Translation of: The Odyssey of Homer: Book XI

ARGUMENT     Ulysses relates to Alcinos his voyage to the infernal regions, his conference there with the prophet Tiresias concerning his return to Ithaca, and gives him an account of the heroes, heroines, and others whom he saw there.             Arriving on the shore, and launching, first,             Our bark into the sacred Deep, we set             Our mast and sails, and stow'd secure on board             The ram and ewe, then, weeping, and with hearts             Sad and disconsolate, embark'd ourselves.             And now, melodious Circe, nymph divine,             Sent after us a canvas-stretching breeze,             Pleasant companion of our course, and we             (The decks and benches clear'd) untoiling sat,             While managed gales sped swift the bark along.             All day, with sails distended, e'er the Deep             She flew, and when the sun, at length, declined,             And twilight dim had shadow'd all the ways,             Approach'd the bourn of Ocean's vast profound.             The city, there, of the Cimmerians stands             With clouds and darkness veil'd, on whom the sun             Deigns not to look with his beam-darting eye,             Or when he climbs the starry arch, or when             Earthward he slopes again his west'ring wheels,[40]             But sad night canopies the woeful race.             We haled the bark aground, and, landing there             The ram and sable ewe, journey'd beside             The Deep, till we arrived where Circe bade.             Here, Perimedes' son Eurylochus             Held fast the destined sacrifice, while I             Scoop'd with my sword the soil, op'ning a trench             Ell-broad on ev'ry side, then pour'd around             Libation consecrate to all the dead,             First, milk with honey mixt, then luscious wine,             Then water, sprinkling, last, meal over all.             This done, adoring the unreal forms             And shadows of the dead, I vow'd to slay,             (Return'd to Ithaca) in my own abode,             An heifer barren yet, fairest and best             Of all my herds, and to enrich the pile             With delicacies, such as please the shades.             But, in peculiar, to the Theban seer             I vow'd a sable ram, largest and best             Of all my flocks. When thus I had implored             With vows and pray'r, the nations of the dead,             Piercing the victims next, I turn'd them both             To bleed into the trench; then swarming came             From Erebus the shades of the deceased,             Brides, youths unwedded, seniors long with woe             Oppress'd, and tender girls yet new to grief.             Came also many a warrior by the spear             In battle pierced, with armour gore-distain'd,             And all the multitude around the foss             Stalk'd shrieking dreadful; me pale horror seized.             I next, importunate, my people urged,             Flaying the victims which myself had slain,             To burn them, and to supplicate in pray'r             Illustrious Pluto and dread Proserpine.             Then down I sat, and with drawn faulchion chased             The ghosts, nor suffer'd them to approach the blood,             Till with Tiresias I should first confer.                 The spirit, first, of my companion came,             Elpenor; for no burial honours yet             Had he received, but we had left his corse             In Circe's palace, tombless, undeplored,             Ourselves by pressure urged of other cares.             Touch'd with compassion seeing him, I wept,             And in wing'd accents brief him thus bespake.                 Elpenor! how cam'st thou into the realms             Of darkness? Hast thou, though on foot, so far             Outstripp'd my speed, who in my bark arrived?                 So I, to whom with tears he thus replied.             Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!             Fool'd by some dmon and the intemp'rate bowl,             I perish'd in the house of Circe; there             The deep-descending steps heedless I miss'd,             And fell precipitated from the roof.             With neck-bone broken from the vertebr             Outstretch'd I lay; my spirit sought the shades.             But now, by those whom thou hast left at home,             By thy Penelope, and by thy fire,             The gentle nourisher of thy infant growth,             And by thy only son Telemachus             I make my suit to thee. For, sure, I know             That from the house of Pluto safe return'd,             Thou shalt ere long thy gallant vessel moor             At the an isle. Ah! there arrived             Remember me. Leave me not undeplored             Nor uninhumed, lest, for my sake, the Gods             In vengeance visit thee; but with my arms             (What arms soe'er I left) burn me, and raise             A kind memorial of me on the coast,             Heap'd high with earth; that an unhappy man             May yet enjoy an unforgotten name.             Thus do at my request, and on my hill             Funereal, plant the oar with which I row'd,             While yet I lived a mariner of thine.                 