The Eighth Book: OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS…

The Eighth Book: OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

The Peers of the Phæacian State A Council call, to consolate Ulysses with all means for home. The Council to a banquet come, Invited by the King. Which done, Assays for hurling of the stone The youths make with the stranger-king. Demodocus, at feast, doth sing Th’ adult’ry of the God of Arms With Her that rules in amorous charms; And after sings the entercourse Of acts about th’ Epæan horse.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

Θη̑τα. The council’s frame At fleet applied. In strifes of game Ulysses tried.

Now when the rosy-finger’d Morn arose, The sacred pow’r Alcinous did dispose Did likewise rise; and, like him, left his ease The city-razer Laertiades. The Council at the navy was design’d; To which Alcinous, with the sacred mind, Came first of all. On polish’d stones they sate, Near to the navy. To increase the state, Minerva took the herald’s form on her, That serv’d Alcinous, studious to prefer Ulysses’ suit for home. About the town She made quick way, and fill’d with the renown Of that design the ears of ev’ry man, Proclaiming thus: “Peers Phæacensian! And Men of Council, all haste to the court, To hear the stranger that made late resort To King Alcinous, long time lost at sea, And is in person like a Deity.” This all their pow’rs set up, and spirit instill’d, And straight the court and seats with men were fill’d. The whole state wonder’d at Laertes’ son, When they beheld him. Pallas put him on A supernatural and heav’nly dress, Enlarg’d him with a height, and goodliness In breast and shoulders, that he might appear Gracious, and grave, and reverend, and bear A perfect hand on his performance there In all the trials they resolv’d t’ impose. All met, and gather’d in attention close, Alcinous thus bespake them: “Dukes, and lords, Hear me digest my hearty thoughts in words. This stranger here, whose travels found my court, I know not, nor can tell if his resort From East or West comes; but his suit is this: That to his country-earth we would dismiss His hither-forcéd person, and doth bear The mind to pass it under ev’ry peer; Whom I prepare, and stir up, making known My free desire of his deductión. Nor shall there ever any other man That tries the goodness Phæacensian In me, and my court’s entertainment, stay, Mourning for passage, under least delay. Come then, a ship into the sacred seas, New-built, now launch we; and from out our prease Choose two-and-fifty youths, of all, the best To use an oar. All which see straight imprest, And in their oar-bound seats. Let others hie Home to our court, commanding instantly The solemn preparation of a feast, In which provision may for any guest Be made at my charge. Charge of these low things I give our youth. You, sceptre-bearing kings, Consort me home, and help with grace to use This guest of ours; no one man shall refuse. Some other of you haste, and call to us The sacred singer, grave Demodocus, To whom hath God giv’n song that can excite The heart of whom he listeth with delight.” This said, he led. The sceptre-bearers lent Their free attendance; and with all speed went The herald for the sacred man-in-song. Youths two-and-fifty, chosen from the throng, Went, as was will’d, to the untam’d sea’s shore; Where come, they launch’d the ship, the mast it bore Advanc’d, sails hoiséd, ev’ry seat his oar Gave with a leather thong. The deep moist then They further reach’d. The dry streets flow’d with men, That troop’d up to the king’s capacious court, Whose porticos were chok’d with the resort, Whose walls were hung with men, young, old, thrust there In mighty concourse; for whose promis’d cheer Alcinous slew twelve sheep, eight white-tooth’d swine, Two crook-haunch’d beeves; which flay’d and dress’d, divine The show was of so many a jocund guest, All set together at so set a feast. To whose accomplish’d state the herald then The lovely singer led; who past all mean The Muse affected, gave him good, and ill, His eyes put out, but put in soul at will. His place was giv’n him in a chair all grac’d With silver studs, and ’gainst a pillar plac’d: Where, as the centre to the state, he rests, And round about the circle of the guests. The herald on a pin above his head His soundful harp hung, to whose height he led His hand for taking of it down at will, A board set by with food, and forth did fill A bowl of wine, to drink at his desire. The rest then fell to feast, and, when the fire Of appetite was quench’d, the Muse inflam’d The sacred singer. Of men highliest fam’d He sung the glories, and a poem penn’d, That in applause did ample heav’n ascend. Whose subject was, the stern Contentión Betwixt Ulysses and great Thetis’ son, As, at a banquet sacred to the Gods, In dreadful language they express’d their odds. When Agamemnon sat rejoic’d in soul To hear the Greek peers jar in terms so foul; For augur Phœbus in presage had told The King of men (desirous to unfold The war’s perplex’d end, and being therefore gone In heav’nly Pythia to the porch of stone,) That then the end of all griefs should begin ’Twixt Greece and Troy, when Greece (with strife to win That wish’d conclusion) in her kings should jar, And plead, if force or wit must end the war. This brave Contention did the poet sing, Expressing so the spleen of either king, That his large purple weed Ulysses held Before his face and eyes, since thence distill’d Tears uncontain’d; which he obscur’d, in fear To let th’ observing presence note a tear. But, when his sacred song the mere divine Had giv’n an end, a goblet crown’d with wine Ulysses, drying his wet eyes, did seize,[1] And sacrific’d to those Gods that would please T’ inspire the poet with a song so fit To do him honour, and renown his wit. His tears then stay’d. But when again began, By all the kings’ desires, the moving man, Again Ulysses could not choose but yield To that soft passion, which again, withheld, He kept so cunningly from sight, that none, Except Alcinous himself alone, Discern’d him mov’d so much. But he sat next, And heard him deeply sigh; which his pretext Could not keep hid from him. Yet he conceal’d His utt’rance of it, and would have it held From all the rest, brake off the song, and this Said to those oar-affecting peers of his: “Princes, and peers! We now are satiate With sacred song that fits a feast of state, With wine and food. Now then to field, and try In all kinds our approv’d activity, That this our guest may give his friends to know, In his return, that we as little owe To fights and wrastlings, leaping, speed-of race, As these our court-rites; and commend our grace In all to all superior.” Forth he led, The peers and people troop’d up to their head. Nor must Demodocus be left within; Whose harp the herald hung upon the pin, His hand in his took, and abroad he brought The heav’nly poet, out the same way wrought That did the princes, and what they would see With admiration, with his company They wish’d to honour. To the place of game These throng’d; and after routs of other came, Of all sort, infinite. Of youths that strove, Many and strong rose to their trial’s love. Up rose Acroneus, and Ocyalus, Elatreus, Prymneus, and Anchialus,[2] Nauteus, Eretmeus, Thoen, Proreüs, Pontëus, and the strong Amphialus Son to Tectonides Polyneüs. Up rose to these the great Euryalus, In action like the Homicide of War. Naubolides, that was for person far Past all the rest, but one he could not pass, Nor any thought improve, Laodamas. Up Anabesinëus then arose; And three sons of the Sceptre-state, and those Were Halius, the fore-prais’d Laodamas, And Clytonëus like a God in grace. These first the foot-game tried, and from the lists Took start together. Up the dust in mists They hurl’d about, as in their speed they flew; But Clytonëus first of all the crew A stitch’s length in any fallow field Made good his pace; when, where the judges yield The prize and praise, his glorious speed arriv’d. Next, for the boist’rous wrastling game they striv’d; At which Euryalus the rest outshone. At leap Amphialus, At the hollow stone Elatreüs excell’d. At buffets, last, Laodamas, the king’s fair son, surpast. When all had striv’d in these assays their fill, Laodamas said: “Come friends, let’s prove what skill This stranger hath attain’d to in our sport. Methinks, he must be of the active sort, His calves, thighs, hands, and well-knit shoulders show That Nature disposition did bestow To fit with fact their form. Nor wants he prime. But sour affliction, made a mate with time, Makes time the more seen. Nor imagine I, A worse thing to enforce debility Than is the sea, though nature ne’er so strong Knits one together.” “Nor conceive you wrong,” Replied Euryalus, “but prove his blood With what you question.” In the midst then stood Renown’d Laodamas, and prov’d him thus: “Come, stranger-father, and assay with us Your pow’rs in these contentions. If your show Be answer’d with your worth, ’tis fit that you Should know these conflicts. Nor doth glory stand On any worth more, in a man’s command, Than to be strenuous both of foot and hand. Come then, make proof with us, discharge your mind Of discontentments; for not far behind Comes your deduction, ship is ready now,[3] And men, and all things.” “Why,” said he, “dost thou Mock me, Laodamas, and these strifes bind My pow’rs to answer? I am more inclin’d To cares than conflict. Much sustain’d I have, And still am suff’ring. I come here to crave, In your assemblies, means to be dismist, And pray both kings and subjects to assist.” Euryalus an open brawl began, And said: “I take you, sir, for no such man As fits these honour’d strifes. A number more Strange men there are that I would choose before. To one that loves to lie aship-board much, Or is the prince of sailors; or to such As traffic far and near, and nothing mind But freight, and passage, and a foreright wind; Or to a victualler of a ship; or men That set up all their pow’rs for rampant gain; I can compare, or hold you like to be: But, for a wrastler, or of quality Fit for contentions noble, you abhor From worth of any such competitor.” Ulysses, frowning, answer’d: “Stranger, far Thy words are from the fashions regular Of kind, or honour. Thou art in thy guise Like to a man that authors injuries.[4] I see, the Gods to all men give not all Manly addiction, wisdom, words that fall, Like dice, upon the square still. Some man takes Ill form from parents, but God often makes That fault of form up with observ’d repair Of pleasing speech, that makes him held for fair, That makes him speak securely, makes him shine In an assembly with a grace divine. Men take delight to see how ev’nly lie His words asteep in honey modesty. Another, then, hath fashion like a God, But in his language he is foul and broad. And such art thou. A person fair is giv’n, But nothing else is in thee sent from heav’n; For in thee lurks a base and earthy soul, And t’ hast compell’d me, with a speech most foul, To be thus bitter. I am not unseen In these fair strifes, as thy words overween, But in the first rank of the best I stand; At least I did, when youth and strength of hand Made me thus confident, but now am worn With woes and labours, as a human born To bear all anguish. Suffer’d much I have. The war of men, and the inhuman wave, Have I driv’n through at all parts. But with all My waste in suff’rance, what yet may fall In my performance, at these strifes I’ll try. Thy speech hath mov’d, and made my wrath run high.” This said, with robe and all, he grasp’d a stone, A little graver than was ever thrown By these Phæacians in their wrastling rout, More firm, more massy; which, turn’d round about, He hurried from him with a hand so strong It sung, and flew, and over all the throng, That at the others’ marks stood, quite it went; Yet down fell all beneath it, fearing spent The force that drave it flying from his hand, As it a dart were, or a walking wand; And far past all the marks of all the rest His wing stole way; when Pallas straight imprest A mark at fall of it, resembling then One of the navy-giv’n Phæacian men, And thus advanc’d Ulysses: “One, though blind, O stranger, groping, may thy stone’s fall find, For not amidst the rout of marks it fell, But far before all. Of thy worth think well, And stand in all strifes. No Phæacian here This bound can either better or come near.” Ulysses joy’d to hear that one man yet Us’d him benignly, and would truth abet In those contentions; and then thus smooth He took his speech down: “Reach me that now, youth, You shall, and straight I think, have one such more, And one beyond it too. And now, whose core Stands sound and great within him, since ye have Thus put my spleen up, come again and brave The guest ye tempted, with such gross disgrace, At wrastling, buffets, whirlbat, speed o’ race; At all, or either, I except at none, But urge the whole state of you; only one, I will not challenge in my forced boast, And that’s Laodamas, for he’s mine host.[5] And who will fight, or wrangle, with his friend? Unwise he is, and base, that will contend With him that feeds him in a foreign place; And takes all edge off from his own sought grace. None else except I here, nor none despise, But wish to know, and prove his faculties, That dares appear now. No strife ye can name Am I unskill’d in; reckon any game Of all that are, as many as there are In use with men. For archery I dare Affirm myself not mean. Of all a troop I’ll make the first foe with mine arrow stoop, Though with me ne’er so many fellows bend Their bows at mark’d men, and affect their end. Only was Philoctetes with his bow Still my superior, when we Greeks would show Our archery against our foes of Troy. But all, that now by bread frail life enjoy, I far hold my inferiors. Men of old, None now alive shall witness me so bold, To vaunt equality with, such men as these, Œchalián Eurytus, Hercules, Who with their bows durst with the Gods contend; And therefore caught Eurytus soon his end, Nor died at home, in age, a rev’rend man. But by the great incenséd Delphian Was shot to death, for daring competence With him in all an archer’s excellence. A spear I’ll hurl as far as any man Shall shoot a shaft. How at a race I can Bestir my feet, I only yield to fear, And doubt to meet with my superior here. So many seas so too much have misus’d My limbs for race, and therefore have diffus’d A dissolution through my lovéd knees.” This said, he still’d all talking properties. Alcinous only answer’d: “O my guest, In good part take we what you have been prest With speech to answer. You would make appear Your virtues therefore, that will still shine where Your only look is. Yet must this man give Your worth ill language; when, he does not live In sort of mortals (whencesoe’er he springs, That judgment hath to speak becoming things) That will deprave your virtues. Note then now My speech, and what my love presents to you, That you may tell heroës, when you come To banquet with your wife and birth at home, (Mindful of our worth) what deservings Jove Hath put on our parts likewise, in remove From sire to son, as an inherent grace Kind, and perpetual. We must needs give place To other countrymen, and freely yield We are not blameless in our fights of field, Buffets, nor wrastlings; but in speed of feet, And all the equipage that fits a fleet, We boast us best; for table ever spread With neighbour feasts, for garments varied, For poesy, music, dancing, baths, and beds. And now, Phæacians, you that bear your heads And feet with best grace in enamouring dance, Enflame our guest here, that he may advance Our worth past all the world’s to his home-friends, As well for the unmatch’d grace that commends. Your skill in footing of a dance, as theirs That fly a race best. And so, all affairs, At which we boast us best, he best may try, As sea-race, land-race, dance, and poesy. Some one with instant speed to court retire, And fetch Demodocus’s soundful lyre.” This said the God-grac’d king; and quick resort Pontonous made for that fair harp to court. Nine of the lot-choos’d public rulers rose, That all in those contentions did dispose, Commanding a most smooth ground, and a wide, And all the people in fair game aside. Then with the rich harp came Pontonous, And in the midst took place Demodocus. About him then stood forth the choice young men,[6] That on man’s first youth made fresh entry then, Had art to make their natural motion sweet, And shook a most divine dance from their feet, That twinkled star-like, mov’d as swift, and fine, And beat the air so thin, they made it shine. Ulysses wonder’d at it, but amaz’d He stood in mind to hear the dance so phras’d. For, as they danc’d, Demodocus did sing, The bright-crown’d Venus’ love with Battle’s King; As first they closely mix’d in th’ house of fire. What worlds of gifts won her to his desire, Who then the night-and-day-bed did defile Of good king Vulcan. But in little while The Sun their mixture saw, and came and told. The bitter news did by his ears take hold Of Vulcan’s heart. Then to his forge he went, And in his shrewd mind deep stuff did invent. His mighty anvil in the stock he put, And forg’d a net that none could loose or cut, That when it had them it might hold them fast. Which having finish’d, he made utmost haste Up to the dear room where his wife he woo’d, And, madly wrath with Mars, he all bestrow’d The bed, and bed-posts, all the beam above That cross’d the chamber; and a circle strove Of his device to wrap in all the room. And ’twas as pure, as of a spider’s loom The woof before ’tis wov’n. No man nor God Could set his eye on it, a sleight so odd His art show’d in it. All his craft bespent About the bed, he feign’d as if he went To well-built Lemnos, his most lovéd town Of all towns earthly; nor left this unknown To golden-bridle-using Mars, who kept No blind watch over him, but, seeing stept His rival so aside, he hasted home With fair-wreath’d Venus’ love stung, who was come New from the court of her most mighty Sire. Mars enter’d, wrung her hand, and the retire Her husband made to Lemnos told, and said; “Now, love, is Vulcan gone, let us to bed, He’s for the barbarous Sintians.” Well appay’d Was Venus with it; and afresh assay’d Their old encounter. Down they went; and straight About them cling’d the artificial sleight Of most wise Vulcan; and were so ensnar’d, That neither they could stir their course prepar’d In any limb about them, nor arise. And then they knew, they would no more disguise Their close conveyance, but lay, forc’d, stone-still. Back rush’d the both-foot-cook’d, but straight in skill, From his near scout-hole turn’d, nor ever went To any Lemnos, but the sure event Left Phœbus to discover, who told all. Then home hopp’d Vulcan, full of grief and gall, Stood in the portal, and cried out so high, That all the Gods heard; “Father of the sky, And ev’ry other deathless God,” said he, “Come all, and a ridiculous object see, And yet not sufferable neither. Come, And witness how, when still I step from home, Lame that I am, Jove’s daughter doth profess To do me all the shameful offices, Indignities, despites, that can be thought; And loves this all-things-making-come-to-nought, Since he is fair forsooth, foot-sound, and I Took in my brain a little, legg’d awry. And no fault mine, but all my parent’s fault, Who should not get, if mock me, with my halt. But see how fast they sleep, while I, in moan, Am only made an idle looker on. One bed their turn serves, and it must be mine; I think yet, I have made their self-loves shine. They shall no more wrong me, and none perceive; Nor will they sleep together, I believe, With too hot haste again. Thus both shall lie In craft, and force, till the extremity Of all the dow’r I gave her sire (to gain A doggéd set-fac’d girl, that will not stain Her face with blushing, though she shame her head) He pays me back. She’s fair, but was no maid.” While this long speech was making, all were come To Vulcan’s wholly-brazen-founded home, Earth-shaking Neptune, useful Mercury, And far-shot Phœbus. No She-Deity, For shame, would show there. All the give-good Gods Stood in the portal, and past periods Gave length to laughters, all rejoic’d to see That which they said, that no impiety Finds good success at th’ end. “And now,” said one, “The slow outgoes the swift. Lame Vulcan, known To be the slowest of the Gods, outgoes Mars the most swift. And this is that which grows To greatest justice: that adult’ry’s sport, Obtain’d by craft, by craft of other sort (And lame craft too) is plagued, which grieves the more, That sound limbs turning lame the lame restore.”[7] This speech amongst themselves they entertain’d, When Phœbus thus ask’d Hermes: “Thus enchain’d Wouldst thou be, Hermes, to be thus disclos’d? Though with thee golden Venus were repos’d?” He soon gave that an answer: “O,” said he, “Thou king of archers, would ’twere thus with me! Though thrice so much shame; nay, though infinite Were pour’d about me, and that ev’ry light, In great heav’n shining, witness’d all my harms, So golden Venus slumber’d in mine arms.” The Gods again laugh’d; even the Watery State Wrung out a laughter, but propitiate Was still for Mars, and pray’d the God of Fire He would dissolve him, off’ring the desire He made to Jove to pay himself, and said, All due debts should be by the Gods repaid. “Pay me, no words,” said he, “where deeds lend pain, Wretched the words are giv’n for wretched men. How shall I bind you in th’ Immortals’ sight, If Mars be once loos’d, nor will pay his right?”[8] “Vulcan,” said he, “if Mars should fly, nor see Thy right repaid, it should be paid by me.” “Your word, so giv’n, I must accept,” said he. Which said, he loos’d them. Mars then rush’d from sky, And stoop’d cold Thrace. The laughing Deity For Cyprus was, and took her Paphian state, Where she a grove, ne’er cut, had consecrate, All with Arabian odours fum’d, and hath An altar there, at which the Graces bathe, And with immortal balms besmooth, her skin, Fit for the bliss Immortals solace in; Deck’d her in to-be-studiéd attire, And apt to set beholders’ hearts on fire. This sung the sacred muse, whose notes and words The dancers’ feet kept as his hands his chords. Ulysses much was pleas’d, and all the crew. This would the king have varied with a new And pleasing measure, and performéd by Two, with whom none would strive in dancery; And those his sons were, that must therefore dance Alone, and only to the harp advance, Without the words. And this sweet couple was Young Halius, and divine Laodamas; Who danc’d a ball-dance. Then the rich-wrought ball, That Polybus had made, of purple all, They took to hand. One threw it to the sky, And then danc’d back; the other, capering high, Would surely catch it ere his foot touch’d ground, And up again advanc’d it, and so found The other cause of dance; and then did he Dance lofty tricks, till next it came to be His turn to catch, and serve the other still. When they had kept it up to either’s will, They then danc’d ground tricks, oft mix’d hand in hand, And did so gracefully their change command, That all the other youth that stood at pause, With deaf’ning shouts, gave them the great applause. Then said Ulysses: “O, past all men here Clear, not in pow’r, but in desert as clear, You said your dancers did the world surpass, And they perform it clear, and to amaze.” This won Alcinous’ heart, and equal prize He gave Ulysses, saying: “Matchless wise, Princes and rulers, I perceive our guest, And therefore let our hospitable best In fitting gifts be giv’n him: Twelve chief kings There are that order all the glorious things Of this our kingdom; and, the thirteenth, I Exist, as crown to all. Let instantly Be thirteen garments giv’n him, and of gold Precious, and fine, a talent. While we hold This our assembly, be all fetch’d, and giv’n, That to our feast prepar’d, as to his heav’n, Our guest may enter. And, that nothing be Left unperform’d that fits his dignity, Euryalus shall here conciliate Himself with words and gifts, since past our rate He gave bad language.” This did all commend And give in charge; and ev’ry king did send His herald for his gift. Euryalus, Answ’ring for his part, said: “Alcinous! Our chief of all, since you command, I will To this our guest by all means reconcile, And give him this entirely-metall’d sword, The handle massy silver, and the board, That gives it cover, all of ivory, New, and in all kinds worth his quality.” This put he straight into his hand, and said: “Frolic, O guest and father; if words fled Have been offensive, let swift whirlwinds take And ravish them from thought. May all Gods make Thy wife’s sight good to thee, in quick retreat To all thy friends, and best-lov’d breeding seat, Their long miss quitting with the greater joy; In whose sweet vanish all thy worst annoy.” “And frolic thou to all height, friend,” said he, “Which heav’n confirm with wish’d felicity; Nor ever give again desire to thee Of this sword’s use, which with affects so free, In my reclaim, thou hast bestow’d on me.” This said, athwart his shoulders he put on The right fair sword; and then did set the sun. When all the gifts were brought, which back again (With king Alcinous in all the train) Were by the honour’d heralds borne to court; Which his fair sons took, and from the resort Laid by their rev’rend mother. Each his throne Of all the peers (which yet were overshone In king Alcinous’ command) ascended; Whom he to pass as much in gifts contended, And to his queen said: “Wife! See brought me here The fairest cabinet I have, and there Impose a well-cleans’d in, and utter, weed. A caldron heat with water, that with speed Our guest well-bath’d, and all his gifts made sure, It may a joyful appetite procure To his succeeding feast, and make him hear The poet’s hymn with the securer ear. To all which I will add my bowl of gold, In all frame curious, to make him hold My memory always dear, and sacrifice With it at home to all the Deities.” Then Arete her maids charg’d to set on A well-siz’d caldron quickly. Which was done, Clear water pour’d in, flame made so entire, It gilt the brass, and made the water fire. In mean space, from her chamber brought the queen A wealthy cabinet, where, pure and clean, She put the garments, and the gold bestow’d By that free state, and then the other vow’d By her Alcinous, and said: “Now, guest, Make close and fast your gifts, lest, when you rest Aship-board sweetly, in your way you meet Some loss, that less may make your next sleep sweet.” This when Ulysses heard, all sure he made Enclos’d and bound safe; for the saving trade The rev’rend-for-her-wisdom, Circe, had In foreyears taught him. Then the handmaid bad His worth to bathing; which rejoic’d his heart, For, since he did with his Calypso part, He had no hot baths; none had favour’d him, Nor been so tender of his kingly limb. But all the time he spent in her abode, He liv’d respected as he were a God. Cleans’d then and balm’d, fair shirt and robe put on, Fresh come from bath, and to the feasters gone, Nausicaa, that from the Gods’ hands took The sov’reign beauty of her blessed look, Stood by a well-carv’d column of the room, And through her eye her heart was overcome With admiration of the port imprest In his aspéct, and said: “God save you, guest! Be cheerful, as in all the future state Your home will show you in your better fate. But yet, ev’n then, let this remember’d be, Your life’s price I lent, and you owe it me.” The varied-in-all-counsels gave reply: “Nausicaa! Flow’r of all this empery! So Juno’s husband, that the strife for noise Makes in the clouds, bless me with strife of joys, In the desir’d day that my house shall show, As I, as I to a Goddess there shall vow, To thy fair hand that did my being give, Which I’ll acknowledge ev’ry hour I live.” This said, Alcinous plac’d him by his side. Then took they feast, and did in parts divide The sev’ral dishes, fill’d out wine, and then The striv’d-for-for-his-worth of worthy men,[9] And rev’renc’d-of-the-state, Demodocus Was brought in by the good Pontonous. In midst of all the guests they gave him place, Against a lofty pillar, when this grace The grac’d-with-wisdom did him: From the chine, That stood before him, of a white-tooth’d swine, Being far the daintiest joint, mix’d through with fat, He carv’d to him, and sent it where he sat By his old friend the herald, willing thus: “Herald, reach this to grave Demodocus, Say, I salute him, and his worth embrace. Poets deserve, past all the human race, Rev’rend respect and honour, since the queen Of knowledge, and the supreme worth in men, The Muse, informs them, and loves all their race.” This reach’d the herald to him, who the grace Receiv’d encourag’d; which, when feast was spent, Ulysses amplified to this ascent: “Demodocus! I must prefer you far, Past all your sort, if, or the Muse of war, Jove’s daughter, prompts you, that the Greeks respects, Or if the Sun, that those of Troy affects. For I have heard you, since my coming, sing The fate of Greece to an admiréd string. How much our suff’rance was, how much we wrought, How much the actions rose-to when we fought. So lively forming, as you had been there, Or to some free relater lent your ear. Forth then, and sing the wooden horse’s frame, Built by Epëus, by the martial Dame Taught the whole fabric; which, by force of sleight, Ulysses brought into the city’s height, When he had stuff’d it with as many men As levell’d lofty Ilion with the plain. With all which if you can as well enchant, As with expression quick and elegant You sung the rest, I will pronounce you clear Inspir’d by God, past all that ever were.” This said, ev’n stirr’d by God up, he began, And to his song fell, past the forms of man, Beginning where the Greeks aship-board went, And ev’ry chief had set on fire his tent, When th’ other kings, in great Ulysses’ guide, In Troy’s vast market place the horse did hide, From whence the Trojans up to Ilion drew The dreadful engine. Where sat all arew Their kings about it; many counsels giv’n How to dispose it. In three ways were driv’n Their whole distractions. First, if they should feel The hollow wood’s heart, search’d with piercing steel; Or from the battlements drawn higher yet Deject it headlong; or that counterfeit So vast and novel set on sacred fire, Vow’d to appease each anger’d Godhead’s ire. On which opinion, they, thereafter, saw, They then should have resolv’d; th’ unalter’d law Of fate presaging, that Troy then should end, When th’ hostile horse she should receive to friend, For therein should the Grecian kings lie hid, To bring the fate and death they after did. He sung, besides, the Greeks’ eruptión From those their hollow crafts, and horse foregone; And how they made depopulation tread Beneath her feet so high a city’s head. In which affair, he sung in other place, That of that ambush some man else did race The Ilion tow’rs than Laertiades; But here he sung, that he alone did seize,[10] With Menelaus, the ascended roof Of prince Deiphobus, and Mars-like proof Made of his valour, a most dreadful fight Daring against him; and there vanquish’d quite, In little time, by great Minerva’s aid, All Ilion’s remnant, and Troy level laid. This the divine expressor did so give Both act and passion, that he made it live, And to Ulysses’ facts did breathe a fire So deadly quick’ning, that it did inspire[11] Old death with life, and render’d life so sweet, And passionate, that all there felt it fleet; Which made him pity his own cruelty, And put into that ruth so pure an eye Of human frailty, that to see a man Could so revive from death, yet no way can Defend from death, his own quick pow’rs it made Feel there death’s horrors, and he felt life fade, In tears his feeling brain swet; for, in things[12] That move past utt’rance, tears ope all their springs. Nor are there in the pow’rs that all life bears More true interpreters of all than tears. And as a lady mourns her sole-lov’d lord, That fall’n before his city by the sword, Fighting to rescue from a cruel fate His town and children, and in dead estate Yet panting seeing him, wraps him in her arms, Weeps, shrieks, and pours her health into his arms, Lies on him, striving to become his shield From foes that still assail him, spears impell’d Through back and shoulders, by whose points embrued, They raise and lead him into servitude, Labour, and languor; for all which the dame Eats down her cheeks with tears, and feeds life’s flame With miserable suff’rance; so this king Of tear-swet anguish op’d a boundless spring; Nor yet was seen to any one man there But king Alcinous, who sat so near He could not ‘scape him, sighs, so chok’d, so brake From all his tempers; which the king did take Both note and grave respect of, and thus spake: “Hear me, Phæacian councillors and peers, And cease Demodocus; perhaps all ears Are not delighted with his song, for, ever Since the divine Muse sung, our guest hath never Contain’d from secret mournings. It may fall, That something sung he hath been grieved with all, As touching his particular. Forbear, That feast may jointly comfort all hearts here, And we may cheer our guest up; ’tis our best In all due honour. For our rev’rend guest Is all our celebration, gifts, and all, His love hath added to our festival. A guest, and suppliant too, we should esteem Dear as our brother, one that doth but dream He hath a soul, or touch but at a mind Deathless and manly, should stand so inclin’d. Nor cloak you longer with your curious wit, Lov’d guest, what ever we shall ask of it. It now stands on your honest state to tell, And therefore give your name, nor more conceal What of your parents, and the town that bears Name of your native, or of foreigners That near us border, you are call’d in fame. There’s no man living walks without a name, Noble nor base, but had one from his birth Impos’d as fit as to be borne. What earth, People, and city, own you, give to know. Tell but our ships all, that your way must show. For our ships know th’ expressed minds of men, And will so most intentively retain Their scopes appointed, that they never err, And yet use never any man to steer, Nor any rudders have, as others need. They know men’s thoughts, and whither tends their speed, And there will set them; for you cannot name[13] A city to them, nor fat soil, that Fame Hath any notice giv’n, but well they know, And they will fly to them, though they ebb and flow In blackest clouds and nights; and never bear Of any wrack or rock the slend’rest fear. But this I heard my sire Nausithous say. Long since, that Neptune, seeing us convey So safely passengers of all degrees, Was angry with us; and upon our seas A well-built ship we had, near harbour come From safe deduction of some stranger home, Made in his flitting billows stick stone still; And dimm’d our city, like a mighty hill With shade cast round about it. This report, The old king made;[14] in which miraculous sort, If God had done such things, or left undone, At his good pleasure be it. But now, on, And truth relate us, both whence you err’d, And to what clime of men would be transferr’d, With all their fair towns, be they as they are, If rude, unjust, and all irregular, Or hospitable, bearing minds that please The mighty Deity. Which one of these You would be set at, say, and you are there. And therefore what afflicts you? Why, to hear The fate of Greece and Ilion, mourn you so? The Gods have done it; as to all they do Destine destruction, that from thence may rise A poem to instruct posterities. Fell any kinsman before Ilion? Some worthy sire-in-law, or like-near son, Whom next our own blood and self-race we love? Or any friend perhaps, in whom did move A knowing soul, and no unpleasing thing? Since such a good one is no underling To any brother; for, what fits true friends, True wisdom is, that blood and birth transcends.”

