The Christian Scholar By the Author of "The Cathedral" [i.e. Isaac Williams] |
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 | The Christian Scholar |  |
115
HOMER.
“I have heard from a person of much ability in ascertaining
a poet's intention, that all poetry in Homer is the praise of
virtue, and that with him all things conduce to this end, except
such as may be superfluous to the main design.”
S. Basil, De. leg. lib. Gen. 4.
I. THE ILIAD.
Not for thy rapid action at command,
Nor persons in thy living page inwrought,
Which come forth as beneath the sculptor's hand,
Nor for thy sacred loyalty, nor aught
Of comprehensive reach, whereby thy thought
As like a secret providence lies deep
'Neath incident and character, which taught
The wisdom of philosophers, and steep
Affections in the truths which they are slow to keep.—
Nor persons in thy living page inwrought,
Which come forth as beneath the sculptor's hand,
Nor for thy sacred loyalty, nor aught
Of comprehensive reach, whereby thy thought
As like a secret providence lies deep
'Neath incident and character, which taught
The wisdom of philosophers, and steep
Affections in the truths which they are slow to keep.—
Living expressions start forth into song,
And in one lighted word some mirror bear;
His soul igniting as it speeds along
Kindles with light the glowing hemisphere;
And as he speaks life wakes and forms appear;
Pours itself forth, and like a fiery levin
Melts and moulds all in scene and character,
For ever to retain their impress given,
And scattering golden thoughts which emanate from Heaven.
And in one lighted word some mirror bear;
His soul igniting as it speeds along
Kindles with light the glowing hemisphere;
116
Pours itself forth, and like a fiery levin
Melts and moulds all in scene and character,
For ever to retain their impress given,
And scattering golden thoughts which emanate from Heaven.
How like reality the speaking page,
Or some old tale in pictur'd tapestry,
So vividly pourtray'd life's rapid stage,
While fabling verse in colours of the sky
Clothes the pervading God that walks so nigh
As with a garment! Not alone for these,—
Nor like the stars that live and speak on high,
The luminous and beauteous images,
As Nature's wild spring flowers pour'd forth with varied ease.
Or some old tale in pictur'd tapestry,
So vividly pourtray'd life's rapid stage,
While fabling verse in colours of the sky
Clothes the pervading God that walks so nigh
As with a garment! Not alone for these,—
Nor like the stars that live and speak on high,
The luminous and beauteous images,
As Nature's wild spring flowers pour'd forth with varied ease.
Now legions stir in shielded bright array,
As mountain forest blazing in the night ;
Now countless as about Cayster play
The clanging cranes in multitudinous flight,
On wing rejoicing, or on feet alight ;
Or flies on milk-pan's brim in vernal hours ;
Or like the bees' wing'd tribes in morning bright,
Now one by one the rocky hive outpours,
Now clustering here and there they fill the blooming flowers.
As mountain forest blazing in the night ;
Now countless as about Cayster play
The clanging cranes in multitudinous flight,
On wing rejoicing, or on feet alight ;
Or flies on milk-pan's brim in vernal hours ;
Or like the bees' wing'd tribes in morning bright,
Now one by one the rocky hive outpours,
Now clustering here and there they fill the blooming flowers.
117
Now camps with watch-towers gleam, as calm and clear
When all the stars in the ethereal space,
And moon breaks forth; heights, cliffs, and woods appear,
The shepherd sees rejoicing . Pleased we trace
Upon thy antique scroll the very face
Of nature—earth, sea, sky; as in the stream
That makes sweet pebbled music every place
Stilly around, and living mirrors teem;
Wondering we gaze, so true to nature every theme.
When all the stars in the ethereal space,
And moon breaks forth; heights, cliffs, and woods appear,
The shepherd sees rejoicing . Pleased we trace
Upon thy antique scroll the very face
Of nature—earth, sea, sky; as in the stream
That makes sweet pebbled music every place
Stilly around, and living mirrors teem;
Wondering we gaze, so true to nature every theme.
Yet not for these alone on thee I dwell,
But strive to catch thy solemn undersong,
Thou who of poets art esteemed well
First, best, and wisest; while the after-throng
Is sentimental colouring, weak of tongue.
There is e'en something of a holier fear
To move within a world to which belong
Such unseen visitants, and ever near
Hear the unspoken word, and oft to sight appear.
But strive to catch thy solemn undersong,
Thou who of poets art esteemed well
First, best, and wisest; while the after-throng
Is sentimental colouring, weak of tongue.
There is e'en something of a holier fear
To move within a world to which belong
Such unseen visitants, and ever near
Hear the unspoken word, and oft to sight appear.
Those fictions of the Unseen would fain pourtray
Care for mankind in Angels of the skies,
And love in Heaven for creatures of a day;
That prayer is answer'd; but a costly price
Must yet be found of offer'd Sacrifice,
To stand 'tween us and Heaven; that strong to save
Presence ethereal lurks beyond our eyes;
The Hero speaks beside the ocean wave,
A Goddess hears afar beneath her watery cave .
Care for mankind in Angels of the skies,
And love in Heaven for creatures of a day;
That prayer is answer'd; but a costly price
Must yet be found of offer'd Sacrifice,
118
Presence ethereal lurks beyond our eyes;
The Hero speaks beside the ocean wave,
A Goddess hears afar beneath her watery cave .
And sweet it were—if such sage fantasy
We to a higher wisdom might attune—
To muse beside the solitary sea
Of the cerulean Thetis, like the moon,
Rising from the blue waves with silver shoon:
Or when by funeral pyre in open skies
Achilles prays the Winds, and lo, full soon
To palace of those Winds wing'd Iris hies ;
They speed o'er earth and seas; trees rock, and waves arise.
We to a higher wisdom might attune—
To muse beside the solitary sea
Of the cerulean Thetis, like the moon,
Rising from the blue waves with silver shoon:
Or when by funeral pyre in open skies
Achilles prays the Winds, and lo, full soon
To palace of those Winds wing'd Iris hies ;
They speed o'er earth and seas; trees rock, and waves arise.
Though fabled all and fabling, yet such tales
Lay nearer solemn truths than now may seem
To sensual thoughts; when man gets wing, and sails
On self-roll'd chariots drawn by clouds of steam;
The shores, rocks, valleys speak his power supreme,—
Drown thoughts of things invisible that fill
Shores, rocks, and valleys. Therefore more I deem
Of wisdom in those tales is breathing still,
Which speak of powers unseen that aid the human will.
