find out how they might soonest drag the great horse across the plain and
into the city to insure victory. While they stood talking, two immense
serpents rose out of the sea and made towards the camp. Some of the people
took flight, others were transfixed with terror; but all, near and far,
watched this new omen. Rearing their crests, the sea-serpents crossed the
shore, swift, shining, terrible as a risen water-flood that descends upon
a helpless little town. Straight through the crowd they swept, and seized
the priest Laocoön where he stood, with his two sons, and wrapped them all
round and round in fearful coils. There was no chance of escape. Father
and sons perished together; and when the monsters had devoured the three
men, into the sea they slipped again, leaving no trace of the horror.
The terrified Trojans saw an omen in this. To their minds punishment had
come upon Laocoön for his words against the Wooden Horse. Surely, it was
sacred to the Gods; he had spoken blasphemy, and had perished before their
eyes. They flung his warning to the winds. They wreathed the horse with
garlands, amid great acclaim; and then, all lending a hand, they dragged
it, little by little, out of the camp and into the city of Troy. With the
close of that victorious day, they gave up every memory of danger and made
merry after ten years of privation.
That very night Sinon the spy opened the hidden door of the Wooden Horse,
and in the darkness, Ulysses, Menelaus, and the other chiefs who had lain
hidden there crept out and gave the signal to the Grecian army. For, under
cover of night, those ships that had been moored behind the island had
sailed back again, and the Greeks were come upon Troy.
Not a Trojan was on guard. The whole city was at feast when the enemy rose
in its midst, and the warning of Laocoön was fulfilled.
Priam and his warriors fell by the sword, and their kingdom was plundered
of all its fair possessions, women and children and treasure. Last of all,
the city itself was burned to its very foundations.
Homeward sailed the Greeks, taking as royal captives poor Cassandra and
Andromache and many another Trojan. And home at last went fair Helen, the
cause of all this sorrow, eager to be forgiven by her husband, King
Menelaus. For she had awakened from the enchantment of Venus, and even
before the death of Paris she had secretly longed for her home and
kindred. Home to Sparta she came with the king after a long and stormy
voyage, and there she lived and died the fairest of women.
But the kingdom of Troy was fallen. Nothing remained of all its glory but
the glory of its dead heroes and fair women, and the ruins of its citadel
by the river Scamander. There even now, beneath the foundations of later
homes that were built and burned, built and burned, in the wars of a
thousand years after, the ruins of ancient Troy lie hidden, like mouldered
leaves deep under the new grass. And there, to this very day, men who love
the story are delving after the dead city as you might search for a buried
treasure.
THE WANDERINGS OF ULYSSES
AN ADVENTURE WITH THE CYCLOPS
By Alfred J. Church
[After the fall of Troy the Greeks set out for home, but many of
them had troubles and dangers to meet before they saw again the
shores of their native land. The one who suffered most was
Ulysses, and the following is his story of his adventure with the
one-eyed giant, the Cyclops.]
The wind that bore me from Troy brought me to Ismarus, a city of the
Ciconians. This I sacked, slaying the people that dwelt therein. Much
spoil did we take out of the city, dividing it among the people, so that
each man had his share. And when we had done this, I commanded my men that
they should depart with all speed; but they, in their folly, would not
hear me. For there was much wine to drink, and sheep and kine to slay;
therefore they sat on the shore and feasted. Meanwhile the people of the
city fetched others, their kinsmen that dwelt in the mountains, and were
more in number and more valiant than they, and skillful in all manner of
fighting. In the early morning they assembled themselves together, thick
as the flowers and the leaves that grow in the springtime, and set the
battle in array. Then we fought with them; while the day waxed we
prevailed over them, and beat them back, though they were more in number
than we; but when the sun was descending in the heavens, then the Cicones
overcame us, and drave us to our ships. Six from each ship perished, but
the remnant of us escaped from death.
On the tenth day after this we came to the land where the lotus grows--a
wondrous fruit of which whosoever eats cares not to see country or wife or
children again. Now the Lotus-Eaters, for they so called the people of the
land, were a kindly folk, and gave of the fruit to some of the sailors,
not meaning them any harm, but thinking it to be the best that they had to
give. These, when they had eaten, said that they would not sail any more
over the sea; which, when I heard, I bade their comrades bind them and
carry them, sadly complaining, to the ships.
