Book X
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| | ADVENTURES WITH AEOLUS, THE LAESTRYGONS, AND CIRCE. | |
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| | Ulysses arrives at the island of AEolus, who gives him prosperous | |
| | winds, and incloses the adverse ones in a bag, which his | |
| | companions untying, they are driven back again and rejected. | |
| | Then they sail to the Laestrygons, where they lose eleven ships, | |
| | and, with only one remaining, proceed to the island of Circe. | |
| | Eurylochus is sent first with some companions, all which, except | |
| | Eurylochus, are transformed into swine. Ulysses then undertakes | |
| | the adventure, and, by the help of Mercury, who gives him the herb | |
| | Moly, overcomes the enchantress, and procures the restoration of | |
| | his men. After a year's stay with her, he prepares, at her | |
| | instigation, for his voyage to the infernal shades. | |
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|
| | "AT length we reach'd AEolias's sea-girt shore, | |
| | Where great Hippotades the sceptre bore, | |
| | A floating isle! high-raised by toil divine, | |
| | Strong walls of brass the rocky coast confine. | |
| | Six blooming youths, in private grandeur bred, | |
| | And six fair daughters, graced the royal bed; | |
| | These sons their sisters wed, and all remain | |
| | Their parents' pride, and pleasure of their reign. | |
| | All day they feast, all day the bowls flow round, | |
| | And joy and music through the isle resound; | |
| | At night each pair on splendid carpets lay, | |
| | And crown'd with love the pleasures of the day. | |
| | This happy port affords our wandering fleet | |
| | A month's reception, and a safe retreat. | |
| | Full oft the monarch urged me to relate | |
| | The fall of Ilion, and the Grecian fate; | |
| | Full oft I told: at length for parting moved; | |
| | The king with mighty gifts my suit approved. | |
| | The adverse winds in leathern bags he braced, | |
| | Compress'd their force, and lock'd each struggling blast. | |
| | For him the mighty sire of gods assign'd | |
| | The tempest's lood, the tyrant of the wind; | |
| | His word alone the listening storms obey, | |
| | To smooth the deep, or swell the foamy sea. | |
| | These in my hollow ship the monarch hung, | |
| | Securely fetter'd by a silver thong: | |
| | But Zephyrus exempt, with friendly gales | |
| | He charged to fill, and guide the swelling sails: | |
| | Rare gift! but O, what gift to fools avails! | |
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|
| | "Nine prosperous days we plied the labouring oar; | |
| | The tenth presents our welcome native shore: | |
| | The hills display the beacon's friendly light, | |
| | And rising mountains gain upon our sight. | |
| | Then first my eyes, by watchful toils oppress'd, | |
| | Complied to take the balmy gifts of rest: | |
| | Then first my hands did from the rudder part | |
| | (So much the love of home possess'd my heart): | |
| | When lo! on board a fond debate arose; | |
| | What rare device those vessels might inclose? | |
| | What sum, what prize from AEolus I brought? | |
| | Whilst to his neighbour each express'd his thought: | |
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| | "'Say, whence ye gods, contending nations strive | |
| | Who most shall please, who most our hero give? | |
| | Long have his coffers groan'd with Trojan spoils: | |
| | Whilst we, the wretched partners of his toils, | |
| | Reproach'd by want, our fruitless labours mourn, | |
| | And only rich in barren fame return. | |
| | Now AEolus, ye see, augments his store: | |
| | But come, my friends, these mystic gifts explore,' | |
| | They said: and (oh cursed fate!) the thongs unbound! | |
| | The gushing tempest sweeps the ocean round; | |
| | Snatch'd in the whirl, the hurried navy flew, | |
| | The ocean widen'd and the shores withdrew. | |
| | Roused from my fatal sleep I long debate | |
| | If still to live, or desperate plunge to fate; | |
| | Thus doubting, prostrate on the deck I lay, | |
| | Till all the coward thoughts of death gave way. | |
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|
| | "Meanwhile our vessels plough the liquid plain, | |
| | And soon the known AEolian coast regain; | |
| | Our groan the rocks remurmur'd to the main. | |
| | We leap'd on shore, and with a scanty feast | |
| | Our thirst and hunger hastily repress'd; | |
| | That done, two chosen heralds straight attend | |
| | Our second progress to my royal friend; | |
| | And him amidst his jovial sons we found; | |
| | The banquet steaming, and the goblets crown'd; | |
| | There humbly stoop'd with conscious shame and awe, | |
| | Nor nearer than the gate presumed to draw. | |
| | But soon his sons their well-known guest descried, | |
