Oh, many a shaft at random sent Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word at random spoken May soothe, or wound, a heart that 's broken!
"And for that he will make alliance with him and give his daughter,"--Cleopatra, in order that she may betray her husband. On which Appian says that doubtful of being able to make himself master of Egypt by force, because of the protection of the Romans, he wished to attempt it by craft. "He would fain corrupt her, but she shall not stand on his side, neither be for him. After this shall he turn his face unto the isles,"--that is to say, the sea-ports,--"and shall take many,"--as Appian relates.
The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.
Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands, And many friends I 've met; Not one fair scene or kindly smile Can this fond heart forget.
In man's most dark extremity Oft succour dawns from Heaven.
Stabit quocunque jeceris=--It will stand, whichever way you throw it. _Legend on the three-legged crest of the Isle of Man._
Which when Ulysses heard, Hero renown'd, Adjusting close the lid, he cast a cord Around it which with many a mazy knot He tied, by Circe taught him long before. And now, the mistress of the household charge Summon'd him to his bath; glad he beheld The steaming vase, uncustom'd to its use E'er since his voyage from the isle of fair Calypso, although, while a guest with her, Ever familiar with it, as a God. Laved by attendant damsels, and with oil Refresh'd, he put his sumptuous tunic on And mantle, and proceeding from the bath To the symposium, join'd the num'rous guests; But, as he pass'd, the Princess all divine Beside the pillars of the portal, lost In admiration of his graceful form, Stood, and in accents wing'd him thus address'd.
To whom Ulysses, ever-wise, replied. Consort revered of Laertiades! No longer let anxiety impair Thy beauteous form, nor any grief consume Thy spirits more for thy Ulysses' sake. And yet I blame thee not; a wife deprived Of her first mate to whom she had produced Fair fruit of mutual love, would mourn his loss, Although he were inferior far to thine, Whom fame affirms the semblance of the Gods. But cease to mourn. Hear me. I will relate A faithful tale, nor will from thee withhold Such tidings of Ulysses living still, And of his safe return, as I have heard Lately, in yon neighb'ring opulent land Of the Thesprotians. He returns enrich'd With many precious stores from those obtain'd Whom he hath visited; but he hath lost, Departing from Thrinacia's isle, his bark And all his lov'd companions in the Deep, For Jove was adverse to him, and the Sun, Whose beeves his followers slew. They perish'd all Amid the billowy flood; but Him, the keel Bestriding of his bark, the waves at length Cast forth on the Phæacian's land, a race Allied to heav'n, who rev'renced like a God Thy husband, honour'd him with num'rous gifts, And willing were to have convey'd him home. Ulysses, therefore, had attained long since His native shore, but that he deem'd it best To travel far, that he might still amass More wealth; so much Ulysses all mankind Excels in policy, and hath no peer. This information from Thesprotia's King I gain'd, from Phidon; to myself he swore, Libation off'ring under his own roof, That both the bark was launch'd, and the stout crew Prepared, that should conduct him to his home. But me he first dismiss'd; for, as it chanced, A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound To corn-enrich'd Dulichium. All the wealth He shew'd me by the Chief amass'd, a store To feed the house of yet another Prince To the tenth generation; so immense His treasures were within that palace lodg'd. Himself he said was to Dodona gone, Counsel to ask from the oracular oaks Sublime of Jove, how safest he might seek, After long exile thence, his native land, If openly were best, or in disguise. Thus, therefore, he is safe, and at his home Well-nigh arrived, nor shall his country long Want him. I swear it with a solemn oath. First Jove be witness, King and Lord of all! Next these domestic Gods of the renown'd Ulysses, in whose royal house I sit, That thou shalt see my saying all fulfill'd. Ulysses shall this self-same year return, This self-same month, ere yet the next begin.
