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Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him: 45 “Obstinate one, many a man puts his trust even in a weaker friend than I am, one that is mortal, and knows not such wisdom as mine; but I am a god, that guard thee to the end in all thy toils. And I will tell thee openly; if fifty troops of mortal men 50 should stand about us, eager to slay us in battle, even their cattle and goodly sheep shouldest thou drive off. Nay, let sleep now come over thee. There is weariness also in keeping wakeful watch the whole night through; and even now shalt thou come forth from out thy perils.” So she spoke, and shed sleep upon his eyelids, 55 but herself, the fair goddess, went back to Olympus . Now while sleep seized him, loosening the cares of his heart, sleep that loosens the limbs of men, his true-hearted wife awoke, and wept, as she sat upon her soft bed. But when her heart had had its fill of weeping, 60 to Artemis first of all the fair lady made her prayer: “Artemis, mighty goddess, daughter of Zeus, would that now thou wouldest fix thy arrow in my breast and take away my life even in this hour; or that a storm-wind might catch me up and bear me hence over the murky ways, 65 and cast me forth at the mouth of backward-flowing Oceanus, even as on a time storm-winds bore away the daughters of Pandareus. Their parents the gods had slain, and they were left orphans in the halls, and fair Aphrodite tended them with cheese, and sweet honey, and pleasant wine, 70 and Here gave them beauty and wisdom above all women, and chaste Artemis gave them stature, and Athena taught them skill in famous handiwork. But while beautiful Aphrodite was going to high Olympus to ask for the maidens the accomplishment of gladsome marriage— 75 going to Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, for well he knows all things, both the happiness and the haplessness of mortal men—meanwhile the spirits of the storm snatched away the maidens and gave them to the hateful Erinyes to deal with.¹ Would that even so those who have dwellings on Olympus would blot me from sight, 80 or that fair-tressed Artemis would smite me, so that with Odysseus before my mind I might even pass beneath the hateful earth, and never gladden in any wise the heart of a baser man. Yet when a man weeps by day with a heart sore distressed, 85 but at night sleep holds him, this brings with it an evil that may well be borne—for sleep makes one forget all things, the good and the evil, when once it envelops the eyelids—but upon me a god sends evil dreams as well. For this night again there lay by my side one like him, even such as he was when he went forth with the host, and my heart 90 was glad, for I deemed it was no dream, but the truth at last.”

Odyssey. Homer. A. T. Murray (Translator). London. 1919.

Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.

Funding provided by The Annenberg CPB/Project.

Current edition Perseus

Odyssey (English) (Homer. The Odyssey, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), translator. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1919.)

Editions (1)

Ὀδύσσεια Perseus (Homer. The Odyssey, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), editor. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1919.) — 20.44 focus

τὸν δʼ αὖτε προσέειπε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη·

σχέτλιε, καὶ μέν τίς τε χερείονι πείθεθʼ ἑταίρῳ,

ὅς περ θνητός τʼ ἐστὶ καὶ οὐ τόσα μήδεα οἶδεν·

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ θεός εἰμι, διαμπερὲς ἥ σε φυλάσσω

ἐν πάντεσσι πόνοις. ἐρέω δέ τοι ἐξαναφανδόν·

εἴ περ πεντήκοντα λόχοι μερόπων ἀνθρώπων

νῶϊ περισταῖεν, κτεῖναι μεμαῶτες Ἄρηϊ,

καί κεν τῶν ἐλάσαιο βόας καὶ ἴφια μῆλα.

ἀλλʼ ἑλέτω σε καὶ ὕπνος· ἀνίη καὶ τὸ φυλάσσειν

πάννυχον ἐγρήσσοντα, κακῶν δʼ ὑποδύσεαι ἤδη.

ὣς φάτο, καί ῥά οἱ ὕπνον ἐπὶ βλεφάροισιν ἔχευεν,

αὐτὴ δʼ ἂψ ἐς Ὄλυμπον ἀφίκετο δῖα θεάων.

εὖτε τὸν ὕπνος ἔμαρπτε, λύων μελεδήματα θυμοῦ,

λυσιμελής, ἄλοχος δʼ ἄρʼ ἐπέγρετο κεδνὰ ἰδυῖα·

κλαῖε δʼ ἄρʼ ἐν λέκτροισι καθεζομένη μαλακοῖσιν.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ κλαίουσα κορέσσατο ὃν κατὰ θυμόν,

Ἀρτέμιδι πρώτιστον ἐπεύξατο δῖα γυναικῶν·

Ἄρτεμι, πότνα θεά, θύγατερ Διός, αἴθε μοι ἤδη

ἰὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσι βαλοῦσʼ ἐκ θυμὸν ἕλοιο

αὐτίκα νῦν, ἢ ἔπειτα μʼ ἀναρπάξασα θύελλα

οἴχοιτο προφέρουσα κατʼ ἠερόεντα κέλευθα,

ἐν προχοῇς δὲ βάλοι ἀψορρόου Ὠκεανοῖο.

ὡς δʼ ὅτε Πανδαρέου κούρας ἀνέλοντο θύελλαι·

τῇσι τοκῆας μὲν φθῖσαν θεοί, αἱ δʼ ἐλίποντο

ὀρφαναὶ ἐν μεγάροισι, κόμισσε δὲ δῖʼ Ἀφροδίτη

τυρῷ καὶ μέλιτι γλυκερῷ καὶ ἡδέϊ οἴνῳ·

Ἥρη δʼ αὐτῇσιν περὶ πασέων δῶκε γυναικῶν

εἶδος καὶ πινυτήν, μῆκος δʼ ἔπορʼ Ἄρτεμις ἁγνή,

ἔργα δʼ Ἀθηναίη δέδαε κλυτὰ ἐργάζεσθαι.

εὖτʼ Ἀφροδίτη δῖα προσέστιχε μακρὸν Ὄλυμπον,

κούρῃς αἰτήσουσα τέλος θαλεροῖο γάμοιο—

ἐς Δία τερπικέραυνον, ὁ γάρ τʼ εὖ οἶδεν ἅπαντα,

μοῖράν τʼ ἀμμορίην τε καταθνητῶν ἀνθρώπων—

τόφρα δὲ τὰς κούρας ἅρπυιαι ἀνηρείψαντο

καί ῥʼ ἔδοσαν στυγερῇσιν ἐρινύσιν ἀμφιπολεύειν·

ὣς ἔμʼ ἀϊστώσειαν Ὀλύμπια δώματʼ ἔχοντες,

ἠέ μʼ ἐϋπλόκαμος βάλοι Ἄρτεμις, ὄφρʼ Ὀδυσῆα

ὀσσομένη καὶ γαῖαν ὕπο στυγερὴν ἀφικοίμην,

μηδέ τι χείρονος ἀνδρὸς ἐϋφραίνοιμι νόημα.

ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν καὶ ἀνεκτὸν ἔχει κακόν, ὁππότε κέν τις

ἤματα μὲν κλαίῃ, πυκινῶς ἀκαχήμενος ἦτορ,

νύκτας δʼ ὕπνος ἔχῃσιν—ὁ γάρ τʼ ἐπέλησεν ἁπάντων,

ἐσθλῶν ἠδὲ κακῶν, ἐπεὶ ἄρ βλέφαρʼ ἀμφικαλύψῃ—

αὐτὰρ ἐμοὶ καὶ ὀνείρατʼ ἐπέσσευεν κακὰ δαίμων.

