So wrought, as Pallas might with pride behold.
Young Aretus from forth his bridal bower
Brought the full laver, o’er their hands to pour,
And canisters of consecrated flour.
Stratius and Echephron the victim led; 560
The axe was held by warlike Thrasymed,
In act to strike: before him Perseus stood,
The vase extending to receive the blood,
The King himself initiates to the Power;
Scatters with quiv’ring hand the sacred flour, 565
And the stream sprinkles: from the curling brows
The hair collected in the fire he throws.
Soon as due vows on every part were paid,
And sacred wheat upon the victim laid,
Strong Thrasymed discharged the speeding blow 570
Full on his neck, and cut the nerves in two.
Down sunk the heavy beast: the females round,
Maids, wives, and matrons, mix a shrilling sound,
Nor scorn’d the Queen the holy choir to join.
(The first-born she, of old Clymenus’ line; 575
In youth by Nestor lov’d, of spotless fame,
And lov’d in age, Eurydice her name.)
From earth they rear him, struggling now with death;
And Nestor’s youngest stops the vents of breath.
The soul for ever flies: on all sides round 580
Streams the black blood, and smokes upon the ground.
The beast they then divide, and disunite
The ribs and limbs, observant of the rite:
On these, in double cauls involv’d with art,
The choicest morsels lay from ev’ry part. 585
The sacred sage before his altar stands,
Turns the burnt-off’ring with his holy hands,
And pours the wine, and bids the flames aspire:
The youth with instruments surround the fire.
The thighs now sacrificed, and entrails dress’d, 590
Th’ assistants part, transfix, and broil the rest.
While these officious tend the rites divine,
The last fair branch of the Nestorean line,
Sweet Polycaste, took the pleasing toil
To bathe the Prince, and pour the fragrant oil. 595
O’er his fair limbs a flowery vest he threw,
And issued, like a God, to mortal view.
His former seat beside the King he found
(His people’s father with his peers around);
All placed at ease the holy banquet join, 600
And in the dazzling goblet laughs the wine.
The rage of thirst and hunger now suppress’d,
The Monarch turns him to his royal guest;
And for the promis’d journey bids prepare
The smooth-hair’d horses, and the rapid car. 605
Observant of his word, the word scarce spoke,
The sons obey, and join them to the yoke.
Then bread and wine a ready handmaid brings,
And presents, such as suit the state of kings;
The glitt’ring seat Telemachus ascends; 610
His faithful guide Pisistratus attends;
With hasty hand the ruling reins he drew:
He lash’d the coursers, and the coursers flew.
Beneath the bounding yoke alike they held
Their equal pace, and smoked along the field. 615
The towers of Pylos sink, its views decay,
Fields after fields fly back, till close of day:
Then sunk the sun, and darken’d all the way.
To Pheræ now, Diocleus’ stately seat
(Of Alpheus’ race), the weary youths retreat. 620
His house affords the hospitable rite,
And pleas’d they sleep, the blessing of the night.
But when Aurora, Daughter of the Dawn,
With rosy lustre purpled o’er the lawn,
Again they mount, their journey to renew, 625
And from the sounding portico they flew.
Along the waving fields their way they hold,
The fields receding as their chariot roll’d:
Then slowly sunk the ruddy globe of light,
And o’er the shaded landscape rush’d the night. 630
Odyssey Book V. The Departure of Ulysses from Calypso
THE ARGUMENT
Pallas in a council of the Gods complains of the detention of Ulysses in the island of Calypso; whereupon Mercury is sent to command his removal. The seat of Calypso described. She consents with much difficulty; and Ulysses builds a vessel with his own hands, on which he embarks. Neptune overtakes him with a terrible tempest, in which he is shipwrecked, and in the last danger of death; till Leucothea, a sea-goddess, assists him, and, after innumerable perils, he gets ashore on Phæacia.
THE SAFFRON Morn, with early blushes spread,
Now rose refulgent from Tithonus’ bed;
With new-born Day to gladden mortal sight,
And gild the courts of Heav’n with sacred light.
Then met th’ eternal Synod of the Sky, 5
Before the God, who thunders from on high,
Supreme in might, sublime in majesty.
Pallas, to these, deplores th’ unequal Fates
Of wise Ulysses, and his toils relates:
Her hero’s danger touch’d the pitying Power, 10
The nymph’s seducements, and the magic bower.
Thus she began her plaint. ‘Immortal Jove!
And you who fill the blissful seats above!
Let Kings no more with gentle mercy sway,
Or bless a people willing to obey, 15
But crush the nations with an iron rod,
And ev’ry Monarch be the scourge of God;
If from your thoughts Ulysses you remove,
Who ruled his subjects with a father’s love.
Sole in an isle, encircled by the main, 20
Abandon’d, banish’d from his native reign,
Unbless’d he sighs, detain’d by lawless charms,
And press’d unwilling in Calypso’s arms.
Nor friends are there, nor vessels to convey,
Nor oars to cut th’ immeasurable way. 25
And now fierce traitors, studious to destroy
His only son, their ambush’d fraud employ;
Who, pious, foll’wing his great father’s fame,
To sacred Pylos and to Sparta came.’
‘What words are these?’ (replied the Power who forms 30
The clouds of night, and darkens Heav’n with storms);
‘Is not already in thy soul decreed,
The Chief’s return shall make the guilty bleed?
What cannot Wisdom do? Thou may’st restore
The son in safety to his native shore; 35
While the fell foes, who late in ambush lay,
With fraud defeated measure back their way.’
Then thus to Hermes the command was giv’n.
