For force, he forcéd. He was slaughterer
Of many a brave man in most dreadful fight.
But one and other whom he reft of light,
In Grecian succour, I can neither name,
Nor give in number. The particular fame
Of one man’s slaughter yet I must not pass;
Eurypylus Telephides he was,
That fell beneath him, and with him the falls
Of such huge men went, that they show’d like whales 8
Rampir’d about him. Neoptolemus
Set him so sharply, for the sumptuous
Favours of mistresses he saw him wear;
For past all doubt his beauties had no peer
Of all that mine eyes noted, next to one,
And that was Memnon, Tithon’s Sun-like son.
Thus far, for fight in public, may a taste
Give of his eminence. How far surpast
His spirit in private, where he was not seen,
Nor glory could be said to praise his spleen,
This close note I excerpted. When we sat
Hid in Epëus’ horse, no optimate
Of all the Greeks there had the charge to ope
And shut the stratagem but I. 9 My scope
To note then each man’s spirit in a strait
Of so much danger, much the better might
Be hit by me, than others, as, provok’d,
I shifted place still, when, in some I smok’d
Both privy tremblings, and close vent of tears,
In him yet not a soft conceit of theirs
Could all my search see, either his wet eyes
Ply’d still with wipings, or the goodly guise,
His person all ways put forth, in least part,
By any tremblings, show’d his touch’d-at heart.
But ever he was urging me to make
Way to their sally, by his sign to shake
His sword hid in his scabbard, or his lance
Loaded with iron, at me. No good chance
His thoughts to Troy intended. In th’ event,
High Troy depopulate, he made ascent
To his fair ship, with prise and treasure store,
Safe, and no touch away with him he bore
Of far-off-hurl’d lance, or of close-fought sword,
Whose wounds for favours war doth oft afford,
Which he (though sought) miss’d in war’s closest wage.
In close fights Mars doth never fight, but rage.’
This made the soul of swift Achilles tread
A march of glory through the herby mead,
For joy to hear me so renown his son;
And vanish’d stalking. But with passión
Stood th’ other souls struck, and each told his bane.
Only the spirit Telamonian 10
Kept far off, angry for the victory
I won from him at fleet; though arbitry
Of all a court of war pronounc’d it mine,
And Pallas’ self. Our prise were th’ arms divine
Of great Æacides, proposd t’ our fames
By his bright Mother, at his funeral games.
I wish to heav’n I ought not to have won;
Since for those arms so high a head so soon
The base earth cover’d, Ajax, that of all
The host of Greece had person capital,
And acts as eminent, excepting his
Whose arms those were, in whom was nought amiss.
I tried the great soul with soft words, and said:
‘Ajax! Great son of Telamon, array’d
In all our glories! What! not dead resign
Thy wrath for those curst arms? The Pow’rs divine
In them forg’d all our banes, in thine own one,
In thy grave fall our tower was overthrown.
We mourn, for ever maim’d, for thee as much
As for Achilles; nor thy wrong doth touch,
In sentence, any but Saturnius’ doom;
In whose hate was the host of Greece become
A very horror; who express’d it well
In signing thy fate with this timeless hell.
Approach then, king of all the Grecian merit,
Repress thy great mind and thy flamy spirit,
And give the words I give thee worthy ear.’
All this no word drew from him, but less near
The stern soul kept; to other souls he fled,
And glid along the river of the dead.
Though anger mov’d him, yet he might have spoke,
Since I to him. But my desires were strook
With sight of other souls. And then I saw
Minos, that minister’d to Death a law,
And Jove’s bright son was. He was set, and sway’d
A golden sceptre; and to him did plead
A sort of others, set about his throne,
In Pluto’s wide-door’d house; when straight came on
Mighty Orion, who was hunting there
The herds of those beasts he had slaughter’d here
In desert hills on earth. A club he bore,
Entirely steel, whose virtues never wore.
Tityus I saw, to whom the glorious earth
Open’d her womb, and gave unhappy birth.
Upwards, and flat upon the pavement, lay
His ample limbs, that spread in their display
Nine acres’ compass. On his bosom sat
Two vultures, digging, through his caul of fat,
Into his liver with their crookéd beaks;
And each by turns the concrete entrail breaks
(As smiths their steel beat) set on either side.
