William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works

by William Cowper

  On both those rocky summits fell in show’rs.

  But when she suck’d the salt wave down again,

  Then, all the pool appear’d wheeling about

  Within, the rock rebellow’d, and the sea

  Drawn off into that gulph disclosed to view

  The oozy bottom. Us pale horror seized.

  Thus, dreading death, with fast-set eyes we watch’d

  Charybdis; meantime, Scylla from the bark

  Caught six away, the bravest of my friends.

  With eyes, that moment, on my ship and crew 290

  Retorted, I beheld the legs and arms

  Of those whom she uplifted in the air;

  On me they call’d, my name, the last, last time

  Pronouncing then, in agony of heart.

  As when from some bold point among the rocks

  The angler, with his taper rod in hand,

  Casts forth his bait to snare the smaller fry,

  He swings away remote his guarded line,

  Then jerks his gasping prey forth from the Deep,

  So Scylla them raised gasping to the rock, 300

  And at her cavern’s mouth devour’d them loud-

  Shrieking, and stretching forth to me their arms

  In sign of hopeless mis’ry. Ne’er beheld

  These eyes in all the seas that I have roam’d,

  A sight so piteous, nor in all my toils.

  From Scylla and Charybdis dire escaped,

  We reach’d the noble island of the Sun

  Ere long, where bright Hyperion’s beauteous herds

  Broad-fronted grazed, and his well-batten’d flocks.

  I, in the bark and on the sea, the voice 310

  Of oxen bellowing in hovels heard,

  And of loud-bleating sheep; then dropp’d the word

  Into my memory of the sightless Seer,

  Theban Tiresias, and the caution strict

  Of Circe, my Ææan monitress,

  Who with such force had caution’d me to avoid

  The island of the Sun, joy of mankind.

  Thus then to my companions, sad, I spake.

  Hear ye, my friends! although long time distress’d,

  The words prophetic of the Theban seer 320

  And of Ææan Circe, whose advice

  Was oft repeated to me to avoid

  This island of the Sun, joy of mankind.

  There, said the Goddess, dread your heaviest woes,

  Pass the isle, therefore, scudding swift away.

  I ceased; they me with consternation heard,

  And harshly thus Eurylochus replied.

  Ulysses, ruthless Chief! no toils impair

  Thy strength, of senseless iron thou art form’d,

  Who thy companions weary and o’erwatch’d 330

  Forbidd’st to disembark on this fair isle,

  Where now, at last, we might with ease regale.

  Thou, rash, command’st us, leaving it afar,

  To roam all night the Ocean’s dreary waste;

  But winds to ships injurious spring by night,

  And how shall we escape a dreadful death

  If, chance, a sudden gust from South arise

  Or stormy West, that dash in pieces oft

  The vessel, even in the Gods’ despight?

  Prepare we rather now, as night enjoins, 340

  Our evening fare beside the sable bark,

  In which at peep of day we may again

  Launch forth secure into the boundless flood.

  He ceas’d, whom all applauded. Then I knew

  That sorrow by the will of adverse heav’n

  Approach’d, and in wing’d accents thus replied.

  I suffer force, Eurylochus! and yield

  O’er-ruled by numbers. Come, then, swear ye all

  A solemn oath, that should we find an herd

  Or num’rous flock, none here shall either sheep 350

  Or bullock slay, by appetite profane

  Seduced, but shall the viands eat content

  Which from immortal Circe we received.

  I spake; they readily a solemn oath

  Sware all, and when their oath was fully sworn,

  Within a creek where a fresh fountain rose

  They moor’d the bark, and, issuing, began

  Brisk preparation of their evening cheer.

  But when nor hunger now nor thirst remain’d

  Unsated, recollecting, then, their friends 360

  By Scylla seized and at her cave devour’d,

  They mourn’d, nor ceased to mourn them, till they slept.