Sacred to Vulcan's name, an isle there lay, Betwixt Sicilia's coasts and Lipare, Rais'd high on smoking rocks; and, deep below, In hollow caves the fires of Aetna glow. The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, Are heard around; the boiling waters roar, And smoky flames thro' fuming tunnels soar. Hether the Father of the Fire, by night, Thro' the brown air precipitates his flight. On their eternal anvils here he found The brethren beating, and the blows go round. A load of pointless thunder now there lies Before their hands, to ripen for the skies: These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast; Consum'd on mortals with prodigious waste. Three rays of writhen rain, of fire three more, Of winged southern winds and cloudy store As many parts, the dreadful mixture frame; And fears are added, and avenging flame. Inferior ministers, for Mars, repair His broken axletrees and blunted war, And send him forth again with furbish'd arms, To wake the lazy war with trumpets' loud alarms. The rest refresh the scaly snakes that fold The shield of Pallas, and renew their gold. Full on the crest the Gorgon's head they place, With eyes that roll in death, and with distorted face.
My friends! let none with contradiction thwart And rude reply, words rational and just; Assault no more the stranger, nor of all The servants of renown'd Ulysses here Harm any. My advice, both to the Queen And to Telemachus, shall gentle be, May it but please them. While the hope survived Within your bosoms of the safe return Of wise Ulysses to his native isle, So long good reason was that she should use Delay, and hold our wooing in suspence; For had Ulysses come, that course had proved Wisest and best; but that he comes no more Appears, now, manifest. Thou, therefore, Prince! Seeking thy mother, counsel her to wed The noblest, and who offers richest dow'r, That thou, for thy peculiar, may'st enjoy Thy own inheritance in peace and ease, And she, departing, find another home.
Then her Ulysses answer'd, ever-wise. Hard is the task, O Queen! (so long a time Hath since elaps'd) to tell thee. Twenty years Have pass'd since he forsook my native isle, Yet, from my best remembrance, I will give A likeness of him, such as now I may. A double cloak, thick-piled, Mœonian dyed, The noble Chief had on; two fast'nings held The golden clasp, and it display'd in front A well-wrought pattern with much art design'd. An hound between his fore-feet holding fast A dappled fawn, gaped eager on his prey. All wonder'd, seeing, how in lifeless gold Express'd, the dog with open mouth her throat Attempted still, and how the fawn with hoofs Thrust trembling forward, struggled to escape. That glorious mantle much I noticed, soft To touch, as the dried garlick's glossy film; Such was the smoothness of it, and it shone Sun-bright; full many a maiden, trust me, view'd The splendid texture with admiring eyes. But mark me now; deep treasure in thy mind This word. I know not if Ulysses wore That cloak at home, or whether of his train Some warrior gave it to him on his way, Or else some host of his; for many loved Ulysses, and with him might few compare. I gave to him, myself, a brazen sword, A purple cloak magnificent, and vest Of royal length, and when he sought his bark, With princely pomp dismiss'd him from the shore. An herald also waited on the Chief, Somewhat his Senior; him I next describe. His back was bunch'd, his visage swarthy, curl'd His poll, and he was named Eurybates; A man whom most of all his followers far Ulysses honour'd, for their minds were one.
