Translated from Cuneiform by R. Campbell Thompson

The Epic of Gilgamesh is the oldest surviving work of epic literature in the world, composed in Akkadian cuneiform on clay tablets in ancient Mesopotamia. The poem tells the story of Gilgamesh, the legendary king of Uruk (biblical Erech), who is two-thirds divine and one-third human. Driven by restless energy and tyrannical strength, he finds his equal in Enkidu, a wild man created by the gods to check his power. Their friendship becomes the axis of the poem — together they slay the forest guardian Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven, but the gods demand a price, and Enkidu dies. Shattered by grief, Gilgamesh sets out across the world to find the secret of eternal life.

This translation was made by R. Campbell Thompson (1876–1941), an Oxford-trained Assyriologist associated with the British Museum who excavated at Ur, Nineveh, and Carchemish. Thompson collated the cuneiform tablets of the Standard Babylonian Version (compiled by the scribe Sîn-lēqi-unninni, c. 1200 BCE) held in the British Museum, and rendered them literally into English hexameters. The translation, published in 1928 by Luzac & Co., London, is one of the first essentially complete academic translations of the epic. Where the Assyrian tablets are damaged, Thompson supplements from the Old Babylonian Version and from Hittite and Semitic fragments found at Boğazköy. Gaps in the clay are marked by brackets and ellipses — these silences are part of the text, the scars of three thousand years.

The text presented here follows Thompson's 1928 edition as preserved on the Internet Sacred Text Archive (sacred-texts.com), verified against the structure and content of the original publication. Thompson's scholarly footnotes have been removed from the body in accordance with archive standards; his editorial notes on gaps, variant versions, and tablet damage have been preserved as integral to the reading experience — they are part of the archaeology of a living text.

The First Tablet — Of the Tyranny of Gilgamesh, and the Creation of Enkidu

Column I — The Argument

He who the heart of all matters hath proven let him teach the nation,
He who all knowledge possesseth, therein shall he school all the people,
He shall his wisdom impart and so shall they share it together.
Gilgamesh — he was the Master of wisdom, with knowledge of all things,
He 'twas discovered the secret concealed . . .
Aye, handed down the tradition relating to things prediluvian,
Went on a journey afar, all aweary and worn with his toiling,
Graved on a table of stone all the travail.

Of Erech, the high-walled, he it was built up the ramparts; and he it was clamped the foundation, like unto brass, of E-Anna, the sacred, the treasury hallowed, strengthened its base to grant wayleave to no one . . .

(About thirty lines wanting. The description of Gilgamesh runs on to the beginning of the next Column.)

Column II

Two-thirds of him are divine, and one-third of him human,
The form of his body . . .
He hath forced to take . . .

(Gap of about three lines.)

(The Plaint of Erech to the gods against the tyrant Gilgamesh)

". . . of Erech 'tis he who hath taken,
. . . while towereth his crest like an aurochs,
Ne'er hath the shock of his weapons its peer; are driven his fellows
Into the toils, while cowed are the heroes of Erech un- . . .
Gilgamesh leaveth no son to his father, his arrogance swelling
Each day and night; aye, he is the shepherd of Erech, the high-walled,
He is our shepherd . . . masterful, dominant, subtle . . .
Gilgamesh leaveth no maid to her mother, nor daughter to hero,
Nay, nor a spouse to a husband."

And so, to the appeal of their wailing gave ear the Immortals: the gods of high heaven addressed the god Anu, him who was Seigneur of Erech: "'Tis thou a son hast begotten, aye, in sooth, all tyrannous, while towereth his crest like an aurochs, ne'er hath the shock of his weapons its peer; are driven his fellows into the toils, while cowed are the heroes of Erech un- . . . Gilgamesh leaveth no son to his father, his arrogance swelling each day and night; aye, he is the shepherd of Erech, the high-walled, he is their shepherd . . . masterful, dominant, subtle . . . Gilgamesh leaveth no maid to her mother, nor daughter to hero, nay, nor a spouse to a husband."

And so, to the appeal of their wailing Anu gave ear, called the lady Aruru: "'Twas thou, O Aruru, madest primeval seed of mankind: do now make its fellow, so that he happen on Gilgamesh, yea, on the day of his pleasure, so that they strive with each other, and he unto Erech give surcease."

(The Creation of Enkidu)

So when the goddess Aruru heard this, in her mind she imagined straightway, this Concept of Anu, and, washing her hands, then Aruru fingered some clay, on the desert she moulded it: thus on the desert Enkidu made she, a warrior, as he were born and begotten, yea, of Ninurta the double, and put forth the whole of his body. Hair: in the way of a woman he snooded his locks in a fillet; sprouted luxuriant growth of his hair-like the awns of the barley, nor knew he people nor land; he was clad in a garb like Sumuqan. E'en with gazelles did he pasture on herbage, along with the cattle drank he his fill, with the beasts did his heart delight at the water.

(The Encounter of Enkidu with the Hunter)

Then did a hunter, a trapper, come face to face with this fellow, came on him one, two, three days, at the place where the beasts drank their water; sooth, when the hunter espied him, his face o'ermantled with terror, he and his cattle went unto his steading, dismayed and affrighted, crying aloud, distressed in his heart, and his face overclouded, . . . woe in his belly . . . aye, and his face was the same as of one who hath gone a far journey.

Column III

Opened his mouth then the hunter, and spake, addressing his father: "Father, there is a great fellow come forth from out of the mountains, O, but his strength is the greatest the length and breadth of the country, like to a double of Anu's own self his strength is enormous, ever he rangeth at large o'er the mountains, and ever with cattle grazeth on herbage and ever he setteth his foot to the water, so that I fear to approach him. The pits which I myself hollowed with mine own hands hath he filled in again, and the traps of my setting torn up, and out of my clutches hath holpen escape all the cattle, beasts of the desert: to work at my fieldcraft he will not allow me."

Opened his mouth then his father, and spake, addressing the hunter: "Gilgamesh dwelleth in Erech, my son, whom no one hath vanquished, nay, but 'tis his strength is greatest the length and breadth of the country, like to a double of Anu's own self, his strength is enormous. Go, set thy face towards Erech: and when he hears of a monster, he will say 'Go, O hunter, a courtesan-girl, a hetaera take with thee' . . . like a strong one; when he the cattle shall gather again to the place of their drinking, so shall she put off her mantle the charm of her beauty revealing; then shall he spy her, and sooth will embrace her, and thenceforth his cattle, which in his very own deserts were reared, will straightway deny him."

(How Gilgamesh first heard of Enkidu)

Unto the rede of his father the hunter hath hearkened, and straightway he will away unto Gilgamesh. Taking the road towards Erech turned he his steps, and to Gilgamesh came, his speech thus addressing, saying: "There is a great fellow come forth from out of the mountains, O, but his strength is the greatest, the length and breadth of the country, like to a double of Anu's own self his strength is enormous, ever he rangeth at large o'er the mountains, and ever with cattle grazeth on herbage, and ever he setteth his foot to the water, so that I fear to approach him. The pits which I myself hollowed with mine own hands hath he filled in again, and the traps of my setting torn up, and out of my clutches hath holpen escape all the cattle, beasts of the desert: to work at my fieldcraft he will not allow me."

Gilgamesh unto him, unto the hunter made answer in this wise: "Go, good my hunter, take with thee a courtesan-girl, a hetaera, when he the cattle shall gather again to the place of their drinking, so shall she put off her mantle, the charm of her beauty revealing, then shall he spy her, and sooth will embrace her, and thenceforth his cattle which in his very own deserts were reared will straightway deny him."

(The Seduction of Enkidu)

Forth went the hunter, took with him a courtesan-girl, a hetaera, so did they start on their travels, went forth on their journey together, aye, at the term of three days arrived at the pleasaunce appointed. Sate they down in their ambush, the hunter and the hetaera, one day, two days they sat by the place where the beasts drank their water.

Column IV

Thither the animals came that their hearts might delight in the water, aye, there was Enkidu also, he whom the mountains had gendered, e'en with gazelles did he pasture on herbage, along with the cattle drank he his fill, with the beasts did his heart delight at the water, so beheld him the courtesan-girl, the lusty great fellow, O but a monster all savage from out of the depths of the desert!

"'Tis he, O girl! O, discover thy beauty, thy comeliness shew him, so that thy loveliness he may possess — O, in no wise be bashful, ravish the soul of him — certes, as soon as his eye on thee falleth, he, forsooth, will approach thee, and thou — O, loosen thy mantle, so that he clasp thee, and then with the wiles of a woman shalt ply him; wherefore his animals, bred in his desert, will straightway deny him, since to his breast he hath held thee."

The girl, displaying her bosom, shewed him her comeliness, yea so that he of her beauty possessed him, bashful she was not, but ravished the soul of him, loosing her mantle, so that he clasped her, and then with the wiles of a woman she plied him, holding her unto his breast. 'Twas thus that Enkidu dallied six days, aye seven nights, with the courtesan-girl in his mating.

(How Enkidu was inveigled into Erech to fight with Gilgamesh)

Sated at length with her charms, he turned his face to his cattle, O the gazelles, how they scampered away, as soon as they saw him! Him, yea, Enkidu, — fled from his presence the beasts of the desert! Enkidu losing his innocence — so, when the cattle fled from him, failed his knees, and he slacked in his running, not as aforetime: natheless he thus hath attained his full growth and hath broadened his wisdom.

Sat he again at the feet of the woman, the woman his features scanning, and, while she was speaking, his ears heard the words she was saying: "Comely thou art, e'en like to a god, O Enkidu, shalt be, why with the beasts of the field dost thou ever range over the desert? Up! for I'll lead thee to Erech, the high-walled — in sooth, to the Temple sacred, the dwelling of Anu and Ishtar, where, highest in power, Gilgamesh is, and prevaileth o'er men like an aurochs."

Her counsel e'en as she spake it found favour, for conscious he was of his longing some companion to seek; so unto the courtesan spake he: "Up, then, O girl, to the Temple, the holy and sacred, invite me, me, to the dwelling of Anu and Ishtar, where, highest in power, Gilgamesh is, and prevaileth o'er men like an aurochs — for I, too,

Column V

I, I will summon him, challenging boldly and crying through Erech, 'I too, am mighty!' Nay, I, forsooth I, will even destiny alter — truly, 'tis he who is born in the desert whose vigour is greatest! . . . I will please thee, . . . whatever there be, that would I know."

