Chapter X: Part 10

And last of all came Helen, and cried, “Many a year has passed since I came to Troy—would that I had died before! And never have I heard from thy lips one bitter word, and if ever husband’s sister, or sister-in-law, or mother-in-law—for Priam was ever gentle as a father—spake harshly to me, thou wouldst check them with thy grace and gracious words. Therefore I weep for thee; no one is left to be my friend in all the broad streets of Troy. All shun and hate me now.”

And all the people wailed reply.

Then Priam spake. “Go, my people, gather wood for the burial, and fear not any ambush of the Greeks, for Achilles promised that he would stay the war until the twelfth day should come.”

So for nine days the people gathered much wood, and on the tenth they laid Hector upon the pile, and lit fire beneath it. And when it was burnt they quenched the embers with wine. Then his brethren and comrades gathered together the white bones, and laid them in a chest of gold; and this they covered with purple robes and put in a great coffin, and laid upon it stones many and great. And over all they raised a mighty mound; and all the while the watchers watched, lest the Greeks should arise and slay them. Last of all was a great feast held in the palace of King Priam.

So they buried Hector, the tamer of horses.

THE WOODEN HORSE

By Grace Bigelow Patten

For nine long years the Greeks besieged Troy, but for all their plans and manœuvres the city held out against them. They pillaged and overran the neighboring towns but Troy stood fast.

Never were brave men pitted against a braver enemy. The lives of many heroes were sacrificed, Hector’s, the greatest of the Trojan champions, and the valiant Achilles among them, at whose loss the Greeks almost despaired. Force had failed. Their leader had fallen. They must outwit their enemy. With the aid of Ulysses they worked out an admirable plan.

Down came the tents of the main body of the army, there was clatter and jangle of departure and the Greeks swept down the slope to the sea and their ships, as though homeward bound. Afloat, they soon sailed out of sight behind a neighboring island and came to anchor.

The remainder of the army set to work with a will to build a gigantic wooden horse, his sides planked with pine, a huge, hollow horse, as full of peek holes as a colander and with ample room for a band of men to lie hidden within. When it was finished, Ulysses, Menelaus, Pyrrhus and a company of armed warriors entered the horse by means of a secret door and the remainder of the Grecian army sailed away.

On seeing them depart, the Trojans believed the Greeks had at last lost heart, and, with victorious, headlong delight they burst through the gates and swarmed over the plain into the abandoned camp. Looming down on them stood the great horse. Approaching it first with caution, they soon grew bolder and youths and maidens joined hands and danced around it. Many urged that it be drawn into the city. Others were afraid and said, “Burn it, sink it into the sea.” The priest Laocoön begged them to have nothing to do with it. “Are you mad? Have you not learned enough of Grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? For my part, I fear the Greeks even when they offer gifts.” With that he threw his great spear at the horse’s side, which gave forth a hollow sound.

At that moment there was an outcry, as some herdsmen brought before the chiefs a miserable, sullen-looking man whose hands were bound behind his back. He seemed to be the sole survivor of the Grecian army. With the assurance that his life would be spared if he spoke the truth, he tremblingly told them of his sufferings; that he was Sinon, a Greek, who, because of some grudge of Ulysses had been condemned to die as a sacrifice to the gods, of his escape and of his having hidden all night in a weedy lake and until his people were well at sea. All hearts warmed to him. The king ordered his hands unbound and bade him forget the Greeks and “be one of us.” “But tell me,” said the king, “why did you build this great horse?” The treacherous Sinon replied, “That is an offering to Minerva and made so huge to prevent its being carried into the city, for Calchas, the prophet, told us that if the Trojans took possession of it they would surely triumph over the Greeks.” Hearing this, the people were overjoyed, and, in spite of Laocoön’s pleading, began to plan how they might drag the horse into the city. Suddenly a shudder went through the crowd. Out from the surf tumbling along the beach, appeared two immense serpents; breast to breast, on they came, with heads reared high, hissing jaws and blazing blood-red eyes. Many fled in terror. Some were transfixed and stood with haggard faces as the great creatures swept up to Laocoön and his two young sons, enfolded them in their hideous coils, crushed them to earth, devoured them, then glided on to the citadel of Minerva and slipped beneath the feet of the goddess. Here was their omen! “The priest Laocoön has been judged according to his deeds!” they said, “for he cast his spear against this holy thing, and now the gods have slain him!” They at once began making a great opening in the wall. Hoisting levers were adjusted, wheels fastened to the great feet, and after wreathing the horse with green branches and flowers they began tugging and pushing it over the plain and into the city.