‘Hermes, thou chosen messenger of Heav’n!
Go, to the Nymph be these our orders borne: 40
‘T is Jove’s decree, Ulysses shall return:
The patient man shall view his old abodes,
Nor help’d by mortal hand, nor guiding Gods:
In twice ten days shall fertile Scheria find,
Alone, and floating to the wave and wind. 45
The bold Phæacians there, whose haughty line
Is mix’d with Gods, half human, half divine,
The Chief shall honour as some heav’nly guest,
And swift transport him to his place of rest.
His vessels loaded with a plenteous store 50
Of brass, of vestures, and resplendent ore
(A richer prize than if his joyful isle
Receiv’d him charged with Ilion’s noble spoil),
His friends, his country, he shall see, tho’ late;
Such is our sov’reign will, and
such is Fate.’ 55
He spoke. The God who mounts the winged winds
Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds,
That high thro’ 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, 60
Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye:
Then shoots from Heav’n to high Pieria’s steep,
And stoops incumbent on the rolling deep.
So wat’ry fowl, that seek their fishy food,
With wings expanded o’er the foaming flood, 65
Now sailing smooth the level surface sweep,
Now dip their pinions in the briny deep.
Thus o’er the world of waters Hermes flew,
Till now the distant island rose in view:
Then, swift ascending from the azure wave, 70
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 ev’ry beauty crown’d);
She sate and sung; the rocks resound her lays;
The cave was brighten’d with a rising blaze; 75
Cedar and frankincense, an od’rous pile,
Flamed on the hearth and wide perfumed the isle;
While she with work and song the time divides,
And thro’ the loom the golden shuttle guides.
Without the grot a various sylvan scene 80
Appear’d around, and groves of living green;
Poplars and alders ever quiv’ring 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, 85
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 thro’ the green.
Four limpid fountains from the clefts distil; 90
And ev’ry fountain pours a sev’ral rill,
In mazy windings wand’ring 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, 95
A God might gaze, and wander with delight!
Joy touch’d the Messenger of Heav’n: he stay’d
Entranc’d, and all the blissful haunts survey’d.
Him, ent’ring in the cave, Calypso knew;
For Powers celestial to each other’s view 100
Stand still confess’d, tho’ 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 heart;
All on the lonely shore he sate to weep, 105
And roll’d his eyes around the restless deep;
Toward his lov’d 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: 110
‘God of the Golden Wand! on what behest
Arrivest thou here, an unexpected guest?
Lov’d as thou art, thy free injunctions lay:
‘T is mine with joy and duty to obey.
Till now a stranger, in a happy hour 115
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: 120
‘What mov’d 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-mov’d, with weary wing would sweep 125
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? 130
A man, he says, a man resides with thee,
Of all his kind most worn with misery;
The Greeks (whose arms for nine long years employ’d
Their force on Ilion, in the tenth destroy’d),
At length embarking in a luckless hour, 135
With conquest proud, incens’d Minerva’s power:
Hence on the guilty race her vengeance hurl’d
With storms pursued them thro’ the liquid world.
There all his vessels sunk beneath the wave!
There all his dear companions found their grave! 140
Saved from the jaws of death by Heav’n’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, 145
And calls him to his country, and his friends.’
Ev’n to her inmost soul the Goddess shook;
Then thus her anguish and her passion broke:
‘Ungracious Gods! with spite and envy curs’d!
Still to your own ethereal race the worst! 150
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, 155
Her joys disturb’d your blissful hours above,
Till, in Ortygia, Dian’s winged dart
Had pierc’d the hapless hunter to the heart.
So when the covert of the thrice-ear’d field
Saw stately Ceres to her passion yield, 160
Scarce could Iasion taste her heav’nly charms,
But Jove’s swift lightning scorch’d 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, 165
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 toss’d,
The sport of winds, and driv’n from ev’ry coast, 170
Hither this man of miseries I led,
Receiv’d the friendless, and the hungry fed;
Nay, promis’d (vainly promis’d!) to bestow
Immortal life, exempt from age and woe.
‘T is past — and Jove decrees he shall remove: 175
Gods as we are, we are but slaves to Jove.
Go then he may (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. 180
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 bears the Charming Rod: 185
‘Dismiss the man, nor irritate the God;
Prevent the rage of him who reigns above,
For what so dreadful as the wrath of Jove?’
Thus having said, he cut the cleaving sky,
And in a moment vanish’d from her eye. 190
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,
A
nd inly pining for his native shore; 195
For now the soft enchantress pleas’d no more:
For now, reluctant, and constrain’d by charms,
Absent he lay in her desiring arms:
In slumber wore the heavy night away,
On rocks and shores consumed the tedious day; 200
There sate all desolate, and sigh’d alone,
With echoing sorrows made the mountains groan,
And roll’d his eyes o’er all the restless main,
Till, dimm’d with rising grief, they stream’d again.
Here, on his musing mood the Goddess press’d 205
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, 210
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, 215
And prosp’rous 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.’ 220
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, 225
On a slight raft to pass the swelling sea,
Huge, horrid, vast! where scarce in safety sails
The best-built ship, tho’ Jove inspire the gales.
The bold proposal how shall I fulfil,
Dark as I am, unconscious of thy will? 230
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, 235
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 thro’ the shades, and bind th’ attesting Gods! 240
No form’d design, no meditated end,
Lurks in the council of thy faithful friend;
Kind the persuasion, and sincere my aim;
The same my practice, were my fate the same.
Heav’n has not curs’d me with a heart of steel, 245
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 125
