we suffer much, but shall not seek
The shades, ere yet our destined hour arrive.
The shades, ere yet our destined hour arrive.
Odyssey - Cowper
Proceeding thence, we sigh'd, and roamed the waves,
Glad that we lived, but sorrowing for the slain.
We came to the AEaean isle; there dwelt
The awful Circe, Goddess amber-hair'd,
Deep-skill'd in magic song, sister by birth
Of the all-wise AEaetes; them the Sun,
Bright luminary of the world, begat
On Perse, daughter of Oceanus. 170
Our vessel there, noiseless, we push'd to land
Within a spacious haven, thither led
By some celestial Pow'r. We disembark'd,
And on the coast two days and nights entire
Extended lay, worn with long toil, and each
The victim of his heart-devouring woes.
Then, with my spear and with my faulchion arm'd,
I left the ship to climb with hasty steps
An airy height, thence, hoping to espie
Some works of man, or hear, perchance, a voice. 180
Exalted on a rough rock's craggy point
I stood, and on the distant plain, beheld
Smoke which from Circe's palace through the gloom
Of trees and thickets rose. That smoke discern'd,
I ponder'd next if thither I should haste,
Seeking intelligence. Long time I mused,
But chose at last, as my discreter course,
To seek the sea-beach and my bark again,
And, when my crew had eaten, to dispatch
Before me, others, who should first enquire. 190
But, ere I yet had reach'd my gallant bark,
Some God with pity viewing me alone
In that untrodden solitude, sent forth
An antler'd stag, full-sized, into my path.
His woodland pastures left, he sought the stream,
For he was thirsty, and already parch'd
By the sun's heat. Him issuing from his haunt,
Sheer through the back beneath his middle spine,
I wounded, and the lance sprang forth beyond.
Moaning he fell, and in the dust expired. 200
Then, treading on his breathless trunk, I pluck'd
My weapon forth, which leaving there reclined,
I tore away the osiers with my hands
And fallows green, and to a fathom's length
Twisting the gather'd twigs into a band,
Bound fast the feet of my enormous prey,
And, flinging him athwart my neck, repair'd
Toward my sable bark, propp'd on my lance,
Which now to carry shoulder'd as before
Surpass'd my pow'r, so bulky was the load. 210
Arriving at the ship, there I let fall
My burthen, and with pleasant speech and kind,
Man after man addressing, cheer'd my crew.
My friends!
we suffer much, but shall not seek
The shades, ere yet our destined hour arrive.
Behold a feast! and we have wine on board--
Pine not with needless famine! rise and eat.
I spake; they readily obey'd, and each
Issuing at my word abroad, beside
The galley stood, admiring, as he lay, 220
The stag, for of no common bulk was he.
At length, their eyes gratified to the full
With that glad spectacle, they laved their hands,
And preparation made of noble cheer.
That day complete, till set of sun, we spent
Feasting deliciously without restraint,
And quaffing generous wine; but when the sun
Went down, and darkness overshadow'd all,
Extended, then, on Ocean's bank we lay;
And when Aurora, daughter of the dawn, 230
Look'd rosy forth, convening all my crew
To council, I arose, and thus began.
My fellow-voyagers, however worn
With num'rous hardships, hear! for neither West
Know ye, nor East, where rises, or where sets
The all-enlight'ning sun. But let us think,
If thought perchance may profit us, of which
Small hope I see; for when I lately climb'd
Yon craggy rock, plainly I could discern
The land encompass'd by the boundless Deep. 240
The isle is flat, and in the midst I saw
Dun smoke ascending from an oaken bow'r.
So I, whom hearing, they all courage lost,
And at remembrance of Antiphatas
The Laestrygonian, and the Cyclops' deeds,
Ferocious feeder on the flesh of man,
Mourn'd loud and wept, but tears could nought avail.
Then numb'ring man by man, I parted them
In equal portions, and assign'd a Chief
To either band, myself to these, to those 250
Godlike Eurylochus. This done, we cast
The lots into the helmet, and at once
Forth sprang the lot of bold Eurylochus.
He went, and with him of my people march'd
Twenty and two, all weeping; nor ourselves
Wept less, at separation from our friends.
Low in a vale, but on an open spot,
They found the splendid house of Circe, built
With hewn and polish'd stones; compass'd she dwelt
By lions on all sides and mountain-wolves 260
Tamed by herself with drugs of noxious pow'rs.