The day was given over to merrymaking and feasting; so secure did they feel that the great gates were left unguarded and that night while they slept deeply, care free for the first time in ten years, Sinon, the spy, unlocked the hidden door of the great horse. Cautiously, Ulysses, Menelaus and their men crept out, opened the gates of the city and gave the signal to their army. Silently the ships drew up and anchored and an armed multitude poured out into the night. Spears clashed, torches flared as the Greeks went plunging through the city in a hot frenzy of triumph. King Priam and many of his followers fell by the sword. Houses were ransacked of their jewels, golden bowls taken from the altars. The city was stripped of its treasures and then burned to its foundations. Sinon with his tale of suffering and false tears had touched the hearts of the Trojans and accomplished by strategy what a thousand ships and ten years’ siege had failed to do.

THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE OF THE GREEK HERO ULYSSES

FROM HOMER

THE LOTUS-EATERS

By Sir George W. Cox

Among the chiefs of the Greeks who fought before the walls of Troy, there was none who gained for himself a greater glory than Ulysses the son of Laertes.

Brave he was in battle, and steadfast in danger; but most of all did the Greeks seek his aid and counsel, when great things must be weighed and fixed. In every peril where there was need of the wise heart and the ready tongue, all hastened to Ulysses, and men felt that he did more to throw down the kingdom of Priam than the mightiest chieftains who fought only with sword and spear.

Yet, in the midst of all his toil and all his great exploits, the heart of Ulysses was far away in rocky Ithaca, where his wife Penelope dwelt with his young son Telemachus. Many a time, as the weary years of the war rolled on, he said within himself, “Ah, when will the strife be ended, and when shall we spread our sails to the breeze, and speed on our way homewards?”

At last the doom of Paris was accomplished, and the hosts of Agamemnon gave the city of Troy to fire and sword. Then Ulysses hastened to gather his men together, that they might go to their home in Ithaca; and they dragged the ships down to the sea from the trenches where they had so long lain idle.

But before they sat down to row the ship out to the deep water, Ulysses spake to them and said, “O friends, think now, each one of you, of his home, of his wife, and of his children. Ten times have summer and winter passed over us since we left them with cheerful hearts, thinking that in but a little time we should come back to them laden with glory and booty. Ten years have they mourned for us at home; and we, who set out for Troy in the vigor of our manhood, go back now with gray hairs, or bowed down with weary labor. Yet faint not, O friends, neither be dismayed. Think how they wait and long for you still at home, as we go from land to land in our voyage to rocky Ithaca, let not weariness weigh down your hearts, or things fair and beautiful lead you to seek for rest, till our ships are moored in the haven which we left ten years ago.”

With shouts of joy they sat down to their long oars; and when they had rowed the ships out into the open sea, they spread the white sails to the breeze, and watched the Ilian land as it faded away from their sight in the far distance.

For many a day they went towards the land of the setting sun, until a mighty wind from the north drove them to a strange country far out of their course to Ithaca. Fair it was and peaceful beyond all lands which they had seen. The sun looked down out of the cloudless heaven on fruits and flowers which covered the laughing earth. Far away beyond the lotus plains the blue hills glimmered in a dreamy haze. The trees bowed their heads in a peaceful slumber; and the lagging waves sank lazily to sleep upon the seashore. The summer breeze breathed its gentle whisper through the air, and the birds sang listlessly of their loves from the waving groves. Then said the men of Ulysses to one another, “Would that our wives and our children were here! Truly Ithaca is but a rough and barren land, and a sore grief it is to leave this happy shore to go home, and there find, it may be, that our children remember us no more.”

And Ulysses said within himself, “Surely some strange spell is on this fair land; almost might I long to sit down and sleep on the shore for ever; but Penelope waits for me in my home, and I cannot rest till I see her face once more.”

Then he bade three of his men go forth and ask the name of the land and of the men who lived in it. So they went slowly from the beach where the waves sang their lulling song to the sleepy flowers; and they wandered along the winding stream which came from the glimmering hills far away, till, deep down in a glen where the sun shed but half its light, they saw men and maidens under the shade of pleasant palm-trees. Before them was spread a banquet of rich and rosy fruit, and some were eating, and others lay asleep.

The men of Ulysses went up to them, and sat down by their side, for they feared them not, as men are wont to fear the people of a strange land. They asked not their name, for they remembered not the bidding of Ulysses; but they drank the dark wine and ate of the rosy fruit which the fair maidens held out to them. “Eat,” they said, “O strangers, of the fruit which kills all pain: surely ye are weary and your hearts are faint with sorrow, and your eyes are dim as with many tears. Eat of our fruit and forget your labors; for all who eat of it remember no more weary toil and strife and war.” So they ate of the fruit, and then over their senses stole softly a strange and wondrous sleep, so that they saw and heard and spake even while they slumbered. On their ears fell the echo of a dreamy music, and forms of maidens, fair as Venus when she rose from the sea foam, passed before their eyes; and they said one to another, “Here let us sit, and feast, and dream for ever.”

