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.