Ulysses thus resolv'd the King's demands:
" Alcinous (in whom this Empire stands),
You should not of so naturall right desherit
Your princely feast as take from it the spirit.
To heare a Poet that in accent brings
The Gods' brests downe, and breathes them as he sings,
Is sweet and sacred; nor can I conceive,
In any common weale, what more doth give
Note of the just and blessed Empery
Than to see Comfort universally
Cheare up the people, when in every roofe
She gives observers a most humane proofe
Of men's contents. To see a neighbour's Feast
Adorne it through, and thereat heare the breast
Of the divine Muse, men in order set,
A wine-page waiting, tables, crownd with meate,
Set close to guests that are to use it skilld,
The Cup-boords furnisht and the cups still filld —
This shewes (to my mind) most humanely faire.
Nor should you, for me, still the heavenly aire
That stirrd my soule so, for I love such teares
As fall from fit notes beaten through mine eares
With repetitions of what heaven hath done,
And breake from heartie apprehension
Of God and goodnesse, though they shew my ill.
And therefore doth my mind excite me still
To tell my bleeding mone; but much more now
To serve your pleasure, that to over-flow
My teares with such cause may by sighs be driven,
Though ne're so much plagu'd I may seeme by heaven.
" And now my name; which way shall leade to all
My miseries after, that their sounds may fall
Through your eares also, and shew (having fled
So much affliction), first, who rests his head
In your embraces, when (so farre from home)
I knew now where t'obtaine it resting roome.
" I am Ulysses Laertiades,
The feare of all the world for policies,
For which my facts as high as heaven resound.
I dwell in Ithaca, Earth's most renownd,
All over-shadow'd with the Shake-leafe hill,
Tree-fam'd Neritus, whose neare confines fill
Ilands a number, well inhabited,
That under my observance taste their bread —
Dulichius, Samos, and the full-of-food
Zacynthus, likewise grac't with store of wood.
But Ithaca, though in the seas it lie,
Yet lies she so aloft she casts her eye
Quite over all the neighbour Continent —
Farre Norward situate, and (being lent
But litle favour of the Morne and Sunne)
With barren rocks and cliffes is over-runne,
And yet of hardie youths a Nurse of Name.
Nor could I see a Soile, where ere I came,
More sweete and wishfull. Yet from hence was I
Withheld with horror by the Deitie,
Divine Calypso, in her cavie house,
Enflam'd to make me her sole Lord and Spouse.
Circe Æaea, too, (that knowing Dame,
Whose veines the like affections did inflame)
Detaind me likewise. But to neither's love
Could I be tempted — which doth well approve
Nothing so sweete is as our countrie's earth
And joy of those from whom we claime our birth.
Though roofes farre richer we farre off possesse,
Yet (from our native) all our more is lesse.
" To which, as I contended, I will tell
The much-distress-conferring facts that fell
By Jove's divine prevention since I set
From ruin'd Troy my first foote in retreat.
" From Ilion ill winds cast me on the Coast
The Cicons hold, where I emploid mine hoast
For Ismarus, a Citie built just by
My place of landing, of which Victory
Made me expugner, I depeopl'd it,
Slue all the men, and did their wives remit,
With much spoile taken, which we did divide
That none might need his part. I then applide
All speed for flight; but my command therein
(Fooles that they were) could no observance win
Of many souldiers, who, with spoile fed hie,
Would yet fill higher, and excessively
Feel to their wine, gave slaughter on the shore
Cloven-footed beeves and sheepe in mightie store.
In meane space, Cicons did to Cicons crie,
When, of their nearest dwellers, instantly
Many and better souldiers made strong head,
That held the Continent and managed
Their horse with high skill, on which they would fight,
When fittest cause serv'd, and againe alight
(With soone seene vantage) and on foote contend.
Their concourse swift was, and had never end;
As thicke and sodaine twas as flowres and leaves
Darke Spring discovers when she Light receaves.
