Book XII
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| | THE SIRENE, SCYLLA, AND CHARYBDIS. | |
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| | He relates how, after his return from the shades, he was sent by | |
| | Circe on his voyage, by the coast of the Sirens, and by the strait | |
| | of Scylla and Charybdis: the manner in which he escaped those | |
| | dangers: how, being cast on the island Trinacria, his companions | |
| | destroyed the oxen of the Sun: the vengeance that followed; how | |
| | all perished by shipwreck except himself, who, swimming on the | |
| | mast of the ship, arrived on the island of Calypso. With which his | |
| | narration concludes. | |
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| | "Thus o'er the rolling surge the vessel flies, | |
| | Till from the waves the AEaean hills arise. | |
| | Here the gay Morn resides in radiant bowers, | |
| | Here keeps here revels with the dancing Hours; | |
| | Here Phoebus, rising in the ethereal way, | |
| | Through heaven's bright portals pours the beamy day. | |
| | At once we fix our halsers on the land. | |
| | At once descend, and press the desert sand: | |
| | There, worn and wasted, lose our cares in sleep, | |
| | To the hoarse murmurs of the rolling deep. | |
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|
| | "Soon as the morn restored the day, we paid | |
| | Sepulchral honours to Elpenor's shade. | |
| | Now by the axe the rushing forest bends, | |
| | And the huge pile along the shore ascends. | |
| | Around we stand, a melancholy train, | |
| | And a loud groan re-echoes from the main. | |
| | Fierce o'er the pyre, by fanning breezes spread, | |
| | The hungry flames devour the silent dead. | |
| | A rising tomb, the silent dead to grace, | |
| | Fast by the roarings of the main we place; | |
| | The rising tomb a lofty column bore, | |
| | And high above it rose the tapering oar. | |
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|
| | "Meantime the goddess our return survey'd | |
| | From the pale ghosts and hell's tremendous shade. | |
| | Swift she descends: a train of nymphs divine | |
| | Bear the rich viands and the generous wine: | |
| | In act to speak the power of magic stands, | |
| | And graceful thus accosts the listening bands; | |
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| | "'O sons of woe? decreed by adverse fates | |
| | Alive to pass through hell's eternal gates! | |
| | All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread; | |
| | More wretched you! twice number'd with the dead! | |
| | This day adjourn your cares, exalt your souls, | |
| | Indulge the taste, and drain the sparkling bowls; | |
| | And when the morn unveils her saffron ray, | |
| | Spread your broad sails, and plough the liquid way: | |
| | Lo, I this night, your faithful guide, explain | |
| | Your woes by land, your dangers on the main.' | |
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|
| | "The goddess spoke. In feasts we waste the day, | |
| | Till Phoebus downward plunged his burning ray; | |
| | Then sable night ascends, and balmy rest | |
| | Seals every eye, and calms the troubled breast. | |
| | Then curious she commands me to relate | |
| | The dreadful scenes of Pluto's dreary state. | |
| | She sat in silence while the tale I tell, | |
| | The wondrous visions and the laws of hell. | |
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|
| | "Then thus: 'The lot of man the gods dispose; | |
| | These ills are past: now hear thy future woes | |
| | O prince attend; some favouring power be kind, | |
| | And print the important story on thy mind! | |
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|
| | "'Next, where the Sirens dwells, you plough the seas; | |
| | Their song is death, and makes destruction please. | |
| | Unblest the man, whom music wins to stay | |
| | Nigh the cursed shore and listen to the lay. | |
| | No more that wretch shall view the joys of life | |
| | His blooming offspring, or his beauteous wife! | |
| | In verdant meads they sport; and wide around | |
| | Lie human bones that whiten all the ground: | |
| | The ground polluted floats with human gore, | |
| | And human carnage taints the dreadful shore | |
| | Fly swift the dangerous coast: let every ear | |
| | Be stopp'd against the song! 'tis death to hear! | |
| | Firm to the mast with chains thyself be bound, | |
| | Nor trust thy virtue to the enchanting sound. | |
| | If, mad with transport, freedom thou demand, | |