| | And starting from their couches loudly cried: | |
| | 'Ulysses here! what demon could'st thou meet | |
| | To thwart thy passage, and repel thy fleet? | |
| | Wast thou not furnish'd by our choicest care | |
| | For Greece, for home and all thy soul held dear?' | |
| | Thus they, In silence long my fate I mourn'd; | |
| | At length these words with accents low return'd: | |
| | 'Me, lock'd in sleep, my faithless crew bereft | |
| | Of all the blessing of your godlike gift! | |
| | But grant, oh grant, our loss we may retrieve; | |
| | A favour you, and you alone can give.' | |
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|
| | "Thus I with art to move their pity tried, | |
| | And touch'd the youths; but their stern sire replied: | |
| | 'Vile wretch, begone! this instant I command | |
| | Thy fleet accursed to leave our hallow'd land. | |
| | His baneful suit pollutes these bless'd abodes, | |
| | Whose fate proclaims him hateful to the gods.' | |
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|
| | "Thus fierce he said: we sighing went our way, | |
| | And with desponding hearts put off to sea. | |
| | The sailors spent with toils their folly mourn, | |
| | But mourn in vain; no prospect of return | |
| | Six days and nights a doubtful course we steer, | |
| | The next proud Lamos' stately towers appear, | |
| | And Laestrygonia's gates arise distinct in air. | |
| | The shepherd, quitting here at night the plain, | |
| | Calls, to succeed his cares, the watchful swain; | |
| | But he that scorns the chains of sleep to wear, | |
| | And adds the herdsman's to the shepherd's care, | |
| | So near the pastures, and so short the way, | |
| | His double toils may claim a double pay, | |
| | And join the labours of the night and day. | |
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|
| | "Within a long recess a bay there lies, | |
| | Edged round with cliffs high pointing to the skies; | |
| | The jutting shores that swell on either side | |
| | Contract its mouth, and break the rushing tide. | |
| | Our eager sailors seize the fair retreat, | |
| | And bound within the port their crowded fleet: | |
| | For here retired the sinking billows sleep, | |
| | And smiling calmness silver'd o'er the deep. | |
| | I only in the bay refused to moor, | |
| | And fix'd without, my halsers to the shore. | |
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|
| | "From thence we climb'd a point, whose airy brow | |
| | Commands the prospect of the plains below; | |
| | No tracks of beasts, or signs of men, we found, | |
| | But smoky volumes rolling from the ground. | |
| | Two with our herald thither we command, | |
| | With speed to learn what men possess'd the land. | |
| | They went, and kept the wheel's smooth-beaten road | |
| | Which to the city drew the mountain wood; | |
| | When lo! they met, beside a crystal spring, | |
| | The daughter of Antiphates the king; | |
| | She to Artacia's silver streams came down; | |
| | (Artacia's streams alone supply the town); | |
| | The damsel they approach, and ask'd what race | |
| | The people were? who monarch of the place? | |
| | With joy the maid the unwary strangers heard | |
| | And show'd them where the royal dome appear'd. | |
| | They went; but as they entering saw the queen | |
| | Of size enormous, and terrific mien | |
| | (Not yielding to some bulky mountain's height), | |
| | A sudden horror struck their aching sight. | |
| | Swift at her call her husband scour'd away | |
| | To wreak his hunger on the destined prey; | |
| | One for his food the raging glutton slew, | |
| | But two rush'd out, and to the navy flew. | |
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| | "Balk'd of his prey, the yelling monster flies, | |
| | And fills the city with his hideous cries; | |
| | A ghastly band of giants hear the roar, | |
| | And, pouring down the mountains, crowd the shore. | |
| | Fragments they rend from off the craggy brow | |
| | And dash the ruins on the ships below; | |
| | The crackling vessels burst; hoarse groans arise, | |
| | And mingled horrors echo to the skies; | |
| | The men like fish, they struck upon the flood, | |
| | And cramm'd their filthy throats with human food. | |
| | Whilst thus their fury rages at the bay, | |
| | My sword our cables cut, I call'd to weigh; | |
| | And charged my men, as they from fate would fly, | |
| | Each nerve to strain, each bending oar to ply. | |
| | The sailors catch the word, their oars they seize, | |
| | And sweep with equal strokes the smoky seas; | |
| | Clear of the rocks the impatient vessel flies; | |
| | Whilst in the port each wretch encumber'd dies. | |
| | With earnest haste my frighted sailors press, | |
| | While kindling transports glow'd at our success; | |