  The night’s third portion come, when now the stars

  Had travers’d the mid-sky, cloud-gath’rer Jove

  Call’d forth a vehement wind with tempest charged,

  Menacing earth and sea with pitchy clouds

  Tremendous, and the night fell dark from heav’n.

  But when Aurora, daughter of the day,

  Look’d rosy forth, we haled, drawn inland more,

  Our bark into a grot, where nymphs were wont 370

  Graceful to tread the dance, or to repose.

  Convening there my friends, I thus began.

  My friends! food fails us not, but bread is yet

  And wine on board. Abstain we from the herds,

  Lest harm ensue; for ye behold the flocks

  And herds of a most potent God, the Sun!

  Whose eye and watchful ear none may elude.

  So saying, I sway’d the gen’rous minds of all.

  A month complete the South wind ceaseless blew,

  Nor other wind blew next, save East and South, 380

  Yet they, while neither food nor rosy wine

  Fail’d them, the herds harm’d not, through fear to die.

  But, our provisions failing, they employed

  Whole days in search of food, snaring with hooks

  Birds, fishes, of what kind soe’er they might.

  By famine urged. I solitary roam’d

  Meantime the isle, seeking by pray’r to move

  Some God to shew us a deliv’rance thence.

  When, roving thus the isle, I had at length

  Left all my crew remote, laving my hands 390

  Where shelter warm I found from the rude blast,

  I supplicated ev’ry Pow’r above;

  But they my pray’rs answer’d with slumbers soft

  Shed o’er my eyes, and with pernicious art

  Eurylochus, the while, my friends harangued.

  My friends! afflicted as ye are, yet hear

  A fellow-suff’rer. Death, however caused,

  Abhorrence moves in miserable man,

  But death by famine is a fate of all

  Most to be fear’d. Come — let us hither drive 400

  And sacrifice to the Immortal Pow’rs

  The best of all the oxen of the Sun,

  Resolving thus — that soon as we shall reach

  Our native Ithaca, we will erect

  To bright Hyperion an illustrious fane,

  Which with magnificent and num’rous gifts

  We will enrich. But should he chuse to sink

  Our vessel, for his stately beeves incensed,

  And should, with him, all heav’n conspire our death,

  I rather had with open mouth, at once, 410

  Meeting the billows, perish, than by slow

  And pining waste here in this desert isle.

  So spake Eurylochus, whom all approved.

  Then, driving all the fattest of the herd

  Few paces only, (for the sacred beeves

  Grazed rarely distant from the bark) they stood

  Compassing them around, and, grasping each

  Green foliage newly pluck’d from saplings tall,

  (For barley none in all our bark remain’d)

  Worshipp’d the Gods in pray’r. Pray’r made, they slew

  And flay’d them, and the thighs with double fat 421

  Investin
g, spread them o’er with slices crude.

  No wine had they with which to consecrate

  The blazing rites, but with libation poor

  Of water hallow’d the interior parts.

  Now, when the thighs were burnt, and each had shared

  His portion of the maw, and when the rest

  All-slash’d and scored hung roasting at the fire,

  Sleep, in that moment, suddenly my eyes

  Forsaking, to the shore I bent my way. 430

  But ere the station of our bark I reach’d,

  The sav’ry steam greeted me. At the scent

  I wept aloud, and to the Gods exclaim’d.

  Oh Jupiter, and all ye Pow’rs above!

  With cruel sleep and fatal ye have lull’d

  My cares to rest, such horrible offence

  Meantime my rash companions have devised.

  Then, flew long-stoled Lampetia to the Sun

  At once with tidings of his slaughter’d beeves,

  And he, incensed, the Immortals thus address’d. 440

  Jove, and ye everlasting Pow’rs divine!

  Avenge me instant on the crew profane

  Of Laertiades; Ulysses’ friends

  Have dared to slay my beeves, which I with joy

  Beheld, both when I climb’d the starry heav’ns,

  And when to earth I sloped my “westring wheels,”

  But if they yield me not amercement due

  And honourable for my loss, to Hell

  I will descend and give the ghosts my beams.

