us,

yet even thence we

'scaped,

My intrepidity and fertile thought Opening the way;

and we shall recollect    250 These dangers also,

in due time,

with joy.

Come,

then --pursue my counsel.

Ye your seats Still occupying,

smite the furrow'd flood With well-timed strokes,

that by the will of Jove We may escape,

perchance,

this death,

secure.

To thee the pilot thus I speak,

(my words Mark thou,

for at thy touch the rudder moves) This smoke,

and these tumultuous waves avoid;

Steer wide of both;

yet with an eye intent On yonder rock,

lest unaware thou hold    260 Too near a course,

and plunge us into harm.

So I;

with whose advice all,

quick,

complied.

But Scylla I as yet named not,

(that woe Without a cure) lest,

terrified,

my crew Should all renounce their oars,

and crowd below.

Just then,

forgetful of the strict command Of Circe not to arm,

I cloath'd me all In radiant armour,

grasp'd two quiv'ring spears,

And to the deck ascended at the prow,

Expecting earliest notice there,

what time   270 The rock-bred Scylla should annoy my friends.

But I discern'd her not,

nor could,

although To weariness of sight the dusky rock I vigilant explored.

Thus,

many a groan Heaving,

we navigated sad the streight,

For here stood Scylla,

while Charybdis there With hoarse throat deep absorb'd the briny flood.

Oft as she vomited the deluge forth,

Like water cauldron'd o'er a furious fire The whirling Deep all murmur'd,

and the spray   280 On both those rocky summits fell in show'rs.

But when she suck'd the salt wave down again,

Then,

all the pool appear'd wheeling about Within,

the rock rebellow'd,

and the sea Drawn off into that gulph disclosed to view The oozy bottom.

Us pale horror seized.

Thus,

dreading death,

with fast-set eyes we watch'd Charybdis;

meantime,

Scylla from the bark Caught six away,

the bravest of my friends.

With eyes,

that moment,

on my ship and crew   290 Retorted,

I beheld the legs and arms Of those whom she uplifted in the air;

On me they call'd,

my name,

the last,

last time Pronouncing then,

in agony of heart.

As when from some bold point among the rocks The angler,

with his taper rod in hand,

Casts forth his bait to snare the smaller fry,

He swings away remote his guarded line,[56] Then jerks his gasping prey forth from the Deep,

So Scylla them raised gasping to the rock,

  300 And at her cavern's mouth devour'd them loud- Shrieking,

and stretching forth to me their arms In sign of hopeless mis'ry.

Ne'er beheld These eyes in all the seas that I have roam'd,

A sight so piteous,

nor in all my toils.

From Scylla and Charybdis dire escaped,

We reach'd the noble island of the Sun Ere long,

where bright Hyperion's beauteous herds Broad-fronted grazed,

and his well-batten'd flocks.

I,

in the bark and on the sea,

the voice    310 Of oxen bellowing in hovels heard,

And of loud-bleating sheep;

then dropp'd the word Into my memory of the sightless Seer,

Theban Tiresias,

and the caution strict Of Circe,

my Ææan monitress,

Who with such force had caution'd me to avoid The island of the Sun,

joy of mankind.

Thus then to my companions,

sad,

I spake.

Hear ye,

my friends!

although long time distress'd,

The words prophetic of the Theban seer    320 And of Ææan Circe,

whose advice Was oft repeated to me to avoid This island of the Sun,

joy of mankind.

There,

said the Goddess,

dread your heaviest woes,

Pass the isle,

therefore,

scudding swift away.

I ceased;

they me with consternation heard,

And harshly thus Eurylochus replied.

Ulysses,

ruthless Chief!

no toils impair Thy strength,

of senseless iron thou art form'd,

Who thy companions weary and o'erwatch'd    330 Forbidd'st to disembark on this fair isle,

Where now,

at last,

we might with ease regale.

Thou,

rash,

command'st us,

leaving it afar,

To roam all night the Ocean's dreary waste;

But winds to ships injurious spring by night,

And how shall we escape a dreadful death If,

chance,

a sudden gust from South arise Or stormy West,

that dash in pieces oft The vessel,

even in the Gods' despight?

Prepare we rather now,

as night enjoins,

   340 Our evening fare beside the sable bark,

In which at peep of day we may again Launch forth secure into the boundless flood.

He ceas'd,

whom all applauded.

Then I knew That sorrow by the will of adverse heav'n Approach'd,

and in wing'd accents thus replied.

I suffer force,

Eurylochus!

and yield O'er-ruled by numbers.

Come,

then,

swear ye all A solemn oath,

that should we find an herd Or num'rous flock,

none here shall either sheep   350 Or bullock slay,

by appetite profane Seduced,

but shall the viands eat content Which from immortal Circe we received.

I spake;

they readily a solemn oath Sware all,

and when their oath was fully sworn,

Within a creek where a fresh fountain rose They moor'd the bark,

and,

issuing,

began Brisk preparation of their evening cheer.

But when nor hunger now nor thirst remain'd Unsated,

recollecting,

then,

their friends   360 By Scylla seized and at her cave devour'd,

They mourn'd,

nor ceased to mourn them,

till they slept.

The night's third portion come,

when now the stars Had travers'd the mid-sky,

cloud-gath'rer Jove Call'd forth a vehement wind with tempest charged,

Menacing earth and sea with pitchy clouds Tremendous,

and the night fell dark from heav'n.

But when Aurora,

daughter of the day,

Look'd rosy forth,

we haled,

drawn inland more,

Our bark into a grot,

where nymphs were wont   370 Graceful to tread the dance,

or to repose.

Convening there my friends,

I thus began.

My friends!

food fails us not,

but bread is yet And wine on board.

Abstain we from the herds,

Lest harm ensue;

for ye behold the flocks And herds of a most potent God,

the Sun!

Whose eye and watchful ear none may elude.

So saying,

I sway'd the gen'rous minds of all.

A month complete the South wind ceaseless blew,

Nor other wind blew next,

save East and South,

  380 Yet they,

while neither food nor rosy wine Fail'd them,

the herds harm'd not,

through fear to die.

But,

our provisions failing,

they employed Whole days in search of food,

snaring with hooks Birds,

fishes,

of what kind soe'er they might.

By famine urged.

I solitary roam'd Meantime the isle,

seeking by pray'r to move Some God to shew us a deliv'rance thence.

When,

roving thus the isle,

I had at length Left all my crew remote,

laving my hands    390 Where shelter warm I found from the rude blast,

I supplicated ev'ry Pow'r above;

But they my pray'rs answer'd with slumbers soft Shed o'er my eyes,

and with pernicious art Eurylochus,

the while,

my friends harangued.

My friends!

afflicted as ye are,

yet hear A fellow-suff'rer.

Death,

however caused,

Abhorrence moves in miserable man,

But death by famine is a fate of all Most to be fear'd.

Come --let us hither drive   400 And sacrifice to the Immortal Pow'rs The best of all the oxen of the Sun,

Resolving thus --that soon as we shall reach Our native Ithaca,

we will erect To bright Hyperion an illustrious fane,

Which with magnificent and num'rous gifts We will enrich.

But should he chuse to sink Our vessel,

for his stately beeves incensed,

And should,

with him,

all heav'n conspire our death,

I rather had with open mouth,

at once,

   410 Meeting the billows,

perish,

than by slow And pining waste here in this desert isle.

So spake Eurylochus,

whom all approved.

Then,

driving all the fattest of the herd Few paces only,

(for the sacred beeves Grazed rarely distant from the bark) they stood Compassing them around,

and,

grasping each Green foliage newly pluck'd from saplings tall,

(For barley none in all our bark remain'd) Worshipp'd the Gods in pray'r.