| | But the sad fate that did our friends destroy, | |
| | Cool'd every breast, and damp'd the rising joy. | |
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|
| | "Now dropp'd our anchors in the Aeaean bay, | |
| | Where Circe dwelt, the daughter of the Day! | |
| | Her mother Perse, of old Ocean's strain, | |
| | Thus from the Lun descended, and the Main | |
| | (From the same lineage stern Aeaetes came, | |
| | The far-famed brother of the enchantress dame); | |
| | Goddess, the queen, to whom the powers belong | |
| | Of dreadful magic and commanding song. | |
| | Some god directing to this peaceful bay | |
| | Silent we came, and melancholy lay, | |
| | Spent and o'erwatch'd. Two days and nights roll'd on, | |
| | And now the third succeeding morning shone. | |
| | I climb'd a cliff, with spear and sword in hand, | |
| | Whose ridge o'erlook'd a shady length of land; | |
| | To learn if aught of mortal works appear, | |
| | Or cheerful voice of mortal strike the ear? | |
| | From the high point I mark'd, in distant view, | |
| | A stream of curling smoke ascending blue, | |
| | And spiry tops, the tufted trees above, | |
| | Of Circe's palace bosom'd in the grove. | |
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|
| | "Thither to haste, the region to explore, | |
| | Was first my thought: but speeding back to shore | |
| | I deem'd it best to visit first my crew, | |
| | And send our spies the dubious coast to view. | |
| | As down the hill I solitary go, | |
| | Some power divine, who pities human woe, | |
| | Sent a tall stag, descending from the wood, | |
| | To cool his fervour in the crystal flood; | |
| | Luxuriant on the wave-worn bank he lay, | |
| | Stretch'd forth and panting in the sunny ray. | |
| | I launch'd my spear, and with a sudden wound | |
| | Transpierced his back, and fix'd him to the ground. | |
| | He falls, and mourns his fate with human cries: | |
| | Through the wide wound the vital spirit flies. | |
| | I drew, and casting on the river's side | |
| | The bloody spear, his gather'd feet I tied | |
| | With twining osiers which the bank supplied. | |
| | An ell in length the pliant wisp I weaved, | |
| | And the huge body on my shoulders heaved: | |
| | Then leaning on my spear with both my hands, | |
| | Upbore my load, and press'd the sinking sands | |
| | With weighty steps, till at the ship I threw | |
| | The welcome burden, and bespoke my crew: | |
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| | "'Cheer up, my friends! it is not yet our fate | |
| | To glide with ghosts through Pluto's gloomy gate. | |
| | Food in the desert land, behold! is given! | |
| | Live, and enjoy the providence of heaven.' | |
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|
| | "The joyful crew survey his mighty size, | |
| | And on the future banquet feast their eyes, | |
| | As huge in length extended lay the beast; | |
| | Then wash their hands, and hasten to the feast. | |
| | There, till the setting sun roll'd down the light, | |
| | They sate indulging in the genial rite. | |
| | When evening rose, and darkness cover'd o'er | |
| | The face of things, we slept along the shore. | |
| | But when the rosy morning warm'd the east, | |
| | My men I summon'd, and these words address'd: | |
| | "'Followers and friends, attend what I propose: | |
| | Ye sad companions of Ulysses' woes! | |
| | We know not here what land before us lies, | |
| | Or to what quarter now we turn our eyes, | |
| | Or where the sun shall set, or where shall rise. | |
| | Here let us think (if thinking be not vain) | |
| | If any counsel, any hope remain. | |
| | Alas! from yonder promontory's brow | |
| | I view'd the coast, a region flat and low; | |
| | An isle encircled with the boundless flood; | |
| | A length of thickets, and entangled wood. | |
| | Some smoke I saw amid the forest rise, | |
| | And all around it only seas and skies!' | |
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|
| | "With broken hearts my sad companions stood, | |
| | Mindful of Cyclops and his human food, | |
| | And horrid Laestrygons, the men of blood. | |
| | Presaging tears apace began to rain; | |
| | But tears in mortal miseries are vain. | |
| | In equal parts I straight divide my band, | |
| | And name a chief each party to command; | |
| | I led the one, and of the other side | |
| | Appointed brave Eurylochus the guide. | |
| | Then in the brazen helm the lots we throw, | |
| | And fortune casts Eurylochus to go; | |
| | He march'd with twice eleven in his train; | |
| | Pensive they march, and pensive we remain. | |
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| | "The palace in a woody vale they found, | |
| | High raised of stone; a shaded space around; | |
| | Where mountain wolves and brindled lions roam, | |
| | (By magic tamed,) familiar to the dome. | |
