Sirens’ rocks. Still, nearer and nearer the sailors rowed; and now he
heard the words of their song, and he knew that they were speaking to
himself, for they said:
“O, Ulysses, man of many toils and long wanderings, great glory of the
Greeks, come to us and listen to our song. Every one who passes over
the sea near our island stays to hear it, and forgets all his labor and
all his trouble, and then goes away peaceful and happy. Come and rest,
Ulysses, come and rest. We know all the great deeds you have done at
Troy, and how you have been tossed by many storms, and suffered many
sorrows sailing on the wide sea. But here the sea is always calm, and the
sun cannot scorch you in the cool and pleasant caves where you shall hear
us sing.”
Then Ulysses cried out to the sailors, “Let me go, let me go, they are
calling me; do you not hear?” And he struggled with all his might to
break the cords that bound him; but when they saw him trying to get free,
they went and tied stronger cords round his arms and waist, and rowed on
quicker than ever. And still Ulysses prayed them to set him free, that he
might leap into the sea and swim to the Sirens’ caves. “I cannot stay,”
he said; “they are calling me by my name; their song rises sweeter and
clearer than ever; let us go, let us go.” And again he heard them singing.
“O man of many toils, we are waiting for you and will sing you to sleep,
and charm all your cares away for ever.”
But quicker and quicker the sailors rowed on, till at last they had
passed the island. And the Sirens saw that Ulysses was going away; but
yet again they sang.
“Come back, Ulysses, come back and rest in our cool green caves, O man of
many griefs and wanderings.” But the sound of their sweet song was now
faint before it reached the ship of Ulysses, and he could only just hear
them say:
“Will you leave us, will you leave us? Ah, Ulysses, you do not know what
you are losing. Come to our cool green caves; we are waiting—we are
waiting.”
But the power of the Sirens’ song grew weaker as the ship went further
away; and Ulysses began to think how foolish and silly he had been. He
could not hear any more the words of the song, as they called him by his
name; but still he half wished to go back to the Sirens’ land, while yet
he heard the sound of their singing, as it came faint and weak through
the hot and breathless air. Soon it was all ended. The sky was still;
the waves were all asleep; the clouds looked down drowsily on the water;
and Ulysses thought that he could die, he was so tired and spent with
struggling.
So when the sailors saw that Ulysses did not struggle any more, they went
and set him free, and took the wax out of their ears. And Ulysses said,
“O friends, it is better not to hear the Sirens’ song; for if but two or
three of us had heard it, we should have gone to them, and our ship would
have been sunk in their green caves.”
And they said, “It is indeed better not to hear it. You were so busy
listening to their song that you could not see what we saw. All the way
as we passed by the island, logs of wood and bits of masts were floating
on the water; and these must have been pieces from ships which have been
broken on the rocks, because the sailors heard the Sirens’ song.”
NAUSICAA RESCUES ULYSSES
By Alfred J. Church
The King of Phæacia was Alcinoüs, and he had five sons and one daughter,
Nausicaa. To her, where she slept with her two maidens by her, the
goddess Minerva went, taking the shape of her friend, the daughter of
Dymas, and said—
“Why hath thy mother so idle a daughter, Nausicaa? Lo! thy garments lie
unwashed, and thy wedding must be near, seeing that many nobles in the
land are suitors to thee. Ask then thy father that he give thee the wagon
with the mules, for the laundries are far from the city, and I will go
with thee.”
And when the morning was come, Nausicaa awoke, marvelling at the dream,
and went seeking her parents. Her mother she found busy with her maidens
at the loom, and her father she met as he was going to the council with
the chiefs of the land. Then she said, “Give me, father, the wagon with
the mules, that I may take the garments to the river to wash them. Thou
shouldst always have clean robes when thou goest to the council; and
there are my five brothers also, who love to have newly washed garments
at the dance.”
But of her own marriage she said nothing. And her father, knowing her
thoughts, said, “It is well. The men shall harness the wagon for thee.”
So they put the clothing into the wagon. And her mother put also food
and wine, and olive oil also, wherewith she and her maidens might anoint
themselves after the bath. So they climbed into the wagon and went to the
river. And then they washed the clothing, and spread it out to dry on the
rocks by the sea. And after that they had bathed and anointed themselves,
they sat down to eat and drink by the river side; and after the meal
they played at ball, singing as they played, and Nausicaa led the song.
