The Odyssey

Ulysses continues his narration. How he arrived at the land of the Cimmerians, and what ceremonies he performed to invoke the dead. The manner of his descent, and the apparition of the shades: his conversation with Elpenor, and with Tiresias, who informs him in a prophetic manner of his fortunes to come. He meets his mother Anticlea, from whom he learns the state of his family. He sees the shades of the ancient heroines, afterwards of the heroes, and converses in particular with Agamemnon and Achilles. Ajax keeps at a sullen distance, and disdains to answer him. He then beholds Tityus, Tantalus, Sisyphus, Hercules; till he is deterred from further curiosity by the apparition of horrid spectres, and the cries of the wicked in torments.

“Now to the shores we bend, a mournful train, Climb the tall bark, and launch into the main; At once the mast we rear, at once unbind The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind; Then pale and pensive stand, with cares oppress’d, And solemn horror saddens every breast. A freshening breeze the magic power supplied, While the wing’d vessel flew along the tide; Our oars we shipp’d; all day the swelling sails Full from the guiding pilot catch’d the gales.

“There in a lonely land, and gloomy cells, The dusky nation of Cimmeria dwells; The sun ne’er views the uncomfortable seats, When radiant he advances, or retreats: Unhappy race! whom endless night invades, Clouds the dull air, and wraps them round in shades.

“The ship we moor on these obscure abodes; Disbark the sheep, an offering to the gods; And, hellward bending, o’er the beach descry The doleful passage to the infernal sky. The victims, vow’d to each Tartarian power, Eurylochus and Perimedes bore.

“Here open’d hell, all hell I here implored, And from the scabbard drew the shining sword: And trenching the black earth on every side, A cavern form’d, a cubit long and wide. New wine, with honey-temper’d milk, we bring, Then living waters from the crystal spring: O’er these was strew’d the consecrated flour, And on the surface shone the holy store.

“Now the wan shades we hail, the infernal gods, To speed our course, and waft us o’er the floods: So shall a barren heifer from the stall Beneath the knife upon your altars fall; So in our palace, at our safe return, Rich with unnumber’d gifts the pile shall burn; So shall a ram, the largest of the breed, Black as these regions, to Tiresias bleed.

“Thus solemn rites and holy vows we paid To all the phantom-nations of the dead; Then died the sheep: a purple torrent flow’d, And all the caverns smoked with streaming blood. When lo! appear’d along the dusky coasts, Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts: Fair, pensive youths, and soft enamour’d maids; And wither’d elders, pale and wrinkled shades; Ghastly with wounds the forms of warriors slain Stalk’d with majestic port, a martial train: These and a thousand more swarm’d o’er the ground, And all the dire assembly shriek’d around. Astonish’d at the sight, aghast I stood, And a cold fear ran shivering through my blood; Straight I command the sacrifice to haste, Straight the flay’d victims to the flames are cast, And mutter’d vows, and mystic song applied To grisly Pluto, and his gloomy bride.

“There wandering through the gloom I first survey’d, New to the realms of death, Elpenor’s shade: His cold remains all naked to the sky On distant shores unwept, unburied lie. Sad at the sight I stand, deep fix’d in woe, And ere I spoke the tears began to flow.

“The ghost replied: ‘To hell my doom I owe, Demons accursed, dire ministers of woe! My feet, through wine unfaithful to their weight, Betray’d me tumbling from a towery height: Staggering I reel’d, and as I reel’d I fell, Lux’d the neck-joint—my soul descends to hell. But lend me aid, I now conjure thee lend, By the soft tie and sacred name of friend! By thy fond consort! by thy father’s cares! By loved Telemachus’ blooming years? For well I know that soon the heavenly powers Will give thee back to-day, and Circe’s shores: There pious on my cold remains attend, There call to mind thy poor departed friend. The tribute of a tear is all I crave, And the possession of a peaceful grave. But if, unheard, in vain compassion plead, Revere the gods. The gods avenge the dead! A tomb along the watery margin raise, The tomb with manly arms and trophies grace, To show posterity Elpenor was. There high in air, memorial of my name, Fix the smooth oar, and bid me live to fame.’

