Document – Excerpt from the Epic of Gilgamesh

Document

Of him who found out all things, I shall tell the land,

Of him who experienced everything, I shall teach the whole.

He searched lands everywhere.

He who experienced the whole gained complete wisdom.

He found out what was secret and uncovered what was hidden, He brought back a tale of times before the Flood.

He had journeyed far and wide, weary and at last resigned.

He engraved all toils on a memorial monument the whole of stone. . . .

The story of that man, Gilgamesh, who went through all kinds of sufferings. He was superior to other kings, a warrior lord of great stature,

A hero born of Uruk, a goring wild bull. He marches at the front as leader,

He goes behind, the support of his brothers, A strong net, the protection of his men, . . .

Son of Lugalbanda,ⁱ Gilgamesh, perfect in strength, Son of the lofty cow, the wild cow Ninsun.ⁱⁱ

He is Gilgamesh, perfect in splendour,

Who opened up passes in the mountains, . . .

Who crossed the ocean, the broad seas, as far as the sunrise.

Who inspected the edges of the world, kept searching for eternal life, Who reached Ut-napishtim the far-distant, by force. . . .

There is nobody among the kings of teeming humanity Who can compare with him,

Who can say “I am king” beside Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh was named from birth for fame.

Two-thirds of him was divine, and one-third mortal.

Belet-iliⁱⁱⁱ designed the shape of his body, Made his form perfect, . . .

In Uruk the Sheepfold he would walk about,

Show himself superior, his head held high like a wild bull. He had no rival, ...

The young men complain to the gods, because Gilgamesh keeps them out on military campaigns.

The young maidens complain, because he won’t leave them alone.

The gods often heard their complaints. . . .

They called upon great Aruru:^iv

“You, Aruru, create someone for him, to match the ardour of his energies! Let them be regular rivals, and let Uruk be allowed peace!”

When Aruru heard this, she pinched off a piece of clay, cast it out into open country.

She created a primitive man, Enkidu the warrior: offspring of silence, sky-bolt of Ninurta.^v

His whole body was shaggy with hair, he was furnished with tresses like a woman, His locks of hair grew luxuriant like grain.

He knew neither people nor country; he was dressed as cattle are. With gazelles he eats vegetation,

With cattle he quenches his thirst at the watering place

A hunter . . . saw him . . . beside the watering place and was dumbstruck to see him. . . . The hunter went off to see . . . Gilgamesh:

“There was a young man who came from the mountain, On the land he was strong, he was powerful.

His strength is very hard, like a sky-bolt of Anu.^vi . . .

I am too frightened to approach him. He kept filling in the pits that I dug,

He kept pulling out the traps that I laid.

He kept helping cattle, wild beasts of open country, to escape my grasp. He did not allow me to work in the open country.”

Gilgamesh spoke to him, to the hunter,

“Go, hunter, lead forth the harlot Shamhat, . . . He will see her and go close to her.

Then his cattle, who have grown up in open country with him, will become alien to him.”

The hunter went; he led forth the harlot Shamhat with him, . . .

And he, Enkidu, . . . satisfied his need for water with wild beasts. . . . “Here he is, Shamhat, bare your bosom, . . .

Do for him, the primitive man, as women do. . . .” Shamhat did for him, the primitive man, as women do. His love-making he lavished upon her. . . .

When he was sated with her charms,

He set his face towards the open country of his cattle. The gazelles saw Enkidu and scattered,

The cattle of open country kept away from his body. For Enkidu had stripped; his body was too clean.

His legs, which used to keep pace with his cattle, were at a standstill. Enkidu had been diminished, he could not run as before.

Yet he had acquired judgement, had become wiser. . . .

The harlot spoke to him, . . . “You have become profound, Enkidu, you have become like a god.

Why should you roam open country with wild beasts? Come, let me take you into Uruk the Sheepfold,

To . . . Gilgamesh. . . . “

[After this, Enkidu encounters Gilgamesh in Uruk. They become fast friends and companions in fantastic adventures. They slay the terrifying monster Humbaba, who guards the pine forest in the north. Ishtar, the goddess of sex, is smitten with Gilgamesh and offers to marry him. Knowing that Ishtar quickly tires of her husbands and then inflicts horrible punishments on them, Gilgamesh rejects her. Insulted, Ishtar gets her father, Anu, the chief of the gods, to send the Bull of Heaven against Gilgamesh and Enkidu. But the two heroes kill the Bull of Heaven and insult Ishtar with part of its carcass. The gods decide they have gone too far and one of them must die: Enkidu. Enkidu has a dream, which foreshadows his death and which provides a picture of what happens after death.]

