The Odyssey · Homer
ARGUMENT. THE DESCENT INTO HELL.
“The ghost returns: ‘O chief of human kind For active courage and a patient mind; Nor while the sea, nor while the tempest raves Has Fate oppress’d me on the roaring waves! Nor nobly seized me in the dire alarms Of war and slaughter, and the clash of arms Stabb’d by a murderous hand Atrides died, A foul adulterer, and a faithless bride; E’en in my mirth, and at the friendly feast, O’er the full bowl, the traitor stabb’d his guest; Thus by the gory arm of slaughter falls The stately ox, and bleeds within the stalls. But not with me the direful murder ends, These, these expired! their crime, they were my friends: Thick as the boars, which some luxurious lord Kills for the feast, to crown the nuptial board. When war has thunder’d with its loudest storms, Death thou hast seen in all her ghastly forms: In duel met her on the listed ground, When hand to hand they wound return for wound; But never have the eyes astonish’d view’d So vile a deed, so dire a scene of blood. E’en in the flow of joy, when now the bowl Glows in our veins, and opens every soul, We groan, we faint; with blood the doom is dyed. And o’er the pavement floats the dreadful tide— Her breast all gore, with lamentable cries, The bleeding innocent Cassandra dies! Then though pale death froze cold in every vein, My sword I strive to wield, but strive in vain; Nor did my traitress wife these eyelids close, Or decently in death my limbs compose. O woman, woman, when to ill thy mind Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend: And such was mine! who basely plunged her sword Through the fond bosom where she reign’d adored! Alas! I hoped the toils of war o’ercome, To meet soft quiet and repose at home; Delusive hope! O wife, thy deeds disgrace The perjured sex, and blacken all the race; And should posterity one virtuous find, Name Clytemnestra, they will curse the kind.’
“Oh injured shade (I cried) what mighty woes To thy imperial race from woman rose! By woman here thou tread’st this mournful strand, And Greece by woman lies a desert land.’ “‘Warn’d by my ills beware, (the shade replies,) Nor trust the sex that is so rarely wise; When earnest to explore thy secret breast, Unfold some trifle, but conceal the rest. But in thy consort cease to fear a foe, For thee she feels sincerity of woe; When Troy first bled beneath the Grecian arms, She shone unrivall’d with a blaze of charms; Thy infant son her fragrant bosom press’d, Hung at her knee, or wanton’d at her breast; But now the years a numerous train have ran; The blooming boy is ripen’d into man; Thy eyes shall see him burn with noble fire, The sire shall bless his son, the son his sire; But my Orestes never met these eyes, Without one look the murder’d father dies; Then from a wretched friend this wisdom learn, E’en to thy queen disguised, unknown, return; For since of womankind so few are just, Think all are false, nor e’en the faithful trust. “‘But, say, resides my son in royal port, In rich Orchomenos, or Sparta’s court? Or say in Pyle? for yet he views the light, Nor glides a phantom through the realms of night.’
“Then I: ‘Thy suit is vain, nor can I say If yet he breathes in realms of cheerful day; Or pale or wan beholds these nether skies; Truth I revere; for wisdom never lies.’ “Thus in a tide of tears our sorrows flow, And add new horror to the realms of woe; Till side by side along the dreary coast Advanced Achilles’ and Patroclus’ ghost, A friendly pair! near these the Pylian stray’d, And towering Ajax, an illustrious shade! War was his joy, and pleased with loud alarms, None but Pelides brighter shone in arms. “Through the thick gloom his friend Achilles knew, And as he speaks the tears descend in dew. “‘Comest thou alive to view the Stygian bounds, Where the wan spectres walk eternal rounds; Nor fear’st the dark and dismal waste to tread, Throng’d with pale ghosts, familiar with the dead?’ “To whom with sighs: ‘I pass these dreadful gates To seek the Theban, and consult the Fates; For still, distress’d, I rove from coast to coast, Lost to my friends, and to my country lost. But sure the eye of Time beholds no name So bless’d as thine in all the rolls of fame; Alive we hail’d thee with our guardian gods, And dead thou rulest a king in these abodes.’
