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So he spoke, and the god straightway stayed his stream, and checked the waves, and made a calm before him, and brought him safely to the mouth of the river. And he let his two knees bend and his strong hands fall, for his spirit was crushed by the sea. 455 And all his flesh was swollen, and sea water flowed in streams up through his mouth and nostrils. So he lay breathless and speechless, with scarce strength to move; for terrible weariness had come upon him. But when he revived, and his spirit returned again into his breast, then he loosed from him the veil of the goddess and let it fall into the river that murmured seaward; 460 and the great wave bore it back down the stream, and straightway Ino received it in her hands. But Odysseus, going back from the river, sank down in the reeds and kissed the earth, the giver of grain; and deeply moved he spoke to his own mighty spirit: 465 “Ah, woe is me! what is to befall me? What will happen to me at the last? If here in the river bed I keep watch throughout the weary night, I fear that together the bitter frost and the fresh dew may overcome me, when from feebleness I have breathed forth my spirit; and the breeze from the river blows cold in the early morning. 470 But if I climb up the slope to the shady wood and lie down to rest in the thick brushwood, in the hope that the cold and weariness might leave me, and if sweet sleep comes over me, I fear me lest I become a prey and spoil to wild beasts.” Then, as he pondered, this thing seemed to him the better: 475 he went his way to the wood and found it near the water in a clear space; and he crept beneath two bushes that grew from the same spot, one of thorn and one of olive. Through these the strength of the wet winds could never blow, nor the rays of the bright sun beat, 480 nor could the rain pierce through them, so closely did they grow, intertwining one with the other. Beneath these Odysseus crept and straightway gathered with his hands a broad bed, for fallen leaves were there in plenty, enough to shelter two men or three 485 in winter-time, however bitter the weather. And the much-enduring goodly Odysseus saw it, and was glad, and he lay down in the midst, and heaped over him the fallen leaves. And as a man hides a brand beneath the dark embers in an outlying farm, a man who has no neighbors, 490 and so saves a seed of fire, that he may not have to kindle it from some other source, so Odysseus covered himself with leaves. And Athena shed sleep upon his eyes, that it might enfold his lids and speedily free him from toilsome weariness.

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.) — 5.451 focus

ὣς φάθʼ, ὁ δʼ αὐτίκα παῦσεν ἑὸν ῥόον, ἔσχε δὲ κῦμα,

πρόσθε δέ οἱ ποίησε γαλήνην, τὸν δʼ ἐσάωσεν

ἐς ποταμοῦ προχοάς. ὁ δʼ ἄρʼ ἄμφω γούνατʼ ἔκαμψε

χεῖράς τε στιβαράς. ἁλὶ γὰρ δέδμητο φίλον κῆρ.

ᾤδεε δὲ χρόα πάντα, θάλασσα δὲ κήκιε πολλὴ

455

ἂν στόμα τε ῥῖνάς θʼ· ὁ δʼ ἄρʼ ἄπνευστος καὶ ἄναυδος

κεῖτʼ ὀλιγηπελέων, κάματος δέ μιν αἰνὸς ἵκανεν.

ἀλλʼ ὅτε δή ῥʼ ἄμπνυτο καὶ ἐς φρένα θυμὸς ἀγέρθη,

καὶ τότε δὴ κρήδεμνον ἀπὸ ἕο λῦσε θεοῖο.

καὶ τὸ μὲν ἐς ποταμὸν ἁλιμυρήεντα μεθῆκεν,

460

ἂψ δʼ ἔφερεν μέγα κῦμα κατὰ ῥόον, αἶψα δʼ ἄρʼ Ἰνὼ

δέξατο χερσὶ φίλῃσιν· ὁ δʼ ἐκ ποταμοῖο λιασθεὶς

σχοίνῳ ὑπεκλίνθη, κύσε δὲ ζείδωρον ἄρουραν.

ὀχθήσας δʼ ἄρα εἶπε πρὸς ὃν μεγαλήτορα θυμόν·

ὤ μοι ἐγώ, τί πάθω; τί νύ μοι μήκιστα γένηται;

465

εἰ μέν κʼ ἐν ποταμῷ δυσκηδέα νύκτα φυλάσσω,

μή μʼ ἄμυδις στίβη τε κακὴ καὶ θῆλυς ἐέρση

ἐξ ὀλιγηπελίης δαμάσῃ κεκαφηότα θυμόν·

αὔρη δʼ ἐκ ποταμοῦ ψυχρὴ πνέει ἠῶθι πρό.

εἰ δέ κεν ἐς κλιτὺν ἀναβὰς καὶ δάσκιον ὕλην

470

θάμνοις ἐν πυκινοῖσι καταδράθω, εἴ με μεθείη

ῥῖγος καὶ κάματος, γλυκερὸς δέ μοι ὕπνος ἐπέλθῃ,

δείδω, μὴ θήρεσσιν ἕλωρ καὶ κύρμα γένωμαι.

ὣς ἄρα οἱ φρονέοντι δοάσσατο κέρδιον εἶναι·

βῆ ῥʼ ἴμεν εἰς ὕλην· τὴν δὲ σχεδὸν ὕδατος εὗρεν

475

ἐν περιφαινομένῳ· δοιοὺς δʼ ἄρʼ ὑπήλυθε θάμνους,

ἐξ ὁμόθεν πεφυῶτας· ὁ μὲν φυλίης, ὁ δʼ ἐλαίης.

τοὺς μὲν ἄρʼ οὔτʼ ἀνέμων διάη μένος ὑγρὸν ἀέντων,

οὔτε ποτʼ ἠέλιος φαέθων ἀκτῖσιν ἔβαλλεν,

οὔτʼ ὄμβρος περάασκε διαμπερές· ὣς ἄρα πυκνοὶ

480

ἀλλήλοισιν ἔφυν ἐπαμοιβαδίς· οὓς ὑπʼ Ὀδυσσεὺς

δύσετʼ. ἄφαρ δʼ εὐνὴν ἐπαμήσατο χερσὶ φίλῃσιν

εὐρεῖαν· φύλλων γὰρ ἔην χύσις ἤλιθα πολλή,

ὅσσον τʼ ἠὲ δύω ἠὲ τρεῖς ἄνδρας ἔρυσθαι

ὥρῃ χειμερίῃ, εἰ καὶ μάλα περ χαλεπαίνοι.

485

τὴν μὲν ἰδὼν γήθησε πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς,

ἐν δʼ ἄρα μέσσῃ λέκτο, χύσιν δʼ ἐπεχεύατο φύλλων.

ὡς δʼ ὅτε τις δαλὸν σποδιῇ ἐνέκρυψε μελαίνῃ

ἀγροῦ ἐπʼ ἐσχατιῆς, ᾧ μὴ πάρα γείτονες ἄλλοι,

σπέρμα πυρὸς σώζων, ἵνα μή ποθεν ἄλλοθεν αὔοι,

490

ὣς Ὀδυσεὺς φύλλοισι καλύψατο· τῷ δʼ ἄρʼ Ἀθήνη

ὕπνον ἐπʼ ὄμμασι χεῦʼ, ἵνα μιν παύσειε τάχιστα

δυσπονέος καμάτοιο φίλα βλέφαρʼ ἀμφικαλύψας.

