Odyssey

"Arriv'd now at our ship, we launch'd, and set

Our mast up, put forth sail, and in did get

Our late-got cattle. Up our sails, we went,

My wayward fellows mourning now th' event.

A good companion yet, a foreright wind,

Circe (the excellent utt'rer of her mind)

Supplied our murmuring consorts with, that was

Both speed and guide to our adventurous pass.

All day our sails stood to the winds, and made

Our voyage prosp'rous. Sun then set, and shade

All ways obscuring, on the bounds we fell

Of deep Oceanus, where people dwell

Whom a perpetual cloud obscures outright,

To whom the cheerful sun lends never light,

Nor when he mounts the star-sustaining heaven,

Nor when he stoops earth, and sets up the even,

But night holds fix'd wings, feather'd all with banes,

Above those most unblest Cimmerians.

Here drew we up our ship, our sheep withdrew,

And walk'd the shore till we attain'd the view,

Of that sad region Circe had foreshow'd;

And then the sacred off'rings to be vow'd

Eurylochus and Persimedes bore.

When I my sword drew, and earth's womb did gore

Till I a pit digg'd of a cubit round,

Which with the liquid sacrifice we crown'd,

First honey mix'd with wine, then sweet wine neat,

Then water pour'd in, last the flour of wheat.

Much I importun'd then the weak-neck'd dead,

And vow'd, when I the barren soil should tread

Of clifty Ithaca, amidst my hall

To kill a heifer, my clear best of all,

And give in off'ring, on a pile compos'd

Of all the choice goods my whole house enclos'd.

And to Tiresias himself, alone,

A sheep coal-black, and the selectest one

Of all my flocks. When to the Pow'rs beneath,

The sacred nation that survive with death,

My pray'rs and vows had done devotions fit,

I took the off'rings, and upon the pit

Bereft their lives. Out gush'd the sable blood,

And round about me fled out of the flood

The souls of the deceas'd. There cluster'd then

Youths, and their wives, much-suff'ring aged men,

Soft tender virgins that but new came there

By timeless death, and green their sorrows were.

There men-at-arms, with armours all embrew'd,

Wounded with lances, and with faulchions hew'd,

In numbers, up and down the ditch, did stalk,

And threw unmeasur'd cries about their walk,

So horrid that a bloodless fear surpris'd

My daunted spirits. Straight then I advis'd

My friends to flay the slaughter'd sacrifice,

Put them in fire, and to the Deities,

Stern Pluto and Persephoné, apply

Exciteful pray'rs. Then drew I from my thigh

My well-edg'd sword, stept in, and firmly stood

Betwixt the prease of shadows and the blood,

And would not suffer anyone to dip

Within our off'ring his unsolid lip,

Before Tiresias that did all controul.

The first that press'd in was Elpenor's soul,

His body in the broad-way'd earth as yet

Unmourn'd, unburied by us, since we swet

With other urgent labours. Yet his smart

I wept to see, and rued it from my heart,

Enquiring how he could before me be

That came by ship? He, mourning, answer'd me:

'In Circe's house, the spite some spirit did bear,

And the unspeakable good liquor there,

Hath been my bane; for, being to descend

A ladder much in height, I did not tend

My way well down, but forwards made a proof

To tread the rounds, and from the very roof

Fell on my neck, and brake it; and this made

My soul thus visit this infernal shade.

And here, by them that next thyself are dear,

Thy wife, and father, that a little one

Gave food to thee, and by thy only son

At home behind thee left, Telemachus,

Do not depart by stealth, and leave me thus,

Unmourn'd, unburied, lest neglected I

Bring on thyself th' incenséd Deity.

I know that, sail'd from hence, thy ship must touch

On th' isle Ææa; where vouchsafe thus much,

Good king, that, landed, thou wilt instantly

Bestow on me thy royal memory

To this grace, that my body, arms and all,

May rest consum'd in fiery funeral;

And on the foamy shore a sepulchre

Erect to me, that after-times may hear

Of one so hapless. Let me these implore

And fix upon my sepulchre the oar

With which alive I shook the aged seas,

And had of friends the dear societies.'

I told the wretched soul I would fulfill

And execute to th' utmost point his will;

And, all the time we sadly talk'd, I still

My sword above the blood held, when aside

The idol of my friend still amplified

His plaint, as up and down the shades he err'd.

Then my deceaséd mother's soul appear'd,

Fair daughter of Autolycus the great,

Grave Anticlea, whom, when forth I set

For sacred Ilion, I had left alive.

