# The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer (Cowper)/Volume 2/The Odyssey/Book XII

ARGUMENT
OF THE
TWELFTH BOOK.
Ulysses, pursuing his narrative, relates his return from the shades to Circe's island, the precautions given him by that Goddess, his escape from the Sirens, and from Scylla and Charybdis; his arrival in Sicily, where his companions, having slain and eaten the oxen of the Sun, are afterward shipwrecked and lost; and concludes the whole with an account of his arrival, alone, on the mast of his vessel, at the island of Calypso.
BOOK XII.
And now, borne seaward from the river-stream Of the Oceanus, we plow'd again The spacious Deep, and reach'd th' Ææan isle, Where, daughter of the dawn, Aurora takes Her choral sports, and whence the sun ascends. 5 We, there arriving, thrust our bark aground On the smooth beach, then landed, and on shore Reposed, expectant of the sacred dawn. But soon as day-spring's daughter rosy-palm'd Look'd forth again, sending my friends before, 10 I bade them bring Elpenor's body down
From the abode of Circe to the beach. Then, on the utmost headland of the coast We timber fell'd, and, sorrowing o'er the dead, His fun'ral rites water'd with tears profuse. 15 The dead consumed, and with the dead his arms, We heap'd his tomb, and the sepulchral post Erecting, fix'd his shapely oar aloft. Thus, punctual, we perform'd; nor our return From Ades knew not Circe, but attired 20 In haste, ere long arrived, with whom appear'd Her female train with plenteous viands charged, And bright wine rosy-red. Amidst us all Standing, the beauteous Goddess thus began. Ah miserable! who have sought the shades 25 Alive! while others of the human race Die only once, appointed twice to die! Come—take ye food; drink wine; and on the shore All day regale, for ye shall hence again At day-spring o'er the Deep; but I will mark 30 Myself your future course, nor uninform'd Leave you in aught, lest, through some dire mistake, By sea or land new mis'ries ye incur. The Goddess spake, whose invitation kind We glad accepted; thus we feasting sat 35 Till set of sun, and quaffing richest wine; But when the sun went down and darkness fell, My crew beside the hawsers slept, while me The Goddess by the hand leading apart,
First bade me sit, then, seated opposite, 40 Enquired, minute, of all that I had seen, And I, from first to last, recounted all. Then, thus the awful Goddess in return. Thus far thy toils are finish'd. Now attend! Mark well my words, of which the Gods will sure 45 Themselves remind thee in the needful hour. First shalt thou reach the Sirens; they the hearts Enchant of all who on their coast arrive. The wretch, who unforewarn'd approaching, hears The Sirens' voice, his wife and little-ones 50 Ne'er fly to gratulate his glad return, But him the Sirens sitting in the meads Charm with mellifluous song, while all around The bones accumulated lie of men Now putrid, and the skins mould'ring away. 55 But, pass them thou, and, lest thy people hear Those warblings, ere thou yet approach, fill all Their ears with wax moulded between thy palms; But as for thee—thou hear them if thou wilt. Yet let thy people bind thee to the mast 60 Erect, encompassing thy feet and arms With cordage well-secured to the mast-foot, So shalt thou, raptur'd, hear the Sirens' song. But if thou supplicate to be released, Or give such order, then, with added cords 65 Let thy companions bind thee still the more. When thus thy people shall have safely pass'd
The Sirens by, think not from me to learn What course thou next shalt steer; two will occur; Delib'rate chuse; I shall describe them both. 70 Here vaulted rocks impend, dash'd by the waves Immense of Amphitrite azure-eyed; The blessed Gods those rocks, Erratic, call. Birds cannot pass them safe; no, not the doves Which his ambrosia bear to Father Jove, 75 But even of those doves the slipp'ry rock Proves fatal still to one, for which the God Supplies another, lest the number fail. No ship, what ship soever there arrives, Escapes them, but both mariners and planks 80 Whelm'd under billows of the Deep, or, caught By fiery tempests, sudden disappear. Those rocks the billow-cleaving bark alone The Argo, further'd by the vows of all, Pass'd safely, sailing from Ææta's isle; 85 Nor she had pass'd, but surely dash'd had been On those huge rocks, but that, propitious still To Jason, Juno sped her safe along. These rocks are two; one lifts his summit sharp High as the spacious heav'ns, wrapt in dun clouds 90 Perpetual, which nor autumn sees dispers'd Nor summer, for the sun shines never there; No mortal man might climb it or descend, Though twice ten hands and twice ten feet he own'd, For it is levigated as by art. 95