| | Be every fetter strain'd, and added band to band. | |
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| | "'These seas o'erpass'd, be wise! but I refrain | |
| | To mark distinct thy voyage o'er the main: | |
| | New horrors rise! let prudence be thy guide, | |
| | And guard thy various passage through the tide. | |
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| | "'High o'er the main two rocks exalt their brow,' | |
| | The boiling billows thundering roll below; | |
| | Through the vast waves the dreadful wonders move, | |
| | Hence named Erratic by the gods above. | |
| | No bird of air, no dove of swiftest wing, | |
| | That bears ambrosia to the ethereal king, | |
| | Shuns the dire rocks: in vain she cuts the skies; | |
| | The dire rocks meet, and crush her as she flies: | |
| | Not the fleet bark, when prosperous breezes play, | |
| | Ploughs o'er that roaring surge its desperate way; | |
| | O'erwhelm'd it sinks: while round a smoke expires, | |
| | And the waves flashing seem to burn with fires. | |
| | Scarce the famed Argo pass'd these raging floods, | |
| | The sacred Argo, fill'd with demigods! | |
| | E'en she had sunk, but Jove's imperial bride | |
| | Wing'd her fleet sail, and push'd her o'er the tide. | |
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| | "'High in the air the rock its summit shrouds | |
| | In brooding tempests, and in rolling clouds; | |
| | Loud storms around, and mists eternal rise, | |
| | Beat its bleak brow, and intercept the skies. | |
| | When all the broad expansion, bright with day, | |
| | Glows with the autumnal or the summer ray, | |
| | The summer and the autumn glow in vain, | |
| | The sky for ever lowers, for ever clouds remain. | |
| | Impervious to the step of man it stands, | |
| | Though borne by twenty feet, though arm'd with twenty hands; | |
| | Smooth as the polish of the mirror rise | |
| | The slippery sides, and shoot into the skies. | |
| | Full in the centre of this rock display'd, | |
| | A yawning cavern casts a dreadful shade: | |
| | Nor the fleet arrow from the twanging bow, | |
| | Sent with full force, could reach the depth below. | |
| | Wide to the west the horrid gulf extends, | |
| | And the dire passage down to hell descends. | |
| | O fly the dreadful sight! expand thy sails, | |
| | Ply the strong oar, and catch the nimble gales; | |
| | Here Scylla bellows from the dire abodes, | |
| | Tremendous pest, abhorr'd by man and gods! | |
| | Hideous her voice, and with less terrors roar | |
| | The whelps of lions in the midnight hour. | |
| | Twelve feet, deform'd and foul, the fiend dispreads; | |
| | Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads; | |
| | Her jaws grin dreadful with three rows of teeth; | |
| | Jaggy they stand, the gaping den of death; | |
| | Her parts obscene the raging billows hide; | |
| | Her bosom terribly o'erlooks the tide. | |
| | When stung with hunger she embroils the flood, | |
| | The sea-dog and the dolphin are her food; | |
| | She makes the huge leviathan her prey, | |
| | And all the monsters of the watery way; | |
| | The swiftest racer of the azure plain | |
| | Here fills her sails, and spreads her oars in vain; | |
| | Fell Scylla rises, in her fury roars, | |
| | At once six mouths expands, at once six men devours. | |
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| | "'Close by, a rock of less enormous height | |
| | Breaks the wild waves, and forms a dangerous strait; | |
| | Full on its crown a fig's green branches rise, | |
| | And shoot a leafy forest to the skies; | |
| | Beneath, Charybdis holds her boisterous reign | |
| | 'Midst roaring whirlpools, and absorbs the main; | |
| | Thrice in her gulfs the boiling seas subside, | |
| | Thrice in dire thunders she refunds the tide. | |
| | Oh, if thy vessel plough the direful waves, | |
| | When seas retreating roar within her caves, | |
| | Ye perish all! though he who rules the main | |
| | Lends his strong aid, his aid he lends in vain. | |
| | Ah, shun the horrid gulf! by Scylla fly. | |
| | 'Tis better six to lose, than all to die.' | |
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| | "I then: 'O nymph propitious to my prayer, | |
| | Goddess divine, my guardian power, declare, | |
| | Is the foul fiend from human vengeance freed? | |
| | Or, if I rise in arms, can Scylla bleed?' | |
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|
| | "Then she: 'O worn by toils, O broke in fight, | |
| | Still are new toils and war thy dire delight? | |