| | With gentle blandishment our men they meet, | |
| | And wag their tails, and fawning lick their feet. | |
| | As from some feast a man returning late, | |
| | His faithful dogs all meet him at the gate, | |
| | Rejoicing round, some morsel to receive, | |
| | (Such as the good man ever used to give,) | |
| | Domestic thus the grisly beasts drew near; | |
| | They gaze with wonder not unmix'd with fear. | |
| | Now on the threshold of the dome they stood, | |
| | And heard a voice resounding through the wood: | |
| | Placed at her loom within, the goddess sung; | |
| | The vaulted roofs and solid pavement rung. | |
| | O'er the fair web the rising figures shine, | |
| | Immortal labour! worthy hands divine. | |
| | Polites to the rest the question moved | |
| | (A gallant leader, and a man I loved): | |
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| | "'What voice celestial, chanting to the loom | |
| | (Or nymph, or goddess), echoes from the room? | |
| | Say, shall we seek access?' With that they call; | |
| | And wide unfold the portals of the hall. | |
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|
| | "The goddess, rising, asks her guests to stay, | |
| | Who blindly follow where she leads the way. | |
| | Eurylochus alone of all the band, | |
| | Suspecting fraud, more prudently remain'd. | |
| | On thrones around with downy coverings graced, | |
| | With semblance fair, the unhappy men she placed. | |
| | Milk newly press'd, the sacred flour of wheat, | |
| | And honey fresh, and Pramnian wines the treat: | |
| | But venom'd was the bread, and mix'd the bowl, | |
| | With drugs of force to darken all the soul: | |
| | Soon in the luscious feast themselves they lost, | |
| | And drank oblivion of their native coast. | |
| | Instant her circling wand the goddess waves, | |
| | To hogs transforms them, and the sty receives. | |
| | No more was seen the human form divine; | |
| | Head, face, and members, bristle into swine: | |
| | Still cursed with sense, their minds remain alone, | |
| | And their own voice affrights them when they groan. | |
| | Meanwhile the goddess in disdain bestows | |
| | The mast and acorn, brutal food! and strows | |
| | The fruits and cornel, as their feast, around; | |
| | Now prone and grovelling on unsavoury ground. | |
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|
| | "Eurylochus, with pensive steps and slow. | |
| | Aghast returns; the messenger of woe, | |
| | And bitter fate. To speak he made essay, | |
| | In vain essay'd, nor would his tongue obey. | |
| | His swelling heart denied the words their way: | |
| | But speaking tears the want of words supply, | |
| | And the full soul bursts copious from his eye. | |
| | Affrighted, anxious for our fellows' fates, | |
| | We press to hear what sadly he relates: | |
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| | "We went, Ulysses! (such was thy command) | |
| | Through the lone thicket and the desert land. | |
| | A palace in a woody vale we found | |
| | Brown with dark forests, and with shades around. | |
| | A voice celestial echoed through the dome, | |
| | Or nymph or goddess, chanting to the loom. | |
| | Access we sought, nor was access denied: | |
| | Radiant she came: the portals open'd wide: | |
| | The goddess mild invites the guests to stay: | |
| | They blindly follow where she leads the way. | |
| | I only wait behind of all the train: | |
| | I waited long, and eyed the doors in vain: | |
| | The rest are vanish'd, none repass'd the gate, | |
| | And not a man appears to tell their fate.' | |
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|
| | "I heard, and instant o'er my shoulder flung | |
| | The belt in which my weighty falchion hung | |
| | (A beamy blade): then seized the bended bow, | |
| | And bade him guide the way, resolved to go. | |
| | He, prostrate falling, with both hands embraced | |
| | My knees, and weeping thus his suit address'd: | |
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| | "'O king, beloved of Jove, thy servant spare, | |
| | And ah, thyself the rash attempt forbear! | |
| | Never, alas! thou never shalt return, | |
| | Or see the wretched for whose loss we mourn. | |
| | With what remains from certain ruin fly, | |
| | And save the few not fated yet to die.' | |
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|
| | "I answer'd stern: 'Inglorious then remain, | |
| | Here feast and loiter, and desert thy train. | |
| | Alone, unfriended, will I tempt my way; | |
| | The laws of fate compel, and I obey.' | |
| | This said, and scornful turning from the shore | |
| | My haughty step, I stalk'd the valley o'er. | |
| | Till now approaching nigh the magic bower, | |
| | Where dwelt the enchantress skill'd in herbs of power, | |
