by Homer
But I will tell thee, as thou bidd'st, the truth
Unfeign'd of Neoptolemus thy son;
For him, myself, on board my hollow bark
From Scyros to Achaia's host convey'd.
Oft as in council under Ilium's walls 620
We met, he ever foremost was in speech,
Nor spake erroneous; Nestor and myself
Except, no Greecian could with him compare.
Oft, too, as we with battle hemm'd around
Troy's bulwarks, from among the mingled crowd
Thy son sprang foremost into martial act,
Inferior in heroic worth to none.
Beneath him num'rous fell the sons of Troy
In dreadful fight, nor have I pow'r to name
Distinctly all, who by his glorious arm 630
Exerted in the cause of Greece, expired.
Yet will I name Eurypylus, the son
Of Telephus, an Hero whom his sword
Of life bereaved, and all around him strew'd
The plain with his Cetean warriors, won
To Ilium's side by bribes to women giv'n.
Save noble Memnon only, I beheld
No Chief at Ilium beautiful as he.
Again, when we within the horse of wood
Framed by Epeüs sat, an ambush chos'n 640
Of all the bravest Greeks, and I in trust
Was placed to open or to keep fast-closed
The hollow fraud; then, ev'ry Chieftain there
And Senator of Greece wiped from his cheeks
The tears, and tremors felt in ev'ry limb;
But never saw I changed to terror's hue
_His_ ruddy cheek, no tears wiped _he_ away,
But oft he press'd me to go forth, his suit
With pray'rs enforcing, griping hard his hilt
And his brass-burthen'd spear, and dire revenge 650
Denouncing, ardent, on the race of Troy.
At length, when we had sack'd the lofty town
Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils
He safe embark'd, neither by spear or shaft
Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion's edge,
As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt
Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.
So I; then striding large, the spirit thence
Withdrew of swift Æacides, along
The hoary mead pacing, with joy elate 660
That I had blazon'd bright his son's renown.
The other souls of men by death dismiss'd
Stood mournful by, sad uttering each his woes;
The soul alone I saw standing remote
Of Telamonian Ajax, still incensed
That in our public contest for the arms
Worn by Achilles, and by Thetis thrown
Into dispute, my claim had strongest proved,
Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.
Disastrous victory! which I could wish 670
Not to have won, since for that armour's sake
The earth hath cover'd Ajax, in his form
And martial deeds superior far to all
The Greecians, Peleus' matchless son except.
I, seeking to appease him, thus began.
O Ajax, son of glorious Telamon!
Canst thou remember, even after death,
Thy wrath against me, kindled for the sake
Of those pernicious arms? arms which the Gods
Ordain'd of such dire consequence to Greece, 680
Which caused thy death, our bulwark! Thee we mourn
With grief perpetual, nor the death lament
Of Peleus' son, Achilles, more than thine.
Yet none is blameable; Jove evermore
With bitt'rest hate pursued Achaia's host,
And he ordain'd thy death. Hero! approach,
That thou may'st hear the words with which I seek
To sooth thee; let thy long displeasure cease!
Quell all resentment in thy gen'rous breast!
I spake; nought answer'd he, but sullen join'd 690
His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was,
I had prevail'd even on him to speak,
Or had, at least, accosted him again,
But that my bosom teem'd with strong desire
Urgent, to see yet others of the dead.
There saw I Minos, offspring famed of Jove;
His golden sceptre in his hand, he sat
Judge of the dead; they, pleading each in turn,
His cause, some stood, some sat, filling the house
Whose spacious folding-gates are never closed. 700
Orion next, huge ghost, engaged my view,
Droves urging o'er the grassy mead, of beasts
Which he had slain, himself, on the wild hills,
With strong club arm'd of ever-during brass.
There also Tityus on the ground I saw
Extended, offspring of the glorious earth;
Nine acres he o'erspread, and, at his side
Station'd, two vultures on his liver prey'd,
Scooping his entrails; nor sufficed his hands
To fray them thence; for he had sought to force 710
Latona, illustrious concubine of Jove,
What time the Goddess journey'd o'er the rocks
Of Pytho into pleasant Panopeus.
Next, suff'ring grievous torments, I beheld
Tantalus; in a pool he stood, his chin
Wash'd by the wave; thirst-parch'd he seem'd, but found
Nought to assuage his thirst; for when he bow'd
His hoary head, ardent to quaff, the flood
Vanish'd absorb'd, and, at his feet, adust
The soil appear'd, dried, instant, by the Gods. 720
Tall trees, fruit-laden, with inflected heads
Stoop'd to him, pomegranates, apples bright,
The luscious fig, and unctuous olive smooth;
Which when with sudden grasp he would have seized,
Winds hurl'd them high into the dusky clouds.