Long time Ulysses waited on the seashore, and less and less he marvelled that they came not back, for he felt that over his own heart the strange spell was falling: and he said, “Ah, Penelope, dearer to me than aught else on the wide earth, the gods envy me thy love; else would they not seek to beguile me thus in this strange land of dreams and slumber.”

He rose up, as one rises to go forth to battle, and went quickly on the path by which his men had gone before him. Presently he saw them in the deep dell, and the rich fruit of the lotus was in their hand. They called to Ulysses and said, “We have come to the land of the Lotus-eaters; sit thou down with us and eat of their fruit, and forget all thy cares for ever.”

But Ulysses answered not; and hastening back, he bade the others come with him and bind the three men, and carry them to the ship. “Heed not the people of the land,” he said, “nor touch their rosy fruit. It were a shame for men who have fought at Troy to slumber here like swine fattening for the slaughter.”

So they hastened and bound the three men who sat at the banquet of the Lotus-eaters; and they heeded not their words as they besought them to taste of the fruit and forget all their misery and trouble. And Ulysses hurried them back to the shore and made them drag down the ships into the sea and sit down to their long oars. “Hasten, friends, hasten,” he said, “from this land of dreams. Hither come the Lotus-eaters, and their soft voices will beguile our hearts if we tarry longer. They will tempt us to taste of their fruit; and then we shall seek no more to go back again to the land of toiling men.”

The dash of their oars broke the calm of the still air, and roused the waters from their slumber, as they toiled on their weary way.

ULYSSES AND THE CYCLOPS

By Sir George W. Cox

When the blue hills of the Lotus-land had faded away in the far distance, the ships of Ulysses went on merrily with a fresh breeze: and the men thought that they would soon come to rocky Ithaca, where their homes were. But Minerva was angry with Ulysses, and she asked Neptune, the lord of the sea, to send a great storm and scatter his ships. So the wind arose, and the waters of the sea began to heave and swell, and the sky was black with clouds and rain.

Many days and many nights the storm raged fiercely; and when it was over, Ulysses could only see four or five of all the ships which had sailed with him from Troy. The ships were drenched with the waves which had broken over them, and the men were wet and cold and tired; and they were glad indeed when they saw an island far away. So they sat down on the benches, and took the great oars and rowed the ships towards the shore; and as they came near, they saw that the island was very beautiful with cliffs and rocks, and bays for ships to take shelter from the sea.

They rowed into one of these quiet bays, where the water was always calm, and where there was no need to let down an anchor, or to tie the ship by ropes to the seashore, for the ship lay there quite still of itself. At the head of the bay a stream of fresh water trickled down from the cliffs, and ran close to the opening of a large cave, and near the cave some willow trees drooped their branches over the stream which ran down towards the sea.

So they made haste to go on shore; and when they had landed, they saw fine large plains on which corn might grow, but no one had taken the trouble to sow the seed; and sloping hills for the grapes to ripen on the vines, but none were planted on them. Ulysses marvelled at the people who lived there, because they had no corn and no vines, and he could see no houses, but only sheep and goats feeding on the hill-sides. So he took his bows and arrows, and shot many of the goats, and he and his men lay down on the ground and had a merry meal. When they had finished they fell asleep, and did not wake up till the morning showed its rosy light in the eastern sky.

Then Ulysses said that he would take some of his men and go to see who lived on the island, while the others remained in the ship close to the seashore. So they set out, and at last they came to the mouth of a great cave, where many sheep and goats were penned up in large folds. They could see no one in the cave or anywhere near it; and they waited a long while, but no one came. They lit a fire, and made themselves merry, as they ate the cheese and drank the milk which was stored up round the sides of the cave.

Suddenly they heard a great noise of heavy feet stamping on the ground. They were so frightened that they ran inside the cave, and crouched down at the end of it. Nearer and nearer came the Cyclops, and his tread almost made the earth shake. In he came, with many dry logs of wood on his back; and in came all the sheep, which he milked every evening; but the rams and the goats stayed outside. But if Ulysses and his men were afraid when they saw Polyphemus the Cyclops come in, they were much more afraid when he took up a great stone, which was almost as big as the mouth of the cave, and set it up against it for a door.

Then the men whispered to Ulysses and said, “Did we not beg and pray you not to come into the cave? But you would not listen to us; and now how are we to get out again? Why, two-and-twenty wagons would not be able to take away that huge stone from the mouth of the cave.” They were shut in now, and there was no use in thinking of their folly for coming in.

So there they lay, crouching in the corner of the cave, and trembling with fear lest Polyphemus should see them. But the Cyclops went on milking the sheep, then he put the milk into the bowls round the sides of the cave, and lit the fire to cook his meal. As the flames shot up from the burning wood to the roof of the cave, it showed him the forms of Ulysses and his companions, where they lay huddled together in the corner. He cried out to them with a loud voice, “Who are you that dare to come into the cave of Polyphemus? Are you come to rob me of my sheep, or my cheese and milk that I keep here?”