Lay nearer solemn truths than now may seem
To sensual thoughts; when man gets wing, and sails
On self-roll'd chariots drawn by clouds of steam;
The shores, rocks, valleys speak his power supreme,—
Drown thoughts of things invisible that fill
Shores, rocks, and valleys. Therefore more I deem
119
Which speak of powers unseen that aid the human will.
Though much of evil in those gods above,—
Since serpents enter'd Eden, and have striven
By heathen shrines and oracles to move
In men such thoughts as place themselves in Heaven,—
Yet good with ill is mingled, and 'tis given
To trace some wrecks of Eden lingering still,
Whether from lore traditional, or leaven
Of mystic truth beyond the poet's skill,
Which speaks as from a shrine and moulds him to its will.
Since serpents enter'd Eden, and have striven
By heathen shrines and oracles to move
In men such thoughts as place themselves in Heaven,—
Yet good with ill is mingled, and 'tis given
To trace some wrecks of Eden lingering still,
Whether from lore traditional, or leaven
Of mystic truth beyond the poet's skill,
Which speaks as from a shrine and moulds him to its will.
Beings unseen with our unconscious thought
Can blend, we know not how, and help afford;
Achilles, as a lion, frenzy-wrought
Arises, from its sheath just gleams the sword,
Athene, lo, stands by the warrior-lord ,
To him reveal'd;—thus Wisdom at our need
Comes in and stops rash hand or angry word,
'Tis not our own, of One in Heaven we read
Who shapes the saving thoughts which from the heart proceed.
Can blend, we know not how, and help afford;
Achilles, as a lion, frenzy-wrought
Arises, from its sheath just gleams the sword,
Athene, lo, stands by the warrior-lord ,
To him reveal'd;—thus Wisdom at our need
Comes in and stops rash hand or angry word,
'Tis not our own, of One in Heaven we read
Who shapes the saving thoughts which from the heart proceed.
120
In man is no success but in Heaven's might,
And oft to mortal eyes made manifest;
As Diomed amid the thickest fight
With a Divine-sent light o'er helm and crest,
Like some clear star when seen o'er Ocean's breast
In Autumn : or with its portentous blaze
The Ægis, and the golden gloom doth rest,
Covering unarm'd Achilles with its rays,
As when red beacon fires a siege-press'd isle displays
And oft to mortal eyes made manifest;
As Diomed amid the thickest fight
With a Divine-sent light o'er helm and crest,
Like some clear star when seen o'er Ocean's breast
In Autumn : or with its portentous blaze
The Ægis, and the golden gloom doth rest,
Covering unarm'd Achilles with its rays,
As when red beacon fires a siege-press'd isle displays
All is Divine,—if 'mid the martial throng
Fierce Rumour stirs the crowds to rapturous fight,
It is Jove's Voice that walks the camps among:
Yea, like a phantom half-reveal'd to sight,
The Jove-sent Dream glides through the ambrosial night.
Alone beside the many-roaring deep
Pelides mourns, soft as the pale moon-light
The spirit of Patroclus with his sleep
In awful sweetness blends, and human tears they weep.
Fierce Rumour stirs the crowds to rapturous fight,
It is Jove's Voice that walks the camps among:
Yea, like a phantom half-reveal'd to sight,
The Jove-sent Dream glides through the ambrosial night.
Alone beside the many-roaring deep
Pelides mourns, soft as the pale moon-light
The spirit of Patroclus with his sleep
In awful sweetness blends, and human tears they weep.
All is Divine,—all Human; we descry
Each form, and e'en each voice is mark'd to sense:
Ulysses as the snow-flakes from the sky
With gradual-falling power of eloquence;
While Nestor's words their honied stores dispense
;
Thoughts of great Hector darker shades illume
Touch'd with a human gentleness, and thence
Infuse the love of country and of home;
Achilles towers from sight in a Diviner gloom.
Each form, and e'en each voice is mark'd to sense:
Ulysses as the snow-flakes from the sky
With gradual-falling power of eloquence;
121
Thoughts of great Hector darker shades illume
Touch'd with a human gentleness, and thence
Infuse the love of country and of home;
Achilles towers from sight in a Diviner gloom.
As Ocean takes its hues from changing skies,
Thus human characters and Powers Divine
Blend the unseen with life's realities.
Yet strong is mark'd the interposing line
Men's actions and affections to define;
Changes and chance in super-human scale
Are measured, yet mysterious intertwine
With man's deservings; though it seem to fail,
Leaving a hope that Right shall in the end prevail.
Thus human characters and Powers Divine
Blend the unseen with life's realities.
Yet strong is mark'd the interposing line
Men's actions and affections to define;
Changes and chance in super-human scale
Are measured, yet mysterious intertwine
With man's deservings; though it seem to fail,
Leaving a hope that Right shall in the end prevail.
122
II. ATE EXPELLED FROM HEAVEN.
“Then Ate by the head and shining hair
Jove seiz'd, such sorrows his deep heart appal,
And this strong oath indignant did he swear;
That to Olympus and the starry hall
Ate should ne'er return, that injureth all;
He spake, and then with whirling hand he caught
And hurl'd her from Olympus' starry wall:
Quickly she came 'mong men. He mourn'd in thought
O'er the unseemly ills on his dear son she wrought ”
Jove seiz'd, such sorrows his deep heart appal,
And this strong oath indignant did he swear;
That to Olympus and the starry hall
Ate should ne'er return, that injureth all;
He spake, and then with whirling hand he caught
And hurl'd her from Olympus' starry wall:
Quickly she came 'mong men. He mourn'd in thought
O'er the unseemly ills on his dear son she wrought ”
123
ATE AND LITÆ, OR PRAYERS.
“Subdue thy mighty spirit; 'tis not right
For thee to be relentless; Gods above,
Greater in honour, virtue, and in might,
E'en they too will relent and pitying prove;
Them offerings, vows, and sacrifices move,
When man prays for the sin that on him lies.
Litæ are daughters of the mighty Jove;
Wrinkled, and lame, with side-distorted eyes,
They follow, full of care, wherever Ate flies.