Then Enkidu wept, for he was sick at heart. . . . He spoke what was in his mind to his friend.

“Listen, again, my friend! I had a dream in the night. The sky called out, the earth replied.

I was standing in between them.

There was a young man, whose face was obscured. His face was like that of . . . [a] bird.

He had the paws of a lion, he had the claws of an eagle.

He seized me by my locks, using great force against me. . . . Like a wild bull he trampled on me, . . .

I cried out: “Save me, my friend, don’t desert me!” But you were afraid, and did not help me. . . .

He seized me, drove me down to the dark house, . . . To the house which those who enter cannot leave, On the road where traveling is one way only.

To the house where those who stay are deprived of light, Where dust is their food, and clay their bread.

They are clothed, like birds, with feathers,

And they see no light, and they dwell in

darkness.

[As Enkidu sickens and dies, Gilgamesh mourns and fears his own death. He decides to visit Ut-napishtim, who is legendary for wisdom and has attained immortality, to find the answers. To reach Ut-napishtim Gilgamesh must undertake a dangerous journey to the land beyond the realm of the living. He has various encounters along the way, one of which is with an innkeeper, who is actually Siduri, the goddess of brewing and wisdom. She advises Gilgamesh.]

The alewife spoke to him, to Gilgamesh, “Gilgamesh, where do you roam?

You will not find the eternal life you seek. When the gods created mankind

They appointed death for mankind, Kept eternal life in their own hands.

So, Gilgamesh, let your stomach be full, Day and night enjoy yourself in every way,

Every day arrange for pleasures. Day and night, dance and play, Wear fresh clothes.

Keep your head washed, bathe in water, Appreciate the child who holds your hand, Let your wife enjoy herself in your lap.

This is the work . . . [of] the living.^vii

[Gilgamesh perseveres and with the help of Ur-shanabi, the ferryman, he finally reaches Ut-napishtim.]

Ut-napishtim spoke to him, to Gilgamesh,

“Why are your cheeks wasted, your face dejected, Your heart so wretched, your appearance worn out, And grief in your innermost being? . . .”

Gilgamesh spoke to him, to Ut-napishtim,

“How would my cheeks not be wasted, nor my face dejected, Nor my heart wretched, nor my appearance worn out, . . .

Enkidu my friend was the hunted mule, wild ass of the mountain, leopard of open country.

We who met and scaled the mountain, Seized the Bull of Heaven and slew it,

Demolished Humbaba who dwelt in the Pine Forest, Killed lions in the passes of the mountains, . . .

Enkidu my friend whom I love so much, who experienced every hardship with me—

The fate of mortals conquered him! For six days and seven nights I wept over him, . . . I was frightened. I am afraid of Death, and so I roam open country. . . .

The words of Enkidu my friend weigh upon me. . . .

How, O how could I stay silent, how, O how could I keep quiet? My friend whom I love has turned to clay:

Enkidu my friend whom I love has turned to clay. Am I not like him? Must I lie down too,

Never to rise, ever again?” . . .

Ut-napishtim spoke to him, to Gilgamesh, “Why do you prolong grief, Gilgamesh?

Since the gods made you from the flesh of gods and mankind, Since the gods made you like your father and mother,

Death is inevitable at some time, both for Gilgamesh and for a fool. . . . Why have you exerted yourself? What have you achieved?

You have made yourself weary for lack of sleep, You only fill your flesh with grief,

You only bring the distant days of reckoning closer. Mankind’s fame is cut down like reeds in a reed-bed.

A fine young man, a fine girl, . . . Nobody sees Death,

Nobody sees the face of Death, Nobody hears the voice of Death. Savage Death just cuts mankind down.

Sometimes we build a house, sometimes we make a nest, But then brothers divide it upon inheritance.

Sometimes there is hostility in the land,

But then the river rises and brings flood-water. Dragonflies drift on the river,

Their faces look upon the face of the Sun, But then suddenly there is nothing.

The sleeping and the dead are just like each other, Death’s picture cannot be drawn. . . .

