The Cyclops.
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.
- Silenus.
- Chorus of Satyrs.
- Ulysses.
- Polypheme the Cyclops.
SCENE.—The Mountain of Ætna in Sicily.
Silenus.
O Bacchus, for thy sake have I endured
Unnumbered toils, both at the present hour,
And when these nerves by vigorous youth were strung:
By Juno first with wild distraction fired,
Thou didst forsake the mountain nymphs whose care
Nurtured thy infancy. Next in that war
With the gigantic progeny of earth,
Stationed beside thee to sustain thy shield,
Piercing the buckler of Enceladus,
I slew him with my lance. Is this a dream?
By Jove it is not: for I showed his spoils
To Bacchus, and the labours I endure
At present, are so great that they exceed
E’en those. For since ’gainst thee Saturnia roused,
To bear thee far away, Etruria’s race
Of impious pirates, I soon caught th’ alarm,
And sailed in quest of thee with all my children:
Myself the stern ascended, to direct
The rudder, and each satyr plied an oar
Till ocean’s azure surface with white foam
Was covered; thee, O mighty King, they sought.
Near Malea’s harbour as the vessel rode,
An eastern blast arose, and to this rock
Of Ætna, drove us, where the sons of Neptune,
The one-eyed Cyclops, drenched with human gore,
Inhabit desert caves; by one of these
Were we made captives, and beneath his roof
To slavery are reduced. Our master’s name
Is Polypheme; instead of Bacchus’ orgies
We tend the flocks of an accursed Cyclops.
My blooming sons, on yonder distant cliffs,
Feed the young lambs; while I at home am stationed
The goblet to replenish, and to scrape
The rugged floor; to this unholy lord,
A minister of impious festivals:
And now must I perform the task assigned
Of cleansing with this rake the filthy ground,
So shall the cave be fit for his reception,
When with his flocks my absent lord returns.
But I already see my sons approach,
Their fleecy charge conducting. Ha! what means
This uproar? would ye now renew the dance
Of the Sicinnides, as when ye formed
The train of amorous Bacchus, and assembled,
Charmed by the lute, before Althæa’s gate?
Chorus, Silenus.
Chorus.
ODE.
I.
Sprung from an untainted race,
Hardy father of the fold,
Why, bounding o’er that craggy space,
Roam’st thou desperately bold,
Far from the refreshing gale,
The verdant herbage of the mead,
And sloping channel wont to feed
Thy trough with springs that never fail?
Yon caves with bleating lambkins ring,
Come, depasture with the flock;
Leave, O leave the dewy rock,
Ere this ponderous stone I fling.
Thee with speeding horns I call
To the Cyclops’ lofty stall.
II.
Thou too those swollen udders yield,
That thy young ones may be fed,
Who, while thou browsest o’er the field,
Lie neglected in the shed;
Slumbering all the livelong day
At length with clamorous plaints they wake,
Thou t’ appease them wilt forsake
Ætna’s valleys ever gay.
Young Bromius and his jocund rout
Here their orgies ne’er repeat,
No thyrsus waves, no drums they beat;
Where the gurgling currents spout,
Here no vineyards yield delight,
Nor sport the nymphs on Nyssa’s height.
III.
Yet here I chaunt the strains which Bacchus taught,
To that Venus whom I sought
When with the Mænades I ranged.
Where, gentle Evan, dost thou tread
Alone, and from thy comrades far estranged,
Those auburn ringlets floating from thy head?
Thy votary once, but now a slave
To yonder one-eyed Cyclops, I abide
In this detested cave:
Covered with a goat’s vile hide,
Thy friend, alas! exposed to scorn
Wanders helpless and forlorn.
Sil. My sons, be silent: bid your followers drive
Their flocks into the stony cave.
Chor. Proceed.
But wherefore, O my father, in this haste?
Sil. A Grecian vessel, stranded on the coast,
I see, and to this cave the mariners
Attend their leader, on their heads they bear
Those empty vessels which express they want
Provisions, with fresh water too their urns
Would they replenish. O unhappy strangers!
Who are they? unapprised what lord here rules,
Dread Polypheme, they in an evil hour
Are entering this inhospitable threshold,
And rushing headlong e’en into the jaws
Of this fierce Cyclops, gorged with human flesh.
But interrupt me not; I will inquire
Whence to Sicilian Ætna’s mount they came.
Ulysses, Silenus, Chorus.
Uly. Can ye direct me, strangers, where to find
Fresh springs to slake our thirst; or who will sell
Food to the hungry sailor? But what means
That group of satyrs, whom before yon cave
I see assembled? we at Bacchus’ city
Seem to have landed. Thee, the elder-born,
Thee first I hail.