| | Will martial flames for ever fire thy mind, | |
| | And never, never be to Heaven resign'd? | |
| | How vain thy efforts to avenge the wrong! | |
| | Deathless the pest! impenetrably strong! | |
| | Furious and fell, tremendous to behold! | |
| | E'en with a look she withers all the bold! | |
| | She mocks the weak attempts of human might; | |
| | Oh, fly her rage! thy conquest is thy flight. | |
| | If but to seize thy arms thou make delay, | |
| | Again thy fury vindicates her prey; | |
| | Her six mouths yawn, and six are snatch'd away. | |
| | From her foul wound Crataeis gave to air | |
| | This dreadful pest! To her direct thy prayer, | |
| | To curb the monster in her dire abodes, | |
| | And guard thee through the tumult of the floods. | |
| | Thence to Trinacria's shore you bend your way, | |
| | Where graze thy herds, illustrious source of day! | |
| | Seven herds, seven flocks enrich the sacred plains, | |
| | Each herd, each flock full fifty heads contains; | |
| | The wondrous kind a length of age survey, | |
| | By breed increase not, nor by death decay. | |
| | Two sister goddesses possess the plain, | |
| | The constant guardian of the woolly train; | |
| | Lampetie fair, and Phaethusa young, | |
| | From Phoebus and the bright Neaea sprung; | |
| | Here, watchful o'er the flocks, in shady bowers | |
| | And flowery meads, they waste the joyous hours. | |
| | Rob not the gods! and so propitious gales | |
| | Attend thy voyage, and impel thy sails; | |
| | But if thy impious hands the flocks destroy, | |
| | The gods, the gods avenge it, and ye die! | |
| | 'Tis thine alone (thy friends and navy lost) | |
| | Through tedious toils to view thy native coast.' | |
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| | She ceased: and now arose the morning ray; | |
| | Swift to her dome the goddess held her way. | |
| | Then to my mates I measured back the plain, | |
| | Climb'd the tall bark, and rush'd into the main; | |
| | Then, bending to the stroke, their oars they drew | |
| | To their broad breasts, and swift the galley flew. | |
| | Up sprung a brisker breeze; with freshening gales | |
| | The friendly goddess stretch'd the swelling sails; | |
| | We drop our oars; at ease the pilot guides; | |
| | The vessel light along the level glides. | |
| | When, rising sad and slow, with pensive look, | |
| | Thus to the melancholy train I spoke: | |
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| | "'O friends, oh ever partners of my woes, | |
| | Attend while I what Heaven foredooms disclose. | |
| | Hear all! Fate hangs o'er all; on you it lies | |
| | To live or perish! to be safe, be wise! | |
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| | "'In flowery meads the sportive Sirens play, | |
| | Touch the soft lyre, and tune the vocal lay; | |
| | Me, me alone, with fetters firmly bound, | |
| | The gods allow to hear the dangerous sound. | |
| | Hear and obey; if freedom I demand, | |
| | Be every fetter strain'd, be added band to band.' | |
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|
| | "While yet I speak the winged galley flies, | |
| | And lo! the Siren shores like mists arise. | |
| | Sunk were at once the winds; the air above, | |
| | And waves below, at once forgot to move; | |
| | Some demon calm'd the air and smooth'd the deep, | |
| | Hush'd the loud winds, and charm'd the waves to sleep. | |
| | Now every sail we furl, each oar we ply; | |
| | Lash'd by the stroke, the frothy waters fly. | |
| | The ductile wax with busy hands I mould, | |
| | And cleft in fragments, and the fragments roll'd; | |
| | The aerial region now grew warm with day, | |
| | The wax dissolved beneath the burning ray; | |
| | Then every ear I barr'd against the strain, | |
| | And from access of frenzy lock'd the brain. | |
| | Now round the masts my mates the fetters roll'd, | |
| | And bound me limb by limb with fold on fold. | |
| | Then bending to the stroke, the active train | |
| | Plunge all at once their oars, and cleave the main. | |
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| | "While to the shore the rapid vessel flies, | |
| | Our swift approach the Siren choir descries; | |
| | Celestial music warbles from their tongue, | |
| | And thus the sweet deluders tune the song: | |
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| | "'Oh stay, O pride of Greece! Ulysses, stay! | |
| | Oh cease thy course, and listen to our lay! | |
| | Blest is the man ordain'd our voice to hear, | |
