"Then, Noman, I grant thee a boon," hiccoughed the giant in boisterous
glee, the fumes of the wine already mounting to his head. "In reward
for the drink, I will eat up all thy companions before thee; and Noman
shall be the last of all to die. So fill once more!"
Again was poured the dark wine; and when Polyphemus had tossed off
three brimming bowls, his brain began to reel, while his limbs failed
him as well as his voice, with which he would have roared out brutal
jests mixed with praises of this magic liquor. Staggering here and
there, he stumbled and sprawled helplessly on the ground, and soon his
snoring re-echoed through the cave like rolling thunder, as he sank
into drunken slumber.
[Illustration: ULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS]
When all else was still, Ulysses whispered the word to his wakeful
crew. From the litter they silently dragged out that huge stake he had
made ready: and blowing up the fire, heated its point till the green
wood had almost burst into flame. It was all they could do to bear it
along to the side of the sleeping giant. When their leader gave the
signal, they plunged that red-hot spit into his eye, and, turning it
like an awl, they bored a hole so deep and so wide that a torrent of
blood gushed out to quench the fiery brand.
The drunken giant started to his feet with a roar which sent them
quailing backwards. But when he had torn the tormenting brand from his
forehead, all he could do was to grope blindly around him, stamping
and howling for pain and for rage against those puny enemies that in
the dim firelight could take heed to keep out of his reach. So furious
was the alarm he raised, that it woke his neighbor giants, who
presently came hurrying along to the cave's mouth, and shouted to him:
"What ails thee, Polyphemus, that thus our rest is disturbed? Who
breaks upon thy sleep? Has any man found means to hurt thee? Or has
some one been robbing thee by force or fraud?"
"Noman has hurt me!" yelled back the blind giant. "Noman is robbing my
flock! Noman, I say, has played a cruel trick upon me!"
"Then if no man does thee harm, why these complaints?" grumbled his
neighbors, while Ulysses chuckled over his sly device, all the more as
he heard the giants tramping away to their own lairs with a parting
word of mockery for the victim of a nightmare, as they took it to be.
"If the gods send thee pain, take to prayer, and rouse us no more to
give help against no man in mortal flesh!"
Thus left to himself, the blinded monster, pouring out his rage in
tears of blood, found it hopeless to lay hands on the silently
exulting foes, who all night long remained shut up with him in the
cave; yet more fiercely his dark mind was bent on revenge against that
insolent Noman and the rest of his crew. Fumbling about till he
touched the rock that barred the entrance, he heaved it away; then
there sat down with his hands stretched out before him, to make sure
that none of the men should slip through among the flock when the rosy
dawn called them forth to their pasture.
But again Ulysses was too wily for the thick-headed giant. Through the
night he had been busy lashing the biggest rams together, three and
three; and each midmost beast bore a man bound to it by osier twigs.
The largest of all he kept for himself, creeping beneath it, and
clinging to the thick fleece below its belly. On this strange steed he
would come forth last of all.
So, when the sheep poured out into the dewy uplands, the Cyclops,
handling each as it slipped past him, felt nothing but their fleecy
backs. Blind as he was, he knew the tread of that big ram, the pride
of the flock, under which lay Ulysses, holding his breath, as its
master stopped the beast to growl out:
"Why com'st thou last who wert wont to lead the way, like a chief
among thy fellows? Can it be that a dumb creature mourns for what
Noman and his hateful band have done to its lord? Ah! could'st thou
but speak to tell me in what corner the wretch lurks within, trembling
for the moment when at last I shall dash out his brains and warm my
heart with his blood!"
With this he let the ram go, still sitting watchful at the entrance
barred by his huge hands. But as he sat muttering threats, to his
strained ears came a mocking cry from without, where now Ulysses had
unbound his men, and the whole band were hurrying down to their ship,
driving before them the pick of the giant's flock.
Heartily the crew hailed their captain's return, and eagerly they
would have known how it had fared with him. But this was no time for
words. Ulysses bid them push off in haste, taking to their oars as
soon as they had heaved the sheep on board. Scarcely indeed had they
launched when the stumbling and shouting giant appeared upon the rocky
heights above the shore.
"Ha, ungracious host!" cried Ulysses; "didst thou think to gorge
thyself on me, whom the gods have made an instrument to punish thy
churlish manners?"
