Achaia’s boast, oh hither steer thy bark!
Here stay thy course, and listen to our lay!
These shores none passes in his sable ship
Till, first, the warblings of our voice he hear,
Then, happier hence and wiser he departs.
All that the Greeks endured, and all the ills
Inflicted by the Gods on Troy, we know,
Know all that passes on the boundless earth.
Melodious on my ear, winning with ease
My heart’s desire to listen, and by signs
I bade my people, instant, set me free.
But they incumbent row’d, and from their seats
Eurylochus and Perimedes sprang
With added cords to bind me still the more.
This danger past, and when the Sirens’ voice,
Now left remote, had lost its pow’r to charm,
Then, my companions freeing from the wax
Their ears, deliver’d me from my restraint.
The island left afar, soon I discern’d
Huge waves, and smoke, and horrid thund’rings heard.
All sat aghast; forth flew at once the oars
From ev’ry hand, and with a clash the waves
Smote all together; check’d, the galley stood,
By billow-sweeping oars no longer urged,
And I, throughout the bark, man after man
Encouraged all, addressing thus my crew.
This evil is not greater than we found
When the huge Cyclops in his hollow den
Imprison’d us, yet even thence we ’scaped,
My intrepidity and fertile thought
Opening the way; and we shall recollect
These dangers also, in due time, with joy.
Come, then—pursue my counsel. Ye your seats
Still occupying, smite the furrow’d flood
With well-timed strokes, that by the will of Jove
We may escape, perchance, this death, secure.
To thee the pilot thus I speak, (my words
Mark thou, for at thy touch the rudder moves)
This smoke, and these tumultuous waves avoid;
Steer wide of both; yet with an eye intent
On yonder rock, lest unaware thou hold
Too near a course, and plunge us into harm.
But Scylla I as yet named not, (that woe
Without a cure) lest, terrified, my crew
Should all renounce their oars, and crowd below.
Just then, forgetful of the strict command
Of Circe not to arm, I cloath’d me all
In radiant armour, grasp’d two quiv’ring spears,
And to the deck ascended at the prow,
Expecting earliest notice there, what time
The rock-bred Scylla should annoy my friends.
But I discern’d her not, nor could, although
To weariness of sight the dusky rock
I vigilant explored. Thus, many a groan
Heaving, we navigated sad the streight,
For here stood Scylla, while Charybdis there
With hoarse throat deep absorb’d the briny flood.
Oft as she vomited the deluge forth,
Like water cauldron’d o’er a furious fire
The whirling Deep all murmur’d, and the spray
On both those rocky summits fell in show’rs.
But when she suck’d the salt wave down again,
Then, all the pool appear’d wheeling about
Within, the rock rebellow’d, and the sea
Drawn off into that gulph disclosed to view
The oozy bottom. Us pale horror seized.
Thus, dreading death, with fast-set eyes we watch’d
Charybdis; meantime, Scylla from the bark
Caught six away, the bravest of my friends.
With eyes, that moment, on my ship and crew
Retorted, I beheld the legs and arms
Of those whom she uplifted in the air;
On me they call’d, my name, the last, last time
Pronouncing then, in agony of heart.
As when from some bold point among the rocks
The angler, with his taper rod in hand,
Casts forth his bait to snare the smaller fry,
He swings away remote his guarded line,
Then jerks his gasping prey forth from the Deep,
So Scylla them raised gasping to the rock,
And at her cavern’s mouth devour’d them loud-
Shrieking, and stretching forth to me their arms
In sign of hopeless mis’ry. Ne’er beheld
These eyes in all the seas that I have roam’d,
A sight so piteous, nor in all my toils.
We reach’d the noble island of the Sun
Ere long, where bright Hyperion’s beauteous herds
Broad-fronted grazed, and his well-batten’d flocks.
I, in the bark and on the sea, the voice
Of oxen bellowing in hovels heard,
And of loud-bleating sheep; then dropp’d the word
Into my memory of the sightless Seer,
Theban Tiresias, and the caution strict
Of Circe, my Ææan monitress,
Who with such force had caution’d me to avoid
The island of the Sun, joy of mankind.
Thus then to my companions, sad, I spake.
The words prophetic of the Theban seer
And of Ææan Circe, whose advice
Was oft repeated to me to avoid
This island of the Sun, joy of mankind.
There, said the Goddess, dread your heaviest woes,
Pass the isle, therefore, scudding swift away.
And harshly thus Eurylochus replied.
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