and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself out on the floor
to sleep. Ulysses was tempted to seize the opportunity and plunge
his sword into him as he slept, but recollected that it would only
expose them all to certain destruction, as the rock with which the
giant had closed up the door was far beyond their power to remove,
and they would therefore be in hopeless imprisonment. Next morning
the giant seized two more of the Greeks, and despatched them in
the same manner as their companions, feasting on their flesh till
no fragment was left. He then moved away the rock from the door,
drove out his flocks, and went out, carefully replacing the
barrier after him. When he was gone Ulysses planned how he might
take vengeance for his murdered friends, and effect his escape
with his surviving companions. He made his men prepare a massive
bar of wood cut by the Cyclops for a staff, which they found in
the cave. They sharpened the end of it, and seasoned it in the
fire, and hid it under the straw on the cavern floor. Then four of
the boldest were selected, with whom Ulysses joined himself as a
fifth. The Cyclops came home at evening, rolled away the stone and
drove in his flock as usual. After milking them and making his
arrangements as before, he seized two more of Ulysses' companions
and dashed their brains out, and made his evening meal upon them
as he had on the others. After he had supped, Ulysses approaching
him handed him a bowl of wine, saying, "Cyclops, this is wine;
taste and drink after thy meal of men's flesh." He took and drank
it, and was hugely delighted with it, and called for more. Ulysses
supplied him once again, which pleased the giant so much that he
promised him as a favor that he should be the last of the party
devoured. He asked his name, to which Ulysses replied, "My name is
Noman."

After his supper the giant lay down to repose, and was soon sound
asleep. Then Ulysses with his four select friends thrust the end
of the stake into the fire till it was all one burning coal, then
poising it exactly above the giant's only eye, they buried it
deeply into the socket, twirling it round as a carpenter does his
auger. The howling monster with his outcry filled the cavern, and
Ulysses with his aids nimbly got out of his way and concealed
themselves in the cave. He, bellowing, called aloud on all the
Cyclopes dwelling in the caves around him, far and near. They on
his cry flocked round the den, and inquired what grievous hurt had
caused him to sound such an alarm and break their slumbers. He
replied, "O friends, I die, and Noman gives the blow." They
answered, "If no man hurts thee it is the stroke of Jove, and thou
must bear it." So saying, they left him groaning.

Next morning the Cyclops rolled away the stone to let his flock
out to pasture, but planted himself in the door of the cave to
feel of all as they went out, that Ulysses and his men should not
escape with them. But Ulysses had made his men harness the rams of
the flock three abreast, with osiers which they found on the floor
of the cave. To the middle ram of the three one of the Greeks
suspended himself, so protected by the exterior rams on either
side. As they passed, the giant felt of the animals' backs and
sides, but never thought of their bellies; so the men all passed
safe, Ulysses himself being on the last one that passed. When they
had got a few paces from the cavern, Ulysses and his friends
released themselves from their rams, and drove a good part of the
flock down to the shore to their boat. They put them aboard with
all haste, then pushed off from the shore, and when at a safe
distance Ulysses shouted out, "Cyclops, the gods have well
requited thee for thy atrocious deeds. Know it is Ulysses to whom
thou owest thy shameful loss of sight." The Cyclops, hearing this,
seized a rock that projected from the side of the mountain, and
rending it from its bed, he lifted it high in the air, then
exerting all his force, hurled it in the direction of the voice.
Down came the mass, just clearing the vessel's stern. The ocean,
at the plunge of the huge rock, heaved the ship towards the land,
so that it barely escaped being swamped by the waves. When they
had with the utmost difficulty pulled off shore, Ulysses was about
to hail the giant again, but his friends besought him not to do
so. He could not forbear, however, letting the giant know that
they had escaped his missile, but waited till they had reached a
safer distance than before. The giant answered them with curses,
but Ulysses and his friends plied their oars vigorously, and soon
regained their companions.

