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nydus/The OdysseyPublic

An epic poem following a Greek hero trying to return home after the Trojan war.

Page 194 of 400
Table of Contents

Book XII

lament False counsels followed, either on the land Or on the water, to your grievous harm.’

“She spake, and our confiding minds were swayed Easily by her counsels. All that day Till set of sun we sat and banqueted Upon the abundant meats and generous wines; And when the Sun went down, and darkness came, The crew beside the fastenings of our barque Lay down to sleep, while Circè took my hand, Led me apart, and made me sit, and took Her seat before me, and inquired of all That I had seen. I told her faithfully, And then the mighty goddess Circè said:⁠—

“ ‘Thus far is well; now needfully attend To what I say, and may some deity Help thee remember it! Thou first wilt come To where the Sirens haunt. They throw a spell O’er all who pass that way. If unawares One finds himself so nigh that he can hear Their voices, round him nevermore shall wife And lisping children gather, welcoming His safe return with joy. The Sirens sit In a green field, and charm with mellow notes The comer, while beside them lie in heaps The bones of men decaying underneath The shrivelled skins. Take heed and pass them by. First fill with wax well kneaded in the palm The ears of thy companions, that no sound May enter. Hear the music, if thou wilt, But let thy people bind thee, hand and foot, To the good ship, upright against the mast, And round it wind the cord, that thou mayst hear The ravishing notes. But shouldst thou then entreat Thy men, commanding them to set thee free, Let them be charged to bind thee yet more fast With added bands. And when they shall have passed The Sirens by, I will not judge for thee Which way to take; consider for thyself; I tell thee of two ways. There is a pile Of beetling rocks, where roars the mighty surge Of dark-eyed Amphitritè; these are called The Wanderers by the blessed gods. No birds Can pass them safe, not even the timid doves, Which bear ambrosia to our father Jove, But ever doth the slippery rock take off Someone, whose loss the God at once supplies, To keep their number full. To these no barque Guided by man has ever come, and left The spot unwrecked; the

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