I met also Pythagoras the Samian, who arrived in these regions after his soul had gone a long round in the bodies of several animals, having been changed seven times. All his right side was of gold, and there was some dispute whether he should be called Pythagoras or Euphorbus. Empedocles came likewise, who looked sodden and roasted all over. He desired admittance, but though he begged hard for it, was rejected.
A little time after the games came on, which they call here Thanatusia. [{126}] Achilles presided for the fifth time, and Theseus for the seventh. A narrative of the whole would be tedious; I shall only, therefore, recount a few of the principal circumstances in the wrestling match. Carus, a descendant of Hercules, conquered Ulysses at the boxing match; Areus the Egyptian, who was buried at Corinth, and Epeus contended, but neither got the victory. The Pancratia was not proposed amongst them. In the race I do not remember who had the superiority. In poetry Homer was far beyond them all; Hesiod, however, got a prize. The reward to all was a garland of peacock’s feathers.
When the games were over word was brought that the prisoners in Tartarus had broken loose, overcome the guard, and were proceeding to take possession of the island under the command of Phalaris the Agrigentine, [{127a}] Busiris of Egypt, [{127b}] Diomede the Thracian, [{128a}] Scyron, [{128b}] and Pityocamptes. As soon as Rhadamanthus heard of it he despatched the heroes to the shore, conducted by Theseus, Achilles, and Ajax Telamonius, who was now returned to his senses. A battle ensued, wherein the heroes were victorious, owing principally to the valour of Achilles. Socrates, who was placed in the right wing, behaved much better than he had done at Delius [{128c}] in his life-time, for when the enemy approached he never fled, nor so much as turned his face about. He had a very extraordinary present made him as the reward of his courage, no less than a fine spacious garden near the city; here he summoned his friends and disputed, calling the place by the name of the Academy of the Dead. They then bound the prisoners and sent them back to Tartarus, to suffer double punishment. Homer wrote an account of this battle, and gave it me to show it to our people when I went back, but I lost it afterwards, together with a great many other things. It began thus—
“Sing, Muse, the battles of the heroes dead—”
The campaign thus happily finished, they made an entertainment to celebrate the victory, which, as is usual amongst them, was a bean-feast. Pythagoras alone absented himself on that day, and fasted, holding in abomination the wicked custom of eating beans.
Six months had now elapsed, when a new and extraordinary affair happened. Cinyrus, the son of Scintharus, a tall, well-made, handsome youth, fell in love with Helen, and she no less desperately with him. They were often nodding and drinking to one another at the public feasts, and would frequently rise up and walk out together alone into the wood. The violence of his passion, joined to the impossibility of possessing her any other way, put Cinyrus on the resolution of running away with her. She imagined that they might easily get off to some of the adjacent islands, either to Phellus or Tyroessa. He selected three of the bravest of our crew to accompany them; never mentioning the design to his father, who he knew would never consent to it, but the first favourable opportunity, put it in execution; and one night when I was not with them (for it happened that I stayed late at the feast, and slept there) carried her off.
Menelaus, rising in the middle of the night, and perceiving that his wife was gone, made a dreadful noise about it, and, taking his brother along with him, proceeded immediately to the king’s palace. At break of day the guards informed him that they had seen a vessel a good distance from land. He immediately put fifty heroes on board a ship made out of one large piece of the asphodelus, with orders to pursue them. They made all the sail they possibly could, and about noon came up with and seized on them, just as they were entering into the Milky Sea, close to Tyroessa; so near were they to making their escape. The pursuers threw a rosy chain over the vessel and brought her home again. Helen began to weep, blushed, and hid her face. Rhadamanthus asked Cinyrus and the rest of them if they had any more accomplices: they told him they had none. He then ordered them to be chained, whipped with mallows, and sent to Tartarus.
It was now determined that we should stay no longer on the island than the time limited, and the very next day was fixed for our departure. This gave me no little concern, and I wept to think I must leave so many good things, and be once more a wanderer. They endeavoured to administer consolation to me by assuring me that in a few years I should return to them again; they even pointed out the seat that should be allotted to me, and which was near the best and worthiest inhabitants of these delightful mansions. I addressed myself to Rhadamanthus, and humbly entreated him to inform me of my future fate, and let me know beforehand whether I should travel. He told me that, after many toils and dangers, I should at last return in safety to my native country, but would not point out the time when. He then showed me the neighbouring islands, five of which appeared near to me, and a sixth at a distance. “Those next to you,” said he, “where you see a great fire burning, are the habitations of the wicked; the sixth is the city of dreams; behind that lies the island of Calypso, which you cannot see yet. When you get beyond these you will come to a large tract of land inhabited by those who live on the side of the earth directly opposite to you, [{132}] there you will suffer many things, wander through several nations, and meet with some very savage and unsociable people, and at length get into another region.”
Having said thus, he took a root of mallow out of the earth, and putting it into my hand, bade me remember, when I was in any danger, to call upon that; and added, moreover, that if, when I came to the Antipodes, I took care “never to stir the fire with a sword, and never to eat lupines,” I might have hopes of returning to the Island of the Blessed.
I then got everything ready for the voyage, supped with, and took my leave of them. Next day, meeting Homer, I begged him to make me a couple of verses for an inscription, which he did, and I fixed them on a little column of beryl, at the mouth of the harbour; the inscription was as follows: