And all the shore shows as one eminent rock,
So near which ’tis so deep, that not a sand
Is there for any tired foot to stand,
Nor fly his death-fast-following miseries,
Lest, if he land, upon him fore-right flies
A churlish wave, to crush him ’gainst a cliff,
Worse than vain rend’ring all his landing strife.
And should I swim to seek a hav’n elsewhere,
Or land less way-beat, I may justly fear
I shall be taken with a gale again,
And cast a huge way off into the main;
And there the great Earth-shaker (having seen
My so near landing, and again his spleen
Forcing me to him) will some whale send out
(Of which a horrid number here about
His Amphitrite breeds) to swallow me.
I well have prov’d, with what malignity
He treads my steps.’ While this discourse he held,
A curs’d surge ’gainst a cutting rock impell’d
His naked body, which it gash’d and tore,
And had his bones broke, if but one sea more
Had cast him on it. But she prompted him,
That never fail’d, and bade him no more swim
Still off and on, but boldly force the shore,
And hug the rock that him so rudely tore;
Which he with both hands sigh’d and clasp’d, till past
The billow’s rage was; when ’scap’d, back so fast
The rock repuls’d it, that it reft his hold,
Sucking him from it, and far back he roll’d.
And as the polypus that (forc’d from home
Amidst the soft sea, and near rough land come
For shelter ’gainst the storms that beat on her
At open sea, as she abroad doth err)
A deal of gravel and sharp little stones
Needfully gathers in her hollow bones:
So he forc’d hither by the sharper ill,
Shunning the smoother, where he best hop’d, still
The worst succeeded; for the cruel friend,
To which he cling’d for succour, off did rend
From his broad hands the soaken flesh so sore,
That off he fell, and could sustain no more.
Quite under water fell he; and, past fate,
Hapless Ulysses there had lost the state
He held in life, if, still the grey-eyed Maid
His wisdom prompting, he had not assay’d
Another course, and ceas’d t’ attempt that shore,
Swimming and casting round his eye t’ explore
Some other shelter. Then the mouth he found
Of fair Callicoë’s flood, whose shores were crown’d
With most apt succours; rocks so smooth they seem’d
Polish’d of purpose; land that quite redeem’d
With breathless coverts th’ others’ blasted shores.
The flood he knew, and thus in heart implores:
‘King of this river, hear! Whatever name
Makes thee invok’d, to thee I humbly frame
My flight from Neptune’s furies. Reverend is
To all the ever-living deities
What erring man soever seeks their aid.
To thy both flood and knees a man dismay’d
With varied suf
f
’
rance sues. Yield then some rest
To him that is thy suppliant profess’d.’
This, though but spoke in thought, the godhead heard,
Her current straight stay’d, and her thick waves clear’d
Before him, smooth’d her waters, and, just where
He pray’d half-drown’d, entirely sav’d him there.
Then forth he came, his both knees falt’ring, both
His strong hands hanging down, and all with froth
His cheeks and nostrils flowing, voice and breath
Spent to all use, and down he sunk to death.
The sea had soak’d his heart through; all his veins
His toils had rack’d t’ a labouring woman’s pains.
Dead weary was he. But when breath did find
A pass reciprocal, and in his mind
His spirit was recollected, up he rose,
And from his neck did th’ amulet unloose,
That Ino gave him; which he hurl’d from him
To sea. It sounding fell, and back did swim
With th’ ebbing waters, till it straight arriv’d
Where Ino’s fair hand it again receiv’d.
Then kiss’d he th’ humble earth, and on he goes,
Till bulrushes show’d place for his repose;
Where laid, he sigh’d, and thus said to his soul:
‘O me, what strange perplexities control
The whole skill of thy pow’rs in this event!
What feel I? If till care-nurse night be spent
I watch amidst the flood, the sea’s chill breath
And vegetant dews I fear will be my death,
So low brought with my labours. Towards day
A passing sharp air ever breathes at sea.
If I the pitch of this next mountain scale,
And shady wood, and in some thicket fall
Into the hands of sleep, though there the cold
May well be check’d, and healthful slumbers hold
Her sweet hand on my pow’rs, all care allay’d,
Yet there will beasts devour me. Best appaid
Doth that course make me yet; for there some strife,
Strength, and my spirit, may make me make for life;
Which, though impair’d, may yet be fresh applied,
Where peril possible of escape is tried.
But he that fights with heav
’
n, or with the sea,
To indiscretion adds impiety.’