Down scoop'd to Erebus, a cavern drear Yawns in the centre of its western side; Pass it, renown'd Ulysses! but aloof So far, that a keen arrow smartly sent Forth from thy bark should fail to reach the cave. 100 There Scylla dwells, and thence her howl is heard Tremendous; shrill her voice is as the note Of hound new-whelp'd, but hideous her aspect, Such as no mortal man, nor ev'n a God Encount'ring her, should with delight survey. 105 Her feet are twelve, all fore-feet; six her necks Of hideous length, each clubb'd into a head Terrific, and each head with fangs is arm'd In triple row, thick planted, stored with death. Plunged to her middle in the hollow den 110 She lurks, protruding from the black abyss Her heads, with which the rav'ning monster dives In quest of dolphins, dog-fish, or of prey More bulky, such as in the roaring gulphs Of Amphitrite without end abounds. 115 It is no seaman's boast that e'er he slipp'd Her cavern by, unharm'd. In ev'ry mouth She bears upcaught a mariner away. The other rock, Ulysses, thou shalt find Humbler, a bow-shot only from the first; 120 On this a wild fig grows broad-leav'd, and here Charybdis dire ingulphs the sable flood. Each day she thrice disgorges, and each day
Thrice swallows it. Ah! well forewarn'd, beware What time she swallows, that thou come not nigh, 125 For not himself, Neptune, could snatch thee thence. Close passing Scylla's rock, shoot swift thy bark Beyond it, since the loss of six alone Is better far than shipwreck made of all. So Circe spake, to whom I thus replied. 130 Tell me, O Goddess, next, and tell me true! If, chance, from fell Charybdis I escape, May I not also save from Scylla's force My people; should the monster threaten them? I said, and quick the Goddess in return. 135 Unhappy! can exploits and toils of war Still please thee? yield'st not to the Gods themselves? She is no mortal, but a deathless pest, Impracticable, savage, battle-proof. Defence is vain; flight is thy sole resource. 140 For should'st thou linger putting on thy arms Beside the rock, beware, lest darting forth Her num'rous heads, she seize with ev'ry mouth A Greecian, and with others, even thee. Pass therefore swift, and passing, loud invoke 145 Cratais, mother of this plague of man, Who will forbid her to assail thee more. Thou, next, shalt reach Thrinacia; there, the beeves And fatted flocks graze num'rous of the Sun; Sev'n herds; as many flocks of snowy fleece; 150 Fifty in each; they breed not, neither die,
Nor are they kept by less than Goddesses, Lampetia fair, and Phäethusa, both By nymph Neæra to Hyperion borne. Them, soon as she had train'd them to an age 155 Proportion'd to that charge, their mother sent Into Thrinacia, there to dwell and keep Inviolate their father's flocks and herds. If, anxious for a safe return, thou spare Those herds and flocks, though after much endured, 160 Ye may at last your Ithaca regain; But should'st thou violate them, I foretell Destruction of thy ship and of thy crew, And though thyself escape, thou shalt return Late, in ill plight, and all thy friends destroy'd. 165 She ended, and the golden morning dawn'd. Then, all-divine, her graceful steps she turn'd Back through the isle, and, at the beach arrived, I summon'd all my followers to ascend The bark again, and cast the hawsers loose. 170 They, at my voice, embarking, fill'd in ranks The seats, and rowing, thresh'd the hoary flood. And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine, Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze, Pleasant companion of our course, and we 175 (The decks and benches clear'd) untoiling sat, While managed gales sped swift the bark along. Then, with dejected heart, thus I began.