He spake, to whom thus answer I return'd.             Poor youth! I will perform thy whole desire.                 Thus we, there sitting, doleful converse held,             With outstretch'd faulchion, I, guarding the blood,             And my companion's shadowy semblance sad             Meantime discoursing me on various themes.             The soul of my departed mother, next,             Of Anticleia came, daughter of brave             Autolycus; whom, when I sought the shores             Of Ilium, I had living left at home.             Seeing her, with compassion touch'd, I wept,             Yet even her, (although it pain'd my soul)             Forbad, relentless, to approach the blood,             Till with Tiresias I should first confer.             Then came the spirit of the Theban seer             Himself, his golden sceptre in his hand,             Who knew me, and, enquiring, thus began.                 Why, hapless Chief! leaving the cheerful day,             Arriv'st thou to behold the dead, and this             Unpleasant land? but, from the trench awhile             Receding, turn thy faulchion keen away,             That I may drink the blood, and tell thee truth.                 He spake; I thence receding, deep infix'd             My sword bright-studded in the sheath again.             The noble prophet then, approaching, drank             The blood, and, satisfied, address'd me thus.                 Thou seek'st a pleasant voyage home again,             Renown'd Ulysses! but a God will make             That voyage difficult; for, as I judge,             Thou wilt not pass by Neptune unperceiv'd,             Whose anger follows thee, for that thou hast             Deprived his son Cyclops of his eye.             At length, however, after num'rous woes             Endur'd, thou may'st attain thy native isle,             If thy own appetite thou wilt controul             And theirs who follow thee, what time thy bark             Well-built, shall at Thrinacia's shore arrive,[41]             Escaped from perils of the gloomy Deep.             There shall ye find grazing the flocks and herds             Of the all-seeing and all-hearing Sun,             Which, if attentive to thy safe return,             Thou leave unharm'd, though after num'rous woes,             Ye may at length arrive in Ithaca.             But if thou violate them, I denounce             Destruction on thy ship and all thy band,             And though thyself escape, late shalt thou reach             Thy home and hard-bested,[42] in a strange bark,             All thy companions lost; trouble beside             Awaits thee there, for thou shalt find within             Proud suitors of thy noble wife, who waste             Thy substance, and with promis'd spousal gifts             Ceaseless solicit her to wed; yet well             Shalt thou avenge all their injurious deeds.             That once perform'd, and ev'ry suitor slain             Either by stratagem, or face to face,             In thy own palace, bearing, as thou go'st,             A shapely oar, journey, till thou hast found             A people who the sea know not, nor eat             Food salted; they trim galley crimson prow'd             Have ne'er beheld, nor yet smooth-shaven oar,             With which the vessel wing'd scuds o'er the waves.             Well thou shalt know them; this shall be the sign--             When thou shalt meet a trav'ler, who shall name             The oar on thy broad shoulder borne, a van,[43]             There, deep infixing it within the soil,             Worship the King of Ocean with a bull,             A ram, and a lascivious boar, then seek             Thy home again, and sacrifice at home             An hecatomb to the Immortal Gods,             Adoring each duly, and in his course.             So shalt thou die in peace a gentle death,             Remote from Ocean; it shall find thee late,             In soft serenity of age, the Chief             Of a blest people.--I have told thee truth.                 He spake, to whom I answer thus return'd.             Tiresias! thou, I doubt not, hast reveal'd             The ordinance of heav'n. But tell me, Seer!             And truly. I behold my mother's shade;             Silent she sits beside the blood, nor word             Nor even look vouchsafes to her own son.             How shall she learn, prophet, that I am her's?                 So I, to whom Tiresias quick replied.             The course is easy. Learn it, taught by me.             What shade soe'er, by leave of thee obtain'd,             Shall taste the blood, that shade will tell thee truth;             The rest, prohibited, will all retire.                 When thus the spirit of the royal Seer             Had his prophetic mind reveal'd, again             He enter'd Pluto's gates; but I unmoved             Still waited till my mother's shade approach'd;             She drank the blood, then knew me, and in words             Wing'd with affection, plaintive, thus began.                 My son! how hast thou enter'd, still alive,             This darksome region? Difficult it is             For living man to view the realms of death.             Broad rivers roll, and awful floods between,             But chief, the Ocean, which to pass on foot,             Or without ship, impossible is found.             