No longer able to see his exultant enemies, the raging Cyclops plucked
up a great rock to hurl after them, guided by the sound of that
mocking voice. So near it fell that it had almost smashed the rudder,
and raised such a wave as would have washed the galley back on shore
had not Ulysses pushed it off again with all his strength, while the
rowers bent their backs as for their lives. Though they begged him to
be silent, their bold captain could not refrain from once more raising
his voice in boastful taunts of the baffled monster.
"Hear, Cyclops! Should men ask who blinded thee and made thy face more
hideous than before, say not it was Noman, but Ulysses of Ithaca,
victor at the walls of Troy!"
Again the giant hurled a mighty rock that, had it struck fair, would
have crushed their ship like an eggshell. Drenched by the splash, they
rowed with might and main, and were soon out of reach; but so long as
they could hear his voice, the raging giant's curses drove them onward
across the bounding seas.
Thus did Ulysses, by his cunning, prevail over the brute force of the
Cyclops, for Minerva, goddess of Wisdom, inspired and guided him. Then
soon, with a hungry heart craving for more adventures, he sailed to
further wondrous lands and gathered fresh knowledge year by year.
THE SIRENS
BY V. C. TURNBULL
Circe, when her spell was broken and she could no longer hope to keep
Ulysses in her toils, repented her of the mischief she had done to his
companions, and in a sudden fit of generosity (for though fickle and
froward she was not wholly bad or heartless) determined to speed her
parting guest. Not only did she know the power of herbs that could
turn men into beasts, but as a goddess she could see into the future
and foretell what should come to pass.
So on the day of his departure she made a great feast and bade Ulysses
and his crew. And they ate and drank to their hearts' content, and had
no fear that they should suffer the fate of their companions. But
Ulysses she took aside and revealed to him all that should befall him
on his homeward voyage, and instructed him how he should avoid the
perils that would beset him on the way. And first of all she bade him
beware of the Sirens--sea maidens, whose song is more musical than is
Apollo's lute; no mortal can resist its ravishment, and he who listens
is lost.
But Ulysses, whose soul still hungered for new adventures, said: "To
hear such music, a man might well choose to die. Let me at any risk
hear the song of the Sirens!"
Then the goddess instructed him how, if he followed her precepts, he
might hear the song of the Sirens and yet live. What the instructions
were there is no need to tell, for Ulysses did all that the goddess
had bidden him, and all that she foretold came to pass.
So on the morrow the crew embarked, and Circe sending them a fair wind
they were carried swiftly upon their way. But the heart of Ulysses was
heavy as he pondered the counsels of the goddess and thought on the
Sirens who had drawn so many men to their death. So he stood up and
spoke to all his men, saying:
"Friends, it is well I should declare to you the oracles of Circe,
that with foreknowledge we may shun death--for she bade us shun the
sound of the voices of the Sirens, and me only she bade listen to
their song. Bind me, therefore, in a hard bond, that I may remain
unmoved in my place, upright in the mast-stead, and from the mast let
rope-ends be tied; and if I entreat and command you to set me free,
then do ye bind me with yet more bonds."
The men gave good heed, promising to obey in all things the commands
of their wise leader.
Meanwhile, land was spied ahead, and, Circe's wind still speeding the
ship, she was borne swiftly towards the shore. Suddenly the wind
ceased and there was a dead calm. No sea-bird cried, and the very
waves seemed spell-bound. Then Ulysses knew that they were approaching
the perilous Isle of the Sirens. So while his men were furling in the
idle sails and plying the oars once more, he drew his sharp sword and,
cutting in pieces a great cake of wax, kneaded it with his strong
hands. Then, when the wax was soft, he anointed therewith the ears of
his men as they sat at their oars, that they might not hear the voices
of the Sirens. And the men in their turn bound their leader hand and
foot upright in the mast-stead, and from the mast they fastened
rope-ends. Having done this, they sat down to their oars and smote the
level waters.
Fast sped the ship across the bay, and now they were within hailing
distance of the land. And there on the shore stood the Sirens, lovely
as goddesses, singing and striking their golden lyres. Round about
them was a green meadow, very sweet to the eyes of those sea-worn
warriors, for the white bones with which it was strewn appeared but as
lilies such as they remembered in their fields at home.
