BOOK IXARGUMENTUlysses discovers himself to the Phæacians, and begins the history of his adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the monster with wine,blindshim while he sleeps, and escapes from him.Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.Alcinoüs! King! illustrious above allPhæacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hearA bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.The world, in my account, no sight affordsMore gratifying than a people blestWith cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’dWith guests in order ranged, list’ning to soundsMelodious, and the steaming tables spreadWith plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine10From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around.No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groansAnd tears, that I may sorrow still the more.What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes?Learn first my name, that even in this landRemote I may be known, and that escapedFrom all adversity, I may requiteHereafter, this your hospitable care20At my own home, however distant hence.I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earthFor subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven,The offspring of Laertes; my abodeIs sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving standsThe mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs,And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring islesAll populous; thence Samos is beheld,Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed30Toward the West, while, situate apart,Her sister islands face the rising day;Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sonsMagnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grotDetain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;Ææan Circe also, skill’d profoundIn potent arts, within her palace longDetain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;40But never could they warp my constant mind.So much our parents and our native soilAttract us most, even although our lotBe fair and plenteous in a foreign land.But come—my painful voyage, such as JoveGave me from Ilium, I will now relate.From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,City of the Ciconians; them I slew,And laid their city waste; whence bringing forthMuch spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it50With equal hand, and each received a share.Next, I exhorted to immediate flightMy people; but in vain; they madly scorn’dMy sober counsel, and much wine they drank,And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore.Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d,Their neighbours summoning, a mightier hostAnd braver, natives of the continent,Expert, on horses mounted, to maintainFierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot.60Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rsAt day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove,Misfortune found us. At the ships we stoodPiercing each other with the brazen spear,And till the morning brighten’d into noon,Few as we were, we yet withstood them all;But, when the sun verged westward, then the GreeksFell back, and the Ciconian host prevail’d.Six warlike Greecians from each galley’s crewPerish’d in that dread field; the rest escaped.70Thus, after loss of many, we pursuedOur course, yet, difficult as was our flight,Went not till first we had invoked by nameOur friends, whom the Ciconians had destroy’d.But cloud-assembler Jove assail’d us soonWith a tempestuous North-wind; earth alikeAnd sea with storms he overhung, and nightFell fast from heav’n. Their heads deep-plunging oftOur gallies flew, and rent, and rent againOur tatter’d sail-cloth crackled in the wind.80We, fearing instant death, within the barksOur canvas lodg’d, and, toiling strenuous, reach’dAt length the continent. Two nights we layContinual there, and two long days, consumedWith toil and grief; but when the beauteous mornBright-hair’d, had brought the third day to a close,(Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl’d)Again we sat on board; meantime, the windsWell managed by the steersman, urged us on.And now, all danger pass’d, I had attain’d90My native shore, but, doubling in my courseMalea, waves and currents and North-windsConstrain’d me devious to Cythera’s isle.Nine days by cruel storms thence was I borneAthwart the fishy Deep, but on the tenthReach’d the Lotophagi, a race sustain’dOn sweetest fruit alone. There quitting ship,We landed and drew water, and the crewsBeside the vessels took their ev’ning cheer.When, hasty, we had thus our strength renew’d,100I order’d forth my people to inquire(Two I selected from the rest, with whomI join’d an herald, third) what race of menMight there inhabit. They, departing, mix’dWith the Lotophagi; nor hostile aughtOr savage the Lotophagi devisedAgainst our friends, but offer’d to their tasteThe lotus; of which fruit what man soe’erOnce tasted, no desire felt he to comeWith tidings back, or seek his country more,110But rather wish’d to feed on lotus stillWith the Lotophagi, and to renounceAll thoughts of home. Them, therefore, I constrain’dWeeping on board, and dragging each beneathThe benches, bound him there. Then, all in haste,I urged my people to ascend againTheir hollow barks, lest others also, fedWith fruit of lotus, should forget their home.They quick embark’d, and on the benches rangedIn order, thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.120Thence, o’er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach’dThe land at length, where, giant-sized32and freeFrom all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell.They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough,But earth unsow’d, untill’d, brings forth for themAll fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grapeLarge cluster’d, nourish’d by the show’rs of Jove.No councils they convene, no laws contrive,But in deep caverns dwell, found on the headsOf lofty mountains, judging each supreme130His wife and children, heedless of the rest.In front of the Cyclopean haven liesA level island, not adjoining closeTheir land, nor yet remote, woody and rude.There, wild goats breed numberless, by no footOf man molested; never huntsman there,Inured to winter’s cold and hunger, roamsThe dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime;No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known,But the unseeded and unfurrow’d soil,140Year after year a wilderness by manUntrodden, food for blatant goats supplies.For no ships crimson-prow’d the Cyclops own,Nor naval artizan is there, whose toilMight furnish them with oary barks, by whichSubsists all distant commerce, and which bearMan o’er the Deep to cities far remoteWho might improve the peopled isle, that seemsNot steril in itself, but apt to yield,In their due season, fruits of ev’ry kind.150For stretch’d beside the hoary ocean lieGreen meadows moist, where vines would never fail;Light is the land, and they might yearly reapThe tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe.Safe is its haven also, where no needOf cable is or anchor, or to lashThe hawser fast ashore, but pushing inHis bark, the mariner might there abideTill rising gales should tempt him forth again.At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream160Issuing from a cove hemm’d all aroundWith poplars; down into that bay we steer’dAmid the darkness of the night, some GodConducting us; for all unseen it lay,Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moonFrom heav’n to light us, veil’d by pitchy clouds.Hence, none the isle descried, nor any sawThe lofty surge roll’d on the strand, or ereOur vessels struck the ground; but when they struck,Then, low’ring all our sails, we disembark’d,170And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear’d.Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy forth, we with admiring eyesThe isle survey’d, roaming it wide around.Meantime, the nymphs, Jove’s daughters, roused the goatsBred on the mountains, to supply with foodThe partners of my toils; then, bringing forthBows and long-pointed javelins from the ships,Divided all into three sep’rate bandsWe struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey.180Twelve ships attended me, and ev’ry shipNine goats received by lot; myself aloneSelected ten. All day, till set of sun,We eating sat goat’s flesh, and drinking wineDelicious, without stint; for dearth was noneOf ruddy wine on board, but much remain’d,With which my people had their jars suppliedWhat time we sack’d Ciconian Ismarus.Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-landWhere dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw,190And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks.Now sank the sun, and (night o’ershadowing all)We slept along the shore; but when againThe rosy-finger’d daughter of the dawnLook’d forth, my crews convened, I thus began.Companions of my course! here rest ye all,Save my own crew, with whom I will exploreThis people, whether wild, they be, unjust,And to contention giv’n, or well-disposedTo strangers, and a race who fear the Gods.200So speaking, I embark’d, and bade embarkMy followers, throwing, quick, the hawsers loose.They, ent’ring at my word, the benches fill’dWell-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we foundAt its extremity, fast by the sea,A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow’d aboveWith laurels; in that cavern slumb’ring layMuch cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad courtEnclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn,210With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough.Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remoteHis flocks fed solitary, converse noneDesiring, sullen, savage, and unjust.Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form,Resembling less a man by Ceres’ giftSustain’d, than some aspiring mountain-cragTufted with wood, and standing all alone.Enjoining, then, my people to abideFast by the ship which they should closely guard,220I went, but not without a goat-skin fill’dWith sable wine which I had erst receivedFrom Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priestOf Phœbus guardian god of Ismarus,Because, through rev’rence of him, we had savedHimself, his wife and children; for he dweltAmid the grove umbrageous of his God.He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from himSev’n talents I received of beaten gold,A beaker, argent all, and after these230No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete,Rich, unadult’rate, drink for Gods; nor knewOne servant, male or female, of that wineIn all his house; none knew it, save himself,His wife, and the intendant of his stores.Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slakedA single cup with twenty from the stream,And, even then, the beaker breath’d abroadA scent celestial, which whoever smelt,Thenceforth no pleasure found it to abstain.240Charged with an ample goat-skin of this wineI went, and with a wallet well supplied,But felt a sudden presage in my soulThat, haply, with terrific force endued,Some savage would appear, strange to the lawsAnd privileges of the human race.Few steps convey’d us to his den, but himWe found not; he his flocks pastur’d abroad.His cavern ent’ring, we with wonder gazedAround on all; his strainers hung with cheese250Distended wide; with lambs and kids his pennsClose-throng’d we saw, and folded separateThe various charge; the eldest all apart,Apart the middle-aged, and the new-yean’dAlso apart. His pails and bowls with wheySwam all, neat vessels into which he milk’d.Me then my friends first importuned to takeA portion of his cheeses, then to driveForth from the sheep-cotes to the rapid barkHis kids and lambs, and plow the brine again.260But me they moved not, happier had they moved!I wish’d to see him, and to gain, perchance,Some pledge of hospitality at his hands,Whose form was such, as should not much bespeakWhen he appear’d, our confidence or love.Then, kindling fire, we offer’d to the Gods,And of his cheeses eating, patient satTill home he trudged from pasture. Charged he cameWith dry wood bundled, an enormous loadFuel by which to sup. Loud crash’d the thorns270Which down he cast before the cavern’s mouth,To whose interior nooks we trembling flew.At once he drove into his spacious caveHis batten’d flock, all those which gave him milk,But all the males, both rams and goats, he leftAbroad, excluded from the cavern-yard.Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier hugeTo his cave’s mouth, he thrust it home. That weightNot all the oxen from its place had movedOf twenty and two wains; with such a rock280Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat,And as he milk’d his ewes and bleating goatsAll in their turns, her yeanling gave to each;Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch,The half of his new milk, he thrust the curdInto his wicker sieves, but stored the restIn pans and bowls—his customary drink.His labours thus perform’d, he kindled, last,His fuel, and discerningus, enquired,Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore290Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or boundTo no one port, wander, as pirates use,At large the Deep, exposing life themselves,And enemies of all mankind beside?He ceased; we, dash’d with terrour, heard the growlOf his big voice, and view’d his form uncouth,To whom, though sore appall’d, I thus replied.Of Greece are we, and, bound from Ilium home,Have wander’d wide the expanse of ocean, sportFor ev’ry wind, and driven from our course,300Have here arrived; so stood the will of Jove.We boast ourselves of Agamemnon’s train,The son of Atreus, at this hour the ChiefBeyond all others under heav’n renown’d,So great a city he hath sack’d and slainSuch num’rous foes; but since we reach, at last,Thy knees, we beg such hospitable fare,Or other gift, as guests are wont to obtain.Illustrious lord! respect the Gods, and usThy suitors; suppliants are the care of Jove310The hospitable; he their wrongs resentsAnd where the stranger sojourns, there is he.I ceas’d, when answer thus he, fierce, return’d.Friend! either thou art fool, or hast arrivedIndeed from far, who bidd’st me fear the GodsLest they be wroth. The Cyclops little heedsJove Ægis-arm’d, or all the Pow’rs of heav’n.Our race is mightier far; nor shall myself,Through fear of Jove’s hostility, abstainFrom thee or thine, unless my choice be such.320But tell me now. Where touch’d thy gallant barkOur country, on thy first arrival here?Remote or nigh? for I would learn the truth.So spake he, tempting me; but, artful, thusI answer’d, penetrating his intent.My vessel, Neptune, Shaker of the shores,At yonder utmost promontory dash’dIn pieces, hurling her against the rocksWith winds that blew right thither from the sea,And I, with these alone, escaped alive.330So I, to whom, relentless, answer noneHe deign’d, but, with his arms extended, sprangToward my people, of whom seizing twoAt once, like whelps against his cavern-floorHe dash’d them, and their brains spread on the ground.These, piece-meal hewn, for supper he prepared,And, like a mountain-lion, neither fleshNor entrails left, nor yet their marrowy bones.We, viewing that tremendous sight, upraisedOur hands to Jove, all hope and courage lost.340When thus the Cyclops had with human fleshFill’d his capacious belly, and had quaff’dMuch undiluted milk, among his flocksOut-stretch’d immense, he press’d his cavern-floor.Me, then, my courage prompted to approachThe monster with my sword drawn from the sheath,And to transfix him where the vitals wrapThe liver; but maturer thoughts forbad.For so, we also had incurred a deathTremendous, wanting pow’r to thrust aside350The rocky mass that closed his cavern-mouthBy force of hand alone. Thus many a sighHeaving, we watch’d the dawn. But when, at length,Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’dLook’d forth, then, kindling fire, his flocks he milk’dIn order, and her yeanling kid or lambThrust under each. When thus he had perform’dHis wonted task, two seizing, as before,He slew them for his next obscene regale.His dinner ended, from the cave he drove360His fatted flocks abroad, moving with easeThat pond’rous barrier, and replacing itAs he had only closed a quiver’s lid.Then, hissing them along, he drove his flocksToward the mountain, and me left, the while,Deep ruminating how I best might takeVengeance, and by the aid of Pallas winDeathless renown. This counsel pleas’d me most.Beside the sheep-cote lay a massy clubHewn by the Cyclops from an olive stock,370Green, but which dried, should serve him for a staff.To us consid’ring it, that staff appear’dTall as the mast of a huge trading bark,Impell’d by twenty rowers o’er the Deep.Such seem’d its length to us, and such its bulk.Part amputating, (an whole fathom’s length)I gave my men that portion, with commandTo shave it smooth. They smooth’d it, and myself,Shaping its blunt extremity to a point,Season’d it in the fire; then cov’ring close380The weapon, hid it under litter’d straw,For much lay scatter’d on the cavern-floor.And now I bade my people cast the lotWho of us all should take the pointed brand,And grind it in his eye when next he slept.The lots were cast, and four were chosen, thoseWhom most I wish’d, and I was chosen fifth.At even-tide he came, his fleecy flocksPasturing homeward, and compell’d them allInto his cavern, leaving none abroad,390Either through some surmise, or so inclinedBy influence, haply, of the Gods themselves.The huge rock pull’d into its place againAt the cave’s mouth, he, sitting, milk’d his sheepAnd goats in order, and her kid or lambThrust under each; thus, all his work dispatch’d,Two more he seiz’d, and to his supper fell.I then, approaching to him, thus address’dThe Cyclops, holding in my hands a cupOf ivy-wood, well-charg’d with ruddy wine.400Lo, Cyclops! this is wine. Take this and drinkAfter thy meal of man’s flesh. Taste and learnWhat precious liquor our lost vessel bore.I brought it hither, purposing to makeLibation to thee, if to pity inclinedThou would’st dismiss us home. But, ah, thy rageIs insupportable! thou cruel one!Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforthWill visitthee, guilty of such excess?I ceas’d. He took and drank, and hugely pleas’d33410With that delicious bev’rage, thus enquir’d.Give me again, and spare not. Tell me, too,Thy name, incontinent, that I may makeRequital, gratifying also theeWith somewhat to thy taste. We Cyclops ownA bounteous soil, which yieldsusalso wineFrom clusters large, nourish’d by show’rs from Jove;But this—this is from above—a streamOf nectar and ambrosia, all divine!He ended, and received a second draught,420Like measure. Thrice I bore it to his hand,And, foolish, thrice he drank. But when the fumesBegan to play around the Cyclops’ brain,With show of amity I thus replied.Cyclops! thou hast my noble name enquired,Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.My name is Outis,34Outis I am call’dAt home, abroad; wherever I am known.So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied.430Outis, when I have eaten all his friends,Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.He spake, and, downward sway’d, fell resupine,With his huge neck aslant. All-conqu’ring sleepSoon seized him. From his gullet gush’d the wineWith human morsels mingled, many a blastSonorous issuing from his glutted maw.Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-woodInto the embers glowing on the hearth,I heated it, and cheer’d my friends, the while,440Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.But when that stake of olive-wood, though green,Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot,I bore it to his side. Then all my aidsAround me gather’d, and the Gods infusedHeroic fortitude into our hearts.They, seizing the hot stake rasp’d to a point,Bored his eye with it, and myself, advancedTo a superior stand, twirled it about.As when a shipwright with his wimble bores450Tough oaken timber, placed on either sideBelow, his fellow-artists strain the thongAlternate, and the restless iron spins,So, grasping hard the stake pointed with fire,We twirl’d it in his eye; the bubbling bloodBoil’d round about the brand; his pupil sentA scalding vapour forth that sing’d his brow,And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.As when the smith an hatchet or large axeTemp’ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade460Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel)So hiss’d his eye around the olive-wood.The howling monster with his outcry fill’dThe hollow rock, and I, with all my aids,Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spikeFrom his burnt socket, mad with anguish, castThe implement all bloody far away.Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the nameOf ev’ry Cyclops dwelling in the cavesAround him, on the wind-swept mountain-tops;470They, at his cry flocking from ev’ry part,Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful earOf night, and break our slumbers? Fear’st thou lestSome mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear’stThyself to die by cunning or by force?Them answer’d, then, Polypheme from his cave.Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.To whom with accents wing’d his friends without.480If no man35harm thee, but thou art alone,And sickness feel’st, it is the stroke of Jove,And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aidThy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh’dThat by the fiction only of a name,Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.Then groan’d the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief,And, fumbling, with stretch’d hands, removed the rockFrom his cave’s mouth, which done, he sat him down490Spreading his arms athwart the pass, to stopOur egress with his flocks abroad; so dull,It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.I, pondering what means might fittest proveTo save from instant death, (if save I might)My people and myself, to ev’ry shiftInclined, and various counsels framed, as oneWho strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.To me, thus meditating, this appear’dThe likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were,500Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.These, silently, with osier twigs on whichThe Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound,Three in one leash; the intermediate ramsBore each a man, whom the exterior twoPreserved, concealing him on either side.Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last,The curl’d back seizing of a ram, (for oneI had reserv’d far stateliest of them all)Slipp’d underneath his belly, and both hands510Enfolding fast in his exub’rant fleece,Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.We, thus disposed, waited with many a sighThe sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris’n,Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’dAgain appear’d, the males of all his flocksRush’d forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk’d,The wethers bleated, by the load distress’dOf udders overcharged. Their master, rack’dWith pain intolerable, handled yet520The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood,But, gross of intellect, suspicion noneConceiv’d of men beneath their bodies bound.And now (none left beside) the ram approach’dWith his own wool burthen’d, and with myself,Whom many a fear molested. PolyphemeThe giant stroak’d him as he sat, and said,My darling ram! why latest of the flockCom’st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheepCould leave behind, but stalking at their head,530Thou first was wont to crop the tender grass,First to arrive at the clear stream, and firstWith ready will to seek my sheep-cote hereAt evening; but, thy practice chang’d, thou com’st,Now last of all. Feel’st thou regret, my ram!Of thy poor master’s eye, by a vile wretchBored out, who overcame me first with wine,And by a crew of vagabonds accurs’d,Followers of Outis, whose escape from deathShall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart540Were as my own, and that distinct as IThou could’st articulate, so should’st thou tell,Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.Then, dash’d against the floor his spatter’d brainShould fly, and I should lighter feel my harmFrom Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escapedFew paces from the cavern and the court,First, quitting my own ram, I loos’d my friends,550Then, turning seaward many a thriven eweSharp-hoof’d, we drove them swiftly to the ship.Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we cameFrom death escaped, but much they mourn’d the dead.I suffer’d not their tears, but silent shookMy brows, by signs commanding them to liftThe sheep on board, and instant plow the main.They, quick embarking, on the benches satWell ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood;But distant now such length as a loud voice560May reach, I hail’d with taunts the Cyclops’ ear.Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy caveWith brutal force my followers, thou devour’dstThe followers of no timid Chief, or base,Vengeance was sure to recompense that deedAtrocious. Monster! who wast not afraidTo eat the guest shelter’d beneath thy roof!Therefore the Gods have well requited thee.I ended; he, exasp’rate, raged the more,And rending from its hold a mountain-top,570Hurl’d it toward us; at our vessel’s sternDown came the mass, nigh sweeping in its fallThe rudder’s head. The ocean at the plungeOf that huge rock, high on its refluent floodHeav’d, irresistible, the ship to land.I seizing, quick, our longest pole on board,Back thrust her from the coast and by a nodIn silence given, bade my companions plyStrenuous their oars, that so we might escape.Procumbent,36each obey’d, and when, the flood580Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain’d,37Again I hail’d the Cyclops; but my friendsEarnest dissuaded me on ev’ry side.Ah, rash Ulysses! why with taunts provokeThe savage more, who hath this moment hurl’dA weapon, such as heav’d the ship againTo land, where death seem’d certain to us all?For had he heard a cry, or but the voiceOf one man speaking, he had all our headsWith some sharp rock, and all our timbers crush’d590Together, such vast force is in his arm.So they, but my courageous heart remain’dUnmoved, and thus again, incensed, I spake.Cyclops! should any mortal man inquireTo whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow’st,Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief,Laertes’ son, native of Ithaca.I ceas’d, and with a groan thus he replied.Ah me! an antient oracle I feelAccomplish’d. Here abode a prophet erst,600A man of noblest form, and in his artUnrivall’d, Telemus Eurymedes.He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race,Grew old among us, and presaged my lossOf sight, in future, by Ulysses’ hand.I therefore watch’d for the arrival here,Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulkAnd beauty prais’d, and cloath’d with wond’rous might.But now—a dwarf, a thing impalpable,A shadow, overcame me first by wine,610Then quench’d my sight. Come hither, O my guest!Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheerAwaits thee, and my pray’rs I will preferTo glorious Neptune for thy prosp’rous course;For I am Neptune’s offspring, and the GodIs proud to be my Sire; he, if he please,And he alone can heal me; none besideOf Pow’rs immortal, or of men below.He spake, to whom I answer thus return’d.I would that of thy life and soul amerced,620I could as sure dismiss thee down to Hell,As none shall heal thine eye—not even He.So I; then pray’d the Cyclops to his SireWith hands uprais’d towards the starry heav’n.Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair’d!If I indeed am thine, and if thou boastThyself my father, grant that never moreUlysses, leveller of hostile tow’rs,Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair,Behold his native home! but if his fate630Decree him yet to see his friends, his house,His native country, let him deep distress’dReturn and late, all his companions lost,Indebted for a ship to foreign aid,And let affliction meet him at his door.He spake, and Ocean’s sov’reign heard his pray’r.Then lifting from the shore a stone of sizeFar more enormous, o’er his head he whirl’dThe rock, and his immeasurable forceExerting all, dismiss’d it. Close behind640The ship, nor distant from the rudder’s head,Down came the mass. The ocean at the plungeOf such a weight, high on its refluent floodTumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.But when we reach’d the isle where we had leftOur num’rous barks, and where my people satWatching with ceaseless sorrow our return,We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore,Then disembark’d, and of the Cyclops’ sheepGave equal share to all. To me alone650My fellow-voyagers the ram consign’dIn distribution, my peculiar meed.Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian JoveI offer’d on the shore, burning his thighsIn sacrifice; but Jove my hallow’d ritesReck’d not, destruction purposing to allMy barks, and all my followers o’er the Deep.Thus, feasting largely, on the shore we satTill even-tide, and quaffing gen’rous wine;But when day fail’d, and night o’ershadow’d all,660Then, on the shore we slept; and when againAurora rosy daughter of the Dawn,Look’d forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin’dTo climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.They all obedient, took their seats on boardWell-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.Thus, ’scaping narrowly, we roam’d the DeepWith aching hearts and with diminish’d crews.32So the Scholium interprets in this place, the wordὑπερθιαλος.33Λινως34Clarke, who has preserved this name in his marginal version, contends strenuously, and with great reason, that Outis ought not to be translated, and in a passage which he quotes from theActa eruditorum, we see much fault found with Giphanius and other interpreters of Homer for having translated it. It iscertainthat in Homer the word is declined not asουτις-τινοςwhich signifies no man, but asουτις-τιδοςmakingουτινin the accusative, consequently as a proper name. It is sufficient that the ambiguity was such as to deceive the friends of the Cyclops. Outis is said by some (perhaps absurdly) to have been a name given to Ulysses on account of his having larger ears than common.35Outis, as anamecould only denote him who bore it; but as anoun, it signifiesno man, which accounts sufficiently for the ludicrous mistake of his brethren.36προπεσοντες———Olli certamine summoProcumbunt.Virgil37The seeming incongruity of this line with line 560, is reconciled by supposing that Ulysses exerted his voice, naturally loud, in an extraordinary manner on this second occasion. See Clarke.
Ulysses discovers himself to the Phæacians, and begins the history of his adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the monster with wine,blindshim while he sleeps, and escapes from him.
Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.Alcinoüs! King! illustrious above allPhæacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hearA bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.The world, in my account, no sight affordsMore gratifying than a people blestWith cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’dWith guests in order ranged, list’ning to soundsMelodious, and the steaming tables spreadWith plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine10From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around.No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groansAnd tears, that I may sorrow still the more.What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes?Learn first my name, that even in this landRemote I may be known, and that escapedFrom all adversity, I may requiteHereafter, this your hospitable care20At my own home, however distant hence.I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earthFor subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven,The offspring of Laertes; my abodeIs sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving standsThe mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs,And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring islesAll populous; thence Samos is beheld,Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed30Toward the West, while, situate apart,Her sister islands face the rising day;Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sonsMagnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grotDetain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;Ææan Circe also, skill’d profoundIn potent arts, within her palace longDetain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;40But never could they warp my constant mind.So much our parents and our native soilAttract us most, even although our lotBe fair and plenteous in a foreign land.But come—my painful voyage, such as JoveGave me from Ilium, I will now relate.From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,City of the Ciconians; them I slew,And laid their city waste; whence bringing forthMuch spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it50With equal hand, and each received a share.Next, I exhorted to immediate flightMy people; but in vain; they madly scorn’dMy sober counsel, and much wine they drank,And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore.Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d,Their neighbours summoning, a mightier hostAnd braver, natives of the continent,Expert, on horses mounted, to maintainFierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot.60Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rsAt day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove,Misfortune found us. At the ships we stoodPiercing each other with the brazen spear,And till the morning brighten’d into noon,Few as we were, we yet withstood them all;But, when the sun verged westward, then the GreeksFell back, and the Ciconian host prevail’d.Six warlike Greecians from each galley’s crewPerish’d in that dread field; the rest escaped.70Thus, after loss of many, we pursuedOur course, yet, difficult as was our flight,Went not till first we had invoked by nameOur friends, whom the Ciconians had destroy’d.But cloud-assembler Jove assail’d us soonWith a tempestuous North-wind; earth alikeAnd sea with storms he overhung, and nightFell fast from heav’n. Their heads deep-plunging oftOur gallies flew, and rent, and rent againOur tatter’d sail-cloth crackled in the wind.80We, fearing instant death, within the barksOur canvas lodg’d, and, toiling strenuous, reach’dAt length the continent. Two nights we layContinual there, and two long days, consumedWith toil and grief; but when the beauteous mornBright-hair’d, had brought the third day to a close,(Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl’d)Again we sat on board; meantime, the windsWell managed by the steersman, urged us on.And now, all danger pass’d, I had attain’d90My native shore, but, doubling in my courseMalea, waves and currents and North-windsConstrain’d me devious to Cythera’s isle.Nine days by cruel storms thence was I borneAthwart the fishy Deep, but on the tenthReach’d the Lotophagi, a race sustain’dOn sweetest fruit alone. There quitting ship,We landed and drew water, and the crewsBeside the vessels took their ev’ning cheer.When, hasty, we had thus our strength renew’d,100I order’d forth my people to inquire(Two I selected from the rest, with whomI join’d an herald, third) what race of menMight there inhabit. They, departing, mix’dWith the Lotophagi; nor hostile aughtOr savage the Lotophagi devisedAgainst our friends, but offer’d to their tasteThe lotus; of which fruit what man soe’erOnce tasted, no desire felt he to comeWith tidings back, or seek his country more,110But rather wish’d to feed on lotus stillWith the Lotophagi, and to renounceAll thoughts of home. Them, therefore, I constrain’dWeeping on board, and dragging each beneathThe benches, bound him there. Then, all in haste,I urged my people to ascend againTheir hollow barks, lest others also, fedWith fruit of lotus, should forget their home.They quick embark’d, and on the benches rangedIn order, thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.120Thence, o’er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach’dThe land at length, where, giant-sized32and freeFrom all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell.They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough,But earth unsow’d, untill’d, brings forth for themAll fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grapeLarge cluster’d, nourish’d by the show’rs of Jove.No councils they convene, no laws contrive,But in deep caverns dwell, found on the headsOf lofty mountains, judging each supreme130His wife and children, heedless of the rest.In front of the Cyclopean haven liesA level island, not adjoining closeTheir land, nor yet remote, woody and rude.There, wild goats breed numberless, by no footOf man molested; never huntsman there,Inured to winter’s cold and hunger, roamsThe dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime;No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known,But the unseeded and unfurrow’d soil,140Year after year a wilderness by manUntrodden, food for blatant goats supplies.For no ships crimson-prow’d the Cyclops own,Nor naval artizan is there, whose toilMight furnish them with oary barks, by whichSubsists all distant commerce, and which bearMan o’er the Deep to cities far remoteWho might improve the peopled isle, that seemsNot steril in itself, but apt to yield,In their due season, fruits of ev’ry kind.150For stretch’d beside the hoary ocean lieGreen meadows moist, where vines would never fail;Light is the land, and they might yearly reapThe tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe.Safe is its haven also, where no needOf cable is or anchor, or to lashThe hawser fast ashore, but pushing inHis bark, the mariner might there abideTill rising gales should tempt him forth again.At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream160Issuing from a cove hemm’d all aroundWith poplars; down into that bay we steer’dAmid the darkness of the night, some GodConducting us; for all unseen it lay,Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moonFrom heav’n to light us, veil’d by pitchy clouds.Hence, none the isle descried, nor any sawThe lofty surge roll’d on the strand, or ereOur vessels struck the ground; but when they struck,Then, low’ring all our sails, we disembark’d,170And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear’d.Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy forth, we with admiring eyesThe isle survey’d, roaming it wide around.Meantime, the nymphs, Jove’s daughters, roused the goatsBred on the mountains, to supply with foodThe partners of my toils; then, bringing forthBows and long-pointed javelins from the ships,Divided all into three sep’rate bandsWe struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey.180Twelve ships attended me, and ev’ry shipNine goats received by lot; myself aloneSelected ten. All day, till set of sun,We eating sat goat’s flesh, and drinking wineDelicious, without stint; for dearth was noneOf ruddy wine on board, but much remain’d,With which my people had their jars suppliedWhat time we sack’d Ciconian Ismarus.Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-landWhere dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw,190And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks.Now sank the sun, and (night o’ershadowing all)We slept along the shore; but when againThe rosy-finger’d daughter of the dawnLook’d forth, my crews convened, I thus began.Companions of my course! here rest ye all,Save my own crew, with whom I will exploreThis people, whether wild, they be, unjust,And to contention giv’n, or well-disposedTo strangers, and a race who fear the Gods.200So speaking, I embark’d, and bade embarkMy followers, throwing, quick, the hawsers loose.They, ent’ring at my word, the benches fill’dWell-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we foundAt its extremity, fast by the sea,A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow’d aboveWith laurels; in that cavern slumb’ring layMuch cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad courtEnclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn,210With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough.Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remoteHis flocks fed solitary, converse noneDesiring, sullen, savage, and unjust.Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form,Resembling less a man by Ceres’ giftSustain’d, than some aspiring mountain-cragTufted with wood, and standing all alone.Enjoining, then, my people to abideFast by the ship which they should closely guard,220I went, but not without a goat-skin fill’dWith sable wine which I had erst receivedFrom Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priestOf Phœbus guardian god of Ismarus,Because, through rev’rence of him, we had savedHimself, his wife and children; for he dweltAmid the grove umbrageous of his God.He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from himSev’n talents I received of beaten gold,A beaker, argent all, and after these230No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete,Rich, unadult’rate, drink for Gods; nor knewOne servant, male or female, of that wineIn all his house; none knew it, save himself,His wife, and the intendant of his stores.Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slakedA single cup with twenty from the stream,And, even then, the beaker breath’d abroadA scent celestial, which whoever smelt,Thenceforth no pleasure found it to abstain.240Charged with an ample goat-skin of this wineI went, and with a wallet well supplied,But felt a sudden presage in my soulThat, haply, with terrific force endued,Some savage would appear, strange to the lawsAnd privileges of the human race.Few steps convey’d us to his den, but himWe found not; he his flocks pastur’d abroad.His cavern ent’ring, we with wonder gazedAround on all; his strainers hung with cheese250Distended wide; with lambs and kids his pennsClose-throng’d we saw, and folded separateThe various charge; the eldest all apart,Apart the middle-aged, and the new-yean’dAlso apart. His pails and bowls with wheySwam all, neat vessels into which he milk’d.Me then my friends first importuned to takeA portion of his cheeses, then to driveForth from the sheep-cotes to the rapid barkHis kids and lambs, and plow the brine again.260But me they moved not, happier had they moved!I wish’d to see him, and to gain, perchance,Some pledge of hospitality at his hands,Whose form was such, as should not much bespeakWhen he appear’d, our confidence or love.Then, kindling fire, we offer’d to the Gods,And of his cheeses eating, patient satTill home he trudged from pasture. Charged he cameWith dry wood bundled, an enormous loadFuel by which to sup. Loud crash’d the thorns270Which down he cast before the cavern’s mouth,To whose interior nooks we trembling flew.At once he drove into his spacious caveHis batten’d flock, all those which gave him milk,But all the males, both rams and goats, he leftAbroad, excluded from the cavern-yard.Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier hugeTo his cave’s mouth, he thrust it home. That weightNot all the oxen from its place had movedOf twenty and two wains; with such a rock280Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat,And as he milk’d his ewes and bleating goatsAll in their turns, her yeanling gave to each;Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch,The half of his new milk, he thrust the curdInto his wicker sieves, but stored the restIn pans and bowls—his customary drink.His labours thus perform’d, he kindled, last,His fuel, and discerningus, enquired,Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore290Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or boundTo no one port, wander, as pirates use,At large the Deep, exposing life themselves,And enemies of all mankind beside?He ceased; we, dash’d with terrour, heard the growlOf his big voice, and view’d his form uncouth,To whom, though sore appall’d, I thus replied.Of Greece are we, and, bound from Ilium home,Have wander’d wide the expanse of ocean, sportFor ev’ry wind, and driven from our course,300Have here arrived; so stood the will of Jove.We boast ourselves of Agamemnon’s train,The son of Atreus, at this hour the ChiefBeyond all others under heav’n renown’d,So great a city he hath sack’d and slainSuch num’rous foes; but since we reach, at last,Thy knees, we beg such hospitable fare,Or other gift, as guests are wont to obtain.Illustrious lord! respect the Gods, and usThy suitors; suppliants are the care of Jove310The hospitable; he their wrongs resentsAnd where the stranger sojourns, there is he.I ceas’d, when answer thus he, fierce, return’d.Friend! either thou art fool, or hast arrivedIndeed from far, who bidd’st me fear the GodsLest they be wroth. The Cyclops little heedsJove Ægis-arm’d, or all the Pow’rs of heav’n.Our race is mightier far; nor shall myself,Through fear of Jove’s hostility, abstainFrom thee or thine, unless my choice be such.320But tell me now. Where touch’d thy gallant barkOur country, on thy first arrival here?Remote or nigh? for I would learn the truth.So spake he, tempting me; but, artful, thusI answer’d, penetrating his intent.My vessel, Neptune, Shaker of the shores,At yonder utmost promontory dash’dIn pieces, hurling her against the rocksWith winds that blew right thither from the sea,And I, with these alone, escaped alive.330So I, to whom, relentless, answer noneHe deign’d, but, with his arms extended, sprangToward my people, of whom seizing twoAt once, like whelps against his cavern-floorHe dash’d them, and their brains spread on the ground.These, piece-meal hewn, for supper he prepared,And, like a mountain-lion, neither fleshNor entrails left, nor yet their marrowy bones.We, viewing that tremendous sight, upraisedOur hands to Jove, all hope and courage lost.340When thus the Cyclops had with human fleshFill’d his capacious belly, and had quaff’dMuch undiluted milk, among his flocksOut-stretch’d immense, he press’d his cavern-floor.Me, then, my courage prompted to approachThe monster with my sword drawn from the sheath,And to transfix him where the vitals wrapThe liver; but maturer thoughts forbad.For so, we also had incurred a deathTremendous, wanting pow’r to thrust aside350The rocky mass that closed his cavern-mouthBy force of hand alone. Thus many a sighHeaving, we watch’d the dawn. But when, at length,Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’dLook’d forth, then, kindling fire, his flocks he milk’dIn order, and her yeanling kid or lambThrust under each. When thus he had perform’dHis wonted task, two seizing, as before,He slew them for his next obscene regale.His dinner ended, from the cave he drove360His fatted flocks abroad, moving with easeThat pond’rous barrier, and replacing itAs he had only closed a quiver’s lid.Then, hissing them along, he drove his flocksToward the mountain, and me left, the while,Deep ruminating how I best might takeVengeance, and by the aid of Pallas winDeathless renown. This counsel pleas’d me most.Beside the sheep-cote lay a massy clubHewn by the Cyclops from an olive stock,370Green, but which dried, should serve him for a staff.To us consid’ring it, that staff appear’dTall as the mast of a huge trading bark,Impell’d by twenty rowers o’er the Deep.Such seem’d its length to us, and such its bulk.Part amputating, (an whole fathom’s length)I gave my men that portion, with commandTo shave it smooth. They smooth’d it, and myself,Shaping its blunt extremity to a point,Season’d it in the fire; then cov’ring close380The weapon, hid it under litter’d straw,For much lay scatter’d on the cavern-floor.And now I bade my people cast the lotWho of us all should take the pointed brand,And grind it in his eye when next he slept.The lots were cast, and four were chosen, thoseWhom most I wish’d, and I was chosen fifth.At even-tide he came, his fleecy flocksPasturing homeward, and compell’d them allInto his cavern, leaving none abroad,390Either through some surmise, or so inclinedBy influence, haply, of the Gods themselves.The huge rock pull’d into its place againAt the cave’s mouth, he, sitting, milk’d his sheepAnd goats in order, and her kid or lambThrust under each; thus, all his work dispatch’d,Two more he seiz’d, and to his supper fell.I then, approaching to him, thus address’dThe Cyclops, holding in my hands a cupOf ivy-wood, well-charg’d with ruddy wine.400Lo, Cyclops! this is wine. Take this and drinkAfter thy meal of man’s flesh. Taste and learnWhat precious liquor our lost vessel bore.I brought it hither, purposing to makeLibation to thee, if to pity inclinedThou would’st dismiss us home. But, ah, thy rageIs insupportable! thou cruel one!Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforthWill visitthee, guilty of such excess?I ceas’d. He took and drank, and hugely pleas’d33410With that delicious bev’rage, thus enquir’d.Give me again, and spare not. Tell me, too,Thy name, incontinent, that I may makeRequital, gratifying also theeWith somewhat to thy taste. We Cyclops ownA bounteous soil, which yieldsusalso wineFrom clusters large, nourish’d by show’rs from Jove;But this—this is from above—a streamOf nectar and ambrosia, all divine!He ended, and received a second draught,420Like measure. Thrice I bore it to his hand,And, foolish, thrice he drank. But when the fumesBegan to play around the Cyclops’ brain,With show of amity I thus replied.Cyclops! thou hast my noble name enquired,Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.My name is Outis,34Outis I am call’dAt home, abroad; wherever I am known.So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied.430Outis, when I have eaten all his friends,Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.He spake, and, downward sway’d, fell resupine,With his huge neck aslant. All-conqu’ring sleepSoon seized him. From his gullet gush’d the wineWith human morsels mingled, many a blastSonorous issuing from his glutted maw.Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-woodInto the embers glowing on the hearth,I heated it, and cheer’d my friends, the while,440Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.But when that stake of olive-wood, though green,Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot,I bore it to his side. Then all my aidsAround me gather’d, and the Gods infusedHeroic fortitude into our hearts.They, seizing the hot stake rasp’d to a point,Bored his eye with it, and myself, advancedTo a superior stand, twirled it about.As when a shipwright with his wimble bores450Tough oaken timber, placed on either sideBelow, his fellow-artists strain the thongAlternate, and the restless iron spins,So, grasping hard the stake pointed with fire,We twirl’d it in his eye; the bubbling bloodBoil’d round about the brand; his pupil sentA scalding vapour forth that sing’d his brow,And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.As when the smith an hatchet or large axeTemp’ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade460Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel)So hiss’d his eye around the olive-wood.The howling monster with his outcry fill’dThe hollow rock, and I, with all my aids,Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spikeFrom his burnt socket, mad with anguish, castThe implement all bloody far away.Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the nameOf ev’ry Cyclops dwelling in the cavesAround him, on the wind-swept mountain-tops;470They, at his cry flocking from ev’ry part,Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful earOf night, and break our slumbers? Fear’st thou lestSome mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear’stThyself to die by cunning or by force?Them answer’d, then, Polypheme from his cave.Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.To whom with accents wing’d his friends without.480If no man35harm thee, but thou art alone,And sickness feel’st, it is the stroke of Jove,And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aidThy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh’dThat by the fiction only of a name,Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.Then groan’d the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief,And, fumbling, with stretch’d hands, removed the rockFrom his cave’s mouth, which done, he sat him down490Spreading his arms athwart the pass, to stopOur egress with his flocks abroad; so dull,It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.I, pondering what means might fittest proveTo save from instant death, (if save I might)My people and myself, to ev’ry shiftInclined, and various counsels framed, as oneWho strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.To me, thus meditating, this appear’dThe likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were,500Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.These, silently, with osier twigs on whichThe Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound,Three in one leash; the intermediate ramsBore each a man, whom the exterior twoPreserved, concealing him on either side.Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last,The curl’d back seizing of a ram, (for oneI had reserv’d far stateliest of them all)Slipp’d underneath his belly, and both hands510Enfolding fast in his exub’rant fleece,Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.We, thus disposed, waited with many a sighThe sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris’n,Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’dAgain appear’d, the males of all his flocksRush’d forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk’d,The wethers bleated, by the load distress’dOf udders overcharged. Their master, rack’dWith pain intolerable, handled yet520The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood,But, gross of intellect, suspicion noneConceiv’d of men beneath their bodies bound.And now (none left beside) the ram approach’dWith his own wool burthen’d, and with myself,Whom many a fear molested. PolyphemeThe giant stroak’d him as he sat, and said,My darling ram! why latest of the flockCom’st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheepCould leave behind, but stalking at their head,530Thou first was wont to crop the tender grass,First to arrive at the clear stream, and firstWith ready will to seek my sheep-cote hereAt evening; but, thy practice chang’d, thou com’st,Now last of all. Feel’st thou regret, my ram!Of thy poor master’s eye, by a vile wretchBored out, who overcame me first with wine,And by a crew of vagabonds accurs’d,Followers of Outis, whose escape from deathShall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart540Were as my own, and that distinct as IThou could’st articulate, so should’st thou tell,Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.Then, dash’d against the floor his spatter’d brainShould fly, and I should lighter feel my harmFrom Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escapedFew paces from the cavern and the court,First, quitting my own ram, I loos’d my friends,550Then, turning seaward many a thriven eweSharp-hoof’d, we drove them swiftly to the ship.Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we cameFrom death escaped, but much they mourn’d the dead.I suffer’d not their tears, but silent shookMy brows, by signs commanding them to liftThe sheep on board, and instant plow the main.They, quick embarking, on the benches satWell ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood;But distant now such length as a loud voice560May reach, I hail’d with taunts the Cyclops’ ear.Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy caveWith brutal force my followers, thou devour’dstThe followers of no timid Chief, or base,Vengeance was sure to recompense that deedAtrocious. Monster! who wast not afraidTo eat the guest shelter’d beneath thy roof!Therefore the Gods have well requited thee.I ended; he, exasp’rate, raged the more,And rending from its hold a mountain-top,570Hurl’d it toward us; at our vessel’s sternDown came the mass, nigh sweeping in its fallThe rudder’s head. The ocean at the plungeOf that huge rock, high on its refluent floodHeav’d, irresistible, the ship to land.I seizing, quick, our longest pole on board,Back thrust her from the coast and by a nodIn silence given, bade my companions plyStrenuous their oars, that so we might escape.Procumbent,36each obey’d, and when, the flood580Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain’d,37Again I hail’d the Cyclops; but my friendsEarnest dissuaded me on ev’ry side.Ah, rash Ulysses! why with taunts provokeThe savage more, who hath this moment hurl’dA weapon, such as heav’d the ship againTo land, where death seem’d certain to us all?For had he heard a cry, or but the voiceOf one man speaking, he had all our headsWith some sharp rock, and all our timbers crush’d590Together, such vast force is in his arm.So they, but my courageous heart remain’dUnmoved, and thus again, incensed, I spake.Cyclops! should any mortal man inquireTo whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow’st,Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief,Laertes’ son, native of Ithaca.I ceas’d, and with a groan thus he replied.Ah me! an antient oracle I feelAccomplish’d. Here abode a prophet erst,600A man of noblest form, and in his artUnrivall’d, Telemus Eurymedes.He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race,Grew old among us, and presaged my lossOf sight, in future, by Ulysses’ hand.I therefore watch’d for the arrival here,Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulkAnd beauty prais’d, and cloath’d with wond’rous might.But now—a dwarf, a thing impalpable,A shadow, overcame me first by wine,610Then quench’d my sight. Come hither, O my guest!Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheerAwaits thee, and my pray’rs I will preferTo glorious Neptune for thy prosp’rous course;For I am Neptune’s offspring, and the GodIs proud to be my Sire; he, if he please,And he alone can heal me; none besideOf Pow’rs immortal, or of men below.He spake, to whom I answer thus return’d.I would that of thy life and soul amerced,620I could as sure dismiss thee down to Hell,As none shall heal thine eye—not even He.So I; then pray’d the Cyclops to his SireWith hands uprais’d towards the starry heav’n.Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair’d!If I indeed am thine, and if thou boastThyself my father, grant that never moreUlysses, leveller of hostile tow’rs,Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair,Behold his native home! but if his fate630Decree him yet to see his friends, his house,His native country, let him deep distress’dReturn and late, all his companions lost,Indebted for a ship to foreign aid,And let affliction meet him at his door.He spake, and Ocean’s sov’reign heard his pray’r.Then lifting from the shore a stone of sizeFar more enormous, o’er his head he whirl’dThe rock, and his immeasurable forceExerting all, dismiss’d it. Close behind640The ship, nor distant from the rudder’s head,Down came the mass. The ocean at the plungeOf such a weight, high on its refluent floodTumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.But when we reach’d the isle where we had leftOur num’rous barks, and where my people satWatching with ceaseless sorrow our return,We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore,Then disembark’d, and of the Cyclops’ sheepGave equal share to all. To me alone650My fellow-voyagers the ram consign’dIn distribution, my peculiar meed.Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian JoveI offer’d on the shore, burning his thighsIn sacrifice; but Jove my hallow’d ritesReck’d not, destruction purposing to allMy barks, and all my followers o’er the Deep.Thus, feasting largely, on the shore we satTill even-tide, and quaffing gen’rous wine;But when day fail’d, and night o’ershadow’d all,660Then, on the shore we slept; and when againAurora rosy daughter of the Dawn,Look’d forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin’dTo climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.They all obedient, took their seats on boardWell-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.Thus, ’scaping narrowly, we roam’d the DeepWith aching hearts and with diminish’d crews.
Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.Alcinoüs! King! illustrious above allPhæacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hearA bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.The world, in my account, no sight affordsMore gratifying than a people blestWith cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’dWith guests in order ranged, list’ning to soundsMelodious, and the steaming tables spreadWith plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine10From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around.No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groansAnd tears, that I may sorrow still the more.What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes?Learn first my name, that even in this landRemote I may be known, and that escapedFrom all adversity, I may requiteHereafter, this your hospitable care20At my own home, however distant hence.I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earthFor subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven,The offspring of Laertes; my abodeIs sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving standsThe mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs,And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring islesAll populous; thence Samos is beheld,Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed30Toward the West, while, situate apart,Her sister islands face the rising day;Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sonsMagnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grotDetain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;Ææan Circe also, skill’d profoundIn potent arts, within her palace longDetain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;40But never could they warp my constant mind.So much our parents and our native soilAttract us most, even although our lotBe fair and plenteous in a foreign land.But come—my painful voyage, such as JoveGave me from Ilium, I will now relate.From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,City of the Ciconians; them I slew,And laid their city waste; whence bringing forthMuch spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it50With equal hand, and each received a share.Next, I exhorted to immediate flightMy people; but in vain; they madly scorn’dMy sober counsel, and much wine they drank,And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore.Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d,Their neighbours summoning, a mightier hostAnd braver, natives of the continent,Expert, on horses mounted, to maintainFierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot.60Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rsAt day-spring. Then, by the decree of Jove,Misfortune found us. At the ships we stoodPiercing each other with the brazen spear,And till the morning brighten’d into noon,Few as we were, we yet withstood them all;But, when the sun verged westward, then the GreeksFell back, and the Ciconian host prevail’d.Six warlike Greecians from each galley’s crewPerish’d in that dread field; the rest escaped.70Thus, after loss of many, we pursuedOur course, yet, difficult as was our flight,Went not till first we had invoked by nameOur friends, whom the Ciconians had destroy’d.But cloud-assembler Jove assail’d us soonWith a tempestuous North-wind; earth alikeAnd sea with storms he overhung, and nightFell fast from heav’n. Their heads deep-plunging oftOur gallies flew, and rent, and rent againOur tatter’d sail-cloth crackled in the wind.80We, fearing instant death, within the barksOur canvas lodg’d, and, toiling strenuous, reach’dAt length the continent. Two nights we layContinual there, and two long days, consumedWith toil and grief; but when the beauteous mornBright-hair’d, had brought the third day to a close,(Our masts erected, and white sails unfurl’d)Again we sat on board; meantime, the windsWell managed by the steersman, urged us on.And now, all danger pass’d, I had attain’d90My native shore, but, doubling in my courseMalea, waves and currents and North-windsConstrain’d me devious to Cythera’s isle.Nine days by cruel storms thence was I borneAthwart the fishy Deep, but on the tenthReach’d the Lotophagi, a race sustain’dOn sweetest fruit alone. There quitting ship,We landed and drew water, and the crewsBeside the vessels took their ev’ning cheer.When, hasty, we had thus our strength renew’d,100I order’d forth my people to inquire(Two I selected from the rest, with whomI join’d an herald, third) what race of menMight there inhabit. They, departing, mix’dWith the Lotophagi; nor hostile aughtOr savage the Lotophagi devisedAgainst our friends, but offer’d to their tasteThe lotus; of which fruit what man soe’erOnce tasted, no desire felt he to comeWith tidings back, or seek his country more,110But rather wish’d to feed on lotus stillWith the Lotophagi, and to renounceAll thoughts of home. Them, therefore, I constrain’dWeeping on board, and dragging each beneathThe benches, bound him there. Then, all in haste,I urged my people to ascend againTheir hollow barks, lest others also, fedWith fruit of lotus, should forget their home.They quick embark’d, and on the benches rangedIn order, thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.120Thence, o’er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach’dThe land at length, where, giant-sized32and freeFrom all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell.They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough,But earth unsow’d, untill’d, brings forth for themAll fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grapeLarge cluster’d, nourish’d by the show’rs of Jove.No councils they convene, no laws contrive,But in deep caverns dwell, found on the headsOf lofty mountains, judging each supreme130His wife and children, heedless of the rest.In front of the Cyclopean haven liesA level island, not adjoining closeTheir land, nor yet remote, woody and rude.There, wild goats breed numberless, by no footOf man molested; never huntsman there,Inured to winter’s cold and hunger, roamsThe dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime;No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known,But the unseeded and unfurrow’d soil,140Year after year a wilderness by manUntrodden, food for blatant goats supplies.For no ships crimson-prow’d the Cyclops own,Nor naval artizan is there, whose toilMight furnish them with oary barks, by whichSubsists all distant commerce, and which bearMan o’er the Deep to cities far remoteWho might improve the peopled isle, that seemsNot steril in itself, but apt to yield,In their due season, fruits of ev’ry kind.150For stretch’d beside the hoary ocean lieGreen meadows moist, where vines would never fail;Light is the land, and they might yearly reapThe tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe.Safe is its haven also, where no needOf cable is or anchor, or to lashThe hawser fast ashore, but pushing inHis bark, the mariner might there abideTill rising gales should tempt him forth again.At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream160Issuing from a cove hemm’d all aroundWith poplars; down into that bay we steer’dAmid the darkness of the night, some GodConducting us; for all unseen it lay,Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moonFrom heav’n to light us, veil’d by pitchy clouds.Hence, none the isle descried, nor any sawThe lofty surge roll’d on the strand, or ereOur vessels struck the ground; but when they struck,Then, low’ring all our sails, we disembark’d,170And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear’d.Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,Look’d rosy forth, we with admiring eyesThe isle survey’d, roaming it wide around.Meantime, the nymphs, Jove’s daughters, roused the goatsBred on the mountains, to supply with foodThe partners of my toils; then, bringing forthBows and long-pointed javelins from the ships,Divided all into three sep’rate bandsWe struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey.180Twelve ships attended me, and ev’ry shipNine goats received by lot; myself aloneSelected ten. All day, till set of sun,We eating sat goat’s flesh, and drinking wineDelicious, without stint; for dearth was noneOf ruddy wine on board, but much remain’d,With which my people had their jars suppliedWhat time we sack’d Ciconian Ismarus.Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-landWhere dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw,190And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks.Now sank the sun, and (night o’ershadowing all)We slept along the shore; but when againThe rosy-finger’d daughter of the dawnLook’d forth, my crews convened, I thus began.Companions of my course! here rest ye all,Save my own crew, with whom I will exploreThis people, whether wild, they be, unjust,And to contention giv’n, or well-disposedTo strangers, and a race who fear the Gods.200So speaking, I embark’d, and bade embarkMy followers, throwing, quick, the hawsers loose.They, ent’ring at my word, the benches fill’dWell-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.Attaining soon that neighbour-land, we foundAt its extremity, fast by the sea,A cavern, lofty, and dark-brow’d aboveWith laurels; in that cavern slumb’ring layMuch cattle, sheep and goats, and a broad courtEnclosed it, fenced with stones from quarries hewn,210With spiry firs, and oaks of ample bough.Here dwelt a giant vast, who far remoteHis flocks fed solitary, converse noneDesiring, sullen, savage, and unjust.Monster, in truth, he was, hideous in form,Resembling less a man by Ceres’ giftSustain’d, than some aspiring mountain-cragTufted with wood, and standing all alone.Enjoining, then, my people to abideFast by the ship which they should closely guard,220I went, but not without a goat-skin fill’dWith sable wine which I had erst receivedFrom Maron, offspring of Evanthes, priestOf Phœbus guardian god of Ismarus,Because, through rev’rence of him, we had savedHimself, his wife and children; for he dweltAmid the grove umbrageous of his God.He gave me, therefore, noble gifts; from himSev’n talents I received of beaten gold,A beaker, argent all, and after these230No fewer than twelve jars with wine replete,Rich, unadult’rate, drink for Gods; nor knewOne servant, male or female, of that wineIn all his house; none knew it, save himself,His wife, and the intendant of his stores.Oft as they drank that luscious juice, he slakedA single cup with twenty from the stream,And, even then, the beaker breath’d abroadA scent celestial, which whoever smelt,Thenceforth no pleasure found it to abstain.240Charged with an ample goat-skin of this wineI went, and with a wallet well supplied,But felt a sudden presage in my soulThat, haply, with terrific force endued,Some