Hast thou, long wand'ring in thy voyage home             From Ilium, with thy ship and crew arrived,             Ithaca and thy consort yet unseen?                 She spake, to whom this answer I return'd.             My mother! me necessity constrain'd             To Pluto's dwelling, anxious to consult             Theban Tiresias; for I have not yet             Approach'd Achaia, nor have touch'd the shore             Of Ithaca, but suff'ring ceaseless woe             Have roam'd, since first in Agamemnon's train             I went to combat with the sons of Troy.             But speak, my mother, and the truth alone;             What stroke of fate slew thee? Fell'st thou a prey             To some slow malady? or by the shafts             Of gentle Dian suddenly subdued?             Speak to me also of my ancient Sire,             And of Telemachus, whom I left at home;             Possess I still unalienate and safe             My property, or hath some happier Chief             Admittance free into my fortunes gain'd,             No hope subsisting more of my return?             The mind and purpose of my wedded wife             Declare thou also. Dwells she with our son             Faithful to my domestic interests,             Or is she wedded to some Chief of Greece?                 I ceas'd, when thus the venerable shade.             Not so; she faithful still and patient dwells             Thy roof beneath; but all her days and nights             Devoting sad to anguish and to tears.             Thy fortunes still are thine; Telemachus             Cultivates, undisturb'd, thy land, and sits             At many a noble banquet, such as well             Beseems the splendour of his princely state,             For all invite him; at his farm retired             Thy father dwells, nor to the city comes,             For aught; nor bed, nor furniture of bed,             Furr'd cloaks or splendid arras he enjoys,             But, with his servile hinds all winter sleeps             In ashes and in dust at the hearth-side,             Coarsely attired; again, when summer comes,             Or genial autumn, on the fallen leaves             In any nook, not curious where, he finds             There, stretch'd forlorn, nourishing grief, he weeps             Thy lot, enfeebled now by num'rous years.             So perish'd I; such fate I also found;             Me, neither the right-aiming arch'ress struck,             Diana, with her gentle shafts, nor me             Distemper slew, my limbs by slow degrees             But sure, bereaving of their little life,             But long regret, tender solicitude,             And recollection of thy kindness past,             These, my Ulysses! fatal proved to me.                 She said; I, ardent wish'd to clasp the shade             Of my departed mother; thrice I sprang             Toward her, by desire impetuous urged,             And thrice she flitted from between my arms,             Light as a passing shadow or a dream.             Then, pierced by keener grief, in accents wing'd             With filial earnestness I thus replied.                 My mother, why elud'st thou my attempt             To clasp thee, that ev'n here, in Pluto's realm,             We might to full satiety indulge             Our grief, enfolded in each other's arms?             Hath Proserpine, alas! only dispatch'd             A shadow to me, to augment my woe?                 Then, instant, thus the venerable form.             Ah, son! thou most afflicted of mankind!             On thee, Jove's daughter, Proserpine, obtrudes             No airy semblance vain; but such the state             And nature is of mortals once deceased.             For they nor muscle have, nor flesh, nor bone;             All those (the spirit from the body once             Divorced) the violence of fire consumes,             And, like a dream, the soul flies swift away.             But haste thou back to light, and, taught thyself             These sacred truths, hereafter teach thy spouse.                 Thus mutual we conferr'd. Then, thither came,             Encouraged forth by royal Proserpine,             Shades female num'rous, all who consorts, erst,             Or daughters were of mighty Chiefs renown'd.             About the sable blood frequent they swarm'd.             But I, consid'ring sat, how I might each             Interrogate, and thus resolv'd. My sword             Forth drawing from beside my sturdy thigh,             Firm I prohibited the ghosts to drink             The blood together; they successive came;             Each told her own distress; I question'd all.                 There, first, the high-born Tyro I beheld;             She claim'd Salmoneus as her sire, and wife             Was once of Cretheus, son of olus.             Enamour'd of Enipeus, stream divine,             Loveliest of all that water earth, beside             His limpid current she was wont to stray,             When Ocean's God, (Enipeus' form assumed)             Within the eddy-whirling river's mouth             Embraced her; there, while the o'er-arching flood,             Uplifted mountainous, conceal'd the God             And his fair human bride, her virgin zone             He loos'd, and o'er her eyes sweet sleep diffused.             