"Enkidu, come then to Erech, the high-walled, where people array them gorgeous in festal attire, and each day the day is a revel, eunuch-priests clashing their cymbals, and dancing-girls . . . flown with their wantoning, gleeful, and keeping the nobles out of their beds! Nay, Enkidu, joy in thy life to its fullest thou shalt taste — forsooth will I shew thee a man who is happy, Gilgamesh! View him, O look on his face, how comely his manhood! Dowered with lustiness is he, the whole of his body with power brimming, his vigour is stronger than thine, all day and night restless! Enkidu, temper thine arrogance — Gilgamesh, loveth him Shamash, Anu, and Enlil, and Ea have dowered his wisdom with largesse.

(How Gilgamesh dreamt of Enkidu)

"Sooth, or ever from out of thy mountains thou camest, in Erech Gilgamesh thee had beheld in a dream; so, Gilgamesh coming spake to his mother, the dream to reveal. 'O my mother, a vision which I beheld in my night-time. Behold, there were stars of the heavens, when something like unto Anu's own self fell down on my shoulders, ah, though I heaved him, he was o'erstrong for me, and though his grapple loosed I, I was unable to shake him from off me: and now, all the meanwhile, people from Erech were standing about him, the artisans pressing on him behind, while thronged him the heroes; my very companions kissing his feet; I, I to my breast like a woman did hold him, then I presented him low at thy feet, that as mine own equal thou mightest account him.'

"She who knoweth all wisdom thus to her Seigneur she answered, she who knoweth all wisdom, to Gilgamesh thus did she answer: 'Lo, by the stars of the heavens are represented thy comrades, that which was like unto Anu's own self, which fell on thy shoulders, which thou didst heave, but he was o'erstrong for thee, aye, though his grapple thou didst unloose, but to shake him from off thee thou wert unable, so didst present him low at my feet, that as thine own equal I might account him — and thou to thy breast like a woman didst hold him:

Column VI

"'This is a stoutheart, a friend, one ready to stand by a comrade, one whose strength is the greatest, the length and breadth of the country, like to a double of Anu's own self his strength is enormous. Now, since thou to thy breast didst hold him the way of a woman, this is a sign that thou art the one he will never abandon: this of thy dream is the meaning.'

"Again he spake to his mother, 'Mother, a second dream did I see: into Erech, the high-walled, hurtled an axe, and they gathered about it: the meanwhile, from Erech people were standing about it, the people all thronging before it, artisans pressing behind it, while I at thy feet did present it, I, like a woman I held it to me that thou mightest account it as mine own equal.'

"She the all-wise, who knoweth all wisdom, thus answered her offspring, she the all-wise who knoweth all wisdom, to Gilgamesh answered: 'Lo, that axe thou didst see is a Man; like a woman didst hold him, unto thy breast, that as thine own equal I might account him, this is a stoutheart, a friend, one ready to stand by a comrade, one whose strength is the greatest the length and breadth of the country, like to a double of Anu's own self, his strength is enormous.'

"Gilgamesh opened his mouth, and addressing his mother, thus spake he: 'Though great danger befall, a friend shall I have . . .'"

The Second Tablet — Of the Meeting of Gilgamesh and Enkidu

Column II

While Gilgamesh thus is the vision revealing, Enkidu sitteth before the hetaera, and she displaying her bosom, shewing her beauty, the place of his birth he forgetteth. So Enkidu dallied thus for six days, seven nights, with the courtesan-girl in his mating.

Broke into speech then, the nymph, and thus unto Enkidu spake she: "Yea, as I view thee, even like a god, O Enkidu, shalt be, why with the beasts of the field dost thou ever range over the desert? Up, for I'll lead thee to Erech broad-marketed, aye, to the Temple sacred, the dwelling of Anu — O Enkidu, come, that I guide thee, unto E-Anna, the dwelling of Anu, where Gilgamesh liveth, he, the supreme of creation; and thou, aye, thou wilt embrace him like to a woman, and even as thyself thou shalt love him. O, rouse thee up from the ground — 'tis a shepherd's bed only."

Her utterance heard he, welcomed her rede: the advice of the woman struck home in his bosom. She one garment took off wherewith she might clothe him: the other she herself wore, and so taking her hand like a brother she led him thus to the booths of the shepherds, the place of the sheepfolds. The shepherds gathered at sight of him.

Column III — How the Hetaera Schooled Enkidu

He in the past of the milk of the wild things to suck was accustomed! Bread which she set before him he broke, but he gazed and he stared: Enkidu bread did not know how to eat, nor had he the knowledge mead how to quaff!

Then the woman made answer, to Enkidu speaking, "Enkidu, taste of the bread, for of life 'tis; forsooth, the essential, drink thou, too, of the mead, 'tis the wonted use of the country."

Enkidu ate of the bread, aye, ate until he was gorged, drank of the mead seven bumpers; his spirits rose, and, exultant, glad was his heart, and cheerful his face: himself was he rubbing, oil on the hair of his body anointed: and thus became human.

Donned he a garment to be like a man, and taking his weapon, hunted the lions, which harried the shepherds o' nights: and the jackals caught he. So he, having mastered the lions, the shepherds slept soundly. Enkidu — he was their warden — becometh a man of full vigour.

(About thirteen lines are missing, a gap in which a sinister figure has evidently appeared. Enkidu sees him and speaks.)

Column IV

Then while he pleasured, he lifted his eyes, and, observing the fellow, spake he unto the woman: "O doxy, bring me this fellow, why hath he come? I would know his intention." The woman the fellow called that he come to him, that he might see him: "O, why art thou seeking, Sir? Pray, which is the way to thy rest-house?"

The man spake, addressing Enkidu: "You to the House of Community Gilgamesh calleth, this is the custom of men, and a homage too to the great ones: come, then, and heap up the offerings such as are due to the city, come, on behalf of the common weal bring in the food of the city. 'Tis for the king of broad-marketed Erech to look on thy greeting, Gilgamesh, king of broad-marketed Erech to look on thy greeting; first doth he mate with the woman allotted by fate, and then after speak by the counsel of god, and so from the shape of the omens utter the rede of his destiny."

So at the words of the fellow went they before him.

Column V — The Entry of Enkidu into Erech

Enkidu going in front, with the courtesan coming behind him, entered broad-marketed Erech; the populace gathered behind him, then, as he stopped in the street of broad-marketed Erech, the people thronging, behind him exclaimed "Of a truth, like to Gilgamesh is he, shorter in stature a trifle, his composition is stronger. . . . once like a weakling baby he sucked the milk of the wild things! Ever the bread-cakes in Erech give glorious climax to manhood! He a mere savage becometh a hero of proper appearance, now unto Gilgamesh, god-like, his composition is equal."

(How Enkidu fought with Gilgamesh for the Hetaera)

Strewn is the couch for the love-rites, and Gilgamesh now in the night-time cometh to sleep, to delight in the woman: but Enkidu, coming there in the highway, doth block up the passage to Gilgamesh, threatening he with his strength . . .

Column VI

Gilgamesh . . . behind him . . . Burgened his rage, and he rushed to attack him: they met in the highway. Enkidu barred up the door with his foot, and to Gilgamesh entry would not concede: they grappled and snorted like bulls, and the threshold shattered: the very wall quivered as Gilgamesh, Enkidu grappled, snorting like bulls, and the threshold they shattered, the very wall quivered.

(The Birth of Friendship)

Gilgamesh bent his leg to the ground: so his fury abated, aye, and his ardour was quelled: so soon as was quelled his ardour, Enkidu thus unto Gilgamesh spake: "Of a truth, did thy mother bear thee as one, and one only: that choicest cow of the steer-folds, Nin-sun exalted thy head above heroes, and Enlil hath dowered thee with the kingship o'er men."

The Third Tablet — The Expedition to the Forest of Cedars against Humbaba

(About a column and a half of the beginning of the Old Babylonian version are so broken that almost all the text is lost. Gilgamesh and Enkidu have now become devoted friends, thus strangely stultifying the purpose for which Enkidu was created, and now is set afoot the great expedition against the famous Cedar Forest guarded by the Ogre Humbaba. The courtesan has now for a brief space left the scene, having deserted Enkidu, much to his sorrow.)

Column II — The Tale of the Fight

"He lifted up his foot, to the door . . . They raged furiously . . . Enkidu hath not his equal . . . unkempt is the hair . . . Aye, he was born in the desert, and no one his presence can equal."

(Enkidu's sorrow at the loss of his Love)

Enkidu there as he stood gave ear to his utterance, grieving, sitting in sorrow: his eyes filled with tears, and his arms lost their power, slacked was his bodily vigour. Each clasped the hand of the other, holding like brothers their grip . . . and to Gilgamesh Enkidu answered:

"Friend, 'tis my darling hath circled her arms round my neck to farewell me, wherefore my arms lose their power, my bodily vigour is slackened."

(The Ambition of Gilgamesh)

Gilgamesh opened his mouth, and to Enkidu spake he in this wise:

Column III

"I, O my friend, am determined to go to the Forest of Cedars, aye, and Humbaba the Fierce will o'ercome and destroy what is evil, then will I cut down the Cedar . . ."

Enkidu opened his mouth, and to Gilgamesh spake he in this wise, "Know, then, my friend, what time I was roaming with kine in the mountains I for a distance of two hours' march from the skirts of the Forest into its depths would go down. Humbaba — his roar was a whirlwind, flame in his jaws, and his very breath Death! O, why hast desired this to accomplish? To meet with Humbaba were conflict unequalled."

Gilgamesh opened his mouth and to Enkidu spake he in this wise: "'Tis that I need the rich yield of its mountains I go to the Forest . . ."

(Seven mutilated lines continuing the speech of Gilgamesh.)

Enkidu opened his mouth and to Gilgamesh spake he in this wise: "But when we go to the Forest of Cedars . . . its guard is a Fighter, strong, never sleeping, O Gilgamesh . . ."

Column IV

"So that he safeguard the Forest of Cedars a terror to mortals him hath Enlil appointed — Humbaba, his roar is a whirlwind, flame in his jaws, and his very breath Death! Aye, if he in the Forest hear but a tread on the road — 'Who is this come down to his Forest?' So that he safeguard the Forest of Cedars, a terror to mortals, him hath Enlil appointed, and fell hap will seize him who cometh down to his Forest."

Gilgamesh opened his mouth and to Enkidu spake he in this wise: "Who, O my friend, is unconquered by death? A divinity, certes, liveth for aye in the daylight, but mortals — their days are all numbered, all that they do is but wind — but to thee, now death thou art dreading, proffereth nothing of substance thy courage — I, I'll be thy vaward! 'Tis thine own mouth shall tell thou didst fear the onslaught of battle, I, forsooth, if I should fall, my name will have stablished for ever. 'Gilgamesh 'twas, who fought with Humbaba, the Fierce!' In the future, after my children are born to my house, and climb up thee, saying: 'Tell to us all that thou knowest' . . .

