Classic Poem

He spake: nor did the fleet-foot Shining One
Fail of obedience, but at once laced on
Beneath his feet the imperishable fair
Sandals of gold that when he would be gone
Over the wet sea or the boundless land
Bore him like blowing wind, and took in hand
The rod wherewith he charms men's eyes to sleep
Or makes the sleeper to awake and stand;
Holding it now, the Shining One with might
Took wing, and mounting the Pierian height,
Out of the sky on ocean darted down,
And swift across the billows urged his flight.
As a sea-eagle that his finny prey
Chases, his thickset plumage wet with spray,
Thro the gulfs of sea unharvested,
Over the thronging waves he sped his way.

And now that island far amid the foam
Reaching, from out the violet sea he clomb
Over the mainland, to the cavern great
Wherein the fair-trest nymph had made her home.
Within he found her in the cavern-cell;
Where from a brazier by her, burning well,
A fire of cloven cedar-wood and pine
Far thro the island sent a goodly smell.
And in it she with voice melodious sang,
While thro the warp her golden shuttle rang
As to and fro before the loom she went.
But round the cave a verdurous forest sprang
Of poplars and sweet-scented cypresses,
And alders; and long-pinioned birds in these
Nested—owls, falcons, chattering cormorants,
And all that ply their business in the seas.
But round the hollow cavern trailing went
A garden-vine with heavy clusters bent;
And rising all a-row, four springs abroad
This way and that their shining waters sent.
And on both sides fair flowering meads were set,
Soft-clad with parsley and with violet.
Even an immortal, if he came, that sight
Marvelling might view and joy thereof might get.

There stood the fleet foot Shining One, that sight
Marvelling to view; and when to his delight
All he had viewed, into the cavern wide
He entered; but Calypso, Goddess bright
Failed not to know him, seeing him face to face;
For never do the Gods' immortal race
Fail one to know another when they meet
How far soe'er apart their dwelling-place.
But therewithin Odysseus high of heart
He found not then: who—sitting far apart
On the sea-beach, as oftentimes before,
Fretted with tears and sighs and bitter smart,
Out seaward to the barren ocean-rim
Kept gazing, and his eyes with tears were dim.
Hermes gives the Thunderer's command and Calypso obeys. She find Odysseus seated alone by the shore of the much-roaring sea and comforts him with a promise to let him depart, and swears a great oath that she will not in any way hinder him in his journey.

But when rose-fingered Dawn of Morning shone,
Odysseus in his shirt and cloak anon
Arrayed him and the nymph withal her great
White mantle, thin and beautiful, put on;
And round her loins a golden girdle fair
She bound, and cast a kerchief on her hair;
And straightway for Odysseus great of heart
She set herself the sending to prepare.
She gave him a bronze axe with double blade,
Heavy, keen-edged, for handling deftly made,
Wedged in a goodly shaft of olive-wood,
And in his hand a smoothing adze she laid.
Then leading him to the island's utmost rim
She showed the tallest fallen trees to him,
Alder and poplar and sky-soaring pine:
Long dry, well-seasoned, light of draught to swim.
And having shown him where the tallest lay,
Calypso the bright Goddess went her way.
Then forthwith he began to hew him logs,
And in that labour lightly sped the day.
A score of logs he cut and hewed them square
With the bronze axe, and trimmed them all with care
By line and level and then drilled them through
With augers, that Calypso, Goddess fair
Next brought to help him; and these fitting in,
Bolted them tight with dowel and with pin;
And as the bottom of a merchant ship
To lay a skilful shipwright would begin,
So wide abeam his raft Odysseus made:
And upon upright spars close-set he laid
A spar-deck finisht with long gunwale-strips,
And to the raft a mast and yard he stayed:
And made and fixt an oar to steer aright;
And then with osier hurdles woven tight
Fenced the raft round, and laid much wood on it,
To break the waves: and next the Goddess bright,
Calypso, brought him cloth for sails to be.
Those in like manner deftly fashioned he,
With brace and sheet and halyard; and drew down
The raft on rollers to the shining sea.

Now was the fourth day, and he finisht thus
His toil: and on the fifth the glorious
Goddess Calypso sent him from the isle,
Bathed and arrayed in garments odorous.
And skins she gave him, one of wine dark-red
And one of water, and a bag of bread,
With many meats to be his sustenance;
And a soft breeze and warm sent out ahead.
Then joyful to the breeze Odysseus bright
Shook out his sail, and steered his course aright,
Sitting with hand on rudder: nor did sleep
Fall on his eyelids as he watcht all night
The Pleiads and Arcturus' lingering fall
And the She-Bear, the which men likewise call
The Wain, that circling ever in her place
Watches Orion, and alone of all
The whirling constellations does not know
The baths of Ocean; for at parting so
Glorious Calypso bade him, keeping it
On his left hand across the flood to go.
Thus for seventeen days he went; and then Poseidon, returning from the swart-faced blameless Ethiopians and spying his enemy escaping, sent a terrible storm which wrecks his raft and keeps him for days and nights drifting in the brine, but at last he makes his way into the shelter of a river and there found shelter.

