_The song of the Sirens.--Scylla and Charybdis.--The oxen of the
Sun.--The judgment.--The crew killed by lightning._
"Unhappy man, who at thy birth wast appointed twice to die! others
shall die once; but thou, besides that death that remains for thee,
common to all men, hast in thy life-time visited the shades of death.
Thee Scylla, thee Charybdis, expect. Thee the deathful Sirens lie in
wait for, that taint the minds of whoever listen to them with their
sweet singing. Whosoever shall but hear the call of any Siren, he will
so despise both wife and children through their sorceries, that the
stream of his affection never again shall set homewards, nor shall he
take joy in wife or children thereafter, or they in him."
With these prophetic greetings great Circe met Ulysses on his return.
He besought her to instruct him in the nature of the Sirens, and by
what method their baneful allurements were to be resisted.
"They are sisters three," she replied, "that sit in a mead (by which
your ship must needs pass) circled with dead men's bones. These are
the bones of men whom they have slain, after with fawning invitements
they have enticed them into their fen. Yet such is the celestial
harmony of their voice accompanying the persuasive magic of their
words, that knowing this, you shall not be able to withstand their
enticements. Therefore when you are to sail by them, you shall stop
the ears of your companions with wax, that they may hear no note of
that dangerous music; but for yourself, that you may hear, and yet
live, give them strict command to bind you hand and foot to the mast,
and in no case to set you free, till you are out of the danger of the
temptation, though you should entreat it, and implore it ever so much,
but to bind you rather the more for your requesting to be loosed. So
shall you escape that snare."
Ulysses then prayed her that she would inform him what Scylla and
Charybdis were, which she had taught him by name to fear. She replied:
"Sailing from Ææa to Trinacria, you must pass at an equal distance
between two fatal rocks. Incline never so little either to the one
side or the other, and your ship must meet with certain destruction.
No vessel ever yet tried that pass without being lost, but the Argo,
which owed her safety to the sacred freight she bore, the fleece of
the golden-backed ram, which could not perish. The biggest of these
rocks which you shall come to, Scylla hath in charge. There in a deep
whirlpool at the foot of the rock the abhorred monster shrouds her
face; who if she were to shew her full form, no eye of man or god
could endure the sight: thence she stretches out all her six long
necks peering and diving to suck up fish, dolphins, dog-fish, and
whales, whole ships, and their men, whatever comes within her raging
gulf. The other rock is lesser, and of less ominous aspect; but there
dreadful Charybdis sits, supping the black deeps. Thrice a day she
drinks her pits dry, and thrice a day again she belches them all up:
but when she is drinking, come not nigh, for being once caught, the
force of Neptune cannot redeem you from her swallow. Better trust to
Scylla, for she will but have for her six necks six men: Charybdis in
her insatiate draught will ask all."
Then Ulysses enquired, in case he should escape Charybdis, whether
he might not assail that other monster with his sword: to which she
replied that he must not think that he had an enemy subject to death,
or wounds, to contend with: for Scylla could never die. Therefore,
his best safety was in flight, and to invoke none of the gods but
Cratis, who is Scylla's mother, and might perhaps forbid her daughter
to devour them. For his conduct after he arrived at Trinacria she
referred him to the admonitions which had been given him by Tiresias.
Ulysses having communicated her instructions, as far as related to the
Sirens, to his companions, who had not been present at that interview;
but concealing from them the rest, as he had done the terrible
predictions of Tiresias, that they might not be deterred by fear from
pursuing their voyage: the time for departure being come, they set
their sails, and took a final leave of great Circe; who by her art
calmed the heavens, and gave them smooth seas, and a right fore wind
(the seaman's friend) to bear them on their way to Ithaca.
They had not sailed past a hundred leagues before the breeze which
Circe had lent them suddenly stopped. It was stricken dead. All the
sea lay in prostrate slumber. Not a gasp of air could be felt. The
ship stood still. Ulysses guessed that the island of the Sirens was
not far off, and that they had charmed the air so with their devilish
singing. Therefore he made him cakes of wax, as Circe had instructed
him, and stopped the ears of his men with them: then causing himself
to be bound hand and foot, he commanded the rowers to ply their oars
and row as fast as speed could carry them past that fatal shore. They
soon came within sight of the Sirens, who sang in Ulysses' hearing:
Come here, thou, worthy of a world of praise,
That dost so high the Grecian glory raise;
Ulysses! stay thy ship; and that song hear
That none past ever, but it bent his ear,
But left him ravish'd, and instructed more
By us, than any, ever heard before.
For we know all things, whatsoever were
In wide Troy labour'd; whatsoever there
The Grecians and the Trojans both sustain'd:
By those high issues that the gods ordain'd:
And whatsoever all the earth can show
To inform a knowledge of desert, we know.
