The Downward Journey, or the Tyrant (18-21)

Hi, fellow! Where are you going so fast? The boat is fullalready. Wait there till to-morrow; we'll set you across first thing in the morning.

You are committing a misdemeanour, Charon, in leaving behind you a dead man who is already high. No fear, I'll have you up before Rhadamanthus for breaking the law. Oh, Lord! What hard luck! They are sailing already, “and I'll be left behind here all alone.”[*] But why not swim across in their wake? I’m not afraid of giving out and drowning, seeing that I’m already dead! Besides, I haven’t an obol to pay my passage.

What’s this? Wait, Micyllus; you mustn’t cross that way.

See here, perhaps I'll beat you to the shore.

No, no! Come, let’s row up and take him in. Hermes, lend a hand to pull him in.

Where shall he sit? The boat’s full, as you see.

On the shoulders of the tyrant, if you like.

A happy thought, that of Hermes!

Climb up, then, and set your feet on the sinner's neck. Let’s go on while the wind is fair.

Charon, I may as well tell you the truth here and now. I shan’t be able to pay you your obol when we come to land, for I have nothing more than the wallet which you see, and this club here. However, I am ready either to bale, if you like, or to row; you will have no fault to find if you only give me a stout, well-balanced oar.

Pull an oar; that will be enough to exact of you.

Shall I strike up a song, too?

Yes, by all means, if you know any of the sailors’ chanties,

I know plenty of them, Charon; but as you see, these people are competing with our music by crying, so that we shall be put out of tune in our song.

(one) Alas, my wealth! (anoTuer) Alas, my farms! (aNoTHER) Alackaday, what a house I left behind me! (anotuer) To think of all the thousands my heir will come into and squander! (aNoruer) Ah, my new-born babes! (anorner) Who will get the vintage of the vines I set out last year?

Micyllus, you are not lamenting at all, are you? Nobody may cross without a tear.

Get out with you! I have no reason to lament while the wind is fair.

Do cry, however, even if only a little, for custom’s sake,

Well, I'll lament, then, since you wish it, Hermes. —Alas, my scraps of leather! Alas, my old shoes! Alackaday, my rotten sandals! Unlucky man that I am, never again will I go hungry from morning to night or wander about in winter barefooted and halfnaked, with my teeth chattering for cold! Who is to get my knife and my awl?

Enough weeping; we are almost in now.

Come, now, pay us your fares, all of you, the first thing you do. (To Micyllus) You there, pay yours too; I have it from everybody now. I say, Micyllus, pay your obol too.

You’re joking, Charon, or if not, you might as well write in water as look for an obol from Micyllus. I haven’t the slightest idea whether an obol is round or square.

What a fine, profitable cruise this has been to-day!

Take them in charge, Hermes, and lead them off. I myself will go back to the other side to bring over the Chinamen Indopates and Heramithras, for they have just died fighting with one another over boundaries.

Let’s move on, good people—or better, all follow me in order.