Chapman, George, trans. (1559?–1634). The Odysseys of Homer, vol. 1. 1857.
THE NINTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS.
THE ARGUMENT.
- ULYSSES here is first made known;
- Who tells the stern contention
- His powers did against 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.
The strangely fed - Lotophagi.
- The Cicons fled.
- The Cyclop’s eye.
LYSSES 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 5 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 10 Cheer up the people, when in every 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; 15 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 heavenly air, 20 That stirr’d my soul so; for I love such tears As fall from fit notes, beaten through mine ears With repetitions of what heaven hath done, And break from hearty apprehension Of God and goodness, though they show my ill. 25 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 driven, Though ne’er so much plagued I may seem by heaven. 30 And now my name; which way shall lead to all My miseries 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, 35 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 heaven resound. I dwell in Ithaca, earth’s most renown’d, 40 All over-shadow’d with the shake-leaf hill, Tree-famed Neritus; whose near confines fill Islands a number, well inhabited, That under my observance taste their bread; Dulichius, Samos, and the full-of-food 45 Zacynthus, likewise graced 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 50 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 55 Withheld with horror by the Deity, Divine Calypso, in her cavy house, Enflamed to make me her sole lord and spouse. Circe Ææa too, that knowing dame, Whose veins the like affections did enflame, 60 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, And joy of those from whom we claim our birth. Though roofs far richer we far off possess, 65 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. 70 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, 75 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 80 Of many soldiers, who, with spoil fed high, Would yet fill higher, and excessively Fell to their wine, gave slaughter on the shore Cloven-footed beeves and sheep in mighty store. In mean space, Cicons did to Cicons cry, 85 When, of their nearest dwellers, instantly Many and better soldiers made strong head, That held the continent, and managed Their horse with high skill, on which they would fight, When fittest cause served, and again alight, 90 With soon seen vantage, and on foot contend. Their concourse swift was, and had never end; As thick and sudden ’twas, as flowers and leaves Dark spring discovers, when she light receives. And then began the bitter Fate of Jove 95 To alter us unhappy, which even strove To give us suff’rance. At our fleet we made Enforced stand; and there did they invade Our thrust-up forces; darts encounter’d darts, With blows on both sides; either making parts 100 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 Phoebus westward fell, the Cicons won Much hand of us; six proved soldiers fell, 105 Of every ship, the rest they did compell 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 110 As saved so many. Our dear loss the less, That they survived, 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. 115 Thrice call’d we on them by their several name, And then took leave. Then from the angry North Cloud-gathering Jove a dreadful storm call’d forth Against our navy, cover’d shore and all With gloomy vapours. Night did headlong fall 120 From frowning heaven. 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 Driven under hatches were we, prest to drown. Up rush’d we yet again, and with tough hand 125 (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 advanced, we white sails spread, and sate. Forewinds and guides again did iterate 130 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 135 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 140 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, 145 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 150 (As all men else that did but taste their feast) Both countrymen and country, nor address’d 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. 155 I made out after, and was feign to sever Th’ enchanted knot by forcing their retreat, That strived, and wept, and would not leave their meat For heaven itself. But, dragging them to fleet, I wrapt in sure bands both their hands and feet, 160 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 despised retreat. All then aboard, we beat the sea with oars, 165 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-lived loiterers, that never sow; Nor put a plant in earth, nor use a plow, But trust in God for all things; and their earth, 170 Unsown, unplow’d, gives every offspring birth That other lands have; wheat, and barley, vines That bear in goodly grapes delicious wines; And Jove sends showers for all. No counsels there, Nor counsellors, nor laws; but all men bear 175 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, imposed in several, Nor wife, nor child awed, but as he thinks good, 180 None for another caring. But there stood Another little isle, well stored 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 185 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. 190 Nor is the soil with flocks fed down, nor 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 195 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 200 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. 205 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 opportune, that no ties, 210 Halsers, or gables need, nor anchors cast. Whom storms put in there are with stay embraced, Or to their full wills safe, or winds aspire To pilots’ uses their more quick desire. At entry of the haven, a silver ford 215 Is from a rock-impressing fountain pour’d, All set with sable poplars. And this port Were we arrived at, by the sweet resort Of some God guiding us, for ’twas a night So ghastly dark all port was past our sight, 220 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 unmeasured height put on; 225 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; 230 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-piled darts, and drew Ourselves in three parts out; when, by the grace 235 That God vouchsafed, we made a gainful chace. Twelve ships we had, and every ship had nine Fat goats allotted [it], ten only mine. Thus all that day, even till the sun was set, We sat and feasted, pleasant wine and meat 240 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 245 The Cyclops’ late-praised 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, 250 I call’d my friends to council, charging them To make stay there, while I took ship and stream, With some associates, and explored what men The neighbour isle held; if of rude disdain, Churlish and tyrannous, or minds bewray’d 255 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 260 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 shadowed; And, near to this, a hall of torn-up stone, 265 High built with pines, that heaven 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, 270 His mind his body answering. 