"Yea, when thou speakest in this wise, thou grievest my heart for the Cedar I am determined to fell, that I may gain fame everlasting.

(The Weapons are cast for the Expedition)

"Now, O my friend, my charge to the craftsmen I fain would deliver, so that they cast in our presence our weapons."

The charge they delivered unto the craftsmen: the mould did the workmen prepare, and the axes monstrous they cast: yea, the celts did they cast, each weighing three talents; glaives, too, monstrous they cast, with hilts each weighing two talents, blades, thirty manas to each, corresponding to fit them: the inlay, gold thirty manas each sword: so were Gilgamesh, Enkidu laden each with ten talents.

(Gilgamesh takes counsel with the Elders)

And now in the Seven Bolt Portal of Erech hearing the bruit did the artisans gather, assembled the people, there in the streets of broad-marketed Erech, in Gilgamesh' honour, so did the Elders of Erech broad-marketed take seat before him.

Gilgamesh spake thus: "O Elders of Erech broad-marketed, hear me!

Column V

"'Ah, let me look on this Gilgamesh, he of whom people are speaking, he with whose fame the countries are filled' — 'Tis I will o'erwhelm him, there in the Forest of Cedars — I'll make the land hear it how like a giant the Scion of Erech is — yea, for the Cedars I am determined to fell, that I may gain fame everlasting."

Gilgamesh thus did the Elders of Erech broad-marketed answer: "Gilgamesh, 'tis thou art young, that thy valour o'ermuch doth uplift thee, nor dost thou know to the full what thou dost seek to accomplish. Unto our ears hath it come of Humbaba, his likeness is twofold. Who of free will then would seek to oppose in encounter his weapons? Who for a distance of two hours' march from the skirts of the Forest unto its depths would go down? Humbaba, his roar is a whirlwind, flame in his jaws, and his very breath Death! O, why hast desired this to accomplish? To meet with Humbaba were conflict unequalled."

Gilgamesh unto the rede of his counsellors hearkened and pondered, cried to his friend: "Now, indeed, O my friend, will I thus voice opinion. I forsooth dread him, and yet to the depths of the Forest I'll take me . . ."

(About seven lines mutilated or missing in which the Elders bless Gilgamesh in farewell.)

". . . may thy god so protect thee, bringing thee back safe and sound to the walls of broad-marketed Erech."

Gilgamesh knelt before Shamash a word in his presence to utter: "Here I present myself, Shamash, to lift up my hands in entreaty, O that hereafter my life may be spared, to the ramparts of Erech bring me again: spread thine aegis upon me."

Column VI

Tears adown Gilgamesh' cheeks were now streaming: "A road I have never traversed I go, on a passage I know not, but if I be spared so in content will I come and will pay thee due meed of thy homage."

Monstrous the axes they brought, they delivered the bow and the quiver into his hand; so taking a celt, he slung on his quiver, grasping another celt he fastened his glaive to his baldric. But, or ever the twain had set forth on their journey, they offered gifts to the Sun-god, that home he might bring them to Erech in safety.

(The Departure of the two Heroes)

Now do the Elders farewell him with blessings, to Gilgamesh giving counsel concerning the road: "O Gilgamesh, to thine own power trust not alone; but at least let thy road be traversed before thee, guard thou thy person; let Enkidu go before thee as vaward. Aye, for 'twas he hath discovered the way, the road he hath travelled. Sooth, of the Forest the passes are all under sway of Humbaba, yea, he who goeth as vaward is able to safeguard a comrade, O that the Sun-god may grant thee success to attain thine ambition, O that he grant that thine eyes see consummate the words of thy utterance, O that he level the path that is blocked, cleave a road for thy treading, cleave, too, the berg for thy foot! May the god Lugal-banda bring in thy night-time a message to thee, with which shalt be gladdened, so that it help thine ambition, for, like a boy thine ambition on the o'erthrow of Humbaba thou fixest, as thou hast settled.

"Wash, then, thy feet: when thou haltest, shalt hollow a pool, so that ever pure be the water within thy skin-bottle, aye, cool be the water unto the Sun-god thou pourest, and thus shalt remind Lugal-banda."

Enkidu opened his mouth, and spake unto Gilgamesh, saying: "Gilgamesh, art thou in truth full equal to making this foray? Let not thy heart be afraid; trust me." On his shoulder his mantle drew he, and now on the road to Humbaba they set forth together.

(The Assyrian Version of the Elders' speech:)

"Gilgamesh, put not thy faith in the strength of thine own person solely, quenched be thy wishes to trusting o'ermuch in thy shrewdness in smiting. Sooth, he who goeth as vaward is able to safeguard a comrade, he who doth know how to guide hath guarded his friend; so before thee, do thou let Enkidu go, for 'tis he to the Forest of Cedars knoweth the road: 'tis he lusteth for battle, and threateneth combat. Enkidu — he would watch over a friend, would safeguard a comrade, aye, such an one would deliver his person from out of the pitfalls. We, O King, in our conclave have paid deep heed to thy welfare, thou, O King, in return with an equal heed shalt requite us."

Gilgamesh opened his mouth, and spake unto Enkidu, saying: "Unto the Palace of Splendour, O friend, come, let us betake us, unto the presence of Nin-sun, the glorious Queen, aye to Nin-sun, wisest of all clever women, all-knowing; a well-devised pathway she will prescribe for our feet."

Clasped they their hands, each to each, and went to the Palace of Splendour, Gilgamesh, Enkidu. Unto the glorious Queen, aye to Nin-sun Gilgamesh came, and he entered in unto the presence of Nin-sun: "Nin-sun, O fain would I tell thee how I a far journey am going, unto the home of Humbaba to counter a warfare I know not, follow a road which I know not, aye from the time of my starting, till my return, until I arrive at the Forest of Cedars, till I o'erthrow Humbaba, the Fierce, and destroy from the country all that the Sun-god abhorreth of evil . . ."

(The rest of the speech is lost until the end of the Column, where Gilgamesh apparently asks his mother to beg a favour of the Sun-god.)

Column II — The Prayer of Nin-sun

Entered her chamber . . . and decked herself with the flowers of Tulal, put on the festal garb of her body . . . put on the festal garb of her bosom . . ., her head with a circlet crowned . . .

Climbed she the stairway, ascended the roof, and the parapet mounted, offered her incense to Shamash, her sacrifice offered to Shamash, then towards Shamash her hands she uplifted in orison saying:

"Why didst thou give this restlessness of spirit
With which didst dower Gilgamesh, my son?
That now thou touchest him, and straight he starteth
A journey far to where Humbaba dwelleth,
To counter warfare which he knoweth not,
Follow a pathway which he knoweth not,
Aye, from the very day on which he starteth,
Till he return, till to the Cedar Forest
He reach; till he o'erthrow the fierce Humbaba,
And from the land destroy all evil things
Which thou abhorrest; the day which thou hast set
As term, of that strong man who feareth thee,
May Aa, thy bride, be thy remembrancer.
He the night-watches . . ."

(Columns III, IV, and V are much mutilated. There is a fragment about "the mountains," "the cattle of the field," and how "he waited": then a mention of the "corpse" of Humbaba and of the Anunnaki, the Spirits of Heaven. The last column is a repetition of the Elders' words:)

"Aye, such an one would deliver his person from out of the pitfalls. We, O King, in our conclave have paid deep heed to thy welfare, now, O King, in thy turn with an equal heed shalt requite us."

Enkidu opened his mouth and spake unto Gilgamesh, saying: "Turn, O my friend . . . a road not . . ."

The Fourth Tablet — The Arrival at the Gate of the Forest

(Of Column I about thirty-six lines are mutilated or missing. When the text becomes connected the heroes have reached the Gate of the Forest.)

Column I — Enkidu addresses the Gate

Enkidu lifted his eyes . . . and spake with the Gate as 'twere human: "O thou Gate of the Forest without understanding . . . sentience which thou hast not . . . I for full forty leagues have admired thy wonderful timber, aye, till I sighted the towering Cedar . . . O but thy wood hath no peer in the country . . . Six gar thy height, and two gar thy breadth . . . sooth, but thy stanchion, thy socket, thy pivot, thy lock, and thy shutter, all of them must have been fashioned for thee in the City of Nippur! O, if I had but known, O Gate, that this was thy grandeur, this, too, the grace of thy structure, then either an axe had I lifted or I had . . . or bound together . . ."

(Most of columns II through IV are lost. Column V survives partially:)

Column V

". . . O, haste thee, withstand him, he will not pursue thee, we will go on down into the wood not daunted, together . . . Thou shalt put on seven garments . . ."

He like a mighty wild bull . . . flung he the Portal afar, and his mouth was filled with his challenge, cried to the Guard of the Forest: "Up! 'Tis I will challenge Humbaba like to a . . ."

Column VI

(Enkidu is speaking:) "Trouble I foresee wherever I go . . . O my friend, I have seen a dream which un- . . ."

(Enkidu is stricken with fear at thought of the combat.)

Enkidu lay for a day, yea, a second — for Enkidu lying prone on his couch, was a third and a fourth day . . ., a fifth, sixth and seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth. While Enkidu lay in his sickness . . ., the eleventh, aye, till the twelfth . . . on his couch was Enkidu lying.

Called he to Gilgamesh, . . . "O but, my comrade, . . . hateth me . . because within Erech I was afraid of the combat, and . . . My friend, who in battle . . ."

(A small gap in which Gilgamesh has answered. Enkidu replies:)

Enkidu opened his mouth and spake unto Gilgamesh, saying: "Nay, but, my friend, let us no wise go down to the depths of the Forest, for 'tis my hands have grown weak, and my arms are stricken with palsy."

Gilgamesh opened his mouth and spake unto Enkidu, saying: "Shall we, O friend, play the coward? . . . thou shalt surpass them all . . . Thou, O my friend, art cunning in warfare, art shrewd in the battle, so shalt thou touch the . . . and of death have no terror . . . so that the palsy now striking thine arms may depart, and the weakness pass from thy hands! Be brave and resist! O my comrade, together we will go down — let the combat in no wise diminish thy courage! O forget death, and be fearful of nothing . . . for he who is valiant, cautious and careful, by leading the way hath his own body guarded, he 'tis will safeguard a comrade." A name by their valour they will establish.

And now they together arrive at the barrier, stilled into silence their speech, and they themselves suddenly stopping.

