The Odyssey of Homer Part 13

The lots were cast, and four were chosen, those Whom most I wish'd, and I was chosen fifth.

At even-tide he came, his fleecy flocks Pasturing homeward, and compell'd them all Into his cavern, leaving none abroad, 390 Either through some surmise, or so inclined By influence, haply, of the G.o.ds themselves.

The huge rock pull'd into its place again At the cave's mouth, he, sitting, milk'd his sheep And goats in order, and her kid or lamb Thrust under each; thus, all his work dispatch'd, Two more he seiz'd, and to his supper fell.

I then, approaching to him, thus address'd The Cyclops, holding in my hands a cup Of ivy-wood, well-charg'd with ruddy wine. 400 Lo, Cyclops! this is wine. Take this and drink After thy meal of man's flesh. Taste and learn What precious liquor our lost vessel bore.

I brought it hither, purposing to make Libation to thee, if to pity inclined Thou would'st dismiss us home. But, ah, thy rage Is insupportable! thou cruel one!

Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforth Will visit _thee_, guilty of such excess?

I ceas'd. He took and drank, and hugely pleas'd[33] 410 With that delicious bev'rage, thus enquir'd.

Give me again, and spare not. Tell me, too, Thy name, incontinent, that I may make Requital, gratifying also thee With somewhat to thy taste. We Cyclops own A bounteous soil, which yields _us_ also wine From cl.u.s.ters large, nourish'd by show'rs from Jove; But this--this is from above--a stream Of nectar and ambrosia, all divine!

He ended, and received a second draught, 420 Like measure. Thrice I bore it to his hand, And, foolish, thrice he drank. But when the fumes Began to play around the Cyclops' brain, With show of amity I thus replied.

Cyclops! thou hast my n.o.ble name enquired, Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return, The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.

My name is Outis,[34] Outis I am call'd At home, abroad; wherever I am known.

So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied. 430 Outis, when I have eaten all his friends, Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.

He spake, and, downward sway'd, fell resupine, With his huge neck aslant. All-conqu'ring sleep Soon seized him. From his gullet gush'd the wine With human morsels mingled, many a blast Sonorous issuing from his glutted maw.

Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-wood Into the embers glowing on the hearth, I heated it, and cheer'd my friends, the while, 440 Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.

But when that stake of olive-wood, though green, Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot, I bore it to his side. Then all my aids Around me gather'd, and the G.o.ds infused Heroic fort.i.tude into our hearts.

They, seizing the hot stake rasp'd to a point, Bored his eye with it, and myself, advanced To a superior stand, twirled it about.

As when a shipwright with his wimble bores 450 Tough oaken timber, placed on either side Below, his fellow-artists strain the thong Alternate, and the restless iron spins, So, grasping hard the stake pointed with fire, We twirl'd it in his eye; the bubbling blood Boil'd round about the brand; his pupil sent A scalding vapour forth that sing'd his brow, And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.

As when the smith an hatchet or large axe Temp'ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade 460 Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel) So hiss'd his eye around the olive-wood.

The howling monster with his outcry fill'd The hollow rock, and I, with all my aids, Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spike From his burnt socket, mad with anguish, cast The implement all b.l.o.o.d.y far away.

Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the name Of ev'ry Cyclops dwelling in the caves Around him, on the wind-swept mountain-tops; 470 They, at his cry flocking from ev'ry part, Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.

What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!

Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful ear Of night, and break our slumbers? Fear'st thou lest Some mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear'st Thyself to die by cunning or by force?

Them answer'd, then, Polypheme from his cave.

Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.

To whom with accents wing'd his friends without. 480 If no man[35] harm thee, but thou art alone, And sickness feel'st, it is the stroke of Jove, And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aid Thy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.

So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh'd That by the fiction only of a name, Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.

Then groan'd the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief, And, fumbling, with stretch'd hands, removed the rock From his cave's mouth, which done, he sat him down 490 Spreading his arms athwart the pa.s.s, to stop Our egress with his flocks abroad; so dull, It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.

I, pondering what means might fittest prove To save from instant death, (if save I might) My people and myself, to ev'ry shift Inclined, and various counsels framed, as one Who strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.