Nor doth he ever labour to divide
His liver and their beaks, nor with his hand
Offer them off, but suffers by command
Of th’ angry Thund’rer, off’ring to enforce
His love Latona, in the close recourse
She us’d to Pytho through the dancing land,
Smooth Panopëus, I saw likewise stand,
Up to the chin, amidst a liquid lake,
Tormented Tantalus, yet could not slake
His burning thirst. Oft as his scornful cup
Th’ old man would taste, so oft ’twas swallow’d up,
And all the black earth to his feet descried,
Divine pow’r (plaguing him) the lake still dried.
About his head, on high trees, clust’ring, hung
Pears, apples, granates, olives ever-young,
Delicious figs, and many fruit-trees more
Of other burden; whose alluring store
When th’ old soul striv’d to pluck, the winds from sight,
In gloomy vapours, made them vanish quite.
There saw I Sisyphus in infinite moan,
With both hands heaving up a massy stone,
And on his tip-toes racking all his height,
To wrest up to a mountain-top his freight;
When prest to rest it there, his nerves quite spent,
Down rush’d the deadly quarry, the event
Of all his torture new to raise again;
To which straight set his never-rested pain.
The sweat came gushing out from ev’ry pore
And on his head a standing mist he wore,
Reeking from thence, as if a cloud of dust
Were rais’d about it. Down with these was thrust
The idol of the force of Hercules,
But his firm sel
f did no such fate oppress,
He feasting lives amongst th’ Immortal States,
White-ankled Hebe and himself made mates
In heav’nly nuptials. Hebe, Jove’s dear race,
And Juno’s whom the golden sandals grace.
About him flew the clamours of the dead
Like fowls, and still stoop’d cuffing at his head.
He with his bow, like Night, stalk’d up and down,
His shaft still nock’d, and hurling round his frown
At those vex’d hov’rers, aiming at them still,
And still, as shooting out, desire to still.
A horrid bawdrick wore he thwart his breast,
The thong all-gold, in which were forms imprest,
Where art and miracle drew equal breaths,
In bears, boars, lions, battles, combats, deaths,
Who wrought that work did never such before,
Nor so divinely will do ever more.
Soon as he saw, he knew me, and gave speech:
‘Son of Laertes, high in wisdom’s reach,
And yet unhappy wretch, for in this heart,
Of all exploits achiev’d by thy desert,
Thy worth but works out some sinister fate,
As I in earth did. I was generate
By Jove himself, and yet past mean opprest
By one my far inferior, whose proud hest
Impos’d abhorréd labours on my hand.
Of all which one was, to descend this strand,
And hale the dog from thence. He could not think
An act that danger could make deeper sink.
And yet this depth I drew, and fetch’d as high,
As this was low, the dog. The Deity
Of sleight and wisdom, as of downright pow’r,
Both stoop’d, and rais’d, and made me conqueror.’
This said, he made descent again as low
As Pluto’s court; when I stood firm, for show
Of more heroës of the times before,
And might perhaps have seen my wish of more,
(As Theseus and Pirithous, deriv’d
From roots of Deity) but before th’ achiev’d
Rare sight of these, the rank-soul’d multitude
In infinite flocks rose, venting sounds so rude,
That pale Fear took me, lest the Gorgon’s head
Rush’d in amongst them, thrust up, in my dread,
By grim Persephoné. I therefore sent
My men before to ship, and after went.
Where, boarded, set, and launch’d, the ocean wave
Our oars and forewinds speedy passage gave.
FINIS LIBRI UNDECIMI HOM. ODYSS.
ENDNOTES.
1 They mourned the event before they knew it.
2 Misenus apud Virgilium, ingenti mole, etc.
3 Men that never eat salt with their food.
4 Γήπᾳ ὑπὸ λιπαρῳ̑. Which all translate senectute sub molli. The epithet λιπαρῳ̑; not of λιπαρὸς, viz, pinguis, or λιπαρω̑ς, pinguiter, but λιπαρω̑ς signifying flagitanter orando. To which pious age is ever altogether addicted.
5 Amphiaraus was her husband, whom she betrayed to his ruin at Thebes, for gold taken of Adrastus her brother.
6 Venustè et salsè dictum.
7 This advice he followed at his coming home.
8 This place (and a number more) is most miserably mistaken by all translators and commentors.
9 The horse abovesaid.
10 Ajax the son of Telamon.
THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER’S ODYSSEYS
THE ARGUMENT
He shows from Hell his safe retreat
To th’ isle Ææa, Circe’s seat;
And how he ‘scap’d the Sirens’ calls,
With th’ erring rocks, and waters’ falls,
That Scylla and Charybdis break;
The Sun’ s stol’ n herds; and his sad wreak
Both of Ulysses’ ship and men,
His own head ‘scaping scarce the pain.