Pray'r made,

they slew And flay'd them,

and the thighs with double fat   421 Investing,

spread them o'er with slices crude.

No wine had they with which to consecrate The blazing rites,

but with libation poor Of water hallow'd the interior parts.

Now,

when the thighs were burnt,

and each had shared His portion of the maw,

and when the rest All-slash'd and scored hung roasting at the fire,

Sleep,

in that moment,

suddenly my eyes Forsaking,

to the shore I bent my way.

   430 But ere the station of our bark I reach'd,

The sav'ry steam greeted me.

At the scent I wept aloud,

and to the Gods exclaim'd.

Oh Jupiter,

and all ye Pow'rs above!

With cruel sleep and fatal ye have lull'd My cares to rest,

such horrible offence Meantime my rash companions have devised.

Then,

flew long-stoled Lampetia to the Sun At once with tidings of his slaughter'd beeves,

And he,

incensed,

the Immortals thus address'd.

  440 Jove,

and ye everlasting Pow'rs divine!

Avenge me instant on the crew profane Of Laertiades;

Ulysses' friends Have dared to slay my beeves,

which I with joy Beheld,

both when I climb'd the starry heav'ns,

And when to earth I sloped my "westring wheels,"

But if they yield me not amercement due And honourable for my loss,

to Hell I will descend and give the ghosts my beams.

Then,

thus the cloud-assembler God replied.

  450 Sun!

shine thou still on the Immortal Pow'rs,

And on the teeming earth,

frail man's abode.

My candent bolts can in a moment reach And split their flying bark in the mid-sea.

These things Calypso told me,

taught,

herself,

By herald Hermes,

as she oft affirm'd.

But when,

descending to the shore,

I reach'd At length my bark,

with aspect stern and tone I reprimanded them,

yet no redress Could frame,

or remedy --the beeves were dead.

  460 Soon follow'd signs portentous sent from heav'n.

The skins all crept,

and on the spits the flesh Both roast and raw bellow'd,

as with the voice Of living beeves.

Thus my devoted friends Driving the fattest oxen of the Sun,

Feasted six days entire;

but when the sev'nth By mandate of Saturnian Jove appeared,

The storm then ceased to rage,

and we,

again Embarking,

launch'd our galley,

rear'd the mast,

And gave our unfurl'd canvas to the wind.

  470 The island left afar,

and other land Appearing none,

but sky alone and sea,

Right o'er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove Hung a cærulean cloud,

dark'ning the Deep.

Not long my vessel ran,

for,

blowing wild,

Now came shrill Zephyrus;

a stormy gust Snapp'd sheer the shrouds on both sides;

backward fell The mast,

and with loose tackle strew'd the hold;

Striking the pilot in the stern,

it crush'd His scull together;

he a diver's plunge    480 Made downward,

and his noble spirit fled.

Meantime,

Jove thund'ring,

hurl'd into the ship His bolts;

she,

smitten by the fires of Jove,

Quaked all her length;

with sulphur fill'd she reek'd,

And o'er her sides headlong my people plunged Like sea-mews,

interdicted by that stroke Of wrath divine to hope their country more.

But I,

the vessel still paced to and fro,

Till,

fever'd by the boist'rous waves,

her sides Forsook the keel now left to float alone.

  490 Snapp'd where it join'd the keel the mast had fall'n,

But fell encircled with a leathern brace,

Which it retain'd;

binding with this the mast And keel together,

on them both I sat,

Borne helpless onward by the dreadful gale.

And now the West subsided,

and the South Arose instead,

with mis'ry charged for me,

That I might measure back my course again To dire Charybdis.

All night long I drove,

And when the sun arose,

at Scylla's rock    500 Once more,

and at Charybdis' gulph arrived.

It was the time when she absorb'd profound The briny flood,

but by a wave upborne I seized the branches fast of the wild-fig.[57] To which,

bat-like,

I clung;

yet where to fix My foot secure found not,

or where to ascend,

For distant lay the roots,

and distant shot The largest arms erect into the air,

O'ershadowing all Charybdis;

therefore hard I clench'd the boughs,

till she disgorg'd again   510 Both keel and mast.

Not undesired by me They came,

though late;

for at what hour the judge,

After decision made of num'rous strifes[58] Between young candidates for honour,

leaves The forum for refreshment' sake at home,

Then was it that the mast and keel emerged.

Deliver'd to a voluntary fall,

Fast by those beams I dash'd into the flood,

And seated on them both,

with oary palms Impell'd them;

nor the Sire of Gods and men   520 Permitted Scylla to discern me more,

Else had I perish'd by her fangs at last.

Nine days I floated thence,

and,

on the tenth Dark night,

the Gods convey'd me to the isle Ogygia,

habitation of divine Calypso,

by whose hospitable aid And assiduity,

my strength revived.

But wherefore this?

ye have already learn'd That hist'ry,

thou and thy illustrious spouse;

I told it yesterday,

and hate a tale    530 Once amply told,

then,

needless,

traced again.

FOOTNOTES:

[56] They passed the line through a pipe of horn,

to secure it against the fishes' bite.

[57] See line 120.

[58] He had therefore held by the fig-tree from sunrise till afternoon.

BOOK XIII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses,

having finished his narrative,

and received additional presents from the Phæacians,

embarks;

he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca,

and in his sleep is landed on that island.

The ship that carried him is in her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.

Minerva meets him on the shore,

enables him to recollect his country,

which,

till enlightened by her,

he believed to be a country strange to him,

and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors.

The Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus,

and Ulysses,

by her aid disguised like a beggar,

proceeds towards the cottage of Eumæus.

He ceas'd;

the whole assembly silent sat,

Charm'd into ecstacy with his discourse Throughout the twilight hall.

Then,

thus the King.

Ulysses,

since beneath my brazen dome Sublime thou hast arrived,

like woes,

I trust,

Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustain By tempests tost,

though much to woe inured.

To you,

who daily in my presence quaff Your princely meed of gen'rous wine and hear The sacred bard,

my pleasure,

thus I speak.

  10 The robes,

wrought gold,

and all the other gifts To this our guest,

by the Phæacian Chiefs Brought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.

But come --present ye to the stranger,

each,

An ample tripod also,

with a vase Of smaller size,

for which we will be paid By public impost;

for the charge of all Excessive were by one alone defray'd.

So spake Alcinoüs,

and his counsel pleased;

Then,

all retiring,

sought repose at home.

  20 But when Aurora,

daughter of the dawn,

Look'd rosy forth,

each hasted to the bark With his illustrious present,

which the might Of King Alcinoüs,

who himself her sides Ascended,

safe beneath the seats bestowed,

Lest it should harm or hinder,

while he toil'd In rowing,

some Phæacian of the crew.

The palace of Alcinoüs seeking next,

Together,

they prepared a new regale.

For them,

in sacrifice,

the sacred might[59]   30 Of King Alcinoüs slew an ox to Jove Saturnian,

cloud-girt governor of all.

The thighs with fire prepared,

all glad partook The noble feast;

meantime,

the bard divine Sang,

sweet Demodocus,

the people's joy.

But oft Ulysses to the radiant sun Turn'd wistful eyes,

anxious for his decline,

Nor longer,

now,

patient of dull delay.

As when some hungry swain whose sable beeves Have through the fallow dragg'd his pond'rous plow  40 All day,

the setting sun views with delight For supper' sake,

which with tir'd feet he seeks,

So welcome to Ulysses' eyes appear'd The sun-set of that eve;

directing,

then,

His speech to maritime Phæacia's sons,

But to Alcinoüs chiefly,

thus he said.