And then began the bitter Fate of Jove
To alter us unhappie, which even strove
To give us suffrance. At our Fleet we made
Enforced stand, and there did they invade
Our thrust-up Forces: darts encountred darts,
With blowes on both sides, either making parts
Good upon either, while the Morning shone
And sacred Day her bright increase held on,
Though much out-matcht in number. But as soone
As Phaebus Westward fell, the Cicons wonne
Much hand of us; sixe proved souldiers fell
(Of every ship), the rest they did compell
To seeke of Flight escape from Death and Fate.
" Thence (sad in heart) we saild: and yet our State
Was something chear'd, that (being over-matcht so much
In violent number) our retreate was such
As sav'd so many, our deare losse the lesse
That they surviv'd, so like for like successe.
Yet left we not the Coast before we calld
Home to our country earth the soules exhald
Of all the friends the Cicons overcame.
Thrice calld we on them, by their severall name,
And then tooke leave. Then from the angry North,
Cloud-gathering Jove a dreadfull storme calld forth
Against our Navie, coverd shore and all
With gloomie vapors. Night did headlong fall
From frowning Heaven. And then hurld here and there
Was all our Navie; the rude winds did teare
In three, in foure, parts, all their sailes; and downe
Driven under hatches were we, prest to drowne.
Up rusht we yet againe, and with tough hand
(Two daies, two nights entoild) we gat nere land,
Labours and sorrowes eating up our minds.
The third cleare day yet, to more friendly winds
We masts advanc't, we white sailes spred, and sate.
Forewinds and guides againe did iterate
Our ease and home-hopes; which we cleare had reacht,
Had not, by chance, a sodaine North-wind fetcht,
With an extreame sea, quite about againe
Our whole endevours, and our course constraine
To giddie round, and with our bowd sailes greete
Dreadfull Maleia, calling backe our fleete
As farre forth as Cythera. Nine dayes more
Adverse winds tost me, and the tenth, the shore
Where dwell the blossome-fed Lotophagi
I fetcht, fresh water tooke in, instantly
Fell to our food aship-boord, and then sent
Two of my choice men to the Continent
(Adding a third, a Herald) to discover
What sort of people were the Rulers over
The land next to us. Where the first they met
Were the Lotophagi, that made them eate
Their Country diet — and no ill intent
Hid in their hearts to them, and yet th'event
To ill converted it, for, having eate
Their daintie viands, they did quite forget
(As all men else that did but taste their feast)
Both country-men and country, nor addrest
Any returne t'informe what sort of men
Made fixt abode there; but would needs maintaine
Abode themselves there, and eate that food ever.
I made out after, and was faine to sever
Th'enchanted knot by forcing their retreate,
That striv'd, and wept, and would not leave their meate
For heaven it selfe. But, dragging them to fleete,
I wrapt in sure bands both their hands and feete
And cast them under hatches, and away
Commanded all the rest, without least stay,
Lest they should taste the Lote too, and forget
With such strange raptures their despisde retreate.
" All then aboord, we beate the sea with Ores,
And still with sad hearts saild by out-way shores,
Till th'out-lawd Cyclops' land we fetcht — a race
Of proud-liv'd loiterers, that never sow,
Nor put a plant in earth, nor use a Plow,
But trust in God for all things; and their earth
(Unsowne, unplowd) gives every of-spring birth
That other lands have — Wheate and Barley, Vines
That beare in goodly Grapes delicious wines.
And Jove sends showres for all: no counsels there,
Nor counsellers, nor lawes, but all men beare
Their heads aloft on mountaines, and those steepe,
And on their tops too; and there houses keepe
In vaultie Caves, their housholds governd all
By each man's law, imposde in severall;
Nor wife, nor child awd, but as he thinks good,
None for another caring. But there stood
Another litle Ile, well stor'd with wood,
Betwixt this and the entry; neither nie
The Cyclops' Ile, nor yet farre off doth lie.
Men's want it sufferd, but the men's supplies
The Goates made with their inarticulate cries.
Goates beyond number this small Iland breeds,
So tame that no accesse disturbs their feeds.
No hunters (that the tops of mountaines scale
And rub through woods with toile) seeke them at all,
Nor is the soile with flocks fed downe, nor plowd,
Nor ever in it any seed was sowd.