Sil. Hail! foreigner; acquaint us
Both who you are, and from what realm you came.
Uly. Ulysses, king of Ithaca, and th’ isle
Of Cephalenè.
Sil. That loquacious man,
The crafty brood of Sisyphus, full well
I know.
Uly. Reproach me not, for I am he.
Sil. Whence sailed you to Sicilia?
Uly. From the shores
Of blazing Ilion, from the war of Troy.
Sil. What, knew you not the way to your own country?
Uly. The tempests violently drove me hither.
Sil. By Heaven, your fortunes are the same with mine.
Uly. What cam’st thou hither too against thy will?
Sil. Yes, in pursuit of those accursed pirates
Who seized on Bromius.
Uly. But what land is this,
And by what men inhabitated?
Sil. This mountain,
Called Ætna, overlooks Sicilia’s plains.
Uly. Where are the fortresses and lofty towers
Which guard its peopled cities?
Sil. They exist not.
No men, O stranger, on these summits dwell.
Uly. But who possess the land, a savage race
Of beasts?
Sil. The Cyclops occupy these caves,
They have no houses.
Uly. Governed by what chief?
Is this a mere democracy?
Sil. They lead
The life of shepherds, and in no respect
Yield to each other.
Uly. Do they sow the grain
Of Ceres, or on what do they subsist?
Sil. On milk, on cheese, and on their sheep, they feed.
Uly. Affords the vine, nectareous juice, the drink
Bacchus invented?
Sil. No such thing: they dwell
In an ungrateful soil.
Uly. But do they practise
The rites of hospitality, and hold
The stranger sacred?
Sil. They aver the flesh
Of strangers is a most delicious food.
Uly. What saidst thou, banquet they on human flesh?
Sil. Here no man lands who is not doomed to bleed.
Uly. Where is this Cyclops, in the cave?
Sil. He went
To Ætna’s summit, with his hounds to trace
The savage beasts.
Uly. But know’st thou by what means
We from this region may escape?
Sil. I know not.
But, O Ulysses, I’ll do everything
To serve you.
Uly. Sell us bread, supply our want.
Sil. I told you we have nothing here but flesh.
Uly. By this, sharp hunger, which makes all things sweet,
May be assuaged.
Sil. Cheese from the press, and milk
Of heifers too.
Uly. Produce them: while the day
Yet lasts, should we conclude our merchandise.
Sil. With how much gold will you repay me? Speak.
Uly. No gold I bring, but Bacchus’ cheering juice.
Sil. My dearest friend, you mention what we long
Have stood in need of.
Uly. This enchanting liquor
Did Maron, offspring of the courteous god,
On us bestow.
Sil. Whom erst, while yet a boy
I in these arms sustained.
Uly. The son of Bacchus,
T’ inform thee more minutely who he is.
Sil. Aboard the ship, or have you hither brought it?
Uly. Here is the cask, old man, which thou perceiv’st
Contains the wine.
Sil. It hardly is a sup.
Uly. But we have twice as much as this will yield.
Sil. A most delicious spring is that you named.
Uly. Shall I first treat thee with some wine unmixed,
That thou may’st taste?
Sil. Well judged: this specimen
Soon will induce me to conclude the purchase.
Uly. A cup too I have brought as well as cask.
Sil. Pour forth, that I may drink, and recollect
The grateful taste of wine.
Uly. Look there!
Sil. Ye gods!
How beauteous is its odour!
Uly. Hast thou seen it?
Sil. By Jove I have not, but I smell its charms.
Uly. Taste, nor to words alone confine thy praise.
Sil. Ha! ha! now Bacchus to the choral dance
Invites me.
Uly. Hath it moistened well thy palate?
Sil. So well as e’en to reach my fingers’ ends.
Uly. Beside all this, shall money too be thine.
Sil. Empty the vessel, and reserve your gold.
Uly. Bring forth the cheese and lambs.
Sil. That will I do,
Regardless of my lord, because I wish
To drain one goblet of this wine, and give
The flocks of all the Cyclops in its stead.
I’d from Leucadè, when completely drunk,
Into the ocean take a lover’s leap,
Shutting my eyes. For he who, when he quaffs
The mantling bowl, exults not, is a madman.
Through wine new joys our wanton bosoms fire,
With eager arms we clasp the yielding fair,
And in the giddy dance forget each ill
That heretofore assailed us. So I kiss
The rich potation; let the stupid Cyclops
Weep with that central eye which in his front
Glares horribly.
[Exit Silenus.
Chor. Attend: for we must hold
A long confabulation, O Ulysses.
Uly. We meet each other like old friends.