Then, the wind having abated, we took to our oars, and rowed for many days
till we came to the country where the Cyclops dwell. Now, a mile or so
from the shore there was an island, very fair and fertile, but no man
dwells there or tills the soil, and in the island a harbor where a ship
may be safe from all winds, and at the head of the harbor a stream falling
from a rock, and whispering alders all about it. Into this the ships
passed safely, and were hauled up on the beach, and the crews slept by
them, waiting for the morning.
When the dawn appeared, then we wandered through the island; and the
nymphs of the land started the wild goats that my company might have food
to eat. Thereupon we took our bows and our spears from the ships, and shot
at the goats; and the Gods gave us plenty of prey. Twelve ships I had in
my company, and each ship had nine goats for its share, and my own portion
was ten.
Then all the day we sat and feasted, drinking the sweet wine which we had
taken from the city of the Cicones, and eating the flesh of the goats; and
as we sat we looked across to the land of the Cyclops, seeing the smoke
and hearing the voices of the men and of the sheep and of the goats. And
when the sun set and darkness came over the land, we lay down upon the
seashore and slept.
The next day I gathered my men together, and said, "Abide ye here, dear
friends; I with my own ship and my own company will go and make trial of
the folk that dwell in yonder island, whether they are just or unjust."
So I climbed into my ship, and bade my company follow me; so we came to
the land of the Cyclops. Close to the shore was a cave, with laurels round
about the mouth. This was the dwelling of the Cyclops. Alone he dwelt, a
creature without law. Nor was he like to mortal men, but rather to some
wooded peak of the hills that stands out apart from all the rest.
Then I bade the rest of my comrades abide by the ship, and keep it, but I
took twelve men, the bravest that there were in the crew, and went forth.
I had with me a goat-skin full of the wine, dark red, and sweet, which the
priest of Apollo at Ismarus had given me. Because we kept him and his wife
and child from harm when we sacked the city, reverencing the god,
therefore did he give it me. Three things did he give me,--seven talents
of gold, and a mixing-bowl of silver, and of wine twelve jars. So precious
was it that none in his house knew of it saving himself and his wife and
one dame that kept the house. When they drank of it they mixed twenty
measures of water with one of wine, and the smell that went up from it was
wondrous sweet. No man could easily refrain from drinking it. With this
wine I filled a great skin and bore it with me; also I bare corn in a
wallet, for my heart within me boded that I should need it.
So we entered the cave, and judged that it was the dwelling of some rich
and skillful shepherd. For within there were pens for the young of the
sheep and of the goats, divided all according to their age, and there were
baskets full of cheeses, and full milkpails ranged along the wall. But the
Cyclops himself was away in the pastures. Then my companions besought me
that I would depart, taking with me, if I would, a store of cheeses and
sundry of the lambs and of the kids. But I would not, for I wished to see,
after my wont, what manner of host this strange shepherd might be, and, if
it might be, to take a gift from his hand, such as is the due of
strangers. Verily, his coming was not to be a joy to my company.
It was evening when the Cyclops came home,--a mighty giant, very tall of
stature, and when we saw him we fled into the sacred place of the cave in
great fear. On his shoulder he bore a vast bundle of pine logs for his
fire, and threw them down outside the cave with a great crash, and drove
the flocks within, and closed the entrance with a huge rock, which twenty
wagons and more could not bear. Then he milked the ewes and all the
she-goats, and half of the milk he curdled for cheese, and half he set
ready for himself, when he should sup. Next he kindled a fire with the
pine logs, and the flame lighted up all the cave, showing to him both me
and my comrades.
"Who are ye?" cried Polyphemus, for that was the giant's name. "Are ye
traders, or, haply, pirates?"
I shuddered at the dreadful voice and shape, but bare me bravely, and
answered, "We are no pirates, mighty sir, but Greeks sailing back from
Troy, and subjects of the great King Agamemnon, whose fame is spread from
one end of heaven to the other. And we are come to beg hospitality of thee
in the name of Zeus, who rewards or punishes hosts and guests, according
as they be faithful the one to the other, or no."
"Nay," said the giant; "it is but idle talk to tell me of Zeus and the
other Gods. We Cyclops take no account of gods, holding ourselves to be
much better and stronger than they. But come, tell me, where have you left
your ship?"