For thee to be relentless; Gods above,
Greater in honour, virtue, and in might,
E'en they too will relent and pitying prove;
Them offerings, vows, and sacrifices move,
When man prays for the sin that on him lies.
Litæ are daughters of the mighty Jove;
Wrinkled, and lame, with side-distorted eyes,
They follow, full of care, wherever Ate flies.
“Revengeful Ate, trampling on mankind,
Strong, swift of foot, hastes onward,—in her rear
Her wounds to heal the Litæ move behind;
Should man these daughters of great Jove revere
As they approach, his friends they will appear
With Jove above, and all lost good renew;
If he unreconcil'd refuse to hear,
Against him they their sire Almighty sue,
And Ate on him comes exacting vengeance due.”
Strong, swift of foot, hastes onward,—in her rear
Her wounds to heal the Litæ move behind;
Should man these daughters of great Jove revere
As they approach, his friends they will appear
With Jove above, and all lost good renew;
If he unreconcil'd refuse to hear,
Against him they their sire Almighty sue,
And Ate on him comes exacting vengeance due.”
ON THE FOREGOING.
'Tis sweet amid the scenes of war and crime,Which are the pictures of the world abroad,
124
Meet for a Christian on his heaven-ward road,—
Thoughts such as mitigate the heavy load
Of sin and sorrow,—and not all unmeet
To be admitted to the calm abode
Of prayer, and pardoning peace, and commune sweet
With Heaven, and those who sit in Heaven at saintly feet.
Mentioned by Justin Martyr as a relie of primitive tradition, and closely corresponding with an expression in the Prophet Isaiah, probably Is. xiv. 12, “How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning.”Cohor. ad Græc., 29.
125
III. ULYSSES AND CALYPSO.
Cal.“Ulysses wise, Laertes' son divine,
So thou to thy dear home and native shore
Wilt go,—to bid thee well shall yet be mine!
But didst thou know what many ills in store
Await thee, ere thy wanderings shall be o'er,
This home with me and immortality
Here wouldst thou stay and share, though evermore
Desiring all thy days thy wife to see;—
Nor sure hath she to boast superior charms to me,
“In face or form; nor can it e'er be said
That mortal with immortal can compare.
Ul.
That mortal with immortal can compare.
Her wise Ulysses answer'd, ‘Goddess dread,
Be not displeased, I know that not so fair
Penelope as thou in form and air,
Immortal thou, unfading is thy bloom,
She but a mortal; yet with ceaseless care
I long through all my days, where'er I roam,
That glad return to see, and reach my long-lost home.’”
Be not displeased, I know that not so fair
Penelope as thou in form and air,
Immortal thou, unfading is thy bloom,
She but a mortal; yet with ceaseless care
I long through all my days, where'er I roam,
That glad return to see, and reach my long-lost home.’”
126
ON THE FOREGOING.
Age after age on his diviner choice
Approving hangs; a stern forewarning rings
Within man's heart against the flattering voice
Of promises too high for human things,
Though in immortal bowers Calypso sings,
That we “shall be as gods:” as one in quest
The soul seeks home in all its wanderings,
And yearns for its own tranquil place of rest,
And Heaven looks on and aids the long-enduring breast.
Approving hangs; a stern forewarning rings
Within man's heart against the flattering voice
Of promises too high for human things,
Though in immortal bowers Calypso sings,
That we “shall be as gods:” as one in quest
The soul seeks home in all its wanderings,
And yearns for its own tranquil place of rest,
And Heaven looks on and aids the long-enduring breast.
O beautiful and strange epitome
Of this our life, while through the tale we trace
Homeless Ulysses on the land and sea!
From childhood to old age it is the face
Of heaven-lost—yearning Man:—from place to place,
Whether he wander forth abroad, or knows
No change but of home—nature and of grace,
Still is he as one seeking for repose,
A man of many thoughts, a man of many woes.
Of this our life, while through the tale we trace
Homeless Ulysses on the land and sea!
From childhood to old age it is the face
Of heaven-lost—yearning Man:—from place to place,
Whether he wander forth abroad, or knows
No change but of home—nature and of grace,
Still is he as one seeking for repose,
A man of many thoughts, a man of many woes.
Though Ithaca be rude
, the rose that there
Hides in bleak rocks but waits the wintry blast,
Calypso in her isle blooms ever fair;—
Yet God's own presence seems upon the past,
His shadow rests where He our lot hath cast.
The sacred loyalty of a deep heart
Dreads chang'd affections, stedfast to the last,
From old associations fears to start,
Sending its roots below which upward strength impart.
Hides in bleak rocks but waits the wintry blast,
127
Yet God's own presence seems upon the past,
His shadow rests where He our lot hath cast.
The sacred loyalty of a deep heart
Dreads chang'd affections, stedfast to the last,
From old associations fears to start,
Sending its roots below which upward strength impart.
And healthful Piety, though far she range,
Yet on the stem of early discipline
Links childhood, youth, and age, still dreading change.
Great tale of wisdom, may thy choice be mine!
The lesson in thee stored is half-divine;
Sweetly yet sternly, softly yet severe,
Like solemn music in some ancient shrine,
Insinuating high and holy fear,
And teaching greater things than reach the eye or ear.
Yet on the stem of early discipline
Links childhood, youth, and age, still dreading change.
Great tale of wisdom, may thy choice be mine!
The lesson in thee stored is half-divine;
Sweetly yet sternly, softly yet severe,
Like solemn music in some ancient shrine,
Insinuating high and holy fear,
And teaching greater things than reach the eye or ear.
128
IV. ULYSSES SHIPWRECKED AND NAUSICAA.
“‘No evil man I deem thee nor unwise,
Stranger,’ Nausicaa the white-arm'd replied,
‘To all alike, as pleasing in his eyes,
Olympian Jove doth good or ill divide;
Bear then as sent from him whate'er betide:
Here thou of us shalt nothing ask in vain,
Till all a sufferer's wants shall be supplied;
This is Phæacia's city and domain,
O'er which my honour'd sire Alcinous doth reign.’
Stranger,’ Nausicaa the white-arm'd replied,
‘To all alike, as pleasing in his eyes,
Olympian Jove doth good or ill divide;
Bear then as sent from him whate'er betide:
Here thou of us shalt nothing ask in vain,
Till all a sufferer's wants shall be supplied;
This is Phæacia's city and domain,
O'er which my honour'd sire Alcinous doth reign.’
