“You’ve not a drop of shame or pity, you grind fine;
you’ve caught me in my need and scorn man’s ancient soul, 795
but my day will come too, when the wheel spins full round,
and then you’ll spew out all I’ve crammed you with, you fool.
Here, at your feet, I groan yet slay her with my ax,
but swear first that you’ll help me kill my defiant sons.”
“I swear, old man. Don’t weep, my word’s an iron noose.” 800
The old chief seized the maiden, his eyes filled with tears,
then twisting her long tresses hard, he flung her down, and struck.
Flat on his face on earth, hidden among the leaves,
the archer heard the two beasts quarrel and held his breath
as in the moonlight’s azure brilliance he discerned 805
the cutting ax flash high above the maiden’s neck.
Then the gigantic chieftain waved his hands in air:
“Great God, I smear your knees, your breast, your loins with blood
until you laugh from top to toe, and steam, and glow!
I’ve kept my promise, Lord, now it’s your turn to pay; 810
come, stretch your gaping mouth and swallow all my sons!
Why do you mock with jeering laughs and flap your hands?”
“I laugh, you fool, because you’ve trusted in God’s word;
I’m God, you can’t get round me! I swear, and then unswear!”
“What shame! Not only do you break your word, but boast!” 815
“I don’t want you, now that you’re old. Your heart’s a husk.
Now that you’ve slain your maid for me, you burst in tears,
but I pelt you with stones, and laugh! You’re useless, fool!
I like your bold brash sons, I’ll eat and drink with them.”
“You’ll have no time to revel! I’ll thrust you back in earth!” 820
The old chief growled, then grabbed his bloodstained double-ax
tight in both fists and like a woodsman hacked away
and hacked on madly till his god was strewn on earth,
till the great demon fell in heaps and smeared the ground
with paints, hides, crimson feathers, bells and straw. 825
Then the chief broke in cackling laughs and clapped his hands:
“Aha, it’s not the first time that I’ve killed such demons!
Blessed be my calloused hands that seize a senseless log,
hack it away and carve a head, shape hands and feet,
paint it with saffron, blood, and lime till a god leaps, 830
a dog to tag my heels in chase and flush wild game.
Each time God scorns to help, I seize him by his feet
and dash his brains out, like a bird’s, on the sharp stones.”
But as he roared and his feet sparked in flashing dance,
he suddenly stopped with hovering heels and gaping mouth, 835
for God with clamorous tumult roared above his head:
“O pigeon-brained, pigheaded fool, well met in death!
I’m not one to be bound in wood or paints or vows
for I’m a monstrous heavy heartthrob, a great voice;
I kick old men aside, rush on, and seek out youth!” 840
The old chief raised his head, then clenched and shook his fists:
“Where will you hide, you slayer? I’ll bind you fast with flesh
and nail you with the greatest spell of all, the brain!”
Then a maid screamed in fright and touched the chieftain’s arm:
“Alas, I saw a sharp-clawed vulture flying south, 845
and in his claws, my lord, he held your hoary head!”
An ancient sorceress tightly clasped his knees and cried:
“Master, your old knees shake and knock, your eyes are mud,
for God, that dreadful fire, has gone, and left you ash.”
But the old dragon raised his fist and struck the crone: 850
“Be still! I’m a fierce hound, my knuckles are hard stone!
Fetch me my heavy ax and a huge block of stone,
then scatter swiftly, hide, for if my sons should come
and find us unprotected here, they’ll kill us all.
If only I had time to carve God from a mountain! 855
Go, women, cut your locks, then pound the crimson paints.”
He spoke, then seized the stone and hacked it breast to breast;
he growled to frighten God, struck hard to bring him out,
but God like an unbridled horse neighed in the stone.
A woman past her prime then grasped his hands in pity: 860
“Master, you miss your aim, an evil spirit strikes you,
stop beating that black stone or it will knock you down.”
Sorrow and anger swept through the old chief, he yelled:
“Though sparks fly from my eyes, my arms cease to obey me,
and I’ve no longer strength to wield my double-ax; 865
when I strike left, it knocks me down in a foul ditch,
when I strike right, it thumps my shoulder like a beast;
I’ve no strength or endurance left—fetch me a log,
my loins are weak, I can no longer strive with stone.”
Three maidens cut a log, three others brought it close, 870
and the old sorceress pounded many secret herbs;
the youngest maiden clasped the old man’s weary knees:
“Don’t tremble, grandfather, I hear voices, keep your wits.”
A maid in rut climbed up a wild oak tree and yelled:
“Welcome, brave youths! Your dogs cut through the clearing now!” 875
But the chief hacked the knotty wood with frantic rage,
splinters stuck in his beard, flames leapt from his fierce eyes,
the ax’s blue sparks vanished in his shaggy chest:
“Women, keep still, God leaps within my flaming fists!
I glue my lips on your thick lips, come take my breath; 880
I glue my breast on your hard breast, come take my strength;
I blow my spells in your huge mouth, rise up and live!
O flame, coil like a viper round his heartless heart!
O ax, wedge in his fists and give them strength and power!
Aye, you man-slayer, you vicious hound, leap from your tomb!” 885
But the maids clasped him tight and broke in loud lament:
“Master, what god is this that leaps out of your hands?
Look, it’s a dead man’s skull, no hair, no eyes, no teeth!”
The old chief stared, then flung the log to earth and cursed:
“I call on God, and Death replies! May both be cursed! 890
Death, the great shepherd hisses from the ground and flings
his staff to trip my feet and drag me toward his fold,
but I am the great chief! I’ll not give up my soul!
Women, fetch me the holy skull of Death to wear
with its red feathers and its thick blood-clotted beard; 895
I, with my heavy ax, my warm and heaving breath,
I am great God himself and sit on rocks enthroned, like Death!”
The old chief moaned and decked himself in Death’s fine robes,
then sat cross-legged and grim upon a towering rock;
suddenly through the leaves the wolf-pack’s eyes and teeth 900
glittered as all the eleven youths broke in the clearing.
The women steamed with shameless rut and dropped their leaves,
and the archer watched them crouch in shrubs in the moon’s rays
while the cowed sons spoke low and donned fierce masks for fear
their father’s spirit would see them when they slew his body. 905
Odysseus cocked his ears and spied with careful stealth
on the dark youths who muttered and crawled slowly close,
mumbling to one another in low quiv
ering tones:
“See how the Old Chief sits cross-legged, wearing the black
and flaming armor of Death; the maids cling to his waist.” 910
“He sees us now, and beckons! He’ll soon throw the noose
and rope us tight like bulls dragged to the slaughter-shed.”
“A voice roars in my entrails, ‘Kill the Old Chief now!’ ”
A harelipped youth slunk in an open moonlit space
and then his quivering crawling voice flicked through the night: 915
“Rise, father, choose yourself a maid, run for your life!
Your time has come, our eyes have turned blood-red with lust,
we, too, want sons and grandsons to renew our race,
for you’ve grown old, your blunted blade can plow no more.”
One lean and blear-eyed youth, who bit his fingernails 920
with terror, whispered hoarsely to the savage men:
“Brothers, revere dread God, that flesh which gave us birth.”
But then a club-nosed, horse-legged stalwart growled with greed:
“Father, I long to drink your blood and to grow strong;
it’s time you sank in earth, crammed full of stones and spells, 925
your hands tied at your back so you won’t block our way.”
Then all the sons took heart and tried to press him close,
but the old man leapt and cackled as his jangling bells
tossed wildly on his heavy thighs and scrawny neck,
and his shrill mocking voice goaded his lustful sons. 930
“If I yell ‘Hoot!’ these rams in rut will run like hares!
Be bold, take heart, come closer, choose a buxom ewe!
Come, my thorn-bearded son, come take the youngest maid,
come close and bite her, for her flesh is good and cool.”
The sons held back the beckoned one with hushed advice: 935
“Brother, don’t go, she’s meat cast in a trap for bait:
see how he’s slyly raised his ax behind his back.”
But lustful thorny-hair stuck out his savage neck:
“Swear by your god, old man, that you won’t rush to kill me.”
“I swear by my great god that I won’t touch a hair! 940
Don’t spurn your luck, you fool; the girl’s in rampant heat,
see how she whinnies like a mare, how her thighs glow;
stretch out your hands and grab her, son, with health and joy!”
Ah, how the brains of the young groom splashed on the stones!
The old chief laughed, raised his ax soaked with blood and brains 945
and wiped it on his burning temples and shrunk arms,
and his sons howled with frothing lips that writhed with wrath:
“Old man, you broke your oath! Vipers shall sting you now!”
But the chief howled with mocking laughs and from his fists
licked two or three thick drops from his son’s splattered brain. 950
“I take my cue from God and break my vows! I, too,
freed from all virtue now, shall do whatever I please!
Women, don’t move, cling tightly to my hanging pelts,
I’ll strew ten more black beasts for you on crimson grass.”
A long-thighed maiden rushed to rouse the shrinking men: 955
“Shame on your youth! Don’t fear him, brothers, kill him now!
He has no nails to scratch with; blow, and he’ll tumble down.”
One horselike vixen reared her rigid breasts and shrieked:
“Brothers, that youth who strikes him first I’ll gorge with lust
and fill his yard with herds of sons, twin after twin!” 960
They heard, their eyes flamed till the one most lustful cried:
“O arch-browed maid, crawl close and seize him by the knees
that I may cast my noose and break his scrawny neck in two!”
Odysseus raised his dark and grasping eyes, then clung
tight to a rock to keep himself from dashing out 965
as the son flung his horse’s lasso with great strength
and it fell whistling round the old man’s neck; a great
bellow shook all the earth as though an oak tree crashed.
With their fierce masks, the sons rushed out and held aloft
bright axes in their father-slaying, trembling hands 970
as the maids danced and twitched their shameless hips and rumps:
“Come forward, grooms, our hearts grow light, new nights begin!
Ah, how we lust to clasp young men on the green grass!”
Then the strong sons bent with their blades above their father,
pushed all the women back and yelled to them in wrath 975
to draw away nor watch the fearful murder done.
The snow-haired archer, deeply hid in the thorn shrubs,
felt his heart leaping, lassoed to the jutting rock,
and knew profoundly man’s dark longing need to slay
the ancient father and sleep safe in mother’s arms. 980
His heart rose in his breast and cried out with compassion:
“O mind, all my desires rebound from yes and no,
at times I turn all phallus, then to that tower-lord;
come harmonize at length man’s double, monstrous wings.”
Odysseus then half-opened his eyes and found them brimmed 985
with moons and lewdly dancing shades and steaming mouths
so that he thrust his face in shrubs once more, and spied.
The sons had bound their father tight to the huge rock,
then grasped each other’s shoulders in a savage dance;
their warlike cries rose like a crawling threnody 990
as in fierce song they portioned out their father’s might:
“Ah, father, mighty chief, great woman-violator,
you tensed your mighty loins and spawned thick tribes of men,
you filled the fields with females and the caves with males,
you ate and drank, gave birth to swarms, ruled all the land, 995
but now it’s time you lay down with the myriad dead
that we, too, may know women’s arms and see God’s face.
Father, before you sink in earth, give us your strength,
don’t let snakes eat it or the tree roots drink it dry,
leave us for heritage your eyes, your loins, your brains. 1000
Brothers, advance, let’s swiftly share this ancient boar.”
The youths danced wildly then about the dragon’s corpse,
and each son lowered his black fist and struck that part
of his strong father’s body which he most desired.
The harelipped son stooped first and struck the heavy head: 1005
“I’ll smash his skull in two and drink his wily brains;
when foes besiege me, like my father then I’ll cut
with craft, with the brain’s ax, a safe door of escape.
I’ll set lime twigs for spirits, snares for the wild beasts,
and when foes chase me I’ll turn green and hide in leaves, 1010
I’ll turn gray rock amid wild rocks, or smoke in air.
I want the old man’s thick fat brains for my full share!”
“I’ll snatch his slender throbbing larynx for my share
then sit at evening on smooth rocks and sing so sweet
that yearning maids will hear and cackle like roused hens, 1015
that youths will set their weapons down to cool their minds,
that black Death will forget on which door he should knock.”
“I’ll take for my full share his arms and his sharp ax,
that when I raise my hand above a neck or tree
the deep dark woods will shudder, knees will shake and quake, 1020
and men and trees will yell ‘The Old Chief!’ when I come near.”
“I’ll take his flashing feet for my spoils’ slender portion;
ah, when the Old Chief danced on the round threshing floor
how his hair swirled, how loud he roared and glared at women!
Earth must not eat his feet, nor must his brave dance spill 1025
from his ten toes like water and vanish forever in earth.”
“Ah, I want only his hawk eyes for my full share!
O eagle-eyed, you pierced the hare in the fern-brake!
When from high crags you spied, earth spread below your feet
supine with all her waters, mountains, beasts, and men, 1030
like a young girl who strips to show her beauties bare.
Ah, I shall never let such eyes spill on the ground.”
“Father, I long to clasp your ears against my temples!
When you pressed them to earth, it buzzed like a wasp’s hive;
you could detect the lion’s tread and the fawn’s drift, 1035
the heartbeat of the hare, and the foes’ secret number;
not even water escaped you as it dripped in caves
where you would lead your tribe to drink and cool their loins.
Father, give me your ears, or they’ll grow deaf in earth.”
“I choose your virile bullock-loins for my full share! 1040
You grabbed all females by the hair, dragged them to caves,
you mounted the world’s women like so many mares!
Although Death gleaned, you sowed, and once again our dead
sprang up in double crops, and the world bloomed again.
I want your pointed plow-blade, God, so it won’t rust!” 1045
“Brothers, I want his heart, that hammer of hard bronze
that beat with frantic rage to smash the entire world.
My heart is weak and girlish, wedded to far things;
I watch men kill each other, and my mind flies far,
and when I see maids writhe in pangs of birth, I weep. 1050
Ah, I shall eat his heart to get me a beast’s heart!”
“By God, my brothers, where did his proud mien reside,
his speech as ponderous as an ax, his lion’s breath—
within his breast, his gobbling tongue, or his stout loins,
or was it wind I might sniff out and pluck from air?” 1055
“Father, when you felled giant trees and built a boat,
then leapt within it, plied the oars till the waves foamed,
ah, Father, how I yearned, how my heart burned with lust
to see you killed some day that I might seize your hands,
that I, too, might hack giant trunks and mount the waves! 1060
Forward, O regal heirs, let’s share our father! Hack and slay!”
The dance stopped and the ten sons raised their axes high
The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel Page 105