Chor. Was Troy
By you subdued? was Helen taken captive?
Uly. And the whole house of Priam we laid waste.
Chor. When ye had seized on that transcendent fair,
Did ye then all enjoy her in your turn,
Because she loves variety of husbands?
False to her vows, when she the painted greaves
Around the legs of Paris, on his neck
The golden chain, beheld, with love deep smitten
From Menelaus, best of men, she fled.
Ah! would to Heaven no women had been born
But such as were reserved for my embraces.
Silenus returning, Ulysses, Chorus.
Sil. Here, King Ulysses, is the shepherd’s food:
Banquet on bleating lambs, and bear away
As many curdled cheeses as you can;
But from these caverns with your utmost speed
Depart, when ye have given me in return
The clustering vine’s rich juice which Bacchus loves.
Uly. The Cyclops comes. What shall we do? Old man,
We are undone. Ah, whither can we fly?
Sil. Ye may conceal yourselves beneath that rock.
Uly. Most dangerous is the scheme thou hast proposed,
To rush into the toils.
Sil. No danger truly;
For in this rock is many a hiding-place.
Uly. Not thus: indignant Troy might groan indeed
If from a single arm we basely fled.
Oft with my shield against a countless band
Of Phrygians have I fought. If we must die,
Let us die nobly: or with life maintain
The fame we erst in dubious fields acquired.
Polpyheme, Silenus, Chorus, Ulysses.
Pol. What mean these transports, this insensate uproar,
These Bacchanalian orgies? Nyssa’s god,
The brazen timbrel, and the rattling drum,
Are distant from these regions. In the cave
How fare the new-yeaned lambkins? do they suck,
Or follow they the ewes? have ye prepared
In wicker vats the cheeses? No reply?
This club shall make ye weep forthwith. Look up,
Not on the ground.
Chor. We lift our dazzled eyes
To Jove himself; I view the twinkling stars
And bright Orion.
Pol. Is my dinner ready?
Chor. It is. Prepare your jaws for mastication.
Pol. Are the bowls filled with milk?
Chor. They overflow,
And you may drink whole hogsheads if you will.
Pol. Of sheep, or cows, or mixed?
Chor. Whate’er you please;
But swallow not me too.
Pol. No certainly;
For ye would foot it in my tortured paunch,
And kill me with those antics. But what crowd
Behold I in the stalls? Some thieves or pirates
Are landed: at the mouth of yonder cave
The lambs are bound with osiers, on the floor
The cheese-press scattered lies, and the bald head
Of this old man is swoll’n with many bruises.
Sil. Ah me! into a fever I am beaten.
Pol. By whom, old man, who smote thy hoary head?
Sil. O Cyclops, by these ruffians whom I hindered
From carrying off their plunder.
Pol. Know they not
I am a god sprung from the blest immortals?
Sil. All this I told them, yet they seized your goods,
Eat up your cheese without my leave, dragged forth
The lambs, declared they would exhibit you
In a huge collar of three cubits long,
Closely imprisoned, and before that eye,
Which in the centre of your forehead glares,
Bore out your entrails, soundly scourge your hide,
Then throw you into their swift vessel’s hold
Tied hand and foot, and sell you, with a lever
To heave up ponderous stones, or to the ground
Level some door.
Pol. Indeed! go whet the knives
Without delay, collect a mighty pile
Of wood, and light it up with flaming brands,
They shall be slain immediately, and broiled
To satisfy my appetite with viands
Hot from the coals. The rest shall be well sodden;
For I am sated with unsavoury beasts,
Enough on lions have I banqueted
And stags that haunt this mountain: but ’tis long
Since human flesh I tasted.
Sil. My dread lord,
Variety is sweet: no other strangers
Have reached of late these solitary caves.
Uly. O Cyclops, hear the strangers also speak,
In their defence. We, wanting to buy food,
Came to your caverns from our anchored bark.
These lambs to us he bartered for our wine,
And of his own accord, when he had drank,
Yielded them up; no violence was used:
But the account he gives is utter falsehood,
Since he was caught without your privity
Vending your goods.
Sil. I? curses on your head!
Uly. If I have uttered an untruth.
Sil. By Neptune
Your sire, O Cyclops, by great Triton, Nereus,
Calypso, Nereus’ daughters, by the waves,
And all the race of fishes, I protest,
Most beauteous Cyclops, my dear little lord,
I sold not to the foreigners your goods;
May swift perdition, if I did, o’ertake
These sinners here, my children, whom I love
Beyond expression.
Chor. Curb thy tongue: I saw thee
Vending thy lord’s possessions to the strangers:
If I speak falsehood, may our father perish!