The Fifth Tablet — Of the Fight with Humbaba

Column I — The Wonders of the Forest

Stood they and stared at the Forest, they gazed at the height of the Cedars, scanning the avenue into the Forest: and there where Humbaba stalked, was a path, and straight were his tracks, and good was the passage. Eke they beheld the Mount of the Cedar, the home of the Immortals, shrine of Irnini, the Cedar uplifting its pride 'gainst the mountain, fair was its shade, all full of delight, with bushes there spreading . . .

Column II — Gilgamesh relates his dreams

(After a few mutilated lines:)

"Then came another dream to me, comrade, and this second vision pleasant, indeed, which I saw, for we twain were standing together high on a peak of the mountains, and then did the mountain peak topple, leaving us twain to be like . . . which are born in the desert."

Enkidu spake to his comrade the dream to interpret, thus saying: "Comrade, in sooth, this vision of thine unto us good fortune forbodeth, aye, 'tis a dream of great gain thou didst see, for, bethink you, O comrade, surely the mountain which thou hast beholden must needs be Humbaba. Thus doth it mean we shall capture Humbaba, and throw down his carcase, leaving his corpse in abasement — to-morrow's outcome will I shew thee."

Now at the fortieth league did they break their fast with a morsel, now at the sixtieth rested, and hollowed a pit in the sunshine . . . Gilgamesh mounted above it . . . and poured out his meal for the mountain: "Mountain, a dream do thou grant . . . breathe on him . . ."

Column III

Granted the mountain a dream . . . it breathed on him . . . Then a chill wind-blast up-sprang and a gust passing over . . . made him to cower, and . . . thereat he swayed like the corn of the mountains . . . Gilgamesh, squatting bent-kneed, supported his haunches, and straightway sleep such as floweth on man descended upon him: at midnight ending his slumber all sudden, he hied him to speak to his comrade:

"Didst thou not call me, O friend? O, why am I wakened from slumber? Didst thou not touch me — for, why am I fearful, or hath not some spirit passed me? Or, why is my flesh all a-quiver?

"A third dream, O comrade, I have beheld: but all awesome this dream which I have beholden: loud did the firmament roar, and earth with the echo resounded, sombre the day, with darkness uprising, and levin bolts flashing, kindled were flames, and there, too, was Pestilence filled to o'erflowing, gorged was Death! Then faded the glare, then faded the fires, falling, the brands turned to ashes — come, let us go down to the desert, that we may counsel together."

(A variant version from the Boğazköy tablets briefly describes how the heroes halt for the night and Gilgamesh dreams again: "In my dream, O friend, a mountain . . . he cast me down, seized my feet . . . The brilliance increased: a man . . ., most comely of all the land was his beauty . . . Beneath the mountain he drew me, and . . . water he gave me to drink, and my desire was assuaged; to earth he set my feet . . ." Enkidu replies: "My friend, we will go . . . whatever is hostile . . . Not the mountain . . . Come, lay aside fear . . .")

Column VI — The Fight with Humbaba

(From the Hittite Version:)

In the following manner . . . the Sun-god in heaven . . . the trees: He saw Gilgamesh: of the Sun-god in heaven . . . and shewed him the dam on the ditches.

Gilgamesh spake then in orison unto the Sun-god in heaven: "Lo, on that day to the city . . . which is in the city: I in sooth pray to the Sun-god in heaven: I on a road have now started . . ."

Unto the entreaty of Gilgamesh hearkened the Sun-god in heaven, wherefore against Humbaba he raised mighty winds: yea, a great wind, wind from the North, aye, a wind from the South, yea a tempest and storm wind, chill wind, and whirlwind, a wind of all evil: 'twas eight winds he raiséd, seizing Humbaba before and behind, so that nor to go forwards, nor to go back was he able: and then Humbaba surrendered.

Wherefore to Gilgamesh spake thus Humbaba: "O Gilgamesh, prythee, stay, now, thy hand: be thou now my master, and I'll be thy henchman: O disregard all the words which I spake so boastfully against thee, weighty . . . I would lay me down . . . and the Palace."

Thereat to Gilgamesh Enkidu spake: "Of the rede which Humbaba maketh to thee thou darest in nowise offer acceptance. Aye, for Humbaba must not remain alive . . ."

(The Hittite Version here breaks off. The Assyrian Version ends with:)

. . . they cut off the head of Humbaba.

The Sixth Tablet — Of the Goddess Ishtar, Who Fell in Love with the Hero after His Exploit against Humbaba

Column I — Gilgamesh is removing the stains of combat

Now is he washing his stains, and is cleansing his garments in tatters, braiding the locks of his hair to descend loose over his shoulders, laying aside his garments besmirchen, and donning his clean ones, putting on armlets, and girding his body about with a baldric, Gilgamesh bindeth his fillet, and girdeth himself with a baldric.

(Ishtar sees him and seeks to wed him)

Now Lady Ishtar espieth the beauty of Gilgamesh: saith she, "Gilgamesh, come, be a bridegroom, to me of the fruit of thy body grant me largesse: for my husband shalt be and I'll be thy consort. O, but I'll furnish a chariot for thee, all azure and golden, golden its wheel, and its yoke precious stones, each day to be harnessed unto great mules: O, enter our house with the fragrance of cedar. So when thou enterest into our house shall threshold and dais kiss thy feet, and beneath thee do homage kings, princes, and rulers, bringing thee yield of the mountains and plains as a tribute: thy she-goats bring forth in plenty, thy ewes shall bear twins, thy asses attaining each to the size of a mule, and thy steeds in thy chariot winning fame for their gallop: thy mules in the yoke shall ne'er have a rival."

Gilgamesh opened his mouth in reply, Lady Ishtar to answer: "Aye, but what must I give thee, if I should take thee in marriage? I must provide thee with oil for thy body, and clothing: aye, also give thee thy bread and thy victual: sooth, must be sustenance ample meet for divinity — I, too, must give thee thy drink fit for royalty. . . . I shall be bound, . . . let us amass . . . clothe with a garment.

"What, then, will be my advantage, supposing I take thee in marriage? Thou'rt but a ruin which giveth no shelter to man from the weather, thou'rt but a back door not giving resistance to blast or to windstorm, thou'rt but a palace which dasheth the heroes within it to pieces, thou'rt but a pitfall which letteth its covering give way all treacherous, thou art but pitch which defileth the man who doth carry it with him, thou'rt but a bottle which leaketh on him who doth carry it with him, thou art but limestone which letteth stone ramparts fall crumbling in ruin. Thou'rt but chalcedony failing to guard in an enemy's country, thou'rt but a sandal which causeth its owner to trip by the wayside.

"Who was ever thy husband thou faithfully lovedst for all time? Who hath been ever thy lord who hath gained over thee the advantage? Come, and I will unfold thee the endless tale of thy husbands.

"Sooth, thou shalt vouch for the truth of this list — Thy maidenhood's consort, Tammuz, each year dost make him the cause of Wailing, then cometh next the bird Roller gay-feathered thou lovedst, and yet thou didst smite him breaking his wing: in the grove doth he stand, crying kappi 'my wing!'

"Lovedst thou also a Lion, in all the full strength of his vigour, yet thou didst dig for him seven and seven deep pits to entrap him. Lovedst thou also a Stallion, magnificent he in the battle, thou wert the cause of a bridle, a spur, and a whip to him: also thou wert the cause of his fifty miles galloping; thou wert the cause, too, eke, of exhaustion and sweating; thereafter, 'twas thou who didst also unto his mother Silili give cause for her deep lamentation.

"Lovedst thou also a Shepherd, a neatherd, for thee without ceasing each day to sacrifice yeanlings for thee would heap thee his charcoal, yet thou didst smite him, transforming him into a jackal: his herd boy yea, his own herd boy drove him away, and his dogs tore his buttocks.

"Lovedst thou, too, Ishullanu, the gardener he of thy sire, bringing delights to thee ceaseless, while daily he garnished thy platter; 'twas for thee only to cast thine eyes on him, and with him be smitten. 'O Ishullanu of mine, come, let me taste of thy vigour, put forth thy hand, too . . .' But he, Ishullanu, said to thee 'What dost thou ask me? Save only my mother hath baked it, nought have I eaten — and what I should eat would be bread of transgression, aye and iniquity! Further, the reeds are a cloak against winter.' Thou this his answer didst hear, didst smite him and make him a spider, making him lodge midway up a dwelling — not to move upwards lest there be drainage; nor down, lest a crushing o'erwhelm him. So, too, me in my turn thou wouldst love and then reckon me like them."

Heard this then Ishtar: she burst into rage and went up to Heaven, hied her thus Ishtar to Anu, her father, to Antu, her mother, came she to tell them: "O father, doth Gilgamesh load me with insult, Gilgamesh tale of my sins, my sins and iniquities telleth."

Anu made answer, thus speaking, and said unto Ishtar the Lady: "Nay, thou didst ask him to grant thee largesse of the fruit of his body, hence he the tale of thy sins, thy sins and iniquities telleth."

(The Creation of the Divine Bull which is to destroy the heroes)

Ishtar made answer thus speaking, and said unto Anu, her father: "Father, O make me a Heavenly Bull, which shall Gilgamesh vanquish, filling its body with flame . . . But if thou'lt not make this Bull, then . . . I'll smite . . ."

Anu made answer, thus speaking, and said unto Ishtar, the Lady: "If I the Heavenly Bull shall create, for which thou dost ask me, then seven years of leer husks must needs follow after his onslaught. Wilt thou for man gather corn, and increase for the cattle the fodder?"

Ishtar made answer, thus speaking, and said unto Anu, her father: "Corn for mankind have I hoarded, have grown for the cattle the fodder, if seven years of leer husks must needs follow after his onslaught I will for man gather corn and increase for the cattle the fodder."

(The fight with the Heavenly Bull takes place in Erech. A hundred men descend upon the Bull, but with his fiery breath he annihilates them. Then come two hundred with the same result, and then three hundred more, again to be overcome.)

Enkidu girded his middle; and straightway Enkidu, leaping, seized on the Heavenly Bull by his horns, and headlong before him cast down the Heavenly Bull his full length . . . aye, by the thick of his tail.

(The Bull is slain.)

So, what time they the Bull of the Heavens had killed, its heart they removéd, unto the Sun-god they offered in sacrifice; when the libation unto the Sun they had voided, they sate them down, the two brothers.

(The Frenzy of Ishtar)

Then mounted Ishtar the crest of the ramparts of Erech, the high-walled, so to the roof-top ascended, and there gave voice to her wailing: "Woe unto Gilgamesh — he who by killing the Bull of the Heavens, made me lament."