I boast me sprung from ancestry renown'd In spacious Crete; son of a wealthy sire, Who other sons train'd num'rous in his house, Born of his wedded wife; but he begat Me on his purchased concubine, whom yet Dear as his other sons in wedlock born Castor Hylacides esteem'd and lov'd, For him I boast my father. Him in Crete, While yet he liv'd, all reverenc'd as a God, So rich, so prosp'rous, and so blest was he With sons of highest praise. But death, the doom Of all, him bore to Pluto's drear abode, And his illustrious sons among themselves Portion'd his goods by lot; to me, indeed, They gave a dwelling, and but little more, Yet, for my virtuous qualities, I won A wealthy bride, for I was neither vain Nor base, forlorn as thou perceiv'st me now. But thou canst guess, I judge, viewing the straw What once was in the ear. Ah! I have borne Much tribulation; heap'd and heavy woes. Courage and phalanx-breaking might had I From Mars and Pallas; at what time I drew, (Planning some dread exploit) an ambush forth Of our most valiant Chiefs, no boding fears Of death seized _me_, but foremost far of all I sprang to fight, and pierced the flying foe. Such was I once in arms. But household toils Sustain'd for children's sake, and carking cares T' enrich a family, were not for me. My pleasures were the gallant bark, the din Of battle, the smooth spear and glitt'ring shaft, Objects of dread to others, but which me The Gods disposed to love and to enjoy. Thus diff'rent minds are diff'rently amused; For ere Achaia's fleet had sailed to Troy, Nine times was I commander of an host Embark'd against a foreign foe, and found In all those enterprizes great success. From the whole booty, first, what pleased me most Chusing, and sharing also much by lot I rapidly grew rich, and had thenceforth Among the Cretans rev'rence and respect. But when loud-thund'ring Jove that voyage dire Ordain'd, which loos'd the knees of many a Greek, Then, to Idomeneus and me they gave The charge of all their fleet, which how to avoid We found not, so importunate the cry Of the whole host impell'd us to the task. There fought we nine long years, and in the tenth (Priam's proud city pillag'd) steer'd again Our galleys homeward, which the Gods dispersed. Then was it that deep-planning Jove devised For me much evil. One short month, no more, I gave to joys domestic, in my wife Happy, and in my babes, and in my wealth, When the desire seiz'd me with sev'ral ships Well-rigg'd, and furnish'd all with gallant crews, To sail for Ægypt; nine I fitted forth, To which stout mariners assembled fast. Six days the chosen partners of my voyage Feasted, to whom I num'rous victims gave For sacrifice, and for their own regale. Embarking on the sev'nth from spacious Crete, Before a clear breeze prosp'rous from the North We glided easily along, as down A river's stream; nor one of all my ships Damage incurr'd, but healthy and at ease We sat, while gales well-managed urged us on. The fifth day thence, smooth-flowing Nile we reach'd, And safe I moor'd in the Ægyptian stream. Then, charging all my mariners to keep Strict watch for preservation of the ships, I order'd spies into the hill-tops; but they Under the impulse of a spirit rash And hot for quarrel, the well-cultur'd fields Pillaged of the Ægyptians, captive led Their wives and little ones, and slew the men. Soon was the city alarm'd, and at the cry Down came the citizens, by dawn of day, With horse and foot, and with the gleam of arms Filling the plain. Then Jove with panic dread Struck all my people; none found courage more To stand, for mischiefs swarm'd on ev'ry side. There, num'rous by the glittering spear we fell Slaughter'd, while others they conducted thence Alive to servitude. But Jove himself My bosom with this thought inspired, (I would That, dying, I had first fulfill'd my fate In Ægypt, for new woes were yet to come!) Loosing my brazen casque, and slipping off My buckler, there I left them on the field, Then cast my spear away, and seeking, next, The chariot of the sov'reign, clasp'd his knees, And kiss'd