Tun’d those sweet accents that made charms so strong,
And these learn’d numbers made the Sirens’ song:
‘Come here, thou worthy of a world of praise,
That dost so high the Grecian glory raise,
Ulysses! Stay thy ship, and that song hear
That none pass’d ever but it bent his ear,
But left him ravish
’
d, and instructed more
By us, than any ever heard before
.
For we know all things whatsoever were
In wide Troy labour
’
d; whatsoever there
The Grecians and the Trojans both sustain
’
d
By those high issues that the gods ordain
’
d
.
And whatsoever all the earth can show
T
’ inform a knowledge of desert, we know
.’
This they gave accent in the sweetest strain
That ever open’d an enamour’d vein;
When my constrain’d heart needs would have mine ear
Yet more delighted, force way forth, and hear.
To which end I commanded with all sign
Stern looks could make (for not a joint of mine
Had pow
’
r to stir) my friends to rise, and give
My limbs free way. They freely striv’d to drive
Their ship still on; when, far from will to loose,
Eurylochus and Perimedes rose
To wrap me surer, and oppress’d me more
With many a halser than had use before.
When, rowing on without the reach of sound,
My friends unstopp’d their cars, and me unbound,
And that isle quite we quitted. But again
Fresh fears employ’d us. I beheld a main
Of mighty billows, and a smoke ascend,
A horrid murmur hearing. Every friend
Astonish’d sat; from every hand his oar
Fell quite forsaken; with the dismal roar
Were all things there made echoes; stone still stood
Our ship itself, because the ghastly flood
Took all men’s motions from her in their own.
I through the ship went, labouring up and down
My friends’ recover’d spirits. One by one
I gave good words, and said: that well were known
These ills to them before, I told them all,
And that these could not prove more capital
Than those the Cyclops block’d us up in, yet
My virtue, wit, and heav’n-help’d counsels set
Their freedoms open. I could not believe
But they remember’d it, and wish’d them give
My equal care and means now equal trust.
The strength they had for stirring up they must
Rouse and extend, to try if Jove had laid
His pow’rs in theirs up, and would add his aid
To ’scape ev’n that death. In particular then,
I told our pilot, that past other men
He most must bear firm spirits, since he sway’d
The continent that all our spirits convey’d,
In his whole guide of her. He saw there boil
The fiery whirlpools that to all our spoil
Inclos’d a rock, without which he must steer,
Or all our ruins stood concluded there.
All heard me and obey’d, and little knew
That, shunning that rock, six of them should rue
The wrack another hid. For I conceal’d
The heavy wounds, that never would be heal’d,
To be by Scylla open’d; for their fear
Would then have robb’d all of all care to steer,
Or stir an oar, and made them hide beneath,
When they and all had died an idle death.
But then ev
’
n I forgot to shun the harm
Circe forewarn’d; who will’d I should not arm,
Nor show myself to Scylla, lest in vain
I ventur’d life. Yet could not I contain,
But arm’d at all parts, and two lances took,
Up to the foredeck went, and thence did look
That rocky Scylla would have first appear’d,
And taken my life with the friends I fear’d.
From thence yet no place could afford her sight,
Though through the dark rock mine eye threw her light,
And ransack’d all ways. I then took a strait
That gave myself, and some few more, receipt
’Twixt Scylla and Charybdis; whence we saw
How horridly Charybdis’ throat did draw
The brackish sea up, which when all abroad
She spit again out, never cauldron sod
With so much fervour, fed with all the store
That could enrage it; all the rock did roar
With troubled waters; round about the tops
Of all the steep crags flew the foamy drops.
But when her draught the sea and earth dissunder’d,
The troubled bottoms turn’d up, and she thunder’d,
Far under shore the swart sands naked lay;
Whose whole stern sight the startled blood did bay
From all our faces. And while we on her
Our eyes bestow’d thus to our ruin’s fear,
Six friends had Scylla snatch’d out of our keel,
In whom most loss did force and virtue feel.
When looking to my ship, and lending eye
To see my friends’ estates, their heels turn’d high,
And hands cast up, I might discern, and hear
Their calls to me for help, when now they were
To try me in their last extremities.
And as an angler med’cine for surprise
Of little fish sits pouring from the rocks,
From out the crook’d horn of a fold-bred ox,
And then with his long angle hoists them high
Up to the air, then slightly hurls them by,
When helpless sprawling on the land they lie:
So easily Scylla to her rock had rapt
My woeful friends, and so unhelp’d entrapp’d
Struggling they lay beneath her violent rape;
Who in their tortures, desp’rate of escape,
Shriek’d as she tore, and up their hands to me
Still threw for sweet life. I did never see,
In all my suf
f
’
rance ransacking the seas,
A spectacle so full of miseries.
Thus having fled these rocks (these cruel dames
Scylla, Charybdis), where the king of flames
Hath offerings burn’d to him our ship put in,
The island that from all the earth doth win
The epithet
Faultless,
where the broad-of-head
And famous oxen for the Sun are fed,
With many fat flocks of that high-gone god.
Set in my ship, mine ear reach’d where we rode
The bellowing of oxen, and the bleat
Of fleecy sheep, that in my memory’s seat
Put up the forms that late had been impress’d
By dread Aeaean Circe, and the best
Of souls and prophets, the blind Theban seer,
The wise Tiresias, who was grave decreer
Of my return’s whole means; of which this one
In chief he urg’d – that I should always shun
The island of the man-delighting Sun.