“Her fair-hair'd maidens then she bad to stand,—
‘Why fly, ye maidens, with no cause for fear?
There lives not one who on Phæacia's strand
With hostile ill intentions would appear;
For this our isle to all the Gods is dear;
No mortals e'er to this our country rove,
Save some poor ship-wreck'd stranger; him revere;
The stranger and the poor are sent by Jove;
However small the gift, the giver he will love.’”
‘Why fly, ye maidens, with no cause for fear?
There lives not one who on Phæacia's strand
With hostile ill intentions would appear;
For this our isle to all the Gods is dear;
No mortals e'er to this our country rove,
Save some poor ship-wreck'd stranger; him revere;
The stranger and the poor are sent by Jove;
However small the gift, the giver he will love.’”
129
THE FAREWELL OF NAUSICAA.
“As from the bath unto the festal board
He went, Nausicaa, fair in beauty's bloom,
In beauty which the immortal Gods afford,
Stood by a pillar of the vaulted dome;
She saw with wondering eyes Ulysses come,
Address'd these wingèd words, and thus begun,
‘Stranger, farewell;—and should'st thou reach thy home
There in thy native land think thou of one
Who saved thee from the sea, and first thy safety won.’”
He went, Nausicaa, fair in beauty's bloom,
In beauty which the immortal Gods afford,
Stood by a pillar of the vaulted dome;
She saw with wondering eyes Ulysses come,
Address'd these wingèd words, and thus begun,
‘Stranger, farewell;—and should'st thou reach thy home
There in thy native land think thou of one
Who saved thee from the sea, and first thy safety won.’”
ON THE FOREGOING.
Still wandering on, still far away from home,
While still the mirror is before him brought
Of some calm place where he might cease to roam,
Some rest'mid Ocean-storms; all turns to nought,
It is not home, his home is ever sought,
Now in his hands, and yet now far away;—
E'en as around us and beyond our thought
The resting-place of Everlasting Day
Lies close, and touches on this falling house of clay,—
While still the mirror is before him brought
Of some calm place where he might cease to roam,
Some rest'mid Ocean-storms; all turns to nought,
It is not home, his home is ever sought,
Now in his hands, and yet now far away;—
E'en as around us and beyond our thought
The resting-place of Everlasting Day
Lies close, and touches on this falling house of clay,—
Yet seems afar. No more the Ogygian grot,
Embowering deep its sylvan solitude,
The toilsome world excluded and forgot;
Where owls and wild sea-birds skim the dark wood
On broad-expanded wing
, or nestling brood
On sea and foam delighting;—Nature's shrine
Of grots and lawns and fountains; all imbued
With Godhead—half-terrestrial, half-divine;
Yet toward the “wine-faced sea” the wanderer's heart doth pine.
Embowering deep its sylvan solitude,
The toilsome world excluded and forgot;
Where owls and wild sea-birds skim the dark wood
130
On sea and foam delighting;—Nature's shrine
Of grots and lawns and fountains; all imbued
With Godhead—half-terrestrial, half-divine;
Yet toward the “wine-faced sea” the wanderer's heart doth pine.
Another scene of rest, another shore,
Safe from the roar of hostile elements,
Another Fair;—of human presence more,
And less divine in all that charms the sense,
But inly dress'd with nobler innocence;
With goodly nature and sweet modesty,
In kingly roofs parental rear'd, and thence
With youthful maids disporting on the lea,
By fountain, grove, or field,—domestic, regal, free.
Safe from the roar of hostile elements,
Another Fair;—of human presence more,
And less divine in all that charms the sense,
But inly dress'd with nobler innocence;
With goodly nature and sweet modesty,
In kingly roofs parental rear'd, and thence
With youthful maids disporting on the lea,
By fountain, grove, or field,—domestic, regal, free.
She seem'd the guardian spirit of the place,
In palace-halls scarce-seen, and yet the while
Her form, though absent, seems each scene to grace;
Say, cannot aught in that sweet tranquil isle
A wearied spirit into rest beguile,
With kind Alcinous in kingly hall
Of royal gentleness and friendly smile?
No—these delights the home-bent spirit pall,
And on the exile's heart the saddening shadows fall.
In palace-halls scarce-seen, and yet the while
Her form, though absent, seems each scene to grace;
Say, cannot aught in that sweet tranquil isle
A wearied spirit into rest beguile,
With kind Alcinous in kingly hall
Of royal gentleness and friendly smile?
No—these delights the home-bent spirit pall,
And on the exile's heart the saddening shadows fall.
131
He who so late the sands of ruin trod,
Himself a naked wreck, more than restor'd
Now in the grace of Pallas walks a God.
Not ships Phæacian, honour'd as their lord,
Nor sports Phæacian, and chaste regal board,
Nor in Phæacian gardens to recline,
Nor all the scenes Phæacian arts afford,
Can soothe; but still the wanderer's heart doth pine,
Bent toward the “wine-faced sea.” That wanderer's heart be mine !
Himself a naked wreck, more than restor'd
Now in the grace of Pallas walks a God.
Not ships Phæacian, honour'd as their lord,
Nor sports Phæacian, and chaste regal board,
Nor in Phæacian gardens to recline,
Nor all the scenes Phæacian arts afford,
Can soothe; but still the wanderer's heart doth pine,
Bent toward the “wine-faced sea.” That wanderer's heart be mine !
“In nothing has Homer more shewn his virtuous design than in his representation of the Cephallenian leader when saved from shipwreck. For in the first place he has described the Princess as full of reverence for him at his first appearance, so far from being ashamed at beholding him in nakedness and alone; since Virtue had in the place of raiment clothed and adorned him with herself. And afterwards he is represented as so highly esteemed by the rest of the Phæacians, that, leaving the luxury in which they were living, all turned their eyes to him in admiration; and none among the Phæacians at that time would have prayed for any thing else than to become like unto Ulysses: and all this on his being saved from shipwreck. In such things one who interpreted to me the poet's intention, said, that Homer seemed to cry aloud, and say, Let virtue, O men, be the object of all your care, which even together with one that is shipwrecked swims safe to shore, and when he is cast forth naked on the dry land, renders him more an object of respect than the happy Phæacians.” Basil. De leg, lib. Gent.
