The
Mediterranean Was So Much Contracted On This Side, That Ithaca, And The
Neighbouring Continent, Or At The Farthest, The Straits Which Separate
Sicily From Italy, Were Its Limits.
Sicily itself was just known only as
the land of wonders and fables, though the fable of the Cyclops, who lived
in it, evidently must nave been derived from some obscure report of its
volcano.
The fables Homer relates respecting countries to the west of
Sicily, cannot even be regarded as having any connection with, or
resemblance to the truth. Beyond the Euxine also, in the other direction,
all is fable. Colchis seems to have been known, though not so accurately as
the recent Argonautic expedition might have led us to suppose it would have
been. The west coast of Asia Minor, the scene of his great poem, is of
course completely within his knowledge; the Phoenicians and Egyptians are
particularly described, the former for their purple stuffs, gold and silver
works, maritime science and commercial skill, and cunning; the latter for
their river Egyptos, and their knowledge of medicine. To the west of Egypt
he places Lybia, where he says the lambs are born with horns, and the sheep
bring forth three times a year.
In the Odyssey he conducts Neptune into Ethiopia; and the account he gives
seems to warrant the belief, that by the Ethiopians he meant not merely the
Ethiopians of Africa, but the inhabitants of India: we know that the
ancients, even so late as the time of Strabo and Ptolemy, considered all
those nations as Ethiopians who lived upon the southern ocean from east to
west; or, as Ptolemy expresses it, that under the zodiac, from east to
west, inhabit the inhabitants black of colour. Homer represents these two
nations as respectively the last of men, one of them on the east and the
other on the west. From his description of the gardens of Alcinous, it may
even be inferred that he had received some information respecting the
climate of the tropical regions; for this description appears to us rather
borrowed from report, than entirely the produce of imagination.
Close to the gates a spacious garden lies,
From storms defended and inclement skies.
Four acres was th' allotted space of ground,
Fenc'd with a green enclosure all around,
Tall thriving trees confess'd the fruitful mould;
The red'ning apple ripens here to gold.
Here the blue fig with luscious juice o'erflows,
With deeper red the full pomegranate glows,
The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear,
And verdant olives flourish round the year.
The balmy spirit of the western gale
Eternal breathes on fruits untaught to fail:
Each dropping pear a following pear supplies,
On apples apples, figs on figs arise:
The same mild season gives the blooms to blow,
The buds to harden, and the fruits to grow;
Here order'd vines in equal ranks appear,
With all th' united labours of the year;
Some to unload the fertile branches run,
Some dry the black'ning clusters in the sun,
Others to tread the liquid harvest join,
The groaning presses foam with floods of wine.
Here are the vines in early flow'r descry'd,
Here grapes discolour'd on the sunny side,
And there in autumn's richest purple dy'd.
Beds of all various herbs, for ever green,
In beauteous order terminate the scene.
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