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(From The Odyssey, Book XII) Translated by W. C. Bryant
THERE is a pile | |
| Of beetling rocks, where roars the mighty surge | |
| Of dark-eyed Amphitrité; these are called | |
| The Wanderers by the blessed gods. No birds | |
| Can pass them safe, not even the timid doves, | 5 |
| Which bear ambrosia to our father Jove, | |
| But ever doth the slippery rock take off | |
| Some one, whose loss the god at once supplies, | |
| To keep their number full. To these no bark | |
| Guided by man has ever come, and left | 10 |
| The spot unwrecked; the billows of the deep | |
| And storms of fire in air have scattered wide | |
| Timbers of ships and bodies of drowned men. | |
| One only of the barks that plough the deep | |
| Has passed them safely,—Argo, known to all | 15 |
| By fame, when coming from Ææta home,— | |
| And her the billows would have dashed against | |
| The enormous rocks, if Juno, for the sake | |
| Of Jason, had not come to guide it through. | |
| “Two are the rocks; one lifts to the broad heaven | 20 |
| Its pointed summit, where a dark gray cloud | |
| Broods, and withdraws not; never is the sky | |
| Clear o’er that peak, not even in summer days | |
| Or autumn; nor can man ascend its steeps, | |
| Or venture down,—so smooth the sides, as if | 25 |
| Man’s art had polished them. There in the midst | |
| Upon the western side toward Erebus | |
| There yawns a shadowy cavern; thither thou, | |
| Noble Ulysses, steer thy bark, yet keep | |
| So far aloof that, standing on the deck, | 30 |
| A youth might send an arrow from a bow | |
| Just to the cavern’s mouth. There Scylla dwells, | |
| And fills the air with fearful yells; her voice | |
| The cry of whelps just littered, but herself | |
| A frightful prodigy,—a sight which none | 35 |
| Would care to look on, though he were a god. | |
| Twelve feet are hers, all shapeless; six long necks, | |
| A hideous head on each, and triple rows | |
| Of teeth, close-set and many, threatening death. | |
| And half her form is in the cavern’s womb, | 40 |
| And forth from that dark gulf her heads are thrust, | |
| To look abroad upon the rocks for prey,— | |
| Dolphin, or dogfish, or the mightier whale, | |
| Such as the murmuring Amphitrité breeds | |
| In multitudes. No mariner can boast | 45 |
| That he has passed by Scylla with a crew | |
| Unharmed; she snatches from the deck, and bears | |
| Away in each grim mouth, a living man. | |
| “Another rock, Ulysses, thou wilt see, | |
| Of lower height, so near her that a spear, | 50 |
| Cast by the hand, might reach it. On it grows | |
| A huge wild fig-tree with luxuriant leaves. | |
| Below, Charybdis, of immortal birth, | |
| Draws the dark water down; for thrice a day | |
| She gives it forth, and thrice with fearful whirl | 55 |
| She draws it in. O, be it not thy lot | |
| To come while the dark water rushes down! | |
| Even Neptune could not then deliver thee. | |
| Then turn thy course with speed toward Scylla’s rock, | |
| And pass that way; ’t were better far that six | 60 |
| Should perish from the ship than all be lost.” | |
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