But I saw his thought when he asked about the ship, how he was minded to
break it, and take from us all hope of flight. Therefore I answered him
craftily,--
"Ship have we none, for that which was ours King Neptune brake, driving it
on a jutting rock on this coast, and we whom thou seest are all that are
escaped from the waves."
Polyphemus answered nothing, but without more ado caught up two of the
men, as a man might catch up the whelps of a dog, and dashed them on the
ground, and tare them limb from limb, and devoured them, with huge
draughts of milk between, leaving not a morsel, not even the very bones.
But we that were left, when we saw the dreadful deed, could only weep and
pray to Zeus for help. And when the giant had filled his maw with human
flesh and with the milk of the flocks, he lay down among his sheep and
slept.
Then I questioned much in my heart whether I should slay the monster as he
slept, for I doubted not that my good sword would pierce to the giant's
heart, mighty as he was. But my second thought kept me back, for I
remembered that, should I slay him, I and my comrades would yet perish
miserably. For who should move away the great rock that lay against the
door of the cave? So we waited till the morning, with grief in our hearts.
And the monster woke, and milked his flocks, and afterwards, seizing two
men, devoured them for his meal. Then he went to the pastures, but put the
great rock on the mouth of the cave, just as a man puts down the lid upon
his quiver.
All that day I was thinking what I might best do to save myself and my
companions, and the end of my thinking was this: there was a mighty pole
in the cave, green wood of an olive-tree, big as a ship's mast, which
Polyphemus purposed to use, when the smoke should have dried it, as a
walking-staff. Of this I cut off a fathom's length, and my comrades
sharpened it and hardened it in the fire, and then hid it away. At evening
the giant came back, and drove his sheep into the cave, nor left the rams
outside, as he had been wont to do before, but shut them in. And having
duly done his shepherd's work, he took, as before, two of my comrades, and
devoured them. And when he had finished his supper, I came forward,
holding the wineskin in my hand, and said,--
"Drink, Cyclops, now that thou hast feasted. Drink, and see what precious
things we had in our ship. But no one hereafter will come to thee with
such like, if thou dealest with strangers as cruelly as thou hast dealt
with us."
Then the Cyclops drank, and was mightily pleased, and said, "Give me again
to drink, and tell me thy name, stranger, and I will give thee a gift such
as a host should give. In good truth this is a rare liquor. We, too, have
vines, but they bear not wine like this, which, indeed, must be such as
the Gods drink in heaven."
Then I gave him the cup again, and he drank. Thrice I gave it to him, and
thrice he drank, not knowing what it was, and how it would work within his
brain.
Then I spake to him: "Thou didst ask my name, Cyclops. My name is No Man.
And now that thou knowest my name, thou shouldst give me thy gift."
And he said, "My gift shall be that I will eat thee last of all thy
company."
And as he spake, he fell back in a drunken sleep. Then I bade my comrades
be of good courage, for the time was come when they should be delivered.
And they thrust the stake of olive-wood into the fire till it was ready,
green as it was, to burst into flame, and they thrust it into the
monster's eye; for he had but one eye, and that in the midst of his
forehead, with the eyebrow below it. And I, standing above, leant with all
my force upon the stake, and turned it about, as a man bores the timber of
a ship with a drill. And the burning wood hissed in the eye, just as the
red-hot iron hisses in the water when a man seeks to temper steel for a
sword.
Then the giant leapt up, and tore away the stake, and cried aloud, so that
all the Cyclops who dwelt on the mountain-side heard him and came about
his cave, asking him, "What aileth thee, Polyphemus, that thou makest this
uproar in the peaceful night, driving away sleep? Is any one robbing thee
of thy sheep, or seeking to slay thee by craft or force?"
And the giant answered, "No Man slays me by craft."
"Nay, but," they said, "if no man does thee wrong we cannot help thee. The
sickness which great Zeus may send, who can avoid? Pray to our father,
Neptune, for help."
So they spake, and I laughed in my heart when I saw how I had beguiled
them by the name that I had given.
But the Cyclops rolled away the great stone from the door of the cave, and
sat in the midst, stretching out his hands, to feel whether perchance the
men within the cave would seek to go out among the sheep.
