When he[Zeus] had thus
spoken, he said to his son Mercury, "Mercury, you are
our messenger, go therefore and tell Calypso we have decreed that poor Ulysses is to return home. He is to be convoyed neither by
gods nor men, but after a perilous voyage of twenty days
upon a raft he is to reach fertile Scheria, the land of the
Phaeacians, who are near of kin to the gods, and will
honour him as though he were one of ourselves. They will send
him in a ship to his own country, and will give him more bronze and gold and raiment than he would have brought back from Troy, if he
had had all his prize money and had got home without
disaster. This is how we have settled that he shall return
to his country and his friends."
. . . . . .
Calypso knew him at once- for the gods all know each other, no matter how
far they live from one another- but Ulysses was not within; he was on the
sea-shore as usual, looking out upon the barren ocean with tears in his
eyes, groaning and breaking his heart for sorrow. Calypso gave Mercury a
seat and said: "Why have you come to see me, Mercury- honoured, and
ever welcome- for you do not visit me often? Say what you want; I will do
it for be you at once if I can, and if it can be done at all; but
come inside, and let me set refreshment before you.
. . . . . .
Calypso trembled with rage when she heard this, "You gods,"
she exclaimed, to be ashamed of yourselves. You are always jealous and
hate seeing a goddess take a fancy to a mortal man, and live with him in
open matrimony. . . . . . And now you are angry with me too because I have a man here. I found the poor creature sitting all alone
astride of a keel, for Jove had struck his ship with
lightning and sunk it in mid ocean, so that all his crew were drowned,
while he himself was driven by wind and waves on to my island. I got fond
of him and cherished him, and had set my heart on making him immortal, so
that he should never grow old all his days; still I cannot
cross Jove, nor bring his counsels to nothing; therefore,
if he insists upon it, let the man go beyond the seas again; but
I cannot send him anywhere myself for I have neither ships nor men who can take him. Nevertheless I will readily give him such advice,
in all good faith, as will be likely to bring him safely
to his own country."
. . . . .
On this he took his leave, and Calypso went out to look for Ulysses, for she had heard Jove's message. She found him sitting upon the
beach with his eyes ever filled with tears, and dying of sheer
home-sickness; for he had got tired of Calypso, and though he was forced
to sleep with her in the cave by night, it was she, not he, that would
have it so. As for the day time, he spent it on the rocks and on the
sea-shore, weeping, crying aloud for his despair, and always looking out
upon the sea. Calypso then went close up to him said:
"My poor fellow, you shall not stay here grieving and fretting your
life out any longer. I am going to send you away of my own free will; so
go, cut some beams of wood, and make yourself a large raft with an
upper deck that it may carry you safely over the sea. I will put bread,
wine, and water on board to save you from starving. I will also give you
clothes, and will send you a fair wind to take you home, if the gods in
heaven so will it- for they know more about these things, and can settle
them better than I can."
Ulysses shuddered as he heard her. "Now goddess," he
answered, "there is something behind all this; you cannot be really meaning
to help me home when you bid me do such a dreadful thing as put to sea on
a raft. Not even a well-found ship with a fair wind could venture on such
a distant voyage: nothing that you can say or do shall make me go on board
a raft unless you first solemnly swear that you mean me
no mischief."
Calypso smiled at this and caressed him with her hand: "You know a great deal," said she, "but you are quite wrong here.
May heaven above and earth below be my witnesses, with the
waters of the river Styx- and this is the most solemn oath which a blessed
god can take- that I mean you no sort of harm, and am only advising you to
do exactly what I should do myself in your place. I am dealing with you
quite straightforwardly; my heart is not made of iron, and
I am very sorry for you."
. . . . . .
"Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, so you would start home to your own
land at once? Good luck go with you, but if you could only know how much
suffering is in store for you before you get back to your own country, you
would stay where you are, keep house along with me, and let me make you
immortal, no matter how anxious you may be to see this wife of yours, of
whom you are thinking all the time day after day; yet I flatter myself that I am no whit less tall or well-looking than she is, for it is
not to be expected that a mortal woman should compare in
beauty with an immortal."
"Goddess," replied Ulysses, "do not be angry with me about
this. I am quite aware that my wife Penelope is nothing
like so tall or so beautiful as yourself. She is only a woman, whereas you
are an immortal. Nevertheless, I want to get home, and can
think of nothing else. If some god wrecks me when I am on
the sea, I will bear it and make the best of it. I have had infinite
trouble both by land and sea already, so let this go with the rest."
. . . . . .
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