His am'rous purpose satisfied, he grasp'd             Her hand, affectionate, and thus he said.                 Rejoice in this my love, and when the year             Shall tend to consummation of its course,             Thou shalt produce illustrious twins, for love             Immortal never is unfruitful love.             Rear them with all a mother's care; meantime,             Hence to thy home. Be silent. Name it not.             For I am Neptune, Shaker of the shores.                 So saying, he plunged into the billowy Deep.             She pregnant grown, Pelias and Neleus bore,             Both, valiant ministers of mighty Jove.             In wide-spread Iolchus Pelias dwelt,             Of num'rous flocks possess'd; but his abode             Amid the sands of Pylus Neleus chose.             To Cretheus wedded next, the lovely nymph             Yet other sons, son and Pheres bore,             And Amythaon of equestrian fame.                 I, next, the daughter of Asopus saw,             Antiope; she gloried to have known             Th' embrace of Jove himself, to whom she brought             A double progeny, Amphion named             And Zethus; they the seven-gated Thebes             Founded and girded with strong tow'rs, because,             Though puissant Heroes both, in spacious Thebes             Unfenced by tow'rs, they could not dwell secure.                 Alcmena, next, wife of Amphitryon             I saw; she in the arms of sov'reign Jove             The lion-hearted Hercules conceiv'd,             And, after, bore to Creon brave in fight             His daughter Megara, by the noble son             Unconquer'd of Amphitryon espoused.                 The beauteous Epicaste[44] saw I then,             Mother of Oedipus, who guilt incurr'd             Prodigious, wedded, unintentional,             To her own son; his father first he slew,             Then wedded her, which soon the Gods divulged.             He, under vengeance of offended heav'n,             In pleasant Thebes dwelt miserable, King             Of the Cadmean race; she to the gates             Of Ades brazen-barr'd despairing went,             Self-strangled by a cord fasten'd aloft             To her own palace-roof, and woes bequeath'd             (Such as the Fury sisters execute             Innumerable) to her guilty son.                 There also saw I Chloris, loveliest fair,             Whom Neleus woo'd and won with spousal gifts             Inestimable, by her beauty charm'd             She youngest daughter was of Iasus' son,             Amphion, in old time a sov'reign prince             In Minuian Orchomenus,             And King of Pylus. Three illustrious sons             She bore to Neleus, Nestor, Chromius,             And Periclymenus the wide-renown'd,             And, last, produced a wonder of the earth,             Pero, by ev'ry neighbour prince around             In marriage sought; but Neleus her on none             Deign'd to bestow, save only on the Chief             Who should from Phylace drive off the beeves             (Broad-fronted, and with jealous care secured)             Of valiant Iphicles. One undertook             That task alone, a prophet high in fame,             Melampus; but the Fates fast bound him there             In rig'rous bonds by rustic hands imposed.             At length (the year, with all its months and days             Concluded, and the new-born year begun)             Illustrious Iphicles releas'd the seer,             Grateful for all the oracles resolved,[45]             Till then obscure. So stood the will of Jove.                 Next, Leda, wife of Tyndarus I saw,             Who bore to Tyndarus a noble pair,             Castor the bold, and Pollux cestus-famed.             They pris'ners in the fertile womb of earth,             Though living, dwell, and even there from Jove             High priv'lege gain; alternate they revive             And die, and dignity partake divine.                 The comfort of Alous, next, I view'd,             Iphimedeia; she th' embrace profess'd             Of Neptune to have shared, to whom she bore             Two sons; short-lived they were, but godlike both,             Otus and Ephialtes far-renown'd.             Orion sole except, all-bounteous Earth             Ne'er nourish'd forms for beauty or for size             To be admired as theirs; in his ninth year             Each measur'd, broad, nine cubits, and the height             Was found nine ells of each. Against the Gods             Themselves they threaten'd war, and to excite             The din of battle in the realms above.             To the Olympian summit they essay'd             To heave up Ossa, and to Ossa's crown             Branch-waving Pelion; so to climb the heav'ns.             Nor had they failed, maturer grown in might,             To accomplish that emprize, but them the son[46]             Of radiant-hair'd Latona and of Jove             Slew both, ere yet the down of blooming youth             Thick-sprung, their cheeks or chins had tufted o'er.                 