savage would appear, strange to the lawsAnd privileges of the human race.Few steps convey’d us to his den, but himWe found not; he his flocks pastur’d abroad.His cavern ent’ring, we with wonder gazedAround on all; his strainers hung with cheese250Distended wide; with lambs and kids his pennsClose-throng’d we saw, and folded separateThe various charge; the eldest all apart,Apart the middle-aged, and the new-yean’dAlso apart. His pails and bowls with wheySwam all, neat vessels into which he milk’d.Me then my friends first importuned to takeA portion of his cheeses, then to driveForth from the sheep-cotes to the rapid barkHis kids and lambs, and plow the brine again.260But me they moved not, happier had they moved!I wish’d to see him, and to gain, perchance,Some pledge of hospitality at his hands,Whose form was such, as should not much bespeakWhen he appear’d, our confidence or love.Then, kindling fire, we offer’d to the Gods,And of his cheeses eating, patient satTill home he trudged from pasture. Charged he cameWith dry wood bundled, an enormous loadFuel by which to sup. Loud crash’d the thorns270Which down he cast before the cavern’s mouth,To whose interior nooks we trembling flew.At once he drove into his spacious caveHis batten’d flock, all those which gave him milk,But all the males, both rams and goats, he leftAbroad, excluded from the cavern-yard.Upheaving, next, a rocky barrier hugeTo his cave’s mouth, he thrust it home. That weightNot all the oxen from its place had movedOf twenty and two wains; with such a rock280Immense his den he closed. Then down he sat,And as he milk’d his ewes and bleating goatsAll in their turns, her yeanling gave to each;Coagulating, then, with brisk dispatch,The half of his new milk, he thrust the curdInto his wicker sieves, but stored the restIn pans and bowls—his customary drink.His labours thus perform’d, he kindled, last,His fuel, and discerningus, enquired,Who are ye, strangers? from what distant shore290Roam ye the waters? traffic ye? or boundTo no one port, wander, as pirates use,At large the Deep, exposing life themselves,And enemies of all mankind beside?He ceased; we, dash’d with terrour, heard the growlOf his big voice, and view’d his form uncouth,To whom, though sore appall’d, I thus replied.Of Greece are we, and, bound from Ilium home,Have wander’d wide the expanse of ocean, sportFor ev’ry wind, and driven from our course,300Have here arrived; so stood the will of Jove.We boast ourselves of Agamemnon’s train,The son of Atreus, at this hour the ChiefBeyond all others under heav’n renown’d,So great a city he hath sack’d and slainSuch num’rous foes; but since we reach, at last,Thy knees, we beg such hospitable fare,Or other gift, as guests are wont to obtain.Illustrious lord! respect the Gods, and usThy suitors; suppliants are the care of Jove310The hospitable; he their wrongs resentsAnd where the stranger sojourns, there is he.I ceas’d, when answer thus he, fierce, return’d.Friend! either thou art fool, or hast arrivedIndeed from far, who bidd’st me fear the GodsLest they be wroth. The Cyclops little heedsJove Ægis-arm’d, or all the Pow’rs of heav’n.Our race is mightier far; nor shall myself,Through fear of Jove’s hostility, abstainFrom thee or thine, unless my choice be such.320But tell me now. Where touch’d thy gallant barkOur country, on thy first arrival here?Remote or nigh? for I would learn the truth.So spake he, tempting me; but, artful, thusI answer’d, penetrating his intent.My vessel, Neptune, Shaker of the shores,At yonder utmost promontory dash’dIn pieces, hurling her against the rocksWith winds that blew right thither from the sea,And I, with these alone, escaped alive.330So I, to whom, relentless, answer noneHe deign’d, but, with his arms extended, sprangToward my people, of whom seizing twoAt once, like whelps against his cavern-floorHe dash’d them, and their brains spread on the ground.These, piece-meal hewn, for supper he prepared,And, like a mountain-lion, neither fleshNor entrails left, nor yet their marrowy bones.We, viewing that tremendous sight, upraisedOur hands to Jove, all hope and courage lost.340When thus the Cyclops had with human fleshFill’d his capacious belly, and had quaff’dMuch undiluted milk, among his flocksOut-stretch’d immense, he press’d his cavern-floor.Me, then, my courage prompted to approachThe monster with my sword drawn from the sheath,And to transfix him where the vitals wrapThe liver; but maturer thoughts forbad.For so, we also had incurred a deathTremendous, wanting pow’r to thrust aside350The rocky mass that closed his cavern-mouthBy force of hand alone. Thus many a sighHeaving, we watch’d the dawn. But when, at length,Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’dLook’d forth, then, kindling fire, his flocks he milk’dIn order, and her yeanling kid or lambThrust under each. When thus he had perform’dHis wonted task, two seizing, as before,He slew them for his next obscene regale.His dinner ended, from the cave he drove360His fatted flocks abroad, moving with easeThat pond’rous barrier, and replacing itAs he had only closed a quiver’s lid.Then, hissing them along, he drove his flocksToward the mountain, and me left, the while,Deep ruminating how I best might takeVengeance, and by the aid of Pallas winDeathless renown. This counsel pleas’d me most.Beside the sheep-cote lay a massy clubHewn by the Cyclops from an olive stock,370Green, but which dried, should serve him for a staff.To us consid’ring it, that staff appear’dTall as the mast of a huge trading bark,Impell’d by twenty rowers o’er the Deep.Such seem’d its length to us, and such its bulk.Part amputating, (an whole fathom’s length)I gave my men that portion, with commandTo shave it smooth. They smooth’d it, and myself,Shaping its blunt extremity to a point,Season’d it in the fire; then cov’ring close380The weapon, hid it under litter’d straw,For much lay scatter’d on the cavern-floor.And now I bade my people cast the lotWho of us all should take the pointed brand,And grind it in his eye when next he slept.The lots were cast, and four were chosen, thoseWhom most I wish’d, and I was chosen fifth.At even-tide he came, his fleecy flocksPasturing homeward, and compell’d them allInto his cavern, leaving none abroad,390Either through some surmise, or so inclinedBy influence, haply, of the Gods themselves.The huge rock pull’d into its place againAt the cave’s mouth, he, sitting, milk’d his sheepAnd goats in order, and her kid or lambThrust under each; thus, all his work dispatch’d,Two more he seiz’d, and to his supper fell.I then, approaching to him, thus address’dThe Cyclops, holding in my hands a cupOf ivy-wood, well-charg’d with ruddy wine.400Lo, Cyclops! this is wine. Take this and drinkAfter thy meal of man’s flesh. Taste and learnWhat precious liquor our lost vessel bore.I brought it hither, purposing to makeLibation to thee, if to pity inclinedThou would’st dismiss us home. But, ah, thy rageIs insupportable! thou cruel one!Who, thinkest thou, of all mankind, henceforthWill visitthee, guilty of such excess?I ceas’d. He took and drank, and hugely pleas’d33410With that delicious bev’rage, thus enquir’d.Give me again, and spare not. Tell me, too,Thy name, incontinent, that I may makeRequital, gratifying also theeWith somewhat to thy taste. We Cyclops ownA bounteous soil, which yieldsusalso wineFrom clusters large, nourish’d by show’rs from Jove;But this—this is from above—a streamOf nectar and ambrosia, all divine!He ended, and received a second draught,420Like measure. Thrice I bore it to his hand,And, foolish, thrice he drank. But when the fumesBegan to play around the Cyclops’ brain,With show of amity I thus replied.Cyclops! thou hast my noble name enquired,Which I will tell thee. Give me, in return,The promised boon, some hospitable pledge.My name is Outis,34Outis I am call’dAt home, abroad; wherever I am known.So I; to whom he, savage, thus replied.430Outis, when I have eaten all his friends,Shall be my last regale. Be that thy boon.He spake, and, downward sway’d, fell resupine,With his huge neck aslant. All-conqu’ring sleepSoon seized him. From his gullet gush’d the wineWith human morsels mingled, many a blastSonorous issuing from his glutted maw.Then, thrusting far the spike of olive-woodInto the embers glowing on the hearth,I heated it, and cheer’d my friends, the while,440Lest any should, through fear, shrink from his part.But when that stake of olive-wood, though green,Should soon have flamed, for it was glowing hot,I bore it to his side. Then all my aidsAround me gather’d, and the Gods infusedHeroic fortitude into our hearts.They, seizing the hot stake rasp’d to a point,Bored his eye with it, and myself, advancedTo a superior stand, twirled it about.As when a shipwright with his wimble bores450Tough oaken timber, placed on either sideBelow, his fellow-artists strain the thongAlternate, and the restless iron spins,So, grasping hard the stake pointed with fire,We twirl’d it in his eye; the bubbling bloodBoil’d round about the brand; his pupil sentA scalding vapour forth that sing’d his brow,And all his eye-roots crackled in the flame.As when the smith an hatchet or large axeTemp’ring with skill, plunges the hissing blade460Deep in cold water, (whence the strength of steel)So hiss’d his eye around the olive-wood.The howling monster with his outcry fill’dThe hollow rock, and I, with all my aids,Fled terrified. He, plucking forth the spikeFrom his burnt socket, mad with anguish, castThe implement all bloody far away.Then, bellowing, he sounded forth the nameOf ev’ry Cyclops dwelling in the cavesAround him, on the wind-swept mountain-tops;470They, at his cry flocking from ev’ry part,Circled his den, and of his ail enquired.What grievous hurt hath caused thee, Polypheme!Thus yelling to alarm the peaceful earOf night, and break our slumbers? Fear’st thou lestSome mortal man drive off thy flocks? or fear’stThyself to die by cunning or by force?Them answer’d, then, Polypheme from his cave.Oh, friends! I die! and Outis gives the blow.To whom with accents wing’d his friends without.480If no man35harm thee, but thou art alone,And sickness feel’st, it is the stroke of Jove,And thou must bear it; yet invoke for aidThy father Neptune, Sovereign of the floods.So saying, they went, and in my heart I laugh’dThat by the fiction only of a name,Slight stratagem! I had deceived them all.Then groan’d the Cyclops wrung with pain and grief,And, fumbling, with stretch’d hands, removed the rockFrom his cave’s mouth, which done, he sat him down490Spreading his arms athwart the pass, to stopOur egress with his flocks abroad; so dull,It seems, he held me, and so ill-advised.I, pondering what means might fittest proveTo save from instant death, (if save I might)My people and myself, to ev’ry