No More Learning

The artist, author of that belt, none such
Before, produced, or after. Me his eye
No sooner mark'd, than knowing me, in words 750
By sorrow quick suggested, he began.
Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!
Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,
Thou also, with some arduous labour, such
As in the realms of day I once endured.
Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes
Immense sustain'd, subjected to a King
Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands
Enjoin'd me many a terrible exploit.
He even bade me on a time lead hence 760
The dog, that task believing above all
Impracticable; yet from Ades him
I dragg'd reluctant into light, by aid
Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.
So saying, he penetrated deep again
The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved
There stood expecting, curious, other shades
To see of Heroes in old time deceased.
And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom
I wish'd, I had beheld, Pirithous 770
And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,
But nations, first, numberless of the dead
Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,
Lest awful Proserpine should thither send
The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr'd!
I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade
My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.
Down the Oceanus[55] the current bore
My galley, winning, at the first, her way 780
With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.


FOOTNOTES:

[40] Milton.

[41] The shore of Scilly commonly called Trinacria, but _Euphonice_ by
Homer, Thrinacia.

[42] The expression is used by Milton, and signifies--Beset with many
difficulties.

[43] Mistaking the oar for a corn-van. A sure indication of his ignorance
of maritime concerns.

[44] By the Tragedians called--Jocasta.

[45] Iphicles had been informed by the Oracles that he should have no
children till instructed by a prophet how to obtain them; a service which
Melampus had the good fortune to render him.

[46] Apollo.

[47] Bacchus accused her to Diana of having lain with Theseus in his
temple, and the Goddess punished her with death.

[48] Probably meaning Helen.

[49] This is surely one of the most natural strokes to be found in any
Poet. Convinced, for a moment, by the virtues of Penelope, he mentioned
her with respect; but recollecting himself suddenly, involves even her in
his general ill opinion of the sex, begotten in him by the crimes of
Clytemnestra.

[50] Another most beautiful stroke of nature. Ere yet Ulysses has had
opportunity to answer, the very thought that Peleus may possibly be
insulted, fires him, and he takes the whole for granted. Thus is the
impetuous character of Achilles sustained to the last moment!

[51] ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? --Priam is said to have influenced by gifts the
wife and mother of Eurypylus, to persuade him to the assistance of Troy,
he being himself unwilling to engage. The passage through defect of
history has long been dark, and commentators have adapted different
senses to it, all conjectural. The Ceteans are said to have been a people
of Mysia, of which Eurypylus was King.

[52] ? ? ? ' ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? --Asphodel was planted on the graves and
around the tombs of the deceased, and hence the supposition that the
Stygian plain was clothed with asphodel. F.

[53] ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? must have this sense interpreted by what follows. To
attempt to make the English numbers expressive as the Greek is a labour
like that of Sisyphus. The Translator has done what he could.

[54] It is now, perhaps, impossible to ascertain with precision what
Homer meant by the word ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , which he uses only here, and in the
next book, where it is the name of Scylla's dam. --? ? ? ? ? ? ? --is also of
very doubtful explication.

[55] The two first lines of the following book seem to ascertain the true
meaning of the conclusion of this, and to prove sufficiently that by
? ? ? ? ? ? ? here Homer could not possibly intend any other than a river. In
those lines he tells us in the plainest terms that _the ship left the
stream of the river Oceanus, and arrived in the open sea_. Diodorus
Siculus informs us that ? ? ? ? ? ? ? had been a name anciently given to the
Nile. See Clarke.




BOOK XII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, pursuing his narrative, relates his return from the shades to
Circe's island, the precautions given him by that Goddess, his escape
from the Sirens, and from Scylla and Charybdis; his arrival in Sicily,
where his companions, having slain and eaten the oxen of the Sun, are
afterward shipwrecked and lost; and concludes the whole with an account
of his arrival, alone, on the mast of his vessel, at the island of
Calypso.