There, too, the hard-task'd Sisyphus I saw,
Thrusting before him, strenuous, a vast rock.
With hands and feet struggling, he shoved the stone
Up to a hill-top; but the steep well-nigh
Vanquish'd, by some great force repulsed, the mass 730
Rush'd again, obstinate, down to the plain.
Again, stretch'd prone, severe he toiled, the sweat
Bathed all his weary limbs, and his head reek'd.
The might of Hercules I, next, survey'd;
His semblance; for himself their banquet shares
With the Immortal Gods, and in his arms
Enfolds neat-footed Hebe, daughter fair
Of Jove, and of his golden-sandal'd spouse.
Around him, clamorous as birds, the dead
Swarm'd turbulent; he, gloomy-brow'd as night, 740
With uncased bow and arrow on the string
Peer'd terrible from side to side, as one
Ever in act to shoot; a dreadful belt
He bore athwart his bosom, thong'd with gold.
There, broider'd shone many a stupendous form,
Bears, wild boars, lions with fire-flashing eyes,
Fierce combats, battles, bloodshed, homicide.
The artist, author of that belt, none such
Before, produced, or after. Me his eye
No sooner mark'd, than knowing me, in words 750
By sorrow quick suggested, he began.
Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!
Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,
Thou also, with some arduous labour, such
As in the realms of day I once endured.
Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes
Immense sustain'd, subjected to a King
Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands
Enjoin'd me many a terrible exploit.
He even bade me on a time lead h
ence 760
The dog, that task believing above all
Impracticable; yet from Ades him
I dragg'd reluctant into light, by aid
Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.
So saying, he penetrated deep again
The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved
There stood expecting, curious, other shades
To see of Heroes in old time deceased.
And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom
I wish'd, I had beheld, Pirithoüs 770
And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,
But nations, first, numberless of the dead
Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,
Lest awful Proserpine should thither send
The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr'd!
I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade
My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.
Down the Oceanus the current bore
My galley, winning, at the first, her way 780
With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.
FOOTNOTES:
Milton.
The shore of Scilly commonly called Trinacria, but _Euphonicè_ by
Homer, Thrinacia.
The expression is used by Milton, and signifies--Beset with many
difficulties.
Mistaking the oar for a corn-van. A sure indication of his ignorance
of maritime concerns.
By the Tragedians called--Jocasta.
Iphicles had been informed by the Oracles that he should have no
children till instructed by a prophet how to obtain them; a service which
Melampus had the good fortune to render him.
Apollo.
Bacchus accused her to Diana of having lain with Theseus in his
temple, and the Goddess punished her with death.
Probably meaning Helen.
This is surely one of the most natural strokes to be found in any
Poet. Convinced, for a moment, by the virtues of Penelope, he mentioned
her with respect; but recollecting himself suddenly, involves even her in
his general ill opinion of the sex, begotten in him by the crimes of
Clytemnestra.
Another most beautiful stroke of nature. Ere yet Ulysses has had
opportunity to answer, the very thought that Peleus may possibly be
insulted, fires him, and he takes the whole for granted. Thus is the
impetuous character of Achilles sustained to the last moment!
Γυναίων εινεκα δώρων--Priam is said to have influenced by gifts the
wife and mother of Eurypylus, to persuade him to the assistance of Troy,
he being himself unwilling to engage. The passage through defect of
history has long been dark, and commentators have adapted different
senses to it, all conjectural. The Ceteans are said to have been a people
of Mysia, of which Eurypylus was King.
Κατ' ασφοδελον λειμωνα--Asphodel was planted on the graves and
around the tombs of the deceased, and hence the supposition that the
Stygian plain was clothed with asphodel. F.
Βασαζοντα must have this sense interpreted by what follows. To
attempt to make the English numbers expressive as the Greek is a labour
like that of Sisyphus. The Translator has done what he could.
It is now, perhaps, impossible to ascertain with precision what
Homer meant by the word κραταιίς, which he uses only here, and in the
next book, where it is the name of Scylla's dam.--Αναιδης--is also of
very doubtful explication.
The two first lines of the following book seem to ascertain the true
meaning of the conclusion of this, and to prove sufficiently that by
Ὠκεανὸς here Homer could not possibly intend any other than a river. In
those lines he tells us in the plainest terms that _the ship left the
stream of the river Oceanus, and arrived in the open sea_. Diodorus
Siculus informs us that Ὠκεανὸς had been a name anciently given to the
Nile. See Clarke.
