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The English Works of Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury; Now First Collected and Edited by Sir William Molesworth, Bart., (London: Bohn, 1839-45). 11 vols. Vol. 10.

Author: Homer
Translator: Thomas Hobbes
Editor: Sir William Molesworth

Part of: The English Works of Thomas Hobbes, 11 vols.

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LIB. IX.

Ulysses relates, first, what befel him amongst the Cicones at Ismarus. Secondly, amongst the Lotophagi. Thirdly, how he was used by the Cyclops Polyphemus.
To this Ulysses said: Renowned king
Alcinous, methinks delightful ’tis
To sit as we do here, and hear one sing,
And specially so good a voice as this.
5I, for my part, do never more rejoice,

Than when I see men sitting at their meat
Cheerful, and list’ning to a pleasant voice,
And see the cups go often and retreat.
This is a thing that I love best; but you
10Had rather hear the dangers I have pass’d,

Which fright me yet, and do my pain renew.
But which shall I tell first? which next? which last?
For they be many. First my name I’ll tell,
And place, that whensoe’er you thither come
15You may there lodge, although far off I dwell,

And am uncertain of my getting home.
I am Ulysses Laertiades,
And far and wide I am reputed wise
’Mongst men that love subtile conveyances,
20And known I am by fame up to the skies.

My place is Ithaca, in which is store
Of wool. Mount Neriton is cloth’d with wood,
A goodly hill; and many islands more
Lie close about it, yielding store of food.
25Dulichium, Same, and the woody Zant,

On th’east of Ithaca are situate.
Another island, which is called Ant,
Lies westward of it, but is low and flat.
Rocky is Ithaca, and uneven ground;
30But breedeth able men. Nor have I known

The man that to his own mind ever found
A country that was better than his own.
From mine Calypso kept me in a cave,
T’ have been her husband; so did Circe too:
35But neither of them my consent could have,

So much could love of my own country do;
For though far off I might have better land,
Yet should I from my kindred absent live.
But now ’tis time to let you understand
40What passage to me Jove was pleas’d to give.

From Troy to Ismarus we first were blown,
Within an isle, Cicons the natives are;
And soon we plundered and burnt the town,
And of the plunder each man had his share.
45The wives we prisoners made, and to the sword

We put the men: and then without delay
I did command them all to go aboard;
But they, fools as they were, would not obey:
For they to kill, eat, drink, themselves apply,
50Beeves, sheep, and wine, which they had on the beach.

Cicons meanwhile to Cicons so loud cry,
That to the continent their voices reach;
And presently came others, numberless
As leaves in summer; stout and men of skill,
Ulysses relates his adventures.
55To fight on horseback with much readiness,

Or else on foot, according as they will.
Jove had decreed us mischief, and the hour
Was come: and just before our ships we fought,
Spears were our weapons, which with all our power
60We lanced on both sides with courage stout.

Whilst the sun mounted we resisted well,
But after noon they pressed us so sore,
That with the falling sun our courage fell;
And then in haste we thrust our ships from shore.
65From out of every ship six men we lost:

And then with heavy hearts our sails we hoist,
And grieved for our fellows left the coast;
But first to ev’ry of them called thrice
Whom slain by th’ enemy we left behind.
70Then Jove with clouds both land and water veils,

And night came on us with a furious wind
From the north part of heaven, and tore our sails
In threes and fours, and all our ships were tost
Hither and thither, sideways with their blasts,
75And one another’s way hindered and crost.

Then took we in our sails, and down our masts,
For fear of death, and laid them on the decks,
And with our oars rowed our ships to land;
Two nights and days we staid, while grief did vex
80Each mind, and labour tired had each hand.

But when the morn had led forth the third day,
We then set sail, and left their course to th’ wind;
The which (we sitting still) did them convey
According as the steersmen had design’d.
85And I had safely come to Ithaca,

Had not the north wind with the tide o’ th’ sea,
When I was come to th’ Cape of Malea,
Forc’d us without the isle of Cytheré.
The horrid winds now found me on the main,
90And toss’d me into one another’s hand.