But injure not these foreigners.
Pol. Ye lie;
For I in him much rather would confide
Than Rhadamanthus, and pronounce that he
Is a more upright judge. But I to them
Some questions would propose. Whence sailed, strangers?
Where is your country and your native town?
Uly. We in the realms of Ithaca were born;
But after we had laid Troy’s bulwarks waste,
O Cyclops, by those howling winds which raise
The ocean’s boisterous surges, to your coast
Our vessel was impelled.
Pol. Are ye the men
Who worthless Helen’s ravisher pursued
To Ilion’s turrets on Scamander’s bank?
Uly. The same: most dreadful toils have we endured.
Pol. Dishonourable warfare; in the cause
Of one vile woman ye to Phrygia sailed.
Uly. Such was the will of Jove; on no man charge
The fault. But we to you, O generous son
Of ocean’s god, our earnest prayers address,
Nor fear with honest freedom to remonstrate
That we your hapless friends, who to these caves
For refuge fly, deserve not to be slain
To satiate with accursed human food
Your appetite: for to your sire, great king,
Full many a temple on the shores of Greece
Have we erected; Tænarus’ sacred haven
To him remains inviolate, the cliff
Of Malea, Sunium for its silver mines
Renowned, on whose steep promontory stands
Minerva’s fane, and the Gerastian bay.
But those intolerable wrongs which Greece
From Troy had suffered, could we not forgive.
Our triumph interests you, who in a land
With Greece connected, dwell, beneath the rock
Of flaming Ætna. Let those public laws
Which all mankind obey, on you prevail
To change your ruthless purpose, and admit
Your suppliants to a conference, who have long
Endured the perils of the billowy deep;
With hospitable gifts, and change of raiment
Assist us, nor affix our quivering limbs
On spits, to sate your gluttony. Enough
Hath Priam’s land depopulated Greece,
Whole myriads have in fighting fields been slain;
The widowed bride, the aged childless matron,
And hoary sire, hath Troy made ever wretched.
But if you burn, and at your hateful feasts
Devour the scattered relics of our host,
Whither shall any Grecian turn? but listen
To my persuasion, Cyclops, and control
Your gluttony. What piety enjoins,
Prefer to this defiance of the gods:
For ruin oft attends unrighteous gain.
Sil. Leave not the smallest morsel of his flesh;
Take my advice, and if you eat his tongue,
You certainly, O Cyclops, will become
A most accomplished orator.
Pol. Vile caitiff,
Wealth is the deity the wise adore,
But all things else are unsubstantial boasts,
And specious words alone. I nought regard
Those promontories sacred to my sire.
Why dost thou talk of them? I tremble not,
O stranger, at the thunderbolts of Jove,
Him I account not a more powerful god
Than I am, nor henceforth will heed him: hear
My reasons; when he from the skies sends down
The rain, secure from its inclemency
Beneath this rock I dwell, and make a feast
On roasted calves, or on the savage prey,
Stretched at my length supine, then drain a pitcher
Of milk, and emulate the thunder’s sound.
When Thracian Boreas pours his flaky showers,
In hides of beasts my body I enwrap,
Approach the fire, nor heed the pelting snows.
Compelled by strong necessity, the ground
Produces grass, and nourishes my herds,
Whom, to no other god except myself,
And to this belly, greatest of the gods,
I sacrifice. Because each day to eat,
To drink, and feel no grief, is bliss supreme,
The Heaven, the object of the wise man’s worship.
I leave those gloomy lawgivers to weep,
Who by their harsh impertinent restrictions
Have chequered human life; but will indulge
My genius, and devour thee. That my conduct
May be exempt from blame, thou shalt receive
As pledges of our hospitality
The fire, and that hereditary cauldron
Well heated, which shall boil thy flesh: walk in,
Ye shall adorn my table, and produce
Delicious meals to cheer my gloomy cave,
Such as a god can relish.
Uly. I have ’scaped,
Alas! each danger at the siege of Troy,
’Scaped the tempestuous ocean; but in vain
Attempt to soften the unpitying heart
Of him who spurns all laws. Now, sacred queen,
Daughter of Jove, now aid me, O Minerva,
For I such perils as far, far exceed
My Phrygian toils, encounter: and, O Jove,
Dread guardian of each hospitable rite,
Who sitt’st enthroned above the radiant stars,
Look down: for if thou view not this, though deemed
Omnipotent, thou art a thing of nought.
[Exeunt Polypheme, Ulysses, and Silenus.
1st Semichor. That insatiate throat expand,
Boiled and roast are now at hand
For thee, O Cyclops, to devour:
From the coals in evil hour
Yet reeking, shall thy teeth divide
The limbs of each unhappy guest,
To thy table served when dressed
In dishes formed of shaggy hide.