Translations (9)

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.) — 5.436 focus

436 Here poor Odysseus would have certainly perished even in spite of his own destiny, if Athena had not helped him to keep his wits about him. He swam seaward again, beyond reach of the surf that was beating against the land, and at the same time he kept looking towards the shore to see if he could find some haven, or a spit that should take the waves aslant. By and by, as he swam on, he came to the mouth of a river, and here he thought would be the best place, for there were no rocks, and it afforded shelter from the wind. He felt that there was a current, so he prayed inwardly and said:

445 "Hear me, O King, whoever you may be, and save me from the anger of the sea-god Poseidon, for I approach you prayerfully. Anyone who has lost his way has at all times a claim even upon the gods, wherefore in my distress I draw near to your stream, and cling to the knees of your riverhood. Have mercy upon me, O king, for I declare myself your suppliant."

451 Then the god stayed his stream and stilled the waves, making all calm before him, and bringing him safely into the mouth of the river. Here at last Odysseus’ knees and strong hands failed him, for the sea had completely broken him. His body was all swollen, and his mouth and nostrils ran down like a river with sea-water, so that he could neither breathe nor speak, and lay swooning from sheer exhaustion; presently, when he had got his breath and came to himself again, he took off the scarf that Ino had given him and threw it back into the salt stream of the river, whereon Ino received it into her hands from the wave that bore it towards her. Then he left the river, laid himself down among the rushes, and kissed the bounteous earth.

464 "Alas," he cried to himself in his dismay, "what ever will become of me, and how is it all to end? If I stay here upon the river bed through the long watches of the night, I am so exhausted that the bitter cold and damp may make an end of me - for towards sunrise there will be a keen wind blowing from off the river. If, on the other hand, I climb the hill side, find shelter in the woods, and sleep in some thicket, I may escape the cold and have a good night's rest, but some savage beast may take advantage of me and devour me."

English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020)) — 5.451 focus

Then the god stayed his stream and stilled the waves, making all calm before him, and bringing him safely into the mouth of the river. Here at last Odysseus’ knees and strong hands failed him, for the sea had completely broken him. [455] His body was all swollen, and his mouth and nostrils ran down like a river with sea-water, so that he could neither breathe nor speak, and lay swooning from sheer exhaustion; presently, when he had got his breath and came to himself again, he took off the scarf that Ino had given him [460] and threw it back into the salt stream of the river, whereon Ino received it into her hands from the wave that bore it towards her. Then he left the river, laid himself down among the rushes, and kissed the bounteous earth.

“Alas,” he cried to himself in his dismay, [465] “what ever will become of me, and how is it all to end? If I stay here upon the river-bed through the long watches of the night, I am so exhausted that the bitter cold and damp may make an end of me—for towards sunrise there will be a keen wind blowing from off the river. [470] If, on the other hand, I climb the hill side, find shelter in the woods, and sleep in some thicket, I may escape the cold and have a good night’s rest, but some savage beast may take advantage of me and devour me.”

In the end [475] he thought it best to take to the woods, and he found one upon some high ground not far from the water. There he crept beneath two shoots of olive that grew from a single stock—the one ungrafted, while the other had been grafted. No wind, however squally, could break through the cover they afforded, nor could the sun’s rays pierce them, [480] nor the rain get through them, so closely did they grow into one another. Odysseus crept under these and began to make himself a bed to lie on, for there was a great litter of dead leaves lying about—enough to make a covering for two [485] or three men even in hard winter weather. He was glad enough to see this, so he laid himself down and heaped the leaves all round him. Then, as one who lives alone in the country, far from any neighbor, [490] hides a brand as fire-seed in the ashes to save himself from having to get a light elsewhere, even so did Odysseus cover himself up with leaves; and Athena shed a sweet sleep upon his eyes, closed his eyelids, and made him lose all memories of his sorrows.

Rhapsody 6

English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1873)) — 5.451 focus

Then dropped his knees and sinewy arms at once,

Unstrung, for faint with struggling was his heart.

545

His body was all swoln; the brine gushed forth

From mouth and nostrils; all unnerved he lay,

Breathless and speechless; utter weariness

O'ermastered him. But when he breathed again,

And his flown senses had returned, he loosed

550

The veil that Ino gave him from his breast,

And to the salt flood cast it. A great wave

Bore it far down the stream; the goddess there

In her own hands received it. He, meanwhile,

Withdrawing from the brink, lay down among

555

The reeds, and kissed the harvest-bearing earth,

And thus to his great soul, lamenting, said: -

"Ah me! what must I suffer more? what yet.

Will happen to me? If by the river's side

I pass the unfriendly watches of the night,

560

The cruel cold and dews that steep the bank

May, in this weakness, end me utterly,

For chilly blows this river-air at dawn;

But should I climb this hill, to sleep within

The shadowy wood, among thick shrubs, if cold

565

And weariness allow me, then I fear,

That, while the pleasant slumbers o'er me steal,

I may become the prey of savage beasts."

Yet, as he longer pondered, this seemed best.

He rose, and sought the wood, and found it near

570

The water, on a height, o'erlooking far

The region round. Between two shrubs that sprang

Both from one spot he entered, — olive-trees,

One wild, one fruitful. The damp-blowing wind

Ne'er pierced their covert; never blazing sun

575

Darted his beams within, nor pelting shower

Beat through, so closely intertwined they grew.

Here entering, Ulysses heaped a bed

Of leaves with his own hands; he made it broad

And high, for thick the leaves had fallen around.

580

Two men and three, in that abundant store,

Might bide the winter storm, though keen the cold.

Ulysses, the great sufferer, on his couch

Looked and rejoiced, and placed himself within,

And heaped the leaves high o'er him and around,

585

As one who, dwelling in the distant fields,

Without a neighbor near him, hides a brand

In the dark ashes, keeping carefully

The seeds of fire alive, lest he, perforce,

To light his hearth must bring them from afar;

590

So did Ulysses in that pile of leaves

Bury himself, while Pallas o'er his eyes

Poured sleep, and closed his lids, that he might take,

After his painful toils, the fitting rest.

BOOK VI.

English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Alexander Pope, 1726, ed. Watson, 1858)) — 5.451 focus

He pray'd, and straight the gentle stream subsides,

Detains the rushing current of his tides,

Before the wanderer smooths the watery way,

And soft receives him from the rolling sea.

580

That moment, fainting as he touch'd the shore,

He dropp'd his sinewy arms; his knees no more

Perform'd their office, or his weight upheld;

His swoln heart heav'd; his bloated body swell'd;

From mouth and nose the briny torrent ran;

585

And lost in lassitude lay all the man,

Depriv'd of voice, of motion, and of breath;

The soul scarce waking in the arms of death.

Soon as warm life its wonted office found,

The mindful chief Leucothea's scarf unbound;

590

Observant of her word, he turn'd aside

His head, and cast it on the rolling tide.

Behind him far, upon the purple waves

The waters waft it, and the nymph receives.

Now parting from the stream, Ulysses found

595

A mossy bank with pliant rushes crown'd;

The bank he press'd, and gently kiss'd the ground;

Where on the flowery herb as soft he lay,

Thus to his soul the sage began to say:

ULYSSES

'What will ye next ordain, ye powers on high!
600

'And yet, ah yet, what fates are we to try?

'Here by the stream, if I the night out-wear,

'Thus spent already, how shall nature bear

'The dews descending, and nocturnal air?