Nor place the neighbour Cyclops their delights
In brave Vermilion prow-deckt ships — nor wrights
Usefull and skilfull in such works as need
Perfection to those trafficks that exceed
Their naturall confines, to flie out and see
Cities of men, and take in mutually
The prease of others. To themselves they live
And to their Iland, that enough would give
A good inhabitant, and time of yeare
Observe to all things Art could order there.
There, close upon the sea, sweet medowes spring,
That yet of fresh streames want no watering
To their soft burthens, but of speciall yeeld
Your vines would be there and your common field
But gentle worke make for your plow, yet beare
A loftie harvest when you came to sheare.
For passing fat the soile is. In it lies
A harbor so opportune that no ties,
Halsers, or gables need, nor anchors cast.
Whom stormes put in there are with stay embrac't,
Or to their full wils safe, or winds aspire
To Pilots' uses their more quicke desire.
At entry of the haven a silver foord
Is from a rock-impressing fountaine powr'd,
All set with sable Poplars. And this Port
Were we arriv'd at, by the sweet resort
Of some God guiding us, for twas a night
So gastly darke all Port was past our sight,
Clouds hid our ships and would not let the Moone
Affoord a beame to us, the whole Ile wonne
By not an eye of ours. None thought the Blore
That then was up shov'd waves against the shore,
That then to an unmeasur'd height put on;
We still at sea esteemd us, till alone
Our fleet put in it selfe. And then were strooke
Our gatherd sailes: our rest ashore we tooke,
And day expected. When the Morne gave fire,
We rose, and walkt, and did the Ile admire,
The Nymphs, Jove's daughters, putting up a heard
Of mountaine Goates to us, to render cheard
My fellow souldiers. To our Fleet we flew,
Our crooked bowes tooke, long-pil'd darts, and drew.
Our selves in three parts out — when, by the grace
That God vouch-saft we made a gainfull chace.
Twelve ships we had, and every ship had nine
Fat Goates allotted it, ten onely mine.
Thus all that day, even till the Sunne was set,
We sate and feasted, pleasant wine and meate
Plenteously taking, for we had not spent
Our ruddie wine aship-boord: supplement
Of large sort each man to his vessell drew,
When we the sacred Citie overthrew
That held the Cicons. Now then saw we neare
The Cyclops' late-praisd Iland, and might heare
The murmure of their sheepe and goates, and see
Their smokes ascend. The Sunne then set, and we
(When Night succeeded) tooke our rest ashore.
And when the world the Morning's favour wore,
I calld my friends to councell, charging them
To make stay there, while I tooke ship and streame
With some associates, and explor'd what men
The neighbour Ile held — if of rude disdaine,
Churlish and tyrannous, or minds bewraid
Pious and hospitable. Thus much said,
I boorded, and commanded to ascend
My friends and souldiers, to put off, and lend
Way to our ship. They boorded, sate, and beate
The old sea forth, till we might see the seate
The greatest Cyclop held for his abode,
Which was a deepe Cave neare the common rode
Of ships that toucht there, thicke with Lawrels spred,
Where many sheepe and goates lay shadowed:
And neare to this a Hall of torne-up stone,
High built with Pines, that heaven and earth attone,
And loftie-fronted Okes: in which kept house
A man in shape immane and monsterous,
Fed all his flocks alone, nor would affoord
Commerce with men, but had a wit abhord,
His mind his body answering. Nor was he
Like any man that food could possibly
Enhance so hugely, but (beheld alone)
Shewd like a steepe hil's top, all overgrowne
With trees and brambles; litle thought had I
Of such vast objects. When, arriv'd so nie,
Some of my lov'd friends I made stay aboord
To guard my ship, and twelve with me I shor'd,
The choice of all. I tooke besides along
A Goat-skin flagon of wine, blacke and strong,
That Maro did present, Euantheus' sonne
And Priest to Phaebus, who had mansion
In Thracian Ismarus (the Towne I tooke).