Ulysses next arrived at the island of Aeolus. To this monarch
Jupiter had intrusted the government of the winds, to send them
forth or retain them at his will. He treated Ulysses hospitably,
and at his departure gave him, tied up in a leathern bag, with a
silver string, such winds as might be hurtful and dangerous,
commanding fair winds to blow the barks towards their country.
Nine days they sped before the wind, and all that time Ulysses had
stood at the helm, without sleep. At last quite exhausted he lay
down to sleep. While he slept, the crew conferred together about
the mysterious bag, and concluded it must contain treasures given
by the hospitable king Aeolus to their commander. Tempted to
secure some portion for themselves, they loosed the string, when
immediately the winds rushed forth. The ships were driven far from
their course, and back again to the island they had just left.
Aeolus was so indignant at their folly that he refused to assist
them further, and they were obliged to labor over their course
once more by means of their oars.

THE LAESTRYGONIANS

Their next adventure was with the barbarous tribe of
Laestrygonians. The vessels all pushed into the harbor, tempted by
the secure appearance of the cove, completely land-locked; only
Ulysses moored his vessel without. As soon as the Laestrygonians
found the ships completely in their power they attacked them,
heaving huge stones which broke and overturned them, and with
their spears despatched the seamen as they struggled in the water.
All the vessels with their crews were destroyed, except Ulysses'
own ship, which had remained outside, and finding no safety but in
flight, he exhorted his men to ply their oars vigorously, and they
escaped.

With grief for their slain companions mixed with joy at their own
escape, they pursued their way till they arrived at the Aeaean
isle, where Circe dwelt, the daughter of the sun. Landing here,
Ulysses climbed a hill, and gazing round saw no signs of
habitation except in one spot at the centre of the island, where
he perceived a palace embowered with trees. He sent forward one-
half of his crew, under the command of Eurylochus, to see what
prospect of hospitality they might find. As they approached the
palace, they found themselves surrounded by lions, tigers, and
wolves, not fierce, but tamed by Circe's art, for she was a
powerful magician. All these animals had once been men, but had
been changed by Circe's enchantments into the forms of beasts. The
sounds of soft music were heard from within, and a sweet female
voice singing. Eurylochus called aloud and the goddess came forth
and invited them in; they all gladly entered except Eurylochus,
who suspected danger. The goddess conducted her guests to a seat,
and had them served with wine and other delicacies. When they had
feasted heartily, she touched them one by one with her wand, and
they became immediately changed into SWINE, in "head, body, voice,
and bristles," yet with their intellects as before. She shut them
in her sties and supplied them with acorns and such other things
as swine love.

Eurylochus hurried back to the ship and told the tale. Ulysses
thereupon determined to go himself, and try if by any means he
might deliver his companions. As he strode onward alone, he met a
youth who addressed him familiarly, appearing to be acquainted
with his adventures. He announced himself as Mercury, and informed
Ulysses of the arts of Circe, and of the danger of approaching
her. As Ulysses was not to be dissuaded from his attempt, Mercury
provided him with a sprig of the plant Moly, of wonderful power to
resist sorceries, and instructed him how to act. Ulysses
proceeded, and reaching the palace was courteously received by
Circe, who entertained him as she had done his companions, and
after he had eaten and drank, touched him with her wand, saying,
"Hence, seek the sty and wallow with thy friends." But he, instead
of obeying, drew his sword and rushed upon her with fury in his
countenance. She fell on her knees and begged for mercy. He
dictated a solemn oath that she would release his companions and
practise no further harm against him or them; and she repeated it,
at the same time promising to dismiss them all in safety after
hospitably entertaining them. She was as good as her word. The men
were restored to their shapes, the rest of the crew summoned from
the shore, and the whole magnificently entertained day after day,
till Ulysses seemed to have forgotten his native land, and to have
reconciled himself to an inglorious life of ease and pleasure.