  Then, thus the cloud-assembler God replied. 450

  Sun! shine thou still on the Immortal Pow’rs,

  And on the teeming earth, frail man’s abode.

  My candent bolts can in a moment reach

  And split their flying bark in the mid-sea.

  These things Calypso told me, taught, herself,

  By herald Hermes, as she oft affirm’d.

  But when, descending to the shore, I reach’d

  At length my bark, with aspect stern and tone

  I reprimanded them, yet no redress

  Could frame, or remedy — the beeves were dead. 460

  Soon follow’d signs portentous sent from heav’n.

  The skins all crept, and on the spits the flesh

  Both roast and raw bellow’d, as with the voice

  Of living beeves. Thus my devoted friends

  Driving the fattest oxen of the Sun,

  Feasted six days entire; but when the sev’nth

  By mandate of Saturnian Jove appeared,

  The storm then ceased to rage, and we, again

  Embarking, launch’d our galley, rear’d the mast,

  And gave our unfurl’d canvas to the wind. 470

  The island left afar, and other land

  Appearing none, but sky alone and sea,

  Right o’er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove

  Hung a cærulean cloud, dark’ning the Deep.

  Not long my vessel ran, for, blowing wild,

  Now came shrill Zephyrus; a stormy gust

  Snapp’d sheer the shrouds on both sides; backward fell

  The mast, and with loose tackle strew’d the hold;

  Striking the pilot in the stern, it crush’d

  His scull together; he a diver’s plunge 480

  Made downward, and his noble spirit fled.

  Meantime, Jove thund’ring, hurl’d into the ship

  His bolts; she, smitten by the fires of Jove,

  Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill’d she reek’d,

  And o’er her sides headlong my people plunged

  Like sea-mews, interdicted by that stroke

  Of wrath divine to hope their country more.

  But I, the vessel still paced to and fro,

  Till, fever’d by the boist’rous waves, her sides

  Forsook the keel now left to float alone. 490

  Snapp’d where it join’d the keel the mast had fall’n,

  But fell encircled with a leathern brace,

  Which it retain’d; binding with this the mast

  And keel together, on them both I sat,

  Borne helpless onward by the dreadful gale.

  And now the West subsided, and the South

  Arose instead, with mis’ry charged for me,

  That I might measure back my course again

  To dire Charybdis. All night long I drove,

  And when the sun arose, at Scylla’s rock 500

  Once more, and at Charybdis’ gulph arrived.

  It was the time when she absorb’d profound

  The briny flood, but by a wave upborne

  I seized the branches fast of the wild-fig.

  To which, bat-like, I clung; yet where to fix

  My foot secure found not, or where to ascend,

  For distant lay the roots, and distant shot

  The largest arms erect into the air,

  O’ershadowing all Charybdis; therefore hard

  I clench’d the boughs, till she disgorg’d again 510

  Both keel and mast. Not undesired by me

  They came, though late; for at what hour the judge,

  After decision made of num’rous strifes

  Between young candidates for honour, leaves

  The forum for refreshment’ sake at home,

  Then was it that the mast and keel emerged.

  Deliver’d to a voluntary fall,

  Fast by those beams I dash’d into the flood,

  And seated on them both, with oary palms

  Impell’d them; nor the Sire of Gods and men 520

  Permitted Scylla to discern me more,

  Else had I perish’d by her fangs at last.

  Nine days I floated thence, and, on the tenth

  Dark night, the Gods convey’d me to the isle

  Ogygia, habitation of divine

  Calypso, by whose hospitable aid

  And assiduity, my strength revived.

  But wherefore this? ye have already learn’d

  That hist’ry, thou and thy illustrious spouse;

  I told it yesterday, and hate a tale 530

  Once amply told, then, needless, traced again.