Oh friends! (for it is needful that not one Or two alone the admonition hear 180 Of Circe, beauteous prophetess divine) To all I speak, that whether we escape Or perish, all may be, at least, forewarn'd. She bids us, first, avoid the dang'rous song Of the sweet Sirens and their flow'ry meads. 185 Me only she permits those strains to hear; But ye shall bind me with coercion strong Of cordage well-secured to the mast-foot, And by no struggles to be loos'd of mine. But should I supplicate to be released 190 Or give such order, then, with added cords Be it your part to bind me still the more. Thus with distinct precaution I prepared My people; rapid in her course, meantime, My gallant bark approach'd the Sirens' isle, 195 For brisk and favourable blew the wind. Then fell the wind suddenly, and serene A breathless calm ensued, while all around The billows slumber'd, lull'd by pow'r divine. Up-sprang my people, and the folded sails 200 Bestowing in the hold, sat to their oars, Which with their polish'd blades whiten'd the Deep. I, then, with edge of steel sev'ring minute A waxen cake, chafed it and moulded it Between my palms; ere long the ductile mass 205 Grew warm, obedient to that ceaseless force,
And to Hyperion's all-pervading beams. With that soft liniment I fill'd the ears Of my companions, man by man, and they My feet and arms with strong coercion bound 210 Of cordage to the mast-foot well secured. Then down they sat, and, rowing, thresh'd the brine. But when with rapid course we had arrived Within such distance as a voice may reach, Not unperceived by them the gliding bark 215 Approach'd, and, thus, harmonious they began. Ulysses, Chief by ev'ry tongue extoll'd, Achaia's boast, oh hither steer thy bark! Here stay thy course, and listen to our lay! These shores none passes in his sable ship 220 Till, first, the warblings of our voice he hear, Then, happier hence and wiser he departs. All that the Greeks endured, and all the ills Inflicted by the Gods on Troy, we know, Know all that passes on the boundless earth. 225 So they with voices sweet their music poured Melodious on my ear, winning with ease My heart's desire to listen, and by signs I bade my people, instant, set me free. But they incumbent row'd, and from their seats 230 Eurylochus and Perimedes sprang With added cords to bind me still the more. This danger past, and when the Sirens' voice, Now left remote, had lost its pow'r to charm,
Then, my companions freeing from the wax 235 Their ears, deliver'd me from my restraint. The island left afar, soon I discern'd Huge waves, and smoke, and horrid thund'rings heard. All sat aghast; forth flew at once the oars From ev'ry hand, and with a clash the waves 240 Smote all together; check'd, the galley stood, By billow-sweeping oars no longer urged, And I, throughout the bark, man after man Encouraged all, addressing thus my crew. We meet not, now, my friends, our first distress. 245 This evil is not greater than we found When the huge Cyclops in his hollow den Imprison'd us, yet even thence we 'scaped, My intrepidity and fertile thought Opening the way; and we shall recollect 250 These dangers also, in due time, with joy. Come, then—pursue my counsel. Ye your seats Still occupying, smite the furrow'd flood With well-timed strokes, that by the will of Jove We may escape, perchance, this death, secure. 255 To thee the pilot thus I speak, (my words Mark thou, for at thy touch the rudder moves) This smoke, and these tumultuous waves avoid; Steer wide of both; yet with an eye intent On yonder rock, lest unaware thou hold 260 Too near a course, and plunge us into harm.
So I; with whose advice all, quick, complied. But Scylla I as yet named not, (that woe Without a cure) lest, terrified, my crew Should all renounce their oars, and crowd below. 265 Just then, forgetful of the strict command Of Circe not to arm, I cloath'd me all In radiant armour, grasp'd two quiv'ring spears, And to the deck ascended at the prow, Expecting earliest notice there, what time 270 The rock-bred Scylla should annoy my friends. But I discern'd her not, nor could, although To weariness of sight the dusky rock I vigilant explored. Thus, many a groan Heaving, we navigated sad the streight, 275 For here stood Scylla, while Charybdis there With hoarse throat deep absorb'd the briny flood. Oft as she vomited the deluge forth, Like water cauldron'd o'er a furious fire The whirling Deep all murmur'd, and the spray 280 On both those rocky summits fell in show'rs. But when she suck'd the salt wave down again, Then, all the pool appear'd wheeling about Within, the rock rebellow'd, and the sea Drawn off into that gulph disclosed to view 285 The oozy bottom. Us pale horror seized. Thus, dreading death, with fast-set eyes we watch'd Charybdis; meantime, Scylla from the bark Caught six away, the bravest of my friends.
With eyes, that moment, on my ship and crew 290 Retorted, I beheld the legs and arms Of those whom she uplifted in the air; On me they call'd, my name, the last, last time Pronouncing then, in agony of heart. As when from some bold point among the rocks 295 The angler, with his taper rod in hand, Casts forth his bait to snare the smaller fry, He swings away remote his guarded line, Then jerks his gasping prey forth from the Deep, So Scylla them raised gasping to the rock, 300 And at her cavern's mouth devour'd them loud- Shrieking, and stretching forth to me their arms In sign of hopeless mis'ry. Ne'er beheld These eyes in all the seas that I have roam'd, A sight so piteous, nor in all my toils. 305 From Scylla and Charybdis dire escaped, We reach'd the noble island of the Sun Ere long, where bright Hyperion's beauteous herds Broad-fronted grazed, and his well-batten'd flocks. I, in the bark and on the sea, the voice 310 Of oxen bellowing in hovels heard, And of loud-bleating sheep; then dropp'd the word Into my memory of the sightless Seer, Theban Tiresias, and the caution strict Of Circe, my Ææan monitress, 315
Who with such force had caution'd me to avoid The island of the Sun, joy of mankind. Thus then to my companions, sad, I spake. Hear ye, my friends! although long time distress'd, The words prophetic of the Theban seer 320 And of Ææan Circe, whose advice Was oft repeated to me to avoid This island of the Sun, joy of mankind. There, said the Goddess, dread your heaviest woes, Pass the isle, therefore, scudding swift away. 325 I ceased; they me with consternation heard, And harshly thus Eurylochus replied. Ulysses, ruthless Chief! no toils impair Thy strength, of senseless iron thou art form'd, Who thy companions weary and o'erwatch'd 330 Forbidd'st to disembark on this fair isle, Where now, at last, we might with ease regale. Thou, rash, command'st us, leaving it afar, To roam all night the Ocean's dreary waste; But winds to ships injurious spring by night, 335 And how shall we escape a dreadful death If, chance, a sudden gust from South arise Or stormy West, that dash in pieces oft The vessel, even in the Gods' despight? Prepare we rather now, as night enjoins, 340 Our evening fare beside the sable bark, In which at peep of day we may again Launch forth secure into the boundless flood.