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 275 Of such vast objects. When, arrived so nigh, Some of my loved friends I made stay aboard, To guard my ship, and twelve with me I shored, The choice of all. I took besides along A goat-skin flagon of wine, black and strong, 280 That Maro did present, Evantheus’ son, And priest to Phoebus, who had mansion In Thracian Ismarus (the town I took) He gave it me, since I (with reverence strook Of his grave place, his wife and children’s good) 285 Freed all of violence. Amidst a wood, Sacred to Phoebus, stood his house; from whence He fetch’d me gifts of varied excellence; Seven talents of fine gold; a bowl all framed Of massy silver; but his gift most famed 290 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 295 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. 300 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, 305 And, in a good large knapsack, victuals store; And long’d to see this heap of fortitude, That so illiterate was and upland rude That laws divine nor human he had learn’d. With speed we reach’d the cavern; nor discern’d 310 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, 315 Distinct the youngest. And in their precinct, Proper and placeful, stood the troughs and pails, In which he milk’d; and what was given at meals, Set up a creaming; in the evening still All scouring bright as dew upon the hill. 320 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 325 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. 330 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 335 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 340 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 345 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 350 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? 355 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 360 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, 365 As Jove decreed, are cast upon this coast. Of Agamemnon, famous Atreus’ son, We boast ourselves the soldiers; who hath won Renown that reacheth heaven, to overthrow So great a city, and to ruin so 370 So many nations. Yet at thy knees lie Our prostrate bosoms, forced with prayers to try If any hospitable right, or boon Of other nature, such as have been won By laws of other houses, thou wilt give. 375 Reverence the Gods, thou great’st of all that live. We suppliants are; and hospitable Jove Pours wreak on all whom prayers want power to move, And with their plagues together will provide That humble guests shall have their wants supplied.’ 380 He cruelly answer’d: ‘O thou fool,’ said he, ‘To come so far, and to importune me With any God’s fear, or observed love! We Cyclops care not for your goat-fed Jove, Nor other Bless’d ones; we are better far. 385 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; 390 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, 395 And we from high wrack saved, 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 400 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-stuffed bones he eat, 405 And even th’ uncleansed entrails made his meat. We, weeping, cast our hands to heaven, to view A sight so horrid. Desperation flew, With all our after lives, to instant death, In our believed destruction. But when breath 410 The fury of his appetite had got, Because the gulf his belly reach’d his throat, Man’s flesh, and goat’s milk, laying layer on layer, Till near choked up was all the pass for air, Along his den, amongst his cattle, down 415 He rush’d, and streak’d him. When my mind was grown Desperate 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, 420 For there we all had perish’d, since it past Our powers 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, 425 Then milks his goats and ewes, then to their dams Lets in their young, and, wondrous orderly, With manly haste dispatch’d his houswifery. Then to his breakfast, to which other two Of my poor friends went; which eat, out then go 430 His herds and fat flocks, lightly putting by The churlish bar, and closed 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 435 Up to the mountains; and occasion gave For me to use my wits, which to their height I strived to screw up, that a vengeance might By some means fall from thence, and Pallas now Afford a full ear to my neediest vow. 440 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, 445 That we resembled it to some fit mast, To serve a ship of burthen that was driven With twenty oars, and had a bigness given To bear a huge sea. Full so thick, so tall, We judg’d this club; which I, in part, hew’d small, 450 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, 455 Thick, and so moist it issued everywhere. Then made I lots cast by my friends to try Whose fortune served to dare the bored out eye Of that man-eater; and the lot did fall On four I wish’d to make my aid of all, 460 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 God’s direct will, or of purpose was 465 His driving in of all then, doth surpass My comprehension. But he closed again The mighty bar, milk’d, and did still maintain All other observation as before. His work all done, two of my soldiers more 470 At once he snatch’d up, and to supper went. Then dared 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 475 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 480 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 powers, entreating more, and said: 485 ‘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. 490 For to the Cyclops too the gentle earth Bears generous wine, and Jove augments her birth, In store of such, with showers; but this rich wine Fell from the river, that is mere divine, Of nectar and ambrosia.’ This again 495 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 thee my name, do thou 500 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; 505 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, 510 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 snored; And then took I the club’s end up, and gored The burning coal-heap, that the point might heat; 515 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 hardening, hot, And glow’d extremely, though ’twas green; which got 520 From forth the cinders, close about me stood My hardy friends; but that which did the good Was God’s good inspiration, that gave A spirit beyond the spirit they used to have; Who took the olive spar, made keen before, 525 And plunged 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, 530 And at the shank help others, with a cord Wound round about to make it sooner bored, 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 535 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 540 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, 545 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 550 Upon a windy promontory dwell’d; Who, hearing how impetuously he yell’d, Rush’d every way about him, and inquired, What ill afflicted him, that he exspired Such horrid clamours, and in sacred Night 555 To break their sleeps so? Ask’d him, if his fright Came from some mortal that his flocks had driven? Or if by craft, or might, his death were given? He answer’d from his den: ‘By craft, nor might, No-Man hath given me death.’ They then said right, 560 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.’ 565 Thus spake they, leaving him; when all on fire My heart with joy was, that so well my wit And name deceived him; whom now pain did split, And groaning up and down he groping tried To find the stone, which found, he put aside; 570 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 575 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. 580 These, while this learn’d-in-villany did sleep, I yoked 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, 585 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; 590 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 595 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. 600 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. 605 This ram he groped, and talk’d to: ‘Lazy beast! Why last art thou now? Thou hast never used To lag thus hindmost, but still first hast bruised The tender blossom of a flower, and held State in thy steps, both to the flood and field, 610 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 615 Must not escape my wreak so cunningly. I would to heaven 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 620 Th’ inflictions of a man I prized at nought.’ Thus let he him abroad; when I, once brought A little from his hold, myself first losed, And next my friends. Then drave we, and disposed, His straight-legg’d fat fleece-bearers over land, 625 Even till they all were in my ship’s command; And to our loved friends show’d our pray’d-for sight, Escaped 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, 630 And up we all went, sat, and used 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 used: 635 ‘Cyclop! thou shouldst not have so much abused 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, 640 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 645 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 raised, that back it bore Our ship so far, it almost touch’d the shore. 650 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 655 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, 660 And said: ‘Unhappy! why will you provoke A man so rude, that with so dead a stroke, Given with his rock-dart, made the sea thrust back Our ship so far, and near hand forced our wrack? Should he again but hear your voice resound, 665 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 urged they Impossible things, in fear; but I gave way 670 To that wrath which so long I held depress’d, By great necessity conquer’d, in my breast: ‘Cyclop! if any ask thee, who imposed Th’ unsightly blemish that thine eye enclosed, Say that Ulysses, old Laertes’ son, 675 Whose seat is Ithaca, and who hath won Surname of city-racer, bored it out.’ At this, he bray’d so loud, that round about He drave affrighted echos through the air, And said: ‘O beast! I was premonish’d fair, 680 By aged prophecy, in one that was A great and good man, this should come to pass; And how ’tis proved now! Augur Telemus, Surnamed Eurymides (that spent with us His age in augury, and did exceed 685 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 690 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. 695 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, 700 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 power beside Can boast, of men, or of the Deified.’ 705 I answer’d: ‘Would to God I could compel 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 710 To star-born heaven 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 715 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, 720 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 725 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 prayer to every syllable heard. But then a rock, in size more amplified 730 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, 735 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 740 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 every minute look’d when we should land. Where, now arrived, we drew up to the sand, 745 The Cyclops’ sheep dividing, that none there Of all our privates might be wrung, and bear Too much on power. The ram yet was alone By all my friends made all my portion Above all others; and I made him then 750 A sacrifice for me and all my men To cloud-compelling Jove that all commands, To whom I burn’d the thighs; but my sad hands Received no grace from him, who studied how To offer men and fleet to overthrow. 755 All day, till sun-set, yet, we sat and eat, And liberal store took in of wine and meat. The sun then down, and place resign’d to shade, We slept. Morn came, my men I raised, and made All go aboard, weigh anchor, and away. 760 They boarded, sat, and beat the aged sea; And forth we made sail, sad for loss before, And yet had comfort since we lost no more. FINIS LIBRI NONI HOM. ODYSS.