FINIS LIBRI OCTAVI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] The continued piety of Ulysses through all places, times, and occasions.Return to passage

[2] Since the Phæacians were not only dwellers by sea, but studious also of sea qualities, their names seem to usurp their faculties therein. All consisting of sea-faring signification, except Laodamas, As Acroneus, summa seu extrema navis pars. Ocyalus, velox in mari. Elatreus, or ᾽Ελατὴρ, ἐλατη̑ρος, Remex, etc.Return to passage

[3] The word is πομπή, signifying deductio, quâ trausvehendum curamus eum qui nobiscum aliquando est versatus.Return to passage

[4] ᾽Ατάσθαλος damnorum magnorum auctor.Return to passage

[5] He names Laodamas only for all the other brothers; since in his exception, the others’ envies were curbed: for brothers either are or should be of one acceptation in all fit things, And Laodamas, he calls his host, being eldest son to Alcinous: the heir being ever the young master; nor might he conveniently prefer Alcinous in his exception, since he stood not in competition at these contentions.Return to passage

[6] Μαρμαρυγὰς ποδω̑ν. Μαρμαρυγὴ signifies splendor vibrans; a twincked splendor; μαρμαρύσσειν, vibrare veluti radios solares.Return to passage

[7] Intending the sound of foot, when they outgo the soundest.Return to passage

[8] This is τὸ τὰ μικρὰ μεγάλως, etc. Parva magnè dicere; grave sentence out of lightest vapour.Return to passage

[9] ’Ερίηρον ἀοιδὸν, Poetam cujus hominibus digna est societas.Return to passage

[10] As by the divine fury directly inspired so, for Ulysses’ glory.Return to passage

[11] In that the slaughters he made were expressed so lively.Return to passage

[12] Τήκετο ᾽Οδυσσεύς. Τήκω, metaph. signifying consumo, tabesco.Return to passage

[13] This τερατολογία or affirmation of miracles, how impossible soever in these times assured, yet in those ages they were neither absurd nor strange. Those inanimate things having (it seemed) certain Genii, in whose powers they supposed their ships’ faculties. As others have affirmed oaks to have sense of hearing; and so the ship of Argos was said to have a mast made of Dodonean oak, that was vocal, and could speak.Return to passage

[14] Intending his father Nausithous.Return to passage

The Ninth Book: OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Ulysses here is first made known; Who tells the stern contention His pow’rs did ’gainst the Cicons try; And thence to the Lotophagi Extends his conquest; and from them Assays the Cyclop Polypheme, And, by the crafts his wits apply, He puts him out his only eye.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

᾿Ιω̑τα. The strangely fed Lotophagi. The Cicons fled. The Cyclop’s eye.