Phdra I also there, and Procris saw,             And Ariadne for her beauty praised,             Whose sire was all-wise Minos. Theseus her             From Crete toward the fruitful region bore             Of sacred Athens, but enjoy'd not there,             For, first, she perish'd by Diana's shafts             In Dia, Bacchus witnessing her crime.[47]                 Mra and Clymene I saw beside,             And odious Eriphyle, who received             The price in gold of her own husband's life.                 But all the wives of Heroes whom I saw,             And all their daughters can I not relate;             Night, first, would fail; and even now the hour             Calls me to rest either on board my bark,             Or here; meantime, I in yourselves confide,             And in the Gods to shape my conduct home.                 He ceased; the whole assembly silent sat,             Charm'd into ecstacy by his discourse             Throughout the twilight hall, till, at the last,             Areta iv'ry arm'd them thus bespake.                 Phacians! how appears he in your eyes             This stranger, graceful as he is in port,             In stature noble, and in mind discrete?             My guest he is, but ye all share with me             That honour; him dismiss not, therefore, hence             With haste, nor from such indigence withhold             Supplies gratuitous; for ye are rich,             And by kind heav'n with rare possessions blest.                 The Hero, next, Echeneus spake, a Chief             Now ancient, eldest of Phacia's sons.                 Your prudent Queen, my friends, speaks not beside             Her proper scope, but as beseems her well.             Her voice obey; yet the effect of all             Must on Alcinos himself depend.                 To whom Alcinos, thus, the King, replied.             I ratify the word. So shall be done,             As surely as myself shall live supreme             O'er all Phacia's maritime domain.             Then let the guest, though anxious to depart,             Wait till the morrow, that I may complete             The whole donation. His safe conduct home             Shall be the gen'ral care, but mine in Chief,             To whom dominion o'er the rest belongs.                 Him answer'd, then, Ulysses ever-wise.             Alcinos! Prince! exalted high o'er all             Phacia's sons! should ye solicit, kind,             My stay throughout the year, preparing still             My conduct home, and with illustrious gifts             Enriching me the while, ev'n that request             Should please me well; the wealthier I return'd,             The happier my condition; welcome more             And more respectable I should appear             In ev'ry eye to Ithaca restored.                 To whom Alcinos answer thus return'd.             Ulysses! viewing thee, no fears we feel             Lest thou, at length, some false pretender prove,             Or subtle hypocrite, of whom no few             Disseminated o'er its face the earth             Sustains, adepts in fiction, and who frame             Fables, where fables could be least surmised.             Thy phrase well turn'd, and thy ingenuous mind             Proclaim thee diff'rent far, who hast in strains             Musical as a poet's voice, the woes             Rehears'd of all thy Greecians, and thy own.             But say, and tell me true. Beheld'st thou there             None of thy followers to the walls of Troy             Slain in that warfare? Lo! the night is long--             A night of utmost length; nor yet the hour             Invites to sleep. Tell me thy wond'rous deeds,             For I could watch till sacred dawn, could'st thou             So long endure to tell me of thy toils.                 Then thus Ulysses, ever-wise, replied.             Alcinos! high exalted over all             Phacia's sons! the time suffices yet             For converse both and sleep, and if thou wish             To hear still more, I shall not spare to unfold             More pitiable woes than these, sustain'd             By my companions, in the end destroy'd;             Who, saved from perils of disast'rous war             At Ilium, perish'd yet in their return,             Victims of a pernicious woman's crime.[48]                 Now, when chaste Proserpine had wide dispers'd             Those female shades, the spirit sore distress'd             Of Agamemnon, Atreus' son, appear'd;             Encircled by a throng, he came; by all             Who with himself beneath gisthus' roof             Their fate fulfill'd, perishing by the sword.             He drank the blood, and knew me; shrill he wail'd             And querulous; tears trickling bathed his cheeks,             And with spread palms, through ardour of desire             He sought to enfold me fast, but vigour none,             Or force, as erst, his agile limbs inform'd.             I, pity-moved, wept at the sight, and him,             In accents wing'd by friendship, thus address'd.                 Ah glorious son of Atreus, King of men!             What hand inflicted the all-numbing stroke             Of death on thee? Say, didst thou perish sunk             By howling tempests irresistible             Which Neptune raised, or on dry land by force             Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off             Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away,             Or fighting for Achaia's daughters, shut             Within some city's bulwarks close besieged?                 