Her sight much mov'd me, and to tears did drive

My note of her decease; and yet not she

(Though in my ruth she held the high'st degree)

Would I admit to touch the sacred blood,

Till from Tiresias I had understood

What Circe told me. At the length did land

Theban Tiresias' soul, and in his hand

Sustain'd a golden sceptre, knew me well,

And said: 'O man unhappy, why to hell

Admitt'st thou dark arrival, and the light

The sun gives leav'st, to have the horrid sight

Of this black region, and the shadows here?

Now sheathe thy sharp sword, and the pit forbear,

That I the blood may taste, and then relate

The truth of those acts that affect thy fate.'

I sheath'd my sword, and left the pit, till he,

The black blood tasting, thus instructed me:

'Renown'd Ulysses! All unask'd I know

That all the cause of thy arrival now

Is to enquire thy wish'd retreat for home;

Which hardly God will let thee overcome,

Since Neptune still will his opposure try,

With all his laid-up anger, for the eye

His lov'd son lost to thee. And yet through all

Thy suff'ring course (which must be capital)

If both thine own affections, and thy friends,

Thou wilt contain, when thy access ascends

The three-fork'd island, having 'scap'd the seas,

Where ye shall find fed on the flow'ry leas

Fat flocks, and oxen, which the Sun doth own,

To whom are all things as well heard as shown,

And never dare one head of those to slay,

But hold unharmful on your wishéd way,

Though through enough affliction, yet secure

Your Fates shall land ye; but presage says sure,

If once ye spoil them, spoil to all thy friends,

Spoil to thy fleet, and if the justice ends

Short of thyself, it shall be long before,

And that length forc'd out with inflictions store,

When, losing all thy fellows, in a sail

Of foreign built (when most thy Fates prevail

In thy deliv'rance) thus th' event shall sort:

Thou shalt find shipwrack raging in thy port,

Proud men thy goods consuming, and thy wife

Urging with gifts, give charge upon thy life.

But all these wrongs revenge shall end to thee,

And force, or cunning, set with slaughter free

The house of all thy spoilers. Yet again

Thou shalt a voyage make, and come to men

That know no sea, nor ships, nor oars that are

Wings to a ship, nor mix with any fare

Salt's savoury vapour. Where thou first shalt land,

This clear-giv'n sign shall let thee understand,

That there those men remain: Assume ashore

Up to thy royal shoulder a ship oar,

With which, when thou shalt meet one on the way

That will in country admiration say

What dost thou with that wan upon thy neck?

There fix that wan thy oar, and that shore deck

With sacred rites to Neptune; slaughter there

A ram, a bull, and (who for strength doth bear

The name of husband to a herd) a boar.

And, coming home, upon thy natural shore,

Give pious hecatombs to all the Gods,

Degrees observ'd. And then the periods

Of all thy labours in the peace shall end

Of easy death; which shall the less extend

His passion to thee, that thy foe, the Sea,

Shall not enforce it, but Death's victory

Shall chance in only-earnest-pray-vow'd age,

Obtain'd at home, quite emptied of his rage,

Thy subjects round about thee, rich and blest.

And here hath Truth summ'd up thy vital rest.'

I answer'd him: 'We will suppose all these

Decreed in Deity; let it likewise please

Tiresias to resolve me, why so near

The blood and me my mother's soul doth bear,

And yet nor word, nor look, vouchsafe her son?

Doth she not know me?' 'No,' said he, 'nor none

Of all these spirits, but myself alone,

Knows anything till he shall taste the blood.

But whomsoever you shall do that good,

He will the truth of all you wish unfold;

Who you envy it to will all withhold.'

Thus said the kingly soul, and made retreat

Amidst the inner parts of Pluto's seat,

When he had spoke thus by divine instinct.

Still I stood firm, till to the blood's precinct

My mother came, and drunk; and then she knew

I was her son, had passion to renew

Her natural plaints, which thus she did pursue:

'How is it, O my son, that you alive

This deadly-darksome region underdive?

'Twixt which, and earth, so many mighty seas,

And horrid currents, interpose their prease,

Oceanus in chief? Which none (unless

More help'd than you) on foot now can transgress.

A well-built ship he needs that ventures there.

Com'st thou from Troy but now, enforc'd to err

All this time with thy soldiers? Nor hast seen,

Ere this long day, thy country, and thy queen?'