Nearer sped the ship, and now the Sirens, seeing the far-famed Ulysses
on board, sang yet more sweetly, in this fashion:
"O hither, come hither and furl your sails,
Come hither to me and to me:
Hither, come hither and frolic and play;
Here it is only the mew that wails;
We will sing to you all the day:
Mariner, mariner, furl your sails;
... sweet shall your welcome be.
O hither, come hither, and be our lords,
For merry brides are we:
* * * * *
We will kiss sweet kisses and speak sweet words:
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords
Runs up the ridgèd sea.
Who can light on as happy a shore
All the world o'er, all the world o'er?
Whither away? listen and stay: mariner, mariner, fly no more."[3]
So they sang, waving their white arms, beckoning with smiles and
twanging their golden lyres. And their voice floating over the waters
was sweet in the ears of travel-worn Ulysses--so sweet indeed, that
forgetting the wise counsels of Circe, he called to his company to
unbind him. But they, having their ears stopped with wax, could hear
neither him nor the Sirens, and rowed more swiftly than before. So
Ulysses made signs to them, nodding and frowning, whereupon two of
them, Perimedes and Eurylochus, remembering his former words, rose and
bound him yet faster to the mast. And bending their backs the rowers
pulled their hardest, the curved keel shooting past the perilous
shore. Fainter and fainter grew the song of the Sirens as now they
were left behind, and their white arms could hardly be seen beckoning.
And anon a breeze broke once more upon the deadly calm, and the sails
being hoisted the ship was swept out to sea and the Isle of the Sirens
became but a speck upon the horizon and was lost to view.
So, by following the wise counsels of Circe of the braided tresses,
the much-experienced Ulysses and all his comrades escaped the wiles of
the Sirens who had enticed many to their death.
But when the Sirens saw themselves at last defeated, their song was
turned into a wail and their white robes seemed like wind-swept foam
as they plunged beneath the wave. But the Sirens are immortal, and
though no men can now behold their white bosoms pressing golden harps,
yet their voices are still heard and still they sing the same song
that they sang to Ulysses:
"Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore
Than labor in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;
O rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more."[4]
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Tennyson, "The Sea Fairies."
[4] Tennyson, "The Lotos-Eaters."
THE STORY OF NAUSICAA
BY M. M. BIRD
One night, Nausicaa, sole daughter of Alcinous, the Phæacian King, had
a dream. She dreamt that the daughter of Dymas, her favorite playmate,
stood at her bedside and gently chid her. "Shame upon thee,
lie-a-bed," she cried, "to waste the shining hours. 'Twill soon be thy
wedding-day, and thy bridal robe and the garments for thy bridesmaids
have still to be washed and bleached. Get up and ask thy father to
order for thee the wain and mules to draw it, and we'll all go
a-washing, thou and I and our favorite playmates, to that clear pool
where the river pauses before it plunges into the sea."
At dawn Nausicaa awoke, but daylight did not dispel the dream, for it
was Minerva herself who sent it. She waylaid her father as he went to
the Council of the Elders and cried to him: "Father dear, may I have
the high wain and the mules to-day? There is much soiled raiment to be
washed--mine and thine and that of my three brothers who dwell with me
in the palace." But of the bridal of her dream she said nothing, for
she was a bashful maiden.
And her father, smiling at her strange eagerness, said, "My darling
child may take the car; whate'er our daughter asks, we give."
Swiftly her attendants prepared the wain and harnessed the mules. They
loaded it with the soiled robes and dresses that the maiden brought
from her bower, and the good mother put on top a basket filled with
cates and dainties, and a wine-skin, and a cruse of olive oil
wherewith to anoint the maidens after their bath.
Nausicaa climbed into the wain, and away they sped with laughter and
with song, this bright bevy of maidens. When they reached the spot
where all the falling streams emptied their waters into a wide basin,
they unharnessed the mules and let them loose to graze on the plain,
while all the girls set gayly to their task.