Alcinoüs,

o'er Phæacia's realm supreme!

Libation made,

dismiss ye me in peace,

And farewell all!

for what I wish'd,

I have,

Conductors hence,

and honourable gifts    50 With which heav'n prosper me!

and may the Gods Vouchsafe to me,

at my return,

to find All safe,

my spotless consort and my friends!

May ye,

whom here I leave,

gladden your wives And see your children blest,

and may the pow'rs Immortal with all good enrich you all,

And from calamity preserve the land!

He ended,

they unanimous,

his speech Applauded loud,

and bade dismiss the guest Who had so wisely spoken and so well.

   60 Then thus Alcinoüs to his herald spake.

Pontonoüs!

charging high the beaker,

bear To ev'ry guest beneath our roof the wine,

That,

pray'r preferr'd to the eternal Sire,

We may dismiss our inmate to his home.

Then,

bore Pontonoüs to ev'ry guest The brimming cup;

they,

where they sat,

perform'd Libation due;

but the illustrious Chief Ulysses,

from his seat arising,

placed A massy goblet in Areta's hand,

    70 To whom in accents wing'd,

grateful,

he said.

Farewell,

O Queen,

a long farewell,

till age Arrive,

and death,

the appointed lot of all!

I go;

but be this people,

and the King Alcinoüs,

and thy progeny,

thy joy Yet many a year beneath this glorious roof!

So saying,

the Hero through the palace-gate Issued,

whom,

by Alcinoüs' command,

The royal herald to his vessel led.

Three maidens also of Areta's train    80 His steps attended;

one,

the robe well-bleach'd And tunic bore;

the corded coffer,

one;

And food the third,

with wine of crimson hue.

Arriving where the galley rode,

each gave Her charge to some brave mariner on board,

And all was safely stow'd.

Meantime were spread Linen and arras on the deck astern,

For his secure repose.

And now the Chief Himself embarking,

silent lay'd him down.

Then,

ev'ry rower to his bench repair'd;

   90 They drew the loosen'd cable from its hold In the drill'd rock,

and,

resupine,

at once With lusty strokes upturn'd the flashing waves.

-His- eye-lids,

soon,

sleep,

falling as a dew,

Closed fast,

death's simular,

in sight the same.

She,

as four harness'd stallions o'er the plain Shooting together at the scourge's stroke,

Toss high their manes,

and rapid scour along,

So mounted she the waves,

while dark the flood Roll'd after her of the resounding Deep.

   100 Steady she ran and safe,

passing in speed The falcon,

swiftest of the fowls of heav'n;

With such rapidity she cut the waves,

An hero bearing like the Gods above In wisdom,

one familiar long with woe In fight sustain'd,

and on the perilous flood,

Though sleeping now serenely,

and resign'd To sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.

The brightest star of heav'n,

precursor chief Of day-spring,

now arose,

when at the isle   110 (Her voyage soon perform'd) the bark arrived.

There is a port sacred in Ithaca To Phorcys,

hoary ancient of the Deep,

Form'd by converging shores,

prominent both And both abrupt,

which from the spacious bay Exclude all boist'rous winds;

within it,

ships (The port once gain'd) uncabled ride secure.

An olive,

at the haven's head,

expands Her branches wide,

near to a pleasant cave Umbrageous,

to the nymphs devoted named    120 The Naiads.

In that cave beakers of stone And jars are seen;

bees lodge their honey there;

And there,

on slender spindles of the rock The nymphs of rivers weave their wond'rous robes.

Perennial springs water it,

and it shows A twofold entrance;

ingress one affords To mortal man,

which Northward looks direct,

But holier is the Southern far;

by that No mortal enters,

but the Gods alone.

Familiar with that port before,

they push'd   130 The vessel in;

she,

rapid,

plow'd the sands With half her keel,

such rowers urged her on.

Descending from the well-bench'd bark ashore,

They lifted forth Ulysses first,

with all His splendid couch complete,

then,

lay'd him down Still wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.

His treasures,

next,

by the Phæacian Chiefs At his departure given him as the meed Due to his wisdom,

at the olive's foot They heap'd,

without the road,

lest,

while he slept  140 Some passing traveller should rifle them.

Then homeward thence they sped.

Nor Ocean's God His threats forgot denounced against divine Ulysses,

but with Jove thus first advised.

Eternal Sire!

I shall no longer share Respect and reverence among the Gods,

Since,

now,

Phæacia's mortal race have ceas'd To honour me,

though from myself derived.

It was my purpose,

that by many an ill Harass'd,

Ulysses should have reach'd his home,

  150 Although to intercept him,

whose return Thyself had promis'd,

ne'er was my intent.

But him fast-sleeping swiftly o'er the waves They have conducted,

and have set him down In Ithaca,

with countless gifts enrich'd,

With brass,

and tissued raiment,

and with gold;

Much treasure!

more than he had home convey'd Even had he arrived with all his share Allotted to him of the spoils of Troy.

To whom the cloud-assembler God replied.

  160 What hast thou spoken,

Shaker of the shores,

Wide-ruling Neptune?

Fear not;

thee the Gods Will ne'er despise;

dangerous were the deed To cast dishonour on a God by birth More ancient,

and more potent far than they.

But if,

profanely rash,

a mortal man Should dare to slight thee,

to avenge the wrong Some future day is ever in thy pow'r.

Accomplish all thy pleasure,

thou art free.

Him answer'd,

then,

the Shaker of the shores.

  170 Jove cloud-enthroned!

that pleasure I would soon Perform,

as thou hast said,

but that I watch Thy mind continual,

fearful to offend.

My purpose is,

now to destroy amid The dreary Deep yon fair Phæacian bark,

Return'd from safe conveyance of her freight;

So shall they waft such wand'rers home no more,

And she shall hide their city,

to a rock Transform'd of mountainous o'ershadowing size.

Him,

then,

Jove answer'd,

gath'rer of the clouds.

 180 Perform it,

O my brother,

and the deed Thus done,

shall best be done --What time the people Shall from the city her approach descry,

Fix her to stone transform'd,

but still in shape A gallant bark,

near to the coast,

that all May wonder,

seeing her transform'd to stone Of size to hide their city from the view.

These words once heard,

the Shaker of the shores Instant to Scheria,

maritime abode Of the Phæacians,

went.

Arrived,

he watch'd.

  190 And now the flying bark full near approach'd,

When Neptune,

meeting her,

with out-spread palm Depress'd her at a stroke,

and she became Deep-rooted stone.

Then Neptune went his way.

Phæacia's ship-ennobled sons meantime Conferring stood,

and thus,

in accents wing'd,

Th' amazed spectator to his fellow spake.

Ah!

who hath sudden check'd the vessel's course Homeward?

this moment she was all in view.

Thus they,

unconscious of the cause,

to whom   200 Alcinoüs,

instructing them,

replied.

Ye Gods!

a prophecy now strikes my mind With force,

my father's.

He was wont to say -- Neptune resents it,

that we safe conduct Natives of ev'ry region to their home.

He also spake,

prophetic,

of a day When a Phæacian gallant bark,

return'd After conveyance of a stranger hence,

Should perish in the dreary Deep,

and changed To a huge mountain,

cover all the town.

   210 So spake my father,

all whose words we see This day fulfill'd.

Thus,

therefore,

act we all Unanimous;

henceforth no longer bear The stranger home,

when such shall here arrive;

And we will sacrifice,

without delay,

Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune,

if,

perchance,

He will commiserate us,

and forbear To hide our town behind a mountain's height.

He spake,

they,

terrified,

the bulls prepared.

Thus all Phæacia's Senators and Chiefs    220 His altar compassing,

in pray'r adored The Ocean's God.