'Or chilly vapours breathing from the flood
605

'When morning rises ?-If I take the wood,

'And in thick shelter of innumerous boughs

'Enjoy the comfort gentle sleep allows;

'Though fenced from cold, and though my toil be pass'd,

'What savage beasts may wander in the waste!
610

'Perhaps I yet may fall a bloody prey

'To prowling bears, or lions in the way.'

Thus long debating in himself he stood:

At length he took the passage to the wood,

Whose shady horrors on a rising brow

615

Wav'd high, and frown'd upon the stream below.

There grew two olives, closest of the grove,

With roots entwin'd, and branches interwove;

Alike their leaves, but not alike they smil'd

With sister-fruits; one fertile, one was wild.

620

Nor here the sun's meridian rays had power,

Nor wind sharp-piercing, nor the rushing shower;

The verdant arch so close its texture kept:

Beneath this covert great Ulysses crept.

Of gather'd leaves an ample bed he made;

625

(Thick strewn by tempest thro' the bowery shade;)

Where three at least might winter's cold defy,

Though Boreas rag'd along th' inclement sky.

This store with joy the patient hero found,

And, sunk amidst them, heap'd the leaves around.

630

As some poor peasant, fated to reside

Remote from neighbours in a forest wide,

Studious to save what human wants require,

In embers heap'd, preserves the seeds of fire:

Hid in dry foliage thus Ulysses lies,

635

Till Pallas pour'd soft slumbers on his eyes:

And golden dreams (the gift of sweet repose)

Lull'd all his cares, and banish'd all his woes.¹

BOOK VI.

Pallas appearing in a dream to Nausicaa (the daughter of Alcinous, king of Phaeacia) commands her to descend to the river, and wash the robes of state, in preparation to her nuptials. Nausicaa goes with her hand-maids to the river; where, while the garments are spread on the bank, they divert themselves in sports. Their voices awake Ulysses, who, addressing himself to the princess, is by her relieved and clothed, and receives directions in what manner to apply to the king and queen of the island.

English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 5.451 focus

This said, the stream stood still and sav'd the man.

But weary were his knees and arms, and brine

Abundance from his mouth and nostrils ran,

435

And all his body swell'd was. And in fine,

Speechless and breathless was he, like one dead.

But when he came unto himself again,

The scarf he to the stream delivered,

Which carried it again into the main.

440

And Ino took it then into her hand.

Then on a bulrush-bed himself he laid,

And, glad he had escaped, kiss'd the land.

But fearing still, unto himself he said,

Ah me, what will become of me at length!

445

For in the river if I spend the night,

So much already wasted is my strength,

With frost and dew I shall be killed quite.

If up the hill I go into the wood,

And in some thicket there lie warm and sleep,

450

I fear I shall for beasts and fowls be food.

At last concludes into some wood to creep.

A wood there was unto the river nigh;

Two thickets in it were; of olive one,

The other was of Phylia close by,

455

So twin'd they were together that nor sun,

Nor wind, nor rain, to th' ground could find a way.

Between them of dry leaves a bed made he,

And over head and ears there close he lay;

For leaves there were enough for two or three,

460

To keep them warm although cold weather 'twere.

As when a man takes up a brand of fire

In country-house, few neighbours dwelling near,

To warm himself withal if need require;

So buried in dry leaves Ulysses lay.

465

And then Athena closed up his eyes

With sound and gentle sleep to take away

Sad thoughts suggested by his miseries.

ODYSSEY.

LID. VI.

Nausicaa going to a river near that place to wash the clothes of her father, mother, and brethren, while the clothes were drying played with her maids at ball, and Ulysses coming forth is fed and clothed and led to the house of her father, King Alcinous, where being received, the queen after supper taking notice of his garments, gave him occasion to relate his passage thither on the raft.

English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1667, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 5.451 focus

This, though but spoke in thought, the Godhead heard,

Her current straight stay'd, and her thick waves clear'd

605

Before him, smooth'd her waters, and, just where

He pray'd half-drown'd, entirely saved him there.

Then forth he came, his both knees falt'ring, both

His strong hands hanging down, and all with froth

His cheeks and nosthrils flowing, voice and breath

610

Spent to all use, and down he sunk to death.

The sea had soak'd his heart through; all his veins

His toils had rack'd t' a labouring woman's pains.

Dead weary was he. But when breath did find

A pass reciprocal, and in his mind

615

His spirit was recollected, up he rose,

And from his neck did th' amulet unloose,

That Ino gave him; which he hurl'd from him

To sea. It sounding fell, and back did swim

With th' ebbing waters, till it straight arriv'd

620

Where Ino's fair hand it again receiv'd.

Then kiss'd he th' humble earth; and on he goes,

Till bulrushes show'd place for his repose,

Where laid, he sigh'd, and thus said to his soul:

"O me, what strange perplexities control

625

The whole skill of thy powers in this event?

What feel I? If till care-nurse night be spent

I watch amidst the flood, the sea's chill breath,

And vegetant dews, I fear will be my death,

So low brought with my labours. Towards day

630

A passing sharp air ever breathes at sea.

If I the pitch of this next mountain scale,

And shady wood, and in some thicket fall

Into the hands of Sleep, though there the cold

May well be check'd, and healthful slumbers hold

635

Her sweet hand on my powers, all care allay'd,

Yet there will beasts devour me. Best appaid

Doth that course make me yet; for there, some strife,

Strength, and my spirit, may make me make for life;

Which, though impair'd, may yet be fresh applied,

640

Where peril possible of escape is tried.

But he that fights with heaven, or with the sea,

To indiscretion adds impiety."

Thus to the woods he hasted; which he found

Not far from sea, but on far-seeing ground,

645

Where two twin underwoods he enter'd on,

With olive-trees and oil-trees overgrown;

Through which the moist force of the loud-voiced wind

Did never beat, nor ever Phœbus shin'd,

Nor shower beat through, they grew so one in one,

650

And had, by turns, their power t' exclude the sun.

Here enter'd our Ulysses; and a bed

Of leaves huge, and of huge abundance, spread

With all his speed. Large he made it, for there

For two or three men ample coverings were,

655

Such as might shield them from the winter's worst,

Though steel it breath'd, and blew as it would burst.

Patient Ulysses joy'd, that ever day

Show'd such a shelter. In the midst he lay,

Store of leaves heaping high on every side.

660

And as in some out-field a man doth hide

A kindled brand, to keep the seed of fire,

No neighbour dwelling near, and his desire

Serv'd with self store, he else would ask of none,

But of his fore-spent sparks rakes th' ashes on;

665

So this out-place Ulysses thus receives,

And thus nak'd virtue's seed lies hid in leaves.

Yet Pallas made him sleep as soon as men

Whom delicacies all their flatteries deign,

And all that all his labours could comprise

670

Quickly concluded in his closed eyes.

THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

MINERVA in a vision stands

Before Nausicaa; and commands

She to the flood her weeds should bear,

For now her nuptial day was near.

Nausicaa her charge obeys,

And then with other virgins plays.

Their sports make wak'd Ulysses rise,

Walk to them, and beseech supplies

Of food and clothes. His naked sight

Puts th' other maids, afraid, to flight;

Nausicaa only boldly stays,

And gladly his desire obeys.

He, furnished with her favours shown,

Attends her and the rest to town.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Ζῆτα. Here olive leaves

T'hide shame began.

The maid receives

The naked man.