Then Ulysses said, “No; we are not come to do you harm: we are Greeks, who have been fighting at Troy to bring back Helen whom Paris stole away from Sparta, and we went there with the great king Agamemnon, whom everybody knows. We are on our way home to Ithaca; but Neptune sent a great storm, because Minerva was angry with me; and almost all our ships have been sunk in the sea, or broken to pieces on the rocks.”

When he had finished speaking, Polyphemus frowned savagely and said, “I know nothing of Agamemnon, or Paris, or Helen;” and he seized two of the men, and broke their heads against the stones, and cooked them for his dinner.

That day Polyphemus ate a huge meal, and drank several bowls full of milk; and after that he fell fast asleep. As he lay there snoring in his heavy sleep, Ulysses thought how easy it would be to plunge the sword into his breast, and kill him. He was just going to do it, when he thought of the great stone which Polyphemus had placed at the mouth of the cave; and he knew that if Polyphemus were killed no one else could move away the stone, and so they would all die shut up in that dismal place.

So the hours of the night went wearily on. Neither Ulysses nor his friends could sleep, for they thought of the men whom Polyphemus had eaten, and how they would very likely be eaten up themselves. At last they could tell, from the dim light which came in between the top of the stone and the roof of the cave, that the morning was come. Soon Polyphemus awoke and milked all the sheep again. When he had done this, he went to the end of the cave, and took up two more men and killed and ate them. Then he took down the great stone from the mouth of the cave, and drove all the cattle out to graze on the soft grass on the hills; and Ulysses began to hope that they might be able to get away before Polyphemus came back. But the Cyclops was not so silly as to let them go, for, as soon as the cattle were gone out, he took up the huge stone again as easily as if it had been a pebble, and put it up against the mouth of the cave; and there were Ulysses and his friends shut up again as fast as ever.

Then Ulysses began to think more and more how they were to get away, for if they stayed there they would soon be all killed, if Polyphemus went on eating four of them every day. At last, near the sheepfold, he saw a club which Polyphemus was going to use as a walking-stick. It was the whole trunk of an olive-tree, fresh and green, for he had only just cut it and left it to dry, that he might carry it about when it was fit for use. There it lay like the mast of a ship, which twenty men could hardly have lifted. Ulysses cut off a bit from the end, as much as a man could carry, and told the men to bring it to a very sharp point; and when they had done this he hardened it in the fire, and then hid it away till Polyphemus should come home.

By and by, when the sun was sinking, they heard the terrible tramp of his feet and felt the earth shake beneath his tread. The great stone was taken away from the mouth of the cave, and in he came, driving the sheep and goats and the rams also before him, for this time he let nothing stay outside. He milked the sheep and the goats, as he had done the day before; and then killed two more men, and began to eat them for his supper.

Then Ulysses went towards him with a bottle full of wine, and said, “Drink this wine, Polyphemus; it will make your supper taste much nicer; I have brought it to you because I want you to do me some kindness in return.” So the Cyclops stretched out his hand to take the wine, and he drank it off greedily and asked for more. “Give me more of this honey-sweet wine,” he said; “surely no grapes on this earth could ever give such wine as this: tell me your name, for I should like to do you a kindness for giving me such wine as this.” Then Ulysses said, “O Cyclops, I hope you will not forget to give me what you have promised: my name is Nobody.” And Polyphemus said, “Very well, I shall eat up Nobody last of all, when I have eaten up all his companions; and this is the kindness which I mean to do for him.” By this time he was so stupid with all he had been eating and drinking, that he could say no more, but fell on his back fast asleep; and his heavy snoring sounded through the whole of the cave.

Then Ulysses cried to his friends, “Now is the time; come and help me, and we will punish this Cyclops for all that he has done.” So he took the piece of the olive-tree, which had been made sharp, and put it into the fire, till it almost burst into a flame, and he and two of his men went and stood over Polyphemus, and pushed the burning wood into his great eye as hard and as far down as they could. It was a terrible sight to see; but the Cyclops was so stupid and heavy in sleep that at first he could scarcely stir. Presently he gave a great groan, so that Ulysses and his people started back in a fright, and crouched down at the end of the cave: and then the Cyclops put out his hand, drew the burning wood from his eye, and threw it from him in a rage, and roared out for help to his friends, who lived on the hills round about.

His roar was as deep and loud as the roar of twenty lions; and the other Cyclopes wondered when they heard him shouting out so loud, and they said, “What can be the matter with Polyphemus? We never heard him make such a noise before: let us go and see if he wants any help.” So they went to the cave, and stood outside the great stone which shut it in, listening to his terrible bellowings; and when they did not stop they shouted to him, and asked him what was the matter. “Why have you waked us up in the middle of the night with all this noise, when we were sleeping comfortably? Is any one taking away your sheep and goats, or killing you by craft and force?”