I answer'd: 'That a necessary end

To this infernal state made me contend;

That from the wise Tiresias' Theban soul

I might an oracle involv'd unroll;

For I came nothing near Achaia yet,

Nor on our lov'd earth happy foot had set,

But, mishaps suff'ring, err'd from coast to coast,

Ever since first the mighty Grecian host

Divine Atrides led to Ilion,

And I his follower, to set war upon

The rapeful Trojans; and so pray'd she would

The fate of that ungentle death unfold,

That forc'd her thither; if some long disease,

Or that the spleen of her-that-arrows-please,

Diana, envious of most eminent dames,

Had made her th' object of her deadly aims?

My father's state and sons I sought, if they

Kept still my goods? Or they became the prey

Of any other, holding me no more

In pow'r of safe return? Or if my store

My wife had kept together with her son?

If she her first mind held, or had been won

By some chief Grecian from my love and bed?'

All this she answer'd: 'That affliction fed

On her blood still at home, and that to grief

She all the days and darkness of her life

In tears had consecrate. That none possest

My famous kingdom's throne, but th' interest

My son had in it still he held in peace,

A court kept like a prince, and his increase

Spent in his subjects' good, administ'ring laws

With justice, and the general applause

A king should merit, and all call'd him king.

My father kept the upland, labouring,

And shunn'd the city, us'd no sumptuous beds,

Wonder'd-at furnitures, nor wealthy weeds,

But in the winter strew'd about the fire

Lay with his slaves in ashes, his attire

Like to a beggar's; when the summer came,

And autumn all fruits ripen'd with his flame,

Where grape-charg'd vines made shadows most abound,

His couch with fall'n leaves made upon the ground,

And here lay he, his sorrow's fruitful state

Increasing as he faded for my fate;

And now the part of age that irksome is

Lay sadly on him. And that life of his

She led, and perish'd in; not slaughter'd by

The Dame that darts lov'd, and her archery;

Nor by disease invaded, vast and foul,

That wastes the body, and sends out the soul

With shame and horror; only in her moan,

For me and my life, she consum'd her own.'

She thus, when I had great desire to prove

My arms the circle where her soul did move.

Thrice prov'd I, thrice she vanish'd like a sleep,

Or fleeting shadow, which struck much more deep

The wounds my woes made, and made ask her why

She would my love to her embraces fly,

And not vouchsafe that ev'n in hell we might

Pay pious Nature her unalter'd right,

And give Vexation here her cruel fill?

Should not the Queen here, to augment the ill

Of ev'ry suff'rance, which her office is,

Enforce thy idol to afford me this?

'O son,' she answer'd, 'of the race of men

The most unhappy, our most equal Queen

Will mock no solid arms with empty shade,

Nor suffer empty shades again t' invade

Flesh, bones, and nerves; nor will defraud the fire

Of his last dues, that, soon as spirits expire

And leave the white bone, are his native right,

When, like a dream, the soul assumes her flight.

The light then of the living with most haste,

O son, contend to. This thy little taste

Of this state is enough; and all this life

Will make a tale fit to be told thy wife.'

This speech we had; when now repair'd to me

More female spirits, by Persephoné

Driv'n on before her. All th' heroës' wives,

And daughters, that led there their second lives,

About the black blood throng'd. Of whom yet more

My mind impell'd me to inquire, before

I let them all together taste the gore,

For then would all have been dispers'd, and gone

Thick as they came. I, therefore, one by one

Let taste the pit, my sword drawn from my thigh,

And stand betwixt them made, when, sev'rally,

All told their stocks. The first, that quench'd her fire,

Was Tyro, issued of a noble sire.

She said she sprung from pure Salmoneus' bed,

And Cretheus, son of Æolus, did wed;

Yet the divine flood Enipëus lov'd,

Who much the most fair stream of all floods mov'd.

Near whose streams Tyro walking, Neptune came,

Like Enipëus, and enjoy'd the dame.

Like to a hill, the blue and snaky flood

Above th' immortal and the mortal stood,

And hid them both, as both together lay,

Just where his current falls into the sea.

Her virgin waist dissolv'd, she slumber'd then;

But when the God had done the work of men,

Her fair hand gently wringing, thus he said:

'Woman! rejoice in our combinéd bed,

For when the year hath run his circle round

(Because the Gods' loves must in fruit abound)

My love shall make, to cheer thy teeming moans,

Thy one dear burden bear two famous sons;

Love well, and bring them up. Go home, and see

That, though of more joy yet I shall be free,

Thou dost not tell, to glorify thy birth;

Thy love is Neptune, shaker of the earth.'

This said, he plung'd into the sea; and she,

Begot with child by him, the light let see

Great Pelias, and Neleus, that became

In Jove's great ministry of mighty fame.

Pelias in broad Iolcus held his throne,

Wealthy in cattle; th' other royal son

Rul'd sandy Pylos. To these issue more

This queen of women to her husband bore,

Æson, and Pheres, and Amythaon

That for his fight on horseback stoop'd to none.

Next her, I saw admir'd Antiope,

Asopus' daughter, who (as much as she

Boasted attraction of great Neptune's love)

Boasted to slumber in the arms of Jove,

And two sons likewise at one burden bore

To that her all-controlling paramour,

Amphion, and fair Zethus; that first laid

Great Thebes' foundations, and strong walls convey'd

About her turrets, that seven ports enclos'd,

For though the Thebans much in strength repos'd,

Yet had not they the strength to hold their own,

Without the added aids of wood and stone.

Alcmena next I saw, that famous wife

Was to Amphitryo, and honour'd life

Gave to the lion-hearted Hercules,

That was of Jove's embrace the great increase.

I saw, besides, proud Creon's daughter there,

Bright Megara, that nuptial yoke did wear

With Jove's great son, who never field did try

But bore to him the flow'r of victory.

The mother then of Œdipus I saw,

Fair Epicasta, that, beyond all law,

Her own son married, ignorant of kind.

And he, as darkly taken in his mind,

His mother wedded, and his father slew.

Whose blind act Heav'n expos'd at length to view,

And he in all-lov'd Thebes the supreme state

With much moan manag'd, for the heavy fate

The Gods laid on him. She made violent flight

To Pluto's dark house from the loathéd light,

Beneath a steep beam strangled with a cord,

And left her son, in life, pains as abhorr'd

As all the Furies pour'd on her in hell.

Then saw I Chloris, that did so excell

In answering beauties, that each part had all.

Great Neleus married her, when gifts not small

Had won her favour, term'd by name of dow'r.

She was of all Amphion's seed the flow'r;

Amphion, call'd Iasides, that then

Rul'd strongly Myniæan Orchomen,

And now his daughter rul'd the Pylian throne,

Because her beauty's empire overshone.

She brought her wife-awed husband, Neleús,

Nestor much honour'd, Periclymenus,

And Chromius, sons with sov'reign virtues grac'd;

But after brought a daughter that surpass'd,

Rare-beautied Pero, so for form exact

That Nature to a miracle was rack'd

In her perfections, blaz'd with th' eyes of men;

That made of all the country's hearts a chain,

And drew them suitors to her. Which her sire

Took vantage of, and, since he did aspire

To nothing more than to the broad-brow'd herd

Of oxen, which the common fame so rear'd,

Own'd by Iphiclus, not a man should be

His Pero's husband, that from Phylace

Those never-yet-driv'n oxen could not drive.

Yet these a strong hope held him to achieve,

Because a prophet, that had never err'd,

Had said, that only he should be preferr'd

To their possession. But the equal fate

Of God withstood his stealth; inextricate

Imprisoning bands, and sturdy churlish swains

That were the herdsmen, who withheld with chains

The stealth-attempter; which was only he

That durst abet the act with prophecy,

None else would undertake it, and he must;

The king would needs a prophet should be just.

But when some days and months expired were,

And all the hours had brought about the year,

The prophet did so satisfy the king

(Iphiclus, all his cunning questioning)

That he enfranchis'd him; and, all worst done,

Jove's counsel made th' all-safe conclusión.

Then saw I Leda, link'd in nuptial chain

With Tyndarus, to whom she did sustain

Sons much renown'd for wisdom; Castor one,

That pass'd for use of horse comparison;

And Pollux, that excell'd in whirlbat fight;

Both these the fruitful earth bore, while the light

Of life inspir'd them; after which, they found

Such grace with Jove, that both liv'd under ground,

By change of days; life still did one sustain,

While th' other died; the dead then liv'd again,

The living dying; both of one self date

Their lives and deaths made by the Gods and Fate.

Iphimedia after Leda came,

That did derive from Neptune too the name

Of father to two admirable sons.

Life yet made short their admiratións,

Who God-opposéd Otus had to name,

And Ephialtes far in sound of fame.

The prodigal earth so fed them, that they grew

To most huge stature, and had fairest hue

Of all men, but Orion, under heav'n.

At nine years old nine cubits they were driv'n

Abroad in breadth, and sprung nine fathoms high.

They threaten'd to give battle to the sky,

And all th' Immortals. They were setting on

Ossa upon Olympus, and upon

Steep Ossa leavy Pelius, that ev'n

They might a highway make with lofty heav'n;

And had perhaps perform'd it, had they liv'd

Till they were striplings; but Jove's son depriv'd

Their limbs of life, before th' age that begins

The flow'r of youth, and should adorn their chins.