Long did I think how I and my comrades should best escape. At last I
lighted upon a device that seemed better than all the rest, and much I
thanked Zeus for that this once the giant had driven the rams with the
other sheep into the cave. For, these being great and strong, I fastened
my comrades under the bellies of the beasts, tying them with osier twigs,
of which the giant made his bed. One ram I took, and fastened a man
beneath it, and two rams I set, one on either side. So I did with the six,
for but six were left out of the twelve who had ventured with me from the
ship. And there was one mighty ram far larger than all the others, and to
this I clung, grasping the fleece tight with both my hands. So we all
waited for the morning. And when the morning came, the rams rushed forth
to the pasture; but the giant sat in the door and felt the back of each as
it went by, nor thought to try what might be underneath. Last of all went
the great ram. And the Cyclops knew him as he passed, and said,--
"How is this, thou who art the leader of the flock? Thou art not wont thus
to lag behind. Thou hast always been the first to run to the pastures and
streams in the morning, and the first to come back to the fold when
evening fell; and now thou art last of all. Perhaps thou art troubled
about thy master's eye, which some wretch--No Man, they call him--has
destroyed, having first mastered me with wine. He has not escaped, I ween.
I would that thou couldst speak, and tell me where he is lurking. Of a
truth, I would dash out his brains upon the ground, and avenge me of this
No Man."
So speaking, he let the ram pass out of the cave. But when we were now out
of reach of the giant, I loosed my hold of the ram, and then unbound my
comrades. And we hastened to our ship, not forgetting to drive the sheep
before us, and often looking back till we came to the seashore. Right glad
were those that had abode by the ship to see us. Nor did they lament for
those that had died, though we were fain to do so, for I forbade, fearing
lest the noise of their weeping should betray us to the giant, where we
were. Then we all climbed into the ship, and sitting well in order on the
benches smote the sea with our oars, laying to right lustily, that we
might the sooner get away from the accursed land. And when we had rowed a
hundred yards or so, so that a man's voice could yet be heard by one who
stood upon the shore, I stood up in the ship and shouted,--
"He was no coward, O Cyclops, whose comrades thou didst so foully slay in
thy den. Justly art thou punished, monster, that devourest thy guests in
thy dwelling. May the Gods make thee suffer worse things than these!"
Then the Cyclops in his wrath brake off the top of a great hill, a mighty
rock, and hurled it where he had heard the voice. Right in front of the
ship's bow it fell, and a great wave rose as it sank, and washed the ship
back to the shore. But I seized a long pole with both hands, and pushed
the ship from the land, and bade my comrades ply their oars, nodding with
my head, for I would not speak, lest the Cyclops should know where we
were. Then they rowed with all their might and main.
[Illustration: THE CYCLOPS IN HIS WRATH BRAKE OFF THE TOP OF A GREAT HILL]
And when we had gotten twice as far as before I made as if I would speak
again; but my comrades sought to hinder me, saying, "Nay, my lord, anger
not the giant any more. Surely we thought we were lost before, when he
threw the great rock, and washed our ship back to the shore. And if he
hear thee now, he may crush our ship and us, for the man throws a mighty
bolt, and throws it far."
But I would not be persuaded, but stood up and said, "Hear, Cyclops! If
any man ask who blinded thee, say that it was the warrior Ulysses, son of
Laertes, dwelling in Ithaca."
CIRCE'S PALACE
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
At one time in the course of Ulysses' weary voyage, he arrived at an
island that looked very green and pleasant, but the name of which was
unknown to him. For, only a little while before he came thither, he had
met with a terrible hurricane, or rather a great many hurricanes at once,
which drove his fleet of vessels into a strange part of the sea, where
neither himself nor any of his mariners had ever sailed. This misfortune
was entirely owing to the foolish curiosity of his shipmates, who, while
Ulysses lay asleep, had untied some very bulky leathern bags, in which
they supposed a valuable treasure to be concealed. But in each of these
stout bags, King Æolus, the ruler of the winds, had tied up a tempest, and
had given it to Ulysses to keep, in order that he might be sure of a
favorable passage homeward to Ithaca; and when the strings were loosened,
forth rushed the whistling blasts, like air out of a blown bladder,
whitening the sea with foam, and scattering the vessels nobody could tell
whither.
