Thirty Poems/The Fifth Book of Homer's Odyssey
The
FIFTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEY.
Translated.
Aurora, rising from her couch besideThe famed Tithonus, brought the light of dayTo men and to immortals. Then the godsCame to their seats in council. With them cameHigh thundering Jupiter, amongst them allThe mightiest. Pallas, mindful of the past,Spoke of Ulysses and his many woes,Grieved that he still was with the island nymph. "Oh, father Jove, and all ye blessed onesWho live forever! let not sceptred kingHenceforth, be gracious, mild, and merciful,And righteous; rather be he deaf to prayer,And prone to deeds of wrong, since no one nowRemembers the divine Ulysses moreAmong the people over whom he ruled,Benignly, like a father. Still he lies,Weighed down by many sorrows, in the isleAnd dwelling of Calypso, who so longConstrains his stay. To his dear native landDepart he cannot; ship, arrayed with oars,And seamen has he none, to bear him o'erThe breast of the broad ocean. Nay, even now,Against his well-beloved son a plotIs laid, to slay him as he journeys homeFrom Pylos the divine, and from the wallsOf famous Sparta, whither he had goneTo gather tidings of his father's fate." Then answered her the ruler of the storms:"My child, what words are these that pass thy lips! Was not thy long-determined counsel this,That, in good time, Ulysses should return,To be avenged? Guide, then, Tolemachus,Wisely, for so thou canst, that, all unharmed,He reach his native land, and, in their barks,Homeward the suitor-train retrace their way." He spoke, and turned to Hermes, his dear son:"Hermes, for thou, in this, my messengerArt, as in all things, to the bright-haired nymphMake known my steadfast purpose, the returnOf suffering Ulysses. Neither godsNor men shall guide his voyage. On a raft,Made firm with bands, he shall depart and reach,After long hardships, on the twentieth day,The fertile shore of Scheria, on whose isleDwell the Pheacians, kinsmen of the gods.They like a god shall honor him, and thenceSend him to his loved country in a ship, With ample gifts of brass and gold, and storeOf raiment—wealth like which he ne'er had broughtFrom conquered Ilion, had he reached his homeSafely, with all his portion of the spoil.So is it preordained, that he beholdHis friends again, and stand once more withinHis high-roofed palace, on his native soil." He spake; the herald Argieide obeyed,And hastily beneath his feet he boundThe fair, ambrosial, golden sandals, wornTo bear him over ocean like the wind,And o'er the boundless land. His wand he took,Wherewith he softly seals the eyes of men,And opens them at will from sleep. With thisIn hand, the mighty Argos-queller flew,And lighting on Pieria, from the skyPlunged downward to the deep, and skimmed its faceLike hovering sea-mew, that on the broad gulfs Of the unfruitful ocean seeks her prey,And often dips her pinions in the brine,So Hermes flew along the waste of waves. But when he reached that island, far away,Forth from the dark blue ocean-swell he steppedUpon the sea-beach, walking till he cameTo the vast cave in which the bright-haired nymphMade her abode. He found the nymph within.A fire blazed brightly on the hearth, and farWas wafted o'er the isle the fragrant smokeOf cloven cedar, burning in the flame,And cypress wood. Meanwhile, in her recess,She sweetly sang, as busily she threwThe golden shuttle through the web she wove.And all about the grotto alders grew,And poplars, and sweet-smelling cypresses,In a green forest, high among whose boughsBirds of broad wing, wood-owls and falcons, built Their nests, and crows, with voices sounding far,All haunting for their food the ocean side.A vine, with downy leaves and clustering grapes,Crept over all the cavern rock. Four springsPoured forth their glittering waters in a row,And here and there went wandering side by side.Around were meadows of soft green, o'ergrownWith violets and parsley. Twas a spotWhere oven an Immortal might, awhile,Linger, and gaze with wonder and delight.The herald Argos-queller stood, and saw,And marvelled; but as soon as he had viewedThe wonders of the place, he turned his steps,Entering the broad-roofed cave. Calypso there,The