Ulysses thus resolv’d the king’s demands: “Alcinous, in whom this empire stands, You should not of so natural right disherit Your princely feast, as take from it the spirit. To hear a poet, that in accent brings The Gods’ breasts down, and breathes them as he sings, Is sweet, and sacred; nor can I conceive, In any common-weal, what more doth give Note of the just and blessed empery, Than to see comfort universally Cheer up the people, when in ev’ry roof She gives observers a most human proof Of men’s contents. To see a neighbour’s feast Adorn it through; and thereat hear the breast Of the divine Muse; men in order set; A wine-page waiting; tables crown’d with meat, Set close to guests that are to use it skill’d; The cup-boards furnish’d, and the cups still fill’d; This shows, to my mind, most humanely fair. Nor should you, for me, still the heav’nly air, That stirr’d my soul so; for I love such tears As fall from fit notes, beaten through mine ears With repetitions of what heav’n hath done, And break from hearty apprehensión Of God and goodness, though they show my ill. And therefore doth my mind excite me still, To tell my bleeding moan; but much more now, To serve your pleasure, that to over-flow My tears with such cause may by sighs be driv’n, Though ne’er so much plagued I may seem by heav’n. And now my name; which way shall lead to all My mis’ries after, that their sounds may fall Through your ears also, and show (having fled So much affliction) first, who rests his head In your embraces, when, so far from home, I knew not where t’ obtain it resting room. I am Ulysses Laertiades, The fear of all the world for policies, For which my facts as high as heav’n resound. I dwell in Ithaca, earth’s most renown’d, All over-shadow’d with the shake-leaf hill,[1] Tree-fam’d Neritus; whose near confines fill Islands a number, well-inhabited, That under my observance taste their bread; Dulichius, Samos, and the full-of-food[2] Zacynthus, likewise grac’d with store of wood. But Ithaca, though in the seas it lie, Yet lies she so aloft she casts her eye Quite over all the neighbour continent; Far northward situate, and, being lent But little favour of the morn and sun, With barren rocks and cliffs is over-run; And yet of hardy youths a nurse of name; Nor could I see a soil, where’er I came, More sweet and wishful. Yet, from hence was I Withheld with horror by the Deity, Divine Calypso, in her cavy house, Enflam’d to make me her sole lord and spouse. Circe Ææa too, that knowing dame, Whose veins the like affections did enflame, Detain’d me likewise. But to neither’s love Could I be tempted; which doth well approve, Nothing so sweet is as our country’s earth,[3] And joy of those from whom we claim our birth. Though roofs far richer we far off possess, Yet, from our native, all our more is less. To which as I contended, I will tell The much-distress-conferring facts that fell By Jove’s divine prevention, since I set From ruin’d Troy my first foot in retreat. From Ilion ill winds cast me on the coast The Cicons hold, where I employ’d mine host For Ismarus, a city built just by My place of landing; of which victory Made me expugner. I depeopled it, Slew all the men, and did their wives remit, With much spoil taken; which we did divide, That none might need his part. I then applied All speed for flight; but my command therein, Fools that they were, could no observance win Of many soldiers, who, with spoil fed high, Would yet fill higher, and excessively Fell to their wine, gave slaughter on the shore Clov’n-footed beeves and sheep in mighty store. In mean space, Cicons did to Cicons cry, When, of their nearest dwellers, instantly Many and better soldiers made strong head, That held the continent, and managéd Their horse with high skill, on which they would fight, When fittest cause serv’d, and again alight, With soon seen vantage, and on foot contend. Their concourse swift was, and had never end; As thick and sudden ’twas, as flow’rs and leaves Dark spring discovers, when she light receives.[4] And then began the bitter Fate of Jove To alter us unhappy, which ev’n strove To give us suff’rance. At our fleet we made Enforcéd stand; and there did they invade Our thrust-up forces; darts encounter’d darts, With blows on both sides; either making parts Good upon either, while the morning shone, And sacred day her bright increase held on, Though much out-match’d in number; but as soon As Phœbus westward fell, the Cicons won Much hand of us; six proved soldiers fell, Of ev’ry ship, the rest they did compel! To seek of Flight escape from Death and Fate.

Thence sad in heart we sail’d; and yet our state Was something cheer’d, that (being o’er-match’d so much In violent number) our retreat was such As sav’d so many. Our dear loss the less, That they surviv’d, so like for like success. Yet left we not the coast, before we call’d Home to our country-earth the souls exhal’d Of all the friends the Cicons overcame. Thrice call’d we on them by their sev’ral name,[5] And then took leave. Then from the angry North Cloud-gath’ring Jove a dreadful storm call’d forth Against our navy, cover’d shore and all With gloomy vapours. Night did headlong fall From frowning heav’n. And then hurl’d here and there Was all our navy; the rude winds did tear In three, in four parts, all their sails; and down Driv’n under hatches were we, prest to drown. Up rush’d we yet again, and with tough hand (Two days, two nights, entoil’d) we gat near land, Labours and sorrows eating up our minds. The third clear day yet, to more friendly winds We masts advanc’d, we white sails spread, and sate. Forewinds and guides again did iterate Our ease and home-hopes; which we clear had reach’d, Had not, by chance, a sudden north-wind fetch’d, With an extreme sea, quite about again Our whole endeavours, and our course constrain To giddy round, and with our bow’d sails greet Dreadful Maleia, calling back our fleet As far forth as Cythera. Nine days more Adverse winds toss’d me; and the tenth, the shore, Where dwelt the blossom-fed Lotophagi, I fetch’d, fresh water took in, instantly Fell to our food aship-board, and then sent Two of my choice men to the continent (Adding a third, a herald) to discover What sort of people were the rulers over The land next to us. Where, the first they met, Were the Lotophagi, that made them eat Their country-diet, and no ill intent Hid in their hearts to them; and yet th’ event To ill converted it, for having eat Their dainty viands, they did quite forget (As all men else that did but taste their feast) Both countrymen and country, nor addrest Any return t’ inform what sort of men Made fix’d abode there, but would needs maintain Abode themselves there, and eat that food ever. I made out after, and was feign to sever Th’ enchanted knot by forcing their retreat; That striv’d, and wept, and would not leave their meat For heav’n itself. But, dragging them to fleet, I wrapt in sure bands both their hands and feet, And cast them under hatches, and away Commanded all the rest without least stay, Lest they should taste the lote too, and forget With such strange raptures their despis’d retreat. All then aboard, we beat the sea with oars, And still with sad hearts sail’d by out-way shores, Till th’ out-law’d Cyclops’ land we fetch’d; a race Of proud-liv’d loiterers, that never sow, Nor put a plant in earth, nor use a plow, But trust in God for all things; and their earth, Unsown, unplow’d, gives ev’ry offspring birth That other lands have; wheat, and barley, vines That bear in goodly grapes delicious wines; And Jove sends show’rs for all. No councils there, Nor councillors, nor laws; but all men bear Their heads aloft on mountains, and those steep, And on their tops too; and their houses keep In vaulty caves, their households govern’d all By each man’s law, impos’d in several, Nor wife, nor child awed, but as he thinks good, None for another caring. But there stood Another little isle, well stor’d with wood, Betwixt this and the entry; neither nigh The Cyclops’ isle, nor yet far off doth lie, Men’s want it suffer’d, but the men’s supplies The goats made with their inarticulate cries. Goats beyond number this small island breeds, So tame, that no access disturbs their feeds, No hunters, that the tops of mountains scale, And rub through woods with toil, seek them at all. Nor is the soil with flocks fed down, not plow’d, Nor ever in it any seed was sow’d. Nor place the neighbour Cyclops their delights In brave vermilion-prow-deck’d ships; nor wrights Useful, and skilful in such works as need Perfection to those traffics that exceed Their natural confines, to fly out and see Cities of men, and take in mutually The prease of others; to themselves they live, And to their island that enough would give A good inhabitant; and time of year Observe to all things art could order there. There, close upon the sea, sweet meadows spring; That yet of fresh streams want no watering To their soft burthens, but of special yield. Your vines would be there; and your common field But gentle work make for your plow, yet bear A lofty harvest when you came to shear; For passing fat the soil is. In it lies A harbour so oppórtune, that no ties, Halsers, or gables need, nor anchors cast. Whom storms put in there are with stay embrac’d,[6] Or to their full wills safe, or winds aspire To pilots’ uses their more quick desire. At entry of the haven, a silver ford Is from a rock-impressing fountain pour’d, All set with sable poplars. And this port Were we arriv’d at, by the sweet resort Of some God guiding us, for ’twas a night So ghastly dark all port was past our sight, Clouds hid our ships, and would not let the moon Afford a beam to us, the whole isle won By not an eye of ours. None thought the blore, That then was up, shov’d waves’ against the shore, That then to an unmeasur’d height put on; We still at sea esteem’d us, till alone Our fleet put in itself. And then were strook Our gather’d sails; our rest ashore we took, And day expected. When the morn gave fire, We rose, and walk’d, and did the isle admire; The Nymphs, Jove’s daughters, putting up a herd Of mountain goats to us, to render cheer’d My fellow soldiers. To our fleet we flew, Our crooked bows took, long-pil’d darts, and drew Ourselves in three parts out; when, by the grace That God vouchsaf’d, we made a gainful chace. Twelve ships we had, and ev’ry ship had nine Fat goats allotted [it], ten only mine. Thus all that day, ev’n till the sun was set, We sat and feasted, pleasant wine and meat Plenteously taking; for we had not spent Our ruddy wine aship-board, supplement Of large sort each man to his vessel drew, When we the sacred city overthrew That held the Cicons. Now then saw we near The Cyclops’ late-prais’d island, and might hear The murmur of their sheep and goats, and see Their smokes ascend. The sun then set, and we, When night succeeded, took our rest ashore. And when the world the morning’s favour wore, I call’d my friends to council, charging them To make stay there, while I took ship and stream, With some associates, and explor’d what men The neighbour isle held; if of rude disdain, Churlish and tyrannous, or minds bewray’d Pious and hospitable. Thus much said, I boarded, and commanded to ascend My friends and soldiers, to put off, and lend Way to our ship. They boarded, sat, and beat The old sea forth, till we might see the seat The greatest Cyclop held for his abode, Which was a deep cave, near the common road Of ships that touch’d there, thick with laurels spread, Where many sheep and goats lay shadowéd; And, near to this, a hall of torn-up stone, High built with pines, that heav’n and earth attone, And lofty-fronted oaks; in which kept house A man in shape immane, and monsterous, Fed all his flocks alone, nor would afford Commerce with men, but had a wit abhorr’d, His mind his body answ’ring. Nor was he Like any man that food could possibly Enhance so hugely, but, beheld alone, Show’d like a steep hill’s top, all overgrown With trees and brambles; little thought had I Of such vast objects. When, arriv’d so nigh, Some of my lov’d friends I made stay aboard, To guard my ship; and twelve with me I shor’d, The choice of all. I took besides along A goat-skin flagon of wine, black and strong, That Maro did present, Evantheus’ son, And priest to Phœbus, who had mansión In Thracian Ismarus (the town I took). He gave it me, since I (with rev’rence strook Of his grave place, his wife and children’s good) Freed all of violence. Amidst a wood, Sacred to Phœbus, stood his house; from whence He fetch’d me gifts of varied excellence; Sev’n talents of fine gold; a bowl all fram’d Of massy silver; but his gift most fam’d Was twelve great vessels, fill’d with such rich wine As was incorruptible and divine. He kept it as his jewel, which none knew But he himself, his wife, and he that drew. It was so strong that never any fill’d A cup, where that was but by drops instill’d, And drunk it off, but ’twas before allay’d With twenty parts in water; yet so sway’d The spirit of that little, that the whole A sacred odour breath’d about the bowl. Had you the odour smelt and scent it cast, It would have vex’d you to forbear the taste. But then, the taste gain’d too, the spirit it wrought To dare things high set-up-an-end my thought. Of this a huge great flagon full I bore, And, in a good large knapsack, victuals store; And long’d to see this heap of fortitude, That so illit’rate was and upland rude That laws divine nor human he had learn’d. With speed we reach’d the cavern; nor discern’d His presence there, his flocks he fed at field. Ent’ring his den, each thing beheld did yield Our admiration; shelves with cheeses heap’d; Sheds stuff’d with lambs and goats, distinctly kept, Distinct the biggest, the more mean distinct, Distinct the youngest. And in their precinct, Proper and placeful, stood the troughs and pails, In which he milk’d; and what was giv’n at meals, Set up a creaming; in the ev’ning still All scouring bright as dew upon the hill.

Then were my fellows instant to convey Kids, cheeses, lambs, aship-board, and away Sail the salt billow. I thought best not so, But better otherwise; and first would know, What guest-gifts he would spare me. Little knew My friends on whom they would have prey’d. His view Prov’d after, that his inwards were too rough For such bold usage. We were bold enough In what I suffer’d; which was there to stay, Make fire and feed there, though bear none away. There sat we, till we saw him feeding come, And on his neck a burthen lugging home, Most highly huge, of sere-wood, which the pile That fed his fire supplied all supper-while. Down by his den he threw it, and up rose A tumult with the fall. Afraid, we close Withdrew ourselves, while he into a cave Of huge receipt his high-fed cattle drave, All that he milk’d; the males he left without His lofty roofs, that all bestrow’d about With rams and buck-goats were. And then a rock He lift aloft, that damm’d up to his flock The door they enter’d; ’twas so hard to wield, That two-and-twenty waggons, all four-wheel’d, (Could they be loaded, and have teams that were Proportion’d to them) could not stir it there. Thus making sure, he kneel’d and milk’d his ewes, And braying goats, with all a milker’s dues; Then let in all their young. Then quick did dress His half milk up for cheese, and in a press Of wicker press’d it; put in bowls the rest, To drink and eat, and serve his supping feast. All works dispatch’d thus, he began his fire; Which blown, he saw us, and did thus inquire: ῾Ho! guests! What are ye? Whence sail ye these seas? Traffic, or rove ye, and like thieves oppress Poor strange adventurers, exposing so Your souls to danger, and your lives to woe?’ This utter’d he, when fear from our hearts took The very life, to be so thunder-strook With such a voice, and such a monster see; But thus I answer’d: ‘Erring Grecians, we From Troy were turning homewards, but by force Of adverse winds, in far diverted course, Such unknown ways took, and on rude seas toss’d, As Jove decreed, are cast upon this coast, Of Agamemnon, famous Atreus’ son, We boast ourselves the soldiers; who hath won[7] Renown that reacheth heav’n, to overthrow So great a city, and to ruin so So many nations. Yet at thy knees lie Our prostrate bosoms, forc’d with pray’rs to try If any hospitable right, or boon Of other nature, such as have been won By laws of other houses, thou wilt give. Rev’rence the Gods, thou great’st of all that live. We suppliants are; and hospitable Jove Pours wreak on all whom pray’rs want pow’r to move, And with their plagues together will provide That humble guests shall have their wants supplied.’ He cruelly answer’d: ‘O thou fool,’ said he, To come so far, and to importune me With any God’s fear, or observéd love! We Cyclops care not for your goat-fed Jove, Nor other Bless’d ones; we are better far. To Jove himself dare I bid open war, To thee, and all thy fellows, if I please. But tell me, where’s the ship, that by the seas Hath brought thee hither? If far off, or near, Inform me quickly.’ These his temptings were; But I too much knew not to know his mind, And craft with craft paid, telling him the wind (Thrust up from sea by Him that shakes the shore) Had dash’d our ships against his rocks, and tore Her ribs in pieces close upon his coast, And we from high wrack sav’d, the rest were lost. He answer’d nothing, but rush’d in, and took Two of my fellows up from earth, and strook Their brains against it. Like two whelps they flew About his shoulders, and did all embrue The blushing earth. No mountain lion tore Two lambs so sternly, lapp’d up all their gore Gush’d from their torn-up bodies, limb by limb (Trembling with life yet) ravish’d into him. Both flesh and marrow-stufféd bones he eat, And ev’n th’ uncleanséd entrails made his meat. We, weeping, cast our hands to heav’n, to view A sight so horrid. Desperation flew, With all our after lives, to instant death, In our believ’d destruction. But when breath The fury of his appetite had got, Because the gulf his belly reach’d his throat, Man’s flesh, and goat’s milk, laying lay’r on lay’r, Till near chok’d up was all the pass for air, Along his den, among’st his cattle, down He rush’d, and streak’d him. When my mind was grown Desp’rate to step in, draw my sword, and part His bosom where the strings about the heart Circle the liver, and add strength of hand. But that rash thought, more stay’d, did countermand, For there we all had perish’d, since it past Our pow’rs to lift aside a log so vast, As barr’d all outscape; and so sigh’d away The thought all night, expecting active day. Which come, he first of all his fire enflames, Then milks his goats and ewes, then to their dams Lets in their young, and, wondrous orderly, With manly haste dispatch’d his housewif’ry. Then to his breakfast, to which other two Of my poor friends went; which eat, out then go His herds and fat flocks, lightly putting by The churlish bar, and clos’d it instantly; For both those works with ease as much he did, As you would ope and shut your quiver lid. With storms of whistlings then his flock he drave Up to the mountains; and occasion gave For me to use my wits, which to their height I striv’d to screw up, that a vengeance might By some means fall from thence, and Pallas now Afford a full ear to my neediest vow. This then my thoughts preferr’d: A huge club lay Close by his milk-house, which was now in way To dry and season, being an olive-tree Which late he fell’d, and, being green, must be Made lighter for his manage. ’Twas so vast, That we resembled it to some fit mast, To serve a ship of burthen that was driv’n With twenty oars, and had a bigness giv’n To bear a huge sea. Full so thick, so tall, We judg’d this club; which I, in part, hew’d small, And cut a fathom off. The piece I gave Amongst my soldiers, to take down, and shave; Which done, I sharpen’d it at top, and then, Harden’d in fire, I hid it in the den Within a nasty dunghill reeking there, Thick, and so moist it issued ev’rywhere. Then made I lots cast by my friends to try Whose fortune serv’d to dare the bor’d-out eye Of that man-eater; and the lot did fall On four I wish’d to make my aid of all, And I the fifth made, chosen like the rest. Then came the even, and he came from the feast Of his fat cattle, drave in all; nor kept One male abroad; if, or his memory slept By Gods’ direct will, or of purpose was His driving in of all then, doth surpass My comprehension. But he clos’d again The mighty bar, milk’d, and did still maintain All other observation as before. His work all done, two of my soldiers more At once he snatch’d up, and to supper went. Then dar’d I words to him, and did present A bowl of wine, with these words: ‘Cyclop! take A bowl of wine, from my hand, that may make Way for the man’s flesh thou hast eat, and show What drink our ship held; which in sacred vow I offer to thee to take ruth on me In my dismission home. Thy rages be Now no more sufferable. How shall men, Mad and inhuman that thou art, again Greet thy abode, and get thy actions grace, If thus thou ragest, and eat’st up their race.’ He took, and drunk, and vehemently joy’d To taste the sweet cup; and again employ’d My flagon’s pow’rs, entreating more, and said: ῾Good guest, again afford my taste thy aid, And let me know thy name, and quickly now, That in thy recompense I may bestow A hospitable gift on thy desert, And such a one as shall rejoice thy heart. For to the Cyclops too the gentle earth Bears gen’rous wine, and Jove augments her birth, In store of such, with show’rs; but this rich wine Fell from the river, that is mere divine, Of nectar and ambrosia.’ This again I gave him, and again; nor could the fool abstain, But drunk as often. When the noble juice Had wrought upon his spirit, I then gave use To fairer language, saying: ‘Cyclop! now, As thou demand’st, I’ll tell my name, do thou Make good thy hospitable gift to me. My name is No-Man; No-Man each degree Of friends, as well as parents, call my name.’ He answer’d, as his cruel soul became: ‘No-Man! I’ll eat thee last of all thy friends; And this is that in which so much amends I vow’d to thy deservings, thus shall be My hospitable gift made good to thee.’ This said, he upwards fell, but then bent round His fleshy neck; and Sleep, with all crowns crown’d, Subdued the savage. From his throat brake out My wine, with man’s-flesh gobbets, like a spout, When, loaded with his cups, he lay and snor’d; And then took I the club’s end up, and gor’d The burning coal-heap, that the point might heat; Confirm’d my fellow’s minds, lest Fear should let Their vow’d assay, and make them fly my aid. Straight was the olive-lever, I had laid Amidst the huge fire to get hard’ning, hot, And glow’d extremely, though ’twas green; which got From forth the cinders, close about me stood My hardy friends; but that which did the good Was God’s good inspiratión, that gave A spirit beyond the spirit they us’d to have; Who took the olive spar, made keen before, And plung’d it in his eye, and up I bore, Bent to the top close, and help’d pour it in, With all my forces. And as you have seen A ship-wright bore a naval beam, he oft Thrusts at the auger’s froofe, works still aloft, And at the shank help others, with a cord Wound round about to make it sooner bor’d, All plying the round still; so into his eye The fiery stake we labour’d to imply. Out gush’d the blood that scalded, his eye-ball Thrust out a flaming vapour, that scorch’d all His brows and eye-lids, his eye-strings did crack, As in the sharp and burning rafter brake. And as a smith, to harden any tool, Broad axe, or mattock, in his trough doth cool The red-hot substance, that so fervent is It makes the cold wave straight to seethe and hiss; So sod and hiss’d his eye about the stake. He roar’d withal, and all his cavern brake In claps like thunder. We did frighted fly, Dispers’d in corners. He from forth his eye The fixed stake pluck’d; after which the blood Flow’d freshly forth; and, mad, he hurl’d the wood About his hovel. Out he then did cry For other Cyclops, that in caverns by Upon a windy promontory dwell’d; Who, hearing how impetuously he yell’d, Rush’d ev’ry way about him, and inquir’d, What ill afflicted him, that he exspir’d Such horrid clamours, and in sacred Night To break their sleeps so? Ask’d him, if his fright Came from some mortal that his flocks had driv’n? Or if by craft, or might, his death were giv’n? He answer’d from his den: ‘By craft, nor might, No-Man hath giv’n me death.’ They then said right, ‘If no man hurt thee, and thyself alone, That which is done to thee by Jove is done; And what great Jove inflicts no man can fly. Pray to thy Father yet, a Deity, And prove, from him if thou canst help acquire.’ Thus spake they, leaving him; when all-on-fire My heart with joy was, that so well my wit And name deceiv’d him; whom now pain did split, And groaning up and down he groping tried To find the stone, which found, he put aside; But in the door sat, feeling if he could (As his sheep issued) on some man lay hold; Esteeming me a fool, that could devise No stratagem to ‘scape his gross surprise. But I, contending what I could invent My friends and me from death so eminent To get deliver’d, all my wiles I wove (Life being the subject) and did this approve: Fat fleecy rams, most fair, and great, lay there, That did a burden like a violet bear.[8] These, while this learn’d-in-villainy did sleep, I yok’d with osiers cut there, sheep to sheep, Three in a rank, and still the mid sheep bore A man about his belly, the two more March’d on his each side for defence. I then, Choosing myself the fairest of the den, His fleecy belly under-crept, embrac’d His back, and in his rich wool wrapt me fast With both my hands, arm’d with as fast a mind. And thus each man hung, till the morning shin’d; Which come, he knew the hour, and let abroad His male-flocks first, the females unmilk’d stood Bleating and braying, their full bags so sore With being unemptied, but their shepherd more With being unsighted; which was cause his mind Went not a milking. He, to wreak inclin’d, The backs felt, as they pass’d, of those male dams, Gross fool! believing, we would ride his rams! Nor ever knew that any of them bore Upon his belly any man before. The last ram came to pass him, with his wool And me together loaded to the full, For there did I hang; and that ram he stay’d, And me withal had in his hands, my head Troubled the while, not causelessly, nor least. This ram he grop’d, and talk’d to: ‘Lazy beast! Why last art thou now? Thou hast never us’d To lag thus hindmost, but still first hast bruis’d The tender blossom of a flow’r, and held State in thy steps, both to the flood and field, First still at fold at even, now last remain? Dost thou not wish I had mine eye again, Which that abhorr’d man No-Man did put out, Assisted by his execrable rout, When he had wrought me down with wine? But he Must not escape my wreak so cunningly. I would to heav’n thou knew’st, and could but speak, To tell me where he lurks now! I would break His brain about my cave, strew’d here and there, To ease my heart of those foul ills, that were Th’ inflictions of a man I priz’d at nought.’ Thus let he him abroad; when I, once brought A little from his hold, myself first los’d, And next my friends. Then drave we, and dispos’d, His straight-legg’d fat fleece-bearers over land, Ev’n till they all were in my ship’s command; And to our lov’d friends show’d our pray’d-for sight, Escap’d from death. But, for our loss, outright They brake in tears; which with a look I stay’d, And bade them take our boot in. They obey’d, And up we all went, sat, and us’d our oars. But having left as far the savage shores As one might hear a voice, we then might see The Cyclop at the haven; when instantly I stay’d our oars, and this insultance us’d: ῾Cyclop! thou shouldst not have so much abus’d Thy monstrous forces, to oppose their least Against a man immartial, and a guest, And eat his fellows. Thou mightst know there were Some ills behind, rude swain, for thee to bear, That fear’d not to devour thy guests, and break All laws of humans. Jove sends therefore wreak, And all the Gods, by me.’ This blew the more His burning fury; when the top he tore From off a huge rock, and so right a throw Made at our ship, that just before the prow It overflew and fell, miss’d mast and all Exceeding little; but about the fall So fierce a wave it rais’d, that back it bore Our ship so far, it almost touch’d the shore. A bead-hook then, a far-extended one, I snatch’d up, thrust hard, and so set us gone Some little way; and straight commanded all To help me with their oars, on pain to fall Again on our confusion. But a sign I with my head made, and their oars were mine In all performance. When we off were set, (Then first, twice further) my heart was so great, It would again provoke him, but my men On all sides rush’d about me, to contain, And said: ‘Unhappy! why will you provoke A man so rude, that with so dead a stroke, Giv’n with his rock-dart, made the sea thrust back Our ship so far, and near hand forc’d our wrack? Should he again but hear your voice resound, And any word reach, thereby would be found His dart’s direction, which would, in his fall, Crush piece-meal us, quite split our ship and all; So much dart wields the monster.’ Thus urg’d they Impossible things, in fear; but I gave way To that wrath which so long I held deprest, By great necessity conquer’d, in my breast: ‘Cyclop! if any ask thee, who impos’d[9] Th’ unsightly blemish that thine eye enclos’d, Say that Ulysses, old Laertes’ son, Whose seat is Ithaca, and who hath won Surname of City-razer, bor’d it out.’ At this, he bray’d so loud, that round about He drave affrighted echoes through the air, And said: ‘O beast! I was premonish’d fair, By aged prophecy, in one that was A great and good man, this should come to pass; And how ’tis prov’d now! Augur Telemus, Surnam’d Eurymides (that spent with us His age in augury, and did exceed In all presage of truth) said all this deed Should this event take, author’d by the hand Of one Ulysses, who I thought was mann’d With great and goodly personage, and bore A virtue answerable; and this shore Should shake with weight of such a conqueror; When now a weakling came, a dwarfy thing, A thing of nothing; who yet wit did bring, That brought supply to all, and with his wine Put out the flame where all my light did shine. Come, land again, Ulysses! that my hand May guest-rites give thee, and the great command, That Neptune hath at sea, I may convert To the deduction where abides thy heart, With my solicitings, whose son I am, And whose fame boasts to bear my father’s name. Nor think my hurt offends me, for my sire Can soon repose in it the visual fire, At his free pleasure; which no pow’r beside Can boast, of men, or of the Deified.’ I answer’d: ‘Would to God! I could compell Both life and soul from thee, and send to hell Those spoils of nature! Hardly Neptune then Could cure thy hurt, and give thee all again.’ Then flew fierce vows to Neptune, both his hands To star-born heav’n cast: ‘O thou that all lands Gird’st in thy ambient circle, and in air Shak’st the curl’d tresses of thy sapphire hair, If I be thine, or thou mayst justly vaunt Thou art my father, hear me now, and grant That this Ulysses, old Laertes’ son, That dwells in Ithaca, and name hath won Of City-ruiner, may never reach His natural region. Or if to fetch That, and the sight of his fair roofs and friends, Be fatal to him, let him that amends For all his miseries, long time and ill, Smart for, and fail of; nor that fate fulfill, Till all his soldiers quite are cast away In others’ ships. And when, at last, the day Of his sole-landing shall his dwelling show, Let Detriment prepare him wrongs enow.’ Thus pray’d he Neptune; who, his sire, appear’d, And all his pray’r to ev’ry syllable heard. But then a rock, in size more amplified Than first, he ravish’d to him, and implied A dismal strength in it, when, wheel’d about, He sent it after us; nor flew it out From any blind aim, for a little pass Beyond our fore-deck from the fall there was, With which the sea our ship gave back upon, And shrunk up into billows from the stone, Our ship again repelling near as near The shore as first. But then our rowers were, Being warn’d, more arm’d, and stronglier stemm’d the flood That bore back on us, till our ship made good The other island, where our whole fleet lay, In which our friends lay mourning for our stay, And ev’ry minute look’d when we should land. Where, now arriv’d, we drew up to the sand, The Cyclops’ sheep dividing, that none there Of all our privates might be wrung, and bear Too much on pow’r. The ram yet was alone By all my friends made all my portion Above all others; and I made him then A sacrifice for me and all my men[10] To cloud-compelling Jove that all commands, To whom I burn’d the thighs; but my sad hands Receiv’d no grace from him, who studied how To offer men and fleet to overthrow.

All day, till sun-set, yet, we sat and eat, And lib’ral store took in of wine and meat. The sun then down, and place resign’d to shade, We slept. Morn came, my men I rais’d, and made All go aboard, weigh anchor, and away. They boarded, sat, and beat the aged sea; And forth we made sail, sad for loss before, Any yet had comfort since we lost no more.”

FINIS LIBRI NONI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] Εἰνοσίϕυλλον, quatientem seu agitantem frondes.Return to passage

[2] Quædam quibus corpus alitur et vita sustentatur ὕλη appellantur.Return to passage

[3] Amor patriœ.Return to passage

[4] After night, in the first of the morning.Return to passage

[5] The ancient custom of calling home the dead.Return to passage

[6] The description of all these countries have admirable allegories besides their artly and pleasing relation.Return to passage

[7] This his relation of Agamemnon, and his glory and theirs for Troy’s sack, with the piety of suppliants’ receipt, to him that was so barbarous and impious, must be intended spoken by Ulysses, with supposition that his hearers would note, still as he spake, how vain they would show to the Cyclops; who respected little Agamemnon, or their valiant exploit against Troy, or the Gods themselves. For otherwise, the serious observation of the words (though good and grave, if spoken to another) want their intentional sharpness and life.Return to passage

[8] Wool of a violet colour.Return to passage

[9] Ulysses’ continued insolence, no more to repeat what he said to the Cyclop, than to let his hearers know epithets, and estimation in the world.Return to passage

[10] No occasion let pass to Ulysses’ piety in our Poet’s singular wit and wisdom.Return to passage

The Tenth Book: OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Ulysses now relates to us The grace he had with Æolus, Great Guardian of the hollow Winds; Which in a leather bag he binds, And gives Ulysses; all but one, Which Zephyr was, who fill’d alone Ulysses’ sails. The bag once seen, While he slept, by Ulysses’ men, They thinking it did gold enclose, To find it, all the winds did loose, Who back flew to their Guard again. Forth sail’d he; and did next attain To where the Læstrygonians dwell. Where he eleven ships lost, and fell On the Ææan coast, whose shore He sends Eurylochus t’ explore, Dividing with him half his men. Who go, and turn no more again, All, save Eurylochus, to swine By Circe turn’d. Their stays incline Ulysses to their search; who got Of Mercury an antidote, Which moly was, ’gainst Circe’s charms, And so avoids his soldiers’ harms. A year with Circe all remain, And then their native forms regain. On utter shores a time they dwell, While Ithacus descends to hell.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

Κάππα. Great Æolus, And Circe, friends Finds Ithacus; And hell descends.