He ceas'd, whom all applauded. Then I knew That sorrow by the will of adverse heav'n 345 Approach'd, and in wing'd accents thus replied. I suffer force, Eurylochus! and yield O'er-ruled by numbers. Come, then, swear ye all A solemn oath, that should we find an herd Or num'rous flock, none here shall either sheep 350 Or bullock slay, by appetite profane Seduced, but shall the viands eat content Which from immortal Circe we received. I spake; they readily a solemn oath Sware all, and when their oath was fully sworn, 355 Within a creek where a fresh fountain rose They moor'd the bark, and, issuing, began Brisk preparation of their evening cheer. But when nor hunger now nor thirst remain'd Unsated, recollecting, then, their friends 360 By Scylla seized and at her cave devour'd, They mourn'd, nor ceased to mourn them, till they slept. The night's third portion come, when now the stars Had travers'd the mid-sky, cloud-gath'rer Jove Call'd forth a vehement wind with tempest charged, 365 Menacing earth and sea with pitchy clouds Tremendous, and the night fell dark from heav'n. But when Aurora, daughter of the day, Look'd rosy forth, we haled, drawn inland more, Our bark into a grot, where nymphs were wont 370 Graceful to tread the dance, or to repose.
Convening there my friends, I thus began. My friends! food fails us not, but bread is yet And wine on board. Abstain we from the herds, Lest harm ensue; for ye behold the flocks 375 And herds of a most potent God, the Sun! Whose eye and watchful ear none may elude. So saying, I sway'd the gen'rous minds of all. A month complete the South wind ceaseless blew, Nor other wind blew next, save East and South 380 Yet they, while neither food nor rosy wine Fail'd them, the herds harm'd not, through fear to die. But, our provisions failing, they employed Whole days in search of food, snaring with hooks Birds, fishes, of what kind soe'er they might, 385 By famine urged. I solitary roam'd Meantime the isle, seeking by pray'r to move Some God to shew us a deliv'rance thence. When, roving thus the isle, I had at length Left all my crew remote, laving my hands 390 Where shelter warm I found from the rude blast, I supplicated ev'ry Pow'r above; But they my pray'rs answer'd with slumbers soft Shed o'er my eyes, and with pernicious art Eurylochus, the while, my friends harangued. 395 My friends! afflicted as ye are, yet hear A fellow-suff'rer. Death, however caused, Abhorrence moves in miserable man, But death by famine is a fate of all
Most to be fear'd. Come—let us hither drive 400 And sacrifice to the Immortal Pow'rs The best of all the oxen of the Sun, Resolving thus—that soon as we shall reach Our native Ithaca, we will erect To bright Hyperion an illustrious fane, 405 Which with magnificent and num'rous gifts We will enrich. But should he chuse to sink Our vessel, for his stately beeves incensed, And should, with him, all heav'n conspire our death, I rather had with open mouth, at once, 410 Meeting the billows, perish, than by slow And pining waste here in this desert isle. So spake Eurylochus, whom all approved. Then, driving all the fattest of the herd Few paces only, (for the sacred beeves 415 Grazed rarely distant from the bark) they stood Compassing them around, and, grasping each Green foliage newly pluck'd from saplings tall, (For barley none in all our bark remain'd) Worshipp'd the Gods in pray'r. Pray'r made, they slew And flay'd them, and the thighs with double fat 421 Investing, spread them o'er with slices crude. No wine had they with which to consecrate The blazing rites, but with libation poor Of water hallow'd the interior parts. 425 Now, when the thighs were burnt, and each had shared His portion of the maw, and when the rest
All slash'd and scored hung roasting at the fire, Sleep, in that moment, suddenly my eyes Forsaking, to the shore I bent my way. 430 But ere the station of our bark I reach'd, The sav'ry steam greeted me. At the scent I wept aloud, and to the Gods exclaim'd. Oh Jupiter, and all ye Pow'rs above! With cruel sleep and fatal ye have lull'd 435 My cares to rest, such horrible offence Meantime my rash companions have devised. Then, flew long-stoled Lampetia to the Sun At once with tidings of his slaughter'd beeves, And he, incensed, the Immortals thus address'd. 440 Jove, and ye everlasting Pow'rs divine! Avenge me instant on the crew profane Of Laertiades; Ulysses' friends Have dared to slay my beeves, which I with joy Beheld, both when I climb'd the starry heav'ns, 445 And when to earth I sloped my "westring wheels," But if they yield me not amercement due And honourable for my loss, to Hell I will descend and give the ghosts my beams. Then, thus the cloud-assembler God replied. 450 Sun! shine thou still on the Immortal pow'rs, And on the teeming earth, frail man's abode. My candent bolts can in a moment reach And split their flying bark in the mid-sea.
