Complete Works of Homer

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Complete Works of Homer Page 374

by Homer


  In twice ten days shall fertile Scheria find,

  Alone, and floating to the wave and wind.

  The bold Phaecians there, whose haughty line

  Is mixed with gods, half human, half divine,

  The chief shall honour as some heavenly guest,

  And swift transport him to his place of rest,

  His vessels loaded with a plenteous store

  Of brass, of vestures, and resplendent ore

  (A richer prize than if his joyful isle

  Received him charged with Ilion's noble spoil),

  His friends, his country, he shall see, though late:

  Such is our sovereign will, and such is fate."

  He spoke. The god who mounts the winged winds

  Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds,

  That high through fields of air his flight sustain

  O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main:

  He grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly,

  Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye;

  Then shoots from heaven to high Pieria's steep,

  And stoops incumbent on the rolling deep.

  So watery fowl, that seek their fishy food,

  With wings expanded o'er the foaming flood,

  Now sailing smooth the level surface sweep,

  Now dip their pinions in the briny deep;

  Thus o'er the word of waters Hermes flew,

  Till now the distant island rose in view:

  Then, swift ascending from the azure wave,

  he took the path that winded to the cave.

  Large was the grot, in which the nymph he found

  (The fair-hair'd nymph with every beauty crown'd).

  The cave was brighten'd with a rising blaze;

  Cedar and frankincense, an odorous pile,

  Flamed on the hearth, and wide perfumed the isle;

  While she with work and song the time divides,

  And through the loom the golden shuttle guides.

  Without the grot a various sylvan scene

  Appear'd around, and groves of living green;

  Poplars and alders ever quivering play'd,

  And nodding cypress form'd a fragrant shade:

  On whose high branches, waving with the storm,

  The birds of broadest wing their mansions form, —

  The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow, —

  and scream aloft, and skim the deeps below.

  Depending vines the shelving cavern screen.

  With purple clusters blushing through the green.

  Four limped fountains from the clefts distil:

  And every fountain pours a several rill,

  In mazy windings wandering down the hill:

  Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were crown'd,

  And glowing violets threw odours round.

  A scene, where, if a god should cast his sight,

  A god might gaze, and wander with delight!

  Joy touch'd the messenger of heaven: he stay'd

  Entranced, and all the blissful haunts surveyed.

  Him, entering in the cave, Calypso knew;

  For powers celestial to each other's view

  Stand still confess'd, though distant far they lie

  To habitants of earth, or sea, or sky.

  But sad Ulysses, by himself apart,

  Pour'd the big sorrows of his swelling heard;

  All on the lonely shore he sate to weep,

  And roll'd his eyes around the restless deep:

  Toward his loved coast he roll'd his eyes in vain,

  Till, dimm'd with rising grief, they stream'd again.

  Now graceful seated on her shining throne,

  To Hermes thus the nymph divine begun:

  "God of the golden wand! on what behest

  Arrivest thou here, an unexpected guest?

  Loved as thou art, thy free injunctions lay;

  'Tis mine with joy and duty to obey.

  Till now a stranger, in a happy hour

  Approach, and taste the dainties of my bower."

  Thus having spoke, the nymph the table spread

  (Ambrosial cates, with nectar rosy-red);

  Hermes the hospitable rite partook,

  Divine refection! then, recruited, spoke:

  "What moves this journey from my native sky,

  A goddess asks, nor can a god deny.

  Hear then the truth. By mighty Jove's command

  Unwilling have I trod this pleasing land:

  For who, self-moved, with weary wing would sweep

  Such length of ocean and unmeasured deep;

  A world of waters! far from all the ways

  Where men frequent, or sacred altars blaze!

  But to Jove's will submission we must pay;

  What power so great to dare to disobey?

  A man, he says, a man resides with thee,

  Of all his kind most worn with misery.

  The Greeks, (whose arms for nine long year employ'd

  Their force on Ilion, in the tenth destroy'd,)

  At length, embarking in a luckless hour,

  With conquest proud, incensed Minerva's power:

  Hence on the guilty race her vengeance hurl'd,

  With storms pursued them through the liquid world.

  There all his vessels sunk beneath the wave!

  There all his dear companions found their grave!

  Saved from the jaws of death by Heaven's decree,

  The tempest drove him to these shores and thee.

  Him, Jove now orders to his native lands

  Straight to dismiss: so destiny commands:

  Impatient Fate his near return attends,

  And calls him to his country, and his friends."

  E'en to her inmost soul the goddess shook;

  Then thus her anguish, and her passion broke:

  "Ungracious gods! with spite and envy cursed!

  Still to your own ethereal race the worst!

  Ye envy mortal and immortal joy,

  And love, the only sweet of life destroy,

  Did ever goddess by her charms engage

  A favour'd mortal, and not feel your rage?