The Anunnaki,^viii the great gods, . . . appointed death and life. They did not mark out days for death,

But they did so for life.”

Gilgamesh spoke to him, to Ut-napishtim the far-distant, . . .

“[Tell me] how you came to stand in the gods’ assembly and sought eternal life? Ut-napishtim spoke to him, to Gilgamesh,

“Let me reveal to you the secret of the gods. . . . [T]he gods . . . decided [to] make a flood. . . .

Far-sighted Ea^ix swore the oath (of secrecy) with them,

So he repeated their speech to a reed hut,^x “Reed hut, reed hut, brick wall, brick wall: This is the message:

Man of Shuruppak, son of Ubara-Tutu,^xi

Dismantle your house, build a boat.

Leave possessions, search out living things. Reject chattels^xii and save lives!

Put aboard the seed of all living things, into the boat. The boat that you are to build

Shall have her dimensions in proportion, Her width and length shall be in

harmony, Roof her like the Apsu.”^xiii

I realized and spoke to my master Ea,

“I have paid attention to the words that you spoke in this way, My master, and I shall act upon them. . . .

I loaded her with everything there was, Loaded her with all the silver,

Loaded her with all the gold

Loaded her with all the seed of living things, all of them. I put on board the boat all my kith and kin.

Put on board cattle from open country, wild beasts from open country, all kinds of craftsmen. . . .

That hour arrived; . . .

I saw the shape of the storm, The storm was terrifying to see.

I went aboard the boat and closed the door. . . . For six days and seven nights

The wind blew, flood and tempest overwhelmed the land; When the seventh day arrived the tempest, flood and onslaught

Which had struggled like a woman in labour, blew themselves out. The sea became calm, the wind grew quiet, the flood held back. [S]ilence reigned, for all mankind had returned to clay. . . .

The boat had come to rest on Mount Nimush.^xiv . . . When the seventh day arrived,

I put out and released a dove. The dove went; it came back,

For no perching place was visible to it; and it turned round. I put out and released a swallow.

The swallow went; it came back,

For no perching place was visible to it, and it turned round. I put out and released a raven.

The raven went, and saw the waters receding.

And it ate, preened, lifted its tail and did not turn round. Then . . . I made a sacrifice, . . .

The gods smelt the pleasant fragrance and . . . gathered like flies over the sacrifice. . . .

Ellil^xv . . . was furious,

Filled with anger at the Igigi gods^xvi. . . .

“No man should have lived through the destruction!” . . . Ea made his voice heard and spoke,

He said to the warrior Ellil,

“You are the sage of the gods, warrior,

So how, O how, could you fail to consult, and impose the flood? Punish the sinner for his sin, punish the criminal for his crime, . . .

[As Gilgamesh prepares to go back to the land of the living, Ut-napishtim tells him a secret that promises eternal life. Gilgamesh gets it, but loses it again.]

“Gilgamesh, . . . let me tell you the secret of the gods.

There is a plant whose . . . thorn, like a rose’s, will spike your hands. If you yourself can win that plant, you will find rejuvenation.”

When Gilgamesh heard this, he . . . tied heavy stones to his feet.

They dragged him down into the Apsu,^xvii. . .

He took the plant himself: it spiked his hands. He cut the heavy stones from his feet.

The sea threw him up on to its shore.

Gilgamesh spoke to him, to Ur-shanabi the boatman, “Ur-shanabi, this plant is a plant to cure a crisis! With it a man may win the breath of life. . . .

Its name shall be: ‘An old man grows into a young man.’

I too shall eat it and turn into the young man that I once was.” . . . At thirty leagues they stopped for the night. . . .

A snake smelt the fragrance of the plant.

It came up silently and carried off the plant. As it took it away, it shed its scaly skin. Thereupon Gilgamesh sat down and wept. His tears flowed over his cheeks. . . .

“For what purpose, Ur-shanabi, have my arms grown weary? . . . I did not gain an advantage for myself,

I have given the advantage to the ‘lion of the ground.’”^xviii

Notes

Review

1. 1. What was the Mesopotamian view of the afterlife?

2. 2. What are the respective roles of gods and humans in the epic? What do the gods demand of humans? What do humans require of the gods?

3. 3. Can we glean from these excerpts insights into the Mesopotamian meaning of life? If so what is it?