And now, borne seaward from the river-stream
Of the Oceanus, we plow'd again
The spacious Deep, and reach'd th' AEaean isle,
Where, daughter of the dawn, Aurora takes
Her choral sports, and whence the sun ascends.
We, there arriving, thrust our bark aground
On the smooth beach, then landed, and on shore
Reposed, expectant of the sacred dawn.
But soon as day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd
Look'd forth again, sending my friends before, 10
I bade them bring Elpenor's body down
From the abode of Circe to the beach.
Then, on the utmost headland of the coast
We timber fell'd, and, sorrowing o'er the dead,
His fun'ral rites water'd with tears profuse.
The dead consumed, and with the dead his arms,
We heap'd his tomb, and the sepulchral post
Erecting, fix'd his shapely oar aloft.
Thus, punctual, we perform'd; nor our return
From Ades knew not Circe, but attired 20
In haste, ere long arrived, with whom appear'd
Her female train with plenteous viands charged,
And bright wine rosy-red. Amidst us all
Standing, the beauteous Goddess thus began.
Ah miserable! who have sought the shades
Alive! while others of the human race
Die only once, appointed twice to die!
Come--take ye food; drink wine; and on the shore
All day regale, for ye shall hence again
At day-spring o'er the Deep; but I will mark 30
Myself your future course, nor uninform'd
Leave you in aught, lest, through some dire mistake,
By sea or land new mis'ries ye incur.
The Goddess spake, whose invitation kind
We glad accepted; thus we feasting sat
Till set of sun, and quaffing richest wine;
But when the sun went down and darkness fell,
My crew beside the hawsers slept, while me
The Goddess by the hand leading apart,
First bade me sit, then, seated opposite, 40
Enquired, minute, of all that I had seen,
And I, from first to last, recounted all.
Then, thus the awful Goddess in return.
Thus far thy toils are finish'd. Now attend!
Mark well my words, of which the Gods will sure
Themselves remind thee in the needful hour.
First shalt thou reach the Sirens; they the hearts
Enchant of all who on their coast arrive.
The wretch, who unforewarn'd approaching, hears
The Sirens' voice, his wife and little-ones 50
Ne'er fly to gratulate his glad return,
But him the Sirens sitting in the meads
Charm with mellifluous song, while all around
The bones accumulated lie of men
Now putrid, and the skins mould'ring away.
But, pass them thou, and, lest thy people hear
Those warblings, ere thou yet approach, fill all
Their ears with wax moulded between thy palms;
But as for thee--thou hear them if thou wilt.
Yet let thy people bind thee to the mast 60
Erect, encompassing thy feet and arms
With cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,
So shalt thou, raptur'd, hear the Sirens' song.
But if thou supplicate to be released,
Or give such order, then, with added cords
Let thy companions bind thee still the more.
When thus thy people shall have safely pass'd
The Sirens by, think not from me to learn
What course thou next shalt steer; two will occur;
Delib'rate chuse; I shall describe them both. 70
Here vaulted rocks impend, dash'd by the waves
Immense of Amphitrite azure-eyed;
The blessed Gods those rocks, Erratic, call.
Birds cannot pass them safe; no, not the doves
Which his ambrosia bear to Father Jove,
But even of those doves the slipp'ry rock
Proves fatal still to one, for which the God
Supplies another, lest the number fail.
No ship, what ship soever there arrives,
Escapes them, but both mariners and planks 80
Whelm'd under billows of the Deep, or, caught
By fiery tempests, sudden disappear.
Those rocks the billow-cleaving bark alone
The Argo, further'd by the vows of all,
Pass'd safely, sailing from AEaeta's isle;
Nor she had pass'd, but surely dash'd had been
On those huge rocks, but that, propitious still
To Jason, Juno sped her safe along.
These rocks are two; one lifts his summit sharp
High as the spacious heav'ns, wrapt in dun clouds 90
Perpetual, which nor autumn sees dispers'd
Nor summer, for the sun shines never there;
No mortal man might climb it or descend,
Though twice ten hands and twice ten feet he own'd,
For it is levigated as by art.
Down scoop'd to Erebus, a cavern drear
Yawns in the centre of its western side;
Pass it, renown'd Ulysses! but aloof
So far, that a keen arrow smartly sent
Forth from thy bark should fail to reach the cave. 100
There Scylla dwells, and thence her howl is heard
Tremendous; shrill her voice is as the note
Of hound new-whelp'd, but hideous her aspect,
Such as no mortal man, nor ev'n a God
Encount'ring her, should with delight survey.
Her feet are twelve, all fore-feet; six her necks
Of hideous length, each clubb'd into a head
Terrific, and each head with fangs is arm'd
In triple row, thick planted, stored with death.
Plunged to her middle in the hollow den 110
She lurks, protruding from the black abyss
Her heads, with which the rav'ning monster dives
In quest of dolphins, dog-fish, or of prey
More bulky, such as in the roaring gulphs
Of Amphitrite without end abounds.
It is no seaman's boast that e'er he slipp'd
Her cavern by, unharm'd. In ev'ry mouth
She bears upcaught a mariner away.
The other rock, Ulysses, thou shalt find
Humbler, a bow-shot only from the first; 120
On this a wild fig grows broad-leav'd, and here
Charybdis dire ingulphs the sable flood.
Each day she thrice disgorges, and each day
Thrice swallows it. Ah! well forewarn'd, beware
What time she swallows, that thou come not nigh,
For not himself, Neptune, could snatch thee thence.
Close passing Scylla's rock, shoot swift thy bark
Beyond it, since the loss of six alone
Is better far than shipwreck made of all.
So Circe spake, to whom I thus replied. 130
Tell me, O Goddess, next, and tell me true!
If, chance, from fell Charybdis I escape,
May I not also save from Scylla's force