But when they had nearly ended their play, the princess, throwing the
ball to one of her maidens, cast it so wide that it fell into the
river. Whereupon they all cried aloud, and Ulysses awoke. And he said to
himself, “What is this land to which I have come? Are they that dwell
therein fierce or kind to strangers? Just now I seemed to hear the voice
of nymphs, or am I near the dwellings of men?”
Then he twisted leaves about his loins, and rose up and went towards the
maidens, who indeed were frighted to see him (for he was wild of aspect),
and fled hither and thither. But Nausicaa stood and fled not. Then
Ulysses thought within himself, should he go near and clasp her knees,
or, lest haply this should anger her, should he stand and speak? And this
he did, saying—
“I am thy suppliant, O queen. Whether thou art a goddess, I know not.
But if thou art a mortal, happy thy father and mother, and happy thy
brothers, and happiest of all he who shall win thee in marriage. Never
have I seen man or woman so fair. Thou art like a young palm-tree that
but lately I saw in Delos, springing by the temple of the god. But as for
me, I have been cast on this shore, having come from the island Ogygia.
Pity me, then, and lead me to the city, and give me something, a wrapper
of this linen, maybe, to put about me. So may the gods give thee all
blessings!”
And Nausicaa made answer, “Thou seemest, stranger, to be neither evil
nor foolish; and as for thy plight, the gods give good fortune or bad,
as they will. Thou shalt not lack clothing or food, or anything that a
suppliant should have. And I will take thee to the city. Know also that
this land is Phæacia, and that I am daughter to Alcinoüs, who is king
thereof.”
Then she called to her maidens, “What mean ye, to flee when ye see a man?
No enemy comes hither to harm us, for we are dear to the gods; but if one
cometh here overborne by trouble, it is well to succor him. Give this
man, therefore, food and drink, and let him wash himself in the river,
where there is shelter from the wind.”
So they brought him down to the river, and gave him a tunic and a cloak
to clothe himself, and also oil-olive in a flask of gold. Then, at his
bidding, they departed a little space, and he washed the salt from his
skin and out of his hair, and anointed himself, and put on the clothing.
And Minerva made him taller and fairer to see, and caused the hair to
be thick on his head, in color as a hyacinth. Then he sat down on the
seashore, right beautiful to behold, and the maiden said—
“Not without some bidding of the gods comes this man to our land. Before,
indeed, I deemed him uncomely, but now he seems like to the gods. I
should be well content to have such a man for a husband, and maybe he
might be willing to abide in this land. Give him, ye maidens, food and
drink.”
So they gave him, and he ate ravenously, having fasted long. Then
Nausicaa bade yoke the mules, and said to Ulysses—
“Follow thou with the maidens, and I will lead the way in the wagon.
For I would not that the people should speak lightly of me. I doubt not
that were thou with me some one of the baser sort would say, ‘Who is
this stranger, tall and fair, that cometh with Nausicaa? Will he be her
husband? Perchance it is some god, or a man from far away; for of us men
of Phæacia she thinks scorn.’ It would be shame that such words should be
spoken. Do thou, then, follow behind, and when we are come to the city,
tarry in a poplar grove that thou shalt see (’tis the grove of Minerva)
till I shall have come to my father’s house. Then follow; and for the
house, that any one, even a child, can show thee, for the other Phæacians
dwell not in such. And when thou art come within the doors, pass quickly
through the hall to where my mother sits. Close to the hearth is her
seat, and my father’s hard by, where he sits with the wine cup in his
hand, as a god. Pass him by and lay hold of her knees, and pray her that
she give thee safe return to thy country.”
It was evening when they came to the city. And Nausicaa drove the wagon
to the palace. Her brothers came out to her, and loosed the mules and
carried in the clothing. Then she went to her chamber, where Eurymedusa,
who was her nurse, lighted a fire and prepared a meal. Meanwhile Ulysses
came from the grove, and lest any one should see him, Minerva spread a
mist about him, and when he had now reached the city, she took the shape
of a young maiden carrying a pitcher, and met him.
Then Ulysses asked her, “My child, canst thou tell me where dwells
Alcinoüs? for I am a stranger in this place.”
And she answered, “I will show thee, for indeed he dwells nigh to my
own father. But be thou silent, for we Phæacians love not strangers over
much.”