| | The song instructs the soul, and charms the ear. | |
| | Approach! thy soul shall into raptures rise! | |
| | Approach! and learn new wisdom from the wise! | |
| | We know whate'er the kings of mighty name | |
| | Achieved at Ilion in the field of fame; | |
| | Whate'er beneath the sun's bright journey lies. | |
| | Oh stay, and learn new wisdom from the wise!' | |
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| | "Thus the sweet charmers warbled o'er the main; | |
| | My soul takes wing to meet the heavenly strain; | |
| | I give the sign, and struggle to be free; | |
| | Swift row my mates, and shoot along the sea; | |
| | New chains they add, and rapid urge the way, | |
| | Till, dying off, the distant sounds decay; | |
| | Then scudding swiftly from the dangerous ground, | |
| | The deafen'd ear unlock'd, the chains unbound. | |
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| | "Now all at once tremendous scenes unfold; | |
| | Thunder'd the deeps, the smoky billows roll'd! | |
| | Tumultuous waves embroil the bellowing flood, | |
| | All trembling, deafen'd, and aghast we stood! | |
| | No more the vessel plough'd the dreadful wave, | |
| | Fear seized the mighty, and unnerved the brave; | |
| | Each dropp'd his oar; but swift from man to man | |
| | With looks serene I turn'd, and thus began: | |
| | 'O friends! O often tried in adverse storms! | |
| | With ills familiar in more dreadful forms! | |
| | Deep in the dire Cyclopean den you lay, | |
| | Yet safe return'd - Ulysses led the way. | |
| | Learn courage hence, and in my care confide; | |
| | Lo! still the same Ulysses is your guide. | |
| | Attend my words! your oars incessant ply; | |
| | Strain every nerve, and bid the vessel fly. | |
| | If from yon jostling rocks and wavy war | |
| | Jove safety grants, he grants it to your care. | |
| | And thou, whose guiding hand directs our way, | |
| | Pilot, attentive listen and obey! | |
| | Bear wide thy course, nor plough those angry waves | |
| | Where rolls yon smoke, yon tumbling ocean raves; | |
| | Steer by the higher rock; lest whirl'd around | |
| | We sink, beneath the circling eddy drown'd.' | |
| | While yet I speak, at once their oars they seize, | |
| | Stretch to the stroke, and brush the working seas. | |
| | Cautious the name of Scylla I suppress'd; | |
| | That dreadful sound had chill'd the boldest breast. | |
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| | "Meantime, forgetful of the voice divine, | |
| | All dreadful bright my limbs in armour shine; | |
| | High on the deck I take my dangerous stand, | |
| | Two glittering javelins lighten in my hand; | |
| | Prepared to whirl the whizzing spear I stay, | |
| | Till the fell fiend arise to seize her prey. | |
| | Around the dungeon, studious to behold | |
| | The hideous pest, my labouring eyes I roll'd; | |
| | In vain! the dismal dungeon, dark as night, | |
| | Veils the dire monster, and confounds the sight. | |
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|
| | "Now through the rocks, appall'd with deep dismay, | |
| | We bend our course, and stem the desperate way; | |
| | Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms, | |
| | And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms. | |
| | When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves, | |
| | The rough rock roars, tumultuous boil the waves; | |
| | They toss, they foam, a wild confusion raise, | |
| | Like waters bubbling o'er the fiery blaze; | |
| | Eternal mists obscure the aerial plain, | |
| | And high above the rock she spouts the main; | |
| | When in her gulfs the rushing sea subsides, | |
| | She drains the ocean with the refluent tides; | |
| | The rock re-bellows with a thundering sound; | |
| | Deep, wondrous deep, below appears the ground. | |
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| | "Struck with despair, with trembling hearts we view'd | |
| | The yawning dungeon, and the tumbling flood; | |
| | When lo! fierce Scylla stoop'd to seize her prey, | |
| | Stretch'd her dire jaws, and swept six men away. | |
| | Chiefs of renown! loud-echoing shrieks arise; | |
| | I turn, and view them quivering in the skies; | |
| | They call, and aid with outstretch'd arms implore; | |
| | In vain they call! those arms are stretch'd no more. | |
| | As from some rock that overhangs the flood | |
| | The silent fisher casts the insidious food, | |
| | With fraudful care he waits the finny prize, | |
| | And sudden lifts it quivering to the skies: | |