“‘Talk not of ruling in this dolorous gloom, Nor think vain words (he cried) can ease my doom. Rather I’d choose laboriously to bear A weight of woes, and breathe the vital air, A slave to some poor hind that toils for bread, Than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead. But say, if in my steps my son proceeds, And emulates his godlike father’s deeds? If at the clash of arms, and shout of foes, Swells his bold heart, his bosom nobly glows? Say if my sire, the reverend Peleus, reigns, Great in his Phthia, and his throne maintains; Or, weak and old, my youthful arm demands, To fix the sceptre steadfast in his hands? O might the lamp of life rekindled burn, And death release me from the silent urn! This arm, that thunder’d o’er the Phrygian plain, And swell’d the ground with mountains of the slain, Should vindicate my injured father’s fame, Crush the proud rebel, and assert his claim.’
“‘Illustrious shade (I cried), of Peleus’ fates No circumstance the voice of Fame relates: But hear with pleased attention the renown, The wars and wisdom of thy gallant son. With me from Scyros to the field of fame Radiant in arms the blooming hero came. When Greece assembled all her hundred states, To ripen counsels, and decide debates, Heavens! how he charm’d us with a flow of sense, And won the heart with manly eloquence! He first was seen of all the peers to rise, The third in wisdom, where they all were wise! But when, to try the fortune of the day, Host moved toward host in terrible array, Before the van, impatient for the fight, With martial port he strode, and stern delight: Heaps strew’d on heaps beneath his falchion groan’d, And monuments of dead deform’d the ground. The time would fail should I in order tell What foes were vanquish’d, and what numbers fell: How, lost through love, Eurypylus was slain, And round him bled his bold Cetaean train. To Troy no hero came of nobler line, Or if of nobler, Memnon, it was thine. “When Ilion in the horse received her doom, And unseen armies ambush’d in its womb, Greece gave her latent warriors to my care, ’Twas mine on Troy to pour the imprison’d war: Then when the boldest bosom beat with fear, When the stern eyes of heroes dropp’d a tear, Fierce in his look his ardent valour glow’d, Flush’d in his cheek, or sallied in his blood; Indignant in the dark recess he stands, Pants for the battle, and the war demands: His voice breathed death, and with a martial air He grasp’d his sword, and shook his glittering spear. And when the gods our arms with conquest crown’d, When Troy’s proud bulwarks smoked upon the ground, Greece, to reward her soldier’s gallant toils, Heap’d high his navy with unnumber’d spoils.
“Thus great in glory, from the din of war Safe he return’d, without one hostile scar; Though spears in iron tempests rain’d around, Yet innocent they play’d, and guiltless of a wound.’ “While yet I spoke, the shade with transport glow’d, Rose in his majesty, and nobler trod; With haughty stalk he sought the distant glades Of warrior kings, and join’d the illustrious shades. “Now without number ghost by ghost arose, All wailing with unutterable woes. Alone, apart, in discontented mood, A gloomy shade the sullen Ajax stood; For ever sad, with proud disdain he pined, And the lost arms for ever stung his mind; Though to the contest Thetis gave the laws, And Pallas, by the Trojans, judged the cause. O why was I victorious in the strife? O dear bought honour with so brave a life! With him the strength of war, the soldier’s pride, Our second hope to great Achilles, died! Touch’d at the sight from tears I scarce refrain, And tender sorrow thrills in every vein; Pensive and sad I stand, at length accost With accents mild the inexorable ghost: ‘Still burns thy rage? and can brave souls resent E’en after death? Relent, great shade, relent! Perish those arms which by the gods’ decree Accursed our army with the loss of thee! With thee we fall; Greece wept thy hapless fates, And shook astonish’d through her hundred states; Not more, when great Achilles press’d the ground, And breathed his manly spirit through the wound. O deem thy fall not owed to man’s decree, Jove hated Greece, and punish’d Greece in thee! Turn then; oh peaceful turn, thy wrath control, And calm the raging tempest of thy soul.’
