Tablet II — The Taming of Enkidu

Tablet II

Gilgamesh ruled Uruk. But his rule grew harsh, for he compelled every young man into his service and took every maiden to his court. The people cried out, and their lament went up:

“Gilgamesh leaves no son to his father, no maiden to the warrior, no wife to her husband! Everywhere our wailing rises—gods of heaven, and you, Bel of Uruk, who brought this son into being, save us! He has no rival in all the land. Day and night we pour out our cry: he, the ruler of strong-walled Uruk, the lofty one, the cunning one—Gilgamesh—leaves no daughter to her mother, no maiden to the warrior, no wife to her husband.”

The gods of heaven heard their cry. They cried aloud to Aruru, the goddess: “Aruru, you created him. Now create his equal, so that their hearts may clash and they may fight, and let Uruk stand as witness.”

Aruru heard. She conceived in her heart a man in the image of Anu. She washed her hands, took up a bit of clay, and cast it upon the ground. So she made Enkidu—the hero, a towering offspring, the force of Ninib.

His whole body was covered with hair. He wore the hair of his head long like a woman’s; his flowing locks were luxuriant as those of the corn-god. He knew nothing of the customs of the people or of settled land. He was clad in garments like the god Ner. He ate grass with the gazelles, slaked his thirst beside the beasts at the waterholes, and sported with the creatures of the water.

Now Gilgamesh dreamed a dream in Uruk, and he sought to understand it. He spoke to his mother:

“My mother, in my nightly vision I became strong and moved among the heroes. And from the starry heaven a meteor of Anu fell upon me. I bore it and it grew heavy upon me; I grew weak and could not endure its weight. The land of Uruk gathered around it. The heroes kissed its feet. It was raised up before me. They stood me up. I bore it and carried it to you.”

His mother, who knows all things, answered him: “O Gilgamesh, one like you—born in the wilderness, whom the mountain has reared—you will see him, and you will rejoice. Heroes will kiss his feet. You will spare him and strive to lead him to me.”

Then Gilgamesh slept again and saw another dream. He reported to his mother: “My mother, I have seen another dream. My likeness I saw in the streets of Uruk of the plazas. An axe was brandished, and they gathered around him; and the axe made him angry. I saw him and I rejoiced, I loved him as a woman, I embraced him. I took him and regarded him as my brother.”

His mother, who knows all things, spoke: “The man you saw, whom you embraced like a woman, means he is to be associated with you.” And Gilgamesh understood the dream.

A hunter—a trapper of men—lay in wait for Enkidu at the mouth of the well. One day, two days, three days he waited. When he saw Enkidu and his cattle, the hunter’s face grew troubled. He went home, sad and moaning, his heart heavy, his face clouded, sorrow filling his mind. His face looked like one who sees something far off and terrible.

The hunter had meant to advance against Enkidu at Gilgamesh’s command, but the sight of him drew back in fear. He could not seize him.

The hunter opened his mouth and spoke to his father: “My father, there is a hero out there whose strength no single man can match. Like the strength of Anu is his might. He roams all the mountains; with the beasts of the field he regularly feeds. His feet are set ever toward the entrance of the well. I am afraid of him, I do not dare to approach him. He has filled up the pits I dug and destroyed the nets I had spread. He has let the cattle and the beasts escape from my hands and will not let me hunt them.”

His father answered him: “Go to Uruk, to Gilgamesh the king. Tell him of this wild man. Take with you a woman, a courtesan, to lure him. When Enkidu sees her, his beasts will abandon him.” …

The hunter journeyed to Uruk and came before Gilgamesh. He repeated his trouble: how Enkidu terrified him, how he filled his pits and destroyed his nets, how the beasts escaped.

Gilgamesh said to the hunter: “Go, my hunter, and take with you Shamhat, the enticer. When the beasts come down to the watering place, let her strip off her garment and bare her body. When Enkidu sees her, he will approach her, and the animals that were his companions will forsake him.”

The hunter went and took the woman Shamhat. They traveled together, and on the third day they reached the appointed place. They waited at the mouth of the well, where the cattle drank and the water creatures sported.

One day, two days, they waited. Then Enkidu came—he whose home was the mountains, who ate grass with the gazelles, drank with the cattle, and rejoiced with the creatures of the water.

Shamhat, the enticer of men, saw him. The hunter said, “There he is! Now bare your womb, uncover your nakedness, and let him enjoy you. Do not be ashamed; yield to his desire. He will see you and come near. When he lies in your arms, his cattle—raised with him on the steppe—will forsake him.”