When Enkidu heard this, the shrieking of Ishtar, wrenching the member from out of the Bull, he tossed it before her: "If I could only have reached thee, i'faith, I'd ha' served thee the same way, I'd ha' let dangle his guts on thy flanks as a girdle about thee."

Ishtar assembled the girl-devotees, the hetaerae and harlots, over the member torn out from the Bull she led the lamenting.

(The Triumph of Gilgamesh)

Gilgamesh called to the masters of craft, the artists, yea, all of them, that at the size of its horns all the guilds of the crafts speak their praises. Each had of azure in weight thirty minas to be as their setting, two fingers their . . . Both of them held six measures of oil; to his god Lugal-banda he for his unguent devoting, brought in, and thus let them hang there, there in the shrine of his forbears.

And now in the River Euphrates washing their hands, they start on their progress and come to the city; now are they striding the highway of Erech, the heroes of Erech thronging about them to see them.

Then Gilgamesh uttered a riddle unto the notables:

Who, prythee, is most splendid of heroes,
Who, prythee, is most famous of giants?
Gilgamesh — he is most splendid of heroes,
Enkidu — he is most famous of giants.

So in his palace did Gilgamesh hold high revel: thereafter, while all the heroes asleep, on their nightly couches were lying, Enkidu, too, was asleep, and a vision beheld, and so coming Enkidu now his dream to reveal: thus spake he unto his comrade.

The Seventh Tablet — The Death of Enkidu

Column I — Enkidu's Dream

"Why, O my friend, do the great gods now take counsel together?"

(The remainder of the Column is lost in the Assyrian, but can be partially supplied from the Hittite Version:)

"Then came the day . . . Enkidu answered Gilgamesh: 'Gilgamesh, hear the dream which I saw in the night: Now Enlil, Ea, and the Sun-god of heaven . . . the Sun-god Enlil spake in return: "These who the heavenly Bull have killed and Humbaba have smitten: . . . which helped at the cedar . . . Enlil hath said 'Enkidu shall die: but Gilgamesh shall not die.'"

"Then answered Enlil boldly 'O Sun-god, at thy behest did they slay the Heavenly Bull and Humbaba. But now shall Enkidu die.' But Enlil turned angrily to the Sun-god: 'What dost thou them as befitting . . .? With his comrade thou settest out daily.'"

"But Enkidu laid himself down to rest before Gilgamesh, and by the dam . . . him the ditch: 'My brother, of great worth is my dream.'"

(Column II is entirely lost. It would appear that Enkidu, stricken presumably by fever, attributes all his misfortunes to the hetaera whom he loads with curses:)

". . . the hetaera . . . who has brought a curse, 'O hetaera, I will decree thy fate for thee — thy woes shall never end for all eternity. Come, I will curse thee with a bitter curse . . . with desolation shall its curse come on thee: may there never be satisfaction of thy desire' . . . 'May . . . fall on thy house, may the . . . of the street be thy dwelling, may the shade of the wall be thy abode . . . for thy feet, may scorching heat and thirst smite thy strength . . .'"

(The End of Enkidu's curse on the Hetaera)

"Of want . . . since me it is that . . . hath . . . And me the fever hath laid on my back."

(The Answer of Shamash)

Heard him the Sun-god, and opened his mouth, and from out of the heavens straightway he called him: "O Enkidu, why dost thou curse the hetaera? She 'twas who made thee eat bread, for divinity proper: aye, wine too, she made thee drink, 'twas for royalty proper: a generous mantle put on thee, aye, and for comrade did give to thee Gilgamesh splendid.

"Now on a couch of great size will he, thy friend and thy brother Gilgamesh, grant thee to lie, on a handsome couch will he grant thee rest, and to sit on a throne of great ease, a throne at his left hand, so that the princes of Hades may kiss thy feet in their homage; he, too, will make all the people of Erech lament in thy honour, making them mourn thee, and damsels and heroes constrain to thy service, while he himself for thy sake will cause his body to carry stains, and will put on the skin of a lion, and range o'er the desert."

Enkidu then giving ear to the words of the valiant Shamash speaking . . . his wrath was appeased.

Column IV — Enkidu, relenting, regrets his curse, and blesses the Hetaera

". . . may . . . restore to thy place! So, too, may monarchs and princes and chiefs be with love for thee smitten; none smite his breech in disgust; against thee; and for thee may the hero comb out his locks; . . . who would embrace thee, let him his girdle unloose . . . and thy bed be azure and golden; may . . . entreat thee kindly . . . Mayst thou be left as the mother of seven brides . . ."

(Enkidu, sorrowful at his approaching end, sleeps alone and dreams.)

Enkidu . . . woe in his belly . . . sleeping alone, came in the night to discover his heaviness unto his comrade: "Friend, O a dream I have seen in my night-time: the firmament roaring, echoed the earth, and I by myself was standing . . . when perceived I a man, all dark was his face, and was likened unto . . . his face, . . . and his nails like claws of a lion. Me did he overcome . . . climbing up . . . pressed me down, upon me . . . my body . . ."

(Here follows a gap, until the dream is again taken up with a description of the Underworld being shown to Enkidu in premonition of his death.)

". . . like birds my hands: and he seized me, me did he lead to the Dwelling of Darkness, the home of Irkalla, unto the Dwelling from which he who entereth cometh forth never! Aye, by the road on the passage whereof there can be no returning, unto the Dwelling whose tenants are ever bereft of the daylight, where for their food is the dust, and the mud is their sustenance: bird-like wear they a garment of feathers: and, sitting there in the darkness, never the light will they see.

"When I entered into this House of the Dust, were High Priest and acolyte sitting, seer and magician, the priest who the Sea of the great gods anointed, here sat Etana, Sumuqan; the Queen of the Underworld also, Ereshkigal, in whose presence doth bow the Recorder of Hades, Belit-seri, and readeth before her; she lifted her head and beheld me . . . and took this . . ."

The Eighth Tablet — Of the Mourning of Gilgamesh, and What Came of It

(The first Column is badly mutilated. "As soon as something of morning has dawned," Gilgamesh, addressing Enkidu, compares him to a gazelle, and promises to glorify him. Then follows a recital of their exploits together, "mountains we ascended, we reached the Forest of Cedars, travelling night and day." Enkidu is lying dying or dead, and Column II begins with Gilgamesh keening over his dead friend before the Elders of Erech:)

"Unto me hearken, O Elders, to me, aye, me shall ye listen, 'tis that I weep for my comrade Enkidu, bitterly crying like to a wailing woman: my grip is slacked on the curtleaxe slung at my thigh, and the brand at my belt from my sight is removed. Aye, and my festal attire lends nought of its aid for my pleasure, me, me hath sorrow assailed, and cast me down in affliction.

"Comrade and henchman, who chased the wild ass, the pard of the desert, comrade and henchman, who chased the wild ass, the pard of the desert, Enkidu — we who all haps overcame, ascending the mountains, captured the Heavenly Bull, and destroyed him: we o'erthrew Humbaba, he who abode in the Forest of Cedars — O, what is this slumber now hath o'ercome thee, for now art thou dark, nor art able to hear me?"

Natheless he raised not his eyes, and his heart, when Gilgamesh felt it, made no beat. Then he veiled his friend like a bride . . . Lifted his voice like a lion . . . roared like a lioness robbed of her whelps. In front of his comrade paced he backwards and forwards, tearing and casting his ringlets, plucking and casting away all the grace of his . . .

Column III — The Lament of Gilgamesh

"O, on a couch of great size will I, thy friend and thy brother, Gilgamesh, grant thee to lie, on a handsome couch will I grant thee rest, and to sit on a throne of great size, a throne at my left hand, so that the princes of Hades may kiss thy feet in their homage; I, too, will make all the people of Erech lament in thy honour, making them mourn thee, and damsels and heroes constrain to thy service, while I myself for thy sake will cause my body to carry stains, and will put on the skin of a lion, and range o'er the desert."

Then when something of morning had dawned did Gilgamesh . . . Loosing his girdle . . .

(Columns IV through VI are fragmentary. In Column V, Gilgamesh forms a concept of the slaying — perhaps a design for a sculpture of the slaying of the Bull. He brings out offerings: a bowl of bright ruby filled with honey, a bowl of azure filled with cream; and Shamash instructs him.)

The Ninth Tablet — Gilgamesh in Terror of Death Seeks Eternal Life

Column I — Gilgamesh determines to seek Eternal Life

Gilgamesh bitterly wept for his comrade, for Enkidu, ranging over the desert: "I, too — shall I not die like Enkidu also? Sorrow hath entered my heart; I fear death as I range o'er the desert, I will get hence on the road to the presence of Uta-Napishtim — Offspring of Ubara-Tutu is he — and with speed will I travel. If 'tis in darkness that I shall arrive at the Gates of the Mountains, meeting with lions, then terror fall on me, I'll lift my head skywards, offer my prayer to the Moon-god . . . 'O deliver me!'"

He slept . . . and a dream . . . saw he . . . which were rejoicing in life, poised he his axe . . . in his hand, and drew his glaive from his baldric, lance-like leapt he amongst them . . . smiting, . . . and crushing.

Column II — The hero reaches the Mountains of Mashu

Mashu the name of the hills; as he reached the Mountains of Mashu, where every day they keep watch o'er the Sun-god's rising and setting, unto the Zenith of Heaven upreared are their summits, and downwards deep unto Hell reach their breasts: and there at their portals stand sentry Scorpion-men, awful in terror, their very glance Death: and tremendous, shaking the hills, their magnificence; they are the Wardens of Shamash, both at his rising and setting.

No sooner did Gilgamesh see them than from alarm and dismay was his countenance stricken with pallor, senseless, he grovelled before them.

Then unto his wife spake the Scorpion: "Lo, he that cometh to us — 'tis the flesh of the gods is his body." Then to the Scorpion-man answered his wife: "Two parts of him god-like, only a third of him human."

(The Scorpion-man asks why he has gone so far a journey, and tells him how hard the traverse is. Gilgamesh tells him he proposes to seek Uta-Napishtim about death and life. The Scorpion-man says the journey has never before been made, that none has crossed the mountains. The traverse is by the Road of the Sun by a journey of twenty-four hours, beginning with deep darkness.)

(Gilgamesh accepts the trial: "even though it be in pain . . ., though my face be weathered with cold and heat and in grief I go . . .")

Then the Scorpion-man, with a final word about the mountains of Mashu, farewells him, wishing him success. "Then when Gilgamesh heard this, he set off at the word of the Scorpion-man, taking the Road of the Sun . . ."

