  Ulysses discovers himself to the PhÆacians, and begins the history of his adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the monster with wine, Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d. AlcinoÜs! King! illustrious above all PhÆacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hear A bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song. The world, in my account, no sight affords More gratifying than a people blest With cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’d With guests in order ranged, list’ning to sounds Melodious, and the steaming tables spread With plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around. No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems, Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groans And tears, that I may sorrow still the more. What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse, On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes? Learn first my name, that even in this land Remote I may be known, and that escaped From all adversity, I may requite Hereafter, this your hospitable care At my own home, however distant hence. I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earth For subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven, The offspring of Laertes; my abode Is sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving stands The mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs, And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring isles All populous; thence Samos is beheld, Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad. Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed Her sister islands face the rising day; Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sons Magnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold, Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she. Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grot Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused; ÆÆan Circe also, skill’d profound In potent arts, within her palace long Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused; But never could they warp my constant mind. So much our parents and our native soil Attract us most, even although our lot Be fair and plenteous in a foreign land. But come—my painful voyage, such as Jove Gave me from Ilium, I will now relate. From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus, City of the Ciconians; them I slew, And laid their city waste; whence bringing forth Much spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it With equal hand, and each received a share. Next, I exhorted to immediate flight My people; but in vain; they madly scorn’d My sober counsel, and much wine they drank, And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore. Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d, Their neighbours summoning, a mightier host And braver, natives of the continent, Expert, on horses mounted, to maintain Fierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot. Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rs At day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove, Misfortune found us. At the ships we stood Piercing each other with the brazen spear, And till the morning brighten’d into noon, Few as we were, we yet withstood them all; But, when the sun verged westward, then the Greeks Fell back, and the Ciconian host prevail’d. Six warlike Greecians from each galley’s crew Perish’d in that dread field; the rest escaped. Thus, after loss of many, we pursued Our course, yet, difficult as was our flight, Went not till first we had invoked by name But cloud-assembler Jove assail’d us soon With a tempestuous North-wind; earth alike And sea with storms he overhung, and night Fell fast from heav’n. Their heads deep-plunging oft Our gallies flew, and rent, and rent again Our tatter’d sail-cloth crackled in the wind. We, fearing instant death, within the barks Our canvas lodg’d, and, toiling strenuous, reach’d At length the continent. Two nights we lay Continual there, and two long days, consumed With toil and grief; but when the beauteous morn Bright-hair’d, had brought the third day to a close, (Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl’d) Again we sat on board; meantime, the winds Well managed by the steersman, urged us on. And now, all danger pass’d, I had attain’d My native shore, but, doubling in my course Malea, waves and currents and North-winds Constrain’d me devious to Cythera’s isle. Nine days by cruel storms thence was I borne Athwart the fishy Deep, but on the tenth Reach’d the Lotophagi, a race sustain’d On sweetest fruit alone. There quitting ship, We landed and drew water, and the crews Beside the vessels took their ev’ning cheer. When, hasty, we had thus our strength renew’d, I order’d forth my people to inquire (Two I selected from the rest, with whom I join’d an herald, third) what race of men Might there inhabit. They, departing, mix’d With the Lotophagi; nor hostile aught Or savage the Lotophagi devised Against our friends, but offer’d to their taste The lotus; of which fruit what man soe’er Once tasted, no desire felt he to come With tidings back, or seek his country more, But rather wish’d to feed on lotus still With the Lotophagi, and to renounce All thoughts of home. Them, therefore, I constrain’d Weeping on board, and dragging each beneath The benches, bound him there. Then, all in haste, I urged my people to ascend again With fruit of lotus, should forget their home. They quick embark’d, and on the benches ranged In order, thresh’d with oars the foamy flood. Thence, o’er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach’d The land at length, where, giant-sized From all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell. They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough, But earth unsow’d, untill’d, brings forth for them All fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grape Large cluster’d, nourish’d by the show’rs of Jove. No councils they convene, no laws contrive, But in deep caverns dwell, found on the heads Of lofty mountains, judging each supreme His wife and children, heedless of the rest. In front of the Cyclopean haven