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey)) — 5.451 focus

He said; the river God at once repress'd

His current, and it ceased; smooth he prepared

The way before Ulysses, and the land

Vouchsafed him easy at his channel's mouth.

545

There once again he bent for ease his limbs

Both arms and knees, in conflict with the floods

Exhausted; swoln his body was all o'er,

And from his mouth and nostrils stream'd the brine.

Breathless and speechless, and of life well nigh

550

Bereft he lay, through dreadful toil immense.

But when, revived, his dissipated powers

He recollected, loosing from beneath

His breast the zone divine, he cast it far

Into the brackish stream, and a huge wave

555

Returning bore it downward to the sea,

Where Ino caught it. Then, the river's brink

Abandoning among the rushes prone

He lay, kiss'd oft the soil, and sighing, said,

Ah me! what sufferings must I now sustain,

560

What doom, at last, awaits me? If I watch

This woeful night, here, at the river's side,

What hope but that the frost and copious dews,

Weak as I am, my remnant small of life

Shall quite extinguish, and the chilly air

565

Breathed from the river at the dawn of day?

But if, ascending this declivity

I gain the woods, and in some thicket sleep,

(If sleep indeed can find me overtoil'd

And cold-benumb'd,) then I have cause to fear

570

Lest I be torn by wild beasts and devour'd.

Long time he mused, but at the last his course

Bent to the woods, which not remote he saw

From the sea-brink, conspicuous on a hill.

Arrived, between two neighbour shrubs he crept,

575

Both olives, this the fruitful, that the wild ;

A covert, which nor rough winds blowing moist

Could penetrate, nor could the noon-day sun

Smite through it, or unceasing showers pervade,

So thick a roof the ample branches form'd

580

Close interwoven; under these the Chief

Retiring, with industrious hands a bed

Collected broad of leaves, which there he found

Abundant strew'd, such store as had sufficed

Two travellers or three for covering warm,

585

Though winter's roughest blasts had raged the while.

That bed with joy the suffering Chief renown'd

Contemplated, and occupying soon

The middle space, hillock'd it high with leaves.

As when some swain hath hidden deep his torch

590

Beneath the embers, at the verge extreme

Of all his farm, where, having neighbours none,

He saves a seed or two of future flame

Alive, doom'd else to fetch it from afar,

So with dry leaves Ulysses overspread

595

His body, on whose eyes Minerva pour'd

The balm of sleep copious, that he might taste

Repose again, after long toil severe.

THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

Minerva designing an interview between the daughter of Alci-

noüs and Ulysses, admonishes her in a dream to carry down

her cloaths to the river, that she may wash them, and make

them ready for her approaching nuptials. That task per-

formed, the Princess and her train amuse themselves with

play; by accident they awake Ulysses; he comes forth from

the wood, and applies himself with much address to Nau-

sicaa, who compassionating his distressed condition, and

being much affected by the dignity of his appearance, inter-

ests herself in his favour, and conducts him to the city.

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK VI.

English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (H. B. Cotterill, 1911)) — 5 focus

ODYSSEY BOOK V

WHILE that the Morn from the couch of her consort, lordly Tithonus,

Newly arisen was bringing the daylight to men and immortals,

Unto a session of council the deities gathered, and midst them

Sat high thundering Zeus, whose might of them all is the greatest.

Then did Athena begin of Odysseus, his many afflictions

Calling to mind, for it grieved her to think of him still with the sea-nymph :

"Father Zeus and ye other immortals eternally blesséd,

Never be kindly affectioned again, nor loving and gentle,

Any that beareth the sceptre as king, nor righteously minded!

Nay, let him rather be hard and be cruel and practise injustice !

So is it true that the godlike Odysseus by none is remembered,

None of the people he governed and lovingly ruled as a father.

Now on an island he lieth, and cruel the pain that he suffers,

Held in Calypso's halls; for the sea-nymph still with compulsion

Keepeth him there all hopeless of reaching the land of his fathers,

Since no ship well-fitted with oars he possesseth or shipmates,

Such as to help him to traverse the wide expanses of ocean.

Also his dearly-belovéd, his son, they are meaning to murder

While he is voyaging homeward; for hoping to hear of his father

Lately he journeyed to Pylos the fair and divine Lacedaemon."

Her then in turn gave answer the Father who gathers the storm-clouds :

"Nay but my child, what word by the door of thy lips hath escaped thee?

Surely the plan was devised, and by none but thyself, that Odysseus

Safely returned to his home should wreak his revenge on the suitors.

Telemachus do thou guard with thy guidance (for well thou art able)

So that without all harm he shall come to the land of his fathers,

While all baffled the suitors return once more in the vessel."

These words uttered, to Hermes, his well-loved son, he addressed him:

"Hermes for ever as herald thou bear'st the behests of immortals—

Bring to the fair-tressed nymph our will's immutable verdict,

Even that patient Odysseus return and arrive at his homeland,

Neither by furthering aid of the gods nor of men that be mortal—

Nay, on a firm-lashed raft shall he sail and with sufferings many

Days full twenty shall drift, till he come to the Scherian island,

Land of a nation akin to the gods, Phaeacian people;

These in their hearts will revere him and honour him like an immortal,

Yea and will send him again in a ship to his well-loved homeland,

Giving him many a present of bronze and of gold and of raiment,

Riches so great as he never had won from the land of the Trojans

Had he returned unscathed and received full share of the booty.

Thus is he fated his friends once more to revisit and once more

Win to his high-roofed home and arrive at the land of his fathers.”

Thus when he spake, Hermeias the Messenger, Slayer of Argus,

Quickly obeyed, and he bound to his ankles the beautiful sandals,

Golden, immortal, that carry him over the waters of ocean

Swift as the blast of a storm, and across earth's boundless expanses;

Took then his wand, with the which men's eyes he entranceth to slumber

E'en as he wills, while others again from their sleep he awaketh.

So with the rod in his hand the redoubtable Slayer of Argus

Flew, till above the Piërian land from the sky to the ocean

Plunging he sped mid the waves of the sea, as a cormorant speedeth

Over the perilous gulfs of the barren expanses of ocean,

Chasing the fishes and drenching in salt sea water its plumage.

Thus Hermeias was borne mid the infinite throng of the billows,

Till at the last he arrived at the shore of that far-off island.

Here from the violet depths of the ocean emerging he mounted

Into the island until he was come to a cavern capacious,

Home of the fair-tressed nymph of the sea; and he found her within it.

High from a hearth shot upward a flame, and widely around it

Odours of splintered cedar and juniper over the island

Spread as it blazed; and within with a beautiful voice she was singing,

Moving in front of her loom, and with shuttle of gold she was weaving.

Close to the cavern and clustered around it was growing a coppice;

Alder was there and poplar and cypress of delicate perfume.

Many a long-winged bird in the copse found covert at night-time,

Many a falcon and owl, and crook-billed chattering sea-crows,

Birds of the brine which busy themselves with a life on the ocean.

Here too, stretching in front of the hollow mouth of the cavern,

Trailed a luxuriant vine rich-laden with many a cluster.

Four bright runnels of water arose from a neighbouring fountain,

Each one nigh to the other but turned to a different channel.

Spreading around soft meadows with violets blossomed and parsley

Richly bedight—yea e'en an immortal, if haply he came there,

All might wondering view and rejoice in his heart to behold it.