I ceased, when Agamemnon thus replied.             Ulysses, noble Chief, Laertes' son             For wisdom famed! I neither perish'd sunk             By howling tempests irresistible             Which Neptune raised, nor on dry land received             From hostile multitudes the fatal blow,             But me gisthus slew; my woeful death             Confed'rate with my own pernicious wife             He plotted, with a show of love sincere             Bidding me to his board, where as the ox             Is slaughter'd at his crib, he slaughter'd me.             Such was my dreadful death; carnage ensued             Continual of my friends slain all around,             Num'rous as boars bright-tusk'd at nuptial feast,             Or feast convivial of some wealthy Chief.             Thou hast already witness'd many a field             With warriors overspread, slain one by one,             But that dire scene had most thy pity moved,             For we, with brimming beakers at our side,             And underneath full tables bleeding lay.             Blood floated all the pavement. Then the cries             Of Priam's daughter sounded in my ears             Most pitiable of all. Cassandra's cries,             Whom Clytemnestra close beside me slew.             Expiring as I lay, I yet essay'd             To grasp my faulchion, but the trayt'ress quick             Withdrew herself, nor would vouchsafe to close             My languid eyes, or prop my drooping chin             Ev'n in the moment when I sought the shades.             So that the thing breathes not, ruthless and fell             As woman once resolv'd on such a deed             Detestable, as my base wife contrived,             The murther of the husband of her youth.             I thought to have return'd welcome to all,             To my own children and domestic train;             But she, past measure profligate, hath poured             Shame on herself, on women yet unborn,             And even on the virtuous of her sex.                 He ceas'd, to whom, thus, answer I return'd.             Gods! how severely hath the thund'rer plagued             The house of Atreus even from the first,             By female counsels! we for Helen's sake             Have num'rous died, and Clytemnestra framed,             While thou wast far remote, this snare for thee!                 So I, to whom Atrides thus replied.             Thou, therefore, be not pliant overmuch             To woman; trust her not with all thy mind,             But half disclose to her, and half conceal.             Yet, from thy consort's hand no bloody death,             My friend, hast thou to fear; for passing wise             Icarius' daughter is, far other thoughts,             Intelligent, and other plans, to frame.             Her, going to the wars we left a bride             New-wedded, and thy boy hung at her breast,             Who, man himself, consorts ere now with men             A prosp'rous youth; his father, safe restored             To his own Ithaca, shall see him soon,             And he shall clasp his father in his arms             As nature bids; but me, my cruel one             Indulged not with the dear delight to gaze             On my Orestes, for she slew me first.             But listen; treasure what I now impart.[49]             Steer secret to thy native isle; avoid             Notice; for woman merits trust no more.             Now tell me truth. Hear ye in whose abode             My son resides? dwells he in Pylus, say,             Or in Orchomenos, or else beneath             My brother's roof in Sparta's wide domain?             For my Orestes is not yet a shade.                 So he, to whom I answer thus return'd.             Atrides, ask not me. Whether he live,             Or have already died, I nothing know;             Mere words are vanity, and better spared.                 Thus we discoursing mutual stood, and tears             Shedding disconsolate. The shade, meantime,             Came of Achilles, Peleus' mighty son;             Patroclus also, and Antilochus             Appear'd, with Ajax, for proportion just             And stature tall, (Pelides sole except)             Distinguish'd above all Achaia's sons.             The soul of swift acides at once             Knew me, and in wing'd accents thus began.                 Brave Laertiades, for wiles renown'd!             What mightier enterprise than all the past             Hath made thee here a guest? rash as thou art!             How hast thou dared to penetrate the gloom             Of Ades, dwelling of the shadowy dead,             Semblances only of what once they were?                 He spake, to whom I, answ'ring, thus replied.             O Peleus' son! Achilles! bravest far             Of all Achaia's race! I here arrived             Seeking Tiresias, from his lips to learn,             Perchance, how I might safe regain the coast             Of craggy Ithaca; for tempest-toss'd             Perpetual, I have neither yet approach'd             Achaia's shore, or landed on my own.             