glorious goddess, saw him as he came,And knew him, for the ever-living godsAre to each other known, though one may dwell Far from the rest. Ulysses, large of heart,Was not within. Apart, upon the shore,He sat and sorrowed, where he oft, in tearsAnd sighs and vain repinings, passed the hours,Gazing with wet eyes on the barren deep.Now, placing Hermes on a shining seatOf state, Calypso, glorious goddess, said, "Thou of the golden wand, revered and loved,What, Hermes, brings thee hither? Passing fewHave been thy visits. Make thy pleasure known,My heart enjoins me to obey, if aughtThat thou commandest be within my power,But first accept the offerings due a guest." The goddess, speaking thus, before him placedA table where the heaped ambrosia lay,And mingled the red nectar. Ate and drank The herald Argos-queller, and, refreshed,Answered the nymph, and made his message known: "Art thou a goddess, and dost ask of me,A god, why came I hither? Yet, since thouRequirest, I will truly tell the cause.I came unwillingly at Jove's command,For who, of choice, would traverse the wide wasteOf the salt ocean, with no city near,Where men adore the gods with solemn ritesAnd chosen hecatombs. No god has powerTo elude or to resist the purposesOf ægis-bearing Jove. With thee abides,He bids me say, the most unhappy manOf all who round the city of Priam wagedThe battle through nine years, and, in the tenth,Laying it waste, departed for their homes.But, in their voyage, they provoked the wrathOf Pallas, who called up the furious winds And angry waves against them. By his sideSank all his gallant comrades in the deep.Him did the winds and waves drive hither. HimJove bids thee send away with speed, for hereHe must not perish, far from all he loves.So is it preordained that he beholdHis friends again, and stand once more withinHis high-roofed palace, on his native soil." He spoke, Calypso, glorious goddess, heard,And shuddered, and with wingèd words replied: "Ye are unjust, ye gods, and, envious farBeyond all other beings, cannot bearThat ever goddess openly should makeA mortal man her consort. Thus it wasWhen once Aurora, rosy-fingered, tookOrion for her husband; ye were stung,Amid your blissful lives, with envious hate,Till chaste Diana, of the golden throne,Smote him with silent arrows from her bow, And slew him in Ortygia. Thus, again,When bright-haired Ceres, swayed by her own heart,In fields which bore three yearly harvests, metIasion as a lover, this was knownEre long to Jupiter, who flung from highA flaming thunderbolt, and laid him dead.And now ye envy me, that with me dwellsA mortal man. I saved him, as he clung,Alone, upon his floating keel, for JoveHad cloven, with a bolt of fire, from heaven,His galley in the midst of the black sea,And all his gallant comrades perished there.Him kindly I received; I cherished him,And promised him a life that ne'er should knowDecay or death. But, since no god has powerTo elude or to withstand the purposesOf ægis-bearing Jove, let him depart,If so the sovereign moves him and commands,Over the barren deep. I send him not;For neither ship arrayed with oars have I, Nor seamen, o'er the boundless waste of wavesTo bear him hence. My counsel I will give,And nothing will I hide that he should know,To place him safely on his native shore." The herald Argos-queller answered her:"Dismiss him thus, and bear in mind the wrathOf Jove, lest it be kindled against thee." Thus having said, the mighty ArgicideDeparted, and the nymph, who now had heardThe doom of Jove, sought the great-hearted man,Ulysses. Him she found beside the deep,Seated alone, with eyes from which the tearsWere never dried, for now no more the nymphDelighted him; he wasted his sweet lifeIn yearning for his home. Night after nightHe slept constrained within the hollow cave,The unwilling by the fond, and, day by day,He sat upon the rocks that edged the shore,And in continual weeping and in sighs And vain repinings, wore the hours away,Gazing through tears upon the barren deep.The glorious goddess stood by him and spoke: "Unhappy! sit no longer sorrowing here,Nor waste life thus. Lo! I most willinglyDismiss thee hence. Rise, hew down trees, and bindTheir trunks, with brazen clamps, into