τῇδε γὰρ αὖ μοι νυκτὶ παρέδραθεν εἴκελος αὐτῷ,

τοῖος ἐὼν οἷος ᾖεν ἅμα στρατῷ· αὐτὰρ ἐμὸν κῆρ

χαῖρʼ, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἐφάμην ὄναρ ἔμμεναι, ἀλλʼ ὕπαρ ἤδη.

Translations (8)

Odyssey Perseus (Homer. The Odyssey: rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original. Butler, Samuel, 1835-1902, translator. Revised by Timothy Power and Gregory Nagy. London: A.C. Fifield, 1900.) — 20.54 focus

54 As she spoke she shed sleep over his eyes, and then went back to Olympus .

56 While Odysseus was thus yielding himself to a very deep slumber that eased the burden of his sorrows, his admirable wife awoke, and sitting up in her bed began to cry. When she had relieved herself by weeping she prayed to Artemis saying, "Great Goddess Artemis, daughter of Zeus, drive an arrow into my heart and slay me; or let some whirlwind snatch me up and bear me through paths of darkness till it drop me into the mouths of overflowing Okeanos, as it did the daughters of Pandareus. The daughters of Pandareus lost their father and mother, for the gods killed them, so they were left orphans. But Aphrodite took care of them, and fed them on cheese, honey, and sweet wine. Hera taught them to excel all women in beauty of form and understanding; Artemis gave them an imposing presence, and Athena endowed them with every kind of accomplishment; but one day when Aphrodite had gone up to Olympus to see Zeus about getting them married (for well does he know both what shall happen and what not happen to every one) the storm winds came and spirited them away to become handmaids to the dread Erinyes. Even so I wish that the gods who live in heaven would hide me from mortal sight, or that fair Artemis might strike me, for I would fain go even beneath the sad earth if I might do so still looking towards Odysseus only, and without having to yield myself to a worse man than he was. Besides, no matter how many people may grieve by day, they can put up with it so long as they can sleep at night, for when the eyes are closed in slumber people forget good and ill alike; whereas my miserable daimôn haunts me even in my dreams. This very night I thought there was one lying by my side who was like Odysseus as he was when he went away with his host, and I rejoiced, for I believed that it was no dream, but the very truth itself."

91 On this the day broke, but Odysseus heard the sound of her weeping, and it puzzled him, for it seemed as though she already knew him and was by his side. Then he gathered up the cloak and the fleeces on which he had lain, and set them on a seat in the room, but he took the bullock's hide out into the open. He lifted up his hands to heaven, and prayed, saying "Father Zeus, since you have seen fit to bring me over land and sea to my own home after all the afflictions you have laid upon me, give me a sign out of the mouth of some one or other of those who are now waking within the house, and let me have another sign of some kind from outside."

102 Thus did he pray. Zeus heard his prayer and forthwith thundered high up among the from the splendor of Olympus , and Odysseus was glad when he heard it. At the same time within the house, a miller-woman from hard by in the mill room lifted up her voice and gave him another sign. There were twelve miller-women whose business it was to grind wheat and barley which are the staff of life. The others had ground their task and had gone to take their rest, but this one had not yet finished, for she was not so strong as they were, and when she heard the thunder she stopped grinding and gave the sign [ sêma] to her master. "Father Zeus," said she, "you who rule over heaven and earth, you have thundered from a clear sky without so much as a cloud in it, and this means something for somebody; answer the prayer, then, of me your poor servant who calls upon you, and let this be the very last day that the suitors dine in the house of Odysseus. They have worn me out with the labor of grinding meal for them, and I hope they may never have another dinner anywhere at all."

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020)) — 20.44 focus

The owl-vision goddess Athena replied, [45] “For shame why, anyone else would trust a worse ally than myself, even though that ally were only a mortal and less wise than I am. Am I not a goddess, and have I not protected you throughout in all your ordeals [ ponos]? I tell you plainly that even though there were fifty bands of men [50] surrounding us and eager to kill us, you should take all their sheep and cattle, and drive them away with you. But go to sleep; it is a very bad thing to lie awake all night, and you shall be out of your troubles before long.”

As she, shining among goddesses, spoke she shed sleep over his eyes, [55] and then went back to Olympus.

While Odysseus was thus yielding himself to a very deep slumber that eased the burden of his sorrows, his admirable wife awoke, and sitting up in her bed began to cry. When she had relieved herself by weeping [60] she prayed to Artemis saying, “Great Goddess Artemis, daughter of Zeus, drive an arrow into my heart and slay me; 63 or later, may a gust of wind [ thuella] abduct me; 64 may it go off and take me away along misty ways, [65] and plunge me into the streams of Okeanos, which flows in a circle. 66 as when the thuellai took away the daughters of Pandareos. The daughters of Pandareos lost their father and mother, for the gods killed them, so they were left orphans. But radiant Aphrodite took care of them, and fed them on cheese, honey, and sweet [70] wine. Hera taught them to excel all women in beauty of form and understanding; chaste Artemis gave them an imposing presence, and Athena endowed them with every kind of accomplishment; but one day when bright Aphrodite had gone up to Olympus to see Zeus about getting them married [75] (for well does he know both what shall happen and what not happen to every one) 77 then the whirlwinds [ harpuiai] abducted the girls to become handmaids to the dread Furies [ Erinyes]. Even so I wish that the gods who live in the sky [80] would hide me from mortal sight, or that sweet-haired Artemis might strike me, for I want to go even beneath the sad earth if I might do so still looking towards Odysseus only, and without having to yield myself to a worse man than he was. Besides, no matter how much people may grieve by day, [85] they can put up with it so long as they can sleep at night, for when the eyes are closed in slumber people forget good and ill alike; whereas my miserable fate [ daimōn] haunts me even in my dreams. This very night I thought there was one lying by my side who was like Odysseus as he was when he went away with his army, [90] and I rejoiced, for I believed that it was no dream, but the very truth itself.”

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873)) — 20.44 focus

And thus in turn the blue-eyed Pallas said :

"O faint of spirit! in an humbler friend

Than I am, in a friend of mortal birth

And less far-seeing, one might put his trust;

But I am born a goddess, and protect

Thy life in every danger. Let me say,

And plainly say, if fifty armed bands

Of men should gather round us, eager all

To take thy life, thou mightest drive away,

Unharmed by them, their herds and pampered flocks.

But give thyself to sleep. To wake and watch

All night is most unwholesome. Thou shalt find

A happy issue from thy troubles yet."

She spake, and, shedding slumber on his lids,

Upward the glorious goddess took her way

Back to Olympus, when she saw that sleep

Had seized him, making him forget all care

And slackening every limb. His faithful wife

Was still awake, and sat upright and wept

On her soft couch, and after many tears

The glorious lady prayed to Dian thus : -

"Goddess august! Diana, child of Jove!