My people; should the monster threaten them?
I said, and quick the Goddess in return.
Unhappy! can exploits and toils of war
Still please thee? yield'st not to the Gods themselves?
She is no mortal, but a deathless pest,
Impracticable, savage, battle-proof.
Defence is vain; flight is thy sole resource. 140
For should'st thou linger putting on thy arms
Beside the rock, beware, lest darting forth
Her num'rous heads, she seize with ev'ry mouth
A Greecian, and with others, even thee.
Pass therefore swift, and passing, loud invoke
Cratais, mother of this plague of man,
Who will forbid her to assail thee more.
Thou, next, shalt reach Thrinacia; there, the beeves
And fatted flocks graze num'rous of the Sun;
Sev'n herds; as many flocks of snowy fleece; 150
Fifty in each; they breed not, neither die,
Nor are they kept by less than Goddesses,
Lampetia fair, and Phaethusa, both
By nymph Neaera to Hyperion borne.
Them, soon as she had train'd them to an age
Proportion'd to that charge, their mother sent
Into Thrinacia, there to dwell and keep
Inviolate their father's flocks and herds.
If, anxious for a safe return, thou spare
Those herds and flocks, though after much endured, 160
Ye may at last your Ithaca regain;
But should'st thou violate them, I foretell
Destruction of thy ship and of thy crew,
And though thyself escape, thou shalt return
Late, in ill plight, and all thy friends destroy'd.
She ended, and the golden morning dawn'd.
Then, all-divine, her graceful steps she turn'd
Back through the isle, and, at the beach arrived,
I summon'd all my followers to ascend
The bark again, and cast the hawsers loose. 170
They, at my voice, embarking, fill'd in ranks
The seats, and rowing, thresh'd the hoary flood.
And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine,
Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,
Pleasant companion of our course, and we
(The decks and benches clear'd) untoiling sat,
While managed gales sped swift the bark along.
Then, with dejected heart, thus I began.
Oh friends! (for it is needful that not one
Or two alone the admonition hear 180
Of Circe, beauteous prophetess divine)
To all I speak, that whether we escape
Or perish, all may be, at least, forewarn'd.
She bids us, first, avoid the dang'rous song
Of the sweet Sirens and their flow'ry meads.
Me only she permits those strains to hear;
But ye shall bind me with coercion strong
Of cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,
And by no struggles to be loos'd of mine.
But should I supplicate to be released 190
Or give such order, then, with added cords
Be it your part to bind me still the more.
Thus with distinct precaution I prepared
My people; rapid in her course, meantime,
My gallant bark approach'd the Sirens' isle,
For brisk and favourable blew the wind.
Then fell the wind suddenly, and serene
A breathless calm ensued, while all around
The billows slumber'd, lull'd by pow'r divine.
Up-sprang my people, and the folded sails 200
Bestowing in the hold, sat to their oars,
Which with their polish'd blades whiten'd the Deep.
I, then, with edge of steel sev'ring minute
A waxen cake, chafed it and moulded it
Between my palms; ere long the ductile mass
Grew warm, obedient to that ceaseless force,
And to Hyperion's all-pervading beams.
With that soft liniment I fill'd the ears
Of my companions, man by man, and they
My feet and arms with strong coercion bound 210
Of cordage to the mast-foot well secured.
Then down they sat, and, rowing, thresh'd the brine.
But when with rapid course we had arrived
Within such distance as a voice may reach,
Not unperceived by them the gliding bark
Approach'd, and, thus, harmonious they began.
Ulysses, Chief by ev'ry tongue extoll'd,
Achaia's boast, oh hither steer thy bark!
Here stay thy course, and listen to our lay!
These shores none passes in his sable ship 220
Till, first, the warblings of our voice he hear,
Then, happier hence and wiser he departs.
All that the Greeks endured, and all the ills
Inflicted by the Gods on Troy, we know,
Know all that passes on the boundless earth.
So they with voices sweet their music poured
Melodious on my ear, winning with ease
My heart's desire to listen, and by signs
I bade my people, instant, set me free.
But they incumbent row'd, and from their seats 230
Eurylochus and Perimedes sprang
With added cords to bind me still the more.
This danger past, and when the Sirens' voice,
Now left remote, had lost its pow'r to charm,
Then, my companions freeing from the wax
Their ears, deliver'd me from my restraint.
The island left afar, soon I discern'd
Huge waves, and smoke, and horrid thund'rings heard.
All sat aghast; forth flew at once the oars
From ev'ry hand, and with a clash the waves 240
Smote all together; check'd, the galley stood,
By billow-sweeping oars no longer urged,
And I, throughout the bark, man after man
Encouraged all, addressing thus my crew.
We meet not, now, my friends, our first distress.
This evil is not greater than we found
When the huge Cyclops in his hollow den
Imprison'd us, yet even thence we 'scaped,
My intrepidity and fertile thought
Opening the way; and we shall recollect 250
These dangers also, in due time, with joy.
Come, then--pursue my counsel. Ye your seats
Still occupying, smite the furrow'd flood
With well-timed strokes, that by the will of Jove
We may escape, perchance, this death, secure.
To thee the pilot thus I speak, (my words
Mark thou, for at thy touch the rudder moves)
This smoke, and these tumultuous waves avoid;
Steer wide of both; yet with an eye intent
On yonder rock, lest unaware thou hold 260
Too near a course, and plunge us into harm.
So I; with whose advice all, quick, complied.
But Scylla I as yet named not, (that woe
Without a cure) lest, terrified, my crew
Should all renounce their oars, and crowd below.