Then she led him to the palace. A wondrous place it was, with walls of
brass and doors of gold, hanging on posts of silver; and on either side
of the door were dogs of gold and silver, the work of Vulcan, and against
the wall, all along from the threshold to the inner chamber, were set
seats, on which sat the chiefs of the Phæacians, feasting; and youths
wrought in gold stood holding torches in their hands, to give light in
the darkness. Fifty women were in the house grinding corn and weaving
robes, for the women of the land are no less skilled to weave than are
the men to sail the sea. And round about the house were gardens beautiful
with orchards of fig, and apple, and pear, and pomegranate, and olive.
Drought hurts them not, nor frost, and harvest comes after harvest
without ceasing. Also there was a vineyard; and some of the grapes were
parching in the sun, and some were being gathered, and some again were
but just turning red. And there were beds of all manner of flowers; and
in the midst of all were two fountains which never failed.
These things Ulysses regarded for a space and then passed into the hall.
Quickly he passed and put his hands on the knees of Areté and said—and
as he spake the mist cleared from about him, and all that were in the
hall beheld him—“I am a suppliant to thee, and to thy husband and to thy
guests. The gods bless thee and them, and grant you to live in peace, and
that your children should come peacefully after you. Only, do you send
me home to my native country.”
And he sat down in the ashes of the hearth. Then for a space all were
silent, but at the last spake Echeneüs, who was the oldest man in the
land—“King Alcinoüs, this ill becomes you that this man should sit in the
ashes of the hearth. Raise him and bid him sit upon a seat, and let us
pour out to Father Jupiter, who is the friend of suppliants, and let the
keeper of the house give him meat and drink.”
And Alcinoüs did so, bidding his eldest born, Laodamas, rise from his
seat. And an attendant poured water on his hands, and the keeper of the
house gave him meat and drink. Then, when all had poured out to Father
Jupiter, King Alcinoüs said that they would take counsel on the morrow
about sending this stranger to his home. And they answered that it should
be so, and each went to his home.
Only Ulysses was left in the hall, and Alcinoüs and Areté with him. And
Areté saw his cloak and tunic, that she and her maidens had made them,
and said—“Whence art thou, stranger? and who gave thee these garments?”
So Ulysses told her how he had come from the island of Calypso, and what
he had suffered, and how Nausicaa had found him on the shore, and had
guided him to the city.
But Alcinoüs blamed the maiden that she had not herself brought him to
the house. “For thou wast her suppliant,” he said.
“Nay,” said Ulysses; “she would have brought me, but I would not,
fearing thy wrath.” For he would not have the maiden blamed.
Then said Alcinoüs, “I am not one to be angered for such cause. Gladly
would I have such a one as thou art to be my son-in-law, and I would give
him house and wealth. But no one would I stay against his will. And as
for sending thee to thy home, that is easy; for thou shalt sleep, and
they shall take thee meanwhile.”
And after this they slept. And the next day the king called the chiefs
to an assembly, and told them of his purpose, that he would send this
stranger to his home, for that it was their wont to show such kindness
to such as needed it. And he bade fifty and two of the younger men make
ready a ship, and that the elders should come to his house, and bring
Demodocus, the minstrel, with them, for he was minded to make a great
feast for this stranger before he departed. So the youths made ready the
ship. And afterwards there were gathered together a great multitude, so
that the palace was filled from the one end to the other.
And Alcinoüs slew for them twelve sheep and eight swine and two oxen.
And when they had feasted to the full, the minstrel sang to them of how
Achilles and Ulysses had striven together with fierce words at a feast,
and how King Agamemnon was glad, seeing that so the prophecy of Apollo
was fulfilled, saying that when valor and counsel should fall out, the
end of Troy should come. But when Ulysses heard the song, he wept,
holding his mantle before his face.
This Alcinoüs perceived, and said to the chiefs, “Now that we have
feasted and delighted ourselves with song, let us go forth, that the
stranger may see that we are skilful in boxing and wrestling and running.”
So they went forth, a herald leading Demodocus by the hand, for the
minstrel was blind. Then stood up many Phæacian youths, and the fairest
and strongest of them all was Laodamas, eldest son to the king, and after
them Euryalus. And next they ran a race, and Clytoneus was the swiftest.
And among the wrestlers Euryalus was the best, and of the boxers,
Laodamas. And in throwing the quoit Elatrius excelled, and in leaping at
the bar, Amphialus.
Then Laodamas said to Ulysses, “Father, wilt thou not try thy skill in
some game, and put away the trouble from thy heart?”
But Ulysses answered, “Why askest thou this? I think of my troubles
rather than of sport and sit among you, caring only that I may see again
my home.”