  BOOK XIII

  ARGUMENT

  Ulysses, having finished his narrative, and received additional presents

  from the Phæacians, embarks; he is conveyed in his sleep to Ithaca, and

  in his sleep is landed on that island. The ship that carried him is in

  her return transformed by Neptune to a rock.

  Minerva meets him on the shore, enables him to recollect his country,

  which, till enlightened by her, he believed to be a country strange to

  him, and they concert together the means of destroying the suitors. The

  Goddess then repairs to Sparta to call thence Telemachus, and Ulysses, by

  her aid disguised like a beggar, proceeds towards the cottage of Eumæus.

  He ceas’d; the whole assembly silent sat,

  Charm’d into ecstacy with his discourse

  Throughout the twilight hall. Then, thus the King.

  Ulysses, since beneath my brazen dome

  Sublime thou hast arrived, like woes, I trust,

  Thou shalt not in thy voyage hence sustain

  By tempests tost, though much to woe inured.

  To you, who daily in my presence quaff

  Your princely meed of gen’rous wine and hear

  The sacred bard, my pleasure, thus I speak. 10

  The robes, wrought gold, and all the other gifts

  To this our guest, by the Phæacian Chiefs

  Brought hither in the sumptuous coffer lie.

  But come — present ye to the stranger, each,

  An ample tripod also, with a vase

  Of smaller size, for which we will be paid

  By public impost; for the charge of all

  Excessive were by one alone defray’d.

  So spake Alcinoüs, and his counsel
pleased;

  Then, all retiring, sought repose at home. 20

  But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

  Look’d rosy forth, each hasted to the bark

  With his illustrious present, which the might

  Of King Alcinoüs, who himself her sides

  Ascended, safe beneath the seats bestowed,

  Lest it should harm or hinder, while he toil’d

  In rowing, some Phæacian of the crew.

  The palace of Alcinoüs seeking next,

  Together, they prepared a new regale.

  For them, in sacrifice, the sacred might 30

  Of King Alcinoüs slew an ox to Jove

  Saturnian, cloud-girt governor of all.

  The thighs with fire prepared, all glad partook

  The noble feast; meantime, the bard divine

  Sang, sweet Demodocus, the people’s joy.

  But oft Ulysses to the radiant sun

  Turn’d wistful eyes, anxious for his decline,

  Nor longer, now, patient of dull delay.

  As when some hungry swain whose sable beeves

  Have through the fallow dragg’d his pond’rous plow 40

  All day, the setting sun views with delight

  For supper’ sake, which with tir’d feet he seeks,

  So welcome to Ulysses’ eyes appear’d

  The sun-set of that eve; directing, then,

  His speech to maritime Phæacia’s sons,

  But to Alcinoüs chiefly, thus he said.

  Alcinoüs, o’er Phæacia’s realm supreme!

  Libation made, dismiss ye me in peace,

  And farewell all! for what I wish’d, I have,

  Conductors hence, and honourable gifts 50

  With which heav’n prosper me! and may the Gods

  Vouchsafe to me, at my return, to find

  All safe, my spotless consort and my friends!

  May ye, whom here I leave, gladden your wives

  And see your children blest, and may the pow’rs

  Immortal with all good enrich you all,

  And from calamity preserve the land!

  He ended, they unanimous, his speech

  Applauded loud, and bade dismiss the guest

  Who had so wisely spoken and so well. 60

  Then thus Alcinoüs to his herald spake.

  Pontonoüs! charging high the beaker, bear

  To ev’ry guest beneath our roof the wine,

  That, pray’r preferr’d to the eternal Sire,

  We may dismiss our inmate to his home.

  Then, bore Pontonoüs to ev’ry guest

  The brimming cup; they, where they sat, perform’d

  Libation due; but the illustrious Chief

  Ulysses, from his seat arising, placed

  A massy goblet in Areta’s hand, 70

  To whom in accents wing’d, grateful, he said.