Thus to the woods he hasted; which he found
Not far from sea, but on far-seeing ground,
Where two twin underwoods he enter’d on,
With olive-trees and oil-trees overgrown;
Through which the moist force of the loud-voic
’
d wind
Did never beat, nor ever Phoebus shin’d,
Nor shower beat through, they grew so one in one,
And had, by turns, their pow’r t’ exclude the sun.
Here enter’d our Ulysses, and a bed
Of leaves huge, and of huge abundance, spread
With all his speed. Large he made it, for there
For two or three men ample coverings were,
Such as might shield them from the winter’s worst,
Though steel it breath’d, and blew as it would burst.
Patient Ulysses joy’d, that ever day
Show’d such a shelter. In the midst he lay,
Store of leaves heaping high on every side.
And as in some outfield a man doth hide
A kindled brand, to keep the seed of fire,
No neighbour dwelling near, and his desire
Serv’d with self store he else would ask of none,
But of his fore-spent sparks rakes th’ ashes on:
So this out-place Ulysses thus receives,
And thus nak’d, virtue’s seed lies hid in leaves.
Yet Pallas made him sleep as soon as men
Whom delicacies all their flatteries deign,
And all that all his labours could comprise
Quickly concluded in his closed eyes.
The end of the fifth book
Book 6
The Argument
Minerva in a vision stands
Before Nausicaa; and commands
She to the flood her weeds should bear,
For now her nuptial day was near.
Nausicaa her charge obeys,
And then with other virgins plays.
Their sports make wak’d Ulysses rise,
Walk to them, and beseech supplies
Of food and clothes. His naked sight
Puts th’ other maids, afraid, to flight;
Nausicaa only boldly stays,
And gladly his desire obeys.
He, furnished with her favours shown,
Attends her and the rest to town.
Another Argument
Zeta
Here olive leaves
T’ hide shame began.
The maid receives
The naked man.
Book 6
The much-sustaining, patient, heav
’
nly man,
Whom toil and sleep had worn so weak and wan,
Thus won his rest. In mean space Pallas went
To the Phaeacian city, and descent
That first did broad Hyperia’s lands divide,
Near the vast Cyclops, men of monstrous pride,
That prey’d on those Hyperians, since they were
Of greater power; and therefore longer there
Divine Nausithous dwelt not, but arose,
And did for Scheria all his pow’rs dispose,
Far from ingenious art-inventing men.
But there did he erect a city then,
First drew a wall round, then he houses builds,
And then a temple to the gods, the fields
Lastly dividing. But he, stoop’d by fate,
Div’d to th’ infernals; and Alcinous sate
In his command, a man the gods did teach
Commanding counsels. His house held the reach
Of grey Minerva’s project, to provide
That great-soul’d Ithacus might be supplied
With all things fitting his return. She went
Up to the chamber, where the fair descent
Of great Alcinous slept: a maid, whose parts
In wit and beauty wore divine deserts.
Well deck’d her chamber was; of which the door
Did seem to lighten, such a gloss it bore
Betwixt the posts, and now flew ope to find
The goddess entry. Like a puft of wind
She reach’d the virgin bed; near which there lay
Two maids, to whom the Graces did convey
Figure and manners. But above the head
Of bright Nausicaa did Pallas tread
The subtle air, and put the person on
Of Dymas’ daughter, from comparison
Exempt in business naval. Like his seed
Minerva look’d now; whom one year did breed
With bright Nausicaa, and who had gain’d
Grace in her love, yet on her thus complain’d:
‘Nausicaa, why bred thy mother one
So negligent in rites so stood upon
By other virgins? Thy fair garments lie
Neglected by thee, yet thy nuptials nigh;
When rich in all attire both thou shouldst be,
And garments give to others honouring thee,
That lead thee to the temple. Thy good name
Grows amongst men for these things; they inflame
Father and reverend mother with delight.
Come, when the day takes any wink from night,
Let’s to the river, and repurify
Thy wedding garments. My society
Shall freely serve thee for thy speedier aid,
Because thou shalt no more stand on the maid.
The best of all Phaeacia woo thy grace,
Where thou wert bred, and ow’st thyself a race.
Up, and stir up to thee thy honour’d sire,
To give thee mules and coach, thee and thy tire,
Veils, girdles, mantles, early to the flood
To bear in state. It suits thy high-born blood,
And far more fits thee, than to foot so far,
For far from town thou knowst the bath-founts are.’