Here stood gazing in wonder the Messenger, Slayer of Argus,

Till at the last, when his spirit was fully contented with gazing,

Into the wide-mouthed cavern he entered; and standing before her

Straightway known was the god to the beautiful goddess Calypso,

Seeing that never unknown is a deity unto another,

None of the spirits immortal, not e'en if he dwells at a distance.

Not inside of the cavern he found great-hearted Odysseus.

Out on the beach he was sitting and weeping, as ever aforetime,

Painfully racking his soul with his grieving and groaning and weeping,

Gazing with tears in his eyes at the barren expanse of the ocean.

Now with a question addressed him the beautiful goddess Calypso,

After the god on a polished and glittering chair she had seated:

"God of the golden wand, Hermeias, revered and belovéd,

Say now, why art thou come? Thou steppedst rarely aforetime.

Tell me the whole of thy thought. I am bid by my heart to fulfil it,

What to fulfil I am able, if Fate shall permit the fulfilment.

Now come, follow within! I will give thee a welcome as guest-friend."

These words uttered the goddess, and placing a table beside him

Full of ambrosia, mixed him of rich red nectar a goblet.

Soon was he drinking and eating, the Messenger, Slayer of Argus.

Now when at length he had supped and contented his spirit with eating,

Unto the goddess he turned and thus he addressed her in answer:

"Thou who art goddess hast questioned a god on his coming, and therefore

All that as message I bear will I truly relate, as thou biddest.

Zeus hath commanded me hither to come, and I came but unwilling.

Who would willingly cross such spaces of salt sea water?

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Terrible, endless! and never at hand was a city of mortals

Where to the gods oblation of choice fat victims is offered.

Ah but the mind and the purpose of Zeus who beareth the aegis

None can evade or annul, not even another immortal.

Here in thy home is a man, he asserts, most wretched of all men,

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All of the others who fought at the siege of the city of Priam

Nine long years—In the tenth, when the city was sacked, they departed

Homeward; but during the voyage they sinned and offended Athene;

Therefore roused she the wind and enormous billows against them.

Then did the rest, yea all of his brave companions, perish;

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Hither alone he was borne by the stress of the wind and the billows

Him Zeus bids thee to send on his way—and as quickly as may be.

Destiny willeth it not that he die here far from his dear ones,

Since he is fated his friends once more to revisit and once more

Win to his high-roofed home and arrive at the land of his fathers.”

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Thus did he speak and she shuddered, the beautiful goddess Calypso ;

Then upraised she her voice and with swift-winged words she addressed him :

"Truly ye gods are cruel of heart and exceedingly jealous!

Ever ye grudge that a goddess shall mate with a man that is mortal,

Openly though it be done and she take him as consort and love him.

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Thus when Orion was chosen by Morning, the roseate-fingered,

All of you gods were jealous, who live at your ease in the heaven,

Till in Ortygia's isle chaste Artemis, golden-enthronéd,

Launching her painless shafts assailed him and suddenly slew him.

Also with Iasion when the fair-tressed goddess Demeter,

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Yielding herself to desire, was united in tender embracements,

While in a thrice-ploughed fallow they lay, right quickly perceived it

Zeus; and he cast with the blinding bolt of his thunder and slew him.

Now once more ye are jealous, ye gods, that I live with a mortal,

Even the man that I saved as he clung to the keel of his vessel

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Sole—for the swift-winged ship with the blinding bolt of his thunder

Zeus in the midst of the wine-dark ocean had smitten and shattered.

Then did the rest, yea all of his brave companions, perish;

Hither alone was he borne by the stress of the wind and the billows.

Him did I tenderly cherish and nourish, and also I promised

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Even to make him immortal and ageless for ever and ever.

Ah but the mind and the purpose of Zeus who beareth the aegis

None can evade or annul, not even another immortal.

So, let him go!—since such is the will and command of the Father—

Over the wastes of the sea let him go! No aid can I give him,

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Since I possess no ships well fitted with oars and with rowers,

Such as to help him to traverse the wide expanses of ocean.

Yet will I readily prompt him thereto, nor will practise concealment,

So that without all harm he shall come to the land of his fathers."

Her then in turn gave answer the Messenger, Slayer of Argus:

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"Well now, speed his departing, and slight not the wrath of the Father,

Lest peradventure hereafter in anger he send thee affliction."

These words uttered, departed the valiant Slayer of Argus.

Then great-hearted Odysseus to seek did the lady Calypso

Quickly betake her, as soon as she heard the behest of the Father.

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Him still sitting she found on the shore; incessant the teardrops

Flooded his eyes, and ebbing away was his life and its sweetness,

While for his homeland he pined, no longer in love with the sea-nymph.

Truly at night he had ever (not finding a means of refusal)

Slept by her side in the cave, unwilling indeed—but she willed it.

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All day long howbeit he sat on the rocks or the shingle

Painfully racking his soul with his grieving and groaning and weeping,

Gazing with tears in his eyes at the barren expanse of the ocean.

Coming anigh now spake and addressed him the beautiful goddess:

"Ill-starred mortal, remain no longer with me on my island,

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Wailing and pining to death! I am ready to speed thy departure.

Come now, fell with the axe tall timber and join it together

Into a broad-beamed raft, and a bulwark fix thou upon it

High, that in safety it carry thee over the mist-bound ocean.

Then on the raft will I place wheat-bread, sweet water and red wine,

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Food that delighteth the heart of a man and appeaseth his hunger.

Raiment to clothe thee withal will I give, and a breeze will I send thee,

Such as shall bring thee in safety again to the land of thy fathers,

Should the immortals be willing who dwell in the infinite heaven,

Since they are stronger than I to devise what they will and perform it."

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Thus did she speak and he shuddered, the patient and godlike Odysseus;

Then upraised he his voice and with swift-winged words he addressed her :

"Other is here thy device, O goddess—not homeward to send me—

While on a raft thou bidd'st me retraverse a gulf of the ocean

Such in its terrors and perils that never a well-built vessel

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Voyaging swiftly and gladdened by Zeus-sent breezes will cross it.

Ne'er will I mount on a raft—still less if it give thee displeasure—

Art thou not willing to swear me an oath and solemnly promise

Never against me to plot a device that is evil to harm me."

Thus did he speak, and smiling the beautiful goddess Calypso

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Touched him with gentle caress, then opened her lips and addressed him:

"Truly thou seemest a rogue—not at all with the wits of a weakling—

Craftily thus to devise in thy heart these words thou hast uttered.

Well—be my witness the earth and the infinite heaven above us,

Yea and the water of Styx which floweth beneath us—the greatest,

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Most terrific of oaths e'en sworn by the blessed immortals—

Ne'er will I plot a device that is evil against thee to harm thee.

Nay, what I think and intend to advise is exactly the counsel

I to myself would give, were suchlike need to befall me.

Also in me is a mind which loves what is fair and is seemly,

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Nor is the heart in my bosom of iron; it feeleth compassion."

These words uttered, at once went forward the beautiful goddess,

Hastily leading the way, and he followed the steps of the sea-nymph.

Soon they arrived, both goddess and man, in the shade of the cavern.

Here did Odysseus recline on the chair from the which had arisen

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Hermes, and near him the nymph laid out all manner of viands,

Many a meat and a drink—such food as is eaten by mortals.

Then on a chair she reclined full fronting the godlike Odysseus,

While that her maiden attendants ambrosia brought her and nectar.