Immediately after escaping from this peril, a still greater one had
befallen him. Scudding before the hurricane, he reached a place which, as
he afterwards found, was called Læstrygonia, where some monstrous giants
had eaten up many of his companions, and had sunk every one of his
vessels, except that in which he himself sailed, by flinging great masses
of rock at them, from the cliffs along the shore. After going through such
troubles as these, you cannot wonder that King Ulysses was glad to moor
his tempest-beaten bark in a quiet cove of the green island, which I began
with telling you about. But he had encountered so many dangers from
giants, and one-eyed Cyclops, and monsters of the sea and land, that he
could not help dreading some mischief, even in this pleasant and seemingly
solitary spot. For two days, therefore, the poor weather-worn voyagers
kept quiet, and either stayed on board of their vessel or merely crept
along under cliffs that bordered the shore; and to keep themselves alive,
they dug shell-fish out of the sand, and sought for any little rill of
fresh water that might be running towards the sea.
Before the two days were spent, they grew very weary of this kind of life;
for the followers of King Ulysses, as you will find it important to
remember, were terrible gormandizers, and pretty sure to grumble if they
missed their regular meals, and their irregular ones besides. Their stock
of provisions was quite exhausted, and even the shell-fish began to get
scarce, so that they had now to choose between starving to death or
venturing into the interior of the island, where, perhaps, some huge
three-headed dragon or other horrible monster had his den. Such misshapen
creatures were very numerous in those days; and nobody ever expected to
make a voyage or take a journey without running more or less risk of being
devoured by them.
But King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a prudent one; and on the third
morning he determined to discover what sort of a place the island was, and
whether it were possible to obtain a supply of food for the hungry mouths
of his companions. So, taking a spear in his hand, he clambered to the
summit of a cliff, and gazed round about him. At a distance, towards the
centre of the island, he beheld the stately towers of what seemed to be a
palace, built of snow-white marble, and rising in the midst of a grove of
lofty trees. The thick branches of these trees stretched across the front
of the edifice, and more than half concealed it, although, from the
portion which he saw, Ulysses judged it to be spacious and exceedingly
beautiful, and probably the residence of some great nobleman or prince. A
blue smoke went curling up from the chimney, and was almost the
pleasantest part of the spectacle to Ulysses. For, from the abundance of
this smoke, it was reasonable to conclude that there was a good fire in
the kitchen, and that, at dinnertime, a plentiful banquet would be served
up to the inhabitants of the palace, and to whatever guests might happen
to drop in.
With so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses fancied that he could not
do better than to go straight to the palace gate, and tell the master of
it that there was a crew of poor shipwrecked mariners, not far off, who
had eaten nothing for a day or two save a few clams and oysters, and would
therefore be thankful for a little food. And the prince or nobleman must
be a very stingy curmudgeon, to be sure, if, at least, when his own dinner
was over, he would not bid them welcome to the broken victuals from the
table.
Pleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had made a few steps in the
direction of the palace, when there was a great twittering and chirping
from the branch of a neighboring tree. A moment afterwards, a bird came
flying towards him, and hovered in the air, so as almost to brush his face
with its wings. It was a very pretty little bird, with purple wings and
body, and yellow legs, and a circle of golden feathers round its neck, and
on its head a golden tuft, which looked like a king's crown in miniature.
Ulysses tried to catch the bird. But it fluttered nimbly out of his reach,
still chirping in a piteous tone, as if it could have told a lamentable
story, had it only been gifted with human language. And when he attempted
to drive it away, the bird flew no farther than the bough of the next
tree, and again came fluttering about his head, with its doleful chirp, as
soon as he showed a purpose of going forward.
"Have you anything to tell me, little bird?" asked Ulysses.
And he was ready to listen attentively to whatever the bird might
communicate; for at the siege of Troy and elsewhere he had known such odd
things to happen that he would not have considered it much out of the
common run had this little feathered creature talked as plainly as
himself.
"Peep!" said the bird. "Peep, peep, pe--weep!" And nothing else would it
say, but only, "Peep, peep, pe--weep!" in a melancholy cadence, and over
and over and over again. As often as Ulysses moved forward, however, the
bird showed the greatest alarm, and did its best to drive him back, with
the anxious flutter of its purple wings. Its unaccountable behavior made
him conclude, at last, that the bird knew of some danger that awaited him,
and which must needs be very terrible, beyond all question, since it moved
even a little fowl to feel compassion for a human being. So he resolved,
for the present, to return to the vessel, and tell his companions what he
had seen.