Just then, forgetful of the strict command
Of Circe not to arm, I cloath'd me all
In radiant armour, grasp'd two quiv'ring spears,
And to the deck ascended at the prow,
Expecting earliest notice there, what time 270
The rock-bred Scylla should annoy my friends.
But I discern'd her not, nor could, although
To weariness of sight the dusky rock
I vigilant explored. Thus, many a groan
Heaving, we navigated sad the streight,
For here stood Scylla, while Charybdis there
With hoarse throat deep absorb'd the briny flood.
Oft as she vomited the deluge forth,
Like water cauldron'd o'er a furious fire
The whirling Deep all murmur'd, and the spray 280
On both those rocky summits fell in show'rs.
But when she suck'd the salt wave down again,
Then, all the pool appear'd wheeling about
Within, the rock rebellow'd, and the sea
Drawn off into that gulph disclosed to view
The oozy bottom. Us pale horror seized.
Thus, dreading death, with fast-set eyes we watch'd
Charybdis; meantime, Scylla from the bark
Caught six away, the bravest of my friends.
With eyes, that moment, on my ship and crew 290
Retorted, I beheld the legs and arms
Of those whom she uplifted in the air;
On me they call'd, my name, the last, last time
Pronouncing then, in agony of heart.
As when from some bold point among the rocks
The angler, with his taper rod in hand,
Casts forth his bait to snare the smaller fry,
He swings away remote his guarded line,[56]
Then jerks his gasping prey forth from the Deep,
So Scylla them raised gasping to the rock, 300
And at her cavern's mouth devour'd them loud-
Shrieking, and stretching forth to me their arms
In sign of hopeless mis'ry. Ne'er beheld
These eyes in all the seas that I have roam'd,
A sight so piteous, nor in all my toils.
From Scylla and Charybdis dire escaped,
We reach'd the noble island of the Sun
Ere long, where bright Hyperion's beauteous herds
Broad-fronted grazed, and his well-batten'd flocks.
I, in the bark and on the sea, the voice 310
Of oxen bellowing in hovels heard,
And of loud-bleating sheep; then dropp'd the word
Into my memory of the sightless Seer,
Theban Tiresias, and the caution strict
Of Circe, my AEaean monitress,
Who with such force had caution'd me to avoid
The island of the Sun, joy of mankind.
Thus then to my companions, sad, I spake.
Hear ye, my friends! although long time distress'd,
The words prophetic of the Theban seer 320
And of AEaean Circe, whose advice
Was oft repeated to me to avoid
This island of the Sun, joy of mankind.
There, said the Goddess, dread your heaviest woes,
Pass the isle, therefore, scudding swift away.
I ceased; they me with consternation heard,
And harshly thus Eurylochus replied.
Ulysses, ruthless Chief! no toils impair
Thy strength, of senseless iron thou art form'd,
Who thy companions weary and o'erwatch'd 330
Forbidd'st to disembark on this fair isle,
Where now, at last, we might with ease regale.
Thou, rash, command'st us, leaving it afar,
To roam all night the Ocean's dreary waste;
But winds to ships injurious spring by night,
And how shall we escape a dreadful death
If, chance, a sudden gust from South arise
Or stormy West, that dash in pieces oft
The vessel, even in the Gods' despight?
Prepare we rather now, as night enjoins, 340
Our evening fare beside the sable bark,
In which at peep of day we may again
Launch forth secure into the boundless flood.
He ceas'd, whom all applauded. Then I knew
That sorrow by the will of adverse heav'n
Approach'd, and in wing'd accents thus replied.
I suffer force, Eurylochus! and yield
O'er-ruled by numbers. Come, then, swear ye all
A solemn oath, that should we find an herd
Or num'rous flock, none here shall either sheep 350
Or bullock slay, by appetite profane
Seduced, but shall the viands eat content
Which from immortal Circe we received.
I spake; they readily a solemn oath
Sware all, and when their oath was fully sworn,
Within a creek where a fresh fountain rose
They moor'd the bark, and, issuing, began
Brisk preparation of their evening cheer.
But when nor hunger now nor thirst remain'd
Unsated, recollecting, then, their friends 360
By Scylla seized and at her cave devour'd,
They mourn'd, nor ceased to mourn them, till they slept.
The night's third portion come, when now the stars
Had travers'd the mid-sky, cloud-gath'rer Jove
Call'd forth a vehement wind with tempest charged,
Menacing earth and sea with pitchy clouds
Tremendous, and the night fell dark from heav'n.
But when Aurora, daughter of the day,
Look'd rosy forth, we haled, drawn inland more,
Our bark into a grot, where nymphs were wont 370
Graceful to tread the dance, or to repose.
Convening there my friends, I thus began.
My friends! food fails us not, but bread is yet
And wine on board. Abstain we from the herds,
Lest harm ensue; for ye behold the flocks
And herds of a most potent God, the Sun!
Whose eye and watchful ear none may elude.
So saying, I sway'd the gen'rous minds of all.
A month complete the South wind ceaseless blew,
Nor other wind blew next, save East and South, 380
Yet they, while neither food nor rosy wine
Fail'd them, the herds harm'd not, through fear to die.
But, our provisions failing, they employed
Whole days in search of food, snaring with hooks
Birds, fishes, of what kind soe'er they might.
By famine urged. I solitary roam'd
Meantime the isle, seeking by pray'r to move
Some God to shew us a deliv'rance thence.
When, roving thus the isle, I had at length
Left all my crew remote, laving my hands 390
Where shelter warm I found from the rude blast,
I supplicated ev'ry Pow'r above;
But they my pray'rs answer'd with slumbers soft
Shed o'er my eyes, and with pernicious art
Eurylochus, the while, my friends harangued.
My friends! afflicted as ye are, yet hear
A fellow-suff'rer. Death, however caused,
Abhorrence moves in miserable man,
