I saw the yellow smoke; but my discourse 6
A first retiring to my ship gave force,
To give my men their dinner, and to send
(Before th’ adventure of myself) some friend.
Being near my ship, of one so desolate
Some God had pity, and would recreate
My woes a little, putting up to me
A great and high-palm’d hart, that (fatally,
Just in my way itself to taste a flood)
Was then descending; the sun heat had sure
Importun’d him, besides the temperature
His natural heat gave. Howsoever, I
Made up to him, and let my jav’lin fly,
That struck him through the mid-part of his chine,
And made him, braying, to the dust confine
His flying forces. Forth his spirit flew;
When I stept in, and from the death’s wound drew
My shrewdly-bitten lance; there let him lie
Till I, of cut-up osiers, did imply
A withe a fathom long, with which his feet
I made together in a sure league meet,
Stoop’d under him, and to my neck I heav’d
The mighty burden, of which I receiv’d
A good part on my lance, for else I could
By no means with one hand alone uphold
(Join’d with one shoulder) such a deathful load.
And so, to both my shoulders, both hands stood
Needful assistants; for it was a deer
Goodly-well-grown. When (coming something near
Where rode my ships) I cast it down, and rear’d
My friends with kind words; whom by name I cheer’d,
In note particular, and said: ‘See, friends,
We will not yet to Pluto’s house; our ends
Shall not be hasten’d, though we be declin’d
In cause of comfort, till the day design’d
By Fate’s fix’d finger. Come, as long as food
Or wine lasts in our ship, let’s spirit our blood,
And quit our care and hunger both in one.’
This said, they frolick’d, came, and look’d upon
With admiration the huge-bodied beast;
And when their first-serv’d eyes had done their feast,
They wash’d, and made a to-be-striv’d-for meal 7
In point of honour. On which all did dwell
The whole day long. And, to our venison’s store,
We added wine till we could wish no more.
Sun set, and darkness up, we slept, till light
Put darkness down; and then did I excite
My friends to counsel, utt’ring this: ‘Now, friends, 8
Afford unpassionate ear; though ill Fate lends
So good cause to your passion, no man knows
The reason whence and how the darkness grows;
The reason how the morn is thus begun;
The reason how the man-enlight’ning sun
Dives under earth; the reason how again
He rears his golden head. Those counsels, then,
That pass our comprehension, we must leave
To him that knows their causes; and receive
Direction from him in our acts, as far
As he shall please to make them regular,
And stoop them to our reason. In our state
What then behoves us? Can we estimate,
With all our counsels, where we are? Or know
(Without instruction, past our own skills) how,
Put off from hence, to steer our course the more?
I think we cannot. We must then explore
These parts for information; in which way
We thus far are: Last morn I might display
(From off a high-rais’d cliff) an island lie
Girt with th’ unmeasur’d sea, and is so nigh
That in the midst I saw the smoke arise
Through tufts of trees. This rests then to advise,
Who shall explore this?’ This struck dead their hearts,
Rememb’ring the most execrable parts
That Læstrygonian Antiphas had play’d,
And that foul Cyclop that their fellows bray’d
Betwixt his jaws; which mov’d them so, they cried.
But idle tears had never wants supplied.
I in two parts divided all, and gave
To either part his captain. I must have
The charge of one; and one of God-like look,
Eurylochus, the other. Lots we shook,
Put in a casque together, which of us
Should lead th’ attempt; and ’twas Eurylochus.
He freely went, with two-and-twenty more;
All which took leave with tears; and our eyes wore
The same wet badge of weak humanity.
These in a dale did Circe’s house descry,
Of bright stone built, in a conspicuous way.
Before her gates hill-wolves, and lions, lay;
Which with her virtuous drugs so tame she made,
That wolf nor lion would one man invade
With any violence, but all arose,
Their huge long tails wagg’d, and in fawns would close,
As loving dogs, when masters bring them home
Relics of feast, in all observance come,
And soothe their entries with their fawns and bounds,
All guests still bringing some scraps for their hounds;
So, on these men, the wolves and lions ramp’d,
Their horrid paws set up. Their spirits were damp’d
To see such monstrous kindness, stay’d at gate,
And heard within the Goddess elevate
A voice divine, as at her web she wrought,
Subtle, and glorious, and past earthly thought,
As all the housewif’ries of Deities are.