And Polyphemus said, “Nobody, my friends, is killing me by craft and force.”

When the others heard this they were angry, and said, “Well, then, if nobody is killing you, why do you roar so? If you are ill, you must bear it as best you can, and ask our father Neptune to make you well again;” and then they walked off to their beds, and left Polyphemus to make as much noise as he pleased.

It was of no use that he went on shouting. No one came to him any more; and Ulysses laughed because he had tricked him so cunningly by calling himself Nobody. Polyphemus got up at last, moaning and groaning with the dreadful pain, and groped his way with his hands against the sides of the cave until he came to the door. Then he took down the great stone, and sat with his arms stretched out wide; and he said to himself, “Now I shall be sure to catch them, for no one can get out without passing me.”

But Ulysses was too clever for him yet; for he went quietly, and fastened the great rams of Polyphemus together with long bands of willow. He tied them together by threes, and under the stomach of the middle one he tied one of his men, until he had fastened them all up safely. Then he went and caught hold of the largest ram of all, and clung on with his hands to the thick wool underneath his stomach; and so they waited in a great fright, lest after all the giant might catch and kill them.

At last the pale light of the morning came into the eastern sky, and very soon the sheep and the goats began to go out of the cave. Polyphemus passed his hands over the backs of all the sheep as they went by, but he did not feel the willow bands, because their wool was long and thick, and he never thought that any one would be tied up underneath their stomachs. Last of all came the great ram to which Ulysses was clinging. When Polyphemus passed his hand over his back, he stroked him gently and said, “Is there something the matter with you too, as there is with your master? You were always the first to go out of the cave, and now to-day for the first time you are the last. I am sure that that horrible Nobody is at the bottom of all this. Ah, old ram, perhaps it is that you are sorry for your master, whose eye Nobody has put out. I wish you could speak like a man, and tell me where he is. If I could but catch him, I would take care that he never got away again, and then I should have some comfort for all the evil which Nobody has done me.” So he sent the ram on; and when he had gone a little way from the cave, Ulysses got up from under the ram, and went and untied all his friends, and very glad they were to be free once more, although they could not help grieving, when they thought of the men whom Polyphemus had killed. But Ulysses told them to make haste and drive as many of the sheep and goats as they could to the ships. So they drove them down to the shore and hurried them into the ships, and began to row away; and soon they would have been out of the reach of the Cyclops, if Ulysses could only have held his tongue.

He was so angry himself, that he thought he would like to make Polyphemus still more angry; so he shouted to him, “Cruel Cyclops, did you think that you would not be punished for eating up my friends? Is this the way in which you receive strangers who have been tossed about by many storms upon the sea?”

Then Polyphemus was more furious than ever, and he broke off a great rock from the mountain, and hurled it at Ulysses. On it came whizzing through the air, and fell just in front of his ship, and the water was dashed up all over it; and there was a great heaving of the sea, which almost carried them back to the land. They began to row again with all their might; but still, when they had got about twice as far as they were before, Ulysses could not help shouting out a few more words to Polyphemus. So he said, “If any one asks you how you lost your eye, remember, mighty Cyclops, to say that you were made blind by Ulysses, the plunderer of cities, the son of Laertes, who lives in Ithaca.”

Terrible indeed was the fury of Polyphemus when he heard this, and he said: “Now I remember how the wise Telemus used to tell me that a man would come here named Ulysses, who would put my eye out. But I thought he would have been some great strong man, almost as big as myself; and this is a miserable little wretch, whom I could almost hold in my hand if I caught him. But stay, and I will show you how I thank you for your kindness, and I will ask my father Neptune to send you a pleasant storm to toss you about upon the dark sea.”

Then Polyphemus took up a bigger rock than ever, and hurled it high into the air with all his might. But this time it fell just behind the ship of Ulysses: up rose the water and drenched Ulysses and all his people, and almost sank the ship under the sea. But it only sent them further out of the reach of the Cyclops; and though he hurled more rocks after them, they now fell far behind in the sea, and did them no harm.

Even when they had rowed a long way, they could still see Polyphemus standing on the high cliff, and shaking his hands at them in rage and pain. But no one came to help him for all his shouting because he had told his friends that Nobody was doing him harm.

CIRCE’S PALACE

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

At one time in the course of his weary voyage, Ulysses arrived at an island that looked very green and pleasant, but the name of which was unknown to him. For, only a little while before he came thither, he had met with a terrible hurricane, or rather a great many hurricanes at once, which drove his fleet of vessels into a strange part of the sea, where neither himself nor any of his mariners had ever sailed.

