The Odysseys of Homer, together with the shorter poems · Homer
HYMNS
From hence the year, that all such proofs gives end, Grew round; yet all that time the bed of Jove She never touch’d at, never was her love Enflam’d to sit near his Dædalian throne, As she accustomed, to consult upon Counsels kept dark with many a secret skill, But kept her vow-frequented temple still, Pleas’d with her sacrifice; till now, the nights And days accomplish’d, and the year’s whole rights In all her revolutions being expired, The hours and all run out that were required To vent a birth-right, she brought forth a son, Like Gods or men in no condition, But a most dreadful and pernicious thing, Call’d Typhon, who on all the human spring Conferr’d confusion. Which received to hand By Juno, instantly she gave command (Ill to ill adding) that the Dragoness Should bring it up; who took, and did oppress With many a misery (to maintain th’ excess Of that inhuman monster) all the race Of men that were of all the world the grace, Till the far-working Phœbus at her sent A fiery arrow, that invoked event Of death gave to her execrable life.
Before which yet she lay in bitter strife, With dying pains, grovelling on earth, and drew Extreme short respirations; for which flew A shout about the air, whence no man knew, But came by power divine. And then she lay Tumbling her trunk, and winding every way About her nasty nest, quite leaving then Her murderous life, embrued with deaths of men. Then Phœbus gloried, saying: “Thyself now lie On men-sustaining earth, and putrefy, Who first of putrefaction was inform’d. Now on thy life have death’s cold vapours storm’d, That storm’dst on men the earth-fed so much death, In envy of the offspring they made breathe Their lives out on my altars. Now from thee Not Typhon shall enforce the misery Of merited death, nor She, whose name implies Such scathe (Chimæra), but black earth make prise To putrefaction thy immanities, And bright Hyperion, that light all eyes shows, Thine with a night of rottenness shall close.” Thus spake he glorying. And then seiz’d upon Her horrid heap, with putrefaction, Hyperion’s lovely pow’rs; from whence her name Took sound of Python, and heaven’s Sovereign Flame Was surnam’d Pythius, since the sharp-eyed Sun Affected so with putrefaction The hellish monster.
And now Phœbus’ mind Gave him to know that falsehood had strook blind Even his bright eye, because it could not find The subtle Fountain’s fraud; to whom he flew, Enflamed with anger, and in th’ instant drew Close to Delphusa, using this short vow: “Delphusa! You must look no longer now To vent your frauds on me; for well I know Your situation to be lovely, worth A temple’s imposition, it pours forth So delicate a stream. But your renown Shall now no longer shine here, but mine own.” This said, he thrust her promontory down, And damm’d her fountain up with mighty stones, A temple giving consecrations In woods adjoining. And in this fane all On him, by surname of Delphusius, call, Because Delphusa’s sacred flood and fame His wrath affected so, and hid in shame. And then thought Phœbus what descent of men To be his ministers he should retain, To do in stony Pythos sacrifice.
To which his mind contending, his quick eyes He cast upon the blue sea, and beheld A ship, on whose masts sails that wing’d it swell’d, In which were men transferr’d, many and good, That in Minoian Cnossus ate their food, And were Cretensians; who now are those That all the sacrificing dues dispose, And all the laws deliver to a word Of Day’s great King, that wears the golden sword, And oracles (out of his Delphian tree That shrouds her fair arms in the cavity Beneath Parnassus’ mount) pronounce to men. These now his priests, that lived as merchants then, In traffics and pecuniary rates, For sandy Pylos and the Pylian states. Were under sail. But now encounter’d them Phœbus-Apollo, who into the stream Cast himself headlong, and the strange disguise Took of a dolphin of a goodly size. Like which he leap’d into their ship, and lay As an ostent of infinite dismay. For none with any strife of mind could look Into the omen, all the ship-masts shook, And silent all sat with the fear they took, Arm’d not, nor strook they sail, but as before Went on with full trim, and a foreright blore, Stiff, and from forth the south, the ship made fly.
When first they stripp’d the Malean promont’ry, Touch’d at Laconia’s soil, in which a town Their ship arriv’d at, that the sea doth crown, Called Tenarus, a place of much delight To men that serve Heaven’s Comforter of sight. In which are fed the famous flocks that bear The wealthy fleeces, on a delicate lair Being fed and seated. Where the merchants fain Would have put in, that they might out again To tell the miracle that chanced to them, And try if it would take the sacred stream, Rushing far forth, that he again might bear Those other fishes that abounded there Delightsome company, or still would stay Aboard their dry ship. But it fail’d t’ obey, And for the rich Peloponnesian shore Steer’d her free sail; Apollo made the blore Directly guide it.
That obeying still Reach’d dry Arena, and (what wish doth fill) Fair Argyphæa, and the populous height Of Thryus, whose stream, siding her, doth wait With safe pass on Alphæus, Pylos’ sands, And Pylian dwellers; keeping by the strands On which th’ inhabitants of Crunius dwell, And Helida set opposite to hell; Chalcis and Dymes reach’d, and happily Made sail by Pheras; all being overjoy’d With that frank gale that Jove himself employ’d. And then amongst the clouds they might descry The hill, that far-seen Ithaca calls her Eye, Dulichius, Samos, and, with timber graced, Shady Zacynthus. But when now they past Peloponnesus all, and then when show’d The infinite vale of Crissa, that doth shroud All rich Morea with her liberal breast, So frank a gale there flew out of the West As all the sky discover’d; ’twas so great, And blew so from the very council seat Of Jove himself, that quickly it might send The ship through full seas to her journey’s end. From thence they sail’d, quite opposite, to the East, And to the region where Light leaves his rest, The Light himself being sacred pilot there, And made the sea-trod ship arrive them near The grapeful Crissa, where he rest doth take Close to her port and sands.