But death by famine is a fate of all
Most to be fear'd. Come--let us hither drive 400
And sacrifice to the Immortal Pow'rs
The best of all the oxen of the Sun,
Resolving thus--that soon as we shall reach
Our native Ithaca, we will erect
To bright Hyperion an illustrious fane,
Which with magnificent and num'rous gifts
We will enrich. But should he chuse to sink
Our vessel, for his stately beeves incensed,
And should, with him, all heav'n conspire our death,
I rather had with open mouth, at once, 410
Meeting the billows, perish, than by slow
And pining waste here in this desert isle.
So spake Eurylochus, whom all approved.
Then, driving all the fattest of the herd
Few paces only, (for the sacred beeves
Grazed rarely distant from the bark) they stood
Compassing them around, and, grasping each
Green foliage newly pluck'd from saplings tall,
(For barley none in all our bark remain'd)
Worshipp'd the Gods in pray'r. Pray'r made, they slew
And flay'd them, and the thighs with double fat 421
Investing, spread them o'er with slices crude.
No wine had they with which to consecrate
The blazing rites, but with libation poor
Of water hallow'd the interior parts.
Now, when the thighs were burnt, and each had shared
His portion of the maw, and when the rest
All-slash'd and scored hung roasting at the fire,
Sleep, in that moment, suddenly my eyes
Forsaking, to the shore I bent my way. 430
But ere the station of our bark I reach'd,
The sav'ry steam greeted me. At the scent
I wept aloud, and to the Gods exclaim'd.
Oh Jupiter, and all ye Pow'rs above!
With cruel sleep and fatal ye have lull'd
My cares to rest, such horrible offence
Meantime my rash companions have devised.
Then, flew long-stoled Lampetia to the Sun
At once with tidings of his slaughter'd beeves,
And he, incensed, the Immortals thus address'd. 440
Jove, and ye everlasting Pow'rs divine!
Avenge me instant on the crew profane
Of Laertiades; Ulysses' friends
Have dared to slay my beeves, which I with joy
Beheld, both when I climb'd the starry heav'ns,
And when to earth I sloped my "westring wheels,"
But if they yield me not amercement due
And honourable for my loss, to Hell
I will descend and give the ghosts my beams.
Then, thus the cloud-assembler God replied. 450
Sun! shine thou still on the Immortal Pow'rs,
And on the teeming earth, frail man's abode.
My candent bolts can in a moment reach
And split their flying bark in the mid-sea.
These things Calypso told me, taught, herself,
By herald Hermes, as she oft affirm'd.
But when, descending to the shore, I reach'd
At length my bark, with aspect stern and tone
I reprimanded them, yet no redress
Could frame, or remedy--the beeves were dead. 460
Soon follow'd signs portentous sent from heav'n.
The skins all crept, and on the spits the flesh
Both roast and raw bellow'd, as with the voice
Of living beeves. Thus my devoted friends
Driving the fattest oxen of the Sun,
Feasted six days entire; but when the sev'nth
By mandate of Saturnian Jove appeared,
The storm then ceased to rage, and we, again
Embarking, launch'd our galley, rear'd the mast,
And gave our unfurl'd canvas to the wind. 470
The island left afar, and other land
Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,
Right o'er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove
Hung a caerulean cloud, dark'ning the Deep.
Not long my vessel ran, for, blowing wild,
Now came shrill Zephyrus; a stormy gust
Snapp'd sheer the shrouds on both sides; backward fell
The mast, and with loose tackle strew'd the hold;
Striking the pilot in the stern, it crush'd
His scull together; he a diver's plunge 480
Made downward, and his noble spirit fled.
Meantime, Jove thund'ring, hurl'd into the ship
His bolts; she, smitten by the fires of Jove,
Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill'd she reek'd,
And o'er her sides headlong my people plunged
Like sea-mews, interdicted by that stroke
Of wrath divine to hope their country more.
But I, the vessel still paced to and fro,
Till, fever'd by the boist'rous waves, her sides
Forsook the keel now left to float alone. 490
Snapp'd where it join'd the keel the mast had fall'n,
But fell encircled with a leathern brace,
Which it retain'd; binding with this the mast
And keel together, on them both I sat,
Borne helpless onward by the dreadful gale.
And now the West subsided, and the South
Arose instead, with mis'ry charged for me,
That I might measure back my course again
To dire Charybdis. All night long I drove,
And when the sun arose, at Scylla's rock 500
Once more, and at Charybdis' gulph arrived.
It was the time when she absorb'd profound
The briny flood, but by a wave upborne
I seized the branches fast of the wild-fig. [57]
To which, bat-like, I clung; yet where to fix
My foot secure found not, or where to ascend,
For distant lay the roots, and distant shot
The largest arms erect into the air,
O'ershadowing all Charybdis; therefore hard
I clench'd the boughs, till she disgorg'd again 510
Both keel and mast. Not undesired by me
They came, though late; for at what hour the judge,
After decision made of num'rous strifes[58]
Between young candidates for honour, leaves
The forum for refreshment' sake at home,
Then was it that the mast and keel emerged.
Deliver'd to a voluntary fall,
Fast by those beams I dash'd into the flood,
And seated on them both, with oary palms
Impell'd them; nor the Sire of Gods and men 520
Permitted Scylla to discern me more,
Else had I perish'd by her fangs at last.
Nine days I floated thence, and, on the tenth
Dark night, the Gods convey'd me to the isle
Ogygia, habitation of divine
Calypso, by whose hospitable aid
And assiduity, my strength revived.
But wherefore this? ye have already learn'd
That hist'ry, thou and thy illustrious spouse;
I told it yesterday, and hate a tale 530
Once amply told, then, needless, traced again.