These things Calypso told me, taught, herself, 455 By herald Hermes, as she oft affirm'd. But when, descending to the shore, I reach'd At length my bark, with aspect stern and tone I reprimanded them, yet no redress Could frame, or remedy—the beeves were dead. 460 Soon follow'd signs portentous sent from heav'n. The skins all crept, and on the spits the flesh Both roast and raw bellow'd, as with the voice Of living beeves. Thus my devoted friends Driving the fattest oxen of the Sun, 465 Feasted six days entire; but when the sev'nth By mandate of Saturnian Jove appeared, The storm then ceased to rage, and we, again Embarking, launch'd our galley, rear'd the mast, And gave our unfurl'd canvas to the wind. 470 The island left afar, and other land Appearing none, but sky alone and sea, Right o'er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove Hung a cærulean cloud, dark'ning the Deep. Not long my vessel ran, for, blowing wild, 475 Now came shrill Zephyrus; a stormy gust Snapp'd sheer the shrouds on both sides; backward fell The mast, and with loose tackle strew'd the hold; Striking the pilot in the stern, it crush'd His scull together; he a diver's plunge 480 Made downward, and his noble spirit fled. Meantime, Jove thund'ring, hurl'd into the ship
His bolts; she, smitten by the fires of Jove, Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill'd she reek'd, And o'er her sides headlong my people plunged 485 Like sea-mews, interdicted by that stroke Of wrath divine to hope their country more. But I, the vessel still paced to and fro, Till, fever'd by the boist'rous waves, her sides Forsook the keel now left to float alone. 490 Snapp'd where it join'd the keel the mast had fall'n, But fell encircled with a leathern brace, Which it retain'd; binding with this the mast And keel together, on them both I sat, Borne helpless onward by the dreadful gale. 495 And now the West subsided, and the South Arose instead, with mis'ry charged for me, That I might measure back my course again To dire Charybdis. All night long I drove, And when the sun arose, at Scylla's rock 500 Once more, and at Charybdis' gulph arrived. It was the time when she absorb'd profound The briny flood, but by a wave upborne I seized the branches fast of the wild-fig. To which, bat-like, I clung; yet where to fix 505 My foot secure found not, or where to ascend, For distant lay the roots, and distant shot The largest arms erect into the air,
O'ershadowing all Charybdis; therefore hard I clench'd the boughs, till she disgorg'd again 510 Both keel and mast. Not undesired by me They came, though late; for at what hour the judge, After decision made of num'rous strifes Between young candidates for honour, leaves The forum for refreshment' sake at home, 515 Then was it that the mast and keel emerged. Deliver'd to a voluntary fall, Fast by those beams I dash'd into the flood, And seated on them both, with oary palms Impell'd them; nor the Sire of Gods and men 520 Permitted Scylla to discern me more, Else had I perish'd by her fangs at last. Nine days I floated thence, and, on the tenth Dark night, the Gods convey'd me to the isle Ogygia, habitation of divine 525 Calypso, by whose hospitable aid And assiduity, my strength revived. But wherefore this? ye have already learn'd That hist'ry, thou and thy illustrious spouse; I told it yesterday, and hate a tale 530 Once amply told, then, needless, traced again.
* ↑ They passed the line through a pipe of horn, to secure it against the fishes’ bite.
* ↑ See line 120.
* ↑ He had therefore held by the fig-tree from sunrise 'till afternoon.