To hear a voice so ravishingly rare,
Polités (one exceeding dear to me,
A prince of men, and of no mean degree
In knowing virtue, in all acts whose mind 9
Discreet cares all ways us’d to turn, and wind)
Was yet surpris’d with it, and said: ‘O friends,
Some one abides within here, that commends
The place to us, and breathes a voice divine,
As she some web wrought, or her spindle’s twine
She cherish’d with her song; the pavement rings
With imitation of the tunes she sings.
Some woman, or some Goddess, ’tis. Assay
To see with knocking.’ Thus said he, and they
Both knock’d, and call’d; and straight her shining gates
She open’d, issuing, bade them in to cates.
Led, and unwise, they follow’d; all but one,
Which was Eurylochus, who stood alone
Without the gates, suspicious of a sleight.
They enter’d, she made sit; and her deceit
She cloak’d with thrones, and goodly chairs of state;
Set herby honey, and the delicate
Wine brought from Smynra, to them; meal and cheese;
But harmful venoms she commix’d with these,
That made their country vanish from their thought.
Which eat, she touch’d them with a rod that wrought
Their transformation far past human wonts;
Swine’s snouts, swine’s bodies, took they, bristles, grunts,
But still retain’d the souls they had before,
Which made them mourn their bodies’ change the more.
She shut them straight in styes, and gave them meat,
Oak-mast, and beech, and cornel-fruit, they eat,
Grov’lling like swine on earth, in foulest sort.
Eurylochus straight hasted the report
Of this his fellows’ most remorseful fate,
Came to the ships, but so excruciate
Was with his woe, he could not speak a word,
His eyes stood full of tears, which show’d how stor’d
His mind with moan remain’d. We all admir’d,
Ask’d what had chanc’d him, earnestly desir’d
He would resolve us. At the last, our eyes
Enflam’d in him his fellows’ memories, 10
And out his grief burst thus: ‘You will’d; we went
Through those thick woods you saw; when a descent
Show’d us a fair house, in a lightsome ground,
Where, at some work, we heard a heav’nly sound
Breath’d from a Goddess’, or a woman’s, breast.
They knock’d, she op’d her bright gates; each her guest
Her fair invitement made; nor would they stay,
Fools that they were, when she once led the way.
I enter’d not, suspecting some deceit.
When all together vanish’d, nor the sight
Of anyone (though long I look’d) mine eye
Could any way discover.’ Instantly,
My sword and bow reach’d, I bad show the place,
When down he fell, did both my knees embrace,
And pray’d with tears thus: ‘O thou kept of God,
Do not thyself lose, nor to that abode
Lead others rashly; both thyself, and all
Thou ventur’st thither, I know well, must fall
In one sure ruin. With these few then fly;
We yet may shun the others’ destiny.’
I answer’d him: ‘Eurylochus! Stay thou,
And keep the ship then, eat and drink; I now
Will undertake th’ adventure; there is cause
In great Necessity’s unalter’d laws.’
This said, I left both ship and seas, and on
Along the sacred valleys all alone
Went in discov’ry, till at last I came
Where of the main-med’cine-making Dame
I saw the great house; where encounter’d me
The golden-rod-sustaining Mercury,
Ev’n ent’ring Circe’s doors. He met me in
A young man’s likeness, of the first-flow’r’d chin,
Whose form hath all the grace of one so young.
He first call’d to me, then my hand he wrung,
And said: ‘Thou no-place-finding-for-repose,
Whither, alone, by these hill-confines, goes
Thy erring foot? Th’ art ent’ring Circe’s house,
Where, by her med’cines, black, and sorcerous,
Thy soldiers all are shut in well-arm’d styes,
And turn’d to swine. Art thou arriv’d with prize
Fit for their ransoms? Thou com’st out no more,
If once thou ent’rest, like thy men before
Made to remain here. But I’ll guard thee free,
And save thee in her spite. Receive of me
This fair and good receipt; with which once arm’d,
Enter her roofs, for th’ art to all proof charm’d
Against the ill day. I will tell thee all
Her baneful counsel: With a festival
She’ll first receive thee, but will spice thy bread
With flow’ry poisons; yet unalteréd
Shall thy firm form be, for this remedy
Stands most approv’d ‘gainst all her sorcery,
Which thus particularly shun: When she
Shall with her long rod strike thee, instantly
Draw from thy thigh thy sword, and fly on her
As to her slaughter. She, surpris’d with fear
And love, at first, will bid thee to her bed.
Nor say the Goddess nay, that welcoméd
Thou may’st with all respect be, and procure
Thy fellows’ freedoms. But before, make sure
Her favours to thee; and the great oath take
With which the blesséd Gods assurance make
Of all they promise; that no prejudice
(By stripping thee of form, and faculties)
She may so much as once attempt on thee.’