At length they had finished their toil; every garment had been steeped
and trodden with their dainty feet, and rinsed and spread out to dry
on the hot sands, which sparkled in the sunlight. Then the maidens
undressed and dabbled and splashed one another, and frolicked in the
crystal pool. Tired with work and play they anointed their dripping
limbs with the olive oil and sat down to rest in the shade. And
Nausicaa unpacked the basket, and they ate and drank of the good
things that the Queen had provided. This done, and while the clothes
were yet drying in the sun, they played ball in the meadow, tossing it
from one to another; and all the while Nausicaa guided their
movements, keeping time with a rustic ballad measure.
Meanwhile, all unknown to these merry maidens, deep in the shelter of
a low-branched tree, Ulysses lay asleep. A tempest had wrecked his
ship and robbed him of all his companions, and he had only the day
before, by help of the goddess Leucothea, been saved, and hardly
saved, from the devouring sea. Clinging to a spar he had been cast
upon the Phæacian shore after many hours in the storm-tossed deep.
Worn and bruised by battling with the breakers, he had sought shelter
under the drooping branches of two ancient olive trees. Beneath this
covert he made a great bed of fallen leaves, and heaping them above
him, soon fell into a deep slumber sent in mercy to restore him by the
ever-watchful Minerva.
It chanced that in their game a girl missed the ball that Nausicaa
threw, and it fell into the rapid stream, and was lost. The girls all
shrieked, and the piercing cry waked the sleeping Ulysses.
"Alas!" he lamented, "upon what inhospitable coast have I been cast?
Is it possessed by fierce barbarians who will slay, or by men who will
prove pitiful? Do I hear the voices of nymphs, or dryads, or of human
maids?"
The hero rose straightway from his leafy bed, and tearing off a green
bough to hide his nakedness, he stepped forth to discover his fate.
When the affrighted maidens saw this wild and savage man advancing,
they fled and hid themselves among the rocks and caves of the broken
shore. Not so Nausicaa. Inspired by Minerva with a boldness not her
own, she stood and watched this strange interloper. He was now close
to her, but he dared not clasp her knees, as suppliants are wont to
do, for fear of alarming her, but, keeping his distance, he told her
of his perils by sea. For twenty nights he had been wrestling with the
waves, and had hardly reached this present haven. Now, famished and
exhausted, he waited anxiously to learn where he stood, and only
begged some garment to clothe his nakedness.
"Lady," he added, with cunning flattery, "I know not whether thou art
mortal or divine, so fair a maiden I now behold. Only once in Delos I
saw so goodly a thing as thou--the sapling of a palm tree that sprung
from the altar of Apollo."
The fair Nausicaa was touched by his courtly words and bearing, and,
marred as he was by the salt sea-foam, she marked his noble features.
She answered his questions with graceful sweetness, telling with whom
he had found refuge and assuring him of their hospitality. She called
her girls and blamed them for their idle fears. Obedient to her
directions they led Ulysses to the secret pool where he might bathe,
they gave him of the oil to anoint himself, and laid ready for him one
of the shining garments that they had just washed and dried in the
sun.
The maidens surveyed with wonder the majestic figure of the stranger
when he returned to them, bathed and anointed, and clad in the pomp of
royal vesture. And Nausicaa, gazing with admiration on him, whispered
a prayer to Heaven that some such noble spouse might fall to her happy
lot.
They hastened then to serve him, setting before him food and wine, and
he ate and drank eagerly, for he was half starved. Then, as evening
approached, Nausicaa's cares were directed to their return to her
father's palace. The mules were harnessed to the car, and she then
turned to the stranger and gave him instructions how to reach the
palace. For fear of slanderous tongues, she would not permit him to
accompany her train, but caused him to follow at a seemly distance.
She promised to go to her royal father and intercede with him for the
stranger, whom she directed to follow her to the palace with all
reasonable haste. There she advised that he should seek the Queen,
Arete, whom he would find at that hour busied with her weaving. If he
disclosed his mournful tale to her sympathetic ear, he would be
assured of assistance, and doubtless live to see his native land once
again.
Thereon she whipped up her team of mules, and they started at a
canter, but she was careful soon to rein them in that Ulysses might
keep pace with them. But when they neared the town he stayed awhile in
a sacred grove while Nausicaa went on her way through the crowded
streets, where all turned to gaze at the princess, and thought she had
never looked so beautiful. At the palace gates her brothers gathered
round and received from her hands the garments she had washed for
them. Then she hastened to her mother's chamber.
