Sirene, Skila in govedo boga Sonca

Besedilo

Sirene, Skila in govedo boga Sonca

When our ship had left the stream of the river Ocean and reached the waves of the open sea and the island of Aeaea, where early-born Dawn has her home and dancing grounds and the Sun rises, we beached her on the sand and stepped ashore beside the breaking surf. There we fell asleep and waited for divine Dawn.

When early-born, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, I sent my companions ahead to Circe’s house to bring back the body of dead Elpenor. We quickly cut logs and, on the furthest jutting headland, performed his funeral rites, grieving and shedding warm tears.

When the body and the dead man’s armor had been burned, we heaped up a mound, set a stone upon it, and planted his well-shaped oar on the mound’s highest point. We were busy with these tasks, but Circe had not failed to learn of our return from Hades. She dressed and came to us at once, and her handmaids came with her, carrying bread, abundant meat, and glowing red wine.

The radiant goddess stood among us and said, “Reckless men, who have gone down alive into the house of Hades! Twice you will die, while other mortals die but once. Come now, eat your food and drink your wine here all day long. At the first light of dawn you shall sail, and I will show you the way and explain each danger, so that no cruel and deadly scheme may bring you suffering, on land or sea.”

So she spoke, and our proud hearts consented. All that day until the sun went down we sat feasting on abundant meat and sweet wine. When the sun had set and darkness came, the others lay down beside the ship’s stern cables. But she took me by the hand, led me apart from my dear companions, seated me, and lay down beside me, questioning me about everything. I told her the whole story in its proper order.

Then lady Circe spoke to me: “All these trials, then, are over. Now listen to what I tell you, and a god himself will bring it back to your mind.

“First you will come to the Sirens, who bewitch every man who reaches them. Whoever draws near unwittingly and hears the Sirens’ voices will never return home to have his wife and little children stand beside him, rejoicing. The Sirens bewitch him with their clear song as they sit in a meadow, and all around them lies a great heap of rotting men’s bones, with the skin shriveling upon them.

“Row past them, and knead honey-sweet wax and smear it over your companions’ ears, so that none of the others may hear. But if you wish to listen yourself, let them bind you hand and foot in the swift ship, upright against the mast’s base, and fasten the ropes to the mast itself, so that you may hear the Sirens’ voices and take your pleasure.

“If you beg your companions to release you and order them to do so, let them bind you then with still more ropes. But when your companions have rowed beyond them, I can no longer tell you exactly which of two ways your course should take. You must decide that in your own heart. I will describe them both.

“On one side are overhanging rocks, against which the great waves of dark-eyed Amphitrite roar. The blessed gods call these the Wandering Rocks. Not even winged creatures pass that way unharmed, not even the timid doves that carry ambrosia to Father Zeus. The smooth rock always takes one of them, and the Father sends another to keep their number whole.

“No ship of men that has approached them has ever escaped. The sea’s waves and storms of deadly fire carry away together the ships’ planks and the bodies of their crews. Only one seafaring ship has sailed past them: Argo, known to all, on her voyage home from Aeetes.

“Even her the waves would soon have dashed against those mighty rocks, had Hera not guided her through, for Jason was dear to her. On the other route stand two crags. One reaches into the broad sky with its sharp peak, and a dark cloud surrounds it. That cloud never lifts, nor does clear sky ever lie about its summit, in summer or in autumn.

“No mortal man could climb it or gain a foothold there, even if he had twenty hands and twenty feet: the rock is smooth, as though polished all around. Halfway up the cliff there is a murky cave, facing westward toward Erebus. That is the side, glorious Odysseus, along which you must steer your hollow ship.

“Not even a man in his prime, shooting a bow from his hollow ship, could reach that cavern with an arrow. There Scylla lives, yelping terribly. Her voice is no louder than a newborn puppy’s, but she herself is a monstrous evil. No one could rejoice at the sight of her, not even a god who met her face to face.

“She has twelve feet, all misshapen, and six immensely long necks, each bearing a dreadful head. In each mouth are three close, crowded rows of teeth, full of black death.