“While yet I speak, the shade disdains to stay, In silence turns, and sullen stalks away. “Touch’d at his sour retreat, through deepest night, Through hell’s black bounds I had pursued his flight, And forced the stubborn spectre to reply; But wondrous visions drew my curious eye. High on a throne, tremendous to behold, Stern Minos waves a mace of burnish’d gold; Around ten thousand thousand spectres stand Through the wide dome of Dis, a trembling band Still as they plead, the fatal lots he rolls, Absolves the just, and dooms the guilty souls. “The huge Orion, of portentous size, Swift through the gloom a giant-hunter flies: A ponderous mace of brass with direful sway Aloft he whirls, to crush the savage prey! Stern beasts in trains that by his truncheon fell, Now grisly forms, shoot o’er the lawns of hell. “There Tityus large and long, in fetters bound, O’erspreads nine acres of infernal ground; Two ravenous vultures, furious for their food, Scream o’er the fiend, and riot in his blood, Incessant gore the liver in his breast, The immortal liver grows, and gives the immortal feast. For as o’er Panope’s enamell’d plains Latona journey’d to the Pythian fanes, With haughty love the audacious monster strove To force the goddess, and to rival Jove. “There Tantalus along the Stygian bounds Pours out deep groans (with groans all hell resounds); E’en in the circling floods refreshment craves, And pines with thirst amidst a sea of waves; When to the water he his lip applies, Back from his lip the treacherous water flies. Above, beneath, around his hapless head, Trees of all kinds delicious fruitage spread; There figs, sky-dyed, a purple hue disclose, Green looks the olive, the pomegranate glows. There dangling pears exalting scents unfold. And yellow apples ripen into gold; The fruit he strives to seize; but blasts arise, Toss it on high, and whirl it to the skies.
“I turn’d my eye, and as I turn’d survey’d A mournful vision! the Sisyphian shade; With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground. Again the restless orb his toil renews, Dust mounts in clouds, and sweat descends in dews. “Now I the strength of Hercules behold, A towering spectre of gigantic mould, A shadowy form! for high in heaven’s abodes Himself resides, a god among the gods; There in the bright assemblies of the skies. He nectar quaffs, and Hebe crowns his joys. Here hovering ghosts, like fowl, his shade surround, And clang their pinions with terrific sound; Gloomy as night he stands, in act to throw The aërial arrow from the twanging bow. Around his breast a wondrous zone is roll’d, Where woodland monsters grin in fretted gold; There sullen lions sternly seem to roar, The bear to growl to foam the tusky boar; There war and havoc and destruction stood, And vengeful murder red with human blood. Thus terribly adorned the figures shine, Inimitably wrought with skill divine. The mighty good advanced with awful look, And, turning his grim visage, sternly spoke: “‘O exercise in grief! by arts refined; O taught to bear the wrongs of base mankind! Such, such was I! Still toss’d from care to care, While in your world I drew the vital air! E’en I, who from the Lord of Thunders rose, Bore toils and dangers, and a weight of woes; To a base monarch still a slave confined, (The hardest bondage to a generous mind!) Down to these worlds I trod the dismal way, And dragg’d the three-mouth’d dog to upper day E’en hell I conquer’d, through the friendly aid Of Maia’s offspring, and the martial maid.
“Thus he, nor deign’d for our reply to stay, But, turning, stalk’d with giant-strides away. “Curious to view the kings of ancient days, The mighty dead that live in endless praise, Resolved I stand; and haply had survey’d The godlike Theseus, and Pirithous’ shade; But swarms of spectres rose from deepest hell, With bloodless visage, and with hideous yell. They scream, they shriek; and groans and dismal sounds Stun my scared ears, and pierce hell’s utmost bounds. No more my heart the dismal din sustains, And my cold blood hangs shivering in my veins; Lest Gorgon, rising from the infernal lakes, With horrors arm’d, and curls of hissing snakes, Should fix me stiffen’d at the monstrous sight, A stony image, in eternal night! Straight from the direful coast to purer air I speed my flight, and to my mates repair. My mates ascend the ship; they strike their oars; The mountains lessen, and retreat the shores; Swift o’er the waves we fly; the freshening gales Sing through the shrouds, and stretch the swelling sails.”
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.