Nine days together I endur’d this pain;
Upon the tenth they cast me on a land
Where dwell a people call’d Lotophagi,
That have and live upon a fruit full sweet
95I’ th’ continent. We went ashore; there I

Made them take in fresh water for the fleet.
Then having quickly supp’d, I chose out two
Of my companions to go and see
What men they were; with them I sent also
100A third, who went as messenger from me.

They quickly went; but mingled with those men,
Who meant no harm, but gave them lote to eat,
Which made them hate returning back again,
And suddenly their country to forget:
105And with the people there resolv’d to stay,

Forgetting home for love of lote. But I
Sent those that quickly fetched them away
By force, and under hatches did them tie.
The rest I bade unto their ships to haste,
110Lest eating lote they should return no more.

Aboard they quickly come, and each one plac’d
In order, beats the grey sea with his oar.
Then to the land of Cyclopses we row,
Men proud and lawless, that rely for food
115Upon the sky, and neither plant nor plough;

Yet have they barley, wheat, wine very good,
Unplough’d, unsown, fetch’d up by show’rs of rain.
They have no courts of counsel, nor of right.
On high huge hills themselves they entertain,
120And in their rocky bellies pass the night.

Each man gives law to his own wife and brood:
Nor do they much for one another care.
Before the port an isle lies clad with wood,
Not very near, nor from it very far.
125Wild goats in great abundance were therein:

Because there dwelt no man that might them kill,
Nor wretched hunters ever enter in,
To tire themselves running from hill to hill.
For the good ship with the vermilion cheeks
130The Cyclopses have not, nor art to make

All that is needful for a man that seeks
Trade, and to pass the seas must undertake.
The island else they quickly might adorn.
The land is good; to th’ sea sweet meadows lie,
135And plentifully would yield wine and corn,

If it were helped with good husbandry.
Anchors and cables in the port needs none,
Nor any rope to tie the ship to land;
And when the master thinks fit to be gone,
140With the first wind they take the oar in hand.

Within the entrance riseth a sweet spring
From out a cave, shaded with poplars tall;
Thither to shore our ships we safely bring.
Some God was guide. Nothing we saw at all.
145Dark night it was, and nothing to be seen;

The air about us thick, and from the sky
The moon could not shine through the clouds between;
Nor waves, nor isle appear’d to any eye.
Then took we in our sails, and went to land,
150And waited for the coming of the day,

And in the mean time slumbered on the sand;
But when we saw appear the morning gay,
Admiring th’ isle, we walked to and fro,
Whilst the nymphs (sprung from Jove Ægiochus)
155Refreshment on my soldiers to bestow,

Down from the mountain brought the goats to us.
And presently from out our ships we take
Our bows and arrows keen and came away,
And of our company three troops we make;
160Then shooting, soon we had a lovely prey.

Our ships were twelve, to which they equally
Divide the spoil; for every ship had nine,
Save only mine had ten: then merrily
All day we sit and feast on flesh and wine;
165For we had wine enough as yet unspent,

Of that we got and brought away with us,
Which ev’ry man had into budgets pent,
Then when we took the town of Ismarus.
Close by we saw the land of Cyclopses,
170And smoke, and heard the voice o’th’men, and sheep

And goats. ’Twas night, and on the sand o’th’sea
Ourselves till morning we refreshed with sleep.
But when the rosy morning ’gan t’appear,
My fellows I together call’d, and spake:
175You, my companions, by the ships stay here;

I with my ship and crew will undertake
A trial of this people, whether wild,
And proud, and insolent their nature be,
Or whether they be men of nature mild,
180Godly, and loving hospitality.

This said, I went aboard, and bade my crew
Embark themselves. Aboard they quickly come,
And sitting each man in his order due,
With stroke of oar they made the gray sea foam.
185Arriv’d, we of a cavern saw the door,

Both high and wide, and sheep and goats there lay
Abundance sleeping. It was shaded o’er
With boughs that downward grew of laurel gay.
Before it was a court well fenced with stone,
190And lusty oaks, and many a pine tree high.

I’ th’ cave a giant lodged, who used alone
His sheep to feed, no other Cyclops nigh.
It was a huge and ugly monster, and
Look’d not unlike a rocky mountain’s head
195That does ’mongst other hills asunder stand,

With a great perriwig of trees o’erspread.
Then bade I my companions to stay
And guard the ship, save that by lot a dozen
I took of them along with me, and they,
200By chance, were the same men I would have chosen.

With me I took a goatskin full of wine,
Pleasant and strong, by Maron given me,
Evanthes son, priest to Phœbus divine,
At Ismarus, to save his family,
205Fearing the God in whose grove he did live;

For which s’ven talents of pure beaten gold,
And a large silver bowl he did me give
Freely, besides twelve budgets of wine old,
Pure, pleasant, precious drink it was, which none
210Knew of besides himself, his wife and maid;

Of the men servants that he kept, not one.
Which, when he drank, he usually allay’d
With water pure, full twenty times as much;
And when a man so temper’d had his cup,
215Yet still the fragrant smell thereof was such,

He hardly could forbear to drink it up.
This goatskin I took with me in a case,
Expecting of some great and ghastly man,
That knew not law, nor right, to see the face;
220And landing, quickly to the den we ran.

We entered in, but did not find him there;
But gaze we did at every thing with wonder:
Shelves full of cheese, as much as they could bear,
Pens full of sheep and goats, each sort asunder,
225Old, younger, youngest; all vessels to the brim,

Pans, trays, and milking pails were full of whey.
My men desir’d me not to stay for him,
But make what haste I could to get away,
And take some of his cheeses from the shelves,
230And sheep from out the pens, and then to go,

And setting up our sails to save ourselves.
But I would not, though ’t had been better so.
But I desired to see the man, and try
If from him some good gift I might obtain;
235But they with fear were ready for to die,

And could not think upon him but with pain.
Then kindled we a fire, and kill’d and fed
On flesh and cheese, and for his coming staid.
He came, and a great burden carried
240Of wither’d boughs, which at the door he laid.

His supper with this wood he meant to dress,
And threw it down with such a hideous noise,
As frighted us to th’ innermost recess
O’ th’ cave; there lay we, and supprest our voice.
245Into the cave he comes, he and his flock,

All that was milch; the males he left without,
Rams and he goats, and the door with a rock
Stops up, which two-and-twenty carts scarce mought
Bear above ground, and then to milking fell;
250But first he sets unto each ewe her lamb,

In order due, to see them suckled well,
And each young goat he puts under her dam.
Half of the milk he turned to curds, and put
Them into wicker baskets to set up:
255The other half he into tankards put,

For drink to serve him when he was to sup.
When he had ended all his business,
He made a fire, and thereby spied us out.
What are you, says he, whence d’ ye cross the seas?
260Is it on business, or d’ ye rove about

As pirates walk at sea, to and agen,
And are content to set their lives at stake,
So they may mischief do to other men?
Our hearts dismayed before, this language brake.
265We fear’d his hollow voice, and body great;

But yet I made him answer, and said thus:
We are Achæans, making our retreat
Homewards from Troy, but winds have forced us
Upon this coast (for Jove would have it so.)
270We are a part of Agamemnon’s bands,

Whose glory for his sacking Troy is now
Renown’d both far and wide throughout all lands.
And now ourselves we prostrate at your feet,
Hoping for some good thing as visitants,
275Such as all men have commonly thought meet;

Or, for the Gods’ sake, as to suppliants.
As suppliants we before you here do lie,
With whom, and strangers, Jove still goes along;
He is the God of hospitality,
280To punish whosoever does them wrong.

Thus I. But he replied with fell intent:
Stranger, thou art a fool, or com’st from far,
That counsel’st me to fear the punishment
Of Jove, or for the blessed Gods to care.
285The Cyclopses care not at all for Jove

Ægiochus, or any other Gods.
For why, we stronger are than those above;
And if we strength compare, we have the odds.
No, no, ’tis not the fear of Jupiter
290Can me from thee, or these with thee, restrain,

Unless I please. But tell me truly where
The ship that brought you rides, and do not feign.
This was to sound me. But I saw his mind,
And a deceitful answer did intend.
295My ship was wreck’d by Neptune, and by wind

Thrown ’gainst the rocks at the land’s furthest end,
Where all besides myself and these were drown’d.
To this he answer’d nothing, nor said more,
But snatching up a couple from the ground,
300Knocks out their brains, like whelps against the floor;

Then cuts them into joints, and on them fed;
Nor did he flesh, or bone, or entrails leave,
Like hungry lion on the mountains bred.
Then weep we, and to Jove our hands upheave
305To see such work, and have no remedy.

When he with human flesh his belly deep
Had fill’d, and drunk the milk that stood him by,
He laid himself along amongst his sheep,
And slept. And then I saw I might him slay:
310’Twas but to draw my good sword from my side,

And gently on his breast my hand to lay,
And to the hilt my sword in’s body hide.
Upon new thoughts that purpose I gave o’er,
For certainly it had destroyed us quite;
315So great the stone was that lay on the door,

That to remove it was past all our might.
So there we sighing stay’d for day: and when
The rosy-finger’d morning did appear,
He made a fire, and milk’d his flock again,
320And the young kids and lambs new suckled were.

When all his work was at an end and past,
Two more of my companions he takes,
And on those two he quickly breaks his fast,
And for his flock the way he open makes.
325For easily he took the stone away,

And then again with no less ease he did
Set up the same, and in its right place lay,
Than of a quiver one would do the lid.
His flock with noise he drives up to the hills,
330And in the den leaves us to meditate

How to revenge, with Phœbus’ help, our ills.
At last within my breast this counsel sate.
Near one o’ th’ pens there lay an olive-tree,
Straight, and the boughs cut off, which, when ’twas dried,
335Designed was a walking staff to be

Of the great Cyclops; which when we espied,
Of some good ship we thought might be the mast,
Or of a bark of twenty oars or more,
That Neptune’s rugged waters might have pass’d
340With a great burthen safe from shore to shore.

Of this a fathom I cut off, and gave it
To my companions to taper it:
They smooth’d and taper’d it as I would have it,
I sharpened it at point as I thought fit.
345Then in the fire the same I hard’ned well,

And laid it by with dung all cover’d o’er,
Which in the cave from so much cattle fell;
For sheep and goats there always was good store.
From all my company who did not fear
350To help me thrust this bar into his eye,

I took out four by lot, and such they were
As I myself did wish; and fifth was I.
At evening he returneth with his sheep,
Into the hollow cave he brings them all:
355Without, he neither sheep nor goat did keep,

By presage, or upon some heav’nly call.
Then with the stone the cave’s mouth up he dams,
And milks his she-goats and his ewes each one,
And suckles all his young kids and his lambs.
360But after he his work had fully done,

Another couple of my men he took.
Then having in my hand an ivy can
Of good black wine, I thus unto him spoke:
Cyclops, since you have eaten flesh of man,
365Here, drink this good black wine upon’t, and see

What excellent good drink we had aboard,
Whereof I’ve hither brought a taste to thee,
Hoping you will some kindness me afford,
And some assistance in our voyage home;
370But so intolerably furious

You are, that no man will dare near you come,
Knowing how cruel you have been to us.
When I had said, the good wine he drank up,
And was extremely pleased with the same;
375And straightway calling for another cup,

Tell me, quoth he, right now what is thy name;
And I will give thee that shall please thy heart.
We Cyclopses have vines that yield good wine,
Which from the earth by rain from heaven start;
380But this some branch of nectar is divine.

When he had said, I gave him wine again;
Three times I fill’d the can, and he as oft
Drank’t off. But when it came up to his brain,
Then spake I to him gentle words and soft:
385Cyclops, since you my name desire to know,

I’ll tell it you, and on your word rely.
My name is Noman, all men call me so,
My father, mother, and my company.
To which he soon and sadly made reply,
390Noman, I’ll eat you last, none shall outlive you

Of all that are here of your company;
And that’s the gift I promised to give you.
And having said, he laid himself along
With bended neck, sleeping and vomiting
395Gobbets of human flesh, and wine among,

All he before had eaten uttering.
The bar with embers then I covered,
Till, green as ’twas, with heat I made it shine,
And with few words my men encouraged,
400Lest any should have shrunk from the design.

The bar now hot, and ready to flame out,
And, though green wood, yet glowing mightily,
To him my fellows carried now stout,
And set the point thereof upon his eye;
405But I myself erecting, with my hand

Twirled the bar about, with motion nimble,
As joiners with a string below do stand
To give a piercing motion with a wimble,
So, whilst the brand was ent’ring, I it turn’d.
410The blood that down along it ran was hot,

And with his eye the lids and brows were burn’d,
And all his eye-strings with the fire did strut,
As when a smith hath heat his axe or spade,
And quickly quenches it while hot it is,
415To harden it, it makes a noise; so made

His great moist eye the glowing brand to hiss.
He roared so as made the rocks resound,
And from his eye he pull’d, with both his hands,
The burning brand, and threw it to the ground;
420And so awhile he there amazed stands,

And thence for more Cyclopses calls; and they,
Who dwelt about in every hollow cave,
Came in, some one, and some another way;
And from without the den ask’d what he’d have.
425What ails thee, Polyphemus, so to cry

In dead of night, and make us break our sleep?
Goes any one about to make thee die,
By force or fraud, or steal away thy sheep?
Then Polyphemus answered from his cave,
430Friends, Noman killeth me. Why then, said they,

We have no power from sickness you to save;
You must unto your father Neptune pray.
This said, they parted each one to his own
Dark cavern; then within myself I laugh’d
435To think how with my name the mighty clown

I so deceived had, and gull’d by craft.
The Cyclops for the stone now grop’d about,
Found it, and threw it down, though pained sore;
Thinking to catch us at our coming out,
440Sitting with arms extended in the door,

Such fools he thought us; but I formerly
Had thought upon the course I was to take;
And all my cunning, and my art to try,
Since no less than our lives was now at stake,
445This counsel ’twas that in my breast then sat:

Male sheep there were within the cave well fed,
Fair, big, and deeply clad in wool and fat,
And these, with twigs ta’en from Cyclops his bed,
I bound together three and three; each three
450Bore one under the middlemost fast bound;

One ram, by far the best of all, bore me
Under his breast, my hands in deep wool wound,
Thus hung we constantly, expecting day.
The morning came, the males to pasture hie,
455(The ewes with strutting udders bleating stay),

Their master sitting there in misery,
Laid’s hand upon their backs as out they pass’d,
Ne’er thinking of their bellies we were under.
Mine, heavy with his wool and me, came last,
460To whom the Cyclops said, seeming to wonder,

Why, silly ram, art thou the last to come
Out of the cave, that formerly was ever
The foremost to go out, and to come home,
And foremost at the going to the river;
465But now art last? Is’t for thy master’s eye,

Which Noman and his fellows have put forth?
O couldst thou speak, and tell me where doth lie
Hidden within, that Noman, nothing worth,
I soon would with his brains besmear the floor,
470And ease my vexed heart within me so,

Which Noman hath within me wounded sore.
This said, he let the ram that bore me go.
Got forth a little from the den and yard,
I left my ram, and set my fellows free;
475Unto my ships I brought part of the herd,

That to our fellows we might welcome be,
We that escap’d; but they began to weep
For those we left behind us dead, till I
Commanded them to fetch aboard more sheep,
480And after that their oars again to ply.

They brought in more, and each man takes his seat,
And in due order, with his oar in hand,
The water grey into a foam they beat,
And rowed us a little way from land,
485As far as one that hallos can be heard;

So far I stood from shore, I hallo’d then:
Cyclops, Cyclops, why were you not afraid
To kill and eat, as you have done, my men?
For since you strangers do so ill intreat,
490And of the Gods themselves no reck’ning make,

You ought to have expected vengeance great,
And that your wicked deeds should you o’ertake.
The Cyclops then provoked with this mock,
Threw a great stone at us with all his might,
495And first he swing’d round o’er his head the rock,

Which just behind the rudder chanc’d to light;
And so much stirr’d the water falling in,
That what with th’ eddy and tide from the main,
Brought back to th’ land, and sure we dead had bin,
500But that I quickly thrust it off again;

Then bade I my companions to row
Still further off, till we were out of fear.
They plied their oars again, and we were now
At twice the distance that before we were.
505And then again I to the Cyclops spoke,

Though my companions would have hindered me:
Why, say they, will you still the man provoke?
How great a stone, how far he throws you see,
How near to land we were, how near to die;
510If he but any one of us hear speak,

A rock will straightway from him hither fly,
And knock our brains out, and our vessel break.
So said they; but with me could nothing do,
I was resolv’d to vex him bitterly.
515Cyclops, quoth I, if any ask thee who,

What was his name that robbed thee of thy eye,
Say ’twas Ulysses, prince of Ithaca,
Son to the old Laertes. He it was.
At which the Cyclops howling answered, Ha,
420I see old prophecies are come to pass,

For Telemus Eurymedes, that here
Dwelled, and telling fortunes went about,
Told me I should by name Ulysses fear,
As he that one day should my eye put out;
425But I some strong and mighty man expected,

Of stature great, should come to do that deed,
And never such a little wretch suspected,
Nor ever did of being drunk take heed.
But come, Ulysses, nearer, that I may
530Give you a precious gift as you deserve;

And also to my father Neptune pray,
That you upon the seas he would preserve;
For I his son, and he my father is,
And to my sight again restore me can;
535He, and no other of the Gods in bliss,

Nor any pow’r on earth. So said the man.
Cyclops, quoth I, I would I could as well
Send thee now down to Pluto’s ugly den,
Depriv’d of life and soul i’ th’ deepest hell,
540As I am sure thou ne’er shalt see again.

Then held he up his hands to heav’n, and pray’d:
Hear me, O Neptune, if thy son I be,
And thou my father truly, as ’tis said,
Grant that Ulysses never more may see
545His native soil; or if perhaps by Fate

It be decreed he shall return again,
Let him return both wretchedly and late,
His ships and men lost, and at home meet pain.
His prayer granted was; and then he threw
550A greater stone, first swing’d it o’er his head,

Which by good chance above the vessel flew,
But almost to the shore us carried.
When we were come into the isle again,
Where all the rest of our fleet then abode,
555Expecting our return, in grievous pain,

And wondering why we were so long abroad;
Then with our sheep we landed on the beach,
And ’mongst the barks divided them with care,
Their just and equal number unto each,
560That no ship might be wronged of his share.

On me my fellows over and above
Bestow’d a ram, which on the sand there-right
I made a sacrifice to mighty Jove;
But in my off’rings he took no delight,
565And was contriving how to make away

My ship and fellows, and destroy them quite.
There on the shore we sat and spent the day,
With flesh and wine from morning unto night.
All night we slept upon the shore, and when
570The morning had again the day restor’d,

I presently commanded all my men
To loose the ropes, and put themselves aboard.
Aboard they go, and beat the sea with oars,
All for their fellows that were eaten, sad,
575And forward to the main we take our course,

For that we had ourselves escaped, glad.

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LIB. IX. - Homer, The English Works, vol. X (Iliad and Odyssey) [1839]

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LIB. IX.