“To the Æolian island we attain’d, That swum about still on the sea, where reign’d The God-lov’d Æolus Hippotades. A wall of steel it had; and in the seas A wave-beat-smooth rock mov’d about the wall. Twelve children in his house imperial Were born to him; of which six daughters were, And six were sons, that youth’s sweet flow’r did bear. His daughters to his sons he gave as wives; Who spent in feastful comforts all their lives, Close seated by their sire and his grave spouse. Past number were the dishes that the house Made ever savour; and still full the hall As long as day shin’d; in the night-time, all Slept with their chaste wives, each his fair carv’d bed Most richly furnish’d; and this life they led. We reach’d the city and fair roofs of these, Where, a whole month’s time, all things that might please The king vouchsaf’d us; of great Troy inquir’d, The Grecian fleet, and how the Greeks retir’d. To all which I gave answer as behov’d. The fit time come when I dismission mov’d, He nothing would deny me, but addrest My pass with such a bounty, as might best Teach me contentment; for he did enfold Within an ox-hide, flay’d at nine years old, All th’ airy blasts that were of stormy kinds. Saturnius made him Steward of his Winds, And gave him pow’r to raise and to assuage. And these he gave me, curb’d thus of their rage, Which in a glitt’ring silver band I bound, And hung-up in my ship, enclos’d so round That no egression any breath could find; Only he left abroad the Western Wind, To speed our ships, and us with blasts secure. But our securities made all unsure; Nor could he consummate our course alone, When all the rest had got egressión; Which thus succeeded: Nine whole days and nights We sail’d in safety; and the tenth, the lights Borne on our country-earth we might descry, So near we drew; and yet ev’n then fell I, Being overwatch’d, into a fatal sleep, For I would suffer no man else to keep The foot that rul’d my vessel’s course, to lead[1] The faster home. My friends then Envy fed About the bag I hung-up, and suppos’d That gold and silver I had there enclos’d, As gift from Æolus, and said: ‘O heav’n! What grace and grave price is by all men giv’n To our commander! Whatsoever coast Or town he comes to, how much he engrost Of fair and precious prey, and brought from Troy! We the same voyage went, and yet enjoy In our return these empty hands for all. This bag, now, Æolus was so liberal To make a guest-gift to him; let us try Of what consists the fair-bound treasury, And how much gold and silver it contains.’ Ill counsel present approbation gains. They op’d the bag, and out the vapours brake, When instant tempest did our vessel take, That bore us back to sea, to mourn anew Our absent country. Up amaz’d I flew, And desp’rate things discours’d; if I should cast Myself to ruin in the seas, or taste Amongst the living more moan, and sustain? Silent, I did so, and lay hid again Beneath the hatches, while an ill wind took My ships back to Æolia, my men strook With woe enough. We pump’d and landed then, Took food, for all this; and of all my men I took a herald to me, and away Went to the court of Æolus, where they Were feasting still; he, wife, and children, set Together close. We would not at their meat Thrust in; but humbly on the threshold sat. He then, amaz’d, my presence wonder’d at, And call’d to me: ‘Ulysses! How thus back Art thou arriv’d here? What foul spirit brake Into thy bosom, to retire thee thus? We thought we had deduction curious Giv’n thee before, to reach thy shore and home; Did it not like thee?’ I, ev’n overcome With worthy sorrow, answer’d: ‘My ill men Have done me mischief, and to them hath been My sleep th’ unhappy motive; but do you, Dearest of friends, deign succour to my vow. Your pow’rs command it.’ Thus endeavour’d I With soft speech to repair my misery. The rest with ruth sat dumb. But thus spake he: ‘Avaunt, and quickly quit my land of thee, Thou worst of all that breathe. It fits not me To convoy, and take-in, whom Heav’ns expose. Away, and with thee go the worst of woes, That seek’st my friendship, and the Gods thy foes.’ Thus he dismiss’d me sighing. Forth we sail’d, At heart afflicted. And now wholly fail’d The minds my men sustain’d, so spent they were With toiling at their oars, and worse did bear Their growing labours; and they caus’d their grought By self-will’d follies; nor now ever thought To see their country more. Six nights and days We sail’d; the seventh we saw fair Lamos raise Her lofty tow’rs, the Læstrygonian state That bears her ports so far disterminate; Where shepherd shepherd calls out, he at home[2] Is call’d out by the other that doth come From charge abroad, and then goes he to sleep, The other issuing; he whose turn doth keep The night observance hath his double hire, Since day and night in equal length expire About that region, and the night’s watch weigh’d At twice the day’s ward, since the charge that’s laid Upon the night’s-man (besides breach of sleep) Exceeds the days-man’s; for one oxen keep, The other sheep. But when the haven we found, (Exceeding famous, and environ’d round With one continuate rock, which so much bent That both ends almost met, so prominent They were, and made the haven’s mouth passing strait) Our whole fleet in we got; in whose receit Our ships lay anchor’d close. Nor needed we Fear harm on any stays, Tranquillity[3] So purely sat there, that waves great nor small Did ever rise to any height at all. And yet would I no entry make, but stay’d Alone without the haven, and thence survey’d, From out a lofty watch-tow’r raised there, The country round about; nor anywhere The work of man or beast appear’d to me, Only a smoke from earth break I might see. I then made choice of two, and added more, A herald for associate, to explore What sort of men liv’d there. They went, and saw A beaten way, through which carts us’d to draw Wood from the high hills to the town, and met A maid without the port, about to get Some near spring-water. She the daughter was Of mighty Læstrygonian Antiphas, And to the clear spring call’d Artacia went, To which the whole town for their water sent. To her they came, and ask’d who govern’d there, And what the people whom he order’d were? She answer’d not, but led them through the port, As making haste to show her father’s court. Where enter’d, they beheld, to their affright, A woman like a mountain-top in height, Who rush’d abroad, and from the council-place Call’d home her horrid husband Antiphas,[4] Who, deadly-minded, straight he snatch’d up one, And fell to supper. Both the rest were gone; And to the fleet came. Antiphas a cry Drave through the city; which heard, instantly This way and that innumerable sorts, Not men, but giants, issued through the ports, And mighty flints from rocks tore, which they threw Amongst our ships; through which an ill noise flew Of shiver’d ships, and life-expiring men, That were, like fishes, by the monsters slain, And borne to sad feast. While they slaughter’d these, That were engag’d in all th’ advantages The close-mouth’d and most dead-calm haven could give, I, that without lay, made some means to live, My sword drew, cut my gables, and to oars Set all my men; and, from the plagues those shores Let fly amongst us, we made haste to fly, My men close working as men loth to die. My ship flew freely off; but theirs that lay On heaps in harbours could enforce no way Through these stern fates that had engag’d them there. Forth our sad remnant sail’d, yet still retain’d The joys of men, that our poor few remain’d. Then to the isle Ææa we attain’d, Where fair-hair’d, dreadful, eloquent Circe reign’d, Ææta’s sister both by dame and sire, Both daughters to Heav’n’s man-enlight’ning Fire, And Perse, whom Oceanus begat, The ship-fit port here soon we landed at, Some God directing us. Two days, two nights, We lay here pining in the fatal spights Of toil and sorrow; but the next third day When fair Aurora had inform’d, quick way I made out of my ship, my sword and lance Took for my surer guide, and made advance Up to a prospect; I assay to see The works of men, or hear mortality Exspire a voice. When I had climb’d a height, Rough and right hardly accessible, I might Behold from Circe’s house, that in a grove Set thick with trees stood, a bright vapour move, I then grew curious in my thought to try[5] Some fit inquiry, when so spritely fly I saw the yellow smoke; but my discourse[6] A first retiring to my ship gave force, To give my men their dinner, and to send (Before th’ adventure of myself) some friend. Being near my ship, of one so desolate Some God had pity, and would recreate My woes a little, putting up to me A great and high-palm’d hart, that (fatally, Just in my way itself to taste a flood) Was then descending; the sun heat had sure Importun’d him, besides the temperature His natural heat gave. Howsoever, I Made up to him, and let my jav’lin fly, That struck him through the mid-part of his chine, And made him, braying, to the dust confine His flying forces. Forth his spirit flew; When I stept in, and from the death’s wound drew My shrewdly-bitten lance; there let him lie Till I, of cut-up osiers, did imply A withe a fathom long, with which his feet I made together in a sure league meet, Stoop’d under him, and to my neck I heav’d The mighty burden, of which I receiv’d A good part on my lance, for else I could By no means with one hand alone uphold (Join’d with one shoulder) such a deathful load. And so, to both my shoulders, both hands stood Needful assistants; for it was a deer Goodly-well-grown. When (coming something near Where rode my ships) I cast it down, and rear’d My friends with kind words; whom by name I cheer’d, In note particular, and said: ‘See, friends, We will not yet to Pluto’s house; our ends Shall not be hasten’d, though we be declin’d In cause of comfort, till the day design’d By Fate’s fix’d finger. Come, as long as food Or wine lasts in our ship, let’s spirit our blood, And quit our care and hunger both in one.’ This said, they frolick’d, came, and look’d upon With admiration the huge-bodied beast; And when their first-serv’d eyes had done their feast, They wash’d, and made a to-be-striv’d-for meal[7] In point of honour. On which all did dwell The whole day long. And, to our venison’s store, We added wine till we could wish no more. Sun set, and darkness up, we slept, till light Put darkness down; and then did I excite My friends to counsel, utt’ring this: ‘Now, friends,[8] Afford unpassionate ear; though ill Fate lends So good cause to your passion, no man knows The reason whence and how the darkness grows; The reason how the morn is thus begun; The reason how the man-enlight’ning sun Dives under earth; the reason how again He rears his golden head. Those counsels, then, That pass our comprehension, we must leave To him that knows their causes; and receive Direction from him in our acts, as far As he shall please to make them regular, And stoop them to our reason. In our state What then behoves us? Can we estimate, With all our counsels, where we are? Or know (Without instruction, past our own skills) how, Put off from hence, to steer our course the more? I think we cannot. We must then explore These parts for information; in which way We thus far are: Last morn I might display (From off a high-rais’d cliff) an island lie Girt with th’ unmeasur’d sea, and is so nigh That in the midst I saw the smoke arise Through tufts of trees. This rests then to advise, Who shall explore this?’ This struck dead their hearts, Rememb’ring the most execrable parts That Læstrygonian Antiphas had play’d, And that foul Cyclop that their fellows bray’d Betwixt his jaws; which mov’d them so, they cried. But idle tears had never wants supplied. I in two parts divided all, and gave To either part his captain. I must have The charge of one; and one of God-like look, Eurylochus, the other. Lots we shook, Put in a casque together, which of us Should lead th’ attempt; and ’twas Eurylochus. He freely went, with two-and-twenty more; All which took leave with tears; and our eyes wore The same wet badge of weak humanity. These in a dale did Circe’s house descry, Of bright stone built, in a conspicuous way. Before her gates hill-wolves, and lions, lay; Which with her virtuous drugs so tame she made, That wolf nor lion would one man invade With any violence, but all arose, Their huge long tails wagg’d, and in fawns would close, As loving dogs, when masters bring them home Relics of feast, in all observance come, And soothe their entries with their fawns and bounds, All guests still bringing some scraps for their hounds; So, on these men, the wolves and lions ramp’d, Their horrid paws set up. Their spirits were damp’d To see such monstrous kindness, stay’d at gate, And heard within the Goddess elevate A voice divine, as at her web she wrought, Subtle, and glorious, and past earthly thought, As all the housewif’ries of Deities are. To hear a voice so ravishingly rare, Polités (one exceeding dear to me, A prince of men, and of no mean degree In knowing virtue, in all acts whose mind[9] Discreet cares all ways us’d to turn, and wind) Was yet surpris’d with it, and said: ‘O friends, Some one abides within here, that commends The place to us, and breathes a voice divine, As she some web wrought, or her spindle’s twine She cherish’d with her song; the pavement rings With imitation of the tunes she sings. Some woman, or some Goddess, ’tis. Assay To see with knocking.’ Thus said he, and they Both knock’d, and call’d; and straight her shining gates She open’d, issuing, bade them in to cates. Led, and unwise, they follow’d; all but one, Which was Eurylochus, who stood alone Without the gates, suspicious of a sleight. They enter’d, she made sit; and her deceit She cloak’d with thrones, and goodly chairs of state; Set herby honey, and the delicate Wine brought from Smynra, to them; meal and cheese; But harmful venoms she commix’d with these, That made their country vanish from their thought. Which eat, she touch’d them with a rod that wrought Their transformation far past human wonts; Swine’s snouts, swine’s bodies, took they, bristles, grunts, But still retain’d the souls they had before, Which made them mourn their bodies’ change the more. She shut them straight in styes, and gave them meat, Oak-mast, and beech, and cornel-fruit, they eat, Grov’lling like swine on earth, in foulest sort. Eurylochus straight hasted the report Of this his fellows’ most remorseful fate, Came to the ships, but so excruciate Was with his woe, he could not speak a word, His eyes stood full of tears, which show’d how stor’d His mind with moan remain’d. We all admir’d, Ask’d what had chanc’d him, earnestly desir’d He would resolve us. At the last, our eyes Enflam’d in him his fellows’ memories,[10] And out his grief burst thus: ‘You will’d; we went Through those thick woods you saw; when a descent Show’d us a fair house, in a lightsome ground, Where, at some work, we heard a heav’nly sound Breath’d from a Goddess’, or a woman’s, breast. They knock’d, she op’d her bright gates; each her guest Her fair invitement made; nor would they stay, Fools that they were, when she once led the way. I enter’d not, suspecting some deceit. When all together vanish’d, nor the sight Of anyone (though long I look’d) mine eye Could any way discover.’ Instantly, My sword and bow reach’d, I bad show the place, When down he fell, did both my knees embrace, And pray’d with tears thus: ‘O thou kept of God, Do not thyself lose, nor to that abode Lead others rashly; both thyself, and all Thou ventur’st thither, I know well, must fall In one sure ruin. With these few then fly; We yet may shun the others’ destiny.’ I answer’d him: ‘Eurylochus! Stay thou, And keep the ship then, eat and drink; I now Will undertake th’ adventure; there is cause In great Necessity’s unalter’d laws.’ This said, I left both ship and seas, and on Along the sacred valleys all alone Went in discov’ry, till at last I came Where of the main-med’cine-making Dame I saw the great house; where encounter’d me The golden-rod-sustaining Mercury, Ev’n ent’ring Circe’s doors. He met me in A young man’s likeness, of the first-flow’r’d chin, Whose form hath all the grace of one so young. He first call’d to me, then my hand he wrung, And said: ‘Thou no-place-finding-for-repose, Whither, alone, by these hill-confines, goes Thy erring foot? Th’ art ent’ring Circe’s house, Where, by her med’cines, black, and sorcerous, Thy soldiers all are shut in well-arm’d styes, And turn’d to swine. Art thou arriv’d with prize Fit for their ransoms? Thou com’st out no more, If once thou ent’rest, like thy men before Made to remain here. But I’ll guard thee free, And save thee in her spite. Receive of me This fair and good receipt; with which once arm’d, Enter her roofs, for th’ art to all proof charm’d Against the ill day. I will tell thee all Her baneful counsel: With a festival She’ll first receive thee, but will spice thy bread With flow’ry poisons; yet unalteréd Shall thy firm form be, for this remedy Stands most approv’d ’gainst all her sorcery, Which thus particularly shun: When she Shall with her long rod strike thee, instantly Draw from thy thigh thy sword, and fly on her As to her slaughter. She, surpris’d with fear And love, at first, will bid thee to her bed. Nor say the Goddess nay, that welcoméd Thou may’st with all respect be, and procure Thy fellows’ freedoms. But before, make sure Her favours to thee; and the great oath take With which the blesséd Gods assurance make Of all they promise; that no prejudice (By stripping thee of form, and faculties) She may so much as once attempt on thee.’ This said, he gave his antidote to me, Which from the earth he pluck’d, and told me all The virtue of it, with what Deities call The name it bears; and Moly[11] they impose For name to it. The root is hard to loose From hold of earth by mortals; but God’s pow’r Can all things do. ’Tis black, but bears a flow’r As white as milk. And thus flew Mercury Up to immense Olympus, gliding by The sylvan island. I made back my way To Circe’s house, my mind of my assay Much thought revolving. At her gates I stay’d And call’d; she heard, and her bright doors display’d, Invited, led; I follow’d in, but trac’d With some distraction. In a throne she plac’d My welcome person; of a curious frame ’Twas, and so bright I sat as in a flame; A foot-stool added. In a golden bowl She then suborn’d a potion, in her soul Deform’d things thinking; for amidst the wine She mix’d her man-transforming medicine; Which when she saw I had devour’d, she then No more observ’d me with her soothing vein, But struck me with her rod, and to her stye Bad, out, away, and with thy fellows lie. I drew my sword, and charg’d her, as I meant To take her life. When out she cried, and bent Beneath my sword her knees, embracing mine, And, full of tears, said: ‘Who? Of what high line Art thou the issue? Whence? What shores sustain Thy native city? I amaz’d remain That, drinking these my venoms, th’ art not turn’d. Never drunk any this cup but be mourn’d In other likeness, if it once had pass’d The ivory bounders of his tongue and taste. All but thyself are brutishly declin’d. Thy breast holds firm yet, and unchang’d thy mind. Thou canst be therefore none else but the man Of many virtues, Ithacensian, Deep-soul’d, Ulysses, who; I oft was told, By that sly God that bears the rod of gold, Was to arrive here in retreat from Troy. Sheathe then thy sword, and let my bed enjoy So much a man, that when the bed we prove, We may believe in one another’s love.’ I then: ‘O Circe, why entreat’st thou me To mix in any human league with thee, When thou my friends hast beasts turn’d; and thy bed Tender’st to me, that I might likewise lead A beast’s life with thee, soften’d, naked stripp’d, That in my blood thy banes may more be steep’d? I never will ascend thy bed, before, I may affirm, that in heav’n’s sight you swore The great oath of the Gods, that all attempt To do me ill is from your thoughts exempt.’ I said, she swore, when, all the oath-rites said, I then ascended her adornéd bed, But thus prepar’d: Four handmaids served her there, That daughters to her silver fountains were, To her bright-sea-observing sacred floods, And to her uncut consecrated woods. One deck’d the throne-tops with rich cloths of state, And did with silks the foot-pace consecrate. Another silver tables set before The pompous throne, and golden dishes’ store Serv’d in with sev’ral feast. A third fill’d wine. The fourth brought water, and made fuel shine In ruddy fires beneath a womb of brass. Which heat, I bath’d; and od’rous water was Disperpled lightly on my head and neck, That might my late heart-hurting sorrows check With the refreshing sweetness; and, for that, Men sometimes may be something delicate. Bath’d, and adorn’d, she led me to a throne Of massy silver, and of fashión Exceeding curious. A fair foot-stool set, Water appos’d, and ev’ry sort of meat Set on th’ elaborately-polish’d board, She wish’d my taste employ’d; but not a word Would my ears taste of taste; my mind had food That must digest; eye-meat would do me good. Circe (observing that I put no hand To any banquet, having countermand From weightier cares the light cates could excuse) Bowing her near me, these wing’d words did use; ‘Why sits Ulysses like one dumb, his mind Less’ning with languors? Nor to food inclin’d, Nor wine? Whence comes it? Out of any fear Of more illusion? You must needs forbear That wrongful doubt, since you have heard me swear.’ ‘O Circe!’ I replied, ‘what man is he, Aw’d with the rights of true humanity, That dares taste food or wine, before he sees His friends redeem’d from their deformities? If you be gentle, and indeed incline To let me taste the comfort of your wine, Dissolve the charms that their forc’d forms enchain, And show me here my honour’d friends like men.’ This said, she left her throne, and took her rod, Went to her stye, and let my men abroad, Like swine of nine years old. They opposite stood, Observ’d their brutish form, and look’d for food; When, with another med’cine, ev’ry one All over smear’d, their bristles all were gone, Produc’d by malice of the other bane, And ev’ry one, afresh, look’d up a man, Both younger than they were, of stature more, And all their forms much goodlier than before. All knew me, cling’d about me, and a cry Of pleasing mourning flew about so high The horrid roof resounded; and the queen Herself was mov’d to see our kind so keen, Who bad me now bring ship and men ashore, Our arms, and goods in caves hid, and restore Myself to her, with all my other men. I granted, went, and op’d the weeping vein In all my men; whose violent joy to see My safe return was passing kindly free Of friendly tears, and miserably wept. You have not seen young heifers (highly kept, Fill’d full of daisies at the field, and driv’n Home to their hovels, all so spritely giv’n That no room can contain them, but about Bace by the dams, and let their spirits out In ceaseless bleating) of more jocund plight Than my kind friends, ev’n crying out with sight Of my return so doubted; circled me With all their welcomes, and as cheerfully Dispos’d their rapt minds, as if there they saw Their natural country, cliffy Ithaca, And ev’n the roofs where they were bred and born, And vow’d as much, with tears; ‘O your return As much delights us as in you had come Our country to us, and our natural home. But what unhappy fate hath reft our friends?’ I gave unlook’d-for answer, that amends Made for their mourning, bad them first of all Our ship ashore draw, then in caverns stall Our foody cattle, hide our mutual prize, ῾And then,᾿ said I, ῾attend me, that your eyes, In Circe’s sacred house, may see each friend Eating and drinking banquets out of end.᾿ They soon obey’d; all but Eurylochus, Who needs would stay them all, and counsell’d thus: ῾O wretches! whither will ye? Why are you Fond of your mischiefs, and such gladness show For Circe’s house, that will transform ye all To swine, or wolves, or lions? Never shall Our heads get out, if once within we be, But stay compell’d by strong necessity. So wrought the Cyclop, when t’ his cave our friends This bold one led on, and brought all their ends By his one indiscretion.᾿ I for this Thought with my sword (that desp’rate head of his Hewn from his neck) to gash upon the ground His mangled body, though my blood was bound In near alliance to him. But the rest With humble suit contain’d me, and request, That I would leave him with my ship alone, And to the sacred palace lead them on. I led them; nor Eurylochus would stay From their attendance on me, our late fray Struck to his heart so. But mean time, my men, In Circe’s house, were all, in sev’ral bain, Studiously sweeten’d, smug’d with oil, and deck’d With in and out weeds, and a feast secret Serv’d in before them; at which close we found They all were set, cheer’d, and carousing round, When mutual sight had, and all thought on, then Feast was forgotten, and the moan again[12] About the house flew, driv’n with wings of joy. But then spake Circe: ‘Now, no more annoy, I know myself what woes by sea, and shore, And men unjust have plagued enough before Your injur’d virtues. Here then feast as long, And be as cheerful, till ye grow as strong As when ye first forsook your country-earth. Ye now fare all like exiles; not a mirth, Flash’d in amongst ye, but is quench’d again With still-renew’d tears, though the beaten vein Of your distresses should, me think, be now Benumb with suff’rance.’ We did well allow Her kind persuasions, and the whole year stay’d In varied feast with her. When, now array’d The world was with the spring, and orby hours Had gone the round again through herbs and flow’rs, The months absolv’d in order, till the days Had run their full race in Apollo’s rays; My friends remember’d me of home, and said; If ever fate would sign my pass, delay’d It should be now no more. I heard them well, Yet that day spent in feast, till darkness fell, And sleep his virtues through our vapours shed. When I ascended sacred Circe’s bed, Implor’d my pass, and her performéd vow Which now my soul urg’d, and my soldiers now Afflicted me with tears to get them gone. All these I told her, and she answer’d these: “Much-skill’d Ulysses Laertiades! Remain no more against your wills with me, But take your free way; only this must be Perform’d before you steer your course for home: You must the way to Pluto overcome, And stern Persephoné, to form your pass, By th’ aged Theban soul Tiresias, The dark-brow’d prophet, whose soul yet can see Clearly, and firmly; grave Persephoné, Ev’n dead, gave him a mind, that he alone Might sing truth’s solid wisdom, and not one Prove more than shade in his comparison.᾿ This broke my heart; I sunk into my bed, Mourn’d, and would never more be comforted With light, nor life. But having now exprest My pains enough to her in my unrest, That so I might prepare her ruth, and get All I held fit for an affair so great, I said: ‘O Circe, who shall steer my course To Pluto’s kingdom? Never ship had force To make that voyage.’ The divine-in-voice Said; ‘Seek no guide, raise you your mast, and hoise Your ship’s white sails, and then sit yon at peace, The fresh North Spirit shall waft ye through the Seas. But, having past the ocean, you shall see A little shore, that to Persephoné Puts up a consecrated wood, where grows Tall firs, and sallows that their fruits soon lose. Cast anchor in the gulfs, and go alone To Pluto’s dark house, where, to Acheron Cocytus runs, and Pyriphlegethon, Cocytus born of Styx, and where a rock Of both the met floods bears the roaring shock. The dark heroë, great Tiresias, Now coming near, to gain propitious pass, Dig of a cubit ev’ry way a pit, And pour to all that are deceas’d in it A solemn sacrifice. For which, first take Honey and wine, and their commixtion make; Then sweet wine neat; and thirdly water pour; And lastly add to these the whitest flour. Then vow to all the weak necks of the dead Off’rings a number; and, when thou shalt tread The Ithacensian shore, to sacrifice A heifer never-tam’d, and most of prize, A pile of all thy most esteeméd goods Enflaming to the dear streams of their bloods; And, in secret rites, to Tiresias vow A ram coal-black at all parts, that doth flow With fat and fleece, and all thy flocks doth lead. When the all-calling nation of the dead[13] Thou thus hast pray’d to, offer on the place A ram and ewe all black being turn’d in face To dreadful Erebus, thyself aside The flood’s shore walking. And then, gratified With flocks of souls of men and dames deceas’d Shall all thy pious rites be. Straight address’d See then the off’ring that thy fellows slew, Flay’d, and impos’d in fire; and all thy crew Pray to the state of either Deity, Grave Pluto, and severe Persephoné. Then draw thy sword, stand firm, nor suffer one Of all the faint shades of the dead and gone T’ approach the blood, till thou hast heard their king, The wise Tiresias; who thy offering Will instantly do honour, thy home-ways, And all the measure of them by the seas, Amply unfolding.’ This the Goddess told; And then the Morning in her throne of gold Survey’d the vast world; by whose orient light The Nymph adorn’d me with attires as bright, Her own hands putting on both shirt and weed, Robes fine, and curious, and upon my head An ornament that glitter’d like a flame, Girt me in gold; and forth betimes I came Amongst my soldiers, rous’d them all from sleep, And bad them now no more observance keep Of ease, and feast, but straight a-shipboard fall, For now the Goddess had inform’d me all. Their noble spirits agreed; nor yet so clear Could I bring all off, but Elpenor there His heedless life left. He was youngest man Of all my company, and one that wan Least fame for arms, as little for his brain; Who (too much steep’d in wine, and so made fain To get refreshing by the cool of sleep, Apart his fellows, plung’d in vapours deep, And they as high in tumult of their way) Suddenly wak’d and (quite out of the stay A sober mind had giv’n him) would descend A huge long ladder, forward, and an end Fell from the very roof, full pitching on The dearest joint his head was plac’d upon, Which, quite dissolv’d, let loose his soul to hell. I to the rest, and Circe’s means did tell Of our return, as crossing clean the hope I gave them first, and said: ‘You think the scope Of our endeavours now is straight for home; No; Circe otherwise design’d, whose doom Enjoin’d us first to greet the dreadful house Of austere Pluto and his glorious spouse, To take the counsel of Tiresias, The rev’rend Theban, to direct our pass.’ This brake their hearts, and grief made tear their hair. But grief was never good at great affair; It would have way yet. We went woful on To ship and shore, where was arriv’d as soon Circe unseen, a black ewe and a ram Binding for sacrifice, and, as she came, Vanish’d again unwitness’d by our eyes; Which griev’d not us, nor check’d our sacrifice, For who would see God, loth to let us see, This way or that bent; still his ways are free.

