Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  But given the sense to pity and to feel.’

  Thus having said, the Goddess march’d before:

  He trod her footsteps in the sandy shore.

  At the cool cave arrived, they took their state;

  He fill’d the throne where Mercury had sate. 250

  For him the Nymph a rich repast ordains,

  Such as the mortal life of man sustains;

  Before herself were placed the cates divine,

  Ambrosial banquet, and celestial wine.

  Their hunger satiate, and their thirst repress’d, 255

  Thus spoke Calypso to her godlike guest:

  ‘Ulysses!’ (with a sigh she thus began)

  ‘O sprung from Gods! in wisdom more than man!

  Is then thy home the passion of thy heart?

  Thus wilt thou leave me, are we thus to part? 260

  Farewell! and ever joyful may’st thou be,

  Nor break the transport with one thought of me.

  But, ah, Ulysses! wert thou giv’n to know

  What Fate yet dooms thee, yet, to undergo;

  Thy heart might settle in this scene of ease, 265

  And ev’n these slighted charms might learn to please.

  A willing Goddess, and immortal life,

  Might banish from thy mind an absent wife.

  Am I inferior to a mortal dame?

  Less soft my feature, lest august my frame? 270

  Or shall the daughters of mankind compare

  Their earth-born beauties with the heav’nly fair?’

  ‘Alas! for this’ (the prudent man replies)

  ‘Against Ulysses shall thy anger rise?

  Lov’d and ador’d, O Goddess, as thou art, 275

  Forgive the weakness of a human heart.

  Tho’ well I see thy graces far above

  The dear, tho’ mortal, object of my love,

  Of youth eternal well the diff’rence know,

  And the short date of fading charms below; 280

  Yet ev’ry day, while absent thus I roam,

  I languish to return and die at home.

  Whate’er the Gods shall destine me to bear

  In the black ocean, or the wat’ry war,

  ‘T is mine to master with a constant mind; 285

  Inured to perils, to the worst resign’d.

  By seas, by wars, so many dangers run;

  Still I can suffer: their high will be done!’

  Thus while he spoke, the beamy sun descends,

  And rising night her friendly shade extends. 290

  To the close grot the lonely pair remove,

  And slept delighted with the gifts of love.

  When rosy morning call’d them from their rest,

  Ulysses robed him in the cloak and vest.

  The Nymph’s fair head a veil transparent graced, 295

  Her swelling loins a radiant zone embraced

  With flowers of gold: an under robe, unbound,

  In snowy waves flow’d glitt’ring on the ground.

  Forth issuing thus, she gave him first to wield

  A weighty axe, with truest temper steel’d, 300

  And double-edg’d; the handle smooth and plain,

  Wrought of the clouded olive’s easy grain;

  And next, a wedge to drive with sweepy sway:

  Then to the neighb’ring forest led the way.

  On the lone island’s utmost verge there stood 305

  Of poplars, pines, and firs, a lofty wood,

  Whose leafless summits to the skies aspire,

  Scorch’d by the sun, or sear’d by heav’nly fire

  (Already dried). These pointing out to view,

  The Nymph just show’d him, and with tears withdrew. 310

  Now toils the hero: trees on trees o’erthrown

  Fall crackling round him, and the forests groan:

  Sudden, full twenty on the plain are strow’d,

  And lopp’d and lighten’d of their branchy load.

  At equal angles these disposed to join, 315

  He smoothed and squared them by the rule and line

  (The wimbles for the work Calypso found).

  With those he pierc’d them, and with clinchers bound.

  Long and capacious as a shipwright forms

  Some bark’s broad bottom to out-ride the storms, 320

  So large he built the raft; then ribb’d it strong

  From space to space, and nail’d the planks along;

  These form’d the sides: the deck he fashion’d last;

  Then o’er the vessel rais’d the taper mast,

  With crossing sail-yards dancing in the wind; 325

  And to the helm the guiding rudder join’d

  (With yielding osiers fenc’d, to break the force

  Of surging waves, and steer the steady course).

  Thy loom, Calypso! for the future sails

  Supplied the cloth, capacious of the gales. 330

  With stays and cordage last he rigg’d the ship,

  And, roll’d on levers, launch’d her in the deep.

  Four days were past, and now, the work complete,

  Shone the fifth morn, when from her sacred seat

  The Nymph dismiss’d him (od’rous garments giv’n, 335

  And bathed in fragrant oils that breathed of Heav’n):

  Then fill’d two goat-skins with her hands divine,

  With water one, and one with sable wine:

  Of ev’ry kind provisions heav’d aboard;

  And the full decks with copious viands stor’d. 340

  The Goddess, last, a gentle breeze supplies,

  To curl old Ocean, and to warm the skies.

  And now, rejoicing in the prosp’rous gales,

  With beating heart Ulysses spreads his sails:

  Placed at the helm he sate, and mark’d the skies, 345

  Nor closed in sleep his ever-watchful eyes.

  There view’d the Pleiads, and the Northern Team,

  And great Orion’s more refulgent beam,

  To which, around the axle of the sky,

  The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye: 350

  Who shines exalted on th’ ethereal plain,

  Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.