The first two hours are in deep darkness, without light. Each succeeding period of two hours is the same until the eighth is reached and passed, and by the ninth he apparently comes to the first glimmer of light. Finally, with the twelfth double hour, he reaches the full blaze of the sun, and there he beholds the Tree of the Gods:

Bearing its fruit all ruby, and hung about with its tendrils.
Fair for beholding, and azure the boskage it bore; aye, 'twas bearing
Fruits all desirable unto the eye.

(At this point the Sun-god takes pity on the hero:)

"He of the wild things hath dresséd their pelts and the flesh of them eateth. Gilgamesh, never a crossing shall be where none hath been ever, no, so long as the gale driveth water."

Shamash was touched, that he summoned him, thus unto Gilgamesh speaking: "Gilgamesh, why dost thou run, forasmuch as the life which thou seekest thou shalt not find?"

Whereat Gilgamesh answered the warrior Shamash: "Shall I, after I roam up and down o'er the waste as a wanderer, lay my head in the bowels of earth, and throughout the years slumber ever and aye? Let mine eyes see the Sun and be sated with brightness, yea, for the darkness is banished afar, if wide be the brightness. When will the man who is dead ever look on the light of the Sunshine?"

The Tenth Tablet — How Gilgamesh Reached Uta-Napishtim

Column I — Gilgamesh meets Siduri

Dwelt Siduri, the maker of wine . . . Wine was her trade, her trade was . . . covered she was with a veil and . . .

Gilgamesh wandered towards her . . . Pelts was he wearing . . . Flesh of the gods in his body possessing, but woe in his belly, aye, and his countenance like to a man who hath gone a far journey.

Looked in the distance the maker of wine, and a word in her bosom quoth she, in thought with herself: "This is one who would ravish a woman, whither doth he advance in . . .?"

As soon as the Wine-maker saw him, barred she her postern, barred she her inner door, barred she her chamber. Straightway did Gilgamesh, too, in his turn catch the sound of her shutting, lifted his chin, and so did he let his attention fall on her.

Unto her therefore did Gilgamesh speak, to the Wine-maker saying: "Wine-maker, what didst thou see, that thy postern now thou hast barréd, barréd thine inner door, barréd thy chamber? O, I'll smite thy portal, breaking the bolt . . ."

(About nine lines mutilated.)

Unto him answered the Wine-maker, speaking to Gilgamesh, saying: "Why is thy vigour so wasted, or why is thy countenance sunken, why hath thy spirit a sorrow, or why hath thy cheerfulness surcease? O, but there's woe in thy belly! Like one who hath gone a far journey so is thy face — O, with cold and with heat is thy countenance weathered, . . . that thou shouldst range over the desert."

Gilgamesh unto her answered and spake to the Wine-maker, saying: "Wine-maker, 'tis not my vigour is wasted, nor countenance sunken, nor hath my spirit a sorrow, forsooth, nor my cheerfulness surcease, no, 'tis not woe in my belly: nor doth my visage resemble one who hath gone a far journey — nor is my countenance weathered either by cold or by heat . . . that thus I range over the desert.

"Comrade and henchman, who chased the wild ass, the pard of the desert, comrade and henchman, who chased the wild ass, the pard of the desert, Enkidu — we who all haps overcame, ascending the mountains, captured the Heavenly Bull, and destroyed him: we o'erthrew Humbaba, he who abode in the Forest of Cedars; we slaughtered the lions

Column II

"there in the Gates of the mountains; with me enduring all hardships, Enkidu, he was my comrade — the lions we slaughtered together, aye, enduring all hardships — and him his fate hath o'ertaken. So did I mourn him six days, yea, a se'nnight, until unto burial I could consign him . . . then did I fear . . . Death did I dread, that I range o'er the desert: the hap of my comrade lay on me heavy — O 'tis a long road that I range o'er the desert! Enkidu, yea, of my comrade the hap lay heavy upon me — 'tis a long road that I range o'er the desert — O, how to be silent, aye, or how to give voice? For the comrade I ha' so lovéd like to the dust hath become; O Enkidu, he was my comrade, he whom I loved hath become like the dust — I, shall I not, also, lay me down like him, throughout all eternity never returning?"

(Here may be interpolated the Old Babylonian Version:)

"He who enduréd all hardships with me, whom I lovéd dearly, Enkidu, — he who enduréd all hardships with me is now perished, gone to the common lot of mankind! And I have bewailed him day and night long: and unto the tomb I have not consigned him. O but my friend cometh not to my call — six days, yea, a se'nnight he like a worm hath lain on his face — and I for this reason find no life, but must needs roam the desert like to a hunter, wherefore, O Wine-maker, now that at last I look on thy visage, death which I dread I will see not!"

(The Philosophy of the Wine-maker)

The Wine-maker Gilgamesh answered:

"Gilgamesh, why runnest thou, inasmuch as the life which thou seekest, thou canst not find? For the gods, in their first creation of mortals, death allotted to man, but life they retained in their keeping.

"Gilgamesh, full be thy belly, each day and night be thou merry, and daily keep holiday revel, each day and night do thou dance and rejoice; and fresh be thy raiment, aye, let thy head be clean washen, and bathe thyself in the water, cherish the little one holding thy hand; be thy spouse in thy bosom happy — for this is the dower of man . . ."

(The Assyrian Version resumes:)

Gilgamesh thus continued his speech to the Wine-maker, saying, "Prythee, then, Wine-maker, which is the way unto Uta-Napishtim? What is its token, I prythee, vouchsafe me, vouchsafe me its token. If it be possible even the Ocean itself will I traverse, but if it should be impossible, then will I range o'er the desert."

Thus did the Wine-maker answer to him, unto Gilgamesh saying: "There hath been never a crossing, O Gilgamesh: never aforetime anyone, coming thus far, hath been able to traverse the Ocean: warrior Shamash doth cross it, 'tis true, but who besides Shamash maketh the traverse? Yea, rough is the ferry, and rougher its passage, aye, too, 'tis deep are the Waters of Death, which bar its approaches. Gilgamesh, if perchance thou succeed in traversing the Ocean, what wilt thou do, when unto the Waters of Death thou arrivest? Gilgamesh, there is Ur-Shanabi, boatman to Uta-Napishtim, he with whom sails are, the urnu of which in the forest he plucketh, now let him look on thy presence, and if it be possible with him cross — but if it be not, then do thou retrace thy steps homewards."

(Gilgamesh meets Ur-Shanabi, but destroys the sails of the boat. From the Old Babylonian Version:)

Then did Ur-Shanabi speak to him, yea, unto Gilgamesh, saying: "Tell to me what is thy name, for I am Ur-Shanabi, henchman, aye, of far Uta-Napishtim."

To him did Gilgamesh answer: "Gilgamesh, that is my name, come hither from Erech, E-Anna, one who hath traversed the Mountains, a wearisome journey of Sunrise, now that I look on thy face, Ur-Shanabi — Uta-Napishtim let me see also — the Distant one!"

Column III

(Ur-Shanabi addresses Gilgamesh with the same astonishment as Siduri, at his weather-beaten appearance. Then:)

Gilgamesh thus continued his speech to Ur-Shanabi, saying: "Prythee, Ur-Shanabi, which is the way unto Uta-Napishtim? What is its token, I prythee, vouchsafe me, vouchsafe me its token. If it be possible even the Ocean itself will I traverse, but if it should be impossible, then will I range o'er the desert."

Thus did Ur-Shanabi speak to him, yea, unto Gilgamesh, saying: "Gilgamesh, 'tis thine own hand hath hindered thy crossing the Ocean, thou hast destroyéd the sails, and hast pierced the . . . Now destroyed are the sails, and the urnu not . . .

"Gilgamesh, take thee thy axe in thy hand; O, descend to the forest, fashion thee poles each of five gar in length; make knops of bitumen, sockets, too, add to them: bring them me."

Thereat, when Gilgamesh heard this, took he the axe in his hand, and the glaive drew forth from his baldric, went to the forest, and poles each of five gar in length did he fashion, knops of bitumen he made, and he added their sockets: and brought them.

Gilgamesh then, and Ur-Shanabi fared them forth in their vessel, launched they the boat on the billow, and they themselves in her embarking. After the course of a month and a half he saw on the third day how that Ur-Shanabi now at the Waters of Death had arrivéd.

Column IV

Thus did Ur-Shanabi answer him, yea, unto Gilgamesh, saying: "Gilgamesh, take the . . . away . . . Let not the Waters of Death touch thy hand . . . Gilgamesh, take thou a second, a third, and a fourth pole for thrusting, Gilgamesh, take thou a fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh for thrusting, Gilgamesh, take thou an eighth, and a ninth, and a tenth pole for thrusting, Gilgamesh, take an eleventh, a twelfth pole!"

He ceased from his poling, aye with twice-sixty thrusts; then ungirded his loins . . . Gilgamesh . . . and set up the mast in its socket.

(He reaches Uta-Napishtim)

Uta-Napishtim looked into the distance and, inwardly musing, said to himself: "Now, why are the sails of the vessel destroyéd, aye, and one who is not of my . . . doth ride on the vessel? This is no mortal who cometh . . ."

(About twenty lines lost. Uta-Napishtim asks Gilgamesh the same questions as Siduri and Ur-Shanabi. Gilgamesh repeats his tale of grief for Enkidu.)

Gilgamesh thus continued his speech unto Uta-Napishtim, "Then I bethought me, I'll get hence and see what far Uta-Napishtim saith on the matter. And so, again I came through all countries, travelled o'er difficult mountains, aye, and all seas have I traversed, nor hath ever my face had its fill of gentle sleep: but with hardship have I exhausted myself, and my flesh have I laden with sorrow. Ere I had come to the House of the Wine-Maker, spent were my garments. . . Owl, bat, lion, pard, wild cat, deer, ibex, and . . . flesh of them all have I eaten, and eke their pelts have I dressed me."

Column VI

"Shall we for ever build houses, for ever set signet to contract, brothers continue to share, or among foes always be hatred? Or will for ever the stream that hath risen in spate bring a torrent, Kulilu-bird to Kirippu-bird . . .? Face which doth look on the sunlight . . . presently shall not be . . . Sleeping and dead are alike, from Death they mark no distinction. Servant and master, when once they have reached their full span allotted, then do the Anunnaki, great gods . . . Mammetum, Maker of Destiny with them, doth destiny settle, Death, aye, and Life they determine; of Death is the day not revealéd."

