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.
Then were my fellows instant to convey
“Kids, cheeses, lambs, aship-board, and away
Sail the salt billow. I thought best not so,
But better otherwise; and first would know,
What guest-gifts he would spare me. Little knew
My friends on whom they would have prey’d. His view
Prov’d after, that his inwards were too rough
For such bold usage. We were bold enough
In what I suffer’d; which was there to stay,
Make fire and feed there, though bear none away.
There sat we, till we saw him feeding come,
And on his neck a burthen lugging home,
Most highly huge, of sere-wood, which the pile
That fed his fire supplied all supper-while.
Down by
his den he threw it, and up rose
A tumult with the fall. Afraid, we close
Withdrew ourselves, while he into a cave
Of huge receipt his high-fed cattle drave,
All that he milk’d; the males he left without
His lofty roofs, that all bestrow’d about
With rams and buck-goats were. And then a rock
He lift aloft, that damm’d up to his flock
The door they enter’d; ’twas so hard to wield,
That two-and-twenty waggons, all four-wheel’d,
(Could they be loaded, and have teams that were
Proportion’d to them) could not stir it there.
Thus making sure, he kneel’d and milk’d his ewes,
And braying goats, with all a milker’s dues;
Then let in all their young. Then quick did dress
His half milk up for cheese, and in a press
Of wicker press’d it; put in bowls the rest,
To drink and eat, and serve his supping feast.
All works dispatch’d thus, he began his fire;
Which blown, he saw us, and did thus inquire:
῾Ho! guests! What are ye? Whence sail ye these seas?
Traffic, or rove ye, and like thieves oppress
Poor strange adventurers, exposing so
Your souls to danger, and your lives to woe?’
This utter’d he, when fear from our hearts took
The very life, to be so thunder-strook
With such a voice, and such a monster see;
But thus I answer’d: ‘Erring Grecians, we
From Troy were turning homewards, but by force
Of adverse winds, in far diverted course,
Such unknown ways took, and on rude seas toss’d,
As Jove decreed, are cast upon this coast,
Of Agamemnon, famous Atreus’ son,
We boast ourselves the soldiers; who hath won 7
Renown that reacheth heav’n, to overthrow
So great a city, and to ruin so
So many nations. Yet at thy knees lie
Our prostrate bosoms, forc’d with pray’rs to try
If any hospitable right, or boon
Of other nature, such as have been won
By laws of other houses, thou wilt give.
Rev’rence the Gods, thou great’st of all that live.
We suppliants are; and hospitable Jove
Pours wreak on all whom pray’rs want pow’r to move,
And with their plagues together will provide
That humble guests shall have their wants supplied.’
He cruelly answer’d: ‘O thou fool,’ said he,
To come so far, and to importune me
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 127