  Far on the left those radiant fires to keep

  The Nymph directed, as he sail’d the deep.

  Full sev’nteen nights he cut the foamy way; 355

  The distant land appear’d the foll’wing day:

  Then swell’d to sight Phæacia’s dusky coast,

  And woody mountains, half in vapours lost;

  That lay before him indistinct and vast,

  Like a broad shield amid the wat’ry waste. 360

  But him, thus voyaging the deeps below,

  From far, on Solyme’s aërial brow,

  The King of Ocean saw, and seeing burn’d

  (From Æthiopia’s happy climes return’d);

  The raging Monarch shook his azure head, 365

  And thus in secret to his soul he said:

  ‘Heav’ns! how uncertain are the Powers on high!

  Is then revers’d the sentence of the sky,

  In one man’s favour: while a distant guest

  I shared secure the Æthiopian feast? 370

  Behold how near Phæacia’s land he draws!

  The land affix’d by Fate’s eternal laws

  To end his toils. Is then our anger vain?

  No; if this sceptre yet commands the main.’

  He spoke, and high the forky trident hurl’d, 375

  Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the wat’ry world,

  At once the face of earth and sea deforms,

  Swells all the winds, and rouses all the storms.

  Down rush’d the night: east, west, together roar;

  And south and north roll mountains to the shore: 380

  Then shook the hero, to despair resign’d,

  And question’d thus his yet unconquer’d mind:

  ‘Wret
ch that I am! what farther Fates attend

  This life of toils, and what my destin’d end?

  Too well, alas! the island Goddess knew 385

  On the black sea what perils should ensue.

  New horrors now this destin’d head enclose;

  Unfill’d as yet the measure of my woes:

  With what a cloud the brows of Heav’n are crown’d!

  What raging winds! what roaring waters round! 390

  ‘T is Jove himself the swelling tempest rears;

  Death, present death, on ev’ry side appears.

  Happy! thrice happy! who, in battle slain,

  Press’d, in Atrides’ cause, the Trojan plain!

  Oh! had I died before that well-fought wall; 395

  Had some distinguish’d day renown’d my fall

  (Such as was that when showers of jav’lins fled

  From conquering Troy around Achilles dead);

  All Greece had paid me solemn funerals then,

  And spread my glory with the sons of men. 400

  A shameful fate now hides my hapless head,

  Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead!’

  A mighty wave rush’d o’er him as he spoke,

  The raft it cover’d, and the mast it broke:

  Swept from the deck, and from the rudder torn, 405

  Far on the swelling surge the Chief was borne;

  While by the howling tempest rent in twain

  Flew sail and sail-yards rattling o’er the main.

  Long-press’d, he heav’d beneath the weighty wave,

  Clogg’d by the cumb’rous vest Calypso gave: 410

  At length emerging, from his nostrils wide

  And gushing mouth effused the briny tide;

  Ev’n then, not mindless of his last retreat,

  He seiz’d the raft, and leap’d into his seat,

  Strong with the fear of death. The rolling flood 415

  Now here, now there, impell’d the floating wood.

  As when a heap of gather’d thorns is cast

  Now to, now fro, before th’ autumnal blast;

  Together clung, it rolls around the field;

  So roll’d the float, and so its texture held: 420

  And now the south, and now the north, bear sway,

  And now the east the foamy floods obey,

  And now the west wind whirls it o’er the sea.

  The wand’ring Chief, with toils on toils oppress’d,

  Leucothea saw, and pity touch’d her breast 425

  (Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus’ strain,

  But now an azure sister of the main).

  Swift as a sea-mew springing from the flood,

  All radiant on the raft the Goddess stood:

  Then thus address’d him: ‘Thou whom Heav’n decrees 430

  To Neptune’s wrath, stern Tyrant of the Seas

  (Unequal contest)! not his rage and power,

  Great as he is, such virtue shall devour.

  What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform:

  Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm: 435

  Strip off thy garments; Neptune’s fury brave

  With naked strength, and plunge into the wave.

  To reach Phæacia all thy nerves extend,

  There Fate decrees thy miseries shall end.

  This heav’nly scarf beneath thy bosom bind, 440

  And live; give all thy terrors to the wind.

  Soon as thy arms the happy shore shall gain,

  Return the gift, and cast it in the main;

  Observe my orders, and with heed obey,

  Cast it far off, and turn thy eyes away.’ 445

  With that, her hand the sacred veil bestows,

  Then down the deeps she dived from whence she rose;

  A moment snatch’d the shining form away,

  And all was cover’d with the curling sea.

  Struck with amaze, yet still to doubt inclin’d, 450

  He stands suspended, and explores his mind.

  ‘What shall I do? unhappy me! who knows

  But other Gods intend me other woes?

  Whoe’er thou art, I shall not blindly join

  Thy pleaded reason, but consult with mine: 455

  For scarce in ken appears that distant isle

  Thy voice foretells me shall conclude my toil.

  Thus then I judge: while yet the planks sustain

  The wild waves’ fury, here I fix’d remain:

  But when their texture to the tempest yields, 460

  I launch adventurous on the liquid fields,

  Join to the help of Gods the strength of man,

  And take this method, since the best I can.’