FOOTNOTES:

[56] They passed the line through a pipe of horn, to secure it against
the fishes' bite.

[57] See line 120.

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




BOOK XIII

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, having finished his narrative, and received additional presents
from the Phaeacians, embarks; he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca, and
in his sleep is landed on that island. The ship that carried him is in
her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.

Minerva meets him on the shore, enables him to recollect his country,
which, till enlightened by her, he believed to be a country strange to
him, and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors. The
Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus, and Ulysses, by
her aid disguised like a beggar, proceeds towards the cottage of Eumaeus.


He ceas'd; the whole assembly silent sat,
Charm'd into ecstacy with his discourse
Throughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.
Ulysses, since beneath my brazen dome
Sublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,
Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustain
By tempests tost, though much to woe inured.
To you, who daily in my presence quaff
Your princely meed of gen'rous wine and hear
The sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak. 10
The robes, wrought gold, and all the other gifts
To this our guest, by the Phaeacian Chiefs
Brought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.
But come--present ye to the stranger, each,
An ample tripod also, with a vase
Of smaller size, for which we will be paid
By public impost; for the charge of all
Excessive were by one alone defray'd.
So spake Alcinous, and his counsel pleased;
Then, all retiring, sought repose at home. 20
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
Look'd rosy forth, each hasted to the bark
With his illustrious present, which the might
Of King Alcinous, who himself her sides
Ascended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,
Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil'd
In rowing, some Phaeacian of the crew.
The palace of Alcinous seeking next,
Together, they prepared a new regale.
For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might[59] 30
Of King Alcinous slew an ox to Jove
Saturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.
The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partook
The noble feast; meantime, the bard divine
Sang, sweet Demodocus, the people's joy.
But oft Ulysses to the radiant sun
Turn'd wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,
Nor longer, now, patient of dull delay.
As when some hungry swain whose sable beeves
Have through the fallow dragg'd his pond'rous plow 40
All day, the setting sun views with delight
For supper' sake, which with tir'd feet he seeks,
So welcome to Ulysses' eyes appear'd
The sun-set of that eve; directing, then,
His speech to maritime Phaeacia's sons,
But to Alcinous chiefly, thus he said.
Alcinous, o'er Phaeacia's realm supreme!
Libation made, dismiss ye me in peace,
And farewell all! for what I wish'd, I have,
Conductors hence, and honourable gifts 50
With which heav'n prosper me! and may the Gods
Vouchsafe to me, at my return, to find
All safe, my spotless consort and my friends!
May ye, whom here I leave, gladden your wives
And see your children blest, and may the pow'rs
Immortal with all good enrich you all,
And from calamity preserve the land!
He ended, they unanimous, his speech
Applauded loud, and bade dismiss the guest
Who had so wisely spoken and so well. 60
Then thus Alcinous to his herald spake.
Pontonous! charging high the beaker, bear
To ev'ry guest beneath our roof the wine,
That, pray'r preferr'd to the eternal Sire,
We may dismiss our inmate to his home.
Then, bore Pontonous to ev'ry guest
The brimming cup; they, where they sat, perform'd
Libation due; but the illustrious Chief
Ulysses, from his seat arising, placed
A massy goblet in Areta's hand, 70
To whom in accents wing'd, grateful, he said.
Farewell, O Queen, a long farewell, till age
Arrive, and death, the appointed lot of all!
I go; but be this people, and the King
Alcinous, and thy progeny, thy joy
Yet many a year beneath this glorious roof!
So saying, the Hero through the palace-gate
Issued, whom, by Alcinous' command,
The royal herald to his vessel led.
Three maidens also of Areta's train 80
His steps attended; one, the robe well-bleach'd
And tunic bore; the corded coffer, one;
And food the third, with wine of crimson hue.