So Shamhat bared her womb, uncovered her nakedness, and let him enjoy her. She was not ashamed, but surrendered to his lust. She stripped off her garment, he lay in her arms, and she satisfied his desire after the fashion of women. He pressed his breast hard against hers.

For six days and seven nights Enkidu lay with Shamhat. When he had sated himself with her charms, he turned back toward his cattle. But the gazelles saw him and fled. The cattle of the steppe turned away. Then Enkidu was startled; his body grew slack, his knees stiffened, for his beasts had left him, and he could no longer run as before. And yet, as he stood still, a new thought took hold of him. He turned again, captivated, to the feet of the harlot, and looked up into the face of the enticer. While she spoke, he listened closely.

Shamhat said to Enkidu: “You are magnificent, Enkidu; you shall be like a god. Why then do you lie down with the beasts of the field? Come, let me take you to strong-walled Uruk, to the glorious house, the dwelling of Anu and Ishtar, the palace of Gilgamesh, the hero perfect in strength, who towers above men like a mountain bull.”

As she spoke, he hearkened to her wise words, and his heart yearned for a friend. Enkidu said to her: “Take me, then, Shamhat. Lead me to the glorious house, the sacred seat of Anu and Ishtar, to the palace of Gilgamesh, the hero perfect in strength, towering over men like a mountain bull.” …

She took his hand and led him like a god. She stripped off one garment and clothed him with it; another she kept on herself. She brought him to the fertile meadow, the place of the sheepfolds. There the shepherds gave him food. But Enkidu, born of the mountain, used to eating grass with gazelles, drinking with cattle, sporting with water creatures, and sucking the milk of wild beasts—he did not know how to eat bread or drink wine. He broke off bread and stared, uncertain.

The woman opened her mouth and spoke: “Eat the food, Enkidu—the provender of life! Drink the wine, the custom of the land!” Enkidu ate until he was full, and drank seven goblets of wine. His spirit loosened, he grew merry, his heart was glad, and his face shone.

They shaved the hair from his body, anointed him with oil, and he became like a man. He put on garments and looked like any man. He took up a weapon and went after lions, so that the night shepherds could rest. He plunged the dagger; he overcame the lions. The great shepherds lay down in safety, for Enkidu was their protector. The strong man, the unique hero, spoke to the shepherds …

While they made merry, Enkidu lifted his eyes and saw a man. He spoke to the woman: “O courtesan, lure that man here. Why has he come to me? I will destroy his name.”

The woman called out to the man, who approached and saw Enkidu. He cried out: “Away! Why do you tremble so? Your activity is evil.” Then the man opened his mouth and spoke to Enkidu:

“To have a family home is the destiny of men, and the prerogative of the nobles. Load the workbaskets for the city! Lay up food for the city! For the King of Uruk of the plazas, open the hymen, perform the marriage act! For Gilgamesh, the King of Uruk of the plazas, open the hymen, perform the marriage act! With the legitimate wife one should cohabit—so it has been, and so it will be. By the decree pronounced by a god from the cutting of his umbilical cord, such is his fate.”

At this speech, Enkidu’s face grew pale. …

Enkidu went ahead, and Shamhat followed behind him. They entered Uruk of the plazas. The people gathered around him. Standing in the streets, the men said: “He is like Gilgamesh in form, though shorter in stature. He is powerful, tall in structure … overseeing? In the land strong of power has he become. Milk of cattle he was accustomed to suck.” Steadily they came …

The heroes rejoiced. He became a leader.

Then, for the hero of fine appearance, for Gilgamesh, a rival had appeared. For Ishtar a couch was spread, and Gilgamesh lay down; but in the night he fled and approached … And Enkidu stood in the street and blocked the path of Gilgamesh. At the exhibit of his power …

Strong … Gilgamesh. Against him Enkidu proceeded, his hair luxuriant. He started toward him. They met in the plaza of the district. Enkidu blocked the gate with his foot, not permitting Gilgamesh to enter. They seized each other, like oxen, and fought. The threshold they demolished; the wall they impaired. They wrestled, Gilgamesh and Enkidu. Like oxen they fought; the threshold they demolished; the wall they impaired. Then Gilgamesh bent his foot to the ground; his wrath subsided, his breast quieted. When his breast was quieted, Enkidu spoke to Gilgamesh:

“As a unique one, your mother bore you. The wild cow of the stall, Ninsun, has exalted your head above all men. Kingship over men Enlil has decreed for you.”

Second tablet, enlarged beyond the original. 240 lines.