When, sad at heart for our late loss, I pray’d
My friends to hear fit counsel (though dismay’d
With all ill fortunes) which was giv
’
n to me
By Circe’s and Tiresias’ prophecy –
That I should fly the isle where was ador’d
The comfort of the world, for ills abhorr’d
Were ambush’d for us there; and therefore will’d
They should put off and leave the isle. This kill’d
Their tender spirits; when Eurylochus
A speech that vex’d me utter’d, answering thus:
‘Cruel Ulysses! Since thy nerves abound
In strength, the more spent, and no toils confound
Thy able limbs, as all beat out of steel,
Thou ablest us too, as unapt to feel
The teeth of labour and the spoil of sleep,
And therefore still wet waste us in the deep,
Nor let us land to eat, but madly now
In night put forth, and leave firm land to strow
The sea with errors. All the rabid flight
Of winds that ruin ships are bred in night.
Who is it that can keep off cruel death,
If suddenly should rush out th’ angry breath
Of Notus, or the eager-spirited West,
That cuff ships dead, and do the gods their best?
Serve black night still with shore, meat, sleep and ease,
And offer to the Morning for the seas.’
This all the rest approv’d, and then knew I
That past all doubt the devil did apply
His slaught’rous works. Nor would they be withheld;
I was but one, nor yielded but compell’d.
But all that might contain them I assay’d,
A sacred oath on all their powers I laid,
That if with herds or any richest flocks
We chanc’d t’ encounter, neither sheep nor ox
We once should touch, nor (for that constant ill
That follows folly) scorn advice and kill,
But quiet sit us down and take such food
As the immortal Circe had bestow’d.
They swore all this in all severest sort;
And then we anchor’d in the winding port
Near a fresh river, where the long’d-for shore
They all flew out to, took in victuals store,
And, being full, thought of their friends, and wept
Their loss by Scylla, weeping till they slept.
In night’s third part, when stars began to stoop,
The Cloud-assembler put a tempest up.
A boist’rous spirit he gave it, drave out all
His flocks of clouds, and let such darkness fall
That earth and seas, for fear, to hide were driv’n,
For with his clouds he thrust out night from heav’n.
At morn we drew our ships into a cave,
In which the nymphs that Phoebus’ cattle drave
Fair dancing-rooms had, and their seats of state.
I urged my friends then, that, to shun their fate,
They would observe their oath, and take the food
Our ship afforded, nor attempt the blood
Of those fair herds and flocks, because they were
The dreadful god’s that all could see and hear.
They stood observant, and in that good mind
Had we been gone; but so adverse the wind
Stood to our passage, that we could not go.
For one whole month perpetually did blow
Impetuous Notus, not a breath’s repair
But his and Eurus’ ruled in all the air.
As long yet as their ruddy wine and bread
Stood out amongst them, so long not a head
Of all those oxen fell in any strife
Amongst those students for the gut and life;
But when their victuals fail’d they fell to prey,
Necessity compell’d them then to stray
In rape of fish and fowl; whatever came
In reach of hand or hook, the belly’s flame
Afflicted to it. I then fell to pray’r,
And (making to a close retreat repair,
Free from both friends and winds) I wash’d my hands
And all the gods besought, that held commands
In liberal heav’n, to yield some mean to stay
Their desp’rate hunger, and set up the way
Of our return restrain’d. The gods, instead
Of giving what I pray’d for – power of deed –
A deedless sleep did on my lids distill,
For mean to work upon my friends their fill.
For whiles I slept there wak’d no mean to curb
Their headstrong wants; which he that did disturb
My rule in chief at all times, and was chief
To all the rest in counsel to their grief,
Knew well, and of my present absence took
His fit advantage, and their iron strook
At highest heat. For, feeling their desire
In his own entrails, to allay the fire
That famine blew in them, he thus gave way
To that affection: ‘Hear what I shall say,
Though words will staunch no hunger. Every death
To us poor wretches that draw temporal breath
You know is hateful; but, all know, to die
The death of famine is a misery
Past all death loathsome. Let us, therefore, take
The chief of this fair herd, and offerings make
To all the deathless that in broad heav’n live,
And in particular vow, if we arrive
In natural Ithaca, to straight erect
A temple to the haughty-in-aspect,
Rich and magnificent, and all within
Deck it with relics many and divine.
If yet he stands incens’d, since we have slain
His high-brow’d herd, and therefore will sustain
Desire to wrack our ship, he is but one,
And all the other gods that we atone
With our divine rites will their suffrage give
To our design’d return, and let us live.
If not, and all take part, I rather crave
To serve with one sole death the yawning wave,
Than in a desert island lie and starve,
And with one pin’d life many deaths observe.’
All cried ‘He counsels nobly,’ and all speed
Made to their resolute driving; for the feed
Of those coal-black, fair, broad-brow’d, sun-lov’d beeves
Had place close by our ships. They took the lives
Of sense, most eminent; about their fall
Stood round, and to the states celestial
Made solemn vows, but other rites their ship
Could not afford them; they did, therefore, strip
The curl’d-head oak of fresh young leaves, to make
Supply of service for their barley-cake.
And on the sacredly enflam’d, for wine,
Pour’d purest water, all the parts divine
Spitting and roasting, all the rites beside
Orderly using. Then did light divide
My low and upper lids; when, my repair
Made near my ship, I met the delicate air
Their roast exhal’d; out instantly I cried,
And said: ‘O Jove, and all ye deified,
Ye have oppress’d me with a cruel sleep,
While ye conferr’d on me a loss as deep
As death descends to. To themselves alone
My rude men left ungovern’d, they have done