132
V. THE LOTOPHAGI.
“With these Lotophagi not open harms
And seen destruction our companions greet,
But the charm'd Lotus, which the soul disarms;
Whereby they ate a strange oblivion sweet
Of home-returning with the honied meat;—
Bent of that Lotus from the enchanted ground
With those Lotophagi to stay and eat;
These with constraint we dragg'd, and weeping bound
Within the hollow ships, then cleave the deep profound.”
And seen destruction our companions greet,
But the charm'd Lotus, which the soul disarms;
Whereby they ate a strange oblivion sweet
Of home-returning with the honied meat;—
Bent of that Lotus from the enchanted ground
With those Lotophagi to stay and eat;
These with constraint we dragg'd, and weeping bound
Within the hollow ships, then cleave the deep profound.”
ON THE FOREGOING.
It seem'd a spot of rest 'mid Ocean's foam,
Of rural haunts and pastoral quietude,
Yet was no place of innocence or home;
With human face divine earthward to brood,
The Lotus-eaters, with oblivious food
Of home and country,—yea of God and Heaven!
Pleasures of sense that drown the hope of good.
These must by force be seized, compulsion-driven,
Lost is the light within to Heaven-bound spirits given.
Of rural haunts and pastoral quietude,
Yet was no place of innocence or home;
With human face divine earthward to brood,
The Lotus-eaters, with oblivious food
Of home and country,—yea of God and Heaven!
Pleasures of sense that drown the hope of good.
These must by force be seized, compulsion-driven,
Lost is the light within to Heaven-bound spirits given.
133
Hence from the hateful shore;—uplift the sail;—
The brutalizing ease of savage land,
Whose pestilential breath clogs the sea-gale!
Away the Lotus-eaters, and the band
Half-brute, half-man; nor parley with the strand!
Such Pleasure's vile allurements come not o'er
The man of counsels nor the mastering hand,
For him far other dangers are in store;
Lift the sail to the winds! away the hateful shore!
The brutalizing ease of savage land,
Whose pestilential breath clogs the sea-gale!
Away the Lotus-eaters, and the band
Half-brute, half-man; nor parley with the strand!
Such Pleasure's vile allurements come not o'er
The man of counsels nor the mastering hand,
For him far other dangers are in store;
Lift the sail to the winds! away the hateful shore!
Half brute, half human were, yet part divine,
Those fauns and old poetic fantasies,
Which haunt the classic woods and rural shrine;
Something celestial still within them lies.
Therefore a sadness in their melodies
Still seems to speak of home and rest afar,
Griefs which to hear linger'd the evening skies,
And listen'd long the solitary star;—
These Lotus-eaters—they—man's very being mar.
Those fauns and old poetic fantasies,
Which haunt the classic woods and rural shrine;
Something celestial still within them lies.
Therefore a sadness in their melodies
Still seems to speak of home and rest afar,
Griefs which to hear linger'd the evening skies,
And listen'd long the solitary star;—
These Lotus-eaters—they—man's very being mar.
134
IV. THE ABODE OF CIRCE.
“In portals of the Goddess now they stood,
And Circe heard, who sitting at the loom
Sung with melodious voice that fill'd the wood;
A woof she wrought of bright ambrosial bloom,
Divine the work, and graceful hues illume;
Then first Polites spoke, of men the king,
‘O friends, what sweetness charms the sylvan gloom,
That all around the very pavements ring,
Is it a mortal voice, or doth a Goddess sing?’
And Circe heard, who sitting at the loom
Sung with melodious voice that fill'd the wood;
A woof she wrought of bright ambrosial bloom,
Divine the work, and graceful hues illume;
Then first Polites spoke, of men the king,
‘O friends, what sweetness charms the sylvan gloom,
That all around the very pavements ring,
Is it a mortal voice, or doth a Goddess sing?’
“Thus as he spoke they call'd, and lo, were seen
Bright portals opening, and with greeting kind,
Inviting all, advanced the enchantress Queen.
They enter'd in, heedless, secure, and blind,
Eurylochus alone remain'd behind,
Suspecting guile: she leads within, and there
Before them sets, on downy seats reclin'd,
Press'd milk, and honey fresh, and wheaten fare,
And blends the Pramnian wine;—all drugg'd with fatal care.
Bright portals opening, and with greeting kind,
Inviting all, advanced the enchantress Queen.
They enter'd in, heedless, secure, and blind,
Eurylochus alone remain'd behind,
Suspecting guile: she leads within, and there
Before them sets, on downy seats reclin'd,
Press'd milk, and honey fresh, and wheaten fare,
And blends the Pramnian wine;—all drugg'd with fatal care.
135
“She gave—and straightway as they drank the wine,
They drank oblivion of their native land,
Transform'd anon they put on forms of swine,
Head, voice, and bristling limbs, by her dread wand
Stricken, and pent in sties at her command.
While all within, their sorrows to confound,
The minds of men remain'd; she with her hand
Strews acorns, mast, and cornel fruits around,
While swine with swine they fed, low grovelling on the ground.”
They drank oblivion of their native land,
Transform'd anon they put on forms of swine,
Head, voice, and bristling limbs, by her dread wand
Stricken, and pent in sties at her command.
While all within, their sorrows to confound,
The minds of men remain'd; she with her hand
Strews acorns, mast, and cornel fruits around,
While swine with swine they fed, low grovelling on the ground.”
ON THE FOREGOING.
Surely, said Hope, if rest be in the world,
A home wherein the soul shall find repose,
'Tis in this sea-girt dell, where calmly curl'd
The smoke amid the trees , and welcome shews
Of peaceful hearths within,—or roofs disclose
Sweetly embosom'd haunts 'mid woodland swells,
And sounds of song come forth, and Music's close
Of ease and grateful rest and pleasure tells;
'Tis there the enchantress Queen, deluding Circe, dwells.
A home wherein the soul shall find repose,
'Tis in this sea-girt dell, where calmly curl'd
The smoke amid the trees , and welcome shews
Of peaceful hearths within,—or roofs disclose
Sweetly embosom'd haunts 'mid woodland swells,
And sounds of song come forth, and Music's close
Of ease and grateful rest and pleasure tells;
'Tis there the enchantress Queen, deluding Circe, dwells.