This said, he gave his antidote to me,
Which from the earth he pluck’d, and told me all
The virtue of it, with what Deities call
The name it bears; and Moly 11 they impose
For name to it. The root is hard to loose
From hold of earth by mortals; but God’s pow’r
Can all things do. ’Tis black, but bears a flow’r
As white as milk. And thus flew Mercury
Up to immense Olympus, gliding by
The sylvan island. I made back my way
To Circe’s house, my mind of my assay
Much thought revolving. At her gates I stay’d
And call’d; she heard, and her bright doors display’d,
Invited, led; I follow’d in, but trac’d
With some distraction. In a throne she plac’d
My welcome person; of a curious frame
’Twas, and so bright I sat as in a flame;
A foot-stool added. In a golden bowl
She then suborn’d a potion, in her soul
Deform’d things thinking; for amidst the wine
She mix’d her man-transforming medicine;
Which when she saw I had devour’d, she then
No more observ’d me with her soothing vein,
But struck me with her rod, and to her stye
Bad, out, away, and with thy fellows lie.
I drew my sword, and charg’d her, as I meant
To take her life. When out she cried, and bent
Beneath my sword her knees, embracing mine,
And, full of tears, said: ‘Who? Of what high line
Art thou the issue? Whence? What shores sustain
Thy native city? I amaz’d remain
That, drinking these my venoms, th’ art not turn’d.
Never drunk any this cup but be mourn’d
In other likeness, if it once had pass’d
The ivory bounders of his tongue and taste.
All but thyself are brutishly declin’d.
Thy breast holds firm yet, and unchang’d thy mind.
Thou canst be therefore none else but the man
Of many virtues, Ithacensian,
Deep-soul’d, Ulysses, who; I oft was told,
By that sly God that bears the rod of gold,
Was to arrive here in retreat from Troy.
Sheathe then thy sword, and let my bed enjoy
So much a man, that when the bed we prove,
We may believe in one another’s love.’
I then: ‘O Circe, why entreat’st thou me
To mix in any human league with thee,
When thou my friends hast beasts turn’d; and thy bed
Tender’st to me, that I might likewise lead
A beast’s life with thee, soften’d, naked stripp’d,
That in my blood thy banes may more be steep’d?
I never will ascend thy bed, before,
I may affirm, that in heav’n’s sight you swore
/> The great oath of the Gods, that all attempt
To do me ill is from your thoughts exempt.’
I said, she swore, when, all the oath-rites said,
I then ascended her adornéd bed,
But thus prepar’d: Four handmaids served her there,
That daughters to her silver fountains were,
To her bright-sea-observing sacred floods,
And to her uncut consecrated woods.
One deck’d the throne-tops with rich cloths of state,
And did with silks the foot-pace consecrate.
Another silver tables set before
The pompous throne, and golden dishes’ store
Serv’d in with sev’ral feast. A third fill’d wine.
The fourth brought water, and made fuel shine
In ruddy fires beneath a womb of brass.
Which heat, I bath’d; and od’rous water was
Disperpled lightly on my head and neck,
That might my late heart-hurting sorrows check
With the refreshing sweetness; and, for that,
Men sometimes may be something delicate.
Bath’d, and adorn’d, she led me to a throne
Of massy silver, and of fashión
Exceeding curious. A fair foot-stool set,
Water appos’d, and ev’ry sort of meat
Set on th’ elaborately-polish’d board,
She wish’d my taste employ’d; but not a word
Would my ears taste of taste; my mind had food
That must digest; eye-meat would do me good.
Circe (observing that I put no hand
To any banquet, having countermand
From weightier cares the light cates could excuse)
Bowing her near me, these wing’d words did use;
‘Why sits Ulysses like one dumb, his mind
Less’ning with languors? Nor to food inclin’d,
Nor wine? Whence comes it? Out of any fear
Of more illusion? You must needs forbear
That wrongful doubt, since you have heard me swear.’
‘O Circe!’ I replied, ‘what man is he,
Aw’d with the rights of true humanity,
That dares taste food or wine, before he sees
His friends redeem’d from their deformities?
If you be gentle, and indeed incline
To let me taste the comfort of your wine,
Dissolve the charms that their forc’d forms enchain,
And show me here my honour’d friends like men.’
This said, she left her throne, and took her rod,
Went to her stye, and let my men abroad,
Like swine of nine years old. They opposite stood,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 130