He gave it me since I (with reverence strooke
Of his grave place, his wife and children's good)
Freed all of violence. Amidst a wood
Sacred to Phaebus stood his house, from whence
He fetcht me gifts of varied excellence,
Seven talents of fine gold, a boll all fram'd
Of massie silver. But his gift most fam'd
Was twelve great vessels filld with such rich wine
As was incorruptible and divine.
He kept it as his jewell, which none knew
But he himselfe, his wife, and he that drew.
It was so strong that never any filld
A cup, where that was but by drops instilld,
And drunke it off, but twas before allaid
With twentie parts in water; yet so swaid
The spirit of that litle that the whole
A sacred odour breath'd about the boll.
Had you the odour smelt and sent it cast,
It would have vext you to forbeare the taste.
But then (the taste gaind too) the spirit it wrought
To dare things high set up an end my thought.
" Of this a huge great flagon full I bore,
And in a good large knapsacke victles' store;
And longd to see this heape of fortitude,
That so illiterate was and upland rude
That lawes divine nor humane he had learnd.
With speed we reacht the Caverne, nor discernd
His presence there. His flocks he fed at field.
" Entring his den, each thing beheld did yeeld
Our admiration — shelves with cheeses heapt,
Sheds stuft with Lambs and Goates, distinctly kept,
Distinct the biggest, the more meane distinct,
Distinct the yongest. And in their precinct
(Proper and placefull) stood the troughs and pailes
In which he milkt; and what was given at meales
Set up a creaming, in the Evening still
All scouring bright as deaw upon the hill.
" Then were my fellowes instant to convay
Kids, cheeses, lambs, aship boord, and away
Saile the salt billow. I thought best not so,
But better otherwise; and first would know
What guest-gifts he would spare me. Little knew
My friends on whom they would have preyd: his view
Prov'd after that his inwards were too rough
For such bold usage: we were bold enough
In what I sufferd, which was there to stay,
Make fire and feed there, though beare none away.
There sate we till we saw him feeding come
And on his necke a burthen lugging home,
Most highly huge of Sere-wood, which the pile
That fed his fire supplide all supper while.
Downe by his den he threw it, and up rose
A tumult with the fall. Afraid, we close
Withdrew our selves, while he into a Cave
Of huge receit his high-fed cattell drave,
All that he milkt; the males he left without
His loftie roofes, that all bestrowd about
With Rams and buck-goates were. And then a rocke
He lift aloft, that damd up to his flocke
The doore they enterd: twas so hard to wield
That two and twentie Waggons, all foure-wheeld,
(Could they be loaded and have teames that were
Proportion'd to them) could not stirre it there.
Thus, making sure, he kneeld and milkt his Ewes
And braying Goates with all a milker's dues.
Then let in all their yong: then quicke did dresse
His halfe milke up for cheese and in a presse
Of wicker prest it, put in bolls the rest,
To drinke and eate and serve his supping feast.
" All works dispatcht thus, he began his fire,
Which blowne, he saw us, and did thus enquire:
" " Ho! Guests! what are ye? Whence saile ye these seas?
Trafficke, or rove ye, and like theeves oppresse
Poore strange adventurers, exposing so
Your soules to danger and your lives to wo? "
" This utterd he, when Feare from our hearts tooke
The very life, to be so thunder-strooke
With such a voice and such a monster see.
But thus I answerd: " Erring Grecians, we
From Troy were turning homewards, but by force
Of adverse winds, in far-diverted course,
Such unknowne waies tooke and on rude seas tost
(As Jove decreed) are cast upon this Coast.
Of Agamemnon (famous Atreus' sonne)
We boast our selves the souldiers — who hath wonne
Renowme that reacheth heaven, to overthrow
So great a Citie and to ruine so
So many nations. Yet at thy knees lie
Our prostrate bosomes, forc't with praires to trie
If any hospitable right or Boone
Of other nature (such as have bin wonne
By lawes of other houses) thou wilt give.
Reverence the Gods, thou greatst of all that live.
We suppliants are, and hospitable Jove
Poures wreake on all whom praires want powre to move,
And with their plagues together will provide
That humble Guests shall have their wants supplide. "
" He cruelly answerd: " O thou foole, " said he,
" To come so farre and to importune me
With any God's feare or observed love.