Meantime,

Ulysses woke,

Unconscious where;

stretch'd on his native soil He lay,

and knew it not,

long-time exiled.

For Pallas,

progeny of Jove,

a cloud Drew dense around him,

that,

ere yet agnized By others,

he might wisdom learn from her,

Neither to citizens,

nor yet to friends Reveal'd,

nor even to his own espoused,

Till,

first,

he should avenge complete his wrongs  230 Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.

All objects,

therefore,

in the Hero's eyes Seem'd alien,

foot-paths long,

commodious ports,

Heav'n-climbing rocks,

and trees of amplest growth.

Arising,

fixt he stood,

his native soil Contemplating,

till with expanded palms Both thighs he smote,

and,

plaintive,

thus began.

Ah me!

what mortal race inhabits here?

Rude are they,

contumacious and unjust,

Or hospitable,

and who fear the Gods?

   240 Where now shall I secrete these num'rous stores?

Where wander I,

myself?

I would that still Phæacians own'd them,

and I had arrived In the dominions of some other King Magnanimous,

who would have entertain'd And sent me to my native home secure!

Now,

neither know I where to place my wealth,

Nor can I leave it here,

lest it become Another's prey.

Alas!

Phæacia's Chiefs Not altogether wise I deem or just,

   250 Who have misplaced me in another land,

Promis'd to bear me to the pleasant shores Of Ithaca,

but have not so perform'd.

Jove,

guardian of the suppliant's rights,

who all Transgressors marks,

and punishes all wrong,

Avenge me on the treach'rous race!

--but hold -- I will revise my stores,

so shall I know If they have left me here of aught despoiled.

So saying,

he number'd carefully the gold,

The vases,

tripods bright,

and tissued robes,

  260 But nothing miss'd of all.

Then he bewail'd His native isle,

with pensive steps and slow Pacing the border of the billowy flood,

Forlorn;

but while he wept,

Pallas approach'd,

In form a shepherd stripling,

girlish fair In feature,

such as are the sons of Kings;

A sumptuous mantle o'er his shoulders hung Twice-folded,

sandals his nice feet upbore,

And a smooth javelin glitter'd in his hand.

Ulysses,

joyful at the sight,

his steps    270 Turn'd brisk toward her,

whom he thus address'd.

Sweet youth!

since thee,

of all mankind,

I first Encounter in this land unknown,

all hail!

Come not with purposes of harm to me!

These save,

and save me also.

I prefer To thee,

as to some God,

my pray'r,

and clasp Thy knees a suppliant.

Say,

and tell me true,

What land?

what people?

who inhabit here?

Is this some isle delightful,

or a shore Of fruitful main-land sloping to the sea?

  280 Then Pallas,

thus,

Goddess cærulean-eyed.

Stranger!

thou sure art simple,

or hast dwelt Far distant hence,

if of this land thou ask.

It is not,

trust me,

of so little note,

But known to many,

both to those who dwell Toward the sun-rise,

and to others placed Behind it,

distant in the dusky West.

Rugged it is,

not yielding level course To the swift steed,

and yet no barren spot,

However small,

but rich in wheat and wine;

  290 Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,

But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,

Trees of all kinds,

and fountains never dry.

Ithaca therefore,

stranger,

is a name Known ev'n at Troy,

a city,

by report,

At no small distance from Achaia's shore.

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   300 Not truth,

but figments to truth opposite,

For guile,

in him,

stood never at a pause.

O'er yonder flood,

even in spacious Crete[60] I heard of Ithaca,

where now,

it seems,

I have,

myself,

with these my stores arrived;

Not richer stores than,

flying thence,

I left To my own children;

for from Crete I fled For slaughter of Orsilochus the swift,

Son of Idomeneus,

whom none in speed Could equal throughout all that spacious isle.

  310 His purpose was to plunder me of all My Trojan spoils,

which to obtain,

much woe I had in battle and by storms endured,

For that I would not gratify his Sire,

Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy,

But led a diff'rent band.

Him from the field Returning homeward,

with my brazen spear I smote,

in ambush waiting his return At the road-side,

with a confed'rate friend.

Unwonted darkness over all the heav'ns    320 That night prevailed,

nor any eye of man Observed us,

but,

unseen,

I slew the youth.

No sooner,

then,

with my sharp spear of life I had bereft him,

than I sought a ship Mann'd by renown'd Phæacians,

whom with gifts Part of my spoils,

and by requests,

I won.

I bade them land me on the Pylian shore,

Or in fair Elis by th' Epeans ruled,

But they,

reluctant,

were by violent winds Driv'n devious thence,

for fraud they purposed none.

 330 Thus through constraint we here arrived by night,

And with much difficulty push'd the ship Into safe harbour,

nor was mention made Of food by any,

though all needed food,

But,

disembark'd in haste,

on shore we lay.

I,

weary,

slept profound,

and they my goods Forth heaving from the bark,

beside me placed The treasures on the sea-beach where I slept,

Then,

reimbarking,

to the populous coast Steer'd of Sidonia,

and me left forlorn.

   340 He ceased;

then smiled Minerva azure-eyed And stroaked his cheek,

in form a woman now,

Beauteous,

majestic,

in all elegant arts Accomplish'd,

and with accents wing'd replied.

Who passes thee in artifice well-framed And in imposture various,

need shall find Of all his policy,

although a God.

Canst thou not cease,

inventive as thou art And subtle,

from the wiles which thou hast lov'd Since thou wast infant,

and from tricks of speech  350 Delusive,

even in thy native land?

But come,

dismiss we these ingenious shifts From our discourse,

in which we both excel;

For thou of all men in expedients most Abound'st and eloquence,

and I,

throughout All heav'n have praise for wisdom and for art.

And know'st thou not thine Athenæan aid,

Pallas,

Jove's daughter,

who in all thy toils Assist thee and defend?

I gave thee pow'r T' engage the hearts of all Phæacia's sons,

  360 And here arrive ev'n now,

counsels to frame Discrete with thee,

and to conceal the stores Giv'n to thee by the rich Phæacian Chiefs On my suggestion,

at thy going thence.

I will inform thee also what distress And hardship under thy own palace-roof Thou must endure;

which,

since constraint enjoins,

Bear patiently,

and neither man apprize Nor woman that thou hast arrived forlorn And vagabond,

but silent undergo     370 What wrongs soever from the hands of men.

To whom Ulysses,

ever-wise,

replied.

O Goddess!

thou art able to elude,

Wherever met,

the keenest eye of man,

For thou all shapes assum'st;

yet this I know Certainly,

that I ever found thee kind,

Long as Achaia's Heroes fought at Troy;

But when (the lofty tow'rs of Priam laid In dust) we re-embark'd,

and by the will Of heav'n Achaia's fleet was scatter'd wide,

  380 Thenceforth,

O daughter wise of Jove,

I thee Saw not,

nor thy appearance in my ship Once mark'd,

to rid me of my num'rous woes,

But always bearing in my breast a heart With anguish riv'n,

I roam'd,

till by the Gods Relieved at length,

and till with gracious words Thyself didst in Phæacia's opulent land Confirm my courage,

and becam'st my guide.

But I adjure thee in thy father's name -- O tell me truly,

(for I cannot hope    390 That I have reach'd fair Ithaca;

I tread Some other soil,

and thou affirm'st it mine To mock me merely,

and deceive) oh say -- Am I in Ithaca?

in truth,

at home?

Thus then Minerva the cærulean-eyed.

Such caution in thy breast always prevails Distrustful;

but I know thee eloquent,

With wisdom and with ready thought endued,

And cannot leave thee,

therefore,

thus distress'd For what man,

save Ulysses,

new-return'd    400 After long wand'rings,

would not pant to see At once his home,

his children,

and his wife?