“There as the wondrous visions I survey’d, All pale ascends my royal mother’s shade: A queen, to Troy she saw our legions pass; Now a thin form is all Anticlea was! Struck at the sight I melt with filial woe, And down my cheek the pious sorrows flow, Yet as I shook my falchion o’er the blood, Regardless of her son the parent stood.

“‘Why, mortal, wanderest thou from cheerful day, To tread the downward, melancholy way? What angry gods to these dark regions led Thee, yet alive, companion of the dead? But sheathe thy poniard, while my tongue relates Heaven’s steadfast purpose, and thy future fates.’

“Weary of light, Ulysses here explores A prosperous voyage to his native shores; But know—by me unerring Fates disclose New trains of dangers, and new scenes of woes. I see, I see, thy bark by Neptune toss’d, For injured Cyclops, and his eyeball lost! Yet to thy woes the gods decree an end, If Heaven thou please: and how to please attend Where on Trinacrian rocks the ocean roars, Graze numerous herds along the verdant shores; Though hunger press, yet fly the dangerous prey, The herds are sacred to the god of day, Who all surveys with his extensive eye, Above, below, on earth, and in the sky! Rob not the god; and so propitious gales Attend thy voyage, and impel thy sails: But, if his herds ye seize, beneath the waves I see thy friends o’erwhelm’d in liquid graves! The direful wreck Ulysses scarce survives! Ulysses at his country scarce arrives! Strangers thy guides! nor there thy labours end; New foes arise; domestic ills attend! There foul adulterers to thy bride resort, And lordly gluttons riot in thy court. But vengeance hastes amain! These eyes behold The deathful scene, princes on princes roll’d! That done, a people far from sea explore, Who ne’er knew salt, or heard the billows roar, Or saw gay vessel stem the watery plain, A painted wonder flying on the main! Bear on thy back an oar: with strange amaze A shepherd meeting thee, the oar surveys, And names a van: there fix it on the plain, To calm the god that holds the watery reign; A threefold offering to his altar bring, A bull, a ram, a boar; and hail the ocean king.

But home return’d, to each ethereal power Slay the due victim in the genial hour: So peaceful shalt thou end thy blissful days, And steal thyself from life by slow decays: Unknown to pain, in age resign thy breath, When late stern Neptune points the shaft with death: To the dark grave retiring as to rest, Thy people blessing, by thy people bless’d!

“To whom unmoved: ‘If this the gods prepare, What Heaven ordains the wise with courage bear. But say, why yonder on the lonely strands, Unmindful of her son, Anticlea stands? Why to the ground she bends her downcast eye? Why is she silent, while her son is nigh? The latent cause, O sacred seer, reveal!’

“Still in the dark abodes of death I stood, When near Anticlea moved, and drank the blood. Straight all the mother in her soul awakes, And, owning her Ulysses, thus she speaks; ‘Comest thou, my son, alive, to realms beneath, The dolesome realms of darkness and of death! Comest thou alive from pure, ethereal day? Dire is the region, dismal is the way! Here lakes profound, there floods oppose their waves, There the wide sea with all his billows raves! Or (since to dust proud Troy submits her towers) Comest thou a wanderer from the Phrygian shores? Or say, since honour call’d thee to the field, Hast thou thy Ithaca, thy bride, beheld?’

“‘Source of my life,’ I cried, ‘from earth I fly To seek Tiresias in the nether sky, To learn my doom; for, toss’d from woe to woe, In every land Ulysses finds a foe: Nor have these eyes beheld my native shores, Since in the dust proud Troy submits her towers.

“‘But, when thy soul from her sweet mansion fled, Say, what distemper gave thee to the dead? Has life’s fair lamp declined by slow decays, Or swift expired it in a sudden blaze? Say, if my sire, good old Laertes, lives? If yet Telemachus, my son, survives? Say, by his rule is my dominion awed, Or crush’d by traitors with an iron rod? Say, if my spouse maintains her royal trust; Though tempted, chaste, and obstinately just? Or if no more her absent lord she wails, But the false woman o’er the wife prevails?’