| | A form divine forth issued from the wood | |
| | (Immortal Hermes with the golden rod) | |
| | In human semblance. On his bloomy face | |
| | Youth smiled celestial, with each opening grace. | |
| | He seized my hand, and gracious thus began: | |
| | 'Ah whither roam'st thou, much-enduring man? | |
| | O blind to fate! what led thy steps to rove | |
| | The horrid mazes of this magic grove? | |
| | Each friend you seek in yon enclosure lies, | |
| | All lost their form, and habitants of sties. | |
| | Think'st thou by wit to model their escape? | |
| | Sooner shalt thou, a stranger to thy shape, | |
| | Fall prone their equal: first thy danger know, | |
| | Then take the antidote the gods bestow. | |
| | The plant I give through all the direful bower | |
| | Shall guard thee, and avert the evil hour. | |
| | Now hear her wicked arts: Before thy eyes | |
| | The bowl shall sparkle, and the banquet rise; | |
| | Take this, nor from the faithless feast abstain, | |
| | For temper'd drugs and poison shall be vain. | |
| | Soon as she strikes her wand, and gives the word, | |
| | Draw forth and brandish thy refulgent sword, | |
| | And menace death: those menaces shall move | |
| | Her alter'd mind to blandishment and love. | |
| | Nor shun the blessing proffer'd to thy arms, | |
| | Ascend her bed, and taste celestial charms; | |
| | So shall thy tedious toils a respite find, | |
| | And thy lost friends return to human kind. | |
| | But swear her first by those dread oaths that tie | |
| | The powers below, the blessed in the sky; | |
| | Lest to thee naked secret fraud be meant, | |
| | Or magic bind thee cold and impotent. | |
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|
| | "Thus while he spoke, the sovereign plant he drew | |
| | Where on the all-bearing earth unmark'd it grew, | |
| | And show'd its nature and its wondrous power: | |
| | Black was the root, but milky white the flower; | |
| | Moly the name, to mortals hard to find, | |
| | But all is easy to the ethereal kind. | |
| | This Hermes gave, then, gliding off the glade, | |
| | Shot to Olympus from the woodland shade. | |
| | While, full of thought, revolving fates to come, | |
| | I speed my passage to the enchanted dome. | |
| | Arrived, before the lofty gates I stay'd; | |
| | The lofty gates the goddess wide display'd; | |
| | She leads before, and to the feast invites; | |
| | I follow sadly to the magic rites. | |
| | Radiant with starry studs, a silver seat | |
| | Received my limbs: a footstool eased my feet, | |
| | She mix'd the potion, fraudulent of soul; | |
| | The poison mantled in the golden bowl. | |
| | I took, and quaff'd it, confident in heaven. | |
| | Then waved the wand, and then the word was given. | |
| | 'Hence to thy fellows! (dreadful she began:) | |
| | Go, be a beast!'—I heard, and yet was man. | |
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|
| | "Then, sudden whirling, like a waving flame, | |
| | My beamy falchion, I assault the dame. | |
| | Struck with unusual fear, she trembling cries, | |
| | She faints, she falls; she lifts her weeping eyes. | |
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|
| | "'What art thou? say! from whence, from whom you came? | |
| | O more than human! tell thy race, thy name. | |
| | Amazing strength, these poisons to sustain! | |
| | Not mortal thou, nor mortal is thy brain. | |
| | Or art thou he, the man to come (foretold | |
| | By Hermes, powerful with the wand of gold), | |
| | The man from Troy, who wander'd ocean round; | |
| | The man for wisdom's various arts renown'd, | |
| | Ulysses? Oh! thy threatening fury cease; | |
| | Sheathe thy bright sword, and join our hands in peace! | |
| | Let mutual joys our mutual trust combine, | |
| | And love, and love-born confidence, be thine.' | |
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|
| | "'And how, dread Circe! (furious I rejoin) | |
| | Can love, and love-born confidence, be mine, | |
| | Beneath thy charms when my companions groan, | |
| | Transform'd to beasts, with accents not their own? | |
| | O thou of fraudful heart, shall I be led | |
| | To share thy feast-rites, or ascend thy bed; | |
| | That, all unarm'd, thy vengeance may have vent, | |
| | And magic bind me, cold and impotent? | |
| | Celestial as thou art, yet stand denied; | |
| | Or swear that oath by which the gods are tied, | |
| | Swear, in thy soul no latent frauds remain, | |
| | Swear by the vow which never can be vain.' | |
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|
| | "The goddess swore: then seized my hand, and led | |
| | To the sweet transports of the genial bed. | |
| | Ministrant to the queen, with busy care | |
| | Four faithful handmaids the soft rites prepare; | |
| | Nymphs sprung from fountains, or from shady woods, | |