We Cyclops care not for your Goat-fed Jove
Nor other Blest ones; we are better farre.
To Jove himselfe dare I bid open warre,
To thee, and all thy fellowes, if I please.
But tell me: where's the ship that by the seas
Hath brought thee hither? If farre off, or neare,
Informe me quickly. " These his temptings were.
But I too much knew not to know his mind,
And craft with craft paid, telling him the wind
(Thrust up from sea by him that shakes the shore)
Had dasht our ship against his rocks and tore
Her ribs in peeces close upon his Coast,
And we from high wracke sav'd, the rest were lost.
" He answerd nothing, but rusht in and tooke
Two of my fellowes up from earth and strooke
Their braines against it. Like two whelps they flew
About his shoulders, and did all embrew
The blushing earth. No mountaine Lion tore
Two Lambs so sternly, lapt up all their gore
Gusht from their torne-up bodies, lim by lim,
(Trembling with life yet) ravisht into him.
Both flesh and marrow-stuffed bones he eate
And even th'uncleansed entrails made his meate.
We, weeping, cast our hands to heaven to view
A sight so horrid. Desperation flew
With all our after lives to instant death
In our beleev'd destruction. But when breath
The fury of his appetite had got
Because the gulfe his belly reacht his throte,
Man's flesh and Goate's milke laying laire on laire,
Till neare chokt up was all the passe for aire,
Along his den, amongst his cattell, downe
He rusht, and streakt him — when my mind was growne
Desperate to step in, draw my sword and part
His bosome where the strings about the heart
Circle the Liver, and adde strength of hand.
But that rash thought, more staid did countermand;
For there we all had perisht, since it past
Our powres to lift aside a log so vast
As barrd all outscape; and so sigh'd away
The thought all Night, expecting active Day.
Which come, he first of all his fire enflames,
Then milks his Goates and Ewes, then to their dams
Lets in their yong, and wondrous orderly,
With manly haste, dispatcht his houswifery.
Then to his Breakfast, to which other two
Of my poore friends went; which eate, out then go
His heards and fat flocks, lightly putting by
The churlish barre and closde it instantly;
For both those works with ease as much he did,
As you would ope and shut your Quiver lid.
" With stormes of whistlings then his flocks he drave
Up to the mountaines, and occasion gave
For me to use my wits — which to their height
I striv'd to skrew up, that a vengeance might
By some meanes fall from thence, and Pallas now
Affoord a full eare to my neediest vow.
This then my thoughts preferd: a huge club lay
Close by his milk-house, which was now in way
To drie and season, being an Olive tree
Which late he feld, and, being greene, must be
Made lighter for his manage. Twas so vast
That we resembl'd it to some fit Mast
To serve a ship of burthen that was driven
With twentie Ores, and had a bignesse given
To beare a huge sea. Full so thicke, so tall
We judg'd this club, which I, in part, hewd small
And cut a fathome off. The peece I gave
Amongst my souldiers to take downe and shave;
Which done, I sharpn'd it at top, and then
(Hardn'd in fire) I hid it in the den
Within a nastie dunghill reeking there,
Thicke, and so moist, it issude every where.
Then made I lots cast by my friends, to trie
Whose fortune serv'd to dare the bor'd out eie
Of that man-eater, and the lot did fall
On foure I wisht to make my aid of all,
And I the fift made, chosen like the rest.
" Then came the Even; and he came from the feast
Of his fat cattell, drave in all, nor kept
One male abroad: if, or his memory slept
By God's direct will, or of purpose was
His driving in of all then, doth surpasse
My comprehension. But he closde againe
The mightie barre, milkt, and did still maintaine
All other observation as before.
His worke all done, two of my souldiers more
At once he snatcht up, and to supper went.