a raft,And fasten planks above, a lofty floor,That it may bear thee o'er the dark blue deep.Bread will I put on board, water, and wine,Red wine, that cheers the heart, and wrap thee wellIn garments, and send after thee the wind,That safely thou attain thy native shore;If so the gods permit thee, who abideIn the broad heaven above, and better knowBy far than I, and far more wisely judge." Ulysses, the great sufferer, as she spoke,Shuddered, and thus with wingèd words replied: "Some other purpose than to send me homeIs in thy heart, oh goddess, bidding meTo cross this frightful sea upon a raft,The perilous sea, where never even shipsPass with their rapid keels, though Jove bestowThe wind that glads the seaman. Nay, I climbNo raft, against thy wish, unless thou swearThe great oath of the gods, that thou, in this,Dost meditate no other harm to me." Не spake; Calypso, glorious goddess, smiled,And smoothed his forehead with her hand, and said: "Perverse! and slow to see where guile is not!How could thy heart permit thee thus to speak?Now bear me witness, Earth, and ye broad HeavensAbove us, and ye waters of the StyxThat flow beneath'us, mightiest oath of all,And most revered by all the blessed gods, That I design no other harm to thee;But that I plan for thee and counsel theeWhat I would do were I in need like thine.I bear a juster mind; my bosom holdsA pitying heart, and not a heart of steel." Thus having said, the glorious goddess movedAway with hasty steps, and where she trodHe followed, till they reached the vaulted cave,The goddess and the hero. There he tookThe seat whence Hermes had just risen. The nymphBrought forth whatever mortals eat and drinkTo set before him. She, right oppositeTo that of great Ulysses, took her seat.Ambrosia there her maidens laid, and therePoured nectar. Both put forth their hands, and tookThe ready viands, till at length the callsOf hunger and of thirst were satisfied;Calypso, glorious goddess, then began: "Son of Laertes, man of many wiles,High-born Ulysses! Thus wilt thou departHome to thy native country? Then farewell;Bunt, couldst thou know the sufferings Fate ordainsFor thee ere yet thou landest on its shore,Thou wouldst remain to keep this home with me,And be immortal, strong as is thy wishTo see thy wife—a wish that, day by day,Possesses thee. I cannot deem myselfIn form or face less beautiful than she.For never with immortals can the raceOf mortal dames in form or face compare." Ulysses, the sagacious, answered her,"Bear with me, gracious goddess; well I knowAll thou couldst say. The sage PenelopeIn feature and in stature comes not nighTo thee; for she is mortal, deathless thouAnd ever young; yet, day by day, I longTo be at home once more, and pine to see The hour of my return. Even though some godSmite me on the black ocean, I shall bearThe stroke, for in my bosom dwells a mindPatient of suffering; much have I endured,And much survived, in tempests on the deep,And in the battle; let this happen too." He spoke; the sun went down; the night came on,And now the twain withdrew to a recessDeep in the vaulted cave, where, side by side,They took their rest. But when the child of dawn,Aurora, rosy-fingered, looked abroad,Ulysses put his vest and mantle on;The nymph too, in a robe of silver white,Ample, and delicate, and beautiful,Arrayed herself, and round about her loinsWound a fair golden girdle, drew a veilOver her head, and planned to send awayMagnanimous Ulysses. She bestowed A heavy axe, of steel, and double edged,Well fitted to the hand, the handle wroughtOf olive wood, firm set, and beautiful.A polished adze she gave him next, and ledThe way to a far corner of the isle,Where lofty trees, alders and poplars, stood,And firs that reached the clouds, sapless and dryLong since, and fitter thus to ride the waves.Then, having shown where grew the tallest trees,Calypso, glorious goddess, sought her home. Trees then he felled, and soon the task was done.Twenty in all he brought to earth, and squaredTheir trunks with the sharp steel, and carefullyHe smoothed their sides, and wrought them by a line.Calypso, gracious goddess, having broughtWimbles, he bored the beams, and, fitting themTogether, made them fast with nails and clamps. As when some builder, skilful in his art,Frames, for a ship of burden, the broad keel,Such ample breadth Ulysses gave the raft.Upon the massy beams he reared a deck,And floored it with long planks from end to end.On this a mast he raised, and to the mastFitted a yard; he shaped a rudder neat,To guide the raft along her course, and roundWith woven work of willow boughs he fencedHer sides against the dashings of the seaCalypso, gracious goddess, brought him storeOf canvas, which he fitly shaped to sails,And, rigging her with cords, and ropes, and stays,Heaved her with levers into the great deep. 