| | Or the fair offspring of the sacred floods. | |
| | One o'er the couches painted carpets threw, | |
| | Whose purple lustre glow'd against the view: | |
| | White linen lay beneath. Another placed | |
| | The silver stands, with golden flaskets graced: | |
| | With dulcet beverage this the beaker crown'd, | |
| | Fair in the midst, with gilded cups around: | |
| | That in the tripod o'er the kindled pile | |
| | The water pours; the bubbling waters boil; | |
| | An ample vase receives the smoking wave; | |
| | And, in the bath prepared, my limbs I lave: | |
| | Reviving sweets repair the mind's decay, | |
| | And take the painful sense of toil away. | |
| | A vest and tunic o'er me next she threw, | |
| | Fresh from the bath, and dropping balmy dew; | |
| | Then led and placed me on the sovereign seat, | |
| | With carpets spread; a footstool at my feet. | |
| | The golden ewer a nymph obsequious brings, | |
| | Replenish'd from the cool translucent springs; | |
| | With copious water the bright vase supplies | |
| | A silver laver of capacious size. | |
| | I wash'd. The table in fair order spread, | |
| | They heap the glittering canisters with bread: | |
| | Viands of various kinds allure the taste, | |
| | Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast! | |
| | Circe in vain invites the feast to share; | |
| | Absent I ponder, and absorb'd in care; | |
| | While scenes of woe rose anxious in my breast, | |
| | The queen beheld me, and these words address'd: | |
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|
| | "'Why sits Ulysses silent and apart, | |
| | Some hoard of grief close harbour'd at his heart | |
| | Untouch'd before thee stand the cates divine, | |
| | And unregarded laughs the rosy wine. | |
| | Can yet a doubt or any dread remain, | |
| | When sworn that oath which never can be vain?' | |
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|
| | "I answered: 'Goddess! human is my breast, | |
| | By justice sway'd, by tender pity press'd: | |
| | Ill fits it me, whose friends are sunk to beasts, | |
| | To quaff thy bowls, or riot in thy feasts. | |
| | Me would'st thou please? for them thy cares employ, | |
| | And them to me restore, and me to joy.' | |
|
|
| | "With that she parted: in her potent hand | |
| | She bore the virtue of the magic wand. | |
| | Then, hastening to the sties, set wide the door, | |
| | Urged forth, and drove the bristly herd before; | |
| | Unwieldy, out they rush'd with general cry, | |
| | Enormous beasts, dishonest to the eye. | |
| | Now touch'd by counter-charms they change again, | |
| | And stand majestic, and recall'd to men. | |
| | Those hairs of late that bristled every part, | |
| | Fall off, miraculous effect of art! | |
| | Till all the form in full proportion rise, | |
| | More young, more large, more graceful to my eyes. | |
| | They saw, they knew me, and with eager pace | |
| | Clung to their master in a long embrace: | |
| | Sad, pleasing sight! with tears each eye ran o'er, | |
| | And sobs of joy re-echoed through the bower; | |
| | E'en Circe wept, her adamantine heart | |
| | Felt pity enter, and sustain'd her part. | |
|
|
| | "'Son of Laertes! (then the queen began) | |
| | Oh much-enduring, much experienced man! | |
| | Haste to thy vessel on the sea-beat shore, | |
| | Unload thy treasures, and the galley moor; | |
| | Then bring thy friends, secure from future harms, | |
| | And in our grottoes stow thy spoils and arms,' | |
|
|
| | "She said. Obedient to her high command | |
| | I quit the place, and hasten to the strand, | |
| | My sad companions on the beach I found, | |
| | Their wistful eyes in floods of sorrow drown'd. | |
|
|
| | "As from fresh pastures and the dewy field | |
| | (When loaded cribs their evening banquet yield) | |
| | The lowing herds return; around them throng | |
| | With leaps and bounds their late imprison'd young, | |
| | Rush to their mothers with unruly joy, | |
| | And echoing hills return the tender cry: | |
| | So round me press'd, exulting at my sight, | |
| | With cries and agonies of wild delight, | |
| | The weeping sailors; nor less fierce their joy | |
| | Than if return'd to Ithaca from Troy. | |
| | 'Ah master! ever honour'd, ever dear! | |
| | (These tender words on every side I hear) | |
| | What other joy can equal thy return? | |
| | Not that loved country for whose sight we mourn, | |
| | The soil that nursed us, and that gave us breath: | |
| | But ah! relate our lost companions' death.' | |
|
|
| | "I answer'd cheerful: 'Haste, your galley moor, | |
| | And bring our treasures and our arms ashore: | |
| | Those in yon hollow caverns let us lay, | |
| | Then rise, and follow where I lead the way. | |
| | Your fellows live; believe your eyes, and come | |
| | To taste the joys of Circe's sacred dome.' | |
|
|