Arriving where the galley rode, each gave
Her charge to some brave mariner on board,
And all was safely stow'd. Meantime were spread
Linen and arras on the deck astern,
For his secure repose. And now the Chief
Himself embarking, silent lay'd him down.
Then, ev'ry rower to his bench repair'd; 90
They drew the loosen'd cable from its hold
In the drill'd rock, and, resupine, at once
With lusty strokes upturn'd the flashing waves.
_His_ eye-lids, soon, sleep, falling as a dew,
Closed fast, death's simular, in sight the same.
She, as four harness'd stallions o'er the plain
Shooting together at the scourge's stroke,
Toss high their manes, and rapid scour along,
So mounted she the waves, while dark the flood
Roll'd after her of the resounding Deep. 100
Steady she ran and safe, passing in speed
The falcon, swiftest of the fowls of heav'n;
With such rapidity she cut the waves,
An hero bearing like the Gods above
In wisdom, one familiar long with woe
In fight sustain'd, and on the perilous flood,
Though sleeping now serenely, and resign'd
To sweet oblivion of all sorrow past.
The brightest star of heav'n, precursor chief
Of day-spring, now arose, when at the isle 110
(Her voyage soon perform'd) the bark arrived.
There is a port sacred in Ithaca
To Phorcys, hoary ancient of the Deep,
Form'd by converging shores, prominent both
And both abrupt, which from the spacious bay
Exclude all boist'rous winds; within it, ships
(The port once gain'd) uncabled ride secure.
An olive, at the haven's head, expands
Her branches wide, near to a pleasant cave
Umbrageous, to the nymphs devoted named 120
The Naiads. In that cave beakers of stone
And jars are seen; bees lodge their honey there;
And there, on slender spindles of the rock
The nymphs of rivers weave their wond'rous robes.
Perennial springs water it, and it shows
A twofold entrance; ingress one affords
To mortal man, which Northward looks direct,
But holier is the Southern far; by that
No mortal enters, but the Gods alone.
Familiar with that port before, they push'd 130
The vessel in; she, rapid, plow'd the sands
With half her keel, such rowers urged her on.
Descending from the well-bench'd bark ashore,
They lifted forth Ulysses first, with all
His splendid couch complete, then, lay'd him down
Still wrapt in balmy slumber on the sands.
His treasures, next, by the Phaeacian Chiefs
At his departure given him as the meed
Due to his wisdom, at the olive's foot
They heap'd, without the road, lest, while he slept 140
Some passing traveller should rifle them.
Then homeward thence they sped. Nor Ocean's God
His threats forgot denounced against divine
Ulysses, but with Jove thus first advised.
Eternal Sire! I shall no longer share
Respect and reverence among the Gods,
Since, now, Phaeacia's mortal race have ceas'd
To honour me, though from myself derived.
It was my purpose, that by many an ill
Harass'd, Ulysses should have reach'd his home, 150
Although to intercept him, whose return
Thyself had promis'd, ne'er was my intent.
But him fast-sleeping swiftly o'er the waves
They have conducted, and have set him down
In Ithaca, with countless gifts enrich'd,
With brass, and tissued raiment, and with gold;
Much treasure! more than he had home convey'd
Even had he arrived with all his share
Allotted to him of the spoils of Troy.
To whom the cloud-assembler God replied. 160
What hast thou spoken, Shaker of the shores,
Wide-ruling Neptune? Fear not; thee the Gods
Will ne'er despise; dangerous were the deed
To cast dishonour on a God by birth
More ancient, and more potent far than they.
But if, profanely rash, a mortal man
Should dare to slight thee, to avenge the wrong
Some future day is ever in thy pow'r.
Accomplish all thy pleasure, thou art free.
Him answer'd, then, the Shaker of the shores. 170
Jove cloud-enthroned! that pleasure I would soon
Perform, as thou hast said, but that I watch
Thy mind continual, fearful to offend.
My purpose is, now to destroy amid
The dreary Deep yon fair Phaeacian bark,
Return'd from safe conveyance of her freight;
So shall they waft such wand'rers home no more,
And she shall hide their city, to a rock
Transform'd of mountainous o'ershadowing size.
Him, then, Jove answer'd, gath'rer of the clouds. 180
Perform it, O my brother, and the deed
Thus done, shall best be done--What time the people
Shall from the city her approach descry,
Fix her to stone transform'd, but still in shape
A gallant bark, near to the coast, that all
May wonder, seeing her transform'd to stone
Of size to hide their city from the view.
These words once heard, the Shaker of the shores
Instant to Scheria, maritime abode