shiftInclined, and various counsels framed, as oneWho strove for life, conscious of woe at hand.To me, thus meditating, this appear’dThe likeliest course. The rams well-thriven were,500Thick-fleeced, full-sized, with wool of sable hue.These, silently, with osier twigs on whichThe Cyclops, hideous monster, slept, I bound,Three in one leash; the intermediate ramsBore each a man, whom the exterior twoPreserved, concealing him on either side.Thus each was borne by three, and I, at last,The curl’d back seizing of a ram, (for oneI had reserv’d far stateliest of them all)Slipp’d underneath his belly, and both hands510Enfolding fast in his exub’rant fleece,Clung ceaseless to him as I lay supine.We, thus disposed, waited with many a sighThe sacred dawn; but when, at length, aris’n,Aurora, day-spring’s daughter rosy-palm’dAgain appear’d, the males of all his flocksRush’d forth to pasture, and, meantime, unmilk’d,The wethers bleated, by the load distress’dOf udders overcharged. Their master, rack’dWith pain intolerable, handled yet520The backs of all, inquisitive, as they stood,But, gross of intellect, suspicion noneConceiv’d of men beneath their bodies bound.And now (none left beside) the ram approach’dWith his own wool burthen’d, and with myself,Whom many a fear molested. PolyphemeThe giant stroak’d him as he sat, and said,My darling ram! why latest of the flockCom’st thou, whom never, heretofore, my sheepCould leave behind, but stalking at their head,530Thou first was wont to crop the tender grass,First to arrive at the clear stream, and firstWith ready will to seek my sheep-cote hereAt evening; but, thy practice chang’d, thou com’st,Now last of all. Feel’st thou regret, my ram!Of thy poor master’s eye, by a vile wretchBored out, who overcame me first with wine,And by a crew of vagabonds accurs’d,Followers of Outis, whose escape from deathShall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart540Were as my own, and that distinct as IThou could’st articulate, so should’st thou tell,Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.Then, dash’d against the floor his spatter’d brainShould fly, and I should lighter feel my harmFrom Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escapedFew paces from the cavern and the court,First, quitting my own ram, I loos’d my friends,550Then, turning seaward many a thriven eweSharp-hoof’d, we drove them swiftly to the ship.Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we cameFrom death escaped, but much they mourn’d the dead.I suffer’d not their tears, but silent shookMy brows, by signs commanding them to liftThe sheep on board, and instant plow the main.They, quick embarking, on the benches satWell ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood;But distant now such length as a loud voice560May reach, I hail’d with taunts the Cyclops’ ear.Cyclops! when thou devouredst in thy caveWith brutal force my followers, thou devour’dstThe followers of no timid Chief, or base,Vengeance was sure to recompense that deedAtrocious. Monster! who wast not afraidTo eat the guest shelter’d beneath thy roof!Therefore the Gods have well requited thee.I ended; he, exasp’rate, raged the more,And rending from its hold a mountain-top,570Hurl’d it toward us; at our vessel’s sternDown came the mass, nigh sweeping in its fallThe rudder’s head. The ocean at the plungeOf that huge rock, high on its refluent floodHeav’d, irresistible, the ship to land.I seizing, quick, our longest pole on board,Back thrust her from the coast and by a nodIn silence given, bade my companions plyStrenuous their oars, that so we might escape.Procumbent,36each obey’d, and when, the flood580Cleaving, we twice that distance had obtain’d,37Again I hail’d the Cyclops; but my friendsEarnest dissuaded me on ev’ry side.Ah, rash Ulysses! why with taunts provokeThe savage more, who hath this moment hurl’dA weapon, such as heav’d the ship againTo land, where death seem’d certain to us all?For had he heard a cry, or but the voiceOf one man speaking, he had all our headsWith some sharp rock, and all our timbers crush’d590Together, such vast force is in his arm.So they, but my courageous heart remain’dUnmoved, and thus again, incensed, I spake.Cyclops! should any mortal man inquireTo whom thy shameful loss of sight thou ow’st,Say, to Ulysses, city-waster Chief,Laertes’ son, native of Ithaca.I ceas’d, and with a groan thus he replied.Ah me! an antient oracle I feelAccomplish’d. Here abode a prophet erst,600A man of noblest form, and in his artUnrivall’d, Telemus Eurymedes.He, prophesying to the Cyclops-race,Grew old among us, and presaged my lossOf sight, in future, by Ulysses’ hand.I therefore watch’d for the arrival here,Always, of some great Chief, for stature, bulkAnd beauty prais’d, and cloath’d with wond’rous might.But now—a dwarf, a thing impalpable,A shadow, overcame me first by wine,610Then quench’d my sight. Come hither, O my guest!Return, Ulysses! hospitable cheerAwaits thee, and my pray’rs I will preferTo glorious Neptune for thy prosp’rous course;For I am Neptune’s offspring, and the GodIs proud to be my Sire; he, if he please,And he alone can heal me; none besideOf Pow’rs immortal, or of men below.He spake, to whom I answer thus return’d.I would that of thy life and soul amerced,620I could as sure dismiss thee down to Hell,As none shall heal thine eye—not even He.So I; then pray’d the Cyclops to his SireWith hands uprais’d towards the starry heav’n.Hear, Earth-encircler Neptune, azure-hair’d!If I indeed am thine, and if thou boastThyself my father, grant that never moreUlysses, leveller of hostile tow’rs,Laertes’ son, of Ithaca the fair,Behold his native home! but if his fate630Decree him yet to see his friends, his house,His native country, let him deep distress’dReturn and late, all his companions lost,Indebted for a ship to foreign aid,And let affliction meet him at his door.He spake, and Ocean’s sov’reign heard his pray’r.Then lifting from the shore a stone of sizeFar more enormous, o’er his head he whirl’dThe rock, and his immeasurable forceExerting all, dismiss’d it. Close behind640The ship, nor distant from the rudder’s head,Down came the mass. The ocean at the plungeOf such a weight, high on its refluent floodTumultuous, heaved the bark well nigh to land.But when we reach’d the isle where we had leftOur num’rous barks, and where my people satWatching with ceaseless sorrow our return,We thrust our vessel to the sandy shore,Then disembark’d, and of the Cyclops’ sheepGave equal share to all. To me alone650My fellow-voyagers the ram consign’dIn distribution, my peculiar meed.Him, therefore, to cloud-girt Saturnian JoveI offer’d on the shore, burning his thighsIn sacrifice; but Jove my hallow’d ritesReck’d not, destruction purposing to allMy barks, and all my followers o’er the Deep.Thus, feasting largely, on the shore we satTill even-tide, and quaffing gen’rous wine;But when day fail’d, and night o’ershadow’d all,660Then, on the shore we slept; and when againAurora rosy daughter of the Dawn,Look’d forth, my people, anxious, I enjoin’dTo climb their barks, and cast the hawsers loose.They all obedient, took their seats on boardWell-ranged, and thresh’d with oars the foamy flood.Thus, ’scaping narrowly, we roam’d the DeepWith aching hearts and with diminish’d crews.
32So the Scholium interprets in this place, the wordὑπερθιαλος.33Λινως34Clarke, who has preserved this name in his marginal version, contends strenuously, and with great reason, that Outis ought not to be translated, and in a passage which he quotes from theActa eruditorum, we see much fault found with Giphanius and other interpreters of Homer for having translated it. It iscertainthat in Homer the word is declined not asουτις-τινοςwhich signifies no man, but asουτις-τιδοςmakingουτινin the accusative, consequently as a proper name. It is sufficient that the ambiguity was such as to deceive the friends of the Cyclops. Outis is said by some (perhaps absurdly) to have been a name given to Ulysses on account of his having larger ears than common.35Outis, as anamecould only denote him who bore it; but as anoun, it signifiesno man, which accounts sufficiently for the ludicrous mistake of his brethren.36προπεσοντες———Olli certamine summoProcumbunt.Virgil37The seeming incongruity of this line with line 560, is reconciled by supposing that Ulysses exerted his voice, naturally loud, in an extraordinary manner on this second occasion. See Clarke.
32So the Scholium interprets in this place, the wordὑπερθιαλος.
32So the Scholium interprets in this place, the wordὑπερθιαλος.
33Λινως
33Λινως
34Clarke, who has preserved this name in his marginal version, contends strenuously, and with great reason, that Outis ought not to be translated, and in a passage which he quotes from theActa eruditorum, we see much fault found with Giphanius and other interpreters of Homer for having translated it. It iscertainthat in Homer the word is declined not asουτις-τινοςwhich signifies no man, but asουτις-τιδοςmakingουτινin the accusative, consequently as a proper name. It is sufficient that the ambiguity was such as to deceive the friends of the Cyclops. Outis is said by some (perhaps absurdly) to have been a name given to Ulysses on account of his having larger ears than common.
34Clarke, who has preserved this name in his marginal version, contends strenuously, and with great reason, that Outis ought not to be translated, and in a passage which he quotes from theActa eruditorum, we see much fault found with Giphanius and other interpreters of Homer for having translated it. It iscertainthat in Homer the word is declined not asουτις-τινοςwhich signifies no man, but asουτις-τιδοςmakingουτινin the accusative, consequently as a proper name. It is sufficient that the ambiguity was such as to deceive the friends of the Cyclops. Outis is said by some (perhaps absurdly) to have been a name given to Ulysses on account of his having larger ears than common.
35Outis, as anamecould only denote him who bore it; but as anoun, it signifiesno man, which accounts sufficiently for the ludicrous mistake of his brethren.
35Outis, as anamecould only denote him who bore it; but as anoun, it signifiesno man, which accounts sufficiently for the ludicrous mistake of his brethren.
36προπεσοντες———Olli certamine summoProcumbunt.Virgil
36
προπεσοντες———Olli certamine summoProcumbunt.Virgil
προπεσοντες———Olli certamine summoProcumbunt.Virgil
37The seeming incongruity of this line with line 560, is reconciled by supposing that Ulysses exerted his voice, naturally loud, in an extraordinary manner on this second occasion. See Clarke.
37The seeming incongruity of this line with line 560, is reconciled by supposing that Ulysses exerted his voice, naturally loud, in an extraordinary manner on this second occasion. See Clarke.