Now did they stretch forth hands to the food that was lying before them,

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Till, when at last they had lost all longing for meat and the wine-cup,

Once more made a beginning the beautiful goddess Calypso :

"Zeus-born son of Laertes, thou wise and wileful Odysseus,

Dost thou indeed so wish to the well-loved land of thy fathers

Now forthwith to return? E'en so, good fortune attend thee!

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Yet, if thou knewst in thy heart what measure of woe and affliction

Still it is fated for thee to fulfil ere reaching thy homeland,

Here thou'ldst wish to remain, and to rule as the lord of my household,

Yea and be made an immortal—how strong soever thy yearnings

After thy consort—for whom thou art sighing for ever and alway.

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Ay and forsooth not less am I able to boast me of beauty

Either of form or of favour—for surely it never beseemeth

Earth-born women to vie with immortals in form and in feature."

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

"Goddess and queen, O speak not in anger! I know it myself too—

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Well do I know it that likened to thee wise Penelopeia

Seems less comely in face and in form less noble to look on.

She is an earth-born woman and thou art immortal and ageless.

Still e'en so, it is true, I am longing and yearning for ever

After my home, and I dream of the dawn of the day of returning.

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E'en if a god should shatter my raft on the wine-dark ocean,

All will I bear, for the heart in my bosom disdaineth disaster.

Much I have suffered already, and many a peril and hardship

Seen on the sea and in war: let this to the number be added!"

Thus did he speak, and the sun went down, and the darkness descended.

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Then did the twain to an inner recess of the cavern betake them.

Here they delighted in love and abode right gladly together.

Now when the morning was newly arisen, the roseate-fingered,

Forthwith donned his apparel Odysseus, his tunic and mantle,

While that the nymph threw round her a garment of glistering whiteness,

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Delicate, lovely; and over her waist then fastened a girdle,

Beautiful, fashioned of gold; and her head in a hood she enveloped.

Then she bethought her to send on his way great-hearted Odysseus.

Firstly a great wood-axe, in his hands well fitted, she gave him,

Fashioned of bronze, two-edged; and firmly inserted within it

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Fixed was a helve of the wood of an olive, of wonderful beauty.

PATTEN WILSON.
THE BUILDING OF THE RAFT

Also she gave him an adze well-sharpened, and going before him

Led to an end of the isle where tall straight timber was growing;

Alder was there and poplar and pine which reacheth to heaven,

Dry long since, well-seasoned and buoyant to float on the water.

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After the spot she had shown where tall straight timber was growing;

Homeward again she betook her, the beautiful goddess Calypso.

Then did he hew him his rafters, and quickly the work made headway.

Twenty the trees that he felled, and he lopp'd all clean with the wood-axe,

Planed them and cut all straight to the line with the skill of a master.

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Now meanwhile she had brought to him borers, the goddess Calypso,

So that he bored each beam, and fitting the one to the other

Hammered and joined all firmly together with clamps and with tree-nails.

Even as much as a man who is versed in the craft of a shipwright,

Making a broad-beamed hull, might measure him off for the bottom,

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Such for his broad-beamed raft was the platform made by Odysseus.

Bulwarks too he erected and strengthened with many an upright,

Coping them off from above in the whole of their length with a gunwale;

Made then a mast and shipped it, and hoisted and fitted the yardarm;

Fashioned moreover a rudder to guide its course in the waters;

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Fenced it around from the stem to the stern with a wattle of osiers,

Making it safe from the waves; and he covered it over with boarding.

Now meanwhile she had brought to him canvas, the goddess Calypso,

Bidding him fashion the sails, and he wrought these skilfully also,

Binding upon them the sheets; and he rigged her with braces and halyards,

260

Then with his handspikes hove her down to the vast salt ocean.

Now was the fourth day come, and all of his labour was ended;

So on the fifth day sped his departing the goddess Calypso,

Bathing him first and arraying him freshly in fragrant apparel.

Then to the raft she conveyed dark wine in a bottle of goat-skin

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—One was of wine and another, a greater, of water—and viands

Stowed in a wallet; and many a toothsome relish she added.

Then did she send him a favouring breeze both gentle and kindly.

Now exulting his sails to the breeze spread godlike Odysseus.

Keeping the raft to her course by the helm with the skill of a sailor

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Seated he steered (nor a moment did drowsiness fall on his eyelids),

Holding the Pleiads in view and the autumn-setting Boötes,

Holding moreover the Bear, that is called by the name of the Wagon.

(Ever she circles around and around on the watch for Orion,

Having alone of the stars no share in the baths of the ocean.)

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Her—since thus had commanded the beautiful goddess Calypso—

Voyaging over the ocean he steadily held on the left hand.

Seven and ten was the number of days that he voyaged the waters,

Till on the eighteenth day he beheld far shadowy mountains,

Where was arising the land Phaeacia nearest before him,

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Like to a vapoury rack, as it loomed on the mist-bound ocean.

Now from the Aethiop people returning, the King Earth-shaker

Forth of the far-off hills of the Solymi looked, and beheld him

Voyaging over the sea, and, enraged more fiercely than ever,

Wagging his head in his wrath, spake thus to the spirit within him:

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"Lo now! Truly it seemeth the gods have altered their counsels

Touching Odysseus, when I was away with the Aethiop people.

Now he is nigh to the land Phaeacia, where he is fated

Out of affliction's net to escape, that was closing around him;

Yet shall I force him, I promise, to suffer his fill of misfortune."

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Thus as he spake he collected the clouds and stirred up the ocean,

Both hands seizing the trident, and wakened to fury the tempests,

Every wind of the heaven. All covered and darkened with storm-rack

Earth was at once and the sea, while down from the sky fell midnight.

Wildly together they rushed—East, South, and the furious West Wind,

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Air-born Boreas too, with a huge wave rolling before him.

Then were loosened the limbs and the inmost heart of Odysseus,

While distracted he spake to the valiant spirit within him:

"Ah, poor wretch that I am! What fate in the end will befall me?

Verily now do I fear that she spake too truly, the goddess,

300

Saying that here on the sea, ere reaching the land of my fathers,

Woes to the full I shall suffer. It surely is finding fulfilment.

Lo, how mighty the rack wherewith envelops the welkin

Zeus; and he stirreth the deep, and down come sweeping the storm-blasts,

Every wind of the heaven. Now sheer destruction is certain.

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O thrice happy and four times they, those heroes who perished

Once on the Trojan plain for the sake of the lordly Atridae!

There, O, would I had died and my destined doom had encountered,

Yea on the day when so many a bronze-shod spear of the Trojans

Hurtled around me bestriding the body of fallen Achilles!

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So had I gained death-rites and th' Achaeans had held me in honour.

Now by a pitiful doom overwhelmed I am fated to perish."

E'en as he spake from aloft came crashing a billow enormous

Bursting terrific upon him and whirling the quivering raft round.

Far from the raft he was swept by the wave, and the rudder in falling

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Loosed from the grip of his hand, while clean in the middle the mast snapt,

Smit by the terrible blast of the winds which met in a cyclone.

Far off on to the waves down clattered the sail with the yardarm.

Long did it keep him below in the depths of the water, unable

Swiftly to rise, held back by the rush of the mountainous rollers,

320

Weighed down too by his garment, the gift of the goddess Calypso.

Slowly at last he arose, and the pungent brine of the billow

Spat from his mouth, while down from his head in a flood it was streaming.