At length his companions recalled him to nobler sentiments, and he
received their admonition gratefully. Circe aided their departure,
and instructed them how to pass safely by the coast of the Sirens.
The Sirens were sea-nymphs who had the power of charming by their
song all who heard them, so that the unhappy mariners were
irresistibly impelled to cast themselves into the sea to their
destruction. Circe directed Ulysses to fill the ears of his seamen
with wax, so that they should not hear the strain; and to cause
himself to be bound to the mast, and his people to be strictly
enjoined, whatever he might say or do, by no means to release him
till they should have passed the Sirens' island. Ulysses obeyed
these directions. He filled the ears of his people with wax, and
suffered them to bind him with cords firmly to the mast. As they
approached the Sirens' island, the sea was calm, and over the
waters came the notes of music so ravishing and attractive that
Ulysses struggled to get loose, and by cries and signs to his
people begged to be released; but they, obedient to his previous
orders, sprang forward and bound him still faster. They held on
their course, and the music grew fainter till it ceased to be
heard, when with joy Ulysses gave his companions the signal to
unseal their ears, and they relieved him from his bonds.

The imagination of a modern poet, Keats, has discovered for us the
thoughts that passed through the brains of the victims of Circe,
after their transformation. In his "Endymion" he represents one of
them, a monarch in the guise of an elephant, addressing the
sorceress in human language, thus:

"I sue not for my happy crown again;
I sue not for my phalanx on the plain;
I sue not for my lone, my widowed wife;
I sue not for my ruddy drops of life,
My children fair, my lovely girls and boys;
I will forget them; I will pass these joys,
Ask nought so heavenward; so too - too high;
Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die;
To be delivered from this cumbrous flesh,
From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh,
And merely given to the cold, bleak air.
Have mercy, goddess! Circe, feel my prayer!"

SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS

Ulysses had been warned by Circe of the two monsters Scylla and
Charybdis. We have already met with Scylla in the story of
Glaucus, and remember that she was once a beautiful maiden and was
changed into a snaky monster by Circe. She dwelt in a cave high up
on the cliff, from whence she was accustomed to thrust forth her
long necks (for she had six heads), and in each of her mouths to
seize one of the crew of every vessel passing within reach. The
other terror, Charybdis, was a gulf, nearly on a level with the
water. Thrice each day the water rushed into a frightful chasm,
and thrice was disgorged. Any vessel coming near the whirlpool
when the tide was rushing in must inevitably be ingulfed; not
Neptune himself could save it.

On approaching the haunt of the dread monsters, Ulysses kept
strict watch to discover them. The roar of the waters as Charybdis
ingulfed them, gave warning at a distance, but Scylla could
nowhere be discerned. While Ulysses and his men watched with
anxious eyes the dreadful whirlpool, they were not equally on
their guard from the attack of Scylla, and the monster, darting
forth her snaky heads, caught six of his men, and bore them away,
shrieking, to her den. It was the saddest sight Ulysses had yet
seen; to behold his friends thus sacrificed and hear their cries,
unable to afford them any assistance.

Circe had warned him of another danger. After passing Scylla and
Charybdis the next land he would make was Thrinakia, an island
whereon were pastured the cattle of Hyperion, the Sun, tended by
his daughters Lampetia and Phaethusa. These flocks must not be
violated, whatever the wants of the voyagers might be. If this
injunction were transgressed destruction was sure to fall on the
offenders.

Ulysses would willingly have passed the island of the Sun without
stopping, but his companions so urgently pleaded for the rest and
refreshment that would be derived from anchoring and passing the
night on shore, that Ulysses yielded. He bound them, however, with
an oath that they would not touch one of the animals of the sacred
flocks and herds, but content themselves with what provision they
yet had left of the supply which Circe had put on board. So long
as this supply lasted the people kept their oath, but contrary
winds detained them at the island for a month, and after consuming
all their stock of provisions, they were forced to rely upon the
birds and fishes they could catch. Famine pressed them, and at
length one day, in the absence of Ulysses, they slew some of the
cattle, vainly attempting to make amends for the deed by offering
from them a portion to the offended powers. Ulysses, on his return
to the shore, was horror-struck at perceiving what they had done,
and the more so on account of the portentous signs which followed.
The skins crept on the ground, and the joints of meat lowed on the
spits while roasting.

The wind becoming fair they sailed from the island. They had not
gone far when the weather changed, and a storm of thunder and
lightning ensued. A stroke of lightning shattered their mast,
which in its fall killed the pilot. At last the vessel itself came
to pieces. The keel and mast floating side by side, Ulysses formed
of them a raft, to which he clung, and, the wind changing, the
waves bore him to Calypso's island. All the rest of the crew
perished.