But thou preferr'st neither to know nor ask Concerning them,

till some experience first Thou make of her whose wasted youth is spent In barren solitude,

and who in tears Ceaseless her nights and woeful days consumes.

I ne'er was ignorant,

but well foreknew That not till after loss of all thy friends Thou should'st return;

but loth I was to oppose   410 Neptune,

my father's brother,

sore incensed For his son's sake deprived of sight by thee.

But,

I will give thee proof --come now --survey These marks of Ithaca,

and be convinced.

This is the port of Phorcys,

sea-born sage;

That,

the huge olive at the haven's head;

Fast by it,

thou behold'st the pleasant cove Umbrageous,

to the nymphs devoted named The Naiads;

this the broad-arch'd cavern is Where thou wast wont to offer to the nymphs   420 Many a whole hecatomb;

and yonder stands The mountain Neritus with forests cloath'd.

So saying,

the Goddess scatter'd from before His eyes all darkness,

and he knew the land.

Then felt Ulysses,

Hero toil-inured,

Transport unutterable,

seeing plain Once more his native isle.

He kiss'd the glebe,

And with uplifted hands the nymphs ador'd.

Nymphs,

Naiads,

Jove's own daughters!

I despair'd To see you more,

whom yet with happy vows   430 I now can hail again.

Gifts,

as of old,

We will hereafter at your shrines present,

If Jove-born Pallas,

huntress of the spoils,

Grant life to me,

and manhood to my son.

Then Pallas,

blue-eyed progeny of Jove.

Take courage;

trouble not thy mind with thoughts Now needless.

Haste --delay not --far within This hallow'd cave's recess place we at once Thy precious stores,

that they may thine remain,

Then muse together on thy wisest course.

   440 So saying,

the Goddess enter'd deep the cave Caliginous,

and its secret nooks explored From side to side;

meantime,

Ulysses brought All his stores into it,

the gold,

the brass,

And robes magnificent,

his gifts received From the Phæacians;

safe he lodg'd them all,

And Pallas,

daughter of Jove Ægis-arm'd,

Closed fast,

herself,

the cavern with a stone.

Then,

on the consecrated olive's root Both seated,

they in consultation plann'd   450 The deaths of those injurious suitors proud,

And Pallas,

blue-eyed Goddess,

thus began.

Laertes' noble son,

Ulysses!

think By what means likeliest thou shalt assail Those shameless suitors,

who have now controuled Three years thy family,

thy matchless wife With language amorous and with spousal gifts Urging importunate;

but she,

with tears Watching thy wish'd return,

hope gives to all By messages of promise sent to each,

   460 Framing far other purposes the while.

Then answer thus Ulysses wise return'd.

Ah,

Agamemnon's miserable fate Had surely met me in my own abode,

But for thy gracious warning,

pow'r divine!

Come then --Devise the means;

teach me,

thyself,

The way to vengeance,

and my soul inspire With daring fortitude,

as when we loos'd Her radiant frontlet from the brows of Troy.

Would'st thou with equal zeal,

O Pallas!

aid   470 Thy servant here,

I would encounter thrice An hundred enemies,

let me but perceive Thy dread divinity my prompt ally.

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   480 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   490 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    500 In spacious Lacedæmon he is gone,

Anxious to learn if yet his father lives.

To whom Ulysses,

ever-wise,

replied.

And why,

alas!

all-knowing as thou art,

Him left'st thou ignorant?

was it that he,

He also,

wand'ring wide the barren Deep,

Might suffer woe,

while these devour his wealth?

Him answer'd then Pallas cærulean-eyed.

Grieve thou not much for him.

I sent him forth Myself,

that there arrived,

he might acquire   510 Honour and fame.

No suff'rings finds he there,

But in Atrides' palace safe resides,

Enjoying all abundance.

Him,

in truth,

The suitors watch close ambush'd on the Deep,

Intent to slay him ere he reach his home,

But shall not as I judge,

till of themselves The earth hide some who make thee,

now,

a prey.

So saying,

the Goddess touch'd him with a wand.

At once o'er all his agile limbs she parch'd The polish'd skin;

she wither'd to the root   520 His wavy locks;

and cloath'd him with the hide Deform'd of wrinkled age;

she charged with rheums His eyes before so vivid,

and a cloak And kirtle gave him,

tatter'd,

both,

and foul,

And smutch'd with smoak;

then,

casting over all An huge old deer-skin bald,

with a long staff She furnish'd him,

and with a wallet patch'd On all sides,

dangling by a twisted thong.

Thus all their plan adjusted,

diff'rent ways They took,

and she,

seeking Ulysses' son,

  530 To Lacedæmon's spacious realm repair'd.

FOOTNOTES:

[59] Ἱερον μενος Αλκινοοιο.

[60] Homer dates all the fictions of Ulysses from Crete,

as if he meant to pass a similar censure on the Cretans to that quoted by St. Paul --κρητες αει ψευσαι.

BOOK XIV

ARGUMENT

Ulysses arriving at the house of Eumæus,

is hospitably entertained,

and spends the night there.

Leaving the haven-side,

he turn'd his steps Into a rugged path,

which over hills Mantled with trees led him to the abode By Pallas mention'd of his noble friend[61] The swine-herd,

who of all Ulysses' train Watch'd with most diligence his rural stores.

Him sitting in the vestibule he found Of his own airy lodge commodious,

built Amidst a level lawn.

That structure neat Eumæus,

in the absence of his Lord,

   10 Had raised,

himself,

with stones from quarries hewn,

Unaided by Laertes or the Queen.

With tangled thorns he fenced it safe around,

And with contiguous stakes riv'n from the trunks Of solid oak black-grain'd hemm'd it without.

Twelve penns he made within,

all side by side,

Lairs for his swine,

and fast-immured in each Lay fifty pregnant females on the floor.

The males all slept without,

less num'rous far,

Thinn'd by the princely wooers at their feasts   20 Continual,

for to them he ever sent The fattest of his saginated charge.

Three hundred,

still,

and sixty brawns remained.

Four mastiffs in adjoining kennels lay,

Resembling wild-beasts nourish'd at the board Of the illustrious steward of the styes.

Himself sat fitting sandals to his feet,

Carved from a stain'd ox-hide.

Four hinds he kept,

Now busied here and there;

three in the penns Were occupied;

meantime,

the fourth had sought   30 The city,

whither,

for the suitors' use,

With no good will,

but by constraint,

he drove A boar,

that,

sacrificing to the Gods,

Th' imperious guests might on his flesh regale.

Soon as those clamorous watch-dogs the approach Saw of Ulysses,

baying loud,

they ran Toward him;

he,

as ever,

well-advised,

Squatted,

and let his staff fall from his hand.

Yet foul indignity he had endured Ev'n there,

at his own farm,

but that the swain,

  40 Following his dogs in haste,

sprang through the porch To his assistance,

letting fall the hide.

With chiding voice and vollied stones he soon Drove them apart,

and thus his Lord bespake.

Old man!

one moment more,

and these my dogs Had,

past doubt,

worried thee,

who should'st have proved,

So slain,

a source of obloquy to me.

But other pangs the Gods,

and other woes To me have giv'n,

who here lamenting sit My godlike master,

and his fatted swine    50 Nourish for others' use,

while he,

perchance,

A wand'rer in some foreign city,

seeks Fit sustenance,

and none obtains,

if still Indeed he live,

and view the light of day.

But,

old friend!

follow me into the house,

That thou,

at least,

with plenteous food refresh'd,

And cheer'd with wine sufficient,

may'st disclose Both who thou art,

and all that thou hast borne.

