And soon will vomit flesh from his fell maw;
The brand under the shed thrusts out its smoke,
No preparation needs, but to burn out
The monster’s eye; — but bear yourselves like men.
CHORUS:
We will have courage like the adamant rock, 600
All things are ready for you here; go in,
Before our father shall perceive the noise.
ULYSSES:
Vulcan, Aetnean king! burn out with fire
The shining eye of this thy neighbouring monster!
And thou, O Sleep, nursling of gloomy Night, 605
Descend unmixed on this God-hated beast,
And suffer not Ulysses and his comrades,
Returning from their famous Trojan toils,
To perish by this man, who cares not either
For God or mortal; or I needs must think 610
That Chance is a supreme divinity,
And things divine are subject to her power.
CHORUS:
Soon a crab the throat will seize
Of him who feeds upon his guest,
Fire will burn his lamp-like eyes 615
In revenge of such a feast!
A great oak stump now is lying
In the ashes yet undying.
Come, Maron, come!
Raging let him fix the doom, 620
Let him tear the eyelid up
Of the Cyclops — that his cup
May be evil!
Oh! I long to dance and revel
With sweet Bromian, long desired, 625
In loved ivy wreaths attired;
Leaving this abandoned home —
Will the moment ever come?
ULYSSES:
Be silent, ye wild things! Nay, hold your peace,
And keep your lips quite close; dare not to breathe, 630
Or spit, or e’en wink, lest ye wake the monster,
Until his eye be tortured out with fire.
CHORUS:
Nay, we are silent, and we chaw the air.
ULYSSES:
Come now, and lend a hand to the great stake
Within — it is delightfully red hot. 635
CHORUS:
You then command who first should seize the stake
To burn the Cyclops’ eye, that all may share
In the great enterprise.
SEMICHORUS 1:
We are too far;
We cannot at this distance from the door
Thrust fire into his eye.
SEMICHORUS 2:
And we just now 640
Have become lame! cannot move hand or foot.
CHORUS:
The same thing has occurred to us, — our ankles
Are sprained with standing here, I know not how.
ULYSSES:
What, sprained with standing still?
CHORUS:
And there is dust
Or ashes in our eyes, I know not whence. 645
ULYSSES:
Cowardly dogs! ye will not aid me then?
CHORUS:
With pitying my own back and my back-bone,
And with not wishing all my teeth knocked out,
This cowardice comes of itself — but stay,
I know a famous Orphic incantation 650
To make the brand stick of its own accord
Into the skull of this one-eyed son of Earth.
ULYSSES:
Of old I knew ye thus by nature; now
I know ye better. — I will use the aid
Of my own comrades. Yet though weak of hand 655
Speak cheerfully, that so ye may awaken
The courage of my friends with your blithe words.
CHORUS:
This I will do with peril of my life,
And blind you with my exhortations, Cyclops.
Hasten and thrust, 660
And parch up to dust,
The eye of the beast
Who feeds on his guest.
Burn and blind
The Aetnean hind! 665
Scoop and draw,
But beware lest he claw
Your limbs near his maw.
CYCLOPS:
Ah me! my eyesight is parched up to cinders.
CHORUS:
What a sweet paean! sing me that again! 670
CYCLOPS:
Ah me! indeed, what woe has fallen upon me!
But, wretched nothings, think ye not to flee
Out of this rock; I, standing at the outlet,
Will bar the way and catch you as you pass.
CHORUS:
What are you roaring out, Cyclops?
CYCLOPS:
I perish! 675
CHORUS:
For you are wicked.
CYCLOPS:
And besides miserable.
CHORUS:
What, did you fall into the fire when drunk?
CYCLOPS:
‘Twas Nobody destroyed me.
CHORUS:
Why then no one
Can be to blame.
CYCLOPS:
I say ‘twas Nobody
Who blinded me.
CHORUS:
Why then you are not blind. 680
CYCLOPS:
I wish you were as blind as I am.
CHORUS:
Nay,
It cannot be that no one made you blind.
CYCLOPS:
You jeer me; where, I ask, is Nobody?
CHORUS:
Nowhere, O Cyclops.
CYCLOPS:
It was that stranger ruined me: — the wretch 685
First gave me wine and then burned out my eye,
For wine is strong and hard to struggle with.
Have they escaped, or are they yet within?
CHORUS:
They stand under the darkness of the rock
And cling to it.
CYCLOPS:
At my right hand or left? 690
CHORUS:
Close on your right.
CYCLOPS:
Where?
CHORUS:
Near the rock itself.
You have them.
CYCLOPS:
Oh, misfortune on misfortune!
I’ve cracked my skull.
CHORUS:
Now they escape you — there.
CYCLOPS:
Not there, although you say so.