  So when Aurora sought Orion's love,

  Her joys disturbed your blissful hours above,

  Till, in Ortygia Dian's winged dart

  Had pierced the hapless hunter to the heart,

  So when the covert of the thrice-eared field

  Saw stately Ceres to her passion yield,

  Scarce could Iasion taste her heavenly charms,

  But Jove's swift lightning scorched him in her arms.

  And is it now my turn, ye mighty powers!

  Am I the envy of your blissful bowers?

  A man, an outcast to the storm and wave,

  It was my crime to pity, and to save;

  When he who thunders rent his bark in twain,

  And sunk his brave companions in the main,

  Alone, abandon'd, in mid-ocean tossed,

  The sport of winds, and driven from every coast,

  Hither this man of miseries I led,

  Received the friendless, and the hungry fed;

  Nay promised (vainly promised) to bestow

  Immortal life, exempt from age and woe.

  'Tis past-and Jove decrees he shall remove;

  Gods as we are, we are but slaves to Jove.

  Go then he must (he must, if he ordain,

  Try all those dangers, all those deeps, again);

  But never, never shall Calypso send

  To toils like these her husband and her friend.

  What ships have I, what sailors to convey,

  What oars to cut the long laborious way?

  Yet I'll direct the safest means to go;

  That last advice is all I can bestow."

  To her the power who hears the charming rod;

  "Dismiss the man, nor irritate the god;

  Prevent the rage of him who reigns above,

&
nbsp; For what so dreadful as the wrath of Jove?"

  Thus having said, he cut the cleaving sky,

  And in a moment vanished from her eye,

  The nymph, obedient to divine command,

  To seek Ulysses, paced along the sand,

  Him pensive on the lonely beach she found,

  With streaming eyes in briny torrents drown'd,

  And inly pining for his native shore;

  For now the soft enchantress pleased no more;

  For now, reluctant, and constrained by charms,

  Absent he lay in her desiring arms,

  In slumber wore the heavy night away,

  On rocks and shores consumed the tedious day;

  There sate all desolate, and sighed alone,

  With echoing sorrows made the mountains groan.

  And roll'd his eyes o'er all the restless main,

  Till, dimmed with rising grief, they streamed again.

  Here, on his musing mood the goddess press'd,

  Approaching soft, and thus the chief address'd:

  "Unhappy man! to wasting woes a prey,

  No more in sorrows languish life away:

  Free as the winds I give thee now to rove:

  Go, fell the timber of yon lofty grove,

  And form a raft, and build the rising ship,

  Sublime to bear thee o'er the gloomy deep.

  To store the vessel let the care be mine,

  With water from the rock and rosy wine,

  And life-sustaining bread, and fair array,

  And prosperous gales to waft thee on the way.

  These, if the gods with my desire comply

  (The gods, alas, more mighty far than I,

  And better skill'd in dark events to come),

  In peace shall land thee at thy native home."

  With sighs Ulysses heard the words she spoke,

  Then thus his melancholy silence broke:

  "Some other motive, goddess! sways thy mind

  (Some close design, or turn of womankind),

  Nor my return the end, nor this the way,

  On a slight raft to pass the swelling sea,

  Huge, horrid, vast! where scarce in safety sails

  The best-built ship, though Jove inspires the gales.

  The bold proposal how shall I fulfil,

  Dark as I am, unconscious of thy will?

  Swear, then, thou mean'st not what my soul forebodes;

  Swear by the solemn oath that binds the gods."

  Him, while he spoke, with smiles Calypso eyed,

  And gently grasp'd his hand, and thus replied:

  "This shows thee, friend, by old experience taught,

  And learn'd in all the wiles of human thought,

  How prone to doubt, how cautious, are the wise!

  But hear, O earth, and hear, ye sacred skies!

  And thou, O Styx! whose formidable floods

  Glide through the shades, and bind the attesting gods!

  No form'd design, no meditated end,

  Lurks in the counsel of thy faithful friend;

  Kind the persuasion, and sincere my aim;

  The same my practice, were my fate the same.

  Heaven has not cursed me with a heart of steel,

  But given the sense to pity, and to feel."

  Thus having said, the goddess marched before:

  He trod her footsteps in the sandy shore.

  At the cool cave arrived, they took their state;

  He filled the throne where Mercury had sate.

  For him the nymph a rich repast ordains,

  Such as the mortal life of man sustains;

  Before herself were placed the the cates divine,

  Ambrosial banquet and celestial wine.

  Their hunger satiate, and their thirst repress'd,

  Thus spoke Calypso to her godlike guest:

  "Ulysses! (with a sigh she thus began;)

  O sprung from gods! in wisdom more than man!

  Is then thy home the passion of thy heart?

  Thus wilt thou leave me, are we thus to part?

  Farewell! and ever joyful mayst thou be,

  Nor break the transport with one thought of me.

  But ah, Ulysses! wert thou given to know

  What Fate yet dooms these still to undergo,

  Thy heart might settle in this scene of ease.

  And e'en these slighted charms might learn to please.

  A willing goddess, and immortal life.

  Might banish from thy mind an absent wife.

  Am I inferior to a mortal dame?

  Less soft my feature less august my frame?