Of the Phaeacians, went. Arrived, he watch'd. 190
And now the flying bark full near approach'd,
When Neptune, meeting her, with out-spread palm
Depress'd her at a stroke, and she became
Deep-rooted stone. Then Neptune went his way.
Phaeacia's ship-ennobled sons meantime
Conferring stood, and thus, in accents wing'd,
Th' amazed spectator to his fellow spake.
Ah! who hath sudden check'd the vessel's course
Homeward? this moment she was all in view.
Thus they, unconscious of the cause, to whom 200
Alcinous, instructing them, replied.
Ye Gods! a prophecy now strikes my mind
With force, my father's. He was wont to say--
Neptune resents it, that we safe conduct
Natives of ev'ry region to their home.
He also spake, prophetic, of a day
When a Phaeacian gallant bark, return'd
After conveyance of a stranger hence,
Should perish in the dreary Deep, and changed
To a huge mountain, cover all the town. 210
So spake my father, all whose words we see
This day fulfill'd. Thus, therefore, act we all
Unanimous; henceforth no longer bear
The stranger home, when such shall here arrive;
And we will sacrifice, without delay,
Twelve chosen bulls to Neptune, if, perchance,
He will commiserate us, and forbear
To hide our town behind a mountain's height.
He spake, they, terrified, the bulls prepared.
Thus all Phaeacia's Senators and Chiefs 220
His altar compassing, in pray'r adored
The Ocean's God. Meantime, Ulysses woke,
Unconscious where; stretch'd on his native soil
He lay, and knew it not, long-time exiled.
For Pallas, progeny of Jove, a cloud
Drew dense around him, that, ere yet agnized
By others, he might wisdom learn from her,
Neither to citizens, nor yet to friends
Reveal'd, nor even to his own espoused,
Till, first, he should avenge complete his wrongs 230
Domestic from those suitors proud sustained.
All objects, therefore, in the Hero's eyes
Seem'd alien, foot-paths long, commodious ports,
Heav'n-climbing rocks, and trees of amplest growth.
Arising, fixt he stood, his native soil
Contemplating, till with expanded palms
Both thighs he smote, and, plaintive, thus began.
Ah me! what mortal race inhabits here?
Rude are they, contumacious and unjust,
Or hospitable, and who fear the Gods? 240
Where now shall I secrete these num'rous stores?
Where wander I, myself? I would that still
Phaeacians own'd them, and I had arrived
In the dominions of some other King
Magnanimous, who would have entertain'd
And sent me to my native home secure!
Now, neither know I where to place my wealth,
Nor can I leave it here, lest it become
Another's prey. Alas! Phaeacia's Chiefs
Not altogether wise I deem or just, 250
Who have misplaced me in another land,
Promis'd to bear me to the pleasant shores
Of Ithaca, but have not so perform'd.
Jove, guardian of the suppliant's rights, who all
Transgressors marks, and punishes all wrong,
Avenge me on the treach'rous race! --but hold--
I will revise my stores, so shall I know
If they have left me here of aught despoiled.
So saying, he number'd carefully the gold,
The vases, tripods bright, and tissued robes, 260
But nothing miss'd of all. Then he bewail'd
His native isle, with pensive steps and slow
Pacing the border of the billowy flood,
Forlorn; but while he wept, Pallas approach'd,
In form a shepherd stripling, girlish fair
In feature, such as are the sons of Kings;
A sumptuous mantle o'er his shoulders hung
Twice-folded, sandals his nice feet upbore,
And a smooth javelin glitter'd in his hand.
Ulysses, joyful at the sight, his steps 270
Turn'd brisk toward her, whom he thus address'd.
Sweet youth! since thee, of all mankind, I first
Encounter in this land unknown, all hail!
Come not with purposes of harm to me!
These save, and save me also. I prefer
To thee, as to some God, my pray'r, and clasp
Thy knees a suppliant. Say, and tell me true,
What land? what people? who inhabit here?
Is this some isle delightful, or a shore
Of fruitful main-land sloping to the sea? 280
Then Pallas, thus, Goddess caerulean-eyed.
Stranger! thou sure art simple, or hast dwelt
Far distant hence, if of this land thou ask.
It is not, trust me, of so little note,
But known to many, both to those who dwell
Toward the sun-rise, and to others placed
Behind it, distant in the dusky West.
Rugged it is, not yielding level course
To the swift steed, and yet no barren spot,
However small, but rich in wheat and wine; 290
Nor wants it rain or fertilising dew,
But pasture green to goats and beeves affords,
Trees of all kinds, and fountains never dry.
Ithaca therefore, stranger, is a name
Known ev'n at Troy, a city, by report,
At no small distance from Achaia's shore.