But as for thee, Achilles! never man             Hath known felicity like thine, or shall,             Whom living we all honour'd as a God,             And who maintain'st, here resident, supreme             Controul among the dead; indulge not then,             Achilles, causeless grief that thou hast died.                 I ceased, and answer thus instant received.             Renown'd Ulysses! think not death a theme             Of consolation; I had rather live             The servile hind for hire, and eat the bread             Of some man scantily himself sustain'd,             Than sov'reign empire hold o'er all the shades.             But come--speak to me of my noble boy;             Proceeds he, as he promis'd, brave in arms,             Or shuns he war? Say also, hast thou heard             Of royal Peleus? shares he still respect             Among his num'rous Myrmidons, or scorn             In Hellas and in Phthia, for that age             Predominates in his enfeebled limbs?             For help is none in me; the glorious sun             No longer sees me such, as when in aid             Of the Achaians I o'erspread the field             Of spacious Troy with all their bravest slain.             Oh might I, vigorous as then, repair[50]             For one short moment to my father's house,             They all should tremble; I would shew an arm,             Such as should daunt the fiercest who presumes             To injure him, or to despise his age.                 Achilles spake, to whom I thus replied.             Of noble Peleus have I nothing heard;             But I will tell thee, as thou bidd'st, the truth             Unfeign'd of Neoptolemus thy son;             For him, myself, on board my hollow bark             From Scyros to Achaia's host convey'd.             Oft as in council under Ilium's walls             We met, he ever foremost was in speech,             Nor spake erroneous; Nestor and myself             Except, no Greecian could with him compare.             Oft, too, as we with battle hemm'd around             Troy's bulwarks, from among the mingled crowd             Thy son sprang foremost into martial act,             Inferior in heroic worth to none.             Beneath him num'rous fell the sons of Troy             In dreadful fight, nor have I pow'r to name             Distinctly all, who by his glorious arm             Exerted in the cause of Greece, expired.             Yet will I name Eurypylus, the son             Of Telephus, an Hero whom his sword             Of life bereaved, and all around him strew'd             The plain with his Cetean warriors, won             To Ilium's side by bribes to women giv'n.[51]             Save noble Memnon only, I beheld             No Chief at Ilium beautiful as he.             Again, when we within the horse of wood             Framed by Epes sat, an ambush chos'n             Of all the bravest Greeks, and I in trust             Was placed to open or to keep fast-closed             The hollow fraud; then, ev'ry Chieftain there             And Senator of Greece wiped from his cheeks             The tears, and tremors felt in ev'ry limb;             But never saw I changed to terror's hue             His ruddy cheek, no tears wiped he away,             But oft he press'd me to go forth, his suit             With pray'rs enforcing, griping hard his hilt             And his brass-burthen'd spear, and dire revenge             Denouncing, ardent, on the race of Troy.             At length, when we had sack'd the lofty town             Of Priam, laden with abundant spoils             He safe embark'd, neither by spear or shaft             Aught hurt, or in close fight by faulchion's edge,             As oft in war befalls, where wounds are dealt             Promiscuous at the will of fiery Mars.                 So I; then striding large, the spirit thence             Withdrew of swift acides, along             The hoary mead pacing,[52] with joy elate             That I had blazon'd bright his son's renown.                 The other souls of men by death dismiss'd             Stood mournful by, sad uttering each his woes;             The soul alone I saw standing remote             Of Telamonian Ajax, still incensed             That in our public contest for the arms             Worn by Achilles, and by Thetis thrown             Into dispute, my claim had strongest proved,             Troy and Minerva judges of the cause.             Disastrous victory! which I could wish             Not to have won, since for that armour's sake             The earth hath cover'd Ajax, in his form             And martial deeds superior far to all             The Greecians, Peleus' matchless son except.             I, seeking to appease him, thus began.                 O Ajax, son of glorious Telamon!             Canst thou remember, even after death,             Thy wrath against me, kindled for the sake             Of those pernicious arms? arms which the Gods             Ordain'd of such dire consequence to Greece,             Which caused thy death, our bulwark! Thee we mourn             With grief perpetual, nor the death lament             Of Peleus' son, Achilles, more than thine.             