These were the words, but the celestial harmony of the voices which
sang them no tongue can describe: it took the ear of Ulysses with
ravishment. He would have broke his bonds to rush after them; and
threatened, wept, sued, entreated, commanded, crying out with tears
and passionate imprecations, conjuring his men by all the ties of
perils past which they had endured in common, by fellowship and love,
and the authority which he retained among them, to let him loose; but
at no rate would they obey him. And still the Sirens sang. Ulysses
made signs, motions, gestures, promising mountains of gold if they
would set him free; but their oars only moved faster. And still the
Sirens sung. And still the more he adjured them to set him free, the
faster with cords and ropes they bound him; till they were quite out
of hearing of the Sirens' notes, whose effect great Circe had so truly
predicted. And well she might speak of them, for often she had joined
her own enchanting voice to theirs, while she has sat in the flowery
meads, mingled with the Sirens and the Water Nymphs, gathering their
potent herbs and drugs of magic quality: their singing altogether has
made the gods stoop, and "heaven drowsy with the harmony."
Escaped that peril, they had not sailed yet an hundred leagues
further, when they heard a roar afar off, which Ulysses knew to be
the barking of Scylla's dogs, which surround her waist, and bark
incessantly. Coming nearer they beheld a smoke ascend, with a horrid
murmur, which arose from that other whirlpool, to which they made
nigher approaches than to Scylla. Through the furious eddy, which is
in that place, the ship stood still as a stone, for there was no man
to lend his hand to an oar, the dismal roar of Scylla's dogs at a
distance, and the nearer clamours of Charybdis, where everything made
an echo, quite taking from them the power of exertion. Ulysses went
up and down encouraging his men, one by one, giving them good words,
telling them that they were in greater perils when they were blocked
up in the Cyclop's cave, yet, heaven assisting his counsels, he had
delivered them out of that extremity. That he could not believe but
they remembered it; and wished them to give the same trust to the same
care which he had now for their welfare. That they must exert all
the strength and wit which they had, and try if Jove would not grant
them an escape even out of this peril. In particular he cheered up
the pilot who sat at the helm, and told him that he must shew more
firmness than other men, as he had more trust committed to him, and
had the sole management by his skill of the vessel in which all their
safeties were embarked. That a rock lay hid within those boiling
whirlpools which he saw, on the outside of which he must steer, if he
would avoid his own destruction, and the destruction of them all.
They heard him, and like men took to the oars; but little knew what
opposite danger, in shunning that rock, they must be thrown upon. For
Ulysses had concealed from them the wounds, never to be healed, which
Scylla was to open: their terror would else have robbed them all of
all care to steer, or move an oar, and have made them hide under the
hatches, for fear of seeing her, where he and they must have died an
idle death. But even then he forgot the precautions which Circe had
given him to prevent harm to his person; who had willed him not to
arm, or shew himself once to Scylla: but disdaining not to venture
life for his brave companions, he could not contain, but armed in all
points, and taking a lance in either hand, he went up to the fore
deck, and looked when Scylla would appear.
She did not shew herself as yet, and still the vessel steered closer
by her rock, as it sought to shun that other more dreaded: for they
saw how horribly Charybdis's black throat drew into her all the
whirling deep, which she disgorged again, that all about her boiled
like a kettle, and the rock roared with troubled waters; which when
she supped in again, all the bottom turned up, and disclosed far
under shore the swart sands naked, whose whole stern sight frayed the
startled blood from their faces, and made Ulysses turn his to view
the wonder of whirlpools. Which when Scylla saw, from out her black
den, she darted out her six long necks, and swoopt up as many of his
friends: whose cries Ulysses heard, and saw them too late, with their
heels turned up, and their hands thrown to him for succour, who had
been their help in all extremities, but could not deliver them now;
and he heard them shriek out, as she tore them, and to the last they
continued to throw their hands out to him for sweet life. In all his
sufferings he never had beheld a sight so full of miseries.
Escaped from Scylla and Charybdis, but with a diminished crew, Ulysses
and the sad remains of his followers reached the Trinacrian shore.
Here landing, he beheld oxen grazing of such surpassing size and
beauty, that both from them, and from the shape of the island (having
three promontories jutting into the sea) he judged rightly that he
was come to the Triangular island, and the oxen of the Sun, of which
Tiresias had forewarned him.
So great was his terror lest through his own fault, or that of his
men, any violence or profanation should be offered to the holy oxen,
that even then, tired as they were with the perils and fatigues of
the day past, and unable to stir an oar, or use any exertion, and
though night was fast coming on, he would have had them re-embark
immediately, and make the best of their way from that dangerous
station; but his men with one voice resolutely opposed it, and even
the too cautious Eurylochus himself withstood the proposal; so much
did the temptation of a little ease and refreshment (ease tenfold
sweet after such labours) prevail over the sagest counsels, and the
apprehension of certain evil outweigh the prospect of contingent
danger. They expostulated, that the nerves of Ulysses seemed to be
made of steel, and his limbs not liable to lassitude like other men's;
that waking or sleeping seemed indifferent to him; but that they were
men, not gods, and felt the common appetites for food and sleep.