FINIS DECIMI LIBRI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] Πόδα νηὸς—He calls the stern the foot of the ship.Return to passage

[2] This place suffers different construction in all the Commentors: in which all err from the mind of the Poet, as in a hundred other places (which yet I want time to approve) especially about ἐγγὺς γὰρ νυκτός, etc. Prope enim noetis et diei sunt viœ (or similiter, which ἐγγὺς signifies) which they will have to be understood, that the days in that region are long, and the nights short; where Homer intends, that the equinoctial is there; for how else is the course of day and night near or equal? But therefore the night’s-man hath his double hire, being as long about his charge as the other; and the night being more dangerous, etc. And if the day were so long, why should the night’s-man be preferred in wages?Return to passage

[3] For being cast on the stays, as ships are by weather.Return to passage

[4] Antiphas was king there.Return to passage

[5] Μερμαίρω, curiosè cogito.Return to passage

[6] Αἴθοπα καπνόν. Αι͒θοψ signifying rutilus, by reason or the fire mixed with it. Fumus qui fit dut aliquid accenditur.Return to passage

[7] ᾿Ερικύδεα δαι̑τα.Return to passage

[8] The whole end of this counsel was to persuade his soldiers to explore those parts, which he knew would prove a most unpleasing motion to them: for their fellows’ terrible entertainment with Antiphas, and Polyph. and therefore he prepares the little he hath to say with this long circumstance; implying a necessity of that service, and necessary resolution to add the trial of the event to their other adventures.Return to passage

[9] Κεδνὸς, cujus animus curas prudentes versat.Return to passage

[10] Seeing them, he thought of his fellows.Return to passage

[11] The herb Moly, which, with Ulysses’ whole narration, hath in chief an allegorical exposition. Notwithstanding I say with our Spondanus, Credo in hoc vasto mundi ambitu extare res innumeras mirandæ facultatis: adeo, ut ne quidem ista quæ ad transformanda corpora pertinet, jure è mundo eximi possit, etc.Return to passage

[12] Φράσσαντό τε πάντα. Commemorabantque omnia. Intending all their miseries, escapes, and meetings.Return to passage

[13] Κλυτὰ ἕθνεα νεκρω̑ν. Which is expounded Inclyta examina mortuorum: but κλυτὸς is the epithet of Pluto; and by analogy belongs to the dead, quod ad se omnes advocat.Return to passage

The Eleventh Book: OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Ulysees’ way to Hell appears; Where he the grave Tiresias hears; Enquires his own and others’ fates; His mother sees, and th’ after states In which were held by sad decease Heroës, and Heroesses, A number, that at Troy wag’d war; As Ajax that was still at jar With Ithacus, for th’ arms he lost; And with the great Achilles’ ghost.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

Λάνβδα. Ulysses here Invokes the dead, The lives appear Hereafter led.