So saying,

the gen'rous swine-herd introduced Ulysses,

and thick bundles spread of twigs   60 Beneath him,

cover'd with the shaggy skin Of a wild goat,

of which he made his couch Easy and large;

the Hero,

so received,

Rejoiced,

and thus his gratitude express'd.

Jove grant thee and the Gods above,

my host,

For such beneficence thy chief desire!

To whom,

Eumæus,

thou didst thus reply.

My guest!

I should offend,

treating with scorn The stranger,

though a poorer should arrive Than ev'n thyself;

for all the poor that are,

  70 And all the strangers are the care of Jove.

Little,

and with good will,

is all that lies Within my scope;

no man can much expect From servants living in continual fear Under young masters;

for the Gods,

no doubt,

Have intercepted my own Lord's return,

From whom great kindness I had,

else,

received,

With such a recompense as servants gain From gen'rous masters,

house and competence,

And lovely wife from many a wooer won,

   80 Whose industry should have requited well His goodness,

with such blessing from the Gods As now attends me in my present charge.

Much had I,

therefore,

prosper'd,

had my Lord Grown old at home;

but he hath died --I would That the whole house of Helen,

one and all,

Might perish too,

for she hath many slain Who,

like my master,

went glory to win For Agamemnon in the fields of Troy.

So saying,

he girdled,

quick,

his tunic close,

  90 And,

issuing,

sought the styes;

thence bringing two Of the imprison'd herd,

he slaughter'd both,

Singed them,

and slash'd and spitted them,

and placed The whole well-roasted banquet,

spits and all,

Reeking before Ulysses;

last,

with flour He sprinkled them,

and filling with rich wine His ivy goblet,

to his master sat Opposite,

whom inviting thus he said.

Now,

eat,

my guest!

such as a servant may I set before thee,

neither large of growth   100 Nor fat;

the fatted --those the suitors eat,

Fearless of heav'n,

and pitiless of man.

Yet deeds unjust as theirs the blessed Gods Love not;

they honour equity and right.

Even an hostile band when they invade A foreign shore,

which by consent of Jove They plunder,

and with laden ships depart,

Even they with terrours quake of wrath divine.

But these are wiser;

these must sure have learn'd From some true oracle my master's death,

   110 Who neither deign with decency to woo,

Nor yet to seek their homes,

but boldly waste His substance,

shameless,

now,

and sparing nought.

Jove ne'er hath giv'n us yet the night or day When with a single victim,

or with two They would content them,

and his empty jars Witness how fast the squand'rers use his wine.

Time was,

when he was rich indeed;

such wealth No Hero own'd on yonder continent,

Nor yet in Ithaca;

no twenty Chiefs    120 Could match with all their treasures his alone;

I tell thee their amount.

Twelve herds of his The mainland graze;[62] as many flocks of sheep;

As many droves of swine;

and hirelings there And servants of his own seed for his use,

As many num'rous flocks of goats;

his goats,

(Not fewer than eleven num'rous flocks) Here also graze the margin of his fields Under the eye of servants well-approved,

And ev'ry servant,

ev'ry day,

brings home   130 The goat,

of all his flock largest and best.

But as for me,

I have these swine in charge,

Of which,

selected with exactest care From all the herd,

I send the prime to them.

He ceas'd,

meantime Ulysses ate and drank Voracious,

meditating,

mute,

the death Of those proud suitors.

His repast,

at length,

Concluded,

and his appetite sufficed,

Eumæus gave him,

charged with wine,

the cup From which he drank himself;

he,

glad,

received   140 The boon,

and in wing'd accents thus began.

My friend,

and who was he,

wealthy and brave As thou describ'st the Chief,

who purchased thee?

Thou say'st he perish'd for the glory-sake Of Agamemnon.

Name him;

I,

perchance,

May have beheld the Hero.

None can say But Jove and the inhabitants of heav'n That I ne'er saw him,

and may not impart News of him;

I have roam'd through many a clime.

To whom the noble swine-herd thus replied.

  150 Alas,

old man!

no trav'ler's tale of him Will gain his consort's credence,

or his son's;

For wand'rers,

wanting entertainment,

forge Falsehoods for bread,

and wilfully deceive.

No wand'rer lands in Ithaca,

but he seeks With feign'd intelligence my mistress' ear;

She welcomes all,

and while she questions each Minutely,

from her lids lets fall the tear Affectionate,

as well beseems a wife Whose mate hath perish'd in a distant land.

  160 Thou could'st thyself,

no doubt,

my hoary friend!

(Would any furnish thee with decent vest And mantle) fabricate a tale with ease;

Yet sure it is that dogs and fowls,

long since,

His skin have stript,

or fishes of the Deep Have eaten him,

and on some distant shore Whelm'd in deep sands his mould'ring bones are laid.

So hath he perish'd;

whence,

to all his friends,

But chiefly to myself,

sorrow of heart;

For such another Lord,

gentle as he,

   170 Wherever sought,

I have no hope to find,

Though I should wander even to the house Of my own father.

Neither yearns my heart So feelingly (though that desiring too) To see once more my parents and my home,

As to behold Ulysses yet again.

Ah stranger;

absent as he is,

his name Fills me with rev'rence,

for he lov'd me much,

Cared for me much,

and,

though we meet no more,

Holds still an elder brother's part in me.

  180 Him answer'd,

then,

the Hero toil-inured.

My friend!

since his return,

in thy account,

Is an event impossible,

and thy mind Always incredulous that hope rejects,

I shall not slightly speak,

but with an oath -- Ulysses comes again;

and I demand No more,

than that the boon such news deserves,

Be giv'n me soon as he shall reach his home.

Then give me vest and mantle fit to wear,

Which,

ere that hour,

much as I need them both,

  190 I neither ask,

nor will accept from thee.

For him whom poverty can force aside From truth --I hate him as the gates of hell.

Be Jove,

of all in heav'n,

my witness first,

Then,

this thy hospitable board,

and,

last,

The household Gods of the illustrious Chief Himself,

Ulysses,

to whose gates I go,

That all my words shall surely be fulfill'd.

In this same year Ulysses shall arrive,

Ere,

this month closed,

another month succeed,

  200 He shall return,

and punish all who dare Insult his consort and his noble son.

To whom Eumæus,

thou didst thus reply.

Old friend!

that boon thou wilt ne'er earn from me;

Ulysses comes no more.

But thou thy wine Drink quietly,

and let us find,

at length,

Some other theme;

recall not this again To my remembrance,

for my soul is grieved Oft as reminded of my honour'd Lord.

Let the oath rest,

and let Ulysses come    210 Ev'n as myself,

and as Penelope,

And as his ancient father,

and his son Godlike Telemachus,

all wish he may.

Ay --there I feel again --nor cease to mourn His son Telemachus;

who,

when the Gods Had giv'n him growth like a young plant,

and I Well hoped that nought inferior he should prove In person or in mind to his own sire,

Hath lost,

through influence human or divine,

I know not how,

his sober intellect,

   220 And after tidings of his sire is gone To far-famed Pylus;

his return,

meantime,

In ambush hidden the proud suitors wait,

That the whole house may perish of renown'd Arcesias,

named in Ithaca no more.

But whether he have fallen or

'scaped,

let him Rest also,

whom Saturnian Jove protect!

But come,

my ancient guest!

now let me learn Thy own afflictions;

answer me in truth.

Who,

and whence art thou?

in what city born?

  230 Where dwell thy parents;

in what kind of ship Cam'st thou?

the mariners,

why brought they thee To Ithaca?

and of what land are they?

For,

that on foot thou found'st us not,

is sure.