CHORUS:
Not on that side.
CYCLOPS:
Where then?
CHORUS:
They creep about you on your left. 695
CYCLOPS:
Ah! I am mocked! They jeer me in my ills.
CHORUS:
Not there! he is a little there beyond you.
CYCLOPS:
Detested wretch! where are you?
ULYSSES:
Far from you
I keep with care this body of Ulysses.
CYCLOPS:
What do you say? You proffer a new name. 700
ULYSSES:
My father named me so; and I have taken
A full revenge for your unnatural feast;
I should have done ill to have burned down Troy
And not revenged the murder of my comrades.
CYCLOPS:
Ai! ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished; 705
It said that I should have my eyesight blinded
By your coming from Troy, yet it foretold
That you should pay the penalty for this
By wandering long over the homeless sea.
ULYSSES:
I bid thee weep — consider what I say; 710
I go towards the shore to drive my ship
To mine own land, o’er the Sicilian wave.
CYCLOPS:
Not so, if, whelming you with this huge stone,
I can crush you and all your men together;
I will descend upon the shore, though blind, 715
Groping my way adown
the steep ravine.
CHORUS:
And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now,
Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives.
EPIGRAMS.
(These four Epigrams were published — numbers 2 and 4 without title — by
Mrs. Shelley, “Poetical Works”, 1839, 1st edition.)
1. — TO STELLA.
FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO.
Thou wert the morning star among the living,
Ere thy fair light had fled; —
Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving
New splendour to the dead.
2. — KISSING HELENA.
FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO.
Kissing Helena, together
With my kiss, my soul beside it
Came to my lips, and there I kept it, —
For the poor thing had wandered thither,
To follow where the kiss should guide it, 5
Oh, cruel I, to intercept it!
3. — SPIRIT OF PLATO.
FROM THE GREEK.
Eagle! why soarest thou above that tomb?
To what sublime and star-ypaven home
Floatest thou? —
I am the image of swift Plato’s spirit,
Ascending heaven; Athens doth inherit 5
His corpse below.
4. — CIRCUMSTANCE.
FROM THE GREEK.
A man who was about to hang himself,
Finding a purse, then threw away his rope;
The owner, coming to reclaim his pelf,
The halter found; and used it. So is Hope
Changed for Despair — one laid upon the shelf, 5
We take the other. Under Heaven’s high cope
Fortune is God — all you endure and do
Depends on circumstance as much as you.
FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS.
FROM THE GREEK OF BION.
(Published by Forman, “Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1876.)
I mourn Adonis dead — loveliest Adonis —
Dead, dead Adonis — and the Loves lament.
Sleep no more, Venus, wrapped in purple woof —
Wake violet-stoled queen, and weave the crown
Of Death,—’tis Misery calls, — for he is dead. 5
The lovely one lies wounded in the mountains,
His white thigh struck with the white tooth; he scarce
Yet breathes; and Venus hangs in agony there.
The dark blood wanders o’er his snowy limbs,
His eyes beneath their lids are lustreless, 10
The rose has fled from his wan lips, and there
That kiss is dead, which Venus gathers yet.
A deep, deep wound Adonis…
A deeper Venus bears upon her heart.
See, his beloved dogs are gathering round — 15
The Oread nymphs are weeping — Aphrodite
With hair unbound is wandering through the woods,
‘Wildered, ungirt, unsandalled — the thorns pierce
Her hastening feet and drink her sacred blood.
Bitterly screaming out, she is driven on 20
Through the long vales; and her Assyrian boy,
Her love, her husband, calls — the purple blood
From his struck thigh stains her white navel now,
Her bosom, and her neck before like snow.
Alas for Cytherea — the Loves mourn — 25
The lovely, the beloved is gone! — and now
Her sacred beauty vanishes away.
For Venus whilst Adonis lived was fair —
Alas! her loveliness is dead with him.
The oaks and mountains cry, Ai! ai! Adonis! 30
The springs their waters change to tears and weep —
The flowers are withered up with grief…
Ai! ai! … Adonis is dead
Echo resounds … Adonis dead.
Who will weep not thy dreadful woe. O Venus? 35
Soon as she saw and knew the mortal wound
Of her Adonis — saw the life-blood flow
From his fair thigh, now wasting, — wailing loud
She clasped him, and cried … ‘Stay, Adonis!
Stay, dearest one,… 40
and mix my lips with thine —
Wake yet a while, Adonis — oh, but once,
That I may kiss thee now for the last time —
But for as long as one short kiss may live —
Oh, let thy breath flow from thy dying soul 45
Even to my mouth and heart, that I may suck
That…’
FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BION.
FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS.
(Published from the Hunt manuscripts by Forman, “Poetical Works of P. B.