Phædra and Procris, with wise Minos' flame,

Bright Ariadne, to the off'ring came.

Whom whilome Theseus made his prise from Crete,

That Athens' sacred soil might kiss her feet,

But never could obtain her virgin flow'r,

Till, in the sea-girt Dia, Dian's pow'r

Detain'd his homeward haste, where (in her fane,

By Bacchus witness'd) was the fatal wane

Of her prime glory, Mæra, Clymene,

I witness'd there; and loath'd Eriphyle,

That honour'd gold more than she lov'd her spouse.

But, all th' heroesses in Pluto's house

That then encounter'd me, exceeds my might

To name or number, and ambrosian night

Would quite be spent, when now the formal hours

Present to sleep our all disposéd pow'rs,

If at my ship, or here. My home-made vow

I leave for fit grace to the Gods and you."

This said; the silence his discourse had made

With pleasure held still through the house's shade,

When white-arm'd Areté this speech began:

"Phæacians! How appears to you this man,

So goodly person'd, and so match'd with mind?

My guest he is, but all you stand combin'd

In the renown he doth us. Do not then

With careless haste dismiss him, nor the main

Of his dispatch to one so needy maim,

The Gods' free bounty gives us all just claim

To goods enow." This speech, the oldest man

Of any other Phæacensian,

The grave heroë, Echinëus, gave

All approbation, saying: "Friends! ye have

The motion of the wise queen in such words

As have not miss'd the mark, with which accords

My clear opinion. But Alcinous,

In word and work, must be our rule." He thus;

And then Alcinous said: "This then must stand,

If while I live I rule in the command

Of this well-skill'd-in-navigation state:

Endure then, guest, though most importunate

Be your affects for home. A little stay

If your expectance bear, perhaps it may

Our gifts make more complete. The cares of all

Your due deduction asks; but principal

I am therein the ruler." He replied:

"Alcinous, the most duly glorified

With rule of all of all men, if you lay

Commandment on me of a whole year's stay,

So all the while your preparations rise,

As well in gifts as time, ye can devise

No better wish for me; for I shall come

Much fuller-handed, and more honoured, home,

And dearer to my people, in whose loves

The richer evermore the better proves."

He answer'd: "There is argued in your sight

A worth that works not men for benefit,

Like prollers or impostors; of which crew,

The gentle black earth feeds not up a few,

Here and there wand'rers, blanching tales and lies,

Of neither praise, nor use. You move our eyes

With form, our minds with matter, and our ears

With elegant oration, such as bears

A music in the order'd history

It lays before us. Not Demodocus

With sweeter strains hath us'd to sing to us

All the Greek sorrows, wept out in your own.

But say: Of all your worthy friends, were none

Objected to your eyes that consorts were

To Ilion with you, and serv'd destiny there?

This night is passing long, unmeasur'd, none

Of all my household would to bed yet; on,

Relate these wondrous things. Were I with you,

If you would tell me but your woes, as now,

Till the divine Aurora show'd her head,

I should in no night relish thought of bed."

"Most eminent king," said he, "times all must keep,

There's time to speak much, time as much to sleep.

But would you hear still, I will tell you still,

And utter more, more miserable ill

Of friends than yet, that scap'd the dismal wars,

And perish'd homewards, and in household jars

Wag'd by a wicked woman. The chaste Queen

No sooner made these lady ghosts unseen,

Here and there flitting, but mine eyesight won

The soul of Agamemnon, Atreus' son,

Sad, and about him all his train of friends,

That in Ægisthus' house endur'd their ends

With his stern fortune. Having drunk the blood,

He knew me instantly, and forth a flood

Of springing tears gush'd; out he thrust his hands,

With will t' embrace me, but their old commands

Flow'd not about him, nor their weakest part.

I wept to see, and moan'd him from my heart,

And ask'd: 'O Agamemnon! King of men!

What sort of cruel death hath render'd slain

Thy royal person? Neptune in thy fleet

Heav'n and his hellish billows making meet,

Rousing the winds? Or have thy men by land

Done thee this ill, for using thy command,

Past their consents, in diminution

Of those full shares their worths by lot had won

Of sheep or oxen? Or of any town,

In covetous strife, to make their rights thine own

In men or women prisoners?' He replied:

'By none of these in any right I died,

But by Ægisthus and my murd'rous wife

(Bid to a banquet at his house) my life

Hath thus been reft me, to my slaughter led

Like to an ox pretended to be fed.