'Twas the fourth day; his labors now were done,And, on the fifth, the goddess from her isleDismissed him, newly from the bath, arrayedIn garments given by her, that shod perfumes. A skin of dark red wine she put on board,A larger one of water, and for foodA basket, stored with viands such as pleaseThe appetite. A friendly wind and softShe sent before. The great Ulysses spreadHis canvas joyfully, to catch the breeze,And sat and guided with nice care the helm,Gazing with fixed eye on the Pleiades,Boötes setting late, and the Great Bear,By others called the Wain, which, wheeling round,Looks ever toward Orion, and aloneDips not into the waters of the deep.For so Calypso, glorious goddess, badeThat, on his ocean journey, he should keepThat constellation ever on his left.Now seventeen days were in the voyage past,And on the eighteenth shadowy heights appeared,The nearest point of the Pheacian land,Lying on the dark ocean like a shield. But mighty Neptune, coming from amongThe Ethiopians, saw him. Far awayHe saw, from mountain heights of Solyma,The voyager, and burned with fiercer wrath,And shook his head, and said within himself: "Strange! now I see the gods have new designsFor this Ulysses, formed while I was yetIn Ethiopia. He draws near the landOf the Pheacians, where it is decreedHe shall o'erpass the boundary of his woes;But first, I think, he will have much to bear." He spoke, and round about him called the cloudsAnd roused the ocean, wielding in his handThe trident, summoned all the hurricanesOf all the winds, and covered earth and skyAt once with mists, while from above, the nightFell suddenly. The east wind and the southRushed forth at once, with the strong-blowing west, And the clear north rolled up his mighty waves.Ulysses trembled in his knees and heart,And thus to his great soul, lamenting, said: "What will become of me? unhappy man!I fear that all the goddess said was true,Foretelling what disasters should o'ertakeMy voyage, ere I reach my native land.Now are her words fulfilled. How JupiterWraps the great heaven in clouds and stirs the deepTo tumult! Wilder grow the hurricanesOf all the winds, and now my fate is sure.Thrice happy, four times happy they, who fellOn Troy's wide field, warring for Atreus' sons.Oh, had I met my fate and perished there,That very day on which the Trojan host,Around the dead Achilles, hurled at meTheir brazen javelins; I had then receivedDue burial and great glory with the Greeks;Now must I die a miserable death." As thus he spoke, upon him, from on high, A huge and frightful billow broke; it whirledThe raft around, and far from it he fell.His hands let go the rudder; a fierce rushOf all the winds together snapped in twainThe mast; far off the yard and canvas flewInto the deep; the billow held him longBeneath the waters, and he strove in vainQuickly to rise to air from that huge swellOf ocean, for the garments weighed him downWhich fair Calypso gave him. But, at length,Emerging, he rejected from his throatThe bitter brine that down his forehead streamed.Even then, though hopeless with dismay, his thoughtWas on the raft, and, struggling through the waves,He seized it, sprang on board, and seated thereEscaped the threatened death. Still to and froThe rolling billows drove it. As the windIn autumn sweeps the thistles o'er the field, Clinging together, so the blasts of heavenHither and thither drove it o'er the sea.And now the south wind flung it to the northTo buffet; now the cast wind to the west. Ino Leucothea saw him clinging there,The delicate-footed child of Cadmus, onceA mortal, speaking with a mortal voice,Though