The Eleventh Tablet — The Flood

Column I — The Cause of the Flood

Gilgamesh unto him spake, to Uta-Napishtim the Distant: "Uta-Napishtim, upon thee I gaze, yet in no wise thy presence strange is, for thou art like me, and in no wise different art thou; thou art like me; yea a stomach for fighting doth make thee consummate, aye, and to rest on thy back thou dost lie. O tell me, how couldst thou stand in the Assemblage of Gods to petition for life everlasting?"

Uta-Napishtim, addressing him thus, unto Gilgamesh answered: "Gilgamesh, I unto thee will discover the whole hidden story, aye, and the rede of the Gods will I tell thee.

"The City Shurippak — O 'tis a city thou knowest! — is set on the marge of Euphrates, old is this city, with gods in its midst. Now, the great gods a deluge purposed to bring: . . . there was Anu, their sire; their adviser warrior Enlil; Ninurta, their herald; their leader Ennugi; Nin-igi-azag — 'tis Ea — albeit conspirator with them, unto a reed-hut their counsel betrayed he:

"'O Reed-hut, O Reed-hut! Wall, wall! Hearken, O Reed-hut, consider, O Wall! O thou Mortal, thou of Shurippak, thou scion of Ubara-Tutu, a dwelling pull down, and fashion a vessel therewith; abandon possessions, life do thou seek, and thy hoard disregard, and save life; every creature make to embark in the vessel. The vessel, which thou art to fashion, apt be its measure; its beam and its length be in due correspondence, then on the deep do thou launch it.'

"And I — sooth, I apprehending, this wise to Ea, my lord, did I speak: 'See, Lord, what thou sayest thus, do I honour, I'll do — but to city, to people, and elders am I, forsooth, to explain?'

"Then Ea made answer in speaking, saying to me — me, his henchman! — 'Thou mortal, shalt speak to them this wise: "'Tis me alone whom Enlil so hateth that I in your city no more may dwell, nor turn my face unto the land which is Enlil's. I will go down to the Deep, there dwelling with Ea, my liege lord, wherefore on you will he shower down plenty, yea, fowl in great number, booty of fish . . . and big the harvest. . . . causing a plentiful rainfall to come down upon you."'

"Then, when something of morning had dawned . . .

"Pitch did the children provide, while the strong brought all that was needful. Then on the fifth day after I laid out the shape of my vessel, ten gar each was the height of her sides, in accord with her planning, ten gar to match was the size of her deck, and the shape of the forepart did I lay down, and the same did I fashion; aye, six times cross-pinned her, sevenfold did I divide her . . ., divided her inwards ninefold: hammered the caulking within her, and found me a quant-pole, all that was needful I added; the hull with six shar of bitumen smeared I, and three shar of pitch did I smear on the inside; some people, bearing a vessel of grease, three shar of it brought me; and one shar out of this grease did I leave, which the tackling consumed; and the boatman two shar of grease stowed away; yea, beeves for the . . . I slaughtered, each day lambs did I slay: mead, beer, oil, wine, too, the workmen drank as though they were water, and made a great feast like the New Year.

"All I possessed I laded aboard her; the silver I laded, all I possessed; gold, all I possessed I laded aboard her, all I possessed of the seed of all living I laded aboard her. Into the ship I embarked all my kindred and family with me, cattle and beasts of the field and all handicraftsmen embarking.

"Then decreed Shamash the hour: '. . . Shall in the night let a plentiful rainfall pour down . . . Then do thou enter the vessel, and straightway shut down thy hatchway.'

"Came then that hour appointed . . . did in the night let a plentiful rainfall pour down . . . Viewed I the aspect of day: to look on the day bore a horror, wherefore I entered the vessel, and straightway shut down my hatchway, so too to shut down the vessel to Puzur-Amurri, the boatman, did I deliver the poop of the ship, besides its equipment.

"Then, when something of dawn had appeared, from out the horizon rose a cloud darkling; lo, Adad the storm-god was rumbling within it, Nabu and Sharru were leading the vanguard, and coming as heralds over the hills and the levels: then Irragal wrenched out the bollards; havoc Ninurta let loose as he came, the Anunnaki their torches brandished, and shrivelled the land with their flames; desolation from Adad stretched to high Heaven, and all that was bright was turned into darkness.

"Nor could a brother distinguish his brother; from heaven were mortals not to be spied. O, were stricken with terror the gods at the Deluge, fleeing, they rose to the Heaven of Anu, and crouched in the outskirts, cowering like curs were the gods while like to a woman in travail Ishtar did cry, she shrieking aloud, even the sweet-spoken Lady she of the gods:

"'May that day turn to dust, because I spake evil there in the Assemblage of Gods! O, how could I utter such evil there in the Assemblage of Gods, so to blot out my people, ordaining havoc! Sooth, then, am I to give birth, unto these mine own people only to glut with their bodies the Sea as though they were fish-spawn?'

"Gods — Anunnaki — wept with her, the gods were sitting all humbled, aye, in their weeping, and closed were their lips amid the Assemblage.

"Six days, a se'nnight the hurricane, deluge, and tempest continued sweeping the land: when the seventh day came, were quelled the warfare, tempest and deluge which like to an army embattailed were fighting. Lulled was the sea, all spent was the gale, assuaged was the deluge, so did I look on the day; lo, sound was all stilled; and all human back to its clay was returned, and fen was level with roof-tree.

"Then I opened a hatchway, and down on my cheek streamed the sunlight, bowing myself, I sat weeping, my tears o'er my cheeks overflowing, into the distance I gazed, to the furthest bounds of the Ocean, land was upreared at twelve points, and the Ark on the Mountain of Nisir grounded; the Mountain of Nisir held fast, nor gave lease to her shifting. One day, nay, two, did Nisir hold fast, nor give lease to her shifting. Three days, nay, four, did Nisir hold fast, nor give lease to her shifting, five days, nay, six, did Nisir hold fast, nor give lease to her shifting.

"Then, when the seventh day dawned, I put forth a dove, and released her, but to and fro went the dove, and returned for a resting-place was not. Then I a swallow put forth and released; to and fro went the swallow, she too returned, for a resting-place was not; I put forth a raven, her, too, releasing; the raven went, too, and the abating of waters saw; and she ate as she waded and splashed, unto me not returning.

"Unto the four winds of heaven I freed all the beasts, and an offering sacrificed, and a libation I poured on the peak of the mountain, twice seven flagons devoting, and sweet cane, and cedar, and myrtle, heaped up beneath them; the gods smelt the savour, the gods the sweet savour smelt; aye, the gods did assemble like flies o'er him making the offering.

"Then, on arriving, the Queen of the gods the magnificent jewels lifted on high, which Anu had made in accord with her wishes; 'O ye Gods! I will rather forget this my necklet of sapphires, than not maintain these days in remembrance, nor ever forget them. So, though the rest of the gods may present themselves at the offering, Enlil alone of the gods may himself not come to the offering, because he, unreasoning, brought on a deluge, and therefore my people unto destruction consigned.'

"Then Enlil, on his arrival, spied out the vessel, and straightway did Enlil burst into anger, swollen with wrath 'gainst the gods, the Igigi: 'Hath any of mortals 'scaped? Sooth, never a man could have lived through the welter of ruin.'

"Then did Ninurta make answer and speak unto warrior Enlil, saying: 'O, who can there be to devise such a plan, except Ea? Surely, 'tis Ea is privy to every design.'

"Whereat Ea answered and spake unto Enlil, the warrior, saying: 'O chieftain thou of the gods, thou warrior! How, forsooth, how all uncounselled couldst thou a deluge bring on? Aye, visit his sin on the sinner, visit his guilt on the guilty, but O, have mercy, that thereby he shall not be cut off; be clement, that he may not perish. O, instead of thy making a flood, let a lion come, man to diminish; O, instead of thy making a flood, let a jackal come, man to diminish; O, instead of thy making a flood, let a famine occur, that the country may be devoured; instead of thy making a flood, let the Plague-god come and the people o'erwhelm; sooth, indeed 'twas not I of the Great Gods the secret revealéd, but to the Abounding in Wisdom vouchsafed I a dream, and in this wise he of the gods heard the secret. Deliberate, now, on his counsel.'

"Then to the Ark came up Enlil; my hand did he grasp, and uplifted me, even me, and my wife, too, he raised, and, bent-kneed beside me, made her to kneel; our foreheads he touched as he stood there between us, blessing us: 'Uta-Napishtim hath hitherto only been mortal, now, indeed, Uta-Napishtim and also his wife shall be equal like to us gods; in the distance afar at the mouth of the rivers Uta-Napishtim shall dwell.'

"So they took me and there in the distance caused me to dwell at the mouth of the rivers.

"But thee, as for thee, pray, who will assemble the gods for thy need, that the life which thou seekest thou mayst discover? Come, fall not asleep for six days, aye, a se'nnight!"

(But Gilgamesh is too mortal to resist even sleep.)

Then, while he sat on his haunches a sleep like a breeze breathed upon him.

Spake to her, Uta-Napishtim, yea, unto his wife: "O, behold him, e'en the strong fellow who asketh for life, how hath breathéd upon him sleep like a breeze!"

Then his wife unto Uta-Napishtim the Distant answered: "O, touch him, and let the man wake, that the road he hath traversed he may betake himself homeward in peace, that he by the portal whence he fared forth may return to his land."

Spake Uta-Napishtim, yea, to his wife: "How the troubles of mortals do trouble thee also! Bake then his flour and put at his head, but the time he is sleeping on the house-wall do thou mark it."

So straightway she did so, his flour baked she and set at his head, but the time he was sleeping she noted on the house-wall. So, first was collected his flour, then secondly sifted, thirdly, 'twas moistened, and fourthly she kneaded his dough, and so fifthly leaven she added, and sixthly 'twas baked; then seventh — he touched him, all on a sudden, and so from his slumber awoke the great fellow!

Gilgamesh unto him spake, yea to Uta-Napishtim the Distant: "Tell me, I prythee, was 't thou, who when sleep was showered upon me all on a sudden didst touch me, and straightway rouse me from slumber?"

Uta-Napishtim to Gilgamesh spake, yea, unto him spake he: "Gilgamesh, told was the tale of thy meal . . . and then did I wake thee: 'One' — was collected thy flour: then 'two' — it was sifted; and 'thirdly' — moistened: and 'fourthly' — she kneaded thy dough and 'fifthly' the leaven added: and 'sixthly' — 'twas baked: and 'seventh' — 'twas I on a sudden touched thee and thou didst awake."

To Uta-Napishtim, the Distant, Gilgamesh answered: "O, how shall I act, or where shall I hie me, Uta-Napishtim? A Robber from me hath ravished my courage, Death in my bed-chamber broodeth, and Death is wherever I listen."