So miserably fell I, and with me

My friends lay massacred, as when you see

At any rich man's nuptials, shot, or feast,

About his kitchen white-tooth'd swine lie drest.

The slaughters of a world of men thine eyes,

Both private, and in prease of enemies,

Have personally witness'd; but this one

Would all thy parts have broken into moan,

To see how strew'd about our cups and cates,

As tables set with feast, so we with fates,

All gash'd and slain lay, all the floor embrued

With blood and brain. But that which most I rued,

Flew from the heavy voice that Priam's seed,

Cassandra, breath'd, whom, she that wit doth feed

With baneful crafts, false Clytemnestra, slew,

Close sitting by me; up my hands I threw

From earth to heav'n, and tumbling on my sword

Gave wretched life up; when the most abhorr'd,

By all her sex's shame, forsook the room,

Nor deign'd, though then so near this heavy home,

To shut my lips, or close my broken eyes.

Nothing so heap'd is with impieties,

As such a woman that would kill her spouse

That married her a maid. When to my house

I brought her, hoping of her love in heart,

To children, maids, and slaves. But she (in th' art

Of only mischief hearty) not alone

Cast on herself this foul aspersión,

But loving dames, hereafter, to their lords

Will bear, for good deeds, her bad thoughts and words.'

'Alas,' said I, 'that Jove should hate the lives

Of Atreus' seed so highly for their wives!

For Menelaus' wife a number fell,

For dang'rous absence thine sent thee to hell.'

'For this,' he answer'd, 'be not thou more kind

Than wise to thy wife. Never all thy mind

Let words express to her. Of all she knows,

Curbs for the worst still, in thyself repose.

But thou by thy wife's wiles shalt lose no blood,

Exceeding wise she is, and wise in good.

Icarius' daughter, chaste Penelope,

We left a young bride, when for battle we

Forsook the nuptial peace, and at her breast

Her first child sucking, who, by this hour, blest,

Sits in the number of surviving men.

And his bliss she hath, that she can contain,

And her bliss thou hast, that she is so wise.

For, by her wisdom, thy returnéd eyes

Shall see thy son, and he shall greet his sire

With fitting welcomes; when in my retire,

My wife denies mine eyes my son's dear sight,

And, as from me, will take from him the light,

Before she adds one just delight to life,

Or her false wit one truth that fits a wife.

For her sake therefore let my harms advise,

That though thy wife be ne'er so chaste and wise,

Yet come not home to her in open view,

With any ship or any personal show,

But take close shore disguis'd, nor let her know,

For 'tis no world to trust a woman now.

But what says Fame? Doth my son yet survive,

In Orchomen, or Pylos? Or doth live

In Sparta with his uncle? Yet I see

Divine Orestes is not here with me.'

I answer'd, asking: 'Why doth Atreus' son

Enquire of me, who yet arriv'd where none

Could give to these news any certain wings?

And 'tis absurd to tell uncertain things.'

Such sad speech past us; and as thus we stood,

With kind tears rend'ring unkind fortunes good,

Achilles' and Patroclus' soul appear'd,

And his soul, of whom never ill was heard,

The good Antilochus, and the soul of him

That all the Greeks past both for force and limb,

Excepting the unmatch'd Æacides,

Illustrious Ajax. But the first of these

That saw, acknowledg'd, and saluted me,

Was Thetis' conqu'ring son, who (heavily

His state here taking) said: 'Unworthy breath!

What act yet mightier imagineth

Thy vent'rous spirit? How dost thou descend

These under-regions, where the dead man's end

Is to be look'd on, and his foolish shade?'

I answer'd him: 'I was induc'd t' invade

These under-parts, most excellent of Greece,

To visit wise Tiresias, for advice

Of virtue to direct my voyage home

To rugged Ithaca; since I could come

To note in no place, where Achaia stood,

And so liv'd ever, tortur'd with the blood

In man's vain veins. Thou, therefore, Thetis' son,

Hast equall'd all, that ever yet have won

The bliss the earth yields, or hereafter shall.

In life thy eminence was ador'd of all,

Ev'n with the Gods; and now, ev'n dead, I see

Thy virtues propagate thy empery

To a renew'd life of command beneath;

So great Achilles triumphs over death.'

This comfort of him this encounter found;

'Urge not my death to me, nor rub that wound,

I rather wish to live in earth a swain,

Or serve a swain for hire, that scarce can gain

Bread to sustain him, than, that life once gone,

Of all the dead sway the imperial throne.

But say, and of my son some comfort yield,

If he goes on in first fights of the field,

Or lurks for safety in the obscure rear?