O betray me not, my friend,
For I on you alone depend:
Now approach the shades of night,
Launch the bark, and aid our flight.
2nd Semichor. Thou cave, and ye unholy rites,
Adieu, the Cyclops’ cursed delights,
Who on his prisoners wont to feed,
Hath banished pity from his breast.
Inhuman execrable deed!
On his own hearth, the suppliant guest,
Regardless of the Lares’ guardian powers,
Now he slays, and now devours:
Hot from the coals, with odious jaws,
Human flesh the miscreant gnaws.
Ulysses, Chorus.
Uly. How, mighty Jove! shall I express myself?
The dreadful scenes I in the cave have viewed
Are so astonishing, they more resemble
Some fable than the actions of a man.
Chor. What now, Ulysses, on your loved companions
Feasts this most impious Cyclops?
Uly. Two, the fattest,
Having well viewed and poised them in his hands——
Chor. How did you bear, O miserable man,
These cruel outrages?
Uly. Soon as we entered
The rocky cave, he lighted first the fire,
On the wide blaze heaped trunks of lofty oaks,
A load sufficient for three wains to bear;
Then near the flaming hearth, upon the ground,
Arranged his couch of pine leaves, filled a bowl,
Holding about ten firkins, with the milk
Of heifers, and beside it placed a jug
Adorned with ivy, the circumference seemed
Three spacious ells, the depth no less than four:
Then made his cauldron bubble, and reached down
Spits burnt at the extremities, and polished
Not with a knife, but hatchets; Ætna furnished
Such instruments for sacrifice, the stems
Of thorn. No sooner had the hellish cook
Finished his preparations, than he seized
Two of my valiant comrades, whom he slew
With calm deliberation; one he cast
Into the hollow cauldron; from the ground
Then lifting up his fellow by the foot
Dashed out his brains against the pointed rock;
Severing his flesh with an enormous knife,
Part at the fire he roasted, and to boil,
His other joints into the cauldron threw.
But I, though from these eyes full many a tear
Burst forth, approached the Cyclops, and on him
Attended, while my friends, like timorous birds
Lurked in the distant crannies of the rock,
And all the blood forsook their pallid frame.
When sated with his feast the monster lay
Supine, and snored, a thought by Heaven inspired
Entered this bosom; having filled a cup
With Maron’s juice unmingled, I to him
Bore it, that he might drink; and cried, “Behold,
O Cyclops, son of Neptune, how divine
The beverage which our Grecian vineyards yield
The stream of Bacchus.” But already glutted
With his abominable food, he seized
And emptied the whole bumper at one draught,
Then lifting up, in token of applause,
His hand: “O dearest stranger,” he exclaimed,
“To a delicious banquet thou hast added
Delicious wine.” Perceiving he grew merry
I plied him with a second cup, well knowing
That wine will stagger him: he soon shall feel
Such punishment as he deserves. He sung;
I poured forth more and more, to warm his bowels
With strong potations: ’midst my weeping crew
He makes the cave with unharmonious strains
Re-echo. But I silently came forth,
And, if ye give consent, design to save
You, and myself. Say, therefore, will ye fly
From this unsocial monster, and reside
With Grecian maids beneath the roofs of Bacchus?
Your sire within approves of these proposals:
But now grown feeble and o’ercharged with wine,
Attracted by the goblet, as if birdlime
Had smeared his wings, he wavers. But with me
Do thou preserve thyself, for thou art young:
And I to Bacchus, to thy ancient friend
Far different from this Cyclops, will restore thee.
Chor. My dearest friend, O could we see that day,
And ’scape yon impious monster! for we long
Have been deprived of the enlivening bowl,
Nor entertain a single hope of freedom.
Uly. Now hear the means by which I can requite
This odious savage, and thou too mayst ’scape
From servitude.
Chor. Speak, for we should not hear
The sound of Asia’s harp with more delight,
Than the glad tidings of the Cyclops’ death.
Uly. By wine enlivened, he resolves to go
And revel with his brethren.
Chor. I perceive
You mean to seize and kill him when alone,
By some enchantment, or to dash him headlong
From the steep rock.
Uly. I have no such design
As these: on craft alone my plan depends.
Chor. How then will you proceed? For we long since
Have heard that you for wisdom are renowned.