Then said Euryalus, “And in very truth, stranger, thou hast not the look
of a wrestler or boxer. Rather would one judge thee to be some trader,
who sails over the sea for gain.”
“Nay,” answered Ulysses, “this is ill said. So true is it that the gods
give not all gifts to all men, beauty to one and sweet speech to another.
Fair of form art thou, no god could better thee; but thou speakest idle
words. I am not unskilled in these things, but stood among the first in
the old days; but since have I suffered much in battle and shipwreck.
Yet will I make trial of my strength, for thy words have angered me.”
Whereupon he took a quoit, heavier far than such as the Phæacians were
wont to throw, and sent it with a whirl. It hurtled through the air, so
that the brave Phæacians crouched to the ground in fear, and fell far
beyond all the rest.
Then said Ulysses, “Come now, I will contend in wrestling or boxing, or
even in the race, with any man in Phæacia, save Laodamas only, for he is
my friend. I can shoot with the bow, and only Philoctetes could surpass
me; and I can cast a spear as far as other men can shoot an arrow. But
as for the race, it may be that some one might outrun me, for I have
suffered much on the sea.”
But they all were silent, till the king stood up and said, “Thou hast
spoken well. But we men of Phæacia are not mighty to wrestle or to box;
only we are swift of foot, and skilful to sail upon the sea. And we love
feasts, and dances, and the harp, and gay clothing, and the bath. In
these things no man may surpass us.”
Then the king bade Demodocus the minstrel sing again. And when he had
done so, the king’s two sons, Alius and Laodamas, danced together; and
afterwards they played with the ball, throwing it into the air, cloud
high, and catching it right skilfully.
And afterwards the king said, “Let us each give this stranger a mantle
and a tunic and a talent of gold, and let Euryalus make his peace with
words and with a gift.”
And they all said that it should be so; also Euryalus gave Ulysses a
sword with a hilt of silver and a scabbard of ivory. And after this
Ulysses went to the bath, and then they all sat down to the feast. But as
he went to the hall, Nausicaa, fair as a goddess, met him and said—“Hail,
stranger; thou wilt remember me in thy native country, for thou owest me
thanks for thy life.”
And he answered, “Every day in my native country will I remember thee,
for indeed, fair maiden, thou didst save my life.”
And when they were set down to the feast, Ulysses sent a portion of the
meat which the king had caused to be set before him to the minstrel
Demodocus, with a message that he should sing to them of the horse of
wood which Epeius made, Minerva helping him, and how Ulysses brought it
into Troy, full of men of war who should destroy the city.
Then the minstrel sang how that some of the Greeks sailed away, having
set fire to their tents, and some hid themselves in the horse with
Ulysses, and how the men of Troy sat around, taking counsel what they
should do with it, and some judged that they should rip it open, and some
that they should throw it from the hill-top, and others again that they
should leave it to be a peace-offering to the gods; and how the Greeks
issued forth from their lurking-place and spoiled the city, and how
Ulysses and Menelaus went to the house of Deïphobus.
So he sang, and Ulysses wept to hear the tale. And when Alcinoüs
perceived that he wept, he bade Demodocus cease from his song, for some
that were there liked it not. And to Ulysses he said that he should tell
them who was his father and his mother, and from what land he came, and
what was his name. All these things Ulysses told them, and all that he
had done and suffered, down to the time when the Princess Nausicaa found
him on the river shore. And when he had ended, King Alcinoüs bade that
the princess should give Ulysses yet other gifts; and after that they
went each man to his house to sleep.
The next day King Alcinoüs put all the gifts into the ship. And when the
evening was come Ulysses bade farewell to the king and to the queen, and
departed.
ULYSSES AND THE SWINEHERD
By Alfred J. Church
Now Ulysses slept while the ship was sailing to Ithaca. And when it was
come to the shore he yet slept. Wherefore the men lifted him out, and
put him on the shore with all his goods, and so left him. After a while
he awoke, and knew not the land, for there was a great mist about him,
Minerva having contrived that it should be so, for good ends, as will be
seen. Very wroth was he with the men of Phæacia, thinking that they had
cheated him; nor did it comfort him when he counted his goods to find
that of these he had lost nothing.
But as he walked by the sea, lamenting his fate, Minerva met him, having
the shape of a young shepherd; and Ulysses, when he saw him, was glad,
and asked him how men called the country wherein he was.