“Her middle is sunk within the hollow cave, but she thrusts her heads out of that fearful chasm and fishes there, groping about the rock for dolphins and sea dogs, or any greater beast she may catch among the countless creatures that loud-groaning Amphitrite feeds.

“No sailors can ever boast that they have passed her unharmed in their ship. With each head she snatches a man and carries him off from the dark-prowed vessel. The other crag, Odysseus, you will see is lower.

“They stand close together: you could shoot an arrow from one to the other. On the lower grows a great wild fig tree, thick with leaves. Beneath it divine Charybdis sucks down the dark water. Three times a day she spews it up, and three times she sucks it down with a dreadful roar. May you never be there when she swallows! Not even the Earth-shaker could save you from destruction then.

“Instead, draw very close to Scylla’s crag and drive your ship swiftly past. It is far better to mourn six companions from your ship than all of them together.” So she spoke, and I answered her: “Goddess, tell me truly: is there any way I might escape deadly Charybdis and still fight off the other when she attacks my companions?”

So I spoke, and the radiant goddess answered at once: “Stubborn man! Must your thoughts still run on battle and hardship? Will you not yield even to the immortal gods? She is no mortal creature, but an undying evil, dreadful, cruel, savage, and impossible to fight. There is no defense against her. Flight is your best hope.

“If you linger beside the rock to arm yourself, I fear she will spring out again and catch you with all six heads, seizing as many men a second time. Row past with all your might, and call upon Crataeis, Scylla’s mother, who bore her to be a scourge to mortals. She will restrain her from attacking you again.

“You will come to the island of Thrinacia, where many cattle and sturdy sheep of the Sun graze: seven herds of cattle and as many lovely flocks of sheep, fifty in each. They bear no young and never die. Goddesses tend them, the lovely-haired nymphs Phaethusa and Lampetia, whom divine Neaera bore to Helios Hyperion.

“When their lady mother had borne and reared them, she sent them far away to live on the island of Thrinacia and guard their father’s sheep and curving-horned cattle. If you leave these unharmed and keep your mind on your homecoming, you may yet reach Ithaca, though you will suffer greatly. But if you harm them, I foretell destruction for your ship and your companions. And even if you yourself escape, you will come home late and in misery, having lost all your companions.”

So she spoke, and at once Dawn came on her golden throne. Then the radiant goddess went away into the island, while I made my way to the ship and urged my companions to go aboard and loose the stern cables. They quickly boarded and took their places at the oarlocks.

Seated in their rows, they struck the gray sea with their oars. And behind our dark-prowed ship, lovely-haired Circe, the dread goddess with a mortal’s voice, sent a fair wind to fill our sails, a welcome companion.

When we had made everything shipshape, we sat down, and the wind and helmsman guided her. Then, with an aching heart, I spoke to my companions: “Friends, it is not right that only one or two of us should know the prophecies that Circe, the radiant goddess, gave me. I will tell you, so that we may meet our death with knowledge, or escape death and doom by avoiding them.

“First she warned us to shun the voices of the wondrous Sirens and their flowery meadow. She told me that I alone might hear their voices. But you must bind me with painful bonds, so that I stay firmly where I am, upright against the mast’s base, and fasten the ropes to the mast itself.

“If I beg you to release me and command you to do so, you must bind me tighter with still more ropes.” As I was telling my companions all these things, our well-built ship sped swiftly toward the Sirens’ island, driven by a gentle wind.

Then suddenly the wind dropped and there was a breathless calm: a god had lulled the waves to sleep. My companions rose and furled the sails, stowed them in the hollow ship, then sat down at the oars and whitened the water with their polished blades of fir.

With my sharp bronze blade I cut a great round of wax into little pieces and kneaded them in my strong hands. The wax soon softened under the force of my fingers and the rays of lord Helios, Hyperion’s son. Going down the line, I stopped the ears of all my companions.