  Or shall the daughters of mankind compare

  Their earth born beauties with the heavenly fair?"

  "Alas! for this (the prudent man replies)

  Against Ulysses shall thy anger rise?

  Loved and adored, O goddess as thou art,

  Forgive the weakness of a human heart.

  Though well I see thy graces far above

  The dear, though mortal, object of my love,

  Of youth eternal well the difference know,

  And the short date of fading charms below;

  Yet every day, while absent thus I roam,

  I languish to return and die at home.

  Whate'er the gods shall destine me to bear;

  In the black ocean or the watery war,

  'Tis mine to master with a constant mind;

  Inured to perils, to the worst resign'd,

  By seas, by wars, so many dangers run;

  Still I can suffer; their high will he done!"

  Thus while he spoke, the beamy sun descends,

  And rising night her friendly shade extends,

  To the close grot the lonely pair remove,

  And slept delighted with the gifts of love.

  When rose morning call'd them from their rest,

  Ulysses robed him in the cloak and vest.

  The nymph's fair head a veil transparent graced,

  Her swelling loins a radiant zone embraced

  With flowers of gold; an under robe, unbound,

  In snowy waves flow'd glittering on the ground.

  Forth issuing thus, she gave him first to wield

  A weighty axe with truest temper steeled,

  And double-edged; the handle smooth and plain,

  Wrought of the clouded olive's easy grain;

  And next, a wedge to drive with sweepy sway

  Then to the neighboring forest led the way.

  On the lone island's utmost verge there stood

  Of poplars, pine, and firs, a lofty wood,

  Whose leafless summits to the skies aspire,

  Scorch'd by the sun, or seared by heavenly fire

  (Already dried). These pointing out to view,

  The nymph just show'd him, and with tears withdrew.

  Now toils the hero: trees on trees o'erthrown

  Fall crackling round him, and the forests groan:

  Sudden, full twenty on the plain are strow'd,

  And lopp'd and lighten'd of their branchy load.

  At equal angles these disposed to join,

  He smooth'd and squared them by the rule and line,

  (The wimbles for the work Calypso found)

  With those he pierced them and with clinchers bound.

  Long and capacious as a shipwright forms

  Some bark's broad bottom to out-ride the storms,

  So large he built the raft; then ribb'd it strong

  From space to space, and nail'd the planks along;

  These form'd the sides: the deck he fashion'd last;

  Then o'er the vessel raised the taper mast,

  With crossing sail-yards dancing in the wind;

  And to the helm the guiding rudder join'd

  (With yielding osiers fenced, to break the force

  Of surging waves, and steer the steady course).

  Thy loom, Calypso, for the future sails

  Supplied the cloth,
capacious of the gales.

  With stays and cordage last he rigged the ship,

  And, roll'd on levers, launch'd her in the deep.

  Four days were pass'd, and now the work complete,

  Shone the fifth morn, when from her sacred seat

  The nymph dismiss'd him (odorous garments given),

  And bathed in fragrant oils that breathed of heaven:

  Then fill'd two goatskins with her hands divine,

  With water one, and one with sable wine:

  Of every kind, provisions heaved aboard;

  And the full decks with copious viands stored.

  The goddess, last, a gentle breeze supplies,

  To curl old Ocean, and to warm the skies.

  And now, rejoicing in the prosperous gales,

  With beating heart Ulysses spreads his sails;

  Placed at the helm he sate, and mark'd the skies,

  Nor closed in sleep his ever-watchful eyes.

  There view'd the Pleiads, and the Northern Team,

  And great Orion's more refulgent beam.

  To which, around the axle of the sky,

  The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye:

  Who shines exalted on the ethereal plain,

  Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main.

  Far on the left those radiant fires to keep

  The nymph directed, as he sail'd the deep.

  Full seventeen nights he cut the foaming way:

  The distant land appear'd the following day:

  Then swell'd to sight Phaeacia's dusky coast,

  And woody mountains, half in vapours lost;

  That lay before him indistinct and vast,

  Like a broad shield amid the watery waste.

  But him, thus voyaging the deeps below,

  From far, on Solyme's aerial brow,

  The king of ocean saw, and seeing burn'd

  (From AEthiopia's happy climes return'd);

  The raging monarch shook his azure head,

  And thus in secret to his soul he said:

  "Heavens! how uncertain are the powers on high!

  Is then reversed the sentence of the sky,

  In one man's favour; while a distant guest

  I shared secure the AEthiopian feast?

  Behold how near Phoenecia's land he draws;

  The land affix'd by Fate's eternal laws

  To end his toils. Is then our anger vain?

  No; if this sceptre yet commands the main."

  He spoke, and high the forky trident hurl'd,

  Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the watery world,

  At once the face of earth and sea deforms,

  Swells all the winds, and rouses all the storms.

  Down rushed the night: east, west, together roar;

  And south and north roll mountains to the shore.

  Then shook the hero, to despair resign'd,

  And question'd thus his yet unconquer'd mind;

 

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