This said, away blue-ey’d Minerva went
Up to Olympus, the firm continent
That bears in endless being the deified kind,
That’s neither sous’d with showers, nor shook with wind,
Nor chill’d with snow, but where serenity flies
Exempt from clouds, and ever-beamy skies
Circle the glittering hill, and all their days
Give the delights of blessed deity praise.
And hither Pallas flew, and left the maid,
When she had all that might excite her said.
Straight rose the lovely Morn, that up did raise
Fair-veil’d Nausicaa, whose dream her praise
To admiration took; who no time spent
To give the rapture of her vision vent
To her lov’d parents, whom she found within:
Her mother set at fire, who had to spin
A rock, whose tincture with sea-purple shin’d,
Her maids about her. But she chanced to find
Her father going abroad, to council call’d
By his grave Senate. And to him exhal’d
Her smother’d bosom was: ‘Lov’d sire,’ said she,
‘Will you not now command a coach for me,
Stately and complete, fit for me to bear
To wash at flood the weeds I cannot wear
Before repurified? Yourself it fits
To wear fair weeds, as every man that sit
In place of council. And five sons you have,
Two wed, three bachelors, that must be brave
In every day’s shift, that they may go dance;
For these three last with these things must advance
Their states in marriage, and who else but I,
Their sister, should their dancing rites supply?’
This general cause she show’d, and would not name
Her mind of nuptials to her sire, for shame.
He understood her yet, and thus replied:
‘Daughter! Nor these, nor any grace beside,
I either will deny thee, or defer,
Mules, nor a coach, of state and circular,
Fitting at all parts. Go, my servants shall
Serve thy desires, and thy command in all.’
The servants then commanded soon obey’d,
Fetch’d coach, and mules join’d in it. Then the maid
Brought from the chamber her rich weeds, and laid
All up in coach; in which her mother plac’d
A maund of victuals, varied well in taste,
And other junkets. Wine she likewise fill’d
Within a goat-skin bottle, and distill’d
Sweet and moist oil into a golden cruse,
Both for her daughter’s and her handmaids’ use,
To soften their bright bodies, when they rose
Cleans’d from their cold baths. Up to coach then goes
Th’ observed maid, takes both the scourge and reins,
And to her side her handmaid straight attains.
Nor these alone, but other virgins, grac’d
The nuptial chariot. The whole bevy plac’d,
Nausicaa scourg’d to make the coach-mules run,
That neigh’d, and pac’d their usual speed, and soon
Both maids and weeds brought to the river side,
Where baths for all the year their use supplied,
Whose waters were so pure they would not stain,
But still ran fair forth, and did more remain
Apt to purge stains, for that purg’d stain within,
Which by the water’s pure store was not seen.
These, here arriv’d, the mules uncoach’d, and drave
Up to the gulfy river’s shore, that gave
Sweet grass to them. The maids from coach then took
Their clothes, and steep’d them in the sable brook;
Then put them into springs, and trod them clean
With cleanly feet, adventuring wagers then,
Who should have soonest and most cleanly done.
When having throughly cleans’d, they spread them on
The flood’s shore, all in order. And then, where
The waves the pebbles wash’d, and ground was clear,
They bath’d themselves, and all with glittering oil
Smooth’d their white skins, refreshing then their toil
With pleasant dinner by the river’s side,
Yet still watch’d when the sun their clothes had dried.
Till which time, having din’d, Nausicaa
With other virgins did at stool-ball play,
Their shoulder-reaching head-tires laying by.
Nausicaa, with the wrists of ivory,
The liking stroke struck, singing first a song,
As custom order’d, and amidst the throng
Made such a show, and so past all was seen,
As when the chaste-born, arrow-loving queen,
Along the mountains gliding, either over
Spartan Taygetus, whose tops far discover,
Or Eurymanthus, in the wild boar’s chace,
Or swift-hoov’d hart, and with her Jove’s fair race,
The field nymphs, sporting; amongst whom, to see
How far Diana had priority,
Though all were fair, for fairness yet of all
As both by head and forehead being more tall,
Latona triumph’d, since the dullest sight
Might eas’ly judge whom her pains brought to light:
Nausicaa so, whom never husband tam’d,
Above them all in all the beauties flam’d.
But when they now made homewards, and array’d,
Ordering their weeds disorder’d as they play’d,
Mules and coach ready, then Minerva thought
What means to wake Ulysses might be wrought,
That he might see this lovely-sighted maid,
Whom she intended should become his aid,
Bring him to town, and his return advance.