They who from Lotus-eaters with disdain
And loathing turn, charm'd with her voice so sweet
Unheedingly will join with Circe's train,
Will of her proffer'd viands sit and eat,
And eating find it death with no retreat;
Such magic hath transforming Pleasure's guise,
They once were men which throng her haunted seat,
Now lions, wolves, or inmates of the sties ,
As Pleasure feeds in each the sin that in him lies.
And loathing turn, charm'd with her voice so sweet
136
Will of her proffer'd viands sit and eat,
And eating find it death with no retreat;
Such magic hath transforming Pleasure's guise,
They once were men which throng her haunted seat,
Now lions, wolves, or inmates of the sties ,
As Pleasure feeds in each the sin that in him lies.
There is an herb which wingèd Hermes gives
,
The wise who blend in faith that sovereign flower
May of those pleasures taste, and yet may live;
Such power hath grace Divine: but if her bower
Thou enter'st, long delays and shadows lower
Upon thine after-course and Hades' gloom:
And well for him who so hath bound her power
That she may wisdom speak of things to come ,
Of dangers, shades, and shoals that hence must be his doom.
The wise who blend in faith that sovereign flower
May of those pleasures taste, and yet may live;
Such power hath grace Divine: but if her bower
Thou enter'st, long delays and shadows lower
Upon thine after-course and Hades' gloom:
And well for him who so hath bound her power
That she may wisdom speak of things to come ,
Of dangers, shades, and shoals that hence must be his doom.
And e'en for him who with the swine hath fed
On husks in foreign lands and far from home,
For him there is a rising from the Dead ,
When his Deliverer and his Lord shall come
And look upon his sorrows—thence to roam
No longer, taught by suffering; and again
Lead him a weeping wanderer from the tomb,
Make him anew, and give to sit with men,
In City of our God an honour'd denizen.
On husks in foreign lands and far from home,
For him there is a rising from the Dead ,
When his Deliverer and his Lord shall come
137
No longer, taught by suffering; and again
Lead him a weeping wanderer from the tomb,
Make him anew, and give to sit with men,
In City of our God an honour'd denizen.
138
VII. WARNING AGAINST THE SIRENS.
“Then Circe spake, dread Goddess, ‘These things o'er
Another coming peril shalt thou find;
Hear thou my words, the warnings given before
The God shall in their season bring to mind;—
The Sirens next waft death upon the wind;
Whoe'er unconscious shall approach their shore,
And hear their voice, for him those left behind,
His wife and children hastening to the door,
Shall gathering stand around and welcome home no more.
Another coming peril shalt thou find;
Hear thou my words, the warnings given before
The God shall in their season bring to mind;—
The Sirens next waft death upon the wind;
Whoe'er unconscious shall approach their shore,
And hear their voice, for him those left behind,
His wife and children hastening to the door,
Shall gathering stand around and welcome home no more.
“‘Charming the air with their melodious strains,
The Sirens sit within a flowery mead,
With bones heap'd round of the unburied slain:
That thine own comrades may not hear nor heed,
Stop thou each ear with wax, and swift proceed;
They to the mast must bind thee foot and hand;
And if from these thou strugglest to be freed,
Bind more and more and double every band,
Till thou hast ceased to hear the fatal-pleasing strand.’”
The Sirens sit within a flowery mead,
With bones heap'd round of the unburied slain:
That thine own comrades may not hear nor heed,
Stop thou each ear with wax, and swift proceed;
They to the mast must bind thee foot and hand;
And if from these thou strugglest to be freed,
Bind more and more and double every band,
Till thou hast ceased to hear the fatal-pleasing strand.’”
139
SONG OF THE SIRENS.
Od., b. xii. 166, 181
“Then swiftly went toward the Sirenian Isle
The full-wing'd bark, and harmless breezes play'd,
When suddenly they sank, and scarce a smile
Ruffled the main, a God the billow stay'd;
The sea-men then arose, and furling, laid
The sails aside, themselves they sat along,
The seas all whitening with the oary blade;
Then near we drew as sounds a human tongue,
They knew of the approach, and thus began the song.
The full-wing'd bark, and harmless breezes play'd,
When suddenly they sank, and scarce a smile
Ruffled the main, a God the billow stay'd;
The sea-men then arose, and furling, laid
The sails aside, themselves they sat along,
The seas all whitening with the oary blade;
Then near we drew as sounds a human tongue,
They knew of the approach, and thus began the song.
“‘Stay, stay thy course, O thou of Greece the boast,
Much-prais'd Ulysses! stay thy ship, draw near,
For never yet hath mortal pass'd our coast
But first he stops our honied voice to hear.
Hence he departs with song-delighted ear,
And heart with knowledge fraught to make him wise.
All things we know of Ilium, all that there
The brave endured by will of deities,
We know whate'er may be beneath the circling skies.’”
Much-prais'd Ulysses! stay thy ship, draw near,
For never yet hath mortal pass'd our coast
But first he stops our honied voice to hear.
Hence he departs with song-delighted ear,
And heart with knowledge fraught to make him wise.
All things we know of Ilium, all that there
The brave endured by will of deities,
We know whate'er may be beneath the circling skies.’”
140
ON THE FOREGOING.
And is there then a song the wise can charm,—
The man of many counsels, school'd in woes?
Can all his better soul at length disarm,
Who rose superior o'er so many foes,
With Circe and Calypso scorns repose?
What is that strain so subtle to the soul
That he who listens, till himself he lose
Will listen, though he 'scap'd th' enchanted bowl—
Sounds that from wisdom win her hard-earn'd selfcontrol?
The man of many counsels, school'd in woes?
Can all his better soul at length disarm,
Who rose superior o'er so many foes,
With Circe and Calypso scorns repose?
What is that strain so subtle to the soul
That he who listens, till himself he lose
Will listen, though he 'scap'd th' enchanted bowl—
Sounds that from wisdom win her hard-earn'd selfcontrol?
Surely that song is with the promise stored
Which our first parents heard in Paradise,
Whereby the wisest fell, Creation's lord,
The pride that flatters man with honied lies;
And with the fatal promise to be wise;—
“Glorious thou art and prais'd,” the Siren saith,
Then comes that curiosity that dies
In knowing good and evil, which is death:
The Faith which stops her ears alone draws vital breath.