now, within the ocean-gulfs, she sharesThe honors of the gods. With pity sheBeheld Ulysses struggling thus distressed,And, rising from the abyss below, in formA cormorant, the sea-nymph took her perchOn the well-banded raft, and thus she said: "Ah, luckless man, how hast thou angered thusEarth-shaking Neptune, that he visits theeWith these disasters? Yet he cannot take,Although he seek it earnestly, thy life.Now do my bidding, for thou seemest wise.Laying aside thy garments, let the raftDrift with the winds, while thou, by strength of arm, Makest thy way in swimming to the landOf the Pheacians, where thy safety lies.Receive this veil and bind its heavenly woofBeneath thy breast, and have no further fearOf hardship or of danger. But, as soonAs thou shalt touch the island, take it off,And turn away thy face, and fling it farFrom where thou standest, into the black deep." The goddess gave the veil as thus she spoke,And to the tossing deep went down, in formA cormorant; the black wave covered her.But still Ulysses, mighty sufferer,Pondered, and thus to his great soul he said: "Ah me! perhaps some god is planning hereSome other fraud against me, bidding meForsake my raft. I will not yet obey,For still far off I see the land in which'Tis said my refuge lies. This will I do,For this seems wisest. While the fastenings lastThat hold these timbers, I will keep my place And bide the tempest here. But when the wavesShall dash my rait in pieces, I will swim,For nothing better will remain to do." As he revolved this purpose in his mind,Earth-shaking Neptune sent a mighty wave,Horrid, and huge, and high, and where he satIt smote him. As a violent wind upliftsThe dry chaff heaped upon a threshing floor,And sends it scattered through the air abroad,So did that wave fling loose the ponderous beams.To one of these, Ulysses, clinging fast,Bestrode it, like a horseman on his steed;And now he took the garments off, bestowedBy fair Calypso, binding round his breastThe veil, and forward plunged into the deep,With palms outspread, prepared to swim. Meanwhile,Neptune beheld him, Neptune, mighty king,And shook his head, and said within himself, "Go thus, and, laden with mischances, roamThe waters, till thou come among the raceCherished by Jupiter; but well I deemThou wilt not find thy share of suffering light." Thus having spoke, he urged his coursers on,With their fair flowing manes, until he cameTo Ægæ, where his glorious palace stands. But Pallas, child of Jove, had other thoughts.She stayed the course of every wind beside,And bade them rest, and lulled them into sleep,But summoned the swift north to break the waves,That so Ulysses, the high-born, escapedFrom death and from the fates, might be the guestOf the Pheacians, men who love the sea. Two days and nights, among the mighty waves He floated, oft his heart foreboding death,But when the bright-haired Eos had fulfilledThe third day's course, and all the winds were laid,And calm was on the watery waste, he sawThat land was near, as, lifted on the crestOf a huge swell, he looked with sharpened sight;And as a father's life preserved makes gladHis children's heart, when long-time he has lainSick, wrung with pain, and wasting by the powerOf some malignant genius, till, at length,The gracious gods bestow a welcome cure;So welcome to Ulysses was the sightOf woods and fields. By swimming on he thoughtTo climb and tread the shore, but when he drewSo near that one who shouted could be heardFrom land, the sound of ocean on the rocks Came to his ear, for there huge breakers roaredAnd spouted fearfully, and all aroundWas covered with the sea-foam, Haven hereWas none for ships, nor sheltering creek, but shoresBeetling from high, and crags and walls of rock.Ulysses trembled both in knees and heart,And thus, to his great soul, lamenting, said: "Now woe is met as soon as Jove has shownWhat I had little hoped to see, the land,And I through all these waves have ploughed my way,I find no issue from the hoary deep.For sharp rocks border it, and all aroundRoar the wild surges; slippery cliffs ariseClose to deep gulfs, and footing there is none,Where I might plant my steps and thus escape.All effort now were fruitless to resistThe mighty billow