And in a clearing near the waterside
He found two bushes that he crept below,
Where in the selfsame plot of ground were met
An olive and an oleaster set
One by the other; thro whose boughs the strength
Of the winds pierced not, blowing wild and wet,
Nor ever did the sun with burning ray
Smite in that covert, or the rain a way
Drive thro the leafy roof; so thick the boughs
One with another intertwining lay.
Under their shelter then Odysseus crept,
And with his hands a broad-heapt bed upswept;
For there a carpet thick of fallen leaves
Lay, such as warm in winter time had kept
Two men or three, tho bitter were the cold.
These toil-worm bright Odysseus to behold
Rejoicing, all amidst them laid him down,
And over him a heap of leaves he rolled.
And as at some lone steading far inland
In the thick ashes a man hides a brand,
Who has no neighbour to fetch kindling from
And needs must keep a seed of fire at hand:
Even so Odysseus in the leaves lay hid.

So slept he there, with toil and slumber spent,
Weary Odysseus. But Athena went
To the Phaiakian people's land and town,
Who dwelt of old beside the turbulent
Kyclopes, where the upland lawns lie spread
In Hypereia, and were hard bestead
Before their overmastering might; till thence
Divine Nausithoos drew them forth and led.
And set in Scheria, far off the rout
Of merchant-venturers, and walled about
A town, and built houses and temples there,
And ploughlands to the people parcelled out.
But he to the Dark Realm, laid low by doom,
Was gone, and wise Alkinoos in his room
Reigned by the grace of God: and counselling
That brave Odysseus might find convoy home,
Gray-eyed Athena sought his house that day,
And to the carven chamber took her way,
Wherein a maiden fair as Goddesses,
Nausicaa, daughter of Alkinoos, lay.
Two comely maids lay by her on the floor
Across the doorway; and the glittering door
Was shut; but thro it, like a puff of wind,
She past and to the bed right on she bore;
And standing at her head, the guise put on
Of the girl's best-loved girl-companion,
Daughter of Dymas, the famed sea-captain:
Even in her likeness spoke the Gray-eyed One:

“Nausicaa, you idle child! here lie
Your bright clothes, all unheeded: yet is nigh
Your wedding-day, when fair attire you need
Both for yourself and those who lead you by.
For thence comes praise of men to be your meed,
And makes my lord and lady glad indeed.
Let us go washing with the peep of dawn;
And I will be your workmate for good speed.
Not long shall you be maiden. Even to-day
The princeliest in your own Phaiakia
From all the land come wooing you. Arise!
Speak to your father, while the dawn is gray,
“To yoke a mule-cart that may carry down
Bright-coloured coverlet and sash and gown.
Nay, even yourself could scarce go well afoot;
So far the washing-pools are off the town.”

So saying, gray-eyed Athena went her way
Up to Olympos; where the Gods, they say,
Dwell in an ageless seat inviolable,
That no wind shakes and no rain wets for aye,
Nor snowflake touches it: but very bright
It stretches, all unclouded, and a white
Splendour swims over it; and all their days
The blessed Gods therein take their delight.
Thither, her word said to the girl, was gone
The Gray-eyed One: and on her shining throne
Dawn clomb, and woke fair-gowned Nausicaa;
And at her dream she mused awhile alone.
Then hastily she sought the palace round,
To tell her parents. Both within she found.
By the hall-hearth among her handmaidens
Her mother sat, and off her spindle wound
The twisted threads, dim-coloured like the sea.
But him she met as to the council he
Past forth, whereto his lords were calling him;
And, standing close, she spoke thus lovingly:

“Papa dear, would you let me have the high
Wheeled cart, to take my dainty clothes, that lie
Soiled in the house, down to the watermead,
And wash them where the running stream goes by?
And even for you yourself it is most fit
That when the councillors in council sit,
Among the princes with clean raiment on
You go. And in the palace, born in it,
Five sons are yours: two wedded now, but three
Are lusty bachelors, who endlessly
Want clothes fresh from the wash that they may go
To dances: all this charge is laid on me.”