Which our first parents heard in Paradise,
Whereby the wisest fell, Creation's lord,
The pride that flatters man with honied lies;
And with the fatal promise to be wise;—
“Glorious thou art and prais'd,” the Siren saith,
Then comes that curiosity that dies
In knowing good and evil, which is death:
The Faith which stops her ears alone draws vital breath.
141
VIII. SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS.
“Now safe from the Sirenian Isle, behold,
Smoke and a billow huge with distant roar!
Their hands let fall the oars—a bellowing roll'd
Along the deep, the ship moved on no more;—
Then I each comrade labour'd to restore,
‘O friends, in dangers we are not untried,
And may remember this like those of yore;
Be we obedient all, and I will guide,
Ply ye the stedfast oars,—and Jove may help provide.
Smoke and a billow huge with distant roar!
Their hands let fall the oars—a bellowing roll'd
Along the deep, the ship moved on no more;—
Then I each comrade labour'd to restore,
‘O friends, in dangers we are not untried,
And may remember this like those of yore;
Be we obedient all, and I will guide,
Ply ye the stedfast oars,—and Jove may help provide.
“‘And, Pilot, hear thou well, and keep in mind,
Bear out from yonder wave and smoking spray,
Steer toward the rock, lest unawares we find
The ship within the whirl-pool borne away!’
I spake, they instantly my words obey;
Scylla I mention'd not, lest at the sound
Trembling they should be chill'd by dire dismay;
Then Circe's warning I forgot, and bound
My shining arms about and anxious look'd around;—
Bear out from yonder wave and smoking spray,
Steer toward the rock, lest unawares we find
The ship within the whirl-pool borne away!’
I spake, they instantly my words obey;
Scylla I mention'd not, lest at the sound
Trembling they should be chill'd by dire dismay;
Then Circe's warning I forgot, and bound
My shining arms about and anxious look'd around;—
“Station'd upon the deck, two spears in hand,
Expecting rocky Scylla to appear
To seize her destin'd prey; long there I stand,
And gazing watch the gloomy rocks draw near,
But her I saw not:—then we trembling steer
The desperate strait between, and onward toil,
Scylla on this side, and Charybdis there;
Dreadful they roar and rush, and then recoil,
Till all the raving floods as in a cauldron boil.
Expecting rocky Scylla to appear
142
And gazing watch the gloomy rocks draw near,
But her I saw not:—then we trembling steer
The desperate strait between, and onward toil,
Scylla on this side, and Charybdis there;
Dreadful they roar and rush, and then recoil,
Till all the raving floods as in a cauldron boil.
“The white spray dash'd on loftiest crags on high;
With the engulphing tide and the rebound
Within appear'd a dreadful revelry,
With thundering roar the rock rebellow'd round,
And deep beneath was seen blue sandy ground.
Aghast were all, with terror petrified;
But while on this we gaze, with awe profound,
Six bravest champions from our vessel's side
The ravenous Scylla seiz'd, and buried in the tide.”
With the engulphing tide and the rebound
Within appear'd a dreadful revelry,
With thundering roar the rock rebellow'd round,
And deep beneath was seen blue sandy ground.
Aghast were all, with terror petrified;
But while on this we gaze, with awe profound,
Six bravest champions from our vessel's side
The ravenous Scylla seiz'd, and buried in the tide.”
ON THE FOREGOING.
Such is the chart whereby Philosophy
Would point her course, this is the tale she tells
To steer aright upon life's dangerous sea,
Where upon either side destruction dwells,
And with the tides of Passion ebbs and swells;
While Virtue 'tween two Vices has her course;
Shunning Charybdis most with foaming cells.
And there is wisdom too in his remorse
Who vainly seized his arms and met such foes with force.
Would point her course, this is the tale she tells
To steer aright upon life's dangerous sea,
Where upon either side destruction dwells,
And with the tides of Passion ebbs and swells;
143
Shunning Charybdis most with foaming cells.
And there is wisdom too in his remorse
Who vainly seized his arms and met such foes with force.
It is the wise-man's lesson,—for e'en so
In rude impatience oft stirr'd to alarms
Too roughly and too rashly we forego
The gentler wisdom, and rush forth to arms,
O'erleaping caution to fraternal harms;
Then on a sudden find companions gone;
Such violence, vain braving all, hath charms
'Mid rising of rude passions; but alone
The better part of peace too late in tears we own.
In rude impatience oft stirr'd to alarms
Too roughly and too rashly we forego
The gentler wisdom, and rush forth to arms,
O'erleaping caution to fraternal harms;
Then on a sudden find companions gone;
Such violence, vain braving all, hath charms
'Mid rising of rude passions; but alone
The better part of peace too late in tears we own.
And thou whose track is on the pictur'd page,
Thou Chief of many counsels, many foes,
Weaving the web of thy long pilgrimage,
Ever begun anew, still 'mid thy woes
Mock'd by the unreal phantom of repose,
Which like a cloud-built vision seems before
Upon the horizon's verge just to disclose
Ithaca's home, lost Ithaca's loved shore,
Ithaca fair at eve—all cloud and nothing more.
Thou Chief of many counsels, many foes,
Weaving the web of thy long pilgrimage,
Ever begun anew, still 'mid thy woes
Mock'd by the unreal phantom of repose,
Which like a cloud-built vision seems before
Upon the horizon's verge just to disclose
Ithaca's home, lost Ithaca's loved shore,
Ithaca fair at eve—all cloud and nothing more.
144
But other ills await thee, other forms
Of danger round thy homeward course are strown,
And the disquietude of coming storms;
Faith in that distant home remains alone,
E'en as a shield around thee; all are gone;—
Bear on, brave heart, still bear on to the end!
Thy comrades lost, thy ships wreck'd and o'erthrown,
Tempest-wrought ills thy soul and body rend,
Thou art by Wisdom loved, thou art of Gods the friend.
Of danger round thy homeward course are strown,
And the disquietude of coming storms;
Faith in that distant home remains alone,
E'en as a shield around thee; all are gone;—
Bear on, brave heart, still bear on to the end!
Thy comrades lost, thy ships wreck'd and o'erthrown,
Tempest-wrought ills thy soul and body rend,
Thou art by Wisdom loved, thou art of Gods the friend.
145
IX. THE RECOGNITION OF ULYSSES.
Oft as I read how great Ulysses stood
In his own kingly hall, a beggar poor,
With tatter'd garb and leathern wallet rude,
I would unravel the “good ” Poet's store,
And all the golden argument explore:
Caught in the maze of his melodious wiles
I linger, and suspend the passing oar,
E'en as that hero by those syren isles,
At whose surpassing sounds the sullen Ocean smiles.
