But I will tell thee, as thou bidd'st, the truth

  Unfeign'd of Neoptolemus thy son;

  For him, myself, on board my hollow bark

  From Scyros to Achaia's host convey'd.

  Oft as in council under Ilium's walls 620

  We met, he ever foremost was in speech,

  Nor spake erroneous; Nestor and myself

  Except, no Greecian could with him compare.

  Oft, too, as we with battle hemm'd around

  Troy's bulwarks, from among the mingled crowd

  Thy son sprang foremost into martial act,

  Inferior in heroic worth to none.

  Beneath him num'rous fell the sons of Troy

  In dreadful fight, nor have I pow'r to name

  Distinctly all, who by his glorious arm 630

  Exerted in the cause of Greece, expired.

  Yet will I name Eurypylus, the son

  Of Telephus, an Hero whom his sword

  Of life bereaved, and all around him strew'd

  The plain with his Cetean warriors, won

  To Ilium's side by bribes to women giv'n.

  Save noble Memnon only, I beheld

  No Chief at Ilium beautiful as he.

  Again, when we within the horse of wood

  Framed by Epeüs sat, an ambush chos'n 640

  Of all the bravest Greeks, and I in trust

  Was placed to open or to keep fast-closed

  The hollow fraud; then, ev'ry Chieftain there

  And Senator of Greece wiped from his cheeks

  The tears, and tremors felt in ev'ry limb;

  But never saw I changed to terror's hue

  _His_ ruddy cheek, no tears wiped _he_ away,

  But oft he press'd me to go forth, his suit

  With pray'rs enforcing, griping hard his hilt

  And his brass-burthen'd spear, and dire revenge 650

  Denouncing, ardent, on the race of Troy.

  At length, when we had sack'd the lofty town

  Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils

  He safe embark'd, neither by spear or shaft

  Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion's edge,

  As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt

  Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.

  So I; then striding large, the spirit thence

  Withdrew of swift Æacides, along

  The hoary mead pacing, with joy elate 660

  That I had blazon'd bright his son's renown.

  The other souls of men by death dismiss'd

  Stood mournful by, sad uttering each his woes;

  The soul alone I saw standing remote

  Of Telamonian Ajax, still incensed

  That in our public contest for the arms

  Worn by Achilles, and by Thetis thrown

  Into dispute, my claim had strongest proved,

  Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.

  Disastrous victory! which I could wish 670

  Not to have won, since for that armour's sake

  The earth hath cover'd Ajax, in his form

  And martial deeds superior far to all

  The Greecians, Peleus' matchless son except.

  I, seeking to appease him, thus began.

  O Ajax, son of glorious Telamon!

  Canst thou remember, even after death,

  Thy wrath against me, kindled for the sake

  Of those pernicious arms? arms which the Gods

  Ordain'd of such dire consequence to Greece, 680

  Which caused thy death, our bulwark! Thee we mourn

  With grief perpetual, nor the death lament

  Of Peleus' son, Achilles, more than thine.

  Yet none is blameable; Jove evermore

  With bitt'rest hate pursued Achaia's host,

  And he ordain'd thy death. Hero! approach,

  That thou may'st hear the words with which I seek

  To sooth thee; let thy long displeasure cease!

  Quell all resentment in thy gen'rous breast!

  I spake; nought answer'd he, but sullen join'd 690

  His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was,

  I had prevail'd even on him to speak,

  Or had, at least, accosted him again,

  But that my bosom teem'd with strong desire

  Urgent, to see yet others of the dead.

  There saw I Minos, offspring famed of Jove;

  His golden sceptre in his hand, he sat

  Judge of the dead; they, pleading each in turn,

  His cause, some stood, some sat, filling the house

  Whose spacious folding-gates are never closed. 700

  Orion next, huge ghost, engaged my view,

  Droves urging o'er the grassy mead, of beasts

  Which he had slain, himself, on the wild hills,

  With strong club arm'd of ever-during brass.

  There also Tityus on the ground I saw

  Extended, offspring of the glorious earth;

  Nine acres he o'erspread, and, at his side

  Station'd, two vultures on his liver prey'd,

  Scooping his entrails; nor sufficed his hands

  To fray them thence; for he had sought to force 710

  Latona, illustrious concubine of Jove,

  What time the Goddess journey'd o'er the rocks

  Of Pytho into pleasant Panopeus.

  Next, suff'ring grievous torments, I beheld

  Tantalus; in a pool he stood, his chin

  Wash'd by the wave; thirst-parch'd he seem'd, but found

  Nought to assuage his thirst; for when he bow'd

  His hoary head, ardent to quaff, the flood

  Vanish'd absorb'd, and, at his feet, adust

  The soil appear'd, dried, instant, by the Gods. 720

  Tall trees, fruit-laden, with inflected heads

  Stoop'd to him, pomegranates, apples bright,

  The luscious fig, and unctuous olive smooth;

  Which when with sudden grasp he would have seized,

  Winds hurl'd them high into the dusky clouds.

