Too well, alas! the island goddess knew
On the black sea what perils should ensue.
New horrors now this destined head enclose;
Unfill'd is yet the measure of my woes;
With what a cloud the brows of heaven are crown'd!
What raging winds! what roaring waters round!
"Tis Jove himself the swelling tempests rears;
Death, present death, on every side appears.
Happy! thrice happy! who, in battle slain,
Press'd, in Atrides' cause, the Trojan plain!
Oh! had I died before that well-fought wall;
Had some distinguish'd day renown'd my fall;
(Such as was that when showers of javelins fled
From conquering Troy around Achilles dead;)
All Greece had paid me solemn funerals then,
And spread my glory with the sons of men.
A shameful fate now hides my hapless head,
Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead!"
A mighty wave rush'd o'er him as he spoke,
The raft it cover'd, and the mast it broke;
Swept from the deck, and from the rudder torn, 405
Far on the swelling surge the chief was borne ;
While by the howling tempest rent in twain
Flew sail and sail yards rattling o'er the main.
Long press'd, he heaved beneath the mighty wave,
Clogg'd by the cumbrous vest Calypso gave :
At length emerging, from his nostrils wide
And gushing mouth effused the briny tide;
Ev'n then not mindless of his last retreat,
He seized the raft, and leap'd into his seat,
Strong with the fear of death. The rolling flood 415
Now here, now there, impell'd the floating wood,
As when a heap of gather'd thorns is cast
Now to, now fro, before the autumnal blast;
Together clung, it rolls around the field;
So roll'd the float, and so its texture held:
And now the south, and now the north bear sway,
And now the east the foamy floods obey,
And now the west wind whirls it o'er the sea.
The wandering chief with toils on toils oppress'd,
Leucothea saw, and pity touch'd her breast:
(Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus' strain,
But now an azure sister of the main.)
Swift as a sea mew, springing from the flood,
All radiant on the raft the goddess stood:
Then thus address'd him: "Thou, whom Heaven decrees
To Neptune's wrath, stern tyrant of the seas!
(Unequal contest!) not his rage and power,
Great as he is, such virtue shall devour.
What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform;
Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm:
Strip off thy garments; Neptune's fury brave
With naked strength, and plunge into the wave.
To reach Phæacia all thy nerves extend,
There fate decrees thy miseries shall end.
This heavenly scarf beneath thy bosom bind,
And live; give all thy terrors to the wind.
Soon as thy arms the happy shore shall gain,
Return the gift, and cast it in the main;
Observe my orders, and with heed obey,
Cast it far off, and turn thy eyes away."
With that, her hand the sacred veil bestows, Then down the deeps she dived from whence she
A moment snatch'd the shining form away,
And all was cover'd with the curling sea.
Struck with amaze, yet still to doubt inclined,
He stands suspended, and explores his mind.
"What shall I do? unhappy me! who knows
But other gods intend me other woes?
Whoe'er thou art, I shall not blindly join
Thy pleaded reason, but consult with mine:
For scarce in ken appears that distant isle
Thy voice foretels me shall conclude my toil.
Thus then I judge: while yet the planks sustain
The wild waves' fury, here I fix'd remain ;
But when their texture to the tempest yields,
I launch adventurous on the liquid fields,
Join to the help of gods the strength of man,
And take this method, since the best I can."
While thus his thoughts an anxious council hold,
The raging god a watery mountain roll'd; 465
Like a black sheet the whelming billows spread,
Burst o'er the float, and thunder'd on his head.
Planks, beams, disparted fly; the scatter'd wood
Rolls diverse, and in fragments strews the flood.
So the rude Boreas, o'er the field new shorn,
Tosses and drives the scatter'd heaps of corn.
And now a single beam the chief bestrides ;
There poised a while above the bounding tides,
His limbs discumbers of the clinging vest,
And binds the Sacred cincture round his breast: 475 Then prone on ocean in a moment flung,
Stretch'd wide his eager arms, and shot the seas along.