Uly. I will deter him from the feast, and say
He must not portion out among the Cyclops
This liquor, but reserve it for himself
And lead a joyous life: when overcome
By Bacchus’ gifts he sleeps, this sword shall point
An olive pole, which to my purpose suited
Lies in the cave: I in the fire will heat,
And, when it flames, direct the hissing brand
Full on the Cyclops’ forehead, to extinguish
The orb of sight. As when some artist frames
A nautic structure, he by thongs directs
The ponderous auger: thus will I whirl round
Within the Cyclops’ eye the kindled staff,
And scorch his visual nerve.
Chor. Ho! I rejoice;
This blest invention almost makes me frantic.
Uly. Thee, and thy friends, and thy decrepit sire,
This done, aboard my vessel will I place,
And from this region with a double tier
Of oars convey.
Chor. But is it possible
That I, as if dread Jove were my confederate,
Shall guide the well-poised brand, and of his eyesight
Deprive the monster? For I wish to share
In such assassination.
Uly. I expect
Your aid: the brand is weighty, and requires
Our social efforts.
Chor. I’d sustain a load
Equal to what a hundred teams convey,
Could I dash out the cursed Cyclops’ eye
E’en as a swarm of wasps.
Uly. Be silent now;
(Ye know my stratagem) and at my bidding
To those who o’er th’ adventurous scheme preside
Yield prompt obedience: for I scorn to leave
My friends within, and save this single life.
True, ’scape I might, already having passed
The cavern’s deep recess: but it were mean
If I should extricate myself alone,
False to the faithful partners of my voyage.
[Exit Ulysses.
Chor. Who first, who next, with steadfast hand
Ordained to guide the flaming brand,
The Cyclops’ radiant eye shall pierce?
1st Semichor. Silence! for from within a song
Bursts on my ear in tuneless verse,
Insensate minstrel, doomed ere long
This luxurious meal to rue,
He staggers from yon rocky cave.
Him let us teach who never knew
How at the banquet to behave,
Outrageous and unmannered hind,
Soon shall he totally be blind.
2nd Semichor. Thrice blest is he, in careless play
’Midst Bacchus’ orgies ever gay,
Stretched near the social board whence glides
The vine’s rich juice in purple tides,
Who fondly clasps with eager arms
The consenting virgin’s charms;
Rich perfumes conspire to shed
Sweetest odours on his head,
While enamoured of the fair
He wantons with her auburn hair.
But hark! for surely ’tis our mate
Exclaiming, “Who will ope the gate?”
Polypheme, Ulysses, Silenus, Chorus.
Pol. Ha! ha! I am replete with wine, the banquet
Hath cheered my soul: like a well-freighted ship
My stomach’s with abundant viands stowed
Up to my very chin. This smiling turf
Invites me to partake a vernal feast
With my Cyclopean brothers. Stranger, bring
That vessel from the cave.
[Exit Ulysses.
Chor. With bright-eyed grace
Our master issues from his spacious hall;
(Some god approves—the kindled torch—) that form
Equals the lustre of a blooming nymph
Fresh from the dripping caverns of the main.
Soon shall the variegated wreath adorn
Your temples.
Uly. [returning.] Hear me, Cyclops; well I know
Th’ effect of this potation, Bacchus’ gift,
Which I to you dispensed.
Pol. Yet say what sort
Of god is Bacchus by his votaries deemed?
Uly. The greatest source of pleasure to mankind.
Pol. I therefore to my palate find it sweet.
Uly. A god like this to no man will do wrong.
Pol. But in a bottle how can any god
Delight to dwell?
Uly. In whatsoever place
We lodge him, the benignant power resides.
Pol. The skins of goats are an unseemly lodging
For deities.
Uly. If you admire the wine,
Why quarrel with its case?
Pol. Those filthy hides
I utterly detest, but love the liquor.
Uly. Stay here; drink, drink, O Cyclops, and be gay.
Pol. This luscious beverage, must I not impart
To cheer my brothers?
Uly. Keep it to yourself
And you shall seem more honourable.
Pol. More useful,
If I distribute largely to my friends.
Uly. Broils, taunts, and discord from the banquet rise.
Pol. Though I am fuddled, no man dares to touch me.
Uly. He who hath drunk too freely, O my friend,
Ought to remain at home.
Pol. Devoid of reason
Is he who when he drinks pays no regard
To mirth and to good-fellowship.
Uly. More wise,
O’ercharged with wine, who ventures not abroad.
Pol. Shall we stay here? What think’st thou, O Silenus?
Sil. With all my heart. What need, for our carousals,
Of a more numerous company?
Pol. The ground
Beneath our feet, a flowery turf adorns.
Sil. O how delightful ’tis to drink, and bask
Here in the sunshine: on this grassy couch
Beside me take your seat.
Pol. Why dost thou place
The cup behind my elbow?