They bound me hand and foot in the ship, upright against the mast’s base, and fastened the ropes to the mast itself. Then they sat and struck the gray sea with their oars. When we were a shout’s distance away, speeding onward, the Sirens saw our swift ship drawing near and raised their clear song: “Come here, much-praised Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans! Bring your ship to a halt and listen to our voices.

“No man has ever sailed past this place in his black ship without first hearing the honey-sweet voices from our lips. He sails on delighted, and wiser than before. For we know all that the Argives and Trojans suffered on the broad plain of Troy by the gods’ will, and we know all that happens on the earth that feeds so many.”

So they sang in their beautiful voices, and my heart longed to listen. I nodded with my brows, ordering my companions to set me free, but they bent forward and rowed on. At once Perimedes and Eurylochus rose and bound me with more ropes, drawing them tighter.

When they had rowed beyond the Sirens and we could no longer hear their voices or their song, my faithful companions quickly removed the wax I had smeared over their ears and freed me from my bonds.

But as we left the island behind, I suddenly saw smoke and mighty surf, and heard a thundering roar. In their terror the oars flew from my companions’ hands and clattered into the current. The ship stopped there, for their hands no longer drove the tapering oars.

I went through the ship, standing beside each man in turn and encouraging them with gentle words: “Friends, we are not strangers to suffering. This danger is surely no worse than when the Cyclops penned us in his hollow cave by brute force. Yet even from there we escaped through my courage, judgment, and cunning. One day, I think, we shall remember these dangers too.

“Come now, let us all do as I say. Sit at your oarlocks and strike the deep sea’s breaking waves with your oars. Perhaps Zeus will grant that we escape this destruction and come through alive. And you, helmsman, here are your orders. Take them to heart, for you hold the steering oars of our hollow ship.

“Keep the ship clear of that smoke and surf, and steer toward the crag, lest she slip away toward the other side before you know it and you bring us to ruin.” So I spoke, and they quickly obeyed.

But I said nothing of Scylla, that calamity against which nothing could be done, for fear my companions would stop rowing in terror and huddle together in the ship. Then I forgot Circe’s painful warning: she had forbidden me to arm myself. I put on my splendid armor, took two long spears in my hands, and climbed onto the foredeck. It was there that I expected rocky Scylla to appear first and bring disaster upon my companions.

But I could see her nowhere, and my eyes grew weary as I searched the misty cliff on every side. We sailed into the narrow strait lamenting. On one side was Scylla, and on the other divine Charybdis terribly sucked down the salt water of the sea.

Whenever she spewed it out, the whole sea seethed and churned like a cauldron over a blazing fire, and spray shot high above the tops of both crags. But whenever she swallowed the sea’s salt water, the whole whirlpool lay exposed within; the rock roared terribly around it, and below the seabed showed dark with sand. Pale terror seized the men.

While we stared at her, fearing destruction, Scylla snatched six of my companions out of the hollow ship, the strongest and most capable men I had. When I turned to look over the swift ship and my companions, I saw their hands and feet already high above me as they were lifted into the air. In their anguish they cried out to me, calling me by name for the last time.

As a fisherman on a jutting rock uses a long rod to cast bait for little fish, letting down into the sea the horn of an ox from the fields, then catches a fish and flings it ashore writhing, so they were lifted writhing toward the rocks. There at her doorway she devoured them as they screamed and stretched their hands toward me in their dreadful struggle. Of all the things my eyes have witnessed in my sufferings as I sought a passage through the sea, that was the most pitiful.

When we had escaped the rocks and dreadful Charybdis and Scylla, we soon reached the god’s beautiful island. There grazed the fine broad-browed cattle and many sturdy sheep of Helios Hyperion.

While I was still at sea in the black ship, I heard the lowing of cattle being driven into their folds and the bleating of sheep. Then the words of the blind prophet, Theban Teiresias, came into my mind, and those of Circe of Aeaea, who had warned me so insistently to avoid the island of the Sun who brings joy to mortals.

