Fresh clouds of spirits pricked the twilight, increased in size, amalgamated, thickened, and hurried towards him, crying.
They came to the brink of the river. Before them, as they looked out over the water, was no horizon, but an opaque lividity like a wan, moving precipice, a cliff of the night.
Then the old man Charon bowed to the commands of the gods and embarked them on his barge. He gazed on Ulysses with his keen wicked eyes, and his long white beard wagged in hideous mockery at this mortal among the dead.
The thin pole dipped in and out of the water, and the drops which fell from it were the colour of leaden bullets, for there is no life in the water of Styx.
Ulysses knelt in the bottom of the boat and shut out Hell from his eyes with his hand. He prayed to Athene for help to endure, and that he might have an answer from the old Seer Tiresias that would lead him safely home at last.
And now the other bank of the river began to loom up before them and the air began to be silent.
On the bank, as it seemed to welcome them, stood a tall old man with a golden sceptre in his hand. His face was full of an unutterable sadness, and his eyes were horny and dim with blindness. But his magic staff conducted him safely to the river brink, and in a high shivering voice he hailed Ulysses.
“Why hast thou come here, O wise one, leaving the happy daylight for this cheerless shore? Noble son of Laertes, I know thy quest, and thus make answer. Father Zeus gave me power, which still remains, and I, an old blind ghost, can see into the future even on the shores of Styx. Thou seekest to know if thou wilt ever catch thy wife in thy strong arms once more, and tread the well-beloved fields of Ithaca. The mighty god of the sea, Poseidon, is wroth with thee and a malevolent god. For even now his son Polyphemus stumbles a bruised and sightless way among his native hills. But yet you may return after long woes and heavy toil. But one thing bear well in mind, O king, else wilt thou suffer unbelievable things. When thy ship touches at the Island Thrinacia, great herds of cattle will be feeding there on the fresh sweet grass which grows in the goodly upper world. These be the beeves and steers of the divine Helios, the Sun-God, and must be inviolate to men. But if one sacred beast is slain, then thy ship and all thy company will perish.
“Perchance thou thyself may win Ithaca forlorn, and to find others in thy place, but that I know not. I have spoken.”