I would that thou wouldst send into my heart

A shaft to take my life, or that a storm

Would seize and hurl me through the paths of air,

And cast me into ocean's restless streams,

As once a storm, descending, swept away

The daughters born to Pandarus. The gods

Had slain their parents, and they dwelt alone

As orphans in their palace, nourished there

By blessed Venus with the curds of milk,

And honey, and sweet wine, while Juno gave

Beauty and wit beyond all womankind,

And chaste Diana dignity of form,

And Pallas every art that graces life.

Then, as the blessed Venus went to ask

For them, of Jove the Thunderer, on the heights

Of his Olympian mount, the crowning gift

Of happy marriage, - for to Jove is known

Whatever comes to pass, and what shall be

The fortune, good or ill, of mortal men,

The Harpies came meantime, bore off the maids,

And gave them to the hateful sisterhood

Of Furies as their servants. So may those

Who dwell upon Olympus make an end

Of me, or fair-haired Dian strike me down,

That, with the image of Ulysses still

Before my mind, I may not seek to please

One of less worth. This evil might be borne

By one who weeps all day, and feels at heart

A settled sorrow, yet can sleep at night.

100

For sleep, when once it weighs the eyelids down,

Makes men unmindful both of good and ill,

And all things else. But me some deity

Visits with fearful dreams. There lay by me,

This very night, one like him, as he was

105

When with his armed men he sailed for Troy;

And I was glad, for certainly I deemed

It was a real presence, and no dream."

English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858)) — 20.44 focus

"Oh impotence of faith!" (Minerva cries,)

"If man on frail unknowing man relies,

Doubt you the gods? Lo, Pallas' self descends,

Inspires thy counsels, and thy toils attends.

In me affianced, fortify thy breast,

Though myriads leagued thy rightful claim contest:

My sure divinity shall bear the shield,

And edge thy sword to reap the glorious field.

Now, pay the debt to craving nature due,

Her faded powers with balmy rest renew."

She ceas'd: ambrosial slumbers seal his eyes;

His care dissolves in visionary joys:

The goddess, pleas'd, regains her natal skies.

Not so the queen: the downy bands of sleep

By grief relax'd, she wak'd again to weep:

A gloomy pause ensued of dumb despair;

Then thus her fate invok'd with fervent prayer:

"Diana! speed thy deathful ebon dart,¹

And cure the pangs of this convulsive heart.

Snatch me, ye whirlwinds! far from human race,

Toss'd through the void illimitable space:

Or, if dismounted from the rapid cloud,

Me with his whelming wave let Ocean shroud!

So Pandarus,² thy hopes, three orphan-fair,

Were doomed to wander through the devious air;

Thyself untimely, and thy consort died,

But four celestials both your cares supplied.

Venus in tender delicacy rears

With honey, milk, and wine their infant years:

Imperial Juno to their youth assign'd

A form majestic, and sagacious mind:

With shapely growth Diana graced their bloom:

And Pallas taught the texture of the loom.

But whilst, to learn their lots in nuptial love,

Bright Cytherea sought the bower of Jove,

(The God supreme, to whose eternal eye

The registers of fate expanded lie,)

Wing'd Harpies snatch'd th' unguarded charge away,

And to the Furies bore, a grateful prey.

Be such my lot! Or thou, Diana, speed

Thy shaft, and send me joyful to the dead;

To seek my lord among the warrior train,

Ere second vows my bridal faith profane.

When woes the waking sense alone assail,

Whilst Night extends her soft oblivious veil,

Of other wretches' care the torture ends:

100

No truce the warfare of my heart suspends!

The night renews the day-distracting theme,

And airy terrors sable every dream.

The last alone a kind illusion wrought,

And to my bed my lov'd Ulysses brought,

105

In manly bloom, and each majestic grace,

As when for Troy he left my fond embrace;³

Such raptures in my beating bosom rise,

I deem it sure a vision of the skies."

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 20.44 focus

To this the Goddess answered, and said,

Another man would trust a meaner wight,

Though mortal, and rely upon his aid:

But I a God immortal am, and say,

Though fifty bands of men should us oppose,

You should their herds of cattle drive away.

Enjoy securely, therefore, your repose ;

A torment 'tis to watch all night, to one

That is already drench'd in misery.

Sleep then. This said, sweet sleep she threw upon

His eyes, and from him mounted to the sky.

And now Penelope awak'd, and sat

On her bed weeping. Having wept her fill,

She to Diana pray'd, and said, O that

You would now shoot your arrow and me kill;

Or that some great wind me away might bear,

And o'er a rock throw me into the main,

Ne'er to be heard of, or as th' daughters were

Of Pandareus, whose parents both were slain

By th' Gods; but Venus the orphans nourished

With butter, and with honey, and with wine.

Juno with form and wit them furnished;

Diana gave them stature; artifice divine

Pallas them taught; then Venus went to Jove

To get them husbands; for best knoweth he

The issue of conjunctions in love,

Whether for better or for worse they be,

While Venus absent was on that affair,

By harpies foul away they carried be,

And giv'n for slaves to th' furies in the air.

Oh that the Gods would so dispose of me;

Or else Diana send me under ground,

That I may with Ulysses be, and not

To please another meaner man be bound.

Grief all day long is but a woeful lot,

And sleep is some amends; but unto me

It evil dreams along with it doth bring.

This night, my husband seem'd i' th'bed to be;

No dream I thought it, but a real thing.

English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 20.44 focus

"Wretch," she replied, "a friend of worse degree

Might win thy credence, that a mortal were,

And used to second thee, though nothing near

So powerful in performance nor in care;

Yet I, a Goddess, that have still had share

In thy achievements, and thy person's guard,

Must still be doubted by thy brain, so hard

To credit anything above thy power;

And that must come from heaven; if every hour

There be not personal appearance made,

And aid direct given, that may sense invade.

I'll tell thee, therefore, clearly: If there were

Of divers-languaged men an army here

Of fifty companies, all driving hence

Thy sheep and oxen, and with violence

Offer'd to charge us, and besiege us round,

Thou shouldst their prey reprise, and them confound.

Let sleep then seize thee. To keep watch all night

Consumes the spirits, and makes dull the sight."

Thus pour'd the Goddess sleep into his eyes,

And reascended the Olympian skies.

When care-and-lineament-resolving sleep

Had laid his temples in his golden steep,

His wise-in-chaste-wit-worthy wife did rise,

First sitting up in her soft bed, her eyes

Open'd with tears, in care of her estate,

Which now her friends resolved to terminate

To more delays, and make her marry one.

Her silent tears then ceased, her orison

This queen of women to Diana made:

"Reverend Diana, let thy darts invade

My woeful bosom, and my life deprive,

Now at this instant, or soon after drive

My soul with tempests forth, and give it way

To those far-off dark vaults, where never day

100

Hath power to shine, and let them cast it down

Where refluent Oceanus doth crown

His curled head, where Pluto's orchard is,

And entrance to our after miseries.

As such stern whirlwinds ravish'd to that stream

105

Pandareus' daughters, when the Gods to them

Had reft their parents, and them left alone,

Poor orphan children, in their mansion;

Whose desolate life did Love's sweet Queen incline

To nurse with pressed milk and sweetest wine;

110

Whom Juno deck'd beyond all other dames

With wisdom's light, and beauty's moving flames;

Whom Phœbe goodliness of stature render'd;

And to whose fair hands wise Minerva tender'd

The loom and needle in their utmost skill;

115

And while Love's Empress scaled th' Olympian hill

To beg of Lightning-loving Jove (since he

The means to all things knows, and doth decree

Fortunes, infortunes, to the mortal race)

For those poor virgins, the accomplish'd grace

120

Of safest nuptials, the fierce Harpies prey'd

On every good and miserable maid,

And to the hateful Furies gave them all

In horrid service; yet, may such fate fall

From steep Olympus on my loathed head,

125

Or fair-chair'd Phœbe strike me instant dead,

That I may undergo the gloomy shore

To visit great Ulysses' soul, before

I soothe my idle blood and wed a worse.

And yet, beneath how desperate a curse

130

Do I live now! It is an ill that may

Be well endured, to mourn the whole long day,

So night's sweet sleeps, that make a man forget

Both bad and good, in some degree would let

My thoughts leave grieving; but, both day and night,

135

Some cruel God gives my sad memory sight.

This night, methought, Ulysses graced my bed

In all the goodly state with which he led

The Grecian army; which gave joys extreme

To my distress, esteeming it no dream,

140

But true indeed; and that conceit I had,

That when I saw it false I might be mad.

Such cruel fates command in my life's guide."

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 20.44 focus

Oh faithless man! a man will in his friend

Confide, though mortal, and in valour less

And wisdom than himself; but I who keep

Thee in all difficulties, am divine.

I tell thee plainly. Were we hemm'd around

By fifty troops of shouting warriors bent

To slay thee, thou should'st yet securely drive

The flocks away and cattle of them all.

But yield to sleep's soft influence; for to lie

All night thus watchful, is, itself, distress.

Fear not. Deliverance waits, not far remote.

So saying, she o'er Ulysses' eyes diffused

Soft slumbers, and when sleep that soothes the mind

And nerves the limbs afresh had seized him once,

To the Olympian summit swift return'd.

But his chaste spouse awoke; she weeping sat

On her soft couch, and noblest of her sex,

Satiate at length with tears, her prayer address'd

First to Diana of the Powers above.

Diana, aweful progeny of Jove !

I would that with a shaft this moment sped

Into my bosom, thou would'st here conclude

My mournful life! or, oh that, as it flies,

Snatching me through the pathless air, a storm

Would whelm me deep in Ocean's restless tide!

So, when the Gods their parents had destroy'd,

Storms suddenly the beauteous daughters snatch'd

Of Pandarus away; them left forlorn

Venus with curds, with honey and with wine

Fed duly; Juno gave them to surpass

All women in the charms of face and mind,

With graceful stature eminent the chaste

Diana bless'd them, and in works of art

Illustrious, Pallas taught them to excell.

But when the foam-sprung Goddess to the skies

A suitress went on their behalf, to obtain

Blest nuptials for them from the Thunderer Jove,

(For Jove the happiness, himself, appoints,

And the unhappiness of all below,)

Meantime, the Harpies ravishing away

Those virgins, gave them to the Furies three,

That they might serve them. O that me the Gods

Inhabiting Olympus so would hide

From human eyes for ever, or bright-hair'd

Diana pierce me with a shaft, that while

Ulysses yet engages all my thoughts,

My days concluded, I might 'scape the pain

Of gratifying some inferior Chief!

This is supportable, when (all the day

To sorrow given) the mourner sleeps at night;

For sleep, when it hath once the eyelids veil'd,

100

All reminiscence blots of all alike,

Both good and ill; but me the Gods afflict

Not seldom even in dreams, and at my side,

This night again, one lay resembling him;

Such as my own Ulysses when he join'd

105

Achaia's warriors; my exulting heart

No airy dream believed it, but a truth.

English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911)) — 20 focus

ODYSSEY BOOK XX

SO in the porch of the hall did the godlike Odysseus repose him.

First on the floor he extended an untanned hide, and above it

Spread him a number of fleeces of sheep that the princes had slaughtered.

Eurynomé then covered him o'er with a wrap as he lay there.

Long did Odysseus, with heart that was brooding on ills for the suitors,

Lie there sleepless. And out of the inner apartment the women,

Those that had ever till now consorted in love with the suitors,

Came forth, bandying laughter and merriment one with another.

Then, as he heard them, aroused was the soul in the depths of his bosom.

Many a time did he waver with doubt in his mind and his spirit

Whether to haste in pursuit and to deal out death to the maidens,

Every one, or to leave them alone with the arrogant suitors

One time more and the last; and his heart growled fiercely within him;

E'en as a dog, when in front of her helpless puppies she paces,

Growls in her rage at a man that she knows not and longs to assail him,

So it was growling within him in wrath at their infamous actions.

Then on his bosom he smote and his heart he addressed and rebuked it:

"Courage, my heart, and endure! Still worse was the shame thou enduredst,

E'en on the day when the huge irresistible monster, the Cyclops,

Ate my heroic companions, but thou wast undaunted, till cunning

Freed thee from out of the cave where certain appeared thy destruction."

Thus did he speak to the heart in his bosom, exhorting it sharply;

Yea and it heard and obeyed him, and held with a patient endurance

Firm. But Odysseus himself kept turning to this and to that side.

Just as a man in the front of a fire that is mightily blazing

Holdeth a pudding of blood and of fat, and to this and to that side

Constantly turns it, and longs for the thing to be speedily roasted,

So was he tossing to this and to that side, musing in spirit

How 'twere best to attempt the attack on the impudent suitors

Single against so many. And now drew near him Athene,

Come from the heights of Olympus and changed to a woman in semblance.

Standing beside him, anigh to his head, these words she addressed him :

"Wherefore still art thou lying awake, most hapless of mortals?

Lo now, here is thy home; here too is thy wife in thy homestead,

Ay and thy son-such son as by every father is longed for."

Her then in answer addressed these words deep-plotting Odysseus :

"Verily all thou hast said, O goddess, is true and befitting;

Still I am much in suspense and am musing in mind and in spirit

How 'twere best to attempt the attack on the impudent suitors,

Being but one, while here in the house they're ever in numbers.

Also a doubt still greater is making me muse in my spirit :

Were I to slay them by help of thyself and of Zeus the Almighty,

Whither to flee and escape the avenger? Resolve it, I pray thee!"

Him forthwith gave answer the grey-eyed goddess Athene:

"Slow to believe! Why, many a man oft trusts in a comrade

Weaker by far-in a mortal with no such counsels as mine be.

I am the goddess who vowed to protect thee till all was accomplished,

Yea and in every danger; and once more plainly I tell thee,

Even if companies fifty in number of men that be mortal

Compassed us closely about, right eager in battle to slay us,

All of their fat-fed flocks thou'dst capture and all of their cattle.

Come, compose thee to slumber! A weary vexation is watching

All night sleepless; and now thou art rising from out of thy troubles."

These words uttered Athena, and poured forth sleep on his eyelids;

Then she departed, the beautiful goddess, and came to Olympus.

Meanwhile slumber had seized him and loosened the cares of his spirit,

Slumber that loosens the limbs. But his true-souled wife had awakened.

Long on her soft-strown bed she had sat and had wept and lamented,

Till, when at length she was weary in spirit of weeping and wailing,

Then did the fairest of women to Artemis turn in entreaty:

"Artemis, lady divine, O daughter of Zeus the Almighty,

Send, I beseech thee, an arrow that piercing my bosom shall slay me

Now in a moment or would that the hurricane blast of the storm-winds

Seized me, and sweeping me off on the shadowy paths of the tempests

Hurled me below, where back to the sea comes streaming the Ocean,

E'en as the daughters of Pandareüs were seized by the storm-blast.

Father and mother they lost by the act of the gods, and as orphans

Sole they remained in the halls of the palace; but Queen Aphrodite

Fed them on curds and on honey and wine that was sweet as the honey.

Then were given the maidens above all women by Hera

Beauty and wisdom, and chaste Queen Artemis granted them stature,

While from Athena they learnt the designing of exquisite handwork.

Now when the fair Aphrodite was wending to lofty Olympus,

There to obtain for the maidens the blissful assurance of wedlock,

Seeking the promise of Zeus who delighteth in thunder (he knoweth

All that to earthborn mortals is granted by Fate or denied them),

Meantime down came sweeping the Harpies, the Spirits of Tempest,

Snatched them, and unto the hateful Erinyes gave them as handmaids.

Thus too sweep me away, O gods who inhabit Olympus!

Else, O fair-tressed Artemis, smite me!-and thus, with Odysseus

Imaged in mind, I shall go to the terrible nethermost darkness,

Nor shall I ever rejoice the affections of one that is baser.

Now herein is an evil endurable-namely, whenever

One that by day sits weeping, with heart sore stricken by sorrow,

Yieldeth at night to the power of sleep: all things he forgetteth,

Evil as well as the good, when it once o'ershadows his eyelids,

While for myself some deity sends false dreams to afflict me;

Yea and to-night one like to my husband was sleeping beside me,

Such as he seemed when he sailed with the host; and the heart in my bosom

Joy'd, for I thought that at last it was true-no dream, but a vision."

Thus did she speak, and anon came Morning, the golden-enthronéd.

Now as she wept had her voice been heard by the godlike Odysseus.

Forthwith fell he a-musing thereat, and she seemed to his fancy

Surely to know him already and close to his head to be standing.

Rolling together the wraps and the fleeces wherein he had slumbered

These on a settle he laid in the hall, then carried the oxhide

Out to the court, and to Zeus uplifted his hands in entreaty :

"Father, if truly thy grace and the favour of heaven hath led me

Over the wet and the dry to my home (though sorely ye plagued me),

Grant me, I pray, that an omen be uttered by one that is waking

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Here in the house; and without, O Zeus, send also a portent!"

Such was the prayer that he uttered, and Zeus, great Counsellor, heard him.

Forthwith out of the radiant heights of Olympus he thundered

Down from aloft, from the sky; and godlike Odysseus exulted.

Also was uttered a voice by a woman that ground in an outhouse

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Nigh to him. Here were standing the mills of the prince of the people.

These were worked by the women, a dozen in number, that toiled there

Making the meal of the wheat and the barley, the marrow of mortals.

All of the rest were sleeping, for ground was the whole of their wheat-grain.

She was the weakest, and now was alone and incessantly toiling.

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Stopping her mill she exclaimed (to her master it came as an omen):

"Father of all! Great Zeus, who art monarch of men and immortals,

Loudly in sooth thou hast thundered from starry expanses of heaven,

Nor is a cloud to be seen! It is surely a portent for some one!

Also for me, poor wretch, accomplish the prayer that I utter:

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O for the last and the latest of all their delightful carousings

Here in the halls of Odysseus to-day to be held by the suitors!

Yea, for the men have loosened my knees with this pitiless labour,

Grinding the grain-so now let them finish their feastings for ever!"

Then did Odysseus rejoice, for he felt that the voice was an omen,

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E'en as the thunder of Zeus, and that vengeance had come for the guilty.

Now had the rest of the maids in the beautiful home of Odysseus

Gathered, and soon on the hearth the unwearied flame they rekindled.

Telemachus too rose from his bed, as a god in his beauty,

Donned his apparel, suspended his keen-edged sword from the shoulder,

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Under his smooth-skinned feet then fastened his beautiful sandals,

Lifted his powerful spear, with its blade sharp-pointed and bronzen,

Went to the threshold and, there as he stood, called Eurycleia:

"Say, dear nurse, did ye honour the guest in the house? did ye give him

Food and a bed? or, left to himself, is he lying uncared for?

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Such is the way with my mother: although of a good understanding,

Blindly she seemeth to value the one or the other of mortals;

Often she honours the worse and dismisses the better unhonoured."

Him forthwith gave answer the wise-souled Eurycleia:

"Nay but, my child, no blame hath thy mother; thou needst not reproach her.

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Wine he was given, and sat there drinking as long as he listed;

Food he refused: no longer he hungered, he said; for she asked him.

Then, as the time was at hand to be mindful of rest and of slumber,

Some of her maiden attendants she ordered to place him a bedstead.

Natheless, like to a man that is utterly broken and wretched,

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Neither to sleep on a bed was he willing nor wrap him in blankets.

Spreading the untanned hide of an ox and a couple of sheepskins,

Out in the passage he slept; and we covered him o'er with a mantle."

Thus did she speak, and the youth fared forth by the hall of the palace

Bearing his spear; and by two of his fleet-paced hounds he was followed.

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Then to the council he went of the well-greaved sons of Achaea,

While to her maidens she issued her orders, that good old woman,

Eurycleia, the daughter of Ops, who was son of Pisenor :

"Come now, set ye to work! Some busily see to the sweeping.

Sprinkle with water the floor of the hall, and the covers of purple

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Place on the fair-wrought chairs. Some wipe down all of the tables,

Rubbing them clean with a sponge; then rinse out every wine-bowl,

Also the twy-cupped beakers of delicate work; and let others

Go to the fountain for water, and quickly return with it hither.

Not much longer, methinks, from the hall will the suitors be absent;

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Early the morn they will come; 'tis for all of the people a feast-day."

Thus did she speak, and they listened with care to her words and obeyed her :

Twenty departed at once to the fountain of dark spring water,

While that the others remained in the palace and skilfully toiled there.

Then there entered the thralls of the noble Achaeans, and straightway

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Skilfully cleft them of wood right many a log; and the women

Came from the fountain; and also the swineherd arrived, and he joined them.

Down from the farm three hogs he had driven, the fattest and finest.

These he permitted to feed in the beautiful palace enclosure,

While to Odysseus he came and with words right gentle addressed him:

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"Stranger, with greater regard seem now the Achaeans to treat thee?

Or, as they acted before in the hall, with dishonour and insult?"

Him then in answer addressed these words deep-plotting Odysseus :

"O for the gods to avenge, Eumaeus, the scorn and the outrage

Shown by the wanton infatuate deeds of the insolent fellows

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Here in the home of another! Nor shame do they feel-not the smallest."

Thus did the twain stand there conversing the one with the other.

Then came passing anigh them Melanthius master of goatherds,

Driving his goats, prime beasts that from all of the flocks he had chosen,

Meant for the suitors to eat; and by herdsmen twain he was followed.