Then dar'd I words to him, and did present
A boll of wine with these words: " Cyclop! take
A boll of wine from my hand, that may make
Way for the man's flesh thou hast eate, and show
What drinke our ship held — which in sacred vow
I offer to thee, to take ruth on me
In my dismission home. Thy rages be
Now no more sufferable. How shall men
(Mad and inhumane that thou art) againe
Greet thy abode and get thy actions grace,
If thus thou ragest and eatst up their race. "
" He tooke, and drunke, and vehemently joyd
To taste the sweet cup; and againe employd
My flagon's powre, entreating more, and said:
" Good Guest, againe affoord my taste thy aid,
And let me know thy name, and quickly now,
That in thy recompence I may bestow
A hospitable gift on thy desert,
And such a one as shall rejoyce thy heart.
For to the Cyclops too the gentle Earth
Beares generous wine, and Jove augments her birth
In store of such with showres. But this rich wine
Fell from the river that is meere divine,
Of Nectar and Ambrosia. " This againe
I gave him, and againe; nor could the foole abstaine,
But drunke as often. When the noble Juyce
Had wrought upon his spirit, I then gave use
To fairer language, saying: " Cyclop! now
As thou demandst, I'le tell my name; do thou
Make good thy hospitable gift to me.
My name is No-Man; No-Man each degree
Of friends, as well as parents, call my name. "
He answerd, as his cruell soule became:
" No-Man! I'le eate thee last of all thy friends;
And this is that in which so much amends
I vowd to thy deservings; thus shall be
My hospitable gift made good to thee. "
This said, he upwards fell, but then bent round
His fleshie necke, and Sleepe (with all crownes crownd)
Subdude the Savage. From his throte brake out
My wine, with man's flesh gobbets, like a spout,
When, loded with his cups, he lay and snor'd.
And then tooke I the club's end up, and gor'd
The burning cole-heape that the point might heate,
Confirmd my fellowes' minds, lest Feare should let
Their vowd assay and make them flie my aid.
Strait was the Olive Lever I had laid
Amidst the huge fire, to get hardning, hot,
And glowd extremely, though twas greene — which got
From forth the cinders, close about me stood
My hardie friends: but that which did the good
Was God's good inspiration, that gave
A spirit beyond the spirit they usde to have;
Who tooke the Olive sparre, made keene before,
And plung'd it in his eye, and up I bore,
Bent to the top close, and helpt poure it in
With all my forces. And as you have seene
A ship-wright bore a navall beame, he oft
Thrusts at the Augur's Froofe, works still aloft,
And at the shanke helpe others with a cord
Wound round about, to make it sooner bor'd,
All plying the round still: so into his eye
The firie stake we labourd to imply.
Out gusht the blood, that scalded; his eye-ball
Thrust out a flaming vapour, that scorcht all
His browes and eye-lids, his eye-strings did cracke
As in the sharpe and burning rafter brake —
And as a Smith to harden any toole
(Broad Axe, or Mattocke) in his Trough doth coole
The red-hote substance, that so fervent is
It makes the cold wave strait to seethe and hisse:
So sod and hizd his eye about the stake.
He roar'd withall, and all his Caverne brake
In claps like thunder. We did frighted flie,
Disperst in corners. He from forth his eie
The fixed stake pluckt: after which, the blood
Flowd freshly forth, and, mad, he hurl'd the wood
About his hovill. Out he then did crie
For other Cyclops that in Cavernes by
Upon a windie Promontorie dwelld —
Who hearing how impetuously he yelld
Rusht every way about him, and enquir'd
What ill afflicted him, that he expir'd
Such horrid clamors, and in sacred Night,
To breake their sleepes so? Askt him, if his fright
Came from some mortall that his flocks had driven?
Or if by craft, or might, his death were given?
He answerd from his den: " By craft, nor might,
No-Man hath given me death. " They then said: " Right:
If no man hurt thee and thy selfe alone,
That which is done to thee by Jove is done.
And what great Jove inflicts no man can flie;
Pray to thy Father yet, a Deitie,
And prove, from him, if thou canst helpe acquire. "
" Thus spake they, leaving him. When all on fire
My heart with joy was, that so well my wit
And name deceiv'd him; whom now paine did split,
And groning up and downe he groping tride
To find the stone, which found, he put aside —
But in the doore sate, feeling if he could
(As his sheepe issude) on some man lay hold,
Esteeming me a foole, that could devise
No stratageme to scape his grosse surprise.
