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· BOOK XII ·
THE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES
FOR THE DUC DE BOURGOGNE 1
My prince! Sole object of the gods’ concern,
Pray let my incense, on your altars, burn
Its praise perfumed. Pardon me if I choose
To proffer you these tributes from my muse
A trifle late; my labors and my years
Are my excuse. Your mind ever appears
Stronger and stronger, flying, fleet of wing,
Whilst mine grows weak and wanes,2 diminishing
Moment by moment. He who fathered you—
A hero, he!—yearns to fly forth and do
Mars’ work as speedily! And if his hand
Is staid in glory’s quest; if he
Races not after victory
With giant’s pace, yet must one understand
The fault is not his own: our king divine
Restrains him, whom one single month had made
The conquering master of the Rhine.3
No doubt, for such an escapade
Great speed was necessary; but today
It might prove rash… Well, be that as it may,
I natter on… The gods of love and laughter
Frequent your court, and such as they—good sense
And reason—shun too lengthy eloquence;
Whence I suggest that, hereinafter,
You would do well to heed those latter
And pay mind to a certain matter
In which the Greeks were once concerned:
Namely, the time when men to beasts were turned,
Thanks to a lack of circumspection.
Ulysses and his comrades had, for ten
Long years, wandered without direction,
Purposeless, at the winds’ discretion, when
They happened on a shore where Circe4—
Apollo’s daughter, she—held court,
Holding the travelers at her mercy
By feeding them the tastiest sort
Of brew, seasoned with poison; one that had,
First, made them lose their reason, then their features
And human form, until, gone mad,
All had become most different creatures.
Bears, lions, elephants, of massive shape;
Some, like the mole (in Latin, double-gendered!),5
Far smaller. Thus was each one rendered
A proper beast. Nor did any escape
This metamorphosis, except
Ulysses, who, somehow had kept
From drinking of the treacherous draught.
Now, such a hero, glib of tongue, was he,
And fair of mien, that cunningly
He so contrived that the enchantress quaffed
A poison like her own;6 whence she—
As goddesses are wont to do—confessed
To him the passion that consumed her breast.
Too clever not to take advantage of
The revelation of her love,
He makes her promise to release the rest
From their enchantment. “But, can you be sure,”
She will protest, “that they would not endure
Their new condition, and as beasts remain?
Go ask them!” And he does. “My friends, I can
Turn each of you once more into a man.
Speak! Shall I do so?” “What? Am I insane?”
Bellows the lion with his roar.
“Give up the gifts that I have traded for?
Fang and claw have I now, and I would fain
Not lose the strength to use them! I am king!
Shall I become a simple underling,
A simple citizen of Ithaca?
Thank you, my friend. But pshaw! and bah!
I will not change. I am content.”
Ulysses left the lion and went
To ask the bear. “My friend, you used to be
A handsome man! Now look at you!”
The bear growls: “I live fancy-free.
As for my looks, it seems to me
I am like any bear! Or do
You think you have the right, so flippantly
To judge me by yourself? Pish-tush! Pooh-pooh!
You can be sure my lady bear
Finds me just so! Be off! I care
Little for your concern or your lament.
I will not change. I am content.”
Ulysses goes to ask the wolf, expecting
That he too will decline, rejecting
The offer, saying: “Friend, perplexed am I.
A fair young shepherdess’s plaintive cry
Wafts on the wind. She much bewails the fact
That you have gluttonously attacked
Her sheep, and wolfed them down! You, who before
Were her stalwart defender? You, who swore
To save her flock? You, once so kind, so good?
Come, friend! I pray you, leave this wood
And be an upright man once more!” “A what?
Upright?” the wolf responded. “But
Is there such? I think not. I could
Long search in vain for one! You call me vicious,
Pity my victims, but can you ignore
That you yourselves find sheep a dish delicious?
If I should be ‘an upright man once more,’
Shou...