Sil. Lest some stranger
Should come and snatch the precious boon away.
Pol. Thou mean’st to tope clandestinely: between us
Here let it stand. O stranger, by what name
Say shall I call thee?
Uly. Noman is my name.
But for what favour shall I praise your kindness?
Pol. The last of all the crew will I devour.
Uly. A wondrous privilege is this, O Cyclops,
Which on the stranger you bestow.
Pol. What mean’st thou?
Ha! art thou drinking up the wine by stealth?
Sil. Only the gentle Bacchus gave that kiss,
Because I look so blooming.
Pol. Thou shalt weep,
Because thy lips were to the wine applied,
Nor did it seek thy mouth.
Sil. Not thus, by Jove;
I drank because the generous god of wine
Declared that he admired me for my beauty.
Pol. Pour forth; give me a bumper.
Sil. I must taste
To see what mixture it requires.
Pol. Damnation!
Give it me pure.
Sil. Not so, the heavens forbid!
Till you the wreath bind on your ample front,
And I again have tasted.
Pol. What a knave
Is this my cupbearer!
Sil. Accuse me not;
The wine is sweet: you ought to wipe your mouth
Before you drink.
Pol. My lips and beard are clean.
Sil. Loll thus upon your elbow with a grace,
Drink as you see me drink, and imitate
My every gesture.
Pol. What art thou about?
Sil. I swallowed then a most delicious bumper.
Pol. Take thou the cask, O stranger, and perform
The office of my cupbearer.
Uly. These hands
Have been accustomed to the pleasing office.
Pol. Now pour it forth.
Uly. Be silent: I obey.
Pol. Thou hast proposed a difficult restraint
To him who largely drinks.
Uly. Now drain the bowl;
Leave nought behind: the toper must not prate
Before his liquor’s ended.
Pol. In the vine
There’s wisdom.
Uly. When to plenteous food you add
An equal share of liquor, and well drench
The throat beyond what thirst demands, you sink
Into sweet sleep: but if you leave behind
Aught of th’ unfinished beverage in your cup,
Bacchus will scorch your entrails.
Pol. ’Tis a mercy
How I swam out; the very heavens whirl round
Mingled with earth. I view Jove’s throne sublime,
And the whole synod of encircling gods.
Were all the Graces to solicit me,
I would not kiss them: Ganymede himself
Appears in matchless beauty.
Sil. I, O Cyclops,
Am Jove’s own Ganymede.
Pol. By Heaven thou art!
Whom from the realms of Dardanus I bore.
[Exit Polypheme.
Sil. Ruin awaits me.
Chor. Dost thou loathe him now?
Sil. Ah me! I from this sleep shall soon behold
The most accursed effects.
[Exit Silenus.
Uly. Come on, ye sons
Of Bacchus, generous youths; for soon dissolved
In slumber shall the monster from those jaws
Vomit forth flesh, within the hall now smokes
The brand, and nought remains but to burn out
The Cyclops’ eye: act only like a man.
Chor. The firmness of my soul shall equal rocks
And adamant. But go into the cave
With speed, before tumultuous sounds assail
Our aged father’s ears; for to effect
Your purpose, all is ready.
Uly. Vulcan, king
Of Ætna, from this impious pest, who haunts
Thy sacred mountain, free thyself at once,
By burning out his glaring eye; and thou
Nurtured by sable night, O sleep, invade
With thy resistless force this beast abhorred
By Heaven; nor after all the glorious deeds
Achieved at Ilion, with his faithful sailors,
Destroy Ulysses’ self, by him who heeds
Nor god nor mortal. Else must we hold fortune
A goddess, and all other deities
Inferior to resistless fortune’s power.
[Exit Ulysses.
Chor. The neck of him who slays his guest,
With burning pincers shall be prest,
And fire bereaving him of sight
Soon shall destroy that orb of light.
Within the embers near at hand
Lies concealed a smoking brand,
Torn from its parental tree.
Maron, we depend on thee;
May th’ exasperated foe
With success direct the blow!
May the Cyclops lose his eye,
And curse his ill-timed jollity!
Thee, Bromius, how I long to meet
Thy front adorned with ivy twine;
Leaving this abhorred retreat.
Ah, when shall such delight be mine?
Ulysses, Chorus.
Uly. Be silent, O ye savages, restrain
Those clamorous tongues: by Heaven ye shall not breathe,
Nor wink your eyes, nor cough, lest ye awaken
This pest, the Cyclops, ere he of his eyesight
Is by the fire bereft.
Chor. We will be silent,
And in our jaws confine the very air.
Uly. The ponderous weapon seize with dauntless hands,
Entering the cavern; for ’tis fully heated.