  While thus his thoughts an anxious council hold,

  The raging God a wat’ry mountain roll’d; 465

  Like a black sheet the whelming billows spread,

  Burst o’er the float, and thunder’d on his head.

  Planks, beams, disparted fly; the scatter’d wood

  Rolls diverse, and in fragments strews the flood.

  So the rude Boreas, o’er the field new-shorn, 470

  Tosses and drives the scatter’d heaps of corn.

  And now a single beam the chief bestrides:

  There, pois’d awhile above the bounding tides,

  His limbs discumbers of the clinging vest,

  And binds the sacred cincture round his breast; 475

  Then, prone on ocean in a moment flung,

  Stretch’d wide his eager arms, and shot the seas along.

  All naked now, on heaving billows laid,

  Stern Neptune eyed him, and contemptuous said:

  ‘Go, learn’d in woes, and other foes essay! 480

  Go, wander helpless on the wat’ry way:

  Thus, thus find out the destin’d shore, and then

  (If Jove ordains it) mix with happier men:

  Whate’er thy fate, the ills our wrath could raise

  Shall last remember’d in thy best of days.’ 485

  This said, his sea-green steeds divide the foam,

  And reach high Ægæ and the tow’ry dome.

  Now, scarce withdrawn the fierce earth-shaking Power,

  Jove’s daughter Pallas watch’d the fav’ring hour;

  Back to their caves she bade the winds to fly, 490

  And hush’d the blust’ring Brethren of the Sky.

  The drier blasts alone of Boreas sway,

  And bear him soft on broken waves away;

  With gentle force impelling to that shore,

  Where Fate has destin’d he shall toil no more. 495

  And now two nights and now two days were past,

  Since wide he wander’d on the wat’ry waste;

  Heav’d on the surge with intermitting breath,

  And hourly panting in the arms of Death.

  The third fair morn now blazed upon the main; 500

  Then glassy smooth lay all the liquid plain;

  The winds were hush’d, the billows scarcely curl’d,

  And a dead silence still’d the wat’ry world,

  When, lifted on a ridgy wave, he spies

  The land at distance, and with sharpen’d eyes. 505

  As pious children joy with vast delight

  When a lov’d sire revives before their sight

  (Who, ling’ring long, has call’d on death in vain,

  Fix’d by some demon to his bed of pain,

  Till Heav’n by miracle his life restore); 510

  So joys Ulysses at th’ appearing shore;

  And sees (and labours onward as he sees)

  The rising forests, and the tufted trees.

  And now, as near approaching as the sound

  Of human voice the list’ning ear may wound, 515

  Amidst the rocks he hears a hollow roar

  Of murm’ring surges breaking on the shore:

  Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,

  To shield the vessel from the rolling sea,

  But
cliffs, and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight! 520

  All rough with rocks, with foamy billows white.

  Fear seiz’d his slacken’d limbs and beating heart,

  And thus he communed with his soul apart:

  ‘Ah me! when o’er a length of waters toss’d,

  These eyes at last behold th’ unhoped-for coast, 525

  No port receives me from the angry main,

  But the loud deeps demand me back again.

  Above sharp rocks forbid access; around

  Roar the wild waves; beneath is sea profound!

  No footing sure affords the faithless sand, 530

  To stem too rapid, and too deep to stand.

  If here I enter, my efforts are vain,

  Dash’d on the cliffs or heav’d into the main:

  Or round the island if my course I bend,

  Where the ports open, or the shores descend, 535

  Back to the seas the rolling surge may sweep,

  And bury all my hopes beneath the deep.

  Or some enormous whale the God may send

  (For many such on Amphitrite attend);

  Too well the turns of mortal chance I know, 540

  And hate relentless of my heav’nly foe.’

  While thus he thought, a monstrous wave upbore

  The Chief, and dash’d him on the craggy shore;

  Torn was his skin, nor had the ribs been whole,

  But instant Pallas enter’d in his soul. 545

  Close to the cliff with both his hands he clung,

  And stuck adherent, and suspended hung;

  Till the huge surge roll’d off: then, backward sweep

  The refluent tides, and plunge him in the deep.

  As when the polypus, from forth his cave 550

  Torn with full force, reluctant beats the wave;

  His ragged claws are stuck with stones and sands;

  So the rough rock had shagg’d Ulysses’ hands.

  And now had perish’d, whelm’d beneath the main,

  Th’ unhappy man; ev’n Fate had been in vain; 555

  But all-subduing Pallas lent her power,

  And prudence saved him in the needful hour.

  Beyond the beating surge his course he bore

  (A wider circle, but in sight of shore),

  With longing eyes, observing, to survey 560

  Some smooth ascent, or safe sequester’d bay.

  Between the parting rocks at length he spied

  A falling stream with gentler waters glide;

  Where to the seas the shelving shore declin’d,

  And form’d a bay impervious to the wind. 565

  To this calm port the glad Ulysses press’d,

  And hail’d the river, and its God address’d:

  ‘Whoe’er thou art, before whose stream unknown

  I bend, a suppliant at thy wat’ry throne,

  Hear, azure King! nor let me fly in vain 570