The following allusion to the topics we have just been considering
is from Milton's "Comus," line 252:

"... I have often heard
My mother Circe and the Sirens three,
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,
Culling their potent herbs and baneful drugs,
Who as they sung would take the prisoned soul
And lap it in Elysium. Scylla wept,
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause."

Scylla and Charybdis have become proverbial, to denote opposite
dangers which beset one's course. See Proverbial Expressions.

CALYPSO

Calypso was a sea-nymph, which name denotes a numerous class of
female divinities of lower rank, yet sharing many of the
attributes of the gods. Calypso received Ulysses hospitably,
entertained him magnificently, became enamoured of him, and wished
to retain him forever, conferring on him immortality. But he
persisted in his resolution to return to his country and his wife
and son. Calypso at last received the command of Jove to dismiss
him. Mercury brought the message to her, and found her in her
grotto, which is thus described by Homer:

"A garden vine, luxuriant on all sides,
Mantled the spacious cavern, cluster-hung
Profuse; four fountains of serenest lymph,
Their sinuous course pursuing side by side,
Strayed all around, and everywhere appeared
Meadows of softest verdure, purpled o'er
With violets; it was a scene to fill
A god from heaven with wonder and delight."

Calypso with much reluctance proceeded to obey the commands of
Jupiter. She supplied Ulysses with the means of constructing a
raft, provisioned it well for him, and gave him a favoring gale.
He sped on his course prosperously for many days, till at length,
when in sight of land, a storm arose that broke his mast, and
threatened to rend the raft asunder. In this crisis he was seen by
a compassionate sea-nymph, who in the form of a cormorant alighted
on the raft, and presented him a girdle, directing him to bind it
beneath his breast, and if he should be compelled to trust himself
to the waves, it would buoy him up and enable him by swimming to
reach the land.

Fenelon, in his romance of "Telemachus," has given us the
adventures of the son of Ulysses in search of his father. Among
other places at which he arrived, following on his father's
footsteps, was Calypso's isle, and, as in the former case, the
goddess tried every art to keep him with her, and offered to share
her immortality with him. But Minerva, who in the shape of Mentor
accompanied him and governed all his movements, made him repel her
allurements, and when no other means of escape could be found, the
two friends leaped from a cliff into the sea, and swam to a vessel
which lay becalmed off shore. Byron alludes to this leap of
Telemachus and Mentor in the following stanza:

"But not in silence pass Calypso's isles,
The sister tenants of the middle deep;
There for the weary still a haven smiles,
Though the fair goddess long has ceased to weep,
And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep
For him who dared prefer a mortal bride.
Here too his boy essayed the dreadful leap,
Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;
While thus of both bereft the nymph-queen doubly sighed."


CHAPTER XXX

THE PHAEACIANS - FATE OF THE SUITORS

THE PHAEACIANS


Ulysses clung to the raft while any of its timbers kept together,
and when it no longer yielded him support, binding the girdle
around him, he swam. Minerva smoothed the billows before him and
sent him a wind that rolled the waves towards the shore. The surf
beat high on the rocks and seemed to forbid approach; but at
length finding calm water at the mouth of a gentle stream, he
landed, spent with toil, breathless and speechless and almost
dead. After some time, reviving, he kissed the soil, rejoicing,
yet at a loss what course to take. At a short distance he
perceived a wood, to which he turned his steps. There, finding a
covert sheltered by intermingling branches alike from the sun and
the rain, he collected a pile of leaves and formed a bed, on which
he stretched himself, and heaping the leaves over him, fell
asleep.

The land where he was thrown was Scheria, the country of the
Phaeacians. These people dwelt originally near the Cyclopes; but
being oppressed by that savage race, they migrated to the isle of
Scheria, under the conduct of Nausithous, their king. They were,
the poet tells us, a people akin to the gods, who appeared
manifestly and feasted among them when they offered sacrifices,
and did not conceal themselves from solitary wayfarers when they
met them. They had abundance of wealth and lived in the enjoyment
of it undisturbed by the alarms of war, for as they dwelt remote
from gain-seeking man, no enemy ever approached their shores, and
they did not even require to make use of bows and quivers. Their
chief employment was navigation. Their ships, which went with the
velocity of birds, were endued with intelligence; they knew every
port and needed no pilot. Alcinous, the son of Nausithous, was now
their king, a wise and just sovereign, beloved by his people.