But I, contending what I could invent
My friends and me from death so imminent
To get deliverd, all my wiles I wove
(Life being the subject) and did this approve:
Fat fleecie Rams, most faire and great, lay there,
That did a burthen like a Violet beare.
These (while this learn'd-in-villanie did sleepe)
I yokt with Osiers cut there, sheepe to sheepe,
Three in a ranke, and still the mid sheepe bore
A man about his belly; the two more
Marcht on his each side for defence. I then,
Chusing my selfe the fairest of the den,
His fleecie belly under-crept, embrac't
His backe, and in his rich wooll wrapt me fast
With both my hands, arm'd with as fast a mind.
And thus each man hung till the morning shin'd;
Which come, he knew the houre and let abroad
His male-flocks first; the females unmilkt stood
Bleating and braying, their full bags so sore
With being unemptied, but their shepheard more
With being unsighted; which was cause his mind
Went not a milking. He (to wreake enclin'd)
The backs felt as they past of those male dams,
(Grosse foole) beleeving we would ride his Rams,
Nor ever knew that any of them bore
Upon his belly any man before.
The last Ram came to passe him, with his wooll
And me together, loded to the full,
For there did I hang: and that Ram he staid,
And me withall had in his hands, my head
Troubl'd the while, not causlesly, nor least.
This Ram he grop't, and talkt to: " Lazie beast!
Why last art thou now? Thou hast never usde
To lag thus hindmost, but still first hast brusde
The tender blossome of a flowre, and held
State in thy steps, both to the flood and field.
First still at Fold at Even, now last remaine?
Doest thou not wish I had mine eye againe
Which that abhord man No-Man did put out,
Assisted by his execrable rout,
When he had wrought me downe with wine? But he
Must not escape my wreake so cunningly.
I would to heaven thou knewst, and could but speake,
To tell me where he lurks now; I would breake
His braine about my Cave, strewd here and there,
To ease my heart of those foule ils that were
Th'inflictions of a man I prisde at nought. "
" Thus let he him abroad; when I (once brought
A litle from his hold) my selfe first losde,
And next, my friends. Then drave we and disposde
His strait-leggd fat-fleece-bearers over land,
Even till they all were in my ship's command,
And to our lov'd friends shewd our praid-for sight,
Escap't from death. But for our losse outright
They brake in teares, which with a looke I staid,
And bad them take our Boote in. They obaid,
And up we all went, sate, and usde our Ores,
But, having left as farre the savage shores
As one might heare a voice, we then might see
The Cyclop at the haven, when instantly
I staid our Ores, and this insultance usde:
" Cyclop! thou shouldst not have so much abusde
Thy monstrous forces to oppose their least
Against a man immartiall and a guest,
And eate his fellowes: thou mightst know there were
Some ils behind, rude swaine, for thee to beare —
That feard not to devoure thy guests and breake
All lawes of humanes. Jove sends therefore wreake,
And all the Gods, by me. " This blew the more
His burning furie; when the top he tore
From off a huge Rocke, and so right a throw
Made at our ship that just before the Prow
It overflew and fell, mist Mast and all
Exceeding litle, but about the fall
So fierce a wave it raisd that backe it bore
Our ship so farre it almost toucht the shore.
A bead-hooke then (a far-extended one)
I snatcht up, thrust hard, and so set us gone
Some litle way, and strait commanded all
To helpe me with their Ores, on paine to fall
Againe on our confusion. But a signe
I with my head made, and their Ores were mine
In all performance. When we off were set,
(Then first, twice further) my heart was so great
It would againe provoke him, but my men
On all sides rusht about me to containe,
And said: " Unhappie! why will you provoke
A man so rude that with so dead a stroke
Given with his Rock-dart made the sea thrust backe
Our ship so farre, and neare hand forc't our wracke?