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Now when the goats he had tethered beneath the reëchoing portal,

Up to Odysseus he came and with words of abuse he addressed him :

"Stranger, it seems thou art fain e'en here in the house to annoy us,

Begging from all of the men !-Go, get thee away from the palace!

Ne'er shall we twain find means to be rid of the matter and part us

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Ere each tastes of the fists of the other. I call it indecent,

Begging and begging! Besides, there's feasting with other Achaeans."

Thus did he speak; and Odysseus replied not a word, but he stood there

Silently shaking his head, as a man that is brooding on evil.

Now did a third draw nigh them, Philoetius, master of neatherds,

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Leading a cow that was barren and fat-fed goats for the suitors.

Them had the ferrymen brought from the mainland (as many a mortal

Also they ferry across, whosoever arrives at the crossing).

These when he safely had tethered beneath the reëchoing portal,

Up to the side of the swineherd he came and addressed him a question :

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"Swineherd, who is the stranger, I pray-this man that is newly

Come as a guest to the house? What race doth he boast to belong to?

Where is the place of his birth, and which is the land of his fathers?

Hapless he seems; but in form he is like to a lord and a chieftain;

Yea and the gods mar often a man that is driven to wander-

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Fate that can hap to a ruler himself, if they spin him misfortune."

Thus as he spake he approached and his right hand offered in welcome;

Then he uplifted his voice and with swift-winged words he addressed him :

"Welcome, father and stranger! I wish thee in future a fortune

Happier. Now, as it seems, thou'rt holden of many an evil.

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Father of all, great Zeus! More baneful is none of immortals!

Ne'er dost thou feel compassion for mortals although thou begett'st them,

Making them ever to dwell with misfortune, with pain and with sorrow.

E'en as I saw him I sweated, and tears come flooding mine eyes still

While I remember Odysseus-for, ah, I am certain that he too

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Thus in a raiment of rags goes roaming from people to people,

Haps it indeed that he still is alive and beholdeth the sunlight.

Should he however be dead and gone to the mansion of Hades,

Woe to me! Woe for Odysseus, my good dear master, who set me

Over his kine, as a youngster among Cephallenian people!

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These are growing unspeakably many: with none of the chieftains

Waxing and flourishing thus is the breed of the broad-browed cattle.

Ay, but I now am commanded by others, and batten my cattle

Only for strangers to eat. Of the heir in the palace they reck not,

Neither the wrath of the gods do they fear. Nought else do they long for

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Save to divide the estate of my lord, who so long is unheard of.

Many and many a time with my heart in the depth of my bosom

This I revolve: 'twere wrong, while liveth the son of my master,

Taking the cows to abandon the country and make for another,

Some far alien land; but methinks it is worse to remain here,

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Sitting and guarding my cattle for others, and suffering hardships.

Ay and indeed long since I had found some powerful chieftain

Whither to flee-for I vow it is scarce endurable sometimes;

Still I am alway a-thinking of him-poor master!-and dreaming

How he shall come and shall scatter the suitors in rout from the palace."

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Him then in answer addressed these words deep-plotting Odysseus :

"Neatherd, seeing thou seemst not a man that is evil or foolish

(Nay, I confess it myself, in thy thoughts much wisdom is present),

Therefore a thing will I say, and with solemn oath will confirm it:

First then witness it Zeus, and the table at which I am welcomed,

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Yea and the hearth, to the which I am come, of the noble Odysseus,

While thou art here in the mansion Odysseus shall come to his homestead,

Ay and with thine own eyes, if thou willst, thou'lt surely behold him

Slaughtering all of the suitors, who dare in his palace to lord it."

Him gave answer the man who as cowherd tended the cattle :

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"Would, O stranger, that Zeus might grant to thy words a fulfilment !

Then thou'dst learn of my strength and behold how ready my hands be."

Likewise spake Eumaeus, and calling on all the immortals

Prayed for Odysseus the wise to return once more to his homeland.

Now as the men stood there conversing the one with the other,

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Secretly planning the doom and death of the son of Odysseus

Plotted the suitors-but lo, on the left came flying an eagle,

King of the uppermost air, with a quivering dove in his talons.

Then spake Amphinomus to the others, and thus he addressed them :

"Friends, I am sure it will never succeed, this thing that we purpose,

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Murdering Telemachus. Let us think once more of the banquet!"

Thus spake Amphinomus, and his words pleased all of the others.

So they betook them at once to the palace of godlike Odysseus.

Here, when aside they had laid on the chairs and the couches their mantles,

Fatlings they slew of the goats and the heaviest beasts of the sheepfold;

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Also they slew fat hogs and a cow that was brought from the pasture,

Roasted the livers and portioned the messes, and then in the wine-bowls

Mingled the wine; and the cups were carried around by the swineherd,

While by Philoetius, master of herdsmen, in beautiful baskets

Bread was dispensed, and the wine poured out by the goatherd Melantheus.

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Then did they stretch forth hands to the food that was lying before them.

Telemachus with a crafty intent now seated Odysseus

Nigh to the threshold of stone of the strong-built banqueting-chamber.

Wretchedly poor was the chair that he placed him, and small was the table.

Then of the liver he served him a portion, and filled him a goblet,

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Even a beaker of gold; and he spake these words and addressed him:

"There now, sit at thy ease midst nobles, and quaff of the wine-cup.

Violent act or abuse it is I that am going to stop it,

Spite of the suitors. We keep not a tavern for common resorters

Here in the house; 'twas the home of Odysseus; to me he bequeathed it.

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Listen, ye suitors! I beg you to curb all spirit of brawling,

Ay and of violent acts. No quarrel and strife shall arise here!"

Thus did he speak and the men, all biting their lips in amazement,

Marvelled at Telemachus and the dauntless words he had uttered.

Then spake Antinous, Eupeithes' son, and addressed them :

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"Though it is hard to submit, let us suffer, Achaeans, in silence

Telemachus and his talk! He is even beginning to threaten!

Well, it was Father Cronion that stayed it or else we had stopped him

Chattering here in the hall, though mightily fluent his tongue be."

Thus spake Antinous; but the youth recked nought of his gibings.

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Meantime up from the city was coming the sacred oblation

Led by the heralds; and soon did the long-haired sons of Achaea

Gather them under the shadowy grove of the archer Apollo.

Now when the outside meat they had roasted and drawn from the skewers

All they apportioned and sat them adown to a glorious banquet.

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Also in front of Odysseus a portion was set by the servants

Like to the share that they all had received; since so had commanded

Telemachus, dear son of the hero godlike Odysseus.

Nowise willed it Athena to suffer the arrogant suitors

Still to refrain from insulting contempt, for she wished the resentment

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Deeper to sink in the heart of Odysseus the son of Laertes.

Now in the band of the suitors was one that was utterly lawless;

Ctesippus was his name, and he lived in the island of Samé.

He too, trusting the wondrous extent of his wealthy possessions,

Courted the wife of Odysseus, the lord who so long was unheard of.

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Such was the fellow that now to the insolent suitors addressed him :

"Listen, ye high-born suitors! allow me to tell you of something!

See, they've served to the stranger a portion (and well he deserves it !)

Like to the rest. 'Twere truly a wrong and unfair to neglect him,

Guest as he seemeth of Telemachus-like all that arrive here.

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Lo, I will give him the gift of a guest: he is free to present it

Unto the woman that tendeth the bath, or to any he listeth,

Any a drudge in the whole of the palace of godlike Odysseus."

Spake, and with strong broad hand outstretched to a basket beside him

Lifted the foot of an ox-and he hurled; but Odysseus escaped it,

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Quietly swerving aside with the head; and he smiled in his spirit

Grimly enough, while smit was the strong-built wall by the ox-foot.

Then spake Telemachus, as he turned to the man and rebuked him :

"Verily, friend Ctesippus, thy soul had a lucky escape there!

Missed was thy mark-for the stranger himself evaded thy missile;

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Else with my sharp-edged spear had I smitten thee through in the middle.

So had thy funeral busied thy father instead of thy wedding

Here in my halls; for I vow in my house so grossly and rudely

None shall behave. I am come to discretion, and well can distinguish

All that is good or is bad-no more I'm a child as aforetime.

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Truly before, I allow, we endured it, beholding in silence

Slaughter of flocks and of herds, and the wine all drunk and exhausted,

Ay and the bread. It is hard for the one to be fighting the many.

Come now, cease from the ills that ye do and the ills ye intend me !

Else, if already ye long with the edge of the sword to destroy me,

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Far more willing I were-yea verily better I hold it-

Thus to be slain than for ever to see such shameful procedure,

Guests disgracefully treated and servant-maids of the household

Haled by the men in the halls of my beautiful home to dishonour."

So did he speak ; and they sat all utterly silent and speechless,

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Till at the last found voice Agelaus, the son of Damastor :

"Listen, my friends! When the word that is spoken is spoken with justice,

None should surely be wroth with the speaker and answer in anger.

Neither maltreat, I beseech you, the stranger, nor other soever,

None of the drudges that serve in the palace of godlike Odysseus.

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Also to Telemachus and his mother I venture to offer

Gentle advice-let them lay it to heart, both one and the other:

While your spirit that dwells in the depths of the bosom within you

Hoped for Odysseus the wise to return once more to his homeland,

None could deem it a wrong that ye waited, nor suffered the suitors

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Here in the house to resort; since thus it was certainly better,

Should peradventure Odysseus arrive and appear at his homestead.

Now it is plain however that never again he is coming.

Wherefore go to thy mother and sit at her side and persuade her,

Bidding her marry the best of the men, whose offer is greatest.

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Then thou'lt live on the wealth of thy father in peace and in gladness,

Eating and drinking, and she will attend to the house of another."

Him sage Telemachus addressing in turn gave answer :

"Nay, Agelaus, I swear it by Zeus and the griefs of my father,

Far from his Ithacan home now perished or roaming as exile,

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Not by myself is her marriage delayed-nay, rather I bid her

Wed with the man of her choice. Great gifts will I add as her dowry.

Still, 'twere shameless, I think, from the palace to drive her unwilling,

Giving her orders to quit. May heaven forbid that I do so!"

Thus spake Telemachus, and, excited by Pallas Athene,

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Laughter unquenchable rose. But she wildered the wits of the suitors.

Strangely, as coming from alien voices, resounded the laughter.

Dabbled with gore was the meat of the banquet. The eyes of the feasters

Floated in tears, and the minds of the men were set upon wailing.

Then did the seer divine, Theoclýmenus, speak and address them:

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"Ah, unfortunate men! What horror is this that has happened?

Shrouded in night are faces and heads. To the knees it descendeth.

Out of it flash forth wails. All cheeks are flooded with teardrops.

Yea and the walls are spattered with blood, and the beautiful alcoves.

See too, crowded with ghosts is the porch and crowded the courtyard,

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Hurrying down to the darkness of Erebus! Out of the heaven

Withered and gone is the sun, and a poisonous mist is arising."

Thus did he speak; but they all right merrily laughed as they heard him.

Eurymachus then called, prince Polybus' son, to his comrades :

"Sure he is mad, this guest that is newly arrived from a distance!

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Come now quickly, my lads, and escort him away from the palace

Out to the square-since here he complaineth of night and of darkness!"

Then did the seer divine, Theoclýmenus, answer him saying:

"Eurymachus, I shall need not to bid thee vouchsafe me an escort.

Both of mine eyes I possess, and a couple of ears and of feet too,

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Also a mind in my head well furnished-nor truly a bad one.

So I will rise and be gone, since clearly I see a disaster

Coming; and none of you all shall be able to shun or avert it,

None of the suitors by whom in the house of the godlike Odysseus

Men are treated with insult and plann'd are wicked devices."

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These words uttered, he went from the pleasant abodes of the palace

Unto the home of his host Peiraeus, who gladly received him.

Meantime many a suitor, exchanging a glance with another,

Girded at Telemachus to provoke him, deriding his guest-friends,

While from the midst would speak some insolent youth and address him :

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"Telemachus, thou art sure most luckless of men in thy guest-friends,

Such as the nobody here thou art harbouring-gluttonous vagrant,

Begging for ever for wine and for victuals and wholly unskilled in

Matters of work or of war-just living on earth as a burden.

Then, as another again, this fellow that rose as a prophet!

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Nay now, take my advice! 'twere verily wiser and better.

Guests like these let us ship on a well-benched vessel and send them

Unto Sicilian folk-'twould pay thee enough for the trouble."

Thus did the suitors deride: but the youth recked nought of their gibings.

Silent he gazed at his father, for ever expecting to see him

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Suddenly stretch forth hands on the horde of the insolent suitors.

Now on the opposite side in her beautiful chair she was lying,

Even the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelopeia;

Therefore to every word that was said in the hall she had listened.

Merrily thus midst laughter the men made ready the dinner,

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Dinner delightful, abundant for many a beast they had slaughtered.

Supper however was coming; and ne'er was a supper unwelcome

Such as the one by the hands of a goddess and valiant hero

Soon to be served for the men whose wickedness made the beginning.

Notes on the current edition

Odyssey

1. 1

New Alexandria Commentaries

Gregory Nagy

Rhapsody 20 reveals the darkest thoughts of Penelope. There she is, lying awake in bed, unable to fall asleep, and now she starts to think the unthinkable, tearfully spilling her private thoughts by praying to Artemis: I want to die in the worst way, she confides to the goddess, so why don’t you shoot me with your arrows, putting me out of my misery? Or maybe my death should be even worse? Penelope is now haunted by horror stories about unfortunate girls who thought they were getting married but who instead became servants to infernal Furies. She cries for them and she cries for herself, thinking of a dream she had about sleeping with Odysseus, who was looking the way he had looked twenty years ago. Her crying carries over till daybreak, and her laments are overheard from not that far away by Odysseus, who is having his own dark thoughts about the vengeance he so passionately desires.

draft js image error “The Harpies Going to Seize the Daughters of Pandareus” (1805). John Flaxman (English, 1755–1826). Purchased as part of the Oppé Collection with assistance from the National Lottery through the Heritage Lottery Fund 1996. Image via the Tate.

source

This epithet thugatēr Dios ‘daughter of Zeus’, applied here to the goddess Artemis, derives from contexts that apply to the goddess of the dawn, Ēōs. See the anchor comment at I.03.374.

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In a despondent mood, unable to fall asleep, Penelope prays to the goddess Artemis, wishing for a death that should happen ēdē ‘already now’, O.20.061 (ἤδη), that is, autika nūn ‘right this instant’, O.20.063 (αὐτίκα νῦν). Such a death, if it is to happen ‘right this instant’, would come from arrows shot by Artemis, O.20.061–063. And such an instantaneous death would thus happen before Penelope were to be forced into marrying one of the suitors. Alternatively, however, the death that she wishes for could happen at a later point, as indicated by way of the expression ē epeita ‘or later’, O.20.063 (ἢ ἔπειτα). In the case of such a postponed death, the sequence of events would have already reached a moment where a forced marriage has already been arranged for an unwilling Penelope—and where the wedding is already about to take place. Penelope’s alternative wish to die at such a later moment, right before an actual wedding, pictures the same kind of death that had been experienced once upon a time by the daughters of Pandareos, whose story will now be retold, starting at O.20.066. The retelling of this story from a distant past will be worded by Penelope herself, who will now make a comparison between what had happened to the daughters of Pandareos and what she imagines will eventually happen in her own story if she is forced to marry one of the suitors. I will now consider the wording that introduces the comparison between the dreaded future of Penelope and the dreaded past of the daughters of Pandareos. A moment in that past time is described most ominously here: ‘just as when gusts of wind [thúellai] took away [an-heleîn] the daughters of Pandareos’, O.20.066 (ὡς δ’ ὅτε Πανδαρέου κούρας ἀνέλοντο θύελλαι). Thus, just as the daughters of Pandareos had been taken away by gusts of wind right before their wedding, so also Penelope, in her prayer, wishes for a comparable death if she cannot die right away. Here is how she says it: ‘or later [ē epeita] may a gust of wind [thúella], snatch me away [an-harpáxāsa]...’, O.20.063 (ἢ ἔπειτά μ’ ἀναρπάξασα θύελλα), ‘... and drop me into the forward-flowing streams of the Ōkeanos’, O.20.063–065 (ἐν προχοῇς βάλοι ... Ὠκεανοῖο). This world-encircling river Ōkeanos, as we have already seen in other Homeric contexts, separates the living from the dead. See especially the comment at O.10.508–512: to cross the streams of the Ōkeanos is to cross into Hādēs. So, if Penelope cannot be granted her first wish, which is, to die right now, shot to death by the arrows of Artemis, then the wording of her prayer allows her to ask for her alternative second wish, which is, to experience death before any wedding is arranged against her will. But how does such a wedding, dreaded by Penelope, compare with the wedding that had been arranged for the daughters of Pandareos? At O.20.073–076, we see that the divinity who was arranging for these girls to get married was Aphrodite, seemingly acting as a sole agent. Earlier, at O.20.067–069, we see that Aphrodite had saved the girls from dying after their parents had been destroyed by the gods: it seems that the orphan girls were still infants, and Aphrodite raised them on a diet of cheese, honey, and wine, O.20.068–069. As the little orphans, saved by Aphrodite, were growing up, other female deities took part in raising them: (1) Hērā gave them beauty and intelligence, O.20.070–071, (2) Artemis gave them just the right dimensions to grow into, O.20.71, and (3) Athena gave them skills, O.20.072—which surely included expertise in weaving. But then, at a point where the girls are already so perfectly ready for marriage—a marriage that Aphrodite had personally arranged for them—they are snatched away by violent gusts of wind, O.20.077, which deliver them to Erīnues ‘Furies’ whom they are now destined to serve as attendants, O.20.078. And the removal of the girls from the visible world is described here in wording that is more violent than the wording that had previously described the death wished by Penelope for herself. Penelope’s wording had referred to a thúella ‘gust of wind’ that would snatch her away from the visible world, O.20.063, and carry her off to the Ōkeanos, where she would cross into the realm of Hādēs. But now, at O.20.077, the gusts of winds that snatch away the daughters of Pandareos are hárpuiai, and the violence of these gusts of wind is evident in the English word that is used to translate the personifications of these ‘rapacious gusts of wind’. These personified gusts of wind are the Harpies. And the death of these unfortunate girls who were seized by the Harpies is then followed by a horrific afterlife, imagined as an eternity of servitude to Erīnues ‘Furies’, O.20.078. How, then, to account for the dreaded fate of the daughters of Pandareos? Something went very wrong here. Although the Homeric narrative gives no details about the identity of the bridegrooms intended for these would-be brides, I suspect that there was something wrong with them in particular—and that the sole agency of Aphrodite in arranging for the would-be wedding, seemingly to the exclusion of Hērā, Artemis, and Athena, signals what might have gone wrong for the daughters of Pandareos. Whatever it was that did go wrong for these doomed girls, Penelope says that the infernal fate that awaited them is for her still preferable to the dreaded prospect of her getting married off to any of the suitors. Before I can bring this analysis to a close, I must return here to the wording ē epeita at O.20.063, which I have translated simply as ‘or later’. The function of this wording can easily be misunderstood if we lose track of the ring composition that is activated at this point. Penelope wishes for an immediate death caused by the shafts of Artemis, O.20.061–063, or a delayed death caused by the abducting winds, O.20.63–65. At O.20.066, the story about the abduction of the daughters of Pandareos is introduced as a precedent. The story is further developed at O.20.067–076, climaxed at O.20.077, where we see a recap of O.22.066. Then the line at O.20.079 recaps Penelope's wish for a delayed death, and, to close out the ring composition, the line at O.22.080 recaps her original wish for an immediate death. So, the force of ē epeita ‘or later' in expressing a delayed death at O.20.063 is that the winds would snatch Penelope away at a later point in the presumed narrative, right before her marriage to one of the suitors, just as the Harpies abducted the daughters of Pandareos right before the arranged marriage of these doomed girls, O.20.073–074. My interpretation of ē epeita 'or later' here at O.20.063 helps explain the connotations of the epithet metakhróniai 'delayed' as applied to the Hárpuiai ‘Harpies’ at Hesiod Theogony 269.

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In her wakeful agonizing, Penelope recalls a dream she had, O.20.087–090, where she was lying in bed with Odysseus at her side, and he looked the way he had looked when she had last seen him twenty years earlier. It seemed to her, she says at O.20.090, that this was not an onar ‘dream’ but a hupar esthlon ‘wakeful reality’ (οὐκ ὄναρ, ἀλλ’ ὕπαρ ἐσθλόν). On my interpretation of this ‘wafkeful reality’, see the note at O.19.547. Penelope’s remembrance of such a dream here validates the reality that is foretold in the dream as narrated and then interpreted at O.19.535–565. See the comment on the lines there. Further, this dream as remembered here at O.20.087–090 will in fact come true in Odyssey 23, when Penelope and Odysseus are finally reunited. As we will see, Odysseus at O.23.163 emerges from a ritual bath looking like a perfect bridegroom. See the comment at that line. So, Penelope will soon be lying together in bed with the man of her dreams.

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Homer Odyssey 20.44

A. T. Murray (Translator)

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