| | "With ready speed the joyful crew obey: | |
| | Alone Eurylochus persuades their stay. | |
|
|
| | "'Whither (he cried), ah whither will ye run? | |
| | Seek ye to meet those evils ye should shun? | |
| | Will you the terrors of the dome explore, | |
| | In swine to grovel, or in lions roar, | |
| | Or wolf-like howl away the midnight hour | |
| | In dreadful watch around the magic bower? | |
| | Remember Cyclops, and his bloody deed; | |
| | The leader's rashness made the soldiers bleed.' | |
|
|
| | "I heard incensed, and first resolved to speed | |
| | My flying falchion at the rebel's head. | |
| | Dear as he was, by ties of kindred bound, | |
| | This hand had stretch'd him breathless on the ground. | |
| | But all at once my interposing train | |
| | For mercy pleaded, nor could plead in vain. | |
| | 'Leave here the man who dares his prince desert, | |
| | Leave to repentance and his own sad heart, | |
| | To guard the ship. Seek we the sacred shades | |
| | Of Circe's palace, where Ulysses leads.' | |
|
|
| | "This with one voice declared, the rising train | |
| | Left the black vessel by the murmuring main. | |
| | Shame touch'd Eurylochus' alter'd breast: | |
| | He fear'd my threats, and follow'd with the rest. | |
|
|
| | "Meanwhile the goddess, with indulgent cares | |
| | And social joys, the late transform'd repairs; | |
| | The bath, the feast, their fainting soul renews: | |
| | Rich in refulgent robes, and dropping balmy dews: | |
| | Brightening with joy, their eager eyes behold, | |
| | Each other's face, and each his story told; | |
| | Then gushing tears the narrative confound, | |
| | And with their sobs the vaulted roof resound. | |
| | When hush'd their passion, thus the goddess cries: | |
| | 'Ulysses, taught by labours to be wise, | |
| | Let this short memory of grief suffice. | |
| | To me are known the various woes ye bore. | |
| | In storms by sea, in perils on the shore; | |
| | Forget whatever was in Fortune's power, | |
| | And share the pleasures of this genial hour. | |
| | Such be your mind as ere ye left your coast, | |
| | Or learn'd to sorrow for a country lost. | |
| | Exiles and wanderers now, where'er ye go, | |
| | Too faithful memory renews your woe: | |
| | The cause removed, habitual griefs remain, | |
| | And the soul saddens by the use of pain.' | |
|
|
| | "Her kind entreaty moved the general breast; | |
| | Tired with long toil, we willing sunk to rest. | |
| | We plied the banquet, and the bowl we crown'd, | |
| | Till the full circle of the year came round. | |
| | But when the seasons following in their train, | |
| | Brought back the months, the days, and hours again; | |
| | As from a lethargy at once they rise, | |
| | And urge their chief with animating cries: | |
|
|
| | "'Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot? | |
| | And is the name of Ithaca forgot? | |
| | Shall never the dear land in prospect rise, | |
| | Or the loved palace glitter in our eyes? | |
| | "Melting I heard; yet till the sun's decline | |
| | Prolong'd the feast, and quaff'd the rosy wine | |
| | But when the shades came on at evening hour, | |
| | And all lay slumbering in the dusky bower, | |
| | I came a suppliant to fair Circe's bed, | |
| | The tender moment seized, and thus I said: | |
| | 'Be mindful, goddess! of thy promise made; | |
| | Must sad Ulysses ever be delay'd? | |
| | Around their lord my sad companions mourn, | |
| | Each breast beats homeward, anxious to return: | |
| | If but a moment parted from thy eyes, | |
| | Their tears flow round me, and my heart complies.' | |
|
|
| | "'Go then (she cried), ah go! yet think, not I, | |
| | Not Circe, but the Fates, your wish deny. | |
| | Ah, hope not yet to breathe thy native air! | |
| | Far other journey first demands thy care; | |
| | To tread the uncomfortable paths beneath, | |
| | And view the realms of darkness and of death. | |
| | There seek the Theban bard, deprived of sight; | |
| | Within, irradiate with prophetic light; | |
| | To whom Persephone, entire and whole, | |
| | Gave to retain the unseparated soul: | |
| | The rest are forms, of empty ether made; | |
| | Impassive semblance, and a flitting shade.' | |
|
|
| | "Struck at the word, my very heart was dead: | |
| | Pensive I sate: my tears bedew'd the bed: | |
| | To hate the light and life my soul begun, | |
| | And saw that all was grief beneath the sun: | |
| | Composed at length the gushing tears suppress'd, | |
| | And my toss'd limbs now wearied into rest. | |
| | 'How shall I tread (I cried), ah, Circe! say, | |
| | The dark descent, and who shall guide the way? | |
| | Can living eyes behold the realms below? | |
| | What bark to waft me, and what wind to blow?' | |
|
|
| | "'Thy fated road (the magic power replied), | |
| | Divine Ulysses! ask no mortal guide. | |