To me, thus meditating, this appear'd The likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were, 500 Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.

These, silently, with osier twigs on which The Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound, Three in one leash; the intermediate rams Bore each a man, whom the exterior two Preserved, concealing him on either side.

Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last, The curl'd back seizing of a ram, (for one I had reserv'd far stateliest of them all) Slipp'd underneath his belly, and both hands 510 Enfolding fast in his exub'rant fleece, Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.

We, thus disposed, waited with many a sigh The sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris'n, Aurora, day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd Again appear'd, the males of all his flocks Rush'd forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk'd, The wethers bleated, by the load distress'd Of udders overcharged. Their master, rack'd With pain intolerable, handled yet 520 The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood, But, gross of intellect, suspicion none Conceiv'd of men beneath their bodies bound.

And now (none left beside) the ram approach'd With his own wool burthen'd, and with myself, Whom many a fear molested. Polypheme The giant stroak'd him as he sat, and said, My darling ram! why latest of the flock Com'st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheep Could leave behind, but stalking at their head, 530 Thou first was wont to crop the tender gra.s.s, First to arrive at the clear stream, and first With ready will to seek my sheep-cote here At evening; but, thy practice chang'd, thou com'st, Now last of all. Feel'st thou regret, my ram!

Of thy poor master's eye, by a vile wretch Bored out, who overcame me first with wine, And by a crew of vagabonds accurs'd, Followers of Outis, whose escape from death Shall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart 540 Were as my own, and that distinct as I Thou could'st articulate, so should'st thou tell, Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.

Then, dash'd against the floor his spatter'd brain Should fly, and I should lighter feel my harm From Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.

So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.

When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escaped Few paces from the cavern and the court, First, quitting my own ram, I loos'd my friends, 550 Then, turning seaward many a thriven ewe Sharp-hoof'd, we drove them swiftly to the ship.

Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we came From death escaped, but much they mourn'd the dead.

I suffer'd not their tears, but silent shook My brows, by signs commanding them to lift The sheep on board, and instant plow the main.

They, quick embarking, on the benches sat Well ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood; But distant now such length as a loud voice 560 May reach, I hail'd with taunts the Cyclops' ear.

Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy cave With brutal force my followers, thou devour'dst The followers of no timid Chief, or base, Vengeance was sure to recompense that deed Atrocious. Monster! who wast not afraid To eat the guest shelter'd beneath thy roof!

Therefore the G.o.ds have well requited thee.

I ended; he, exasp'rate, raged the more, And rending from its hold a mountain-top, 570 Hurl'd it toward us; at our vessel's stern Down came the ma.s.s, nigh sweeping in its fall The rudder's head. The ocean at the plunge Of that huge rock, high on its refluent flood Heav'd, irresistible, the ship to land.

I seizing, quick, our longest pole on board, Back thrust her from the coast and by a nod In silence given, bade my companions ply Strenuous their oars, that so we might escape.

Proc.u.mbent,[36] each obey'd, and when, the flood 580 Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain'd,[37]

Again I hail'd the Cyclops; but my friends Earnest dissuaded me on ev'ry side.

Ah, rash Ulysses! why with taunts provoke The savage more, who hath this moment hurl'd A weapon, such as heav'd the ship again To land, where death seem'd certain to us all?

For had he heard a cry, or but the voice Of one man speaking, he had all our heads With some sharp rock, and all our timbers crush'd 590 Together, such vast force is in his arm.

So they, but my courageous heart remain'd Unmoved, and thus again, incensed, I spake.

Cyclops! should any mortal man inquire To whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow'st, Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief, Laertes' son, native of Ithaca.

I ceas'd, and with a groan thus he replied.

Ah me! an antient oracle I feel Accomplish'd. Here abode a prophet erst, 600 A man of n.o.blest form, and in his art Unrivall'd, Telemus Eurymedes.

He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race, Grew old among us, and presaged my loss Of sight, in future, by Ulysses' hand.

I therefore watch'd for the arrival here, Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulk And beauty prais'd, and cloath'd with wond'rous might.

But now--a dwarf, a thing impalpable, A shadow, overcame me first by wine, 610 Then quench'd my sight. Come hither, O my guest!

Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheer Awaits thee, and my pray'rs I will prefer To glorious Neptune for thy prosp'rous course; For I am Neptune's offspring, and the G.o.d Is proud to be my Sire; he, if he please, And he alone can heal me; none beside Of Pow'rs immortal, or of men below.

He spake, to whom I answer thus return'd.

I would that of thy life and soul amerced, 620 I could as sure dismiss thee down to h.e.l.l, As none shall heal thine eye--not even He.

So I; then pray'd the Cyclops to his Sire With hands uprais'd towards the starry heav'n.

Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair'd!

If I indeed am thine, and if thou boast Thyself my father, grant that never more Ulysses, leveller of hostile tow'rs, Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair, Behold his native home! but if his fate 630 Decree him yet to see his friends, his house, His native country, let him deep distress'd Return and late, all his companions lost, Indebted for a ship to foreign aid, And let affliction meet him at his door.

He spake, and Ocean's sov'reign heard his pray'r.

Then lifting from the sh.o.r.e a stone of size Far more enormous, o'er his head he whirl'd The rock, and his immeasurable force Exerting all, dismiss'd it. Close behind 640 The ship, nor distant from the rudder's head, Down came the ma.s.s. The ocean at the plunge Of such a weight, high on its refluent flood Tumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.

But when we reach'd the isle where we had left Our num'rous barks, and where my people sat Watching with ceaseless sorrow our return, We thrust our vessel to the sandy sh.o.r.e, Then disembark'd, and of the Cyclops' sheep Gave equal share to all. To me alone 650 My fellow-voyagers the ram consign'd In distribution, my peculiar meed.

Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian Jove I offer'd on the sh.o.r.e, burning his thighs In sacrifice; but Jove my hallow'd rites Reck'd not, destruction purposing to all My barks, and all my followers o'er the Deep.

Thus, feasting largely, on the sh.o.r.e we sat Till even-tide, and quaffing gen'rous wine; But when day fail'd, and night o'ershadow'd all, 660 Then, on the sh.o.r.e we slept; and when again Aurora rosy daughter of the Dawn, Look'd forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin'd To climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.

They all obedient, took their seats on board Well-ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood.

Thus, 'scaping narrowly, we roam'd the Deep With aching hearts and with diminish'd crews.

FOOTNOTES:

[32] So the Scholium interprets in this place, the word ?pe???a???.

[33] ?????

[34] Clarke, who has preserved this name in his marginal version, contends strenuously, and with great reason, that Outis ought not to be translated, and in a pa.s.sage which he quotes from the _Acta eruditorum_, we see much fault found with Giphanius and other interpreters of Homer for having translated it. It is certain that in Homer the word is declined not as ??t??-t???? which signifies no man, but as ??t??-t?d??

making ??t?? in the accusative, consequently as a proper name. It is sufficient that the ambiguity was such as to deceive the friends of the Cyclops. Outis is said by some (perhaps absurdly) to have been a name given to Ulysses on account of his having larger ears than common.

[35] Outis, as a _name_ could only denote him who bore it; but as a _noun_, it signifies _no man_, which accounts sufficiently for the ludicrous mistake of his brethren.

[36]

p??pes??te?

------Olli certamine summo Proc.u.mbunt.

VIRGIL

[37] The seeming incongruity of this line with line 560, is reconciled by supposing that Ulysses exerted his voice, naturally loud, in an extraordinary manner on this second occasion. See Clarke.

BOOK X

ARGUMENT

Ulysses, in pursuit of his narrative, relates his arrival at the island of aeolus, his departure thence, and the unhappy occasion of his return thither. The monarch of the winds dismisses him at last with much asperity. He next tells of his arrival among the Laestrygonians, by whom his whole fleet, together with their crews, are destroyed, his own ship and crew excepted. Thence he is driven to the island of Circe. By her the half of his people are transformed into swine. a.s.sisted by Mercury, he resists her enchantments himself, and prevails with the G.o.ddess to recover them to their former shape. In consequence of Circe's instructions, after having spent a complete year in her palace, he prepares for a voyage to the infernal regions.

We came to the aeolian isle; there dwells aeolus, son of Hippotas, belov'd By the Immortals, in an isle afloat.