In his own kingly hall, a beggar poor,
With tatter'd garb and leathern wallet rude,
I would unravel the “good ” Poet's store,
And all the golden argument explore:
Caught in the maze of his melodious wiles
I linger, and suspend the passing oar,
E'en as that hero by those syren isles,
At whose surpassing sounds the sullen Ocean smiles.
But his no syren's soul-enfeebling song,
He lifted up the dull earth to the skies,
Then wander'd forth in healthful virtue strong,
Seeing all earth as with an angel's eyes,
Thick-peopled with immortal Deities;
It is no more the haunt where wrongs prevail,
But in each act of life the Godhead lies,
From sight withdrawn awhile; while ne'er to fail
Stern Retribution holds, but half conceals, the scale.
He lifted up the dull earth to the skies,
Then wander'd forth in healthful virtue strong,
Seeing all earth as with an angel's eyes,
Thick-peopled with immortal Deities;
It is no more the haunt where wrongs prevail,
But in each act of life the Godhead lies,
From sight withdrawn awhile; while ne'er to fail
Stern Retribution holds, but half conceals, the scale.
In nature's stores, and in “the gift” of sleep,
In viands of slain beeves, in cheering wine,
In wafting gales, that o'er the Ocean sweep,
In birds of heaven, or in the surging brine,
In darts that pass or miss the destin'd line,
In every thought which human conduct guides,
In morn, in eve, earth, sea, and air divine,
The ever-varying God his presence hides,
And sways of mortal things the deeply rolling tides;—
In viands of slain beeves, in cheering wine,
In wafting gales, that o'er the Ocean sweep,
In birds of heaven, or in the surging brine,
146
In every thought which human conduct guides,
In morn, in eve, earth, sea, and air divine,
The ever-varying God his presence hides,
And sways of mortal things the deeply rolling tides;—
Wrapping mankind around, serene and still;
And oft the good to see him are allow'd,
While 'mid the revellers all bent on ill
Good Theoclymenus beholds the cloud
Peopled with Stygian shapes, a blackening shroud,
And heads all ghastly with portentous sign,
Going before destruction; from the crowd
He springs aloof, discerning wrath Divine,
While they heed not nor hear, in surfeit lost and wine.
And oft the good to see him are allow'd,
While 'mid the revellers all bent on ill
Good Theoclymenus beholds the cloud
Peopled with Stygian shapes, a blackening shroud,
And heads all ghastly with portentous sign,
Going before destruction; from the crowd
He springs aloof, discerning wrath Divine,
While they heed not nor hear, in surfeit lost and wine.
Or as he thence the royal arms conveys,
Telemachus, beside that beggar old,
Beholds the playing of th' unharming blaze
O'er all the inner house, rays which enfold
Pillar and tier and arch in flaming gold,
And far within celestial Power confest;
His Sire discerns the God, and bids him hold
On his high errand, and th' unearthly guest
Honour with speechless awe around made manifest.
Telemachus, beside that beggar old,
Beholds the playing of th' unharming blaze
O'er all the inner house, rays which enfold
Pillar and tier and arch in flaming gold,
And far within celestial Power confest;
His Sire discerns the God, and bids him hold
On his high errand, and th' unearthly guest
Honour with speechless awe around made manifest.
147
Now little deeming of that warrior Lord,
Th' insatiate spoilers, ruthless, gay, and proud,
Sure indications of their worth afford;
Antinous in wassails fierce and loud,
Taunter of holy eld; and haughty-brow'd
Eurymachus; the son of Nisus, brave,
Lover of Gods and men, whom from the crowd
Of revellers the Hero fain would save,
But he who shares the feast, must share th' untimely grave.
Th' insatiate spoilers, ruthless, gay, and proud,
Sure indications of their worth afford;
Antinous in wassails fierce and loud,
Taunter of holy eld; and haughty-brow'd
Eurymachus; the son of Nisus, brave,
Lover of Gods and men, whom from the crowd
Of revellers the Hero fain would save,
But he who shares the feast, must share th' untimely grave.
And thou, divine Eumæus
, swineherd poor,
Like the rude stakes that fence thy woodland nest ,
All heart of oak. By his own royal door
The Beggar notes each menial and each guest,
The hospitable word, th' unkindly jest,
The temper good and loyal, him that heeds
Father and King, and age with woes opprest,
And poverty, in whose uncomely weeds
Oft Gods go forth on earth to watch men's words and deeds .
Like the rude stakes that fence thy woodland nest ,
All heart of oak. By his own royal door
The Beggar notes each menial and each guest,
The hospitable word, th' unkindly jest,
The temper good and loyal, him that heeds
Father and King, and age with woes opprest,
And poverty, in whose uncomely weeds
Oft Gods go forth on earth to watch men's words and deeds .
Then arm'd with battle and with glorious might,
As erst at Ilium in the famèd field,
Grasping the old Laconian bow, to light
Godlike Ulysses springs, not with the shield
And helmet, but o'erwhelming death reveal'd;
The arrow wing'd with their impending doom
Hangs eager on the string, yet still they wield
The thoughtless flagons through the festive room,
While Justice hath e'en now delved deep their righteous tomb.
As erst at Ilium in the famèd field,
148
Godlike Ulysses springs, not with the shield
And helmet, but o'erwhelming death reveal'd;
The arrow wing'd with their impending doom
Hangs eager on the string, yet still they wield
The thoughtless flagons through the festive room,
While Justice hath e'en now delved deep their righteous tomb.
There falls a light on this illumin'd page,
And as I ponder with delightèd eyes
Upon the holier lore of earlier age,
Something I read of higher mysteries,
Of One who hath descended from the skies,
And wanders here in His own kingly hall,
A stranger,—and in prison often lies ,
And on His brethren's charities doth call,
Yet weighs and watches each, the God and Judge of all.
And as I ponder with delightèd eyes
Upon the holier lore of earlier age,
Something I read of higher mysteries,
Of One who hath descended from the skies,
And wanders here in His own kingly hall,
A stranger,—and in prison often lies ,
And on His brethren's charities doth call,
Yet weighs and watches each, the God and Judge of all.
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