Neither forgat he the raft e'en then, though sorely exhausted.

Making a dash in the water he reached it and clutched it, and climbing

325

Sat him amidships down, thus saved from the jaws of destruction,

While on the great sea-rollers she tossed, swept hither and thither.

Even as Boreas sweepeth in autumn the down of the thistles

Over a plain, all closely entangled together in masses,

So now over the sea winds carried her hither and thither.

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Now for a space she was left by the North as a sport for the South Wind,

Now by the East for a time to the West the pursuit was abandoned.

Seeing his peril the daughter of Cadmus with beautiful ankles,

Ino Leucothëe—erstwhile an articulate mortal,

Now in the depths of the brine by the gods as a deity honoured—

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Pitied Odysseus, as thus he was tossed by the storm and distracted.

So as a gannet, uprising on wings from the waste of the waters,

Down on the firm-lashed raft she alighted and spake to him, saying:

"Tell me, unfortunate, how doth it hap Earth-shaking Poseidon

Thus exceedingly rageth and sends thee so many misfortunes?

340

Nay but he ne'er shall destroy thee, how much soever he yearneth.

Lo now, this shalt thou do—for thou seemst not lacking in wisdom.

Doff these garments, and letting the raft drift loose to the storm-wind

Leave her, and trust to thy hands; they shall bring thee in safety by swimming

Unto the Scherian land, where destiny grants thee a refuge.

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Take this scarf—'tis a tissue ambrosial. Bind it around thee

Over thy breast, and thou needst not fear to be harmed and to perish.

Then—so soon as thy hands have grasped securely the dry land,

Loosen the scarf and flinging it back in the wine-dark ocean

Far from the edge of the shore, make haste from the spot to avert thee."

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So did she speak, and, leaving the garment behind her, the goddess

Plunged in the billowing flood once more of the waters of ocean,

Like to a gannet; and quickly the dark wave hid her beneath it.

Then did he ponder in doubt, long-suffering godlike Odysseus,

While despondent he spake to the valiant spirit within him:

355

"Ah woe! Surely again some snare contriveth against me

One of the gods, thus bidding me leap from my firm-lashed vessel.

Nay, not yet will I do it, for still at a distance I noticed

Lying the land where Fate (as she said) is to grant me a refuge.

Lo now, this will I do—for I think it is certainly better:

360

While that the timbers shall hold them in all their jointings together,

Here on the raft I shall stay and endure all hardships and perils;

Should howbeit the waves break all of the vessel in pieces,

Then will I swim. I can find no better device and precaution."

Whilst these things in his mind and his spirit he still was revolving

365

Sent an enormous roller the King Earth-shaking Poseidon.

Terrible, irresistible, vaulted, it toppled upon him.

Even as chaff that is lying in heaps, when a violent storm-gust

Seizes the light dry husks and scatters them hither and thither,

Thus did the wave send flying the beams of the raft; but Odysseus

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Mounting on one of the timbers bestrode it, as riding a racer,

Stripping himself of his garment, the gift of the goddess Calypso.

Hastily over his breast then binding the scarf of the sea-nymph

Into the water he plunged, both hands extended before him,

Eager to swim. But the King Earth-shaking Poseidon, who saw it,

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Wagging his head in his wrath spake thus to the spirit within him:

"There! thou hast suffered already and now go toss on the ocean!

Swim till thou reachest the dwellings of earth-born children of heaven!

Not e'en there, do I think, thou'lt carelessly prate of disaster."

Thus in his anger he spake, and, lashing his long-maned horses,

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Swiftly was there where standeth his glorious temple at Aegae.

Then did Athena the daughter of Zeus plan other devices.

Staying the furious courses of all of the rest of the storm-winds,

Bidding them cease and be still and peacefully lay them to slumber,

Boreas swift she aroused, and she whitened the billows before him,

385

Heaven-descended Odysseus to rescue from death and destruction,

Wafting him home to the lovers of oars, Phaeacia's sea-folk.

So two days and two nights did he toss on the mountainous billows

Drifting, and oft in his spirit the coming of death he foreboded,

Till, when the third day rose from the lap of the fair-tressed morning,

390

Then of a sudden abated the wind, and it ceased, and a calm spread

Breathless around, and the land once more much nearer he sighted,

Gazing intently ahead when aloft on the crest of a billow.

Welcome as life, when again it returneth, appeareth to children

Whose dear father was lying in sickness and suffering anguish,

395

Withering slowly away, by the wrath of a deity wounded:

E'en as they welcome him back, by the gods set free from his trouble,

So to Odysseus was welcome the sight of the land and the forests.

Strongly he swam, in his longing to tread with his feet on the dry land,

Till, when as far from the shore as the voice of a shouter will carry,

400

Sudden he heard on the reefs and the shingle the thunder of surges.

Here was a terrible surf that was crashing on rocks of the mainland,

Horribly belching, and all was enwrapped in the foam of the salt spray;

Neither a haven was there for the mooring and shelter of shipping;

Headlands only he saw and reefs and crags overhanging.

405

Then were loosened the limbs and the inmost heart of Odysseus,

While distracted he spake to the valiant spirit within him:

"Ah me! Lo, of the land unhoped-for vision had granted

Zeus, and far I had cloven my way in the gulf of the ocean;

Now from the grey salt sea no place for a landing appeareth;

410

All outside it is rugged with crags, and around them the billows

Thunder and surge, where steeply and smoothly the precipice rises.

Near it the water is deep, nor might one hope to discover

Hold for the feet, whereby to escape from the jaws of destruction;

So that I fear some roller enormous will seize me and hurl me

415

On to the sharp-jagg'd rocks, and vain would prove my endeavour.

Ay, but if further along I shall swim in the hope to alight on

Beaches that slope to the water or sheltering creeks of the ocean

Much do I fear some blast of the wind may seize me and bear me,

Heavily groaning, away once more to the home of the fishes;

420

Or peradventure a god might send some monster against me

Out of the brine, where feedeth her sea-droves Amphitrite.

How I am hated I know by the King Earth-shaking Poseidon."

Whilst these things in his mind and his spirit he still was revolving,

On to the rock-bound shore he was borne by a billow enormous.

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Here had his skin been stript and his bones all broken in pieces,

Had not the thought been put in his heart by the goddess Athene

Suddenly forward to dart and to clutch with his hands on a boulder,

Clinging to which with a groan he awaited the rush of the roller.

This he withstood and escaped it; but seaward recoiling the billow

430

Leapt on him, smote him and hurled him away far out on the ocean.

E'en as it haps when a cuttle is dragged from its hole by a fisher

While to its tentacle-tips full many a pebble is clinging,

Thus by the jags of the rock from the strong bold hands of Odysseus

Stript was the skin as the mountainous billow descended upon him.

435

Now had the hapless Odysseus despite all destiny perished,

Had not a fortunate thought been sent by the goddess Athene.

Steering him clear of the surf of the surge that was thundering landward

Further he coasted along and he gazed at the land to discover

Beaches that slope to the water or sheltering creeks of the ocean.

440

Then at the last to the mouth of a river of beautiful waters

Swimming he came, and here he believed was the place for a landing;

Smooth was the rockless beach, and withal from the wind was a covert;

Soon too, feeling the stream of the river, he prayed in his spirit:

"Hear me, whoever thou be'st, O King! As thy suppliant I too

445

Pray thee to succour me fleeing the deep and the threats of Poseidon.