Ulysses slowly approached the famous city of the Phæacians. Lest the
lordly mien and regal robes of the stranger should attract the
attention of the low-born crowd, Minerva spread a mist about her hero
wherein he could walk unperceived and unmolested. When he had passed
the walls of the city, he saw a girl carrying a pitcher (it was his
goddess in disguise). He accosted her and begged her to show him the
palace of Alcinous. This she did, and only left him at the gates,
telling him that Arete was a gracious Queen, and if he won her favor,
she might speed him on his homeward way. She vanished, leaving the
hero to admire the beauties of the royal gates. These were of massive
brass; a high cornice was reared above them, rich plates of gold
overlaid the folding doors, and the pillars were of silver. Two rows
of sculptured dogs in gold and silver, formed by Vulcan with divine
art, stood guardian at Alcinous' gate, and within was a pleached
garden, planted with fruit trees of all kinds, whose fruit faileth
not, winter and summer alike. Pear ripens on pear, apple on apple, fig
upon fig, and new grapes redden on the vine while the old grapes are
treading in the wine-press.
Long while Ulysses gazed and wondered. Then he crossed the threshold,
and passing unperceived through the banqueting hall, he sought the
inner chamber where sat the royal pair. And he cast his hands about
the knees of Arete, and besought her pity, and that of the King, for a
wretched exile worn with griefs and long toil. Then he sat him down
among the ashes of their hearth.
The King was moved with compassion. He raised the suppliant to a seat
beside his own, and bade him share the feast. After pouring a due
libation to Jupiter, the god of suppliants, Alcinous summoned his
captains and princes to meet in council the following day to debate
the cause of the stranger and devise proper means to transport him
safe to the distant shore he designed to reach.
When all had taken their departure and Ulysses was left alone with the
King and Queen, Arete asked him who he was, whence he came, and who
had given him that robe? For well she knew the garments her own hands
had fashioned.
Ulysses answered with the tale of his shipwreck and the gentle
ministrations of her fair daughter, but his name he did not reveal.
But Alcinous answered: "My daughter was much to blame in that she
brought thee not to our house. Gladly would I give her to a man so
goodly as thou, and I would bestow on thee lands and wealth if thou
would'st stay. But no man will I detain against his will; and if thou
would'st depart I will furnish thee with ships and an escort to speed
thee on the way."
Next day there was feasting in the hall to entertain the guest, and
Demodocus the famous minstrel was there, and he sang the Song of Troy,
of Agamemnon and Hector, aye, and of the feud 'twixt Achilles and
Ulysses. And Ulysses, as he listened, drew his cloak over his head to
hide his tears.
After the feast there were games--racing, wrestling, and throwing the
discus; and when the stranger was invited to make trial of his
strength he hurled a huge rock that flew twice as far as the farthest
quoit; and to this day the islanders point out to travelers Ulysses'
stone.
Again at evening there was feasting in the hall. And Ulysses, as he
came from the bath, anointed with oil and clad in the royal mantle
that Alcinous had given him, on his way to join the feast, met the
white-armed Nausicaa standing in the doorway. "Farewell, stranger,"
she whispered; "depart in peace; and in thy far home think sometimes
on the little maid who saved thee from the sea."
And Ulysses answered: "Nausicaa, to thee I owe my life, and if God
grants me to reach my home, all my days I will do worship to thee, as
to a god."
Then he hastened to join the feasters, and set him in the seat
assigned to him at Alcinous' right hand. Noticing Demodocus, the sweet
minstrel, standing by a pillar alone, he called a henchman and said,
"Take from me this mess of wild boar, and when he has eaten thereof
and drunk, bid him sing me, as he will, the lay of the Wooden Horse."
And the inspired minstrel brought back to him so vividly that tale of
fire and carnage that Ulysses was moved to tears; and Alcinous asked
him whether he had lost some kinsman in the fray, or some friend
dearer than a brother. Then Ulysses disclosed his name, and gave the
King the full and true story of all his wanderings from the fall of
Troy to the shipwreck that landed him on this friendly shore.
When the long tale was ended Alcinous spake to his lordly company.
"Let us speed our parting guest, the bravest and the noblest that has
ever visited our land. With raiment and gold have I myself furnished
him, but each of you give him a tripod or a caldron for a keepsake."