And then forth brake The far-shot King, like to a star that strows His glorious forehead where the mid-day glows, That all in sparkles did his state attire, Whose lustre leap’d up to the sphere of fire. He trod where no way oped, and pierced the place That of his sacred tripods held the grace, In which he lighted such a fluent flame As gilt all Crissa; in which every dame, And dame’s fair daughter, cast out vehement cries At those fell fires of Phœbus’ prodigies, That shaking fears through all their fancies threw. Then, like the mind’s swift light, again he flew Back to the ship, shaped like a youth in height Of all his graces, shoulders broad and straight, And all his hair in golden curls enwrapp’d; And to the merchants thus his speech he shap’d: “Ho! Strangers! What are you? And from what seat Sail ye these ways that salt and water sweat? To traffic justly? Or use vagrant scapes Void of all rule, conferring wrongs and rapes, Like pirates, on the men ye never saw, With minds project exempt from list or law?
Why sit ye here so stupefied, nor take Land while ye may, nor deposition make Of naval arms, when this the fashion is Of men industrious, who (their faculties Wearied at sea) leave ship, and use the land For food, that with their healths and stomachs stand?” This said, with bold minds he their breast supplied, And thus made answer the Cretensian guide: “Stranger! Because you seem to us no seed Of any mortal, but celestial breed For parts and person, joy your steps ensue, And Gods make good the bliss we think your due. Vouchsafe us true relation, on what land We here arrive, and what men here command. We were for well-known parts bound, and from Crete (Our vaunted country) to the Pylian seat Vow’d our whole voyage; yet arrive we here, Quite cross to those wills that our motions steer, Wishing to make return some other way, Some other course desirous to assay, To pay our lost pains. But some God hath fill’d Our frustrate sails, defeating what we will’d.” Apollo answer’d: “Strangers!
Though before Ye dwelt in woody Cnossus, yet no more Ye must be made your own reciprocals To your loved city and fair severals Of wives and houses, but ye shall have here My wealthy temple, honour’d far and near Of many a nation; for myself am son To Jove himself, and of Apollo won The glorious title, who thus safely through The sea’s vast billows still have held your plough, No ill intending, that will yet ye make My temple here your own, and honours take Upon yourselves, all that to me are given. And more, the counsels of the King of Heaven Yourselves shall know, and with his will receive Ever the honours that all men shall give. Do as I say then instantly, strike sail, Take down your tackling, and your vessel hale Up into land; your goods bring forth, and all The instruments that into sailing fall; Make on this shore an altar, fire enflame, And barley white cakes offer to my name; And then, environing the altar, pray, And call me (as ye saw me in the day When from the windy seas I brake swift way Into your ship) Delphinius, since I took A dolphin’s form then.
And to every look That there shall seek it, that my altar shall Be made a Delphian memorial From thence for ever. After this, ascend Your swift black ship and sup, and then intend Ingenuous offerings to the equal Gods That in celestial seats make blest abodes. When, having stay’d your healthful hunger’s sting, Come all with me, and Io-pæans sing All the way’s length, till you attain the state Where I your opulent fane have consecrate.” To this they gave him passing diligent ear, And vow’d to his obedience all they were. First, striking sail, their tacklings then they losed, And (with their gables stoop’d) their mast imposed Into the mast-room. Forth themselves then went, And from the sea into the continent Drew up their ship; which far up from the sand They rais’d with ample rafters. Then in hand They took the altar; and inform’d it on The sea’s near shore, imposing thereupon White cakes of barley, fire made, and did stand About it round, as Phœbus gave command, Submitting invocations to his will. Then sacrific’d to all the heavenly hill Of pow’rful Godheads. After which they eat Aboard their ship, till with fit food replete They rose, nor to their temple used delay.
Whom Phœbus usher’d, and touch’d all the way His heavenly lute with art above admired, Gracefully leading them. When all were fired With zeal to him, and follow’d wond’ring all To Pythos; and upon his name did call With Io-pæans, such as Cretans use. And in their bosoms did the deified Muse Voices of honey-harmony infuse. With never-weary feet their way they went, And made with all alacrity ascent Up to Parnassus, and that long’d-for place Where they should live, and be of men the grace. When, all the way, Apollo show’d them still Their far-stretch’d valleys, and their two-topp’d hill, Their famous fane, and all that all could raise To a supreme height of their joy and praise. And then the Cretan captain thus inquired Of King Apollo: “Since you have retired, O sovereign, our sad lives so far from friends And native soil (because so far extends Your dear mind’s pleasure) tell us how we shall Live in your service? To which question call Our provident minds, because we see not crown’d This soil with store of vines, nor doth abound In wealthy meadows, on which we may live, As well as on men our attendance give.”
He smiled, and said: “O men that nothing know, And so are follow’d with a world of woe, That needs will succour care and curious moan, And pour out sighs without cessation, Were all the riches of the earth your own! Without much business, I will render known To your simplicities an easy way To wealth enough, Let every man purvey A skeane, or slaught’ring steel, and his right hand, Bravely bestowing, evermore see mann’d With killing sheep, that to my fane will flow From all far nations. On all which bestow Good observation, and all else they give To me make you your own all, and so live. For all which watch before my temple well, And all my counsels, above all, conceal. If any give vain language, or to deeds, Yea or as far as injury, proceeds, Know that, at losers’ hands, for those that gain, It is the law of mortals to sustain. Besides, ye shall have princes to obey, Which still ye must, and (so ye gain) ye may. All now is said; give all thy memory’s stay.” And thus to thee, Jove and Latona’s son, Be given all grace of salutation! Both thee and others of th’ Immortal State My song shall memorize to endless date.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.