Spake to him, yea, to the boatman Ur-Shanabi Uta-Napishtim: "'Tis thou, Ur-Shanabi . . . the crossing, will hate thee, sooth, to all those who come to its marge, doth its marge set a limit: this man for whom thou wert guide — are stains to cover his body, or shall a skin hide the grace of his limbs? Ur-Shanabi, take him, lead him to where he may bathe, that he wash off his stains in the water white as the snow: let him cast off his pelts that the sea may remove them; fair let his body appear: of his head be the fillet renewed, let him, as clothes for his nakedness, garb himself in a mantle, such that, or ever he come to his city, and finish his journey, no sign of age shall the mantle betray, but preserve all its freshness."

Wherefore Ur-Shanabi took him, and where he might bathe did he lead him, washing his stains in the water like snow, his pelts, too, discarding, so that the sea might bear them away; and his body appeared fair; of his head he the fillet renewed, and himself in a mantle garbed, as the clothes for his nakedness, such that or ever his city reach he, or ever he finish his journey, the mantle betray not age, but preserve all its freshness.

So into their vessel embarked Gilgamesh, aye, and Ur-Shanabi, launching their craft on the billow, they themselves riding aboard her.

(The magic gift of restored youth)

To Uta-Napishtim, the Distant, spake then his wife: "Came Gilgamesh hither aweary with rowing, what wilt thou give wherewith he return to his land?"

And the meanwhile Gilgamesh, lifting his pole, was pushing the boat at the seashore.

Then answered Uta-Napishtim to him, yea, to Gilgamesh spake he: "Gilgamesh, hither didst come all aweary with rowing; O, tell me, what shall I give thee as gift wherewith to return to thy country? Gilgamesh, I will reveal thee a hidden matter . . . I'll tell thee: there is a plant like a thorn with its root deep down in the ocean, like unto those of the briar in sooth its prickles will scratch thee, yet if thy hand reach this plant, thou'lt surely find life everlasting."

Then, when Gilgamesh heard this, he loosened his girdle about him, bound heavy stones on his feet, which dragged him down to the sea-deeps, found he the plant; as he seized on the plant, lo, its prickles did scratch him. Cut he the heavy stones from his feet that again it restore him unto its shore.

Gilgamesh spake to him, yea, to the boatman Ur-Shanabi this wise: "Nay, but this plant is a plant of great wonder, Ur-Shanabi," said he, "whereby a man may attain his desire — I'll take it to Erech, Erech, the high-walled, and give it to eat . . . 'Greybeard-who-turneth-to-man-in-his-prime' is its name and I'll eat it I myself, that again I may come to my youthful condition."

(The Quest ends in Tragedy)

Broke they their fast at the fortieth hour: at the sixtieth rested. Gilgamesh spied out a pool of cool water, and therein descending bathed in the water. But here was a serpent who snuffed the plant's fragrance, darted he up from the water, and snatched the plant, uttering malison as he drew back.

Then Gilgamesh sate him, and burst into weeping. Over his cheeks flowed his tears: to the boatman Ur-Shanabi spake he: "Prythee, for whom have toiléd mine arms, O Ur-Shanabi, tell me, prythee, for whom hath my heart's blood been spent? Yea, not for mine own self, have I the guerdon achieved; no, 'tis for an earth-lion only have I the guerdon secured — and now at the fortieth hour such an one reiveth it — O, when I opened the sluice and . . . the attachment, aye, I noted the sign which to me was vouchsafed as a warning, would I had turned and abandoned the boat at the marge of the ocean!"

Broke they their fast at the fortieth hour: at the sixtieth rested, so in the end to the middle of Erech, the high-walled, arrivéd.

(The Pride of the Architect)

Gilgamesh spake to him, yea, to the boatman Ur-Shanabi this wise: "Do thou, Ur-Shanabi, go up and walk on the ramparts of Erech, look on its base, and take heed of its bricks, if its bricks be not kiln-burnt, aye, and its ground-work be not bitumen, even seven courses, one shar the city, and one shar the gardens, and one shar the . . . the Temple of Ishtar, amassed I three shar and . . . of Erech."

The Twelfth Tablet — Gilgamesh, in Despair, Enquires of the Dead

Column I — How the dead haunt the living

Then, what time that the seine had passed through the Architect's dwelling, aye, and the net had taken its toll . . . said he: "Lord, what is't I may do . . ."

(About two lines wanting.)

"Gilgamesh, . . ."

(The Mourner's Duty)

"If to the . . . thou drawest, unto the temple . . . raiment clean shalt not don, but like to a townsman shalt . . . Nor with sweet oil from the cruse be anointed, lest at its fragrance round thee they gather: nor mayst thou set bow to the earth, lest around thee circle those shot by the bow; nor a stick in thy hand mayst thou carry, lest stricken ghosts should gibber against thee: nor shoe to thy footsole put on, nor make on the ground a loud echo: thy wife, whom thou lovest, kiss her thou mayst not, thy wife whom thou hatest — thou mayst not chastise her, aye, and thy child whom thou lovest not kiss, nor thy child whom thou hatest mayst not chastise, for the mourning of earth doth hold thee enthralléd.

"She who dead lieth,
She who dead lieth,
Mother of Ninazu,
She who dead lieth,
No more with mantle are
Veiled her fair shoulders,
No more her bosom
Drawn, like the lard cruse!"

(Gilgamesh by contravening these customs attempts to raise Enkidu.)

So did he draw the . . . and came to the temples, put on clean raiment . . . and like to a townsman . . . aye, with sweet oil from the cruse was anointed: then at its fragrance round him they gathered: the bow did he set to the earth, and around him circled the spirits, yea, those who were shot by the bow at him gibbered, carried a stick in his hand and the stricken ghosts at him gibbered. Put on a shoe to his foot-sole, and made on the ground a loud echo. Kissed he his wife whom he lovéd, chastised his wife whom he hated, kissed he his child whom he lovéd, chastised his child whom he hated.

Aye, in good sooth, 'twas the mourning of earth which did hold him enthralléd:

"She who dead lieth,
She who dead lieth,
Mother of Ninazu,
She who dead lieth,
No more with mantle are
Veiled her fair shoulders,
No more her bosom
Drawn, like the lard cruse."

Cried he for Enkidu out of the earth to ascend: "Not the Plague-god, Namtar, hath seized him, nor fever, but only the earth: nor the Croucher, Nergal, the ruthless, hath seized him, but only the earth: neither fell he there where was battle of mortals; 'twas only the earth which hath seized him."

So for his servitor Enkidu sorrowed the offspring of Nin-sun, aye, as he went all alone unto Ekur, the temple of Enlil: "Enlil, my Father, 'tis now that the seine hath stricken me also, down to the earth — the net to the earth hath stricken me also. Enkidu 'tis — whom I pray thee to raise from the earth — not the Plague-god, Namtar, hath seized him, nor fever, but only the earth: nor the Croucher, Nergal, the ruthless, hath seized him, but only the earth: neither fell he there where was battle of mortals: 'twas only the earth which hath seized him."

But no answer did Enlil, the father vouchsafe.

To the Moon-god he hied him: "Moon-god, my Father, 'tis now that the seine hath stricken me also, down to the earth — the net to the earth hath stricken me also. Enkidu 'tis — whom I pray thee to raise from the earth — not the Plague-god, Namtar, hath seized him, nor fever, but only the earth: nor the Croucher, Nergal, the ruthless, hath seized him, but only the earth: neither fell he there where was battle of mortals: 'twas only the earth which hath seized him."

But no answer the Moon-god vouchsafed.

Then to Ea he hied him: "Ea, my Father, 'tis now that the seine hath stricken me also, down to the earth — the net to the earth hath stricken me also. Enkidu 'tis — whom I pray thee to raise from the earth — not the Plague-god, Namtar, hath seized him, nor fever, but only the earth: nor the Croucher, Nergal, the ruthless, hath seized him, but only the earth: neither fell he there where was battle of mortals: 'twas only the earth which hath seized him."

Ea, the father, gave ear and to Nergal, the warrior-hero, spake he: "O Nergal, O warrior-hero, give ear to my speaking! Ope now a hole in the earth, that the spirit of Enkidu, rising, may from the earth issue forth, and so have speech with his brother."

Nergal, the warrior-hero, gave ear to the speaking of Ea, oped, then, a hole in the earth, and the spirit of Enkidu issued forth from the earth like a wind.

They embraced and . . . communed together, mourning.

"Tell, O my friend, O tell, O my friend, O tell me, I prythee, what thou hast seen of the laws of the Underworld?"

"Nay, then, O comrade; I will not tell thee, yea, I will not tell thee — for, were I to tell thee, what I have seen of the laws of the Underworld — sit thee down weeping!"

"Then let me sit me down weeping."

(The wretched lot of all who must die)

"So be it: the friend thou didst fondle thereby rejoicing thee — into his body, as though 'twere a mantle old, hath the worm made its entry: in sooth, then the bride thou didst fondle, thereby rejoicing thee — filled with the dust is her body . . . . . . he hath spoken and into the ground is he sunken."

"He who fell in . . . Didst thou see him?" "Aye, I saw . . ."

"He who falleth from a pole, didst thou see him?" "Aye, I saw: straightway for . . . By removal of a plug . . ."

"He whom death . . . didst thou see him?" "Aye, I saw: He's at rest upon a couch, limpid water doth he drink."

"Then, the hero slain in fight, didst thou see him?" "Aye, I saw: Father, mother raise his head, o'er him wife in bitter woe."

"He whose corpse in desert lieth, hast thou seen him?" "Aye, I saw; not in earth doth rest his spirit."

"He whose ghost hath none to tend, didst thou see him?" "Aye, I saw, lees of cup, and broken bread thrown into the street he eateth."

THE END OF THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH.

Colophon

The Epic of Gilgamesh, translated from cuneiform tablets in the British Museum by R. Campbell Thompson. Published by Luzac & Co., London, 1928. Thompson (1876–1941) was an Oxford Assyriologist who collated the fragments of the Standard Babylonian Version (twelve tablets, compiled by the scribe Sîn-lēqi-unninni, c. 1200 BCE) and supplemented gaps from Old Babylonian, Hittite, and Boğazköy fragments. The translation is rendered into English hexameters. This text was digitised and made freely available by the Internet Sacred Text Archive (sacred-texts.com). The work entered the public domain following the expiration of copyright seventy years after the author's death (2011).

This is the oldest epic poem in human history — a meditation on friendship, mortality, and the limits of human ambition composed in ancient Mesopotamia over four thousand years ago. The clay tablets that carry it have survived fire, flood, and the burial of civilisations.

Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

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