Yet none is blameable; Jove evermore             With bitt'rest hate pursued Achaia's host,             And he ordain'd thy death. Hero! approach,             That thou may'st hear the words with which I seek             To sooth thee; let thy long displeasure cease!             Quell all resentment in thy gen'rous breast!                 I spake; nought answer'd he, but sullen join'd             His fellow-ghosts; yet, angry as he was,             I had prevail'd even on him to speak,             Or had, at least, accosted him again,             But that my bosom teem'd with strong desire             Urgent, to see yet others of the dead.                 There saw I Minos, offspring famed of Jove;             His golden sceptre in his hand, he sat             Judge of the dead; they, pleading each in turn,             His cause, some stood, some sat, filling the house             Whose spacious folding-gates are never closed.                 Orion next, huge ghost, engaged my view,             Droves urging o'er the grassy mead, of beasts             Which he had slain, himself, on the wild hills,             With strong club arm'd of ever-during brass.                 There also Tityus on the ground I saw             Extended, offspring of the glorious earth;             Nine acres he o'erspread, and, at his side             Station'd, two vultures on his liver prey'd,             Scooping his entrails; nor sufficed his hands             To fray them thence; for he had sought to force             Latona, illustrious concubine of Jove,             What time the Goddess journey'd o'er the rocks             Of Pytho into pleasant Panopeus.                 Next, suff'ring grievous torments, I beheld             Tantalus; in a pool he stood, his chin             Wash'd by the wave; thirst-parch'd he seem'd, but found             Nought to assuage his thirst; for when he bow'd             His hoary head, ardent to quaff, the flood             Vanish'd absorb'd, and, at his feet, adust             The soil appear'd, dried, instant, by the Gods.             Tall trees, fruit-laden, with inflected heads             Stoop'd to him, pomegranates, apples bright,             The luscious fig, and unctuous olive smooth;             Which when with sudden grasp he would have seized,             Winds hurl'd them high into the dusky clouds.                 There, too, the hard-task'd Sisyphus I saw,             Thrusting before him, strenuous, a vast rock.[53]             With hands and feet struggling, he shoved the stone             Up to a hill-top; but the steep well-nigh             Vanquish'd, by some great force repulsed,[54] the mass             Rush'd again, obstinate, down to the plain.             Again, stretch'd prone, severe he toiled, the sweat             Bathed all his weary limbs, and his head reek'd.                 The might of Hercules I, next, survey'd;             His semblance; for himself their banquet shares             With the Immortal Gods, and in his arms             Enfolds neat-footed Hebe, daughter fair             Of Jove, and of his golden-sandal'd spouse.             Around him, clamorous as birds, the dead             Swarm'd turbulent; he, gloomy-brow'd as night,             With uncased bow and arrow on the string             Peer'd terrible from side to side, as one             Ever in act to shoot; a dreadful belt             He bore athwart his bosom, thong'd with gold.             There, broider'd shone many a stupendous form,             Bears, wild boars, lions with fire-flashing eyes,             Fierce combats, battles, bloodshed, homicide.             The artist, author of that belt, none such             Before, produced, or after. Me his eye             No sooner mark'd, than knowing me, in words             By sorrow quick suggested, he began.                 Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!             Ah, hapless Hero! thou art, doubtless, charged,             Thou also, with some arduous labour, such             As in the realms of day I once endured.             Son was I of Saturnian Jove, yet woes             Immense sustain'd, subjected to a King             Inferior far to me, whose harsh commands             Enjoin'd me many a terrible exploit.             He even bade me on a time lead hence             The dog, that task believing above all             Impracticable; yet from Ades him             I dragg'd reluctant into light, by aid             Of Hermes, and of Pallas azure-eyed.                 So saying, he penetrated deep again             The abode of Pluto; but I still unmoved             There stood expecting, curious, other shades             To see of Heroes in old time deceased.             And now, more ancient worthies still, and whom             I wish'd, I had beheld, Pirithos             And Theseus, glorious progeny of Gods,             But nations, first, numberless of the dead             Came shrieking hideous; me pale horror seized,             Lest awful Proserpine should thither send             The Gorgon-head from Ades, sight abhorr'd!             I, therefore, hasting to the vessel, bade             My crew embark, and cast the hawsers loose.             They, quick embarking, on the benches sat.             Down the Oceanus[55] the current bore             My galley, winning, at the first, her way             With oars, then, wafted by propitious gales.