This misfortune was entirely owing to the foolish curiosity of his shipmates, who, while Ulysses lay asleep, had untied some very bulky leathern bags, in which they supposed a valuable treasure to be concealed. But in each of these stout bags, King Æolus, the ruler of the winds, had tied up a tempest and had given it to Ulysses to keep, in order that he might be sure of a favorable passage homeward to Ithaca; and when the strings were loosened, forth rushed the whistling blasts, like air out of a blown bladder, whitening the sea with foam, and scattering the vessels nobody could tell whither.

Immediately after escaping from this peril, a still greater one had befallen him. Scudding before the hurricane, he reached a place, which, as he afterwards found, was called Læstrygonia, where some monstrous giants had eaten up many of his companions and had sunk every one of his vessels, except that in which he himself sailed, by flinging great masses of rock at them from the cliffs along the shore. After going through such troubles as these, you cannot wonder that King Ulysses was glad to moor his tempest-beaten bark in a quiet cove of the green island, which I began with telling you about. But he had encountered so many dangers from giants, and one-eyed Cyclopes, and monsters of the sea and land, that he could not help dreading some mischief, even in this pleasant and seemingly solitary spot. For two days, therefore, the poor weather-worn voyagers kept quiet, and either stayed on board of their vessel, or merely crept along under the cliffs that bordered the shore; and to keep themselves alive, they dug shell-fish out of the sand, and sought for any little rill of fresh water that might be running towards the sea.

Before the two days were spent, they grew very weary of this kind of life; for the followers of King Ulysses, as you will find it important to remember, were great eaters, and pretty sure to grumble if they missed their regular meals, and their irregular ones besides. Their stock of provisions was quite exhausted, and even the shell-fish began to get scarce, so that they had now to choose between starving to death or venturing into the interior of the island, where perhaps some huge three-headed dragon, or other horrible monster, had his den. Such misshapen creatures were very numerous in those days; and nobody ever expected to make a voyage, or take a journey, without running more or less risk of being devoured by them.

But King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a prudent one; and on the third morning he determined to discover what sort of a place the island was, and whether it were possible to obtain a supply of food for the hungry mouths of his companions. So, taking a spear in his hand, he clambered to the summit of a cliff, and gazed round about him. At a distance, towards the center of the island, he beheld the stately towers of what seemed to be a palace, built of snow-white marble, and rising in the midst of a grove of lofty trees. The thick branches of these trees stretched across the front of the edifice, and more than half concealed it, although from the portion which he saw, Ulysses judged it to be spacious and exceedingly beautiful, and probably the residence of some great nobleman or prince. A blue smoke went curling up from the chimney, and was almost the pleasantest part of the spectacle to Ulysses. For, from the abundance of this smoke, it was reasonable to conclude that there was a good fire in the kitchen, and that, at dinner-time, a plentiful banquet would be served up to the inhabitants of the palace, and to whatever guests might happen to drop in.

With so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses fancied that he could not do better than to go straight to the palace gate, and tell the master of it that there was a crew of poor shipwrecked mariners, not far off, who had eaten nothing for a day or two, save a few clams and oysters, and would therefore be thankful for a little food. And the prince or nobleman must be a very stingy curmudgeon, to be sure, if at least, when his own dinner was over, he would not bid them welcome to the broken victuals from the table.

Pleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had made a few steps in the direction of the palace, when there was a great twittering and chirping from the branch of a neighboring tree. A moment afterwards, a bird came flying towards him, and hovered in the air, so as almost to brush his face with its wings. It was a very pretty little bird, with purple wings and body, and yellow legs, and a circle of golden feathers round his neck, and on its head a golden tuft, which looked like a king’s crown in miniature. Ulysses tried to catch the bird. But it fluttered nimbly out of his reach, still chirping in a piteous tone, as if it could have told a lamentable story, had it only been gifted with human language. And when he attempted to drive it away, the bird flew no farther than the bough of the next tree, and again came fluttering about his head, with its doleful chirp, as soon as he showed a purpose of going forward.

“Have you anything to tell me, little bird?” asked Ulysses.

And he was ready to listen attentively to whatever the bird might communicate; for, at the siege of Troy, and elsewhere, he had known such odd things to happen, that he would not have considered it much out of the common run had this little feathered creature talked as plainly as himself.

“Peep!” said the bird, “peep, peep, pe—weep!” And nothing else would it say, but only, “Peep, peep, pe—weep!” in a melancholy cadence, and over and over and over again. As often as Ulysses moved forward, however, the bird showed the greatest alarm, and did its best to drive him back, with the anxious flutter of its purple wings. Its unaccountable behavior made him conclude, at last, that the bird knew of some danger that awaited him, and which must needs be very terrible, beyond all question, since it moved even a little fowl to feel compassion for a human being. So he resolved, for the present, to return to the vessel, and tell his companions what he had seen.