them. He, by my submission moved, Deliver'd me, and to his chariot-seat Raising, convey'd me weeping to his home. With many an ashen spear his warriors sought To slay me, (for they now grew fiery wroth) But he, through fear of hospitable Jove, Chief punisher of wrong, saved me alive. Sev'n years I there abode, and much amass'd Among the Ægyptians, gifted by them all; But, in the eighth revolving year, arrived A shrewd Phœnician, in all fraud adept, Hungry, and who had num'rous harm'd before, By whom I also was cajoled, and lured T' attend him to Phœnicia, where his house And his possessions lay; there I abode A year complete his inmate; but (the days And months accomplish'd of the rolling year, And the new seasons ent'ring on their course) To Lybia then, on board his bark, by wiles He won me with him, partner of the freight Profess'd, but destin'd secretly to sale, That he might profit largely by my price. Not unsuspicious, yet constrain'd to go, With this man I embark'd. A cloudless gale Propitious blowing from the North, our ship Ran right before it through the middle sea, In the offing over Crete; but adverse Jove Destruction plann'd for them and death the while. For, Crete now left afar, and other land Appearing none, but sky alone and sea, Right o'er the hollow bark Saturnian Jove A cloud cærulean hung, dark'ning the Deep. Then, thund'ring oft, he hurl'd into the bark His bolts; she smitten by the fires of Jove, Quaked all her length; with sulphur fill'd she reek'd, And, o'er her sides precipitated, plunged Like gulls the crew, forbidden by that stroke Of wrath divine to hope their country more. But Jove himself, when I had cast away All hope of life, conducted to my arms The strong tall mast, that I might yet escape. Around that beam I clung, driving before The stormy blast. Nine days complete I drove, And, on the tenth dark night, the rolling flood Immense convey'd me to Thesprotia's shore. There me the Hero Phidon, gen'rous King Of the Thesprotians, freely entertained; For his own son discov'ring me with toil Exhausted and with cold, raised me, and thence Led me humanely to his father's house, Who cherish'd me, and gave me fresh attire. There heard I of Ulysses, whom himself Had entertain'd, he said, on his return To his own land; he shew'd me also gold, Brass, and bright steel elab'rate, whatsoe'er Ulysses had amass'd, a store to feed A less illustrious family than his To the tenth generation, so immense His treasures in the royal palace lay. Himself, he said, was to Dodona gone, There, from the tow'ring oaks of Jove to ask Counsel divine, if openly to land (After long absence) in his opulent realm Of Ithaca, be best, or in disguise. To me the monarch swore, in his own hall Pouring libation, that the ship was launch'd, And the crew ready for his conduct home. But me he first dismiss'd, for, as it chanced, A ship lay there of the Thesprotians, bound To green Dulichium's isle. He bade the crew Bear me to King Acastus with all speed; But them far other thoughts pleased more, and thoughts Of harm to me, that I might yet be plunged In deeper gulphs of woe than I had known. For, when the billow-cleaving bark had left The land remote, framing, combined, a plot Against my liberty, they stripp'd my vest And mantle, and this tatter'd raiment foul Gave me instead, which thy own eyes behold. At even-tide reaching the cultur'd coast Of Ithaca, they left me bound on board With tackle of the bark, and quitting ship Themselves, made hasty supper on the shore. But me, meantime, the Gods easily loos'd By their own pow'r, when, with wrapper vile Around my brows, sliding into the sea At the ship's stern, I lay'd me on the flood. With both hands oaring thence my course, I swam Till past all ken of theirs; then landing where Thick covert of luxuriant trees I mark'd, Close couchant down I lay; they mutt'ring loud, Paced to and fro, but deeming farther search Unprofitable, soon embark'd again. Thus baffling all their search with ease, the Gods Conceal'd and led me thence to the abode Of a wise man, dooming me still to live.