Should he againe but heare your voice resound
And any word reach, thereby would be found
His Dart's direction, which would in his fall
Crush peece-meale us, quite split our ship and all,
So much dart weilds the monster. " Thus urg'd they
Impossible things in feare; but I gave way
To that wrath which so long I held deprest
(By great Necessitie conquerd) in my brest.
" " Cyclop! if any aske thee who imposde
Th'unsightly blemish that thine eye enclosde,
Say that Ulysses (old Laertes' sonne,
Whose seate is Ithaca, and who hath wonne
Surname of Citie-racer) bor'd it out. "
" At this he braid so loud that round about
He drave affrighted Ecchoes through the Aire,
And said: " O beast! I was premonisht faire
By aged Prophecie in one that was
A great and good man, this should come to passe;
And how tis prov'd now! Augur Telemus,
Surnam'd Eurymides (that spent with us
His age in Augurie and did exceed
In all presage of Truth) said all this deed
Should this event take, author'd by the hand
Of one Ulysses; who I thought was mand
With great and goodly personage, and bore
A vertue answerable, and this shore
Should shake with weight of such a conqueror,
When now a weakling came, a dwarfie thing,
A thing of nothing, who yet wit did bring
That brought supply to all, and with his wine
Put out the flame where all my light did shine.
Come, land againe, Ulysses! that my hand
May Guest-rites give thee, and the great command
That Neptune hath at sea I may convert
To the deduction where abides thy heart,
With my sollicitings — whose sonne I am,
And whose fame boasts to beare my Father's name.
Nor thinke my hurt offends me, for my Sire
Can soone repose in it the visuall fire
At his free pleasure; which no powre beside
Can boast, of men or of the deifide. "
" I answerd: " Would to God I could compell
Both life and soule from thee, and send to hell
Those spoiles of nature. Hardly Neptune then
Could cure thy hurt and give thee all again. "
" Then flew fierce vowes to Neptune, both his hands
To starre-borne heaven cast: " O thou that all lands
Girdst in thy ambient Circle, and in aire
Shak'st the curld Tresses of thy Saphire haire,
If I be thine, or thou maist justly vant
Thou art my Father, heare me now, and grant
That this Ulysses (old Laertes' sonne,
That dwels in Ithaca, and name hath wonne
Of Citie-ruiner) may never reach
His naturall region. Or if to fetch
That and the sight of his faire roofes and friends
Be fatall to him, let him that amends
For all his miseries long time and ill
Smart so and faile of; nor that Fate fulfill
Till all his souldiers quite are cast away
In others' ships. And when at last the day
Of his sole-landing shall his dwelling show,
Let Detriment prepare him wrongs enow. "
" Thus praid he Neptune, who, his Sire, appeard,
And all his praire to every syllable heard.
But then a Rocke, in size more amplified
Than first, he ravisht to him, and implied
A dismall strength in it, when (wheeld about)
He sent it after us; nor flew it out
From any blind aime, for a litle passe
Beyond our Fore-decke from the fall there was —
With which the sea our ship gave backe upon
And shrunke up into billowes from the stone,
Our ship againe repelling neare as neare
The shore as first. But then our Rowers were
(Being warnd) more armd and stronglier stemd the flood
That bore backe on us, till our ship made good
The other Iland where our whole Fleet lay,
In which our friends lay mourning for our stay
And every minute lookt when we should land.
Where (now arriv'd) we drew up to the sand,
The Cyclop's sheepe dividing, that none there
(Of all our privates) might be wrung, and beare
Too much on powre. The Ram yet was alone,
By all my friends, made all my portion
Above all others; and I made him then
A sacrifice for me and all my men
To cloud-compelling Jove, that all commands —
To whom I burnd the Thighs; but my sad hands
Receiv'd no grace from him, who studied how
To offer men and fleete to Overthrow.
" All day, till Sun-set yet, we sate and eate,
And liberall store tooke in of wine and meate.
The Sunne then downe and place resign'd to shade,
We slept. Morne came, my men I raisd, and made
All go aboord, weigh Anker, and away.
They boorded, sate and beate the aged sea;
And forth we made saile, sad for losse before,
And yet had comfort since we lost no more.