| | Rear but the mast, the spacious sail display, | |
| | The northern winds shall wing thee on thy way. | |
| | Soon shalt thou reach old Ocean's utmost ends, | |
| | Where to the main the shelving shore descends; | |
| | The barren trees of Proserpine's black woods, | |
| | Poplars and willows trembling o'er the floods: | |
| | There fix thy vessel in the lonely bay, | |
| | And enter there the kingdoms void of day, | |
| | Where Phlegethon's loud torrents, rushing down, | |
| | Hiss in the flaming gulf of Acheron; | |
| | And where, slow rolling from the Stygian bed, | |
| | Cocytus' lamentable waters spread: | |
| | Where the dark rock o'erhangs the infernal lake, | |
| | And mingling streams eternal murmurs make. | |
| | First draw thy falchion, and on every side | |
| | Trench the black earth a cubit long and wide: | |
| | To all the shades around libations pour, | |
| | And o'er the ingredients strew the hallow'd flour: | |
| | New wine and milk, with honey temper'd bring, | |
| | And living water from the crystal spring. | |
| | Then the wan shades and feeble ghosts implore, | |
| | With promised offerings on thy native shore; | |
| | A barren cow, the stateliest of the isle, | |
| | And heap'd with various wealth, a blazing pile: | |
| | These to the rest; but to the seer must bleed | |
| | A sable ram, the pride of all thy breed. | |
| | These solemn vows and holy offerings paid | |
| | To all the phantom nations of the dead, | |
| | Be next thy care the sable sheep to place | |
| | Full o'er the pit, and hellward turn their face: | |
| | But from the infernal rite thine eye withdraw, | |
| | And back to Ocean glance with reverend awe. | |
| | Sudden shall skim along the dusky glades | |
| | Thin airy shoals, and visionary shades. | |
| | Then give command the sacrifice to haste, | |
| | Let the flay'd victims in the flame be cast, | |
| | And sacred vows and mystic song applied | |
| | To grisly Pluto and his gloomy bride. | |
| | Wide o'er the pool thy falchion waved around | |
| | Shall drive the spectres from unbidden ground: | |
| | The sacred draught shall all the dead forbear, | |
| | Till awful from the shades arise the seer. | |
| | Let him, oraculous, the end, the way, | |
| | The turns of all thy future fate display, | |
| | Thy pilgrimage to come, and remnant of thy day.' | |
|
|
| | "So speaking, from the ruddy orient shone | |
| | The morn, conspicuous on her golden throne. | |
| | The goddess with a radiant tunic dress'd | |
| | My limbs, and o'er me cast a silken vest. | |
| | Long flowing robes, of purest white, array | |
| | The nymph, that added lustre to the day: | |
| | A tiar wreath'd her head with many a fold; | |
| | Her waist was circled with a zone of gold. | |
| | Forth issuing then, from place to place I flew; | |
| | Rouse man by man, and animate my crew. | |
| | 'Rise, rise, my mates! 'tis Circe gives command: | |
| | Our journey calls us; haste, and quit the land.' | |
| | All rise and follow, yet depart not all, | |
| | For Fate decreed one wretched man to fall. | |
|
|
| | "A youth there was, Elpenor was he named, | |
| | Not much for sense, nor much for courage famed: | |
| | The youngest of our band, a vulgar soul, | |
| | Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl. | |
| | He, hot and careless, on a turret's height | |
| | With sleep repair'd the long debauch of night: | |
| | The sudden tumult stirred him where he lay, | |
| | And down he hasten'd, but forgot the way; | |
| | Full headlong from the roof the sleeper fell, | |
| | And snapp'd the spinal joint, and waked in hell. | |
|
|
| | "The rest crowd round me with an eager look; | |
| | I met them with a sigh, and thus bespoke: | |
| | 'Already, friends! ye think your toils are o'er, | |
| | Your hopes already touch your native shore: | |
| | Alas! far otherwise the nymph declares, | |
| | Far other journey first demands our cares; | |
| | To tread the uncomfortable paths beneath, | |
| | The dreary realms of darkness and of death; | |
| | To seek Tiresias' awful shade below, | |
| | And thence our fortunes and our fates to know.' | |
|
|
| | "My sad companions heard in deep despair; | |
| | Frantic they tore their manly growth of hair; | |
| | To earth they fell: the tears began to rain; | |
| | But tears in mortal miseries are vain, | |
| | Sadly they fared along the sea-beat shore; | |
| | Still heaved their hearts, and still their eyes ran o'er. | |
| | The ready victims at our bark we found, | |
| | The sable ewe and ram together bound. | |
| | For swift as thought the goddess had been there, | |
| | And thence had glided, viewless as the air: | |
| | The paths of gods what mortal can survey? | |
| | Who eyes their motion? who shall trace their way?" | |
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