Chor. Will you not give directions who shall first
Manage the glowing lever, and burn out
The Cyclops’ eye, that in one common fortune
We all may share.
1st Semichor. We who before the portals
Are stationed, are not tall enough to drive
Full on its destined mark the hissing brand.
2nd Semichor. But I am with a sudden lameness seized.
1st Semichor. The same calamity which you experience
To me hath also happened; for my feet
Are by convulsions tortured, though the cause
I know not.
Uly. If ye feel such dreadful spasms,
How can ye stand?
Chor. Our eyes are also filled
With dust or ashes.
Uly. These allies of mine
Are worthless cowards.
Chor. We forsooth want courage
Because we feel compassion for our shoulders,
Nor would be beaten till our teeth drop out.
But I a magic incantation know,
Devised by Orpheus, which hath such effect,
That of its own accord the brand shall pierce
The skull of him, the one-eyed son of earth.
Uly. Long have I known ye are by nature such;
But more than ever do I know you now.
On my own friends I therefore must rely.
Yet if thou hast no vigour in that arm,
Exhort my drooping friends to act with valour
And let thy counsels aid the bold emprise.
[Exit Ulysses.
Chor. Such be my province: we this Carian’s life
Will hazard. But my counsels shall induce them
To burn the Cyclops. Ho! with courage whirl
The brand, delay not to scorch out the eye
Of him who banquets on the stranger’s flesh.
With fire assail the savage, pierce the front
Of Ætna’s shepherd, lest, with anguish stung,
On you he perpetrate some deed of horror.
Pol. [within.] Ah me! by burning coals I am deprived
Of eyesight.
Chor. That was a melodious pæan:
To me, O Cyclops, sing th’ enchanting strain.
Polypheme, Chorus.
Pol. Ah, how am I insulted and destroyed!
Yet shall ye never from this hollow rock
Escape triumphant, O ye things of nought:
For in my station rooted, where this cleft
Opens a door, will I spread forth my hands
And stop your passage!
Chor. Ha! what means these outcries,
O Cyclops?
Pol. I am ruined.
Chor. You appear
To have much been abused.
Pol. Deplorably.
Chor. When fuddled, did you fall ’mid burning coals?
Pol. Noman hath ruined me.
Chor. To you then no one
Hath offered any wrong.
Pol. These lids hath Noman
Deprived of sight.
Chor. You therefore are not blind.
Pol. Would thou couldst see as little.
Chor. How can no man
Put out your eye?
Pol. Thou art disposed to jest.
But where is Noman?
Chor. He is nowhere, Cyclops.
Pol. That execrable stranger, mark me well,
Is author of my ruin, who produced
The fraudful draught, and burned my visual nerves.
Chor. Wine is invincible.
Pol. By all the gods,
Answer me I conjure you; did they fly,
Or are they here within?
Chor. They on the top
Of yonder rock which screens them from your reach,
In silence take their stand.
Pol. But on which side?
Chor. Your right.
Pol. Where, where?
Chor. Upon that very rock.
Have you yet caught them?
Pol. To mischance succeeds
Mischance; I have fallen down and cracked my skull.
Chor. They ’scape you now.
Pol. Ye misinformed me sure;
They are not here.
Chor. I say not that they are.
Pol. Where then?
Chor. They wheel around you on your left.
Pol. Ah me! I am derided, ye but mock
At my affliction.
Chor. They are there no longer:
But Noman stands before you.
Pol. O thou villain,
Where art thou?
Ulysses, Polypheme, Chorus.
Uly. Keeping cautiously aloof,
Thus I, Ulysses, guard my threatened life.
Pol. What saidst thou? Wherefore hast thou changed thy name
T’ assume a new one?
Uly. Me my father named
Ulysses. It was destined you should suffer
A just requital for your impious feast;
For I in vain had with consuming flames
Laid Ilion waste, had I forborne t’ avenge
On you the murder of my valiant friends.
Pol. Now is that ancient oracle, alas!
Accomplished, which foretold, that I by thee,
On thy return from Troy, should be deprived
Of sight: but that thou also for a deed
So cruel, shalt be punished, and full long
Endure the beating of tempestuous waves.
Uly. Go weep, my actions justify these words.
But to the shore I haste; and to my country
Will steer the vessel o’er Sicilia’s waves.
Pol. Thou shalt not; with this fragment of the rock
Hurled at thy head, thee and thy perjured crew
Will I demolish: for I yet, though blind,
Can mount the cliff which overhangs the port,
And in its wonted crannies fix my steps.
Chor. But we, blest partners in Ulysses’ voyage,
Henceforth the laws of Bacchus will obey.