| | So the foul monster lifts her prey on high, | |
| | So pant the wretches struggling in the sky; | |
| | In the wide dungeon she devours her food, | |
| | And the flesh trembles while she churns the blood. | |
| | Worn as I am with griefs, with care decay'd, | |
| | Never, I never scene so dire survey'd! | |
| | My shivering blood, congeal'd, forgot to flow; | |
| | Aghast I stood, a monument of woe! | |
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| | "Now from the rocks the rapid vessel flies, | |
| | And the hoarse din like distant thunder dies; | |
| | To Sol's bright isle our voyage we pursue, | |
| | And now the glittering mountains rise to view. | |
| | There, sacred to the radiant god of day, | |
| | Graze the fair herds, the flocks promiscuous stray: | |
| | Then suddenly was heard along the main | |
| | To low the ox, to blest the woolly train. | |
| | Straight to my anxious thoughts the sound convey'd | |
| | The words of Circe and the Theban shade; | |
| | Warn'd by their awful voice these shores to shun, | |
| | With cautious fears oppress'd I thus begun: | |
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| | "'O friends! O ever exorcised in care! | |
| | Hear Heaven's commands, and reverence what ye hear! | |
| | To fly these shores the prescient Theban shade | |
| | And Circe warn! Oh be their voice obey'd | |
| | Some mighty woe relentless Heaven forebodes: | |
| | Fly these dire regions, and revere the gods!' | |
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|
| | "While yet I spoke, a sudden sorrow ran | |
| | Through every breast, and spread from man to man, | |
| | Till wrathful thus Eurylochus began: | |
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| | "'O cruel thou! some Fury sure has steel'd | |
| | That stubborn soul, by toil untaught to yield! | |
| | From sleep debarr'd, we sink from woes to woes: | |
| | And cruel' enviest thou a short repose? | |
| | Still must we restless rove, new seas explore, | |
| | The sun descending, and so near the shore? | |
| | And lo! the night begins her groomy reign, | |
| | And doubles all the terrors of the main: | |
| | Oft in the dead of night loud winds rise, | |
| | Lash the wild surge, and bluster in the skies. | |
| | Oh, should the fierce south-west his rage display, | |
| | And toss with rising storms the watery way, | |
| | Though gods descend from heaven's aerial plain | |
| | To lend us aid, the gods descend in vain. | |
| | Then while the night displays her awful shade, | |
| | Sweet time of slumber! be the night obey' | |
| | Haste ye to land! and when the morning ray | |
| | Sheds her bright beam, pursue the destined way.' | |
| | A sudden joy in every bosom rose: | |
| | So will'd some demon, minister of woes! | |
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| | "To whom with grief: 'O swift to be undone! | |
| | Constrain'd I act what wisdom bids me shun. | |
| | But yonder herbs and yonder flocks forbear; | |
| | Attest the heavens, and call the gods to hear: | |
| | Content, an innocent repast display, | |
| | By Circe given, and fly the dangerous prey.' | |
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| | 'Thus I: and while to shore the vessel flies, | |
| | With hands uplifted they attest the skies: | |
| | Then, where a fountain's gurgling waters play, | |
| | They rush to land, and end in feasts the day: | |
| | They feed; they quaff; and now (their hunger fled) | |
| | Sigh for their friends devour'd, and mourn the dead; | |
| | Nor cease the tears' till each in slumber shares | |
| | A sweet forgetfulness of human cares. | |
| | Now far the night advanced her gloomy reign, | |
| | And setting stars roll'd down the azure plain: | |
| | When at the voice of Jove wild whirlwinds rise, | |
| | And clouds and double darkness veil the skies; | |
| | The moon, the stars, the bright ethereal host | |
| | Seem as extinct, and all their splendours lost: | |
| | The furious tempest roars with dreadful sound: | |
| | Air thunders, rolls the ocean, groans the ground. | |
| | All night it raged: when morning rose to land | |
| | We haul'd our bark, and moor'd it on the strand, | |
| | Where in a beauteous grotto's cool recess | |
| | Dance the green Nerolds of the neighbouring seas. | |
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| | "There while the wild winds whistled o'er the main, | |
| | Thus careful I address'd the listening train: | |
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| | "'O friends, be wise! nor dare the flocks destroy | |