“Arriv’d now at our ship, we launch’d, and set Our mast up, put forth sail, and in did get Our late-got cattle. Up our sails, we went, My wayward fellows mourning now th’ event.[1] A good companion yet, a foreright wind, Circe (the excellent utt’rer of her mind) Supplied our murmuring consorts with, that was Both speed and guide to our adventurous pass. All day our sails stood to the winds, and made Our voyage prosp’rous. Sun then set, and shade All ways obscuring, on the bounds we fell Of deep Oceanus, where people dwell Whom a perpetual cloud obscures outright, To whom the cheerful sun lends never light, Nor when he mounts the star-sustaining heaven, Nor when he stoops earth, and sets up the even, But night holds fix’d wings, feather’d all with banes, Above those most unblest Cimmerians. Here drew we up our ship, our sheep withdrew, And walk’d the shore till we attain’d the view, Of that sad region Circe had foreshow’d; And then the sacred off’rings to be vow’d Eurylochus and Persimedes bore. When I my sword drew, and earth’s womb did gore Till I a pit digg’d of a cubit round, Which with the liquid sacrifice we crown’d, First honey mix’d with wine, then sweet wine neat, Then water pour’d in, last the flour of wheat. Much I importun’d then the weak-neck’d dead, And vow’d, when I the barren soil should tread Of clifty Ithaca, amidst my hall To kill a heifer, my clear best of all, And give in off’ring, on a pile compos’d Of all the choice goods my whole house enclos’d. And to Tiresias himself, alone, A sheep coal-black, and the selectest one Of all my flocks. When to the Pow’rs beneath, The sacred nation that survive with death, My pray’rs and vows had done devotions fit, I took the off’rings, and upon the pit Bereft their lives. Out gush’d the sable blood, And round about me fled out of the flood The souls of the deceas’d. There cluster’d then Youths, and their wives, much-suff’ring aged men, Soft tender virgins that but new came there By timeless death, and green their sorrows were. There men-at-arms, with armours all embrew’d, Wounded with lances, and with faulchions hew’d, In numbers, up and down the ditch, did stalk, And threw unmeasur’d cries about their walk, So horrid that a bloodless fear surpris’d My daunted spirits. Straight then I advis’d My friends to flay the slaughter’d sacrifice, Put them in fire, and to the Deities, Stern Pluto and Persephoné, apply Exciteful pray’rs. Then drew I from my thigh My well-edg’d sword, stept in, and firmly stood Betwixt the prease of shadows and the blood, And would not suffer anyone to dip Within our off’ring his unsolid lip, Before Tiresias that did all controul. The first that press’d in was Elpenor’s soul, His body in the broad-way’d earth as yet Unmourn’d, unburied by us, since we swet With other urgent labours. Yet his smart I wept to see, and rued it from my heart, Enquiring how he could before me be That came by ship? He, mourning, answer’d me: ‘In Circe’s house, the spite some spirit did bear, And the unspeakable good liquor there, Hath been my bane; for, being to descend A ladder much in height, I did not tend My way well down, but forwards made a proof To tread the rounds, and from the very roof Fell on my neck, and brake it; and this made My soul thus visit this infernal shade. And here, by them that next thyself are dear, Thy wife, and father, that a little one Gave food to thee, and by thy only son At home behind thee left, Telemachus, Do not depart by stealth, and leave me thus, Unmourn’d, unburied, lest neglected I Bring on thyself th’ incenséd Deity. I know that, sail’d from hence, thy ship must touch On th’ isle Ææa; where vouchsafe thus much, Good king, that, landed, thou wilt instantly Bestow on me thy royal memory To this grace, that my body, arms and all, May rest consum’d in fiery funeral; And on the foamy shore a sepulchre Erect to me, that after-times may hear Of one so hapless. Let me these implore And fix upon my sepulchre the oar[2] With which alive I shook the aged seas, And had of friends the dear societies.’ I told the wretched soul I would fulfill And execute to th’ utmost point his will; And, all the time we sadly talk’d, I still My sword above the blood held, when aside The idol of my friend still amplified His plaint, as up and down the shades he err’d. Then my deceaséd mother’s soul appear’d, Fair daughter of Autolycus the great, Grave Anticlea, whom, when forth I set For sacred Ilion, I had left alive. Her sight much mov’d me, and to tears did drive My note of her decease; and yet not she (Though in my ruth she held the high’st degree) Would I admit to touch the sacred blood, Till from Tiresias I had understood What Circe told me. At the length did land Theban Tiresias’ soul, and in his hand Sustain’d a golden sceptre, knew me well, And said: ‘O man unhappy, why to hell Admitt’st thou dark arrival, and the light The sun gives leav’st, to have the horrid sight Of this black region, and the shadows here? Now sheathe thy sharp sword, and the pit forbear, That I the blood may taste, and then relate The truth of those acts that affect thy fate.’ I sheath’d my sword, and left the pit, till he, The black blood tasting, thus instructed me: ‘Renown’d Ulysses! All unask’d I know That all the cause of thy arrival now Is to enquire thy wish’d retreat for home; Which hardly God will let thee overcome, Since Neptune still will his opposure try, With all his laid-up anger, for the eye His lov’d son lost to thee. And yet through all Thy suff’ring course (which must be capital) If both thine own affections, and thy friends, Thou wilt contain, when thy access ascends The three-fork’d island, having ‘scap’d the seas, Where ye shall find fed on the flow’ry leas Fat flocks, and oxen, which the Sun doth own, To whom are all things as well heard as shown, And never dare one head of those to slay, But hold unharmful on your wishéd way, Though through enough affliction, yet secure Your Fates shall land ye; but presage says sure, If once ye spoil them, spoil to all thy friends, Spoil to thy fleet, and if the justice ends Short of thyself, it shall be long before, And that length forc’d out with inflictions store, When, losing all thy fellows, in a sail Of foreign built (when most thy Fates prevail In thy deliv’rance) thus th’ event shall sort: Thou shalt find shipwrack raging in thy port, Proud men thy goods consuming, and thy wife Urging with gifts, give charge upon thy life. But all these wrongs revenge shall end to thee, And force, or cunning, set with slaughter free The house of all thy spoilers. Yet again Thou shalt a voyage make, and come to men That know no sea, nor ships, nor oars that are Wings to a ship, nor mix with any fare[3] Salt’s savoury vapour. Where thou first shalt land, This clear-giv’n sign shall let thee understand, That there those men remain: Assume ashore Up to thy royal shoulder a ship oar, With which, when thou shalt meet one on the way That will in country admiration say What dost thou with that wan upon thy neck? There fix that wan thy oar, and that shore deck With sacred rites to Neptune; slaughter there A ram, a bull, and (who for strength doth bear The name of husband to a herd) a boar. And, coming home, upon thy natural shore, Give pious hecatombs to all the Gods, Degrees observ’d. And then the periods Of all thy labours in the peace shall end Of easy death; which shall the less extend His passion to thee, that thy foe, the Sea, Shall not enforce it, but Death’s victory Shall chance in only-earnest-pray-vow’d age,[4] Obtain’d at home, quite emptied of his rage, Thy subjects round about thee, rich and blest. And here hath Truth summ’d up thy vital rest.’ I answer’d him: ‘We will suppose all these Decreed in Deity; let it likewise please Tiresias to resolve me, why so near The blood and me my mother’s soul doth bear, And yet nor word, nor look, vouchsafe her son? Doth she not know me?’ ‘No,’ said he, ‘nor none Of all these spirits, but myself alone, Knows anything till he shall taste the blood. But whomsoever you shall do that good, He will the truth of all you wish unfold; Who you envy it to will all withhold.’ Thus said the kingly soul, and made retreat Amidst the inner parts of Pluto’s seat, When he had spoke thus by divine instinct. Still I stood firm, till to the blood’s precinct My mother came, and drunk; and then she knew I was her son, had passion to renew Her natural plaints, which thus she did pursue: ‘How is it, O my son, that you alive This deadly-darksome region underdive? ’Twixt which, and earth, so many mighty seas, And horrid currents, interpose their prease, Oceanus in chief? Which none (unless More help’d than you) on foot now can transgress. A well-built ship he needs that ventures there. Com’st thou from Troy but now, enforc’d to err All this time with thy soldiers? Nor hast seen, Ere this long day, thy country, and thy queen?’ I answer’d: ‘That a necessary end To this infernal state made me contend; That from the wise Tiresias’ Theban soul I might an oracle involv’d unroll; For I came nothing near Achaia yet, Nor on our lov’d earth happy foot had set, But, mishaps suff’ring, err’d from coast to coast, Ever since first the mighty Grecian host Divine Atrides led to Ilion, And I his follower, to set war upon The rapeful Trojans; and so pray’d she would The fate of that ungentle death unfold, That forc’d her thither; if some long disease, Or that the spleen of her-that-arrows-please, Diana, envious of most eminent dames, Had made her th’ object of her deadly aims? My father’s state and sons I sought, if they Kept still my goods? Or they became the prey Of any other, holding me no more In pow’r of safe return? Or if my store My wife had kept together with her son? If she her first mind held, or had been won By some chief Grecian from my love and bed?’ All this she answer’d: ‘That affliction fed On her blood still at home, and that to grief She all the days and darkness of her life In tears had consecrate. That none possest My famous kingdom’s throne, but th’ interest My son had in it still he held in peace, A court kept like a prince, and his increase Spent in his subjects’ good, administ’ring laws With justice, and the general applause A king should merit, and all call’d him king. My father kept the upland, labouring, And shunn’d the city, us’d no sumptuous beds, Wonder’d-at furnitures, nor wealthy weeds, But in the winter strew’d about the fire Lay with his slaves in ashes, his attire Like to a beggar’s; when the summer came, And autumn all fruits ripen’d with his flame, Where grape-charg’d vines made shadows most abound, His couch with fall’n leaves made upon the ground, And here lay he, his sorrow’s fruitful state Increasing as he faded for my fate; And now the part of age that irksome is Lay sadly on him. And that life of his She led, and perish’d in; not slaughter’d by The Dame that darts lov’d, and her archery; Nor by disease invaded, vast and foul, That wastes the body, and sends out the soul With shame and horror; only in her moan, For me and my life, she consum’d her own.’ She thus, when I had great desire to prove My arms the circle where her soul did move. Thrice prov’d I, thrice she vanish’d like a sleep, Or fleeting shadow, which struck much more deep The wounds my woes made, and made ask her why She would my love to her embraces fly, And not vouchsafe that ev’n in hell we might Pay pious Nature her unalter’d right, And give Vexation here her cruel fill? Should not the Queen here, to augment the ill Of ev’ry suff’rance, which her office is, Enforce thy idol to afford me this? ‘O son,’ she answer’d, ‘of the race of men The most unhappy, our most equal Queen Will mock no solid arms with empty shade, Nor suffer empty shades again t’ invade Flesh, bones, and nerves; nor will defraud the fire Of his last dues, that, soon as spirits expire And leave the white bone, are his native right, When, like a dream, the soul assumes her flight. The light then of the living with most haste, O son, contend to. This thy little taste Of this state is enough; and all this life Will make a tale fit to be told thy wife.’ This speech we had; when now repair’d to me More female spirits, by Persephoné Driv’n on before her. All th’ heroës’ wives, And daughters, that led there their second lives, About the black blood throng’d. Of whom yet more My mind impell’d me to inquire, before I let them all together taste the gore, For then would all have been dispers’d, and gone Thick as they came. I, therefore, one by one Let taste the pit, my sword drawn from my thigh, And stand betwixt them made, when, sev’rally, All told their stocks. The first, that quench’d her fire, Was Tyro, issued of a noble sire. She said she sprung from pure Salmoneus’ bed, And Cretheus, son of Æolus, did wed; Yet the divine flood Enipëus lov’d, Who much the most fair stream of all floods mov’d. Near whose streams Tyro walking, Neptune came, Like Enipëus, and enjoy’d the dame. Like to a hill, the blue and snaky flood Above th’ immortal and the mortal stood, And hid them both, as both together lay, Just where his current falls into the sea. Her virgin waist dissolv’d, she slumber’d then; But when the God had done the work of men, Her fair hand gently wringing, thus he said: ‘Woman! rejoice in our combinéd bed, For when the year hath run his circle round (Because the Gods’ loves must in fruit abound) My love shall make, to cheer thy teeming moans, Thy one dear burden bear two famous sons; Love well, and bring them up. Go home, and see That, though of more joy yet I shall be free, Thou dost not tell, to glorify thy birth; Thy love is Neptune, shaker of the earth.’ This said, he plung’d into the sea; and she, Begot with child by him, the light let see Great Pelias, and Neleus, that became In Jove’s great ministry of mighty fame. Pelias in broad Iolcus held his throne, Wealthy in cattle; th’ other royal son Rul’d sandy Pylos. To these issue more This queen of women to her husband bore, Æson, and Pheres, and Amythaon That for his fight on horseback stoop’d to none. Next her, I saw admir’d Antiope, Asopus’ daughter, who (as much as she Boasted attraction of great Neptune’s love) Boasted to slumber in the arms of Jove, And two sons likewise at one burden bore To that her all-controlling paramour, Amphion, and fair Zethus; that first laid Great Thebes’ foundations, and strong walls convey’d About her turrets, that seven ports enclos’d, For though the Thebans much in strength repos’d, Yet had not they the strength to hold their own, Without the added aids of wood and stone. Alcmena next I saw, that famous wife Was to Amphitryo, and honour’d life Gave to the lion-hearted Hercules, That was of Jove’s embrace the great increase. I saw, besides, proud Creon’s daughter there, Bright Megara, that nuptial yoke did wear With Jove’s great son, who never field did try But bore to him the flow’r of victory. The mother then of Œdipus I saw, Fair Epicasta, that, beyond all law, Her own son married, ignorant of kind. And he, as darkly taken in his mind, His mother wedded, and his father slew. Whose blind act Heav’n expos’d at length to view, And he in all-lov’d Thebes the supreme state With much moan manag’d, for the heavy fate The Gods laid on him. She made violent flight To Pluto’s dark house from the loathéd light, Beneath a steep beam strangled with a cord, And left her son, in life, pains as abhorr’d As all the Furies pour’d on her in hell. Then saw I Chloris, that did so excell In answering beauties, that each part had all. Great Neleus married her, when gifts not small Had won her favour, term’d by name of dow’r. She was of all Amphion’s seed the flow’r; Amphion, call’d Iasides, that then Rul’d strongly Myniæan Orchomen, And now his daughter rul’d the Pylian throne, Because her beauty’s empire overshone. She brought her wife-awed husband, Neleús, Nestor much honour’d, Periclymenus, And Chromius, sons with sov’reign virtues grac’d; But after brought a daughter that surpass’d, Rare-beautied Pero, so for form exact That Nature to a miracle was rack’d In her perfections, blaz’d with th’ eyes of men; That made of all the country’s hearts a chain, And drew them suitors to her. Which her sire Took vantage of, and, since he did aspire To nothing more than to the broad-brow’d herd Of oxen, which the common fame so rear’d, Own’d by Iphiclus, not a man should be His Pero’s husband, that from Phylace Those never-yet-driv’n oxen could not drive. Yet these a strong hope held him to achieve, Because a prophet, that had never err’d, Had said, that only he should be preferr’d To their possession. But the equal fate Of God withstood his stealth; inextricate Imprisoning bands, and sturdy churlish swains That were the herdsmen, who withheld with chains The stealth-attempter; which was only he That durst abet the act with prophecy, None else would undertake it, and he must; The king would needs a prophet should be just. But when some days and months expired were, And all the hours had brought about the year, The prophet did so satisfy the king (Iphiclus, all his cunning questioning) That he enfranchis’d him; and, all worst done, Jove’s counsel made th’ all-safe conclusión. Then saw I Leda, link’d in nuptial chain With Tyndarus, to whom she did sustain Sons much renown’d for wisdom; Castor one, That pass’d for use of horse comparison; And Pollux, that excell’d in whirlbat fight; Both these the fruitful earth bore, while the light Of life inspir’d them; after which, they found Such grace with Jove, that both liv’d under ground, By change of days; life still did one sustain, While th’ other died; the dead then liv’d again, The living dying; both of one self date Their lives and deaths made by the Gods and Fate. Iphimedia after Leda came, That did derive from Neptune too the name Of father to two admirable sons. Life yet made short their admiratións, Who God-opposéd Otus had to name, And Ephialtes far in sound of fame. The prodigal earth so fed them, that they grew To most huge stature, and had fairest hue Of all men, but Orion, under heav’n. At nine years old nine cubits they were driv’n Abroad in breadth, and sprung nine fathoms high. They threaten’d to give battle to the sky, And all th’ Immortals. They were setting on Ossa upon Olympus, and upon Steep Ossa leavy Pelius, that ev’n They might a highway make with lofty heav’n; And had perhaps perform’d it, had they liv’d Till they were striplings; but Jove’s son depriv’d Their limbs of life, before th’ age that begins The flow’r of youth, and should adorn their chins. Phædra and Procris, with wise Minos’ flame, Bright Ariadne, to the off’ring came. Whom whilome Theseus made his prise from Crete, That Athens’ sacred soil might kiss her feet, But never could obtain her virgin flow’r, Till, in the sea-girt Dia, Dian’s pow’r Detain’d his homeward haste, where (in her fane, By Bacchus witness’d) was the fatal wane Of her prime glory, Mæra, Clymene, I witness’d there; and loath’d Eriphyle, That honour’d gold more than she lov’d her spouse.