Thence, o'er the Deep proceeding sad, we reach'd The land at length, where, giant-sized and free From all constraint of law, the Cyclops dwell. They, trusting to the Gods, plant not, or plough, But earth unsow'd, untill'd, brings forth for them All fruits, wheat, barley, and the vinous grape Large cluster'd, nourish'd by the show'rs of Jove. No councils they convene, no laws contrive, But in deep caverns dwell, found on the heads Of lofty mountains, judging each supreme His wife and children, heedless of the rest. In front of the Cyclopean haven lies A level island, not adjoining close Their land, nor yet remote, woody and rude. There, wild goats breed numberless, by no foot Of man molested; never huntsman there, Inured to winter's cold and hunger, roams The dreary woods, or mountain-tops sublime; No fleecy flocks dwell there, nor plough is known, But the unseeded and unfurrow'd soil, Year after year a wilderness by man Untrodden, food for blatant goats supplies. For no ships crimson-prow'd the Cyclops own, Nor naval artizan is there, whose toil Might furnish them with oary barks, by which Subsists all distant commerce, and which bear Man o'er the Deep to cities far remote Who might improve the peopled isle, that seems Not steril in itself, but apt to yield, In their due season, fruits of ev'ry kind. For stretch'd beside the hoary ocean lie Green meadows moist, where vines would never fail; Light is the land, and they might yearly reap The tallest crops, so unctuous is the glebe. Safe is its haven also, where no need Of cable is or anchor, or to lash The hawser fast ashore, but pushing in His bark, the mariner might there abide Till rising gales should tempt him forth again. At bottom of the bay runs a clear stream Issuing from a cove hemm'd all around With poplars; down into that bay we steer'd Amid the darkness of the night, some God Conducting us; for all unseen it lay, Such gloom involved the fleet, nor shone the moon From heav'n to light us, veil'd by pitchy clouds. Hence, none the isle descried, nor any saw The lofty surge roll'd on the strand, or ere Our vessels struck the ground; but when they struck, Then, low'ring all our sails, we disembark'd, And on the sea-beach slept till dawn appear'd. Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn, Look'd rosy forth, we with admiring eyes The isle survey'd, roaming it wide around. Meantime, the nymphs, Jove's daughters, roused the goats Bred on the mountains, to supply with food The partners of my toils; then, bringing forth Bows and long-pointed javelins from the ships, Divided all into three sep'rate bands We struck them, and the Gods gave us much prey. Twelve ships attended me, and ev'ry ship Nine goats received by lot; myself alone Selected ten. All day, till set of sun, We eating sat goat's flesh, and drinking wine Delicious, without stint; for dearth was none Of ruddy wine on board, but much remain'd, With which my people had their jars supplied What time we sack'd Ciconian Ismarus. Thence looking forth toward the neighbour-land Where dwell the Cyclops, rising smoke we saw, And voices heard, their own, and of their flocks. Now sank the sun, and (night o'ershadowing all) We slept along the shore; but when again The rosy-finger'd daughter of the dawn Look'd forth, my crews convened, I thus began.
So Pallas, and approving Juno smiled. Then the imperial Shaker of the shores Thus to Apollo. Phoebus! wherefore stand _We_ thus aloof? Since others have begun, Begin we also; shame it were to both Should we, no combat waged, ascend again Olympus and the brass-built hall of Jove. Begin, for thou art younger; me, whose years Alike and knowledge thine surpass so far, It suits not. Oh stupidity! how gross Art thou and senseless! Are no traces left In thy remembrance of our numerous wrongs Sustain'd at Ilium, when, of all the Gods Ourselves alone, by Jove's commandment, served For stipulated hire, a year complete, Our task-master the proud Laomedon? Myself a bulwark'd town, spacious, secure Against assault, and beautiful as strong Built for the Trojans, and thine office was To feed for King Laomedon his herds Among the groves of Ida many-valed. But when the gladsome hours the season brought Of payment, then the unjust King of Troy Dismiss'd us of our whole reward amerced By violence, and added threats beside. Thee into distant isles, bound hand and foot, To sell he threatened, and to amputate The ears of both; we, therefore, hasted thence Resenting deep our promised hire withheld. Aid'st thou for this the Trojans? Canst thou less Than seek, with us, to exterminate the whole Perfidious race, wives, children, husbands, all?
It was far down the afternoon; and when all the spearings of the crimson fight were done: and floating in the lovely sunset sea and sky, sun and whale both stilly died together; then, such a sweetness and such plaintiveness, such inwreathing orisons curled up in that rosy air, that it almost seemed as if far over from the deep green convent valleys of the Manilla<b> isles, the Spanish land-breeze, wantonly turned sailor, had gone to sea, freighted with these vesper hymns.