Him answer'd,

then,

Ulysses,

ever-wise.

I will with truth resolve thee;

and if here Within thy cottage sitting,

we had wine And food for many a day,

and business none But to regale at ease while others toiled,

I could exhaust the year complete,

my woes   240 Rehearsing,

nor,

at last,

rehearse entire My sorrows by the will of heav'n sustained.

I boast me sprung from ancestry renown'd In spacious Crete;

son of a wealthy sire,

Who other sons train'd num'rous in his house,

Born of his wedded wife;

but he begat Me on his purchased concubine,

whom yet Dear as his other sons in wedlock born Castor Hylacides esteem'd and lov'd,

For him I boast my father.

Him in Crete,

   250 While yet he liv'd,

all reverenc'd as a God,

So rich,

so prosp'rous,

and so blest was he With sons of highest praise.

But death,

the doom Of all,

him bore to Pluto's drear abode,

And his illustrious sons among themselves Portion'd his goods by lot;

to me,

indeed,

They gave a dwelling,

and but little more,

Yet,

for my virtuous qualities,

I won A wealthy bride,

for I was neither vain Nor base,

forlorn as thou perceiv'st me now.

  260 But thou canst guess,

I judge,

viewing the straw What once was in the ear.

Ah!

I have borne Much tribulation;

heap'd and heavy woes.

Courage and phalanx-breaking might had I From Mars and Pallas;

at what time I drew,

(Planning some dread exploit) an ambush forth Of our most valiant Chiefs,

no boding fears Of death seized -me-,

but foremost far of all I sprang to fight,

and pierced the flying foe.

Such was I once in arms.

But household toils   270 Sustain'd for children's sake,

and carking cares T' enrich a family,

were not for me.

My pleasures were the gallant bark,

the din Of battle,

the smooth spear and glitt'ring shaft,

Objects of dread to others,

but which me The Gods disposed to love and to enjoy.

Thus diff'rent minds are diff'rently amused;

For ere Achaia's fleet had sailed to Troy,

Nine times was I commander of an host Embark'd against a foreign foe,

and found   280 In all those enterprizes great success.

From the whole booty,

first,

what pleased me most Chusing,

and sharing also much by lot I rapidly grew rich,

and had thenceforth Among the Cretans rev'rence and respect.

But when loud-thund'ring Jove that voyage dire Ordain'd,

which loos'd the knees of many a Greek,

Then,

to Idomeneus and me they gave The charge of all their fleet,

which how to avoid We found not,

so importunate the cry    290 Of the whole host impell'd us to the task.

There fought we nine long years,

and in the tenth (Priam's proud city pillag'd) steer'd again Our galleys homeward,

which the Gods dispersed.

Then was it that deep-planning Jove devised For me much evil.

One short month,

no more,

I gave to joys domestic,

in my wife Happy,

and in my babes,

and in my wealth,

When the desire seiz'd me with sev'ral ships Well-rigg'd,

and furnish'd all with gallant crews,

 300 To sail for Ægypt;

nine I fitted forth,

To which stout mariners assembled fast.

Six days the chosen partners of my voyage Feasted,

to whom I num'rous victims gave For sacrifice,

and for their own regale.

Embarking on the sev'nth from spacious Crete,

Before a clear breeze prosp'rous from the North We glided easily along,

as down A river's stream;

nor one of all my ships Damage incurr'd,

but healthy and at ease    310 We sat,

while gales well-managed urged us on.

The fifth day thence,

smooth-flowing Nile we reach'd,

And safe I moor'd in the Ægyptian stream.

Then,

charging all my mariners to keep Strict watch for preservation of the ships,

I order'd spies into the hill-tops;

but they Under the impulse of a spirit rash And hot for quarrel,

the well-cultur'd fields Pillaged of the Ægyptians,

captive led Their wives and little ones,

and slew the men.

  320 Soon was the city alarm'd,

and at the cry Down came the citizens,

by dawn of day,

With horse and foot,

and with the gleam of arms Filling the plain.

Then Jove with panic dread Struck all my people;

none found courage more To stand,

for mischiefs swarm'd on ev'ry side.

There,

num'rous by the glittering spear we fell Slaughter'd,

while others they conducted thence Alive to servitude.

But Jove himself My bosom with this thought inspired,

(I would   330 That,

dying,

I had first fulfill'd my fate In Ægypt,

for new woes were yet to come!) Loosing my brazen casque,

and slipping off My buckler,

there I left them on the field,

Then cast my spear away,

and seeking,

next,

The chariot of the sov'reign,

clasp'd his knees,

And kiss'd them.

He,

by my submission moved,

Deliver'd me,

and to his chariot-seat Raising,

convey'd me weeping to his home.

With many an ashen spear his warriors sought   340 To slay me,

(for they now grew fiery wroth) But he,

through fear of hospitable Jove,

Chief punisher of wrong,

saved me alive.

Sev'n years I there abode,

and much amass'd Among the Ægyptians,

gifted by them all;

But,

in the eighth revolving year,

arrived A shrewd Phœnician,

in all fraud adept,

Hungry,

and who had num'rous harm'd before,

By whom I also was cajoled,

and lured T' attend him to Phœnicia,

where his house   350 And his possessions lay;

there I abode A year complete his inmate;

but (the days And months accomplish'd of the rolling year,

And the new seasons ent'ring on their course) To Lybia then,

on board his bark,

by wiles He won me with him,

partner of the freight Profess'd,

but destin'd secretly to sale,

That he might profit largely by my price.

Not unsuspicious,

yet constrain'd to go,

With this man I embark'd.

A cloudless gale   360 Propitious blowing from the North,

our ship Ran right before it through the middle sea,

In the offing over Crete;

but adverse Jove Destruction plann'd for them and death the while.

For,

Crete now left afar,

and other land Appearing none,

but sky alone and sea,

Right o'er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove A cloud cærulean hung,

dark'ning the Deep.

Then,

thund'ring oft,

he hurl'd into the bark His bolts;

she smitten by the fires of Jove,

  370 Quaked all her length;

with sulphur fill'd she reek'd,

And,

o'er her sides precipitated,

plunged Like gulls the crew,

forbidden by that stroke Of wrath divine to hope their country more.

But Jove himself,

when I had cast away All hope of life,

conducted to my arms The strong tall mast,

that I might yet escape.

Around that beam I clung,

driving before The stormy blast.

Nine days complete I drove,

And,

on the tenth dark night,

the rolling flood   380 Immense convey'd me to Thesprotia's shore.

There me the Hero Phidon,

gen'rous King Of the Thesprotians,

freely entertained;

For his own son discov'ring me with toil Exhausted and with cold,

raised me,

and thence Led me humanely to his father's house,

Who cherish'd me,

and gave me fresh attire.

There heard I of Ulysses,

whom himself Had entertain'd,

he said,

on his return To his own land;

he shew'd me also gold,

   390 Brass,

and bright steel elab'rate,

whatsoe'er Ulysses had amass'd,

a store to feed A less illustrious family than his To the tenth generation,

so immense His treasures in the royal palace lay.

Himself,

he said,

was to Dodona gone,

There,

from the tow'ring oaks of Jove to ask Counsel divine,

if openly to land (After long absence) in his opulent realm Of Ithaca,

be best,

or in disguise.

   400 To me the monarch swore,

in his own hall Pouring libation,

that the ship was launch'd,

And the crew ready for his conduct home.

But me he first dismiss'd,

for,

as it chanced,

A ship lay there of the Thesprotians,

bound To green Dulichium's isle.

He bade the crew Bear me to King Acastus with all speed;

But them far other thoughts pleased more,

and thoughts Of harm to me,

that I might yet be plunged In deeper gulphs of woe than I had known.

