Tablet XII — The Netherworld

Only the second half of the first column survives. It tells how Gilgamesh, returned at last from his long journey, still mourned for his friend Enkidu. To the one who could no longer hear, he cried out:

You go to the temple no more. You dress in white no more. Like any mortal you have fallen. You anoint yourself no more with the sweet fat of bulls, and men no longer gather round you, drawn by that fragrance. You stretch the bow upon the ground no more—yet those you slew with the bow now surround you. You carry the staff no more; the spirits of death have taken you captive. You tie sandals to your feet no more. You raise the war‑cry on the earth no more. The wife you loved—you kiss her no more. The wife you hated—you strike her no more. The son you loved—you kiss him no more. The son you hated—you strike him no more. The sorrows of the Netherworld have seized you, and she who is dark, she who is dark, mother Ninazu, who is dark, whose pale shining body wears no garment, whose breast, like the lid of a casket, lies bare.

In the second and third columns, Gilgamesh goes alone into the temple of the god Ningul and laments again in words that echo the same grief:

The wife he loved—he kisses no more. The wife he hated—he strikes no more. The son he loved—he kisses no more. The son he hated—he strikes no more. The sorrows of the earth have snatched him away, and she who is dark, she who is dark, mother Ninazu, who is dark, whose pale shining body wears no garment, whose breast, like the lid of a casket, lies bare.

Enkidu has gone down from the earth into the darkness below. Pestilence did not take him. Wasting sickness did not take him. The earth took him. The lurking demon of Nergal the pitiless did not take him—the earth took him. The battlefield did not slay him—the earth took him.

As Gilgamesh spoke these words, Ningul wept for his servant Enkidu.

Then Gilgamesh went alone to E‑kur, the temple of Bel, and prayed: “Father Bel, the sting of a fly has thrown me to the ground; insects have brought me low. Enkidu has sunk into the shades. Pestilence did not snatch him away, wasting sickness did not snatch him away—the earth snatched him away. The lurking demon of Nergal the merciless did not snatch him away; the earth snatched him away. The battlefield did not slay him; the earth snatched him away.” But father Bel could not help him.

In his sorrow, Gilgamesh turned to the Moon‑god and prayed: “Father Sin, the sting of a fly has thrown me to the ground; insects have brought me low. Enkidu has sunk into the shades. Pestilence did not snatch him away, wasting sickness did not snatch him away—the earth snatched him away. The lurking demon of Nergal the merciless did not snatch him away; the earth snatched him away. The battlefield did not slay him; the earth snatched him away.” Yet Sin could not help, nor could Ea, to whom Gilgamesh appealed with the same lament.

Then Ea pleaded with Nergal, the god of the dead, the hero and lord: “Break open the chamber of the grave, open the ground, that the spirit of Enkidu, like a wind, may rise out of the ground.” When Nergal, the hero and lord, heard this prayer, he broke open the chamber of the grave and opened the ground; he caused the spirit of Enkidu to rise out of the ground like a wind.

Now the fourth column begins a dialogue between Gilgamesh and Enkidu. Gilgamesh asked his friend to describe the Netherworld:

“Tell me, my friend, tell me—the look of the land that you have seen, tell me!”

But Enkidu answered: “I cannot tell you, my friend, I cannot tell you. If I described the look of the land that I have seen, you would surely sit down and weep.”

Gilgamesh said: “Then let me sit down and weep! Bitter and sad is everything that once gladdened your heart. All is like an old garment that the worm devours. What you did, what once gladdened your heart—all is cloaked in dust.”

Here the rest of the fourth column and the whole of the fifth are lost.

The sixth column closes the whole epic. Enkidu describes the fates of the dead:

“He is properly cared for who rests on a soft couch and drinks pure water—you and I have often seen such a one. The hero slain in battle—you and I have often seen such a one—his father and mother support his head, and his wife kneels at his side. Yea, the spirit of such a man finds rest. But the man whose corpse lies unburied upon the field—you and I have often seen such a one—his spirit finds no rest in the earth. The man whose spirit has no one to care for it—you and I have often seen such a one—consumes the dregs of the bowl, the broken remnants of food that are cast into the street.”

Thus the twelfth tablet, and with it the Epic of Gilgamesh, comes to its end.

Fragments of Another Recension

The following fragments, preserved on plates 16–19 of the Nimrod‑epic edition, belong to another recension of Tablet XII.

In one column, Enkidu curses the harlot Shamhat, who with the crafty hunter had brought a curse upon him. He prays that she will be imprisoned in the great prison; he curses her charms, her sisters, and her maidens.

The reason for the curse is given in another column: Enkidu has descended into the Netherworld, and he tells his friend—who, with the help of witchcraft, has brought him up again—what he has seen there:

“I was brought back … like the bird of darkness. I descended to the house of darkness, the dwelling of Irkalla; to the house where he who enters never comes out; to the road whose way does not turn back; to the house whose inhabitants are deprived of light, where dust is their food and clay their nourishment. They are clothed, like a bird, with a garment of feathers; they see no light, they sit in darkness. In that house, my friend, which I entered, crowns are cast down on the ground, and there dwell those who once wore crowns, who in days of old ruled the lands; to them Anu and Belit used to give roasted meat to eat—now cold meals are prepared, and water from leather bottles is poured out for them. In that house, my friend, which I entered, there dwell priests and ministers; there dwell soothsayers and enchanters; there dwell the temple‑anointers of the great gods. There dwells Etana, there dwells Ner; there dwells also the queen of the earth, the goddess Ereshkigal. The scribe of the Netherworld bows before her … and reads before her, and Ereshkigal lifted up her head and saw me.”