And the false shepherd said, “Thou art foolish, or, may be, hast come
from very far, not to know this country. Rocky it is, not fit for horses;
nor is it very broad; but it is fertile land, and full of wine; nor does
it want for rain, and a good pasture it is for oxen and goats; and men
call it Ithaca. Even in Troy, which is very far, they say, from this land
of Greece, men have heard of Ithaca.”
This Ulysses was right glad to hear. Yet he was not minded to say who he
was, but rather to make up a tale.
So he said, “Yes, of a truth, I heard of this Ithaca in Crete, from which
I am newly come with all this wealth, leaving also as much behind for my
children. I made covenant with certain Phæacians that they should take me
to Pylos or to Elis; which thing indeed they were minded to do, only the
wind drove them hither, and while I slept they put me upon the shore and
departed to Sidon.”
This pleased Minerva much, and she changed her shape, becoming like a
woman, tall and fair, and said to Ulysses—“Right cunning would he be
who could cheat thee. Even now in thy native country ceasest thou not
from cunning words and deceits! But let these things be; for thou art
the wisest of mortal men, and I excel among the gods in counsel. I am
Minerva, daughter of Jupiter, who am ever wont to stand by thee and help
thee. And now we will hide these possessions of thine; and thou must be
silent, nor tell to any one who thou art, and endure many things, so
that thou mayest come to thine own again.”
But still Ulysses doubted, and would have the goddess tell him whether
of a truth he had come back to his native land. And she, commending his
prudence, scattered the mist that was about him. Then Ulysses knew the
land, and kissed the ground, and prayed to the nymphs that they would be
favorable to him. And after this, Minerva guiding him, he hid away his
possessions in a cave, and put a great stone on the mouth. Then the two
took counsel together.
And Minerva said, “Think, man of many devices, how thou wilt lay hands on
these men, suitors of thy wife, who for three years have sat in thy house
devouring thy substance. She hath answered them craftily, making many
promises, but still hoping for thy coming.”
Then Ulysses said, “Truly I had perished, even as Agamemnon perished, but
for thee. But do thou help me, as of old in Troy, for with thee at my
side I would fight with three hundred men.”
Then said Minerva, “Lo! I will cause that no man shall know thee. The
suitors shall take no account of thee, neither shall thy wife nor thy
son know thee. But go to the swineherd Eumæus, where he dwells by the
fountain of Arethusa, for he is faithful to thee and to thy house. And I
will hasten to Sparta, to the house of Menelaus, to fetch Telemachus, thy
son, for he went thither, seeking news of thee.”
Then Minerva changed him into the shape of a beggar-man. She caused his
skin to wither, and his hair to fall off, and his eyes to grow dim, and
put on him filthy rags, with a great stag’s hide about his shoulders, and
in his hand a staff, and a wallet on his shoulder, fastened by a rope.
Then she departed, and Ulysses went to the house of Eumæus, the
swineherd. A great courtyard there was, and twelve sties for the sows,
and four watchdogs, big as wild beasts, for such did the swineherd breed.
He himself was shaping sandals, and of his men three were with the swine
in the fields, and one was driving a fat beast to the city, to be meat
for the suitors. When Ulysses came near, the dogs ran upon him, but the
swineherd ran forth and drove away the dogs, and brought the old man in,
and gave him a seat of brushwood, with a great goat-skin over it.
The two talked of matters in Ithaca, and Eumæus told how the suitors of
the queen were devouring the substance of Ulysses. Then the false beggar
asked him of the king, saying that perchance, having travelled far, he
might know such an one.
But Eumæus said, “Nay, old man, thus do all wayfarers talk, yet we hear
no truth from them. Not a vagabond fellow comes to this island but our
queen must see him, and ask him many things, weeping the while. And thou,
I doubt not, for a cloak or a tunic, would tell a wondrous tale. But
Ulysses, I know, is dead, and either the fowls of the air devour him or
the fishes of the sea.”
And when the false beggar would have comforted him, saying he knew of
a truth that Ulysses would yet return, he hearkened not. Moreover, he
prophesied evil for Telemachus also, who had gone to seek news of his
father, but would surely be slain by the suitors, who were even now lying
in wait for him as he should return. And after this he asked the stranger
who he was and whence he had come. Then Ulysses answered him craftily,
inventing another story.
After this they talked much, and when the swineherd’s men were returned
they all feasted together. And the night being cold, and there being
much rain, Ulysses was minded to see whether one would lend him a cloak;
wherefore he told this tale—