lies A level island, not adjoining close Their land, nor yet remote, woody and rude. There, wild goats breed numberless, by no foot Of man molested; never huntsman there, Inured to winter’s cold and hunger, roams The dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime; No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known, But the unseeded and unfurrow’d soil, Year after year a wilderness by man Untrodden, food for blatant goats supplies. For no ships crimson-prow’d the Cyclops own, Nor naval artizan is there, whose toil Might furnish them with oary barks, by which Subsists all distant commerce, and which bear Man o’er the Deep to cities far remote Who might improve the peopled isle, that seems Not steril in itself, but apt to yield, In their due season, fruits of ev’ry kind. For stretch’d beside the hoary ocean lie Green meadows moist, where vines would never fail; Light is the land, and they might yearly reap The tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe. Safe is its haven also, where no need Of cable is or anchor, or to lash The hawser fast ashore, but pushing in His bark, the mariner might there abide At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream Issuing from a cove hemm’d all around With poplars; down into that bay we steer’d Amid the darkness of the night, some God Conducting us; for all unseen it lay, Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moon From heav’n to light us, veil’d by pitchy clouds. Hence, none the isle descried, nor any saw The lofty surge roll’d on the strand, or ere Our vessels struck the ground; but when they struck, Then, low’ring all our sails, we disembark’d, And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear’d. Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn, Look’d rosy forth, we with admiring eyes The isle survey’d, roaming it wide around. Meantime, the nymphs, Jove’s daughters, roused the goats Bred on the mountains, to supply with food The partners of my toils; then, bringing forth Bows and long-pointed javelins from the ships, Divided all into three sep’rate bands We struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey. Twelve ships attended me, and ev’ry ship Nine goats received by lot; myself alone Selected ten. All day, till set of sun, We eating sat goat’s flesh, and drinking wine Delicious, without stint; for dearth was none Of ruddy wine on board, but much remain’d, With which my people had their jars supplied What time we sack’d Ciconian Ismarus. Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-land Where dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw, And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks. Now sank the sun, and (night o’ershadowing all) We slept along the shore; but when again The rosy-finger’d daughter of the dawn Look’d forth, my crews convened, I thus began. Companions of my course! here rest ye all, Save my own crew, with whom I will explore This people, whether wild, they be, unjust, And to contention giv’n, or well-disposed To strangers, and a race who fear the Gods. So speaking, I embark’d, and bade embark They, ent’ring at my word, the benches fill’d Well-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood. Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we found At its extremity, fast by the sea, A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow’d above With laurels; in that cavern slumb’ring lay Much cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad court Enclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn, With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough. Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remote His flocks fed solitary, converse none Desiring, sullen, savage, and unjust. Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form, Resembling less a man by Ceres’ gift Sustain’d, than some aspiring mountain-crag Tufted with wood, and standing all alone. Enjoining, then, my people to abide Fast by the ship which they should closely guard, I went, but not without a goat-skin fill’d With sable wine which I had erst received From Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priest Of Phoebus guardian god of Ismarus, Because, through rev’rence of him, we had saved Himself, his wife and children; for he dwelt Amid the grove umbrageous of his God. He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from him Sev’n talents I received of beaten gold, A beaker, argent all, and after these No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete, Rich, unadult’rate, drink for Gods; nor knew One servant, male or female, of that wine In all his house; none knew it, save himself, His wife, and the intendant of his stores. Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slaked A single cup with twenty from the stream, And, even then, the beaker breath’d abroad A scent celestial, which whoever smelt, Thenceforth no pleasure found it to abstain. Charged with an ample goat-skin of this wine I went, and with a wallet well supplied, But felt a sudden presage in my soul That, haply, with terrific force endued, And privileges of the human race. Few steps convey’d us to his den, but him We found not; he his flocks pastur’d abroad. His cavern ent’ring, we with wonder gazed Around on all; his strainers hung with cheese Distended wide; with lambs and kids his penns Close-throng’d we saw, and folded separate The various charge; the eldest all apart, Apart the middle-aged, and the new-yean’d Also apart. His pails and bowls with whey Swam all, neat vessels into which he milk’d. Me then my friends first importuned to take A portion of his cheeses, then to drive Forth from the sheep-cotes to the rapid bark His kids and lambs, and plow the brine again. But me they moved not, happier had they moved! I wish’d to see him, and to gain, perchance, Some pledge of hospitality at his hands, Whose form was such, as should not much bespeak When he appear’d, our confidence or love. Then, kindling fire, we offer’d to the Gods, And of his cheeses eating, patient sat Till home he trudged from pasture. Charged he came With dry wood bundled, an enormous load Fuel by which to sup. Loud crash’d the thorns Which down he cast before the cavern’s mouth, To whose interior nooks we trembling flew. At once he drove into his spacious cave His batten’d flock, all those which gave him milk, But all the males, both rams and goats, he left Abroad, excluded from the cavern-yard. Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier huge To his cave’s mouth, he thrust it home. That weight Not all the oxen from its place had moved Of twenty and two wains; with such a rock Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat, And as he milk’d his ewes and bleating goats All in their turns, her yeanling gave to each; Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch, The half of his new milk, he thrust the curd Into his wicker sieves, but stored the rest In pans and bowls—his customary drink. His fuel, and discerning us, enquired, Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or bound To no one port, wander, as pirates use, At large the Deep, exposing life themselves, And enemies of all mankind beside? He ceased; we, dash’d with terrour, heard the growl Of his big voice, and view’d his form uncouth, To whom, though sore appall’d, I thus replied. Of Greece are we, and, bound from Ilium home, Have wander’d wide the expanse of ocean, sport For ev’ry wind, and driven from our course, Have here arrived; so stood the will of Jove. We boast ourselves of Agamemnon’s train, The son of Atreus, at this hour the Chief Beyond all others under heav’n renown’d, So great a city he hath sack’d and slain Such num’rous foes; but since we reach, at last, Thy knees, we beg such hospitable fare, Or other gift, as guests are wont to obtain. Illustrious lord! respect the Gods, and us Thy suitors; suppliants are the care of Jove The hospitable; he their wrongs resents And where the stranger sojourns, there is he. I ceas’d, when answer thus he, fierce, return’d. Friend! either thou art fool, or hast arrived Indeed from far, who bidd’st me fear the Gods Lest they be wroth. The Cyclops little heeds Jove Ægis-arm’d, or all the Pow’rs of heav’n. Our race is mightier far; nor shall myself, Through fear of Jove’s hostility, abstain From thee or thine, unless my choice be such. But tell me now. Where touch’d thy gallant bark Our country, on thy first arrival here? Remote or nigh? for I would learn the truth. So spake he, tempting me; but, artful, thus I answer’d, penetrating his intent. My vessel, Neptune, Shaker of the shores, At yonder utmost promontory dash’d In pieces, hurling her against the rocks With winds that blew right thither from the sea, And I, with these alone, escaped alive. He deign’d, but, with his arms extended, sprang Toward my people, of whom seizing two At once, like whelps against his cavern-floor He dash’d them, and their brains spread on the ground. These, piece-meal hewn, for supper he prepared, And, like a mountain-lion, neither flesh Nor entrails left, nor yet their marrowy bones. We, viewing that tremendous sight, upraised Our hands to Jove, all hope and courage lost. When thus the Cyclops had with human flesh Fill’d his capacious belly, and had quaff’d Much undiluted milk, among his flocks Out-stretch’d immense, he press’d his cavern-floor. Me, then, my courage prompted to approach The monster with my sword drawn from the sheath, And to transfix him where the vitals wrap The liver; but maturer thoughts forbad. For so, we also had incurred a death Tremendous, wanting pow’r to thrust aside The rocky mass that closed his cavern-mouth By force of hand alone. Thus many a sigh Heaving, we watch’d the dawn. But when, at length, Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’d Look’d forth, then, kindling fire, his flocks he milk’d In order, and her yeanling kid or lamb Thrust under each. When thus he had perform’d His wonted task, two seizing, as before, He slew them for his next obscene regale. His dinner ended, from the cave he drove His fatted flocks abroad, moving with ease That pond’rous barrier, and replacing it As he had only closed a quiver’s lid. Then, hissing them along, he drove his flocks Toward the mountain, and me left, the while, Deep ruminating how I best might take Vengeance, and by the aid of Pallas win Deathless renown. This counsel pleas’d me most. Beside the sheep-cote lay a massy club Hewn by the Cyclops from an olive stock, Green, but which dried, should serve him for a staff. To us consid’ring it, that staff appear’d Tall as the mast of a huge trading bark, Such seem’d its length to us, and such its bulk. Part amputating, (an whole fathom’s length) I gave my men that portion, with command To shave it smooth. They smooth’d it, and myself, Shaping its blunt extremity to a point, Season’d it in the fire; then cov’ring close The weapon, hid it under litter’d straw, For much lay scatter’d on the cavern-floor. And now I bade my people cast the lot Who of us all should take the pointed brand, And grind it in his eye when next he slept. 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, Either through some surmise, or so inclined By influence, haply, of the Gods 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. 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 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 From clusters 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, 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 noble name enquired, Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return, The promised boon, some hospitable pledge. My name is Outis, At home, abroad; wherever I am known. So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied. 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, 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 Gods infused Heroic fortitude 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. 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 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 bloody 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; 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. If no man 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 Spreading his arms athwart the pass, 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 p??pes??te? ———Olli certamine summo Procumbunt. Virgil |
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