hurrying me awayTo dash me on the pointed rocks. If yet I strive, by swimming further, to descrySome sloping shore or harbor of the isle,I fear the tempest, lest it hurl me back,Heavily groaning, to the fishy deep.Or huge sea monster, from the multitudeWhich sovereign Amphitrite feeds, be sentAgainst me by some god, for well I knowThe power who shakes the shores is wroth with me." While he revolved these doubts within his mindA huge wave hurled him toward the rugged coast.Then had his limbs been flayed, and all his bonesBroken at once, had not the blue-eyed maid,Minerva, prompted him. Borne toward the rock,He clutched it instantly, with both his hands,And, panting, clung, till that huge wave rolled by,And so escaped its fury. Back it came, And smote him once again, and flung him farSeaward. As to the claws of polypus,Plucked from its bed, the pebbles thickly cling,So flakes of skin, from off his powerful hands,Were left upon the rock. The mighty surgeO'erwhelmed him; he had perished ere his time,Hapless Ulysses, but the blue-eyed maidPallas, informed his mind with wisdom. StraightEmerging from the wave that shoreward rolled,He swam along the coast and eyed it well,In hope of sloping beach or sheltered creek.But when, in swimming, he had reached the mouthOf a soft-flowing river, here appearedThe spot he wished for, smooth, without a rock,And here was shelter from the wind. He feltThe current's flow, and thus devoutly prayed: "Hear me, oh sovereign power, whoe'er thou art! To thee, the long desired, I come. I seekEscape from Neptune's threatenings on the sea.The deathless gods respect the prayer of himWho looks to them for help, a fugitive,As I am now, when to thy stream I come,And to thy knees, from many a hardship past,Oh thou that here art ruler, I declareMyself thy suppliant; be thou merciful." He spoke; the river stayed his current, checkedThe billows, smoothed them to a calm, and gaveThe swimmer a safe landing at his mouth.Then dropped his knees and sinewy arms, at onceUnstrung, for faint with struggling was his heart.His body was all swoln; the brine gushed forthFrom mouth and nostrils; all unnerved he lay,Breathless and speechless; utter weariness O'ermastered him. But when he breathed again,And his flown senses had returned, he loosedThe veil that Ino gave him from his breast,And to the salt flood cast it. A great waveBore it far down the stream; the goddess thereIn her own hands received it. He, meanwhile,Withdrawing from the brink, lay down amongThe reeds, and kissed the harvest-bearing earth,And thus to his great soul, lamenting, said: "Ah me! what must I suffer more! what yetWill happen to me? If, by the river's side,I pass the unfriendly watches of the night,The cruel cold and dews that steep the bankMay, in this weakness, end me utterlyFor chilly blows the river air at dawn.But should I climb this hill, to sleep withinThe shadowy wood, among thick shrubs, if coldAnd weariness allow me, then I fear,That, while the pleasant slumbers o'er me steal,I may become the prey of savage beasts." Yet, as he longer pondered this seemed best.He rose and sought the wood, and found it nearThe water, on a height, o'erlooking farThe region round. Between two shrubs, that sprungBoth from one spot, he entered, olive trees,One wild, one fruitful. The damp-blowing windNe'er pierced their covert; never blazing sunDarted his beams within, nor pelting showerBeat through, so closely intertwined they grew.Here entering, Ulysses heaped a bedOf leaves with his own hands; he made it broadAnd high, for thick the leaves had fallen around.Two men and three, in that abundant store,Might bide the winter storm, though keen the cold.Ulysses, the great sufferer, on his couch Looked and rejoiced, and placed himself within,And heaped the leaves high o'er him and around. As one who, dwelling in the distant fields,Without a neighbor near him, hides a brandIn the dark ashes, keeping carefullyThe seeds of fire alive, lest he, perforce,To light his hearth must bring them from afar;So did Ulysses, in that pile of leaves,Bury himself, while Pallas o'er his eyesPoured sleep and closed his lids, that he might take,After his painful toils, the fitting rest.
Revised November 15, 1862.