Or of my father if thy royal ear

Hath been advertis'd, that the Phthian throne

He still commands, as greatest Myrmidon?

Or that the Phthian and Thessalian rage

(Now feet and hands are in the hold of age)

Despise his empire? Under those bright rays,

In which heav'n's fervour hurls about the days.

Must I no more shine his revenger now,

Such as of old the Ilion overthrow

Witness'd my anger, th' universal host

Sending before me to this shady coast,

In fight for Grecia. Could I now resort,

(But for some small time) to my father's court,

In spirit and pow'r as then, those men should find

My hands inaccessible, and of fire my mind,

That durst with all the numbers they are strong

Unseat his honour, and suborn his wrong.'

This pitch still flew his spirit, though so low,

And this I answer'd thus: 'I do not know

Of blameless Peleus any least report,

But of your son, in all the utmost sort,

I can inform your care with truth, and thus:

From Scyros princely Neoptolemus

By fleet I convey'd to the Greeks, where he

Was chief, at both parts, when our gravity

Retir'd to council, and our youth to fight.

In council still so fiery was Conceit

In his quick apprehension of a cause,

That first he ever spake, nor pass'd the laws

Of any great stay, in his greatest haste.

None would contend with him, that counsell'd last,

Unless illustrious Nestor, he and I

Would sometimes put a friendly contrary

On his opinion. In our fights, the prease

Of great or common, he would never cease,

But far before fight ever. No man there,

For force, he forcéd. He was slaughterer

Of many a brave man in most dreadful fight.

But one and other whom he reft of light,

In Grecian succour, I can neither name,

Nor give in number. The particular fame

Of one man's slaughter yet I must not pass;

Eurypylus Telephides he was,

That fell beneath him, and with him the falls

Of such huge men went, that they show'd like whales

Rampir'd about him. Neoptolemus

Set him so sharply, for the sumptuous

Favours of mistresses he saw him wear;

For past all doubt his beauties had no peer

Of all that mine eyes noted, next to one,

And that was Memnon, Tithon's Sun-like son.

Thus far, for fight in public, may a taste

Give of his eminence. How far surpast

His spirit in private, where he was not seen,

Nor glory could be said to praise his spleen,

This close note I excerpted. When we sat

Hid in Epëus' horse, no optimate

Of all the Greeks there had the charge to ope

And shut the stratagem but I. My scope

To note then each man's spirit in a strait

Of so much danger, much the better might

Be hit by me, than others, as, provok'd,

I shifted place still, when, in some I smok'd

Both privy tremblings, and close vent of tears,

In him yet not a soft conceit of theirs

Could all my search see, either his wet eyes

Ply'd still with wipings, or the goodly guise,

His person all ways put forth, in least part,

By any tremblings, show'd his touch'd-at heart.

But ever he was urging me to make

Way to their sally, by his sign to shake

His sword hid in his scabbard, or his lance

Loaded with iron, at me. No good chance

His thoughts to Troy intended. In th' event,

High Troy depopulate, he made ascent

To his fair ship, with prise and treasure store,

Safe, and no touch away with him he bore

Of far-off-hurl'd lance, or of close-fought sword,

Whose wounds for favours war doth oft afford,

Which he (though sought) miss'd in war's closest wage.

In close fights Mars doth never fight, but rage.'

This made the soul of swift Achilles tread

A march of glory through the herby mead,

For joy to hear me so renown his son;

And vanish'd stalking. But with passión

Stood th' other souls struck, and each told his bane.

Only the spirit Telamonian

Kept far off, angry for the victory

I won from him at fleet; though arbitry

Of all a court of war pronounc'd it mine,

And Pallas' self. Our prise were th' arms divine

Of great Æacides, proposd t' our fames

By his bright Mother, at his funeral games.

I wish to heav'n I ought not to have won;

Since for those arms so high a head so soon

The base earth cover'd, Ajax, that of all

The host of Greece had person capital,

And acts as eminent, excepting his

Whose arms those were, in whom was nought amiss.

I tried the great soul with soft words, and said:

'Ajax! Great son of Telamon, array'd

In all our glories! What! not dead resign

Thy wrath for those curst arms? The Pow'rs divine

In them forg'd all our banes, in thine own one,

In thy grave fall our tower was overthrown.

We mourn, for ever maim'd, for thee as much

As for Achilles; nor thy wrong doth touch,

In sentence, any but Saturnius' doom;

In whose hate was the host of Greece become

A very horror; who express'd it well

In signing thy fate with this timeless hell.