“Thus I, and thus the parent-shade returns: ‘Thee, ever thee, thy faithful consort mourns: Whether the night descends or day prevails, Thee she by night, and thee by day bewails. Thee in Telemachus thy realm obeys; In sacred groves celestial rites he pays, And shares the banquet in superior state, Graced with such honours as become the great Thy sire in solitude foments his care: The court is joyless, for thou art not there! No costly carpets raise his hoary head, No rich embroidery shines to grace his bed; Even when keen winter freezes in the skies, Rank’d with his slaves, on earth the monarch lies: Deep are his sighs, his visage pale, his dress The garb of woe and habit of distress. And when the autumn takes his annual round, The leafy honours scattering on the ground, Regardless of his years, abroad he lies, His bed the leaves, his canopy the skies. Thus cares on cares his painful days consume, And bow his age with sorrow to the tomb!

“‘For thee, my son, I wept my life away; For thee through hell’s eternal dungeons stray: Nor came my fate by lingering pains and slow, Nor bent the silver-shafted queen her bow; No dire disease bereaved me of my breath; Thou, thou, my son, wert my disease and death; Unkindly with my love my son conspired, For thee I lived, for absent thee expired.’

“‘Fliest thou, loved shade, while I thus fondly mourn! Turn to my arms, to my embraces turn! Is it, ye powers that smile at human harms! Too great a bliss to weep within her arms? Or has hell’s queen an empty image sent, That wretched I might e’en my joys lament?’

“‘O son of woe,’ the pensive shade rejoin’d; ‘O most inured to grief of all mankind! ‘Tis not the queen of hell who thee deceives; All, all are such, when life the body leaves: No more the substance of the man remains, Nor bounds the blood along the purple veins: These the funereal flames in atoms bear, To wander with the wind in empty air: While the impassive soul reluctant flies, Like a vain dream, to these infernal skies. But from the dark dominions speed the way, And climb the steep ascent to upper day: To thy chaste bride the wondrous story tell, The woes, the horrors, and the laws of hell.’

“Thus while she spoke, in swarms hell’s empress brings Daughters and wives of heroes and of kings; Thick and more thick they gather round the blood, Ghost thronged on ghost (a dire assembly) stood! Dauntless my sword I seize: the airy crew, Swift as it flash’d along the gloom, withdrew; Then shade to shade in mutual forms succeeds, Her race recounts, and their illustrious deeds.

“Tyro began, whom great Salmoneus bred; The royal partner of famed Cretheus’ bed. For fair Enipeus, as from fruitful urns He pours his watery store, the virgin burns; Smooth flows the gentle stream with wanton pride, And in soft mazes rolls a silver tide. As on his banks the maid enamour’d roves, The monarch of the deep beholds and loves; In her Enipeus’ form and borrow’d charms The amorous god descends into her arms: Around, a spacious arch of waves he throws, And high in air the liquid mountain rose; Thus in surrounding floods conceal’d, he proves The pleasing transport, and completes his loves. Then, softly sighing, he the fair address’d, And as he spoke her tender hand he press’d. ‘Hail, happy nymph! no vulgar births are owed To the prolific raptures of a god: Lo! when nine times the moon renews her horn, Two brother heroes shall from thee be born; Thy early care the future worthies claim, To point them to the arduous paths of fame; But in thy breast the important truth conceal, Nor dare the secret of a god reveal: For know, thou Neptune view’st! and at my nod Earth trembles, and the waves confess their god.’

“Now in the time’s full process forth she brings Jove’s dread vicegerents in two future kings; O’er proud Iolcos Pelias stretch’d his reign, And godlike Neleus ruled the Pylian plain: Then, fruitful, to her Cretheus’ royal bed She gallant Pheres and famed Aeson bred; From the same fountain Amythaon rose, Pleased with the din of scar; and noble shout of foes.

“There moved Antiope, with haughty charms, Who bless’d the almighty Thunderer in her arms: Hence sprung Amphion, hence brave Zethus came, Founders of Thebes, and men of mighty name; Though bold in open field, they yet surround The town with walls, and mound inject on mound; Here ramparts stood, there towers rose high in air, And here through seven wide portals rush’d the war.

“Sullen and sour, with discontented mien, Jocasta frown’d, the incestuous Theban queen; With her own son she join’d in nuptial bands, Though father’s blood imbrued his murderous hands The gods and men the dire offence detest, The gods with all their furies rend his breast; In lofty Thebes he wore the imperial crown, A pompous wretch! accursed upon a throne. The wife self-murder’d from a beam depends, And her foul soul to blackest hell descends; Thence to her son the choicest plagues she brings, And the fiends haunt him with a thousand stings.