ANOTHER ARGUMENT
Μυ̑
The rocks that err’d,
The Sirens’ call.
The Sun’s stol’n herd.
The soldiers’ fall.
“Our ship now past the straits of th’ ocean flood,
She plow’d the broad sea’s billows, and made good
The isle Ææa, where the palace stands
Of th’ early riser with the rosy hands,
Active Aurora, where she loves to dance,
And where the Sun doth his prime beams advance.
When here arriv’d, we drew her up to land,
And trod ourselves the re-saluted sand,
Found on the shore fit resting for the night,
Slept, and expected the celestial light.
Soon as the white-and-red-mix’d finger’d Dame
Had gilt the mountains with her saffron flame,
I sent my men to Circe’s house before,
To fetch deceas’d Elpenor to the shore.
Straight swell’d the high banks with fell’d heaps of trees,
And, full of tears, we did due exsequies
To our dead friend. Whose corse consum’d with fire,
And honour’d arms, whose sepulchre entire,
And over that a column rais’d, his oar,
Curiously carv’d, to his desire before,
Upon the top of all his tomb we fix’d.
Of all rites fit his funeral pile was mix’d.
Nor was our safe ascent from Hell conceal’d
From Circe’s knowledge; nor so soon reveal’d
But she was with us, with her bread and food,
And ruddy wine, brought by her sacred brood
Of woods and fountains. In the midst she stood,
And thus saluted us; ‘Unhappy men,
That have, inform’d with all your senses, been
In Pluto’s dismal mansion! You shall die
Twice now, where others, that Mortality
In her fair arms holds, shall but once decease.
But eat and drink out all conceit of these,
And this day dedicate to food and wine,
The following night to sleep. When next shall shine
The cheerful morning, you shall prove the seas.
Your way, and ev’ry act ye must address,
My knowledge of their order shall design,
Lest with your own bad counsels ye incline
Events as bad against ye, and sustain,
By sea and shore, the woful ends that reign
In wilful actions.’ Thus did she advise
And, for the time, our fortunes were so wise
To follow wise directions. All that day
We sat and feasted. When his lower way
The Sun had entered, and the Even the high,
My friends slept on their gables; she and I
(Led by her fair hand to place apart,
By her well-sorted) did to sleep convert
Our timid pow’rs; when all things Fate let fall
In our affair she ask’d; I told her all.
To which she answer’d: ‘These things thus took end.
And now to those that I inform attend,
Which you rememb’ring, God himself shall be
The blesséd author of your memory.
First to the Sirens ye shall come, that taint
The minds of all men whom they can acquaint
With their attractions. Whosoever shall,
For wa
nt of knowledge mov’d, but hear the call
Of any Siren, he will so despise
Both wife and children, for their sorceries,
That never home turns his affection’s stream,
Nor they take joy in him, nor he in them.
The Sirens will so soften with their song
(Shrill, and in sensual appetite so strong)
His loose affections, that he gives them head.
And then observe: They sit amidst a mead,
And round about it runs a hedge or wall
Of dead men’s bones, their wither’d skins and all
Hung all along upon it; and these men
Were such as they had fawn’d into their fen,
And then their skins hung on their hedge of bones.
Sail by them therefore, thy companions
Beforehand causing to stop ev’ry ear
With sweet soft wax, so close that none may hear
A note of all their charmings. Yet may you,
If you affect it, open ear allow
To try their motion; but presume not so
To trust your judgment, when your senses go
So loose about you, but give strait command
To all your men, to bind you foot and hand
Sure to the mast, that you may safe approve
How strong in instigation to their love
Their rapting tunes are. If so much they move,
That, spite of all your reason, your will stands
To be enfranchis’d both of feet and hands,
Charge all your men before to slight your charge,
And rest so far from fearing to enlarge
That much more sure they bind you. When your friends
Have outsail’d these, the danger that transcends
Rests not in any counsel to prevent,
Unless your own mind finds the tract and bent
Of that way that avoids it. I can say
That in your course there lies a twofold way,
The right of which your own, taught, present wit,
And grace divine, must prompt. In gen’ral yet
Let this inform you: Near these Sirens’ shore
Move two steep rocks, at whose feet lie and roar
The black sea’s cruel billows; the bless’d Gods
Call them the Rovers. Their abhorr’d abodes
No bird can pass; no not the doves, whose fear 1
Sire Jove so loves that they are said to bear
Ambrosia to him, can their ravine ‘scape,
But one of them falls ever to the rape
Of those sly rocks; yet Jove another still
Adds to the rest, that so may ever fill
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 134
