Part 15

FINIS LIBRI OCTAVI HOM. ODYSS.

[1] The continued piety of Ulysses through all places, times, and occasions.

[2] Since the Phæacians were not only dwellers by sea, but studious also of sea qualities, their names seem to usurp their faculties therein. All consisting of sea-faring signification, except Laodamas, As Acroneus, _summa seu extrema navis pars._ Ocyalus, _velox in mari._ Elatreus, or _᾽Ελατὴρ, ἐλατη̑ρος, Remex, etc._

[3] The word is _πομπή,_ signifying _deductio, quâ trausvehendum curamus eum qui nobiscum aliquando est versatus._

[4] _᾽Ατάσθαλος damnorum magnorum auctor._

[5] He names Laodamas only for all the other brothers; since in his exception, the others’ envies were curbed: for brothers either are or should be of one acceptation in all fit things, And Laodamas, he calls his host, being eldest son to Alcinous: the heir being ever the young master; nor might he conveniently prefer Alcinous in his exception, since he stood not in competition at these contentions.

[6] _Μαρμαρυγὰς ποδω̑ν. Μαρμαρυγὴ_ signifies _splendor vibrans_; a twincked splendor; _μαρμαρύσσειν, vibrare veluti radios solares._

[7] Intending the sound of foot, when they outgo the soundest.

[8] This is _τὸ τὰ μικρὰ μεγάλως, etc. Parva magnè dicere;_ grave sentence out of lightest vapour.

[9] _’Ερίηρον ἀοιδὸν, Poetam cujus hominibus digna est societas._

[10] As by the divine fury directly inspired so, for Ulysses’ glory.

[11] In that the slaughters he made were expressed so lively.

[12] _Τήκετο ᾽Οδυσσεύς. Τήκω,_ metaph. signifying _consumo, tabesco._

[13] This _τερατολογία_ or _affirmation of miracles,_ how impossible soever in these times assured, yet in those ages they were neither absurd nor strange. Those inanimate things having (it seemed) certain Genii, in whose powers they supposed their ships’ faculties. As others have affirmed oaks to have sense of hearing; and so the ship of Argos was said to have a mast made of Dodonean oak, that was vocal, and could speak.

[14] Intending his father Nausithous.

THE NINTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS

THE ARGUMENT

Ulysses here is first made known; Who tells the stern contention His pow’rs did ’gainst the Cicons try; And thence to the Lotophagi Extends his conquest; and from them Assays the Cyclop Polypheme, And, by the crafts his wits apply, He puts him out his only eye.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT

_᾿Ιω̑τα._ The strangely fed Lotophagi. The Cicons fled. The Cyclop’s eye.

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 ev’ry 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 apprehensión 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 mis’ries 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,[1] Tree-fam’d Neritus; whose near confines fill Islands a number, well-inhabited, That under my observance taste their bread; Dulichius, Samos, and the full-of-food[2] 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 Ææa 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,[3] 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 managéd 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 flow’rs and leaves Dark spring discovers, when she light receives.[4] And then began the bitter Fate of Jove To alter us unhappy, which ev’n strove To give us suff’rance. At our fleet we made Enforcéd 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 Phœbus westward fell, the Cicons won Much hand of us; six proved soldiers fell, Of ev’ry 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 sav’d 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 sev’ral name,[5] And then took leave. Then from the angry North Cloud-gath’ring 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, prest 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 aship-board, 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 addrest 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 ev’ry offspring birth That other lands have; wheat, and barley, vines That bear in goodly grapes delicious wines; And Jove sends show’rs for all. No councils there, Nor councillors, 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 awed, 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, not 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 oppórtune, that no ties, Halsers, or gables need, nor anchors cast. Whom storms put in there are with stay embrac’d,[6] Or to their full wills safe, or winds aspire To pilots’ uses their more quick desire. At entry of the haven, a silver ford Is from a rock-impressing fountain pour’d, All set with sable poplars. And this port Were we arriv’d 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 unmeasur’d 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 vouchsaf’d, we made a gainful chace. Twelve ships we had, and ev’ry 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 aship-board, 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 shadowéd; 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, His mind his body answ’ring. Nor was he Like any man that food could possibly Enhance so hugely, but, beheld alone, Show’d like a steep hill’s top, all overgrown With trees and brambles; little thought had I Of such vast objects. When, arriv’d so nigh, Some of my lov’d friends I made stay aboard, To guard my ship; and twelve with me I shor’d, The choice of all. I took besides along A goat-skin flagon of wine, black and strong, That Maro did present, Evantheus’ son, And priest to Phœbus, who had mansión In Thracian Ismarus (the town I took). He gave it me, since I (with rev’rence strook Of his grave place, his wife and children’s good) Freed all of violence. Amidst a wood, Sacred to Phœbus, stood his house; from whence He fetch’d me gifts of varied excellence; Sev’n talents of fine gold; a bowl all fram’d Of massy silver; but his gift most fam’d Was twelve great vessels, fill’d with such rich wine As was incorruptible and divine. He kept it as his jewel, which none knew But he himself, his wife, and he that drew. It was so strong that never any fill’d A cup, where that was but by drops instill’d, And drunk it off, but ’twas before allay’d With twenty parts in water; yet so sway’d The spirit of that little, that the whole A sacred odour breath’d about the bowl. Had you the odour smelt and scent it cast, It would have vex’d you to forbear the taste. But then, the taste gain’d too, the spirit it wrought To dare things high set-up-an-end my thought. Of this a huge great flagon full I bore, And, in a good large knapsack, victuals store; And long’d to see this heap of fortitude, That so illit’rate was and upland rude That laws divine nor human he had learn’d. With speed we reach’d the cavern; nor discern’d His presence there, his flocks he fed at field. Ent’ring his den, each thing beheld did yield Our admiration; shelves with cheeses heap’d; Sheds stuff’d with lambs and goats, distinctly kept, Distinct the biggest, the more mean distinct, Distinct the youngest. And in their precinct, Proper and placeful, stood the troughs and pails, In which he milk’d; and what was giv’n at meals, Set up a creaming; in the ev’ning still All scouring bright as dew upon the hill.