He ended, nor the Argicide refused, Messenger of the skies; his sandals fair, Ambrosial, golden, to his feet he bound, Which o'er the moist wave, rapid as the wind, Bear him, and o'er th' illimitable earth, Then took his rod with which, at will, all eyes He closes soft, or opes them wide again. So arm'd, forth flew the valiant Argicide. Alighting on Pieria, down he stoop'd To Ocean, and the billows lightly skimm'd In form a sew-mew, such as in the bays Tremendous of the barren Deep her food Seeking, dips oft in brine her ample wing. In such disguise o'er many a wave he rode, But reaching, now, that isle remote, forsook The azure Deep, and at the spacious grot, Where dwelt the amber-tressed nymph arrived, Found her within. A fire on all the hearth Blazed sprightly, and, afar-diffused, the scent Of smooth-split cedar and of cypress-wood Odorous, burning, cheer'd the happy isle. She, busied at the loom, and plying fast Her golden shuttle, with melodious voice Sat chaunting there; a grove on either side, Alder and poplar, and the redolent branch Wide-spread of Cypress, skirted dark the cave. There many a bird of broadest pinion built Secure her nest, the owl, the kite, and daw Long-tongued, frequenter of the sandy shores. A garden-vine luxuriant on all sides Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph Their sinuous course pursuing side by side, Stray'd all around, and ev'ry where appear'd Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er With violets; it was a scene to fill A God from heav'n with wonder and delight. Hermes, Heav'n's messenger, admiring stood That sight, and having all survey'd, at length Enter'd the grotto; nor the lovely nymph Him knew not soon as seen, for not unknown Each to the other the Immortals are, How far soever sep'rate their abodes. Yet found he not within the mighty Chief Ulysses; he sat weeping on the shore, Forlorn, for there his custom was with groans Of sad regret t' afflict his breaking heart. Looking continual o'er the barren Deep. Then thus Calypso, nymph divine, the God Question'd, from her resplendent throne august.
Then all is said, the tempest is loosed, stones rain down, a fusillade breaks forth, many precipitate themselves to the bottom of the bank, and pass the small arm of the Seine, now filled in, the timber-yards of the Isle Louviers, that vast citadel ready to hand, bristle with combatants, stakes are torn up, pistol-shots fired, a barricade begun, the young men who are thrust back pass the Austerlitz bridge with the hearse at a run, and the municipal guard, the carabineers rush up, the dragoons ply their swords, the crowd disperses in all directions, a rumor of war flies to all four quarters of Paris, men shout: "To arms!" they run, tumble down, flee, resist. Wrath spreads abroad the riot as wind spreads a fire.
O'er yonder flood, even in spacious Crete I heard of Ithaca, where now, it seems, I have, myself, with these my stores arrived; Not richer stores than, flying thence, I left To my own children; for from Crete I fled For slaughter of Orsilochus the swift, Son of Idomeneus, whom none in speed Could equal throughout all that spacious isle. His purpose was to plunder me of all My Trojan spoils, which to obtain, much woe I had in battle and by storms endured, For that I would not gratify his Sire, Fighting beside him in the fields of Troy, But led a diff'rent band. Him from the field Returning homeward, with my brazen spear I smote, in ambush waiting his return At the road-side, with a confed'rate friend. Unwonted darkness over all the heav'ns That night prevailed, nor any eye of man Observed us, but, unseen, I slew the youth. No sooner, then, with my sharp spear of life I had bereft him, than I sought a ship Mann'd by renown'd Phæacians, whom with gifts Part of my spoils, and by requests, I won. I bade them land me on the Pylian shore, Or in fair Elis by th' Epeans ruled, But they, reluctant, were by violent winds Driv'n devious thence, for fraud they purposed none. Thus through constraint we here arrived by night, And with much difficulty push'd the ship Into safe harbour, nor was mention made Of food by any, though all needed food, But, disembark'd in haste, on shore we lay. I, weary, slept profound, and they my goods Forth heaving from the bark, beside me placed The treasures on the sea-beach where I slept, Then, reimbarking, to the populous coast Steer'd of Sidonia, and me left forlorn.