Then, with an aching heart, I spoke to my companions: “Listen to me, my friends, for all your suffering, while I tell you the prophecies of Teiresias and Circe of Aeaea. She warned me again and again to avoid the island of the Sun who brings joy to mortals, saying that there the most terrible disaster awaited us.

“So row the black ship on past the island.” At my words their hearts broke. Eurylochus answered me at once with bitter words: “You are a hard man, Odysseus. Your strength is beyond measure and your limbs never tire. Surely you are made entirely of iron, since you will not let your companions, worn out with toil and sleepiness, set foot on land. Here on this sea-girt island we could make ourselves a good supper. Instead you order us to leave it and wander through the swift night over the misty sea.

“At night fierce winds arise, the ruin of ships. How could anyone escape sheer destruction if a squall suddenly struck, whether from the South Wind or the cruel West Wind, the winds most likely to shatter a ship despite the sovereign gods?

“For now, let us yield to the black night and make our supper, staying beside the swift ship. At dawn we will go aboard and put out into the open sea.” So Eurylochus spoke, and the other companions agreed.

Then I knew that a god was planning our destruction, and I addressed him with winged words: “Eurylochus, you are forcing me, one man against you all. But come now, every one of you must swear a solemn oath: if we find a herd of cattle or a great flock of sheep, let no one in his wicked recklessness kill a cow or a sheep. Be content to eat the food immortal Circe gave us.”

So I spoke, and they swore at once as I commanded. When they had sworn and completed the oath, we brought our well-built ship to rest in a sheltered harbor near a spring of fresh water. My companions disembarked and skillfully prepared their supper.

When they had satisfied their desire for food and drink, they remembered their dear companions whom Scylla had snatched from the hollow ship and eaten, and they wept. As they wept, sweet sleep came upon them.

When the last third of the night had come and the stars had moved on, Zeus the cloud-gatherer raised a raging wind with a tremendous storm. He covered land and sea alike with clouds, and darkness swept down from heaven.

When early-born, rosy-fingered Dawn appeared, we hauled the ship into a hollow cave and made her fast. There were lovely dancing grounds and seats of the nymphs. Then I called an assembly and spoke among the men: “Friends, we have food and drink in the swift ship. Let us keep our hands off the cattle, lest we come to harm. These cattle and sturdy sheep belong to a dread god, the Sun, who sees all things and hears all things.”

So I spoke, and their proud hearts consented. But for a whole month the South Wind blew without ceasing, and no other wind arose except the East and South. As long as the men had bread and red wine, they kept their hands off the cattle, longing to preserve their lives.

But when all the ship’s provisions were exhausted, necessity drove them to wander in search of prey: fish and birds, whatever might come to hand, fishing with bent hooks, while hunger gnawed their bellies. Then I went inland to pray to the gods, hoping one of them might show me a way home.

When I had walked through the island and left my companions behind, I washed my hands in a place sheltered from the wind and prayed to all the gods who dwell on Olympus. But they poured sweet sleep over my eyelids.

Meanwhile Eurylochus began giving my companions evil counsel: “Listen to me, my friends, for all your suffering. Every kind of death is hateful to wretched mortals, but to die of hunger and meet one’s fate that way is most pitiful of all.

“Come, let us drive off the best of the Sun’s cattle and sacrifice them to the immortals who hold the broad heavens. If we reach Ithaca, our native land, we will at once build a rich temple to Helios Hyperion and fill it with many splendid offerings.

“But if, in anger over his straight-horned cattle, he chooses to destroy our ship, and the other gods support him, I would rather gulp down a wave and lose my life at one stroke than waste away slowly on this deserted island.”

So Eurylochus spoke, and the other companions agreed. At once they drove off the best of the Sun’s cattle from nearby, for the fine broad-browed cattle with their curving horns were grazing not far from the dark-prowed ship. They stood around them and prayed to the gods, plucking tender leaves from a tall oak, since there was no white barley left aboard the well-benched ship.

When they had prayed, slaughtered the cattle, and skinned them, they cut out the thighbones, wrapped them in a double layer of fat, and laid raw pieces of flesh upon them. They had no wine to pour over the burning sacrifice, but made libations with water and roasted all the inward parts.