  410 For,

when the billow-cleaving bark had left The land remote,

framing,

combined,

a plot Against my liberty,

they stripp'd my vest And mantle,

and this tatter'd raiment foul Gave me instead,

which thy own eyes behold.

At even-tide reaching the cultur'd coast Of Ithaca,

they left me bound on board With tackle of the bark,

and quitting ship Themselves,

made hasty supper on the shore.

But me,

meantime,

the Gods easily loos'd    420 By their own pow'r,

when,

with wrapper vile Around my brows,

sliding into the sea At the ship's stern,

I lay'd me on the flood.

With both hands oaring thence my course,

I swam Till past all ken of theirs;

then landing where Thick covert of luxuriant trees I mark'd,

Close couchant down I lay;

they mutt'ring loud,

Paced to and fro,

but deeming farther search Unprofitable,

soon embark'd again.

Thus baffling all their search with ease,

the Gods  430 Conceal'd and led me thence to the abode Of a wise man,

dooming me still to live.

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    440 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    450 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    460 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    470 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.

To whom Ulysses,

ever-wise,

replied.

Thou hast,

in truth,

a most incredulous mind,

Whom even with an oath I have not moved,

Or aught persuaded.

Come then --let us make In terms express a cov'nant,

and the Gods Who hold Olympus,

witness to us both!

If thy own Lord at this thy house arrive,

  480 Thou shalt dismiss me decently attired In vest and mantle,

that I may repair Hence to Dulichium,

whither I would go.

But,

if thy Lord come not,

then,

gath'ring all Thy servants,

headlong hurl me from a rock,

That other mendicants may fear to lie.

To whom the generous swine-herd in return.

Yes,

stranger!

doubtless I should high renown Obtain for virtue among men,

both now And in all future times,

if,

having first   490 Invited thee,

and at my board regaled,

I,

next,

should slay thee;

then my pray'rs would mount,

Past question,

swiftly to Saturnian Jove.

But the hour calls to supper,

and,

ere long,

The partners of my toils will come prepared To spread the board with no unsav'ry cheer.

Thus they conferr'd.

And now the swains arrived,

Driving their charge,

which fast they soon enclosed Within their customary penns,

and loud The hubbub was of swine prison'd within.

   500 Then call'd the master to his rustic train.

Bring ye the best,

that we may set him forth Before my friend from foreign climes arrived,

With whom ourselves will also feast,

who find The bright-tusk'd multitude a painful charge,

While others,

at no cost of theirs,

consume Day after day,

the profit of our toils.

So saying,

his wood for fuel he prepared,

And dragging thither a well-fatted brawn Of the fifth year his servants held him fast   510 At the hearth-side.

Nor failed the master swain T' adore the Gods,

(for wise and good was he) But consecration of the victim,

first,

Himself performing,

cast into the fire The forehead bristles of the tusky boar,

Then pray'd to all above,

that,

safe,

at length,

Ulysses might regain his native home.

Then lifting an huge shive that lay beside The fire,

he smote the boar,

and dead he fell,

Next,

piercing him,

and scorching close his hair,

 520 They carv'd him quickly,

and Eumæus spread Thin slices crude taken from ev'ry limb O'er all his fat,

then other slices cast,

Sprinkling them first with meal,

into the fire.

The rest they slash'd and scored,

and roasted well,

And placed it,

heap'd together,

on the board.

Then rose the good Eumæus to his task Of distribution,

for he understood The hospitable entertainer's part.

Sev'n-fold partition of the banquet made,

  530 He gave,

with previous pray'r,

to Maia's son[63] And to the nymphs one portion of the whole,

Then served his present guests,

honouring first Ulysses with the boar's perpetual chine;

By that distinction just his master's heart He gratified,

and thus the Hero spake.

Eumæus!

be thou as belov'd of Jove As thou art dear to me,

whom,

though attired So coarsely,

thou hast served with such respect!

To whom,

Eumæus,

thou didst thus reply.

  540 Eat,

noble stranger!

and refreshment take Such as thou may'st;

God[64] gives,

and God denies At his own will,

for He is Lord of all.

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   550 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.

   560 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.

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.

  570 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,

  580 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   590 Against Ulysses' side I roused the Chief,

And thus address'd him ever prompt to hear.

Laertes' noble son,

for wiles renown'd!

I freeze to death.

Help me,

or I am lost.

No cloak have I;

some evil dæmon,

sure,

Beguil'd me of all prudence,

that I came Thus sparely clad;

I shall,

I must expire.

So I;

he,

ready as he was in arms And counsel both,

the remedy at once Devised,

and thus,

low-whisp'ring,

answer'd me.

  600 Hush!

lest perchance some other hear --He said,

And leaning on his elbow,

spake aloud.

My friends!

all hear --a monitory dream Hath reach'd me,

for we lie far from the ships.

Haste,

therefore,

one of you,

with my request To Agamemnon,

Atreus' son,

our Chief,

That he would reinforce us from the camp.

He spake,

and at the word,

Andræmon's son Thoas arose,

who,

casting off his cloak,

Ran thence toward the ships,

and folded warm   610 Within it,

there lay I till dawn appear'd.

Oh for the vigour of such youth again!

Then,

some good peasant here,

either for love Or for respect,

would cloak a man like me,

Whom,

now,

thus sordid in attire ye scorn.

To whom,

Eumæus,

thou didst thus reply.

My ancient guest!

I cannot but approve Thy narrative,

nor hast thou utter'd aught Unseemly,

or that needs excuse.

No want Of raiment,

therefore,

or of aught beside   620 Needful to solace penury like thine,

Shall harm thee here;

yet,

at the peep of dawn Gird thy own tatters to thy loins again;

For -we- have no great store of cloaks to boast,

Or change of vests,

but singly one for each.

But when Ulysses' son shall once arrive,

He will himself with vest and mantle both Cloath thee,

and send thee whither most thou would'st.

So saying,

he rose,

and nearer made his couch To the hearth-side,

spreading it thick with skins  630 Of sheep and goats;

then lay the Hero down,

O'er whom a shaggy mantle large he threw,

Which oft-times served him with a change,

when rough The winter's blast and terrible arose.

So was Ulysses bedded,

and the youths Slept all beside him;

but the master-swain Chose not his place of rest so far remote From his rude charge,

but to the outer court With his nocturnal furniture,

repair'd,

Gladd'ning Ulysses' heart that one so true   640 In his own absence kept his rural stores.

Athwart his sturdy shoulders,

first,

he flung His faulchion keen,

then wrapp'd him in a cloak Thick-woven,

winter-proof;

he lifted,

next,

The skin of a well-thriven goat,

in bulk Surpassing others,

and his javelin took Sharp-pointed,

with which dogs he drove and men.

Thus arm'd,

he sought his wonted couch beneath A hollow rock where the herd slept,

secure From the sharp current of the Northern blast.

  650

FOOTNOTES:

[61] Δῖος ὑφορβος.

--The swineherd's was therefore in those days,

and in that country,

an occupation honourable as well as useful.

Barnes deems the epithet δῖος significant of his noble birth.

Vide Clarke in loco.

[62] It may be proper to suggest that Ulysses was lord of part of the continent opposite to Ithaca --viz.

--of the peninsula Nericus or Leuca,

which afterward became an island,

and is now called Santa Maura.

F. [63] Mercury.

[64] Θεος --without a relative,

and consequently signifying GOD in the abstract,

is not unfrequently found in Homer,

though fearing to give offence to serious minds unacquainted with the original,

I have not always given it that force in the translation.

But here,

the sentiment is such as fixes the sense intended by the author with a precision that leaves no option.