Now it happened that the very night on which Ulysses was cast
ashore on the Phaeacian island, and while he lay sleeping on his
bed of leaves, Nausicaa, the daughter of the king, had a dream
sent by Minerva, reminding her that her wedding-day was not far
distant, and that it would be but a prudent preparation for that
event to have a general washing of the clothes of the family. This
was no slight affair, for the fountains were at some distance, and
the garments must be carried thither. On awaking, the princess
hastened to her parents to tell them what was on her mind; not
alluding to her wedding-day, but finding other reasons equally
good. Her father readily assented and ordered the grooms to
furnish forth a wagon for the purpose. The clothes were put
therein, and the queen mother placed in the wagon, likewise, an
abundant supply of food and wine. The princess took her seat and
plied the lash, her attendant virgins following her on foot.
Arrived at the river side, they turned out the mules to graze, and
unlading the carriage, bore the garments down to the water, and
working with cheerfulness and alacrity soon despatched their
labor. Then having spread the garments on the shore to dry, and
having themselves bathed, they sat down to enjoy their meal; after
which they rose and amused themselves with a game of ball, the
princess singing to them while they played. But when they had
refolded the apparel and were about to resume their way to the
town, Minerva caused the ball thrown by the princess to fall into
the water, whereat they all screamed and Ulysses awaked at the
sound.

Now we must picture to ourselves Ulysses, a ship-wrecked mariner,
but a few hours escaped from the waves, and utterly destitute of
clothing, awaking and discovering that only a few bushes were
interposed tween him and a group of young maidens whom, by their
deportment and attire, he discovered to be not mere peasant girls,
but of a higher class. Sadly needing help, how could he yet
venture, naked as he was, to discover himself and make his wants
known? It certainly was a case worthy of the interposition of his
patron goddess Minerva, who never failed him at a crisis. Breaking
off a leafy branch from a tree, he held it before him and stepped
out from the thicket. The virgins at sight of him fled in all
directions, Nausicaa alone excepted, for HER Minerva aided and
endowed with courage and discernment. Ulysses, standing
respectfully aloof, told his sad case, and besought the fair
object (whether queen or goddess he professed he knew not) for
food and clothing. The princess replied courteously, promising
present relief and her father's hospitality when he should become
acquainted with the facts. She called back her scattered maidens,
chiding their alarm, and reminding them that the Phaeacians had no
enemies to fear. This man, she told them, was an unhappy wanderer,
whom it was a duty to cherish, for the poor and stranger are from
Jove. She bade them bring food and clothing, for some of her
brother's garments were among the contents of the wagon. When this
was done, and Ulysses, retiring to a sheltered place, had washed
his body free from the sea-foam, clothed and refreshed himself
with food, Pallas dilated his form and diffused grace over his
ample chest and manly brows.

The princess, seeing him, was filled with admiration, and scrupled
not to say to her damsels that she wished the gods would send her
such a husband. To Ulysses she recommended that he should repair
to the city, following herself and train so far as the way lay
through the fields; but when they should approach the city she
desired that he would no longer be seen in her company, for she
feared the remarks which rude and vulgar people might make on
seeing her return accompanied by such a gallant stranger. To avoid
which she directed him to stop at a grove adjoining the city, in
which were a farm and garden belonging to the king. After allowing
time for the princess and her companions to reach the city, he was
then to pursue his way thither, and would be easily guided by any
he might meet to the royal abode.

Ulysses obeyed the directions and in due time proceeded to the
city, on approaching which he met a young woman bearing a pitcher
forth for water. It was Minerva, who had assumed that form.
Ulysses accosted her and desired to be directed to the palace of
Alcinous the king. The maiden replied respectfully, offering to be
his guide; for the palace, she informed him, stood near her
father's dwelling. Under the guidance of the goddess, and by her
power enveloped in a cloud which shielded him from observation,
Ulysses passed among the busy crowd, and with wonder observed