E'en by the gods everlasting is every mortal respected

Should he as wanderer come to entreat them for succour, as I now

Come to thy river and fall at thy knees, outworn with my labours.

Nay now pity me, prince, for thy suppliant, lo, I avow me."

450

Thus did he pray, and it slackened the might of its billowy current,

Spreading before him a calm; and the deity brought him in safety

Unto the beach at the mouth of the stream—but his knees and his stout hands

Powerless drooped, for the sea had his inmost heart overmastered;

Swollen was all of the flesh of his body, and plentiful sea-brine

455

Oozed in his mouth and his nostrils, and long time breathless and speechless

Swooning he lay on the ground, for a terrible weariness seized him.

Now when at last he revived and the soul was recalled to the senses,

Forthwith loosing again from his bosom the scarf of the goddess

Into the midst of the tide of the sea-tinged river he launched it.

460

Down on the current a great wave bore it, and speedily Ino

Held it again in her hands. Then back from the river he turned him,

Knelt on the rushes, and kissing the earth, dear mother of harvests,

Thus distracted he spake to the valiant spirit within him:

"Ah me! what shall betide? What fate in the end will befall me?

465

Here if the whole of the night I shall anxiously watch by the river,

May not the dangerous rime and abundant dews of the morning

Master the soul that within me already is gasping for faintness?

Cold too breathes ere morning ariseth the breeze of the river.

Should I however, ascending the slope to the shade of the forest,

470

Seek to recline me and rest in the thick of the bushes, I fear me,

Cold and weariness gone and sweet sleep stealing upon me,

Unto the ravening beasts I shall fall as a prey and a booty."

Thus as he pondered thereon this plan seemed surely the better :

Up to a coppice he went, and he found trees nigh to the water

475

Standing apart in the open, and 'neath two bushes he hid him

Sprung from the selfsame stock—true olive and wilding of olive.

These did the might of the wind ne'er breathe through laden with moisture,

Neither did ever the sun with the shafts of his radiance pierce them,

Nor did the rain drip through them at all, so densely together

480

Woven the one with the other they grew; and beneath them Odysseus

Crept, and anon with his hands he had raked him a litter together

Spacious and deep; for of leafage was lying a plentiful downfall,

Such as for two or for three might offer enough of protection

During the season of storms, how bitter soever the weather.

485

This then seeing with joy, long-suffering godlike Odysseus

Laid him to rest in the midst of the leaves, and he piled them around him.

E'en as a man might cover a brand with the blackened ashes

Out on a bound of his farm, where living is none of his neighbours,

Guarding the seed of the fire (else must he rekindle from elsewhere),

490

So did he cover him closely with leaves; and the goddess Athene

Poured on his eyes sweet sleep, for she wished right soon to release him

Out of his weary exhaustion; and gently she covered his eyelids.

English Bridge (Amelia Parrish and Gregory Crane, 2023) (OCR draft) Experimental (English Bridge (Amelia Parrish and Gregory Crane, 2023)) — 5.451 focus

He said this, and immediately that god put a stop to his current and held back the waves,

and he made for him a calm in front, and he saved that man

into the mouth of the river. That man then let his knees bend, both his knees

and his strong hands, for his dear heart had been overcome by the sea.

All his flesh was swollen, while much seawater kept gushing

455

up through both his mouth and nose. He, breathless and speechless,

was lying down with feeble strength, and brutal exhaustion was coming upon him.

But when he caught his breath, and his spirit was collected into his physical being,

then he untied the headscarf of the goddess from him

and released that thing into the river that flows into the sea;

460

and the great wave began to carry it back again down along the current, and quickly Ino then

received it in her dear hands. He, withdrawing out of the river,

lay down under the reeds, and he kissed the fertile soil.

Agitated, he then spoke to his great-spirited heart:

“Oh me, what may I suffer? Now what may befall me next?

465

If, on the one hand, I would keep watch in this riverbed throughout the night with its harsh troubles,

I fear that both the evil frost and fresh dew together

might be the end of me, having breathed out my spirit, as a result of my weakened condition-

a freezing breeze out of the river blows before dawn.

On the other hand, if, having gone up into the hillside and shady forest,

470

I should fall asleep in the dense bushes- assuming that they might allow me,

the cold and distress, and sweet sleep might come upon me,

I fear that I may become prey and a find for wild predators.”

So tn this way it seemed to be more profitable to him, as he pondered:

he went to go into the forest, which he found near the water

475

in a visible place. He then went under two bushes,

which had grown out of the same spot. Here, one one was of thorn wood, on the other side, one was of olive wood.

Certainly through these both not the damp force of gusting winds would blow,

and would the shining sun not ever strike with its beams,

and rain would not ever pass through: so dense

480

they had grown, tangled up with each other. Under these Odysseus

lowered himself. Immediately he piled up a bed for himself with his dear hands,

a wide one, for the heap of leaves was very much substantial,

as great as would be needed to protect either two or three men

in the winter season, and even if it might be especially severe.

485

Having seen this he rejoiced, the much-suffering godlike Odysseus,

and then in the middle he laid himself; and he piled over himself a heap of leaves.

Like when someone buries a piece of burning wood in dark ashes

at the borderland of the field, near to which there are no other neighbors,

preserving the seed of fire so that he would not need to get light from some other place,

490

in this way did Odysseus cover himself in leaves. Athena then

began to pour sleep upon his eyes, so that it, swiftly, might stop him

from laborious trouble, having covered over his dear eyelids.

New Alexandria Commentaries

Gregory Nagy

The rhapsody starts with the releasing of Odysseus by one goddess and ends with the mystical saving of his life by a second goddess, who is Leukotheā, the White Goddess. The beautiful Leukotheā saves Odysseus by undoing her hair and giving him as a life-saver the veil that had held her curls in place. As for the first goddess, who is Calypso, her action in releasing Odysseus from their mutual love affair becomes another life-saver for him. That is because the chances of success for such an affair between a mortal man and an immortal goddess would have been minimal, as we will see by observing other myths that tell about other such affairs. If the liaison of Odysseus with Calypso had continued, it is a certainty that he would have been killed off, just as Orion had died because of his liaison with Ēōs the goddess of the dawn.

draft js image error “Leucothea, the White Goddess, Preserving Ulysses” (1805). John Flaxman (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 verb expresses the idea of revival, ana-pneîn (ἄμπνυτο) in the sense of ‘taking a breath’ or ‘breathing in’. See the comment on I.05.696–698.

source

Homer Odyssey 5.451

A. T. Murray (Translator)

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Rhapsody 6

BOOK VI.

BOOK VI.

ODYSSEY.

THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK VI.

ODYSSEY BOOK V

PATTEN WILSON.
THE BUILDING OF THE RAFT

New Alexandria Commentaries

Stable identifiers

Search the Perseus Catalog for:

Search the Perseus Catalog for:

Current edition Perseus

Rhapsody 6

BOOK VI.

BOOK VI.

ODYSSEY.

THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

THE ARGUMENT.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

THE SIXTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS.

ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

THE ODYSSEY. BOOK VI.

ODYSSEY BOOK V

PATTEN WILSON. THE BUILDING OF THE RAFT

New Alexandria Commentaries

Stable identifiers

THE ODYSSEY.
BOOK VI.

PATTEN WILSON.
THE BUILDING OF THE RAFT