  There, too, the hard-task'd Sisyphus I saw,

  Thrusting before him, strenuous, a vast rock.

  With hands and feet struggling, he shoved the stone

  Up to a hill-top; but the steep well-nigh

  Vanquish'd, by some great force repulsed, the mass 730

  Rush'd again, obstinate, down to the plain.

  Again, stretch'd prone, severe he toiled, the sweat

  Bathed all his weary limbs, and his head reek'd.

  The might of Hercules I, next, survey'd;

  His semblance; for himself their banquet shares

  With the Immortal Gods, and in his arms

  Enfolds neat-footed Hebe, daughter fair

  Of Jove, and of his golden-sandal'd spouse.

  Around him, clamorous as birds, the dead

  Swarm'd turbulent; he, gloomy-brow'd as night, 740

  With uncased bow and arrow on the string

  Peer'd terrible from side to side, as one

  Ever in act to shoot; a dreadful belt

  He bore athwart his bosom, thong'd with gold.

  There, broider'd shone many a stupendous form,

  Bears, wild boars, lions with fire-flashing eyes,

  Fierce combats, battles, bloodshed, homicide.

  The artist, author of that belt, none such

  Before, produced, or after. Me his eye

  No sooner mark'd, than knowing me, in words 750

  By sorrow quick suggested, he began.

  Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!

  Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,

  Thou also, with some arduous labour, such

  As in the realms of day I once endured.

  Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes

  Immense sustain'd, subjected to a King

  Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands

  Enjoin'd me many a terrible exploit.

  He even bade me on a time lead hence 760

  The dog, that task believing above all

  Impracticable; yet from Ades him

  I dragg'd reluctant into light, by aid

  Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.

  So saying, he penetrated deep again

  The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved

  There stood expecting, curious, other shades

  To see of Heroes in old time deceased.

  And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom

  I wish'd, I had beheld, Pirithoüs 770

  And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,

  But nations, first, numberless of the dead

  Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,

  Lest awful Proserpine should thither send

  The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr'd!

  I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade

  My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.

  They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.

  Down the Oceanus the current bore

  My galley, winning, at the first, her way 780

  With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.

  FOOTNOTES:

  Milton.

  The shore of Scilly commonly called Trinacria, but _Euphonicè_ by

  Homer, Thrinacia.

  The expression is used by Milton, and signifies--Beset with many

  difficulties.

  Mistaking the oar for a corn-van. A sure indication of his ignorance

  of maritime concerns.

  By the Tragedians called--Jocasta.

  Iphicles had been informed by the Oracles that he should have no

  children till instructed by a prophet how to obtain them; a service which

  Melampus had the good fortune to render him.

  Apollo.

  Bacchus accused her to Diana of having lain with Theseus in his

  temple, and the Goddess punished her with death.

  Probably meaning Helen.

  This is surely one of the most natural strokes to be found in any

  Poet. Convinced, for a moment, by the virtues of Penelope, he mentioned

  her with respect; but recollecting himself suddenly, involves even her in

  his general ill opinion of the sex, begotten in him by the crimes of

  Clytemnestra.

  Another most beautiful stroke of nature. Ere yet Ulysses has had

  opportunity to answer, the very thought that Peleus may possibly be

  insulted, fires him, and he takes the whole for granted. Thus is the

  impetuous character of Achilles sustained to the last moment!

  Γυναίων εινεκα δώρων--Priam is said to have influenced by gifts the

  wife and mother of Eurypylus, to persuade him to the assistance of Troy,

  he being himself unwilling to engage. The passage through defect of

  history has long been dark, and commentators have adapted different

  senses to it, all conjectural. The Ceteans are said to have been a people

  of Mysia, of which Eurypylus was King.

  Κατ' ασφοδελον λειμωνα--Asphodel was planted on the graves and

  around the tombs of the deceased, and hence the supposition that the

  Stygian plain was clothed with asphodel. F.

  Βασαζοντα must have this sense interpreted by what follows. To

  attempt to make the English numbers expressive as the Greek is a labour

  like that of Sisyphus. The Translator has done what he could.

  It is now, perhaps, impossible to ascertain with precision what

  Homer meant by the word κραταιίς, which he uses only here, and in the

  next book, where it is the name of Scylla's dam.--Αναιδης--is also of

  very doubtful explication.

  The two first lines of the following book seem to ascertain the true

  meaning of the conclusion of this, and to prove sufficiently that by

  Ὠκεανὸς here Homer could not possibly intend any other than a river. In

  those lines he tells us in the plainest terms that _the ship left the

  stream of the river Oceanus, and arrived in the open sea_. Diodorus

  Siculus informs us that Ὠκεανὸς had been a name anciently given to the

  Nile. See Clarke.

  BOOK XII

  ARGUMENT

  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.

  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.

  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.

  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

  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

  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

  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.

  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

  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,

  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;

  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.

  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,