Her mean was this, though thought a stool-ball chance:
The queen now, for the upstroke, struck the ball
Quite wide off th’ other maids, and made it fall
Amidst the whirlpools. At which out shriek’d all,
And with the shriek did wise Ulysses wake;
Who, sitting up, was doubtful who should make
That sudden outcry, and in mind thus striv’d:
‘On what a people am I now arriv’d?
At civil hospitable men, that fear
The gods? Or dwell injurious mortals here,
Unjust and churlish? Like the female cry
Of youth it sounds. What are they? Nymphs bred high
On tops of hills, or in the founts of floods,
In herby marshes, or in leafy woods?
Or are they high-spoke men I now am near?
I’ll prove, and see.’ With this, the wary peer
Crept forth the thicket, and an olive bough
Broke with his broad hand, which he did bestow
In covert of his nakedness, and then
Put hasty head out. Look how from his den
A mountain lion looks, that, all embru’d
With drops of trees, and weather-beaten-hu’d,
Bold of his strength, goes on, and in his eye
A burning furnace glows, all bent to prey
On sheep, or oxen, or the upland hart,
His belly charging him, and he must part
Stakes with the herdsman in his beast’s attempt,
Even where from rape their strengths are most exempt:
So wet, so weather-beat, so stung with need,
Even to the home-fields of the country’s breed
Ulysses was to force forth his access,
Though merely naked; and his sight did press
The eyes of soft-hair’d virgins. Horrid was
His rough appearance to them; the hard pass
He had at sea stuck by him. All in flight
The virgins scatter’d, frighted with this sight,
About the prominent windings of the flood.
All but Nausicaa fled; but she fast stood,
Pallas had put a boldness in her breast,
And in her fair limbs tender fear compress’d.
And still she stood him, as resolv’d to know
What man he was, or out of what should grow
His strange repair to them. And here was he
Put to his wisdom; if her virgin knee
He should be bold, but kneeling, to embrace,
Or keep aloof, and try with words of grace,
In humblest suppliance, if he might obtain
Some cover for his nakedness, and gain
Her grace to show and guide him to the town.
The last he best thought, to be worth his own,
In weighing both well: to keep still aloof,
And give with soft words his desires their proof,
Lest, pressing so near as to touch her knee,
He might incense her maiden modesty.
This fair and fil’d speech then shew’d this was he:
‘Let me beseech, O queen, this truth of thee:
Are you of mortal, or the deified, race?
If of the gods, that th’ ample heav
’
ns embrace,
I can resemble you to none above
So near as to the chaste-born birth of Jove,
The beamy Cynthia. Her you full present,
In grace of every godlike lineament,
Her goodly magnitude, and all th’ address
You promise of her very perfectness.
If sprung of humans, that inhabit earth,
Thrice blest are both the authors of your birth,
Thrice blest your brothers, that in your deserts
Must, even to rapture, bear delighted hearts,
To see, so like the first trim of a tree,
Your form adorn a dance. But most blest he,
Of all that breathe, that hath the gift t’ engage
Your bright neck in the yoke of marriage,
And deck his house with your commanding merit.
I have not seen a man of so much spirit –
Nor man, nor woman I did ever see –
At all parts equal to the parts in thee.
T’ enjoy your sight, doth admiration seize
My’ eyes, and apprehensive faculties.
Lately in Delos (with a charge of men
Arrived, that render’d me most wretched then,
Now making me thus naked) I beheld
The burthen of a palm, whose issue swell’d
About Apollo’s fane, and that put on
A grace like thee; for earth had never none
Of all her sylvan issue so adorn’d.
Into amaze my very soul was turn’d,
To give it observation: as now thee
To view, O virgin, a stupidity
Past admiration strikes me, join’d with fear
To do a suppliant’s due, and press so near,
As to embrace thy knees. Nor is it strange,
For one of fresh and firmest spirit would change
T’ embrace so bright an object. But, for me,
A cruel habit of calamity
Prepar’d the strong impression thou hast made;
For this last day did fly night’s twentieth shade
Since I, at length, escap’d the sable seas;
When in the mean time th’ unrelenting prease
Of waves and stern storms toss’d me up and down,
From th’ isle Ogygia. And now god hath thrown
My wrack on this shore, that perhaps I may
My miseries vary here; for yet their stay,
I fear, heav’n hath not order’d, though before
These late afflictions, it hath lent me store.
O queen, deign pity then, since first to you
My fate importunes my distress to vow.
No other dame, nor man, that this earth own,
And neighbour city, I have seen or known.