So spoke she; for the word of marriage wrought
So strangely in her, she could not speak her thought
To her own father. But he understood,
And answered, “Go, my child; I grudge you nought,
Mules or what else you need your will to do.
The thralls shall yoke the high-wheeled cart for you,
And fix the tilt on it.” He spoke, and called
The thralls, and bade them. Forthwith out they drew
The easy-running mule-cart as he bade,
And yoked the mules thereunder: then the maid
Forth of the inner room the shining clothes
Carried, and in the smooth-planed wagon laid.
And in the box good food and dainties fine
Her mother laid, and filled a skin with wine,
And gave her a gold flask of liquid oil
For bathing when her maids and she would dine.
Then the girl, climbing to the wagon-seat,
Took whip and reins in hand. With clattering feet
The mules went as she lasht them to a run;
And clothes and girl went swinging up the street,
Her handmaidens behind her following fast;
Till to the lovely riverside at last
They came, where all the year abundantly
Bright water bubbled in and fleeted past
From pool to pool, all soil to wash away.
Then they unyoked, and turned the mules to stray
Loose by the eddying river, there at will
To graze the couchgrass honey-sweet: but they
Carried the clothes by armfuls where the unlit
Water lay dark, and trod them down in it,
Along the conduits, in contending haste,
Till of their soilure was not left a whit;
And on the seashore spread them each by each,
Where the waves cleanest washed the pebble-beach.
Then bathing and anointing them with oil,
In the strong sun they left the clothes to bleach,
And took their dinner by the riverside.
But when the girls with food were satisfied,
Their kerchiefs they undid and cast away,
To play at ball; and in the song they plied
White-armed Nausicaa led them: even so
Artemis the Archer down the steep might go
Of Erymanthos, or Taÿgetos'
Long ridge, rejoicing, while before her bow
While boars and fleet-foot deer flee fast away,
And round her path the nymphs of the wildwood-play,
Daughters of Zeus, the Lord of thunderclouds,
And Leto joys at heart: for fair are they,
Yet fairest her own child where all are fair;
And over all her brows and crown of hair
Rise, easily known among them: so among
Her maidens shone the mateless maiden there.

But when the time drew nigh that she was fain
To fold the fair clothes up, and yoke the wain,
And turn her homeward, then the Gray-eyed One,
Divine Athena, counselled yet again
To wake Odysseus, so that he might see
The lovely maiden who his guide should be
To the Phaiakian city. Thereupon
The princess at a maid flung suddenly
The ball, but missed her. In the pool hard by
It fell; and all cried out; and at the cry
He woke, and sat up, thinking inwardly,
“O me! whose land is this, and where am I?
Are these fierce lawless men of savage blood,
Or hospitable and of godly mood?
And the shrill voices as of womenkind
That echo round me now, are these the brood
Of the nymph-maidens who by river-well
And mountain peak and grassy meadow dwell?
Or am I among folk of human speech?
Well, I must take the risk, that I may tell.”

So saying, Lord Odysseus from his lair
In the bushes crept, and from the forest fair
A leafy bough to hide his nakedness
Broke off, and like a mountain-lion there
Strode forth, that thro the raining blowing night,
Fearless in strength, with eyeballs fiery-bright,
Goes after the wild woodland deer, or sheep,
Or oxen, hunting; for his hunger's might
Even the barred homestead where the flocks are pent
Bids him adventure: so Odysseus went
Among the fair-tressed girls to cast himself,
Tho naked; for his need was imminent.
Dreadful to them the sea-stained form drew nigh;
And up and down they ran dispersedly
Along the sandspits terror-struck: alone
The daughter of Alkinoos did not fly;
Such courage put Athena in her mood;
But with unfaltering limbs straight up she stood.
Whereat Odysseus hung in doubt awhile
Whether to clasp her knees in prayer were good,
Or from afar with supplicating speech
Even where he stood her mercy to beseech.
Yet to his thinking with soft words it seemed
Best from afar the lovely maid to reach;
Lest, if he touched her knees, she wrathfully
Might turn away: then subtle and soft spoke he:
“I kneel to you, Protectress! God are you
Or mortal? if a God indeed you be,
Such as wide heaven inhabit, then I wis
He who should deem you very Artemis,
The daughter of high Zeus, so fair you are
And tall and beautiful, were last amiss.
But if a mortal, such as dwell on earth,
Thrice fortunate are they who gave you birth,
Father and mother, and thrice-fortunate
Your brothers: surely evermore great mirth
They all make over you, with hearts elate
To see a thing so lovely-delicate
Treading a measure in the dance. But yet
Far and away is he most fortunate
Beyond the rest, who one day, wooing well,
Laden with gifts shall take you home to dwell:
For never mortal man nor woman yet
My eyes have looked on so adorable.
In Delos thus indeed a young palm-tree
Once it befell me growing up to see
Beside Apollo's altar—for there too
I voyaged, and much people followed me,
When upon that ill-omened road I went,
That brought me woe—and in astonishment
I gazed upon it long; for from no tree
A shaft so stately up from earth is sent.
So wondering, so admiring now once more
I stand, afraid to clasp your knees, tho sore
My grief is, lady; for but yesternight
Out of the purple deep I reached the shore,
The twentieth day: so long across the sea
From the Far Isle the sharp squalls hurried me
Incessant; and now heaven has flung me here,
Doubtless for more misfortunes yet to be:
For not yet can I deem my labour done,
Till the Gods perfect what they have begun.
Pity me then, Protectress! for to you
Out of woes manifold I first have won;
And beside you nought else I understand
Nor know what folk possess this city and land.
Then guide me to the town, and give to me,
From such clothes-wrappings as you have at hand,
A rag for covering: so what you require
May the Gods grant you to your heart's desire;
Husband and house, and in your household ways
Fair concord: since no height of bliss is higher
Than when in concord man and wife repose,
Holding the house between them: to their foes
Great grief it gives, and to their well-wishers
Joy: but their own heart best its happiness knows.”
Thereat white