Approach then, king of all the Grecian merit,

Repress thy great mind and thy flamy spirit,

And give the words I give thee worthy ear.'

All this no word drew from him, but less near

The stern soul kept; to other souls he fled,

And glid along the river of the dead.

Though anger mov'd him, yet he might have spoke,

Since I to him. But my desires were strook

With sight of other souls. And then I saw

Minos, that minister'd to Death a law,

And Jove's bright son was. He was set, and sway'd

A golden sceptre; and to him did plead

A sort of others, set about his throne,

In Pluto's wide-door'd house; when straight came on

Mighty Orion, who was hunting there

The herds of those beasts he had slaughter'd here

In desert hills on earth. A club he bore,

Entirely steel, whose virtues never wore.

Tityus I saw, to whom the glorious earth

Open'd her womb, and gave unhappy birth.

Upwards, and flat upon the pavement, lay

His ample limbs, that spread in their display

Nine acres' compass. On his bosom sat

Two vultures, digging, through his caul of fat,

Into his liver with their crookéd beaks;

And each by turns the concrete entrail breaks

(As smiths their steel beat) set on either side.

Nor doth he ever labour to divide

His liver and their beaks, nor with his hand

Offer them off, but suffers by command

Of th' angry Thund'rer, off'ring to enforce

His love Latona, in the close recourse

She us'd to Pytho through the dancing land,

Smooth Panopëus. I saw likewise stand,

Up to the chin, amidst a liquid lake,

Tormented Tantalus, yet could not slake

His burning thirst. Oft as his scornful cup

Th' old man would taste, so oft 'twas swallow'd up,

And all the black earth to his feet descried,

Divine pow'r (plaguing him) the lake still dried.

About his head, on high trees, clust'ring, hung

Pears, apples, granates, olives ever-young,

Delicious figs, and many fruit-trees more

Of other burden; whose alluring store

When th' old soul striv'd to pluck, the winds from sight,

In gloomy vapours, made them vanish quite.

There saw I Sisyphus in infinite moan,

With both hands heaving up a massy stone,

And on his tip-toes racking all his height,

To wrest up to a mountain-top his freight;

When prest to rest it there, his nerves quite spent,

Down rush'd the deadly quarry, the event

Of all his torture new to raise again;

To which straight set his never-rested pain.

The sweat came gushing out from ev'ry pore

And on his head a standing mist he wore,

Reeking from thence, as if a cloud of dust

Were rais'd about it. Down with these was thrust

The idol of the force of Hercules,

But his firm self did no such fate oppress,

He feasting lives amongst th' Immortal States,

White-ankled Hebe and himself made mates

In heav'nly nuptials. Hebe, Jove's dear race,

And Juno's whom the golden sandals grace.

About him flew the clamours of the dead

Like fowls, and still stoop'd cuffing at his head.

He with his bow, like Night, stalk'd up and down,

His shaft still nock'd, and hurling round his frown

At those vex'd hov'rers, aiming at them still,

And still, as shooting out, desire to still.

A horrid bawdrick wore he thwart his breast,

The thong all-gold, in which were forms imprest,

Where art and miracle drew equal breaths,

In bears, boars, lions, battles, combats, deaths,

Who wrought that work did never such before,

Nor so divinely will do ever more.

Soon as he saw, he knew me, and gave speech:

'Son of Laertes, high in wisdom's reach,

And yet unhappy wretch, for in this heart,

Of all exploits achiev'd by thy desert,

Thy worth but works out some sinister fate,

As I in earth did. I was generate

By Jove himself, and yet past mean opprest

By one my far inferior, whose proud hest

Impos'd abhorréd labours on my hand.

Of all which one was, to descend this strand,

And hale the dog from thence. He could not think

An act that danger could make deeper sink.

And yet this depth I drew, and fetch'd as high,

As this was low, the dog. The Deity

Of sleight and wisdom, as of downright pow'r,

Both stoop'd, and rais'd, and made me conqueror.'

This said, he made descent again as low

As Pluto's court; when I stood firm, for show

Of more heroës of the times before,

And might perhaps have seen my wish of more,

(As Theseus and Pirithous, deriv'd

From roots of Deity) but before th' achiev'd

Rare sight of these, the rank-soul'd multitude

In infinite flocks rose, venting sounds so rude,

That pale Fear took me, lest the Gorgon's head

Rush'd in amongst them, thrust up, in my dread,

By grim Persephoné. I therefore sent

My men before to ship, and after went.

Where, boarded, set, and launch'd, the ocean wave

Our oars and forewinds speedy passage gave.