S.”, 1876.)
Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud, —
Augment your tide, O streams, with fruitless tears,
For the beloved Bion is no more.
Let every tender herb and plant and flower,
From each dejected bud and drooping bloom, 5
Shed dews of liquid sorrow, and with breath
Of melancholy sweetness on the wind
Diffuse its languid love; let roses blush,
Anemones grow paler for the loss
Their dells have known; and thou, O hyacinth, 10
Utter thy legend now — yet more, dumb flower,
Than ‘Ah! alas!’ — thine is no common grief —
Bion the (sweetest singer) is no more.
FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS.
(Published with “Alastor”, 1816.)
Tan ala tan glaukan otan onemos atrema Balle — k.t.l.
When winds that move not its calm surface sweep
The azure sea, I love the land no more;
The smiles of the serene and tranquil deep
Tempt my unquiet mind. — But when the roar
Of Ocean’s gray abyss resounds, and foam 5
Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst,
I turn from the drear aspect to the home
Of Earth and its deep woods, where, interspersed,
When winds blow loud, pines make sweet melody.
Whose house is some lone bark, whose toil the sea, 10
Whose prey the wandering fish, an evil lot
Has chosen. — But I my languid limbs will fling
Beneath the plane, where the brook’s murmuring
Moves the calm spirit, but disturbs it not.
PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR.
FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS.
(Published (without title) by Mrs. Shelley, “Posthumous Poems”, 1824.
There is a draft amongst the Hunt manuscripts.)
Pan loved his neighbour Echo — but that child
Of Earth and Air pined for the Satyr leaping;
The Satyr loved with wasting madness wild
The bright nymph Lyda, — and so three went weeping.
As Pan loved Echo, Echo loved the Satyr, 5
The Satyr, Lyda; and so love consumed them. —
And thus to each — which was a woful matter —
To bear what they inflicted Justice doomed them;
For, inasmuch as each might hate the lover,
Each, loving, so was hated. — Ye that love not 10
Be warned — in thought turn this example over,
That when ye love, the like return ye prove not.
FROM VERGIL’S TENTH ECLOGUE.
(VERSES 1-26.)
(Published by Rossetti, “Complete Poetical Works of P. B. S.”, 1870, from the Boscombe manuscripts now in the Bodleian. Mr. Locock (“Examination”, etc., 1903, pages 47-50), as the result of his collation of the same manuscripts, gives a revised and expanded version which we print below.)
Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse
Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream:
Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou
Glidest beneath the green and purple gle
am
Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow 5
Unmingled with the bitter Doric dew!
Begin, and, whilst the goats are browsing now
The soft leaves, in our way let us pursue
The melancholy loves of Gallus. List!
We sing not to the dead: the wild woods knew 10
His sufferings, and their echoes…
Young Naiads,…in what far woodlands wild
Wandered ye when unworthy love possessed
Your Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled,
Nor where Parnassus’ sacred mount, nor where 15
Aonian Aganippe expands…
The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim.
The pine-encircled mountain, Maenalus,
The cold crags of Lycaeus, weep for him;
And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals, 20
Came shaking in his speed the budding wands
And heavy lilies which he bore: we knew
Pan the Arcadian.
…
‘What madness is this, Gallus? Thy heart’s care
With willing steps pursues another there.’ 25
THE SAME.
(As revised by Mr. C.D. Locock.)
Melodious Arethusa, o’er my verse
Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream:
(Two lines missing.)
Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou
Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam
Of Syracusan waters, mayest thou flow 5
Unmingled with the bitter Dorian dew!
Begin, and whilst the goats are browsing now
The soft leaves, in our song let us pursue
The melancholy loves of Gallus. List!
We sing not to the deaf: the wild woods knew 10
His sufferings, and their echoes answer…
Young Naiades, in what far woodlands wild
Wandered ye, when unworthy love possessed
Our Gallus? Nor where Pindus is up-piled,
Nor where Parnassus’ sacred mount, nor where 15
Aonian Aganippe spreads its…
(Three lines missing.)
The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim,
The pine-encircled mountain, Maenalus,
The cold crags of Lycaeus weep for him.
(Several lines missing.)
‘What madness is this, Gallus? thy heart’s care, 20
Lycoris, mid rude camps and Alpine snow,
With willing step pursues another there.’
(Some lines missing.)
And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals,
Came shaking in his speed the budding wands
And heavy lilies which he bore: we knew 25
Pan the Arcadian with….
…and said,
‘Wilt thou not ever cease? Love cares not.
The meadows with fresh streams, the bees with thyme,
The goats with the green leaves of budding spring 30
Are saturated not — nor Love with tears.’
Percy Bysshe Shelley Page 90