The Odyssey
Book IX
Argument
Ulysses discovers himself to the Phæacians, and begins the history of his adventures. He destroys Ismarus, city of the Ciconians; arrives among the Lotophagi; and afterwards at the land of the Cyclops. He is imprisoned by Polypheme in his cave, who devours six of his companions; intoxicates the monster with wine, binds him while he sleeps, and escapes from him.
Then answer, thus, Ulysses wise return’d.
Alcinoüs! King! illustrious above all
Phæacia’s sons, pleasant it is to hear
A bard like this, sweet as the Gods in song.
The world, in my account, no sight affords
More gratifying than a people blest
With cheerfulness and peace, a palace throng’d
With guests in order ranged, list’ning to sounds
Melodious, and the steaming tables spread
With plenteous viands, while the cups, with wine
From brimming beakers fill’d, pass brisk around.
No lovelier sight know I. But thou, it seems,
Thy thoughts hast turn’d to ask me whence my groans
And tears, that I may sorrow still the more.
What first, what next, what last shall I rehearse,
On whom the Gods have show’r’d such various woes?
Learn first my name, that even in this land
Remote I may be known, and that escaped
From all adversity, I may requite
Hereafter, this your hospitable care
At my own home, however distant hence.
I am Ulysses, fear’d in all the earth
For subtlest wisdom, and renown’d to heaven,
The offspring of Laertes; my abode
Is sun-burnt Ithaca; there waving stands
The mountain Neritus his num’rous boughs,
And it is neighbour’d close by clust’ring isles
All populous; thence Samos is beheld,
Dulichium, and Zacynthus forest-clad.
Flat on the Deep she lies, farthest removed
Toward the West, while, situate apart,
Her sister islands face the rising day;
Rugged she is, but fruitful nurse of sons
Magnanimous; nor shall these eyes behold,
Elsewhere, an object dear and sweet as she.
Calypso, beauteous Goddess, in her grot
Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;
Ææan Circe also, skill’d profound
In potent arts, within her palace long
Detain’d me, wishing me her own espoused;
But never could they warp my constant mind.
So much our parents and our native soil
Attract us most, even although our lot
Be fair and plenteous in a foreign land.
But come—my painful voyage, such as Jove
Gave me from Ilium, I will now relate.
From Troy the winds bore me to Ismarus,
City of the Ciconians; them I slew,
And laid their city waste; whence bringing forth
Much spoil with all their wives, I portion’d it
With equal hand, and each received a share.
Next, I exhorted to immediate flight
My people; but in vain; they madly scorn’d
My sober counsel, and much wine they drank,
And sheep and beeves slew num’rous on the shore.
Meantime, Ciconians to Ciconians call’d,
Their neighbours summoning, a mightier host
And braver, natives of the continent,
Expert, on horses mounted, to maintain
Fierce fight, or if occasion bade, on foot.
Num’rous they came as leaves, or vernal flow’rs
At day-spring. Then, by the d