| | Of these fair pastures: if ye touch, ye die. | |
| | Warn'd by the high command of Heaven, be awed: | |
| | Holy the flocks, and dreadful is the god! | |
| | That god who spreads the radiant beams of light, | |
| | And views wide earth and heaven's unmeasured height.' | |
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|
| | "And now the moon had run her monthly round, | |
| | The south-east blustering with a dreadful sound: | |
| | Unhurt the beeves, untouch'd the woolly train, | |
| | Low through the grove, or touch the flowery plain: | |
| | Then fail'd our food: then fish we make our prey, | |
| | Or fowl that screaming haunt the watery way. | |
| | Till now from sea or flood no succour found, | |
| | Famine and meagre want besieged us round. | |
| | Pensive and pale from grove to grove I stray'd, | |
| | From the loud storms to find a sylvan shade; | |
| | There o'er my hands the living wave I pour; | |
| | And Heaven and Heaven's immortal thrones implore, | |
| | To calm the roarings of the stormy main, | |
| | And guide me peaceful to my realms again. | |
| | Then o'er m eyes the gods soft slumbers shed, | |
| | While thus Eurylochus arising said: | |
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| | "'O friends, a thousand ways frail mortals lead | |
| | To the cold tomb, and dreadful all to tread; | |
| | But dreadful most, when by a slow decay | |
| | Pale hunger wastes the manly strength away. | |
| | Why cease ye then to implore the powers above, | |
| | And offer hecatombs to thundering Jove? | |
| | Why seize ye not yon beeves, and fleecy prey? | |
| | Arise unanimous; arise and slay! | |
| | And if the gods ordain a safe return, | |
| | To Phoebus shrines shall rise, and altars burn. | |
| | But should the powers that o'er mankind preside | |
| | Decree to plunge us in the whelming tide, | |
| | Better to rush at once to shades below | |
| | Than linger life away, and nourish woe.' | |
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| | "Thus he: the beeves around securely stray, | |
| | When swift to ruin they invade the prey; | |
| | They seize, they kill! - but for the rite divine. | |
| | The barley fail'd, and for libations wine. | |
| | Swift from the oak they strip the shady pride; | |
| | And verdant leaves the flowery cake supplied. | |
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| | "With prayer they now address the ethereal train, | |
| | Slay the selected beeves, and flay the slain; | |
| | The thighs, with fat involved, divide with art, | |
| | Strew'd o'er with morsels cut from every part. | |
| | Water, instead of wine, is brought in urns, | |
| | And pour'd profanely as the victim burns. | |
| | The thighs thus offer'd, and the entrails dress'd, | |
| | They roast the fragments, and prepare the feast. | |
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| | "'Twas then soft slumber fled my troubled brain; | |
| | Back to the bark I speed along the main. | |
| | When lo! an odour from the feast exhales, | |
| | Spreads o'er the coast and scents the tainted gales; | |
| | A chilly fear congeal'd my vital blood, | |
| | And thus, obtesting Heaven, I mourn'd aloud; | |
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| | "'O sire of men and gods, immortal Jove! | |
| | O all ye blissful powers that reign above! | |
| | Why were my cares beguiled in short repose? | |
| | O fatal slumber, paid with lasting woes! | |
| | A deed so dreadful all the gods alarms, | |
| | Vengeance is on the wing, and Heaven in arms!' | |
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|
| | "Meantime Lampetie mounts the aerial way, | |
| | And kindles into rage the god of day; | |
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| | "'Vengeance, ye powers (he cries), and then whose hand | |
| | Aims the red bolt, and hurls the writhen brand! | |
| | Slain are those herds which I with pride survey, | |
| | When through the ports of heaven I pour the day, | |
| | Or deep in ocean plunge the burning ray. | |
| | Vengeance, ye gods! or I the skies forego, | |
| | And bear the lamp of heaven to shades below.' | |
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| | "To whom the thundering Power: 'O source of day | |
| | Whose radiant lamp adorns the azure way, | |
| | Still may thy beams through heaven's bright portal rise, | |
| | The joy of earth, the glory of the skies: | |
| | Lo! my red arm I bare, my thunders guide, | |
| | To dash the offenders in the whelming tide.' | |