This appeared to satisfy the bird. As soon as Ulysses turned back, it ran up the trunk of a tree, and began to pick insects out of the bark with its long, sharp bill; for it was a kind of woodpecker, you must know, and had to get its living in the same manner as other birds of that species. But every little while, as it pecked at the bark of the tree, the purple bird bethought itself of some secret sorrow, and repeated its plaintive note of “Peep, peep, pe—weep!”

On his way to the shore, Ulysses had the good luck to kill a large stag by thrusting his spear into its back. Taking it on his shoulders (for he was a remarkably strong man), he lugged it along with him and flung it down before his hungry companions. I have already hinted to you what gormandisers some of the comrades of King Ulysses were. From what is related of them, I reckon that their favorite diet was pork, and that they had lived upon it until a good part of their physical substance was swine’s flesh, and their tempers and dispositions were very much akin to the hog. A dish of venison, however, was no unacceptable meal to them, especially after feeding so long on oysters and clams. So, beholding the dead stag, they felt of its ribs, in a knowing way, and lost no time in kindling a fire of driftwood to cook it. The rest of the day was spent in feasting; and if these enormous eaters got up from table at sunset, it was only because they could not scrape another morsel off the poor animal’s bones.

The next morning their appetites were as sharp as ever. They looked at Ulysses, as if they expected him to clamber up the cliff again, and come back with another fat deer upon his shoulders. Instead of setting out, however, he summoned the whole crew together, and told them it was in vain to hope that he could kill a stag every day for their dinner, and therefore it was advisable to think of some other mode of satisfying their hunger.

“Now,” said he, “when I was on the cliff, yesterday, I discovered that this island is inhabited. At a considerable distance from the shore stood a marble palace, which appeared to be very spacious, and had a great deal of smoke curling out of one of its chimneys.”

“Aha!” muttered some of his companions, smacking their lips. “That smoke must have come from the kitchen fire. There was a good dinner on the spit; and no doubt there will be as good a one to-day.”

“But,” continued the wise Ulysses, “you must remember, my good friends, our misadventure in the cavern of one-eyed Polyphemus, the Cyclops! Instead of his ordinary milk diet, did he not eat up two of our comrades for his supper, and a couple more for breakfast, and two at his supper again? Methinks I see him yet, the hideous monster, scanning us with that great red eye, in the middle of his forehead, to single out the fattest. And then, again, only a few days ago did we not fall into the hands of the King of the Læstrygons, and those other horrible giants, his subjects, who devoured a great many more of us than are now left? To tell you the truth, if we go to yonder palace, there can be no question that we shall make our appearance at the dinner table; but whether seated as guests, or served up as food, is a point to be seriously considered.”

“Either way,” murmured some of the hungriest of the crew, “it will be better than starvation; particularly if one could be sure of being well fattened beforehand, and daintily cooked afterwards.”

“That is a matter of taste,” said King Ulysses, “and, for my own part, neither the most careful fattening nor the daintiest of cookery would reconcile me to being dished at last. My proposal is, therefore, that we divide ourselves into two equal parties, and ascertain, by drawing lots, which of the two shall go to the palace, and beg for food and assistance. If these can be obtained, all is well. If not, and if the inhabitants prove as inhospitable as Polyphemus, or the Læstrygons, then there will but half of us perish, and the remainder may set sail and escape.”

As nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses proceeded to count the whole band, and found that there were forty-six men, including himself. He then numbered off twenty-two of them, and put Eurylochus (who was one of his chief officers, and second only to himself in sagacity) at their head. Ulysses took command of the remaining twenty-two men, in person. Then, taking off his helmet, he put two shells into it, on one of which was written “Go,” and on the other, “Stay.” Another person now held the helmet, while Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and the word “Go,” was found written on that which Eurylochus had drawn. In this manner, it was decided that Ulysses and his twenty-two men were to remain at the seaside until the other party should have found out what sort of treatment they might expect at the mysterious palace. As there was no help for it, Eurylochus immediately set forth at the head of his twenty-two followers, who went off in a very melancholy state of mind, leaving their friends in hardly better spirits than themselves.

No sooner had they clambered up the cliff, than they discerned the tall marble towers of the palace, ascending, as white as snow, out of the lovely green shadow of the trees which surrounded it. A gush of smoke came from a chimney in the rear of the edifice. This vapor rose high in the air, and meeting with a breeze, was wafted seaward and made to pass over the heads of the hungry mariners. When people’s appetites are keen, they have a very quick scent for anything savory in the wind.

“That smoke comes from the kitchen!” cried one of them, turning up his nose as high as he could, and snuffing eagerly. “And, as sure as I’m a half-starved vagabond, I smell roast meat in it.”

“Pig, roast pig!” said another. “Ah, the dainty little porker! My mouth waters for him.”

“Let us make haste,” cried the others, “or we shall be too late for the good cheer!”