When the thighbones were burned and they had tasted the inward parts, they cut up the rest and threaded it on spits. Then sweet sleep fled from my eyelids, and I set off toward the swift ship and the seashore.

As I drew near the curving ship, the sweet savor of roasting fat drifted around me. I groaned and cried aloud to the immortal gods: “Father Zeus, and all you other blessed gods who live forever, it was to my ruin that you lulled me into that merciless sleep!

“My companions, left behind, have devised a monstrous deed.” Meanwhile Lampetia of the flowing robe sped to Helios Hyperion with the news that we had killed his cattle. In anger he spoke at once to the immortals: “Father Zeus, and all you other blessed gods who live forever, punish the companions of Odysseus, Laertes’ son! In their insolence they have killed my cattle, in which I took delight whenever I climbed into the starry heavens and whenever I turned back from heaven toward the earth.

“If they do not pay me fitting compensation for my cattle, I will go down to Hades and shine among the dead.” Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him: “Sun, shine on among the immortals and upon mortal men over the grain-giving earth. Soon I shall strike their swift ship with a blazing thunderbolt and shatter it to pieces in the midst of the wine-dark sea.”

I heard these things from lovely-haired Calypso, who told me she had heard them herself from Hermes the messenger. When I came down to the ship and the sea, I stood beside one man after another and rebuked them. But we could find no remedy: the cattle were already dead.

Then the gods began to show them portents. The hides crawled, and the meat upon the spits lowed, both roasted and raw, with the voices of living cattle. For six days my faithful companions feasted on the best of the Sun’s cattle they had driven off. But when Zeus, son of Cronus, brought the seventh day, the storm wind ceased its raging. At once we went aboard, raised the mast, hoisted the white sails, and put out into the open sea.

When we had left the island and no other land was in sight, only sky and sea, the son of Cronus stationed a dark cloud over the hollow ship, and the sea grew black beneath it.

She had not run much further when the West Wind came shrieking in a mighty storm. The squall snapped both forestays of the mast, and the mast fell backward, spilling all the rigging into the bilge. In the stern it struck the helmsman on the head and crushed his skull to pieces. He plunged like a diver from the deck, and his proud spirit left his bones.

At the same moment Zeus thundered and hurled his bolt into the ship. She shook from end to end beneath the blow, filled with sulfurous fumes, and my companions were flung overboard. Like sea crows they drifted on the waves around the black ship, and the god took away their homecoming.

I kept moving through the ship until a wave tore her sides from the keel and carried it bare through the water, breaking the mast off against it. A backstay made of oxhide was still attached to the mast. With it I lashed keel and mast together, and, seated on them, I was borne along by the deadly winds.

Then the West Wind ceased its stormy raging, and the South Wind quickly followed, bringing grief to my heart, for it drove me back to measure the way to deadly Charybdis once more. All night I drifted, and at sunrise I reached Scylla’s crag and dreadful Charybdis.

She was sucking down the salt water of the sea. I sprang high toward the great wild fig tree and clung to it like a bat. There was nowhere to brace my feet firmly or climb up: the roots were far below, while the long, thick branches hung high overhead, overshadowing Charybdis.

I held on stubbornly, waiting for her to spew the mast and keel back out. Late they came, though I longed for them. At the hour when a man rises from the assembly to go to supper, after judging the many disputes of young men seeking justice, the timbers at last reappeared from Charybdis.

I let go with hands and feet and dropped from above, splashing into the water beside the long timbers. I climbed onto them and paddled with my hands. The father of gods and men did not allow Scylla to see me, or I could never have escaped sheer destruction.

For nine days I drifted from there, and on the tenth night the gods brought me to the island of Ogygia. There lives lovely-haired Calypso, the dread goddess with a mortal’s voice, who welcomed me with love and care. But why should I tell you this tale?

Only yesterday, here in your house, I told it to you and your noble wife. It is hateful to me to tell again a story already told in full.