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| | "To fair Calypso, from the bright abodes, | |
| | Hermes convey'd these counsels of the gods. | |
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| | "Meantime from man to man my tongue exclaims, | |
| | My wrath is kindled, and my soul in flames. | |
| | In vain! I view perform'd the direful deed, | |
| | Beeves, slain in heaps, along the ocean bleed. | |
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| | "Now heaven gave signs of wrath: along the ground | |
| | Crept the raw hides, and with a bellowing sound | |
| | Roar'd the dead limbs; the burning entrails groan'd. | |
| | Six guilty days my wretched mates employ | |
| | In impious feasting, and unhallowed joy; | |
| | The seventh arose, and now the sire of gods | |
| | Rein'd the rough storms; and calm'd the tossing floods: | |
| | With speed the bark we climb; the spacious sails. | |
| | Loosed from the yards invite the impelling gales. | |
| | Past sight of shore, along the surge we bound, | |
| | And all above is sky, and ocean all around; | |
| | When lo! a murky cloud the thunderer forms | |
| | Full o'er our heads, and blackens heaven with storms. | |
| | Night dwells o'er all the deep: and now outflies | |
| | The gloomy west, and whistles in the skies. | |
| | The mountain-billows roar! the furious blast | |
| | Howls o'er the shroud, and rends it from the mast: | |
| | The mast gives way, and, crackling as it bends, | |
| | Tears up the deck; then all at once descends: | |
| | The pilot by the tumbling ruin slain, | |
| | Dash'd from the helm, falls headlong in the main. | |
| | Then Jove in anger bids his thunders roll, | |
| | And forky lightnings flash from pole to pole: | |
| | Fierce at our heads his deadly bolt he aims, | |
| | Red with uncommon wrath, and wrapp'd in flames: | |
| | Full on the bark it fell; now high, now low, | |
| | Toss'd and retoss'd, it reel'd beneath the blow; | |
| | At once into the main the crew it shook: | |
| | Sulphurous odours rose, and smouldering smoke. | |
| | Like fowl that haunt the floods, they sink, they rise, | |
| | Now lost, now seen, with shrieks and dreadful cries; | |
| | And strive to gain the bark, but Jove denies. | |
| | Firm at the helm I stand, when fierce the main | |
| | Rush'd with dire noise, and dash'd the sides in twain; | |
| | Again impetuous drove the furious blast, | |
| | Snapp'd the strong helm, and bore to sea the mast. | |
| | Firm to the mast with cords the helm I bind, | |
| | And ride aloft, to Providence resign'd, | |
| | Through tumbling billows and a war of wind. | |
| | "Now sunk the west, and now a southern breeze, | |
| | More dreadful than the tempest lash'd the seas; | |
| | For on the rocks it bore where Scylla raves, | |
| | And dire Charybdis rolls her thundering waves. | |
| | All night I drove; and at the dawn of day, | |
| | Fast by the rocks beheld the desperate way; | |
| | Just when the sea within her gulfs subsides, | |
| | And in the roaring whirlpools rush the tides, | |
| | Swift from the float I vaulted with a bound, | |
| | The lofty fig-tree seized, and clung around; | |
| | So to the beam the bat tenacious clings, | |
| | And pendent round it clasps his leather wings. | |
| | High in the air the tree its boughs display'd, | |
| | And o'er the dungeon cast a dreadful shade; | |
| | All unsustain'd between the wave and sky, | |
| | Beneath my feet the whirling billows fly. | |
| | What time the judge forsakes the noisy bar | |
| | To take repast, and stills the wordy war, | |
| | Charybdis, rumbling from her inmost caves, | |
| | The mast refunded on her refluent waves. | |
| | Swift from the tree, the floating mass to gain, | |
| | Sudden I dropp'd amidst the flashing main; | |
| | Once more undaunted on the ruin rode, | |
| | And oar'd with labouring arms along the flood. | |
| | Unseen I pass'd by Scylla's dire abodes. | |
| | So Jove decreed (dread sire of men and gods). | |
| | Then nine long days I plow'd the calmer seas, | |
| | Heaved by the surge, and wafted by the breeze. | |
| | Weary and wet the Ogygian shores I gain, | |
| | When the tenth sun descended to the main. | |
| | There, in Calypso's ever-fragrant bowers, | |
| | Refresh'd I lay, and joy beguiled the hours. | |
| | "My following fates to thee, O king, are known, | |
| | And the bright partner of thy royal throne. | |
| | Enough: in misery can words avail? | |
| | And what so tedious as a twice-told tale?" | |
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