The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (88 page)

BOOK: The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)
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Book 9

Ulysses thus resolv’d the king’s demands:

‘Alcinous, in whom this empire stands,

You should not of so natural right disherit

Your princely feast, as take from it the spirit.

To hear a poet, that in accent brings

The gods’ breasts down, and breathes them as he sings,

Is sweet, and sacred; nor can I conceive,

In any common-weal, what more doth give

Note of the just and blessed empery,

Than to see comfort universally

Cheer up the people, when in every roof

She gives observers a most human proof

Of men’s contents. To see a neighbour’s feast

Adorn it through; and thereat hear the breast

Of the divine muse; men in order set;

A wine-page waiting; tables crown’d with meat,

Set close to guests that are to use it skill’d;

The cup-boards furnish’d, and the cups still fill’d;

This shows, to my mind, most humanely fair.

Nor should you, for me, still the heav’nly air,

That stirr’d my soul so; for I love such tears

As fall from fit notes, beaten through mine ears

With repetitions of what heav’n hath done,

And break from hearty apprehension

Of god and goodness, though they show my ill.

And therefore doth my mind excite me still,

To tell my bleeding moan; but much more now,

To serve your pleasure, that to over-flow

My tears with such cause may by sighs be driv’n,

Though ne’er so much plagued I may seem by heav’n.

And now my name; which way shall lead to all

My miseries after, that their sounds may fall

Through your ears also, and show (having fled

So much affliction) first, who rests his head

In your embraces, when, so far from home,

I knew not where t’ obtain it resting room.

I am Ulysses Laertiades,

The fear of all the world for policies,

For which my facts as high as heav

n resound.

I dwell in Ithaca, earth’s most renown’d,

All over-shadow’d with the shake-leaf hill,

Tree-famed Neritus; whose near confines fill

Islands a-number, well inhabited,

That under my observance taste their bread:

Dulichius, Samos, and the full-of-food

Zacynthus, likewise grac’d with store of wood.

But Ithaca, though in the seas it lie,

Yet lies she so aloft she casts her eye

Quite over all the neighbour continent;

Far northward situate, and, being lent

But little favour of the morn and sun,

With barren rocks and cliffs is over-run,

And yet of hardy youths a nurse of name;

Nor could I see a soil, where’er I came,

More sweet and wishful. Yet, from hence was I

Withheld with horror by the deity,

Divine Calypso, in her cavy house,

Enflam’d to make me her sole lord and spouse.

Circe Aeaea too, that knowing dame,

Whose veins the like affections did enflame,

Detain’d me likewise. But to neither’s love

Could I be tempted; which doth well approve,

Nothing so sweet is as our country’s earth,

And joy of those from whom we claim our birth.

Though roofs far richer we far off possess,

Yet, from our native, all our more is less.

To which as I contended, I will tell

The much-distress-conferring facts that fell

By Jove’s divine prevention, since I set

From ruin’d Troy my first foot in retreat.

From Ilion ill winds cast me on the coast

The Cicons hold, where I employ’d mine host

For Ismarus, a city built just by

My place of landing; of which victory

Made me expugner. I depeopled it,

Slew all the men, and did their wives remit,

With much spoil taken; which we did divide,

That none might need his part. I then applied

All speed for flight; but my command therein,

Fools that they were, could no observance win

Of many soldiers, who, with spoil fed high,

Would yet fill higher, and excessively

Fell to their wine, gave slaughter on the shore

Clov’n-footed beeves and sheep in mighty store.

In mean space, Cicons did to Cicons cry,

When, of their nearest dwellers, instantly

Many and better soldiers made strong head,

That held the continent, and managed

Their horse with high skill, on which they would fight,

When fittest cause serv’d, and again alight,

With soon seen vantage, and on foot contend.

Their concourse swift was, and had never end;

As thick and sudden ’twas, as flowers and leaves

Dark spring discovers, when she light receives.

And then began the bitter fate of Jove

To alter us unhappy, which ev’n strove

To give us suf
f

rance. At our fleet we made

Enforced stand; and there did they invade

Our thrust-up forces; darts encounter’d darts,

With blows on both sides, either making parts

Good upon either, while the morning shone,

And sacred day her bright increase held on –

Though much out-match’d in number; but as soon

As Phoebus westward fell, the Cicons won

Much hand of us; six proved soldiers fell

Of every ship; the rest they did compel

To seek of flight escape from death and fate.

Thence sad in heart we sail’d; and yet our state

Was something cheer’d, that (being o’er-match’d so much

In violent number) our retreat was such

As saved so many – our dear loss the less,

That they surviv’d, so like for like success.

Yet left we not the coast, before we call’d

Home to our country earth the souls exhal’d

Of all the friends the Cicons overcame.

Thrice call’d we on them by their several name,

And then took leave. Then from the angry North

Cloud-gathering Jove a dreadful storm call’d forth

Against our navy, cover’d shore and all

With gloomy vapours. Night did headlong fall

From frowning heav’n. And then hurl’d here and there

Was all our navy; the rude winds did tear

In three, in four parts, all their sails; and down

Driv’n under hatches were we, press

d to drown.

Up rush’d we yet again, and with tough hand

(Two days, two nights entoil’d) we gat near land,

Labours and sorrows eating up our minds.

The third clear day yet, to more friendly winds

We masts advanc’d, we white sails spread, and sate.