That in the nighttime all the winds most destructive to ships are
generated. That black night still required to be served with meat,
and sleep, and quiet havens, and ease. That the best sacrifice
to the sea was in the morning. With such sailor-like sayings and
mutinous arguments, which the majority have always ready to justify
disobedience to their betters, they forced Ulysses to comply with
their requisition, and against his will to take up his night-quarters
on shore. But he first exacted from them an oath that they would
neither maim nor kill any of the cattle which they saw grazing, but
content themselves with such food as Circe had stowed their vessel
with when they parted from Ææa. This they man by man severally
promised, imprecating the heaviest curses on whoever should break it;
and mooring their bark within a creek, they went to supper, contenting
themselves that night with such food as Circe had given them, not
without many sad thoughts of their friends whom Scylla had devoured,
the grief of which kept them great part of the night waking.
In the morning Ulysses urged them again to a religious observance of
the oath that they had sworn, not in any case to attempt the blood of
those fair herds which they saw grazing, but to content themselves
with the ship's food; for the god who owned those cattle sees and
hears all.
They faithfully obeyed, and remained in that good mind for a month,
during which they were confined to that station by contrary winds,
till all the wine and the bread was gone, which they had brought with
them. When their victuals were gone, necessity compelled them to stray
in quest of whatever fish or fowl they could snare, which that coast
did not yield in any great abundance. Then Ulysses prayed to all the
gods that dwelt in bountiful heaven, that they would be pleased to
yield them some means to stay their hunger without having recourse to
profane and forbidden violations: but the ears of heaven seemed to be
shut, or some god incensed plotted his ruin; for at mid-day, when he
should chiefly have been vigilant and watchful to prevent mischief, a
deep sleep fell upon the eyes of Ulysses, during which he lay totally
insensible of all that passed in the world, and what his friends
or what his enemies might do for his welfare or destruction. Then
Eurylochus took his advantage. He was the man of most authority with
them after Ulysses. He represented to them all the misery of their
condition; how that every death is hateful and grievous to mortality,
but that of all deaths famine is attended with the most painful,
loathsome, and humiliating circumstances; that the subsistence which
they could hope to draw from fowling or fishing was too precarious
to be depended upon; that there did not seem to be any chance of the
winds changing to favour their escape, but that they must inevitably
stay there and perish, if they let an irrational superstition deter
them from the means which nature offered to their hands; that Ulysses
might be deceived in his belief that these oxen had any sacred
qualities above other oxen; and even admitting that they were the
property of the god of the Sun, as he said they were, the Sun did
neither eat nor drink, and the gods were best served not by a
scrupulous conscience, but by a thankful heart, which took freely
what they as freely offered: with these and such like persuasions he
prevailed on his half-famished and half-mutinous companions, to begin
the impious violation of their oath by the slaughter of seven of
the fairest of these oxen which were grazing. Part they roasted and
eat, and part they offered in sacrifice to the gods, particularly
to Apollo, god of the Sun, vowing to build a temple to his godhead,
when they should arrive in Ithaca, and deck it with magnificent and
numerous gifts: Vain men! and superstition worse than that which they
so lately derided! to imagine that prospective penitence can excuse a
present violation of duty, and that the pure natures of the heavenly
powers will admit of compromise or dispensation for sin.
But to their feast they fell, dividing the roasted portions of the
flesh, savoury and pleasant meat to them, but a sad sight to the eyes,
and a savour of death in the nostrils, of the waking Ulysses; who
just woke in time to witness, but not soon enough to prevent, their
rash and sacrilegious banquet. He had scarce time to ask what great
mischief was this which they had done unto him, when behold, a
prodigy! the ox-hides which they had stripped, began to creep, as if
they had life; and the roasted flesh bellowed as the ox used to do
when he was living. The hair of Ulysses stood up on end with affright
at these omens; but his companions, like men whom the gods had
infatuated to their destruction, persisted in their horrible banquet.
The Sun from his burning chariot saw how Ulysses's men had slain his
oxen, and he cried to his father Jove, "Revenge me upon these impious
men who have slain my oxen, which it did me good to look upon when
I walked my heavenly round. In all my daily course I never saw such
bright and beautiful creatures as those my oxen were." The father
promised that ample retribution should be taken of those accursed men:
which was fulfilled shortly after, when they took their leaves of the
fatal island.
Six days they feasted in spite of the signs of heaven, and on the
seventh, the wind changing, they set their sails, and left the island;
and their hearts were cheerful with the banquets they had held; all
but the heart of Ulysses, which sank within him, as with wet eyes he
beheld his friends, and gave them for lost, as men devoted to divine
vengeance. Which soon overtook them: for they had not gone many
leagues before a dreadful tempest arose, which burst their cables;
down came their mast, crushing the scull of the pilot in its fall;
off he fell from the stern into the water, and the bark wanting his
management drove along at the wind's mercy: thunders roared, and
terrible lightnings of Jove came down; first a bolt struck Eurylochus,
then another, and then another, till all the crew were killed, and
their bodies swam about like sea-mews; and the ship was split in
pieces: only Ulysses survived; and he had no hope of safety but in
tying himself to the mast, where he sat riding upon the waves, like
one that in no extremity would yield to fortune. Nine days was he
floating about with all the motions of the sea, with no other support
than the slender mast under him, till the tenth night cast him, all
spent and weary with toil, upon the friendly shores of the island
Ogygia.