All naked now, on heaving billows laid,
Stern Neptune eyed him, and contemptuous said: "Go, learn'd in woes, and other foes essay! 480 Go, wander helpless on the watery way: Thus, thus find out the destined shore, and then (If Jove ordains it) mix with happier men. Whate'er thy fate, the ills our wrath could raise Shall last remember'd in thy best of days."
This said, his sea-green steeds divide the foam, And reach high Æge and the towery dome. Now, scarce withdrawn the fierce earth-shaking
Jove's daughter Pallas watch'd the favouring hour.
Back to their caves she bade the winds to fly,
And hush'd the blustering brethren of the sky.
The drier blasts alone of Boreas sway,
And bear him soft on broken waves away;
With gentle force impelling to that shore,
Where fate has destined he shall toil no more.
And now two nights, and now two days were pass'd,
Since wide he wander'd on the watery waste;
Heaved on the surge with intermitting breath,
And hourly panting in the arms of death.
The third fair morn now blazed upon the main; 500
Then glassy smooth lay all the liquid plain;
The winds were hush'd, the billows scarcely curl'd,
And a dead silence still'd the watery world;
When lifted on a ridgy wave he spies
The land at distance, and with sharpen'd eyes. 505
As pious children joy with vast delight
When a loved sire revives before their sight;
(Who, lingering long, has call'd on death in vain,
Fix'd by some demon to his bed of pain,
Till Heaven by miracle his life restore ;)
So joys Ulysses at the appearing shore;
And sees (and labours onward as he sees)
The rising forests and the tufted trees.
And now, as near approaching as the sound
Of human voice the listening ear may wound,
Amid the rocks he heard a hollow roar
Of murmuring surges breaking on the shore :
Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,
To shield the vessel from the rolling sea,
But cliffs and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight!
All rough with rocks, with foamy billows white.
Fear seized his slacken'd limbs and beating heart,
As thus he communed with his soul apart:
"Ah me! when o'er a length of waters toss'd, These eyes at last behold the unhoped-for coast, 525 No port receives me from the angry main, But the loud deeps demand me back again. Above sharp rocks forbid access; around Roar the wild waves; beneath is sea profound! No footing sure affords the faithless sand, To stem too rapid, and too deep to stand. If here I enter, my efforts are vain, Dash'd on the cliffs, or heaved into the main;
Or round the island if my course I bend,
Where the ports open, or the shores descend,
Back to the seas the rolling surge may sweep,
And bury all my hopes beneath the deep.
Or some enormous whale the god may send;
(For many such on Amphitrite attend ;)
Too well the turns of mortal chance I know,
And hate relentless of my heavenly foe."
While thus he thought, a monstrous wave upbore
The chief, and dash'd him on the craggy shore;
Torn was his skin, nor had the ribs been whole,
But instant Pallas enter'd in his soul.
Close to the cliff with both his hands he clung,
And stuck adherent, and suspended hung,
Till the huge surge roll'd of; then, backward sweep
The refluent tides, and plunge him in the deep.
As when the polypus, from forth his cave
Torn with full force, reluctant beats the wave,
His ragged claws are stuck with stones and sands;
So the rough rock had shagg'd Ulysses' hands,
And now had perish'd, whelm'd beneath the main,
The unhappy man; ev'n fate had been in vain : 555
But all-subduing Pallas lent her power,
And prudence saved him in the needful hour.
Beyond the beating surge his course he bore,
(A wider circle, but in sight of shore,)
With longing eyes, observing, to survey
Some smooth ascent, or safe sequester'd bay.
Between the parting rocks at length he spied
A falling stream with gentler waters glide;
Where to the seas the shelving shore declined,
And form'd a bay impervious to the wind.
To this calm port the glad Ulysses press'd,
And hail'd the river, and its god address'd:
"Whoe'er thou art, before whose stream unknown I bend, a suppliant at thy watery throne, Hear, azure king! nor let me fly in vain To thee from Neptune and the raging main.
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