Forewinds and guides again did iterate

Our ease and home-hopes; which we clear had reach’d,

Had not, by chance, a sudden north-wind fetch’d,

With an extreme sea, quite about again

Our whole endeavours, and our course constrain

To giddy round, and with our bow’d sails greet

Dreadful Maleia, calling back our fleet

As far forth as Cythera. Nine days more

Adverse winds toss’d me; and the tenth the shore,

Where dwelt the blossom-fed Lotophagi,

I fetch’d, fresh water took in, instantly

Fell to our food a-shipboard, and then sent

Two of my choice men to the continent

(Adding a third, a herald) to discover

What sort of people were the rulers over

The land next to us; where the first they met

Were the Lotophagi, that made them eat

Their country diet, and no ill intent

Hid in their hearts to them; and yet th’ event

To ill converted it, for, having eat

Their dainty viands, they did quite forget

(As all men else that did but taste their feast)

Both countrymen and country, nor address’d

Any return t’ inform what sort of men

Made fix’d abode there, but would needs maintain

Abode themselves there, and eat that food ever.

I made out after, and was feign to sever

Th’ enchanted knot by forcing their retreat,

That striv’d, and wept, and would not leave their meat

For heav’n itself. But, dragging them to fleet,

I wrapt in sure bands both their hands and feet,

And cast them under hatches, and away

Commanded all the rest without least stay,

Lest they should taste the lote too, and forget

With such strange raptures their despis’d retreat.

All then aboard, we beat the sea with oars,

And still with sad hearts sail’d by out-way shores,

Till th’ out-law’d Cyclops’ land we fetch’d, a race

Of proud-liv’d loiterers, that never sow,

Nor put a plant in earth, nor use a plow,

But trust in god for all things; and their earth,

Unsown, unplow’d, gives every offspring birth

That other lands have: wheat and barley, vines

That bear in goodly grapes delicious wines;

And Jove sends showers for all. No counsels there,

Nor counsellors, nor laws; but all men bear

Their heads aloft on mountains, and those steep,

And on their tops too; and their houses keep

In vaulty caves, their households govern’d all

By each man’s law, impos’d in several,

Nor wife, nor child aw

d but as he thinks good,

None for another caring. But there stood

Another little isle, well stor’d with wood,

Betwixt this and the entry; neither nigh

The Cyclops’ isle, nor yet far off doth lie.

Men’s want it suffer’d, but the men’s supplies

The goats made with their inarticulate cries.

Goats beyond number this small island breeds,

So tame, that no access disturbs their feeds;

No hunters, that the tops of mountains scale,

And rub through woods with toil, seek them at all.

Nor is the soil with flocks fed down, nor plow’d,

Nor ever in it any seed was sow’d.

Nor place the neighbour Cyclops their delights

In brave vermilion-prow-deck’d ships, nor wrights

Useful, and skilful in such works as need

Perfection to those traffics that exceed

Their natural confines, to fly out and see

Cities of men, and take in mutually

The prease of others; to themselves they live,

And to their island that enough would give

A good inhabitant, and time of year

Observe to all things art could order there.

There, close upon the sea, sweet meadows spring,

That yet of fresh streams want no watering

To their soft burthens, but of special yield

Your vines would be there, and your common field

But gentle work make for your plow, yet bear

A lofty harvest when you came to shear;

For passing fat the soil is. In it lies

A harbour so opportune, that no ties,

Halsers, or cables need, nor anchors cast.

Whom storms put in there are with stay embrac’d,

Or to their full wills safe, or winds aspire

To pilots’ uses their more quick desire.

At entry of the hav’n, a silver ford

Is from a rock-impressing fountain pour’d,

All set with sable poplars. And this port

Were we arrived at, by the sweet resort

Of some god guiding us, for ’twas a night

So ghastly dark all port was past our sight,

Clouds hid our ships, and would not let the moon

Afford a beam to us, the whole isle won

By not an eye of ours. None thought the blore,

That then was up, shov’d waves against the shore,

That then to an unmeasured height put on;

We still at sea esteem’d us, till alone

Our fleet put in itself. And then were strook

Our gather’d sails; our rest ashore we took,

And day expected. When the morn gave fire,

We rose, and walk’d, and did the isle admire –

The nymphs, Jove’s daughters, putting up a herd

Of mountain goats to us, to render cheer’d

My fellow soldiers. To our fleet we flew,

Our crooked bows took, long-pil’d darts, and drew

Ourselves in three parts out; when, by the grace

That god vouchsa
f

d, we made a gainful chace.

Twelve ships we had, and every ship had nine

Fat goats allotted [it], ten only mine.

Thus all that day, ev’n till the sun was set,

We sat and feasted, pleasant wine and meat

Plenteously taking; for we had not spent

Our ruddy wine a-shipboard; supplement

Of large sort each man to his vessel drew,

When we the sacred city overthrew

That held the Cicons. Now then saw we near

The Cyclops’ late-prais’d island, and might hear

The murmur of their sheep and goats, and see

Their smokes ascend. The sun then set, and we,

When night succeeded, took our rest ashore.

And when the world the morning’s favour wore,

I call’d my friends to council, charging them

To make stay there, while I took ship and stream,

With some associates, and explor’d what men

The neighbour isle held: if of rude disdain,

Churlish and tyrannous, or minds bewray’d

Pious and hospitable. Thus much said,

I boarded, and commanded to ascend

My friends and soldiers; to put off, and lend

Way to our ship. They boarded, sat, and beat

The old sea forth, till we might see the seat

The greatest Cyclop held for his abode,

Which was a deep cave, near the common road

Of ships that touch’d there, thick with laurels spread,

Where many sheep and goats lay shadowed;

And, near to this, a hall of torn-up stone,

High built with pines, that heav’n and earth attone,

And lofty-fronted oaks; in which kept house

A man in shape immane, and monsterous,

Fed all his flocks alone, nor would afford

Commerce with men, but had a wit abhorr’d,

BOOK: The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature)
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