[5] But, all th’ heroesses in Pluto’s house That then encounter’d me, exceeds my might To name or number, and ambrosian night Would quite be spent, when now the formal hours Present to sleep our all disposéd pow’rs, If at my ship, or here. My home-made vow I leave for fit grace to the Gods and you.” This said; the silence his discourse had made With pleasure held still through the house’s shade, When white-arm’d Areté this speech began: “Phæacians! How appears to you this man, So goodly person’d, and so match’d with mind? My guest he is, but all you stand combin’d In the renown he doth us. Do not then With careless haste dismiss him, nor the main Of his dispatch to one so needy maim, The Gods’ free bounty gives us all just claim To goods enow.” This speech, the oldest man Of any other Phæacensian, The grave heroë, Echinëus, gave All approbation, saying: “Friends! ye have The motion of the wise queen in such words As have not miss’d the mark, with which accords My clear opinion. But Alcinous, In word and work, must be our rule.” He thus; And then Alcinous said: “This then must stand, If while I live I rule in the command Of this well-skill’d-in-navigation state: Endure then, guest, though most importunate Be your affects for home. A little stay If your expectance bear, perhaps it may Our gifts make more complete. The cares of all Your due deduction asks; but principal I am therein the ruler.” He replied: “Alcinous, the most duly glorified With rule of all of all men, if you lay Commandment on me of a whole year’s stay, So all the while your preparations rise, As well in gifts as time,[6] ye can devise No better wish for me; for I shall come Much fuller-handed, and more honoured, home, And dearer to my people, in whose loves The richer evermore the better proves.” He answer’d: “There is argued in your sight A worth that works not men for benefit, Like prollers or impostors; of which crew, The gentle black earth feeds not up a few, Here and there wand’rers, blanching tales and lies, Of neither praise, nor use. You move our eyes With form, our minds with matter, and our ears With elegant oration, such as bears A music in the order’d history It lays before us. Not Demodocus With sweeter strains hath us’d to sing to us All the Greek sorrows, wept out in your own. But say: Of all your worthy friends, were none Objected to your eyes that consorts were To Ilion with you, and serv’d destiny there? This night is passing long, unmeasur’d, none Of all my household would to bed yet; on, Relate these wondrous things. Were I with you, If you would tell me but your woes, as now, Till the divine Aurora show’d her head, I should in no night relish thought of bed.” “Most eminent king,” said he, “times all must keep, There’s time to speak much, time as much to sleep. But would you hear still, I will tell you still, And utter more, more miserable ill Of friends than yet, that scap’d the dismal wars, And perish’d homewards, and in household jars Wag’d by a wicked woman. The chaste Queen No sooner made these lady ghosts unseen, Here and there flitting, but mine eyesight won The soul of Agamemnon, Atreus’ son, Sad, and about him all his train of friends, That in Ægisthus’ house endur’d their ends With his stern fortune. Having drunk the blood, He knew me instantly, and forth a flood Of springing tears gush’d; out he thrust his hands, With will t’ embrace me, but their old commands Flow’d not about him, nor their weakest part. I wept to see, and moan’d him from my heart, And ask’d: ‘O Agamemnon! King of men! What sort of cruel death hath render’d slain Thy royal person? Neptune in thy fleet Heav’n and his hellish billows making meet, Rousing the winds? Or have thy men by land Done thee this ill, for using thy command, Past their consents, in diminution Of those full shares their worths by lot had won Of sheep or oxen? Or of any town, In covetous strife, to make their rights thine own In men or women prisoners?’ He replied: ‘By none of these in any right I died, But by Ægisthus and my murd’rous wife (Bid to a banquet at his house) my life Hath thus been reft me, to my slaughter led Like to an ox pretended to be fed. So miserably fell I, and with me My friends lay massacred, as when you see At any rich man’s nuptials, shot, or feast, About his kitchen white-tooth’d swine lie drest. The slaughters of a world of men thine eyes, Both private, and in prease of enemies, Have personally witness’d; but this one Would all thy parts have broken into moan, To see how strew’d about our cups and cates, As tables set with feast, so we with fates, All gash’d and slain lay, all the floor embrued With blood and brain. But that which most I rued, Flew from the heavy voice that Priam’s seed, Cassandra, breath’d, whom, she that wit doth feed With baneful crafts, false Clytemnestra, slew, Close sitting by me; up my hands I threw From earth to heav’n, and tumbling on my sword Gave wretched life up; when the most abhorr’d, By all her sex’s shame, forsook the room, Nor deign’d, though then so near this heavy home, To shut my lips, or close my broken eyes. Nothing so heap’d is with impieties, As such a woman that would kill her spouse That married her a maid. When to my house I brought her, hoping of her love in heart, To children, maids, and slaves. But she (in th’ art Of only mischief hearty) not alone Cast on herself this foul aspersión, But loving dames, hereafter, to their lords Will bear, for good deeds, her bad thoughts and words.’ ‘Alas,’ said I, ‘that Jove should hate the lives Of Atreus’ seed so highly for their wives! For Menelaus’ wife a number fell, For dang’rous absence thine sent thee to hell.’ ‘For this,’ he answer’d, ‘be not thou more kind Than wise to thy wife. Never all thy mind Let words express to her. Of all she knows, Curbs for the worst still, in thyself repose. But thou by thy wife’s wiles shalt lose no blood, Exceeding wise she is, and wise in good. Icarius’ daughter, chaste Penelope, We left a young bride, when for battle we Forsook the nuptial peace, and at her breast Her first child sucking, who, by this hour, blest, Sits in the number of surviving men. And his bliss she hath, that she can contain, And her bliss thou hast, that she is so wise. For, by her wisdom, thy returnéd eyes Shall see thy son, and he shall greet his sire With fitting welcomes; when in my retire, My wife denies mine eyes my son’s dear sight, And, as from me, will take from him the light, Before she adds one just delight to life, Or her false wit one truth that fits a wife. For her sake therefore let my harms advise, That though thy wife be ne’er so chaste and wise, Yet come not home to her in open view,[7] With any ship or any personal show, But take close shore disguis’d, nor let her know, For ’tis no world to trust a woman now. But what says Fame? Doth my son yet survive, In Orchomen, or Pylos? Or doth live In Sparta with his uncle? Yet I see Divine Orestes is not here with me.’ I answer’d, asking: ‘Why doth Atreus’ son Enquire of me, who yet arriv’d where none Could give to these news any certain wings? And ’tis absurd to tell uncertain things.’ Such sad speech past us; and as thus we stood, With kind tears rend’ring unkind fortunes good, Achilles’ and Patroclus’ soul appear’d, And his soul, of whom never ill was heard, The good Antilochus, and the soul of him That all the Greeks past both for force and limb, Excepting the unmatch’d Æacides, Illustrious Ajax. But the first of these That saw, acknowledg’d, and saluted me, Was Thetis’ conqu’ring son, who (heavily His state here taking) said: ‘Unworthy breath! What act yet mightier imagineth Thy vent’rous spirit? How dost thou descend These under-regions, where the dead man’s end Is to be look’d on, and his foolish shade?’ I answer’d him: ‘I was induc’d t’ invade These under-parts, most excellent of Greece, To visit wise Tiresias, for advice Of virtue to direct my voyage home To rugged Ithaca; since I could come To note in no place, where Achaia stood, And so liv’d ever, tortur’d with the blood In man’s vain veins. Thou, therefore, Thetis’ son, Hast equall’d all, that ever yet have won The bliss the earth yields, or hereafter shall. In life thy eminence was ador’d of all, Ev’n with the Gods; and now, ev’n dead, I see Thy virtues propagate thy empery To a renew’d life of command beneath; So great Achilles triumphs over death.’ This comfort of him this encounter found; ‘Urge not my death to me, nor rub that wound, I rather wish to live in earth a swain, Or serve a swain for hire, that scarce can gain Bread to sustain him, than, that life once gone, Of all the dead sway the imperial throne. But say, and of my son some comfort yield, If he goes on in first fights of the field, Or lurks for safety in the obscure rear? Or of my father if thy royal ear Hath been advertis’d, that the Phthian throne He still commands, as greatest Myrmidon? Or that the Phthian and Thessalian rage (Now feet and hands are in the hold of age) Despise his empire? Under those bright rays, In which heav’n’s fervour hurls about the days. Must I no more shine his revenger now, Such as of old the Ilion overthrow Witness’d my anger, th’ universal host Sending before me to this shady coast, In fight for Grecia. Could I now resort, (But for some small time) to my father’s court, In spirit and pow’r as then, those men should find My hands inaccessible, and of fire my mind, That durst with all the numbers they are strong Unseat his honour, and suborn his wrong.’ This pitch still flew his spirit, though so low, And this I answer’d thus: ‘I do not know Of blameless Peleus any least report, But of your son, in all the utmost sort, I can inform your care with truth, and thus: From Scyros princely Neoptolemus By fleet I convey’d to the Greeks, where he Was chief, at both parts, when our gravity Retir’d to council, and our youth to fight. In council still so fiery was Conceit In his quick apprehension of a cause, That first he ever spake, nor pass’d the laws Of any great stay, in his greatest haste. None would contend with him, that counsell’d last, Unless illustrious Nestor, he and I Would sometimes put a friendly contrary On his opinion. In our fights, the prease Of great or common, he would never cease, But far before fight ever. No man there, For force, he forcéd. He was slaughterer Of many a brave man in most dreadful fight. But one and other whom he reft of light, In Grecian succour, I can neither name, Nor give in number. The particular fame Of one man’s slaughter yet I must not pass; Eurypylus Telephides he was, That fell beneath him, and with him the falls Of such huge men went, that they show’d like whales[8] Rampir’d about him. Neoptolemus Set him so sharply, for the sumptuous Favours of mistresses he saw him wear; For past all doubt his beauties had no peer Of all that mine eyes noted, next to one, And that was Memnon, Tithon’s Sun-like son. Thus far, for fight in public, may a taste Give of his eminence. How far surpast His spirit in private, where he was not seen, Nor glory could be said to praise his spleen, This close note I excerpted. When we sat Hid in Epëus’ horse, no optimate Of all the Greeks there had the charge to ope And shut the stratagem but I.[9] My scope To note then each man’s spirit in a strait Of so much danger, much the better might Be hit by me, than others, as, provok’d, I shifted place still, when, in some I smok’d Both privy tremblings, and close vent of tears, In him yet not a soft conceit of theirs Could all my search see, either his wet eyes Ply’d still with wipings, or the goodly guise, His person all ways put forth, in least part, By any tremblings, show’d his touch’d-at heart. But ever he was urging me to make Way to their sally, by his sign to shake His sword hid in his scabbard, or his lance Loaded with iron, at me. No good chance His thoughts to Troy intended. In th’ event, High Troy depopulate, he made ascent To his fair ship, with prise and treasure store, Safe, and no touch away with him he bore Of far-off-hurl’d lance, or of close-fought sword, Whose wounds for favours war doth oft afford, Which he (though sought) miss’d in war’s closest wage. In close fights Mars doth never fight, but rage.’ This made the soul of swift Achilles tread A march of glory through the herby mead, For joy to hear me so renown his son; And vanish’d stalking. But with passión Stood th’ other souls struck, and each told his bane. Only the spirit Telamonian[10] Kept far off, angry for the victory I won from him at fleet; though arbitry Of all a court of war pronounc’d it mine, And Pallas’ self. Our prise were th’ arms divine Of great Æacides, proposd t’ our fames By his bright Mother, at his funeral games. I wish to heav’n I ought not to have won; Since for those arms so high a head so soon The base earth cover’d, Ajax, that of all The host of Greece had person capital, And acts as eminent, excepting his Whose arms those were, in whom was nought amiss. I tried the great soul with soft words, and said: ‘Ajax! Great son of Telamon, array’d In all our glories! What! not dead resign Thy wrath for those curst arms? The Pow’rs divine In them forg’d all our banes, in thine own one, In thy grave fall our tower was overthrown. We mourn, for ever maim’d, for thee as much As for Achilles; nor thy wrong doth touch, In sentence, any but Saturnius’ doom; In whose hate was the host of Greece become A very horror; who express’d it well In signing thy fate with this timeless hell. Approach then, king of all the Grecian merit, Repress thy great mind and thy flamy spirit, And give the words I give thee worthy ear.’ All this no word drew from him, but less near The stern soul kept; to other souls he fled, And glid along the river of the dead. Though anger mov’d him, yet he might have spoke, Since I to him. But my desires were strook With sight of other souls. And then I saw Minos, that minister’d to Death a law, And Jove’s bright son was. He was set, and sway’d A golden sceptre; and to him did plead A sort of others, set about his throne, In Pluto’s wide-door’d house; when straight came on Mighty Orion, who was hunting there The herds of those beasts he had slaughter’d here In desert hills on earth. A club he bore, Entirely steel, whose virtues never wore. Tityus I saw, to whom the glorious earth Open’d her womb, and gave unhappy birth. Upwards, and flat upon the pavement, lay His ample limbs, that spread in their display Nine acres’ compass. On his bosom sat Two vultures, digging, through his caul of fat, Into his liver with their crookéd beaks; And each by turns the concrete entrail breaks (As smiths their steel beat) set on either side. Nor doth he ever labour to divide His liver and their beaks, nor with his hand Offer them off, but suffers by command Of th’ angry Thund’rer, off’ring to enforce His love Latona, in the close recourse She us’d to Pytho through the dancing land, Smooth Panopëus. I saw likewise stand, Up to the chin, amidst a liquid lake, Tormented Tantalus, yet could not slake His burning thirst. Oft as his scornful cup Th’ old man would taste, so oft ’twas swallow’d up, And all the black earth to his feet descried, Divine pow’r (plaguing him) the lake still dried. About his head, on high trees, clust’ring, hung Pears, apples, granates, olives ever-young, Delicious figs, and many fruit-trees more Of other burden; whose alluring store When th’ old soul striv’d to pluck, the winds from sight, In gloomy vapours, made them vanish quite. There saw I Sisyphus in infinite moan, With both hands heaving up a massy stone, And on his tip-toes racking all his height, To wrest up to a mountain-top his freight; When prest to rest it there, his nerves quite spent, Down rush’d the deadly quarry, the event Of all his torture new to raise again; To which straight set his never-rested pain. The sweat came gushing out from ev’ry pore And on his head a standing mist he wore, Reeking from thence, as if a cloud of dust Were rais’d about it. Down with these was thrust The idol of the force of Hercules, But his firm self did no such fate oppress, He feasting lives amongst th’ Immortal States, White-ankled Hebe and himself made mates In heav’nly nuptials. Hebe, Jove’s dear race, And Juno’s whom the golden sandals grace. About him flew the clamours of the dead Like fowls, and still stoop’d cuffing at his head. He with his bow, like Night, stalk’d up and down, His shaft still nock’d, and hurling round his frown At those vex’d hov’rers, aiming at them still, And still, as shooting out, desire to still. A horrid bawdrick wore he thwart his breast, The thong all-gold, in which were forms imprest, Where art and miracle drew equal breaths, In bears, boars, lions, battles, combats, deaths, Who wrought that work did never such before, Nor so divinely will do ever more. Soon as he saw, he knew me, and gave speech: ‘Son of Laertes, high in wisdom’s reach, And yet unhappy wretch, for in this heart, Of all exploits achiev’d by thy desert, Thy worth but works out some sinister fate, As I in earth did. I was generate By Jove himself, and yet past mean opprest By one my far inferior, whose proud hest Impos’d abhorréd labours on my hand. Of all which one was, to descend this strand, And hale the dog from thence. He could not think An act that danger could make deeper sink. And yet this depth I drew, and fetch’d as high, As this was low, the dog. The Deity Of sleight and wisdom, as of downright pow’r, Both stoop’d, and rais’d, and made me conqueror.’ This said, he made descent again as low As Pluto’s court; when I stood firm, for show Of more heroës of the times before, And might perhaps have seen my wish of more, (As Theseus and Pirithous, deriv’d From roots of Deity) but before th’ achiev’d Rare sight of these, the rank-soul’d multitude In infinite flocks rose, venting sounds so rude, That pale Fear took me, lest the Gorgon’s head Rush’d in amongst them, thrust up, in my dread, By grim Persephoné. I therefore sent My men before to ship, and after went. Where, boarded, set, and launch’d, the ocean wave Our oars and forewinds speedy passage gave.

FINIS LIBRI UNDECIMI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] They mourned the event before they knew it.Return to passage

[2] Misenus apud Virgilium, ingenti mole, etc.Return to passage

[3] Men that never eat salt with their food.Return to passage

[4] Γήπᾳ ὑπὸ λιπαρῳ̑. Which all translate senectute sub molli. The epithet λιπαρῳ̑; not of λιπαρὸς, viz, pinguis, or λιπαρω̑ς, pinguiter, but λιπαρω̑ς signifying flagitanter orando. To which pious age is ever altogether addicted.Return to passage

[5] Amphiaraus was her husband, whom she betrayed to his ruin at Thebes, for gold taken of Adrastus her brother.Return to passage

[6] Venustè et salsè dictum.Return to passage

[7] This advice he followed at his coming home.Return to passage

[8] This place (and a number more) is most miserably mistaken by all translators and commentors.Return to passage

[9] The horse abovesaid.Return to passage

[10] Ajax the son of Telamon.Return to passage