BOOK XII
ARGUMENT
Ulysses, pursuing his narrative, relates his return from the shades to
Circe's island, the precautions given him by that Goddess, his escape
from the Sirens, and from Scylla and Charybdis; his arrival in Sicily,
where his companions, having slain and eaten the oxen of the Sun, are
afterward shipwrecked and lost; and concludes the whole with an account
of his arrival, alone, on the mast of his vessel, at the island of
Calypso.
And now, borne seaward from the river-stream
Of the Oceanus, we plow'd again
The spacious Deep, and reach'd th' Ææan isle,
Where, daughter of the dawn, Aurora takes
Her choral sports, and whence the sun ascends.
We, there arriving, thrust our bark aground
On the smooth beach, then landed, and on shore
Reposed, expectant of the sacred dawn.
But soon as day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd
Look'd forth again, sending my friends before, 10
I bade them bring Elpenor's body down
From the abode of Circe to the beach.
Then, on the utmost headland of the coast
We timber fell'd, and, sorrowing o'er the dead,
His fun'ral rites water'd with tears profuse.
The dead consumed, and with the dead his arms,
We heap'd his tomb, and the sepulchral post
Erecting, fix'd his shapely oar aloft.
Thus, punctual, we perform'd; nor our return
From Ades knew not Circe, but attired 20
In haste, ere long arrived, with whom appear'd
Her female train with plenteous viands charged,
And bright wine rosy-red. Amidst us all
Standing, the beauteous Goddess thus began.
Ah miserable! who have sought the shades
Alive! while others of the human race
Die only once, appointed twice to die!
Come--take ye food; drink wine; and on the shore
All day regale, for ye shall hence again
At day-spring o'er the Deep; but I will mark 30
Myself your future course, nor uninform'd
Leave you in aught, lest, through some dire mistake,
By sea or land new mis'ries ye incur.
The Goddess spake, whose invitation kind
We glad accepted; thus we feasting sat
Till set of sun, and quaffing richest wine;
But when the sun went down and darkness fell,
My crew beside the hawsers slept, while me
The Goddess by the hand leading apart,
First bade me sit, then, seated opposite, 40
Enquired, minute, of all that I had seen,
And I, from first to last, recounted all.
Then, thus the awful Goddess in return.
Thus far thy toils are finish'd. Now attend!
Mark well my words, of which the Gods will sure
Themselves remind thee in the needful hour.
First shalt thou reach the Sirens; they the hearts
Enchant of all who on their coast arrive.
The wretch, who unforewarn'd approaching, hears
The Sirens' voice, his wife and little-ones 50
Ne'er fly to gratulate his glad return,
But him the Sirens sitting in the meads
Charm with mellifluous song, while all around
The bones accumulated lie of men
Now putrid, and the skins mould'ring away.
But, pass them thou, and, lest thy people
hear
Those warblings, ere thou yet approach, fill all
Their ears with wax moulded between thy palms;
But as for thee--thou hear them if thou wilt.
Yet let thy people bind thee to the mast 60
Erect, encompassing thy feet and arms
With cordage well-secured to the mast-foot,
So shalt thou, raptur'd, hear the Sirens' song.
But if thou supplicate to be released,
Or give such order, then, with added cords
Let thy companions bind thee still the more.
When thus thy people shall have safely pass'd
The Sirens by, think not from me to learn
What course thou next shalt steer; two will occur;
Delib'rate chuse; I shall describe them both. 70
Here vaulted rocks impend, dash'd by the waves
Immense of Amphitrite azure-eyed;
The blessed Gods those rocks, Erratic, call.
Birds cannot pass them safe; no, not the doves
Which his ambrosia bear to Father Jove,
But even of those doves the slipp'ry rock
Proves fatal still to one, for which the God
Supplies another, lest the number fail.
No ship, what ship soever there arrives,
Escapes them, but both mariners and planks 80
Whelm'd under billows of the Deep, or, caught
By fiery tempests, sudden disappear.
Those rocks the billow-cleaving bark alone
The Argo, further'd by the vows of all,
Pass'd safely, sailing from Ææta's isle;
Nor she had pass'd, but surely dash'd had been
On those huge rocks, but that, propitious still
To Jason, Juno sped her safe along.
These rocks are two; one lifts his summit sharp
High as the spacious heav'ns, wrapt in dun clouds 90
Perpetual, which nor autumn sees dispers'd
Nor summer, for the sun shines never there;
No mortal man might climb it or descend,
Though twice ten hands and twice ten feet he own'd,
For it is levigated as by art.
Down scoop'd to Erebus, a cavern drear
Yawns in the centre of its western side;
Pass it, renown'd Ulysses! but aloof
So far, that a keen arrow smartly sent
Forth from thy bark should fail to reach the cave. 100
There Scylla dwells, and thence her howl is heard
Tremendous; shrill her voice is as the note
Of hound new-whelp'd, but hideous her aspect,