But scarcely had they made half a dozen steps from the edge of the cliff, when a bird came fluttering to meet them. It was the same pretty little bird, with the purple wings and body, the yellow legs, the golden collar round its neck, and the crown-like tuft upon its head, whose behavior had so much surprised Ulysses. It hovered about Eurylochus, and almost brushed his face with its wings.

“Peep, peep, pe—weep!” chirped the bird.

So plaintively intelligent was the sound, that it seemed as if the little creature were going to break its heart with some mighty secret that it had to tell, and only this one poor note to tell it with.

“My pretty bird,” said Eurylochus—for he was a wary person, and let no token of harm escape his notice—“my pretty bird, who sent you hither? And what is the message which you bring?”

“Peep, peep, pe—weep!” replied the bird, very sorrowfully.

Then it flew towards the edge of the cliff, and looked round at them, as if exceedingly anxious that they should return whence they came. Eurylochus and a few of the others were inclined to turn back.

They could not help suspecting that the purple bird must be aware of something mischievous that would befall them at the palace, and the knowledge of which affected its airy spirit with a human sympathy and sorrow. But the rest of the voyagers, snuffing up the smoke from the palace kitchen, ridiculed the idea of returning to the vessel. One of them (more brutal than his fellows, and the most notorious gormandiser in the whole crew) said such a cruel and wicked thing, that I wonder the mere thought did not turn him into a wild beast, in shape, as he already was in his nature.

“This troublesome and impertinent little fowl,” said he, “would make a delicate titbit to begin dinner with. Just one plump morsel, melting away between the teeth. If he comes within my reach, I’ll catch him, and give him to the palace cook to be roasted on a skewer.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth, before the purple bird flew away, crying, “Peep, peep, pe—weep,” more dolorously than ever.

“That bird,” remarked Eurylochus, “knows more than we do about what awaits us at the palace.”

“Come on, then,” cried his comrades, “and we’ll soon know as much as he does.”

The party, accordingly, went onward through the green and pleasant wood. Every little while they caught new glimpses of the marble palace, which looked more and more beautiful the nearer they approached it. They soon entered a broad pathway, which seemed to be very neatly kept, and which went winding along, with streaks of sunshine falling across it, and specks of light quivering among the deepest shadows that fell from the lofty trees.

It was bordered, too, with a great many sweet-smelling flowers, such as the mariners had never seen before. So rich and beautiful they were, that if the shrubs grew wild here, and were native in the soil, then this island was surely the flower garden of the whole earth; or, if transplanted from some other clime, it must have been from the happy islands that lay towards the golden sunset.

“There has been a great deal of pains foolishly wasted on these flowers,” observed one of the company; and I tell you what he said, that you may keep in mind what gormandisers they were. “For my part, if I were the owner of the palace, I would bid my gardener cultivate nothing but savory pot herbs to make a stuffing for roast meat, or to flavor a stew with.”

“Well said!” cried the others. “But I’ll warrant you there’s a kitchen garden in the rear of the palace.”

At one place they came to a crystal spring, and paused to drink at it for want of liquor which they liked better. Looking into its bosom, they beheld their own faces dimly reflected, but so extravagantly distorted by the gush and motion of the water, that each one of them appeared to be laughing at himself and all his companions. So ridiculous were these images of themselves, indeed, that they did really laugh aloud, and could hardly be grave again as soon as they wished. And after they had drank, they grew still merrier than before.

“It has a twang of the wine cask in it,” said one, smacking his lips.

“Make haste!” cried his fellows; “we’ll find the wine cask itself at the palace; and that will be better than a hundred crystal fountains.”

They then quickened their pace, and capered for joy at the thought of the savory banquet at which they hoped to be guests. But Eurylochus told them that he felt as if he were walking in a dream.

“If I am really awake,” continued he, “then, in my opinion, we are on the point of meeting with some stranger adventure than any that befell us in the cave of Polyphemus, or among the gigantic man-eating Læstrygons, or in the windy palace of King Æolus, which stands on a brazen-walled island. This kind of dreamy feeling always comes over me before any wonderful occurrence. If you take my advice, you will turn back.”

“No, no,” answered his comrades, snuffing the air, in which the scent from the palace kitchen was now very perceptible. “We would not turn back, though we were certain that the King of the Læstrygons, as big as a mountain, would sit at the head of the table, and huge Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclops, at its foot.”

At length they came within full sight of the palace, which proved to be very large and lofty, with a great number of airy pinnacles upon its roof. Though it was now midday, and the sun shone brightly over the marble front, yet its snowy whiteness and its fantastic style of architecture made it look unreal, like the frostwork on a window pane, or like the shapes of castles which one sees among the clouds by moonlight. But, just then, a puff of wind brought down the smoke of the kitchen chimney among them, and caused each man to smell the odor of the dish that he liked best; and, after scenting it, they thought everything else moonshine and nothing real save this palace, and save the banquet that was evidently ready to be served up in it.